story continued from chapter 10
Chapter 11: Hun (Brandy’s Story)
Soaking wet from the rain, I tore through the trees, hurtling over fallen branches and roots. A latex hood with cutouts for my eyes, nose, and mouth encompassed my head, keeping the hair out of my eyes. As frustrating as it was to be naked, collared, ring-gagged, crotch-roped with a rubber G-string, and have my arms restrained behind my back, such hindrances had little affect on my speed. And thanks to a lifetime of walking outside barefoot, my feet were far too callused to be daunted by the occasional sharp stone or twig. I panted heavily as I scanned my surroundings. I needed to find the unlocking station! Once I could free my arms, I knew this would be a completely different ballgame. Hearing what sounded like the loud snap of a twig behind me, I instantly ducked and scuttled behind the nearest tree. I held my breath for several seconds, listening intently for any signs of life. Hearing my pursuers through the latex hood was proving to be quite the challenge. Not to mention the torrential downpour that drowned out virtually every other sound in the entire forest. After a few seconds, I inched my head outward to see around the tree trunk. All I could see was rain and heavily wooded forest. I exhaled, standing once more to my feet. Just then, I felt something cold and hard press against the nape of my neck. “Game over,” said a deep voice. Dammit, I thought. I recognized the object pressed against my neck as the tip of a rifle. Unlike most rifles, however, this one did not fire bullets or rounds. Instead, this rifle emitted infrared beams. Sounds harmless, right? Wrong. In any normal setting, being hit with an infrared beam would be as consequential being shined on by a flashlight. But this was no normal setting. The wearable technology I was sporting had basically turned me into a target for laser tag. If an infrared beam were to make contact with any part of my body, it would trigger an electrical response in my collar and butt-plug. Oh, didn’t I tell you? The rubber G-string I was wearing had a built in butt-plug. Fucked up, huh? So, upon being hit with an infrared beam from one of these rifles, 3,000 volts of electricity would be distributed simultaneously to both my neck and anus. I sighed and allowed my head to drop forward in a sign of defeat. Statistically, this technique has tested the highest probability of prompting an attacker to lower his weapon. As poor luck would have it, however, the tip of the rifle remained firmly pressed against my neck. Time for plan B. In one swift move, I turned my head to the side and kicked off of the tree in front of me with my dominant foot. The result was me hurtling backwards and colliding forcefully into my assailant. With my head turned, the tip of the tip of the gun slid across my wet skin and beneath my ear. With the weapon no longer aimed at me, I had milliseconds to execute my next move. My assailant had been knocked off balance, but was still on his feet. This needed to change. Without hesitation, I parried left nailed him in the side of his knee with my heel. Crying out in pain, he dropped hard to the ground. Seizing what would likely be my only opportunity to knock him out, I spun and leapt into a tornado kick. No sooner did I leave the ground, my assailant managed to aim his rifle towards me and pull the trigger. Agonizing pain shot through me from my neck and anus, causing me to suddenly lose all muscle function. Instead of rotating my torso and landing the kick at his jawline, I merely collapsed to the ground like a sack of potatoes, twitching and convulsing in the mud. Keeping his finger firmly planted on the trigger, I watched helplessly as he stood to his feet and casually stepped behind me. Dammit, I thought. Did he have to keep the trigger pulled? I was completely powerless as I felt him grab me by the back of my collar and yank me to my knees. Once I was kneeling in a doggie-style position, my assailant finally released the trigger. I moaned in relief as the electric shocks subsided. But though the pain had ceased, the grimace on my face remained as I braced for the fucking that was soon to follow. I gave an involuntary gasp as I felt him tug my G-string to the side and plunge forcefully inside of me. My eyes suddenly shot wide open. Dammit, the cock was huge! Huge and ribbed… Fortunately, the rain had kept my vagina fairly lubricated. Otherwise, a cock of this size would have gone in quite uncomfortably. I clenched my fists beneath the armbinder, digging my fingernails into my palms. I growled into my gag as I felt him slide in and out. In and out. After about a minute of this, I heard a loud whistle to my right. My assailant pulled out of me and released the back of my collar, causing me to