Money and Happiness Ch. 01

Money and Happiness 01

Thank you for opening this story. This part is rather different from my usual efforts. I began it with the intention of writing a story in which bondage is not a principal theme, just for a change. If, therefore, you're expecting the usual ropes, chains, padlocks and irons, you might be disappointed. Towards the end, it drifts back towards my usual territory, and in the second part it will make up for lost time; hence it remains in the BDSM category. I am expecting that it will be a short series- probably a trilogy- with longer-than-average chapters.

Readers who have not seen the series The Walking Dead do not need to be told the whole story, which is interminably long. It might help them to know that Negan, at the peak of his career, is a vicious thug who enforces his will with a baseball bat wrapped with barbed wire.

The magazine called The Lady ceased publication in 2025, but its online services can still be used to recruit domestic staff.

A-Hunting we will Go

The beauty of 'unting, Your Grace, is that it brings together people who might never otherwise meet. A line from a cartoon, showing the Duke of Wellington being addressed by a middle-class fox-hunter.

They say that money doesn't buy happiness, and when I won the lottery that thought was uppermost in my mind. With tens of millions to work with, I established certain principles that, if I could adhere to them, would at least keep unhappiness at bay. The first was that I would maintain total anonymity, and to that end I created a false identity with a life story simple enough to be easily remembered. The second was to keep my money safe. I would not be trying to double my fortune, but to grow it slowly while securing for myself two distinct income streams. One would be devoted to charitable works, and the other to financing a lifestyle which would be self-indulgent, but not conspicuous or wildly extravagant. The third was to stay within the law.

I soon owned a number of properties, but they were all very ordinary middle-class homes in pleasant locations, with private, well-fenced yards or gardens. I had cleaners and gardeners, but no live-in servants. I chose cars to match; a middle-of-the-range Ford and a Skoda Octavia, and I bought my clothes in Marks and Spencers. I made an effort to keep my choices consistent. With virtually unlimited funds and no strong preferences, I could easily have found myself wearing a Rolex and driving an old banger, or wearing Saville Row suits and living in a two-bedroomed bungalow.

Although I did not think it through to the extent of making it a fourth principle, I was also careful to limit myself to manageable hopes, aspirations and ambitions. Money would not buy me a wife who was beautiful, faithful, great in bed, and who wanted all the same things that I did. It would not buy me two intelligent, well-behaved, sporting and musical children, and a dog that never bit anyone or damaged the furniture.

Nor would money buy me real friends. I was always short of those, for I was fairly nondescript-looking and lacked small talk and a ready wit. Fortunately, I liked my own company, had hobbies that required no outside input. It was the same with women. I had had some brief relationships but none had prospered. I had no intention of letting my money change anything; hence the secrecy about it. I was not going to be a target for gold-diggers.

So what would I do with my money? It was almost enough to feel totally secure. Never again would I want for anything that I really wanted or needed, so it could buy me freedom from anxiety. It could not guarantee me good health, but it could improve my chances. I had to be content with that. What I needed to find were ways in which it could help me to enjoy myself, legally and discreetly, in ways that would otherwise have been unavailable. I did have fantasies, indulged on the internet from behind barriers that were calculated to preserve my anonymity.

It was with the aid of a VPN that placed me somewhere in The Netherlands West Indies that I began the search for unusual experiences that were not hazardous, vertiginous or exceptionally uncomfortable. I had no desire to abseil down the Empire State Building, to swim with Great White Sharks, or to enjoy a champaign breakfast on the summit of Mount Everest. I was tempted by the idea of cruising with pornstars, but I wanted to start with something that would help to build my confidence without trapping me in a situation that I could not control. Then I read about Hunters' Island.

Hunters' Island was somewhere in the Caribbean, but the exact location would never be revealed. It was wholly owned by a group that promised a unique experience. The prey were human beings, all young and attractive, who were paid volunteers serving for months at a time. The hunters were armed with non-lethal weapons. When they made a capture, they could keep him or her for up to twenty-four hours, during which the prize was obliged to meet their sexual desires, subject to there being no injury or serious pain inflicted. Then he or she was released into the wild, ready to be caught again.

There was a flat fee of a thousand pounds a day, but time spent with a captive was not charged for. The advertising material suggested, without giving a guarantee, that it was unusual for a hunter to spend two days without making a capture. Hunters were warned of the risk of minor injuries, mainly arising from the rough terrain, but were assured that the prey were not allowed to fight back, and that they and the hunters were rigorously tested for diseases before being allowed onto the island.

I could easily afford to buy a week, so I decided to risk it. It was not a scam, as far as I could tell, because no advance payment was required. I had to present myself on the appointed date at the company's office in Kingston, and I would be flown on from there to the island. First I underwent a series of blood tests, paid part of the fee, and was given, along with several other customers, an extensive briefing.

Hunters' Island was about seven miles long and three wide, and was mostly woodland with a higher, rocky ridge along part of the centre. It was entirely private; unauthorized landings were not permitted and all points of possible access were monitored. It was also forbidden to overfly the island, either in person or with drones. Various means were used to prevent intrusions, mostly using falsified records of biological warfare testing, and the presence of unusually poisonous snakes and spiders. In fact, there were no dangerous animals or insects at all.

The only harbour was at one end of the island, giving access to a fenced area housing the guest accommodation with bars, restaurants and a swimming pool. Everything beyond that was the hunting range, and was deliberately left unmapped. There were some trails that were easily passable in electric vehicles resembling golf carts, but the newcomers were warned that to catch anything they needed to leave them to plunge into the forest on foot. The richest pickings were often found on the higher ground, where the prey hid among rocks and in caves.

It was known that the prey built primitive shelters, sometimes amounting to small villages, in the most inaccessible parts of the island. The population was about a hundred, but they were changed only a few at a time, so there was a kind of culture among them, with just a few who had volunteered to become long term residents. Food and other supplies were left for them at locations that were never revealed to the hunters. The climate was very agreeable, so for those who preferred a simple, outdoor life free of the stresses imposed by civilization, it was a rational choice.

There were never more than ten hunters on the island, so there was plenty of prey to go around. The company aimed for an even number of men and women on both sides. Both prey and hunters had their food "spiked" to ensure they were sexually hyperactive. Hunters were asked not to form relationships with one another, but no such inhibition was imposed on the prey.

I had lots of possible questions, but in the end I left it to the other hunters to ask them. I had no desire to assume a leadership role. A handsome woman in her forties asked a searching question about the financing of the enterprise. If the income from hunters was about five thousand pounds a day (assuming that alternate days were spent with captured prey) how could that keep a hundred prey, plus the costs of maintaining the accommodation complex and administration and transport?

The answer was, partly, that the potential income was actually about one-and-a-half million pounds sterling per year, which was a tidy sum. However, it was more than doubled by selling films of the hunts. Both hunters and prey wore bodycams, but in the production process the hunters were replaced by AI creations, thus preserving their anonymity. After that, the originals were erased. I realized that I was placing a lot of trust in the company, but I knew that, simply by expressing an interest, I had passed the point of no return. They were much more likely to keep my secrets if I cooperated with them.

The prey were only paid about ten thousand pounds a year (pro rata) in cash, but we were expected to tip those who performed well, and various bonuses were available. They were, of course, fed and had no housing costs, and were rewarded also in kind; with introductions that ensured that most walked into high-paying roles and commissions afterwards.

I was still not sure that I'd heard the whole story. Even three million didn't seem to me to be enough, but I knew better than to seem too curious. A male hunter- much older than me but very handsome indeed- asked what motivated the prey to avoid capture. They had a choice between living in the wild on basic rations, and having lots of sex and good food (he hoped) in the harbour complex. Why run away from that?

They might come flocking to him, I thought, and run a mile from me, but the question was worth asking. Apparently, the capture could be quite painful, and they didn't always know who was chasing them. A straight female might run from a lesbian hunter, and some disliked the gangbangs that often resulted when the hunters operated in packs. Prey who sought out particular hunters, or who simply made no effort to evade capture, could be punished by loss of bonusses or tips. That never happened. It was not the kind of job that attracted shirkers.

Again, I was given the impression that the answer was relevant and sensible, but somehow incomplete or inadequate, but I preferred to remain silent as the presenter went on to talk about our weapons. We were allowed to chase the prey down and grab flesh or hair, and if we managed to get a firm grasp he or she was obliged to surrender. We could use the nets that were provided, which had harmlessly padded "stones" for weights, but we could not set snares or dig pits. Nor could we throw objects- stones or makeshift spears- at the prey.

Our principal weapons were guns of a very special kind, and we would all be issued with rifles and pistols. A "hit" resulted in a sharp stinging sensation with a few minutes during which movement was very painful. The idea was that the target would be able to avoid, say, toppling off a cliff or into a crevice, but would if possible remain still and await capture. The effect would not come directly from the gun, but from an implant that detected the accurately-directed signal, so no damage would be done if, for instance, he or she was hit in the eye. The effects were lessened if only the extremities were hit, as would be the case with a bullet.

Once a firm hand had been laid on a prey-person, he or she was obliged to accept capture and obey the hunter. I had read of hunts during which the prizes were bound and marched away in coffles, but in this instance bondage was forbidden. The prey were free humans, not slaves, and were to be treated with respect, even though they were committed to providing sexual services. Had they not been willing to do that they would, presumably, have heard a different calling.

After the briefing we were led out to the harbour, where a vintage flying boat awaited us. The rare surviving Grumman Albatross had been converted to turboprop engines and was very comfortable inside, where our luggage had already been stowed. We took off immediately, and the half-our ride was my first in any kind of seaplane or flying boat. In the plane with us was one of the staff from the office, and as I was sitting very close to her I decided to put to her, privately, a couple of supplementary questions.

My first was to ask why, with about twenty square miles at their disposal, a hundred prey were not able to find secure hiding places. How was it that only ten hunters were all likely to catch someone within a couple of days?

"We use a complicated system that's all run by AI," she replied. "Robots deliver food in small amounts and notify one prey-person of the location of each drop via an implant. Only his or her thumbprint can open the box, so the prey has to go the distance to get the food. Most of them have caves or hide-outs of some sort, so it means a return journey of at least two miles, usually more than that. We've encouraged the kind of ground conditions underfoot that makes it difficult not to leave tracks. In addition, the hunters get an infra-red device that detects a trail that's no more than thirty minutes old. We keep making adjustments, but we think we've got the balance about right now."

That sounded both impressive and convincing, so I changed the subject. "If I catch a prey-person that we don't want- say that I take a male- can I swap him or give him to another hunter? And can I take more than one back to the compound?"

"Yes, and yes," she replied. "No catch should ever be wasted."

I was deterred from asking more questions by the noise from the engines and the vibration from the old airframe. I assumed it was being used because a vintage machine was less likely to be searched, or any enquiry made into its use. The flights were probably presented as air tours of the Caribbean. We were soon to land anyway, touching down near the Hunters' Island harbour and taxiing in through the small breakwater. I was not normally afraid of flying, but this time I was glad to feel the water under the keel.

Patience

The accommodation unit could take about twenty-five hunters, and was therefore usually half-empty. When we arrived, the previous cohort was enjoying their catches from the previous day, and we saw very little of them, although we heard quite a lot. My suite was very comfortable, meals could be ordered from room service, so I did not seek company until breakfast the following morning; the last occasion when the dining room was almost full. I sat at a table on my own and was relieved to see them walking down to the harbour as the Grumman touched down. The sea was more choppy then, and I didn't envy them the ride.

I saw their catches scampering out through the compound gates. They were all dressed in brown, faux-suede garments with moccasins. They were moving fast, but I could see a couple of very pretty faces among the females, and all seemed to have good figures and shapely legs. The males were young and handsome, but not very tall. I understood that we would not be allowed to follow them for half an hour, and we'd be unlikely to see any of them as we covered the first couple of miles in our golf carts. Most of us, in any case, would prefer to bring home fresh meat to go with our dinners.

