Stories of Tie Up Games

Probably too much to hope that little shit gets his comeuppance. Is there anything in the cards for quarry that ends its hunter?

We (I mean 'they') take all precautions against their clients bring damaged by their purchases.

Hoow about we trade the spoiled brat for Rhys and the other 2 young uns? The spoiled brat deserves to be hunted down as does his father. So 1 middle aged father and a spoiled brat for 3 scrawny, barely alive, innocent young law abiding boys who can't even stand up in their present condition. Sounds like a great trade to me, and remember you can ransack the father's bank account and other assets for the State. 🏘

Time will come. I am sure that the Civil Guard will keep an eye on the boy from now on. After all, you wouldn't want them to act in an illegal manner, would you?

Xtc wrote: 3 months ago We (I mean 'they') take all precautions against their clients bring damaged by their purchases.

Pathetic.

Not at all. Insurance companies take a very dim view of honest, sporting gentlemen coming to harm practicing their innocent pursuits.

I use to be an Insurance Examiner, Insurance Companies take dim views of any activity that will cost them money ESPECIALLY PAYING CLAIMS.

I always enjoy the short sketch involving an insurance salesman and a prospective client -
Salesman: Now let me explain insurance to you. - - - You give us lots of money - - - I think that covers everything.

Sounds right, now please give us some more.

Lots of reads so thank you but anyone else got a comment to make?

OK, @blackbound, @Bradstick, @Caldo203, @harveygasson, @Red86 and @Snozzberry, here's the next part for those who have been following.

The father returned to the car after about fifteen minutes and tossed a bill of sale to his son. The crying stopped immediately and he became the best father in the world.

The salesman’s slaves got to work. There was much to do. The skinny lot was branded on the shoulder with an “R” for “reject” prior to having his ankles clamped and being loaded onto a barrow and wheeled away. The only ones to see him from then on would be any fellow occupants of the oubliette about a kilometre from the sales stand. He would have his irons struck from him before being dropped into the dungeon where he would be left to fend for himself until his inevitable end. His fate would be posted on the community e-newsletter as an example to anyone else who was considering committing a second criminal offence.

Rhys still had no idea whether he would be loaded onto the transport and taken to the holding pen again or whether he too would feel the agony of the branding iron and suffer the slow death of starvation. Upon the return of the two slaves from the oubliette it became apparent that, if it wasn’t actually good news, at least Rhys was not going to be thrown away. The rope between his wrist and neck clamps was removed allowing his wrists to drop into a less stressful position once more. The wire noose was placed round his neck which was then removed from the clamp and Rhys was hauled to his feet and led across to the transport cage. Having suffered the loading procedure previously, Rhys forced himself into a corner of the cage making room for any further occupants thus hoping to avoid any electric shocks. Another occupant was soon loaded into the cage which was then hoisted onto the transport and latched down securely.

During the journey to the holding pen, Rhys and his fellow occupant were jostled around, often clashing bridles and body parts in between muffled cries and attempts at protest. There was obviously only one other person in the cage. The bruising journey eventually came to an end and Rhys braced himself for the forthcoming pain. The other occupant had, as yet, no experience of being unloaded but that situation was soon to change.

The arm-wrenching and chest-racking procedure of being loaded into the holding pen made Rhys feel the pain in his injured ribs once more as he was swung into the air. Once Rhys was grounded in the holding pen and the hoist had been shaken free, desperate muffled screams announced the imminent arrival of another occupant whom Rhys could not manage to avoid completely in the confined space. As the two purchases struggled to separate themselves and to get seated as comfortably as possible, the usual slave was hoisted into the pit.

Rhys heard the sounds as his fellow purchase had the metal plate removed from in front of his eyes and the squeals as antiseptic was applied to his cuts and grazes. A voice came from above indicating that there was too much noise and that the slave should do something about it. Shortly after that, the noises from Rhys’s companion became even more muted than they had previously been. Then it was Rhys’s turn for attention. His blindfold was unfastened and the deep grazes on his knees were dressed painfully and covered with surgical tape before he was given the customary drink from a hydration pack. In that, he was obviously more fortunate than his fellow.

As the slave was hoisted from the holding pen, Rhys inspected his companion whom he should now consider to be his rival. Not that he knew it but the other purchase was the fit, younger boy who was being offered for sale at the same time as he was. He had the usual chastity device, wrist clamp and metal bridle in place but a plug had been inserted into the hole through his gag and locked onto the front of his bridle. In spite of himself Rhys couldn’t help thinking that it would make his rival’s breathing more difficult and thus put him at a useful, as far as Rhys was concerned, disadvantage when they were both released into the hunting reserve.

