"The Hunt"

Jul 11, 2002
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I don't think I've postd this one here previously. It's a short story from "Strictly Susan - The Seventh Collection" first published in October 2007:

The Hunt

"Why don't you come hunting with us?" Clarissa asked. "It's a wonderful day out."

"I thought foxhunting was illegal now?" said Lisa. "Or do you chase after a trail someone has made for you? I've always thought that was so pointless."

"Oh no," Clarissa assured her. "We always go after live prey. It will be the best day's riding you ever had, I promise you."


It was three weeks later that Lisa manoeuvred the horsebox towed behind her four-by-four into the car park near to where the hunt was due to start. She half expected to see a mass of anti-hunt protestors, and perhaps the police all ready to arrest any member of the hunt they could prove was intending to chase a fox.

She saw none of them. All that was there were a number of riders and horses some way off, a small pack of hounds, and just one or two people on foot who seemed to be mainly involved with organising the hounds before the hunt started.

"Hurry up, hurry up," Clarissa shouted to her, waving cheerfully. "How long will it take you to get your horse out and to mount up? We're nearly ready to start."

"Only a few minutes," Lisa called back, hoping that Maverick, her black stallion, would not need too much calming after the long drive. He was a temperamental horse at the best of times, but ideal for hunting across ground she did not know too well. He took hedges and ditches in his stride, anticipating the ground ahead and leaving little more for her to worry about other than simply staying on his back as he followed the hounds.

She hurried. Fortunately, Maverick needed little attention. Although he tossed his head and snorted loudly, pawing the floor of the horsebox and then resisting as she tried to lead him down the ramp and into the car park, she could sense his excitement. He had hunted before, and he knew what was about to happen. As always, he would rise to the occasion.

He was saddled, and she was ready and on his back in less than ten minutes. As she approached the waiting group, she was surprised to see they were all women. Also, as far as she could see, they were nearly all mounted on stallions although there were a very few on geldings. None rode a mare, and that at least would be one less distraction for Maverick.

"A stirrup cup before we start," announced Clarissa, and at once a tall woman in riding outfit came round to the riders, presenting each them with a glass of port from a silver tray.

Lisa could sense Maverick's impatience as they stood. She was afraid for a moment that he would refuse to stand still and that she would be obliged to withdraw. It would never do to allow one's horse to appear out of control.

Clarissa saw it too. "Don't worry," she said quietly to Lisa. "It's only a minute or two now. The huntswoman has the hounds ready."

Lisa looked at her a little strangely. 'Huntswoman'? Although perhaps once or twice she had seen the hounds controlled by a woman, it was always 'the huntsman'.

Clarissa smiled. "It's not quite an ordinary hunt," she advised her. "As you can see, I'm 'Mistress of Fox Hounds' today and for all these hunts, I think you'll have a clue of what to expect. I think you might enjoy it."

"And the fox?" asked Lisa. "Are we hunting a real fox?"

But Clarissa had turned away, and the hounds were already on the move.

It started no differently from any other hunt. The huntsman took the hounds across the fields, keeping them in a pack and heading towards a thicket of trees on a small hill some distance away. The rest of the hunt followed, Clarissa in scarlet coat that indicated her status as master of fox hounds - or, as she said, on this occasion 'mistress of fox hounds' - and distinguishing her from all the others except the huntswoman and her 'whippers-in' helping to control the hounds

They were less than half way to the trees when, it seemed, the hounds found the scent. There was a sudden baying as the whole pack were in full cry, racing forward while the huntswoman and the whippers-in tried to keep control of them.

Maverick's ears went forward as he sensed what was happening. He was easily the most powerful horse there, and Lisa knew she was about to have great difficulty in controlling him. It would never do to catch up with the hounds, or even to ride ahead of the mistress of fox hounds or the huntswoman or any of the whippers-in. She guessed, correctly, that all the normal hunting etiquette applied here, even if there was something not quite normal about this particular hunt.

For more than half an hour Lisa fought to direct Maverick the way she wanted to go rather than the way he decided to go. She had to reign him in as best she could to avoid being far ahead of everyone else, and turn him left of right to keep him on the same track taken by the mistress of fox hounds rather than taking the shortcuts over higher hedges and deeper ditches he worked out for himself and headed towards.

It was exhilarating. It was exhausting. It was, at times, positively frightening. And the moment the fox was sighted, it all became twice as frightening and at least twice as exhilarating.

The fox broke cover at the side of the thicket. It was like no fox that Lisa had ever seen, and yet at that moment the sight of it excited her far more than any other fox she had ever hunted. It was far larger than any normal fox, and it was essentially hairless. It moved on two legs, not four. It was covered in mud, and already it seemed to be exhausted. It was a naked man.

