Paint Ball

Paint Ball

A Fantasy by Sardonicus

       It all started out as a way to heighten the interest in our Paint Ball competition.  The men in our group had been playing for some time and we had the luck to have a member who owned some land out in a rural area.  We had converted it to a Paint Ball war field, complete with areas suitable for constructing camps for headquarters.  It was a good forty acres in size, with no immediate neighbors, so it was ideal for our purposes.  We basically had some sort of competition every weekend, when the weather was good, and that started to annoy some of our women.  To make a long story short, they did the only thing they could do and learned the game themselves, practicing at a pay as you play area in town, while we were out at the game field.  When they figured they were ready, they presented us with a demand: let them play with us, or we would be without certain wifely, or girl friend, services, when we wanted them.  We argued, of course, because we didn’t perceive our Paint Ball games as a place for women…a manly sport, and all that sort of thing.  They insisted, however, and even said they’d make it interesting for us.  They’d compete with us one weekend, out at the field, and, if we won, they’d back off and leave us to it.  If we lost, however, we had to include them into our future plans for Paint Ball competition.  We put our heads together and decided this was the only way to deal with them.  Defeat them soundly and they’d bother us no more.  After all, we’d be playing on a field with which we were very familiar, and which they didn’t know at all.  There were ten of us and ten of them, actually about ideal for what we had in mind, and we figured it would be fairly easy to defeat them at this game which we had been playing for some time and they were still new at.

       We negotiated a bit, and formed a set of rules that, we figured, would give us full advantage over them.  We stipulated the clothes that could be worn, combat fatigues of two shades, one for us and one for them, along with boots and goggles.  We spelled out what would constitute victory, achieving the capture of the opposing team’s HQ flag and returning it to your own HQ, or failing that, the “death” or capture of every member of the opposing team.  We even stipulated that the interrogation of prisoners was authorized, so long as nothing was done to cause them permanent harm.  We figured that it would be amusing to have one or two of them tied up for interrogation and we never figured that they were thinking the same thing about us.  We even stipulated that, in the unlikely event that no winner had been declared by 6:00 p.m. Sunday evening, one would be determined by simply determining which team had more active members, who had not been either “killed” or captured.  In fact, if I had been able to see into the future and see what was in store for me, I would have never agreed to participate in this contest.  As it was, I learned a lesson about the creativity of the women I knew and, while I guess I have to admit I wasn’t really done any actual damage, I would certainly not have volunteered to be a scout when the competition got under way.

       My name is Phil Williams, by the way.  I’m one of six single members of the group of ten men and my girl friend, Cynthia Byrum, is a very athletic blonde with a very good mind.  Too good, I suppose, on reflection, to let myself be deluded into thinking she and her friends would be anything like the pushovers I originally considered them.

       We agreed to start early on a Saturday morning in August, arriving at the field at 0600 and giving each team three hours to locate their HQ and prepare to begin.  The actual contest would get underway promptly at 0900 and would end, as previously discussed, at 6:00 p.m. the next day.  We even got the women to let us have the section of the field as our “home” territory which we knew to have some of the better hiding places for HQ and some of the best surveillance areas for the protection of same.  In other words, we were pretty confident going in.  This was a mistake that we all regretted, none so much as I.

       When the appointed day arrived, Cynthia and I drove up to the field together.  Arriving before 0600 we chatted casually for a while before a couple of the other women arrived and Cynthia took off with them toward the section of the field that had been designated as “theirs” for the purpose of locating their HQ and the like.  I, in turn, went off with the rest of my male friends, to the place we had decided to make our HQ.  Since we really didn’t have too much thinking to do with regard to our HQ and the like, much of our discussion centered on a plan to end this competition quickly.  It was decided that Jake Stevens, another young and single member of our group, and I would strike out separately for the two sides of their designated area.  We were to scout carefully, locate their HQ, then return to our main body, which would be deployed to defend our own HQ.  Everything hung on the successful completion of our mission, but we didn’t doubt for a second that we would succeed.  After all, we were the big strong men, and we’d been playing this game, over this same territory, for some time now.  We figured they’d probably split into two groups, one to defend their HQ and another to search ours out, not realizing that a larger group on such a mission has a lot less chance of success than does a single seeker.  It was nine sooner than I thought, so Jake and I gathered our weapons and started out, him to the Northwest and myself to the Northeast

       I proceeded cautiously, staying off the main trails, traveling through underbrush and vegetation all the way.  If I ran into their group that was searching out our HQ I wanted to be able to conceal myself from them.  I traveled this way for almost an hour and a half, and then I began to reconnoiter each progression I made more carefully.  I was, after all, now deep into “enemy” territory and didn’t want to give myself away.  What I hoped to do was to spot their HQ then get back to ours with the location so that we could send out a team to attempt to get their flag.  What I did was walk right into a trap!

