"Summer in Paradise" by Fox
Chapter 19
A week passed. The residents of Las Brisas went about their daily
routines. Shopkeepers sold their wares, bankers moved money, restaurants served
dishes and fishermen fished. Neither the Captain nor Angelita were seen outside
their compound in the jungle. Gossip and rumours buzzed through the island's
tiny population like mosquitoes at a picnic. Directives continued to flow from
the villa, and business continued as usual, but the islanders were intrigued.
That the couple who ran their tiny island had not been seen in public for
several days gave rise to speculation.
"Have you heard? Rasquedo is ill."
"I heard it was a hunting accident in the jungle."
"Hah, he's probably in bed all right, getting his brains screwed out
while Angelita's off shopping."
"Heh heh, he'll show up any time now, a big smile on his freshly fucked
face."
"No doubt, no doubt."
The buzz grew suddenly louder amongst the privileged few, with the news
of the Captain and Angelita's sudden trip to South America, and Cassandra de la
Huerta's special by-invitation-only gathering.
The population of the island was small, and the number of families with
trappings of power and wealth smaller still. The Council of Families,
descendants of the original pirates who settled the island, comprised the ruling
class. Time had reduced their numbers to just nine families, but time also
ensured their wealth and power increased.
Nevertheless, none of the Council dared refuse the invitation, even on short
notice. The nine were all represented by at least two per family. Special
transportation by the military was arranged. The small hall at the governing
compound was full.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please". The voice was anonymous,
booming through the sound system.
From the theater's control room, discreetly hidden behind dark glass
high above the room, Cassandra looked down at the gathering throng. She nodded
at the man in officer's dress holding the microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Lieutenant Mereille continued, "Ms. De la Huerta
will be arriving shortly. She asks that you enjoy the hospitality and
entertainment provided. Thank you."
The garble of chatter filled the dinner theatre as the guests questioned
each other, second-guessing what was going to occur. There was always much
speculation around Cassandra's tastes.
The tables were dressed in white cloth. Wine glasses almost overflowed
with reds or whites according to tastes. Bottles of rum, some opened, some
waiting to be opened, could be found, one per table.
Serving personnel buzzed about like the worker bees they are, flitting
and flying to and fro, ensuring that every guest was being attended.
Slowly, deliberately, the assembled guests were herded to their tables.
In ones and twos, the servers all disappeared behind discreetly curtained doors.
Glasses clinked, corks popped and rum was poured as the attendees
settled themselves. The level of chatter began to build once more.
Wine glass in hand, Cassandra watched from her hidden perch. The
designer gown that adorned her lithe frame was stunning, the cranberry colour
perfectly suited to highlight her black hair and deep olive complexion.
"Everything must be perfectly synchronized, Alejandro."
"Yes Ma'am."
"There is no room for error in this operation."
"Yes ma'am."
She turned and stared at the soldier. Lieutenant Alexander Mereille was
tall, his build resembling Marc Antony or the young Frank Sinatra. He was
slender, he moved with the grace of a dancer, and had the strength of a light
heavyweight. His eyes were hard, like flint orbs embedded in his head, and
glinted with calculation and scheming.
"Success is rewarded, failure is punished."
The officer stiffened slightly.
"Yes ma'am."
She looked at him a moment longer, then turned back to observing the
crowd below. Serving personnel were now scurrying about, filling wine glasses,
placing napkins in laps, and bringing bowls of soup. The stage area in the
centre of the room was still empty. Unnoticed by the guests, soldiers quietly
stationed themselves around the periphery of the theater.
"Good. It's time for my entrance. You're in command now, Alejandro.
Signal the pony handlers that I'm coming down. You know when to join me at my
table."
"Yes ma'am". He flashed a salute.
Cassandra smiled at him, indicating for Marissa to follow.
Turning back to his station, the officer spoke quietly into a radio.
"In five ... four ... three..." The officer pushed a button on the
console.
The whinnying neigh of horses reverberated throughout the theater, over
riding the soft jazz that had been playing.
On cue, the servers swiftly exited.
A spotlight beamed down on a curtained entryway.
Women and men in the crowd exclaimed their surprise as the ponies high
stepped into the room.
Their skins a burnished brown, oiled to shine in the spotlights, black
manes sleek and shiny and festooned with bright white bows, the ponies were an
exquisite sight.
Two bay mares, perfectly matched in height, one differing only slightly
from the other in body shape, pranced into the room. Ostrich plumes adorned
their head dresses, blinkers of black leather so highly polished they reflected
silver in the light; gold coloured coins dangled and jangled from their bridles.