For an exhausted, naked man, he moved incredibly quickly and made good use of the terrain and such cover as there was to make it as difficult as possible for the hounds to follow him. Lisa's excitement rose within her. Without a doubt this new dimension to the hunt produced a thrill in her that was deeper than anything she had experienced previously on horseback. Certainly she had always found fox hunting exciting, and certainly she had always found any sort of horse riding to be highly pleasurable. She had never attempted to work out exactly why it was so pleasant to ride a horse, although she was quite certain that it was far from being simply the sensation of the moving saddle underneath her. It was far more than that. In part, at least, it was being able to control that huge animal with no more than a flick of the reins, a squeeze of her knees or a press or kick of her boots. She carried a riding crop when hunting, of course, but she rarely used it. The more subtle the control, the more it satisfied her, and controlling an unpredictable stallion like Maverick at speed over the obstructions of the English countryside was so much more satisfying than if she had been mounted on a more docile mare.

The hunt was nearing its end. The exhausted man would be caught by the hounds sooner or later anyway, and now they were baying almost on his heels. He tripped and fell, and they were on him in an instant. Lisa stood up in the saddle for a better view of what was happening, just as Maverick decided to take a short cut over a particularly wide ditch. She nearly fell, and it took her several minutes to regain her balance properly and to take control of Maverick again.

The huntswoman was where the naked man had fallen, and so were the whippers-in. It was only seconds before they had driven the pack to one side away from the fallen man, and now the rest of the hunt had also closed in around him. Lisa could see that most of the women had dismounted, and it looked very much as though they were thrashing him with their riding crops as he lay motionless on the ground. She kicked Maverick sharply, pressing him forward towards the group.

"Well done, Lisa," Clarissa greeted her as she rode up. "I thought Maverick had the better of you back there!"

"I was careless," admitted Lisa, jumping down from the stallion.

"No matter," said Clarissa cheerfully. "As you're new to this, you'll have to be blooded, you know."

Lisa had been 'blooded' the first time she rode to hounds many years ago. She had been disgusted when they wiped the fresh blood from the fox on her cheek, even though she knew it was traditional and that every new hunt follower was always "blooded" at the first killing of a fox.

"Blooded?" she queried. "He's not dead?"

"Of course not," Clarissa told her cheerfully. "Our fox will be around for another hunt, but maybe not until next year. He's a bit of a mess."

"All right," Lisa agreed. "I can put up with a bit of blood smeared on me! That was quite a chase."

"We don't do blooding in quite the same way in these hunts," Clarissa informed her. "You have to sit on the fox so his blood is smeared on your legs."

"No way!" objected Lisa. "It would wreck my jodhpurs. I'll never get bloodstains out of them."

"No, silly," Clarissa insisted. "You take them off."

Lisa was still objecting, more forcefully in fact, when Clarissa raised her crop high in the air. Lisa thought for a moment that Clarissa was going to strike her with it, but it was a signal to the others.

Lisa found herself grabbed around the waist and her legs lifted from under her. Her riding boots were pulled off and then her jodhpurs, and she was carried struggling to the naked man on the ground.

He was a mess. The mud now nearly covered him completely, although there were several obvious bites on his arms and legs, and his body was bleeding in a number of places from the sharp strokes of the riding crops of all the women. He stared up at them hopelessly.

Positioning her carefully, the women spread Lisa's legs apart, bent them at the knees, placed her right over the man's face and held her there.

"Ride him, Lisa! Ride him!" several of them chanted.

For the first few seconds, Lisa only felt fury and humiliation. It took a little longer for her to realise that it was the man underneath her who was being hurt and humiliated, and a few seconds after that she began to appreciate the position in which she had been placed.

"Ride him! Ride him!" was now the chant from all the women, and it was a chant of acceptance, not of derision.

The ride so far today on Maverick had, Lisa would have admitted to herself, excited her in a way that although not really sexual did without a doubt produce something very close to arousal in her. Seeing the naked man hunted down was no less exciting, and now to have him underneath her, his face pressed against her plain white knickers, was producing feeling inside her that she had never previously recognised outside the bedroom.

She rode him. She rocked, pressed, pushed and slid backward and forward on his face, until with an almighty shudder her body tensed and then relaxed.

And all the time the women watched and cheered.

Jul 11, 2002
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Oh don't be so sure, Logan.

Lisa and Clarissa both exist and both hunt, although those aren't their real names. Maverick also exists, and that IS his real name and he belongs to "Lisa".

And... .as fox hunting has now been banned in the UK, there HAVE been several "hunts" after a human "fox"...


Giantess' Seatcushion
Mar 20, 2007
Hello Strict Susan!

Thanks so much for this really very exciting story! I love the idea of Amazonian women hunting and chasing down helpless male victims.

Oh don't be so sure, Logan.

Lisa and Clarissa both exist and both hunt, although those aren't their real names. Maverick also exists, and that IS his real name and he belongs to "Lisa".

And... .as fox hunting has now been banned in the UK, there HAVE been several "hunts" after a human "fox"...
Really? That sounds very interesting. Cannot imagine how that works... But I personally know a very sexy and powerful young lady who works as a Wrestling Domina and owns two horses. She also offers scenarios in which she hunts her clients together with a girl friend on horses. Never tried that but I can imagine that could make your heartbeat pace up ;).

I had started a storyline with Amazons on horses chasing behind men, torturing and even killing them some time ago but didn't go on although I had plenty of ideas in my head what Hanka and her Amazons would do with their slave to torture, squeeze and crush him.


Would love to read more about the real fox hunts.