Date: Sun, 1 Oct 2006 12:12:57 -0600
From: Luc Milne <lucmilne@telus.net>
Subject: big-game-preserve-5

Copyright 2006 by Luc Milne <lucmilne@telus.net>.  All rights reserved.
One copy may be downloaded for personal use.

Each part of this series is a separate tale or "document" connected by the
overall fantasy of a manhunting game reserve. The idea of "Special Boys" is
from Garth Wells' fine story HORSE (see Yahoo group SlaveNow) although I
have taken it in a different direction.

BIG GAME RESERVE 5

"The Tormentors"

MEMO FROM VP OPERATIONS, BIG GAME PRESERVE (WEST) TO CHIEF GAME WARDEN
GERALD SLADE:

"It has come to my attention that two of your clients, Todd and Jake
Hawker, known by staff and other hunters as 'the Tormentors' pose potential
threat of damage and severe misuse to the game animals.  The source of this
information is confidential, but comes from staff and clients both.  Please
take this matter under advisement at once and take steps to learn if the
allegations have any basis.  I shall expect a report within the month.
(signed) C. M. Buller, VP Operations, The Pleasure Corporation."

***************

Chief Warden Gerald Slade paced nervously in his office on the ground floor
of a small administration building on the Preserve near the stables and the
Enhancement Laboratories.  Earlier that evening he'd had a long interview
with Todd Hawker, one of the Tormentor brothers who were the subject of a
covert enquiry into their use, or abuse, of Preserve stock.  The Warden had
invited the brothers to the Preserve for a "complimentary weekend" of
hunting, ostensibly to thank them for their patronage.  Actually the
purpose was to determine through interview, and observation if possible,
the extent to which the brothers might be undesireable clients.

It was a tricky business because they could easily be offended if they
realized what was going on, but if they weren't a threat to the animals,
then the Preserve would lose two valued and lucrative customers.  Word that
the administration was denying hunting privileges to longtime clients would
harm business in general.  The Warden had interviewed Todd Hawker first
because he seemed to be the more presentable and more sophisticated of the
two.  He was a marketing consultant with a lot of powerful contacts, while
his younger brother was a foul-mouthed rough diamond, apparently content to
work as a mechanic in a muffler franchise.  They were both in their early
thirties and were frequent guests at the Preserve, the older, wealthier
brother apparently footing most of the bills for their visits.

It had been difficult to determine just exactly how they might have abused
or harmed any of the regular stock of Special Boys.  In fact, they seldom
hunted the "stars" of the Special Boy programme, the massively
cock-enhanced beasts and animals of the "Mutant" series, such as Barbarian
Boy or The Rammer who provided the greatest challenge to experienced
hunters.  The Hawker brothers preferred young prey mostly, and seemed to
have no particular taste for the more exotic animals on offer, such as the
Panther, or Ivory Boy.  But there were constant whispers, sometimes rising
to complaint level, that they were too "hard" on their kills, that the boys
were returned completely drained and useless as prey for many days after
they had been the objects of the Tormentors' attentions.  There were
rumours of bruising and strange temporary malformations of mouth and anus,
of a stunned or "glazed" look in the eyes, and "zombie" behaviour in
returned kills.  A few clients complained that the Tormentors "hogged" the
"Easy Kill" boys, the ripe cubs who were provided for first time and
inexperienced hunters not up to a full-out pursuit and laser "kill".  There
were suggestions that the brothers made inappropiate sexual overtures to
guests in the Great Room during the evenings and overtaxed the room service
"Pleasure Boys" supplied free by the Lodge.  All in all it was a fog of
unsupported and unproven tales and whispers, and Chief Warden Slade was
determined to clear the mist away once and for ever.

So he had asked Todd Hawker to stop by his office for a drink before dinner
on Friday evening and led him as deviously as he could into a description
of the skills he brought to his hunting and the pleasures he took from it.
Now he was listening again to the tape he made secretly of the man's
conversation, pondering whether he should send a verbatim transcript to the
VP Operations or make a summary of the main points.  On the tape the deep,
rich voice of Todd Hawker was letting the Warden know that he wasn't
entirely fooled by all the soft soap.

"Oh, I know what you call us, Warden.  The staff and even some of the other
clients call us the Tormentors, as if we were comic book villains.  But
really we're just two guys who like our sex a little rough.  There's
nothing dangerous about it.  I know my brother may be a little more
hard-edged than me--he dropped out of school at 15 and has led the life of
a labourer ever since.  But there's no malice in him.  I wouldn't even call
him a sadist--he just likes to squeeze all the stuffing out of a young kid,
as I do in a little less spectacular way.  I'd have to say that I'm more
'scientific' and methodical than Jake in my play.

