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Part Six

It was a very sore, sorry and completely naked Debra Hutchinson that was frog–marched out of the mansion the following morning. Although her muscles had ceased their spasms – having been freed of the indescribably painful strappado that she had spent the night bound within – her entire body was a road–map of aches that piled one on top of the other, making each step a marked effort. Two guards flanked her, both uniformed in the black suits that Debra was fast becoming accustomed to. Neither spoke nor responded in any way to her moans of faint protest. Her hands fluttered uselessly behind her, bound with thin cord that had immediately been applied the second she was freed from the strappado. Her ankles were also bound, but with steel manacles that were linked by nine inches of chain. This ensured that she could walk with very small steps, but did not leave enough slack to attempt an escape from her captors. The tape and packing gag had been removed (along with a notable portion of her hair), and been replaced with a simplistically effective rubber ball gag. One of the guards had smugly informed her the ball was four and half inches in diameter – one of the larger gags favoured by Madame Von Kepp – as it was clear from her outburst the previous day that she could handle it. Debra begged to differ, but was not given the opportunity to voice her opinion before the gag was crammed between her teeth.

The naked woman shivered in the crisp morning air. She wondered for perhaps the thousandth time how she had gone from accomplished FBI agent to kidnapped slave in less than twenty–four hours. Never had she imagined that she would find herself in such a position. Even when she considered the worst possibility of her unusual occupation, it had been a bullet she encountered, not an insane German slaver and her contingent of sadistic guards.

A particular sticking point was that none of this should ever have happened. She had sent the signal for the reinforcements to roll in as soon as a bound and gagged Katherine had appeared. But no cavalry had arrived! Somehow, something had gone monumentally wrong. And it was now obvious that "something" was Rameriez. The new Agent had clearly been a plant from day one, gathering information for Von Kepp and undermining the Operation at every turn.

Debra's attention was dragged back to her current predicament as her captors led her off the leaf–speckled driveway and into the yellow, red and brown forest surrounding the Von Kepp mansion. She shivered, her skin a screen of goose bumps, her nipples rock hard in the cool morning air. Debra wondered what fate was in store for her. Given what she had already suffered through, it did not take a huge a large deductive leap to recognize whatever she faced was likely to be decidedly unpleasant.

Debra's suspicions were all but confirmed a few minutes later when she was led through a gap between two large trees and into a small clearing. Two horsed riders, a dog handler, and a small pack of Jack Russell terriers were waiting for her. Debra instantly recognized Von Kepp and Ramirez garbed identically in traditional dressage attire. Red riding jackets with black lapels were buttoned closed over high necked, white shirts. Tightly knotted black ties adorned the women's necks, and were held in place with expertly placed silver tie–pins. Skin-tight cream jodhpurs encased their legs, and were tucked into knee length black riding boots. The riders each gripped a short crop in gloved hands, whilst their riding helmets were held beneath the crook of their left arms. The horses they rode were both large enough to be intimidating. Von Kepps's was a white charger of at least seventeen hands, whilst Ramirez's gray mare was only a hand or two shorter.

"Ahhh, wonderful! Our first rabbit has arrived," Von Kepp announced theatrically. Powerless to do anything except glare at her captor, Debra waited for an explanation. She had to wait longer than anticipated, however, as the German slaver resumed the conversation she had been having with Ramirez about the beauty of her native countryside.

No more than a minute later another pair of guards and their naked prisoner entered the clearing. Debra did not have to look hard to see that Katherine had suffered through a night equally as intense as her own. Besides being bound and gagged in the same manner as Debra, the other Agent's shoulders were slumped forward, her eyes half-closed – obvious proof of her similar ordeal of captivity and torture. Debra could not shake the wave of embarrassment that rolled over her, however, as Katherine looked up long enough to assess her naked body before again dropping her gaze.

"Ms Wytt, so good of you to join us. Now we're only waiting on … Ah! Here she is now." Debra turned to see a third bound and gagged woman marched into the clearing. She was not one of the other Agents that had been captured along with herself and Katherine, but was nevertheless vaguely familiar. She was of average height with unkempt chestnut hair (on top of her head and between her legs, Debra noted with no small degree of embarrassment), large breasts with equally large areole, a flat stomach and well toned legs. Debra frowned, trying to place the woman, but it wasn't until she saw Katherine staring at the newcomer with shocked recognition, that she realized who she was.

"Ms Bradbury, our final contestant. Good to see that you've recovered from your plastering sufficiently well to join us this morning." Debra could see the high–powered lawyer turned informant was terrified. Her eyes darted about the clearing, seeking assistance or perhaps escape, while her nostrils flared repeatedly as she sucked in shallow breaths.