High black leather collars kept their chins lifted proudly. Leather
body harnesses drew the eyes to the sensuous curves and valleys of their
magnificent bodies. Silver bells dangling from pierced nipples and nether lips
tinkled delightfully with each precision step. Leather single gloves ensured
rounded breasts were proudly thrust forward.
A handsomely decorated broad leather strap circled each pony girl's
waist. A yoke led back to the small cart bearing Cassandra.
The pony girls circled the theater, then came to a halt at an empty
table near centre stage.
High above the proceedings, Lieutenant Mereille flicked various switches
and eavesdropped from hidden microphones at every table.
"Look at that!"
"Migod! Those women pulling the cart!"
"She goes too far, Cassandra does. She is over-reaching her station."
Mereille made note of table twelve.
The whinnying of horses erupted from the sound system. The pony girls
reacted marvelously, high-stepping in place, throwing their heads back.
The sweet notes of a Chet Baker jazz tune blossomed forth as the quartet
of musicians began to play once more. The soldiers guarding the doorways, on
cue, secured their positions. No one heard the doors being locked, weapons
being readied.
Aided by guards, Cassandra stepped down from the pony cart.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, "My friends. Welcome to my little party.
I hope you will enjoy the food and the entertainment I have arranged." She
smiled to her guests. "So please, sit back, relax, and enjoy yourselves."
The assembled guests applauded politely as Cassandra was shown to the
empty front row table.
Another whinnying sound. A liveried handler gathered up the pony reins.
The cart was led back out of the hall.
A soldier leaned over Cassandra's table. He signaled to various servers.
With a clatter of dishes, trays piled with food began to appear. Dinner plates
were placed before each guest. Empty wine bottles were discreetly removed and
replaced. Napkins were unfolded and placed graciously in ladies' laps.
Lieutenant Mereille, flanked by two soldiers in dress uniforms, appeared
from between the curtains. The soldiers took up stations on either side of the
staging area. The Lieutenant walked with great dignity to Cassandra's table.
She smiled as his lips grazed her cheek.
A server hurried over. He bowed courteously as he pulled out a chair for
the Lieutenant.
An undercurrent raced through the room, guests asking each other what
was going on.
Dinner courses were served, plates delivered full, then gathered up when
empty. Wine flowed freely, as did rum.
Unseen by many, a soldier burst through the curtain wall, stopped, then
hurried across the floor. Lieutenant Mereille read the note, frowned, then
passed it over to Cassandra. She read it, then nodded.
"Clink! Clink! Clink!" The sound of a spoon against a crystal goblet
rang out. The Lieutenant rose to his feet.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, esteemed members of the Council of Families," he
announced. The room went quiet. All eyes turned in his direction.
Ever so discretely, the soldiers shifted position, and stood at the
ready.
"Members of the Council, I have just been informed that the private
aircraft carrying Captain Rasquedo has disappeared from our radar, and has not
re-appeared in the past ten minutes."
The buzz in the room was immediate
"Now, there is no cause for alarm at this time, but it is my duty as the
ranking duty officer to keep you informed. I am sure this is a minor technical
problem, we are investigating it, so please, go back to your evening. Thank
you."
The noise in the room rose as he returned to his seat.
Fluid spurted from the tip of the hypodermic like semen from a penis.
"Gentlemen, " Marissa's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "Will you
co-operate, or do we need to calm you chemically?"
"Fuck you, bitch" growled Miguel.
Marissa stuck the needle in his flank.
"I was hoping you'd say that", she gloated. "Why don't you count
backwards from 100, Miguel? Assuming you know how to count."
"I know a cunt ..." His words were already slurry. His head dropped.
Marissa waited a minute before signaling to Summer and the guards.
Moving quickly, they unlocked the cage, and withdrew the now motionless Miguel.
He was strapped down on a gurney, his arms stretched out at shoulder height. His
eyes were open, full of rage.
Summer moved to place a "Hannibal" style muzzle over Miguel's face. The
two guards also worked quickly over the motionless soldier. A steel band bearing
three long, sharp spikes was locked around each knee. Miguel's hands were folded
over, with 3-inch double-sided blade jutting out from between his ring and
middle fingers. The guards wrapped tape around his hands, securing them as
fists. Leather bags with cunningly placed slits were then drawn over each hand
and tied in place.
Marissa sauntered over to Leon's cage.
"Your turn, sweetie." She waved a muzzle in front of his face. Like the
one Miguel now wore, it too had a series of spikes across the forehead.
She laughed when he spit at her.
"Lieutenant."
