Date: Sun, 5 Oct 2008 08:33:14 -0500
From: George Gauthier <georgegauthier@verizonmail.com>
Subject: Dangerous Game Pt 2

				Dangerous Game
				Naked Prey 4
				Part 2 of 2
 				by George Gauthier

Author's Note: This is a tale of a teenager's misadventures during the
early eighteenth century while on a long voyage of personal discovery,
reaching from London to the Caribbean and beyond. It is Part 2 of the
fourth story in my 'Naked Prey' series for the Historical section of the
Nifty Archive, each with different characters. The other stories so far are
'Naked Prey' set in 19th century Africa, 'The Shawnee', set in colonial
America, and 'Terra Australis', set in the great age of exploration in the
South Seas.

It contains graphic descriptions of the male human body and of consensual
and non-consensual sexual activity between adult males.

If any of this would offend a reader, read no further. This is not intended
for persons younger than an age where they may freely and legally select
their reading matter in whatever jurisdiction applies.

It is offered for entertainment. It is as historically and geographically
accurate in its setting as I could make it, with only minor poetic license.
If it manages to both intrigue and to provoke prurient interest, it will
have succeeded in its aim.

It is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any person living
or dead. The story was suggested by and is a homage to Richard Connell's
famous short story, 'The Most Dangerous Game', though with my own personal
twist to the premise. The actual hunt is only the last chapter in a long
tale that is at least as much a gay Gothic romance as a tale of high
adventure though it is that too.

Note: the story or one with the same premise has been filmed many times,
notably in 1932 with much the same cast and using the same expensive
jungle, swamp, and gate sets as for the classic movie 'King Kong'. (Yes,
Fay Wray is in it.) See the Internet Movie Data Base under Richard Connell
for a list of titles based on his short story.

Readers who like these stories might want to try my 'Daphne Boy' historical
tales or my 'Jungle Boy' series of tales in a modern setting, posted in the
Gay/Authoritarian section of the archive. Also, please try my futuristic
'Track and Field' stories in College and my 'Mer-Boy' stories in
Gay/Beginnings. For links to my stories, look on the list of Prolific
Authors on the Archive.

Comments and feedback welcome.

			When Last We Left Our Hapless Hero
				Jamaica 1732

Wrongly convicted of a crime, former shop boy Jamie Sandys, just shy of
seventeen, is now an indentured servant on a sugar plantation on the island
of Jamaica, a British colony. His master is Andrew, Third Baronet
Colfax. Jamie is one of the mysterious aristocrat's 'naked ones', pretty
boys in his service who are set to normal duties around the plantation, for
Colfax will tolerate no idlers, but are kept entirely and perpetually
nude. The youthful baronet intends to train the lad for sexual service. As
a 'naked one' Jamie has had the growth of all the hair on his body
permanently suppressed. The fate of all the dozen or so previous boys who
served for a few years as 'naked ones' is unknown.

Meanwhile, the white cadre of the plantation are using Jamie's delectable
body for their mutual pleasure save only that his incomparable ass is off
limits to anyone save the master.

The baronet is personally engaging, moderate in his habits, forbearing as a
master of his slaves and indentured servants, certainly no tyrant. Rich,
connected, handsome and powerfully built, he is a striking figure in every
way. He also has a ruthless streak in him that few suspect.

			Chapter 4. Training

One day Colfax had Jamie conducted to the verandah. The lad was healthy now
from fresh air, hard work and good food and with his strength and stamina
much improved by his own efforts. The boy had not realized at the time how
debilitated he had been when Colfax bought him at the slave market. His
incarceration and long sea voyage, inactivity, poor food in prison and
aboard ship had all taken their toll.  It was time to start the boy's
training.

"Training?" Jamie asked.

"Yes, we get started tomorrow. Your mornings will continue as they have
been, but Mr. Morgan will adjust your gardening duties to a half time
schedule. Your afternoons will be spent in the gymnasium to make you
stronger, faster, and more flexible, and to extend your endurance.

"Gymnasium?"

"A Greek word, it means.."

"Oh I know what it means sir. I have read that in books, at Master
Fleming's shop in London. I know all about the gymnasium and the naked boys
and older men who, well took them under their wing, often as
lovers. Actually that was the first time I ever heard anything good about
sex between two males. To listen to most people talk, it was something
dirty and shameful and sinful."

"But you know better now, don't you Jamie?"

"Yes sir, of course. I also know about the Olympic games, where athletes
competed naked. They made nude statues of the winners. I have seen woodcut
pictures of them. But which building is the gymnasium?"

"No building actually, except for an equipment shed. It is entirely out of
doors. Once you are in better condition, I will teach you the tricks of an
Oriental houri boy in the House of Pleasure."

Jamie could hear the capital letters.

"The House of Pleasure, you called it, sir?"

"You cannot see it from here and Morgan did not point it out during your
orientation tour. Your training there will be mostly indoors." Colfax said
with a smile.

The next day Jamie reported to the gymnasium's equipment shed. A man named
Foster was Colfax's trainer. He had the boy stand on one end of a balance
beam, adding weights of various sizes until they matched.

"Eight stone and three" Foster said aloud as he wrote a note to that
effect.

A British unit of weight, a stone is 14 pounds, making Jamie's weight 115
pounds [52 kg].

"Now for his height. Let's see, five feet five or a shade under [165
cm]. Close enough."

They took other measurements too, waist, chest, hips, the span of his arms,
etc.

"We are not measuring you like a tailor would for clothes, lad. You won't
be wearing any."

"Yes sir, Mr. Foster. I understand."

"These are your base measurements. You body will change as you progress. At
first you will drop a few pounds as we shave your body fat."

"Me, body fat? Look at me, I am skinny as a whippet! Look at these ribs and
sharp hip bones."

"Get complaints about those hips, do you boy from yer lovers? I wouldn't be
surprised, but actually you are wiry and muscular, slender granted, but
neither skinny nor scrawny. That means bony, and you are not that. Too much
firm flesh. Still, everyone has a bit of fat inside. I suppose you have
seen a slaughtered animal? The yellow fat that cushions the organs, that
kind of thing."

"Yes sir, I see what you mean."

"Good. There is also fat just under the skin. We will slim you down a bit
since that happens faster than building muscle. You will likely wind up at
the same weight, only with a bit more in your shoulders and arms, and a tad
less in your waist, and in your tantalizing arse."

Jamie smiled at the compliment. Colfax was on hand for the occasion and
winked at the boy.

The program was exhausting. His training schedule included long runs of at
least five miles three days a week to build stamina alternating with three
days of intense strengthening exercises that took less time than the
runs. All six days included flexibility training, some of which was a bit
painful.

The flexibility exercises were actually hardest of all though Foster was
patient, helping him, showing him how to twist, stretch, reach,
spread. They wanted to get him to do a split like in ballet, something he
had never come close to when dancing. This all had obvious implications for
his upcoming sex training. All through the training, Foster was a
gentleman. His lust for Jamie was obvious but he was completely
professional in all his dealings, especially his touchings.

Jamie had one day off per week, though he was usually expected to walk
about a bit so as not to get stiff. Swimming was available daily. Jamie was
encouraged to end his session at the pool, a wide portion of a creek lined
with rocks along one side to provide a firm bank for diving. At first he
could only splash about uncertainly but soon caught on with Foster's
coaching. Within a month, he looked like he was born to the water. Morgan
and and other white cadre including sometimes joined him for a
swim. Naturally everyone swam nude. Bathing costumes for males had not yet
been thought of.

Jamie's garden work in the morning did not suffer, since he was fresh from
a night's sleep when he reported for duty. The long runs in the afternoon
usually left him flagging till he had a chance to rest. Just when he
thought he had satisfied Foster, the man lengthened his run or shortened
the time allotted for the distance or both. The fiend! Soon Jamie was doing
ten miles on two days and fifteen on the third.

