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Subject: Big Game Preserve 3 (m/t) (oral) (anal) (bond) (nc)
Date: Mon, 25 Sep 2006 04:40:15 -0500
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===================

Forwarded for author Luc Milne

Copyright 2006 by Luc Milne <lucmilne@telus.net>.  All rights reserved. 
Downloading of one copy for personal reading is allowed.

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

BIG GAME PRESERVE 3

"Getting Rammed"

The first time I saw the Ram he was standing eerily motionless in a paddock 
near the Lodge of the Big Game Preserve.  I walked to the rail fence and 
locked eyes with him, a threatening figure in the dying light of the day 
before my hunt was to begin.  He was a 6'3" animal with a fantastically 
enhanced ramcock and fuckbutt. Except for a light bush of pubic hair and a 
short brush of brown hair on his head, he was completely smooth and 
hairless.  Even in repose, his muscles quivered and his golden-brown eyes 
bored into me, as if daring me to capture him.

The moment I looked into those eyes I knew that I had to have him--he would 
be the ultimate trophy in my long list of "kills" at the Preserve.  It 
wasn't just the massive semi-hard cock arching heavily from his groin with 
its moist head the size of a small boy's fist; and it wasn't the succulent 
swell of his enlarged nipples, nor the perfectly rounded globes of his 
ass--it was the air of the untouchable about him that attracted me--the 
sense he radiated that no one would ever conquer him.

I had become something of a "legend" among the regular hunters on the 
Preserve.  A group of us who came several times a year for the pleasure of 
hunting down and using the "animals" liked to engage in a macho competition 
to see who could get the most and the best of the Special Reserve boys.   I 
was the one who had first caught Barbarian Boy, a product of the 
Laboratories "Mutant 1" series: after my 24 hours of abuse his wild spirit 
was almost broken, his swollen tits sucked raw, his cock and balls drained 
and drooping, his lush lips bruised from the repeated assaults of my dick, 
and his tight ass-pucker slack and wet after being raped with my fist 
wrapped around my cock.

And I was the one who had famously tracked down the elusive Ivory Boy and 
returned him to the animal compound with his white skin red-striped from 
lash marks, his creamy marble cock raw and spongy from my feasting.  Later 
the Chief Warden told me that Ivory Boy's uncle had donated him to the 
Preserve for enhancement and hunting with the understanding that the 
remodelled teen would be returned to him for his own personal use after two 
years as prey.  The Warden said that the uncle was angry about my "abuse" of 
his property and requested that I never be allowed to hunt Ivory Boy again. 
I had no trouble promising that, since I don't like "second helpings" of 
animals I've already tasted.

So, when I felt the Ram glowering at me through the dusk on the evening 
before the hunt, I knew I had seen my ideal quarry and I was determined to 
have him, even if it took me all week to accomplish the kill.  Later that 
night as we sat in front of the fireplace in the Lodge's Great Room, I told 
my fellow hunters that the Ram was mine and that they should back off unless 
they wanted some serious aggravation from me.  The Warden warned me that Ram 
was an unusually elusive animal and that it was very rare for him to be 
caught.  In fact, he said, he could remember only two or three other hunters 
who had "killed" him, and that those hunters had been strangely silent on 
the days after their hunts, leaving before their weeks were up and never 
returning.

I laughed, and said "Well, then, it's about time for a real man to catch him 
and teach him what animals are good for!"

That night I sucked a load of fresh warm milk out of the boy provided by the 
management for special guests and laid my head to rest on the soft pillow of 
his thighs for a deep dreamless sleep disturbed only by a vague sense of 
being "watched" by golden-brown eyes.

The next morning, after the Lodge's spectacular Hunt Breakfast, including 
the Chef's famous Boymilk Scrambled Eggs, we gathered in the courtyard at 
the front of the building and downed the traditional tankards of brown ale 
before setting out on the day's "shooting".  I had my usual long gun, which 
I prefer to the laser pistol, my heat detector for spotting game at a 
distance, and two sets of cuffs, along with a cock leash for restraining any 
unruly animal once it's caught. I refused the "emergency beeper" to be 
pressed if there was serious trouble with an animal, as I was confident I 
could handle any difficulties that captured meat might cause.  Some of the 
guys went off in twos and threes to hunt together, but that's not my 
style--I'm a loner and when I make a kill I want the beast all to myself.