topple forward onto the ground. “Bastard!” I yelled, face down in the mud. But with the ring-gag in my mouth, it came out more like, “Aathawd!” I rolled onto my side and laid panting in a fetal position. Wouldn’t you know, he pulled out just as I was beginning to actually get something pleasurable out of it… My assailant straightened up and stood at attention with hands by his side and feet together. I glared at the large black rubber dildo that was strapped to his naval. Why the fuck did it need to be so large? I wondered angrily. After a few seconds, several men stepped toward me through the tree line. In front was an older man in his late 70’s dressed in military attire and a rain-repellent trench coat. I recognized him as General Leonard Hersh. “Congratulations, Sergeant,” he said in a growly voice. “You’ve been claimed. Again.” General Hersh stared down at me the way a dog owner looks down at an accident on the kitchen floor. Despite his reputation as a stoic and emotionless leader, his gaunt face was etched with dissatisfaction at my repeated failures to overpower my assailant. I dropped my head in a mixture of shame and resentment. This was my fourth time being captured this morning. This meant that I had been raped four times by a fellow navy seals wearing strap-ons. As debasing as that was, it was far more infuriating to be expected to complete a task that was so implausible. There was simply no way I’d be able to get the jump on an armed attacker while my arms were restrained behind my back! Real field conditions or not, this exercise was fucking rigged. Hold up… Before I go any further into this story, I should probably introduce myself. My name is Debra Nolan. I’m 26 years of age, blonde, 5 foot 10 inches, and 139 pounds of pure muscle. My code name is Delta November Foxtrot and my mission alias is Brandy Michaels. About a month and a half ago, I was hand selected to join a special operations task force codenamed Mantis. I was one of 5 women tasked with going undercover inside an international human trafficking syndicate. While I’m hardly a stranger to special ops task forces, nothing could have prepared me for the training I’d receive for this mission. Over the past month, under the command of General Hersh, I had endured just about every type of sexual stress test imaginable. But given the sexual nature of the role I’d be playing, this particular area of training would prove to be critical. Sexual endurance was essential to success. The objective of this mission was to infiltrate the trafficking syndicate, duplicate data files from their main servers, and then get the hell out. Simple enough, right? I wish I could agree. The fact of the matter is- our statisticians awarded this mission a mere 20% chance of success. Typically, special ops won’t even consider missions with less than 60%. But as you might have imagined, extenuating circumstances played a big role in this particular case. Almost one year ago to the week, technology industries celebrated the invention of AI quantum encryption. In non-geek speech, this translates to artificial intelligence-based security software that renders devices and databases virtually unhackable. If you’re someone who’s thinking that this sounds like a good thing, you should probably think again. In eight months from now, the anonymous creator of this software, who goes by Harpocrates, vowed to make his creation open-source and available to the world. When that happens, every criminal on the planet will have been given the gift of electronic invisibility. As someone in the military who relies on data interception to keep the world safe, this poses obvious complications. But regardless of how you feel about the Patriot Act and FISA, a crime wave was almost certainly on the horizon. The announcement of the software’s creation sent shockwaves through Washington. The joint armed forces suddenly had a hard deadline for making their move against their highest priority criminal organizations. Kicking the proverbial can down the road risked the possibility of watching these cartels and syndicates become virtual ghosts. The clock was now ticking. That’s where I come in. My infiltration into this particular syndicate had begun with my enrollment in a ‘hunger games’ style hunt. Along with roughly 200 other women from across the world, I would be transported to an undisclosed location in the woods, believed to be somewhere along the continental southeastern coast. Here, we would be naked and restrained in similar fashion to how I currently found myself. Wealthy male hunters armed with infrared rifles would proceed to scour the woods, hoping to capture and claim one of us as their own live-in sex slaves for the following three months.
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