       I was making my way carefully around some heavy bushes, attempting to be as quiet as possible, when I suddenly felt myself being surrounded by something quite heavy.  It was a net of some type and it settled around me, preventing me from bringing my paint gun to bear on anything, before I could react.  Three women were suddenly on me, taking my gun from me and fastening my wrists behind my back with flexi-cuffs.  Just like that I was a prisoner and it had been relatively easy for them to make me one.  Quickly, the net was off me and I was brought to my feet.  I had no weapon and no means of resistance so I decided to just play along and see what happened.

       “Well, well.  Our first prisoner of war has been delivered to us and it’s Phil.  I think that’s pretty special.”  The voice came from Margaret Estrella, a young lady of Hispanic descent who dated one of my teammates.  “Go tell Cynthia and ask her to come down here,” she said to one of the other ladies who ran off immediately to carry out her bidding.  “While we wait, we might as well get him properly searched,” she said, nodding to one of the other girls.  They quickly, and quite professionally, patted me down in such a manner that I would have been unable to conceal a weapon or anything else from them.  They removed my wallet and the few other things I had in my pockets then, to my chagrin, they also removed my boots and socks.  “This’ll slow you down a bit, if you get frisky and try to run” I was told.  They were right.  I wouldn’t be traveling anywhere fast, with the underbrush full of thorns and the like, not in my bare feet.

       Now Cynthia had arrived, along with another couple of girls.  I’m not sure what I hoped for, but it certainly wasn’t the reaction I got.  She took one look at me and burst out laughing.  “Well, I hadn’t expected it to be you, but since it is, we might as well get to it,” she said.  “I’ll give you one opportunity to tell us what we want to know.  If you refuse, we are going to interrogate you until we get what we want from you.  Believe me, Phil, you don’t want to resist.  We’ve thought this whole thing out fairly carefully.”

       “If you think I’m going to tell you the location of our HQ, you’re crazy,” I exclaimed.  “Go ahead and interrogate away.   You won’t get any information out of me.”

       

       “I really think you should think that response over,” was Cynthia’s reply.  “We’ve got a lot of time and a lot of imagination to use on you.”

       “I’m not going to change my mind,” I said.  The thought of explaining to my fellow team members that I had given up the location of the HQ because of some voiced threats from my girl friend was nothing I wished to deal with.

       “OK ladies.  You heard the man.  Let’s get him stripped and start back.”

       They were quickly on me.  With their numbers it was easy for them to get me down on the ground and start to pull off my cammie pants.

       “Hey!  Wait a minute!” I yelled.  “You can’t be serious about this.  You can’t be planning to strip me naked!”

       “Oh we’re quite serious about it,” said Cynthia.  “We talked this over and we agreed that our first goal was to capture a prisoner.  Once we did that we figured that the quickest way to lower his resistance was to get him bare assed in front of us.  We agreed that was the way and we took an oath to do it, no matter who the prisoner was.  Too bad it’s you, but you’re gonna be naked from now until you give us what we want and we can verify it.  Go ahead and finish the job, ladies.”

       They did it very quickly, finishing the removal of my pants and underwear, then cutting the shirt right off my back; I was completely naked, with my hands tied behind me.  Then two of the women bent to my ankles and looped one of the flexi-cuffs about each of them.  Once they were in place, they joined them together with a third flexi-cuff, tightening it until I had about four inches of play between my ankles.  Now the cuffs on my wrists were cut off and my hands were pulled in front of me where they were re-fastened together with yet another of the ubiquitous flexi-cuffs.  Another cuff was placed loosely around my neck then my hands were drawn up, over my head, and fastened to the cuff around my neck at the back with yet another cuff.  I was completely helpless and felt very embarrassed at my nudity.  I could do nothing to cover myself with my hands kept high and behind my neck and I noticed, to my very great shame, that I was beginning to experience an erection.  My cock was actually getting hard as these crazy women gathered around me!        

