Date: Fri, 22 Sep 2006 19:52:21 -0600 From: Luc Milne <email@example.com> Subject: Big Game Preserve Chapter Three Copyright 2006 by Luc Milne <firstname.lastname@example.org>. All rights reserved. Downloading of one copy for personal reading is allowed. Each part of this series is a separate story or "document" connected by the overall fantasy of a manhunting game preserve. The idea of "Special Boys" has been taken from Garth Wells' fine story HORSE (see Yahoo Slave Now group), although I have developed it in a different direction BIG GAME PRESERVE 3 "Getting Rammed" The first time I saw the Ram he was standing eerily motionless in a paddock near the Lodge of the Big Game Preserve. I walked to the rail fence and locked eyes with him, a threatening figure in the dying light of the day before my hunt was to begin. He was a 6'3" animal with a fantastically enhanced ramcock and fuckbutt. Except for a light bush of pubic hair and a short brush of brown hair on his head, he was completely smooth and hairless. Even in repose, his muscles quivered and his golden-brown eyes bored into me, as if daring me to capture him. The moment I looked into those eyes I knew that I had to have him--he would be the ultimate trophy in my long list of "kills" at the Preserve. It wasn't just the massive semi-hard cock arching heavily from his groin with its moist head the size of a small boy's fist; and it wasn't the succulent swell of his enlarged nipples, nor the perfectly rounded globes of his ass--it was the air of the untouchable about him that attracted me--the sense he radiated that no one would ever conquer him. I had become something of a "legend" among the regular hunters on the Preserve. A group of us who came several times a year for the pleasure of hunting down and using the "animals" liked to engage in a macho competition to see who could get the most and the best of the Special Reserve boys. I was the one who had first caught Barbarian Boy, a product of the Laboratories "Mutant 1" series: after my 24 hours of abuse his wild spirit was almost broken, his swollen tits sucked raw, his cock and balls drained and drooping, his lush lips bruised from the repeated assaults of my dick, and his tight ass-pucker slack and wet after being raped with my fist wrapped around my cock. And I was the one who had famously tracked down the elusive Ivory Boy and returned him to the animal compound with his white skin red-striped from lash marks, his creamy marble cock raw and spongy from my feasting. Later the Chief Warden told me that Ivory Boy's uncle had donated him to the Preserve for enhancement and hunting with the understanding that the remodelled teen would be returned to him for his own personal use after two years as prey. The Warden said that the uncle was angry about my "abuse" of his property and requested that I never be allowed to hunt Ivory Boy again. I had no trouble promising that, since I don't like "second helpings" of animals I've already tasted. So, when I felt the Ram glowering at me through the dusk on the evening before the hunt, I knew I had seen my ideal quarry and I was determined to have him, even if it took me all week to accomplish the kill. Later that night as we sat in front of the fireplace in the Lodge's Great Room, I told my fellow hunters that the Ram was mine and that they should back off unless they wanted some serious aggravation from me. The Warden warned me that Ram was an unusually elusive animal and that it was very rare for him to be caught. In fact, he said, he could remember only two or three other hunters who had "killed" him, and that those hunters had been strangely silent on the days after their hunts, leaving before their weeks were up and never returning. I laughed, and said "Well, then, it's about time for a real man to catch him and teach him what animals are good for!" That night I sucked a load of fresh warm milk out of the boy provided by the management for special guests and laid my head to rest on the soft pillow of his thighs for a deep dreamless sleep disturbed only by a vague sense of being "watched" by golden-brown eyes. The next morning, after the Lodge's spectacular Hunt Breakfast, including the Chef's famous Boymilk Scrambled Eggs, we gathered in the courtyard at the front of the building and downed the traditional tankards of brown ale before setting out on the day's "shooting". I had my usual long gun, which I prefer to the laser pistol, my heat detector for spotting game at a distance, and two sets of cuffs, along with a cock leash for restraining any unruly animal once it's caught. I refused the "emergency beeper" to be pressed if there was serious trouble with an animal, as I was confident I could handle any difficulties that captured meat might cause. Some of the guys went off in twos and threes to hunt together, but that's not my style--I'm a loner and when I make a kill I want the beast all to myself. After the initial excitement of the first hour or so, I began to regret that I had set my sights only on the Ram. I caught glimpses of prey gliding through the trees and creeping through the tall grass, but didn't make pursuit because the Ram wasn't among them. Several times I could have taken a boy easily: there was one very tempting black called the Panther who I startled at a watering trough and who ran off with his foot-long uncut meat swinging, its copious precum