I had, probably, already missed a golden opportunity to pick up some hints. Some of my fellow-hunters had made a point of asking the last cohort for advice on the best places to start, but I had breakfasted alone at a corner table. Nor did I try to catch up afterwards. I couldn't help being shy and introspective, although I exchanged a few words about the weather (fine and dry) with one of the nearer tables. I didn't want them talking about me and getting too curious. I ate my fill of a "full English" breakfast, because I did not intend to come back for lunch.

I took one of the golf carts and dressed very lightly, loading my guns into the little vehicle with a flask of coffee and a couple of packs of biscuits. Then I drove off at the maximum speed, which was about eight miles per hour.. There being no maps available, I chose the middle one of the three broader tracks leading away from the compound. For the first couple of miles it was pleasant but monotonous, weaving between tall pines that had probably been planted forty of fifty years ago by someone intending to harvest them as telegraph poles. The ground was covered with needles in varying degrees of decay, making a satisfactory crunching sound under the wheels.

I saw no-one except two fellow hunters in their buggies. They kept up with me for a while but turned off on side tracks that looked more interesting, so I went on alone. My infra-red detector beeped once, very briefly, but I ignored it, thinking that one of the morning's releases had probably crossed the trail. Eventually, with the track beginning a gentle upward trend, the trees were smaller and more mixed, and there were more rocky outcrops, through some of which I had to plot a careful path in my vehicle. Some would have been excellent sites for an ambush, but my understanding was that the "natives" were not allowed to take offensive action.

My detector beeped again in a place where the track ran along the top of a kind of rock shelf, giving a view over the trees to my left of the beach and the sea. I had climbed higher than I had realized, but I still preferred to go on further. If the quarry had climbed down the rockface I would not have the nerve to try and follow. I drove on, although the path was now narrower and more tortuous as it zig-zagged through the rocks, and there were signs that some improvements had been made; concrete used to fill in gaps that had once been impassable.

Eventually, after covering about four miles as the crow flies, and with the buggy's batteries about a third depleted, I stopped for coffee, and wandered about the rocks with my pistol in one hand and the mug in the other. I was surprised to find, only a few yards from the track, a pair of very crude stone shelters, built by using natural features for most of the walls. There was no sign of recent use: I guessed that they pre-dated the improvements to the track, but had now been abandoned as being within detector range.

Then I climbed a particularly large outcrop, keeping to the seaward side so that any prey lurking higher up the hillside would not see what I was doing. I now carried the rifle, although to me it seemed unnecessarily heavy, since it did not actually shoot projectiles. Lying flat on the rocks at the very top, I was probably difficult to see from above, which was my intention as I wore a cap with a big brim to shield my face and kept as still as possible for ten minutes. By hunting standards, I'm sure it wasn't very long, but it was enough. About a hundred feet above me and fifty yards inland, a young man appeared and walked along a narrow ledge, carefully and watchfully, before sitting down and eating something from a leather bag that was slung over his shoulder.

I didn't want a male, but I knew I might be able to exchange him, and in any case I needed the target practice. I moved ever-so slowly to bring my rifle to bear. We had all had a few practice shots, but I was certainly no marksman. I fired, and the prey jumped up, took no more than a moment to spot my position, and shot off to one side. I had hit a rock near his feet, and my second shot, two seconds later, hit the rockface behind him, and then he was gone.

I did not actually "hit" anything, of course, but his implant was capable of detecting near-misses and giving him the approximate point of the "impact." To level the playing field to some extent, my rifle could fire only every two seconds, very much like a real one, and after five shots there was a pause of five seconds. If I had been shooting for my dinner, I would have been facing a hungry night.

A few seconds later, from behind a huge rock further up the hill, a stone arched through the air and fell onto some loose shale well in front of me, starting a small but noisy landslide. It was enough to warn anyone else who was within a few hundred yards, and that was obviously the intention. If he had been throwing rocks at me I would have been in some danger, with no way of reaching his position quickly or getting a clear shot.

The stone-throwing did make me wonder whether the prey were as careful to avoid causing injuries as the managers expected, but I soon put the thought aside, climbed back into the cart, and drove on. The terrain became more and more difficult, but it never became impossible and I eventually reached a small open area at the summit of the ridge that was the island's most obvious feature. I tucked the cart between two tall rocks and sat on an overhanging boulder to finish my coffee and eat a few biscuits, both weapons close at hand.

It was an almost windless day, so ever tiny sound carried, and I was careful not to make any. In the distance, in the smaller trees below me and towards the "wild" tip of the island, I heard two separate shouts, several minutes apart, and I assumed that some of my fellow hunters had seen prey. The guns made no noise, so I couldn't tell whether they had got close enough to shoot at them. I also heard more stones falling, so I knew there were prey ahead of me on the ridge. I finished up quickly, therefore, and with rifle in hand and pistol at my waist I moved quietly forward, on foot.

I moved silently from rock to rock, all too aware that I was stalking people who knew the lie of the land much better than I did. I thought that my main advantage was that the other hunters were the centre of attention, and I hoped that the male I had shot at earlier had gone to ground on the other side of the ridge. I was lucky in every possible way, and yet I almost managed to make a mess of it. I was walking through a narrow cleft between two massive stones (there were dozens in the area) when a female prey-person suddenly appeared right before me, apparently fleeing someone coming from the other direction.

Before my eyes focussed on her properly I saw no more than a moving silhouette, and although I brought my rifle to bear I was reluctant to fire in case it was another hunter. Of course I knew that, in that case, it would have no effect, but we are all indoctrinated against pointing guns at friends and family. Then it was too late; the figure was upon me and then past, shouldering me aside and running on. In the process she knocked the rifle from my hands, and in my muddled panic my first instinct was to pick it up. I was half bent over when I suddenly remembered the pistol, and in the very last fraction of a second, before the quarry could turn out of the cleft and out of my sight, I fired more or less at random.

I was shocked by the outcome. I hit her, not in an extremity but in the back of her neck, and she went down like a falling tree, turning as she did so and thus managing to avoid damaging her face. Then she was writhing in pain, clutching her forehead, mouth agape, but silent. Then her arms were flung out to each side as paralysis took hold, to last for about two or three minutes. I could only wish that I had managed to grab her, and hoped that I wouldn't have to use the guns again.

Then, as I went over to her to grasp her arm and seal my capture, I heard a female voice say "Damn!" behind me. "She should have been mine!" One of my fellow hunters was there, brandishing a pistol and looking furious.

I hastened to get my hand on the prey first. "Sorry," I replied, "but since she ran straight at me, I shot her, and she's mine."

"Give her to me, and I'll help you catch another. I was really looking forward to shagging her."

Despite the language, she was unmistakeably upper class- probably gentry- and she was expecting me to fall in immediately with her wishes. Her manner was not appealing to my good nature, whereas, as I looked at the girl gasping and suffering below me I felt a strong sense of responsibility; a desire to do right by her. "She's mine," I replied, unable to think of anything more expansive. The woman looked furious, but simply turned on her heel and marched away, not deeming me worthy of further argument.

I remembered who she was, then. Miss Millicent Mongomery had been introduced when we had gathered for our briefing, and I had overheard someone remark that she was the granddaughter an Earl. I didn't like her much and had no reason to defer to her wishes. From that point on I gave all my attention to my captive girl, thinking- believing- that she would play a pivotal role in my development as a person.

The effects of the shot soon seemed to wear off, and as she recovered the use of her limbs I helped her to her feet. I could see she was eyeing me up- assessing me- for I was her master for the next twenty-four hours. I wondered whether she still felt unsteady, and with my hands on her shoulders I moved her a few feet to where she could lean against the face of a boulder. I wanted to get a good look at the woman with whom I was going to spend the night.

She was hard to define; not a page three girl, or a girl-next-door, or a fashion model, but she was not plain. Short blonde hair framed a round face with big, brown eyes, a slightly snub nose and plump lips. Her mouth was her most arresting feature: it looked slightly enlarged but not Botoxed, and the lower lip was thicker than the upper. She did not pout, but she nevertheless looked as if she was looking for something to suck, or at least kiss.

I felt a powerful urge to plunge my mouth onto hers there and then, but decided to resist. I wanted to seem to be in control, of myself as well as her. She seemed very calm now, and slightly curious- quizzical in the way she stared back at me- and I realized that she had probably been captured many times before. Every time she must wonder how she was going to be treated, and what the successful hunter or huntress would look like naked.

She was wearing the uniform that was standard for female prey; a thin, soft-suede top with Velcro fastening down the front, and a short skirt of the same material. I doubted whether she wore anything underneath. Her feet were protected by sandals of the same light brown colour, and considering that she was living in the wild and sleeping rough, I was surprised at how clean and tidy she looked.

Her eyebrows were slightly raised by then, as if she was expecting me to say or do something. She was looking quite relaxed now, and her arms were hanging loosely by her sides. I could see from their outline under her top that she had significant breasts, and that suggested my next move. I put both my hands on the neckline- which was high enough to show no cleavage at all- and began to pull it apart.

If it was fastened with Velcro it was a weakened version, for it opened very easily. I continued right to the bottom and pulled the garment wide open, and her breasts quivered and bounced for a few moments as they were deprived of their support. They were lovely- by far the best I had seen up close and personal- but they were not huge. She was certainly busty, but by pornstar standards they were medium, with good shape and firmness. I could feel my cock responding as I imagined using them for a tit-job. They looked soft and inviting, as if they would readily accept the shape of my shaft as it was thrust between them.

Her breasts looked the more vulnerable because of the pale pink areolas around the even paler nipples that were a perfect match for the rest of her skin. My immediate instinct was to get her skirt off to see whether her labia were the same colour, but I wanted to avoid seeming too eager at first. It would be better, I thought, to be slow and methodical.

I cupped both breasts in my hands, feeling their weight, and then brushed the nipples with my thumbs. From her there was a sharp intake of breath, and I felt her bosom heave, wondering whether she was trained to fake being aroused to please the hunters. I doubted that, because the company's online brochure had given an absolute guarantee that everything would be genuine, and I knew that the sensitivity of her nipples had probably been enhanced somehow.

My own cock was threatening to burst out of my trousers, but I continued to ignore its demands. "These are very nice," I told her, putting the emphasis on "very" and giving her breasts a firm squeeze in case she thought I meant only her nipples. "Don't cover them, when you're with me."

"Yes... sir," she replied in a slightly husky voice. "May I ask what to call you, sir?"

My actual name is Cecil, but I was not going to give that away, and I had not had the foresight to think of a suitable alias. "William," I said, giving her the first name that came into my head.

"William the Conqueror," she responded, with a slight smile. She wriggled her chest, and I felt her breasts moving in my hands. "My name is Matty. It's short for Matilda, which is very appropriate under the circs."

Despite the contraction she spoke very well and clearly, and now the effects of the shooting had worn off she was very calm and composed. "I'm glad it was you who caught me," she went on. "I can do lesbian sex, but it isn't my preference, and Miss Millicent is very demanding."

"So she's caught you before? Is she a regular here?"

"Very much so. She's a shareholder, so she doesn't have to pay. I think she'd really like to live here on the island."

"I take it you've been here awhile?"

"Just coming up to a year, William. I'll have to leave soon."

I was tempted to go on with the conversation, but was it seemed incongruous to be standing there chatting with her breasts in my hands. I pulled her away from the boulder and led her in the general direction of my cart, but I was casting around as I did so, and spotted a patch of thick grass that looked reasonably dry and partly shaded. "Over here," I told her. "We can relax for a few minutes."

She gave a little humming noise, as if she knew what male hunters did to relax, but she lay down anyway, making sure that her top fell to each side, leaving her chest bare. Before joining her I knelt beside her and removed her skirt, which came apart very easily. She was hairless, and she had the sense to open her legs, giving me easy access to her vulva. She seemed to lack any self-consciousness, and she was not afraid of me. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I didn't want her to be frightened, but I wanted to be clearly in charge of the situation.