       “Cynthia.  Damn it!” I said, helplessly.  “You can’t be doing this to me.  I’m even getting hard!”

       “So I notice,” she said, and laughed again.  “You know how to stop it.  Just tell us how to find your HQ and we’ll cover you back up.  Of course, that’ll be just as soon as we’ve been able to verify the location.  I can’t imagine you’d lie about it, now, but we aren’t going to take any chances.”

       “You know I can’t tell you.”

       “Fine.  Then let’s get you back to where we can get down to some serious interrogation.”

       Cynthia came over to me and tied a loop in a thin rope tightly about my testicles, then she ran out a lead length of rope and began to lead me through the forest.  With my feet restricted to four inches of movement by the flexi-cuffs, I had to hurry along as best I could.  I didn’t wish to fall and have the lead on my balls yanked sharply.  I shuddered at the thought of how truly painful that would be.  She seemed to be intentionally leading me through some of the rougher areas, of course, making sure that my naked body and tender bare feet came into contact with all manner of unpleasant little growths and rocky areas.  I maintained her pace, but was really glad when we seemed to arrive at our destination.  We were apparently at their HQ, which was reasonably well hidden, and well constructed.  Much better than I had thought they could do, and certainly well enough built to function as a defensive position, if they should be attacked. 

       “Take him over there and tie him to the trees we picked out,” Cynthia said, handing the lead rope to one of the other women.  “I’ll be right there as soon as I get the shaving equipment ready.”

       I certainly didn’t like the sound of that, but there was nothing I could do about it as I was led to two fairly tall trees, which were bare of branches below eight feet, and were just about far enough apart, three feet or so, to serve as an excellent restrainer.  Once at the trees, the flexi-cuffs on my wrists were released from their position behind my neck, then quickly tied again, this time with my arms extended outward and upward, to the trees.  With my wrists secured, they did the same thing to my ankles, leaving me in a standing, taut spread eagle.  The flexi-cuffs were tough and certainly weren’t going to give me any leeway.  I was there until they wanted me elsewhere, I decided, with a sigh.  This looked as though it could get pretty bad for me.  The girl, who had led me over, carefully released the loop from my testicles and let it drop to the ground.  I guessed they had no need for it now.  I was naked and helpless, and quite ready for interrogation.

       They seemed to be waiting for someone, or something, and then I remembered Cynthia’s comment about the shaving equipment.  Sure enough, here she came, with a bucket of water, some shaving cream, and a plastic safety razor.

       “OK,” she said, putting the gear down at my feet.  “Let’s get you really naked.”

       “Cynthia, please.  Don’t shave me.  How will I explain it?”

       “Well, it’ll all grow back in a month or so,” she said, as she began sponging my armpits, chest and genital area with the cold water.  “We won’t shave your head or anything, so you might not have to explain if you’re careful.  You might not be able to take any community showers for a few weeks, but that’s not the end of the world.  You definitely want to hold still for this, though.  I wouldn’t want you to make me cut you by any foolishness on your part.”

       With that she began to shave my armpits and chest, saving my genitals for last.  When the upper part of my body was clean enough to suit her, she moved to between my legs, grasping my firming penis in one hand while she casually scraped my skin with the razor with the other.  “We figure it’ll give you some real incentive to tell us what we want, but you’d better hurry.  Once I finish with this shaving, you’ll be ready for some interesting and somewhat painful interaction.  As I told you, even if you give us the information, you are going to stay just like this, naked and on display, while we check it out.  You can blame no one but yourself for any embarrassment or pain you may feel.  It’s just about one o’clock, so we’ve got lots and lots of time to work on you.  We, naturally, can’t do any damage to you, but you’ll definitely wish you weren’t here once we begin.  I think you’ll be amazed at the number of quite painful things we can do to you, and not even leave a mark.”  She paused for a moment, as if considering her remarks then went on, “Actually, we can leave marks, as long as they won’t be permanent,” she said.  “That was the deal we agreed on, right?”

