Summer in Paradise

"Summer in Paradise"



A novel by Fox



Copyright 2003 by Fox (writerfox@fastmail.ca)  All rights reserved.



Publication of this work on www.bdsmlibrary.com is intended for single reader
use only.  Reproduction or distribution of this work in any media, in whole or
in part, without the written permission of the author is strictly prohibited.



All characters and situations are fictional. Any resemblance to real persons and
situations is coincidental.



This work is intended for adult readers. Distribution to minors is strictly
prohibited.

Some scenes are graphic; some readers may find depictions of violence
unsettling.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 1





   Summer was in a great deal of discomfort. A great deal of discomfort. But
then, she had annoyed her Master, and Geoffrey determined he would punish her
accordingly. A small whimper escaped from behind the bright red veterinarian's
tape that sealed her mouth.

   "There, there, sweetie," Geoffrey soothed, stroking the tender flesh of her
breast. His touch made her jump, the jump pulled on her bonds, and a small tear
rolled down a cheek.

   "I'm going to go out for a while, maybe play some golf, do some shopping, so
you just stay here and enjoy yourself." Geoffrey smiled at her, kissed her
forehead. "See you later!"

   The howl from behind the tape was a delightful music to his ears as he closed
the hotel room door. He hung the "do not disturb" tag on the door handle.

   It was to have been the perfect holiday. Geoffrey had suggested that they go
away together for a couple of weeks, to "an island paradise he knew about".  It
turned out that Geoffrey visited this tiny island off the coast of Central
America quite often, as part of his business ventures.

   Summer was ecstatic. She had been seeing Geoffrey for just over six months,
and was deeply, madly, wildly in love.

   She found him totally captivating. Geoffrey was smart, good-looking, and very
funny. He knew about so many things - politics, investments, movies, theater. He
owned his own home, nothing overdone, and certainly not a man's "bachelor pad".
His taste, Summer thought, was quite good. Not just in his home and furnishings,
but in his clothes, his manners, well, everything! Her mother was right: take a
look at the way a man lives and cares for the things he owns, and that will tell
you a lot about who he is. 

   Geoffrey was the kind of man she could take home to her mother - someone who
would treat her like a lady and a lover, his only lover.

   The first time they went for dinner, he made Summer feel special. It was as
if she were the only person in the room. It was not their first date, yet he
made it feel like it was. And she loved him for that, and for everything else,
too.

   And so, the trip was planned, passports arranged, holiday schedules arranged
at work, and then it was off to the airport. Geoffrey had made the travel
arrangements, and she expected to fly all the way to South America, then over to
Central America and the island of Las Brisas. She was overwhelmed to find out
that they were indeed flying to South America, but that Geoffrey had chartered a
small sloop to take them up the coast to the resort.

   They spent several days in South America, first stopping in Colombia and then
over to Venezuela.  Geoffrey had business in both countries, but when he was not
in a meeting, he showed Summer some of the most amazing places she could
imagine. The people were charming and friendly, and the stay was, in Summer's
opinion, all too short. At the same time, she was eager to get on the sloop and
to sail away with the man of her dreams.

   They had been in Las Brisas for three days now, each day more perfect than
the one before it. The food was exotic, the locale magnificent, and Geoffrey was
the most wonderful lover she had ever known.

   He was intelligent, funny, kind, and very romantic.

   Summer had learned that Geoffrey was a very experienced Master. He knew just
how far to take her, and when to push her just a little past that point to
almost unbearable ecstasy. She could not believe how lucky she was to have met
this man.

   Today Summer had gone shopping. The local market held a great many
interesting vendors and she had tarried. Geoffrey in the meantime had become
anxious. Furthermore, he was feeling quite dominant, and was in the mood for
some fun and games. Then, to make matters worse for her, she had not bought
anything for her Master! Geoffrey decided it was time to teach his little Summer
a lesson.

   "But Geoffrey, you said I could go shopping!  I bought this lovely little sun
dress," Summer pleaded. She swirled, hoping to distract him.

   They were staying in a suite in a very fashionable resort hotel on Las
Brisas, in a "king" suite, with a large bed, and a beautiful view of the ocean
from the balcony. There was a very comfortable sitting area, and a beautiful
rosewood dining room suite, in case the hotel guest wanted to entertain.

   Which Geoffrey did. Room service wasn't part of what he had in mind, however.

   "Strip,"

   Summer's hazel eyes widened - she was not expecting this, not when she was
full of the flush of a self-satisfying shopping trip.

   "But, but, Geoffrey ..." she began in protest.

   He grabbed the front of her new sundress and yanked downward. The soft clingy
fabric ripped, exposing her freckled chest.

   "Oh, no, no...." Summer began, then, realizing what she had said, she put a
hand to her mouth.

   Geoffrey reached out. Threading his fingers in her long, sun-streaked
cinnamon hair, he pulled her close. "What did you say to me?" he asked in a soft
voice and watched as Summer's eyes widened with fear.

   "I'm sorry Geoffrey, I forgot ... ow!" a little shriek of pain escaped her
lips as he pulled even harder on her hair, She bent her head back, tearing eyes
looking at the stippled plaster ceiling.

   "You know who is your master and how to address me," Geoffrey ripped the
shreds of her new dress from her body. "And what have we here? Who gave you
permission to wear panties?" He ripped them off as well.

   "No one sir, I'm sorry Sir...Please I just forgot!" Summer wailed.

   "You'll remember soon enough," he growled. He marched her towards the dining
suite of the hotel room. Reaching the table, Summer leaned forwards so her chest
was resting on the tabletop. "Stay there unless you wish to make it much worse"
he threatened again. "And spread those legs wide" he said as he kicked her feet
apart.

   Summer was moaning. Still trying to apologize and get out of her just
punishment. Geoffrey felt a small taste of what was to come might be in order,
just to get her into the correct frame of mind. He unbuckled his wide leather
belt. Folded over, it made a satisfying thwack! as he slapped it against his
hand.

   "Perhaps you remember how to count properly?"

   "Yes sir, I..."

   THWACK! The belt whistled down to land in the middle of her right cheek.

   "Uh! One sir!"

   THWACK! on her left cheek.

   "Oh! Two sir!"

   THWACK again and again with barely a moment for the count to continue right
up to 18, the number of items she had purchased today. Her ass was a rich cherry
red, as were her upper thighs. Summer's tears made a small puddle on the table.
She was sobbing.

   "Don't move" Geoffrey ordered as he gave her a swift, stinging swat on the
ass. Then he headed toward the bedroom. When he came back, she was standing
where he had left her.

   "Good girl," he said, caressing a red cheek. Her skin was smooth and hot to
the touch. Geoffrey gave her ass another smack, just for fun.

   "Unh- thank you Master," she whimpered.

   He went around her and stood next to the dining room table.

   "Get up here," he demanded, patting the polished gleaming wood.

   Summer clambered up on what was to be her resting place for the next several
hours. But with what he had in mind, she would be doing anything but resting.

   Immediately she placed her arms out so that if her master so desired, he
could spread-eagle her on the tabletop. Fastening leather cuffs to each slender
wrist, Geoffrey snapped a lock through the connecting rings, tying her wrists
together above her head. Her biceps pressed against the edge of the table.

   Geoffrey tapped her slim, well-toned thigh.  Summer instantly spread her
legs. A leather cuff was locked around each slender ankle.

   He walked around to the "foot" of the table. From where he stood, Geoffrey
could see Summer in her exquisite nakedness, including the clean-shaven coral
lips of her feminine core.

   "Hold still", he said as he pulled the two halves of the table apart. "Oh!"
Summer exclaimed as the wood slid out from under her. Her upper torso on one
half, her thighs and calves on the other, her lovely red ass now dangled in the
air. Just where he wanted it.

   Moving swiftly, precisely, he quickly had her ankles tied to the table legs,
holding her long slender gams far apart. He put a small pillow under the small
of her back, making sure the edge of the table did not bruise her needlessly.
Geoffrey moved around to the head of the table. First placing a pillow beneath
her head, he slipped a piece of rope through the rings in her wrist cuffs. He
threw the rope under the table. Crouching, he wrapped the rope around the near
table legs, pulling it taut. Summer's arms were now stretched above her head,
her hands pointing at the floor in what would be an uncomfortable position after
a very short period of time.

   "Good girl" Geoffrey said approvingly. "Perhaps we won't need a gag after
all."  He laid the ball gag aside and reached for the small leather flogger next
to the table.  "You remember how to count?"  he asked.

   "Yes sir" she replied fearfully.

   "That's good.  Begin."  he said. He pulled his arm back and took aim at the
freckle-speckled breasts lying before him. His wrist snapped forward. The
leather thongs hissed as they flew forward like a snake striking its prey.

   Even though the strands of the flogger hardly touched her, or perhaps of the
way they did, Summer howled in pain. A collection of red weals began to rise on
the side of her breast. She sobbed, as Geoffrey flicked the flogger once again.

   "Count!" he snapped.

   "T-t-two, sir!" she wailed as the leather bit her flesh once again. She
screamed in pain as the hard leather suddenly burned the tender folds of her
pussy.

   "Wrong!" Geoffrey roared. "You didn't say one!"

   "Ow, ow! Ow! Master," Summer sobbed. "Your slave is sorry, Master, forgive me
Master!" she babbled. "Please Sir, give me another chance!"

   She cried out "one" as the leather slapped across her heaving belly. Bright
red stripes began to appear above and below her navel.

   "That's better," Geoffrey commented. He flicked the flogger in the direction
of her breasts. Summer howled at the pain, and stammered "two", then three, four
and five before she broke into tears.

   "Please sir," the girl begged. "Please sir, forgive me. I'll never do it
again, sir."

   "You're right there," Geoffrey mused.

    "Oh! Six, sir!" she cried. Her naked body writhed on the hardwood tabletop
as the flogger struck her heaving breasts. A light sheen of sweat was beginning
to appear on her supine form.

   Geoffrey stepped close to the sobbing girl. Running his hand across her
flesh, he cupped one of the now red striped mounds. The tender caress caused
Summer to moan. He stroked her gently, his touch exceptionally light, in
contrast to the sting of the flogger. Summer moved like a cat beneath his hands,
her excitement and pleasure beginning to well inside her. Lower and lower his
hands slid down her stretched form. Summer arched her back in pleasure.

   Geoffrey tickled her clitoris just enough to make his slave girl gasp in
delight. With his finger, he parted the wet folds of her lower lips. She moaned
at his touch.

   "Sir!" she gasped, trying with all her might to thrust herself against his
hand. Her bonds were tight enough to restrain her but loose enough to allow her
to rub against his hand.

   The probing touch on her clit almost sent Summer into frenzy, she was so
ready. Geoffrey laughed, and fingered his slave some more, rubbing the hard bud
between his thumb and forefinger just the way he knew she liked. He could feel
her juices against his digits, lubricating her hot love passage in anticipation
of more, deeper penetration.

   Switching to his left hand, Geoffrey re-arranged his position while never
missing a beat in his manipulation of Summer's burning pussy. He looked into her
half-closed eyes, and smiled in pleasure at the way she licked her lips.

   "I noticed you had forgotten your favorite decorations," he said, pulling
something from his pocket.  Summer's eyes widened in surprise. One of her
responsibilities was to pack the toy bag for the trip.  She had, quite
conveniently, forgotten one or two things.

   "It's a good thing I remembered them, isn't it sweetness?" He dangled the
nipple clamps in front of her eyes.  He knew she had a love/hate thing about
them. "You should thank me for bringing them."

   "Oh please don't...." she simpered, thrashing her head.  " Please, sir!"

   Her begging was exactly what he desired.  Reaching down, Geoffrey tweaked her
pink nipples, watching them rise in reaction to the gentle stimulation.  He
watched her eyes.  Suddenly he grabbed both nipples, twisting and pulling. 
Tears started up in her eyes as a little shriek escaped her.  He pulled and
pinched each nipple, stretching and twisting them.  Summer's head rolled back
and forth.

   " No, ow, no please master, no..." she pleaded.

   "Be silent slave! You don't have permission to speak!"  Geoffrey slapped her
breasts sharply.  His hand left pink marks on the tender flesh.  He swiftly
attached the tight clamps to her nipples, watching her mouth open at the pain. 

   Conflicting sensations flooded through Summer as the first piece of cold
steel snapped itself to her hard nipple. Female hormones ran rampant at the
contact, only this was no tender mouthed infant suckling on a teat. The steel
bit down, hard, on the fleshy protuberance, firing sensitive nerve endings into
overload. First came rocket bursts of pain, then a burning heat that slowly
spread from the aureoles into the firm flesh of her breasts.  Summer howled with
anguish as Geoffrey flicked first one, then the other clamp.

   He slid his wet fingers into her mouth. Greedily, despite the fire in her
breasts, Summer licked and sucked her juices from his hand. Her head was dizzy
with conflict between pain and pleasure, the two sides marching back and forth
in battle for supremacy.  Her breath came in short panting bursts, then, as her
body became accustomed to the new sensations, slowed and became more even.

   Geoffrey waited while his slave girl settled down. He was in no hurry, and he
knew she was not going anywhere, not for a while. He watched her smallish
breasts, mottled pink from the whipping, rise and fall. He admired her form -
under his guidance, Summer had firmed and toned her body, creating an even more
sensual and desirable shapeliness. He was not concerned about the size of her
breasts, and in fact, liked them a great deal. As he had done many times before,
Geoffrey wondered why North American men have such a fixation for humungous
boobs.

   "Poor Summer," he teased, taking the punished mounds of flesh in his hands.
Summer groaned as he kneaded and stroked her teats. "Such lovely breasts, and so
delightfully sensitive!" He tugged on a nipple clamp, and smiled to hear her
gasp. "Aw, does it sting, little one?" His other hand slid down to the smooth
darkness between her legs. Summer gasped at the intimate touch of his fingers.

   Geoffrey brought his hand up for inspection. His index and middle fingers
glistened with pussy juice. He stuck them into his mouth and slowly savored her
taste.

   "Mmmm, delicious," he mused. "You're very wet. You must be enjoying this."

   Summer's eyes were shut as she whispered, "Anything to please my Master."

   "Anything? We'll see about that." He patted her between the legs and strode
off.

   Summer strained against her bonds. She could lift her ankle about two inches
from the tabletop before it came to a sudden halt. Pinned as she was, arms over
her head, she realized there was no way she could free her hands.  Geoffrey had
allowed her room to wiggle and jerk about, but the knots were not going to let
go. Summer grunted with frustration before settling in to her fate. The fire in
her breasts was subsiding into a steady burn, and now her arms were getting
tired.  The sound of a suitcase zipper turned a part of her mind in Geoffrey's
direction. Now what was he doing? she wondered.

	It was easy to find the things he needed. He had instructed Summer to
pack some of his toys, and she had done a meticulous job. Except for the nipple
clamps, he mused. The pile of items on the bed was small, but Geoffrey knew what
he wanted.

	He watched her strain against the ropes as he walked across the spacious
room, her body moving sinuously, erotic. Her grunts were very pleasing. He
laughed silently, imagining the sounds she would be making soon. He thought of
gagging her with the O-ring, then making her take his cock in her mouth. No, she
likes that too much, he said to himself. Maybe later. Just torment her a while,
make her so willing, so needing him to bring her to ecstasy that she will beg
and plead for his touch. No matter how harsh. He smiled at the thought of
possessing her once again, her feverish state driving her to buck and move like
a wild animal. The thought of his cock sliding into her, she squeezing him with
her vaginal muscles, as if it were a burning wet vice, wringing every drop from
him, aroused him. He knew if he fucked her now, if he stood between those
outspread legs and pumped himself into her, they would both love it. But what
lesson would she learn?  No, better to just tease and torment for a while, and
then, maybe in an hour or so, ...

	"Master? I'm sorry, Master." Summer pleaded, interrupting his reverie.

	Geoffrey looked down on his bound slave toy.  Leaning forward, his lips
crushing hers, his tongue invaded her other wet orifice.

	"I know you are," he whispered, nuzzling her neck. "But you should have
thought of that earlier."

	He ripped a piece of bright red tape from the roll and pressed it across
Summer's moist lips. He ran a second piece in the other direction, shaping an X.
A third piece ran in a straight line, sealing her mouth completely.

	"Mmmmmph!" was all she could say. Her eyes pleaded for mercy.

	Geoffrey threw one end of the thin nylon cord over the chandelier. It
dangled between his captive's legs. Mischievously he tickled her nether lips
with the white cord, making it shine with her slick wetness. Summer bucked at
the touch.

	"MMMMM!" she protested, hips wiggling.

	"No, don't worry little one, "Geoffrey admonished. "No crotch rope for
you, at least, not yet." He patted her pussy with an open hand.  He pulled more
of the cord, leaving the rest piled on Summer's white, smooth belly. He
fashioned a slipknot, and looped it about the electric massager handle. Pulling
it tight, the device hung between the girl's splayed limbs, looking like a white
microphone. Geoffrey quickly wrapped several strands of tape over the slipknot,
ensuring it would not come loose. He adjusted the way the vibrator hung so that
it would be perfectly positioned against her clit. When he flicked the switch,
Summer screamed in pleasure and surprise.

	"Patience now, Summer. There will be plenty of time for screaming." He
turned the massager to off. He attached the red and black leads from the timer
to the clips on the vibrator, then plugged the power cord into the wall.

 	"There, now we don't have to bother with batteries. It will just buzz
away until I shut it off. Now, what should I attach the rope to, to make sure
the massager stays just where I want it, hm?" He looked at Summer's face. "I
know," he said as he produced the chain from his pocket. "What do you think,
little slave girl?"