The purchases were left to themselves for several hours before the usual slave was lowered into the holding pen once more. Rhys was given water until he indicated that he’d had enough whereupon the tube was removed from his gag to be replaced by another one through which the usual unappetising mush was gradually squeezed allowing Rhys time to swallow between applications. The slave held the hydration pack in front of him again and Rhys accepted a further drink. The other purchase looked hopefully towards the slave and pushed himself forwards ready to have the plug removed from his bridle so that he too could be fed and watered. It was not to be. The slave fastened himself to the hoist and was removed from the pit watched despairingly by the distressed twelve-year-old.

The renewed sobbing of the younger purchase could still be heard even with the plug in place. Rhys tried to snuggle up to him in an attempt to comfort him. He was not of much solace as the boy instinctively shied away from the bodily contact.

A couple more hours passed and the slave returned. Rhys knew the routine and submitted to the metal blindfold with resignation. The other quarry tried to resist but soon decided that it was better to be able to breathe than not to as the slave forced his forearm against his windpipe and pinched his nose firmly. The metal plate was soon fastened into place squeezing his nose and rendering the purchase’s breathing even more difficult, the hoist was hooked onto his wrist clamp and the younger quarry was hoisted painfully from the holding pen and forced to his knees on the ground outside. Rhys braced himself for the pain he knew was to come and was soon kneeling on the ground as well.

Both purchases were chained together, hauled to their feet and force marched the short distance to the release pen. Rhys knew what the gun-fire signified and could hear the father instructing his son in the art of game-shooting. The slave removed the blindfolds and separated the slaves while the supervisor explained the situation for the benefit of the novice. This time at least Rhys was spared the attentions of the dog who took the scent of his terrified companion before the slave swabbed him and placed the swab in a plastic bag which he consigned to his satchel.





The dog barked and both quarry items took off into the reserve over which Rhys was hunted the first time. The father gave his son the benefit of his experience as the two youngsters put as much distance between themselves and his son as they could. He had already told his son something of the deal he’d struck with the salesman but he didn’t know the full of it. He just warned his son that, if he didn’t make the best of this opportunity, it would be a long time till he got another chance.

The fifteen minute delay had passed and the hunter was set onto the quarry by a proud father. Rhys had an advantage in that he remembered a fair bit of the reserve from his previous trial and he thought he’d head for his previous hiding place, reasoning that, as it was the boy’s first hunt, he would probably not know it. Even though he deliberately took a circuitous route, he found it more quickly than he had the last time and knew that he could take some time better to scout round for escape routes before hiding himself. He carefully covered his tracks by kicking fallen leaves around and only hoped that the boy wouldn’t recognise the significance of the dampness on the tops of some of those leaves. He settled into his niche and listened intently.

The other boy found the drainage channel that Rhys had rejected last time and hid himself away in it. He didn’t want to run for too long; with his mouth completely sealed and his arms clamped behind him, it was not a simple matter to do so at any speed. The main advantage of the drainage channel was that it afforded good visibility to the fugitive. That was also its disadvantage.

After about an hour of careful quartering of the reserve, the young hunter spotted his quarry. The quarry also spotted the hunter. The hunter released a shot from a greater distance than was really necessary so early on in the hunt. The quarry screamed, scrambled untidily to its feet and made off as quickly as possible bleeding profusely.

Rhys heard the shot. He felt no unfamiliar pain. He knew he had lived to face the gun again. He took a while to calm down as the adrenaline stopped flowing before unfolding himself and quitting his hiding place. He even tried to hide the traces of where he had been in case he needed his refuge in the future. He heard the dog but she didn’t seem to be heading towards him so Rhys thought he would be best advised to start making his way to the gate before she came looking. The experience of having her push her nose into his crutch had not been one of the highlights of his life so far and he still didn’t trust her not to attack.

Before Rhys came within sight of the gate, the supervisor and one of his slaves intercepted him and the supervisor told him to kneel. Rhys did so and the supervisor gave him a quick look over to see whether he had been damaged. Satisfied that he had not been unduly hurt, he instructed the slave to lock the metal plate over Rhys’s eyes and lead him out of the reserve. At least the slave used a choke chain to do so.

Seems like Rhys has gotten his 4th tally now. Only 3 more and he might make it out of this.