I lay down next to her and brought our mouths together. Her lips felt as soft and accepting as they looked, and my mouth felt enclosed- welcomed- as hers widened and her tongue came forward to meet mine. It was by far the best kiss I had ever had, and it was with a complete stranger. I let it carry on, with us breathing through our noses, for what felt like several minutes.

Matty had been trained- or had taught herself- to be a largely passive lover, while being response enough of accept obvious cues. She was virtually naked and I was fully clothed, and that was an anomaly that she now sought to correct. I felt her hand against my crotch, first feeling the outline of my erection, and then seeking the handle of my zip. We were still kissing, so I pulled back from her, deciding that it would be better to be fully transparent from the outset of our short acquaintance.

"If I fuck you now, I won't last a minute," I told her. "I won't last a minute. I don't suffer from premature ejaculation, but the situation is unusual and you are extremely sexy. I want to see you cum, so I'll use my fingers on you, and then you'll give me a tit-job. Does that sound like a plan?"

"It does, William. May I help you with my hands and fingers?"

"Of course, unless I tell you to stop."

Actually, I wasn't sure that I should have agreed to that, but it made no sense to refuse her help if she was offering it. For my age (24) I was sexually inexperienced and considered myself clumsy and maladroit in bed. Lying a little away from her, I reached between her legs and pushed my forefinger into her slit, noting the absence of any protruding tissue and easily finding the opening of her vaginal tunnel. Fluid was already beginning to ooze out, so I had no worries about her lubrication. I pushed inside and followed with another, and began, gently and slowly at first, to finger-fuck her.

Our lips came together again, and as I continued to work on her pussy I felt her zipping down my flies and then unhooking the button at the top. I thought I had given her permission to frig her clitoris with her fingers, but she had taken that to mean she could start undressing me. I didn't want to correct her, even though I gasped as I felt her fingers reach into my pants and touch my erection. I felt as if anything could trigger me off at that point, but she was obviously both empathic and very skilful.

She started pulling my trousers off then, and I stopped for a moment to help, removing my underpants as well, and opening my shirt to let her breasts touch my chest. I managed then to lie down with my left arm bent in such a way as to be able to hold one of her breasts in that hand, continuing to work her vulva with my right. We resumed our kissing, and I continued to push into her vagina until she was obviously getting aroused. Meanwhile she handled my penis very gently, stroking up and down its length with a forefinger and thumb.

I realized then what it was like to be edged; to be kept close to the peak of sexual excitement until I had completed my self-assigned task. She helped with her other hand, and as I realized that she was circling her clitoris with a finger that it was time for me to move from her vagina. As I replaced her on and around the swelling bud she moved her spare hand to pinch her vacant nipple and roll it between her thumb and fingers, and I did the same with my hand. It took no more than two or three minutes for her to cum, gasping and jerking her body, making it difficult for me to maintain the same contact throughout. I had no doubt at all, however, that the orgasm was genuine.

She was not content with one climax, but pleaded with me to continue, which I did until she had enjoyed two more orgasms, the latter of which was at least a double. She lost touch with my penis, afterwards whispering an apology which I brushed aside, almost relieved to be given a brief respite. When she was cumming her lips lost all shape and firmness, so it was as if I was pushing mine into a moist, soft pillow, albeit one that still allowed her tongue to come snaking up and into my mouth.

I would have been happy in that position for hours, but my cock was demanding satisfaction and her fingers were giving it every encouragement. I had assumed that I would squirm up her body and put myself between her breasts as we lay side by side, but to my surprise she pushed me onto my back, positioning herself between my legs and moving up until we were having intermammary intercourse. On the way she licked my shaft casually, as if it wouldn't have occurred to her to do anything else. I was almost tempted to stop her and tell her to fellate me, but decided to stick to the original plan. Oral sex could wait until the evening.

It was my first experience of intermammary intercourse, but it was a racing certainty that it was not hers. With my legs and waist pinned down I couldn't move much, although my instinct was to push up against her. Rather than use her whole body, she preferred to use her boobs with a "sawing" motion, squeezing and rubbing my shaft between them. Our bodies were warm and slick with sweat, so there was some lubrication. I must say it felt better than I had expected, to the point where I wondered whether it was preferable to vaginal sex.

Held down as I was, my orgasm was delayed, which was probably her intention. She probably thought it was not worth the trouble of getting into position if it was only going to last thirty seconds. I managed four or five minutes, stimulated as much by the sight as the feeling of her soft tit-flesh against my hardness. Then I suddenly started gushing, my jism shooting up onto her neck and chin, and some falling onto my body and/or anointing her chest. It seemed to last a long time, and was certainly the most intense of my life so far, exceeding even my most successful masturbations.

When it was over she wriggled up my body, ignoring the semen that was coating both of us, and put our mouths together again. I didn't remember ever feeling so relaxed and happy, even though I knew that Matty was really a highly specialized kind of prostitute. Before we got up I felt I had to mentally scan my list of principles. I had her for a day. Could I, without breaking any of them, somehow arrange to keep her for longer, or renew the relationship when we were both off the island? I knew that I must put such thoughts from my mind, not because they were wrong or even unrealistic, but because they were premature. There were, after all, about fifty female prey-persons on the island.

To be Alive

I thought carefully about getting ready to re-enter the compound with my prize. Although the weather was dry it obviously rained often, so there were many pools of clean water among the rocks. First I gathered what semen I could and smeared it onto Matty's breasts, rubbing it in well. Most of what I used came from her neck and chin, as the rest had already been massaged into her body by our physical contact. I removed her top completely, leaving her naked except for her sandals, which I let her keep until she had walked the short distance back to my golf cart. Then I washed myself as best I could, and put my clothes back onto my wet body. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but the sun and the breeze would soon dry me off.

We walked to the buggy hand in hand, and then she rode with me on the front bench seat. I didn't force the pace as I was enjoying the fresh air and her company, with one hand lodged between her legs, right up against her pussy. She spent much of the time with her hands behind her head, taking very literally my order that she must always display her breasts. In that position they looked magnificent.

Soon another buggy caught up with us. One of the female hunters- I remembered that her name was Felicity- had done very well, catching one of each sex. In the front seat was a big-breasted plump girl with a pretty face, still wearing her clothes. In the back sat a smaller male, and as the carts had no sides I could see that he was naked and masturbating with one hand. I remarked on that to Matty. "She'll have told him to stay erect," was the reply. "I'm sure she'll have used him once already, so he'll have to do that to obey her. Men need time to recover properly."

As if to illustrate her point, which I did not find startlingly original, she reached down and across to feel my crotch, where my penis was now undetectable under my trousers. It was a surprising gesture. In my very limited experience, women had treated a limp dick as if it harboured a contagious disease, or as if touching it would humiliate the owner. Seeing that Felicity was looking at her she hastily put her hand back on the back of her head, proudly showing off her bust. The draft, I noticed, was keeping her nipples erect.

A third buggy soon joined the little convoy; this one carrying a male hunter with a single female prey-person. She was clothed and sitting in the front seat, but bent right over his knee, sucking his penis. I wondered whether she was just edging him, or whether she was supposed to make him cum before they reached the compound, or even just as they passed through the gate. I never knew, because he put his foot down and pulled ahead and was out of sight before we reached the fence.

I enjoyed the walk from the buggy park, through the lobby, the common lounge, and the dining room to my suite. There were several people present, some with captives they had taken during the day, and as I had planned, Matty's body was ripe with the scent of our coupling. I had two aims in mind. I wanted it to be seen that I had done well, and taken a highly desirable woman, but I also wanted to get to my rooms and stay there for as long as possible.

Some of the hunters would be sharing their prizes and/or organizing threesomes and gangbangs. Some of the prey-persons would be used in the lounge, the dining room or the pool, or anywhere in the grounds. I was going to immerse myself in Matty's body and sexuality. Room service would provide our meals and most of our exercise would be on the bed.

To begin with, we both used the toilet and the shower. I allowed her privacy for the former, but we washed together, kissing almost constantly as the hot water cascaded over our bodies. Afterwards, having dried one another, we tumbled into bed, and after rolling together, kissing and fondling one another, she guided my erection- firm and strong again- into her vagina.

She was very energetic in bed, and as my experience was minimal and mediocre I was happy to accept her leadership. She began on top, grinning down at me as she rode me hard, pushing herself up so she was almost squatting on me to use her weight to drive herself down onto my shaft. I had never felt anything like it, and I was fascinated by the way her breasts swung and changed shape as she bounced. I felt I could last forever; the interval since our al fresco romp had been just right.

Suddenly, she was lying flat on my body, and her mouth was on mine. It was heavenly to kiss and penetrate her at the same time, and she was unbelievably tactile; soft, smooth and curvaceous under my hands. I couldn't imagine ever allowing her to wear clothes. Then, in a surprisingly athletic manoeuvre, she rolled us both right over, and I was on top.

Now I could do anything I wanted, thrusting into her with my hips, kneading her breasts, kissing her mouth, face, throat and breasts, and feeling that I was her master as she flung her arms out and pretended to be helpless. I was in seventh heaven, just beginning to wonder how long I wanted to continue before I ejaculated. She suddenly came, shuddering and shaking her way through two massive orgasms before suddenly turning us onto our sides, and I pivoted my legs up between hers to push straight into her. I assumed that she was satisfied and it was my turn now, but after another couple of minutes she started cumming again. Even that was not enough, for she flipped them over again before she reached down and grasped the bottom of my penis between finger and thumb. Then I came, and although she was not cumming she moaned with pleasure as she felt my semen pumping into her vagina.

Afterwards, we lay holding one another tightly and kissing gently, almost as if we were trying to force our two bodies to merge into one. I was finding it almost impossible to believe that I had been treated to a performance by a high-class call-girl. There had to be more to it than that, but I kept my counsel while we rested for a few minutes, and I then got up and ordered food from room service. They delivered very quickly, and we sat at a small table, both still naked, and tucked into steaks with pepper sauce and salad.

I wanted to ask her lots of questions, but there were obvious limits. Was it all for the money didn't seem to hit quite the right note, so I started by remembering that she had said that she had to leave the island soon. "What did you mean by that?" I asked.

"I've been a prey-person for nearly a year," she replied. "That's the maximum allowed under the rules of the company. I have to leave for a year. I have plenty of money saved up. After eleven months I can apply to start again, when the year is up. I've been assured that my application will be successful. But who knows? Anything might happen in a year."

"Do you like living like an animal, in the wild, hunted every day?"

"It isn't quite as wild as most people think. You'd be surprised at how much the prey has collected, over the years. Hunters are careless. They leave things behind. There are homes out there. Don't ask me to tell you where they are."

"You seem to be enjoying your food. You seemed to enjoy the sex. Don't you like the comforts that civilization can offer?

"I love the sex; most of it anyway. The good makes up for the bad. We're having a great time, but I might be gang-banged by dykes tomorrow, so I suppose it evens out. Life is simple here; I wouldn't say predictable, but I'm not always worrying about paying rent, or expecting a call from the police. The simple life can be quite addictive."

I felt that I was marking time, unable to put my real questions into words. It seemed to me that, while our guides had answers to everything that was put to them, the answers never seemed quite to add up. It was like living in a universe in which two and two always made five. I had no reason to believe that Matty knew the real answers, but I was determined to probe, however carefully.

"I can't help wondering how this place works," I began, trying to look thoughtful instead of staring at her breasts. "There are about eighteen square miles- very roughly- in which to hide a hundred people, and only ten of us to search for you. I know the trackers help us, and you have to cross a lot of territory to find your food, but I still don't understand why it's so easy for the hunters. I left here this morning, never having hunted anything in my life before, and I came back before dinner, with you. If I had handed you over to Miss Millicent, would I have caught another girl this afternoon? Do hunters ever go for days without a catch?

