The Daughters of Diana Club




I will always remember waking up that morning, that feeling of a butterfly
tickling the inside of my stomach with its' wings. I felt alive the adrenaline
surging, I couldn't contain the energy within and skipped my usual morning
yoga and went out for my 10 kilometere run. I was thinking about where I would
be that night, trying to comprehend its' magnitude, hoping I would be up to
the task, and hoping that I would be accepted as part of the sisterhood.

I've always been an extreme person, but never extreme in a way that would see
me accepted by mainstream society. As a kid I could outrun most boys my age,
an "A" grade student in typically boy subjects. I excelled at literature, but
had to tone down most of my philosophies, as they were considered to violent
or aggressive for the left wing teachers. I never saw myself as either to be
honest. I simply saw myself as someone who wanted to get a job done, in the
best possible way. I never bought into the idea of ignoring a bully for
example. If you hit me, I'll break your nose. Simple. Efficient. Effective.
Done.

I enjoyed being alone as a kid. It wouldn't be until university that I would
meet people with similar views and ideas to my own. Being alone as a kid
though was great. I put myself into a warrior mentality. I studied, I trained
in martial arts, I ran, swam, rode horses and motorbikes. I sometimes fought -
I always won, sometimes disgusting the crowd with my display of vulgar power
and lack of mercy. I liked it when my face would be bleeding. I liked seeing
my opponent on the ground.

I only had one person that would have been close to being a friend at high
school. A boy. His name was Mark, a freak like me really. He wasn't into
sports or most things masculine. He wasn't a sissy either though, just placid
and would rather talk than try and look up my skirt. We shared many
conversations regarding philosophy especially our personal philosophies. He
didn't back away from disagreeing with me, which was interesting as at the
time I thought I could walk all over him. He too liked to be alone, so our
time together was rare, although even after days or weeks apart we could
easily pick up where we left off.

At University I would meet my best friend Susan. Susan was an extreme feminist
and into Femdom in a big, big way. I remember she would keep her boyfriend
chained naked to the bed, even when she would go off to classes. I was
encouraged to make fun of him or give him tasks. Of course I enjoyed this, I
question any woman who wouldn't. He was a good-looking man, would never talk,
sometimes due to a ball gag being in his mouth! I enjoyed riding him around
the room as though he we were a horse. I would soon start studying BDSM and
exploring this new interest online and even working as a Domme both online and
in real life. I would end up earning a fortune, sometimes for doing as little
as telling the man to give me the contents of his wallet and to now go back to
work so he can earn more cash for me! I quickly learnt that men were stupid
and hedonistic and would do anything for five seconds of excitement. However,
they could be fun, and profitable! The extra money enabled me to indulge my
hobbies; I took up hunting and skiing and even learnt how to fly a plane.

So I guess you're still wondering why I felt so excited that morning? Well, I
had been invited to this secret society "The Daughters of Diana", Diana of
course being the Roman Goddess of the hunt. Susan described it to me as a
female Fight Club. The first rule of course being we do not talk about the
hunt club. This was an old society that I was told dated back to the 1860's.
Like-minded women, who I guess embraced their dominant side to an extreme,
formed it. Some things had changed, but I was told for the most part the idea
remained the same.

So the day passed slowly, I just wanted to be at the club. After my run, I
rang Susan and double-checked the time I should be there. I was hoping I had
it all wrong and it was earlier than I thought but alas no. I masturbated
myself to orgasm than rolled over and went to sleep; I just wanted the time to
pass quickly.

So it was finally time! I was entering the club with Susan. The meeting was in
a huge old mansion. The women were all dressed in white Roman style dresses.
There were naked men walking around serving drinks and food. They were ugly,
old and unfit; I looked at Susan with surprise. Susan told me not to worry;
these men were the rejected ones. They applied to be tributes but due to their
inferiority were only deemed fit to serve in this way. I was told the tributes
were very good looking men, intelligent and fit. They apply to be tributes,
sometimes via invitation from a club member known as a Huntress. These men
were informed of what was expected from them and what would happen. They were
totally aware of everything, but still agree for various reasons. This turned
me on to no end! The men who applied but weren't considered good enough were
either cast aside altogether or if they were considered to have the correct
submissive nature were used as servers. They were called the rejected ones and
treated as slaves. They would be required to continue with their normal
"vanilla" lives going to work and donating 50 per cent of their income to the
club. I was told it was so strict to keep out curious males and ensure the
integrity of the group. The women could do anything to do these men, looking
at the scars on their bodies it looked like they already had!

I was informed by the Hunt Mistress a woman in her 50's well bred and still
very fit, that as I was new, I would have to earn the white Roman dress but I
am welcome none the less and should make myself feel at home. I was told that
the evening tributes would be coming out soon and I should pay close
attention, as it is usually the second most intense part of the evening. I
asked her how do I earn the dress, to which she replied - "How do you think
darling?" Which made me laugh, I liked the answer, and I knew exactly what I
had to do. I looked around the room and noticed women from all walks of life;
this was not a club that discriminated on the basis of wealth, rather a club
that brought like-minded women together. There were about 40 women in total.

