The Slave Hunt
at The Other World Kingdom (OWK), June, 2000
- submitted by slave elliott -
Introduction
In June 2000, Mistress Troy attended the Celebration of Female Dominance at The Other World Kingdom. Among the many annual events at the celebration is the Slave Hunt, which Mistress Troy found to be extremely enjoyable. Mistress Troy believes that many other truly Dominant Women would also take pleasure in such an event, so She has ordered me to compose a written account of my experience as a hunted slave. Mistress Troy has also instructed me to be completely candid, especially regarding my own feelings of humiliation and subjugation as I was hunted down and captured. She has graciously permitted me to use a capital letter when referring to myself within this narrative. This is solely for the convenience of Her readers and should not be construed as a change in my social status.
A Slave's Tale
On a warm Saturday morning in early June the Mistresses and their slaves assemble at Club Wanda for the annual slave hunt. Since this was the second day of the Celebration most of the Mistresses had become acquainted with on another and the slaves who attended them. All the Ladies were in fine spirits and eager to begin the hunt. Mistress Troy was resplendent in her hunting clothes and black leather boots as she led me by my leash into the club. There were about twenty-five slaves who would be hunted this morning and perhaps thirty-five Sublime Ladies who would do the hunting. This imbalance was due to the fact that not all the slaves in the Kingdom participate. Some, like the OWK administrative slaves must assist in the organization of the hunt and serve as translators while others, who were "state slaves" and not attending a specific Mistress seem to participate only in selected events. This had caused me some discomfort and embarrassment in the past few days since a few of these state slaves always seemed to be present at the Celebration activities but not inclined or obliged to render the same absolute submissive obedience to all Females as we were. As I look around the Club it was immediately apparent that only the personal slaves of visiting Mistresses were to be hunted this morning. I thought it unfair that some slaves seemed to be socializing with the Guardesses while we were about to be hunted for the Ladies pleasure but I put these feeling aside. A slave, I reminded myself, should not allow his personal feelings to ever interfere with his absolute devotion and obedience to his Mistress and other Ladies. I was now ashamed of my selfishness and resolved that henceforth, I would give good sport for my Mistress and the other sublime Lady Huntresses.
Although some covering of the male genitals is usually required within the Kingdom, the slave hunt was a specific exception. Slaves were only allowed footwear during the hunt and, of course, their slave collars. This total nakedness added a certain credibility to the hunting milieu since creatures captured in the wild are normally unclothed. But in truth, the hunt was really more like a visit to the Royal Hunting Preserve and the OWK Guardesses were the gamekeepers. Whether or not a Sublime Lady succeeded in capturing a slave, they made sure that the quarry was flushed out and that the Queen's guests had good sport in the hunt for it was still an amusing spectacle to watch the naked male creatures stumble and trip into one another in their frantic but pathetic effort to elude the flying eggs.
Shackles, chains and leg irons of various sizes had been piled on the floor in the center of the club. Once a slave found something that fit and was acceptable to his Mistress, he would get a lock from the OWK slave who was helping everyone and have them locked on his legs or wrists. After finding some that fit me I knelt next to my Mistress and put them on my ankles.
Standing before her she ordered me to strip off the thong jock strap that I had worn for most of the celebration and hobble about in my chains. I had never been fettered like this before. I could only run in short little steps which made my total nakedness seem all that more vulnerable. After laughing at her clumsy slave as he hobbled about with the other naked slaves she finally ordered me to get the locks.
When the slaves had all been bound and shackled the OWK slaves had us line up in the center of the club. Naked in our chains we waited as the Mistress of Ceremonies carefully inspected each of us to make sure that we had been properly shackled. Since several different styles of chains and restrains were available it was important that each slave was properly secured.
Invariably some couples took a minimalist approach to being fettered and these slaves had to be re-shackled but most of us were well secured. One of the biggest slaves to be hunted that morning was a blond German who's Mistress was a petite Lady with short curly hair. As I learned later they were a married, lifestyle couple who thought that the OWK was the best place they had ever visited. I had watched as she had chained his ankles and his wrists together earlier and hoped that Mistress Troy would not decide to have me bound in the same manner. The image of this two hundred and fifty pounds of solid, rippling naked muscle being chained by this beautiful Lady who perhaps was a hundred pounds, was a striking testimony to the affection they shared for one another. When the hunt was over I noticed that she led him to the whipping post and thrashed him again.
