The Trophy Rack (3 page)

Once he was done with her chest, the rigger
lowered the hook then lifted her from it. He untied her wrists and
retied them behind her. Then he tied her ankles together using half
a dozen loops on each, lining them up exactly beside each other for
show. The rope marks would make for lovely pictures later.

Without making so much as eye contact with
her, he lifted the loops he’d left hanging down her chest up toward
the dangling hook. She closed her eyes again, wanting to
concentrate on everything that was about to happen.

Seconds later, she heard him say. “There you
go. Haul away.”

Her captor’s voice sounded excited, almost
breaking like an adolescent’s. “I have been
so
waiting for
this!”

Faline took a breath and held. Seconds later,
a sudden jerk lifted her off her feet. Though the ropes around her
chest supported enough of her weight to keep her boobs from taking
all her weight, the extra loops the rigger had run around them
still put a lot of pressure on the ballooning mounds. She gasped as
the dull throbbing amplified into a drumbeat through the distended
flesh. Her womb contracted and a wave of pleasure rolled through
her pussy. Her moans drowned the sound of artificial camera
shutters clicking, and the got louder when she pulled her heels
back and up toward her ass, making herself sway to intensifying
every sensation.

A hand closed on her bottom and pushed,
sending her into a slow spin. She forced her eyes open and saw
Brice’s face, his eyes wide, his wide grin only adding more
credibility to the adolescent analogy.

The huge bulge in the front of his pants
bounced the second his hand made stinging contact with her left ass
cheek, checking her spin but making her swing more. Biting back a
smile, she feigned a startled cry when he spanked her again. Then
she closed her eyes again to concentrate on the intense pounding in
her breasts.