"For example, I'm a bastard about 'The Spread'.  Do you recognize the term?
No?  Well, its the ability of your prey to open his legs wide enough to let
you get at him just as close as you want.  I know that sounds simple, but
in fact your labs don't do a very good job on that.  I've caught guys who
don't seem to have been told that their thighs are never supposed to touch
together while a hunter is using their meat toys.  During their training
periods, you need to keep your animals in 3 foot leg bars and even knee
bars, just to get them accustomed to the idea that their crotches are open
territory for their captors.  That's especially important for a hunter like
me who looks for the untamed boys, the ones that need a firm hand to break
their resistance.  And that's another thing.  Why don't you develop a whole
new strain of boy stock, call them the "Wild Things" perhaps.  Keep their
cocks in the 7 to 9 inch range, with big handfuls of ball meat to control
them by.

"That's the sort of prey I like, Warden.  I enjoy that look in a captured
boy's eyes that tells me he has to be handled with force and caution.  A
steely green-eyed stare on the face of a muscular young buck and a sneer on
his ripe, fleshy lips are signs that I've got to cuff him and leash him
immediately and lead him straightaway to a Pavilion for taming.  I use a
three-inch dildo gag to muffle his snarls down to grunts and four-inch wide
thigh straps attached to short chains on the training table to keep his
spread wide enough to work in.  I also strap his arms down so he can't
swipe at me when I hurt him a little.  But, let me make a suggestion about
your suck tables.  You should build a padded "bump" on them, just at butt
level to make the animal arch its back and present its assets more
invitingly."

As the Warden listened to the taped ramblings of the Tormentor Todd, he
remembered how the tall, lanky man had opened his legs wider in his chair
and started to massage the bulge that was growing there.  As he talked
about squeezing and pulling and twisting on his kill's meat, he seemed to
be aping the movements in his own crotch.  And when he described how he
snapped a buggy whip, with its single leather stinger, on the very tip of
his prey's cock head, he flicked at the swelling head of his own meat
stretching down his trouser leg.  Then, as he moved on to tell how he liked
to finger-probe the animal's fuck hole with one hand while he pinched a
wild boy's cumlips between the finger nails on his other hand, he stood up
and moved closer to the front of the Warden's desk.  As Gerald Slade
listened to the tape he could hear the zip of Todd Hawker's fly being
opened and the rustle of cloth as the man reached in and pulled out a
menacing python of cockflesh, letting it slither down onto the desktop,
where it lay, slightly pulsing, as if waiting for some small animal to
grab. and swallow.

"You see, Slade, my meat hardens up when I'm just thinking about mauling a
kid's cock and balls, unprotected and vulnerable between creamy thighs
spread to the max.  I'm not as thick as my brother, but I'm three inches
longer, almost a cock-foot of hungry ass-raper. I'm lucky enough to be able
to deep-stroke a kid's guts at the same time as I lean down and strip his
fat cock crown with my lips and my teeth.  Nothing makes a young animal's
sphincter tighten up and do its job on a plunging dick shaft better than
some syncopated mouth work on his tender cumlips.  My brother calls it
"suck 'n fuck" time, but for me it's just a step in the taming of wild boy
meat."

On the tape the Warden could hear at this point a distant knock on his door
and the sound of a young Game Keeper, Ethan Wade, entering, saying that he
just wanted to drop off the day's Hunt Summary and Kill Reports.  Then he
heard the shocked intake of air the Keeper made when he saw the slab of
meat leaking its precum onto his superior's leather desk top.  There was a
jumble of noise, like a scuffle and some slaps, then the sound of a wet,
gagging splutter as Wade found himself flat on the floor with the Warden's
guest squatting over his face, pulling up his head to the hang of wet
cockmeat above it and plunging it into his mouth in one short thrust.
Hawker's voice, raspy with lust, continued its revelations.

"See, Warden, this is what I mean when I say you have to be quick and firm
when you see a mouth or an ass you want to rape.  Don't let the sucker have
a second to think about what's happening to him, just ram it in and pump
him hard.  This guy is a throat-virgin I think.  His gag muscle doesn't
seem to want to let my monster through.  So I merely put my hand around his
throat and squeeze hard, like that.  He starts to gasp for breath and while
he's fighting for air I just feed my snake through the ring and deep into
his cock gullet.  Then I give him a little moment to get used to the
feeling of being meat-stuffed.  See his breathing is coming back to normal
now.  See the shock in his eyes?  And the anger?  Great stuff.  Shows me
that he's still got some resistance left, still needs some strong treatment
to bring him into line.  Now, I usually put both hands on the sucker's neck
and press just a little because I like to find his "pulse"--that's the feel
of my cock moving in and out of his channel.  Come around here Slade, and
put your hand right there beneath his adam's apple.  You can feel the way
my dick is exploring his throat deep down."