When the Mistress of Ceremonies was satisfied that all the slaves were fettered properly we were commanded to follow her as she led us down the stairs and through the riding stables into the sports park. We stumbled and hopped along behind her while the OWK Guardesses laughed and, with a few well placed strokes from their canes, urged us on like a herd of cattle. Despite my training I was terribly embarrassed to be forced to run this gauntlet totally naked and actually tripped and fell as I tried to keep up with a big Norwegian slave. This clumsiness earned me a few more strokes from a tall Guardess who came upon me as I was struggling to my feet. Driving me forward with her cane she encouraged me to catch up with other slaves who were already in the park.
The Sports Park encompasses about two acres. In the center is a small, spring fed pond and surrounding that is a 270-meter oval pony boy track. There are some small trees and one or two little hills but no real place for slaves to hide. In a few minutes the huntresses would emerge armed with raw eggs and the hunt would begin. I scurried in circles with the other slaves -- we must have looked like chickens with our heads cut off as we tried to find some place to hide. More than anything I did not want to be the first slave that was caught. While I never thought I had any serious chance of escaping capture I hoped I might be one of the last to be hit. I knew that my Mistress was really excited about this game and would have been very disappointed if her slave had not tried his best to evade capture.
The leading huntresses were now starting up the small hill where I stood with several other slaves. I dodged a few eggs and ran down the slope as they advanced. The hill was really a dirt mound, probably left from the construction of the park and covered with small shrubs. As I scurried down the slope my chains became entangled and I fell. Laying in the dirt I was an easy target but somehow the Ladies were in hot pursuit of other slaves and I was momentarily ignored. I struggled to my feet and climbed back to the top of the hill -- hoping to avoid capture I tried to keep low but it was very difficult in the shackles. To my surprise -- and secret delight -- I saw Mistress Troy approaching. She saw me and launched several eggs in my direction.
Although there is no specific rule against it, a slave is not supposed to be captured by his Mistress. I turned to flee but found myself surrounded. Mistresses at the bottom of the hill behind me were blocking any chance of escape -- I dodged some of their eggs and turned back towards Mistress Troy. She had heard the cries of the Ladies and realized that I had nowhere to run. Panic filled me. I was like the trapped rabbit -- turning this way and that -- the shackles and my nakedness made me feel even more vulnerable.
With nowhere else to go I stumbled down the hill and dove headlong into the pond. In retrospect this was an incredibly foolish and stupid thing to do but there was just enough water to cushion my fall. The pond water is quite cold but just deep enough for me to submerge myself and dive along the muddy bottom. I poked up my head like a seal a few yards from the edge and saw that I was still surrounded. Mistress Troy was laughing and shouting at me as she launched more eggs at my head. To my right I saw a determined Lady begin to take off her boots -- the net was closing in on me. As I dodged more eggs from my left and looked to see where my Mistress was I was hit. I had gotten too close to the other side of the pond and a Mistress at the waters edge had scored a perfect hit -- raw egg ran down the side of my face.
"Got you" she yelled excitedly, "Now get over here -- you're mine".
Obediently I paddled to the side of the pond and crawled up through the soft mud to her boots. She moved back several feet from the water’s edge making me crawl on my belly to place my lips on her boots.
"Lick them" she said gleefully "and be careful not get any mud on me!"
I should respectfully point out to the readers of this narrative that although it may seem that the hunted slaves have no chance of escape -- hitting them with an egg is more difficult then it may seem. One may think that throwing an egg is similar to throwing a ball but this is not the case. The egg is not a sphere and its center of gravity changes as it moves making it extremely unstable in flight. It is also difficult to carry any great number of eggs while walking, much less pursuing slaves over uneven ground. The huntress has to get very close to her quarry before she throws the egg. This allows even a shackled slave some chance to avoid being hit until he is surrounded in close quarters.
The slave must try hard to prolong the enjoyment of the hunt for his Mistress. I think a lot of eggs were still being thrown at me for I was hit several times as I crawled to her feet and once or twice afterwards. I was angry for a moment. It seemed unfair to hit me as I crawled to the feet of this Mistress. Having surrendered myself why should I still be a target for their enjoyment but as I looked up and saw Mistress Troy laughing with them I realized that although I had surrendered to my captor, I was still just a naked slave crawling through the mud. Pelting me with eggs after my capture as I crawled through the mud to the boots of the huntress was another way of reminding me that they were all my conquerors. With my face in the mud at her feet I heard them exalt in their conquest then turn in search of their next quarry. I no longer felt angry only perhaps ashamed that I had again put my feeling before the pleasure of my Mistress.
