The Wild, Wild Hunt
So I'm going to write about a recent adventure: a femdom paintballing day out in some woods in the South of England.
It was my second trip to the Hunt, and I'm not at all sure I could give a decisive answer as to whether the first or the second time was the best: both were utterly awesome.
The day is divided up into several different sessions, and we started with a basic hunt-the-subs-through-the-trees: once you've shot someone, you get to play around with that person for a few minutes before letting them go to be caught again by someone else. I have long considered myself barely capable of hitting a cow's arse with a banjo but, for some reason, I seemed to have got my eye in within about ten minutes of beginning, and proceeded to shoot several not-at-all-unwilling victims.
Later on, we got to pursue the prey with paintball-loaded slingshots, on the understanding that whoever we shot first would serve as a trophy, to be decorated however the Huntress saw fit.
I ended up inflicting more satisfying-than-expected psychological torture on the one I caught, who disliked any colour apart from black, so naturally had to be daubed in assorted purple, yellow and green.
After lunch, served with great respect by near-naked prey, they were all auctioned off, having been inspected by the rest of us and both their limits and their special features duly noted. I managed to treat myself to not one but two victims and, with the help of a tree that was usefully split into two halves, entertained myself thoroughly by tying them up and beating them like a cheap drumkit.
Tremendous amounts of effort, energy and planning go into creating these small, infrequent events. One rule I don't break on this blog is the no-names-given rule, but the Hunt crew know who they are and so I can safely say: Thank you ever so much for putting this together and my thanks should reach them. And next time I might well bring even more rope and hurty implements, though if I go for the goggly eyes again, I won't forget the glue...