THE PREDATOR
Chapter 3. SHARK BAIT
The next morning I took my sunrise run up to The Marbles as usual and, as I predicted, there was no sign of the Police car or of the big police thug. I felt pretty smug that I had seen him off, but a touch disappointed too if truth be told. I would have liked to have given him a piece of my mind.
The next morning and the third as well there was no sign of him. On that third morning I arrived at the top in a fair old sweat as it was going to be a hot day and was already muggy and warm. I clambered over the smooth, table-sized boulder that formed a threshold to "my room", dropped down into it and leaned back against one of the head-high rocks while getting my breath back.
The red disc of the sun shone directly onto me. I peeled of my sweat-soaked tee shirt and let the morning air bathe my skin deliciously while I enjoyed the warm caress of the sun on my body. I slid one hand over my wet belly and chest and pushed my right hand down into my shorts. Better, I pushed my shorts down and kicked 'em off so that I could enjoy the feel of the morning on my nakedness. I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to sensual indulgence...
Suddenly something made me open my eyes and to my horror he was there, standing atop the threshold rock, silhouetted huge against the bright sky and WATCHING ME MASTURBATE!
Stupidly I tried to cover my shame with both hands and stood upright instead of leaning back, sprawled against the rock, langorous and vulnerable. Taking his time, he stepped down from the rock and in two paces had crossed the tiny, cell-like space to stand in front of me. I am a six-footer so I am not used to look up to people, but he must have been 6'3" or even 6'4" and seemed to tower over me. My heart was banging like mad and my left knee started shaking for some reason and I couldn't stop it.
He said nothing but touched his fingertips lightly on my arms at the shoulder and slid them down to my wrists. I couldn't speak or move. Holding my wrists very gently he spread them apart revealing my still erect penis. I saw his eyes slide down over my chest and belly to my cock and realised with a sudden sense of shock that he found my body attractive. This gave me a thrill of pride and the compulsive shaking of my leg ceased as I bathed in his hungry gaze, much as I had bathed my nakedness in the warmth of the sun.
He smiled and said quietly "You know what to do." Submissively I sank to my knees before him and allowed him to guide my face into his crotch. I would like to report that it was with reluctance but the simple fact is that it seemed the most natural thing in the world to nuzzle there and guzzle there between his legs.
He unzipped and allowed me to honour him with my mouth for a while but then, to my surprise, he withdrew. He raised me to my feet and laid my naked body across the threshold stone, face down. In sudden alarm I said "You are not going to fuck me are you Sir?" (Sir? Where did that come from? Why the hell did I call him that?) He made no answer so I looked round and was horrified to see him squeezing some clear gel onto one finger. Well, I knew what that meant well enough - he was planning to bugger me! Sucking his cock was one thing but there was no way I was going to let myself be fucked - that's what queers did and I was no poofter perv. I went to push myself upright off the rock only to find myself slammed back down onto it. My arms were scooped together behind my back and I felt the hard steel of handcuffs snapped about my wrists. It was all so deft, so swift, so professional. "Please, don't hurt me Sir" I heard myself say and was shocked by the pathetic whine in my voice and by my automatic use of that "Sir" word again.
"Lie still" he growled as he released his grip on me. I peered over my shoulder and saw him squeezing a fresh load of gel on his finger, the first lot having got wiped off while he brought me under control. With his other hand he pushed my manacled wrists up between my shoulder blades and held them there, pinioning me down onto the rock while he wiped his lubed finger over my arse-crack. I remember the coldness of it. He pushed his slicked finger into my anus and worked it in and out a few times. Then again, only it hurt more and I realized he was using two fingers! It was only then that I realized that it was not simply a matter of being fucked but fucked by that monstrous member of his! I squirmed under his grip but there was no escape. I begged him again not to do this dreadful thing to me. In answer he gave a strange little grunt and I knew with a strange, intuitive certainty that here was a man who liked to hear his victims plead, who got turned on by whimpering, because then it was three fingers, rammed in hard. The bastard!
The fingers were withdrawn and he laid himself over me and took me. I was fucked on the rock in chains. But I prefer not to talk about that.