By the fifth smack, her bottom was settling
into a satisfying burn and her pussy was tingling. She doubted
she’d be able to come without help, but that didn’t stop her from
trying. Several stinging slaps later, she was rocking back and
forth in her own quiet world, close, but just not quite there. When
his hand popped hard across the side of her left breast, the pain
cut straight to her clit. Three stinging swats later, he proved her
very wrong.

~~~

Just short of an hour later, all three does
were each tied face up and spread-eagle by her wrists and ankles,
bent backward over what could best be described as padded barrels.
Special tables, much like clear TV trays, had been strapped across
their bellies, and thin, clear tubes ran from bota bags attached to
the barrels up the outer curves of their right breasts where they’d
been zip-tied up the length of their nipples. The acrylic belly
tables were set with silver forks, white-speckled black
ceramic-coated camp plates, cloth napkins, and small, crystal salt
and pepper shakers.

While the cook pulled steaming foil packets
from the coals of the big communal fire, Brice tried to shake the
image of his orgasming trophy from his head. Watching her hanging
on the end of a rope by her purple breasts had been hot enough, but
seeing her writhe when she came, swinging back and forth by her
tits while he slapped them had given him a perpetual boner that was
actually starting to hurt.

It wasn’t that he really wanted to forget the
scene so much as it was distracting him from everything else.
Writing the erection off as a constant for the rest of the evening,
he decided that imagining what was about to happen might at least
bring him back to the here and now. That said, Brice’s gaze fell
back to her breasts.

Her rope-marked tits were big enough that
they flattened out across the center and her thick nipples and wide
areolas sunk in just a bit. One of them would be more than ample
enough to hold half a burger and some vegetables. Brice planned to
use the free one for just that. Since pouring the bubbling, greasy
contents of the foil packet directly onto the fat mound would have
slipped into the cruel and unusual, he’d let the meal cool a bit
first.

As he thought about how he was going to
incorporate his trophy’s breasts into his dining experience, the
entertainment made its way to the campfire. Two men and a woman,
all dressed like gypsies, started playing a tune. The men strummed
stringed instruments, the woman tapped out a fast beat on some kind
of bongo-like drum. Three other, nearly nude women started writhing
their way between the “tables.” They were dressed in gauzy hip
wraps that more than teased at what was beneath. Each of them wore
thin belts decorated with bells that jingled as their hips gyrated
to the swelling tempo. Also jingling were the bells that dangled
from the pierced nipples at the tips of their bare, wildly
bouncing, boobs.

Watching the shimmying reminded Brice of the
breasts nearest him. He grabbed one and sucked up a lot more nipple
than he needed to. The wine was sweet, but the feel of her tight
flesh in his mouth was sweeter. He bit lightly below a thin plastic
tie and took another long pull. His catch moaned quietly and
pressed her breast into his mouth. Brice’s cock grew even stiffer
and his attention left the dancer entirely. He bit and sucked
little harder, intent on making her moan some more.

When the cook walked up, Brice reluctantly
let her nipple drag from his teeth. She rewarded him with another
moan. Looking around, he found his partners either drinking
greedily or watching gyrating dancer flesh. Under any other
circumstances, he’d have been intrigued by what had to be a painful
slapping of tit from side to side.

Brice watched the chef pull the foil apart
over the plate, letting the hot juices pour. She hissed as they
splashed onto the underside of a breast, then whimpered and rolled
her hips when the burger plopped into the shallow pool of
juice.

Chunks of carrots, potatoes, onions,
mushrooms and broiled grape tomatoes landed around the burger,
followed by the rest of the hot juice. After the chef left, Brice
gave it about a minute before he started moving food to her breast.
He began by ladling a spoon of scalding au jus over her nipple.
Doing her best not to upset the table, she just planted her feet a
bit more firmly, spread her legs and wiggled her ass a bit until
she adjusted to that burn.

The juices pooled in the crevices of her
meaty areola then dribbled down the sides with a second spoon. He’d
never really considered himself cannibal material, but he couldn’t
help but think that he’d be quite happy to make do with a packet of
steamed vegetables, the scalding juice and both her succulent tips.
But, even if reality hadn’t required the burger, the contract was
pretty clear cut about such things.

He looked at her nipple, poking just barely
above the pool of liquid that drowned the surrounding flesh. It was
starting to go a bit flatter, no doubt a result of the scalding.
Still, he thought it would have been nice if the rack going over
his desk had some livid teeth marks. Lacking that, he strongly
considered taking his fork to the glistening nub. Instead, he
targeted a tender piece of potato just to its right and, licking
his lips, speared.

It didn’t take Brice long to finish his meal,
though he did play with his food a lot more than his mother might
have allowed. He’d found it particularly fun to snag the side of
her nipple with the fork’s tines and twist the tip of her breast
around it like spaghetti. He admitted to himself that it was only
something a guy would enjoy, but then again, that’s what the entire
hunt was designed to be.

He was never quite certain whether her moans,
groans and whimpers or her breast shimmies, back arches and hip
rotations were real or designed to further his experience. The
glistening wetness that coated her open pussy suggested it was more
of the former and less of the latter. She’d seemed especially
attentive when he lapped the last of juices from her breast and
gave the straw-laden nipple some extra attention. Either way, he
was so horny by the time dinner was over he was ready to fuck a
knothole, and the dancers seemed intent on making him even
hornier.

They’d been bouncing, jiggling and jingling
around the hunters the entire time, which had been both
entertaining and distracting enough. But, once the wait staff had
taken the belly tables away and wiped the living tables down with
wet cloths, the three gypsies went into overdrive.

The one that seemed to have chosen Brice
moved to the rhythm of the musicians past him, turning to face him
from between his catch’s spread legs. Catching his eye, she rocked
her hips in a sensuous circle while keeping her breasts in constant
motion, then she grabbed the gauzy fabric at her waist and ripped
it loose.

From the momentary break in the performers’
rhythm, and the sudden look of confusion on the other two dancers’
faces, Brice figured that particular move wasn’t in the script. Not
that it mattered; his dancer didn’t even break stride. Tossing the
thin skirt at him, she continued her wildly sensuous dance all but
melding herself into the bound woman’s thighs and folds while
mercilessly teasing Brice.

To their credit, the performers quickly
matched her pace and, in moments, the other two dancers were as
nearly nude as she, watching her for cues. Almost in unison, they
crouched a bit and nestled their curvy asses into the doe’s
crotches, then, wriggling the entire time, they slowly slid down to
the smalls of their backs. Now it was the does’ turn to look
surprised.

As one, the gypsy women reached out to their
sides, arms wriggling. They began shaking their chests harder than
they had the entire night, all but daring the men not to watch.
Boobs slapped from side to side, and the human tables vibrated with
them. Brice’s doe’s breasts bounced almost as much as the dancer’s
did. He could hardly believe his cock could get harder than it had
been, but she proved him wrong.

By the time the performers did a slow turn,
their flat tummies rubbing against the three does’ wet pussies,
Brice was as close to considering rape as he ever had been in his
life. Holding himself back only because he knew he’d never get away
with it, he watched as the gypsy bent forward and started slapping
her bouncing breasts against his does’.

The sounds of flesh smacking against flesh
echoed through the trees and the vision was noting sort of amazing.
All four nipples were rock hard, any long-term effects of the hot
juice long gone. From the way his catch rolled herself against the
dancer and did her best to meet the gypsy’s swinging tits with her
own, Brice had no doubt that the bound woman’s moans were real. So
were his as he grabbed his cock through his jeans and squeezed it
so he wouldn’t come.

A sudden gasp let him know that his catch had
no such control. The gasp turned to a groan, as the belly dancer
rolled back around, still working to make his doe come as she
reached out for Brice. By then, Brice couldn’t have cared less what
the contract he’d signed had said. His cock told him that two of
the hottest women he’d ever seen were just inches away from him,
all soft flesh and hot pussies, ready for all the sex and
perversion he could handle. Reasoning he could easily claim he
thought it was part of the party, and fully aware that his buddies
were already a step ahead of him, he reached for the dancer’s
hands. Life was about to get very, very good.