Sometimes as he ran along, Samson would wave or call out a
greeting. "You'se really coming along good now boy!"

Of all the blacks on the plantation, Samson was the friendliest and the one
he liked best. Cheerful, hardworking, shrewd with his advice. Jamie always
liked to talk with him when he could. Samson had been captured as a lad of
eleven by a neighboring tribe, a victim of the unholy alliance between
native chiefs and European slavers who traded guns and strong drink for
human flesh.

As Jamie ran along the paths on the plantation, he stopped as needed at
water points or wells to drink, something he was urged to do before he got
thirsty. They had once had a boy who forgot and they lost him, his body on
fire, skin red and hot and dry. He went into convulsions and died of sun
stroke.

Colfax had spent a lot of time watching the boy both openly and
semi-surreptitiously by telescope on his runs. He had often passed by while
the boy worked in the gardens and chatted him up, touching him, getting the
boy comfortable and relaxed in his presence, all as preparation for his
eventual sex training.

Once the boy reached his peak of fitness, or rather a plateau he could
maintain indefinitely on his own, Colfax would have his likeness sketched
with charcoals and captured with water colors but definitely not in
oils. The titled Philistine in him could never understand the attraction of
oil paints. A medium that took 80 years to dry properly and quickly
developed crackling held little attraction for him. As far as he was
concerned the much vaunted 'craquelure' wasn't an aesthetic effect. It was
a defect in the medium. Anyway, in Jamaica's climate, an oil painting would
not hold up well.

Sketch artists and water colorists worked much faster and could produced
many sketches or paintings while a man working in oils labored over
one. Sketches were flexible. Some could be merely an outline or suggestion
of their subject. Others could be as detailed and subtly shaded as a
chiaroscuro painting in oils. Besides, Colfax found sketch artists and
water colorists are pleasanter and more down-to-earth sorts than those
pretentious and airy fairy oil painters. Some of them seemed to think they
were doing a rich man a favor simply accepting a commission, letting him be
their patron. And even then, try telling an artiste what you wanted or to
make suggestions. It amounted to lese majeste or rather, it was like
dealing with a bad tempered fishmonger's wife.

Actually that was just an expression. As far as Colfax knew, the wives of
fishmongers were no more ill tempered or ill favored than the wives of men
in any other occupation.

Colfax also had his own ideas about some of the great masterpieces he was
supposed to admire. He had seen the frescoes in the Sistene Chapel on the
Grand Tour as a very young man. In his not so humble opinion,
Michaelangelo's nudes were grotesque, over muscled and over padded, circus
strongmen running to fat. Too much! And why paint the father of the human
race with infantile genitals? The notion was absurd. The Italian's figures
were even worse than those of that Flemish painter Reubens, and that was
saying something.

Finally even Foster was satisfied with Jamie's performance and
appearance. He had trained the boy to a level roughly that of a modern
Olympian. Time then for Colfax to set his artists to work, sketching and
working with water colors, to create portfolios he would treasure his whole
life of Jamie at the very peak of his youth and beauty and
desirability. Sixteen to say twenty-two are a boy's best years. After that
he would be a young man, still eminently desirable of course, though
without that first blush of youth.

Colfax did not tell his artists what to do. He relied on their
aesthetic. From each artist, Colfax would select one sketch and one water
color to be framed, to hang in his gallery of naked ones, a bright airy
room with French windows and a skylight to illuminate the nudes with
indirect light.

Ten weeks after the start of his physical training and a month after his
seventeenth birthday, Jamie began his sex training under the personal
tutelage of the baronet himself. This was one job he was not delegating.

He had waited long for this moment, contenting himself in the meantime with
caresses and passionate kisses, and naughty touchings, even bringing the
boy off with his hand. Once a week, the boy had met Colfax in an outdoor
bower and fallen to his knees to worship his master's masculinity,
swallowing his master's seed in token of his submission. Aside from welcome
fingerings and probes with certain naughty objects, Colfax had left the
boy's nether hole alone.

It was very frustrating for a randy lad like Jamie, but he knew he had
better reserve himself for the baronet and give him first crack, (no pun
intended).

Jamie's enthusiasm and joy at finally starting his sex training deflated
rapidly when he met Colfax in the modest bungalow called the House of
Pleasure. The baronet was not only fully clothed, they met in what amounted
to an office or maybe a classroom. Jamie's first training was an anatomy
lesson. Jamie was aghast. Back to school? Why?

Like all teenagers, Jamie thought he had invented sex. Under Colfax's
tutelage, he would realize how much he had to learn in the way of giving
and taking pleasure in sexual relations. Jamie started off with only the
vaguest of notions of male anatomy. His teacher showed Jamie diagrams of
all the muscles and structures in the pelvic region then gave him oral and
written tests. At first Jamie struggled with the boring lessons. Why so
much theory? His rebellious attitude and poor test results were actually no
more than Colfax usually got from his young students. Fine. It gave him the
justification, even in the boy's own eyes, to bring out that infallible
motivator of laggard students, the cane.

Poor Jamie. Every time he did poorly on his tests, he was treated like a
wayward schoolboy. Bent over his master's desk, bare rump vulnerable, he
had to endure the indignity visited upon wayward schoolboys: the firm
application of birch to rump, hopefully connecting eventually to the boy's
brain.

Of course the baronet did not thrash the boy severely. It would never do to
really hurt the lad, make him bleed, leave permanent marks on his lovely
taut brown ass. It was a chance for the baronet to have some fun with the
boy. He looked so delicious, gracile torso bent over, rump uppermost,
trembling with anticipation and fear. It was hilarious to watch the rapid
trembling of his buttcheeks. The baronet deliberately varied the timing of
the strokes to keep the hapless boy off-guard.

After each stroke, he had Jamie call out the count, and woe betide the lad
if he lost count, for then the baronet would start over. The boy also had
to beg for another stroke, never knowing just how many stripes he had
earned for a particular infraction or failure.

Thwack!  "One, sir. Thank you sir. May I have another, sir." Thwack!  "Two,
sir. Thank you sir. May I have another, sir." Thwack!  "Three, sir. Thank
you sir. May I have another, sir." Thwack!  ...

Having finally overcome his hurdles in theory, Jamie moved on to practical
exercise. Colfax drilled him in getting conscious control of all the
muscles in the pelvis, starting with those involved in urination. The most
familiar set of muscles in that region because the most frequently used,
they were easiest of all for gauging a boy's success in taking control by
turning the spigot off and on. Colfax had his student drink the half-beer
given to slaves till he was fit to burst, then had him discharge his
bladder, stopping on command no matter how urgent the need to continue. No
dripping allowed either. Jamie learned about his sphincters and erector
muscles and how to use them. He learned to milk a cock with his internal
ass muscles. His teacher used dildos to impart these lessons to his
enthusiastic pupil which got him very excited. The boy had a sex drive that
was extraordinary even for one his age. His brain must be swimming in
hormones.

Following anatomy, the second and final subject was sexual
positions. Colfax had a copy of a book that had been secretly printed in a
very limited edition. It was a short book very much in the vein of the Kama
Sutra, oriented to sex between males. The simple drawings were clear and
very easy to follow though particularly erotic.

Jamie soon learned the first two chapters by heart, ready to demonstrate
with one of the white men called in for the purpose, a volunteer. Jan Van
Wyck, a well-favored young man of twenty three was happy for the chance to
play with the boy, one of Colfax's exquisite naked ones, even if he could
not fully consummate their coupling. Indeed he had to wear a pouch cinched
tight at the base of his genitals.

"You are nearly as dark as I am!" Jamie exclaimed, admiring the young
overseer's naked body. "Hairless too, and you have a brand yourself."

"Yes, Jamie, I was once in your position. Now I am an overseer. So, after
years in the sun, I am quite tanned, though I don't run around bare ass
like you do, Jamie, at least not all the time. Not that I am complaining. I
like seeing all of you."