Mereille and Cassandra both looked over to the man standing next to
table twelve. He was heavy set, silver haired, with a florid complexion.
"Yes, Mr. Blount?"
"Lieutenant, you say the Captain's plane has disappeared, and you are
looking for it. Is there the possibility that it has gone down?"
Lieutenant Mereille gave a fast glance at Cassandra. Her nod was
imperceptible to all but him.
"Yes Mr. Blount, that is a possibility we are considering."
The noise in the room burst forth into a clamor. Lieutenant Mereille
used his fork to ring on the glass, like a judge with a gavel.
"It is one of several possibilities, " he said with raised voice. "I
repeat, it is my responsibility as the ranking officer to inform the Council of
the situation."
A younger man seated at table twelve gestured to Mr. Blount, who leaned
over to hear what the man had to say. Several words were exchanged, before
Blount straightened.
"Lieutenant Mereille."
"Yes Mr. Blount?"
"You keep reminding us you are now the ranking officer on the island. Is
there any particular reason for doing so?" He looked around the room. "I find it
interesting that the Council is all here, the very ambitious Dr. de la Huerta is
our host, and now, just by coincidence, you tell us the Captain and Angelita are
missing."
The Lieutenant stiffened. "What are you suggesting, Sir?"
Blount smiled. "My dear Lieutenant, I'm not suggesting anything," he
said with great condescension. "But I would like to know just what is going on."
Cassandra rose to her feet.
"What is going on, Stephen, is that Alejandro here is trying to
discharge his duties. Now, why don't we all sit down and enjoy our dinners?"
Stephen Blount glared, then nodded. "Very well, Doctor." He resumed his
seat at the table. "But we are not done yet," he added.
Cassandra smiled to the room. "Please, everyone, eat, drink, enjoy!"
The same bizarre blades and spikes now adorned both Leon and Miguel. As
a finishing touch, Marissa locked steel collars around their necks. Hatred and
anger burned from their eyes, their bodies twitching as the paralyzing effects
of the drug wore off.
Marissa snapped her fingers. Starting with Miguel, the guards carefully
moved the reviving prisoner from the gurney to one of two 2 wheeled carts. They
stood Miguel against the tall steel pole fastened to the back of the cart, and
looping a chain through the ring on his collar, locked him upright. They
repeated the maneuver with Leon.
"The slut is next," Marissa said to Summer.
"Yes Mistress." Summer scurried over to the computer worktable, and
deftly entered a series of keystrokes.
There was a loud mechanical humming sound. Water could be heard running
through pipes. After a loud series of clicks, a splash of water spilled from the
bottom of the door to the isolation chamber. Summer and the two guards released
Angelita from her cell and placed the wet, limp form on a gurney. In moments,
the wet suit had been removed, and Angelita's naked body lay exposed.
Marissa threw a roll of tape to each of the threesome.
"You have your instructions."
"Yes ma'am," the soldiers replied in unison.
With a soldier at her sides, and Summer by her left leg, the preparation
of Angelita was quickly underway. Arms were bent, wrists almost touching biceps,
and taped into position. Her hands flopped useless in the bindings. Summer took
Angelita's left ankle, and drew it back toward the thigh. She wrapped the tape
around and around, pinning Angelita's leg in the same fashion as her arms. When
the left leg was complete, she moved over to the right.
Minutes later, Angelita's limbs were reduced to taped stumps.
Marissa inspected the wrappings, and smiled.
"Good work. Now, hand me the helmet over there ..."
One of the soldiers passed the leather helmet to Marissa. She slipped it
overtop of the rubber mask that still covered Angelita's face, and laced it
shut. A muffled whining sound slipped out from under the masks.
"Summer, get me the two bottles while you two place our friend here in the
frame. We have fifteen minutes."
Her fingers flying over the laptop keyboard, the soldier in the control
room was busy taking down everything being discussed at table twelve. She was
careful to record who said what. She stopped suddenly, then whispered into her
headset, directly into Lieutenant Mereille's ear.
He set his wine glass on the table. Pretending to scan the room, he
paused when looking in the direction of table twelve. The head of the Blount
family, the heavy man Cassandra called Stephen, turned in his chair to face the
Lieutenant Merielle raised his wine glass in salute to the Council member.
On cue, the soldier positioned near the Blount table made a hand
gesture. Two other soldiers moved toward him, readying for action.
"Mistress?" Summer queried. She continued to apply the black liquid
latex to Angelita's totally helpless body. The once-proud domme was now a
prisoner, trapped in a web of tape, and positioned painfully on her elbows and
knees atop a stone plinth. A small padded support strapped across Angelita's
waist ensured she was unable to move, not that her painful bondage allowed for
much movement.