Resolved to make amends for my selfishness I began to eagerly lick and kiss the boots before me. She had aimed well and hit me with a clean shot and I was determined to show her all the obedience and respect to which she was now entitled. I continued licking her boots, for she had not told me to stop, until she nudged me with her toe.
"Stop", she said sharply. "Now hold still while I mark you."
I lay still as she knelt over me. Brushing away some dirt she wrote her number on my back with a black marking pen. I was now a captured slave.
"Stand up."
She spoke to me as perhaps as one might address a large dog who needs some training -- firm yet affectionate. And just like the dog I obediently struggled to my feet and stood before her with my head bowed. She was a beautiful Asian Lady, petite but very strong and, as I quickly found out, quite experienced in the discipline and control of male slaves. She reminded me for a moment of my first Mistress, a petite Hispanic Lady who was a superb equestrian trainer.
"Turn around".
The voice was quick and authoritative. I placed my hands behind my neck and turned to present myself. She examined me carefully, rubbing her whip, since I was still wet and muddy, over the welts on my hips and across the cheeks of my ass. Smacking me once with the whip she turned me around and had me follow her. We walked for a few yards until we were on the track then she reached up and grabbed my left nipple. Squeezing it she turned and began to lead me to where the captured slaves were kept. Despite her strong fingers, after a few steps the wet nipple slipped through her grasp. I was afraid at first that she might think I had tried to pull away from her but she only smiled at me and taking a tissue from her pocket rubbed the nipple until it was dry. Getting a much tighter grip on my nipple she tugged it sharply and led me forward. I followed obediently, stumbling along in my shackles I still tried to keep my chest bent so that she could keep her grip. As we walked she asked me some general questions tugging on the nipple and laughing as I winced while trying to answer her. As we passed other Mistresses on the way to the holding pens she called out to them, "I got one" she would say adding emphasis with a sharp tug on my nipple that made everyone laugh as the naked slave hobbled along behind her.
When we reached the table where the captures were recorded I was put on my knees in the dirt beside the desk while the Sublime Lady Administrator examined my number and recorded me in the record book.
"Do you want to cane him now or wait till later?"
"I'll cane him now" I heard her say, "there's still plenty of time."
"Here slave" said the Administrator and with a snap of her fingers pointed to a spot in front of her desk. I scurried to obey. If I learned anything in the last few days at OWK it was that the caning of slaves was not a special event. It happens frequently and sometimes is unrelated to any disciplinary action. It is often done just to remind the slave of his status or simply because it pleases the Mistress to watch her slave suffer. A well-trained slave, who is sincere about his devotion to his Mistress, will gladly suffer if he knows that it really pleases her. I knew that the Lady who captured me would probably discuss my behavior with Mistress Troy. Perhaps it would only be a casual conversation but I wanted it to be one that reflected well of her efforts to train me.
With my face in the dirt I stretched my arms forward and placing my hands before me, palms downward in a supplicant manner I arched my back and lifted my hips. Spreading my knees I offered myself to her cane. Standing behind me she kicked my knees further apart with the toe of her boot then rapped the tops of my thighs, laughing as my muscles clenched anxiously at the tap of the cane. The first real stroke was fast and hard, perfectly placed across the soft bottom cheeks.
"Thank you Mistress."
"Oh you're welcome" she said with a laugh and struck me again quickly just above her first mark. I clenched my fists as the fiery stripe burned through me.
"Thank you Mistress" I said again -- trying my best to sound obedient and respectful.
The cane tapped me again and I stiffened and waited for the last stroke but after a moment I felt her boot beside my face.
"What's the matter slave?" she asked. "Didn't you like the last stoke?"
As they both laughed I realized that they just teased me with a light tap and I had failed to appreciate their generosity.
"Thank you Mistress" I said quickly, "the slave thanks you."
Then I impulsively licked her boot while anxiously hoping she would not change her mind. But my fears were misplaced for they had already forgotten me and had walked away. In a few moments a Guardess came and led me to the line of captured slaves that waited, naked in the hot sun for the last slave to be captured.