making wet, smacking sounds as it slapped from thigh to thigh. The cock flopped around like a black eel in the bottom of a boat, making it an easy target for even the poorest laser shot. Just aim in the general direction of the bouncing meat and you were sure to make a hit. Not enough challenge for me. I like an animal that tries to protect his cock and balls, making it more difficult to hit them with the laser beam and set off the beeper implant that triggers his conditioned surrender. And I found a lanky kid dozing beneath a tree, his legs wide, with a fat cock and plump loose balls draped across his thighs, just begging to be zapped. But I'm pretty sure he was just pretending to sleep, waiting to be taken, one of the "Easy Kill" boys the Preserve keeps in stock for pussy hunters who don't really care about the chase. In my opinion any animal that begs to be taken doesn't deserve a real hunter's cum. I worked the woods and the fields all day, stopping only for a snack at one of the hunters' Food Stations and a quick drink of cum from a boy staked out on a picnic table in a small clearing for the refreshment of thirsty and horny clients. Toward evening I was scouting along a ditch with a ten foot overhang because I could see some kind of heat source lighting up my scope. But there wasn't a bit of living flesh in sight. I backtracked, seeing the hot spot move along in front of me, but still invisible: I came to a rock outcropping with a narrow opening in it, leading perhaps a small cave: I thought "so that's where you are, you fucker, hiding in the crevice of the rock". I pressed against the rock face, edging closer and closer to the opening. A pebble fell on my head, then another at my feet. Weeds rustled overhead. I started to raise my gun as I looked up at the edge of the outcrop, only to see a dark shape hurtling down on me. A blow, like being struck by a two-ton truck, fell on me, crushing me to the dirt. The gun flew out of my hands, as I felt myself rolled over onto my back and pinned down by a hot, sweaty body pressing full-length on my heaving chest and thrashing legs. I couldn't get my breath because the beast's weight constricted my lungs, making me gasp and shudder as I fought to push him off. Then, suddenly, I was free of the weight! I took a deep gulp of air and started to push myself up, but my wrists were gripped in iron fists and my arms were stretched above my head, while I felt my legs being wishboned by the animal's knees, opening up my crotch to the grinding pressure of his own groin. I could feel a lead pipe of cockflesh moving on my own cock, kneading it like a rolling pin on dough. I opened my mouth to shout for help, but immediately felt my face covered by sucking lips and a long probing tongue dripping with tangy spit. Every time I started to cry out or speak, that tongue plunged into my mouth, reaming out my cheeks and tickling the back of my throat with its vibrating tip. This wet assault on my face had a curiously soothing effect, calming my panic: it was as if some healing salve was being applied to my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids, and my brow. The animal lapped at me like a big cat washing its kitten, covering me in spicy saliva, probing up into my nostrils with its tongue, rimming the shells of my ears, and painting my lips with its scent. I knew that I was the prey of the Ram--that he had hunted me far more successfully than I had hunted him, and that I was going to experience something very nasty if I didn't recover my wits immediately. By now Ram was straddling me, still tongue-stroking my face and neck, taking soft nips on my ear lobes and on the tender skin beneath my jaw, grinding his teeth on my throat, as if getting ready for a massive killing bite. He had pinned my wrists with only one of his huge hands, leaving the other free to rip and tear at my clothes. One swipe severed the shirt buttons and opened up my pecs to his exploring fingers: another wrench at my waist popped open my fly and shredded my shorts, giving him complete freedom with my cock and balls. My dick had lost some of the normal hardness it has during my hunts, but it was still semi-hard, as if not sure whether to shrivel up completely or stretch out to full length again. I could now feel Ram's bare cock moving across my naked meat and digging into my balls, leaving a slime of precum over my whole crotch. Steeling my mind for resistance, I began to roll from side to side, trying to dislodge myself from under his hovering body. This enraged him and he used his free hand to grap my nuts and twist so that I yelled with the sudden pain. As soon as the sound emerged from my throat he covered my lips again with his own, seeming to glory in the smothered cry that echoed up through his throat and into his body. He ground my balls again in his massive paw and seemed to "eat up" my scream, his mouth glued to mine, his tongue digging out the sound of the pain from my gullet. His fist moved to my cock and squeezed it so hard I almost lost consciouness for a second; then he jerked at the thickening shaft, forcing it to hardness, roughly slapping my cockhead against his own which swung heavily above it. He moved his palm to both of the precum-soaked cockheads, mashing them together, scooping up the syrup, then rubbing it onto my face, which he began to wash again like a big cat with a rough