The Warden heard his voice on the tape mumbling something inane about
Reserve policy and not abusing staff, followed by a grunt as Hawker pulled
out of the Keeper's throat and stood up, allowing Ethan to crawl toward the
door and freedom.  Again the rustle of cloth and the sound of a zipper
signalled the repacking of the Tormentor's tremendous penis into its box.
There was the sound of a quiet laugh.

"Now that's got me all hot and soapy Warden.  I'm going to have to go back
to the Lodge and take a shower before dinner.  Or maybe I'll call up a Room
Service Boy first and finish off what I started here. My brother's probably
already got some kid tied to his crotch, treating his cock to a warm 30
minute soak in the pussy's throat.  Very nice of the Lodge to provide free
playmeat in the rooms.  Have you ever thought of piping a live feed from
the Enhancement Lab's workrooms into the television circuits?  Could make
for some stimulating viewing.  Well, it's been a pleasure talking with you,
Slade.  Anytime you want to know more about what I like and see exactly how
I get it just let me know.  I wouldn't mind showing you the ropes, in more
ways than one.  See you at dinner."

The sound of the door closing on the tape was punctuated by the click-off
of the machine.  Gerald Slade stood transfixed by these last words.  "Show
you the ropes"?  "In more ways than one".  What the devil was that?  It was
clear that further enquiries were needed, and "interviews" were not going
to be the way to get at the real answer to the question of whether the
Tormentors were a hazard to the health of Preserve animals and staff.  The
Warden realized that he was going to have to cajole the other brother,
Jake, into letting him tag along on tomorrow's hunt-- to see first-hand and
close-in just what the Tormentors were really up to in the farthest reaches
of the Preserve.  He'd meet him casually in the bar after dinner, butter
him up, act like an eager student of Jake Hawker's sadistic mastery.

  As he locked the office and started toward his apartment in the Lodge, he
felt moderately satisfied, confident that he could finish up his report by
the middle of the next week.  He pulled his uniform tunic down sharply as
he walked, to hide the slightly embarrassing bulge that had mysteriously
appeared in his crotch.


***************


Chief Warden Slade and Jake Hawker walked along a path through the woods
with a fresh "kill" trailing along behind them.  They were on their way to
one of the Play Pavilions in a remote part of the Preserve.  Jake, the
younger of the two Tormentor brothers, kept calling it the "Torture Tent",
to the Warden's annoyance.  But he said nothing, since it hadn't been easy
to convince Jake to let him come along on the hunt in the first place.  He
didn't want the man to feel that he was there to evaluate his treatment of
the game animals, although that was exactly what he was doing.  Jake Hawker
was a shorter and more muscular version of his six-foot brother, with the
same open manner and readiness to talk about himself but with a far cruder
style.  He kept up a running commentary as they walked.

"I'm the kinda guy, likes to play with the meat, 'fore he eats it, ya know?
Makes the boyjuice taste a whole lot better.  Somethin' about releasin'
morphins or somethin' like that in their body.  Gives the cum a real sweet
taste, kinda fizzy on yer tongue.  Makes you wanna get another fuckin' big
gulp of it, then another, an' another.  And 'cause ya got the animal tied
down or strung up you can just keep on gnawin' on the dick lips long as ya
want.  Me, I like to hear the kids squeal so I gen'rally take their gobgags
out when I chewmilk 'em.  Some guys don't wanna be bothered by the
screamin' so they leave their faceholes stuffed, but I like music with my
chow, not just grunts 'n groans."

The Warden said there was no real proof that endorphins released during
rough treatment of animals had any effect on their sperm quantity or taste.

"Don't give me that 'proof' shit, Chief.  The proof is in the puddin', and
believe me torture puddin' is sweeter than daddymilk.  And spicy too, sweet
'n spicy.  Be a good name, if ya sold little suckbottles of it to your
customers.  Hook yer stock up to them milkin' machines I seen in that big
lab by the stables and give yer pussies and yer wildcats some 'lectric
shocks 'n some whippin'--some nut whackin' and tit pullin'-- and you'd end
up with a product that would sell like maple syrup.  Hell, me and my
brother'd be two of your best customers.  We drink boyjuice instead of
water, ya know.  Keeps us hot 'n horny.  I bet my brother could do up some
fancy marketing shit.  You wouldn't be able to pump the stuff out fast
enough.  Course, the animals could start to get a mite tired.  Out on the
Preserve, start layin' down in the middle of the trail, an' just let the
hunters leash 'em without even runnin'.  Could be a down side, I guess."