"That's good. You would be a first to complain. Everyone else tells me I
look fine the way nature made me.", he said with a smile.

Just over four inches under six feet (172 cm), slender, raven haired and
with startling blue eyes, Van Wyck was a very good looking young man in his
own right. He had a fine torso tanned down to his hips where a lighter tone
of bronze started and sported the same kind of tattoo as Jamie, from his
own service as a naked one six or seven years earlier. Though he often went
shirtless and with his breeches slung low on his hips, he usually kept his
pants on, certainly when he was on duty, though he liked to swim and
regularly ran the footpaths in the nude. His lower legs were also darkened
by the sun since he did not bother with stockings in the heat, not working
around the plantation. He job was supervising the artisans on the
plantation: smiths, carpenters, coopers, and such.

Van Wyck's bronzed skin was an exception to the usually strict color lines
in colonial society where one's status was indicated by skin color, the
lighter the tone, the higher the status. The lowest were the enslaved
blacks from Africa. Upper class females had the lightest skins, shading
themselves with fabric, hats, and parasols. Aristocratic males like Colfax
had bronzed faces and hands and arms, but the rest of their bodies seldom
saw the sun. As an indentured servant Jamie was in-between, his tan
deepening all the time in the perpetual summer of the tropics. As he
himself had realized, his constant nudity pushed his status even lower,
toward that of domestic livestock. After all he was the only human (except
for one) on the plantation who had a brand on his haunch. Well, at least
they did not lead him around on a leash or put a ring through his nose or
hitch him up to a cart.

Colfax smiled at the lively exchange between them. Yes, let them get
comfortable with each other. It would make the training easier and better
for everyone. The young overseer was an experienced lover as they practiced
the positions with much kissing and touching and petting. The two youthful
males ran through all the positions. There was that bit of awkwardness when
Jan's pouch got loose because he was so aroused by his intimate contact
with Jamie. No one's fault and perfectly understandable in the
circumstances.

"Oh go ahead, Jamie." Colfax chuckled. "You know what to do with a cock
bobbing in front of your face."

Blushing, his own cock tumescent and rigid, Jamie put his lips to Jan's
long slender cock, smooching the purpled helmet, running his tongue along
the rim of the glans, even poking the tip of his tongue tiny slit. Jan
shivered with arousal.  Jamie took his cock into his mouth, into his
throat, alarmed at how far it reached into him but relieved that its girth
made it easy for him to breathe. Jan nearly swooned with the delicious
sensation, the warmth and wetness bathing his manhood. Meanwhile Jamie had
his hand on his own excited member, stroking and pumping. At their ages, it
did not take long to reach a splashy climax as Jan pulled out the last
second to shoot all over the boy's delicate features, leaving a string of
cum on his forehead, nose and chin. Jamie spurted his seed onto his own
chest and belly. Both youths sighed and lay in each other's arms, hands
bringing a taste of both their seed to each of them.

"Very nicely done, lads. Perhaps this would be a good time to break for
lunch?"

Colfax was never jealous of anyone using Jamie's mouth. He had rather
enjoyed seeing his pouty lips close around Jan's cock. Jamie's mouth was
made for cock, for pleasuring men with lips and tongue and throat.

			Chapter 5. Lovers

Finally school was out. It was time to move on to graduation, the
consummation of the boy's training and their relationship as lovers. Jamie
presented himself at the delightfully appointed bedroom of the House of
Pleasure. It was furnished mostly with a wide square bed set flush to the
floor and provided with three firm mattresses. The baronet did not like to
sink into a bed while frolicking or to fall off either in his enthusiasm.

Jamie had voided himself and then been flushed out by Van Wyck. After
bathing and anointing himself with a subtle rose fragrance he presented
himself to the baronet, a single blossom in his hair. He smiled shyly at
the handsome gentleman, still in his tropical white suit. Nervous as a
bride, a silly grin on his face, Jamie bowed his head and knelt before his
master. He had never wanted anything more in his life than this.

The baron would be the first to show the boy what anal sex, in the fullest
sense, was really like. It was good that others had played with Jamie's
bunghole with fingers or sundry tubular objects. The boy certainly was not
shy back there. Morgan and Van Wyck and others had excited him enough to
get his hole twitching, hungry to be filled, but it never had been, not
properly so. This was the evening the baronet would really deflower little
Jamie in the way it should have been done -- with Jenkins gone -- the way
it had been done for all intents and purposes.

Colfax had waited patiently for this day. Now Jamie would be his and vice
versa. They had already explored oral sex together in which Jamie was quite
talented and experienced. With so many partners for oral sex, he had needed
no lessons. His experience with anal sex was severely limited to one man
for a few months. A crude man, a criminal, loutish and unimaginative. His
bargain with the boy had been one-sided, coercive even, virtual
blackmail. Jamie had taken him as a protector not out of affection but from
fear. Yes. the man had deflowered the boy in an act more like rape than
lovemaking. The poor lad had to agree to his carnal demands even before he
knew what love between males was like.

Worst of all, that wretch Jenkins, a man of the lowest sort, had had the
effrontery to precede the baronet, to be the boy's first lover. That was
intolerable to his aristocratic pride, an insult that must be wiped out. He
had already taken care of Jenkins himself, purchased his bond from his
first buyer under a pseudonym and quietly killed and buried him, though not
before telling him why he had to die. The damnable man had cursed the
baronet when his captor explained that the boy was his, would always be
his, and by Jenkin's death, would always have been his. Jenkins death
negated his own existence. With the baronet's abilities in lovemaking,
Jamie's memories of Jenkins would soon fade away to nothing, replaced by
the reality of the baronet's overwhelming presence.

Of course the baronet was more than slightly mad in such imaginings. He
could not wipe out the reality of Jenkins by murder and denial. The best he
could do is make the boy his own from this point on. To the aristocrat's
unbalanced mind, that amounted to the same thing. Which is not to say that
he would not try his best be an extraordinarily attentive lover for the
young transplanted English lad, and to treat him well. At least till the
time came for The Hunt. But that was two years off at the earliest.

Andrew, Third Baronet Colfax led Jamie to the bed and set him on it
kneeling. He stripped off his tropical whites, allowing Jamie to see for
the first time what his master looked like naked. Tall -- half a foot over
six feet (198 cm) -- powerfully built, he had wide shoulders and a deep
chest. Only the area around the nipples and the treasure trail down to his
navel was covered with dark hair. Jamie gazed up worshipfully as his god
was slowly revealed.

Andrew dropped his breeches and stepped out of them. His powerful thighs
were nearly smooth and the calves lightly covered with hair, revealing the
strength he had built by his own favorite exercises, riding and walking. He
caught the boy's gaze and smiled at him as he reached to his belly and
loosened his small clothes which fell away. The boy's bright green eyes
opened wide in a comical fashion at he took in the sight of his man and his
manliness. The baron was hugely endowed, incredibly potent with a cock like
a truncheon. In length it was nearly twice the span of the boy's small
hands (where the hand span is the width from thumb to the tip of the small
finger with the fingers spread wide, not together, which is a
hand's-breadth for measuring horses).

"Why are you trembling Jamie? Afraid or just from anticipation?"

"I guess I am a little afraid, sir. You are so huge. I am so small, really
tiny back there. Everyone says my hole is tight. I really want you sir, but
I am afraid it will hurt."

"Yes it will hurt some; that is unavoidable, though I will be careful, but
the initial pain soon turns to pleasure when you are with a man who knows
how to make love to a boy. Trust me Jamie. This is going to be the best
fuck of your young life."

"Yes, sir, but please be gentle with me."

"Always with a delicate flower like you, Jamie."