After the initial excitement of the first hour or so, I began to regret that 
I had set my sights only on the Ram.   I caught glimpses of prey gliding 
through the trees and creeping through the tall grass, but didn't make 
pursuit because the Ram wasn't among them.   Several times I could have 
taken a boy easily:  there was one very tempting black called the Panther 
who I startled at a watering trough and who ran off with his foot-long uncut 
meat swinging,  its copious precum making wet, smacking sounds as it slapped 
from thigh to thigh.  The cock flopped around like a black eel in the bottom 
of a boat, making it an easy target for even the poorest laser shot.  Just 
aim in the general direction of the bouncing meat and you were sure to make 
a hit.  Not enough challenge for me.  I like an animal that tries to protect 
his cock and balls, making it more difficult to hit them with the laser beam 
and set off the beeper implant that triggers his conditioned surrender.

And I found a lanky kid dozing beneath a tree, his legs wide, with a fat 
cock and plump loose balls draped across his thighs, just begging to be 
zapped.  But I'm pretty sure he was just pretending to sleep, waiting to be 
taken, one of the "Easy Kill" boys the Preserve keeps in stock for pussy 
hunters who don't really care about the chase.  In my opinion any animal 
that begs to be taken doesn't deserve a real hunter's cum.

I worked the woods and the fields all day, stopping only for a snack at one 
of the hunters' Food Stations and a quick drink of cum from a boy staked out 
on a picnic table in a small clearing for the refreshment of thirsty and 
horny clients.  Toward evening I was scouting along a ditch with a ten foot 
overhang because I could see some kind of heat source lighting up my scope. 
But there wasn't a bit of living flesh in sight.  I backtracked, seeing the 
hot spot move along in front of me, but still invisible:  I came to a rock 
outcropping with a narrow opening in it, leading perhaps a small cave:  I 
thought "so that's where you are, you fucker, hiding in the crevice of the 
rock".  I pressed against the rock face, edging closer and closer to the 
opening.

A pebble fell on my head, then another at my feet. Weeds rustled overhead. 
I started to raise my gun as I looked up at the edge of the outcrop, only to 
see a dark shape hurtling down on me.  A blow, like being struck by a 
two-ton truck, fell on me, crushing me to the dirt.  The gun flew out of my 
hands, as I felt myself rolled over onto my back and pinned down by a hot, 
sweaty body pressing full-length on my heaving chest and thrashing legs.  I 
couldn't get my breath because the beast's weight constricted  my lungs, 
making me gasp and shudder as I fought to push him off.

Then, suddenly, I was free of the weight!  I took a deep gulp of air and 
started to push myself up, but my wrists were gripped in iron fists and my 
arms were stretched above my head, while I felt my legs being wishboned by 
the animal's knees, opening up my crotch to the grinding pressure of his own 
groin.  I could feel a lead pipe of cockflesh moving  on my own cock, 
kneading it like a rolling pin on dough.  I opened my mouth to shout for 
help, but immediately felt my face covered by sucking lips and a long 
probing tongue dripping with tangy spit.  Every time I started to cry out or 
speak, that tongue plunged into my mouth, reaming out my cheeks and tickling 
the back of my throat with its vibrating tip.

This wet assault on my face had a curiously soothing effect, calming my 
panic:  it was as if some healing salve was being applied to my lips, my 
cheeks, my eyelids, and my brow.  The animal lapped at me like a big cat 
washing its kitten, covering me in spicy saliva, probing up into my nostrils 
with its tongue, rimming the shells of my ears, and painting my lips with 
its scent.  I knew that I was the prey of the Ram--that he had hunted me far 
more successfully than I had hunted him, and that I was going to experience 
something very nasty if I didn't recover my wits immediately.

