The Trophy Rack (4 page)

Not wanting to lose the moment, Faline rubbed
her thumb and fingers together in the universal sign for money.
Camile raise a brow, and Faline did the same with her other hand
and started dropping to her knees. With some reluctance, Camile
started to stand, choosing an easy grand over a good fuck. To her
credit, she only stopped sucking at the last possible second before
she walked away.

Faline didn’t give her a second thought.
Instead, she bent her legs back under her, letting her own rear
nestle on the bottoms of her feet the same way Camile’s had.
Quickly, she grabbed her tits, leaned forward, and crushed them
around the wet cock in front of her.

Lost in his own little world of sex and
imagination, it was the first time Brice seemed to have sensed
something had changed. Half-lidded, he moaned again and opened his
eyes. The half-liddedness went away as they flew wide. His lazy
smile stretched to a surprised grin.

“Holy fuck!”

Back to playing the dumb animal, Faline
simply slid her tits up and down, smiling enigmatically and
squeezing them even harder around the thick rod of meat. She could
see him battling between watching her fat breasts move over his
cock and laying back to enjoy the pleasure. But the look of desire
and hunger in his eyes was one she couldn’t get enough of, so she
encouraged him by quickly grabbing his hands and pressing them into
the sides of her tits.

The moment his fingers touched her tits, she
felt his penis jump and get even thicker, if it were even possible.
He closed his fingers, filling them with Faline’s flesh. She locked
her hands around his, urging him to squeeze even harder. Needing no
more urging, he buried his fingertips into her, his fingernails
gouged crescents into her white skin and his thumbnails chewed into
her areolas. Pain lanced through her breasts. She gasped, her own
smile growing broader, her pussy starting to throb.

As much as she could tell from his heavy
breaths and batting eyelids that he wanted to lay back, she saw
that he was enjoying the view too much to do it. Shifting so her
heel buried into her pussy and crushed her clit, she raised and
lowered her chest, fucking him with her breasts. It wasn’t long
before they were panting, moaning as the tell-tale tingling of a
climax threatened them both.

Just as she feared he might be about to come,
she reached across him and grabbed an open bottle of beer. It was
still cold, which is exactly what she’d hoped for. He blew out a
frustrated groan as she stood and straddled him, but the
disappointment went away the moment she split herself with his
cock. She was easily wet enough that dropping down hard and letting
her pussy swallow him would have been the quickest route to their
happy ending. Instead she slowly lowered herself, squeezing him as
hard as she could.

When his cock tip pressed against her cervix,
she joined him in a moan, barely managing not to spill the entire
beer as she poured it on the upper slope of her left breast.
Despite the pleasure that threatened to take him, he gaped as the
golden liquid spilled down her breast and over her nipple, winding
its way through her areola’s tight crevices before trickling
further down.

Pumping him hard, she thrust her breast
toward his face and looked pointedly at its tip. Brice needed no
more encouragement. In half a second, he all but swallowed it, his
lips and tongue attacking and exploring every bump and wrinkle.
Faline moaned again, reveling in the pleasure. But that wasn’t what
she wanted.

She thought for the hundredth time about the
way he’d looked and acted during dinner, the passion and desire. If
he could have taken her then, he wouldn’t have hesitated, and it
would have been glorious.

Grinding her pussy against him, she leaned
forward, all but smothering him in her massive breast. She felt his
hands close around her ass, his fingernails scratching. She was too
close to coming to wait. Desperate, she gave up on being mute.
There was only one thing she wanted. Taking his earlobe between her
teeth, she gasped.