He knelt down facing the boy. Andrew's first kisses were soft even
tentative, the ones that followed were urgent, demanding. He was all over
Jamie, his long dark hair framing his handsome face as he drank in the
youth pressed to him. Jamie responded, pressing their tumescent members
together, murmuring words of passion as his arousal consumed him. Hands
cupped buttocks, the blade of Andrew's hand slid into the lad's cleavage,
fingers pushed a lubricating oil into the hole, preparing the lad for the
fuck. Lips locked so hard Jamie couldn't breathe. The man was virtually
crushing him.

He gasped for air, turned his head and started to lick Andrew large
nipples, then snuffled his armpits straining the hair there with his
teeth. When the boy's tongue reached the big man's belly button he started
to breathe faster. He ruffled Jamie's hair and pushed him lower, demanding
service. Jamie turned his face to the giant cock straining upward from a
wiry bush and started to lick away the drops welling out of the tiny slit
at the end.  This drew approving moans from Andrew, as his penis vanished
into a velvet warmth that was his boy's mouth. Jamie gently gnashed it with
his teeth, tugging on the glans with soft sucks. Andrew spread his legs
apart and squirmed, tossing his head. When the hard member was coated and
slick Jamie rolled onto his belly.

"I can't wait," he said, his face flushed with ardor. "Please fuck me."

Andrew kissed his shoulder and asked: "Are you sure you are ready?"

"Bless you sir, for asking me, but yes, I am sure. Surer than ever. I want
you in me. I need you inside me, all of you, as deep as you can go. Take
me, possess me, make me your boy."

This felt so right, making love fully, not just foreplay with fingers and
dildos fun though that had been. This was making love. With just a little
push from his hips to get past the first sphincter, Andrew's cockhead
slipped into Jamie's ass, eliciting a gasp from the boy. Andrew paused,
letting his small lover get used to his huge girth. He pushed forward,
slipping into him little by little, his arms supporting his weight. When he
was a deep as he could go, he was rewarded with a blissful sigh from his
partner. Again Andrew gave Jamie time to get used to his girth, then
started to pump slowly in and out. He bent down to kiss the back of Jamie's
neck, tugging with his teeth at the hair at the nape of his neck.

They fell into a rhythm, Jamie raising his rump to meet the descending
shaft as it penetrated his ass, using his internal muscles to squeeze the
invading penis, both males sweating profusely. He responded as the boy on
the bottom begged him to go deeper and faster.

Jamie loved it when his master's monster cock touched his joy spot, no his
prostate, as he had learned to call it. As the invading shaft stimulated
the prostate, his whole body shuddered helplessly. His lithe torso rippled
in a wave that started at his ass and traveled up past the hips and back
and shoulders to the head, a reflex action indicative of overwhelming
lust. Jamie felt his guts clutch in an internal orgasm.  His green eyes
blinked and rolled sightlessly and lost focus as he surrendered himself to
the good feelings coursing through him. As the shaft fell into a rhythm of
penetration and withdrawal, the sensation became overwhelming. He lost the
ability for rational thought for the duration. His body was tempest tossed
on a sea of sensation, the blood pounding at his temples, his boy cock as
stiff as he could ever remember.

It went on and on, the thrusting and the plunging, Andrew's masculinity
pushing into the boy deeper than he had ever felt, till, in the fullness of
time, the boy felt a wet warmth flooding his bowels as the baronet, his
lord and master in every sense, spewed his seed deep within him, setting
off Jamie's own passionate ejaculation onto the sheets.

Jamie sighed in the afterglow of their lovemaking. It had been everything
he had wished for. His only regret was that sex for the first time with the
baronet could happen only once. It had been a transformational experience
for a impressionable lad, only seventeen. More than anything else it
confirmed that Jamie was a boy who needed to be fucked hard and often and
by a man who knew how.

The two lovers were soon trying out all the positions in that damn book the
boy had studied. It wouldn't be long before they explored the delights of
the later chapters. He was one bottom boy who knew how to respond to a
shag.

The boy was content. He knew he had a bright future ahead of him. He was
healthy, had work that he enjoyed, good companionship, and now a great
lover and fantastic sex.

The next day Jamie was surprised to learn that from now on, he would occupy
the House of Pleasure though still taking his meals with the other servants
at their lodge. He was pleased to have a place to himself. Moving in took
no time at all. The boy had no 'effects' to move: no clothing, no
equipment, no personal items, nothing.

He lay on the bed and spread his limbs wide in an X. All this was now his,
a place to rest and a place to play. He had everything material he needed
within his skin. What concern did a naked joy boy have with possessions,
especially given that he himself was a possession -- the baronet's
property.

For one uneasy moment, it struck him that this was an example of animal
husbandry, moving a breeding farm animal to a new stall. The boy lived much
like a farm animal did, after all. Like a head of livestock he was owned,
branded, naked, fed, groomed, trained and put to work, and now bred by the
owner.

In the House of Pleasure, the big bedroom would give him privacy for his
sessions with the baronet. It gave them a place to meet separate from the
big house with its occasional visitors. The baronet entertained
occasionally and so needed to keep his hobby of bedding pretty boys
separate from the social whirl of the island plantocracy.

Eventually, when he was given library privileges, the classroom doubled as
his study, the boy using the comfortable chair in the corner he had
previously not been allow to sit in. Of course he usually read in a cane
chair on the small verandah attached to the House or stretched out on the
grass kept short by the sheep the baronet had around the place for just
that purpose, the eighteenth century version of a lawn mower.

Morgan and the baronet were always gratified with how much curvature a
slender kid like Jamie could display lying belly down, propped on elbows
with legs spread apart. From the front, he looked so, well flat, though
corrugated with rippled abs, pecs, ribs, and nicely formed muscles, but his
fawn-like physique was the very opposite of the bulging muscles of a strong
man. From the rear, the boy was all curves: the calves, the thighs, the
firm globes of the buttocks, the swale of the lower back, the slope up to
the shoulder blades which formed winglets on his upper back, the cylinder
of his neck and finally the twin spheres and tubular cock lying so
enticingly between the fork of the legs.

Two years later, the baronet sat in his gallery, looking through his
portfolios of Jamie at ages 16, 17, 18, and now just 19. In a startling
change from prior practice, for each of those years, the baronet had put
two portraits of Jamie in his gallery of naked ones. There were now eight
in all. Should he extend the series, he wondered. Double his time on the
plantation, and Jamie would still be within a boy's peak years, 16 to
22. Should he keep the boy at his side for a full five years? More? He was
tempted. None of the naked ones had excited him like Jamie or made him feel
so tender towards a boy.

Outwardly Jamie was little changed from the day of his arrival except that
his hair reached the top of his shoulder blades. Colfax would not let Jamie
cut it, despite the hot climate and the bother it was to take care of. His
height finally did hit five-five exactly, by adding that final fractional
inch. He was the same weight, eight stone and three, though with more in
his upper storey and a bit less around the waist and hips. He was
incredibly cut and defined, without a scrap of extra flesh. Completely
hairless of course. They had finally used the voodoo lotion on his face
after the first bit of fuzz sprouted on his cheeks.

What wasn't so obvious at first was the firmness of his musculature and his
stamina. As agile as a monkey and as limber as a cat, Jamie was
breathtakingly fit. He ran and climbed and swam all the time these days, in
the afternoon, after his gardening chores, of course. He might be the
proprietor's 'naked one' but the baronet tolerated no idle hands among his
servants. The last thing he wanted in a lover was a soft, pampered, and
indolent drone.

The way he traipsed about the plantation, utterly unself-conscious about
nudity after years without clothing. Rather like an animal wasn't it. He
seemed to accept that clothing was not for him, ever. By now his feet had
toughened with thick calluses, at least as effective as moccasins. His
naked beauty was a constant and welcome reminder of the concupiscence he
aroused in so many, especially his master.

It had been a good three years very nearly -- years filled with rapture,
joy, excitement, and even adventure, like the time they had gone for a long
walk together and been caught by a storm across the raging creek and had to
risk fording it. The boy would have drowned had not the powerful arms of
the baronet wrapped themselves around his small rain slicked body and held
him firmly. Their lovemaking that night had been especially tender and
sweet, both males realizing how close they had come to losing each other.