"You're full of questions," she replied, and I felt her foot touch my leg under the narrow table. "The hunting is genuine, in that you really have to track and catch your prey. There are subtle ways in which the hunting and the good-gathering processes are brought into close proximity with one another. If you hadn't taken me you would certainly have crossed the paths of more prey-persons. I can't say whether you'd have found and shot any of them. You got me at point-blank range, so I don't know whether you're a crack shot or not."

"Another thing," I persisted. "Given the number of prey and the number of hunters, and assuming we catch, say, one every other day, you should be here in the compound, shagging someone, about a twentieth of the time. That's a pretty extravagant use of person-power. If a bus company found that its vehicles were in use for only one day in twenty, I think they'd soon get rid of some of them, or start some more routes."

She laughed. "This is beginning to seem like a very complicated way of asking the age-old question. What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" I felt her leg foot stroke up my leg until it was within a few inches of my crotch, and my penis was beginning to stir again as she went on. "The prey have ways and means of ensuring that most of the work is done by those most suited to it. I'm caught about once every four or five days. Others have not been taken in months. Don't expect me to say more than that."

I had finished eating, so I reached down with both hands and grasped her foot, caressing it as I asked my next question. "So you're happy in your work? You said you'd have to leave here soon. Won't that be a rest for you, and a change? You must have plenty of money squirrelled away; enough to get you through a year."

"You are curious, aren't you? Are you going to offer to take me away from all this? About a tenth of the hunters that catch me do that. I always decline, as politely as I can. Another tenth- sometimes the same ones- offer to invest my money for me. Thanks but no thanks. My work is a curate's egg. I like some of my captors, but I don't like Miss Millicent. She knows that, so she wouldn't have given me an easy time. I've liked you so far, but fewer questions and more fucking would be an improvement. You can go on doing that. Do feet turn you on?"

She leant back a bit in her seat, and her other foot came up onto my lap. I began to play with both, rubbing the toes individually and slipping my fingers between them. "I never knew that I liked feet," I told her, "but I like your feet. Don't take my curiosity the wrong way. I'm curious about this place. I'm wondering if there's any way I could invest in it, like Miss Millicent."

"That would be good. It would be nice to have regular hunters who are also good lays. Can we go back to bed now?"

We did that, and started out lying heads-to-feet, so I sucked my first female (or any) toes, and she sucked mine. As before, I let her set the pace, so the first move was onto one another's soles. I had always thought mine far too ticklish to give me any pleasure, but she had a way of stroking them firmly with her tongue that was very stimulating, and I was by then fully hard again. While I was on the island I never knew whether my libido was being enhanced by something in the food, or the water, or the pills that we were given to give us immunity (we were told) to a local variety of poison ivy.

We worked our way slowly up one another's legs, and finally reached the "69" position, and for the first time I felt those delicious lips enclosing my penis. It was so tempting to ignore her vulva and experience my first really expert blowjob, but I felt there would probably be other opportunities. My night would be all the better if I cultivated her view of me as one of her better and more considerate lovers. I plunged my tongue into her tunnel, finding it, as it always seemed to be, awash with her secretions, and for a while we both surrendered ourselves to oral pleasure.

Finally she moved just enough to let me know that it was time to move to her clitoris, and I did so, circling it and finally giving it direct stimulation. With both hands free I was able to hold the hood open to give my tongue unrestricted access, but I was feeling mildly nervous about what was to come. I knew she would climax very soon, and it would happen with my penis deep in her mouth, so was I in danger of being bitten? Previous experience with her suggested that, during her orgasms, most of the muscles in her body spasmed out of control, and I couldn't see why that would not include her jaw.

I realized that the risk was probably minimum. She would not have lasted long on the island if she had left a trail of maimed cocks behind her. Had I withdrawn then I would have spoiled my own orgasm, for I started pumping just a few seconds before hers began. I kept my tongue firmly on her clit and tried to stay alert enough to understand how she was coping, and I think I understood the protocol that she had developed for dealing with that situation.

The key to success was her tongue. To avoid biting me she had to lock her jaw wide open, so she could only touch me with one lip, denying me that feeling of enclosure that I found so delicious. Instead she wrapped her tongue around the lower part of my penis, and as the upper part was thrusting into her throat I was still getting, so to speak, my money's worth. Cumming together gave me- and I hope us both- a great sense of achievement, but I still looked forward to a simple blowjob, without distractions. That would come much later, for I was still an anal virgin.

The "69" left us both sated and very relaxed, and I tried to settle down with my head on her breasts for a rest, or even an hour's sleep. Instead, I found myself kissing them and sucking the nipples, unable to waste any of my time with so perfect a female body. She made no move to stop me, but I wondered whether she was used to hunters who were so sexually naïve and inexperienced. I was careful not to leave marks by sucking too hard, knowing that, for all I knew, she would be with another hunter within twenty-four hours.

I was resolved to enjoy Matty as much as I possibly could, even if it meant I was too exhausted to function properly the next day, but I needed at least an hour or two to get hard again. I got up, leaving my captive to snooze on the bed, and summoned a serving wench to take the remnants of our meal away, and bring us a couple of bottles of wine. The girl who came was both pretty and flirty. Dressed in a latex caricature of a waitress's uniform, she went out of her way to ask me whether I needed services of any other kind.

"I'm very well served, thank you," I told her. "I won't need anything else until breakfast time."

She wasn't quite content with that. "The beds here are big, sir," she said. "Some hunters feel that it takes more than two people to fill them."

"I'm sure I do, and later in the week I'll probably feel the same way. But not tonight, Josephine."

"The name's Lilac, sir, but please remember me if you do."

Unsure of the tipping customs I had brought a stack of notes with me, and I gave her two twenties as a kind of deposit. She thanked me graciously and curtseyed, being careful to bend low in front of me so I got glimpse of her nipples. Her bust was modest, but I had learnt something potentially important. If a day's hunting did not produce a bedmate, others were available. There was never any need to sleep alone.

Matty had not gone to sleep, but was sitting up in bed, flipping through the channels on the television. Everything came via satellite, so almost everything was available, including many feeds that were usually scrambled or completely invisible. There were several devoted to hunting humans, including the one that showed our location.

She showed me how she'd been captured earlier in the day. In a widening of a fifty-foot ravine between two rock faces, Miss Millicent- represented as a much more attractive AI avatar- had wedged herself into a narrow crack on the shady side, where she was virtually invisible. Matty came into the picture, walking lightly but not very slowly, and appeared to be headed straight into an ambush.

"I was stupid," said the live version of Matty who was on my bed. "I was daydreaming. I should have seen the stones disturbed on the ground. It's usually second-nature to me."

She was undoubtedly very lucky. Miss Millicent had climbed about three feet up into the cleft, preferring to shoot down at any target that presented itself. One of her feet was on a narrow ledge of rock, and the other on the protruding root of a tree or shrub that had long ago died and disappeared. At the moment she fired, the rotten wood gave way, and the shot struck the ground a few inches from Matty's foot. There was no actual projectile, of course. Her implant was programmed to give her a slight jolt when it detected a near miss.

The quarry leapt into motion, knowing that she had a couple of seconds before the hunter could fire again. It was enough to make her a moving target, and Miss Millicent, knowing that she'd be out of sight around a protruding boulder in another moment, fired hastily and missed again. Then the picture changed to show what Matty was seeing; a shadowing figure just in front, holding a rifle. It was, like the other one, much better looking than the real thing, but just as indecisive. Matty's only choice was to charge straight at it, and instead of using the rifle I- or my avatar- dropped it and drew my pistol. Matty knocked me off balance and almost made it to the next bend, but was felled by a lucky shot fired almost at random.

"I should have dodged to the left," said Matty as she stopped the clip. "There's a shelf of rock sticking out that might have stopped the shot. You wouldn't have got a second chance."

"You'd have been out in the open then," I replied. "I might have made it out of the ravine in time to get a clear shot at you. That isn't to say I would have hit you, but I'd have been on your trail for the rest of the day, so we'd probably still be here, together."

"I'd have led you down into the woods," she replied. "We'd have crossed other fresh trails, and your detector wouldn't have distinguished one from the other. Yes, you'd probably be here, but with another pair of tits to fondle."

I had, actually, been gently stroking her right nipple. "For you," I replied, "it's like playing a computer game. You keep getting killed, but you can watch the process, and every day you get a chance to play again, but with more knowledge and experience. I wonder whether you can get too much experience, and that's why they don't let you play for the rest of your life."

"There are lots of reasons for that," she answered. "Now, if I may change the subject, are you going to bugger me tonight?"

To this day, that is number one on my list of unexpected questions. In a way, it was also one of the easiest to answer, but for some reason I felt that I should beat about the bush a little. "I've had a lot of good offers today, but that might just be the best one. Do you like anal sex?"

"Not always, but I think I'll like it with you. That's not why I mentioned it. We don't have bidets in the wilderness, although we do have toilet paper. I'll relieve myself, but then you'd better give me an enema. That can be fun, and we can have another shower afterwards."

And so I got two for the price of one. I had never thought much about enemas before, but the bathroom of my suite was equipped with a tube, a nozzle and a machine that pumped out a measured quantity of lukewarm water, to which a gentle, mildly scented detergent could be added. Matty bent over willingly to accept the nozzle, and she hummed with pleasure as the liquid filled her. Obviously there was not enough to cause her any pain, and I let her drain herself immediately. It was not completely clear, so I gave her two refills before I was satisfied, and then we both took another shower.

I loved showering with Matty, and she seemed to enjoy it too. The hot water, running down our faces, seemed to soften our lips, making our kisses seem doubly intimate, as if it was impossible to tell where mine ended and hers began. It was far too soon, however, to have sex again from any direction, so we lay together on the bed, talking and caressing one another's bodies. That, in itself, involved new discoveries for me.

I had already noted, while we were still out in the wild, that Matty was happy to play with my cock when it was not erect. Now I found that she seemed fascinated by it, stretching it, bending it, wrapping it around her fingers, opening and closing the foreskin, and finally sucking on it, rolling around in her mouth. It was quite a pleasant feeling despite my lack of arousal, and as she needed virtually no recovery time it meant that sexual activity could be virtually continuous over an indefinite period.

That was all very well, but I did want us to get some rest while I recovered, so I insisted that we should drink a couple of glasses of wine and then try sleeping. We probably did get a couple of hours, and as usual I woke up hard, with Matty's back against me, her butt crying out to be stroked and spanked, but I refrained from the latter. She was soon wide awake. "There's no time like the present," she called over her shoulder, and shuffled a bit to push her bottom further towards me. "Wet it first."

I had always imagined using something like KY Jelly for that purpose, but there was none to hand and I had not had the foresight to ransack the many cupboards and drawers. I did the best I could by pushing my fingers into her vulva and using those, for she was as wet as usual. Then I found it easy to push my way through her sphincter muscle and into her back passage, thankful that, like a novice hiker in the Lake District, I had a well-trodden route to follow.

Trying to compare experiences, I found it more enclosing but less adaptive, like a rubber tube that hugged me but did not conform exactly to my shape. It was, perhaps, more effective in stretching the skin of my shaft and pulling on the little bridge that connected it to the glans penis, and that, together with my excitement at losing my anal virginity, meant that I did not expect to last very long. I did not, at first, think that mattered, expecting that Matty would not derive any great pleasure from the penetration.

Then I realized that, not only was she trying to push herself back against me, but that one of her hands was between her legs, working on her vulva. It wasn't long before she was shaking her way through her first orgasm, which felt different as I could not feel her pulsing against my penis. I resolved to cum with her second, and in that I was successful enough, especially as it seemed less important to coordinate our pleasure. After filling her with my seed I stayed inside until, my erection having subsided, I slid out naturally. Then she turned over and we kissed, and that probably lasted longer.

