The Trophy Rack
The Trophy Rack
By Matt Nicholson
The Trophy Rack
Published by Darker Pleasures at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Matt Nicholson. All rights reserved.
Cover image by alekseypoprugin/123RF Stock Photos
Smashword Edition, License Notes
This work contains graphic language and sexual depictions of sometimes extreme consensual and semi-consensual female bondage and sadomasochism. It is intended for mature audiences only and is not suitable for persons under eighteen years of age. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters places and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or redistribute this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Darker Pleasures, webmaster at darkerpleasures.com.
The Sangre de Cristo Exotic Game Club was nestled in the heart of the pine, spruce, and aspen-covered mountains of New Mexico’s Wheeler Peak Wilderness. Brice Comstock had no idea how long the club had been around, but from the looks of the carvings on trees, tables, and walls, it had been several decades, maybe longer. He’d heard of it through word-of-mouth, or rather, word-of-mouth had directed the owners of the club to him. He’d soon learned that only certain people recommended by established members could join the club, and then only after a very thorough background investigation and interview.
In any case, his first hunt had been three years ago—to the week. The one-day hunt had cost him fifteen grand. He’d bagged a small doe that year and the rack now hung proudly in his study. The second hunt had cost him seventeen-fifty, thanks to inflation and higher operating expenses. He’d spent hours stalking a beautiful bronze, but in the end she’d gone to ground and his money had netted him nothing more than a grilled burger and exercise.
This year was different. Thanks to his promotion to Division Vice-President, the twenty-five thousand he spent for the three-day weekend came easily. With the extra money came luxury overnight accommodations, a guaranteed trophy, video and photographs, game dressing, meals, a campfire celebration, and the trimmings.
He settled behind the fallen pine he’d been using as a makeshift blind and took a quick swig of Ozarka. After re-capping the bottle, he quietly slipping it back into his pack, shifted around and lifted the rifle back to his shoulder. Using his scope, he scouted the ridge where his pale quarry had disappeared fifteen minutes earlier. She had cover, shade and water, so there was no reason to think she’d bolt, but there was also only one way out. He had that covered.
He wasn’t giving up on this one. She had the biggest rack he’d ever seen at the club, well worth stalking through the mountain thicket for almost three hours. Even though finding another might be easier, after all they’d released six does to make certain each of the three hunters bagged one, she was well worth the wait.
About ten minutes later, his patience paid off. He caught the faintest hint of movement about fifty yards directly up the slope from him. Slowly, easily, he shifted the rifle. Less than a square foot of target was clear through the trees, but the bull’s-eye he saw through his scope almost made him gasp. She was even bigger than the big one he’d let get away before, and, though she was remarkably pale given the conditions, the colors and textures brought close by his scope made him hard.
As much as he wanted to take the shot, it would ruin the rack, not to mention the festivities. His heart rate climbed as he kept the laser trained and watched through the scope, waiting for a better shot. Just moments later, his patience paid off again when she turned and slowly moved away. He could have easily drilled the left side of her rump, but that would ruin things, too. Holding his breath, he watched, praying she wouldn’t bolt. Then it was there.
Ignoring the hard thumping in his chest, he drew a deep breath and held it. Thinking about the fun he was about to have, he carefully pulled his fingertip back.
~~~
Faline broke through the underbrush, wiped the light sheen of sweat from her forehead, and then quickly bent to retie her calf-high moccasins. The thin boots were the only things she wore besides the tag that pierced her left labia, and they’d been worth twice their weight in gold this time around. The guy was good; he’d even tracked her down the stream she’d used to loose several hunters before. Nevertheless, he wasn’t so good that she couldn’t have lost him a half dozen times if she’d wanted.
Still, were it not for the flesh-colored suede, her calves would have been scratched raw, and the light scratches here and there over the rest of her body spoke of the several times she’d thrown caution to the wind to give him a good chase.
Once she caught her breath, she edged up to the ridge and peered through a break in the thicket. He was still where she’d last seen him, half a football field down the mountainside, scanning for her with his laser scope. It was then that she caught the red beam moving up the rocks just a couple feet in front of her. When she looked down, a bright red spot of glittering light danced in a half-inch circle over the wrinkles in her areola a quarter inch below her nipple.
She started to panic, thinking back to the second time she’d been shot. The hunter she’d chosen turned out to be a tit man with an itchy trigger finger. Given her assets, they were always tit men, but instead of waiting for a better shot, he’d darted her breast from only a dozen yards away. There wasn’t enough handsome alive that could have made the bruising ache that came later worth it, and she’d vowed to make sure she gave the hunters only select targets to dart from then on.
Ignoring the dot, Faline gritted her teeth and turned, slowly walking away. Deciding it was time to let the man have his glory, she let her bottom fill his scope. Holding her breath, she imagined him waiting for a better shot, hoping he had plans for more than just her boobs. It was only a couple seconds later that it hit, slamming into the upper part of her thigh just below her ass.