	Summer shook her head in protest, but that didn't deter Geoffrey. First
clipping each end of the chain to a nipple clamp, he then passed the loose end
of the cord through the centre of the chain. Again he adjusted the length of the
cord and tied it off. He cut the extra length.

	The vibrator now dangled just centimeters above the girl's pussy.

	Geoffrey placed a second pillow under the small of Summer's back,
raising her up even more. He looped the cord around Summer's thigh, then wrapped
it around the massager several times before tying it off to her opposite thigh.
The arrangement now pressed the bulbous end of the vibrator against her cunt,
the tension in the cord pulling on her nipple clamps. Summer had to raise her
hips an inch to relieve the tension, which just positioned the massager even
more squarely against her love nubbin, sending spasms of pleasure through her
frame. Which, of course, eventually made her relax and lower herself back down,
causing the cord, in turn, to be pulled on the nipple clamps ...

	He stepped back to admire his handiwork. Anger dissipated, Geoffrey
could feel his cock swelling inside his slacks. What would it be like to fuck
her now, with the vibrator against her clit? He mused. He could almost feel her
hot wetness sliding against his tumescence, the incredible sensations building
until he pounded his fluids into her. He flicked a switch and turned the
rheostat control. A small green light lit up when he pushed the button labeled
"on".

	The quiet permeating the room was disturbed by the droning buzz of the
massager coming to life. This was swiftly followed by a gasp of pleasure from
the helpless girl splayed out on the table.

	"Unnh!" she gasped at the first thrilling pulses against her slowly
swelling clitoris. She squirmed in pleasure like a cat in heat. Sudden ribbons
of pain shot through her breasts as the nipple clamps pulled taut.

	"Oh!" she gasped. The swift pain heightened the pleasure building in her
lower abdomen. She tried to press the massager closer to her burning flesh.

	And then it stopped.

	Geoffrey laughed at the look of surprise that came to Summer's face when
the massager stopped vibrating. She realized the extent of his torment - the
damned massager was set on a variable timer! How was she going to get off if it
cut out at just the least opportune moment!

   "There, there, sweetie," Geoffrey soothed, stroking the tender flesh of her
breast. His touch made her jump, the jump in turn pulled on her bonds, and a
small tear rolled down a cheek.

   "I'm going to go out for a while, do some shopping, so you just stay here and
enjoy yourself." Geoffrey smiled at her, kissed her forehead. "See you later!"

   Summer squealed her frustration as she heard her Master close the hotel room
door behind her. When would he be coming back? How long did she have to stay
like this?

   A droning sound, like a hundred horny bees, the electric massager stirred
into life as its next cycle kicked in. It shook and shimmied against her cleft,
the vibrations sending delicate sensitive nerve endings into paroxysms of
delight. She could not help herself, the pleasure was too welcome, too inviting
to resist. Summer squirmed and pushed herself against the shaking white plastic
bulb, trying futilely to squeeze it with her thighs. Ribbons of fire raced
through her breasts, the nipple clamps tugging and twisting with each movement,
the pain adding to her pleasure.  Desperate for relief, Summer twisted her
torso. She could feel an incredible heat building in her groin, a groundswell of
fire and passion she could not resist.

   She pressed her coral lips against the hard plastic. It moved with her, it
moved away from her, tugging on the cord leading to the chain connected to the
nipple clamps, making them wiggle. The burning pain in her breasts was
incredibly pleasurable, but nowhere near helpful.

   "Unh!" she grunted. Summer relaxed her lower back muscles, sinking down on
the tabletop. Her ass dropped down into the open space between the two halves.
Droplets of pussy juices fell to the carpet below.

   The orgasm hit her like a truck doing 70.

   Summer screamed as the intense pulling on her nipples triggered the explosion
in her cunt. It raced through her in a molten blast, each red-hot spasm bigger
and hotter than the one before. She thrashed on the tabletop, yanking and
straining against her bonds, her belly heaving, her breasts bouncing against the
chain that tormented them.

   Summer howled, She thought she would suffocate as she gasped for air through
her flaring nostrils. She could feel her toes and fingers squeezing and curling,
every muscle in her body tightening and locking in place. The vibrating plastic
continued to thrum against her, forcing her even higher, making her arousal even
stronger, almost painful in its intensity. Summer could see red spots as she
squeezed her eyes tightly shut, then splashes of colours and finally, explosions
of colour that slowly drifted into black.

   She could feel herself calming down, moving into a numb state of sensory
overload, when the vibrator stopped its incessant droning.

   It was suddenly chilly in the room, as the light sheen of sweat began to dry
from Summer's naked body. Summer wailed as the muscle massager came back to
life.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

CHAPTER 2	



	"Hello?"

	The gentle sound of the door opening was like a rifle shot to Summer.

	"Oh shit! Someone's coming!" was her panicky thought.  Struggling to
free herself, Summer quickly realized she no longer had any upper body strength.
She was tired now, her body having been strained and constrained for what seemed
like hours. And that damnable vibrator! It came on and diddled her for a while
and half the time, just as she was about to come, the stupid thing would stop!
Or worse yet, as Summer had discovered, it didn't stop, even after she had come,
it just kept pressing against her and humming and shaking and keeping her
stirred up until her clit hurt and even then it wouldn't stop.

	"Housekeeping? Anyone here?"  There was a jangling noise as the
housekeeper dragged her cart of supplies into the suite.

	Summer was desperate. She did not want to be discovered, not like this!
She wiggled and pulled, hoping to loosen the ropes. Her hands clenched and
opened.

	"AAARRRR!!"  Summer screamed. Her left nipple hurt like a thousand bee
stings! Tears in her eyes, she raised her head to see the nipple clamp dangling.
The rope holding the vibrator slackened, but the extra loops around Summer's
thighs held the insidious device in place.

	The commotion in the dining room caught the maid's attention.

	"Hello? Anyone he - ".

	The sight of a nude woman, gagged and displayed on the dining room table
like an hors d'oeuvre to be gobbled, stopped the hotel employee in her tracks.

	"Omigod! Are you all right?" she blurted.

	Summer made a lot of noise, and nodded her head for good measure. Her
brown eyes moist, her embarrassment growing by the microsecond, she watched the
maid, upside down, slowly approach the dining room table. She saw the hotel
nametag pinned to the young woman's uniform. "Angelita".

	Summer tried to say, "help me Angelita" through the tape crisscrossing
her red lips. She wiggled on the table, her breasts bobbing with the motion. The
electric massager, quiet for the past ten minutes, chose that precise moment to
start up. Immediately, Summer's aching pussy started to rev up for its fourth
orgasm.

	"Well," began the maid, now standing at Summer's head, "you seem to have
got yourself in quite a fix, eh?" She stroked Summer's cheek gently, like a
lover's caress.

	The sudden touch caught Summer completely by surprise. She hoped,
expected the woman to be frantically helping her get free. But no, she was
stroking her face!

	The maid's hand slowly slid down Summer's tear dappled cheek and across
her throat. Her hands were not soft, but her fingers were light in their touch,
sending little shivers down Summer's spine. The hand wandered down the soft
white skin, through the little depression which formed Summer's clavicle cleft,
traversing the breastbone.

	Looking up, Summer stared into the maid's face.  A young face,
attractive, well proportioned, but with a hard edge like she knew pain and
suffering only too well. The maid's hair was black, shot through with bright red
and auburn streaks, tied back in a ponytail. She was not wearing any make up to
speak of - a hint of eyeliner was all. She did not need much more: her eyes were
so dark they were almost black as her hair. At this moment, they were lit with a
hungriness Summer had not seen before in a woman. The maid's wet pink tongue
slowly licked her upper and lower lip as her hand slid over Summer's left
breast. Her fingertips dug into the soft flesh, kneading it cruelly, making
Summer gasp in pain. The maid Angelita brought her face just inches from
Summer's, her breath hot and moist against the captive girl's features. 
Twisting her head, Angelita touched Summer's cheek with the tip of her tongue.
She made a throaty laughing sound as she slowly licked the cheek right up to the
hairline, and then moved over to the ear. All the while, she kept squeezing and
releasing Summer's breast with her one hand.

	"Aw, poor baby," she said, her voice husky and menacing. "Somebody left
you here all tied up and alone, didn't they." She pinched the already bruised
nipple. "Well, what should we do about that, hm?"

	The maid kissed Summer on the forehead, then on her taped lips.

	"I know!" she said, standing straight. "I could untie you."

	Summer mewled and nodded her head. She pleaded with her eyes.

	Angelita leaned forward and kissed the tip of Summer's nose.

	"But ... no."

	At this pronouncement, Summer yowled and thrashed about on the table.
Her anxiety caused the maid to laugh, teeth showing sharp and white. 

	"Oh my dear, that's not going to get you free!" she scorned, twisting
the nipple she held in her hand. Summer squeezed her eyes shut in pain. "No, no,
no. If you want to get free, you'll have to beg for it. But first, let's make
you more comfortable."

	The maid reached for the nipple clamp still attached to the right
breast. She squeezed the ends together, forcing the clamp open. The sudden
rushing of blood into the previously compressed areas made the naked and bound
slave girl howl with pain.

	"Did that hurt? " cooed the maid. "Here, I'll kiss it better".  She
placed her full lips on the captive's very sore nipple and began to suck and
nibble. Summer thrashed in her bonds. The maid just looked at her from the sides
of her eyes as she continued to suckle on the other girl's tender bruised flesh. 	

	"mmm, I just love the taste of girl, don't you?" she leered. "There's
something sweet about a hard nipple ..." Angelita said, switching over to the
left breast. As she did so, she ran her hand ever so lightly down Summer's belly
to the dark cleft between her legs. She felt the plastic muscle massager, still
buzzing and wet with Summer's secretions.

	 "What's this?" She wiggled the vibrator, eliciting a moan from her new
playmate. "Oh, it's tied in place. Poor baby! There's been no relief for you,
has there?" She pressed the vibrator harder against Summer's swollen aching
labia. "How horrible, this nasty thing just vibrating away against your pussy,
and nothing to fill you up! Oh, poor prisoner!"

	The maid raised her head and looked southward.

	"Oh no, look at how pink and excited your little bare pussy is! Oh my!" 
She stood up. "I know. I know just the thing to ease your terrible suffering."

	And with that, the maid disappeared from sight.

   Summer lay stretched out and flat on her back. Her breasts hurt, her arms
were numb, her pussy ached, and her legs were tired. Breathing through her nose
had become tiresome too, especially with all the stimulation she had been
experiencing. And now, to top it off, she had been found by a horrible hotel
maid who was going to torment her!

	The touch of a tongue on her inner thigh made her jump.

	The maid scolded her. "Bad girl! Don't jump around like that!" She
pinched Summer's thigh. Her tongue was hot, wet. She left a trail of saliva
glistening along Summer's white skin.

	Her bite was hard, sharp, as she clamped down on the thigh muscles, and
sucked hard. Summer whimpered and moaned, and the maid laughed. Even, tiny teeth
marks glowed red, and the flesh in between began to bruise.

	Raising her head, Summer could see the top of the maid's head, down to
her eyes, peering back.

   "Hmm, I smell pussy," gloated her tormenter from between Summer's legs. The
room was redolent with the musky smell of a woman in heat. "I love the smell of
fresh, hot pussy, don't you? And look at you, so lovely and wet, so red, mmm!""

   With the swiftness of an osprey swooping a fish, the maid buried her head in
the hot wet pussy she had just been praising. She thrummed her head to and fro
and side to side, her tongue and lips working overtime. Her nose pressed against
Summer's swollen clit, her head banging against the vibrator.

   "Ow!" she exclaimed, raising her head. "Let's just get this thing out of the
way, shall we?" The vibrator hummed back to life as the ropes were being
loosened.

   "Oh look! It's alive!" exclaimed Angelita. She thrust it up toward Summer's
tortured breasts, burying her chin against the girl's wet slit.  Summer moaned,
yet another orgasm involuntarily starting to build. The maid laughed, rubbing
the massager against Summer's breasts, as she returned to her oral
manipulations. Big juicy smacking sounds rang out as she sucked on Summer's
clit. Using her fingers, she spread the labia and began to lick and kiss the
coral passage. She probed as far as she could with her tongue, relishing the
musky fluids smearing all over her face.

   "nn, nnh, NNNH" yelled Summer as her orgasm began to hit her. She bucked her
hips, causing the maid to work harder at bringing her captive to a climax. With
one hand, she ran the massager back and forth across Summer's heaving breasts,
her other hand working the tender flesh between Summer's legs even as she licked
and nipped and kissed there. She blew on Summer's clit and pussy, then swirled
her tongue all over while Summer moaned and groaned with her pleasure.

   "Not yet!" barked the maid suddenly. She slapped Summer's breasts. Leaning
forward, she grasped the girl's face in her hand. Her breath was hot and Summer
could see the pussy fluids smeared all across the maid's cheeks. "You'll cum
when I say you can come, understand?"

   Summer mewled pathetically. "Uh-huh."

   "Good pussy slave," The woman slid down from between Summer's legs,
reappearing at the side of the table. Patting Summer between the legs, she
wandered out of sight for a few moments.

   Summer's chest heaved at her exertions. She was so worn out! "Thank god the
nipple clamps and the vibrator were gone", she thought. "Now if only I could get
free."

   A flurry of feathers suddenly appeared in her line of sight. They descended,
brushing her face and tickling her nose. They smelled dusty.

   "You know, working in housekeeping has its advantages," cooed the maid as she
ran the feather duster over her helpless prisoner's naked body. Summer squirmed
as the feathers tickled her already too sensitive flesh. "You get all sorts of
neat toys to work with, and you meet the most interesting people."

   Summer groaned and writhed as the maid slowly stroked her pussy with the
feather duster. Up and down, round and round, stroking her inner thigh, her
clit, her moist center. The touch was so light, so delicate, yet the sensations
it caused! Summer knew that this could go on for hours, because even though it
was incredibly stimulating, it just wasn't enough to get her off.

   Laughing, the maid asked if Summer was enjoying herself.

   Angelita brought her face down close. Summer stared into the black eyes, and
saw the cold pleasure that filled them. There was to be no mercy.

   Defeated, the bound girl now closed her eyes, hiding from her reality. Her
body twitched and jerked beyond her control, like a frog's legs when an
electrical current is applied.

   Angelita looked at her watch. "Shit! It's time! Okay, enough of this," she
said, taking the electric muscle massager and placing it squarely against
Summer's pussy. Using the rope, she tied it firmly to one of the girl's thighs,
holding it in place. Walking purposefully down to the foot of the table,
Angelita quickly unfastened Summer's legs, only to tie them together at the
ankle. Taking another piece of rope, she adeptly wound it around Summer's knees,
securing them together. The massager was now locked tight and hard against
Summer's female core. Reaching underneath the table, the maid undid Summer's
wrist restraints and brought the girl's exhausted and now useless arms forward.
The maid soon had them tied in front of Summer, a rope wound around her waist
holding them in place.

   Her plight was unchanged, but her bondage was changed, and to Summer, the
differences were a relief. Her arms tingled painfully as the blood returned;
nevertheless it was better than not being able to feel them at all.

   With a thunk, Angelita pushed the table closed beneath her captive. Summer
squealed helplessly as she switched the massager controls from variable to
steady. Laughing once more, the maid Angelita left the room.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 3



	The maid glanced back over her shoulder as she walked to the hotel room
door. That foolish girl, Angelita thought, she has no idea what she has gotten
herself into. And such a lively body, too. It's a shame ...

	Angelita pushed her housekeeping cart to one side and opened the door. A
swarm of six dark clad men carrying rifles, surprisingly quiet in their uniforms
and army boots, immediately dispersed throughout the suite. Someone let out a
low whistle as he encountered Summer, bound and naked on the table.

	"Angelita," whispered the seventh uniformed man through the door. Unlike
the others, he was not visibly armed for combat. He smiled, and kissed the maid
on the mouth as he crossed the threshold. Putting one arm around his waist, the
maid closed the door behind him.

	"He's not here," she said. "Mi Capitan", she added.

	The man scowled, his displeasure obvious. "Then we will wait." He
stepped forward into the room, his dark eyes taking in the scene of his soldiers
surveying the suite.

   Angelita smiled. "But the girl is."

	"Ah yes, the girl," the man said. "I assume you took her into custody?"

	The mmph-ing sound from the dining room caught his ear.  He looked
quizzically at Angelita.

	"Well, Captain, as you will see," said Angelita with a grin, "she was
already under house arrest, of sorts."	

	The captain turned in the direction of the sound, and walked into the
dining room. He was surprised to see woman lying naked and bound on a dining
room table. One of his men was cruelly squeezing the poor girl's breasts. She
was moaning in pain. The captain cleared his throat.

 	The soldier looked up from his pawing of Summer, his eyes glazed with
desire. He looked first at Angelita, then at his commander, and immediately
stepped back to stand at attention. His fingerprints remained, red splotches
against the fairness of Summer's skin.

   "Angelita, what's this?" queried the officer.

   The maid smiled a sly smile. "Well Captain," she began, "I entered the room
disguised as a housekeeper, as planned. I found this woman lying here on the
table, completely tied up and helpless. I decided that it would be best not to
release her, as she must be accompanying the suspect, or at the very least, in
his employ."

   The captain regarded the naked woman before him. Summer's eyes, red with and
full of tears, begged for mercy. Her body shook. A trickle of urine smeared on
the table beneath her.

   "Hmm." The Captain ran his hand along Summer's shoulder, cupped her breast,
then her abdomen. She twitched and moaned, trying to resist but knowing it was
hopeless. His hand, fingers stubby and strong, slowly traversed her nakedness,
down her hip to her thigh, along the curve of the leg to where the ropes
clenched the ankles.