Warden Slade pointed out that The Pleasure Corporation already had two
operations that supplied plentiful manmilk and boymilk products: the Milk
Farms and the Milk Boys Factories.  And he added that the Cock and Ball
Restaurants had their own cumcows to produce all the semen needed for their
special nut sauces and dick stuffings.

"Yeah, I get ya.  Besides, it's the taming and skinning I do on the
creatures before I eat 'em that's the real fun of huntin'.  And before ya
get all bothered, let me tell ya that I don't mean real "skinning".  That's
just the word I like to use for all the games I play with a kill before I
fuck 'im or suck 'im.  It's like I strip away any wildness he's got left
after I hunt 'im down.  I guess you can tell I like an animal that's kinda
tame before I take 'im anyway.  My brother, now, he likes the really wild
boys, 'cause he's got a lotta ideas about breaking an animal down by
teachin' it how to spread proper, so he can get close and nasty in its
crotch.  I've seen 'im manhandle so many loads outta some kid's cock, the
pussy just keeps on heavin' and thrashin' and dry-cummin' for hours.  He
says the tiny little drops of boyjuice ya get from a dry-cummer is the
sweetest stuff a hunter is ever likely ta taste."

Slade said that he had talked with Todd Hawker about his hunting style.  He
said he was impressed by the brother's techniques.

"Oh, sure, Todd's a real gung ho hunter.  Likes the chase and the laser
shit and all that.  But me, I been known to take one of yer "Easy Kill"
boys when I don't wanna bother with a long trackdown.  Just pick up some
fat dicked puppy that's sprawled out on the grass waitin' to be got.  Like
we did today.  I allus look for a skinny teen with a good hang o' boy
jerky.  Gotta be real squeezemeat tho'.  I like the cock ta stay halfhard
most o' the time.  No fun in playin' with a steel pipe, ya knowimsayin'?
And it's gotta be real sloppy with fuckjam.  I don't mind cut cock, but
it's gotta have a lotta playlube.  Course, I realize some kids are gonna
swell up pretty solid with the kinda fun I give 'em and that's okay so
long's their balls don't shrink up.  I like a real heavy swing of ball meat
to handle.  And paddle ball is one of my fav'rite games.  This boy looks
like he's gonna be just my type of meat toy."

They looked back toward the fresh-faced lad meekly padding along behind
them, his tumid penis and heavy testicles swaying lazily from the tug of
the cock leash.  He was a recent addition to stock, and was listed in the
catalogue as The Yearling, but almost everyone just called him "the new
boy".  Warden Slade told Jake that the Preserve Labs prided themselves on
their "hang" conditioning, ensuring that hunters always had plenty of ball
meat and nut sack to sport with.

"Outstanding job on the nuts, Slade. Watch'em slap against his shanks when
I jerk the leash.  When I've got him up on the rack in the torture tent we
can each get one of those babies in our fist and have a real twist contest
with 'em.  Great titties on the kid too.  Not pumped up too much.  Just
enough to get ahold of.  We c'n play the nipplenut game, one hand on a pec,
other other on a nut, see who can make 'im yell the loudest.  I hope the
play box has some sandpaper in it.  Rub those little nubs till they're red
hot on your tongue when ya bite 'em.  And they'd look real pretty with
thick white pasties of hot wax on 'em.  I'm not real big on waxing a boy's
carcass, but I do like to drip some on his pecs and right on the cumslit of
his cock, mebbe dribble some on his asscherry.  Flick it off with my finger
when it hardens up.  Or maybe use a stinger whip.  Yeah, great idea.  Let's
try that when we get this bootyboy to the tent."

Soon they arrived at the Pavilion, a large permanent pleasure retreat for
hunters who liked to use their prey under cover, equipped with bondage
poles and crosses, padded fuck horses and suck tables with ankle and wrist
cuffs attached and a selection of toys for all tastes.  Ropes of different
sizes were coiled on pegs, whips ranging from braided cats through floggers
and buggy whips to riding crops hung from racks.  Straps and leather
snappers were laid out on shelves, with rods, canes, and classic fraternity
paddles.  Head and wrist stocks were available, next to slings, and rows of
ass-stuffers of all types.  From the central sweep of the roof a suspension
hoist hung, ready for stringing up kills by their ankles, so they could be
tenderized and drained in the traditional way.  The Warden wondered how
many of these tools and playthings would be put to use on the yearling's
flesh.  He knew that many of the items never got used: they were there for
stimulation and , a kind of sexy window-dressing, giving the normal sort of
hunter enough erotic images in his mind to sharpen his play and keep his
virility high.  But Jake was a different kind of hunter, one who seemed to
have the potential to do permanent damage to a kill if he got carried away
with all the torture tools at hand.