After that we relaxed with a couple of glasses of wine, and while we drank them we watched another clip on the television. This one showed a different hunting range, at which the prey were shot with tranquilizer darts which, apparently, were so tiny that hits to the eyes could easily be repaired. The unconscious captives were bound hand and foot, and taken away slung on poles by bearers.

What made it interesting was that the prey-persons were allowed to fight back with sticks and improvised slings, and over a period of time, a few had acquired dart guns from felled hunters. The latter, therefore, had to go around in packs, fighting off counter-attacks, and typically a party of a dozen would return to its compound one or two short. It was a fighting retreat that we were watching. There were a dozen hunters and six bearers, with three captives, making their way down a deep, forested valley, with skin-clad "barbarians" always above them, throwing missiles or shooting down at them.

While we watched, three of the hunters were felled, but two were picked up and carried off by the others. The third, lagging slightly behind, was a woman who was dragged off by half a dozen prey-persons, so the hunter had truly become the hunted. The others fired after her, and scored two hits, but could not rescue their colleague or seize the unconscious bodies. They had to return to base one short. I asked Matty what would happen to the woman.

"She'll be staked out and gangbanged, either until they send out a strong enough rescue party- and they'll still have to find her- or until they pay a ransom, which might be in darts. That's a real stinger, of course, because it makes it much easier for the prey to fight back. Soon the hunters will have to start wearing armour, or they'll have to clear the whole range and start again somewhere else. It's very difficult, with people-hunting, to hit a happy medium between making it too easy and getting to the point when the hunters become the hunted."

"But you're saying she'll be gang-raped, possibly for days on end? Won't she sue the company for millions?"

"The company is very clear about the risks, and the hunters accept them. It can't be rape, because she's consented in advance. Most hunters probably fantasize about getting caught by their prey. Don't you? You often seem happy to let me take the lead."

"I don't think so. I let you take the lead because I want to learn from you. When I shot you, your body was mine. If I have a dog and there are balls to be chased, I'll let it take the lead. It'll still be my dog, and my ball, and I'll decide when to throw it."

For a moment I thought I'd been too harsh, but she laughed out loud and gave me a big kiss on the cheek. "Just throw that ball, massa!" She dived on my crotch, seizing my balls and putting them in her mouth, I still wondered whether she was going to take some terrible revenge, but she just came up still laughing. "Let's clean our teeth," she said, and climbed off the bed. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved, amused or annoyed. I'd have liked her to take me a little bit more seriously.

Ultimately, I knew that I just had to learn as much as I possibly could from Matty. I would enjoy myself immensely, say goodbye when the clock struck noon, and I would probably never see her again. According to the rules I would not be able to take her again for a calendar month, and I had no plans to return to the island then. If I chanced upon her later in the week I would be obliged to exchange her for another hunter's catch, or simply let her go.

Every Silver Lining

During the night we slept intermittently; enough to ensure that we could both function on the morrow. We had sex before we settled down, during the night, and before breakfast, and then spent most of the morning in bed. We saw no-one except the room service staff, and I didn't even open the curtains to watch the others frolicking in the grounds.

It was then that she fellated me properly, without the distraction of a "69," and when the time came to part I wished I had left more time to do it again. She had such agile, succulent lips that I doubted whether I would find anyone who could do it better. Another "first" was analingus. That morning I had her give me enemas after I did hers, and we both tried it. I had the impression that she didn't do it often, and I was in two minds about it afterwards.

It was not an orgasmic experience, but it was extremely intimate. Had I not seen pornstars do it online, I would have said that it was something that only the most devoted of lovers would do for one another. I suspected, however, that almost the opposite was true, and Matty showed no obvious sign of enjoying it. In retrospect I would have exchanged it for another blowjob, and for our last hour together we were face to face, our last sex act being in the missionary position.

I was sure there was genuine affection in her kisses when she left. I had managed, on that short ride on an emotional roller-coaster, to hide my own circumstances from her, and to keep in the back of my mind that the most adorable and passionate woman I had ever met was a whore. I was prepared to believe that she was happy in her work, and even that she liked me, so I intended to leave contact information for her, so she could look me up when she left the island, if she felt the urge to do so. For now, I had to think about my next capture.

I ate lunch in the dining hall; my first meal there, and I did manage some conversations with fellow hunters, although Miss Millicent looked daggers at me from across the room. I gathered that most of the party were aiming for the high ground, and, contrary as usual, decided to do the opposite. I suspected that at least one of the prey-persons released that morning had probably got wind of their intentions. Matty certainly did not know mine.

At about two o'clock in the afternoon, I set out on the lower track; the one that remained in the woods but close to the beach. It was well-made and level, so I made good time, and was not distracted by any signals from my detector. I enjoyed being near the sea, and wanted to explore the farther tip of the island, which was much rougher country; a mixture of swamps and jungle that most hunters avoided. They generally assumed- for no obviously good reasons- that their prey also avoided it.

I was not so sure. I had to avoid diversions. I was short of time, but also aware that the cart's battery was only good for a straightforward out-and-back journey. I enjoyed the ride, for I liked being so close to the sea, but when the track got rougher I found it difficult to continue. Some of the roots and little gullies that crossed it were deep; capable of "grounding" my buggy and leaving the wheels spinning in mid-air and forcing me to dismount and shove it free. The change in the terrain was quite sudden, and I had still not detected any prey.

I abandoned the golf cart and proceeded on foot, carrying only a bottle of water, a couple of nutrient bars, my rifle and my pistol. I soon found myself forced to walk along the beach, skirting an unusual mixture of jungle and rocky outcrops. Between the latter were several gaps, most of which were filled with an impassible tangle of vegetation, but there were ways open into the interior. I was reluctant to take any of them.

I pushed my way into one- just a few feet- and was instantly alerted to a crude alarm system by the way some of the vines were hanging. I was also suspicious of what was underfoot. The vegetation was dripping moisture and the atmosphere was humid, but the path was strewn with dry rushes and what looked like straw. I suspected a deadfall, not in the literal sense, but something that would act as another alarm. I realized that, inexperienced as I was, lady luck was smiling on me.

If I was not going to penetrate the interior I was not going to catch anyone: it was as simple as that. I needed an alternative, and eventually I clambered up one of the low rockfaces between the booby-trapped ravines. It was not difficult, but once above ground level further progress was hazardous. It involved stepping, bent double to improve my balance, from one sharp stone to another. The surface did not resemble a limestone pavement, but more a bed of slates placed on their edges, with gaps between groups. I guessed that whoever had placed the alarm traps had not expected anyone to attempt my route, and there was no question of going more than a few tens of yards.

I did not have to go far. I reached a point at which I was only a few feet above the jungle below, and from the edge I overlooked a roughly circular clearing, about twenty feet across. I could see several cave openings, and suspected that more were below me, out of my line of sight. The area was far too clear to be natural, so I assumed that, if I waited long enough, my prey would appear. Whether I would still have time to get back to the compound before dark, and whether that mattered, I had no idea.

In the event, I had no more than fifteen minutes to wait. Having found a space where I could lie fairly comfortably- albeit in the foetal position- I was almost dozing off, but a flashing light on my detector brought me back to full alertness, and I crept right to the edge. In the middle of the open area was a very dark-haired woman; a substantial figure with big breasts clearly visible under her suede top. I could not see her face, and she was not looking in my direction, but at one of the cave openings.

From there appeared another woman of similar build and bustiness, but with fairer hair. The two met in the middle, embraced and kissed passionately, and I wondered whether I was about to watch a lesbian coupling, there in the open. It was more likely, though, that they would retreat into one of the caves, and if there was a labyrinth behind the openings, I might never find them.

I placed both my weapons side by side in front of me, and crawled a little further forward, noting that the couple were too engrossed in one another to look up at the rockface. They were not far away, so even with my dodgy marksmanship it was easy for me shoot the raven-haired woman in the back, between her shoulders. It took the other a moment to realize that her lover was collapsing, rather than pulling her down for al fresco ravishment, and then she turned and fled for the nearest opening.

I did not wait for the rifle to reload, but snatched up the pistol and fired. It was a near miss, but my target paused to spin around and survey the surroundings. I never really understood why; at that point she could have escaped capture. My best guess was that she thought there were several hunters present, and her only chance was to change direction and move under them, or most of them. Before she took off again, however, I had my rifle ready, and shot her in her left breast. It was a target big enough to make the rankest amateur look good.

Then I just had to clamber down to the ground, falling in an ungainly heap as I got there but emerging unscathed. I laid a hand on each woman's shoulder, claiming them as my own as they still lay there, twitching and groaning from the pain of the paralysing shots. The rifles were more powerful than the pistols, so hit at close range, they suffered more than Matty. I was tempted to poke my nose into some of the caves, but resisted. I had no desire to encounter more prey and to have to drive them home like a herd of cows.

The two women, both of whom were extremely attractive, seemed, as they recovered, to be more surprized than distressed. "How did you find your way here?" asked the raven haired one. "Do you know what you've done?"

"I followed my nose," I replied as I pulled her to her feet. "And no, I don't. I just know I'll be warm and snug in bed tonight."

She ignored that. Her friend took over the conversation. "You've captured the chief's harem," she said, as if everyone knew that there was a chief on the island, with a harem. We're supposed to be safe here, while everyone else goes to collect the food. He'll be furious to find us gone. He never lets anyone else use us for sex."

Of course, we were not yet "gone," and I didn't want to still be there when the prey started arriving home. I also doubted whether they were the only prey-persons in the vicinity. It seemed improbable that the other ninety-eight had scattered all over the island, leaving only two behind. In theory I was completely safe. If the rules were observed, all of them could have been standing around watching while I marched the two women away. I thought, however, that it would be wise to avoid provocation. "Lead the way to the beach," I told them. "If you do it without making noise or triggering booby-traps, I'll double your tips."

Money opens many pathways, and in five minutes we were out of the jungle labyrinth and marching towards where my cart was waiting. The women were walking side by side, muttering to one another, but they didn't seem unhappy and I enjoyed watching their very substantial bottoms wagging at me. I rather regretted not having stripped them in the clearing, but perhaps that would have come under the heading of provocation.

My detector flashed a couple of times as we crossed trails that had not been there when I made the outward journey. I saw nobody, but had the feeling of being watched, so I kept my rifle at the ready and my pistol to hand, half-expecting to be suddenly surrounded. The women's jaunty manner also made me nervous: it was almost as if they did not expect me to succeed in getting them to the compound.

In retrospect, it was obvious that the two women had no idea that their lord and master had gathered most of the prey on the ridge, near where I had captured Matty the day before. The two or three in our vicinity were not going to sacrifice themselves by breaking cover, so we reached the buggy without incident. Once clear of the broken ground I headed straight for the compound at the dizzying full-speed of eight miles per hour, ignoring my urge to stop for long enough to explore my prisoners' bodies. Despite my haste, the daylight was fading when I drove through the gates, and as soon as we reached my suite I ordered dinner for three from room service.

Obviously, in the process of catching them and bringing them home I had looked them over as much as I could, but it was only when they were sitting opposite me at the little table that I felt I could examine them at leisure, and it was only then that I asked them their names. The raven-haired woman- Gwladus- was, and sounded, very Welsh. Dark hair, dark eyebrows and lashes, naturally red lips on a small but smiling mouth, and plump cheeks, all contributed to that impression. She was immediately likeable, and her figure was not only busty, but very fleshy without being fat.

They sat on the narrow bench with their inner breasts pressed together, for her companion had a very similar figure. Harmony was more of a mixture, with more prominent but symmetrical features, an even smaller mouth and paler lips, and curly, almost auburn hair. I couldn't have said at that moment which was the better looking, but had I been choosing a mistress I would have taken Gwladus, although she was the elder of the two. She seemed warmer, friendlier and more accessible. Harmony looked more like a pornstar, even with her clothes still on, and with no make-up, which was never worn on the island.

