The Trophy Rack Page 3
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.
Not wanting to lose the moment, Faline rubbed her thumb and fingers together in the universal sign for money. Camile raise a brow, and Faline did the same with her other hand and started dropping to her knees. With some reluctance, Camile started to stand, choosing an easy grand over a good fuck. To her credit, she only stopped sucking at the last possible second before she walked away.
Faline didn’t give her a second thought. Instead, she bent her legs back under her, letting her own rear nestle on the bottoms of her feet the same way Camile’s had. Quickly, she grabbed her tits, leaned forward, and crushed them around the wet cock in front of her.
Lost in his own little world of sex and imagination, it was the first time Brice seemed to have sensed something had changed. Half-lidded, he moaned again and opened his eyes. The half-liddedness went away as they flew wide. His lazy smile stretched to a surprised grin.
“Holy fuck!”
Back to playing the dumb animal, Faline simply slid her tits up and down, smiling enigmatically and squeezing them even harder around the thick rod of meat. She could see him battling between watching her fat breasts move over his cock and laying back to enjoy the pleasure. But the look of desire and hunger in his eyes was one she couldn’t get enough of, so she encouraged him by quickly grabbing his hands and pressing them into the sides of her tits.
The moment his fingers touched her tits, she felt his penis jump and get even thicker, if it were even possible. He closed his fingers, filling them with Faline’s flesh. She locked her hands around his, urging him to squeeze even harder. Needing no more urging, he buried his fingertips into her, his fingernails gouged crescents into her white skin and his thumbnails chewed into her areolas. Pain lanced through her breasts. She gasped, her own smile growing broader, her pussy starting to throb.
As much as she could tell from his heavy breaths and batting eyelids that he wanted to lay back, she saw that he was enjoying the view too much to do it. Shifting so her heel buried into her pussy and crushed her clit, she raised and lowered her chest, fucking him with her breasts. It wasn’t long before they were panting, moaning as the tell-tale tingling of a climax threatened them both.
Just as she feared he might be about to come, she reached across him and grabbed an open bottle of beer. It was still cold, which is exactly what she’d hoped for. He blew out a frustrated groan as she stood and straddled him, but the disappointment went away the moment she split herself with his cock. She was easily wet enough that dropping down hard and letting her pussy swallow him would have been the quickest route to their happy ending. Instead she slowly lowered herself, squeezing him as hard as she could.
When his cock tip pressed against her cervix, she joined him in a moan, barely managing not to spill the entire beer as she poured it on the upper slope of her left breast. Despite the pleasure that threatened to take him, he gaped as the golden liquid spilled down her breast and over her nipple, winding its way through her areola’s tight crevices before trickling further down.
Pumping him hard, she thrust her breast toward his face and looked pointedly at its tip. Brice needed no more encouragement. In half a second, he all but swallowed it, his lips and tongue attacking and exploring every bump and wrinkle. Faline moaned again, reveling in the pleasure. But that wasn’t what she wanted.
She thought for the hundredth time about the way he’d looked and acted during dinner, the passion and desire. If he could have taken her then, he wouldn’t have hesitated, and it would have been glorious.
Grinding her pussy against him, she leaned forward, all but smothering him in her massive breast. She felt his hands close around her ass, his fingernails scratching. She was too close to coming to wait. Desperate, she gave up on being mute. There was only one thing she wanted. Taking his earlobe between her teeth, she gasped.
“Bite me!”
~~~~
Brice couldn’t help but smile as he walked into his office. The trophy had finally arrived, and two maintenance guys were unpacking it from the crate. He wasn’t the only one in the office that had one, but his was easily the biggest. He expected it to spark plenty of jealously in the other men, and even a few of the women.
One of them stopped to hand him an envelope. “Heya, Brice, this was on top of the packing stuff.” He gave Brice a friendly elbow to the ribs. “So, how’s this one gonna compare with those hot jugs hangin’ in Mr. Dunlops’ office?”
Brice took it and smiled enigmatically. “”Guess you’ll have to see for yourself, huh?”
“Yeah, well, there’s no way they’ll be bigger’n Eric’s 38’s.”
As the two men went back to removing packing from around the trophy, he thought back to the last few minutes he’d seen her.
“Bite me!” she’d said in a throaty whisper.