Idk which is worse, being "rejected" or having to be hunted. I mean yes you have a chance to survive if hunted but that's 50/50. Also what happens to those that have been shot but still survive. Are they repaired or are we just assuming they don't make it?

A shame that cry baby kid got his way, even if we don't know all the details....

I doubt whether any pains are taken to repair items that are no longer state assets, @Red86 but, perhaps the family can help?

I'm so glad that Rhys made it through alive, again. Someone need to find the corrupt Coppers that hid the shank on him.

Does the hunting reserve stuff and mount hunting trophies or does the father need to find his own taxidermist? In either case the little crybaby brat should be stuffed also, this would save the father many, many tantrum in the future and I'm sure the son would make a great trophy that gathers dust in the basement.

I sure hope that the 12-year-old boy is as OK as can be and that the doctors will mend him as they did for Rhys. Everybody deserves a second chance especially if crooked cops and politicians were involved.

Most of this lot wasted their first chances and these are already their second chances.
Have you seen what a rush-job the state taxidermists make? No, a master of the craft is worth his/her fee. Some of them even make cryo-storage available while you wait.

OK, @blackbound, @Bradstick, @Caldo203, @harveygasson, @Red86, and @Snozzberry , time for the next part.

As Rhys waited in the release pen, he could hear sounds of distress following which he alone was dragged back to the holding pen and dropped in. His blindfold was not removed and Rhys was left to review his situation. Was he going back to the sales centre? Was he going to be hunted again today? Why, oh why did he have to be tattooed again? What had happened to the other quarry?

Rhys was left in uncertainty for about an hour until he heard someone else being lowered into the pen. With the muffled screaming and laboured breathing, it sounded more like quarry being dropped in than a slave. The next, however, sounded like a slave. The metal blindfold was removed from Rhys’s bridle and he was given water in the usual manner. As he was being watered, Rhys noticed that his rival was sitting, still blindfolded and still with the plug locked into his gag, against the wall. So, what had happened? A look at the right calf of his rival helped towards the explanation. There was a heavy bandage on the inside of the quarry’s leg and a lot of drying blood around it. Obviously the boy had only wounded him.

The slave unlocked the quarry’s blindfold and gave him a few seconds to get used to his new situation before unlocking the plug that was preventing his eating and drinking. Even though he was still pressing himself as close to the wall as possible, he accepted water from the same hydration pack that Rhys had just used before the slave held the plug in front of his face again. The boy’s eyes widened but he’d learnt not to resist the slave, who, being bridled himself, was unable to explain anything to him verbally. The quarry involuntarily pushed his head even more firmly against the wall as he prepared to have the plug inserted again but the slave merely pointed alternately to the plug and placed his finger over his own gagged lips while gently nodding his head. The hint was taken and the twelve-year old nodded his head in return. The slave returned the plug to his satchel before he was hoisted out of the pit.

Rhys had more data now and continued reviewing his situation. So where was he now? Neither he nor the other quarry had been killed. The boy was only allowed one shot. So why weren’t they being returned to the Sales Centre? Did the other quarry need medical attention? If so, why wasn’t he taken off to the service bay?

The deal the hunter’s father had made was simple: he offered to pay a very good price for Rhys as long as the salesman threw the fit youngster in as well; the salesman declined. The father then doubled the offer as long as it covered two hunts but it would have to include the other lot as well to ensure that his son got two “goes” at bagging a trophy. It’s no surprise, really, that the boy was so spoilt. So, the deal was struck: two quarry items, two hunts. Obviously there was no need to explain the deal to the purchases and even the son didn’t know yet that his father had bought him two opportunities to start his trophy collection for his birthday.

Rhys’s ruminations were interrupted by the arrival at the top of the holding pen of the purchaser and his son. The father remonstrated with his son for wasting his opportunity but the brat’s demeanour changed completely when his father explained the deal. His father once more suddenly became the best dad in the world. The man wasn’t really tight-fisted, he just wanted to secure the best deal for his appalling son as he could.

The father then asked what damage had been caused to the younger purchase; he was trying to negotiate a refund but, as there would have been no refund if his son had killed him, he drew a blank. There followed more hints and tips about how the boy should conduct the next hunt if he was to win his first trophy. Rhys was particularly unimpressed when the man told his son to “go for the expensive one” if he could and try to avoid the head but to be sure to shoot him in the front so that the larger exit wound would be at the back; besides, the scar on the other one’s leg would give the impression that he’d been an easy target. Father and son then announced that they were going to a KFC for a birthday treat and that they wouldn’t be back for at least two hours. The manager assured him that they had things to do in any case before the purchases could be made ready and the father and his over-excited son disappeared out of Rhys’s sight.

