The Trophy Rack Page 2

  Faline had rarely been so horny, and she couldn’t believe she was getting paid for it. As the cameraman dropped to his knees, zooming in on her crotch, she closed her eyes, eager for more. Brice’s hand smacked across her pussy again. She couldn’t keep from groaning.

  She felt a hand come up between her legs, close enough to brush the almost invisible downy hair that covered her, but not quite touching. Goose bumps quickly covered the tender flesh at his fingertips.

  Dos Equis’ voice all but boomed. “A hundred bucks says she comes if I finger her.”

  Heineken laughed, and Brice’s palm popped her left ass cheek.

  “Sure, I’ll take that bet.”

  Two X’s middle finger rolled across her clitoris at the same time that Brice’s palm came across in a wicked, cupped slap. Heineken lost his bet a half second later, and for a full two minutes the videographer recorded the two men teasing and swatting her through one of the hottest orgasms she’d had in years.

  “Well, that’s a first.” The taxidermist chuckled as he pulled a measuring tape from his pocket. “From the flush on that rack, it won’t be the only one tonight.”

  Still panting, she watched through half-lidded eyes as the cameraman panned the camera back and then up to her breasts. After he finished recording every mole, freckle, scratch, bump and crevice, he backed up to record the taxidermist at work.

  The older man stripped about 36 inches of tape from the case and moved toward her chest. “Is everyone ready for the official measurement?”

  Not only did the three hunters move to gawk over the man’s shoulder, but the handlers also stopped to watch. The two other, all-but-forgotten, does were frowning. He touched the cold metal tape to the tip of Faline’s left nipple then ran it across the very tip of her right breast. He brought the tape around her back and back around front until it overlapped the first nipple. He held the tape in place until her breathing slowed then raises a brow as he checked his measurement.

  Brice danced from foot to foot and bounced on his toes. “Well?”

  “I have a few other measurements to take first.”

  The taxidermist let about half the tape slap back into the case and wrapped the remainder around the base of her left breast. After doing the same with her right, he measured the horizontal diameter of her right areola and whistled. Then he took similar measurements vertically and diagonally. Then he took a measurement from nipple to nipple and a few more from her nipples to various places around the bases of her breasts. Finally, he jotted down a long series of numbers and smiled.

  “There’s absolutely no doubt we have a new record. I’ve never mounted a rack this big. He traced a fingernail through some of the outer crinkles in her areola. Look at that unique wrinkling, and the colors…”

  The older man tapped the videographer’s shoulder. “You got good close-ups, right? Didn’t miss that freckle on the side of her nipple there?” The camera came close as he pointed to the inside of her right nipple then turned back to her hunter. “You do want the rack to show the rut texture and colors, or should we wait until she calms down?”

  Brice poked both of his buddies in the arms. “Oh, definitely as horny…ah…rutty…as possible.”

  The taxidermist nodded. “My guess is that we already have pretty good rut colors on film, but we’ll pick the most vivid shades from the whole video after you’ve gone.”

  Faline was watching everyone talk about her as if she were the ignorant doe they paid her to be, and she reveled in every word. The talk of “rut colors” made her even hornier, especially with the inference that they may get even more “vivid” before the end of the night.

  When the other two hunters finally wandered over to their own does, the taxidermist yelled at a game handler from across the camp. “Jeff, I’m ready for the casting!”

  A couple minutes later, “Jeff” walked up carrying a bucket of thick, pink liquid. He handed the taxidermist a large paint brush and passed a bottle of oil to Brice.

  The older man gestured at her rack. “Coat them real well so the casting material doesn’t stick. Make sure you get the tips especially well. This latex is my on special mix, chilled to below freezing to insure the very tightest contours, but it still dries fast.”

  Brice wasted no time pouring a stream of oil down the upper curves of her breasts and digging his fingers in. Faline relaxed into his hands. The deep massage felt wonderful, even when he pinched and stretched her nipples. By the time he stepped back to let the taxidermist work, she could feel the wind chilling the juices coating her upper thighs.

  The taxidermist dipped the brush in the bucket and then slapped it across the tip of her right breast. Even though she’d done it before, Faline gasped as the frigid goo drew her nipple and areola tight. She felt like she’d been coated with liquid ice, and it wasn’t long before the tip of that breast was a continuous burning throb. She tried rubbing her thighs together to take advantage of the feeling.

  The taxidermist coated both breasts, pressing the bristles into the tips, making certain the material filled every wrinkle. By the time he finished her other breast, the first had dried, and he added a second layer to it. After the entire rack was completely coated, he poured the last of the pink latex over them.

  Five minutes later, she’d managed to work herself into a pleasant tingle when the taxidermist peeled the half-inch thick mold free. After inspecting the cast, he smiled. “It doesn’t get any more detailed than this.” He pointed inside the mold and Brice leaned forward to look. “Not only did I get a perfect cast of her nipple and areolas, but all three little moles came out.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he walked away, almost tripping over a log as he inspected his work.

  After chuckling at his co-worker, the cameraman yelled at her handlers. “Time to string her up, guys!”

  He poked Brice on the arm. “Now we’ll get some video of you hefting the rack. I’ll start while they tie her up, then we’ll get you lifting her.”

  Getting completely into the scene, Brice wasted no time sliding his hands up under her tits, lifting them and letting them slowly slide out of his grasp until he snagged their tips with his fingers. “I don’t get to haul her up like this…”

  Had Dos Equis still been fingering her when Brice’s fingernails dug in and he all but lifted her off the ground by her nipples, she had no doubt she would have come again.

  The cameraman snapped a couple stretched nipple and gouging fingernail shots. “Trust me, you’ll love what’s coming.” Though she knew the man had been talking to Brice, he may as well have been addressing her, too.

  For the third time in her new career, she took a deep breath as a gangly rigger started to work from behind her. Though she couldn’t see him, she knew he started with a loop at her back before he ran it several times around her ribcage and right under her breasts. The rope was coarse and scratchy, but that would translate into something much better in just a few minutes. She closed her eyes as he tied some sort of hitch and started coming back around the top of her chest, across the tops of her tits. It was about to get good.

  She breathed and concentrated on the feel of the rope running up her cleavage under the two sets of loops. He ran it around the back of her neck and back down between her breasts, forming a rope loop that started pulling the other loops tight. It wasn’t long before the wonderful breast-crushing sensation started. It increased several times over when he slid the rope under the chest ties and looped each breast, tugging until they ballooned and throbbed in a way that she never would have believed she enjoyed before she’d taken the job, let alone looked forward to.

  By the time he was done, her pussy felt swollen, warm and tingly. The light mountain breeze chilled the wet sheen coating her labia and inner thighs and drew the skin covering the balls of breast into gooseflesh. She opened her eyes long enough to see they were already turning a light shade of lavender, her areola pulled into a tight, purple sheen by the inflated mounds. She knew they’d only get darker,
and that the light throbbing would become so much more.

  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.

  Th
e 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.