It wasn’t Hell. It was worse than Hell. Carole had no chance, and she knew it. All she had to do was get to the end of the trail, and she would be free of them. But the trail was still over fifty miles long, and they had almost caught her twice in the past three miles.

It wasn’t helping that her hands were tied tightly behind her. She had already passed two previous losers. They were not a pretty sight, and she knew that if she failed to reach the end, she would end up the same way.

The trail twisted and turned, sometimes turning back on itself, bringing her close to her chasers. If they wanted to cut across, they could easily have done so, and it would be the end.

But they were in no hurry. As they said, no-one had yet finished and won, and Carole knew even as they said it, that she would not be the first. She knew it was impossible, but she was given no choice. No-one ever was.

The rules were very simple. Get to the end, and you are free. Fail. And you will suffer badly before you die.

The problem was, her pursuers were fit young men, unencumbered, whilst she may have been fit and young, but she was also naked, her hands tied behind her, and drugged. The drug wouldn’t kill her, but it would slow her down later on the trail.

She heard a shrill scream behind her somewhere. One of the other three girls had obviously been caught, and her suffering had begun. Carole wanted more than anything to be last caught, or succeed. Preferably, succeed. The opposite was unthinkable.

She rounded a tree on the trail and hesitated, looking back. She could hear footsteps some way back, but was not sure how close they were. They were definitely from a pursuer. The girls wore no shoes, and their footsteps were hardly audible, these were clear footsteps, spurring Carole on.

She tried running, but with her hands behind her it was no easy matter, and twice she lost her footing on the wet grass, sending her plummeting to the ground. It is no easy matter getting up when you have no use of your arms, and it slowed her down badly. She could only walk faster, and hope to get  some distance between her and whoever came after her.

There were four girls and twelve pursuers. Each of the pursuers was, according to the Marshall, sadistic beyond reason. Even sadistic within reason was too much for Carole to contemplate. Beyond reason was something she had no wish to discover.

The trail narrowed, and the bushes either side sliced into her bare legs. She screamed involuntarily, and realised immediately that she may have been heard, informing one of the pursuers where she was.

Ignoring the sharp needles on the thorn bushes, Carole moved forwards, she could feel blood on her legs, but couldn’t afford the time to stop and inspect them. The bushes were widening out, and she needed to get space between her and those behind.

She had gone, perhaps, another mile, when behind her she heard another shrill scream. Two down, two to go. She wondered for a moment who the other girl was, but she had no time for that. Her own survival was too important. She had only known the other girls overnight, in the cell, so, although she was sorry for them, she didn’t know them enough to warrant herself getting caught for them.

And it was a matter of survival. Her captors would not kill her immediately, they would first torture her, and continue to do so until her body could handle no more.

There was a post on the side of the trail.  “Forty Five Miles To Freedom”

Forty five miles of sheer hell still to go, and Carole was already running on empty. Only sheer determination was now keeping her going. It would be far easier to lay down and admit defeat, but that thought was far too terrible to consider seriously. To admit defeat would put her in the hands of these torturers.

Finding a little more energy, she moved forwards again,. The hill in front of her was quite steep, and she knew there was no other way. She would have to get down it, but even as she placed her first foot on it, she felt the loose stoned move.

Taking her courage in her hands, Carole began to move slowly down the hill, trying not to disturb too many stones on her way. It was inevitable really. Half way down her foot slipped on some stones, sending her crashing down,. Sliding down the hill on her arse, feeling the sharp stones rip at her flesh. She screamed out in pain, as the cheeks of her naked arse were torn by the stones, hr hands also injured. She didn’t know it just then, but she had broken the little finger in her right hand. All she did know was that her whole body hurt, a pain she couldn’t stop.

At the bottom of the hill she came to a stop, grass under her feet as she lay breathless. She knew they would have heard her screams, and knew they would be catching her up, but she had hardly the breath to stand, let alone move on. She needed a few seconds before she could stand.

It was then that she heard a third guttural scream. It was closer than the other two had been, and Carole now knew she was the last one free. Whoever had not caught one of the other girls, would now be after her. It was now one against nine, and against both time and nature.

Had it not been for the sound of that scream, Carole would have given up. She could not imagine what pain had caused anyone to scream that way, and she didn’t want to find out first hand.

Forcing herself to her feet, she moved further on the trail. She knew time was running out, but she really had no other choice. Another post on the side told her there were now only forty four miles to go. It seemed a lifetime away, and perhaps it was. It would be if she were caught.