tongue licking up its favourite cream. Suddenly I decided to try a new tactic: I let my body go completely limp. All struggle ceased and I laid there like a limp doll: I suppose I was remembering that some wild animals will not attack prey which plays dead and offers no resistance. This had an immediate effect on Ram (by now I no longer thought of him as "the" Ram; now he was just RAM, a primal brute force). I felt him tense: he released my wrists above my head, and leaned down to sniff at my mouth and nose. There was a long puzzled pause, and I thought that I might just be able to get away with my possum act. Then he growled and slapped my face hard, back and forth several times. I couldn't help reacting, bringing my hands down to protect myself. He made a sound something like a laugh and caught my hands in his, forced them along my side, and moved up further on my chest, his strong legs pinning my arms to my body as his heavy testicles, pumped and enhanced to the size and weight of ripe grapefruit, came to rest beneath my chin; they pressed against my throat like a smothering pillow of flesh. His warm, pulsing meat arched over my face, leaking its juice onto my forehead, the quivering erector muscle along the bottom of the shaft lying on my lips. Then, for the first time, something like language came from his mouth: it sounded like "You. Tongue. Now." When I didn't respond he reached back and mauled my balls with his hand. As I opened my mouth to gasp, he said again, "You. Tongue. Lick. Now." And so I began to lick that thick muscle that snaked along the meat, as he moved backward and forward on my face guiding my tongue to every inch of its broad velvety surface. I don't know how long I licked. I only know my licker got so tired that finally all I could do was just leave it hanging out of my gaping lips and let him move his meat around on it at will, keeping up a low growl all the while. Every surface of that gigantic flesh tube was washed with my spit; he made me polish the deep ledge of his meatus where it met the shaft, slaver over the smooth mushroom head, circle his swollen cocklips and probe down into his gaping cum shaft with my saliva-coated tip. Whenever I closed my mouth briefly to rest or swallow the constant trickle of precum down my throat, he would make a sound like a bark and slap my cheeks with that sticky club of cockmeat. Finally he seemed to tire of my tongue bath, and moved forward on my chest so that his balls draped across my lips, an omen of the true "ball gagging" that was to come. He said "You. Eat. Nuts. Eat. Now." There was no way I could get those balls into my mouth, but he was determined that I should "EatNutsNow". I opened my lips as wide as I could and then he opened them wider than I thought possible by prying my teeth even further apart with his fingers, using his other hand to force one spongy nut into my mouth cavity. The rubbery mass was crammed into my face, filling my cheeks, stretching them to their limit. "Eat. Now" he said. Assuming he didn't want to get chewed on literally, I began to eat as best I could, using just my tired tongue to caress the soft ballskin and working my jaw bone around in a circle to massage the testicle as it rolled and soaked in my spit. This "eating" seemed to stimulate his precum flow even more, until my eyelids were glued shut with the honey which seeped from his cocklips onto my upper face. Each ball got crammed into my maw and "eaten" several times before Ram was ready for the main event. Pulling back so that his nut moistly popped out of my lips, he leaned down and licked away the precum from my lids and lashes, so that I could look up into his cruel eyes and stony face again. He moved the tip of his cockhead to my lips and said "You. Now. Suck." I tried to find some sign in his eyes that he understood I could never get that piece of meat through my lips, but I found there only a feral will to make my mouth his fuckhole. He said "YouNoSuck. Ram. Kill." The first three inches weren't too bad: the head of his cock had been enlarged by the Game Preserve Labs but still kept its rounded taper shape, so I could work my lips up the rounded bulge bit by bit, getting used to the thickness gradually, trying to convince myself that maybe the impossible could happen after all. To divert his attention away from the fact that I was taking a long time getting his cock into my face, I kept flicking my tongue at his cumhole, playing with the collagen enhanced cocklips. But once my lips had finally slipped down over the fat rim of his meatus, there was nothing but an endless length of cockshaft moving inexorably toward my gag ring. Breathing became difficult, forcing me to stretch my jaws even wider just to get a little intake of air, and the wider I stretched the deeper he moved his meat into me. By now Ram was making a continuous series of sighing moans, each one louder and longer as inch by inch he penetrated my face. Finally the head of his cock reached the "gate"--that muscle in my throat designed to keep large foreign things from choking me. I've pushed my own meat through many a pussy's gag ring and never thought twice about the heaving and spewing that makes face fucking so much fun, but this was different. This was a cock beyond sucking, a tube of animal meat no man could expect to swallow. Ram seemed to sense that he had reached the critical point: