Copyright 2006 by Luc Milne lucmilne@telus.net. All rights reserved. One copy may be downloaded for personal use.
Each part of this series is a separate tale or "document" connected by the overall fantasy of a manhunting game reserve. The idea of "Special Boys" is from Garth Wells' fine story HORSE (see Yahoo group SlaveNow) although I have taken it in a different direction.
BIG GAME RESERVE 5
"The Tormentors"
MEMO FROM VP OPERATIONS, BIG GAME PRESERVE (WEST) TO CHIEF GAME WARDEN GERALD SLADE:
"It has come to my attention that two of your clients, Todd and Jake Hawker, known by staff and other hunters as 'the Tormentors' pose potential threat of damage and severe misuse to the game animals. The source of this information is confidential, but comes from staff and clients both. Please take this matter under advisement at once and take steps to learn if the allegations have any basis. I shall expect a report within the month. (signed) C. M. Buller, VP Operations, The Pleasure Corporation."
Chief Warden Gerald Slade paced nervously in his office on the ground floor of a small administration building on the Preserve near the stables and the Enhancement Laboratories. Earlier that evening he'd had a long interview with Todd Hawker, one of the Tormentor brothers who were the subject of a covert enquiry into their use, or abuse, of Preserve stock. The Warden had invited the brothers to the Preserve for a "complimentary weekend" of hunting, ostensibly to thank them for their patronage. Actually the purpose was to determine through interview, and observation if possible, the extent to which the brothers might be undesireable clients.
It was a tricky business because they could easily be offended if they realized what was going on, but if they weren't a threat to the animals, then the Preserve would lose two valued and lucrative customers. Word that the administration was denying hunting privileges to longtime clients would harm business in general. The Warden had interviewed Todd Hawker first because he seemed to be the more presentable and more sophisticated of the two. He was a marketing consultant with a lot of powerful contacts, while his younger brother was a foul-mouthed rough diamond, apparently content to work as a mechanic in a muffler franchise. They were both in their early thirties and were frequent guests at the Preserve, the older, wealthier brother apparently footing most of the bills for their visits.
It had been difficult to determine just exactly how they might have abused or harmed any of the regular stock of Special Boys. In fact, they seldom hunted the "stars" of the Special Boy programme, the massively cock-enhanced beasts and animals of the "Mutant" series, such as Barbarian Boy or The Rammer who provided the greatest challenge to experienced hunters. The Hawker brothers preferred young prey mostly, and seemed to have no particular taste for the more exotic animals on offer, such as the Panther, or Ivory Boy. But there were constant whispers, sometimes rising to complaint level, that they were too "hard" on their kills, that the boys were returned completely drained and useless as prey for many days after they had been the objects of the Tormentors' attentions. There were rumours of bruising and strange temporary malformations of mouth and anus, of a stunned or "glazed" look in the eyes, and "zombie" behaviour in returned kills. A few clients complained that the Tormentors "hogged" the "Easy Kill" boys, the ripe cubs who were provided for first time and inexperienced hunters not up to a full-out pursuit and laser "kill". There were suggestions that the brothers made inappropiate sexual overtures to guests in the Great Room during the evenings and overtaxed the room service "Pleasure Boys" supplied free by the Lodge. All in all it was a fog of unsupported and unproven tales and whispers, and Chief Warden Slade was determined to clear the mist away once and for ever.
So he had asked Todd Hawker to stop by his office for a drink before dinner on Friday evening and led him as deviously as he could into a description of the skills he brought to his hunting and the pleasures he took from it. Now he was listening again to the tape he made secretly of the man's conversation, pondering whether he should send a verbatim transcript to the VP Operations or make a summary of the main points. On the tape the deep, rich voice of Todd Hawker was letting the Warden know that he wasn't entirely fooled by all the soft soap.
"Oh, I know what you call us, Warden. The staff and even some of the other clients call us the Tormentors, as if we were comic book villains. But really we're just two guys who like our sex a little rough. There's nothing dangerous about it. I know my brother may be a little more hard-edged than me--he dropped out of school at 15 and has led the life of a labourer ever since. But there's no malice in him. I wouldn't even call him a sadist--he just likes to squeeze all the stuffing out of a young kid, as I do in a little less spectacular way. I'd have to say that I'm more 'scientific' and methodical than Jake in my play.