As she rounded the next corner Carole came to a dead halt, her face a mask of horror. On one side of the trail a woman hung between two trees, her wrists nailed to each, her whole weight held by the two metal spikes. Her flesh hung from her in strips. Her face had been skinned, and the flesh left to hang from her neck down.

How she had stopped herself from screaming Carole didn’t know, she just knew she had to force herself forwards. She had only gone ten feet when she turned to the bushes on her left and heaved, throwing up the contents of her stomach. How anyone could do such a thing to a human being, was beyond her grasp.

The other girls she had seen on the trail were bad enough, but this one had obviously been skinned alive. Whether she had lasted long enough for the torture to finish Carole didn’t want to know. She only knew that no matter what, she didn’t want to end up the same way.

Carole had seen many horror films in her time, but even they were nothing on what she was seeing on this trail. None of what she saw would ever get past the sensors.

She heard another scream from behind her. It was roughly in the same place as the guttural scream had come from. She was, at the moment, still alive. But in obvious agony. Carole, for the first time in her life, wished someone dead. Not from spite, but to save the girl any more of what she was obviously suffering.

For two more miles Carole kept her pursuers at bay. She knew they were closing in one her, but her feet seemed to be slowing, and her whole body was hurting. She didn’t know that the drug was now starting to effect her. There were no physical feelings with this drug. It simply slowed people down. Every girl had been given it. It was the one last thing they could do to make sure no-one ever completed the trail.

Carole spotted a cave off to her left, and considered hiding in it for a while, until she had rested, but immediately decided against it. She was sure her pursuers would know about the cave, and check it. If she were to be caught, they would have to work hard for it. She was not about to surrender herself.

“Forty Miles to Go” declared the sign on the post. And now, it had started to rain. At first it was a light drizzle, but now the rain was much harder, lashing into her exposed flesh like little needles. It wasn’t enough she had nine pursuers, even the weather was against her.

As she rounded the next corner Carole sunk to her knees in despair. Before her was a stretch of water more than twenty feet across. The lanes she could use were clearly defined, by the two barbed wire fences stretched across the river a mere six feet apart. If her arms were free, Carole would have sum across it, but without the use of her arms, swimming was impossible. She didn’t know how deep it was, but however deep, it would slow her progress, giving her pursuers and advantage she could not afford them to have.

Forcing herself to her feet she moved to the river and began to traverse it. The water came to her waist, making her progress very slow. She tried to go faster, but the current almost sent her crashing into one of the barbed wire fences. She only just managed to balance herself in time. The bars were over a inch long,  and would have caused serious damage to her unprotected flesh.

It took her over twenty minutes to get across the river, twenty minutes she knew she could not afford. The girls had only a two hour head start at the beginning of the trail, and she knew her lead was now down to mere minutes, the fact that three girls had already been caught, told it’s own story.

Climbing out of the river on the far side was no easy matter, and it took several more precious minutes before she was on dry land again.

On one side of the rail a sign said “still with us bitch?”

Carole wondered how many others had actually lived to see that sign, she guessed not many. Of the girls on this trail, three quarters had not reached it.

Once again she forced herself forwards, trying to make up the time she had lost at the river. She still couldn’t run, but tried to walk as  fast as she could, trying to keep what ever distance there was between her and the pursuers constant.

Another excruciating mile, and another terrible sight stood before her.

A girl was staked out in the grass to one side of the trail. Metal hooks held her wrists and ankles in place, though her hands and feet were inches away from the rest of her body, as if frantically trying to attaché themselves again. Leading from what Carole saw to be an ant hill, a hollow pole had been pushed deep into the woman’s pussy.

Carole had no idea what it would feel like to be attacked by ants, and certainly not internally. She hoped the girl had died before the ants started their work on her, but she doubted it, now understanding how sadistic the pursuers appeared to be. Nothing was beneath them.

As if Immune to what she now saw, Carole moved forwards again, her determination to succeed now greater than ever.

The further the girls seemed to get, the worse their torture seemed to be. As if by getting this far, they were making things worse for themselves. She wondered what they would do when they caught up to her. Not if, when.

After the hardship of the river, Carole was surprised that the new two miles of the rail was like freshly mowed lawn. She could move faster, even run, though slowly. She guessed she was putting apace between her hunters and herself.

She was out of breath, and close to collapse as the lawn petered out. In front of her was a hill. It wasn’t over steep, but she could see that she would have problems getting up it. The path was littered with loose stones, and sharp edges. With her hands free it would be hard. With them behind her, it would take a miracle.