"Will you look at all this shit!  Whatcha guys thinkin' of?  Puttin' all
this fancy stuff out here in the woods, like some pansy leather booteeky.
We don't need all this.  Just some rope and some pinch pins and mebbe
couple a whips.  Hell, a man's got hands don't he?  Fingers, fingernails, a
fist, the flat of his palm for a slapper, feet for kickin', knees for
spreadin' a kid's legs, lips, teeth, tongue--an' don't forget a piece a
meat hisself to cockslap the pussy with.  Let's face it, Warden, a guy is a
fully equipped torture machine all by his lonesome.  Now get me some rope
and we'll get this yearling tied to that cross over there.  I like the X
type. Let's ya tie down the critter's thighs wide enough to get at the
goods.  Let's just take a few tight turns around his waist, catch his arms
too, keep 'im from movin' around too much.  Don't wanna totally freeze 'im
up though, always good to feel a kid squirm a little while you're workin'
on 'im.  Put a loop round each wrist and carry the cord under his balls,
real taut, make 'em bulge out so they hang down nice 'n ready for some hard
nutmilkin'.  Mebbe we'll gag the little bitch to start out, just to stretch
'is mouth open for the cock stuffin' that's gonna follow later.  I know
some guys like ta tie their animal's head back and hood 'em, but not me.  I
like a boy's face hangin' forward, so he can see me pullin' his meat.  If
he's a drooler, the stuff will ooze out of his ball gag and drip down
givin' us some extra grease to keep things slick 'n slimy.  Nothin' like
mashin' a boy's sausage with a fist slicked up in his own blubber.  What'll
we do first, Slade?  Your call."

Warden Slade wasn't comfortable with Jake Hawker's friendly offer.  In
fact, it had not occurred to him that he would be expected to take part in
the Tormentor's games.  In his mind he was just there as an observer, but
clearly Jake had a different idea.  So far as Jake was concerned the Warden
had come along to get in on the fun.  And, uncomfortable as he was, Warden
Slade felt his cock lengthen noticeably down his leg, making it clear that
he wasn't quite as objective as he wanted to appear.  He saw Jake smile at
the growing bulge as he opened up his own fly and pulled out a massive slab
of uncut cock, which began to lift slowly, like some predatory animal
sniffing the air for the scent of blood.  The Warden said he thought maybe
he'd just watch for a while, get into the mood of things first.  But Jake
wasn't having that.  He moved close and reached down to the Warden's
crotch, groping the swelling there with practiced skill, digging under the
tube of flesh to cup the balls in their pouch.  Slade would have shied
away, except that Jake put one big hand behind his head and held him close
as he jerked open the trousers and twisted seven inches of Wardencock out
of its hole.

"C'mon guy, this thing in my hand doesn't wanna just watch.  Feels to me
like it's lickin' its chops already, gettin' all slickered up with cumlust.
Whaddya say?  We gonna play some games with this pussyboy first?  Or mebbe
take off his top cream quick, cool 'im down so we don't have ta worry 'bout
his shootin', all the while we're funnin' with 'im.  Oh yeah, there's my
answer, your dick says a big wet YES to that idea, don't it.?  Okay, grab
the kid's pony meat and start pullin' on it.  Don't be cute, just jerk it
hard and heavy.  I'll work his nuts with both hands, press that top milk
outta the fuckers.  Look at 'im pant already.  He's full o' cum.  Wants to
give us some.  Git yer other hand on his meat too.  It's long enough.
Let's give him a four-hander.  Do 'im harder, man.  Make 'im spurt.  He's
gettin' ready.  See 'im heave?  He's on the edge, man, gonna give it up.
Ya wanna take the first load?  Be my guest man.  Eat that shit."

Before he knew what was happening the Warden felt his head being pushed
down to the boy's crotch level, felt his lips being pressed against the
wide meatus; he opened his mouth to tell Jake to stop, but found instead
that he was gorging on a flood of warm boycum, as thick and smooth as heavy
whipping cream.  He kept one hand on the throbbing shaft, ravenously
pumping more of the heady liquor onto his circling tongue and down his
gulping throat.  Then his head was pulled off the gushing boyteat and Jake
took his turn at the flow, hollowing his cheeks, as he forced out the last
stream of semen, seeming to vacuum it deep into his belly.  Stunned by what
he had done, Slade leaned gasping against the still quivering body of the
bound yearling.  This was unacceptable.  He could be fired for this.  It
wasn't ethical.  Then he felt Jack Hawker's lips on the head of his own
cock, digging down into the cumhole with the tip of his tongue, siphoning
out Chief Warden's trickle of lube.  He pushed the man away telling him to
get the fuck off.  Not his usual way of speaking.  Jake thought it was
funny.  He grinned as he wiped some stray gism from his cheek and licked it
from his fingers.