"For example, I'm a bastard about 'The Spread'. Do you recognize the term? No? Well, its the ability of your prey to open his legs wide enough to let you get at him just as close as you want. I know that sounds simple, but in fact your labs don't do a very good job on that. I've caught guys who don't seem to have been told that their thighs are never supposed to touch together while a hunter is using their meat toys. During their training periods, you need to keep your animals in 3 foot leg bars and even knee bars, just to get them accustomed to the idea that their crotches are open territory for their captors. That's especially important for a hunter like me who looks for the untamed boys, the ones that need a firm hand to break their resistance. And that's another thing. Why don't you develop a whole new strain of boy stock, call them the "Wild Things" perhaps. Keep their cocks in the 7 to 9 inch range, with big handfuls of ball meat to control them by.
"That's the sort of prey I like, Warden. I enjoy that look in a captured boy's eyes that tells me he has to be handled with force and caution. A steely green-eyed stare on the face of a muscular young buck and a sneer on his ripe, fleshy lips are signs that I've got to cuff him and leash him immediately and lead him straightaway to a Pavilion for taming. I use a three-inch dildo gag to muffle his snarls down to grunts and four-inch wide thigh straps attached to short chains on the training table to keep his spread wide enough to work in. I also strap his arms down so he can't swipe at me when I hurt him a little. But, let me make a suggestion about your suck tables. You should build a padded "bump" on them, just at butt level to make the animal arch its back and present its assets more invitingly."
As the Warden listened to the taped ramblings of the Tormentor Todd, he remembered how the tall, lanky man had opened his legs wider in his chair and started to massage the bulge that was growing there. As he talked about squeezing and pulling and twisting on his kill's meat, he seemed to be aping the movements in his own crotch. And when he described how he snapped a buggy whip, with its single leather stinger, on the very tip of his prey's cock head, he flicked at the swelling head of his own meat stretching down his trouser leg. Then, as he moved on to tell how he liked to finger-probe the animal's fuck hole with one hand while he pinched a wild boy's cumlips between the finger nails on his other hand, he stood up and moved closer to the front of the Warden's desk. As Gerald Slade listened to the tape he could hear the zip of Todd Hawker's fly being opened and the rustle of cloth as the man reached in and pulled out a menacing python of cockflesh, letting it slither down onto the desktop, where it lay, slightly pulsing, as if waiting for some small animal to grab. and swallow.
"You see, Slade, my meat hardens up when I'm just thinking about mauling a kid's cock and balls, unprotected and vulnerable between creamy thighs spread to the max. I'm not as thick as my brother, but I'm three inches longer, almost a cock-foot of hungry ass-raper. I'm lucky enough to be able to deep-stroke a kid's guts at the same time as I lean down and strip his fat cock crown with my lips and my teeth. Nothing makes a young animal's sphincter tighten up and do its job on a plunging dick shaft better than some syncopated mouth work on his tender cumlips. My brother calls it "suck 'n fuck" time, but for me it's just a step in the taming of wild boy meat."
On the tape the Warden could hear at this point a distant knock on his door and the sound of a young Game Keeper, Ethan Wade, entering, saying that he just wanted to drop off the day's Hunt Summary and Kill Reports. Then he heard the shocked intake of air the Keeper made when he saw the slab of meat leaking its precum onto his superior's leather desk top. There was a jumble of noise, like a scuffle and some slaps, then the sound of a wet, gagging splutter as Wade found himself flat on the floor with the Warden's guest squatting over his face, pulling up his head to the hang of wet cockmeat above it and plunging it into his mouth in one short thrust. Hawker's voice, raspy with lust, continued its revelations.
"See, Warden, this is what I mean when I say you have to be quick and firm when you see a mouth or an ass you want to rape. Don't let the sucker have a second to think about what's happening to him, just ram it in and pump him hard. This guy is a throat-virgin I think. His gag muscle doesn't seem to want to let my monster through. So I merely put my hand around his throat and squeeze hard, like that. He starts to gasp for breath and while he's fighting for air I just feed my snake through the ring and deep into his cock gullet. Then I give him a little moment to get used to the feeling of being meat-stuffed. See his breathing is coming back to normal now. See the shock in his eyes? And the anger? Great stuff. Shows me that he's still got some resistance left, still needs some strong treatment to bring him into line. Now, I usually put both hands on the sucker's neck and press just a little because I like to find his "pulse"--that's the feel of my cock moving in and out of his channel. Come around here Slade, and put your hand right there beneath his adam's apple. You can feel the way my dick is exploring his throat deep down."