	"She's not our target. She will be a casualty."

	Summer's eyes snapped open, huge and round. Terrified.

	The captain drew his pistol. He handed it to Angelita.

	"Dispose of the body."

	Angelita stepped close to him. "Sir, I have another idea," she cooed
seductively. "She enjoys this kind of treatment, I believe, so give her over to
me for retraining. She'll simply" - Angelita snapped her fingers - "vanish."

	The captain stroked Angelita under her chin. "Very well, then. She's to
be sent to the farm. And you, sweet Angelita, will be in charge of her
transport."

	Beckoning to one of the soldiers to follow, he turned and left the room.

	The maid Angelita leaned over Summer's shivering form.

	"Now you're mine, sweet one," she hissed.

	Summer squeezed her now puffy, tear-soaked eyes shut once more.

	Angelita kicked off her leather shoes and reached up under the maid's
uniform. With several wiggles of her hips, a pair of pantyhose appeared beneath
the hem. The soldier had a view of her round taut butt as she slid the pantyhose
to the floor and stepped out of them.

	"What are you looking at, soldier?" she snapped, feeling his gaze.

	"Nothing ma'am!" he responded smartly, standing stiffly.

   Angelita stepped close to the now nervous soldier. He suddenly feared he
might be in deep trouble.

   "You could be an interesting addition to my stable," Angelita growled, her
voice dripping with menace. Her right hand dug into his crotch, squeezing the
male parts beneath the black fatigues. With her other hand, she rubbed her
pantyhose in his face. "Do you like the smell of me, soldier?"

   "No ma'am! Yes ma'am!" the confused soldier blurted. Angelita laughed, gave
his balls a squeeze, and turned her attention to the girl on the table. Drawing
a knife from her maid's apron, Angelita sliced the pantyhose into two parts. She
drew the helpless girl into a sitting position. Angelita smiled, and stroked
Summer's face.

   "You're going on a trip, sweet thing," she said. Her voice was all sugar.
Summer made a sound of puzzlement as Angelita placed the open end to the
pantyhose across her forehead. With a pull on either side, Angelita slid the
slippery fabric completely over Summer's head until the foot reached the girl's
crown. Stretching the fabric as far as she could, Angelita then tugged it over
Summer's bare shoulders and down her chest. Summer's breasts flattened at the
new compression.  After a few pulls and smoothing motions, Angelita was
satisfied with how snug the fabric fit over Summer's head.

   "It was nice of your boyfriend to leave us some packing material," Angelita
smirked. She took the roll of tape, and stuck an end to the top of Summer's
head. With a practiced motion, she wound the sticky tape down the girl's face,
under her chin and back up the opposite side. She repeated this motion two more
times, cinching Summer's already taped mouth even more tightly shut. Next came
tape around the girl's mouth. Around and around she went, circling Summer's head
in a web of silver, leaving the nose and eyes for last.

   Angelita pushed Summer back down on the tabletop. Stretching the opening to
the other half of the pantyhose, she pulled it over Summer's feet and began to
work it up the girl's legs. The clingy fabric, designed to fit around just one
limb, forced Summer's legs even closer together than the rope bindings.

   "Hmm, what should we do with this?" Angelita teased when she reached the
electric muscle massager. "I can't plug it in while you're in transit, and I'm
sure you'll miss it. I guess we'll just have to take it off." Using her knife,
she slit the rope binding the massager to Summer's thigh.

   She pulled the pantyhose up the girl's thighs to her butt. Ordering the
soldier to raise Summer by her feet, Angelita pulled the pantyhose past Summer's
hips to her waist, over the girl's hands, stretching the sheer material as far
as it would go. She wound tape around Summer's middle, securing the pantyhose in
place.

   "Hmpf! You've peed yourself. That'll ruin the tabletop." Angelita turned to
the soldier still holding Summer's legs in the air. "Maybe I'll have you clean
it up with your tongue, heh?"

   The soldier went rigid. Angelita laughed, and tossed him a second roll of
tape. "Here, finish wrapping her up. All but her eyes and nose, leave those
parts to me."

   The soldier caught the roll of silver duct tape with one hand. He smiled -
the witch was letting him manhandle her prisoner! Wonderful! He could hardly
wait to run his hands over that ass, those breasts.

   Like a good soldier, he began to wrap Summer in the silver tape. He started
at her insteps, a single strand wound around the feet, then a second strand
overlapping the first, and then on to a third strand before angling up to the
ankles. Ah yes, the ankles, lovely, thin gringo ankles, like an aristocrat's, a
fine lady's, not like the women from his village with their fat swollen ankles,
no, this one had nice slender ankles. He pictured them waving in the air above
his shoulders, and leered.

   "Well perdida," he said. "Looks like your life is about to change, si? The
witch Angelita has asked for you and Captain Rasquedo says she can have you. Too
bad for you, perdida.  I guess you have no idea what the witch likes to do with
women, he? Men too." As he talked, he wound the silver tape around Summer's
body, pausing every few minutes to smooth it out.

   Terrified, Summer could sense his arousal like a bitch knows when a male wolf
is near.

   Panic now gripped her, fiercely. She was going to die, or worse, disappear
somewhere in the jungle. Why oh why is this happening to her? her mind demanded.
Summer began to cry.

   The wrapping of her body was uncomfortably tight. She was disgusted, the way
he pawed and grabbed at her. He didn't care if he hurt her, and in fact, seemed
to like the noises she made when he pinched and squeezed. Geoffrey, I need you,
where are you? Summer's mind screamed.

   But there was no answer.

   The soldier stepped back from the table to admire the wrapping job. From
Summer's toes to just under her breasts, a cocoon of silver tape enveloped her.
Her eyes were teary, frightened, peering out from the silver mask covering her
face.

	"Ah perdida, it would have been so nice to fuck you before you get sent
away," he said. His breath was hot, smelly against Summer's face. "I would have
slipped it up your ass and your wet pussy and you would have begged for more."

	He laughed.

	"Good bye, little one," he said, placing a final strand of the silver
tape over Summer's nipple. "Think of me when they remove this tape, he?"

	Summer could hear voices from the other part of the suite. Noise from a
walky-talky. The Captain, the maid Angelita and another soldier entered the
dining room; the remaining soldiers disappeared. The room was suddenly still,
heavy with anticipation.

	Quiet.

	Only the harshness of Summer's laboured breathing could be heard
anywhere in the suite.

	The sound of a key inserted into the door.

	"MMMMPPHHH!" Summer tried to warn Geoffrey. She thrashed about on the
tabletop.

	The door swung open.

	"Summer?"

	"MMMmmph! MMMMPPH! MMMPPPHHH!!!!"

	The maid Angelita pressed the muzzle of a pistol, hard, into Summer's
forehead. Angelita's teeth were clenched in a grimace. "sh!" she hissed.

	Geoffrey stepped into the room. Striking like an angry cobra, a soldier
waiting behind the door slammed his rifle butt into Geoffrey's back. Geoffrey
went down on all fours, hard. His knees made a resounding thump as they hit the
floor. He reached inside his jacket. The soldier kicked him square between the
legs. Summer screamed into the tape covering her mouth. Geoffrey went down on
his chest, his hand still inside the jacket, now trapped there. A second soldier
chambered a round in his rifle. He rammed the barrel against the back of
Geoffrey's skull.

	Coughing, in pain, Geoffrey retched. Yellow vomit spewed out of his
mouth. The first soldier, having come around to Geoffrey's side, kicked out
again. The boot landed on Geoffrey's ribs, lifting him in the air like an
inchworm caterpillar trying to crawl.

	Geoffrey retched again, made a hacking sound; then laid still, his face
in a pool of spittle and puke.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 4



	The military truck trundled along the pothole strewn gravel road. Macaws
screeched and chattered in the dense jungle on either side of the twisty road.

	In back, one of the soldiers whistled one of his favourite songs. The
words were about love and heartache and pain and the rewards of being taken back
into someone's arms; still, his whistle was just a melody. The other soldier sat
quietly, lost in his own thoughts. Both swayed as the truck rumbled over ruts
and swerved around potholes big enough to eat the truck's front end.

	The long wooden crate rumbled and slid on the truck floor as the driver
missed avoiding one of the smaller craters. A cardboard box, one of several
stacked up near the crate, fell over and skidded off the wood to land on its
side against the metal truck bed. It popped open.

	The whistler stopped his tune and leaned forward to pick up the box. As
he did, he very discreetly took a chance to peer inside at the contents. He let
out a low whistle, and quickly shut the box. His fellow rider looked over,
quizzically raising an eyebrow. The whistler signed "silence" and jerked his
thumb toward the cab. The other soldier nodded, and settled back patiently. He
knew he'd find out sooner or later, and he figured later was just fine.

	Using his legs as a shield from view, he forked his fingers, making the
sign of a witch, at the passenger in the front. 	

	The truck rambled and clattered noisily down the road, clouds of dust
billowing in its wake. Occasionally, a tire caught a piece of gravel just so,
and the stone fired off into the brush, bouncing off a tree trunk with a crack
as loud as a rifle shot.

	Trapped in an unyielding cocoon of sticky tape, then wrapped in blankets
and stuffed into a wood crate, Summer was covered in sweat and, to her shame,
urine. She was desperately thirsty, and could hardly breathe. Movement was
impossible, but she felt every single jolt and bump. Her body, already punished
and tormented in the resort suite, was going to be a mass of bruises by the time
she got wherever she was going. And she no longer cared.

	Geoffrey was gone. Her future, her lover, was gone. Her freedom was
gone. None of it mattered anymore. She would never see Geoffrey or her friends
or her cat, ever again. All destroyed, lost, in a jerk of a hand, a shouted
word, the twitch of a finger. And she had been tied up, on top of a table,
completely helpless. All she could do was cry and weep, as everything she knew,
everything she ever wanted, was gone in the crack of a gun and the splatter of
brains against the floor.

	The sight of Geoffrey, dead, shot, executed in cold blood, had stunned
her into a space she had never dreamed was possible.

	Geoffrey had been beaten with a gun, kicked to the floor and stomped
again and again. Why? She wondered. It had all happened so fast, and that damned
bondage had made it hard for her to hear what was being said, and anyway, she
didn't understand Spanish, but obviously Geoffrey did, but why? Why? Why?
Geoffrey had tried to get up, and his hand was inside his jacket and when he
said something in Spanish to them right back and moved his hand, the one soldier
had hit him again with the rifle. And then Geoffrey rolled over to his back and
moved his arm again and bam! The Captain pulled out a pistol and shot Geoffrey,
right in the face!

	The scenario played itself over and over again in Summer's mind. First
Geoffrey was beaten, then shot and there was blood and brains and god knows what
else all over the floor, but nobody seemed to panic or be upset. Then that
woman, Angelita, she had walked over to Summer, calm as could be. Summer was
struggling uselessly to get free, and the soldiers were laughing at her, and
that, that bitch Angelita, she took a piece of tape and sealed off Summer's
nose.

	And I almost died, remembered Summer. I couldn't breathe and I didn't
want to breathe, not anymore. But my body betrayed me, and I struggled and just
as I blacked out, the bitch ripped the tape off and I could breathe again. And
that cunt Angelita was telling me to be good or else, and I wanted to just spit
in her face. Then she kissed my left eye then my right eye, and then covered
both eyes with tape. And I was in darkness, and I am in darkness now, and my
life will always be in darkness ...

	The wooden crate bounced and slid in the truck bed as they jolted along
the jungle road to their destination.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 5



	Formed eons ago by volcanic eruptions caused by the shifting of tectonic
plates, Las Brisas is a tiny, scarcely noticeable island discreetly nestled off
the coast of Central America. Largely undeveloped and unable to be developed,
the island has become a small entity unto itself.

   Fleeing the Spaniards they routinely pillaged, a small crew of pirates and 
their ladies from the mainland, settled Las Brisas in the mid 1600s.  A small
community sprang up on the beach and expanded inland as far as it could before
being stopped by the rocky terrain and equatorial rainforest. Smuggling and
fishing became the major industries. Practitioners of both occupations are
accustomed to paying the local constabulary an operating fee: one pays beneath
the table, the other industry pays above. But the agreed rule is, you pay, or
you don't play.

	The smuggling industry, its roots in piracy, had resulted in the
establishment of a very solid and little known financial community. Investors
not wishing their assets to be known or accessible by tax collectors,
disappointed business associates, or at times other family members, relied upon
the Las Brisan bankers to be even more discreet than the gnomes of Europe.

   The Las Brisans like their quiet little island, and while they may also enjoy
the influx of foreign currency, they have found that tourists are demanding,
pushy, and cheap, especially when compared with the dollars dropped by the
"businessmen" who visit from the southern hemisphere and who are looking for a
secluded little country that likes to do laundry and has a good, discreet
natural harbour.

   The island of Las Brisas does not belong to any country, nor is it recognized
on any maps as a sovereign state. It is, in actuality, a private fiefdom, owned
by a small group of families whose roots lead directly back to the brigands of
old. That a private army policed and enforced the wishes of the owners of the
island was an additional bonus. And that this well trained and handsomely
rewarded army was under the rigid command of one man, who assumed the hereditary
rank of Captain, made it even easier for certain industries to choose to conduct
their business on Las Brisas.

  

	The truck continued its uphill climb. The road had gone from gravel and
potholes to an even worse dirt road. It twisted and turned through the jungle
like a snake through the trees, before reaching a dead end. There was a whirring
sound, then a sharp metallic clang. The two soldiers in back jumped off the
truck. Heading to the front of the vehicle, they ignored the sharp spiked steel
combs that had appeared out of the dirt roadbed. Spaced to foil even the widest
vehicle, the spiked combs prevented anything with rubber tires from safely going
back down the road from whence they came.

	The soldiers were part of the Captain's handpicked squad; they were
familiar with much of the security surrounding their leader's ranch. In fact,
they were privileged enough to enjoy some of the delights this very secluded,
very private facility had to offer.

	Several scrawny, vine covered trees signaled the end of the road.  The
soldiers, one on either side of the truck, took positions in front of two of the
trees. The woman in the cab punched buttons on her cell phone. There was a
barely perceptible clicking sound, and the trees began to move. They separated,
moving in graceful arcs away from the centre of the roadway. The two soldiers
immediately began to remove the bushes and scrub that remained. A new path was
revealed, one that ran ahead for about ten feet before turning off into the
woods. The truck engine roared, and the vehicle slowly moved forward, coming to
stop when it was completely past the trees that had moved out of the way. From
this perspective, it was clear that the trees were indeed alive, just planted in
carefully camouflaged containers, as were the rest of the plants around them,
creating what looked like a dead end but which was, in actuality, a gate. The
two soldiers quickly replaced the shrubs and foliage before scrambling on the
back of the truck. With barely a sound, the gates began to close.

	The truck and its cargo rolled along a hidden scrub covered roadway.
After a couple hundred yards, there was another sharp turn. The mud turned into
a smooth tarmac surface, the trees lost their wild look and began to take on a
more orderly appearance. The road curved slightly, and then made a very sharp
turn.

	Appearing suddenly through the lush jungle, the ranch house was an old
hacienda style building, with brightly colored red concrete roof tiles, and
graceful arches and whitewashed plaster. It was ideally situated in a small
clearing, surrounded by manicured shrubs and elegant trees. Pathways led off
from the house into the jungle. The glimmer of a pool area could be seen in
behind the house.

	The driveway forked, one side leading to a parking area next to the
house; the other fork led to a nearby Quonset hut. The truck took the second
fork, and rolled to a stop in front of the metal structure.

	Angelita jumped from the cab.

	"Take the boxes inside the barn and unpack them. You can amuse
yourselves with what you'll find in the large crate, " she barked at the two
soldiers in back. "But remember, this is my personal property and I will hold
you both responsible if I don't like the condition it's in when I come for it
later."

	With that, she turned on her heel and strode off toward the hacienda.

	"Witch cunt," muttered the one soldier as he again forked his fingers at
Angelita's back. "Well, let's get this shit unloaded. And don't drop your end,
okay?"

	"Yeah, yeah."

	The two soldiers unloaded the truck, starting with the wood crate, and
carried the boxes into the building. Inside the entry area, they stacked the
smaller ones neatly against the wall. They placed the crate on the floor beside
a doorway that led back into the barn itself.

	"So whaddya think is in the crate?"

	"Hey, if it's anything like the shit I saw in that one box, whoo! We
could have some pretty kinky fun with some of the fillies here!" The soldier
grabbed his crotch and pumped his hips lewdly.  He swung his other arm as if he
were cracking a whip. "Giddyap, puta!"

	His comrade in arms laughed. "Hey," he began," I heard when the Captain
raided the hotel, he wasted the gringo drug dealer, and he found some slit too,
all tied up like a chicken ready to eat!"

	"Wouldn't that be nice if she were in the box, he?"

	"Get a crowbar, let's find out. Remember, the witch said we could play
with anything we find inside the crate."

	"Careful! She hears you, she'll pin your balls up on the bulletin
board."	

	Inside the box, bruised, battered, an exhausted Summer had drifted into
deep sub-space. She no longer realized how beat up she was, for she could no
longer feel her own body. She was lost in her own world of remembrances, despair
and grief.

	In her mind, Summer was back home, about to meet Geoffrey, for the very
first time.

	

****



   Summer sat in her small red car. She didn't hear the CD-player, although it
was playing one of her favourite discs. Meat Loaf speaking in a soft, sensual
way: "On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the
red roses?" Ellen Foley replying, "Will he offer me his hunger?"

   "Yes," comes the big fellow's assured, menacing response.