The younger quarry, by now, had been reduced to a quaking wreckage. The pain in his calf had hardly subsided at all and they’d made him walk back from the release pen after crudely stitching the wound as well as super-gluing it together. Surely he wouldn’t be able to avoid being fatally shot this time? He wondered how determined the boy would be to shoot the higher value purchase or whether he’d be prepared to “settle for” shooting him instead. In reality, the wound wasn’t that serious and the stitching was probably more than was necessary, but the manager and the supervisor both wanted to knock-off early and the sooner they could get the purchase ready the better. A bleeding purchase would probably not have pleased either the purchaser or his son.

When the next slave appeared, Rhys knew what to expect and readied himself for the tattoo. A quick thump to his right breast and the deed was done. Rhys now had three tallies in a neat row and one positioned above them. Four down and, with this new one, Rhys even started to dare to believe that he stood a chance of escaping another three times. It was the first genuinely optimistic thought he’d had since his arrest. Shit, if only they hadn’t found that knife on him, he might have got away with a tariff of five tallies or even three instead of seven.

Once he’d wiped Rhys’s chest with disinfectant and examined his work, the slave turned his attention to the other purchase who, having seen what had just happened to Rhys, was not keen on sharing the experience. He turned his back and tried to force himself against the wall. He wasn’t experienced enough yet, if he would ever be, to realise the futility of resistance.

The slave lifted his wrist clamp, forcing him into a strappado position before reaping his feet from under him and slamming him onto the ground. From there the winded victim was easily turned over and straddled. The slave reached for the tattoo device and the ink and positioned the shorter lath against the purchase’s right pec. Before he could hammer the needles home, though, his subject wriggled convulsively and the result was ruined. The slave wiped the result and swore into his gag. If only he could have explained the situation, a lot of pain could have been avoided. He knew that the supervisor would not accept the result and was likely to punish him for messing it up. There was only one thing for it and the purchase was not going to like it. He had to obliterate the uneven, torn mark and replace it.

How to explain this to his subject? The slave reached back and grabbed the well-built HC by the cock-cage. He pulled, twisted and even managed to squeeze the enclosed testicles; he was experienced in this manoeuvre. Even gagged, the purchase’s scream was harrowing to hear. He released, waited about ten seconds then did it again. After a few seconds he looked his subject in the face again and held the tattooing device against his chest again. He raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side, looked at the device and then at the boy’s tortured privates as he clutched them again quite gently and once more at the tattoo device. When he hunched his shoulders, the purchase seemed to have cottoned on and nodded his head. A fresh tally mark was soon applied below the original, faulty one. Now there was just the obliteration of the original mark to deal with.

Not being the first time such an operation had been necessary, the slave was prepared. He reached into his satchel and retracted the required device. He inked it and repeated the gestural threat to the purchase. The device was very much like the other tattooing instrument but it had even more closely arranged needles in a circular array. Once the slave was as sure as he could be that the purchase would cooperate, he placed it over the original mark and thumped hard. That scream again. He wiped his work and examined it carefully; if he hadn’t obliterated the first mark efficiently, he’d have to apply the tattoo again. He was quite relieved, when he saw the black smudge, that he didn’t need to do so.

The tattooist packed up and was winched out of the holding pen to be replaced eventually by the other slave who locked the blindfolds into place. Once he was lifted from the floor of the pen, there was hardly a part of the previously fit twelve year old that didn’t hurt. It even hurt to breathe as he was hoisted out of the pen. There wasn’t really much left of him by the time he was kneeling again.

"Appalling Son" sounds like a great name for the little brat.

And so say we all.

That shitkid is going to run afoul of the law sooner rather than later.

I hope the little punk gets caught with a weapon and I don't mean a knife.

All the while he is using it for legally approved purposes, he is in no danger.

I feel as though hunting the same two HC's in the same day is a bit of an unfair tactic. Even with a short rest, they still would be tired. Just what the little brat needs, two easy targets. One of which is already injured.

I guess the bright side is, should either or both survive again, theyll have another tally and be that much quicker to finishing their sentences.

I don't think the hunter would agree that it is unfair. I don't think he will even agree that any victory will be undervalued.

OK, @blackbound, @Bradstick, @Caldo203, @harveygasson, @Red86 and @Snozzberry , here's part 13. Unlucky for some?