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And The Waters Ran Red

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messaline said:
Oh ! I'm just returning from a vacancies'week in Normandy and I'm surprised to be in such a story !:D

I well recognize my "Messaline chérie" : always "sisters in the pain ! It's solacing !
Yes, sisters, be proud and strong , show them like Cruxgirls are playing in difficulties !:)

But before, to seal a pact , we could have some fun !!!:very_hot::very_hot::very_hot:

View attachment 294835
Click to expand...
That is quite a lovely little gif! I feel rather worn out just looking at it - again, and again, and ....
 

We sing our song each day

Hold me as the night grows longer

Mwahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

And when I turn heaven is born!!!!

US
 
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9.​

The sharp report of the starting gun rings in my ears and reverberates back and forth across the clearing.

The cords binding my wrists fall free, severed with one swift cut of the knife wielded by the man standing behind me and the post to which I am bound.

I hesitate.

"Go! Run, off with ya," he hisses, giving me a small shove. I step away from the post, heart pounding, vigorously rubbing my wrists to restore circulation.

As I join the mad panicky stampede for the security of the forest on the far side of the clearing, I reach behind my head to undo and toss aside my cloth gag. gulping in fresh air I stretch out my long legs and break into a loping kind of run, arms wrapped around my chest.

I run past the assembled members of the hunting party, who watch the spectacle of the "release" of more than 50 naked women, running for their lives, with amusement and raised fluted glasses. Along the sidelines a pack of leashed hounds bark, snarl and leap, front paws flailing the air as their handlers struggle to hold them back.

I glance over my shoulder at the menacing dogs, not seeing and colliding with another girl. I bounce off her, lose my balance, stumble and go sprawling, face down on the turf almost directly in front of the hunting party.

Getting up slowly on my hands and knees and gasping for breath after having the wind knocked out of me by the fall, I suddenly freeze, transfixed by the piercing stare of the bearded dapper hunter who had earlier examined my body so closely and spoke so threateningly to me. His dark eyes are glued to my dangling bare breasts. He licks his lips and blows me a kiss ... a chilling kiss of impending doom.

Others rush by, passing between me and the hunter, breaking the spell that had frozen me in place. Siss turns back to help me to my feet, and together she and I rush off in the direction of Messaline, who waves frantically to us from the edge of the clearing.

"Get down and be quiet," Messaline urges as we come to her side, "We must get away from the others. It is best that we do so!"

Following her example, Siss and I lie down in the brush beside her and the rest of our little group of friends. We wait there … panting, lying nakedly and uncomfortably among broken branches and prickly thorns until the last of the released "prey" pass us by.

Messaline cautiously rises to her feet, looks about, turns toward us and whispers, "follow me." Obediently we get up on our feet and move off single file behind her along a narrow path leading away from the main direction of flight. As I trudge along, I look ruefully at the small scratches left by the brambles and thorns on my hips, tummy and thighs.

The panicky shouts and cries of the main body of fleeing girls soon fades as they move away from us. We continue on until we can hear them no longer. We reach a small clearing. There we stop to rest and to huddle, up, leaning forward, arms extended over one another's shoulders to form a tight circle of five around Messaline, who crouches in the center below us to explain her plan.

"The hounds have our scents," she asserts. "The hounds … they are our biggest threat. Without them the hunters might never find us, but once the hounds get on our trail they will never quit until they run us down. We must find a stream to follow; the hounds cannot track us in the waters of a stream."

She gets to her feet, steps out of the huddle, surveys the clearing and says, "Over there. See! Where the land dips down. Let's look for water there!" We trot across the grassy clearing feeling very exposed out In the open, but reach the other side unseen.

Just beyond the edge of the clearing lies the beginning of a deep, wooded ravine. We clamber down the steep slope, slipping and sliding, grasping at roots and branches to slow our rapid descent. At the bottom we find what we are looking for ... a babbling brook, it's free-flowing waters roiling and gurgling over and around rocks and under fallen trees.

We plunge in to follow its course. The water is ice cold. I yelp as it floods into my Keds and instantly chills my feet to the bone. We press on, single-file, Messaline in the lead. As we proceed the ravine becomes deeper and the stream widens, gathering force and depth.

We come around a sharp bend and stop dead in our tracks. There on the bank is a human skeleton, propped against a stump, rotting trainers on her feet, a small pendant at the neck, and an arrow shaft through her rib cage, embedded in the dead wood of the stump.

"Crap!" exclaims Blaire. I grab Siss by the hand. She goes rigid and gasps, her other hand fluttering in front of her chest. Tash stares, mouth agape, and the fat girl, whom we now know as Jane and who brings up the rear, comes up, looks over my shoulder and cries, "oh my god."

