Hunting Season Jayla Davis Pt 01

Trigger Warning: Interracial is white man proactively attempting to acquire an African-American coed. Hunting Season has been written so that you can assume the Hunter failed or did not make the attempt. As always this is fiction. No real world advocacy intended. So called History, Social Engineering, and Evolutionary science ranges from "Uh, maybe, but" to "Yeah.No." all fictional participants are of legal age and technically consent.________________________________________

It's Monday, the second day after she successfully ran for cover.

It's also one day after the last of her college roommates, the former all state high school girl's wrestler --- and somewhat chunky ginger once known as triple M made her unsuccessful attempt to go to ground in her hometown.

The 5'6" 148lb (+ freshman 15, not lost as a sophomore) female was no match for a restless male hunter who had been picking apart their nest of four coeds since Friday afternoon when fall semester's Hunting Season opened.

Jayla is beginning to feel like the devil himself or at least one of his greater demons is determined to drag down all four of the coed roommates.

The first of the roommates Hunted down and registered as a trophy, is a stereotypical "All American" stacked "Blonde Bimbo", a carefree young woman studying and working towards a career in hospitality management "so she can get paid for seeing the world from a cruise ship." she explained.

Her dream is dead. Her name is dead.

Bev is now labeled Dyson on the webpage the QR code tattooed on the back of her neck links to. She's been renamed and enslaved.

The very next morning the Demonic Hunter took Jayla's Asian -American roommate. As soon as Jayla and Maddie, the fourth coed roommate, left for their work -study jobs he invaded their home and snatched Mary as she sat working on an English paper about poets.

Jayla and Maddie made plans and made a run for cover.

The Hunting Devil tracked Maddie's escape route and took her down near her parents front door as soon as she arrived back in her old hometown. Three trophies in three days is almost unheard of.

It's all legal and above board. Everyone knows females have an unearned genetic privilege over males in acquiring higher education. The same XX chromosomal traits that evolved to facilitate bearing and raising children in primitive times translate into privileged thriving during these modern technological times. Technology also gives them control over their fertility and sexual pleasure. Having to conceive and nurture children is no longer an obstacle to personal advancement.

To make the competition between XX and XY more fair an Affirmative Action was voted on and signed into national law:

A hunt takes place every Spring and fall Semester. The Hunt removes a carefully managed percentage of coeds. It also discourages another segment from signing the legal waiver and applying for University admission.

The system is a perfect as a government can make it:

Jayla's ancestors, who arrived on this continent against their will at about the same time as the great liberal philosopher, revolutionary firebrand and Founding Political Father of the Nation, also Ginger, Thomas Jefferson's ancestors willingly did, knew all about just how 'perfect' government can make things.

The icon of Liberty, Tom married. His wife Martha had a half sister Sally.

It would be easy to assume that made Sally his sister in law.

Easy but wrong---

It made her his property. Tom fathered a brood on Martha and another on Sally. One brood only registered as 3/5 for purposes of political representation. The system was as perfect as a political compromise could make it. Jayla has a connection to that history in her heritage.

Not those Jefferson's though, her family's last name is Davis---

That fucking Jefferson.

They kept it. They're rubbing it in with every advance, every success every time they overcome.

It's a middle finger to a certain "tradition" Lots of her Davis' in the military--- Buffalo soldiers--- Segregated military--- Race riot military--- Integrated military.

One served with Colin Powell, later General Powell, later Secretary of State Powell One of her distant relative Davis' showed the middle finger to that "heritage" as aide to a Secretary of State!

ROTC makes sense to her. She gets a small scholarship, she gets spring semester of her senior year immune to affirmative action.

As long as she's on active duty---Corp of Engineers ---she's signed a contract to get the scholarship, any post grad professional education is also exempt for as long as she's on active duty or active reserve.

The PT is great. She loves the runs, she loves the exercise, she does extra workouts. She's hoping to be assigned to the big Corps projects on the waterways. Her goal is Civil Engineering when her military career runs its course.

If she's assigned to the Combat Engineers, that's fine too. Some of the neighborhoods she grew up in were practically combat.

She knows what gunfire feels like when it's really close ---She has duck! ---Find cover reflexes. She knows how to throw an elbow--- Use a knee, a hairpin, pepper spray, a brick.

Jayla 's got the advantage of terrain now just like intro to tactics taught. Posters are going up. Her friends have eyes out.

The Hunter can't ambush her, he'll have to face her---If he has the balls.

The Hunter is otherwise occupied.

He's got classes to attend. He brings Cherry Blossom to the U with him. The U leases newly enslaved coeds as entry level janitorial and cafeteria help. Cherry Blossom is employed. The Hunter collects first and last month's rent plus a security deposit.

Cherry Blossom's lease, part time, runs through spring semester. Some financial pressures evaporate.

His advisor is very interested in the emotional/mind control technique he's working towards:

Once he's admitted to upper division experimental psych, perhaps he could be a research assistant and even a junior author on the advisor's paper---

Just like that, the Hunter thinks, he stole my idea just like that. I need to copyright my ideas before I blab about them.