   Summer took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. Calm the nerves, she told
herself. She rubbed her palms together. They were wet with nervous anticipation.
She took another deep breath. Reached for the ignition, turned it off. Put the
keys in her purse. Opened the driver's door. Exhaled.  Finally her left foot
touched the cold hard concrete of the street. It swerved in a delicate pirouette
as Summer, with all the grace her femininity could muster, exited the car.

   Purposefully, no hesitation in her stride, she walked up the walk. Her heart
raced in anticipation, mingled with fear. Her wide brown eyes wandered over the
home she was about to enter. It was impressive, the kind of house Summer had
often admired. Now, as she admired the Edwardian-style two story brick-and
quarry stone building before her, she smiled a soft smile inside. The carved
stone pillars said strength and support; the large, crystal clean windows spoke
to her very soul of honesty and truth.

   She could sense hidden eyes examining her.

   Through the side gate, to the back door. The note taped to the door read,
"Ring the bell, count to ten, then enter".

   Smoothing her moist palms along the soft burgundy cashmere of her dress,
inhaling deeply, Summer raised her cool soft hand to the bell, pressing it with
determination. A shrill ring announced her arrival. Summer looked at her watch.
12:30 pm, exactly on time.

   "...nine, ten", she thought, reaching for the door handle. It turned easily,
the door opening at her touch like a wild flower in the morning sun.

   Summer entered the house, and stood on the small landing. A short flight of
stairs led up, a longer flight led down. It was dark down below; a closed door
blocked the way up. A clothes hanger lay on the top step, a note beside it.
Picking up the folded piece of paper, Summer revealed a piece of leather.
Looking at it closely, she realized it was a blindfold.

   She didn't even have to read the note to know what was coming. But she read
it anyway. With the unconscious grace borne of long habit, she brushed a
shoulder length lock of hair back from her cheek.

   "My dear Summer," it began. "Thank you for coming - I wasn't sure if you
would. I plan to make your visit to my home an enjoyable and memorable one for
us both.

   "If you have second thoughts and should choose to leave, please do so now. I
will respect your decision, and will disappear from your life. To stay is to
give your consent to all that will and may happen.

   "Please follow all my instructions exactly as I have written them here to
explore your fantasies.

   1. Remove all your clothes except the undergarments I instructed you to wear.
The hanger is for this purpose - there is a hook on the wall beside the door."

   Summer looked to find the hook. She turned back to the note.

   "2. Place the blindfold over your eyes, and carefully - very carefully -
descend the stairs.

   "I am waiting for you.

   "Geoffrey."

   Summer hesitated. This was her moment of truth. Her first meeting with
Geoffrey, the mysterious "G". Her mind raced back to their first encounter on
the chat line.

   Summer had dabbled in bondage several years back with her ex, and found she
enjoyed it very much - more than he did, in fact. But as things go, their
marriage went, and she moved on. Now 32, Summer had turned to the net for fun
and friendship and who knows what else. She had been idly surfing, playing on
the BDSM chat lines and connections sites. To her amazement, she had stumbled
across this fascinating man who lived in the same city as she - what were the
odds? They had corresponded furiously, sharing very intimate e-encounters, he
always on top. Then one day, she found herself typing in the fateful line:

   "When can I meet you?"

   "Soon enough little one," he replied.

   Thereafter, she included the one word in all her correspondence with this
mysterious man: "when?"

   Tuesday, she opened her mailbox to find the message: "Are you ready to
explore, my little one? Come to me this week. Geoffrey"

   "When, where, yes, yes, YES!" she had replied.

   His response shot back as if he had been waiting for her.

   "Come to me on Friday, spend the day, possibly the weekend, and perhaps even
your life with me. The time has come, the time is right, the time is now.
Friday, at 12:30, Come to me my little one, and we will discover each other."

   His address followed when she fired back more enthusiastic "yes"es.

   And now, here she was.

   The time has come, she thought, to put my money where my mouth is. She
shrugged her coat from her shoulders. Reaching behind, she grasped the pull to
the zipper, and began to slide it down. In seconds, her dress, the favourite she
had selected especially to please the mysterious "G", was on the floor in a heap
at her feet. Bending down, she slipped it on the hangar provided and placed it
on the hook.

   A nervous tremor coursed her body. She reached for the leather blindfold.
Feather light, the leather felt heavy in her hands. Placing it over her hazel
eyes, she plunged herself into a world of darkness, and out of the world she
knew. She was committing herself to servitude to this stranger. She shivered,
gooseflesh appearing on her arms. Turning, Summer placed a hand against the wall
to steady herself and to guide her descent into the yawning dark.

   She reached the bottom of the staircase, her heart pounding furiously with
excitement and anticipation. She lowered her hands to her side.

   "Hello?" she queried, a tremolo in her voice.

   "Hush, little one." The response came from her left, the voice soft,
seductive, caressing her emotions to soothe and calm.

   Silence, then a touch on her shoulder. Startled, Summer flinched.

   "Easy, my precious," he soothed. "I am here, beside you. You are very
beautiful, and I wish to admire your beauty."

   Summer blushed - she did not think she was beautiful. Her hair was the color
of cinnamon, and fell loose to her shoulders. Lovers and friends had told her
she was cute and attractive, and she knew her figure was pleasant to look at -
pretty good, in fact - but she thought it would be nicer if she weighed 15
pounds less. Nevertheless, she went to the gym three times a week and tried to
keep in good shape, toned and fit.

   The caress was soft, like velvet. He touched her shoulders, her back, his
fingers catching the bra strap and pulling. In a reverie of emotion, Summer
heard him say he will have to remove that soon, but she didn't care. His hands,
so soft, gentle yet firm, smoothed down her back, around her waist. She squirmed
as he skimmed by her buttocks, and then slid his hands down both her arms. She
felt his hands take her wrists, drawing them behind her.

   The silken strap he wound around her wrists jolted Summer back to reality.
She was half-naked, blindfolded, and being tied up by a man she had never seen!
She moved to free her hands, but too late! Trapped!

   "Easy little one," he murmured, his breath hot in her ear. She could feel the
fabric of his slacks with her bound hands as he pressed himself into her. He
held her close, tight.

   "Summer, lovely Summer, your adventure is about to begin. From this moment
forth, you will call me Master, do you agree?"

   "Ye-yes," she stammered nervously.

   "Yes what, Summer?" His voice was gentle, but firm.

   "Yes, master?" She responded. Nerves turned her natural speaking voice into a
soft whisper.

   "Good girl," he praised her. "You have much to learn, but you seem to learn
quickly. This will be truly marvelous! Now, I wish to continue my tour of your
lovely body."

   His breath was hot and moist against Summer's neck. She tilted her head back
as his hands roamed her upper shoulders, and slowly traveled down across her
bra. He cupped her covered breasts, making her moan softly. She felt one of his
hands move slowly down her belly while the other was on her neck, under her
chin, thrusting her head back. The kiss on her neck startled her, a tingle of
excitement racing through her body. Without thinking, she pressed herself into
him. His free hand touched her furry mound through her panties. Summer moaned
again. She moved, parting her legs slightly. He chuckled softly in her ear. His
hand drifted lower, skimming over the silken covered crease. Summer gasped in
pleasure at the touch. Through his slacks, her bound hands could feel him
harden.

   Then suddenly, he backed off. She stood, her chest heaving with every breath.

   The cold steel of the knife blade made her flinch with fear. Was she about to
die?

   "No!" she exclaimed. And then, within a flash, he cut her bra straps. He
pulled the lacy fabric down from her breasts, exposing the rounded flesh.

   "Trust, Summer," he said to her, his voice strong, soothing. "You must trust
me. I will not harm you. Do you believe me?"

   "Yes master," she replied in a little girl's voice. Summer was very
frightened.

   "Then trust me, Summer. Place your trust in me."

   "Yes master," she whispered.

   He kissed her left breast. The touch of his lips against her alabaster flesh
shocked her. It was so soft, tender, gentle! His hand cupped the flesh
underneath her breast, raising the delicate morsel of her nipple to his lips. He
licked, then sucked on the hardening pink bud, wringing a moan of pleasure from
his captive.

   "Master!" she sighed.

   "Sshh, Summer," he replied, his voice so near yet so far away. "Not a sound,
or I will be forced to gag you. And I don't want to do that, not yet."

   Using the knife, he cut the rest of the lace bra from her trembling, excited
body. He ran his hands down her rib cage, admiring the soft feminine flesh,
enjoying the way his little one responded. He continued to caress and explore
her shoulders, upper arms, the valley between her rounded breasts. His hands
touched her with the force of butterfly wings, delighting and tormenting with
the delicacy of their touch. Summer moaned, unable to contain her growing
excitement, her passion and desire for this man swiftly overwhelming her.

   She felt something hard, cold being pressed against her neck, wrapping around
it. She heard a click! and felt a weight fall behind her neck. A second click,
and she felt a tug at her throat.

   Geoffrey spoke. "Now little one, you wear my collar, and you will wear it
while you are in my home. Do you understand? Give me your agreement, and we will
continue, otherwise I will return your dress and you can leave. Now."

   Summer's voice rose barely above an impassioned whisper. "My Lord, I want to
stay. I want your collar. Please let me stay!"

   "Excellent!" he praised her. A tug on the leash. "Now, come with me."

   Obediently, blindly, Summer followed him. The carpet beneath her feet felt
lush, like a well-groomed lawn, as she walked behind her unseen master. It
muffled the click of her high heels. She knew the distance she traveled
physically was short, but in her heart, Summer journeyed miles.

   Her new master guided her around a corner? through a doorway? and into the
centre of a room. They came to a stop. She felt the silken fabric glide around
her elbows, then suddenly pulled taut, constrict her elbows so they were almost
touching. The new bondage thrust her breasts forward in an inviting manner.
Summer grunted.

   Another silken embrace, the cloth this time circling her wrists and, wrapping
around her small, feminine waist, cinching her wrists against the small of her
back. She was truly helpless now.

   "Summer, lovely Summer," came his soothing, soft voice. She started at the
touch of his hand against her breast. She could feel the wetness seeping into
her panties.

   "Don't worry, little one, I'll be kind to you," Geoffrey said reassuringly.
Then his voice took on a harder edge. "This time, that is." He continued to
stroke and caress her. "Now, I want you to tell me what you feel, and if you
like it, whenever and where ever I touch you. Do you understand, Summer?"

   "Yes, " she whispered. The sudden pain in her nipple was electric.

   "Yes what, Summer?" he growled.

   "Yes, Master!" she replied in a whimper.

   He pinched the other nipple simultaneously. Summer felt the firebolt through
her entire chest. her belly fluttered.

   "Yes WHAT, Summer?"

   She didn't now what to say. Hadn't she given him the correct response by
calling him Master? Then she realized her mistake.

   "Ye-yes Master, It hur ... " she stammered, "it hurts when you pinch me."

   "Hmmm", was the only response she received. Summer's nipples ached when he
released them. Her legs wobbled as his hand trailed down her smooth soft belly
to the top of the white cotton panties. He slid his hand beneath the elastic
waistband and pulled up, sharply. Summer gasped in surprise as the white cotton
slid up the soft velvety crease between her legs, rubbing harshly against her
most tender parts. With one hand, he held the fabric tight against her. His
other hand slid across her waist and hip, down to her beleaguered feminine
parts. He felt her heat, her wetness. Summer moaned and thrust her hips
reflexively at his touch. His fingers parted the fleshy folds of her labia,
encouraging the white cotton panty to press against her innermost parts. The
cloth stayed put when he released the waistband.

   Summer felt a hand against her shoulder, a second against the small of her
back. Pressure from the hands caused her to move her naked, helpless body. She
felt herself being turned to face a different direction - which way didn't
matter, for in her blindfolded world, all the compass points were the same.

   When he commanded her to sit, Summer obeyed. Cautiously she bent her knees
until her buttocks touched a cushioned seat. With her hands tied as they were,
she could feel the fabric and tickings of her perch. Clearly it was not a chair,
for it had no back. A bench of some sort? His hand on the inside of her knees
snapped her back to reality.

   "Your knees must never touch when you are in my presence, Summer," he scolded
gently as he pulled her legs apart. Summer mewled in trepidation as he tied her
ankles to the chair? bench? Wooden legs. She heard the sounds of a bottle being
opened, and liquid being poured into a glass.

   "This is our first real life meeting, isn't it, lovely Summer?" he began. "So
I want to first reassure you that you are safe here with me. Yes, there will be
some pain, but it will be lovingly administered, and received. And remember,
Summer, how can you judge pleasure if you don't know about pain?"

   "Yes Master," she said softly. "Master is right. Master is always right."

   "Good girl!" She could hear the smile in his voice. "As a reward, you may
have a drink."

   Summer felt a glass press against her lips. She opened her mouth just a
little, and felt a liquid, cold, icy cold, flow past her teeth. She could smell
the fragrance of the wine as its melange of fruit and other flavours burst upon
her tongue. She swallowed, savouring the taste.

   Her heart stopped. His tongue, hot, wet and unexpected, slid across her moist
red lips, sipping the wine from her tender flesh. The sudden intimacy took her
breath away.

   Summer felt herself being lowered on to her back. She felt hardness against
her shoulder blades and arms, a hardness that was eased by the soft but firm
upholstery. Her head and back were supported, but only barely by the narrowness
of the bench. Her round, smooth buttocks were flattened by her supine position.
Summer suddenly realized that with her ankles tied to the legs of the bench, she
was totally exposed and at the mercy of her unseen master.

   Her terror began to rise. Every breath was shallower than the one before
until she was almost gasping.

   "Easy little one," he soothed. Summer whimpered as he gently caressed her
breasts while he spoke. "You must trust in me. You do trust me, don't you
Summer?"

   "Yes Master, " she gasped out in a voice so unlike her own, so high and
breathy, she almost didn't recognize it. "Your slave trusts her master."

   "Good girl," he said. He took her nipple in his mouth, sucking on the pinkish
bud until it was hard against his tongue. A sharp little nip made her gasp. He
turned his attention to the other breast. Another sharp nip, another gasp.

   Summer felt the cold liquid trickle, then splash against her bare skin. The
coldness made gooseflesh rise on her displayed body. She almost orgasmed when he
began to suck and lick the wine from her breasts, his tongue running hot trails
up and down the tender flesh beneath and between her soft globes. Lower and
lower he traveled, sucking the liquid from her belly, her waist. She thrashed in
her bonds but it was clear to her that she wasn't going anywhere without his
consent. The heat, so wet, so delicious, built in her feminine crease, the taut
cotton of her panties still pressing hard against her clit.

   He pulled her panties away from her skin, and dribbled wine down into her
lower abdomen. The coldness ran into her fur.

   "Let's get these out of the way," he mused.

   "Oh!" Summer exclaimed as he cut the cotton panties in half, and then pulled
the binding cloth down between her knees. The sudden coolness of the room's air
against her most tender parts was a surprise. Then she felt his body between her
knees.

   But it was the wine, more wine dribbled on her that made Summer cry out.

   "Master!" She realized he was kneeling between her splayed legs.

   He did not respond, other than to lick the rapidly warming liquid from the
skin just above the gentle line where her soft furry covering began. Summer felt
his hand, large and strong, slide between her buttocks and the bench.
Involuntarily, hot with desire for his touch, she flexed, raising her butt from
the bench. He kneaded the soft flesh, the pain bruising yet so delightful to
her. She raised herself higher as his fingers explored the hidden crevice
between her cheeks, teasing and tickling the sensitive skin. Her breath was hot,
hard. Summer could feel the sexual desire, the need building and building. He
cupped one cheek in his hand, lifting her, exposing her.

   His mouth, hot, sudden, hard against her labia wrung a sound from her Summer
had never heard before. What was happening to her? she asked in a faraway corner
of her mind. Shut up and enjoy! said the rest of her consciousness.

   His tongue lapped at her love bud, his fingers gently peeling the coral skin
back to better expose it. He sucked on her, driving her higher and higher. Her
hips bucked, thrusting her hot moist cavern against his face, his tongue, his
chin.

   The orgasm burst upon her like a tsunami against the shore: hard, suddenly,
with a force unequalled in nature. Wave after wave, each bigger than the
preceding. A kaleidoscope of colours burst against her eyes as she squeezed them
shut. Someone, somewhere, was screaming in pleasure.

   Gently, he lowered her back to the bench.

   Summer lay there panting, her breasts hard, her belly aflame.

   He was gone from between her legs now.

   She missed him already.

   Music still played in the distance.

   Slowly, her racing heart stilled. She gathered her wits about her once more.

   "Whew! That was something," she said to herself. "Now, if I could get
free..." She tested her bonds but they held fast.

   "Well, Summer," came his voice. "I hope you enjoyed yourself?"

   "Oh, yes" she replied, her voice full of pleasure. "I ..."

   The smack across her breast made her cry in pain.

   "Manners, slave! Mind your manners when you speak to me!" He scolded.

   The sudden pain in her breast stunned her.

   "You must learn some manners, little Summer," he said. "And I'm about to give
you your first lesson."  Releasing her from her supine position, he drew her up
to her feet. With one hand circling both dainty bound wrists, he lifted her
hands higher up the small of her back

   "Ow!" she cried at the sudden blow of his free hand against her ass.

   Geoffrey turned her about so that now she faced the piano bench. He smacked
her again, hard, and then pushed her down. Summer fell to her knees. Her breasts
were crushed against the fabric as he pinned her there upon the bench

   She heard the distinctive whoosh of leather against fabric, and knew Geoffrey
had just removed the leather belt from his slacks. She whimpered in fear that
she was about to feel the belt against her tender skin.