She looked like a bitch presenting herself to be mounted.
"Yes Summer?"
"What was that stuff that you put on Angelita? The latex doesn't apply
well over it."
Marissa snorted. "Your former Mistress is getting a taste of her own
medicine. I applied a special salve that Mistress Cassandra prepared. I don't
know what's in it, but I do know what it will do."
"What's that?"
Marissa dipped a gloved finger into the bottle and came up with a gob of
white goo.
"It's a very powerful aphrodisiac and skin sensitizer. In a few minutes,
this little bitch will be so horny, she'll take on an army, and still ask for
more." She laughed. "She'll even fuck these two slimeballs again and again .."
She wagged her finger in Summer's face.
"Want to try it out, hmmm?"
Summer stepped back in fear.
Marissa left a trail of the white goo along Angelita's exposed labia. A
muffled moan accompanied the twitching and writhing that ensued.
BOOM-dada-BOOM BOOM BOOM! BOOM-dada-BOOM!
The sound of hands beating on the tightly stretched skins of drums
erupted as the lights in the theater dimmed. Twinkling starlights glowed in the
ceiling, and the curtains began to sway and shimmy. Smoke puffed out from
beneath the curtains.
"Ladies and gentlemen," came an amplified, seductive woman's voice. "Las
Brisas was founded several hundred years ago as a private sanctuary, where
feasting and fighting and loving were the rule of the day. You have feasted ...
and now ... Let the fighting begin ..."
A small group of people danced through the curtains. They were gaily
dressed dervishes in flowing blouses, multi-hued skirts, baggy trousers made of
hemp cloth. Kerchiefs or plantation hats, or both, covered every head, female or
male. Towed by the bay mare pony girls, a cart bearing drummers followed, their
rhythmic pounding creating an aura of excitement, danger and magical mystery.
The soldier in the control booth pushed a button. Pillars of fire
whooshed skyward around the periphery of the room. The crowd started, then burst
into cheers and applause.
The dancers began to chant, their voices eerily feral, yet enticing,
seductive. The pony girls, caught up in the fever of the song, were restless in
their harnesses. Their long manes flew as they tossed their heads, the jingling
of their bells adding to the cacophony.
Marissa, gowned like their dancers, strode imperiously through the
curtains. A single tail whip was curled about her waist. She led a group of six
women dancers, who writhed like snakes and twirled like people possessed. They
pushed and pulled something covered by a large tarp. They edged to the right
side of the stage area.
The music rose in tempo, in volume. The sounds of insects and birds
joined the wild chorus. The dancers scattered throughout the room, weaving and
whirling. More bursts of flame, more smoke. The sweet scent of jasmine mingled
with the musk of freshly dug earth. The music became more frantic, the dancers
more frenetic, the room hotter, more energy charged, like a volcano on the verge
of eruption.
When it all stopped.
And went completely, totally silent.
And the dancers froze like the bodies in Pompeii.
And the drummers placed their hands on the taut skins and didn't make a
sound.
The room went black.
The crowd sucked in their breath in anticipation and wonder and not a
little fear.
The pillars of fire bloomed. A woman could be glimpsed standing in front
of the curtains.
The lights returned to soft lowing of the dancers. They swayed in
unison, like stalks of wheat in a midsummer breeze. The woman in front of the
curtains stood still as a tree. She was very dark, her coal black hair dangling
down in braids to her waist. Her skirt was full, and black as her hair. Her
blouse was loose, billowed white, a spinnaker. She wore many necklaces, many
baubles around her wrists.
Barefoot, holding a long stick, she walked away from the curtains to the
centre of the floor. She looked to the left, to the right, scanning the faces
in the crowd. She reeked of sensuality, sex, and power. The room remained
still, enraptured with her, almost spellbound.
The room exploded as she raised her long stick over her head, spun
around, and pointed at the curtains. The drummers pounded like the roar of
howitzers, people sang, blew whistles, and danced like crazed marionettes.
The curtains flew up, unveiling two rickshaws, pulled by bare-chested
men. Leon and Miguel stood upright, chains about their waists. They looked like
sacrificial victims about to be burned at the stake.
The woman with the stick swayed as the rickshaws drew near. The carts
were pulled forward, one on each side of her. The drivers stopped, and dropped
the yokes. They hit the ground with a resounding clang. Leon and Miguel were
thrust forward, their bodies held in place by their bonds. The woman stepped
over to Miguel, and ran her hands down his body, like a lover. Satisfied, she
turned to Miguel and repeated the exploring caress. Turning back to the
audience, she nodded her head.