his response was simplicity itself. He took my neck between his huge hands and began a slow squeeze: this had the result of making me open my throat wider to keep from choking, my gag ring closing then dilating to ever-increasing size until the slick mushroom head of Ram's cock slid past the portal and moved smoothly, deep into my gulle,t stopping only when his pubic hair was tickling my nostrils. I began to loose all sense of time and place: my face, my mouth, my throat, my whole being was just a warm pulsating tunnel for the plunging cock of a wild beast. Finally I faded out completely, feeling at the last moment the first warm promise of a flood of Ram sperm. But it wasn't until later that I actually got to taste his cum: that first load went directly into my stomach too deep for my tastebuds, as I lay unconscious beneath his rutting groin. When I came to awareness again I found that Ram was snacking on my own cock and balls. He sat crosslegged on the ground with my body arched across his thighs so that he could easily lean down and get at my meat. Ram was not a gentle eater: his idea seemed to be that the harder you worked a bone the more juice it would give up: he pulled at the skin of my shaft with his lips, and nipped my cocklips with his teeth, grinding my nuts in one hand while he pinched my tits with the other. Seeing that I was awake, he said only "Feed. Now." And, God knows how, feed him I did. I never before experienced such a massive climax as I did under the brutal caresses of the animal I had promised to myself as a trophy. I'm a guy who doesn't allow a sucker to mouth my cockhead while I shoot--I point my dick at a cunt's lips and spray him down with my cum, but I'm too sensitive to get sucked on while I'm spurting. That wasn't Ram's way, though. He stripped my cock hard until I began to spew and then chewed on my cock head, literally squeezing out the juice with his teeth and lips. I screamed and bucked trying to push his mouth off my meat as I flooded him with spurt after spurt of hot cream. Then, when my balls were empty and I expected him to let go of my meat, he kept on, pulling on the shaft and working my cockhead mercilessly. His hand moved down between my legs and he jammed two rough fingers up my asshole, going straight for the joy spot, which he pressed and massaged. And somehow, before I knew what was happening, I shot again, and again, and again into his greedy mouth as he worked my prostate like a button on a video game. As soon as his fingers went up my ass, I knew that I was going to experience Ram's cock in another hole beside my mouth. He withdrew his hand and spit a big wad of cum and saliva into his palm, then pushed his wet fingers back into the hole, using the grease to soften up my ass ring and widen my pucker until his fist was halfway up my butt. But fist fucking wasn't Ram's pleasure. For the primitive man, holes are made for cocks. He stood up, lifted me to stand facing him, then, gripping my arms, hoisted me up until my crotch was at his dick level: he pulled my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, reached around and spread my asshole wide with the fingers of one hand, and used his other hand to push his rampant cock up into me in one huge, grunting thrust. As I opened my mouth to scream at the unbelievable pain that surged through my body, Ram put his hand on my neck and pressed my face down onto his chest, directing it to one of his enlarged nipples. "Bite. Now." he said. I felt the strawberry-sized tit invade my lips and I bit down hard on it, partly because he told me to, and partly to take my mind off the grinding hurt in my fuck channel. As I ground my teeth against the chewy nipple, he seemed to swell even bigger in my hole and began to buck up into me with feverish lust. Then, incredibly he began to move, carrying me impaled on his thrusting cock, while I sucked at his nip, gradually developing from a slow walking pace into a rhythmic trot which made me bounce up and down on his pole, fucking myself as he ran. We went on that way for what seemed like two or three miles: sometimes he moved my head to the other tit, saying "Hard. Bite. Now." And I chewed frenziedly at his mouthfuls of nipple flesh while his shaft pistoned relentlessly into my cunt. A strange sense of well-being overtook me: the rhythmic pounding up and down in my ass seemed to mesmerize my body, until I had the sensation of riding on a merry-go-round pony, spinning and panting, delerious with the pure pleasure of being filled to the core with throbbing cockflesh. Normally I am the "fucker" preferring to make my prey suffer the agonies of rough, dry assrape, but as Ram fuck-trotted me along the woodland paths I felt a visceral change in my deepest sexual center. I lived to be fucked. I couldn't get enough meat inside my body: I wanted the ride to last forever. Finally I felt Ram's rhythmic fuck-run begin to falter: his body started to tremble and he stumbled off the path as the rising cumlust took control. We fell onto the soft earth and his ass cheeks began to clench uncontrollably as he pounded away in my hole. I remembered from reading the Stock Catalogue that Ram's butt mounds had been enlarged and strengthened with exercise to give him unique staying power, and now I was to be the lucky one who benefitted from his stamina. The pile-driving fuck continued for a long time