The Warden heard his voice on the tape mumbling something inane about Reserve policy and not abusing staff, followed by a grunt as Hawker pulled out of the Keeper's throat and stood up, allowing Ethan to crawl toward the door and freedom. Again the rustle of cloth and the sound of a zipper signalled the repacking of the Tormentor's tremendous penis into its box. There was the sound of a quiet laugh.
"Now that's got me all hot and soapy Warden. I'm going to have to go back to the Lodge and take a shower before dinner. Or maybe I'll call up a Room Service Boy first and finish off what I started here. My brother's probably already got some kid tied to his crotch, treating his cock to a warm 30 minute soak in the pussy's throat. Very nice of the Lodge to provide free playmeat in the rooms. Have you ever thought of piping a live feed from the Enhancement Lab's workrooms into the television circuits? Could make for some stimulating viewing. Well, it's been a pleasure talking with you, Slade. Anytime you want to know more about what I like and see exactly how I get it just let me know. I wouldn't mind showing you the ropes, in more ways than one. See you at dinner."
The sound of the door closing on the tape was punctuated by the click-off of the machine. Gerald Slade stood transfixed by these last words. "Show you the ropes"? "In more ways than one". What the devil was that? It was clear that further enquiries were needed, and "interviews" were not going to be the way to get at the real answer to the question of whether the Tormentors were a hazard to the health of Preserve animals and staff. The Warden realized that he was going to have to cajole the other brother, Jake, into letting him tag along on tomorrow's hunt-- to see first-hand and close-in just what the Tormentors were really up to in the farthest reaches of the Preserve. He'd meet him casually in the bar after dinner, butter him up, act like an eager student of Jake Hawker's sadistic mastery.
As he locked the office and started toward his apartment in the Lodge, he felt moderately satisfied, confident that he could finish up his report by the middle of the next week. He pulled his uniform tunic down sharply as he walked, to hide the slightly embarrassing bulge that had mysteriously appeared in his crotch.
Chief Warden Slade and Jake Hawker walked along a path through the woods with a fresh "kill" trailing along behind them. They were on their way to one of the Play Pavilions in a remote part of the Preserve. Jake, the younger of the two Tormentor brothers, kept calling it the "Torture Tent", to the Warden's annoyance. But he said nothing, since it hadn't been easy to convince Jake to let him come along on the hunt in the first place. He didn't want the man to feel that he was there to evaluate his treatment of the game animals, although that was exactly what he was doing. Jake Hawker was a shorter and more muscular version of his six-foot brother, with the same open manner and readiness to talk about himself but with a far cruder style. He kept up a running commentary as they walked.
"I'm the kinda guy, likes to play with the meat, 'fore he eats it, ya know? Makes the boyjuice taste a whole lot better. Somethin' about releasin' morphins or somethin' like that in their body. Gives the cum a real sweet taste, kinda fizzy on yer tongue. Makes you wanna get another fuckin' big gulp of it, then another, an' another. And 'cause ya got the animal tied down or strung up you can just keep on gnawin' on the dick lips long as ya want. Me, I like to hear the kids squeal so I gen'rally take their gobgags out when I chewmilk 'em. Some guys don't wanna be bothered by the screamin' so they leave their faceholes stuffed, but I like music with my chow, not just grunts 'n groans."
The Warden said there was no real proof that endorphins released during rough treatment of animals had any effect on their sperm quantity or taste.
"Don't give me that 'proof' shit, Chief. The proof is in the puddin', and believe me torture puddin' is sweeter than daddymilk. And spicy too, sweet 'n spicy. Be a good name, if ya sold little suckbottles of it to your customers. Hook yer stock up to them milkin' machines I seen in that big lab by the stables and give yer pussies and yer wildcats some 'lectric shocks 'n some whippin'--some nut whackin' and tit pullin'-- and you'd end up with a product that would sell like maple syrup. Hell, me and my brother'd be two of your best customers. We drink boyjuice instead of water, ya know. Keeps us hot 'n horny. I bet my brother could do up some fancy marketing shit. You wouldn't be able to pump the stuff out fast enough. Course, the animals could start to get a mite tired. Out on the Preserve, start layin' down in the middle of the trail, an' just let the hunters leash 'em without even runnin'. Could be a down side, I guess."