“Bite me!”

~~~~

Brice couldn’t help but smile as he walked
into his office. The trophy had finally arrived, and two
maintenance guys were unpacking it from the crate. He wasn’t the
only one in the office that had one, but his was easily the
biggest. He expected it to spark plenty of jealously in the other
men, and even a few of the women.

One of them stopped to hand him an envelope.
“Heya, Brice, this was on top of the packing stuff.” He gave Brice
a friendly elbow to the ribs. “So, how’s this one gonna compare
with those hot jugs hangin’ in Mr. Dunlops’ office?”

Brice took it and smiled enigmatically.
“”Guess you’ll have to see for yourself, huh?”

“Yeah, well, there’s no way they’ll be
bigger’n Eric’s 38’s.”

As the two men went back to removing packing
from around the trophy, he thought back to the last few minutes
he’d seen her.

“
Bite me!”
she’d said in a throaty
whisper.

He had hardly been able to believe his ears,
but when she’d stretched his ear lobe with her teeth until it
popped free and pressed her tit even harder against his face, he
decided he’d heard her perfectly and jumped at the chance. He’d
been rolling her pebbly nipple on his tongue and sucking hard on
the rubbery mouthful of wrinkles around it. Without missing a beat,
he bit down, sinking his teeth and sucking harder as he squeezed
her bottom, pulled her tight against him and stood.

She cried out, almost screaming, but he could
tell from the way she clenched him—both inside and out—that it was
as much from pleasure as from pain. Moving her across the room
served to push his orgasm back a bit, giving him time to throw her
backward over the ottoman and do his best to recreate the pose
she’d held through dinner. It wasn’t until she rolled back, his
cock still squeezed inside her, that he’d let her nipple scrape
from his teeth.

As if she’d read his mind, she’d reached back
and grabbed the ottoman above her head. Her tits bobbled into a
perfect match for earlier, and she spread her legs wide, doing a
very passable imitation of her dinner pose. He pinned her arms so
she couldn’t change her mind and drove his penis into her with a
hard, wet slap.

With her sexy groan still in his ears, he
imagined the scalding au jus filling the hollows in her areola and
flowing down her breasts, picked the spot he remembered being the
juiciest-looking, and dove in. It had been the singularly best sex
of his life. But when he’d stirred from his post-fuck stupor an
hour later, she was gone.

His reverie was broken when they tore the
last of the packing from around the trophy. For several seconds
there was nothing but odd, dead silence.

“Holy fuck!”

“Jesus, Mary…”

They turned together and looked at Brice with
some combination of awe and jealousy, but there was something about
their manner that was off.

“Hot damn, Brice! Did you do that?”

He looked past them at the rack. It wasn’t
often anything made him double-take, but he did. It not only bore
the scratches and other signs of use they’d meticulously measured
and photographed before dinner, but it was also decorated with the
fingertip bruises he’d left when he crushed them around his
cock.

Even more surprising, though no less
gorgeous, were the dozen or more bite marks that stood out
prominently on the battered and rope-marked faux flesh. Some of the
marks were faint, hardly visible, while others were various shades
of livid purple. A couple broke the skin, but it was the one he’d
made when he’d come that they were gawking at.

It was a forensic detective’s dream, with
double arches that cut across the tight furrows of her areola above
and below her swollen, bruised nipple. They were deep and raw,
their deeper points starting to fill with gleaming crimson
droplets

He ran fingertip across them, only certain it
wasn’t real when it came back dry. Tearing himself away from the
view, he looked down at the envelope, tore it open and yanked the
note from inside:

Sorry to have left so fast, but I wanted to
catch the taxidermist while the marks were fresh. Call me next time
you’re on a hunt. I’ll bring what it takes to whet your appetite.
You bring the A-1.

xxxooo

Your Trophy Rack

904-773-7712

P.S. …if you can bag me.

Brice’s finger was on the intercom button
before the note settled to his desk. “Carolyn, clear my calendar
for next week and book a Sunday flight to Albuquerque. Something
just came up.”

###

Matt Nicholson
is a
freelance writer and the Publisher of Darker Pleasures. Throughout
the first decade of the 21st century, he published, edited and
wrote stories for the erotic adult webzine of the same name. A fan
of breasts and breast-oriented BDSM, he has written and edited
hundreds of short stories ranging from R-rated erotica to hard-edge
bondage and BDSM fiction. Matt is perhaps best known in certain
circles for
The Breast Punishment Primer
, a non-fiction
reference for all things having to do with tit torture. He is in
the process of writing his first full-length novel,
Families
, expanding on a series of vampire-centric BDSM
erotica stories featuring characters and concepts touched on in the
short stories
The Alcove
and
Becoming Eternal
. For
those of you intrigued by such things,
Beat ‘Em or Bite ‘Em:
Erotic Stories of Breasts and BDSM
features thirteen of his
best-selling stories.

You can find other e-books written by Matt
Nicholson at
Darker Pleasures
(www.darkerpleasures.com)

Darker
Pleasures
began as an adult web magazine in 1999. It
featured original text and photo-illustrated stories, images,
video, art and articles specializing in erotic breast-oriented
bondage and BDSM. Darker Pleasures featured stories written by
dozens of erotica authors including Matt Nicholson, Elizabeth
Faraday, Lee Ash, Jude Mason, Adrian Hunter, Bonnie Dee, Leo Bulero
and others. The webzine ended its run in January 2010. In August
2011, Darker Pleasures began publishing revised and edited releases
of the BDSM erotica originally featured in the pages of its
e-magazine. Darker Pleasures’ stories and books can be found
through Smashwords and other e-book outlets.