"Now don't get all prissy on me, Slade.  Yer no virgin and this ain't no
Sunday School meeting.  Whadcha think we were gonna do when you asked if
you could tag along on my hunt?  Look at the birds?  Pick wildflowers?  You
run a fuck 'n suck amusement park, man.  Dontcha ever get on some o' the
rides yerself?  All this candy around and you never lick none of it?  Yer
dick's still swingin' hard, so you can't be as mad as yer makin' out.
C'mon.  Let's start working this boymeat for real.  He won't be wantin' to
shoot for a bit, so we can play a while before he gets hot 'n bothered
again.  Let's play some Snap.  Ya know that game?  No?

"Well, go over there and get that box marked 'Pins'.  We gotta use at least
some of this crap you lay out in these tents.  I dig these Preserve pins--
fancy wood, choc'lat colour, tight grip to 'em, good 'gator ridges on the
teeth.  Now, for Snap we've gotta pretty up his cock and balls with as many
of these nippers as we can get on 'im.  You start on his ball skin, try to
get at least a dozen fixed good and tight on his sack, and I'll pull the
loose skin on his cockpole so I can stick about six of these babies on each
side.  There.  Ain't that a beautiful sight?  And listen to him whimper.
He's likin' that a lot.  Hey, just for fun, let's put a clip on his cumlips
too.  Pinch 'em open with your fingers, like that, and lemme sneak one half
of the clip into his hole and, easy now, just let go o' other half so it
pinches that babyskin tight.  Beauty!  Okay, the object of the game is to
take this pony crop and whip the pins off 'is meat and balls.  You get five
snaps of the crop, then I get five snaps.  We count how many pins are
picked off after ten turns, and who's ever popped off the most wins the
contest.  Let's see.  What'll we make the prize?  What about five minutes
of hard chewin' on his titties, with some special sauce on 'em?"

Warden Slade had the first turn.  He was a little awkward at first, but
he'd ridden enough horses to know how to crack a mount's flank with the
supple leather end of a crop.  And snapping it against a kid's cock and
balls wasn't all that different.  He popped off four pins in his first two
turns.  Though he tried, Jake couldn't provide any real competition in the
contest, since he'd never ridden a horse in his life.  By the end of the
eighth round all the pins were gone, Slade was the clear winner, and the
kid was shuddering with the joy of getting his penis and testicle zapped.
But apparently he hadn't suffered too much, because his pole had hardened
up and prick froth began to bubble again from his cumhole.

"Well, you win, pardner.  Yer a real pro with a crop ain't ya?  What say we
put it in yer hand when you get between his legs 'n assride 'im later?  I'd
like ta see you crack his flanks to make his puckerhole churn harder down
the homestretch.  And will ya look at that faucet leakin' oil?  Good thing.
Now we got the spicy sauce for his nips.  Lemme scoop some up and rub it on
his nubs.  Give ya something to set your mouth waterin' while ya nibble on
'em.  There ya go.  Make 'im feel it.  Let me rub some more o' this goo on
'em.  Looks real tasty, man.  C'm on, pull your lips back, I wanna see
those pearlies bitin' down hard on that sticky boytit.  Take a good bite
and shake your head back and forth.  Munch 'em.  God, the little fucker's
puttin' out so much juice it's makin' my whole hand sticky.  I'll rub it
all round his pecs, give ya more boy skin ta feast on.  Fuck, yer makin' me
so hot just watchin' ya eat those teentitties, I gotta get me somethin' ta
snack on too."

Slade slipped off into a trance of mindless nursing at tender nipples
bathed in tangy prick jelly.  He was barely aware of Jake's mouth tonguing
his own cock, Jake's hand squeezing his shaft to make the meatus swell
bigger, pinching his cocklips with his fingers to make them gape open so
the Tormentor could dribble spit down into the cumcanal, then suck it back,
mixed with the Warden's own heady precum.  Just when his cock was on the
verge of shooting in Jake's mouth, he felt air on his helmet-shaped head.
Jake's mouth was gone.  Then Slade felt the sharp flick of thumb and
forefinger against his tender bulb, instantly suppressing his rising cum
gorge.  He yelled and pushed the sadist back onto his haunches.