Warden Slade pointed out that The Pleasure Corporation already had two operations that supplied plentiful manmilk and boymilk products: the Milk Farms and the Milk Boys Factories. And he added that the Cock and Ball Restaurants had their own cumcows to produce all the semen needed for their special nut sauces and dick stuffings.
"Yeah, I get ya. Besides, it's the taming and skinning I do on the creatures before I eat 'em that's the real fun of huntin'. And before ya get all bothered, let me tell ya that I don't mean real "skinning". That's just the word I like to use for all the games I play with a kill before I fuck 'im or suck 'im. It's like I strip away any wildness he's got left after I hunt 'im down. I guess you can tell I like an animal that's kinda tame before I take 'im anyway. My brother, now, he likes the really wild boys, 'cause he's got a lotta ideas about breaking an animal down by teachin' it how to spread proper, so he can get close and nasty in its crotch. I've seen 'im manhandle so many loads outta some kid's cock, the pussy just keeps on heavin' and thrashin' and dry-cummin' for hours. He says the tiny little drops of boyjuice ya get from a dry-cummer is the sweetest stuff a hunter is ever likely ta taste."
Slade said that he had talked with Todd Hawker about his hunting style. He said he was impressed by the brother's techniques.
"Oh, sure, Todd's a real gung ho hunter. Likes the chase and the laser shit and all that. But me, I been known to take one of yer "Easy Kill" boys when I don't wanna bother with a long trackdown. Just pick up some fat dicked puppy that's sprawled out on the grass waitin' to be got. Like we did today. I allus look for a skinny teen with a good hang o' boy jerky. Gotta be real squeezemeat tho'. I like the cock ta stay halfhard most o' the time. No fun in playin' with a steel pipe, ya knowimsayin'? And it's gotta be real sloppy with fuckjam. I don't mind cut cock, but it's gotta have a lotta playlube. Course, I realize some kids are gonna swell up pretty solid with the kinda fun I give 'em and that's okay so long's their balls don't shrink up. I like a real heavy swing of ball meat to handle. And paddle ball is one of my fav'rite games. This boy looks like he's gonna be just my type of meat toy."
They looked back toward the fresh-faced lad meekly padding along behind them, his tumid penis and heavy testicles swaying lazily from the tug of the cock leash. He was a recent addition to stock, and was listed in the catalogue as The Yearling, but almost everyone just called him "the new boy". Warden Slade told Jake that the Preserve Labs prided themselves on their "hang" conditioning, ensuring that hunters always had plenty of ball meat and nut sack to sport with.
"Outstanding job on the nuts, Slade. Watch'em slap against his shanks when I jerk the leash. When I've got him up on the rack in the torture tent we can each get one of those babies in our fist and have a real twist contest with 'em. Great titties on the kid too. Not pumped up too much. Just enough to get ahold of. We c'n play the nipplenut game, one hand on a pec, other other on a nut, see who can make 'im yell the loudest. I hope the play box has some sandpaper in it. Rub those little nubs till they're red hot on your tongue when ya bite 'em. And they'd look real pretty with thick white pasties of hot wax on 'em. I'm not real big on waxing a boy's carcass, but I do like to drip some on his pecs and right on the cumslit of his cock, mebbe dribble some on his asscherry. Flick it off with my finger when it hardens up. Or maybe use a stinger whip. Yeah, great idea. Let's try that when we get this bootyboy to the tent."
Soon they arrived at the Pavilion, a large permanent pleasure retreat for hunters who liked to use their prey under cover, equipped with bondage poles and crosses, padded fuck horses and suck tables with ankle and wrist cuffs attached and a selection of toys for all tastes. Ropes of different sizes were coiled on pegs, whips ranging from braided cats through floggers and buggy whips to riding crops hung from racks. Straps and leather snappers were laid out on shelves, with rods, canes, and classic fraternity paddles. Head and wrist stocks were available, next to slings, and rows of ass-stuffers of all types. From the central sweep of the roof a suspension hoist hung, ready for stringing up kills by their ankles, so they could be tenderized and drained in the traditional way. The Warden wondered how many of these tools and playthings would be put to use on the yearling's flesh. He knew that many of the items never got used: they were there for stimulation and , a kind of sexy window-dressing, giving the normal sort of hunter enough erotic images in his mind to sharpen his play and keep his virility high. But Jake was a different kind of hunter, one who seemed to have the potential to do permanent damage to a kill if he got carried away with all the torture tools at hand.