The dogs, perhaps sensing the women's fear, strained at their leashes, yapping excitedly.

"You're probably wondering why I've had you brought here this morning." Von Kepp gave a signal and the guards on either side of the three bound women proceeded to force their elbows together. She kept speaking while Debra, Katherine and Holly endured the discomfort and humiliation of having their upper arms tightly bound together so that their breasts were thrust forward prominently. "We're going to play a game to commemorate my last day in your God–forsaken country that I long ago dubbed 'Rabbit–Hunt'."

Debra did not have time to consider the implications of the "last day" comment as Von Kepp continued with a superior smile.

"The rules are very simple. You will each have a ten minute head start to escape into the grounds surrounding my mansion. As you all know, twelve foot walls border the estate, so escape will be impossible – especially with your arms bound in the manner that they now are. Your gags will remain in place to ensure communication is limited." Finished with her elbows, one of the guards forced Debra's legs apart, while the other wrapped a doubled over length of rope around her waste. "A crotch rope is also standard for all competing rabbits. Mainly because they hurt enough to impede progress, but also because I find them aesthetically pleasing." Debra grunted in pain as her rope was pulled up between her legs, hooked over itself at the small of her back, and drawn back down into her crotch. It was tied off at her navel, tightly enough that she could feel it crushing her clit. Looking over, she saw Katherine and Holly receiving the same treatment.

"Your goal is to remain free for as long as possible. My partner here and I will be hunting you along with the aid of Wolfgang and his terriers," Von Kepp motioned at the dog handler and for the first time Debra recognized the white-haired man from yesterday's stand-off. "All have been scented with the panties you wore upon your capture and would no doubt desperately like back now." Debra reddened at the reminder of her nakedness, before feeling the manacles around her ankles moving. She looked down to see one of the guards unlocking them with a key. A glance again revealed her co–captives were also being freed from their chains.

"The winner," continued Von Kepp, "will be rewarded with a relatively comfortable trip to the Motherland. The loser – that is the first rabbit to be caught – will be given to Wolfgang to spend the remainder of the day in his Interrogation Chamber." Debra shivered when the man's cold gaze focused upon her. She instinctively knew that to him she was less than even a slave; nothing more, in fact, than an insect to be cut open and experimented upon.

Von Kepp's horse stomped the ground nervously. "Yes, my pet, it's past time we began the Hunt." She turned to Ramirez. "Are you ready?"

"Most certainly, Madame."

"Wolfgang?"

The white-haired man merely nodded whilst effortlessly holding the eight straining Jack Russell's at bay.

"Then let us begin!" Von Kepp pulled up her jacket and cuff–linked shirt sleeve to reveal a gold wrist watch. "You have 10 minutes from … now!"

For a moment, Debra stood completely still, her mind not quite comprehending that the hunt had begun. But then Katherine was moving as fast her tight crotch rope would allow, and Debra knew that she had to do the same. She broke into a half–jog, careful to pay attention to her footing whilst trying to maintain her balance with aching muscles, bound elbows and wrists, and bouncing breasts.

Von Kepp's mocking laughter followed her out of the clearing.

*****

Minutes before she heard the distant yap of the Jack Russells grow in pitch and volume, Holly Bradbury had been ready to lay down and accept her fate.

She had been through too much physical and mental torture in the past week to endure anything further. Being bound, gagged and then encased in a plaster cast from head to toe (with openings thoughtfully left for her nostrils) had been bad enough. But having to remain sealed in that cast for more than a day, unable to control even her own bladder, let alone move a muscle, had driven Holly right to the very edge of her endurance. Being freed from the cast was meant to have been a moment of pure relief. Instead, Madame had ensured Holly was immediately hosed down in the Cleanliness Room and then suspended by her wrists to drip dry. From there, a procession of ever more inventively sadistic torments had been arranged for her. Some – like being bound spread-eagled in the foyer of the mansion whilst each and every passing guard paused to stare at her nakedness – were designed to humiliate. Others – like having her breasts clamped in a vice while being flogged from behind – were pure physical tortures from which she still bore the scars.

She staggered on, however. More for the two women that jogged alongside her than for her own benefit. They had instinctively bunched together upon leaving the clearing that held the bizarre hunting party, and now Agent Wytt was leading the way. Holly was unfamiliar with the other woman, but guessed she was a part of the FBI team that Madame had gloated over capturing. She ran behind Holly, every so often prodding her into movement with her breasts and a muffled "Mppff!" around her ball-gag. The tormented lawyer knew it would be better for her fellow "rabbits" if she just gave up. It would even be easier for her to just fall to the ground, lay on the patchwork quilt of fallen autumn leaves, and wait for the Terriers to sniff her out. She knew the punishment would be bad – she'd been subjected to enough of Wolfgang's ministrations to know the man was the living embodiment of sadism – but she'd reached the point where she could no longer bring herself to care. Not when the chance to rest her aching muscles was even now passing her by …

Holly's footsteps faltered, slowed, and then she was suddenly falling forward. A muffled grunt of alarm sounded behind her as she struck the ground face-first, her bound arms incapable of cushioning the blow. A groan of her own followed, half in pain, half with relief that her legs were no longer straining to move her onwards. And all the while, the yapping of the Jack Russells drew ever closer.