I reckoned I had four or five minutes before the food was delivered, so I got up and moved behind the pair. Gwladus sat still while I reached over her shoulder and undid her top. Unlike Matty's it was not closed with Velcro, but with crudely fashioned wooden pegs and loops. The garment was quite a tight fit, so when I opened it her breasts sank and swung attractively, and I grasped them to feel their weight, which was considerable.

Harmony was similarly impassive when I treated hers the same way, They felt very similar, but their nipples looked different. Gwladus's were bigger, with perfectly round and dark-pink areolas, whereas Harmony's were less prominent, with knobbly but flesh-coloured surrounds. Seeing they had resumed their positions, pressing their inner boobs against one another, I told them to get up and strip completely, which they did without a word of protest. I recited the house rules, repeating what I had told Matty and making a few more up as I went along.

"No clothing allowed in this suite. If we go out, I'll decide each time. Kick off your sandals. You must never cover your breasts in my presence, or your vulvas, and you must not cross your legs while sitting. You should aim to keep your mouths slightly open, but I doubt whether either of you can pout. You may sit with your breasts together, as you are now, but on my command of 'tits!' you must separate them and push them out towards me. I know you are lovers, so unless I say otherwise you can treat one another with intimacy and affection. Keep the actual snogging to when I'm not watching, or when it fits into something else that we're doing."

I know that sounded vague, but I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted from them. Just then our food arrived and we tucked in, and it was obvious they were very hungry. I guessed that there might not have been food available for lunch, and that they'd been wholly dependent on the other prey to bring home the bacon. We had fillet steaks followed by Key lime pie, and not a scrap was left. They even wolfed down the salad, the shortbread biscuits, and all the After Eights that came with the coffee.

I remarked on their appetites, and Harmony replied. "The Leader thought we were getting fat," she said. "We've been on half-rations for two weeks."

"I like plenty of flesh," I replied. "You look just about right to me."

They looked very pleased to hear that. "How did the Leader get to be the Leader, and why are you his 'harem,' as you put it yourselves?"

Gwladus spoke up then, after hesitating for a minute, probably deciding how much to tell me. "He's a big, strong man, and ruthless. Think of Negan and Sanctuary in The Walking Dead, except that he doesn't kill people. He just beats them up in such a way as to avoid leaving marks. He's gathered a gang of like-minded cronies around him. He's also decided that we're his women, and no-one else will have us. We have to stay behind while everyone else visits the food dumps, but that means we're always slightly short. The dumps always contain enough calories for one person; no more."

"Isn't the amount supplemented by what captured prey-persons eat here?" I asked.

"That's taken into account. It's all done by an algorithm and the food's delivered by robotic devices working in underground pipes. The system works like clockwork, but the Great Leader has introduced a rogue element."

"Don't your dumps get over-filled with food that's going rotten?"

"It doesn't work like that. Any prey-person can open any dump, but only one in twenty-four hours. Any surplus is automatically cleared away as rubbish."

That was clear enough, but I could only imagine what the system had cost to establish. The fee of a thousand pounds a day began to seem unrealistically cheap, but I was not going to let that thought spoil my enjoyment of these two magnificent women. As soon as we had all finished our coffees and visited the toilet I ordered them over to the bed, marvelling at the way their breasts swung as they walked. I thought that high heels might suit them better than bare feet, but I had to remember that from twenty-four hours I could not spare much time for experiments.

When I joined them they were both kneeling upright, watching me undress. I had never dropped my pants with two pairs of eyes eager for their first glimpse of my erection. "Which of us are you going to do first?" asked Harmony.

I laughed. "You don't think I can take you both? But we'll do some serious snogging first. Shuffle apart a bit and let me get at you."

I knelt facing and almost between them, so I could reach either by leaning slightly and I started with Gwladus, giving her an open-mouthed kiss from the outset. It was very different to kissing Matty, whose lips were a kind of swamp into which I had sunk my own. The Welsh woman was a more precise fit, so I rocked my head instead of moving it from side to side, and she gradually softened and swelled under my mouth. Meanwhile I felt her breasts, squeezing them gently with one hand while reaching for Harmony's body with the other.

After a few minutes I changed over, kissing Harmony and fondling Gwladus. The English girl had an even smaller mouth but it seemed to expand to fit mine, so the experience was not very different. I did wonder whether I would have been happier with two very different women- say, one black and one white- but I had to do my best to exploit the pair that I had captured. I tried to kiss Harmony for the same length of time, feeling her breasts and finding them slightly heavier than Gwladus's. Then, I told them to start kissing one another.

That was a real bonus: I would never have guessed that the sight of two naked women kissing one another would be such a turn-on for me. That was the real bonus from taking the pair; double-value because they were already lovers. There was no mistaking the passion with which they kissed one another, and I concluded that I should accept their relationship and try to act as an accessory to it. I bent towards them and began to fondle, suck and lick their breasts and nipples, trying to spread my efforts evenly between the two.

I could tell, although my face was buried in breast-flesh, that their hands were beginning to roam over one another's bodies, and I was determined not to become an irrelevance. They were still obliged to obey me, so I leant back and told them to lie down, and placed myself between them. It was now just a question of which one I would penetrate first.

They knew the game they wanted to play, and it was very much what I had in mind. Gwladus pulled me over to face her and I kissed her and grabbed her breasts, and she reached down to guide my erection into her pussy. I swung my legs up between hers and thrust upwards, and for a short time I felt such joy- such happiness- that I almost cried. Then I felt sexual pleasure, and continued to push as I realized that Harmony's hands were all over our bodies and reaching between my legs. Then I felt a finger pushing into my bottom, and I realized that I would cum almost immediately, unless I stopped her.

Suddenly, Gwladus began to cum, and as she jerked and spasmed on my cock I made a conscious effort to relax, postponing my own gratification. I was getting better at that; more in control of my own arousal. I turned over to face Harmony, and a moment later I was inside her.

***

The pair were wonderful lovers and their breasts, the combined bulk of which were probably ten times the volume of Matty's mammaries, were a world that I would never tire of exploring. I didn't find, however, that they were particularly imaginative. My fantasies had always involved two or three males to one female. I could think of numerous ways in which two females could serve one male, but they did not generally result in orgasmic equality. I knew that I was not obliged to provide captives with numerous orgasms, but it was fundamental to my own enjoyment of their bodies.

We finally settled, just before bedtime, on a system that was, really, more like them exploiting me than the other way around. It was not original. One of the women knelt over my midriff and impaled herself on my erection. The other used my mouth, and they faced one another, able to lean forward to kiss and caress one another. If I worked hard with my lips and tongue, both could enjoy good orgasms, and they changed places after the first. I have to admit that I felt more used than involved, but I could caress the nearer bottom with my hands, and even reach up to grasp a pair of breasts.

I was, therefore, content to let myself be used, both then, and in the middle of the night, and again after breakfast in the morning. I secretly resolved that I would not again try for two prizes, and if they did come my way I would hope for slimmer, lighter girls.

I would have preferred to take Harmony and Gwladus one at a time, but when I thought of what my old life had been like, especially before the lottery win, the idea that I could ever have too much female flesh seemed ridiculous. I had to tell myself I was being stupid and entitled, and eat pussy and thrust up my hips for as long as they needed me to.

I was still counting my blessings- the answer was six as each of the women had two breasts and a pussy (I hadn't sodomized either of them)- when there was a sudden announcement, overriding all the other sound systems in the suite. All guests, captures and staff, please gather in the dining hall in ten minutes. This is urgent and mandatory. It is not a drill.

My two women were astonished: apparently it was totally unprecedented. They wanted to put their clothes on, but I refused their request, although I donned a shirt and trousers. I walked down the corridor between them, holding hands and glancing from side to side to admire the way their boobs were swinging and bouncing. When we arrived I knew I had made the right decision. Of the nine hunters present (including me) seven had captured prey with them, totalling nine individuals. Six- four females and two males- were naked.

Two of the hunters had obviously resorted to the serving wenches, who were at best half-dressed, and all the other staff were present or hurried in a minute or two after me. I noticed that the administrative staff were carrying their stun-pistols, although they were holstered and they did not seem to expect to need them. Then a man I hadn't met, but who I now understood to be the park manager, stood on a dais with a microphone and made an announcement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've taken the exceptional step of calling you together because of what we think might be a real emergency. Miss Millicent Montgomery failed to return to the compound last night, or during the night. We have no idea why, but she was not one for wild camping. We have to assume that some misfortune had befallen her. It's an unintended consequence of our respect for your privacy that we do not put trackers on hunters. Her golf cart is on the beach only a couple of miles from here, but we doubt whether she drove it there herself. She could be anywhere on the island."

Someone called from the audience. "Are you thinking she's met with an accident? It would be easy to fall into a crevice or break a leg when climbing among the rocks."

"Yes," replied the manager, "but who dove the buggy onto the beach? Someone must know where she is, but hasn't brought her in, or reported it if she's too badly hurt to be moved safely. The prey know we give rewards for helping hunters in distress."

"Are you saying someone's harmed her?" asked another voice.

"We're not saying anything, but we have to consider every possibility. We have two drones out at the moment, but their operators haven't seen anything yet. We're asking that you devote today to a search. We'll either refund you a day's fee, or give you an extra day at no charge. All prey here at the moment will stay for the time being, and keep you company tonight. You can make exchanges if you want."

Another hunter piped up. "Do you have any reason to believe that she's been deliberately harmed by a prey-person? What motive to they have to break the rules so flagrantly, and how would they do it, with no weapons?"

"We don't know," was the answer. He seemed hesitant to say more, but resigned himself to doing so. "There have been... anomalies... imbalances. There are prey-persons who are rarely seen here, and others who seem to do more than their share. We suspect a hidden hand, but not necessarily a malignant force. We'll suspend judgement until we find Miss Montgomery, and she can tell us what happened to her."

I kept quiet throughout the proceedings, but I thought that, in looking around the room, his gaze fell more often than necessary on my two captive women. I decided not to report what they had told me, although I would use my knowledge to help with the search for Miss Montgomery. I was not heartbroken by her disappearance, but if the natives had turned hostile, it would affect me as much as anyone else, I remembered the clip that I had watched with Matty. The hunters could all too easily become the hunted.

I was quite excited by the prospect of the hunt for Miss Montgomery. I suspected it would be dangerous, for I hadn't forgotten the prey-persons' use of falling rocks, the numerous sticks that lay about the forest, and the vines that proliferated in the jungle. How many of the natives had become hostile? I could not ask Harmony and Gwladus; they were led away from me as the meeting drew to a close, and I could only hope that their interrogations were not too painful. They were undoubtedly among the "anomalies" that the management had noticed. I doubted whether I would see them again.

Hunting Millicent

There were not enough of us to search the whole island properly, but most of the serving wenches and several other staff members had been roped in, and some areas had been eliminated by the drones. I volunteered to go to the far tip of the islands, as I was the only one present with any experience of its peculiar terrain, so I set off, making the best speed that I safely could. I was not alone. We had been told to hunt in pairs, and I had been allowed to pick Lilac, who looked very different dressed in suede and armed to the teeth.

"Can you use those," I asked her, nodding towards the rifle that she kept on her knee. She had two pistols in holsters attached to her belt.

"I can indeed," she replied with just a trace of indignation. "We're made to practice, like Englishmen with longbows."

"English kings expected to have to fight," I replied. "Do the managers expect that too?"

"We're told that it's just insurance," she said. "It's never happened yet, and this place has been running for years."

I let it go at that. This time I did not stick to the track, but ran the buggy down to the beach, so I could get it right to the tip of the island, passing the point at which I had penetrated the labyrinth the day before. There were a lot of rocks and rockpools, and the clear sand above the high-water mark was limited. We were listening to reports on our earpieces, and knew that we were only a hundred yards from the nearest reinforcements as we approached the jungle. Here the rocky outcrops were lower and pathways between them were clogged with vegetation that quite easy to cut through.