       I was shaved now, and anxious to avoid the inevitable next step.  I could think of nothing to say, however, so I just waited for her to continue.

       “Well, if you’ve got nothing to say, I guess we’d best get started on you.  First up is going to be Margaret, since she captured you.  Margaret tells me she thinks she can get you to talk with nothing more than a bag of alligator clips.  What do you think?

       I wanted to make a clever remark, but the thought of being at the mercy of Margaret with a bag full of alligator clips at her disposal, and me naked and shaved like this, was not very conducive to clever conversation.

       Margaret appeared, almost magically.  Sure enough, she was holding a plastic bag that appeared to be full of shiny metal alligator clips, about one inch in length.  She stood in front of me and grinned.  “Well, Phil, we’re going to see just how tough you really are.  I don’t think you can take more than a few of these, particularly where I plan to put them, but let’s see how you do.”

       She placed the bag between my legs and drew one of the clips out.  She seemed amused at the choices she had, but finally decided to start with one of my nipples.  She teased and twisted my left nipple until she was satisfied with its preparedness, then placed the clamp carefully on the very tip.  Ignoring my gasp of horror at this offense, she quickly grabbed another clip from the bag and repeated the process with my right nipple.  When it, too, had its clamp attached she backed up, slightly, and just watched me deal with the pain.

       “Wow!  You don’t look very happy, and I haven’t even begun the real stuff,” she bemused.  “Just wait until you feel a few of them on your cock and balls.”

       She was right, of course.  The clamps hurt tremendously yet would leave no mark on my body of any kind.  This was turning into a very unpleasant afternoon.

       She was proceeding to take another clip from the bag, and was now examining my penis, which, to my total amazement, was getting very hard.

       “It’s nice that you’re getting all hard for me,” she said.  “That’ll make these little things hurt even more.”  At that she placed the clip, carefully, on the crown of my penis, right on the edge.  “Looks like there’s room for quite a few more along this little ridge,” she said, digging for another clip.  She very meticulously lined up about a dozen of the clips around the ridge at the crown of my penis.  I was in tremendous pain, but didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of showing it.  She appeared annoyed at that, and took a piece of thin rope and tied my testicles up tightly.  Then she began to place clips around my balls.  The pain was incredible, but somehow I had determined I wasn’t going to let her defeat me.  She was down to the last two clips in the bag.  She looked me over carefully, then grasped my still hard penis firmly and placed the two clips, one on either side, at the opening in the end of my shaft.  I gasped, but was somehow able to hang on.  Disappointed, she watched me struggle with the clips for about ten minutes, before she grudgingly began to remove them.  She didn’t say a word when they were all off, just walked away.

       Cynthia, who had been watching quietly, simply said  “OK, tell Melinda she’s next.”  She walked over next to me and worked my still hard penis with her hands.  “You did a lot better than I thought you would with that one,” she said.  “Perhaps Melinda’s idea will get the job done.”

       Melinda was a small brunette who was married to Steve Mills.  She had always seemed quiet and reserved, to me, but I was learning to take nothing for granted when dealing with these women.  Believe me, when you are tied, naked and shaved, to a couple of trees out in the woods, and a group of women is trying to get you to tell them something, you respect every idea they may have.  Melinda’s was no exception.

       When Melinda arrived, Cynthia released my cock and stepped aside.  “He’s all yours,” she said, looking with sardonic amusement at my male equipment, completely devoid of hair and swinging merrily in the air between my legs.

       Melinda wasted no time.  First, she placed a clothespin on each of my nipples, for the purpose of “keeping interest alive” was her only explanation.  Next, she took a pair of rubber gloves and placed them on her hands.  When the gloves were in place, she took a white tube from her pocket and began squeezing a generous amount of a white substance onto her gloved hand.  “It’s called Icy-Hot,” she explained.  “It’s like Ben Gay only about 5 times as strong.”  She began rubbing the white goop into my penis and all over my testicles.  “When this stuff gets going, it’s pretty amazing how strong it is.  You should be beginning to feel it just about now.”

       She was right.  At first the substance had felt cool and quite pleasant.  It was rapidly becoming uncomfortable, however.  My cock was on fire and my balls were beginning to feel as though they had just been shoved into their own little fireplace.  This was not going to any fun at all!