Andrew took Jamie from behind as they lay on their sides, a position
allowing for languid movements and easy pauses instead of the more
energetic ways Colfax usually made love to to Jamie: on his back with his
heels in the air, on all fours taken boy bitch style, or straddling the
baronet's hips. As Andrew spent himself into his lover, Jamie spurted his
seed onto the sheets. Andrew swiped the milky fluid up with his finger and
offered it to Jamie, then took a taste of it itself.

The baronet was a thoughtful lover, not with material gifts, for the boy
remained as before, and by the baronet's intent, completely without
possessions. The baronet was generous with his attentions and his time. He
was always ready to talk to the boy. He knew the boy had a good head on his
shoulders and an insatiable curiosity. That is why he gave the boy library
privileges. Jamie just had to be sure to put a slip of note paper on the
shelf where the book had been and write the title to let Andrew know that
the book was not misplaced, just borrowed.

They spent many happy hours talking about tales of adventure like Robinson
Crusoe which Jamie was gratified to learn was based on a real life incident
of a mariner marooned on an island off the coast of Chile. They both
enjoyed Gulliver's travels, in modern times often considered a children's
tale, but the original was a biting social and political satire, much of
which the baronet had to explain to his rather naive lover.

The baronet taught Jamie to play chess. The youth was turning into a fair
player who sometimes gave Andrew a real challenge, though his pawn game was
still weak. They had started playing seated across a table, but Jamie's
diminutive stature, just over a foot shorter than his master, meant he was
always looking up at Andrew. One day, before the baronet showed up for
their game, Jamie swung the table around a quarter circle and set up the
board near one end, where Andrew would sit. Then Jamie parked himself on
the table itself seated with legs folded and crossed. As the baronet
entered the room, he was greeted by the sight of the full curvature of the
boy from shoulders to hips, to perky butt. That brought a smile to his
features. Now he could drink in all of Jamie's beauty as they played.

It happened though that the game went against Andrew that day. He gave his
young opponent a sardonic look, one eyebrow raised.

"I see now that you did this only to distract me. Shameless lad!" He
charged in mock annoyance.

Jamie responeded with his second best expression of injured innocence, as
if to ask: "Who me?"

Colfax chuckled then turned his attention back to their game, frowning in
concentration, knowing Jamie was one pawn up on him. Aburptly he realized
distraction was a game two could play at. He reached out and fondled the
lovely genitals on display and conveniently so near to hand, murmuring,

"J'adoube."

(Which was what a player said when he touched a chess piece merely to
adjust its position on the board, without intending to play it. Otherwise a
touch would count as a turn.)

Jamie snorted at this less than subtle distraction, but his body decided it
was a welcome one; his cock plumped up and began to lift off as his pulse
pounded. The boy glared at his traitorous member, drawing so much blood
away from his brain, but it did no good, especially once the baronet
tweaked the head of the cock as it slid out of its sheath.

"Please, Andrew." Jamie was allowed to use his first name when alone with
the older man.

"Tut, tut, little one. Turn about is fair play."

Poor Jamie lost his concentration entirely as hormones flooded his
bloodstream. Within four moves he had to resign the game. At least the
baronet was considerate enough to give him a deep kiss as he got up to
leave, which turned into a full shag as his master suddenly dragged the boy
to the edge of the table, threw him onto his back, and lifted his legs into
the air. With much giggling and mock protestations, the two enjoyed either
other yet once again.

Andrew sometime played at cat's cradle with the lad, where the boy's small
hands and nimble fingers gave him the advantage. The game was one of the
happy memories the baronet had of his mother, who had died when he was only
nine. The loss and his father's tyranny and coldness to him had been the
first shock to unhinge the young baronet's mind.

			Chapter 6. The Hunt

Jamie still was not allowed anywhere else in the house, and he was careful
not to let his natural curiosity get the better of him and had done nothing
naughtier than to peek into the gallery of the naked ones, gratified to see
so many more pictures of himself than any of his predecessors.

Still there were clouds on the horizon. The baronet would not answer
questions about the other naked ones except to dismiss them as ancient
history. He got brusque if pressed. Another sore point was any mention of
Will Jenkins. Even a passing mention one night that Will was his first
lover brought an expression of cold fury to the baronet's aristocratic
features. Even Jan Van Wyck would not talk to Jamie about the other naked
ones who had preceded him.

The baronet had become given to mood swings of late. Once again he was
thinking about hunting. Damn this isolation on Jamaica, an island with no
big game to speak of. Spanish Florida held panthers, yes. Rather small
though compared to the tigers he had shot in India. Yes there were jaguars
in Spanish America, but he had taken their measure. Shooting dumb animals
had become a bore. He had heard that the elephants of Africa were even
larger than the Indian variety and the Cape Buffalo a wily powerful beast,
but he did not care to venture into their habitat, pestilential regions
aptly called the White Man's Graveyard.

Now The Hunt, that was something else. Always different because the game
was intelligent, not merely instinctual. And because he put at risk not
only his own life, but that of a boy he loved. At least he thought he loved
his naked ones. Never before like Jamie though. That lad was different. Not
only a lover but a companion. Pure and wanton, submissive and assertive,
bookish and athletic. A study in contradiction. Except for Jamie he had had
only one other boy at Colfax Plantation during the five years, and he had
gotten snake bitten a year before Jamie arrived, before Colfax had
deflowered him properly

Should he call a Hunt? He hadn't done so in over four years, politely
declining invitations from the other members of the club who were still
hunting. Did he really want to? Was his blood lust still strong. Should he
deprive himself of the boy's company. Could he? Had he fallen so far under
his spell? He knew the boy had fallen under his. Utterly devoted no matter
how many of the staff he frolicked with on the side. Was his affection for
the boy Jamie so weak?. He wrote his thoughts down in his journal.

One day, quite by chance as Jamie scanned the library shelves he noticed a
fine leather bound volume with no title on its spine. He pulled it off the
shelf and glanced at it. It was the journal, Andrew's journal. Jamie was
intrigued. Finally he would know more of his mysterious lover's hidden
past.

Eagerly he started reading, but soon found himself skimming the book,
shocked, appalled, and afraid. It was a record of Colfax's hunts, his
manhunts or maybe boy-hunts was a better description. His own lovers were
the naked prey that Colfax had released on a deserted island, tracked down
and shot dead! Just over a dozen of them in eight years, ending four years
earlier. Suddenly the vigorous physical training made sense. It wasn't just
to make a boy look his best and to perform well in bed. It was to make him
better sport for the hunt. And his gallery of portraits were really trophy
heads!

His mind in a whirl, feeling betrayed and afraid. Jamie hurriedly replaced
the book on the shelf and fled to an isolated bower on the grounds and
cried his heart out. He did not know what to do. What options did he have:
an indentured servant, penniless, without political influence. Would it do
any good to denounce the baronet to the authorities? The governor in
Spanish Town was a relation. Did the white cadre know about the hunts?.

There was the journal. If he did flee to the authorities he would have to
bring it with him as proof. Otherwise it would be his word against the
baronet's, and they would just hand him back as a runawqy indenture. He
would have to lay his plans carefully, only snatching the book at the last
moment before fleeing. Meanwhile he would try to act normally, as if
nothing were wrong.

Alas Jamie had entirely too much confidence in his abilities as a
thespian. He had passed Morgan on his way to supper barely acknowledging
the man, thinking surely he must know. Jamie could not trust him. Morgan
was startled by the boy's cold demenanor. He mentioned to the baronet that
Jamie's face was tear streaked from crying. What could be wrong?

Then in bed that night, the boy's attitude was a giveaway. However much he
tried to be his usual self, it was obvious the boy was afraid, terrified
even. Sudden fear clutched at the big man's belly. If the boy was suddenly
terrified of the baronet, it could mean only one thing. He knew.