Pain or not, she almost cried out in thanks as she yanked the dart free, wincing at the sharp sting as she tossed it aside. She had a couple minutes, at best, before the drug made it dangerous to run. But that was all the time she needed. She had just the outcropping in mind to sprawl out on so her big bad captor could claim his prey.
~~~
A combination of sensations helped wake her. The first things Faline saw as her eyes began to focus were the trees—pines and aspen—though the angle was all wrong. She lifted her head and looked up to find out why her wrists were hurting. As her awareness returned, she realized she was hanging by her wrists and ankles from a horizontal pole. Two men carried it, one on each end. A third man, carrying a rifle, walked beside the pole handler at her feet. Her head now clearing, she remembered she’d been here before.
Besides the dull pain her wrists, her shoulders ached, and the outside of her left thigh felt as if it had been hit with a baseball bat. Her bottom, nearest the ground, swung from side to side along with her long, dangling blonde hair. Both occasionally brushed across a small shrub or seedling pine as they strode through the woods toward camp. Every now and then, a taller weed or seedling slapped her bare labia. A light stinging swathed her pussy lips and the tight, lower curves of her rear, suggesting she may have found a nettle plant some time earlier. None of the feelings were necessarily bad. In fact, as she became more aware, she started to get aroused.
The needles of a sapling pine dragged down the inside of her left thigh and funneled between her legs, tickling her provocatively at the same time as a more urgent pain made its presence known. She looked down at the thigh. A mottled blue bruise had spread like a stain from the small hole left by the tranquilizer barb, forming a ragged circle on her pale, m
uscular flesh.
Concentrating more on the tingling left behind by the pine, she glanced back to the man that shot her and thought about what he’d be doing to her later. Despite the pain, her nipples turned stiff, her labia started to feel full and there was a slight tingle beginning to build in her rapidly swelling clit. Though she could attribute most of the reactions to the brazen flora and cool mountain breeze, the horny came mostly from anticipation at what the evening had in store.
This was her sixth hunt in the three months since they’d recruited her. She’d been waiting their table at the diner when they started chatting her up. At first, when they explained what her role would be over coffee and chocolate meringue pie, she thought they were joking. She’d started to take them seriously when they offered to pay her ten thousand dollars plus luxury accommodations to run naked in a private preserve in the mountains for a weekend.
She’d taken fifteen and joined them after that, only too happy to hear more. For that kind of money, she’d hardly blinked when the talk turned to hunters with tranquilizer darts. When they’d told her it would even be her choice to let one take her or not, she started waiting for the catch. But they just said there would be a hefty bonus if she let herself be bagged. After she read the contract, she knew she was in. It was nothing but win, though the seventy-five hundred dollar signing bonus hadn’t hurt.
This was only the third time she’d been shot. The first had been an accident. More than satisfied with the easy ten grand, and not at all certain she was ready for what it took to earn the bonus no matter how exciting it sounded, she really hadn’t planned to be take. But she’d tripped, and the older man with his greying temples was good—in more ways than one.
Had it not been for other obligations she’d already made that made the extra time commitment a problem, she’d have readily let herself be bagged the next two times. Once those commitments were done, she made certain she was always free for the entire hunt from then on.
Once again, Faline looked down her long legs and bare feet past the man at the end of the pole to the hunter that bagged her. He was about her age and handsome enough that she could have fun with him later. He was looking at her fat tits, watching them bobble like Jell-O with every step her handlers took. Given the hungry look in his eyes, and the trouble he’d taken to track her, she had little doubt he had special plans for her fat ‘rack.’ If she could entice him into playing nice with her pussy and spreading a bit of the spanking to her rear, it would be the best money she ever made.
A glance at the prominent bulge in her hunter’s crotch only added to her excitement. Since she was supposed to be playing the dumb animal, she did her best not to smile even as she felt her nipples get harder and her pelvic muscles involuntarily contract.
Less than five minutes later, they lifted her pole to their shoulders and dropped the ends across two uprights posted in the middle of the camp. Two of the other women dangled in similar fashion just a few feet away. One of them was a veteran. A college professor during the week, hunters had taken her down over a dozen times. Some of the other longer-timers were pissed because she all but threw herself in front of the crosshairs, denying them bonuses. But she’d become so popular among some of the richer and lazier clients the owners let it slide.
Just before they’d released the herd that morning, one of the girls whispered in a jealous pique that the preserve should throw a ‘catch and keep’ clause into the contract. Maybe knowing the hunter would get to take her home if she didn’t make a decent show would be incentive for lazy game. But, since there was a line between being consensually hunted and ‘played with’ and being sold into slavery, the suggestion hadn’t gone too far. Still, Faline could only imagine what the bonus would be for agreeing to that clause.
She didn’t have long to think about it as the other two hunters came back from a beer run at the main lodge, waving like schoolboys at her captor. Spreading out ahead of the two toward the three does were a half-dozen game handlers. The preserve’s taxidermist and videographer split from the group and headed her way. Since they’d already measured, photographed, videotaped and molded her twice before, she really didn’t see why they had to do it again. She supposed they wanted to account for water weight, brush scratches and freckles. Not that she minded. All the manhandling just added to the fun.