as he rolled back and forth on my back lifting me up, then dropping me down, shaking me like a rag doll in his frenzy. I felt the first searing spurt of his animal cum deep in my fuck chute, but only for a second, because as soon as he began to cum, he pulled out, rolled me onto my back, and, while his cocklips spewed searing manjuice all over me, crawled up my body and forced the still gushing sperm fountain into my mouth. It was then that I got my first real taste of Ram cum. It was almost burning hot and tasted of the juice that seeps from a big fat steak just off the grill, but creamy like warm custard. And there was so much of it that I soon choked and let it come foaming back out of my mouth as he sank deep into my throat, continually spurting with body-wracking spasms. It seemed there were quarts of the stuff, although it was probably not more than a cupful, but still more than any "normal" cock and balls could produce. The elation that I had felt on the fuck-run returned now, as if the Ram semen had a narcotic effect, like some drug you take to make you feel so good you want the high to go on forever. I nursed greedily at his drooling cocklips desperate for every drop of the nectar, trying to stay on my cum "high" as long as I could. He let me suckle at his cock which softened just enough to slide easily once again past my gag ring and soak in the palpitating linings of my deepest throat. Astonishingly I drifted off into a blissful cock-filled sleep, only to find myself, on waking, cuffed hand and foot and tossed over Ram's shoulder as he carried me deeper into the Preserve. My cock was hardening against his taut skin and once again leaking the precum juices that promised more pleasure to come. My "capture" lasted for two days. No one came to look for me because I had, in the past, often camped out in the open when I failed to make a kill on my first day. Most of the time was spent in a shallow cave where Ram seemed to have set up a secret stash of the nutrients he needed to keep his sex drive strong and his sperm production optimal. There was no food for me except choking gulps of mouth-watering sperm, sexual ambrosia which had the effect of making me weaker but hornier, like a pussyboy who's lost all his strength yet still has the will to suck and get fucked 24 hours a day. I can't remember all the things Ram did to me. I recall his lying on his back, his cockpole hard and vertical, feel him lifting me onto it, ass spread open and oiled with his spit, then bouncing me up and down on it until his jism gushes up into me and runs back down the driving shaft to puddle on his balls. After that he uses my mouth hole the same way, bouncing my head like a basketball on his cum-slick meat. I remember him laying me down on my back and sitting on my hard cock, squeezing it tightly with his trained sphincter until it shot, then moving up to squat over my head, forcing my mouth up into his pucker, making me dig out my own cum from his ass with my probing tongue. I remember tears streaming down my face as I held his pliant cock in my mouth and drank his piss. I remember--things that are beyong imagining. My torment and pleasure went on and on, until even Ram had no more spunk to feed me, and had to whip my cock and balls with a willow branch to goad me into pulling on his cock head with my mouth hard enough to push him to a final "dry" cum. On the evening of the second day, he leashed my cock tight and led me stumbling back through the grounds to the Lodge. There, on the terrace my fellow hunters and the game wardens were having evening drinks. Ram paraded me across the lawn, pushed me to my knees, and forced his heavy cock into my mouth for one last humiliating slobber, while the company tried to stifle its laughter. The Chief Warden came down and silently put a leash around Ram's half-hard cock, leading him away toward the stock pens. The beast never looked back; as far as he was concerned I was dead meat. I pushed myself up to my feet and walked as tall as I could manage into the Lodge and up to my room Half an hour later, with Ram's cum still caked on my face and body, his feral scent still soaked into my skin, I was in my Range Rover making the long trip home, my mind a blank. For a long time I rigourously repressed every memory of the experience with Ram. Then one afternoon, without thinking, I found myself punching the Big Game Preserve's number into my cell phone. I calmly made a reservation for the following weekend, and then I heard myself say "I was wondering if you could guarantee that Ram will be on the Preserve on those days--I'd like a chance to hunt him down again." The clerk said, "I'm very sorry, Sir, but Ram doesn't allow himself to be caught by a hunter more than once." I could hear the amused quotation marks around the word "caught", and I knew I hadn't fooled him for one second. He continued, "Ram likes variety and always prefers fresh meat." I should have hung up, but by then I was desperate and knew no shame. I heard myself stammering "Uh, perhaps you could recommend another, uh, Special Boy who, um, likes to take charge when he's captured." His voice was smooth as silk: "Oh, I'm sure we can find a man who can satisfy your needs, Sir. I'll have a list of likely animals ready for you at the desk when you check in." And so began my life as the bitch-prey of the Beasts on the Big Game Preserve.