Turkey Shoot

Download HD Video (1.8 GB)


He thinks of them as turkeys.To him these women are nothing more than meat. He observes himself as a hunter, a stud who enjoys new meat. And so it begins. They are naked, his girls. There are trio of them. He has them in his hunting cabin. Their forearms are corded behind their backs, their mitts taped. They are ball-gagged with tubing restricted in place with strap ties. Several soles of chain run from neck to neck, so that they are leashed to one another. He sits. He tells them about a turkey shoot. As he talks, he assembles his gun. Their tiny sobs and whimpers escalate. Who could have known? One min you are just ambling your mutt or supping coffee in your home. And the next thing you know, you are naked. And he has a gun. And there is indeed nothing else to do, is there? When he tells you to run. You run like hell. He hauls them outside and unchains them and commences gushing pellets, frightening them up good. After all, he wants to be challenged. He’s looking for sport, just a tiny fun. They run thru the forest all in a flurry, screaming, squawking. Open season on girl. The blond is the highly first to drop. He takes the others down too, the dark haired and the black-haired girl. The marks of paintball cascade down their delicate flesh in crimson trails. It is tranquil in the woods. Their bods lie still, white, silent. They are side by side in the back of his truck, all on their stomachs, all in hogties, all gagged. They rock back and forth on corded breasts, juggling with the juggle of the truck. They make a flurry of appalled chirps. He stops the truck and opens the back gate. To each pair of ankles, he fastens a rope. Then he moves the truck forth so that they are dragged out of the back by the ankles. He hoists each of them up, their bods suspending upside down in the middle of the woods. He slaps asses. He plays with their tits and nipples, cock-squeezing from the cold. His rough fingers twist and knead, doing with them whatever he wants. Evening comes. A fire burns beside a pond. All trio women are standing, corded firmly together at the neck, hobbled this way, moaning, whimpering in the cold. They shuffle close to the fire. But soon it is too hot. They jostle back and forth, knocker to breast, their flesh luminous in the dark. He arrives with a metal grill that he sets on 2 posts. It is in the form of a body. He tells them they have to determine who is going to be cooked tonight. It is for them to decide. They moan. They cry, moving backward, clustered together, the human cook basket waiting. The blond is chosen. She is locked into the rungs of the frame, her gams spread, forearms locked behind her back, and a metal pub shovel into her cunt. It keeps her highly still, so that the fire can do its work. She sighs rigid as the fever grows, baking, her chest heaving. The other 2 women are given the task of making sure she’s roasted nice and even. Her flesh heads red. Sate hurry, she says, please, Sate hurry. And so they turn her so she can cook the other side and beg to be turned again. An apple is pushed into the blond’s mouth. She is quieter now. As though she is providing up, letting go. As though she can leave behind her body. She is basted and barbecued, her round tits wiped with sauce, dribbling down into the fire. Cream cascades from her knees. The flush of her figure may remind him of the pinkish inward glisten of pussy. When the lips are stretched and wet, just before the plunge, and now the smell can sometimes be smoky.