In the distance, we hear the sound of a long, drawn out, unmelodious blare of a hunting horn. The hunt has begun.

We pass nervously past the skeleton, and break into a desperate run, splashing, slipping and sliding in the nearly knee-deep icy cold waters.

TO BE CONTINUED
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Barbaria1 said:
9.​

The sharp report of the starting gun rings in my ears and reverberates back and forth across the clearing.

The cords binding my wrists fall free, severed with one swift cut of the knife wielded by the man standing behind me and the post to which I am bound.

I hesitate.

"Go! Run, off with ya," he hisses, giving me a small shove. I step away from the post, heart pounding, vigorously rubbing my wrists to restore circulation.

As I join the mad panicky stampede for the security of the forest on the far side of the clearing, I reach behind my head to undo and toss aside my cloth gag. gulping in fresh air I stretch out my long legs and break into a loping kind of run, arms wrapped around my chest.

I run past the assembled members of the hunting party, who watch the spectacle of the "release" of more than 50 naked women, running for their lives, with amusement and raised fluted glasses. Along the sidelines a pack of leashed hounds bark, snarl and leap, front paws flailing the air as their handlers struggle to hold them back.

I glance over my shoulder at the menacing dogs, not seeing and colliding with another girl. I bounce off her, lose my balance, stumble and go sprawling, face down on the turf almost directly in front of the hunting party.

Getting up slowly on my hands and knees and gasping for breath after having the wind knocked out of me by the fall, I suddenly freeze, transfixed by the piercing stare of the bearded dapper hunter who had earlier examined my body so closely and spoke so threateningly to me. His dark eyes are glued to my dangling bare breasts. He licks his lips and blows me a kiss ... a chilling kiss of impending doom.

Others rush by, passing between me and the hunter, breaking the spell that had frozen me in place. Siss turns back to help me to my feet, and together she and I rush off in the direction of Messaline, who waves frantically to us from the edge of the clearing.

"Get down and be quiet," Messaline urges as we come to her side, "We must get away from the others. It is best that we do so!"

Following her example, Siss and I lie down in the brush beside her and the rest of our little group of friends. We wait there … panting, lying nakedly and uncomfortably among broken branches and prickly thorns until the last of the released "prey" pass us by.

Messaline cautiously rises to her feet, looks about, turns toward us and whispers, "follow me." Obediently we get up on our feet and move off single file behind her along a narrow path leading away from the main direction of flight. As I trudge along, I look ruefully at the small scratches left by the brambles and thorns on my hips, tummy and thighs.

The panicky shouts and cries of the main body of fleeing girls soon fades as they move away from us. We continue on until we can hear them no longer. We reach a small clearing. There we stop to rest and to huddle, up, leaning forward, arms extended over one another's shoulders to form a tight circle of five around Messaline, who crouches in the center below us to explain her plan.

"The hounds have our scents," she asserts. "The hounds … they are our biggest threat. Without them the hunters might never find us, but once the hounds get on our trail they will never quit until they run us down. We must find a stream to follow; the hounds cannot track us in the waters of a stream."

She gets to her feet, steps out of the huddle, surveys the clearing and says, "Over there. See! Where the land dips down. Let's look for water there!" We trot across the grassy clearing feeling very exposed out In the open, but reach the other side unseen.

Just beyond the edge of the clearing lies the beginning of a deep, wooded ravine. We clamber down the steep slope, slipping and sliding, grasping at roots and branches to slow our rapid descent. At the bottom we find what we are looking for ... a babbling brook, it's free-flowing waters roiling and gurgling over and around rocks and under fallen trees.

We plunge in to follow its course. The water is ice cold. I yelp as it floods into my Keds and instantly chills my feet to the bone. We press on, single-file, Messaline in the lead. As we proceed the ravine becomes deeper and the stream widens, gathering force and depth.

We come around a sharp bend and stop dead in our tracks. There on the bank is a human skeleton, propped against a stump, rotting trainers on her feet, a small pendant at the neck, and an arrow shaft through her rib cage, embedded in the dead wood of the stump.

"Crap!" exclaims Blaire. I grab Siss by the hand. She goes rigid and gasps, her other hand fluttering in front of her chest. Tash stares, mouth agape, and the fat girl, whom we now know as Jane and who brings up the rear, comes up, looks over my shoulder and cries, "oh my god."

In the distance, we hear the sound of a long, drawn out, unmelodious blare of a hunting horn. The hunt has begun.

We pass nervously past the skeleton, and break into a desperate run, splashing, slipping and sliding in the nearly one-deep icy cold waters of the stream.

TO BE CONTINUED
Click to expand...

hunt 012.jpg
the stream trick does work but if you can find some deer droppings to rub on...
 
Barbaria1 said:
9.​

The sharp report of the starting gun rings in my ears and reverberates back and forth across the clearing.