By now Ram was straddling me, still tongue-stroking my face and neck, taking 
soft nips on my ear lobes and on the tender skin beneath my jaw, grinding 
his teeth on my throat, as if getting ready for a massive killing bite.  He 
had pinned my wrists with only one of his huge hands, leaving the other free 
to rip and tear at my clothes.  One swipe severed the shirt buttons and 
opened up my pecs to his exploring fingers: another wrench at my waist 
popped open my fly and shredded my shorts, giving him complete freedom with 
my cock and balls.   My dick had lost some of the normal hardness it has 
during my hunts, but it was still semi-hard, as if not sure whether to 
shrivel up completely or stretch out to full length again. I could now feel 
Ram's bare cock moving across my naked meat and digging into my balls, 
leaving a slime of precum over my whole crotch.

Steeling my mind for resistance, I began to roll from side to side, trying 
to dislodge myself from under his hovering body.  This enraged him and he 
used his free hand to grap my nuts and twist so that I yelled with the 
sudden pain.  As soon as the sound emerged from my throat he covered my lips 
again with his own, seeming to glory in the smothered cry that echoed up 
through his throat and into his body.  He ground my balls again in his 
massive paw and seemed to "eat up" my scream, his mouth glued to mine, his 
tongue digging out the sound of the pain from my gullet.

His fist moved to my cock and squeezed it so hard I almost lost consciouness 
for a second; then he jerked at the thickening shaft, forcing it to 
hardness, roughly slapping my cockhead against his own which swung heavily 
above it.  He moved his palm to both of the precum-soaked cockheads, mashing 
them together, scooping up the syrup, then rubbing it onto my face, which he 
began to wash again like a big cat with a rough tongue licking up its 
favourite cream.

Suddenly I decided to try a new tactic:  I let my body go completely limp. 
All struggle ceased and I laid there like a limp doll:  I suppose I was 
remembering that some wild animals will not attack prey which plays dead and 
offers no resistance.  This had an immediate effect on Ram (by now I no 
longer thought of him as "the" Ram; now he was just RAM, a primal brute 
force).  I felt him tense: he released my wrists above my head, and leaned 
down to sniff at my mouth and nose.  There was a long puzzled pause, and I 
thought that I might just be able to get away with my possum act.  Then he 
growled and slapped my face hard, back and forth several times.   I couldn't 
help reacting, bringing my hands down to protect myself.  He made a sound 
something like a laugh and caught my hands in his, forced them along my 
side, and moved up further on my chest, his strong legs pinning my arms to 
my body as his heavy testicles, pumped and enhanced to the size and weight 
of ripe grapefruit, came to rest beneath my chin; they pressed against my 
throat like a smothering pillow of flesh.   His warm, pulsing meat arched 
over my face, leaking its juice onto my forehead, the quivering erector 
muscle along the bottom of the shaft lying on my lips.

Then, for the first time, something like language came from his mouth:  it 
sounded like "You. Tongue. Now."  When I didn't respond he reached back and 
mauled my balls with his hand.  As I opened my mouth to gasp, he said again, 
"You.  Tongue.  Lick.  Now."  And so I began to lick that thick muscle that 
snaked along the meat, as he moved backward and forward on my face guiding 
my tongue to every inch of its broad velvety surface.

I don't know how long I licked.  I only know  my licker got so tired that 
finally all I could do was just leave it hanging out of my gaping lips and 
let him move his meat around on it at will, keeping up a low growl all the 
while.  Every surface of that gigantic flesh tube was washed with my spit; 
he made me polish the deep ledge of his meatus where it met the shaft, 
slaver over the smooth mushroom head, circle his swollen cocklips and probe 
down into his gaping cum shaft with my saliva-coated tip.

Whenever I closed  my mouth briefly to rest or swallow the constant trickle 
of precum down my throat, he would make a sound like a bark and slap my 
cheeks with that sticky club of cockmeat.  Finally he seemed to tire of my 
tongue bath, and moved forward on my chest so that his balls draped across 
my lips, an omen of the true "ball gagging" that was to come.