"Will you look at all this shit! Whatcha guys thinkin' of? Puttin' all this fancy stuff out here in the woods, like some pansy leather booteeky. We don't need all this. Just some rope and some pinch pins and mebbe couple a whips. Hell, a man's got hands don't he? Fingers, fingernails, a fist, the flat of his palm for a slapper, feet for kickin', knees for spreadin' a kid's legs, lips, teeth, tongue--an' don't forget a piece a meat hisself to cockslap the pussy with. Let's face it, Warden, a guy is a fully equipped torture machine all by his lonesome. Now get me some rope and we'll get this yearling tied to that cross over there. I like the X type. Let's ya tie down the critter's thighs wide enough to get at the goods. Let's just take a few tight turns around his waist, catch his arms too, keep 'im from movin' around too much. Don't wanna totally freeze 'im up though, always good to feel a kid squirm a little while you're workin' on 'im. Put a loop round each wrist and carry the cord under his balls, real taut, make 'em bulge out so they hang down nice 'n ready for some hard nutmilkin'. Mebbe we'll gag the little bitch to start out, just to stretch 'is mouth open for the cock stuffin' that's gonna follow later. I know some guys like ta tie their animal's head back and hood 'em, but not me. I like a boy's face hangin' forward, so he can see me pullin' his meat. If he's a drooler, the stuff will ooze out of his ball gag and drip down givin' us some extra grease to keep things slick 'n slimy. Nothin' like mashin' a boy's sausage with a fist slicked up in his own blubber. What'll we do first, Slade? Your call."
Warden Slade wasn't comfortable with Jake Hawker's friendly offer. In fact, it had not occurred to him that he would be expected to take part in the Tormentor's games. In his mind he was just there as an observer, but clearly Jake had a different idea. So far as Jake was concerned the Warden had come along to get in on the fun. And, uncomfortable as he was, Warden Slade felt his cock lengthen noticeably down his leg, making it clear that he wasn't quite as objective as he wanted to appear. He saw Jake smile at the growing bulge as he opened up his own fly and pulled out a massive slab of uncut cock, which began to lift slowly, like some predatory animal sniffing the air for the scent of blood. The Warden said he thought maybe he'd just watch for a while, get into the mood of things first. But Jake wasn't having that. He moved close and reached down to the Warden's crotch, groping the swelling there with practiced skill, digging under the tube of flesh to cup the balls in their pouch. Slade would have shied away, except that Jake put one big hand behind his head and held him close as he jerked open the trousers and twisted seven inches of Wardencock out of its hole.
"C'mon guy, this thing in my hand doesn't wanna just watch. Feels to me like it's lickin' its chops already, gettin' all slickered up with cumlust. Whaddya say? We gonna play some games with this pussyboy first? Or mebbe take off his top cream quick, cool 'im down so we don't have ta worry 'bout his shootin', all the while we're funnin' with 'im. Oh yeah, there's my answer, your dick says a big wet YES to that idea, don't it.? Okay, grab the kid's pony meat and start pullin' on it. Don't be cute, just jerk it hard and heavy. I'll work his nuts with both hands, press that top milk outta the fuckers. Look at 'im pant already. He's full o' cum. Wants to give us some. Git yer other hand on his meat too. It's long enough. Let's give him a four-hander. Do 'im harder, man. Make 'im spurt. He's gettin' ready. See 'im heave? He's on the edge, man, gonna give it up. Ya wanna take the first load? Be my guest man. Eat that shit."
Before he knew what was happening the Warden felt his head being pushed down to the boy's crotch level, felt his lips being pressed against the wide meatus; he opened his mouth to tell Jake to stop, but found instead that he was gorging on a flood of warm boycum, as thick and smooth as heavy whipping cream. He kept one hand on the throbbing shaft, ravenously pumping more of the heady liquor onto his circling tongue and down his gulping throat. Then his head was pulled off the gushing boyteat and Jake took his turn at the flow, hollowing his cheeks, as he forced out the last stream of semen, seeming to vacuum it deep into his belly. Stunned by what he had done, Slade leaned gasping against the still quivering body of the bound yearling. This was unacceptable. He could be fired for this. It wasn't ethical. Then he felt Jack Hawker's lips on the head of his own cock, digging down into the cumhole with the tip of his tongue, siphoning out Chief Warden's trickle of lube. He pushed the man away telling him to get the fuck off. Not his usual way of speaking. Jake thought it was funny. He grinned as he wiped some stray gism from his cheek and licked it from his fingers.