Looking up, Holly saw the gag distorted faces of her fellow competitors peering down at her. Wytt looked angry as she tossed her head impatiently, clearly signaling Holly to get up quickly. The other woman, however, was cautiously lowering herself into a kneeling position. Holly grimaced in sympathy when she saw the way said movement was causing the crotch cord to rip deeper into her most vulnerable of areas.

"Ew haph fu het hup."

Despite their predicament, Holly had to bite back a hysterical giggle. Gag-talk was so ridiculously hard to understand.

The barking of the dogs continued to grow louder, her companions proportionately more desperate.

"Umm ogn!" Wytt yelled into her gag.

The other woman shook her head determinedly, her eyes never leaving Holly's. "Het hup. Het hup how."

Holly frowned quizzically for a moment and then realized what had been said. Get up. Get up now. She groaned again and forced herself into a sitting position with all the difficulty that having her arms pinioned behind her would imply. Wytt was already backing away. The nicer woman was herself standing, her gaze alternating between Holly's progress and the direction from which the dogs seemed to be coming.

Moving to her knees, Holly progressed to getting one foot on the leaf-covered ground. Her crotch cord hitched upwards, causing her to gasp in pain as her clit was crushed. Biting down on her gag, she was just about to stand when a wave of nausea rolled through her. For one terrible second Holly Bradbury thought she was going to vomit (an easy avenue to suffocation with a ball-gag strapped into her mouth), but her rolling stomach was not quite prepared to part with the morsel of food she had been permitted the night before. Instead, the world spun wildly. She tried forcing herself to stand, but her knee buckled with her weight and she pitched over sideways. A muffled screech of dismay momentarily over-rode the incessant yapping of the dogs, but Holly could not even tell from which direction it came. Weakly, she raised her head to see the nicer woman poised between coming back to her aide and running on.

Holly shook her head, signaling her defeat, willing the woman away. She wanted to tell her how grateful she was for her concern, but that she had to escape, had to save herself, before the hunting party arrived. Of course, the ball-gag forcing her jaw wide apart was allowing no such communication, so she had to rely upon expression to convey her meaning.

At that moment, over the woman's shoulder, Holly caught a glimpse of Madame astride her horse weaving in and out of the trees.

"EE-IGHHN EWW!" she screamed at her benefactor.

The woman turned just in time to see the Terriers and Wolfgang appear from amongst a copse of trees, the dogs straining for all they were worth to reach their quarry. Madame was not far behind, but as of yet there was no sign of her protégé.

Holly knew what would happen next. The woman would run as fast as her legs would carry her, breasts slapping against her chest, arms helpless behind her, breath whistling around the gigantic and painful ball-gag. The dogs would quickly sense easier prey and within moments would be on top of Holly, the emotionless Wolfgang perhaps holding them back, perhaps allowing them to bite and tear at her. She would be the first caught and would be given to him for an evening of his pleasure …

So be it. She had resigned herself to this fate from the moment Madame had explained the rules of "Rabbit-Hunt". And it was better she face Wolfgang than have him break another woman in her ste-

The woman did not run away. She instead glanced back at a bruised, battered and exhausted Holly and seemed to come to a decision. Suddenly, she was accelerating into an awkward run right at Wolfgang and the Terriers.

Holly watched, aghast, as at the last second a woman she had known for less than fifteen minutes sidestepped around the leading dogs … and ran straight into Madame on her horse.

*****

Ramirez had broken away from Madame as soon as she was able. She enjoyed the crisp morning air beating against her face as she rode the horse at a gallop along the main drive, and then at a slower gait through the obstacle course that doubled as the estate's thickly vegetated grounds. Ideally, she'd have liked to discard the helmet, undo the necktie and loosen her collar to better feel the caress of the breeze. But Ramirez knew from experience that Madame did not tolerate sloppy presentation, and as such was not willing to run the risk that they would bump into each other before she could re-garb herself appropriately. So the helmet remained firmly strapped beneath her chin, and the tie tight around her neck, as she headed via circuitous route toward the main gate.