"Sorry, man, sorry.  But we don't want to pop ya too soon, do we.  Wantchur
milk to keep pilin' up in those fat balls till they can't hold any more.
Then we'll drain ya.  Be a lot more fun for ya, and feed me the kinda
blowout cum banquet I don't get very often.  And look at the punk's cock.
It's droolin' for some more attention.  See how it nods, up and down,
beggin' for another game?  Let's play a round of nutball.  Go over an' get
that bag of rubber balls while I tie his cock up tight against his stomach.
This is real simple but lots o' laffs.  We could use tennis balls but for
some reason your sissy Game Keepers stock the tents with these softer
rubber things instead.  Still, if ya get a good enough wind-up you can make
the animal squeal.  Let's take his gag out now, time ta let him sing a
little.  Now, ya see those fine boyballs swinging there between 'is legs?
Almost as big and rubbery and the game balls, huh?  We stand back about 20
feet and aim these suckers at those boyplums.  A full double crack in the
centre of the bag gets 2 points and a single crack on one nut gets 1 point.
We take turns, tossin' a total of 15 balls each.  And if ya hit the
underside of his shaft, right there in the "magic triangle" where the ridge
of his cockhead curves up, ya get to throw an extra ball on that turn.
When we're through, we take the kid down and stretch 'im out on a suck
table.  The winner gets ta tea bag his own nuts in the slut's mouth and
make him suck on 'em for ten minutes.  Ya got it?  Okay, I'll go first this
time."

It turned out that Jake had been the pitcher in an amateur baseball league,
so he wiped the floor with the Warden, who ended up hitting the kid's
tooth-marked pecs more often than his nuts. The tent echoed with the grunts
of the throws, the thunk of the balls on skin, the cries of the kid when
his eggs got cracked by a direct hit, and the snickers of the two men when
a ball made a particularly satisfying smack.  At the end Jake had 23
points--3 extra-ball magic triangle bonuses, 8 double hits and 7 single
hits.  Slade had a grand total of 5 points, with no bonuses. They untied
the boy from the cross and stretched him on the suck mat so Jake could take
his reward.  He asked the Warden to help him get his eggsized orbs into the
yearling's cheeks; together they were able to stretch the kid's lips wide
enough allow them to press both of the nuts beyond his teeth, into the
mouth cavity, setting Jake up for ten minutes of spit-soaked ecstasy.
Without being told to, Slade pressed the palms of his hands against the
teen's ball-bloated cheeks and massaged his new pal's sperm bags through
the soft distended skin.  He even leaned down and took his first real sip
of manhoney from Jake's cocklips.  When the ten-minute nut-soak was up,
Jake had a new pastime to offer.

"Ever played 'Bob for the Apple' Warden?  Not like at a Halloween party.
This is a stud version.  We put on blindfolds and crawl up alongside o' the
kid so our faces are both in his crotch: then we "bob" for his cock.  But
we can only use our lips, and our tongues and our teeth.  May not sound
like much punishment, but believe you me when one of us has this baby's
cockhead 'tween 'is choppers, while the other one's bitin' down on the
shaft tryin' ta pull it loose, the punk knows he's being gobbled good.  We
play two five minute rounds.  At the end of each round whichever of us has
the boyapple tight in his mouth is the winner.  If each of us wins a round,
then we do a play-off where we fight over 'is balls.  The guy with the most
ball meat in his mouth at the end wins.  The winner gets to throat-fuck the
pussy until he cums in his gullet.  But listen, guy, if you win, ya gotta
pull out when ya shoot and let me pig your slop, 'cause I deserve it,
lettin' you come on my hunt and teachin' you all this good stuff,
knowimsayin?"

But Jake needn't have worried about the Warden winning.  The Tormentor was
a voracious mouth-man: once he got his teeth around the thick ledge of the
young animal's meaty crown, there was nothing left for Slade to do but
worry the shaft like a dog with a bone, trying to get the rich marrow out
of it.  During the second round he gave up about half way through and spent
the last two minutes savaging the groaning boy's nuts, which had the
efffect of making him shoot his second wad directly into Jake's throat, for
which Jake was extra grateful.  He fed a good portion of it back into the
Warden's lips in a hard, mouth-raping kiss that caught Slade unawares.  But
the second-hand cumjuice tasted so good he swallowed it all and sucked
greedily on Jake's probing tongue for more.  Then Slade laid down alongside
the kid idly jacking his own meat and watching as Jake took his reward.  He
porked the boy's throat, deeply and fiercely, grinding away between his
lips which soon became red and puffy under the assault.  Jake bellowed
while he spewed, shaking uncontrollably as his sperm volleyed out in great
gouts of beastmilk, "breeding" the teen's the throat and belly like a prize
bull on stud service.  The image of "breeding" made the Warden's rod
stretch longer, and firm up, ready for his own breeder fun.  He moved
between the boy's spread thighs and started to wishbone his legs, holding
on to his ankles, to open up the yearling's fuckhole.  But Jake saw what he
was doing pushed him away.