He said "You. Eat. Nuts. Eat. Now."   There was no way I could get those 
balls into my mouth, but he was determined that I should "EatNutsNow".   I 
opened my lips as wide as I could and then he opened them wider than I 
thought possible by prying my teeth even further apart with his fingers, 
using his other hand to force one spongy nut into my mouth cavity.   The 
rubbery mass was crammed into my face, filling my cheeks, stretching them to 
their limit.  "Eat. Now" he said.  Assuming he didn't want to get chewed on 
literally, I began to eat as best I could, using just my tired tongue to 
caress the soft ballskin and working my jaw bone around in a circle to 
massage the testicle as it rolled and soaked in my spit.  This "eating" 
seemed to stimulate his precum flow even more, until my eyelids were glued 
shut with the honey which seeped from his cocklips onto my upper face. 
Each ball got crammed into my maw and "eaten" several times before Ram was 
ready for the main event.

Pulling back so that his nut moistly popped out of my lips, he leaned down 
and licked away the precum from my lids and lashes, so that I could look up 
into his cruel eyes and stony face again.  He moved the tip of his cockhead 
to my lips and said "You.  Now.  Suck."  I tried to find some sign in his 
eyes that he understood I could never get that piece of meat through my 
lips, but I found there only a feral will to make my mouth his fuckhole.  He 
said "YouNoSuck. Ram. Kill."

The first three inches weren't too bad:  the head of his cock had been 
enlarged by the Game Preserve Labs but still kept its rounded taper shape, 
so I could work my lips up the rounded bulge bit by bit, getting used to the 
thickness gradually, trying to convince myself that maybe the impossible 
could happen after all.  To divert his attention away from the fact that I 
was taking a long time getting his cock into my face, I kept flicking my 
tongue at his cumhole, playing with the collagen enhanced cocklips.  But 
once my lips had finally slipped down over the fat rim of his meatus, there 
was nothing but an endless length of cockshaft moving inexorably toward my 
gag ring.  Breathing became difficult, forcing me to stretch my jaws even 
wider just to get a little intake of air, and the wider I stretched the 
deeper he moved his meat into me.  By now Ram was making a continuous series 
of sighing moans, each one louder and longer as inch by inch he penetrated 
my face.

Finally the head of his cock reached the "gate"--that muscle in my throat 
designed to keep large foreign things from choking me.  I've pushed my own 
meat through many a pussy's gag ring and never thought twice about the 
heaving and spewing that makes face fucking so much fun, but this was 
different.  This was a cock beyond sucking, a tube of animal meat no man 
could expect to swallow.  Ram seemed to sense that he had reached the 
critical point:  his response was simplicity itself.  He took my neck 
between his huge hands and began a slow squeeze:  this had the result of 
making me open my throat wider to keep from choking, my gag ring closing 
then dilating to ever-increasing size until the slick mushroom head of Ram's 
cock slid past the portal and moved smoothly, deep into my gulle,t stopping 
only when his pubic hair was tickling my nostrils.  I began to loose all 
sense of time and place:  my face, my mouth, my throat, my whole being was 
just a warm pulsating tunnel for the plunging cock of a wild beast.  Finally 
I faded out completely, feeling at the last moment the first warm promise of 
a flood of Ram sperm.

But it wasn't until later that I actually got to taste his cum: that first 
load went directly into my stomach too deep for my tastebuds, as I lay 
unconscious beneath his rutting groin.

When I came to awareness again I found that Ram was snacking on my own cock 
and balls.  He sat crosslegged on the ground with my body arched across his 
thighs so that he could easily lean down and get at my meat.  Ram was not a 
gentle eater: his idea seemed to be that the harder you worked a bone the 
more juice it would give up: he pulled at the skin of my shaft with his 
lips, and nipped my cocklips with his teeth, grinding my nuts in one hand 
while he pinched my tits with the other.  Seeing that I was awake, he said 
only "Feed. Now."