The cords binding my wrists fall free, severed with one swift cut of the knife wielded by the man standing behind me and the post to which I am bound.

I hesitate.

"Go! Run, off with ya," he hisses, giving me a small shove. I step away from the post, heart pounding, vigorously rubbing my wrists to restore circulation.

As I join the mad panicky stampede for the security of the forest on the far side of the clearing, I reach behind my head to undo and toss aside my cloth gag. gulping in fresh air I stretch out my long legs and break into a loping kind of run, arms wrapped around my chest.

I run past the assembled members of the hunting party, who watch the spectacle of the "release" of more than 50 naked women, running for their lives, with amusement and raised fluted glasses. Along the sidelines a pack of leashed hounds bark, snarl and leap, front paws flailing the air as their handlers struggle to hold them back.

I glance over my shoulder at the menacing dogs, not seeing and colliding with another girl. I bounce off her, lose my balance, stumble and go sprawling, face down on the turf almost directly in front of the hunting party.

Getting up slowly on my hands and knees and gasping for breath after having the wind knocked out of me by the fall, I suddenly freeze, transfixed by the piercing stare of the bearded dapper hunter who had earlier examined my body so closely and spoke so threateningly to me. His dark eyes are glued to my dangling bare breasts. He licks his lips and blows me a kiss ... a chilling kiss of impending doom.

Others rush by, passing between me and the hunter, breaking the spell that had frozen me in place. Siss turns back to help me to my feet, and together she and I rush off in the direction of Messaline, who waves frantically to us from the edge of the clearing.

"Get down and be quiet," Messaline urges as we come to her side, "We must get away from the others. It is best that we do so!"

Following her example, Siss and I lie down in the brush beside her and the rest of our little group of friends. We wait there … panting, lying nakedly and uncomfortably among broken branches and prickly thorns until the last of the released "prey" pass us by.

Messaline cautiously rises to her feet, looks about, turns toward us and whispers, "follow me." Obediently we get up on our feet and move off single file behind her along a narrow path leading away from the main direction of flight. As I trudge along, I look ruefully at the small scratches left by the brambles and thorns on my hips, tummy and thighs.

The panicky shouts and cries of the main body of fleeing girls soon fades as they move away from us. We continue on until we can hear them no longer. We reach a small clearing. There we stop to rest and to huddle, up, leaning forward, arms extended over one another's shoulders to form a tight circle of five around Messaline, who crouches in the center below us to explain her plan.

"The hounds have our scents," she asserts. "The hounds … they are our biggest threat. Without them the hunters might never find us, but once the hounds get on our trail they will never quit until they run us down. We must find a stream to follow; the hounds cannot track us in the waters of a stream."

She gets to her feet, steps out of the huddle, surveys the clearing and says, "Over there. See! Where the land dips down. Let's look for water there!" We trot across the grassy clearing feeling very exposed out In the open, but reach the other side unseen.

Just beyond the edge of the clearing lies the beginning of a deep, wooded ravine. We clamber down the steep slope, slipping and sliding, grasping at roots and branches to slow our rapid descent. At the bottom we find what we are looking for ... a babbling brook, it's free-flowing waters roiling and gurgling over and around rocks and under fallen trees.

We plunge in to follow its course. The water is ice cold. I yelp as it floods into my Keds and instantly chills my feet to the bone. We press on, single-file, Messaline in the lead. As we proceed the ravine becomes deeper and the stream widens, gathering force and depth.

We come around a sharp bend and stop dead in our tracks. There on the bank is a human skeleton, propped against a stump, rotting trainers on her feet, a small pendant at the neck, and an arrow shaft through her rib cage, embedded in the dead wood of the stump.

"Crap!" exclaims Blaire. I grab Siss by the hand. She goes rigid and gasps, her other hand fluttering in front of her chest. Tash stares, mouth agape, and the fat girl, whom we now know as Jane and who brings up the rear, comes up, looks over my shoulder and cries, "oh my god."

In the distance, we hear the sound of a long, drawn out, unmelodious blare of a hunting horn. The hunt has begun.

We pass nervously past the skeleton, and break into a desperate run, splashing, slipping and sliding in the nearly knee-deep icy cold waters.

TO BE CONTINUED
Click to expand...

I think the hunters may have figured out the 'run to the nearest stream' trick :eek:

That skeleton once thought she'd been terribly clever! :doh:

Try something a little deeper....

flat,800x800,070,f_u4.jpg

:D
 
Wragg134 said:
I think the hunters may have figured out the 'run to the nearest stream' trick :eek:

That skeleton once thought she'd been terribly clever! :doh:

Try something a little deeper....

View attachment 295776

:D
Click to expand...

"on the Bonnie Bonnie banks of Loch Lomond"?
 
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