"Now don't get all prissy on me, Slade. Yer no virgin and this ain't no Sunday School meeting. Whadcha think we were gonna do when you asked if you could tag along on my hunt? Look at the birds? Pick wildflowers? You run a fuck 'n suck amusement park, man. Dontcha ever get on some o' the rides yerself? All this candy around and you never lick none of it? Yer dick's still swingin' hard, so you can't be as mad as yer makin' out. C'mon. Let's start working this boymeat for real. He won't be wantin' to shoot for a bit, so we can play a while before he gets hot 'n bothered again. Let's play some Snap. Ya know that game? No?
"Well, go over there and get that box marked 'Pins'. We gotta use at least some of this crap you lay out in these tents. I dig these Preserve pins-- fancy wood, choc'lat colour, tight grip to 'em, good 'gator ridges on the teeth. Now, for Snap we've gotta pretty up his cock and balls with as many of these nippers as we can get on 'im. You start on his ball skin, try to get at least a dozen fixed good and tight on his sack, and I'll pull the loose skin on his cockpole so I can stick about six of these babies on each side. There. Ain't that a beautiful sight? And listen to him whimper. He's likin' that a lot. Hey, just for fun, let's put a clip on his cumlips too. Pinch 'em open with your fingers, like that, and lemme sneak one half of the clip into his hole and, easy now, just let go o' other half so it pinches that babyskin tight. Beauty! Okay, the object of the game is to take this pony crop and whip the pins off 'is meat and balls. You get five snaps of the crop, then I get five snaps. We count how many pins are picked off after ten turns, and who's ever popped off the most wins the contest. Let's see. What'll we make the prize? What about five minutes of hard chewin' on his titties, with some special sauce on 'em?"
Warden Slade had the first turn. He was a little awkward at first, but he'd ridden enough horses to know how to crack a mount's flank with the supple leather end of a crop. And snapping it against a kid's cock and balls wasn't all that different. He popped off four pins in his first two turns. Though he tried, Jake couldn't provide any real competition in the contest, since he'd never ridden a horse in his life. By the end of the eighth round all the pins were gone, Slade was the clear winner, and the kid was shuddering with the joy of getting his penis and testicle zapped. But apparently he hadn't suffered too much, because his pole had hardened up and prick froth began to bubble again from his cumhole.
"Well, you win, pardner. Yer a real pro with a crop ain't ya? What say we put it in yer hand when you get between his legs 'n assride 'im later? I'd like ta see you crack his flanks to make his puckerhole churn harder down the homestretch. And will ya look at that faucet leakin' oil? Good thing. Now we got the spicy sauce for his nips. Lemme scoop some up and rub it on his nubs. Give ya something to set your mouth waterin' while ya nibble on 'em. There ya go. Make 'im feel it. Let me rub some more o' this goo on 'em. Looks real tasty, man. C'm on, pull your lips back, I wanna see those pearlies bitin' down hard on that sticky boytit. Take a good bite and shake your head back and forth. Munch 'em. God, the little fucker's puttin' out so much juice it's makin' my whole hand sticky. I'll rub it all round his pecs, give ya more boy skin ta feast on. Fuck, yer makin' me so hot just watchin' ya eat those teentitties, I gotta get me somethin' ta snack on too."
Slade slipped off into a trance of mindless nursing at tender nipples bathed in tangy prick jelly. He was barely aware of Jake's mouth tonguing his own cock, Jake's hand squeezing his shaft to make the meatus swell bigger, pinching his cocklips with his fingers to make them gape open so the Tormentor could dribble spit down into the cumcanal, then suck it back, mixed with the Warden's own heady precum. Just when his cock was on the verge of shooting in Jake's mouth, he felt air on his helmet-shaped head. Jake's mouth was gone. Then Slade felt the sharp flick of thumb and forefinger against his tender bulb, instantly suppressing his rising cum gorge. He yelled and pushed the sadist back onto his haunches.