   Summer was both surprised and relieved when Geoffrey pushed her legs
together, then used the belt to cinch them to the piano bench. She realized with
a start just how vulnerable her new position was - breasts mashed against a
bench, hands bound behind her, legs secured to the bench, and her ass raised
high in the air.

   "Summer, sweet little Summer, have you ever been spanked?" Geoffrey asked,
his hand slowly, sensually gliding over her rounded buttocks.

	"Not since I was a little girl, Master, sir."

	"Well then, this will be a new experience for you."

	She felt his hand, so broad and so strong, give her ass a few gentle
pats. She was surprised to feel the touch of his lips and tongue against her
flesh. 

	"Here is how it will work, little one. I am going to spank you, first
with my hand, then with a pony whip, a paddle and finally, a cane. Six strokes
with each. You will count each stroke and thank me for it.

	"If you object, Summer, then do so now. But know this, " he bent his
face close to hers, "if you ask me to stop now, then I will send you away, never
to return. If you agree, then there is no turning back. "

	Summer was torn. She did not want pain, but the prospect of receiving a
spanking was strangely exciting. And she did not want to leave Geoffrey, never
to see him again -- she had only just started to explore his world!

	"Please sir," she finally stammered, "please Master, I've been bad." She
choked back a sudden, disconcerting sob. "I should be punished, sir."

	Geoffrey kissed the side of her face.

	"Thank you, Summer," he whispered.

	The first smack of his hand caught her completely by surprise. It came
suddenly, without warning, while his lips were near her face, so close she could
feel his breath. And the blow was hard, harder than she expected. It stung.

	"Summer?" he asked, the sound of her name ominous.

	"One, Master, thank you."

	She could feel her body tensing just as the second slap, this time
across her other cheek, drew a sharp gasp from her.

	"Two, Master, thank you!"

	The third smack hurt as much as the first two, as did the fourth and
fifth. It was the sixth slap of his hand that brought a tear to her eyes.
Geoffrey had caressed her pink ass flesh, soothingly, running his hand over the
taut mounds, teasing and tantalizing her before bring it down with a sudden
swack! that made her jump.

"Ow! Six Master!" she sobbed. "Thank you Master!""

	"I don't care if you cry, Summer, and in fact, I look forward to your
tears," commented Geoffrey. "That was my hand. Next will be the pony whip. You
will notice the difference, and I am expecting you to tell me about it when we
are done."

	"Yes Master," she whimpered submissively. She lay on the bench, her
breathing shallow and rapid. Her bum stung like it never had before, at least
not since she was a little girl. It embarrassed her, it frightened her. And she
was tremendously excited. Summer could feel wetness and heat growing between her
legs.

	Geoffrey admired his new plaything. Summer lay face down on his bondage
bench. Her ass was pink from his hand. He liked the look and shape of her ass,
the firmness of the rounded globes, the way they fit so nicely in his hand. Yes,
he thought, she was very nice indeed. He smiled, for so far she had been very
receptive to her bondage and discipline, as gentle as it had been. She responded
quickly and seemed very willing. He wondered how she would do under greater
pressure and demand.

	He stepped over to the table a few feet away. An array of toys for use
on his new slave covered the top. Humming to himself, Geoffrey dallied over his
selection, although he already knew which toy to select. He wanted to heighten
the suspense, to add to the feeling of helplessness and anticipation he knew
Summer was experiencing. Mind games yes, was his subconscious thought, but the
pleasures they bring!

	Whoosh! The thin riding crop sliced through the air like an F-14. Summer
started at the sound. Geoffrey smiled, and waved it around some more.

	"No. Perhaps something heavier," he mused, his eyes locked on Summer's
sweet body. She mewled her fright, wriggling delightfully. "Ah yes, this one,"
he teased, for there was only one crop to select. He slapped at the table with
the crop. A sharp crack rang out. Summer jumped, moaning and wincing at the
sound.

	Geoffrey smiled. And walked over to his helpless playmate.

	"Master?" she begged, "please don't hurt me, Master?"

	Geoffrey trailed the whip down her spine. Its touch was light, so light,
like a feather or a butterfly wing. Just enough to make the girl squirm.

	"Sweet Summer, it will hurt only for a few minutes," he soothed. Ever so
lightly,  he tapped her pink buttock with the whip.

	"Unh!" came her terrified response.



	The screech of nails being pulled penetrated her stupor.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 6



	"Madre de Dios! Look at this!"

	The two soldiers peered into the box, their eyes wide in surprise. One
spat upon the ground. "Fuck!"

	They lifted Summer's tightly wrapped form out of the wooden crate. She
moaned to feel herself being moved around.

	"Jackpot!" exclaimed the one soldier, again pumping his hips. "Let's see
what the witch has given us to play with."

	"You think it's the bitch from the hotel? I heard she was a real piece."

	"Who fucking cares? She's ours until the witch Angelita wants her back.
As long as we don't break anything or leave too many bruises, who cares what she
looks like now? She'll look just fine covered in my spunk!" he laughed. He
whipped out his knife and began to cut through the silver cocoon binding
Summer's body. The girl moaned as he nicked her skin with the razor sharp blade.

	It didn't take long for the wrappings to be slit open and peeled back.
Summer grimaced in pain when the tape across her naked breasts was ripped off.
Red stripes the width of the tape crisscrossed her lightly freckled skin.

	The soldier who had wielded the knife began to unbuckle his belt.

	"Hey, wait!" said his companion. "Let's take our time and have some real
fun with her, okay?" He gestured with his head toward the doorway behind him.

	Both ends of his belt now dangling loose, the soldier grinned widely.
"Fucking all right! Take her arms." With that, he grasped Summer's ankles and
lifted her legs off the ground. The other soldier picked the semi-conscious girl
up by the wrists and began walking backwards. He put Summer down when he reached
the door. Turning, he punched a series of numbers into a keypad next to the
door, and then placed a dog tag against a sensor. With a click, the door
unlocked. He turned the handle and applied pressure to open the door, before
picking up Summer once again.

	Her head lolled back, red hair dragging on the ground, mouth slightly
open, and eyes closed.

	"Hey man, she stinks of piss. Let's hose her down first, okay?"

	"No matter to me."

	They carried the hapless girl to a large ceramic stall and placed her on
the floor. There were shower nozzles set into the ceiling, and a set of controls
at either end. Metal rings bolted to the walls, floor and ceiling looked
incongruous in the stall.

   One soldier turned the shower handle. A spray of water exploded from the
nozzle, drenching the naked girl. She sputtered, and slowly began to come back
to life. Summer tried to wipe the water away from her face, but the shower was
relentless. Slowly, she sat up, numbly taking stock of her surroundings. She
bumped her foot on a metal ring, but didn't seem to notice. Water poured down
her body, rivers of water across her breasts, her belly.  She opened her mouth
to take in the liquid, then began catching it in her hands and thrusting it into
her mouth.

   Her actions made the soldiers laugh. "Hey sweetheart," called the one with
his belt undone. "Your mouth will soon be full of other things! We'll see what
you like to drink then, he!"



	His companion reached over and shut the water off. Summer crouched, a
soaked, bedraggled and bruised doll, shivering in the floor of the stall. The
other soldier reached in. Grabbing her by her wet hair, he pulled her out of the
shower. She cried out in pain and fear. Keeping his hand in her hair, the
soldier began to pull her along. Summer struggled to crawl behind him, her wet
flesh slipping on the cement floor.

   The interior of the barn had been divided into several sections. There were
several closed rooms at the far end, and a series of unusually small horse
stalls along one wall. Where most barns would have a hayloft, this had a
mezzanine that was completely closed off. The shower stall was situated in a
corner beneath the mezzanine. In the other corner, nearest the horse stalls, was
a trough, several posts about 6 feet high and with rings at the top and bottom,
and a couple of small platforms, again with rings at the sides and legs.

	But it was to the other side of the barn that the soldiers dragged
Summer. For that was the "play area".

	Summer wanted to look up and see what was going on, but the hand in her
hair wouldn't let her. She scrambled along, half crawling half running behind
this stranger. She fell to her knees when he came to a stop. He released her
hair, and she could see her surroundings at last. Her heart almost gave out when
she looked around.

	"No-o!" she whimpered. "Please, no! Let me go!"

	"Let you go?" the soldier nearest Summer replied. "No, I don't think
so," he said in heavily accented English. He turned to his companion. "She says
we should let her go, what do you think, Leon?"

	Grinning broadly, Leon stepped toward the crouching girl. He grabbed her
breast with one hand, then, pulling her head back with the other, forced a kiss
upon her.

	 "Ow!" He touched his tongue and lip. "The cunt bit me!" While the other
soldier laughed, Leon released his grip on Summer's hair. He slapped her hard,
across the face. She went down, in pain and exhaustion. Leon moved to kick her,
but his companion stepped in front of him.

	"Hey, the witch said we could use her, but you hurt the bitch and the
witch will hurt you. Bad."

	Leon spit on the floor. There were flecks of red in the saliva. He
grabbed Summer by the hair and thrust her face down. "Lick it up, cunt!"

	Summer began to cry. The soldier was demanding something but she didn't
know Spanish so she had no idea what he was talking about. He pushed her face
down to the little gob of spit on the concrete. He pressed her face into it,
mashing her mouth against the cold floor. Humiliated, she licked up the spit
with her tongue and lips. The soldiers laughed.

	Pulled to her feet by her hair, Summer was pushed toward a strange
looking arrangement of steel pipe, one of many in the immediate area. The end
nearest her formed an upside down V, with a connecting pipe running at a 90
degree angle for couple of feet, where it met a third pipe. This one crossed at
the horizontal running parallel to the floor, and was attached to the ceiling by
chains. At either end, another pipe led down to the floor, adding stability to
the structure.

	The soldier named Leon pushed Summer up against the contraption, then
forced her to bend so that the cold steel pressed against her breastbone and
belly. Her breasts hung down on either side. She felt a broad strap being wound
around her waist, pinning her to the pipe. Rough hands spread her legs and
strapped her to the supporting pipe. She was bent over with legs spread wide,
her ass to the wind. Her wrists were strapped to the horizontal cross pipe. She
tried to pull her hands free, but the soldier buckled additional straps securing
her upper arms to the pipe. She felt more leather straps being applied, these
holding her thighs to the pipe - there was no possibility of her moving much
more than her hips and torso, and that only a small amount.

	She dropped her head in hopeless frustration.

	 "You're gonna suck my cock," Leon growled, "and you're gonna swallow my
cum." He grabbed her hair and raised her head. "And if you try biting me, or
even think of it, I'll give you so much fucking pain you'll wish you were never
born. Got it, bitch?"

	Summer didn't understand a word he said. Leon dropped his pants and took
his penis in his hand. Trousers around his ankles, he duck-walked forward and
presented himself to Summer's face. She tossed her head, desperate to avoid her
fate.

	"Hey Leon, I don't think she wants to suck you," laughed the second
soldier. Leon barked back, "Then tell the slit in English that she better start
sucking, or else."

	"Hey pussy girl," said Leon's companion, his voice ripe with laughter, "
you'd better show my friend here that your mouth is good for more than drinking
water!" He slapped Summer's upraised ass, hard, with his hand. "'Cos he's gonna
hurt you, bad, if you don't!"

	Leon smacked her face, the imprint of his hand glowing bright red on her
cheek. Summer began to cry. Leon reached under and twisted her exposed breast,
and Summer opened her mouth.

	He smelled foul, his meat salty and rubbery. She formed an 'O' with her
lips and moved her head back and forth by an inch. Leon placed his hands on
either side of her head and rammed himself into her, making her gag. He pumped
himself back and forth on her face, his eyes turning toward heaven as tears
poured down Summer's cheeks.  She could feel his member growing bigger inside
her mouth, its purple head pushing against the back of her throat, making her
stomach heave, wanting to cough and choke. Lost in the fog of pain and
humiliation, Summer was only distantly aware of a hand harshly rubbing the cleft
between her legs. She groaned in pain, the sound moving around Leon's cock, as
rough fingers brutally invaded her.

	The soldier unzipped his pants, his erection springing out as the cloth
fell to the floor. With his right hand, he guided himself into Summer's vaginal
passage, slowly pushing himself into her, luxuriating in the squeezing motions
of her resistance.  She screamed, and he pushed harder, thrusting himself
forward until his cock was buried to the hilt. He paused for a moment, and then
pulled back as slowly as he entered. She was burning hot, tight with resistance,
just the way he loved it. Almost all the way out, he leaned back with a sigh of
pleasure and again, brutally buried his cock in the captive victim. As his
pleasure built, he thrust himself faster and faster, reveling in the sensations
building in his groin.

	Without warning, he pulled himself all the way out of Summer's now red
slit. Using his hands to part her ass cheeks, he positioned himself against the
bud of her arse, and, with a slow, powerful thrust, pushed himself past her
sphincter ring and penetrated her anal passage. Summer howled in pain, the sound
muffled and distorted by Leon's cock. With a mighty grunt, Leon spent himself
into her open mouth, his seed splattering against the back of her throat. He
moaned, and buried his spasming meat in her oral cavity, her nose flattened
against his pubic hair. Within moments, his partner was ready to explode into
Summer's tight ass, the spunk set to pound into her backside like waves against
a rocky shore.

	Leon withdrew from her mouth, and wiped his slickly shiny cock across
Summer's face. His cum drizzled out of her mouth as she gagged, then retched.

	The soldier fucking her ass pulled out and shot his load on to the flesh
of her upraised butt and the dark crevice in between. He groaned in pleasure as
he shot his seed across her trembling skin.

	With an awful retching sound, Summer puked the water and everything else
on to the concrete floor.

	"Hey! That's gonna have to be cleaned up, bitch!" scolded Leon. "I think
I'll whip your ass for puking up my cum." He pulled his pants up and walked
around Summer. He pulled his belt from the loops on his trousers. It whistled in
the air before it landed on her wet flesh with a resounding crack.

	"Ohh!" screamed Summer at the bite of the hard leather on her flesh. The
two soldiers laughed. Leon's companion lit a cigarette. Leon's wrist snapped
forward again. Another loud crack, another red weal on Summer's flesh.

	"Nice ass," he said, laying a third stripe across her. "I like the way
it moves when she's whipped."

   "Hey man," said Leon's companion with a self-satisfied smirk. "Let's trade
ends, and really give her something to remember, he?" He strutted over to
Summer's head, and caressed her face.

   "Get the cunt to suck you off while I give her a whipping, okay?"

   "Okay." The soldier leaned close to Summer's ear. "Listen bitch," he said in
his heavily accented English. "My friend here, he's gonna whip your tight little
ass while you suck my cock. Okay? Do a good job now, and maybe I'll get him to
go easy on you."

   "Pleh, please ..." begged the girl. "Please, let me go? I won't tell anyone,
I promise, just let me go!"

   The soldier took a puff of his cigarette. Leaning close, he blew the smoke in
her face. "But don't you understand, little girl? You won't tell anyone, because
we ain't never going to let you go!" He stood up straight and waved his now limp
cock in her face.

   "Now, say hello to daddy." He repeated it in Spanish. Leon laughed, darkly.
He cocked his arm as Summer slowly opened her mouth.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 7

  

  

   She lay curled in a fetal position. Her fist was pressed up against her
mouth. Her body, once so soft and smooth, was filthy with straw, water, sperm,
urine, blood and shit. Purple and black marks dappled her ass, legs, breasts;
red marks appeared fiery against the paleness of her belly and breasts. She
whimpered softly, body shaking. She felt cold, she was hungry, she was
terrified. She felt lost.

   She knew more about pain now than she had ever dreamed possible. It was the
unimaginable horrible pain of being beaten, slowly, methodically, and cruelly.
So that no matter what you did, it only got worse, but never so bad you could
escape it. And it hurt more afterward than during. But it was the mental cruelty
that hurt the most. She had seen her lover murdered, then she had been raped and
beaten and raped again and beaten again, then just dumped into a horse stall
with no food or water, just straw. And then, when she thought it might be over,
they had pissed on her and spit on her and whipped her once more before leaving.
That was hours? minutes? ago - Summer no longer knew.

   They said they would be back.

   And that when they came back, it would be worse.

   Because then they would be rested, their bellies would be full, and they
would be in no hurry.

   It would be worse. Much, much worse.

   But not for them no, it would be amusing for them. But it would be very, very
bad for Summer.

   A spasm racked her body. She retched, but had nothing left to purge, and the
dry heaves hurt.

   Off in the distance, there was the clicking sound of the electronic lock to
the heavy steel door being activated. The sound of several sets of booted feet
clicked closer.

	A panel in the door slid open. A woman's dark eyes peered into the stall
through the small, barred viewing space. Summer was curled up on the straw. A
convex mirror positioned in a corner high above the floor, ensured that there
was nowhere in the stall for anyone or anything to hide.

	Silent as a hungry snake, she watched for a few minutes. The girl was
racked with the dry heaves, alternating with sobs and tears. It would not be
long before she was perfectly ready to be moulded into whatever Angelita wanted.
The woman had done this before, changing an individual's thought processes,
making him or her pliable, but not broken. Suggestible, but not an automaton.
This girl will be no different, and in fact, because of her natural
submissiveness, might be even easier to tame and recondition. No matter how long
it takes, she thought, this will be fun.

	First softly closing the viewing panel, the woman stepped back from the
door. She motioned with her hand to the guard.  His footsteps were deliberately
loud. Angelita moved in the direction of the door to the stall.

	The second woman touched Angelita on the shoulder.

	"Remember, be gentle. If you want her, then win her to you," she
whispered.