We had brought machetes and were not as committed to avoiding alarms as I had been last time. If we frightened off the prey we would be driving them towards our fellow hunters, and there were no prizes for bringing them down. It took us about an hour to search the last hundred yards of the island, and we found plenty of signs of activity, but nothing suspicious. If Miss Montgomery was being held captive, there would, somewhere, be a makeshift cage, and/or signs that vines had been recycled as simple restraints.

Then, hacking our way through much denser vegetation, we reached the clearing which was the scene of my triumph the previous day. We were not alone now, for another couple- a female hunter and a male groundsman from the compound, had cut their way in from the beach, and we had heard the rattling and crunching as they had blundered through the alarms. No-one else was in sight, but we were confronted by the cave entrances that could have concealed anything. We decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and that we would wait for at least another two pairs to arrive. They would need about twenty minutes, but we were assured, via our radios, that they would join us.

To wait for our reinforcements, we climbed one of the low outcrops surrounding the clearing, finding the spot where I had waited the day before. The other two found our hideout too cramped and went off to find another spot, so I was curled up in a shallow cleft with Lilac. She was a refreshing change from my big-boobed captives; lithe and slim with small breasts and a face that was boyish but still very attractive, with full, natural lips. We didn't make a decision, but somehow came together, and in moments my hands were all over her body.

We carried a few minor bruises afterwards, but it was a memorable coupling, if a short one. We had managed to compose ourselves by the time the reinforcements arrived, and then we climbed down into the clearing and chose one of the openings. We picked the one that seemed to show the most signs of traffic, but we left two of the recent arrivals in the clearing to watch for prey escaping from the others.

We were all too aware that we were poorly equipped for real fighting. Our rifles and pistols were not adjustable in the field, having never been intended for serious conflict. If we were rushed by a mob we might be able to shoot some of them down, but we would then be overwhelmed, and the casualties would be out of action for no more than a few minutes. We had no means of restraining captives, for it had always been assumed that they would obey the rules of the game.

We all had small but powerful torches, and we moved slowly and cautiously into the cave, finding plenty of signs of recent occupation, but no people. We did find a pile of pieces of improvised rope, made from vines, and we helped ourselves to those. There were also some crudely carved sticks, half-way to being turned into spears. The prey had no metal knives, but some, obviously, had been experimenting with the sharp flints that could be found everywhere.

Then, much further in, we found a cell. It was nothing more than a blind chamber, about six feet by ten, with a narrow opening into the main passage. The access had been blocked with rocks that were much too big for a single person to move, so it made an effective prison, with gaps in the barrier wide enough to pass in food and drink. The prisoner was, however, not Miss Millicent Montgomery. It was Matty.

As we struggled to push aside the rocks, she explained that she had refused to join the rebellion. Although there had been several opponents, she was the most vociferous, and The Leader had decided that, if she was put away, the others would be harmless. I was prepared to trust her, but the others were not wholly convinced, and insisted on tying her wrists behind her back with the recently-acquired rope. She didn't seem to mind, and continued to tell us what she knew, or what she thought she knew.

We were, basically, in the wrong place. The cave system was a good hiding place in normal times, but now it was a trap. Some of the rebels had scattered throughout the forest, and the reluctant participants were probably giving themselves up already. The rest would have to be hunted down, delaying discovery of the main group, which was on the ridge in the centre of the island. There, they could move enough rocks to make effective barriers, and use the smaller stones as missiles, with the only approaches being uphill.

But what would be the point? The rock pools would yield enough water to last them two or three days, unless it rained a lot more than it usually did at that time of year. They might have enough food saved up for two or three, but probably no more. My companions thought that Matty was trying to send us on a wild goose chase, and began to suggest more forceful methods to get the truth from her. I was inclined to believe that she was telling us what she believed to be the truth, but that she might have been fed disinformation and left in her cell to lead us astray.

After a few minutes' debate and some cursory investigations of the other caves, I managed to persuade them that the ridge would have to be investigated. At the same time we got news over our radios that two of the other pairs had begun to walk just below the highest point on the ridge, and had beaten a hasty retreat in the face of flying stones. We decided to head that way, but we had no idea what we would do when we got there.

***

An hour later we were on the ridge, where we were joined by about half the hunters and employees. Most of the other half were approaching from the opposite direction, so the rebel stronghold was between us. We got occasional glimpses of the people who were supposed to be our prey, and there were enough of them to outnumber us comfortably. They could not harm us if we stayed beyond a stone's throw, and if we managed to pick one or two off with our rifles, they recovered in a few minutes. The result was deadlock. We could have charged, firing as we advanced, but thrown rocks and slingshots would be just as effective. I sensed that nobody wanted to force the issue to the point at which real injuries- possibly deaths- would be inflicted.

The stalemate continued until nightfall, and by then some of the serving-wenches had been sent back to the compound to collect food for us all. By then we knew what was happening to Miss Millicent Montgomery; clearly seen from a drone that transmitted pictures in ultra-high-definition. Some of us watched on a screen as, staked out naked in a small clear patch between some tall upright stones, she was used for pleasure by her captors, one after another, both male and female. The drone had infra-red sensors that detected the changes in vital signs that accompanied orgasms, and we were surprised to see that Miss Millicent was climaxing; enjoying about one orgasm for every three experienced by her ravishers.

I remarked on that, and the drone operator replied. "She looks very proper," he said, "but believe me; she's an animal. The prey she catches often need treatment before we can release them after the twenty-four hours are up. We have to rehydrate them at least, but they're often covered with bumps, bruises, contusions and abrasions. They won't have chosen her at random."

I remembered that Matty had been so anxious to avoid Miss Millicent that she had run blindly into my clutches. I had never thought to ask her why, or to question the buxom pair who'd succeeded her. With new supplies of batteries brought up from the compound, we continued to watch the drone footage until it was too dark. By then we had an accurate count of the prey on the ridge; forty-one, of which twenty-two were males. Most of the male prey on the island had, therefore, joined the rebellion, but only a minority of the women. Many of the "friendlies" had now trickled into our two camps without waiting to be hunted down and shot, and Matty had been released, although I was keeping her very close.

As darkness was falling, the first attempts were made to negotiate with the rebels' camp. No progress was made towards ending the stalemate, and nothing was learnt about their aims. They demanded enough food for two days, and in return they offered to allow Miss Millicent to spend the night unmolested. It seemed a reasonable bargain, for even if the lady was enjoying her ravishment, another twelve hours of it might not be sustainable. The Albatross would arrive in the morning with an armoury of tranquilizer-dart guns and gas grenades that would work just as well on full stomachs. Everyone could look forward to a peaceful night, and it would be all over by lunchtime tomorrow.

Climax

It was decided that the night watch could be kept by most of the employees and a couple of hunters who liked to sleep al fresco. I was not one of them, and as Lilac was staying behind I had a clear conscience about taking Matty back to the compound and the comfort of my suite. She was very affectionate and we kissed repeatedly on the way, driving slowly along the easy track by the headlights and ignoring several alerts from the detector. It was quite possible that she was trying to distract me, but I had no desire to catch anyone else.

In fact, I was virtually exhausted. It was easy to forget that I had spent much of the day with the massively-mammaried pair who were now locked, with three or four others, in a building near the harbour, where new arrivals were usually kept. They had an adequate supply of food and other supplies, and I had no intention of paying them a visit. The rest of the day had been spent marching and driving around the island, climbing rocks and hacking through undergrowth, having sex with Lilac, exploring caves and climbing the ridge.

Matty was also visibly tired and wilting, and we both managed to eat some ready-prepared cold food- room service was suspended, of course- and to drink some wine. Then we went to bed, and lay kissing gently with my three-quarters-erect penis in her pussy and my hands on her breasts. That was a position which, I felt, I could maintain for hours, although we would probably fall asleep before long. I did, however, feel able to hold a conversation.

"You must have some insight," I said, kissing her again to show that I was not questioning her honesty or loyalty, "into what the rebels really want. They can hold out for a few more hours, but the end is inevitable, and they'll have done permanent damage to the business that provides them with their livings."

She kissed me back, and wriggled a little on my shaft. "I don't think the ringleaders care about this business," she said.

That aroused my suspicions, and I grasped both her buttocks and pulled her even closer against me. "Whatever you know, or think you know; spill the beans," I replied. "You don't owe them any loyalty. If they've threatened you, we'll give you protection. I'll give you my personal guarantee that you won't lose by being honest with me."

She seemed to hesitate for a minute or two, and I could feel her hands on my bottom. I remembered how enticing she had looked with them tied behind her back, but this wasn't the time for experiments. "I don't know their plans," she replied eventually, "but I know they extend beyond tomorrow. I overheard one of them talking to another about the crucial importance of getting everyone up on the ridge. If I were you, I wouldn't go up there tomorrow."

I wanted to probe her reasons for saying that, but while I was thinking about it I fell asleep, and I guess that she did so shortly afterwards. Remarkably, I did not slip out. I must not have gone completely limp, and we were both holding one another's buttocks. We were only asleep for about an hour, and I probably woke her up by hardening to a full erection, so she woke up with a feeling of impalement which she seemed to welcome. We progressed into full lovemaking without thinking about it, and in the near-darkness her soft lips were comforting; accommodating. We didn't speak then, but just continued, side by side, until we were both fully satisfied. I did not withdraw afterwards, and we went back to sleep still connected, but I slipped out during the night, and indeed I woke up facing the other way.

It is often said that anxiety causes early waking, so something in the back of my mind caused me to be fully alert at about six o'clock in the morning. Matty was still sleeping the sleep of the innocent, or of someone who had done her job and was confident of her reward. I spent a few minutes gazing at her, admiring her delicious lips and the way her upper breast rested on its fellow, and that somehow the nipples both faced me. I was tempted to kiss her, to wake her up and use her for intermammary sex, like my first time with her. I had a little bet with myself: would she be wet or not? Then I tore myself away, and showered with the door closed to avoid waking her.

She was still asleep when, after a few gulps of coffee and some biscuits I left the suite, the building and the complex, and rode through the early morning to join those who had spent the night on the ridge. I had no idea what Matty had meant when she warned me not to go up there, but I figured that by going very early, I would avoid whatever hazard she had in mind. At least, that was the best plan I could come up with. There was no way I could abandon all the hunters and the staff, and stay in bed with Matty all day. But that would have been nice.

It was a morning unlike any other morning I had ever experienced. The ridge was only a couple of hundred feet above sea level, but it was above the mist, so I emerged, in my golf cart, to gaze at a thin spine of rocky ground in a sea of white cloud. I found that some of the hunters and staff on the side of the rebel camp nearer the compound were already awake, but their main concern was visibility. If the mist did not clear quickly, the Albatross would arrive and be unable to touch down. Without enough fuel to loiter, it would have to return to Jamaica, and if it came back at all that day, it would be the afternoon.

Among the hunters, there were two or three who were in favour of waking everyone up and assaulting the rebel stronghold right away, before they were all fully alert. That plan foundered when a hunter crept closer and was met by a hail of stones, which fortunately missed her. Then, as more of our side began to wake up, there was a hiatus; during which nobody seemed to have any idea what to do.

I had never thought that I possessed any leadership qualities, let alone any charisma, but in the next few minutes, because I was willing to make decisions, for right or wrong, I emerged as the leader of our assorted and poorly equipped forces. My first priority was the Albatross, which was now a dot in the distance. I persuaded the pilot to touch down a mile to the north of us. If he descended into the mist and lost height very gradually, he would have enough visibility to put the plane down on the water, and could then wait for the mist to clear.

In the meantime, I wanted everyone off the ridge. If we were not going to attack the rebel camp, our presence there was superfluous. I didn't tell them about Matty's warning, but I had to believe that it meant something. After some discussion, we left four people on the ridge to watch the rebels, while the rest of us made our way back down the hill, through the mist, to the compound. It took no more than an hour, as almost all the golf carts were scattered around the hillside, having been parked there the day before.