"Yes sir" He says. "If I have any future success with this, I'll let you know."

He does, after all, despite the unfair use of position, need his advisor's support in advancing his academic career.

It's not abuse of power the Hunter tells himself, it's Quid Pro Quo. It's human nature.

The Hunter doesn't like it.

Classes done for the day, he collects Cherry Blossom.

Her former classmates appalled at seeing the shy intense poetic dreamer pushing a dust mop with a shock collar around her neck have made sure she's well fed then slipped her some cash and prepaid debit cards "just in case." She dutifully hands them to her master. The Hunter quickly pockets them. Income the government doesn't see is income the government doesn't tax. They head home.

Dyson and Bessie, besides taking care of his custodial responsibilities, have made supper. The Hunter, well fed and mostly content with how Affirmative Action is working for himself, moves to the next item on his to-do list:

Bessie needs milking. She's just been started on nursing tea, her milk hasn't come in yet but the stimulation will help her along, his hands on her jugs are a necessary and a pleasurable part of the process.

He gets her into the stall, she takes a little kick at him, he side steps. He doesn't know kicks are how she's rebelling.

---She may be owned, she maybe conditioned to his scent, but she's a cow, cows can kick.

It's not a bad thing she tells herself, helping new mothers feed their babies. It's a good thing. She hopes her milk comes in soon.

The Hunter better pay attention when he's milking her, he better be on schedule and do it right or she's showing him just how hard cows can kick.

The Hunter gets out the udder cream, rubs it in firmly, but not too firmly, ---just right she thinks. No kick needed. He massages, squeezes, kneads from high on her chest down to her nipples. He pulls, he twists just a little. He applies his mouth and sucks hoping for a taste. He hears Bessie giving a little pleased moo.

Tuesday he is class free. He drops Cherry Blossom off at the janitorial station for the Liberal Arts building and takes Bessie over to the University Hospital's Neonatal and pediatric ward. After she's been examined and given a clean bill of health, she's tentatively employed.

The terms of Bessie's lease are a bit different than Cherry Blossom's. It's full time plus piece rate for milk he bottles outside of her working hours but--- until her milk comes in she's only being rented to work in the laundry. The rate goes up when she's actively producing. She also gets a no cost prescription for HGH which sometimes hurries production along.

Driving back to check on Dyson, and just maybe expand her caretaking duties a little the Hunter considers the Jayla problem:

He doesn't have to catch them all. He won three tags and he set up his living quarters for three slaves. If the fourth tag doesn't show up or if he doesn't bother with it, he hasn't lost anything.

The other tags cost him $600 for six lottery entities and another $150 each for the tags he won the right to purchase. That's not including the other times he entered the lottery and come away with nothing.

Damn it! The Government charges too much. He's using that fourth tag and getting some immediate ROI from leasing her out. Maybe the Hot 'N Tasty can use her he muses. They are down a waitress after all.

Thursday is a class free day for him. The tag he'd won for first trophy of the Fall Semester Hunting Season still hasn't shown up. A quick scout of her hideout neighborhood won't hurt and if the Government actually delivers on its promise, will have him positioned to move forward.

Scouting is not the casual cakewalk it was with Bessie, a few right turns and a stake out leading to immediate success or the impulsive grab n go that gained him Cherry Blossom.

He's going to have to do twice the planning and preparation he put into taking Dyson, his first trophy doe. He's going to have to do it in half the time. Pre-planning during the two weeks between hitting the lottery and opening day of Hunting Season was pressure free.

He has to abort his walk through of his final prey's hiding place: That bitch! ---Jayla has posters up. He is lucky. No one nearby notices him reading one.

He takes a picture of it and heads back to his car.

"This man is stalking This woman" the bold print reads. The difference in skin color between his and her picture is skillfully highlighted. The poster urges:

Text to xxx-xxxx if you see him!

All he can do is circle the densely populated neighborhood in the heavy downtown traffic then head home. The next day, Friday, his bonus tag is in the mailbox.

Saturday he starts to get an idea. He drives through Jayla's neighborhood again.

His much fetishized and stereotyped Asian-American doe is sent to the laptop to download satellite images and city bus schedules. He questions all three of his slaves about Jayla's class, work, ROTC and exercise schedule. Intel is the thing necessary to capture almost anything.

Sunday he repeats his car born reconnaissance.

He's beginning to develop a strategy: He needs to blend in. He needs to camouflage himself somehow.

Monday in Psych class the instructor is lecturing about clear and unambiguous communication. Inspiration hits him:

The prey's text based surveillance net is an opportunity as much as it is a deterrent.

Tuesday he scours downtown thrift stores. He also purchases the cheapest half pint of rotgut wine a nearby liquor store sells.

Wednesday he has class.