"Whoa there, stud.  I want some of that boy ass too, ya know.  Let's bend
him over that fuck horse so we can take turns in 'is pink pucker.  You put
the straps on his ankles and I'll go round front an' do his wrists, just to
keep 'im honest. Hey boy, dontchu go to sleep on us. Ya gotta lotta meat to
take care of 'fore bedtime.  Keep your head up bitch and your mouth
open--tongue out--eyes on the prize.  Clean me up with your licker while my
pal taps that sweet ass.  C'mon cumbreath, gimme some head or I'll
skull-fuck ya silly.  That's the way, kid.  Getcher tongue all jellied up
with my jizz.  How's the hole Warden, nice n' buttery?  What's his bud look
like?  Somethin' ya might wanna eat?  Nothin' better than tossin' a teen
cunt's salad bowl with yer tongue.  Not interested?  That's cool, I'll eat
yer cum out of his pucker when yer through.  For now let's rack this boy
front 'n back.  Ya wanna do a push-pull--you drive into his cunt while I
pull back to let 'im breathe, or whaddabout a double in 'n out?  Both push
in, jack-hammer 'im at the same time, then pull all the way out together--
let 'im gasp, then slam back through for another round o' choke strokin'.
Whadday say?  Mebbe do both?  Why the fuck not?  Do ten minutes o'
push-pull, then ten minutes o' double in-'n-out pile drivin' till we're
ready to pop.  But I gotta better idea.  When ya feel like yer gonna blow,
let me know, an' we'll switch ends.  You come up front and cockslap 'is
face till ya cool down and I'll go round back and rim-suck his bud till
we're ready ta jab some more.  Should be able to keep this fuckbait goin'
till its eyes glaze over and it forgets it ever knew anything but gettin'
stuffed with man meat. Ready, pal?  Startcher motor and let's roll."

The double rape went on for a long time.  The boy had the ponymilk fucked
out of him several times, and by the time the two men finally filled him up
with gism front and back, he was a limp puppet that could be posed in any
obscene position his masters wanted, and used in any fantastic way they
imagined.  By the time the day was over, the Warden and the Tormentor had
acted out a lot of their wildest and juiciest dreams.

As they stumbled back to the Lodge in the dusk, their cum-drenched prey
tied hand and foot and slung between them on a bamboo pole resting on their
shoulders, the Warden wondered if his life with the Big Game Preserve was
at an end.  Could he cover up this lapse in his conduct and avoid the
temptation to play with the animals ever again? Did he really want to hunt
down and torment the animals he was paid to protect?  He got a disturbing
answer in Jake's words.

"Next time, buddy, we gotta make a double kill.  There's a shit load of fun
stuff we can do if we have a lot more cock, a lot more holes and a whole
lot more boycum to play with!  I c'n teach you things that'll keep you hard
the rest o' your fuckin' life!"

***************

POSTSCRIPT:

MEMO FROM VICE PRESIDENT OPERATIONS, PLEASURE CORPORATION, TO CHIEF GAME
WARDEN GERALD SLADE AT THE BIG GAME PRESERVE (WEST):

"In view of your report that Todd and Jake Hawker, the so-called
Tormentors, present no threat to the well-being of Preserve animals, and
taking into account your excellent summary of the benefits that their
skills could give to the operation, I am happy to announce that we have
hired them both as experts in the training of stock to withstand extreme
treatment without permanent damage.  They will travel around to each of our
world branches teaching the local Game Wardens how to prepare our animals,
especially the younger boy prey, for high level abuse.  We expect that they
will also be useful at The S/M Ranch and that their insights into the
psychology and techniques of rough sucking will be invaluable in the upper
level courses at the CockSuck Academies.  Congratulations on handling this
potential problem so efficiently.  I was especially pleased to hear that
you plan to engage in the occasional hunt yourself.  I agree that it's
important for staff to learn all aspects of the business and take a
'hands-on' approach in daily operations.  I am eager to know how the
mysterious "on-the-job-special-training" you plan on giving your young Game
Keeper Ethan Wade turns out. It was interesting to learn that the notion
was given to you by one of the Hawker brothers during an interview with him
in your office.  A good executive always knows how to recognize a good idea
and how to exploit it to the fullest.  All the best.  C. M. Buller VP
Operations."

(end)