To my surprise I waited a long time for while I had thought I was one of the last slaves to be captured several more were still at large. Perhaps there is little actual difference to someone observing a slave wearing his small thong that barely covers his genitals and a naked slave but if you are the slave it makes a lot of difference. But my feelings of total humiliation were not of concern to anyone for I was but one number in a row of muddy, dirty and sweaty slaves. Naked and still in shackles we knelt with our backs straight so that our numbers were clearly visible. The Ladies stood or sat in front of us, toasting the success of their hunt with champagne and exchanging stories about the slaves they had captured.
Finally it was time for the awards. I was pleased to see that Mistress Boss had won although the decision had been close. There was to be a luncheon feast for the ladies but first the captured slaves were to be punished. Commanded by a Guardess we turned around and crawled to the wall behind us. Spreading us out along the wall we were told to keep our heads down and present ourselves for the cane. We were also reminded that we had to thank each Mistress in a clear voice. Each Mistress was suppose to have one stroke but often they took another if they didn't like your response or felt that the first had not been sufficient. I turned and scurried towards the wall. I buried my face in the soft grass and waited. They started at the far end of the line -- perhaps ten slaves from where I knelt. A slave feels the stroke of the slave beside him -- the whistle of the cane through the air and the solid smack as it bites the flesh just a few feet from your own resonate through your nervous system. I heard the strokes of the first Mistress in line when she was still several slaves away from me but dared not to raise my head and see exactly when I would feel the first stroke of the cane for soon it did not matter. The Ladies talked and laughed as they moved down the line. They would stop behind a certain slave and comment on their markings. A few were content to cane you once from behind -- leaving a stripe across one cheek or another -- but most Mistresses stood beside you and took their time -- making sure that each slave got the full force of the cane across both cheeks or the tops of his thighs. As I waited in this haze of pain and noise I failed to notice the boot beside my head until the toe nudged me.
"What's the matter with my slave?" asked my Mistress with a laugh, "aren't you interested in my boots anymore!"
I felt so ashamed that I had not seen or heard her approach me. Pressing my lips to her muddy boots I licked and kissed them adoringly until she pulled them away.
"Perhaps I have been too lenient with my slave," she said as she walked behind me.
Taking her time she rapped me several times, then made me wait.
"Well maybe this will help you remember."
Then she hit me with the full force of her swing catching me perfectly across the backs of my thighs. I swayed forward and dug my fingers into the soft earth.
"Thank you Mistress" I gasped but she had moved on.
When the Ladies were finally done with us and we were dismissed I was a pitiful sight but my Mistress knew just what to do. Crawling behind her she led me to the far side of the barn and ordered me to kneel and face the wall.
As I waited in the hot sun a jet of ice cold water suddenly struck my back. I shivered and dropped to my hands and knees. My wonderful Mistress stood a few feet away with a garden hose laughing merrily as I shivered in the cold spray. She ordered me to remove my shackles and stand while she hosed me down. Making me turn and face her she amused herself by washing my cock and balls in the cold spray. I moaned and backed away as the water slapped my cock around but her sharp command put an end to such disobedient behavior.
It was I had to admit an invigorating way to be cleaned up. When she was satisfied she allowed me to kneel and kiss her boots then sent me off to find my little black jock strap. She was going to the gala luncheon for the Ladies of the Hunt. Later I would kneel on the floor at her feet. As it happened the sublime Lady who captured me was seated across from my Mistress. She saw the number on my back and complimented my Mistress for my good behavior. I was so pleased that I wanted to crawl over and kiss her boots again.
At the tug of her leash I would raise my head and eat some table scraps from the hand of my Mistress as it pleased her. The number on my back and the fresh stripes on my ass proclaimed to everyone that she had run her slave in the hunt. It pleased me to see that she had enjoyed the hunt.
I am told that soon there will be another OWK slave Hunt and that this time the slaves will be run totally naked -- but of course for their collars -- with their hands bound behind their backs. Additionally, the slaves will now all be forced to crawl on their hands and knees from their point of capture to the slave holding pens -- no doubt "encouraged along" by their capturer. Once properly accounted for and recorded each slave will be rebound and given an additional six strokes of the cane before joining the herd of captured naked creatures to await the outcome of the hunt. I sincerely hope that Mistress Troy will allow me to be run again for Her pleasure and enjoyment as well as all the other Sublime Ladies. Running bound and barefoot through the Sports Park will not allow me much chance of escape but I will try hard to offer my Mistress and her friends an exciting hunt.
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