<
br /> He had hardly been able to believe his ears, but when she’d stretched his ear lobe with her teeth until it popped free and pressed her tit even harder against his face, he decided he’d heard her perfectly and jumped at the chance. He’d been rolling her pebbly nipple on his tongue and sucking hard on the rubbery mouthful of wrinkles around it. Without missing a beat, he bit down, sinking his teeth and sucking harder as he squeezed her bottom, pulled her tight against him and stood.
She cried out, almost screaming, but he could tell from the way she clenched him—both inside and out—that it was as much from pleasure as from pain. Moving her across the room served to push his orgasm back a bit, giving him time to throw her backward over the ottoman and do his best to recreate the pose she’d held through dinner. It wasn’t until she rolled back, his cock still squeezed inside her, that he’d let her nipple scrape from his teeth.
As if she’d read his mind, she’d reached back and grabbed the ottoman above her head. Her tits bobbled into a perfect match for earlier, and she spread her legs wide, doing a very passable imitation of her dinner pose. He pinned her arms so she couldn’t change her mind and drove his penis into her with a hard, wet slap.
With her sexy groan still in his ears, he imagined the scalding au jus filling the hollows in her areola and flowing down her breasts, picked the spot he remembered being the juiciest-looking, and dove in. It had been the singularly best sex of his life. But when he’d stirred from his post-fuck stupor an hour later, she was gone.
His reverie was broken when they tore the last of the packing from around the trophy. For several seconds there was nothing but odd, dead silence.
“Holy fuck!”
“Jesus, Mary…”
They turned together and looked at Brice with some combination of awe and jealousy, but there was something about their manner that was off.
“Hot damn, Brice! Did you do that?”
He looked past them at the rack. It wasn’t often anything made him double-take, but he did. It not only bore the scratches and other signs of use they’d meticulously measured and photographed before dinner, but it was also decorated with the fingertip bruises he’d left when he crushed them around his cock.
Even more surprising, though no less gorgeous, were the dozen or more bite marks that stood out prominently on the battered and rope-marked faux flesh. Some of the marks were faint, hardly visible, while others were various shades of livid purple. A couple broke the skin, but it was the one he’d made when he’d come that they were gawking at.
It was a forensic detective’s dream, with double arches that cut across the tight furrows of her areola above and below her swollen, bruised nipple. They were deep and raw, their deeper points starting to fill with gleaming crimson droplets
He ran fingertip across them, only certain it wasn’t real when it came back dry. Tearing himself away from the view, he looked down at the envelope, tore it open and yanked the note from inside:
Sorry to have left so fast, but I wanted to catch the taxidermist while the marks were fresh. Call me next time you’re on a hunt. I’ll bring what it takes to whet your appetite. You bring the A-1.
xxxooo
Your Trophy Rack
904-773-7712
P.S. …if you can bag me.
Brice’s finger was on the intercom button before the note settled to his desk. “Carolyn, clear my calendar for next week and book a Sunday flight to Albuquerque. Something just came up.”
###
Matt Nicholson is a freelance writer and the Publisher of Darker Pleasures. Throughout the first decade of the 21st century, he published, edited and wrote stories for the erotic adult webzine of the same name. A fan of breasts and breast-oriented BDSM, he has written and edited hundreds of short stories ranging from R-rated erotica to hard-edge bondage and BDSM fiction. Matt is perhaps best known in certain circles for The Breast Punishment Primer, a non-fiction reference for all things having to do with tit torture. He is in the process of writing his first full-length novel, Families, expanding on a series of vampire-centric BDSM erotica stories featuring characters and concepts touched on in the short stories The Alcove and Becoming Eternal. For those of you intrigued by such things, Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em: Erotic Stories of Breasts and BDSM features thirteen of his best-selling stories.
You can find other e-books written by Matt Nicholson at Darker Pleasures (www.darkerpleasures.com)
Darker Pleasures began as an adult web magazine in 1999. It featured original text and photo-illustrated stories, images, video, art and articles specializing in erotic breast-oriented bondage and BDSM. Darker Pleasures featured stories written by dozens of erotica authors including Matt Nicholson, Elizabeth Faraday, Lee Ash, Jude Mason, Adrian Hunter, Bonnie Dee, Leo Bulero and others. The webzine ended its run in January 2010. In August 2011, Darker Pleasures began publishing revised and edited releases of the BDSM erotica originally featured in the pages of its e-magazine. Darker Pleasures’ stories and books can be found through Smashwords and other e-book outlets.