	With a mighty clattering of bolts, the soldier threw the door open and
stomped into the room. He stood still, rifle pointing at Summer. The girl jerked
about in the straw, whimpering, desperate to find a hiding place, to bury
herself under the straw like a little mouse. Angelita counted to three, and then
entered the stall.

	Made of rough wood, the stall was not very big - about 8 feet long, 10
feet high, and 4 feet wide. Too small for a horse, it was ideal for a large dog,
or a human. Straw was piled into one corner. Ringbolts were situated at
strategic locations around the stall, enabling those in charge to immobilize the
occupant in any one of a hundred different positions.

	""What has happened to you?" cried Angelita upon seeing Summer cowering
on her bed of straw. She snapped at the guard. "Fetch her a blanket and some
water to drink."

	The guard obeyed instantly.

	Speaking gently, soothingly, Angelita approached the terrified girl. She
spoke to Summer in a soft caressing voice to calm the girl's fears, knowing that
terror had penetrated her every pore, and that trust would have to be purchased.
Her lust for the girl was in high gear - she could feel the butterflies swarming
in her groin at the thoughts of possessing this red-haired morsel. But she
wanted Summer to be totally hers, in mind and heart and body. And then, when she
was totally hers ....

	The guard returned. Angelita took the blanket. Careful not to touch her,
Angelita tenderly draped it over the shivering girl. She offered the tin cup of
water. The girl backed away, the blanket falling from her naked body. Placing
the cup on the straw, Angelita stepped back, giving her captive some space.

	"Drink," she said, "the water is good for you. I will be back later."
She gestured to the soldier. The two of them left the small cell.

	Summer didn't move. Her body was so sore! She was so hungry and thirsty,
and yet she wanted to just curl up and die. Her mind slid between the here and
now and that quiet empty space where it had taken refuge during the brutalizing
the previous evening. She reached for the tin cup, then suddenly pulled her hand
back with a gasp. What if it was a trick? What if it is drugged and they were
just going to throw her to the soldiers again? What if it is poison?

	It dawned on her that there was no need for drugs or poison - if they
wanted her dead, they would just shoot her and be done with it. And as for rape
and torture, well, there was nothing she could do to stop that from happening. 
She reached again for the water cup. The tin was cold, a tiny bead of
condensation on the side. She focused her eyes, her mind, her whole world on
that bead of water. It was incredible, that tiny droplet. What mysteries did it
shelter within? She realized she was slowly losing her mind, and so she drank,
just a little sip, from the cup.

	The water was cold, fresh, spring sweet. It felt so good in her mouth!
So wonderful sliding down her throat! Looking into the cup, she realized she had
gulped it all. She shivered, and without thinking, wrapped the blanket around
her shoulders. It was rough, a horse blanket, and it felt warm and snuggly as
the finest cashmere.

	For the first time, Summer looked around her surroundings. She was in
some kind of horse stall, only it was far too small for a horse. Then she
realized it was designed for humans, as a holding pen - or jail cell. She
whimpered, and lay back on the straw. Her knees curled up against her breasts,
and she huddled back, cold, terrified, alone.

	Angelita leaned back in the swivel office chair. She smiled as she
watched the closed circuit monitor. Her new acquisition might work out very
nicely, she thought, once she gets used to her surroundings, and her new life.
She might be right for a house slave, perhaps the pony cart, or maybe even as a
pleasure slave ... Angelita remembered how she had come across the girl, naked
and in bondage. Obviously she was very much into submission and being
controlled, so yes, maybe pony training or a pleasure slave will be just right.
Time will tell, she thought. Time, and Cassandra.  In the meanwhile, Leon and
his friend Miguel can break her. Not too much though, she reconsidered, for that
Miguel is a very dangerous character. And when Summer is ready, I'll reward
those two soldier boys.

	Angelita turned to the soldier who was attending to the other monitors.
"Show me number 24", she ordered. The image of a young man, chained hand and
foot to the four walls of the cell, appeared on her screen. She lit a cigarette
and inhaled, deeply, a wicked smile appearing at the corners of her mouth, as
she watched one of her guards touch the man's testicles with a long stick-like
thing. He jumped and writhed as an electric current pierced his body.

	Alone in her cell, Summer whimpered to hear a man cry out in pain.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 8



	"So tell me why you want the gringo woman?"

	"Captain, my Captain, you know my tastes and still you have to ask?"

	"Yes, but I love it when you talk dirty to me, my Angel!" the captain
laughed. Reaching for the cigarette package on the nightstand, he rolled across
Angelita, his hard body pinning hers to the mattress. She nipped playfully at
his ear.

	"Light one of those for me, lover, and I will not only tell you about
why I want her, I'll let you watch."

	He laughed, and lit his cigarette. Rolling back on the pillow, he blew a
circle of smoke into the air.

	"Prick" teased Angelita salaciously, reaching for the cigarette box. She
squealed with pleasure as the captain grabbed her from behind.  His hands felt
wonderful on her breasts. He was so strong, so demanding. She loved the smell of
him, leather and tobacco and power - it inflamed her like no other man had. And
she had tried many, and had decided that with few exceptions, women were much,
much better lovers. But her Captain, he was different. He had something that
attracted her, which ignited her passion and burned like a bonfire inside her.

	The Captain served another, more practical purpose, which was a bonus
for Angelita: the continuation of her line. She was a descendant of the pirate
captain who, along with his crew of cutthroats and thieves, had first landed on
this tiny island. It was her island - her family still held sway in the Council.
Her father, curse him, had wanted her lover Rodrigo to become Captain instead of
her, but she knew who rightfully held the reins of power. Her children would
inherit. And when the time was right, the Captain would father them for her.
Then she would need him no longer...

	The cigarette was dumped in an ashtray, freeing the Captain's other
hand. He slid it under the blankets, feeling Angelita's firm softness with his
palm, his own hard fur covered body with the back. She squirmed at his touch,
and clamping her mouth against his, threw both her arms around his neck. She
snaked a leg across his, pulling his between hers, his knee rising to press into
her hot wet centre.  His hand slid across her flat belly, through the dark
jungle of wiry hair, to the moist cavern below.

	Angelita sighed. Reaching down, she took his stiffening cock in her
hand. She could feel the long vein against her palm. She thrilled at how
responsive her Captain was, how not matter what she did, he seemed to be able to
hold back just long enough for her to have intense, incredible pleasure. She
stroked him slowly, feeling the skin bunch up against her hand. She squeezed, he
moaned. He stroked her clit, rubbing it back and forth, her juices making his
fingers slick.

	"Mi corazon," he sighed into her ear. His breath was rich with the smell
of cigarette smoke and red wine. "I want you, now."

	"Is that an order, my Captain?" Angelita teased. She rubbed him faster,
grinding her pubic bone against his hand.

	"Si, it is a fucking order!" he replied, lips split wide with a toothy
smile.

	"And, my Captain," sighed Angelita, "if I don't obey?"

	He raised his head. Shifting his weight, he slowly moved his body to lie
between her legs. He pushed forward.

	"If you don't obey, little Angel," he breathed. "Then I'll play with you
AND the gringo woman." With that, he plunged his swollen cock deep inside her
hot cavern.

	"Hmm, maybe I'd like that, my Captain!" she gasped, feeling his body
weight on hers. She groaned, deep in her throat, a pleasurable sound to feel his
cock slithering hard and deep inside her love passage. He felt so big, so hot!
Angelita squirmed and writhed, pounding her hips on the mattress, using her
muscles to pull him in deeper. She raised herself up on her heels, making him
ride her like a gaucho astride his pony. Back and forth he rammed himself deep
inside her. Their bodies were still slick with sweat and the fluids from their
earlier coupling. They slid back and forth across each other, inside each other,
body temperatures and blood pressures building. He marveled at how ripe her
breasts; she loved the hardness of his back under her hand.

	A spasm of intense pleasure. Angelita dug her nails into his buttocks.
He grunted, raised his head, and speared her as hard as he could muster. She
gasped and grimaced, wrapping his thighs with her calves, pulling him inside.
She wanted to feel him in her pussy, her belly. She squeezed and pulled and
scratched, trying to force his whole body inside her. He growled, snorted, and
gasped for breath.

	Angelita threw her head from side to side, raven hair wet and flying
against the pillows. Her captain pushed himself up on his hands.

	"Dios mio", he howled, his seed erupting from his loins in a mighty
rush.

	"Aiee!" screamed Angelita, her own orgasm bursting over her like an
express train striking the penny some child has laid on the track.

	She thrust up to meet his downward plunge, two lusting animals
completely out of control. Wave after wave of pleasure roared over Angelita's
molten body. His cock inside her, so huge, its every squirting thrust bringing
her more pleasure than the last.

	He saw nothing but red, his mind overflowing with sensory overload as
the intensity of his ejaculation swept over him. Then, as he could feel his
manhood giving one last push, the captain felt it beginning all over again. He
continued to slam himself against her burning flesh, the sensation coming faster
and faster through his penis until he could hold back no longer and a second,
brief orgasm exploded over him with such strength he thought his heart would
burst. There was very little left inside him to shoot, but he fired what bullets
of sperm he had left.

	Angelita looked up at him, her eyes hooded with lust and pleasure. "My
fucking captain, " she gloated, "you are so wonderful!"

	His cock finally shrinking, he rolled off her slick brown body.

	"My Angel," he whispered, cupping her breast. He kissed her neck.

	A telephone rang in the other room.

	"The world intrudes upon us, my love."

	"Ah, no, too soon, too soon." She rolled toward him, cupping his face in
her hands, planting little kisses on his eyes and nose. "Maybe just one more,
he?"

	Laughing, her lover slapped her naked butt. 	

   "Hey, go play with your ponies if you're still horny, Chiquita!" He sat up in
the bed, and threw his legs of the side. "Me, I've got a country to run!"

	"Prick", pouted Angelita. "Maybe I should make you one of my ponies."

	The captain leaned over and kissed her. His face just microns from hers,
he whispered, "Only in your dreams, mi querida, only in your dreams." He kissed
her again, and left the bed.

	"Sergeant!" he called, throwing the bedroom door open. "I'm having a
shower, and then to business."

	"Si Mi Capitan," came a man's voice from the other room. "You have a
meeting in 15 minutes, Captain. A reporter, wondering about your war on drugs."

	The Captain laughed. "Worried about his supply, no doubt."

	There was much laughter from the other room. The Captain left the
doorway and headed for the en suite bath.

	Angelita sat up in the bed, one hand between her legs. She was wet and
sticky with their commingled fluids. A soldier appeared in the doorway.

	"Breakfast, Senorita?"

	"Yes, coffee, strong, and fruit." She slid her hand out from under the
covers and smelled her fingers. "And some pastry, too." She slid her fingers
into her mouth in a lewd motion, licking the fluids from them. " Be quick, I'm
very hungry."

	The soldier snapped his salute and hurried off.

	With a satisfied smile to rival the Cheshire cat's, Angelita lay back
against the pillows.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 9

  

  

   The chains held her fast. They were heavy on her body, draped as they were
across and around her. Chains at her wrists, fixing them at her sides, cleverly
wound through the frame and locked off at her thighs - she raises her hands, she
pulls her thighs wider apart. Not that they weren't already well separated; the
spreader bar locked to her ankles ensured the exposure of all her private parts.

   Summer was standing in a metal frame. A very thick and high leather collar
forced her chin up and back, limiting all head movement. Two big hooks, one on
each side of the collar, led to chains, which were fastened high above her head,
holding her standing in place no matter what. Chains attached to the front of
her collar wound down around her breasts in an uncomfortable steel bra, and down
the centre of her body, tunneling through the cleft between her legs, and back
up through her ass to the ring at the back of her neck. This chain had been
pulled tight between her legs, pressing hard between her labia, on her clit and
the tender flesh between her ass cheeks. Any movement and the chain would rub
against these very sensitive and tender fleshy spots.

	Summer swayed in the frame, the rigging raising her up on the balls of
her feet. Even this slight motion made her all too aware of the cold steel
between her legs. She gritted her teeth, determined not to display anything to
her tormentors. Especially not to that slime ball Leon - he delighted in
bringing her to tears, humiliating her, and in sticking that slimy little cock
of his into her. He had even pressed himself into the crack of her ass as he
strung her up in this frame, and pawed her as he ran the chain between her legs.
As if he was fooling anyone. All that puke wanted was another chance to fondle
her pubes. He'd done it before. Thinking of Leon pushed Summer to test her
bonds. She adjusted and fiddled with the chain as she remembered his fingers
poking into her, rubbing her clit, and stroking her ass.

	Her calves were beginning to feel stress. She tried to rest a bit on her
heels, but the collar choked her. Summer grunted and stood back up on the balls
of her feet. Casting her eyes from side to side, turning her head as much as the
collar allowed, Summer attempted to survey her surroundings. She knew she was in
some kind of torture area, that was more than obvious. The strange devices she
could see filled her with dread. To one side stood the frame upon which she had
been bound and then raped. Near to it was what looked like a metal chair, but
unlike anything she had ever seen. A single pipe created the back, a cross beam
near the top to which leather straps were attached, obviously to pinion the
arms.  At the top, more leather straps positioned to hold the head and rigidly
neck in place. But it was the seat that was diabolical, or more accurately, the
lack of same. Summer realized that whosoever was bound to the frame, male or
female, would be totally exposed, their thighs split wide and resting on short
pipes that bent at 90 degrees. She could just see more leather straps, obviously
to hold the thighs, calves and ankles. Anyone bound to that thing was not going
to go anywhere soon!

   Summer looked to the other side. A glass wall separated the area she was in
from the rest of the barn. It was tinted dark on her side, but she could still
see blurs of activity and hear the noises in the rest of the barn. She had a
vague idea of its layout from when she had been dragged from her stall to the
torture room. She knew there were other stalls like hers, and a feeding area, a
shower area, but as to the rest of the space, she knew not what nefarious
purposes were conducted there. She hoped never to find out.

   Summer wanted out of there, away from there, to be back home, nestled in her
bed, Geoffrey at her side, whispering softly to her. She knew that was never
going to happen. But she had no idea what the future held for her, other than it
was going to be unpleasant at best and very, very painful at worst.

   She hung there in her chains, waiting for she knew not what to happen. She
tried to look down, to  see her feet, but she could not. There was movement in
her peripheral vision, the sound of a lock tumbling. A woman's voice, issuing an
order, a man's voice responding, obedience all over his intonation. Christ, is
it that bitch of a maid? Summer wondered. She jerked in her chains, hoping to
find a weak spot so she could break free and rip that bitch's eyes out. The pain
of the chain rubbing viciously in her crotch was surprising in its intensity.
And there was a hint, subtle but present, of pleasure.

   "Well, well, well, feeling feisty are we?" crooned the strange woman. Her
voice was seductively deep, whiskeyed overtones, a delight to hear.  She and her
companion -a burst of hatred surged through Summer as she recognized the second
soldier, the one who spoke English -  stepped forward from the doorway and came
into Summer's line of sight. The soldier stood at ease by the doorway, his dark
eyes locked on Summer's naked body. Seeing her look at him, he smiled a toothy
leer and licked his lips. Behind the woman's back, he formed a circle with his
thumb and forefinger, then slid two fingers from the other hand back and forth
through it.

   "I'd think you were not in a position to be feisty, are you," stated the
woman as she approached the bound girl. She circled the frame, appraising
Summer.  She stopped when she was behind the captive girl. She reached forward.

   Summer's head was pulled back cruelly by the woman's hand, now entwined in
her hair. A plaintive oh! escaped her lips.

   "What's the matter girl, did they chain up your tongue, too?" asked the
woman, her voice sardonic. Her breath was hot on Summer's ear. A wet pink tongue
slithered forward and licked the girl's ear.  With a throaty laugh, she released
her grip on the strands of red hair, allowing Summer to slump forward. The
chains jangled.

   The woman continued circling until she stood directly in front of her
prisoner. She stared at Summer with very bright, obsidian black eyes.

   Summer mustered up what moisture she could, and spit. A gob smacked into a
rouged cheek,, then began its slow slide down the woman's face. The woman
stepped back in surprise, and then cobra-like, her hand snapped forward. Her
fingers pressed hard into Summer's cheeks. Her face slowly drew closer to the
helpless girl's contorted features.

   "That wasn't nice," the woman hissed. "And you will pay for that, my dear."

   Not easing up a fraction on her grip, the woman ground her lips into Summer's
puckered mouth. Summer groaned in pain into the kiss as the woman pulled on the
chain that coursed between her legs.

   The woman leaned back, releasing Summer's face, but not the chain. She gave
it a fast tug, enjoyed the grimace of pain on the girl's face, then let go. She
turned to the soldier and nodded.  A broad smile split his face. He almost ran
across the room. He stopped before a wooden cupboard. Opening the doors, he
busied himself with its contents, placing various items into a cardboard box.

   The woman turned back to Summer. "My name," she said in perfect English, "is
Cassandra de la Huerta, and I can be your best friend ... or your worst
nightmare." She fixed Summer with her gaze. "Those men," she spat out the words,
"those men can hurt you. But I can break you.

   "And I am going to do just that."

   The slap across her face stung Summer right down to her toes. She could not
believe how fast the woman had struck! Involuntary tears misted her eyes. Her
cheek burned lava hot.

   The second slap, on the other cheek, was less unexpected but just as painful.
Summer's eyes gushed tears. Somewhere inside her, her brain registered the fact
that fortunately no teeth had been loosened.

   "Open your eyes and look at me."

   Through the mist, Summer focused a hateful glare upon the woman who had just
slapped her. She gritted her teeth in defiance, gathering more spittle in her
mouth.

   "Spit on me again, and I'll have your tongue sliced in half like a snake's."

