Saturday, 9:30 A.M., Heavy Woods
Camden clumsily leaped over a log, tripped and ended up rolling on the ground. He shot back to his feet, well aware he didn’t have time for those kinds of errors, cursing himself for being so out of shape. His lungs burned with the effort it took to breathe and his legs trembled from the unaccustomed exertion. But he couldn’t think about it. Gunner was too close, almost breathing down his neck. Even though Camden knew at this point it was pretty much a lost cause, he still had to try to escape, try to outrun the big man. He dashed through another growth of brambles, never minding the minor scratches to his hands and face but, damn, if he didn’t trip again. This time he cursed out loud as he heard the sure footing of the man who chased him, determined, relentless, and gaining on him every time Camden screwed up. Camden scrambled to his feet and pushed on.
Yes, it was a lost cause. He was going to be captured. But he couldn’t just give up. He wasn’t going to just hand the victory over to Gunner. That would mean all the running he had already done, all the ground he had already covered, meant nothing. If he was going down, at the very least he was going to make Gunner work for it. However, Camden was surprised he had been able to stay out in front of the big man as long as he had. It was almost as if the man was toying with him, like a cat toys with a mouse. Camden had never been a fast runner, but when he had first seen Gunner’s size he had thought the same of him. He would never have believed Gunner was as graceful on his feet as he was either, not with all that muscle. And Camden was slowing. He was breathing in noisy gasps, his nose running and his mind no longer capable of plotting a way out of this.
Had he known he was going to spend the weekend running like a maniac, he would have certainly rethought things.
He would have smirked if could have closed his gasping mouth long enough to do it, because, really, who was he kidding? He was being relentlessly chased, sure. He was going to be brought to his knees, absolutely. But by a god-like man dressed in camos, hell-bent on capturing him, throwing him to the ground, ripping his pants off and taking his “flag.” The flag being a colorful butt plug that each and every one of the eighteen players of this game had. And of course the way to win the game was to show up at the finish line with as many “flags” as one could obtain.
The beautiful Gunner had trailed him for the last hour and a half and somehow Camden had stayed ahead of him. But barely. To give each player a fighting chance, especially smaller players like Camden, Master had loaded all eighteen men into several Jeeps and dropped them off in various locations at the edge of a dense wooded area along dirt trails. Many paths led off into the woods and they were told they would all wind up in the same place, the first checkpoint, supposedly a three-hour trek around the east end of the island.
One of those paths was somewhere off to the right side of Camden. The possibility did exist that he had lost track of it. But the truth was, he needed to stay in the thick of the woods. The large man trailing him, who had almost captured him a couple times now, had the disadvantage of width and height. Camden stayed as much as he could to groves of close-growing trees and dense patches of underbrush that had helped to slow Gunner down. The big man either needed to crash through, as he often did with the brush, giving Camden an idea of just how close he was, or go around obstacles, which always cost him precious time.
Unfortunately, Camden was running without a plan. He had tried to arc off to the west, a lame attempt to come up behind Gunner and miraculously capture him instead. He had even fished out to have at the ready the pair of padded handcuffs he had been given just for that purpose. But Gunner was just too damn fast. And smart. He seemed to realize the plot almost the instant Camden had thought of it and that was one of the times Camden was nearly taken. The other time was early on when he made the mistake of sticking to the open path.
And now Camden was trying desperately just to keep his own flag, having lost any hope of finding any other player to capture in order to take a flag. He had been on the run since the very moment of leaping from the Jeep. At least he would be on the scoreboard if he could make it to the first checkpoint with his own plug intact.
Obviously Gunner had other ideas.
But then, Camden really didn’t mind all that much. In fact, now that the loss of his flag was imminent, he was looking forward to being captured and finding out what Gunner would do to him after he had Camden trussed up, his well-lubed ass exposed and his plug confiscated. With very little prep needed, he saw himself greedily taking the whole of Gunner’s manhood, in one forceful thrust. Camden groaned as he imagined Gunner’s hard cock sliding in, slipping out, then slamming back in.
Of course those kinds of thoughts were absolutely no help, because now he was hard and horny and running became that much more difficult. Especially since his flag had been rubbing ever so gently against his prostate with absolutely every step he took.
So the imagined and anticipated orgasm Gunner would extract from him was almost worth losing his flag on this first leg of the game.
He had no idea how it happened. He had heard absolutely nothing, felt no presence at all. Of course, his mind had been on other things. But suddenly he was on the ground, face-first, the breath knocked out of him.
A great weight pushed down on him, pinning him in the damp leaves. In the few seconds it took for Camden to regain his senses and his breath, his arms were pinned behind him by iron fingers, but at least the weight came off of him and he could draw air. Twisting Camden’s arms around, Gunner rolled him over and Camden was greeted with a huffing wide Gunner smile.
“Finally gotcha, you little shit!” He pulled Camden up by his arms, now pinned to his chest, in order to remove the backpack all the players had as well. Then, pulling out his cuffs, he locked Camden’s hands together in front of him and pushed him back down to the ground. His gaze took in Camden’s somewhat still-tented pants. The hit had not only taken Camden’s wind but also calmed his libido by several degrees.
“Nice,” was all Gunner said, and he lifted a hand to palm Camden through his pants, bringing his cock right back to glorious life. Gunner smacked his lips and gazed into Camden’s eyes. “Time for a victory fuck.” He squeezed Camden’s manhood, then let go. “First things first, though.”
He searched Camden’s backpack and took out Camden’s pair of handcuffs. He attached one of the rings of the cuffs to the short chain between the pair that were already on Camden. Then, extending Camden’s hands and arms over his head, he dragged Camden to a nearby sapling, securing the other ring low on the trunk. He leaned down close to Camden’s ear. “I’m going to take my prize,” he growled.
Camden shivered, not only because of the man’s deep and sexy voice, not only because he felt Gunner’s hot breath seep into his neck line, and not even because of his helpless state. It was simply because he had been fantasizing all day about this very moment—the moment Gunner would remove his flag. He whimpered.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. At first.”
And certainly Gunner being gentle at first was just fine. It had been a long time for Camden. However, now that he was losing the only point he could possibly score by the first checkpoint, he was determined to be used in the manner Master had suggested a captured prisoner was supposed to be used. He smirked at the big man. “Looking forward to it, soldier!”