       Melinda was watching me, carefully.  When it seemed as if the heat had reached its peak and begun to cool down, she applied even more, slathering it generously about my genital area.  The second time apparently was worse than the first!   My cock and balls began to feel as though they had been swabbed with alcohol and set afire!

       “Now for the coup de grace,” Melinda said.  With a grin, she took a generous dollop of the horrible cream and shoved it up my ass, turning it, almost immediately, into a burning hell of its own.  Then, quite calmly, she showed me a cocktail stirrer, covered it with the vile substance, and very slowly pushed the stirrer into the opening of my urethra.  She worked it down about four inches, then carefully moved it around inside me.  The sensation was incredible.  I felt as though she had set fire to my cock, both inside and out.  I was still hard and that only seemed to make the whole thing more remarkable.  How I could be hard, and be experiencing the pain I was feeling from the cream was beyond my understanding.  I only knew that I, somehow, had to bear this out.   I had to convince these women that they would not be able to get the information they wanted through this method

       Melinda watched me suffer for a while, then she, amazingly, began the whole process again!  This time I had real tears in my eyes as I struggled against the flexi-cuffs that bound me.  Somehow, I managed to survive, because she, like Margaret before her, finally walked off, leaving me with a still burning cock and balls, but real hope that I was going to be able to get through this.  Surely, they didn’t have anything more fiendish in store for me than they had already trotted out!

       I should have known better!  Cynthia was still there, watching with amusement, and, it turned out, simply waiting for her turn.  She had thought it only fair that the others should have first crack at me, but she was certain that she had a method of persuasion that would not fail to get me to give up the information.

       She came up to me now and smiled as she took a wash cloth to my cock and balls, not neglecting my poor burned ass hole.  I couldn’t help but be aroused by her touch and actually would not have minded her having me in this position, if only the other women weren’t standing around, watching.  Watching they were, however, and I realized, too late, that Cynthia planned to take advantage of some rather intimate knowledge she had of my body, in spite of their presence.

       She tossed aside the wash cloth and brought forth a bottle of oil.  She began to rub the oil into my cock and balls, very gently, and very seductively, pausing occasionally to wriggle the clothespins on my nipples just a bit.  “Well, Phil, here we are.  It’s just you and me, and a few of my friends, and we’re going to have a good time, now.”  She was working my penis very slowly as she said this, and I could feel myself beginning to work up to coming, in spite of the audience.  She knew, though, and backed off, leaving my hard cock waving violently in the air.  “Not so fast, big boy,” she said.  “I’m going to keep you near orgasm, but I’m definitely not going to let you come until you tell me what I want.” 

       “Oh come on.  This isn’t even remotely fair.  I’ve resisted your best tortures.”

       “Not my best torture,” she said.  “I think this is my best torture and I don’t know how long you can hold out.  I guess we’ll find out though.  The girls have agreed that this is our best chance, so you can end it whenever you want.”

       I didn’t like the look of this.  She seemed determined to get what she wanted from me and, to tell the truth, I wasn’t sure how long I could hold out.  I was already feeling an almost heady desire to cum.

       She was back at me again, slowly milking my cock, but watching my face carefully.

       “I don’t think you can fool me,” she said.  I’ve known you too long, and made love with you too many times to be mistaken about when you are going to reach the top.  I’ll back off before then, let you calm down, then start all over again.  How many times do you think you can stand to be taken that close and not be allowed to get the release you need?”

       Her hand was like the devil on me.  It seemed to promise everything, but actually denied any relief.  Whenever I looked close to coming, she would back off, put a little more oil on her hands, and then slowly start again.  I really wasn’t sure how long I could take this!  The other women were gathered around closely, watching her tease and torment me.  They were obviously enjoying the spectacle as much as I hated the inevitable result. 

       I held out for almost two hours, I think.  Finally I just simply could take no more.  She had won, and she knew it.  One more touch of that incredible pair of hands and I would become incurably insane.

       “Oh, please.  No more,” I begged.  “I’ll give you the location you want.  Just finish me off!”

       “Let’s have the location,” she said.  “Come on, give.”

       I gave it to her almost in a relieved fashion.  Shouting out the location of our HQ.  When she insisted on more details, I gave those to her too, even telling her the best approach to it to avoid being seen.