   Summer started inwardly - the woman knew she was going to spit on her! How?

   "Listen to me little girl, listen well and live. " The obsidian black eyes
glittered. "I am the training mistress here. My job is to train those that my
superiors, the Captain and Senora Angelita, want to keep for their personal
amusement. Those who do not get trained are buried in the jungle. Those who do
not obey me, suffer. Then, if they still do not obey, they too are fertilizer
for the jungle plants. Pretty things like you are given to the soldiers first.
The fortunate ones do not survive the barracks long enough to be shot."

   Summer shuddered. She was fast learning what her fate was to be: as a slave
here in the jungle, or else, to become one with the jungle. She did not know
which outcome to fear and which to desire.

   The woman continued. "You are to be trained, by me. I do not know yet what
you are to be trained for - the stables, the house, or the bed. No matter. You
will do what you are told. Do it well, and your life will be relatively
pleasant.  Perform poorly, and your life will be short. Painful, and short."

   Over the woman's shoulder, Summer could see the soldier leering lewdly. His
eyes were bright too, with desire and anticipation.

	The woman snapped her fingers. The soldier instantly stepped forward,  a
wooden box in his hands. Things inside slid and rustled as he moved. The
training mistress looked into the box.

	"This. This and this," she stated flatly.

	"Yes ma'am," the soldier said, his glee obvious. He placed the box on
the ground and rummaged through it. He straightened, a whip, a small black
plastic thing, and a jumble of shiny chrome pieces in his hand.

	The training mistress plucked the whip from his palm. She brought it
close to Summer's face. Its leather strands dribbled across her cheeks and nose.

	"This is going to be used on you now," the woman said, matter-of-factly.
She turned and picked up the chrome things.  "This is a dental gag. It locks
your jaws open as wide as I desire. I want to hear your cries and begging, so I
am not going to use it, yet." She picked up the black plastic item, and placed
it against Summer's breast.

	The electric shock burned incredibly hot against the soft tissue of her
breast. Summer moaned and rolled her eyes at the sudden, intense pain caused by
the stun gun.

	The woman smiled at her. "That was just for fun," she said. Turning, she
handed the whip to the soldier at her right.

	"I want to hear her beg you to fuck her in the ass."

	The soldier took the whip. Its leather cords hissed in the air as he
swirled them. "It will be my pleasure, Mistress," he said.

	"Yes, I'm sure it will be", she said disdainfully.

	 Summer stiffened in the chains. Whipped until she begged? And begged
for this, this creature to fuck her? In the ass? Not likely! She tensed,
watching, waiting. Her stomach began to flutter in expectation as she watched
the soldier pace slowly from side to side.

	"Hey corazon," he was saying, "the Mistress wants to hear you beg, and
you know? I'm going to make you beg!" He leered at Summer. He feinted with the
whip.

   Her body pulled back in the chains, stiff, trying to hide from the leather
kiss that did not come.

	And then it came.

	"Oh!" she squealed as the thin strands slapped her exposed breast. The
chain between her legs dug into her painfully. The soldier had timed his first
strike with precision - she was already pressed as far back as the chains would
allow, and so there was to be no buffer between her skin and the hard cord.

	The second stripe landed on the other breast almost immediately. Now
both her teats were on fire. He lashed out a third time, and her thighs felt the
sting of the whip. A fourth slash, and her other thigh burned. One strand
flicked across the soft flesh of her pudendum. Summer gritted her teeth. She
tried to remain stoically quiet.

	He waited. He scrutinized her every muscle, looking for the telltale
signs that would say "now she's relaxed, now's the time to strike". A flick of
his arm, and the whip bit into Summer's breast again, and then again, in the
same spot. The blow to her belly drew the first moan from the poor girl. Every
time she moved, the chains dug into her flesh mercilessly, punishing her clit
and labia.

	On the twentieth stroke, Summer let out a mighty scream. She looked like
some perverted artist's vision of a tiger. The soldier ran his hand down her
body, admiring how she flinched and twisted at his touch.

	"Ready for me yet, gringo princess?" he teased.

	He crouched now, his head level with her crotch. He reached forward, the
end of the whip now dangling between Summer's legs. A quick flick of the wrist
and the leather thongs jumped upward. They landed like red-hot pokers on her
most tender parts. Summer squealed, then immediately clamped her jaw shut. His
wrist flicked again, she jerked, and groaned but kept her mouth shut.

	The next blow was harder, and she exhaled harshly with pain. He flicked
his wrist from side to side, the thongs stinging her inner thighs, loose ends
flying up and biting her cunt. He moved with more force, and the thongs flew
back and forth. Summer began to buck against the pain, then cried out when
suddenly the soldier laid a sharp blow on her pussy.

	"Bravo," cried the training mistress. "You've made her squeal. But, I
don't hear her begging?"

	"Si, Mistress, but soon, I think" he replied.

   Cassandra looked at him like a mantis sizing up an insect. "I hope so. I grow
impatient. And if I have to show you how to do it, I'll demonstrate on you."

	The soldier straightened and stood smartly. "Si, Mistress," he snapped
back. "I will make her beg."

	He turned to Summer, his eyes burning with a strange brew of malice and
fear. "You will beg, puta, and you will beg soon, yes?"

	Summer merely closed her eyes.

	He stepped behind her and began to whip her ass, her back, her legs. He
was ruthless, his arm making the whip fly out and bite her skin again and again
and then again.

	It took some time, but she finally broke down and cried out with pain.
To her shame, she began to cry. The soldier stepped close, his body now pressed
hard against hers. Reaching through the frame, he pressed his hand against her
labia, rubbing her back and forth. He used his other hand to flick the whip
against the backs of her knees and her ass while he roughly masturbated her. She
tried to buck, to resist, but resistance was futile. There was no way out for
her but to beg.

	He stopped, let go of her, and stepped back out front. He ran his now
wet hand across her face.

	"Smell your pussy, bitch, and beg me to fuck you!" he growled.

	Summer shook her head and did not open her eyes.

	"Beg!" he demanded, striking her hard with the whip. This blow broke the
skin in several spots. "Say it!" he yelled, whipping her breast. "I want you to
fuck my ass, please!" Another two blows with the whip.

	Summer opened her eyes for a moment.

	"Fuck yourself," she whispered hoarsely.

	The soldier yelled and laid a brutal blow across Summer's shoulders.
Blood began to appear on her skin. The training mistress laughed. Throwing down
her cigarette, she walked over and took the whip from the soldier's sweaty hand.

	"Men are so useless!" she snarled. Turning to Summer, she placed a hand
on the girl's tear soaked cheek. "You have guts my dear," she said. "That's too
bad, it will just be harder for you. But then, "she tugged brutally on the
crotch chain, "maybe you enjoy that, hmmm?"

	She turned to the soldier. "Get a sponge and some water, I want to clean
her up."

	The soldier saluted, turned on his heel, and left the chamber.

	Cassandra returned her attention to the young woman hanging in chains
before her. She resumed her stroking of the girl's face, soothing her captive.
"My dear," she offered softly, "I realize that this must all be a terrible shock
for you, but you don't need to make this so hard. It is only you that will
suffer because of your resistance. Now, if it were just solely up to me, I'd
approach this quite differently. Men like that Miguel and his friend Leon - you
know, the ones who treated you so horribly the other night? They're just pigs,
not fit to be under your feet, let alone pawing you. Yech!"

	Summer kept her eyes closed, her head as far down as the collar would
allow. Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing, and it was clear that she
was in discomfort and pain. Still, she refused to acknowledge the woman in front
of her.

	"You are so pretty, my dear," the riding mistress continued to coo. She
stroked her hand through Summer's now wet and matted locks.  "Your hair, such a
lovely colour. We don't see many red heads down here, you know. I think it's so
beautiful! I wanted red hair like yours when I was in college in Minnesota ... "
She trailed off as Summer finally opened her eyes. The riding mistress was very
well versed in body language. She chattered on. "You know, a girl with hair the
colour of yours, with the right attitude and look, she could be just about
anything she wants here. She would be in great demand, and I don't mean from
them." She spit out the last word, nodding her chin in the direction of the
glass wall. With just a nudge of her chin and eyes, Summer could see the dark
shapes of soldiers through the filtered glass.

	Just then, the door opened. The soldier returned, a pail of water in his
hand. The riding mistress turned to him and barked out a command.

	"Sponge her off, and be gentle about it."

	She turned back to Summer and winked. "See what power a beautiful woman
can have around here?" She stepped back so the soldier could do his work.

	Muttering something under his breath, the soldier approached the chained
figure. He placed the bucket on the floor near her feet. A splash of water
escaped the bucket, some making Summer's toes wet.

	"Hurry up, or you'll take her place," snapped Cassandra. "I want to
begin her training, and I have others to do too."

	The soldier reached into the bucket and came up with a sponge. Rivulets
of water ran down from it. He said "Si Mistress", and raised the sponge to the
girl's shoulders. He began to wash her off, the water running down her naked,
striped form. She shivered at his touch, and shuddered to feel the water on her
abused skin.

	He was rough as he ran the wet sponge across her breasts, lingering
overlong on her tender, sore nipples. Again he reached down and soaked the
sponge.

	"Hey, puta, you got me in shit, you know?" he whispered harshly. He
brought the sponge to her crotch. "Anything she does to me, I do double to you,
he?"

	Summer moaned to feel the wet sponge on her very sore pussy. The soldier
was anything but gentle as he rubbed her. Despite the pain, Summer knew she was
becoming aroused - she could feel the churning in her loins, the heat building
at the wet touch. By rubbing the sponge back and forth and around her labia, the
soldier was adding lubricant to the chain, making it easier for Summer to
slither it back and forth on her clit. The heat was building now, she could feel
it. She was astonished that after so much abuse, her body was still able to
experience sexual pleasure.

	The soldier sensed something was happening to the girl. Grinning, he
dunked the sponge back into the bucket, then yanked it back out, smearing its
wet contents all over her shaved mons, through the passage between her legs, and
up her ass. He pressed his forearm into her pussy as he scrubbed her ass cheeks,
making the girl writhe in her bonds. Her hips were moving now, slight, but back
and forth. Her thigh muscles were clenching and relaxing, then clenching. He ran
the sponge down her inner thigh, right at the join. She shivered at the touch. A
hiss escaped her clenched teeth - it was a symphony to the soldier.

	The training mistress watched with amusement as the soldier rubbed the
sponge all over the prisoner's body. She was getting wet too, but in a different
way, she thought. Cassandra could feel her own heat rising as she thought of
what she was going to be able to do with this new slut. "She was a stubborn
one", thought Cassandra, "but she'll break soon enough. And when she does ...
Wait! What was that?" Summer's hiss and slight movements sent flares off in
Cassandra's mind. The little slut was beginning to come! Cassandra smiled
wickedly and licked her lips. She squirmed slightly against the rubber covered
steel table upon which she was leaning. The squirm made the leather jodhpurs she
was wearing to pinch her, tight and deliciously so, in the crotch.

	Summer's hips were moving more now, as the soldier continued to rub the
sponge and his wrist all over and around her swollen pussy. The chain dug in to
her and she loved the painful pleasure it was now bringing. The sponge was
tormenting, soft, wet and yet rough at the same time. And every so often, the
man would rub his hands across her clit, or stroke her labia. Her nipples had
grown very hard, and her nostrils were beginning to flair. Her breath hissed
through clenched teeth as Summer tried desperately to fight the irresistible
pleasure that was building inside.

	The man's free hand was now rubbing his own crotch. A feral creature, he
could almost taste Summer's growing heat.

	"Beg me, puta," he whispered, his voice full of menace and malice. "Beg
me and I'll fuck you like you've never had it before."

	As he rubbed the sponge back and forth, he slid a finger past the chain
until it was at Summer's opening. He pushed, and his finger was imbedded to the
second joint inside Summer's vagina. He pushed some more, and his finger was now
buried to the knuckle. The chain grated against his fingers as he masturbate the
helpless girl. Faster, faster, he moved his finger in and out. He pressed his
body closer to Summer, his other hand touching her breasts, kneading her ass. He
grew hard inside the khaki fatigues, the friction of the cloth teasing the
purple head of his prick. 

	"Beg me, you cunt!" he hissed in Spanish. "Or I'll whip you till the
skin falls off your bones, and then I'll have you anyway!"

	Cassandra watched with veiled eyes as the tableau unfolded before her.
She too was becoming hotter as she watched the soldier working over the new
girl. "Who knows", she pondered, "maybe he will get her to beg?" She could see
the girl was becoming more and more aroused - a true submissive, this one!
Cassandra considered a little self-pleasure, but then decided, as she always did
in these situations, that she would be the one in control, not the slave because
she was having an orgasm. She stood, and walked behind the frame.

	Summer's orgasm exploded at the very first blow of the whip on her now
bouncing ass. She screamed her pleasure as the fire burned right through her
pussy, her lower belly, and consumed her breasts. She squeezed her eyes so
tightly shut she could see rockets of red and yellow as the pleasure rocked her.
The chains sang a jangling song as she threw herself into them, trying to clench
every muscle in her body simultaneously. She screamed her pain and her weakness
at giving in to her tormentors.



	Cassandra laughed, and laid more flicks of the lash upon Summer's back
and ass. The soldier rammed his body against the girl's, squashing her wet
breasts against his khaki chest, his finger buried to the hilt inside her. He
swore and licked her skin like a lion tasting its next meal.

	The training mistress stepped to the side, never stopping her flogging
of the girl, and motioned to the soldier. With his free hand, he undid his
waistband, and unzipped his pants. His cock burst through the fly of his boxer
shorts. The training mistress laughed at the sight. He struggled to get his
shorts down his legs, then, careful to avoid being hit by the whip and stroking
his swelling cock, he waddled behind Summer. He pulled on the chain that rose
between the girl's naked ass cheeks, making her moan louder. He released the
snap that held the chain to Summer's collar. There was a mighty clang and jangle
of metal against concrete as the loose chain tumbled to the floor. Summer was
hardly aware of the change, for the links were still embedded tight between her
pussy lips.  She moaned again as the links pulled out from the hot, wet folds of
skin.

	"Timing is everything" was Cassandra's incongruous thought. She had
stepped around the girl in the opposite direction. As soon as the soldier was in
position, she moved to stand right in front of the prisoner.

   When his hips thrust forward, her arm shot forward and the leather strands of
the whip gave Summer's breasts yet another fiery caress. At the same time, the
soldier had placed his cock between Summer's buttocks, and just as the girl
moved back, he thrust his aching manhood into her tight hole.

	Summer screamed, this time in pain and terror, as the whip struck her
breasts at the same time as her anal passage was brutally invaded. Cassandra
continued to flog her, watching with delight as the girl gasped for air and
slammed her eyes shut. The soldier was busy pumping his cock into the girl's
backside. He grunted like an animal with each thrust, throwing his body into it,
rocking the girl in her chain suspension. With a powerful thrust and a mighty
yell of triumph, the soldier pushed his hips as far forward as he possibly
could. His back arched as his cock shot its juices into the girl. His face
contorted into a grimacing mask, with eyes squeezed shut and teeth madly
clenched together.

	His orgasmic contortions bent Summer like a bow, the chains attached to
her neck collar straight as steel cables, holding her up while her back bent and
her pelvis was pushed forward. She bucked as the whip hit her, the involuntary
jerking in the opposite direction almost breaking her in half. She screamed for
her lover in a pathetic lea for help that would never come.

   "GEOFFREY!!!"

   The pain, the strain and the pressure was too much for her. Bent as she was,
the collar now choked her. She began hyperventilating and then, as her oxygen
supply grew smaller and smaller, she began to see black and red spots on her
eyelids.

   With an exhalation of air, Summer blacked out.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 10



	The screeching of parrots overshadowed the splashing of lithe arms
knifing through the water. Cassandra, long limbs flashing against the sun lit
blueness of the swimming pool, performed her daily routine of laps. Bright
scarlet macaws, flew overhead, moving from one part of the forest to another.
Cassandra, long hair knotted into a tight bun, slid through the water as if she
were born to it.

	Sipping her coffee, Angelita watched her training mistress and lover
performing her daily ritual. She knew every centimeter of that lean, muscular
body. She knew how it responded with tremors of delight to the lightest touch of
a red lacquered nail; how the silver-dollar sized brown aureoles and nipples
tasted; how sweet was the honey which oozed from the hidden folds between those
long, luscious legs. Angelita thought she knew every secret that lurked within
that lovely slender frame; it was what was in the mind that she loved the most.

	The coffee was hot, fragrant, rich and dark. The beans were grown on a
private patch on a nearby mountainside, roasted with the greatest care before
being ground into a fine dark powder. Angelita relished its hot bitterness.  Her
household was trained to make her coffee just the way she likes it. No one
wanted to serve her a brew that was less than perfect - once a servant had
served a cup that was weak. Angelita said it tasted like water. She had the girl
bound hand and foot and thrown in the pool. The serving girl did not drown, but
everyone learned from the example.

	"Cassie, are you almost finished? It is so tiresome sitting here by
myself," she called out across the morning calm. The training mistress merely
did a somersault kick at the end of the pool, a pair of ripe buttocks shining
wetly in the sun for just a brief spectacular moment. Like the sleek backs of
porpoises playing, the twin globes broke the surface, then slid back underneath.
Angelita sighed, part in frustration, part from desire. Her stomach fluttered as
she thought of the loving she and Cassandra had shared the previous night.

	The males had been amusing, as Cassie thought they would be. She had
trained them well. They both knew exactly where to put their tongues, how hard
and how long. She smiled at the memory of how she almost snapped one's neck as
he sucked on her clit while trying to reach her belly with his tongue, but from
the inside. Angelita's hand slid down to her pussy, the sleek nylon of her
bikini soft and smooth to her fingers. Her eyes widened in amazement - she was
wet!