"Sorry, man, sorry. But we don't want to pop ya too soon, do we. Wantchur milk to keep pilin' up in those fat balls till they can't hold any more. Then we'll drain ya. Be a lot more fun for ya, and feed me the kinda blowout cum banquet I don't get very often. And look at the punk's cock. It's droolin' for some more attention. See how it nods, up and down, beggin' for another game? Let's play a round of nutball. Go over an' get that bag of rubber balls while I tie his cock up tight against his stomach. This is real simple but lots o' laffs. We could use tennis balls but for some reason your sissy Game Keepers stock the tents with these softer rubber things instead. Still, if ya get a good enough wind-up you can make the animal squeal. Let's take his gag out now, time ta let him sing a little. Now, ya see those fine boyballs swinging there between 'is legs? Almost as big and rubbery and the game balls, huh? We stand back about 20 feet and aim these suckers at those boyplums. A full double crack in the centre of the bag gets 2 points and a single crack on one nut gets 1 point. We take turns, tossin' a total of 15 balls each. And if ya hit the underside of his shaft, right there in the "magic triangle" where the ridge of his cockhead curves up, ya get to throw an extra ball on that turn. When we're through, we take the kid down and stretch 'im out on a suck table. The winner gets ta tea bag his own nuts in the slut's mouth and make him suck on 'em for ten minutes. Ya got it? Okay, I'll go first this time."
It turned out that Jake had been the pitcher in an amateur baseball league, so he wiped the floor with the Warden, who ended up hitting the kid's tooth-marked pecs more often than his nuts. The tent echoed with the grunts of the throws, the thunk of the balls on skin, the cries of the kid when his eggs got cracked by a direct hit, and the snickers of the two men when a ball made a particularly satisfying smack. At the end Jake had 23 points--3 extra-ball magic triangle bonuses, 8 double hits and 7 single hits. Slade had a grand total of 5 points, with no bonuses. They untied the boy from the cross and stretched him on the suck mat so Jake could take his reward. He asked the Warden to help him get his eggsized orbs into the yearling's cheeks; together they were able to stretch the kid's lips wide enough allow them to press both of the nuts beyond his teeth, into the mouth cavity, setting Jake up for ten minutes of spit-soaked ecstasy. Without being told to, Slade pressed the palms of his hands against the teen's ball-bloated cheeks and massaged his new pal's sperm bags through the soft distended skin. He even leaned down and took his first real sip of manhoney from Jake's cocklips. When the ten-minute nut-soak was up, Jake had a new pastime to offer.
"Ever played 'Bob for the Apple' Warden? Not like at a Halloween party. This is a stud version. We put on blindfolds and crawl up alongside o' the kid so our faces are both in his crotch: then we "bob" for his cock. But we can only use our lips, and our tongues and our teeth. May not sound like much punishment, but believe you me when one of us has this baby's cockhead 'tween 'is choppers, while the other one's bitin' down on the shaft tryin' ta pull it loose, the punk knows he's being gobbled good. We play two five minute rounds. At the end of each round whichever of us has the boyapple tight in his mouth is the winner. If each of us wins a round, then we do a play-off where we fight over 'is balls. The guy with the most ball meat in his mouth at the end wins. The winner gets to throat-fuck the pussy until he cums in his gullet. But listen, guy, if you win, ya gotta pull out when ya shoot and let me pig your slop, 'cause I deserve it, lettin' you come on my hunt and teachin' you all this good stuff, knowimsayin?"
But Jake needn't have worried about the Warden winning. The Tormentor was a voracious mouth-man: once he got his teeth around the thick ledge of the young animal's meaty crown, there was nothing left for Slade to do but worry the shaft like a dog with a bone, trying to get the rich marrow out of it. During the second round he gave up about half way through and spent the last two minutes savaging the groaning boy's nuts, which had the efffect of making him shoot his second wad directly into Jake's throat, for which Jake was extra grateful. He fed a good portion of it back into the Warden's lips in a hard, mouth-raping kiss that caught Slade unawares. But the second-hand cumjuice tasted so good he swallowed it all and sucked greedily on Jake's probing tongue for more. Then Slade laid down alongside the kid idly jacking his own meat and watching as Jake took his reward. He porked the boy's throat, deeply and fiercely, grinding away between his lips which soon became red and puffy under the assault. Jake bellowed while he spewed, shaking uncontrollably as his sperm volleyed out in great gouts of beastmilk, "breeding" the teen's the throat and belly like a prize bull on stud service. The image of "breeding" made the Warden's rod stretch longer, and firm up, ready for his own breeder fun. He moved between the boy's spread thighs and started to wishbone his legs, holding on to his ankles, to open up the yearling's fuckhole. But Jake saw what he was doing pushed him away.