By mid-morning, most of our personnel had settled into their quarters, enjoying a late breakfast and/or a shower and a change of clothes. I, and four others who I had chosen rather arbitrarily as my "staff," were gathered on the jetty to meet the flying boat as it edged gingerly through the mist towards us. Visibility was improving, but more slowly than usual as there was virtually no wind. The harbour had a kind of retractable jetty that could be pushed about thirty feet out, so the plane could dock without risk of running aground, and it was quickly unloaded. It had brought not only a plentiful supply of dart guns and ammunition, but gas grenades and restraints for the expected prisoners. There were also passengers; six company employees who were more used to difficult situations than anyone currently on the island. My brief spell as a military commander was over, and I had only made one decision, but it had been the right one, as things turned out.

The flying boat's radar was old and crude, and only intended to help avoid collisions. Apparently it had, just before the landing, detected the presence of two vessels in the area, but nothing had suggested they were anything other than fishing boats, and we had not been told about them. Now they were headed for the harbour, and well before they arrived they deployed two large drones. They flew the entire length of the ridge, dropping much larger gas grenades than the ones that we had intended to use. Everyone still up there, including the rebels, lost consciousness, and would be out of action for at least two hours; probably more.

The two launches' crews assumed that they had neutralized most of the population of the island, and we made sure that we were all out of sight as they entered the harbour. As they came into range of our launchers we fired our gas grenades onto their decks, and as their crews and passengers were either in the open or just emerging from below, the effect on one boat was devastating. With everyone unconscious, it just drove harmlessly onto the gravel beach, and the occupants were shot with darts for good measure, and restrained.

The captain of the other boat was a more cautious man, and had suggested (but not ordered) his people to don gas masks. Some had done that, so enough remained conscious to operate the vessel, but they knew they were outnumbered. With more falling victim to darts fired from rifles, they managed to turn away and leave the harbour. It was a relief to us that they did not attempt to ram the Albatross or otherwise damage it; at that point their top priority was to get out of the trap.

Our immediate response was to send a party up to the ridge to secure the rebels while they were still unconscious. As Matty had implied, the sole purpose of the camp had been to lure our people up to the ridge where they could be knocked out by the drones. They would then be rounded up, and the rebels would not suffer any long-term harm. They were doubtless very surprised to wake up and find themselves in handcuffs. Miss Millicent was surprised to wake up free, with other women fussing over her, but they were soon reassured that she had suffered no more than minor bruising, both internal and external. She would be able to dine out for years on her experiences.

Aftermath

It was not quite all over. Unwilling to admit defeat, the captain of the other boat proceeded to the far end of the island, where he dropped off about a dozen men and women who aimed to keep us busy until reinforcements arrived. They never did arrive, so our people, now armed with dart guns, hunted them down one by one over about a week. Meanwhile more of the company's enforcers arrived by seaplane. Hunters and employees who wanted to leave were taken back to Kingston, but I was one of those who chose to remain, now free of charge.

The compound was a busy place now, but the guest accommodation was not overcrowded. The rebel prey were crammed into one small hut, and the invaders in another. The island and surrounding ocean were kept under surveillance by an augmented force of drones, while the company's officials in Kingston tracked down the premises used by the enemy. With the aid of hired thugs they evicted the occupants and confiscated any documents they could find. Meanwhile, interrogations began on the island.

What was the motive for the uprising? Some rebel prey had just been promised large cash rewards, but the more general aim had been to take over the island completely, using forged documents and bribed officials to transfer the title to a company of which nobody had ever heard. Surplus captives- those who could not be employed by the new owners as prey or staff- would be removed to serve out their lives in dungeon-brothels elsewhere in the Caribbean or in South America. They would include me: the secret of my wealth had not been compromised.

There was an identifiable group of ringleaders among the prey. Half a dozen people would be shipped off to Eastern Europe, where the company ran a handful of very secret, underground brothels. Surprisingly, Matty was identified as one of the more culpable, if not actually an instigator. She had been instrumental in leading most of our people onto the ridge, and she had certainly been aware of the plot when she had been in the compound a day earlier. It was recognized, however, that she had mixed motives. When she warned me to stay off the ridge at the critical time; that had been decisive, although he might not have intended it to be so.

It was acknowledged that she could be dealt with separately, partly because I was insistent on it. After some debate about her immediate disposition she was placed in my suite, but chained by one ankle to a staple in the floor. The chain was long enough to give her access to the en suite, the bed and the dining table, and we dragged a sofa to within her reach. With plenty of books and a screen, she spent over a week there, during which I kept her naked.

She was as sexually energetic as ever, and although I did my share of patrolling the island and sitting in on interrogations, I managed to spend about twelve hours a day with her. We talked a lot, but rarely about the rebellion, as she had been interrogated- not tortured- and they were convinced that she had given them everything she knew. What remained to be seen was what they would do with her. I did ask her, while we were lying together after making love, what she thought were the alternatives.

"They aren't going to set me free," she said sadly. "They'd assume that I'd be swept up into another of their rivals' plots. Nor will they trust me to work for them. I'll probably be sent to one of their brothels. They're all in Eastern Europe, and they don't have good reputations. I'll probably be giving blowjobs all day: I suppose that isn't a fate worse than death. If I can get a foot in the door of the administration, perhaps there's a longer-term future for me there."

"I can't picture you in a brothel," I said. "You're so clean, so pale, so perfect. What do you really want to do?"

"Stay with you for ever. Don't answer that; it's just a fantasy. We must enjoy the time we have together, and not let it be clouded by the future."

We were certainly enjoying it. Her blowjobs were simply beyond comparison and she treated me to new techniques every time. Perhaps the most surprising was a see-sawing motion by which she moved her lips in opposite directions, and the effect of her slightly enlarged lower one on bottom of my shaft- especially where it met the glans was dramatic. I felt I needed much more time to learn enough control to enjoy her for longer.

I was also learning more and more about the ways she controlled her vaginal tunnel. I had no idea whether she had any control over the walls themselves, or whether she made adjustments by contracting neighbouring muscles, but I could often feel her pulsing, tightening and seeming almost to ripple against my penis. I was also finding that I could "push" my erections to swell and contract very slightly, especially in the few seconds after ejaculating, and she seemed to appreciate that. These variations convinced me that we could spend years together enjoying the joys of great sex, but most of all, I just felt closer to her than I ever had to any other human being.

We were not faithful to one another; that was not expected by either of us, or anyone else. I would go out on patrol with Lilac, and when we were sure that our area was secure we would find a patch of soft grass in a private spot, and make love. To avoid contusions and abrasions I lay on my back, shirt on but open, while she mounted me in either the forward or reverse cowgirl position, changing directions at some point in the process. Twice I invited her into our suite and watched her have sex with Matty. I found that very stimulating, and afterwards I let them both mount me, mouth and penis, as I had with Gwladus and Harmony.

I never brought another man in, however. I wanted my cock to be the only one penetrated Matty, and she never asked for another. Before our week together was up I felt, almost, that she had become my personal property. I found the chain very provocative. It did not stop her doing what she needed to do in the suite, but it was a constant presence that she had to deal with, and she used it to advantage, often lifting it and letting it slide over her breasts, or ride up between her legs. I found myself imagining her in different kinds of bondage, although I had never before thought seriously about that particular perversion.

There was no doubt that Matty was doing everything she could to endear herself to me, as she had from the moment we'd first met. I was bound to wonder why that was, for I had never thought myself handsome, nor was my body particularly manly, muscular or athletic. She, however, was not only a pretty girl with a good figure, but her sexuality- her neediness- oozed from every pore, and many of the male staff seemed slightly in awe of her. Did she know about my money? That seemed very unlikely, as there was no reason to believe that anyone else did. Was she looking for someone to get her off the island and away from the company and its rivals? That seemed more likely, but she had taken a big risk by warning me to stay off the ridge on the critical morning. I wasn't sure I would ever be sure of the truth.

***

I overstayed the week that I had originally booked, but of course I was not charged anything. They should probably have paid me, but the company's revenue from the island had dried up completely as bookings had been cancelled for the next few weeks. Apparently, about half had accepted replacement bookings at other hunting facilities, although the experiences would be very different. A management committee evolved on the island- it was not really appointed. I was a member, but on the tenth day the other four asked to see me in my capacity as Matty's custodian.

We all sat in a circle, but nonetheless, it was clearly a meeting between me and them. The senior company official present was Simon McCauley, and he took the lead. "We think the time's come to decide what to do about Matty," he began, not beating about the bush. "She's clearly associated with the enemy, so the safe thing to do is send her to one of our brothels. On the other hand, her commitment was half-hearted enough to enable her to jeopardize the operation by warning you away from the ridge, because she knew it would be gas-bombed. It's the more surprising because she knew that you wouldn't be physically harmed. In a way, you would have been in more danger here in the compound, had you been almost alone. Perhaps she intended to isolate you, get you captured, and keep you for herself? Perhaps she's just stupid? Or is there something in the middle? What do you think, William?"

I was calling myself William with them. As far as I was aware, no-one knew my real name. "I don't see her in a brothel. She needs the something in the middle."

"But can you give her that?"

"You mean, can I keep her secure, make sure she's reasonably comfortable and happy, but not a threat to the company?"

"If anyone can do it, you can. She obviously likes you. In fact, that's an understatement."

"You don't know anything about me. I might have a wife and kids at home."

"Don't under-estimate us. We know you don't. We know your name isn't William. We know you have the resources to keep her safe and secure. We think that you're trustworthy, and you're personally responsible for saving this island from invasion and conquest. That's all we need to know, for now."

I was surprised, but not shocked. The barriers behind which I had hidden since winning the lottery had been enough while my life was a humdrum routine, but I had always known that they were not enough to thwart professionals. That level of protection would have been conspicuous in itself, and therefore self-defeating. I was not alarmed, for I felt that I was in the presence of people with whom I had interests in common. I didn't have long to think about that, because another member of the group- a woman who called herself "Ell," was embarking on what seemed to be a pre-prepared statement.

"While we agree that Matty does not deserve to be consigned to one of our brothels, we are anxious to ensure that her treatment does not encourage disloyalty or subversion among our other employees. Doubtless you will keep her in comfort, but there must be no doubt whatsoever that she is a prisoner in a gilded cage. She will be fitted with a tracker that reports her whereabouts and her vital signs. You will receive frequent visitors who will check on your security arrangements. It isn't that we don't trust you. Anyone can become too familiar, too trusting, over a long period spent with someone they genuinely like. If you have any comments- even conditions- we'd be happy to listen to them."

I thought for a minute before replying. "I'd like all the visitors to be female," I said. "One consequence of her past actions will be, that I'll be the only male which whom she has contact. I would also like to hire a servant from you, to help me to handle Matty and do general jobs in my household. I can't really advertise in The Lady, and I don't have the contacts to find anyone to suite my circumstances. Lilac, or someone very like her, would do nicely. I'm happy to pay her salary and on-costs."

"I'm sure something can be arranged. Anything else?"

"I'm guessing that your company has suffered a major financial blow, and that an injection of capital would be welcome. I'm not making any promises, but if you could see to it that I'm sent as much information as possible at this stage, I might begin to think about buying into it. That's all I can say at the moment."

"That's not up to us, but we'll see that the right people hear of your interest. I think we can wind this up now. When you get back to your suite, Matty will be gone, but we'll arrange for Lilac to serve you full-time until your departure. I might be possible for you to take her with you. Before you leave us, give us the address where you intend to keep Matty. She'll be delivered to you within a month, so don't plan on a long holiday in these parts. We'll arrange for a trusted workman to come and help you prepare. It's been an honour to work with you, and I hope we will all meet again."

And that was it. I left the room knowing that my life would never be the same again. Never would I want for female company, and my dream girl would be mine for the indefinite future. I would not even have to be faithful to her. I would always have her to go home to, but now the world was full of unknowable but unmissable adventures. It was as if the next chapter of my life was already being written.