"Ladies and gentlemen," came the voice from the loudspeakers. The
soldier in the control booth leaned into the microphone. "Our island paradise
was established over two hundred years ago," she continued. "Our forefathers
built the town of Las Brisas, and created a haven for themselves, their women
and their children. They were sailors, with rough manners and rough tastes. They
enjoyed their drink, their song, and for amusement, pitted bantam roosters
against each other in a death struggle ..."
The woman looked at one end of the stick she held. She drew a pouch from
a hidden pocket of her skirt, and poured powder into the end of the stick.
Placing the other end against her mouth, she thrust the stick in Miguel's face.
Her cheeks puffed out. A white powder exploded from the stick, into Miguel's
nose. His head snapped back, as the drug raced through his mucous membranes and
into his system.
Amidst the roar of the dancers, the woman repeated the maneuver, and
blasted powder into Leon's face. As his head snapped back, she pivoted and
walked away from the two drugged men.
Marissa uncoiled the single tail from her waist. A fiery crack! brought
another cheer from the dancers.
The women near her whipped away the cloth covering and revealed
Angelita's naked body on the plinth.
Marissa's whip left a bright red weal across Angelita's naked butt.
"Cassandra! Lieutenant Mereille! This is totally unacceptable!" roared
Stephen Blount. "This ... this show of yours is an abomination! What do you
think you are doing?" His face was beet red with rage.
Cassandra stood and faced her challenger. The drumming and dancing
stopped at her signal. The room was quiet, deathly still.
Blount continued to splutter his protest.
"Just who do you think you are?" he raged. "Your position, your
authority exists only through the good graces of Rasquedo! How dare you present
us, the Council of Families, with this ... this outrageous carnival!"
A murmur ran through the assembled guests at this unexpected turn of
events. Cassandra smiled her most winning smile.
"Stephen, "she said sweetly. "Sit down, shut up."
Blount bellowed his disbelief and rage. He began to charge toward
Cassandra. Other members of his table rose to their feet in support. Others in
the crowd exclaimed their shock and surprise.
Before Blount could take more than a half dozen steps, he found himself
confronted by several rifles pointed straight at the centre of his chest. A
cluster of red dots circled just to the left of Blount's sternum. He stopped
short. Surprise, then fear, flashed across his face.
The three soldiers positioned near table twelve had moved with
incredible swiftness. Even before Blount came to his screeching halt, the
remainder of his party was staring at gun barrels. All sat motionless, hands on
top of their heads. The click of weapons being readied echoed throughout the
room.
Cassandra clapped her hands, twice. The dancers, Leon and Miguel in tow,
hustled out of the room. The woman with the stick tossed the cloth drape over
the bound woman on the plinth. She led the remainder of the entertainers,
several pushing and pulling the now-covered Angelita, behind the draperies and
out of sight. Summer stood still, trying to blend into the walls. Marissa
defiantly coiled her whip, and looped it around her belt. She stood at the
ready, awaiting her Mistress's instruction.
"Alejandro?" Cassandra turned to the Lieutenant, who now stood between
her and Blount.
"Yes Ma'am?" His voice was respectful, dignified, and very self-assured
"Mr. Blount would like to return to his seat. Please ask your men to assist
him."
"Yes ma'am!" He motioned to several soldiers who were now standing near the
curtains. Two left their posts and headed toward the raging figure.
Blount glared at Cassandra, turned on his heel, and strode defiantly back to
table twelve.
"My friends, " began Cassandra, addressing the room. "Under the policies as
the leading members of Las Brisas society, you have the authority to name a new
Captain in the event of the death or illness of the incumbent. As you have been
informed, Rasquedo and Angelita are both missing. I respectfully offer my
services as their replacement."
Blount tried to rise in protest. A soldier's hand on his shoulder pushed him
back down.
He roared. "Cassandra, you are engineering a coup!"
Smiling, Cassandra instructed the soldier to shoot Blount if he so much as
breathed out of turn.
"Yes ma'am!" was the crisp reply.
"My friends, out of respect for our dear Captain Rasquedo, I ask for your
vote to install me as interim head of the Council. There are 9 families, each
with two votes. I ask for your support in this time of trial for our community."
"Never!" roared Blount, jumping to his feet.
Merielle nodded. The soldier obeyed.
Blount collapsed back into his chair, then tumbled in a heap on the floor.
Blood and brains oozed from the gunshot wound in the back of his head.
"Council members, I do apologize," said Cassandra, "but we must be united on
this. Is there any other discussion? No? Then, I call for the vote."