Thursday he finalizes his timetable and checklists:

To draw any neighborhood reaction force out of position, texts reporting he's approaching from the opposite side of the area are to be sent, one after another, from his and then the cellphones his slaves used to own.

He relies on Dyson and Cherry Blossom for that. Bessie is down at Neonatal. Her milk's starting to come in. She's practicing feeding infants under close supervision.

Friday, after class he drives downtown and leaves his car for a wash at the hand carwash next to the bus stop his surveillance and her class schedule suggests she uses.

He takes a ratty gym bag full of Hunting tools and homeless person camouflage into the men's room and changes. He waits until he's outside before spilling cheap wine on his torn and deliberately muddy hoodie.

Next, keeping as much in the shadows as possible, he moves down the block to his planned ambush position.

There are three buses in the next hour Jayla might be on. Satellite pictures show and a drive by confirms a narrow passage exists between two private garages obscured by garbage cans. Now he waits there. This is his only opportunity to go four for four.

Tomorrow, Saturday, is the final day of Hunting Season. His prey will be laying low, she won't go outside.

The first bus is about to arrive. He texts a false sighting.

Jayla gets of the bus, worn down and emotionally exhausted from weeks of high alert, expecting to be attacked and possibly enslaved at any moment. It's not apparent. Her reflection in the carwash window shows a young, physically fit, attractive female ---5'8", two inches taller and 20 pounds lighter than Maddie was. ROTC parade drill keeps her posture erect and confident despite the stress. Endless PT pays off with a toned, shapely body:

She's not top heavy, if anything a little under sized, her girls are high, round and firm. In the cooler afternoon air her high beams are coming on, centered and aimed straight ahead.

Her hair is in a short attractive cut, long enough for a military 'tail but no longer.

Her large brown eyes are lively. They have no defeat in them.

She breaks into a smile, "looking good" she tells herself. She steps out, heading towards a safe haven. Heading towards an end to this Affirmative Action.

It's almost a shame that white devil Hunter didn't make a play for her, she thinks.

The Hunter protected by some, shades of Dred Scott, legal baffle gab took Mary the petite Asian-American in a brutal home invasion.

Poor Maddie couldn't beat him with her civilized girl's wrestling moves.

The white demon that's been haunting her has no clue what a Davis woman brings with her from the streets.

She hears some rattling in the garbage cans off to her left.

She glances over. A homeless person has been rummaging through them. Now they're stumbling her way.

Dirty oversized worn out hoodie with an old watch cap and torn scarf shadow their face. Surplus store fingerless gloves, why do they always wear those?

Dirty blue jeans ---Stench of cheap wine overpowering any other stench. Hiking hoots are scuffed and muddy but nearly new, probably a mission handout.

"Pretty lady" ---the panhandle attempt is beginning.

I can't take the time for this. The Hunter is out there. That devil's not taking me a block from safety.

"I don't have any spare change", she yells "Keep your smelly ass away from me." "Go back to the mission where you got those hiking boots." "They'll feed you."

He's still moving towards her, pretty steady for a drunk. Those fingers sticking out of the gloves--- They're white! ---Hiking boots? It's the Hunter! Shit! ---Ambushed!

Her hand dives towards her pocket and her pepper spray.

The Hunter's as close as he can get with homeless guy pretense. He's already run the checklist in his mind:

Step forward delivering right upper cut to abdomen. Pull it. Hit with just enough force to drive the wind out her, leg now between her legs, she's bending over gasping for breathe grab head, shoulders or arms pull her forward and down, down on her belly on the ground. My weight on my knee in middle of her back. Handcuff her, turn around, hobble her ankles, turn again, ---gag, ---staple. ---Done!

Not done!!

Barely started! Heysus F Kristos! What the fuck's a ROTC chick doing with Army Ranger abs?

---Ok, Ok slide right foot behind her left leg. Shoulder strike on center line just like coach taught, wrap her up push her over. Pepper spray goes flying but--- Now she's on her back hollering for help.

---Cursing me out. I'm on top holding her down. ---Can't gag her

---can't cuff her behind her back, ---we are pelvis to pelvis---

I'm hard maybe a dominance thrust will settle her down.

She's a little wet? Slut! How do I cuff her? ---ok Ok just cuff one wrist.

---Figure rest out step by step. Got it! ---No she's got it! ---swung her cuffed arm at me ---loose cuff hit right on the temple. ---Cunt almost took out my eye! Now she's rolling us over--- She'll be on top. That's not good! ---Keep rolling. ---One and a half rolls, let go--- gain space ---grab and mount. Now she's on her belly. I'm on her back. Finish cuffing with extra emphasis. How ja like that bitch? ---Gag next.

Finally the "white devil!" "help a sister" screeching is done.

A few more thrusts--- I'm in position. Nice ass. ---Dominance bite the back of her neck--- that froze her for a second. Her crotch is soaked.

I hope it's not almost taking my eye out that gets her wet. I hear people running. ---Hobble ankles ---Staples penetrate ear. Take picture---Pick her up. ---Get moving.