Outward Bound

One of the men packed all Simon’s stuff back into his rucksack and tossed it into the back of the truck whilst another found some rope and tightly bound Simon’s wrists and ankles. Duct tape was wound around his mouth and he was thrown into the back of the truck landing on several impressive sets of antlers. It seemed these were poachers just after the antlers not the meat.

The men packed away their guns and set off in pursuit of more stags.

The journey was bumpy and Simon kept rolling onto the sharp antlers. However they weren’t sharp enough to cut the ropes although he did try.

Eventually as it was dropping dark the truck stopped and Simon heard the men put up a tent and soon the smell of food drifted over to the truck.

He heard the rear door open and hands pulled him out. The ropes around his wrists were removed and he was allowed to relieve himself before being given a plate of stew.

There was no chance of escape – his ankles were still firmly bound and anyway there were four of them so he sat and ate wondering how he could get out of this situation.

When he had finished one of the men stood in front of him; ‘what are you doing out here?’ Simon explained about the Outward Bound course for the Venture Scouts and the fact that he had left them for a week or so of solitude.

 ‘I guess that explains the uniform. Thank you for telling us you won’t be missed for a while!’ the man said leaning down and pulling Simon up using the Scout scarf secured around his neck. He put his face close to him and Simon could smell alcohol on his breath.

‘Take your shirt off!’ the man hissed and Simon shook his head only to be rewarded by a knife against his throat; ‘I won’t ask again!’ the man said.

Simon unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. ‘Drop your pants!’ Simon unzipped his trousers and let them fall to his bound ankles. ‘Shorts as well!’ the man said with a grin and soon Simon was standing naked shivering in the cold evening air.

The man walked around him and nodded; ‘not in bad condition are you?’ he said. Simon said nothing, not wanting to antagonise the man.

‘Kneel’ was the next command. Simon hesitated and a boot connected with the back of his legs forcing him to the ground. His wrists were bound behind his back with some more of the rough twine.

The man stood in front of him and unzipped his trousers and brought out his cock which was already hard. ‘Let’s see what you can do’, he said thrusting it into Simon’s face. Simon tried to keep his mouth closed but a slap to the head made him change his mind. The cock, smelling of urine, forced itself down his throat and he gagged at its length.

‘Lick it!’ the man commanded pulling Simon’s head hard against his crotch. Despite the degrading act Simon realised he had no choice. It didn’t take long for the man to ejaculate and Simon’s mouth was filled with the salty taste of sperm.

‘It’s time we turned in’, one of the others said; ‘it’s another early start to track those stags.’

‘What about our “guest”?’ ‘Chuck him in the back and gag him and don’t forget to lock the door just in case he manages to get free.’

More duct tape covered his mouth prevented him calling out – not that there was another sole within miles. Despite being out of the wind he shivered as they hadn’t allowed him to put his clothes back on. Eventually he drifted off to sleep