~~~

Getting the key to his cabin had been easy
enough. Everyone that worked for the club wanted their hunters
happy and ready to return, so blind eyes were common when it came
to breaking the rules a bit after hours. The fact that this was
Faline’s first time to break this particular rule had only sped the
process, especially since she’d gone to the groundskeeper freshly
showered and completely nude. If that hadn’t worked, she was just
about horny enough to kill him for the key anyway.

She’d been a half dozen hip grinds away from
an orgasm when the handlers had moved in and professionally
separated everyone before things broke out in a Bacchanalian orgy
of rape and wanton sexual torment the likes of Sodom and Gomorrah.
Within minutes, the performance and naked dancers were gone, the
three does had been untied and led to their quarters, and the here
hunters were left in their cabins holding throbbing and unfulfilled
boners. Thanks to Camile’s antics, she was certain there were at
least a dozen frustrated people with an easy walk, and she was even
more certain none of them were as horny as she.

She walked quietly down the short utility
hallway to the living area. The closer she got, the clearer the
noises became until, just before she rounded the corner, she had no
doubt one of the dancers was already there. Her money was on
Camile. Undaunted, she stepped into view. Her captor was naked,
reclined back on the overstuffed leather sofa, his legs spread
wide. As she’d predicted, Camile knelt between his knees, sucking
on his thick cock as if the world were about to end. Neither of
them had any idea she was there.

She watched them for a few seconds and was a
little surprised to find her nipples getting even harder than the
cool mountain air had already drawn them. She drew a fingertip down
her belly until it rolled over her swelling clit while she used her
other hand on a breast. Camile was sitting bend-kneed with her legs
tucked under her. Her round bottom, nestled lightly on top of her
feet, rocked as she pistoned her mouth up and down Brice’s penis.
Faline wasn’t usually into women, but after what the dancer had
already done to her, she briefly considered changing her plans to a
ménage a trois.

When Camile stopped to take a breath, Faline
got her first full look at Brice’s veiny package. All thoughts of
sharing evaporated, and she stepped up behind the other woman and
tapped her on the shoulder. The smaller dancer jumped and looked
back, still clutching Brice’s cock with a hand. Holding a finger to
her lips, Faline nodded back toward the door. When Camile didn’t
move, Faline made a slicing motion across her own throat. Frowning,
the other woman simply shot her the bird and went back to business,
though still watching Faline from the side.