What I see there makes me stop dead. This was no factory. Along one wall are rows of shackles, high ones for wrists and low for ankles. Today they’re so rusted I could probably shatter them with my bare hands. Once interracial they would have been new, and inescapably held captive limbs. Cells line another wall, their grilled doors open but still outdoors ominous. In the middle of the room is a crumbling brazier and protruding from it, still recognizable, is a branding iron. The symbol of the brand – the same slave mark I wear on my face – is irrevocably blackened. How many humans must it have touched to do that to it? Instruments of torture hang on the walls – serrated blades; pincers; things with hooks. All are too decayed to be of use as weapons. Some of the equipment is thankfully too decrepit to identify. I’m so preoccupied by this museum of horrors that I almost miss it. A large circular area in the dusty concrete floor ahead of me is a fractionally different shade to the rest of the room. I pause, and tentatively touch the edge with my foot. The seemingly solid surface gives. It’s a pit, covered with a piece of tech fabric which blends, chameleon-like, with the floor around it. I crouch down, lifting one edge, and see it is loosely tacked at the edges with hooks fitting in large eyelets. These are sufficient to hold the cloth in place but would not be enough to bear a woman’s weight. Traps are everywhere in The Zone used for the Rape Run. Statistically, it is usual that only half the women each year are caught by the Hunters while fleeing, or cornered in a building. The others will be caught in traps where they’re held until Hunters arrive; or sometimes captured by rival women and left bound and helpless waiting for collection; or even harmed by the indigenous life and forced to call for help. Occasionally the fear becomes too much for a woman, and she simply gives up, calling for a flare. As well as pits like the one in front of me there are net traps, pools of quicksand, sticky areas that look like normal ground but trap the woman’s feet in a fast setting gel, and a device like a gin-trap, trapping an ankle but without the cutting teeth that would mangle a valuable limb. The Hunters have also nurtured the dangerous desert plants which inhabit The Zone. Out there lurk things with moving tendrils that trap anyone getting too close, and a huge camouflaged monster that closes on you when you accidently step on its giant mouth. There are also benign plants and some of the vegetation even has tempting food, but unless a Runner is expert at identifying the hazardous lifeforms it is best to keep clear of anything green. I flip the fabric further back and look down into the pit. It’s about eight feet deep and six feet wide. The walls are of rough cut rock, but not so roughly cut that anyone unlucky enough to fall would find footholds to escape. The pit is indian too deep for a captive to jump and grab hold of the lip. No matter. I avoided it, that’s all that’s important. Once you have your eye in, it’s not even very well hidden. If the Hunters have a weakness which increases a woman’s chance in the Rape Run, it is their overconfidence in the realm where they are so dominant. And it is that overconfidence that in the next moment, saves me. I hear a male voice – loud and exuberant, close by enough to make me start. Perhaps a young man excited to be in his first year accompanying a Hunter. The sound comes from just outside the building and there is no time to think. With a soldier’s instinctive reactions I fall to the ground at the edge of the pit. Threading my fingers into one of the eyelets I swing my body over the edge, until I’m hanging down into the hole by my fingers. Of course I knew this, I had been jacking off to her old modelling pics forever that she kept hidden on her laptop, but she didn’t know this. Jean fluffed my cock and sucked clean Cherri's pussy juices all at the same time. "Look at you enjoying my hand outdoors on your arse. She grabbed the edges of her shirt and pulled, stretching her arms above her head to show off her tiny buds. They don’t tell you that in Sex Ed class.” said Alice. "I apologize interracial I..." I really like kissing, so this was a big turn-on for me. Most of the conversations between girls, to start with, were about the men’s erections. Come lick them off, continue until I tell you otherwise,” I indian say “This is my temptation?!” Julia sounded incredibly agitated.