Colfax concluded their lovemaking early. Jamie was so relieved he did not
realize his lover's suspicions. Colfax raced over to the big house to check
his library. Yes, the journal was on the shelf alright, but not quite in
the right place and not lined up with the others to both sides. Obviously
the boy had chanced upon it, taken it down, and looked through it.

Colfax was sick at heart. He had not yet made up his mind about a hunt and
had seriously thought about sparing the lad, at least for a few more years,
and only decide then. They would have been happy together. Why oh why did
Jamie have to go and spoil everything, to dash Andrew's hopes and dreams
for their future. The baronet cried as he had not cried since the death of
his mother as a boy. He stumbled into the gallery and looked at Jamie's
portraits, sick at heart: lovesick, heartsick, afraid, disheartened, and
finally angry.

The loss of those years they might have spent together struck him as
intolerable. Here Jamie had forced his hand. It was all his fault. Let it
be on his head then.

Five days later, the baronet and two fellow hunters put out to sea. Their
schooner would carry them to the deserted island the Hunt Club used as a
private preserve. The boy Jamie and three others were in the hold below,
though no longer bound and gagged as they had been when brought aboard.

Colfax was still angry. Angry at the boy. Angry at Morgan who had
confronted him as he loaded the boy into a light wagon for the trip to the
port.

"Where are you taking that boy? Why is he bound and gagged? My God! You
have drugged him."

"Stand down, Mr. Morgan. He is mine to do with as I will. Do not try my
patience. I made you, and I can break you."

Morgan was afraid for the boy, no the young man he had come to love. But
the baronet had the law on his side. Any interference by Morgan would be a
crime in itself, and the baronet was armed, as was Van Wyck. Also Colfax
had information on Morgan that would put him on the gallows. Back in
England, Morgan had been involved in Jacobite intrigues to restore the
Stuarts to the thrones of England and Scotland.

Jan Van Wyck was along on the voyage as first mate. Only he of all the
white cadre on the plantation knew about the Hunt. He had taken part in one
himself, as the quarry, the only one of Colfax's naked ones to actually
survive for six days on the island and to reap the reward of freedom and a
well-paid job. He went from penniless and naked indentured servant and bum
boy to comfortably paid overseer at the plantation. Although his boyish
looks suggested otherwise, he had been ambivalent about his role as a bum
boy, exciting and arousing as it had been. He liked to top too but never
got the chance when in service as a naked one. Now he got to play with the
boys that came his way.

Two days into the voyage, the hunters released the boys from their
captivity. With nowhere to go, they were allowed the run of the deck so
that sunshine, fresh air and exercise would keep them healthy. All the boys
were apprehensive. Jamie had told them what their fate would be. Colfax and
Jamie studiously avoided each other for most of the long voyage. Finally
the baronet called him over.

"This is your fault Jamie. You should have trusted me. Given me a chance."

"Trusted you? Trusted you not to kill me after all those others? I loved
you Andrew. Part of me still does, but I am afraid of you. You betrayed my
love. How could you, after what we had together? What kind of a monster are
you?" He said, stalking off.

"A lonely one." Colfax whispered too softly for the boy to hear
him. Suddenly his eyes watered at the sight of the beauty he would soon
destroy.

A rain squall tossed the ship around the next day, but the seas turned calm
afterwards.

"I don't like sailing in hurricane season, Colfax," said one of the other
hunters. A florid man named Hawking, he was never a good sailor even at the
best of times.

"He has a point, Andrew, you know." said a lean hatchet faced man named
Barrett. "You called this hunt with very little notice. That is why only
the three of us could get away from our business affairs."

"Yes, my friend, I did, and I have explained why. The boy forced my
hand. It was time. Besides you had your own quarry just about ready, two
boys in your case Barrett."

"I just wish the islands were not so far away," Hawking added.

Their destination was the islands named for Fernando de Noronha, an
archipelago in the Atlantic Ocean nearly 200 nautical miles (350 km) off
the coast of Brazil at the point it juts out farthest into the South
Atlantic Ocean. Its islets and rocks were the tops of a submerged mountain
range, volcanic in origin. Situated just four degrees south of the Equator,
it had a tropical climate with two seasons: the wet season lasting eight
months of the year and a dry season from September to December.

Their course was southeast, across the Caribbean, through the Windward
Islands, then into the open sea paralleling the north coast of South
America, a straight line of some 3,000 miles. Sailing in the face of the
trade winds, their ship had to tack back and forth till they got past the
aptly named Windward Islands. Still they made landfall safe and sound,
dropping anchor in a cove on the southwest corner of the heavily forested
main island.

"How ideally this island suits our purpose, Colfax," Hawking
observed. "Completely unpopulated with no nation claiming it at the
moment."

The islands had been discovered by the Portuguese a few years after the
first voyage of Columbus, later seized by the English for twenty years,
then the French for sixty more. In the seventeenth century it changed hands
four times between the Dutch and the Portuguese only to be abandoned once
more. Now it was a terra nullius, a land belonging to no man and ideal for
their purpose. It was unclaimed, too far from shipping lanes to interest
pirates, uninhabited and, though well-watered, really too small for a
settlement. The main island was about 6 miles long (10 km) and a third as
wide for surface area of about 7 square miles (18 km2). That was large
enough to furnish their quarry a sporting chance but not so large they
could get lost in the wilderness.

Unknown to the hunters, Van Wyck had sided with Jamie, giving him a map of
the island to memorize and showed him the trails and where to find food,
water, shelter, and places to hide. He pointed out the two crumbling forts
where he might find an old sword or some other weapon. He urged Jamie to
recruit the other boys and plan for concerted action. They should decide on
rallying points in case they became separated. Jamie was grateful and
stifled his resentment at how the young man had kept silent these last
three years when he might have warned Jamie.

"How did you escape the hunt, Jan, when they went after you?", Jamie asked.

"I hid out in a storm. They almost had me the second day but then a storm
blew in. It rained heavily for three days, washing out footprints. At times
the downpour was so heavy you could hardly see to walk though they
tried. It helped that I was naked anyway. I just slid along the ground on
my belly, low to the ground, scampering like a lizard. The last day,
everything was so muddy and waterlogged they couldn't hunt at all. I turned
up two days later at the landing point and turned myself in. It was that or
starve. Colfax was true to his word. I'll give him that."

He also explained that before the storm he had relied on his woodcraft to
keep ahead of the hunters. Jan had been transported at age fifteen for
poaching. The main problem for the quarry was drinking water. The hunters
would look for the boys wherever there were fresh water sources. Their
numbers on this hunt were too small to stake out all the water sources as
in previous hunts, but they would check them from time to time, whether
directly or by observation through a spyglass.

In his own defense, Jan said he thought that after four years Colfax had
given up the hunt. He had seen that the baronet had fallen deeply in love
with his latest naked one and hoped he would spare Jamie. To be fair, Van
Wyck was only making what he could of a bad situation and hoping for the
best for all.

"This hunt is going to be different," Jamie assured the other three boys.

"How? They have guns, we are naked and unarmed. What chance do we have?"

"Every chance. We have at least three advantages the other boys did not
have. First, we know what is coming. Second we have studied the map, so we
know the ground. Third, we can plan how we will work together to survive."

"So what is your plan, Jamie?"

"We split up and force them to divide their forces, but rendezvous so we
can attack one of them alone. If we can get his weapons, we will have a
chance against the other two."

The other boys were impressed with the good sense in the plan. Certainly
neither Allen nor Will nor Eric had anything better to offer. However only
Eric was really familiar with firearms. The rest had some idea but that was
all. Well the men would also have machetes or knives or maybe swords. Jamie
knew one thing, when they did strike back the boys would have to be quick
and surprise the hunters. In a stand up brawl, they would not have a
chance.