Slowly she edged her way up the hill. Her feet were bleeding before she was half way up. If it were not for what would happen to her if she were caught, she would have given up ten times . she knew she had to keep going, regardless of the pain she felt, it took her half an hour to climb the hill she would have been up in minutes with her hands free. She also meant this brought her hunters half an hour closer.

At the tope of the hill was another post. “give in bitch, you cant win”

She stared at the post and cried. She was fully aware that she couldn’t win, she did not need to be reminded of that fact. She had known from the start that she couldn’t win. This trail was not designed for the hunted to win. She was doing her best, but she knew she still had a very long way to go.

The trail slimmed down again after the hill, and the same bushes from earlier were against both legs as she travelled through them. She felt the needles cutting at her legs, and could feel the blood slowly seeping from fresh wounds.

The bushes seemed closer together than before, as if they had not been moved through before. For as far as she could see, the bushes extended. Hr legs would be in ribbons by the time she got past them. Was she the first to get this far?  Surely if someone else had got past here, the bushes would be damaged?

The pain in her arse, that send her reeling forwards, falling into the bushes out of control, came without warning. The arrow had landed exactly where it was aimed.

The hunter grinned as he watched the crossbow arrow hit it’s target. He had aimed for her arse, and that is where it had hit, the momentum sending her forwards. Even if she tried to run, now, she was his. It was now only a matter of time.

She had done well. She had gone further than anyone, but still over thrity five miles from the end. She would regret it soon enough. But for ow, he was happy to toy with her. The end of the hunt was in sight, and he took the horn from his side and blew into it, signalling that he had caught the last girl.

He had seen what had happened to the other three, but that was nothing to what was going to happen to this one.

The needles had cut her flesh in many places as she fell. Her tits, her stomach, her face and her thighs were all subject to the needles. These bushes were never meant to passed through, and the arrow ion her butt had sent her reeling into them. She knew the end was close, but she also knew she couldn’t give up. Not after all she had endured. She still had to make the effort to get away, regardless of the pain she now felt.

She could see the blood from the wounds the needles had caused, but she also knew she had to go on. Try, even in the jaws of defeat, to find a winner.

She stumbled on. The arrow still in her arse cheek. It was deep, she knew that. She wanted to pull it out, but was frightened of doing so. The pain of it being there would be nothing to the pain of trying to pull it out.

She managed another fifty yards, then her leg stopped moving, the pain far too great. Carole knew, even as she sunk to the ground, that she had lost. She did not know, as yet, who had claimed her, but she knew whatever happened next, was not going to be pleasant. She shook in fear.

The man stood over her. Grinning. She knew she was his for the taking, and feared what he would do to her. She knew her last few moments would be full of pain, but was unable to do anything about it. What happened now, would be his choice. All Carole could do, was suffer it.

Standing over his prey her grinned. She had always had the potential to go far, and he had guessed she would at least reach the river. He had taken a short cut, and watched as she struggled her way through the river and onto dry land.

He could have taken her on the hill, but he chose to let her wear herself out a little more. She was tall, athletic, and had tits to die for. But his interests were elsewhere.

It was in the bushes he decided to take the shot. She was slow moving, and a perfect target. He aimed the crossbow carefully. He didn’t want to hit her too high and cripple her. He wanted only to slow her down, and bring her to a full stop. The shot had been perfect. Landing in the fleshy part of her arse. It would slow her, and would eventually bring her to a halt.

Only then would the fun, his fun, begin.

Taking hold of the arrow, the hunter twisted it slowly, hearing her screams as if music to his ears. Only when he was satisfied, did he pull hard  on it, wrenching the arrow from her flesh, blood flowing freely from the wound.

As he turned her over onto her back, her torso was smeared in blood. She had fallen helplessly into the bushes, the razor sharp needles making their mark in several places. With her hands still behind her, there had been nothing she could do to prevent herself falling, and even her face bore evidence to the sharpness of the needles.

She looked at the large hunter standing over her. She was already in great pain from where the arrow had first penetrated her butt, and then where he had savagely pulled it out again. She had no idea what pains to expect, but she knew that if the pain got any greater, she would not be able to handle it.

There was a glint in his eyes as he looked down between her splayed legs. She tried to close them, but he placed his own feet between hers, forcing hers to stay open. Cutting a branch from the nearest bush, he waved it under her nose, grinning as she tried to frantically pull away from it.

He trailed it gently across her stomach, letting her feel the sharp needles caressing her body, before moving it between her legs.