A drum sounded and two heavy wooden doors opened. The Hunt Mistress announced
that the tributes were being rolled out. Soon, I could see three large wooden
cages being pushed out by rejected ones. These cages each contained a young
man, a naked young man. They were all very handsome from what I could see.
Soon the cages were in front of a podium at the front of the room. A cage was
opened and the Hunt Mistress led the first young man out and onto the podium.

"Ladies, it is good to see you all here again. Here is our first tribute for
the evening. As you know, we are a civilized group and understand that our
tributes are human. We see ourselves as above them and the masculinity that
they symbolize. This is why we believe in knowing our tributes, understanding
them in some way. Tribute number 1 speak. She pushed the naked man to the
microphone.

"Umm. Err. My name is Daniel Thomas, I am 23. I feel very lucky and privileged
to be here today. I declare that I am here by free will and am looking forward
to the main event".

"Good, very good. Bring up the next one". She announced.

Each tribute declared the same thing. The women weren't interested in why they
were allowing this to happen. Apparently all of this had already been covered
during the selection process. Each candidate is interviewed, and if selected
his semen is harvested and stored. Their semen is then made available to women
in the group who may want to be artificially inseminated. I was told that
before I had arrived, each tribute is allowed one last moment of pleasure, he
is allowed to choose one of the huntresses'. This is considered to be an honor
for the huntress as she will most likely be the last woman he ever
experiences.

All the tributes have now made their speeches and the Hunt Mistress pulls a
card out of a hat. "Tribute number three, you are the one today!
Congratulations!"

The ladies applaud and number three looks relieved. The other two tributes
look decidedly disappointed. They are wheeled out through the doors they came
through; I am informed that these men will be kept in the dungeon for next
months meeting. Sometimes a tribute can be kept for 12 months before his
number is finally drawn, as there are always three tributes on offer. Number
three is wheeled out onto the front lawn where all the women are now moving. I
feel that butterfly getting excited again. I can't help but squeal a little in
excitement like a 16-year-old girl with a crush. Susan looks at me and smiles,
she says it was like that for her to the first time.

We are now on the front lawn and the tribute is let out of his cage. It is
explained that the tribute has a ten-minute head start and that during this
time we may select our weapons. If the tribute manages to make it to the end
of the property he is too find a gate and press a button which will open and
allow him to escape. Once he is through this gate it is forbidden to throw
weapons at him, this is a rule that if broken incurs the most serious
punishment to the huntress. A horn is sounded and the tribute runs into the
forest, I look at the weapons on offer and choose a spear and a dagger. Good
choice says Susan as she chooses a mace and a sword. The minute's pass and the
Hunt Mistress declare it is time for us to hunt. We all fan out and move into
the forest. I am told that dogs also used to be used but made it far too easy.
It is as much about the challenge as it is the victory. I nod my head in
excitement as I start to run ahead of the pack. My senses are alive; I listen
out for anything ahead of me that might be my prey. I realize that he might
have stopped or might be trying to double back, but go with my assumption that
logically he will attempt to find the gateway at the back of the property. I
think for a moment about what he might be feeling, if he still thinks this is
an exciting idea. I shake myself out of it and keep moving. I can hear the
women behind, making a raucous noise; some are calling out to him, taunting
him. For me though, it is about the mission as always. It's personal.

Suddenly I hear a branch break to my right. I smile and move towards the noise
slowly. I have so many advantages right now I think to myself, even without my
weapons. I am clothed he is not, I have shoes which soften my step he does
not, I am lighter and quieter he is not. He has only one advantage over me;
his incentive to win is far greater. I remember what the Hunt Mistress told me
earlier as well, that the prize for the tribute is 5 million dollars-if he
survives. This is the main incentive for many of the men applying although
some also wish to test themselves in this manner and find the whole concept
terribly erotic.

I try and focus my eyes in the dark forest; I think for a second that I can
see the flesh pink of my prey amongst some bushes. I crouch and move slowly, I
feel sexy and powerful. I tuck the dagger into my jeans and hold the spear
with both hands. I then feel that he has seen me, a rush of leaves and
branches moving supports this as he bolts off in a sudden moment of fear. I
follow in my own rush of excitement and see him in the distance; he has found
himself in a large clearing, nowhere to hide this time. I watch him for a
moment in a fit of indecision, naked, cock bouncing and swinging as he turns
about trying to find the best way out. I take my time; I know I still have the
advantage. I make myself visible by standing on a small mound. I let him see
me, spear raised. I want him to be terrified right now. I want to soak up his
fear. He sees me and runs into the thick bush behind him. I once more move
forward after him, I make my way through the bush that he went through, he
must be bleeding, scratched and scarred by now, these bushes are thick and
spiky. I have forgotten about the rest of the women, this has become my own
test. Everything I have ever trained for is being pushed to its' sadistic
bounds right now.

I am out of the bushes and see a small pond, I wonder if he is hiding in
there. I cannot see him at all right now. I walk carefully towards the pond; I
then feel this force pulling me to the ground.

"What the..." I realize it is him, the tribute tackling me. Obviously wanting
to immobilize his closest huntress so that he can find the gateway quicker and
in peace. I do not panic though, I am too skilled for that, it is a shame he
didn't know more about me. This may have worked on someone else. I manage to
grab his exposed testicles and pull them hard twisting. I then elbow him in
the ribs and he falls, I can see him now. Scarred and bleeding from bushes,
his feet are a mess from rocks. I take the dagger from my jeans and kneel over
him.