Neither of their masters had insisted on nudity full-time for his boys but
they had all embraced the chance to be entirely free of clothing, to ignore
the conventions of society, to flaunt their youth and physical beauty, to
show off their nicely rounded rumps and their proud cocks. Eric had even
asked his master to burn his few items of clothing. Thanks to the Voodoo
lotion, all the boys were hairless. Hawking took his boy to bed only twice
a week, if that, mainly because Eric was available and pretty, though his
major interest was the hunt itself. Barrett had fucked his lads Allen and
Will much more frequently. They were all healthy limber lads though none
had been so thoroughly trained as Jamie.

Although they were thrown in together and nude, none of them was interested
in sex. This was not a time for frolic.

On the last evening, Colfax had Jamie brought to his cabin, sat him down
and offered him wine. Why not Jamie thought. A little wine would steady his
nerves, maybe help him sleep this final night aboard. Colfax was in a
pensive mood, wanting to talk about how Jamie had come into his life, how
he had spotted him at the auction, how much he had laughed at the matron
who had scorned Jamie for a boy of thirteen when he was closer to seventeen
than sixteen, and Jamie's own mortification and full body blush. He talked
of how well Jamie took to his physical training and then to his training in
lovemaking. Through all this Jamie made only the briefest of comments or
replies to direct questions. Finally Colfax pulled Jamie onto his lap,
stroking the boy's hair, smelling it, kissing the back of his neck, rubbing
his belly.

"Oh, Jamie. I have missed you. I hated you at first for forcing my hand,
but I cannot hate you any longer. You are different from the other boys. I
really fell in love with you. We might have spent our whole lives
together..."

With tears in his eyes, he pressed Jamie to him. The boy responded, partly
from hope that even now he could dissuade the baronet from his purpose,
partly from his own deep feelings for the older man. Andrew led Jamie over
to his bunk and put Jamie onto it then rapidly disrobed. They embraced and
made love with a desperation and an urgency never felt before. Unusually,
Jamie was on top, straddling Andrew's hips, impaled on the man's cock. He
repeatedly raised his rump then let it slump back, driving the huge member
deep into his body. Colfax reached out to tweak Jamie's tiny red nipples,
tugging, twisting, rolling, pinching. Jamie's nipple were extremely
sensitive to manipulation, almost like another joy spot. The boy shuddered,
incredibly aroused, as the pain in his chest shot through his torso to his
belly, triggering an even bigger wave of heat, setting his ass muscles to
clutching at the shaft buried deep in his body.

Both males shook with the power of their lust, sweat making their bodies
slick. Andrew swiped Jamie's brow and presented his fingers for the boy to
taste his own sweat. They kissed, tongues thrusting and probing. They
pressed this lips and their bodies together, taking in the very smells of
their lover, the sweet scent of boy mixed with a hint of the wine he had
consumed, the sharper scent of the man mixed with a whiff of tobacco from
one of the small Spanish cigars he occasionally indulged in.

Afterwards, they clung together for a very long time. Colfax finally rose
and slipped on a robe and left the cabin to pace the deck, leaving Jamie
asleep in his bed. He rejoined him later, slipping in beside the boy
carefully so as not to wake him, and slept with the boy he loved in his
arms. The next morning, Colfax woke Jamie by a gentle shake on the
shoulder. For a moment the boy was confused about where he was and why,
reaching out as always to his master. Then he remembered, expressions of
fear and hope raced across in his exquisite features.

"I am sorry Jamie. I cannot stop this. It is too late for that, too late
for both of us. Now that you know their names, Barrett and Hawking cannot
let you live."

Colfax's heart almost broke as he saw the last hope die in Jamie's
eyes. Stone-faced the boy left him.

The hunting party and their quarry landed on the island. Their naked prey
got three hours head start. After that they were fair game. Any who
survived after six days could report back to the ship after hearing the
firing of the chaser (a small canon), the recall signal. Their lives would
be spared and they would be set free and offered a choice of a job or a sum
of money.

The boys looked fearful, their limbs trembling, looking over at the hunters
nervously, partly for real partly to lend verisimilitude to their staged
argument on shore about whether to stick together or make it every man for
himself. As they ran off separately, the hunters had no idea that the boys
were operating according to a plan. The hunters sighed at the sight of so
much youthful male pulchritude that would soon be destroyed. The four
youths really were lovely, toned, tanned, smooth limbed, running off like
deer into the forest.

Three youths made obvious trails as if they running in panic to get as far
from the hunters as they could. Jamie crept carefully for two miles to the
area he had chosen for an ambush, a rocky cliff overlooking the sea. The
trail ran along the top of the cliff with thick forest beginning a few
yards from the brink. As Eric lead Hawking up the trail, Jamie worked
frantically with a sharp stone to cut a long vine off at the roots. (It is
only in Tarzan movies that vines have free ends dangling to the ground.) At
the top it clung to a big tree over forty feet above the ground. Jamie
stationed himself on a branch away from the path to give him enough room
for a good swing. Eric ran past, leading Hawking into the trap. Suddenly a
shot rang out. The boy clutched his belly and went down.

Disaster loomed. Not only was Eric down, but Hawking was nowhere near in
position for Jamie's attack. Gamely Eric dragged his wounded body up the
trail for a ways then turned to face his killer. He shouted curses at him,
glancing only once to satisfy himself that his comrade was in position and
ready to avenge him. Hawking was having too much fun to think of possible
danger to himself. He chortled as he walked slowly toward his prey. Smiling
he said to the boy.

"Even if what you said about my ancestry were true, it is you sweet Eric
who is going to meet his ancestors sooner that I."

At the very last second he heard a swoosh and half turned but not in
time. Jamie's compact body slammed into his chest feet first, cracking his
ribs. Hawking had time for only a shout of surprise when he went over the
cliff, falling headfirst thirty feet to his death. Jamie swung back and let
go of the vine, took one look, then raced over to his friend.

"Did we get the bastard, Jamie?"

"Yes, we did it, Eric. His head is split open and his brains are all over
the rocks below. Now let's see what we can do for you."

"Sorry Jamie, but there is nothing to do for me but give me a Christian
burial. This is a pretty island. Bury me here."

Then, his courage slipping only a little, he groaned.

"I am too young to die!", but he did.

Jamie cried as he laid his friend out with arms crossed as if in prayer,
then slid down a vine to the base of the cliff. Unfortunately, the
flintlock on the man's rifle had been smashed, but Jamie got his machete, a
pistol, some balls and black powder, and a water bottle. He undid the man's
broad leather belt and put it around his waist, though he had to punch a
hole in it for his small waist. The belt would keep his hands free and
still let him carry the pistol, and ammunition, machete and water
bottle. In the heavy man's pockets he found a sandwich, a meat pie, and a
couple of apples that the man had brought with him for lunch.

As arranged the boys made their first rendezvous and at nightfall crept
into their first hiding place. Their hides were scratched from pushing
through the underbrush. At night, they were bothered by insects, though as
an island far out at sea, less than on Jamaica. They were dusty, sore, and
tired but alive. They shared the sandwich but kept the rest for the next
day, the first full day on the island. If they could forage other food,
they would save the meat pie and apples for the third day. The three
remaining boys slept together, bodies touching for reassurance.

Allen and Will kissed a bit, lovers that they were, but no one suggested
sex. Time enough for that if they lived. The moon was nearly full, shining
its silvery light on the slender naked bodies of the trio, three pretty
youths, inexplicably thrown up on this inhospitable shore.

On shore in sight of their ship, the other two hunters signaled fruitlessly
with their horns but got no reply from Hawking. They returned to the ship,
uncertain about what had happened but got more and more concerned when
Hawking did not join them for dinner. Nor was there any response to the
sound of the recall signal with the small cannon.