When I had given her enough to ensure that they would be able to easily capture our flag, I asked her to, please, please, let me come.

       “Not before we return with the flag, sweetie.  You knew the deal.  You can stay here and wait for me to return and, if you’ve been completely honest with me, you’ll get the reward I know you rather desperately need, now.  We’ll even leave Margaret and Melinda here to keep an eye on you.  I’ll bet they can think of some fascinating ways to keep your interest from lagging.”

       She was correct about that.  Cynthia and her team were just barely out of sight when Margaret and Melinda came around from behind me.  They each were carrying a paint gun and that made me a little nervous.  I pulled again at the Flexi-cuffs to no avail.  I was going to be here, restrained and naked, until they were done with me.

       “Well, Phil,” said Margaret as she eased up in front of me.  “You managed to resist my torture and Melinda’s, but you couldn’t hold up under a barrage of denied sex.”  She pinched my nipple with her free hand, then stroked my penis, watching it harden once more.  “I think we might as well have a little target practice.  What do you think?

       What I thought clearly made no difference to them, whatsoever.  Margaret put down her paint gun and picked up a length of thin cord.  She placed a loop in one end and slid it down over my penis about an inch behind the head.  She snugged it tight and then wound the rest of the rope around my waist, pulling my penis straight up and presenting my balls.  She then took another short length of the rope and tied it around my balls, winding it around them several times before tying it off around the base of my cock.

       “That ought to do it,” she said, more to Melinda than to me.  “Now let’s get about twenty-five feet away and start taking turns.  Fifty points for a direct hit on his balls, ten points if you hit his cock, nothing for anywhere else.”

       “Nooooo,” I pleaded.  “Those paint balls sting when they hit bare flesh.  That’s why we insist on the wearing of cammies.  You can hurt someone very badly if you hit them in such a tender place.”

       “You know, he’s right,” said Melinda.  “We don’t want to do him any damage.  Here”

       She placed a pair of goggles over my eyes and laughed.  “There’s nothing else exposed that will do him any serious damage.”  She laughed again and then began to calmly pace off the twenty-five feet.  “OK.  We can shoot from right here.”

       She was frighteningly close.  That seemed to be of no concern however, as she took careful aim and fired.

       Splat!  The ball of paint exploded on my midriff, just above my tied penis.  It hurt quite badly, but that seemed of no concern to either of the women, as well.  Margaret aimed carefully and fired.  Her shot got my cock, just above the roped balls and it hurt a lot.  I could only pray that they would tire of this game soon.  If not, I was going to suffer a great deal when they had the range down.  I tried again to pull free of the flexi-cuffs but to no avail.  I was a naked, spread-eagle target for their amusement.

       They continued to fire away, hitting me mostly in the bare skinned area of my thighs and middle.  Finally, Margaret scored a direct hit on my balls and I thought a mule had kicked me!  My breath whooshed out of me and I actually thought I would be sick!  The girls were quite excited by the good shot and, after giving me a moment to regain my composure, began taking turns again.  My whole middle was dripping paint and my balls ached horribly.  Soon, a second shot found my balls, then a third.  I was in agony and they showed no sign of losing interest.  Finally they did, however, and, after a few amused efforts to hit a nipple, which also stung rather badly, they decided to give it a rest and wait for the others to return.  Margaret refused to let me be totally in peace, however.  She untied my penis and lowered it then took a heavy stone and tied it to my balls by the rope around them.  She gave it a push and watched amusedly as it swung back and forth, causing me a great deal of discomfort, but nothing was as bad as being hit in the balls by the paint gun’s projectiles.

       Finally, Cynthia and her group returned, waving our flag proudly.  We had lost, and our paint ball game was never to be the same again.  We had a large number of girls against the boys games and I finally got a chance to pay her back for the mistreatment they had given me.  That, however, is another story.

       At least she was good to her word.  After finding a great deal to laugh at in my predicament, covered with paint and swinging the rock from my balls, She gave me a really incredible hand job.  If the other girls hadn’t been gathered around to watch, I probably would have enjoyed it even more than I did, but, having suffered throughout the day, I was glad to be able to get off, at last.  For a few moments, at least,  paint ball didn’t seem too bad.

       

               

       

       

       

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