And, God knows how, feed him I did.  I never before experienced such a 
massive climax as I did under the brutal caresses of the animal I had 
promised to myself as a trophy.  I'm a guy who doesn't allow a sucker to 
mouth my cockhead while I shoot--I point my dick at a cunt's lips and spray 
him down with my cum, but I'm too sensitive to get sucked on while I'm 
spurting.  That wasn't Ram's way, though.  He stripped my cock hard until I 
began to spew and then chewed on my cock head, literally squeezing out the 
juice with his teeth and lips.   I screamed and bucked trying to push his 
mouth off my meat as I flooded him with spurt after spurt of hot cream. 
Then, when my balls were empty and I expected him to let go of my meat, he 
kept on, pulling on the shaft and working my cockhead mercilessly.  His hand 
moved down between my legs and he jammed two rough fingers up my asshole, 
going straight for the joy spot, which he pressed and massaged.  And 
somehow, before I knew what was happening, I shot again, and again, and 
again into his greedy mouth as he worked my prostate like a button on a 
video game.

As soon as his fingers went up my ass, I knew that I was going to experience 
Ram's cock in another hole beside my mouth.  He withdrew his hand and spit a 
big wad of cum and saliva into his palm, then pushed his wet fingers back 
into the hole, using the grease to soften up my ass ring and widen my pucker 
until his fist was halfway up my butt.  But fist fucking wasn't Ram's 
pleasure.  For the primitive man, holes are made for cocks.

He stood up, lifted me to stand facing him, then, gripping my arms, hoisted 
me up until my crotch was at his dick level: he pulled my arms around his 
neck,  my legs around his waist, reached around and spread my asshole wide 
with the fingers of one hand, and used his other hand to push his rampant 
cock up into me in one huge, grunting thrust.  As I opened my mouth to 
scream at the unbelievable pain that surged through my body, Ram put his 
hand on my neck and pressed my face down onto his chest, directing it to one 
of his enlarged nipples.  "Bite. Now." he said. I felt the strawberry-sized 
tit invade my lips and I bit down hard on it, partly because he told me to, 
and partly to take my mind off the grinding hurt in my fuck channel.  As I 
ground my teeth against the chewy nipple, he seemed to swell even bigger in 
my hole and began to buck up into me with feverish lust.

Then, incredibly he began to move, carrying me impaled on his thrusting 
cock, while I sucked at his nip, gradually developing from a slow walking 
pace into a rhythmic trot which made me bounce up and down on his pole, 
fucking myself as he ran.  We went on that way for what seemed like two or 
three miles: sometimes he moved my head to the other tit, saying "Hard. 
Bite. Now."   And I chewed frenziedly at his mouthfuls of nipple flesh while 
his shaft pistoned relentlessly into my cunt.

A strange sense of well-being overtook me: the rhythmic pounding up and down 
in my ass seemed to mesmerize my body, until I had the sensation of riding 
on a merry-go-round pony, spinning and panting, delerious with the pure 
pleasure of being filled to the core with throbbing cockflesh.  Normally I 
am the "fucker" preferring to make my prey suffer the agonies of rough, dry 
assrape, but as Ram fuck-trotted me along the woodland paths I felt a 
visceral change in my deepest sexual center.  I lived to be fucked.  I 
couldn't get enough meat inside my body:  I wanted the ride to last forever.

Finally I felt Ram's rhythmic fuck-run begin to falter:  his body started to 
tremble and he stumbled off the path as the rising cumlust took control.  We 
fell onto the soft earth and his ass cheeks began to clench uncontrollably 
as he pounded away in my hole.  I remembered from reading the Stock 
Catalogue that Ram's butt mounds had been enlarged and strengthened with 
exercise to give him unique staying power, and now I was to be the lucky one 
who benefitted from his stamina.  The pile-driving fuck continued for a long 
time as he rolled back and forth on my back lifting me up, then dropping me 
down, shaking me like a rag doll in his frenzy.  I felt the first searing 
spurt of his animal cum deep in my fuck chute, but only for a second, 
because as soon as he began to cum, he pulled out, rolled me onto my back, 
and, while his cocklips spewed searing manjuice all over me, crawled up my 
body and forced the still gushing sperm fountain into my mouth.

It was then that I got my first real taste of Ram cum.  It was almost 
burning hot and tasted of the juice that seeps from a big fat steak just off 
the grill, but creamy like warm custard.  And there was so much of it that I 
soon choked and let it come foaming back out of my mouth as he sank deep 
into my throat, continually spurting with body-wracking spasms. It seemed 
there were quarts of the stuff, although it was probably not more than a 
cupful, but still more than any "normal" cock and balls could produce.