When he had finished he got off me, scooped up my tee shirt and wiped himself clean on it. He unlocked the handcuffs and my arms dropped limply to my sides. I expected him to just walk off and leave me there, sprawled naked and used over the cold stone, but to my surprise he didn't. He pulled me to my feet and held my back to him. I remember the sound of his breath close to my ear and the feel of his beard on the back of my neck. I remember the scrape of the buttons on the breast pockets of his uniform shirt against my shoulder blades. I remember looking down and seeing these huge meaty hands reaching round and groping my body, greedy and obscene, doing things to me, making me so randy that I shamelessly ground my butt into his crotch as I got erect. Then he took my cock and started to jerk me off, but not brutally as you might have expected, but with extraordinary delicacy. He held my penis lightly, as a violinst handles a bow, with just two fingertips and a thumb and proceeded to stroke the whole length very slowly and sensuously.
This was not the way I wanked myself off. I used a firm fist grip and furious jerking. This delicate manipulation drove me wild, drove me mad. I jerked my hips rhythmically trying to get more action but he moved with me, maintaining his own pace. I begged him to make me cum. I pleaded with him, expecting this to trigger his brutality, but it had no effect. Wave after wave of exquisite, unbearable sensuality swamped me until my legs gave way, but he followed me down, kneeling behind me and this apalling, slow stroking along the length of my dribbling penis went on and on, merciless, cruel, controlled and thrilling.
Somewhere "out there" an orgasm formed, it lingered and tormented me until it suddenly would not be kept at bay any longer. It swept toward me and smacked into me and swamped me and exploded in my aching loins with a ferocity I had never known. It shook me as a terrier shakes a rat as my whole body spasmed and jerked, fountaining spunk.
Exhausted by such frenzy, I sagged forward and managed to support myself with both hands against the near-vertical boulder before me and sort of hung there, weak and drained. As my eyes focussed I was astonished to see the amount of semen spattered on the rock. So much! Could I have produced so much? Thick gobbets of it were starting to slide down the smooth stone.
"Clean it up" he said. I reached for the sweat shirt where he had thrown it on the grass. "Not like that. Lick it up!" I looked round at him where he towered over me and dumbly shook my head. There was simply no way I could do that. True, he had made me swallow his spunk but to lick up my own, no, no way! "Do it" he snarled. I looked piteously up at him like a kicked puppy and again shook my head. "I can't do that Sir" I said, "I just can't". I wasn't pleading and I most certainly was not challenging him, just stating a fact in a voice of quiet reason.
He leant down, gripped the back of my neck with a finger and thumb. It was astonishingly painful. With just that simple grip he forced my head down and my face against the rock, rubbing my face in my own semen! "Lick it!" he ordered again and tentatively I put out my tongue to touch the wet stone. "Lick it clean" he insisted, "All of it". And with the persuasion of just one finger and one thumb, I submitted and obeyed. Every last dribble, every last flung splatter. On my hands and knees I licked the boulder clean and only then did he release the painful grip on my neck.
I just stayed there on my hands and knees, used, defeated and humiliated. Vaguely I was aware of the sound of a car door, the quiet ignition of a powerful engine and I was alone with my shame among the great rocks. Slowly I heaved myself to my feet, pulled on my discarded running shorts and picked up my tee shirt. It was inside out and bore a filthy smear where he had wiped his cock on it. I turned it right side out and pulled it over my head. The fuck smear was now against my skin and I didn't mind. No! That's not true, I did mind. I LIKED the feel of having the stain of his huge penis against my body. I LIKED the feel of having been soiled and used by a powerful man. I liked his greediness, his selfishness, his contempt. But what about the way he had jerked me off? That wasn't greedy and selfish. He need not have done that. But then it hit me. Oh yes, that was selfish alright, that was supremely selfish! The arrogant bastard had ensured that I had enjoyed an orgasm of such shattering intensity that I would have no choice but to seek its repeat. He had locked me in to him, knowing damn well that he could do whatever he liked with me and I'd always be back for more in the hope of another such ecstasy.
I knew that I would come up here tomorrow in the hope that I'd see his car, like a prowling shark, flash white between the hedgerows as he returned to his feeding ground to feast on my body. And I knew something else too, that I would strip myself naked, to wait for him in readiness. To be available to him. Available for use. And if he didn't come, I'd be here ready and waiting the next day and the day after that. However long it took, for he would come to feast on me again, of that I had no doubt.
And if I could have known then just how nasty and degrading his feasting would be, would I have still been so keen to suffer his further predation? I am ashamed to say that yes, I would because I just had to experience an orgasm like that again, no matter what the cost.