One of the hunters started walking sideways, pointing with his beer can at the rookie doe he’d bagged. “So, how’d you do, Brice? That hot fucking bronze with the dark nipples over there is mine. Looks like I’ll win the pot agai…” When he actually looked at Faline, he stopped dead, spilling Dos Equis on his boots.
“Brice…Holy. Fuck!”
The third hunter actually choked and blew Heineken through his nose when he saw her hanging from the pole.
While Heineken coughed and sputtered, Dos Equis recovered some of his composure. “Hot damn, dude, look at that rack! She’s got to be the biggest trophy on the ranch.” He slugged half his beer and looked back at his catch, his face not nearly as proud as before. “I’ll trade you mine plus five thousand.”
It was all Faline could do not to smile, though she felt a little sad for the other girl. It was good that Brice’s voice distracted her.
“Are you fucking nuts? I had to track her for over three hours before I got the shot. The first shot she gave me would have ruined her rack. It was all I could do not to take it anyway.”
By the time everyone got to her, the handlers had slid her off the travel pole and untied her ankles. Now they were hauling her bound wrists over a heavy metal hook that dangled from a rope tied to a thick pine branch several feet above her head. She’d long since figured out it wasn’t coincidence that several other trees formed a circle around the huge fire pit ahead of her, but, short of cutting one down and counting the rings, there was no way of telling how long it had been since the trees were planted. She knew they had to be at least a half-century old.
Once they finished, she was just shy of having to stand on the balls of her feet. For the moment, they left her like that, but she knew that wasn’t going to last long.
“Wow, you’ve got nerves of steel, dude. With those nipples in my sites, I’d have taken the shot anyway.”
Brice idly cupped her right tit and lifted it as if she were nothing more than the animal she pretended to be. His hand was soft, an executive’s hand, but his cool skin felt good.
“Tell me! It was awesome, then I had to pass on an ass shot, too.” To punctuate his comment, he gave her a stinging slap across the rear. Being spanked was as common as breathing around the camp—yet another reason she was looking forward to the rest of the night.
She was trying to decide whether to wiggle her bottom and bait him into another slap when one of his friends poked her breast with a manicured fingernail. “How long did it take her to fall?”
“No clue. All I know is it took me thirty minutes of climbing over some craptastic terrain before I found her sprawled out over this big as rock outcropping. Hauling her out was a bitch, though…” He patted her breast. “…the padding on the back was nice. Can you believe that complexion? How the hell does she stay so white out here?”
“Complexion? You’re really looking at her complexion? Dude, the ass. The tits!”
Brice grinned. “That’s what I’m talking about! Think about what they’re gonna look like over my mantle.”
The Heineken drinker blew the remaining beer from his nose. “I’ll top Jer’s offer by two grand, dude. Trade for my little doe plus seven grand. You can bag this one again next time. I know just the place in my office where those tits would look fine.”
“Right…” Apparently having enjoyed the gelatin-like jiggle, Brice patted her breast again. “…and risk never seeing these again? No way! She could retire or something. She’s gotta be some kind of record.”
Though Faline managed to force back her smile, she couldn’t do anything about the flush she felt heating her cheeks. She did have the biggest tits of the entire h
erd; they gave her the best cabin on the ranch because of it. The fireplace and fully-stocked kitchen were nice, but the Jacuzzi was a godsend, especially after a long hunt.
Perks and money aside, to be desired by every man that came to the ranch was a rush she hadn’t considered when she signed the contract. She’d definitely considered the money, and the sex and bondage, but the idea that they all wanted her tits mounted on their walls more than any of the other women was a rush. The tightening and tingling in her loins only served to hammer the point home.
“Besides…” her captor went on, “…I can’t wait until it’s time for the foil burgers and…dessert?” He surprised her with another hard slap across the butt, then another as they all watched her breasts bounce. The third one really stung. A moan slipped past her lips before she could stop it.
“Dude, she’s getting into it!”
Brice’s clueless response was kind of cute. “Really, you think so?”
Seeing that he’d need some guidance, she spread her feet as subtlety as she could. Not only did all three paying customers notice, but so did the cameraman, who finished a close up of her glistening pussy and danced around her for the best angle on her ass.
“Go for it! She wants it!” Heineken said.
Needing no further encouragement, he popped her a couple more times. She closed her eyes and wriggled her butt, moaning quietly so he’d get the message.
He did, spanking her with a vengeance, alternating from one cheek to the other. Her tummy clenched and her pussy became warmer, tingling even more as her bottom heated up. She spread her legs as far as she could, until she was barely on her toes, and pushed her ass back, bringing her pussy in line with the rest of her rear. Brice took the hint, and the next swat echoed through the camp. From the way her labia stung, she knew his hand came back moist.