The next day, Colfax and Barrett off, this time together so they could
watch each other's back. The hunters followed Hawking's trail and found his
body along with that of Eric. They also saw that his weapons had been
taken. This hunt would now require greater caution on their part. Still
they had the experience and their rifles the greater range, and now they
had yet another reason to hunt their quarry down and kill them. Maybe
Hawking was not the most convivial of men, but he was a member of the Hunt
Club, the only one to perish at the hands of his naked prey. He must be
avenged.

Jamie had decided to keep the machete for himself and gave the pistol the
ammunition and the belt to Allen who thought he was up to handling
it. though he had never shot anything except a fowling piece and only a few
times. Jamie had no experience with guns and hardly knew how to load one.

The hunt went on for two more days, their knowledge of the terrain and
their youthful endurance and speed keeping the boys ahead of the
pursuit. Patches of volcanic rock and packed soil, and criss-crossing
tracks made it hard for the hunters to track the boys.

On the fourth day, Colfax and Barrett pretended to split up while Colfax
circled around, trapping Jamie in a cul de sac blocked on three sides by
volcanic rock. Jamie crept into a briar, ignoring the minor tears from its
thorns, crouching in the low open space below the branches closest to the
earth. He hoped the hunters did not know where he was for sure. Maybe he
could wait them out till dark, then slip away to the next rendezvous.

Unfortunately Jamie's long blond locks had been his undoing. No color
stands out against the green of forest and jungle like corn yellow. Too bad
the boy had not thought of camouflage, darkening the color with mud or
maybe weaving a cap of leaves. A flash of yellow as he dove into the briar
had caught the older man's eye. Barrett dashed Jamie's hopes of just lying
low till nightfall, calling out:

"Come out of there, boy, or we will set this briar on fire. You can roast
or come out. Stand up, and die like a man."

With no choice really, Jamie complied. He contemplated a rush with the
blade but saw that the two hunters had put a tangle of low thorn bushes
between them which would trip him up. He let the machete fall from his
fingers.

"Your boy, your shot, Colfax." Barrett said, magnanimously, a smile of
satisfaction on his face for having tracked the boy down.

Colfax raised his weapon and pointed it at the boy he loved. Jamie stood
tall, or as tall as his slight build permitted, and looked at Andrew,
resigned and pained, with sorrow and longing for their lost love in his
eyes. The barrel wavered, then fell away.

"I ... I can't." Colfax said in a low voice, a look of anguish on his face
as he drank in the sight of Jamie standing there so bravely, awaiting
death, afraid but unbowed.

"Well, I can!" Barrett growled, raising his rifle to his shoulder.

"No!" Colfax shouted discharging his weapon into the man's torso.

"Bastard!" Barrett shouted as he fell to one knee and shot Colfax in the
side.

Both then let go of their weapons and fell to the earth.

Jamie rushed to Colfax and tore open his shirt, seeing how bad the wound
was. It was very bad indeed. Colfax was bleeding profusely and would soon
bleed out. Jamie looked about for some way to help Colfax, to staunch the
flow of blood. Maybe he could bind up the wound and get him to the ship. He
could send one of the other boys for help. Yes, sailors from the ship. The
captain knew something of healing. He spoke in a rush, babbling really,
about how he would save the man who had, in the end, saved him.

"Don't, Jamie, don't. The wound is mortal. It must have hit my spleen. I am
dying, as I must for my many crimes."

Jamie's eyes filled with tears as he pleaded with the baronet. "Please
don't die. I don't want you to die." He wailed.

"It is out of our hands, Jamie. You did save me, you know. You saved my
soul. I could never have survived your death anyway, so my life was over no
matter what happened. But you will live. Don't think too harshly of me,
Jamie.

The boy shook his head, No, Andrew, never. I love you with all my heart."

"I know that Jamie. That is what saved me from my madness. I love y..."

And so died Andrew, Third Baronet Colfax, finally wholly sane, his last act
a selfless one -- saving the life of the beautiful and brave young man he
had come to love.

				Epilogue

They buried Eric on the island per his wish and as just one body too many
to explain. Van Wyck brought the ship to Pernambuco in Brazil. They
reported the deaths of the three hunters and arranged a funeral and burial
in the local Protestant cemetery since the bodies would not keep for a
voyage of three thousand miles. (The cemetery was a relic of a quarter
century of Dutch rule a hundred years earlier.) Burial at sea was not an
option. They had to establish, as a legal fact, that the three men had died
accidentally, not from foul play.

Fortunately no one questioned that both Barrett and Colfax had shot each
other, as indeed they had. A ball of a caliber matching the other man's
weapon was extracted from each of their bodies.  Even if it had been a
quarrel, the guilty were dead. Hawking's death was put down to an
accidental fall from a cliff. There were no signs he had been pushed. Van
Wyck and the 'servant boys' who were now dressed in garb borrowed from the
crew were never suspected of wrongdoing. The coroner's court declared for
three deaths by misadventure. The hunters had set out to kill peccaries and
met their own deaths.

Jan Van Wyck then brought the ship back to Jamaica sure that the boy would
keep silent about The Hunt as he had promised the dying baronet. The
authorities in Jamaica accepted the tale of a hunting accident and a fall
based on the report of the Portuguese authorities at Pernambuco. In the
wake of the disaster, the Hunt Club quietly disbanded. It never had had
more than eight members at any one time. Two years later the French took
control of the islands for a few years till the Portuguese kicked them
out. The archipelago of Fernando de Noronha remained under Portuguese
control till Brazilian independence almost a century later.

Colfax's last will and testament freed Jamie from his indenture, not by
name but under a general provision in the document. The title and the
English estate entailed with it plus his English investments went to a
distant cousin. A codicil filed just before Colfax sailed on his ill-fated
voyage left the plantation and much of Colfax's fortune to Jamie. The
bequest was made either in the event of his death or the baronet's failure
to return from the voyage within two months, which was to be construed as
evidence of his death. He must have suspected that he might not come back
from this final hunt, conflicted as his heart was. (The new baronet did not
contest the bequest to Jamie to avoid a scandal about a bum boy as Andrew's
secondary heir.)

Morgan and Jamie moved into the big house and managed the plantation as a
team. Master though he now was, the boy wore clothing only when he
absolutely had to, such as for visits to Kingston or to the capital at
Spanish Town.

They left the gallery as a memorial to the slain boys. Morgan continued the
tradition of commissioning annual portraits of Jamie.

Under the will, each of the white cadre got the generous sum of two hundred
pounds. Van Wyck stayed on at the plantation, occasionally joining Morgan
and Jamie for frolic. Samson and Beulah each got one hundred pounds and
were manumitted as well. They married immediately and bought a small farm
nearby which Samson worked while Beulah stayed on as a cook at the
plantation, now working part-time for good wages. As his wedding gift,
Jamie built them a real house with four rooms, all with glass windows, a
separate kitchen (a safety feature of houses in those days for protection
from fires), and a shaded porch.

Jamie bought out the indentures of Allen and Will and freed them. They
paired off and started a tavern with their freedom dues, taking a third
partner as front man and barkeep. The boy's served tables and were
available as companions. Taking a pirate theme, they dressed outrageously
in tight, nearly sheer, low slung breeches that left little to the
imagination with a buccaneer's kerchief on the back of their heads. Many
sailors had developed a taste for 'sea pussy' and were happy for the chance
to take a clean boy to bed. Once word got out how completely hairless their
bodies were and how talented and shameless they were in the sack, their
fortune was assured.

Jamie did not want to own slaves, but mass emancipation was not possible
under the law. He instituted a system of wages for his slaves with a
portion withheld to enable them to eventually buy their freedom. Within
fifteen years, all the labor on the plantation was free. That made it much
less profitable, but Jamie and Morgan had simple tastes. They cared nothing
for ostentation or for cutting a figure in society.

Years later, anti-slavery reformers would point to the financial success of
the former Colfax plantation as proof that free labor could work on the
sugar islands. Their opponents countered with the undeniable truth that it
was much less profitable run that way. It would be a hundred years before
Britain abolished slavery in its colonies.