"Whoa there, stud. I want some of that boy ass too, ya know. Let's bend him over that fuck horse so we can take turns in 'is pink pucker. You put the straps on his ankles and I'll go round front an' do his wrists, just to keep 'im honest. Hey boy, dontchu go to sleep on us. Ya gotta lotta meat to take care of 'fore bedtime. Keep your head up bitch and your mouth open--tongue out--eyes on the prize. Clean me up with your licker while my pal taps that sweet ass. C'mon cumbreath, gimme some head or I'll skull-fuck ya silly. That's the way, kid. Getcher tongue all jellied up with my jizz. How's the hole Warden, nice n' buttery? What's his bud look like? Somethin' ya might wanna eat? Nothin' better than tossin' a teen cunt's salad bowl with yer tongue. Not interested? That's cool, I'll eat yer cum out of his pucker when yer through. For now let's rack this boy front 'n back. Ya wanna do a push-pull--you drive into his cunt while I pull back to let 'im breathe, or whaddabout a double in 'n out? Both push in, jack-hammer 'im at the same time, then pull all the way out together-- let 'im gasp, then slam back through for another round o' choke strokin'. Whadday say? Mebbe do both? Why the fuck not? Do ten minutes o' push-pull, then ten minutes o' double in-'n-out pile drivin' till we're ready to pop. But I gotta better idea. When ya feel like yer gonna blow, let me know, an' we'll switch ends. You come up front and cockslap 'is face till ya cool down and I'll go round back and rim-suck his bud till we're ready ta jab some more. Should be able to keep this fuckbait goin' till its eyes glaze over and it forgets it ever knew anything but gettin' stuffed with man meat. Ready, pal? Startcher motor and let's roll."
The double rape went on for a long time. The boy had the ponymilk fucked out of him several times, and by the time the two men finally filled him up with gism front and back, he was a limp puppet that could be posed in any obscene position his masters wanted, and used in any fantastic way they imagined. By the time the day was over, the Warden and the Tormentor had acted out a lot of their wildest and juiciest dreams.
As they stumbled back to the Lodge in the dusk, their cum-drenched prey tied hand and foot and slung between them on a bamboo pole resting on their shoulders, the Warden wondered if his life with the Big Game Preserve was at an end. Could he cover up this lapse in his conduct and avoid the temptation to play with the animals ever again? Did he really want to hunt down and torment the animals he was paid to protect? He got a disturbing answer in Jake's words.
"Next time, buddy, we gotta make a double kill. There's a shit load of fun stuff we can do if we have a lot more cock, a lot more holes and a whole lot more boycum to play with! I c'n teach you things that'll keep you hard the rest o' your fuckin' life!"
POSTSCRIPT:
MEMO FROM VICE PRESIDENT OPERATIONS, PLEASURE CORPORATION, TO CHIEF GAME WARDEN GERALD SLADE AT THE BIG GAME PRESERVE (WEST):
"In view of your report that Todd and Jake Hawker, the so-called Tormentors, present no threat to the well-being of Preserve animals, and taking into account your excellent summary of the benefits that their skills could give to the operation, I am happy to announce that we have hired them both as experts in the training of stock to withstand extreme treatment without permanent damage. They will travel around to each of our world branches teaching the local Game Wardens how to prepare our animals, especially the younger boy prey, for high level abuse. We expect that they will also be useful at The S/M Ranch and that their insights into the psychology and techniques of rough sucking will be invaluable in the upper level courses at the CockSuck Academies. Congratulations on handling this potential problem so efficiently. I was especially pleased to hear that you plan to engage in the occasional hunt yourself. I agree that it's important for staff to learn all aspects of the business and take a 'hands-on' approach in daily operations. I am eager to know how the mysterious "on-the-job-special-training" you plan on giving your young Game Keeper Ethan Wade turns out. It was interesting to learn that the notion was given to you by one of the Hawker brothers during an interview with him in your office. A good executive always knows how to recognize a good idea and how to exploit it to the fullest. All the best. C. M. Buller VP Operations."
(end)