The elation that I had felt on the fuck-run returned now, as if the Ram 
semen had a narcotic effect, like some drug you take to make you feel so 
good you want the high to go on forever.  I nursed greedily at his drooling 
cocklips desperate for every drop of the nectar, trying to stay on my cum 
"high" as long as I could.  He let me suckle at his cock which softened just 
enough to slide easily once again past my gag ring and soak in the 
palpitating linings of my deepest throat.

Astonishingly I drifted off into a blissful cock-filled sleep, only to find 
myself, on waking, cuffed hand and foot and tossed over Ram's shoulder as he 
carried me deeper into the Preserve.  My cock was hardening against his taut 
skin and once again leaking the precum juices that promised more pleasure to 
come.

My "capture" lasted for two days.  No one came to look for me because I had, 
in the past, often camped out in the open when I failed to make a kill on my 
first day.  Most of the time was spent in a shallow cave where Ram seemed to 
have set up a secret stash of the nutrients he needed to keep his sex drive 
strong and his sperm production optimal.  There was no food for me except 
choking gulps of mouth-watering sperm, sexual ambrosia which had the effect 
of making me weaker but hornier, like a pussyboy who's lost all his strength 
yet still has the will to suck and get fucked 24 hours a day.

I can't remember all the things Ram did to me.  I recall his lying on his 
back, his cockpole hard and vertical, feel him lifting me onto it, ass 
spread open and oiled with his spit, then bouncing me up and down on it 
until his jism gushes up into me and runs back down the driving shaft to 
puddle on his balls.  After that he uses my mouth hole the same way, 
bouncing my head like a basketball on his cum-slick meat.

I remember him laying me down on my back and sitting on my hard cock, 
squeezing it tightly with his trained sphincter until it shot, then moving 
up to squat over my head, forcing my mouth up into his pucker, making me dig 
out my own cum from his ass with my probing tongue.  I remember tears 
streaming down my face as I held his pliant cock in my mouth and drank his 
piss.  I remember--things that are beyong imagining.

My torment and pleasure went on and on, until even Ram had no more spunk to 
feed me, and had to whip my cock and balls with a willow branch to goad me 
into pulling on his cock head with my mouth hard enough to push him to a 
final "dry" cum.  On the evening of the second day,  he leashed my cock 
tight and led me stumbling back through the grounds to the Lodge.  There, on 
the terrace my fellow hunters and the game wardens were having evening 
drinks.  Ram paraded me across the lawn, pushed me to my knees, and forced 
his heavy cock into my mouth for one last humiliating slobber, while the 
company tried to stifle its laughter.   The Chief Warden came down and 
silently put a leash around Ram's half-hard cock, leading him away toward 
the stock pens.  The beast never looked back; as far as he was concerned I 
was dead meat.  I pushed myself up to my feet and walked as tall as I could 
manage into the Lodge and up to my room  Half an hour later, with Ram's cum 
still caked on my face and body, his feral scent still soaked into my skin, 
I was in my Range Rover making the long trip home, my mind a blank.

For a long time I rigourously repressed every memory of the experience with 
Ram.  Then one afternoon, without thinking,  I found myself punching the Big 
Game Preserve's number into my cell phone.  I calmly made a reservation for 
the following weekend, and then I heard myself say "I was wondering if you 
could guarantee that Ram will be on the Preserve on those days--I'd like a 
chance to hunt him down again."

The clerk said, "I'm very sorry, Sir, but Ram doesn't allow himself to be 
caught by a hunter more than once."

I could hear the amused quotation marks around the word "caught", and I knew 
I hadn't fooled him for one second.  He continued, "Ram likes
variety and always prefers fresh meat."

I should have hung up, but by then I was desperate and knew no shame.  I 
heard myself stammering "Uh, perhaps you could recommend another, uh, 
Special Boy who, um, likes to take charge when he's captured."

His voice was smooth as silk: "Oh, I'm sure we can find a man who can 
satisfy your needs, Sir.  I'll have a list of likely  animals ready for you 
at the desk when you check in."

And so began my life as the bitch-prey of the Beasts on the Big Game 
Preserve.

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