Bureau training dictated that an Agent must make the most of any opportunity to escape, and Ramirez was very much aware that there was only one entry and exit from Von Kepp's estate that did not involve climbing over twelve foot walls. Obviously, with her arms bound as they were, Wytt had no chance of escaping in that manner, so Ramirez trusted the highly trained agent to make for the only remaining opportunity open to her.

Ramirez smiled thinly. They had things to discuss. Things Madame had no need to see or hear.

*****

Katherine could not believe it. How could Debra have been so stupid? Risking your life to save a friend or a colleague was one thing. Stopping to help a known criminal turned informant was another.

She had tried to communicate as much to Debra, tried to get her to leave Bradbury to her fate. After all, an afternoon of torture had been all but promised for the first woman caught, and Katherine could think of no better candidate among the three of them than the bitch-lawyer who had worked to keep Von Kepp out of jail for several years, thus indirectly contributing to the formulation of Operation Whitedove.

But Debra had refused to leave even when the hunting party was almost upon them. Katherine had made one last silent appeal – which Debra had shaken her head at – before darting for the transient safety of the deeper woods.

Less than a minute later she'd heard the pitch of the dogs' barking change amid a series of excited shouts.

And as simply as that, she was on her own.

The main gate was now her destination. She was effectively helpless thanks to the thin cord cruelly biting into her wrists and elbows, so there was no way she could possibly hope to scale the estate walls. Not to mention the crotch cord. She'd had to fight the pleasure she felt as the guard wound the thin cord around her stomach and then pulled it between her legs, and the first steps she had taken whilst bound had proven to be quite stimulating. Katherine had found, however, that the cord only seemed to tighten as she moved until it now felt as if it were cutting her in two with every step. Not that giving up was an option. The main gates would obviously be well guarded, but if she could hide within range for long enough, someone would have to come or go, and that might afford her the opportunity to slip through unnoticed.

Katherine had always been a realist, however, so she knew her chances were exceptionally slim. Even if the guards were inattentive enough to allow her to pass, she had no doubt that video surveillance would capture her attempted escape and effectively ensure she was delivered back into Von Kepp's hands.

It suddenly occurred to Katherine that the flash between the trees she'd seen upon driving through the Von Kepp grounds yesterday afternoon must have been another "rabbit" just like her. She shook her head at the gall of Von Kepp. She'd known a fully armed undercover team of FBI Agents was on their way to arrest her and she'd had colleagues out hunting one of her slaves while they drove on by. Incredible.

Caught in her musings, Katherine didn't see the raised tree root until just before she trod on it. Bound as she was, sudden shifts in direction were near impossible, but Katherine somehow managed to adjust her step so that she landed just short of the root and then leapt over it. She came to a quick stop, lungs straining for air that her mouth could not sufficiently provide due to the jaw-straining ball-gag buckled within it.

Katherine mentally berated herself for not concentrating upon the task at hand. She had to be focused to have any chance of eluding capture. Aching muscles and a lack of sleep were no excuses. One fall and she might not be able to get back up again.

She listened carefully. The breeze was brisk enough to goose-pimple her naked flesh, but not so strong that it masked other sounds. The dogs were still barking, but she was satisfied they were significantly further away. She hoped that meant she'd be able to reach the gates before they caught her.

Taking as deep a breath through her nostrils as possible, Katherine set off again. Although her attention was more closely focused on the trees she was dodging and the ground beneath her feet, she could not help but imagine how ridiculous she must look. A fully grown woman without a stitch of clothing, running through a morning forest with her arms bound behind her back, a crotch rope sawing at her clit, and a ball-gag maintaining her silence. Her sizeable breasts bounced with every step she took, alternating between springing up painfully and slapping against the top of her belly.

With all that had happened, it was no surprise to Katherine that this mental image of herself excited her.

She just wished it were someone else in her position. Someone she had decided to punish in this manner.

Katherine jogged on until she reached a high double brick wall of the estate. Without hesitation she turned to her right and moved on. She noted with approval that she could no longer hear the Jack Russells with their incessant yapping. Within five minutes the trees had begun to thin out, so she slowed to a fast walk (for which her clit would be eternally grateful), while keeping a careful eye out for the first sign of the guarded main gates.

So it was that she never saw any sign of Ramirez until a booted foot appeared from behind a tree she was passing and kicked her legs out from under her.

Katherine hit the ground hard – hard enough to blast the air from her lungs and leave her gasping for breath. She scrambled to roll over and saw the traitor glaring down at her, riding crop in one gloved hand, switch blade in the other.

Unable to protect herself or even scream, Katherine could only flounder helplessly in the autumn leaves as Ramirez moved forward, her expression cold and unforgiving.

End of Part Six