Without warning, he pressed it slowly against her pussy. The shrill screams she could not control showed how much pain he was causing her, as he began to slide the bush deeper inside her. The needles would easily lacerate inside her pussy, the soft flesh no match for the sharpness of the needles. Once inside, he began to slowly twist it around, first left, then right, her guttural screams filling the air.

Carole tried in vain to pull away from him, but there was little she could o, already laying on her arms, allowing her little room for movement.

Leaning down he grabbed hold of both of her tits at the same time, grasping them painfully, squeezing them, forcing her to squirm more, knowing the needles now pressing into her arms and her wounded butt would cause even greater pain. Laughing loudly he twisted them cruelly, oblivious to her screams and her tears, which fell freely.

She was screaming for him not to hurt her, but he simply shook his head, and smiled down at her. He was going to cause her a lot more pain yet. Viciously, he pulled the bush out of her pussy, her screams getting shriller as she felt the needles tear at her inner flesh.

The hunters didn’t know the victims, not even their names. This was nothing personal. It was pure sport, the kind they liked. And each hunter had his own way of dealing with anyone they caught.

Taking the crossbow off his back, he slowly and deliberately let her see him load an arrow into it. Her face showed nothing but fear, he was about to kill her, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to get away from him. There wasn’t a single part of her body that didn’t hurt, and inside her pussy felt as if it was on fire.

The hunter aimed the crossbow at her heart, then slowly started to move it, circling, as if trying to find a good spot, even though he knew where he was going to shoot it. At this range, it would do great damage. It would shatter bone or, if he aimed it at her heart, would go straight through and into the ground below her.

He stopped, and without a word, pulled the trigger, releasing the arrow. He grinned as her scream rent the air, the arrow going through her calf. Punning her left leg to the ground. He could see her try to pull away from it, but there was nowhere to go, the pain all enveloping.

Within moments he had reloaded the crossbow and sent a second arrow through her right thigh, pinning both legs, wide apart, to the ground. Even if he left her alone now, she could not escape, and she would die a slow, painful death.

But the hunter was not yet finished. Twice more he loaded and fired the crossbow, the arrows breaking bone as they went through her shoulders, pinning her to the ground completely. She may be able to move her hips, but her legs and shoulders were totally immobile.

Carole had passed out, unable to take any more pain, but the hunter simply pressed his finger to her neck, checking her pulse. It was weak, but still there,  his quarry still lived. He would now await her recovery before continuing. He was in no hurry.

Carole’s badly hurt body took it’s time, almost an hour before her eyes flickered.  The pain was total as she came to her senses. Her first reaction was to try to sit up, but all she managed to do was pull the arrows a little further through her shoulders her scream filled the closing night air.

The hunter had not spoken a word to her, simply doing what he wished, when he wished, in total silence. She wanted to hear the voice that was going to take her life, but the hunter stayed silent.

He knew she would not last much longer, her pulse was already weak. He could leave her to die alone, or he could end it. The sadist in him was overpowering, and he wanted to see her take her last breath. It was a prize he had accepted so many times in the past, but each one, was a new and special prize.

Her voice had failed her, she was too weak to even scream or whimper. He showed her as he loaded the crossbow, making sure she knew what he was doing, not that she wanted to see.

Carole wanted to both live, and to die. She could no longer handle what was happening to her. Her whole body was in agony. She knew her calves and shoulders had been shattered, so even if she lived, she would never walk again, and the use of her arms would be extremely limited. If she lived, she would be a cripple.

The hunter placed the tip of the crossbow between Carole’s legs. She suddenly realised where he was going to send the arrow. At this range, it would shoot straight through her body.

He smiled at her, a warm, inviting smile. The smile the local priest gives you as he accepts your confession.

The tip of the arrow was already inside her pussy, and struggle though she may, Carole could not budge it. Even if it missed her heart, she knew this would be the last arrow she would feel, the last sensation, her last breath.

Happier times flashed through her brain in rapid succession. Her tenth birthday, her twenty first birthday, less than a year before. Her first sight of the ocean, and in a flash, it all went dark.

The arrow sped through her body, missing her heart, and deep into her head, penetrating the brain. It took a split second, but it was a lifetime to Carole.

The hunter stood back and looked down at the body of his prey. He knew she had suffered badly, but he told himself that next time, she had to suffer more before the end came.

Turning on his heels, as the rules said, Carole was left alone where she was. There would be no funeral, no tears, she would simply be the one who got furthest, and a warning to all who followed, and reached this point. The trail may be only sixty miles long, but inevitable, there were at least thirty miles still unexplored.

All anyone had to do, was reach the end.

The End