	Angelita snorted, and reached for the cigarette case on the patio table.
Clad in the briefest of thongs, her exposed breasts browned by the sun, a young
woman scampered from her spot by the pool house. A flame appeared from the
lighter she so discreetly carried.

	Angelita drew in the fresh smoke, and waved the girl away. She was
horny, yes, but not for that one. She wanted to try some new, fresh meat. Her
new pussy slave.

	"How's the coffee, my darling?"  called Cassandra, raising her head over
the edge of the pool.

	"Come see for yourself."



	Like a bronzed native goddess, skin glistening golden in the morning
sun, water streaming from erect nipples, Cassandra rose from the pool. She posed
at the edge, running her hands through her wet locks, before slipping into the
high-heeled mules she had placed there.

   Moving with the feline grace of a woman trained for the runway, one foot in
front of the other, she paraded herself to Angelita. Turning her back, Cassandra
catwalked over to where the cigarette girl stood holding a towel. A white terry
robe lay delicately across a lawn chair.

	Sensing that Angelita was watching, Cassandra placed one foot gracefully
in front of the other, and with the exotic ease of an athlete, bent from the
waist to dry her ankles. Her shapely ass grew taut, the water droplets looking
like honeydew on the stretched golden brown skin. Her thong disappeared in the
crack between her cheeks.

	She straightened and turned in one liquid motion. Her smile dazzled in
the tropical sun. Crossing the decorative interlocking brick patio, she slid
into a chair across from Angelita. She looked over at another young woman, this
one hovering behind a teacart covered in fruits. The serving girl selected a
china cup and saucer, a carafe of burnished metal, and hurried over to the two
women.

	Kneeling, the serving girl placed the china cup on the table and poured
it full of steaming dark liquid.

	"I must say, your daily swim keeps you looking wonderful," Angelita
praised her lover.

   Cassandra smiled. Wet strands of long black hair, cascaded to her shoulders.
Water droplets jumped from the tips of the hair to her perfect bronze skin,
running down in tiny little rivers. Angelita wanted to lean across and lick the
water from her lover's flesh.

	"Well, Cassie, you've had our little gringo wench for a month now, how's
she doing?" Angelita asked, her loins all a-twitter.

	The training mistress took a sip of her coffee. The hot fragrant liquid
glistened wetly on her lips.

	"Angelita, my sweet, such impatience! I haven't even had my morning
coffee and already you want to talk business," Cassandra teased back. "Was last
night not enough for you, my pet?" she purred.

	Angelita smiled an embarrassed smile. "Oh no, last night was ...
wonderful." Her voice had dropped half an octave and was silky, husky.

	Cassandra leaned forward. She ran a still damp hand across Angelita's
cheek.

	"Then you must exercise some patience, little Angelita, " she cooed. Her
hand slid down the girl's throat to her chest. A long red nail, water droplet
glistening in its middle, flickered across a brown nipple. "Or perhaps I should
teach you some patience, hm?"

	Angelita blushed in spite of herself. She never had - and never would -
let Cassandra ply her considerable training skills on herself; nevertheless, she
acknowledged that Cassandra knew exactly which of her buttons to push. She
brushed her hair away from her face.  The morning sun glistened on her dark
skin, lending Angelita a radiant quality. She took a drag from her cigarette,
then blew the smoke out in a puffy cloud.



	"There is much you can teach me, Cassie, and I am an eager pupil as you
know," she replied. Smoke drifted from her lips as she spoke. "But I am most
curious about the gringo woman. The Captain let me have her, and he took a risk
in doing so. I want to be able to justify the risk to his satisfaction," she
said coolly. "And my satisfaction too," she added in her mind.

	Cassandra leaned back languorously. Her long hair dropped down behind
the chair back, rivulets of water showering down to the brickwork below. She
stretched her legs out, the motion smoothing her abdomen and making her breasts
reach for the sky. Crossing her legs at the ankles, Cassandra was very aware of
how she looked and what affect she might be having on Angelita.

	"To be perfectly honest, she's coming along very nicely in some ways,
and not at all in others. She is truly submissive, and loves to be fucked, but
she is headstrong and resistant to some of the amusements that you and I enjoy.
" She paused to drink from the cup. "But I think she will work out just fine."

	"And what do you think she is best suited for? The stable? The house?
I'm hoping, by the way, that she will be warming my bed at night, from time to
time."

	Cassandra laughed, "Angelita, you really should stop thinking with your
pussy when it comes to these young women. So many of them need so much training
..."

	"Which, dear Cassandra, you seem to enjoy doing," interjected Angelita
with a knowing, sly smile.

	Cassandra smiled back. "Yes, well, I do have a knack for it you know."
She paused and raised her cup to her red lips. "The coffee is excellent this
morning, by the way. A new roast?"

	 "You're avoiding the question, Cassandra."

	"Hm, yes, I am," she smiled back. Dark brown eyes took on a sly, almost
sinister appearance. She beckoned to one of the serving girls. "Fetch my laptop.
You know where to find it?"

	The girl nodded her head. "Yes Mistress, in your study."

	Cassandra patted the girl on her sarong-covered ass, hurrying her on her
way. Turning her attention back to Angelita, she took another sip from her cup,
and then spoke.

	"Well mi amor, no more pussy footing around," she said, mischief making
the corners of her mouth turn up enchantingly. "Pun fully intended, by the way.
Your little gringo toy, well, as I said, she loves to fuck, but does not like to
obey orders. I tried her with some pony training, and had limited success. She
likes the bondage and the leather, but not the pony play. So I would not suggest
the stable.

	"As to being a house or yard worker, I don't think you could trust her
not to do something incredibly stupid, like adding some pesticide to your
coffee."

	Angelita's eyes widened at the mere suggestion that one of her
possessions might try to inflict bodily harm. Cassandra, noting the expression
of surprise, leisurely raised her cup to her mouth before continuing.

	"She could be a serving wench," Cassandra gestured to the young woman
near the pool house. The girl immediately began to come toward the table.
Cassandra waved her off. "And she would be good at it, too. To say nothing of
how nice she would look in a sarong, say with bells on her ankles?"

	"Mmm," Angelita mused at the thought.

	"And in fact, I would recommend belling her. She is truly submissive,
but once the shock of her boyfriend's death and her capture has worn off, she
might react negatively. You don't want her sneaking up on you, or sneaking away
from the farm."

	"Bell her, then."

	"Nipples?"

	"No. Collar and ankle only. No piercing. Not yet, anyway,"

	"Done. Now, the big question is, what to do with her."

	Angelita took a puff of her cigarette. As she did so, the serving girl
returned and placed a laptop computer on the table. First curtsying, the girl
backed away to stand next to the other servant.

	"And what do you suggest, Cassie? By the way, make the bells permanent -
weld them on."

	"My pleasure, Angelita. But first, I would like to give her some more
training."

	Angelita raised an eyebrow.

	"I think your little gringo will make a wonderful pleasure slave for
you. A toy, really. She likes pain, and loves crossing the line between pain and
pleasure."

	"Mmm, sounds delicious. I suspected as much when I found her in the
hotel room."

	"Summer - she tells me that really is her name, can you believe it? -
Summer is very responsive. In many instances, she fought the training,  but her
body betrayed her, and quite quickly. She reacted very strongly to the rough
treatment from those two soldiers you assigned to her - she'd cheerfully cut off
their balls and feed them to them, which is a good move if you mean to have her
for yourself."  Cassandra paused and brought an image upon the computer. "Here
is some video taken during some of our sessions. I think you might find them
amusing."

   She turned the laptop around, and pushed it toward Angelita. While her
companion leaned forward to hit the enter key, Cassandra selected a ripe peach
from the bowl. Juice slithered down her chin as she bit into the fleshy fruit.

	Angelita drank coffee and puffed on her cigarette as she watched the
images unfold on the small screen. The footage was of Summer, bound to one of
the many punishment frames and whipped by Cassandra; Summer being led about on
all fours, hobbled by short chains. There were images of the captive girl being
washed by other women, of her sucking off the guards. Angelita smiled to see the
girl spit in the face of one of the two soldiers who had raped her, and the
ferocity of her resistance even as the man punished her for spitting.

	There were other images, too, ones that stoked Angelita's fires. She
grew hot to see Summer squatting between Cassandra's legs, licking her friend's
thighs and pussy. She knew she was getting wet as she watched Summer, being
bound hand and foot on a punishment rod, a ball gag in her mouth, a dildo
protruding from its front. Angelita paused the video, freezing the image before
her.

	Cassandra laughed, the sound rich, emanating from deep in her throat. "I
thought you might find that series interesting," she said. "I'm guessing you've
reached your little treasure on the punishment rod?"

	Looking up, Angelita smiled. "She does look quite splendid like that,
doesn't she? How did she respond?"

	"Like a cat in heat. She howled and hissed and wiggled that pert little
ass all over the place. The butt plug really made her jump."

	Angelita studied the still frame before restarting the video. Summer was
completely naked. Long red hair pulled back in a ponytail, her arms were bound
tight behind her, leather straps pinioning elbows and wrists. She lay on her
side in the straw of her stall. Angelita moved the mouseball until the cursor
reached "play". She clicked the "enter" key, and Summer began to move.

	Angelita watched in fascination as Cassandra came into view. She was
dressed in a skintight black leather outfit. Cassandra was carrying a short pole
that had a collar attached to one end.

	"Lie still, sweetie," came Cassie's voice through the small speakers in
the laptop. It was eerily tinny sounding. "This is the punishment rod. You're
going to be in this for a while, so you might as well not fight it."

	"Mistress, why?" whined Summer. "What did I do wrong?"  Angelita was
pleased to hear Summer call Cassandra 'Mistress'. 

	The training mistress laughed. She bent to secure the collar fastening
around Summer's slender white neck. "You didn't do anything wrong, little one,
or you'd be in the whipping stocks right now."  She snapped a lock closed behind
the girl's neck. "I just want you to experience it for a while, and later, to
amuse me."

	The girl closed her eyes. The leather collar was attached to a plastic
swivel with wing nuts visible. The collar raised the girl's chin up, and was
obviously adjustable vertically, but there was no way she could move her head
from side to side. The metal rod dangled down on the straw.

	The camera tilted down and panned the rod. Angelita knew all about it,
had seen it in use before, but the prospect of seeing her new slave fastened to
it made her loins tingle. There was a red pushbutton about halfway down the
length of the rod, just below the spot where the silver tubing fit into a bigger
piece of pipe. Just below the red button, a leather strap was bolted to the rod.
There was another strap at the base.

	The camera pulled back to a wide angle. Angelita watched as Cassandra
wrapped the lowest strap around Summer's ankles, securing her to the rod. The
girl had to bend her knees to allow for the binding.

	"On your back," demanded Cassandra. Her breasts wobbled delightfully as
the girl struggled to roll over, but she was soon in position.

	Cassandra leaned over her, and ran her hand down the girl's leg to her
crotch. The girl moaned at the touch. Cassandra masturbated the girl, her
fingers disappearing from view. The girl, ankles locked together, moved her
knees apart as best she could. Cassandra continued to rub her hand over the
girl's shaven pussy, bringing her captive closer and closer to bliss. The girl
began to wiggle her butt in response to her Mistress's touch. Her breath came
faster, and she moaned continuously.

	This must have been what Cassandra was waiting for, for she suddenly
pulled her hand away from Summer's pussy and placed it against the soles of the
girl's feet. Her other hand shot to the red button.

	"Pull your knees up," she ordered. Panting, the girl obeyed. Instantly
her ass and pussy were openly displayed as she drew her knees toward her chin.

	Cassandra released the red button and the pole became rigidly locked in
place. Taking the upper strap in hand, she proceeded to bind the girl's legs
just below the knee to the pole. Lying on her back, Summer's position was
uncomfortable, but not too stressful. Cassandra walked out of camera range, then
reappeared a few moments later. In the meanwhile, the cameraman had zoomed in on
Summer's supine form. Her feet were high in the air, held immoveable by the
steel pole. Her butt was raised slightly off the straw, the skin stretched taut
and smooth. Her pussy, exposed by her bondage, was clamped shut. Anything
entering her would be penetrating a hot, very tight, wet vice.

	Sounds off camera prompted a zoom back to wide. The image of Cassandra
holding a gag in her hand came into view. One side of the gag was a leather ball
attached to a leather faceplate. A long black dildo protruded from the other
side. She leaned forward and pushed the leather ball inside Summer's mouth, and
buckled the strap. Summer was now totally immobile and securely gagged.

	The camera stayed wide, following the leather-clad mistress as she
stalked about her hapless victim. She slapped the girl's exposed cheeks and
thighs, wringing whimpering sounds from behind the gag. There was a squeal as
the mistress ran a finger down the tight slit which contained so much pleasure.

	"So, slave, now you are totally helpless," Cassandra said, her tone
brusque and menacing, "and completely exposed."  She slipped two fingers inside
the girl, which caused more moans and writhing.

	"I can do anything I want with you. I can fuck you, in your cunt or your
ass. I can smother you by sitting down on the very delightful dildo that is
sticking out of your mouth." She had moved to the girl's head, and brought her
own face down close. "Would you like that, little slut? To suffocate, your last
breath being the sweet smell of my pussy and ass?"  The girl's eyes were wide
with fear. Tears began to form in the corners.

	"But for now," the training mistress said straightening up," I'm going
to leave you to think about three things. What you are, who you are, and what
you will be."

	She reached down and smacked Summer's taut butt.  "And there will be a
test, so you'd better have the right answers. Anything less than 100% will be
very painful for you."

	With that, she pushed the helpless girl on her side. Angelita flicked
"close" as Cassandra's leather form walked off screen.  Hand trembling ever so
slightly, she reached for the coffee carafe. One of the two serving girls began
to rush toward the table, only to stop as Cassandra waved her off.  A puzzled
expression flickered across the girl's face as she retreated.

	"You're going to miss the best parts," oozed Cassandra in a silken
taunt. "When I sat on her face, after plugging both her holes, of course."

	Angelita poured herself some more coffee. She placed the carafe back on
the table, and quietly raised the china cup to her full red lips.

	"Where is she now?" she asked, the hot coffee having sluiced deliciously
down her throat.

	"In her stall, exactly as you saw her. Not that I have left her tied to
the punishment rod for days, oh no, even I'm not that wicked," Cassandra
replied. "The video was shot several days ago. I ordered her prepared like that,
just in case it piqued your interest."

	Angelita fixed her friend and lover with a hard look.

	"You're very sly, aren't you?" She stated flatly. Her anger was rising,
in part from unfulfilled desire.

	"Angel, don't get your panties in a knot," soothed Cassandra. "I'm only
teasing you, my love."

	"Don't. I don't like it." She pushed the laptop back toward Cassandra.
"Now, tell me what you think she will be good for. I took a risk taking her, and
if she ends up in the jungle as fertilizer, I'll pay for it."

	Cassandra realized she had probably pushed Angelita a little too hard
this morning.  Maybe it was an emotional hangover from last night, maybe it was
PMS, who knew? She thought.

	"May I?" she said reaching for Angelita's cigarette case, her voice soft
and gentle. "I remember when I gave you this," she said. It was gold, with
mother-of-pearl inlay. She flicked it open, and read the engraving out loud.

	"My Angel."

	Cassandra looked over to her lover. Carefully withdrawing one of the
white paper tubes, she closed the case.

	"My Angel," she repeated. "I could not bear it if I lost you, and so
..." she let her voice trail off.

	Angelita knew she had regained the upper hand. "The girl." was all she
said.

	"A pleasure slave. She is a slut. Ultra submissive. Loves to fuck.
Semi-bisexual, which with the right tutoring, can be brought out. Responds
magnificently to pain, but breaks down when it is applied indiscriminately. Push
the right buttons, and she'll do anything." Cassandra paused, waiting.

	"Good. What further training does she need?" Angelita was all business.

	A sip of her coffee stretched Cassandra's pause. "As you know, I worked
as a psychologist before returning here and joining you," she began. "I have
kept up my studies, through reading, the internet, and personal experimentation.
I have some ideas I would like to try out on your little gringo, a procedure I
think will make her into an even more malleable pleasure slut than she is now."

	"What sort of procedures?"

	"It's a process based on a mixture of hypnotic drugs, hallucinogens, and
operant conditioning. In general terms, that is." Again, Cassandra paused for
effect. "I think you will enjoy watching it, let alone the pleasure you will
derive from the results. I need a month."

	Angelita considered for a moment, before replying. "You have two weeks,
Cassandra, after which I will expect some results. Don't waste it."

	Cassandra smiled. "Thank you my love," she said. "You'll be very
pleased, I'm sure of it."

	Angelita merely hmmphed, and looked away.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 11



	Summer lay quietly in her stall. Cold, half-starved, beaten, raped,
treated like an animal - she had been to hell and back, of that she was sure.
Not for the first time, she wished she could just curl up and go to sleep and
never wake up again.

	But sleep, even something as basic as sleep, was a torment. They woke
her constantly, never letting her get more than a few minutes sleep at one time.
She thought that the last time she slept any length of time was when she last
passed out. Just this past night, she was returned to the stall after
"exercise", or so they called it. She had been strapped to a treadmill for half
an hour, and made to walk and run through a program that was sheer torture.
Summer had never been the most physical of girls - sure, she played baseball
with friends, and liked to work out at aerobics, and ice-skated in winter, but
she was no athlete, that's for sure! She was so tired, she could barely move
when she was finally released from the treadmill. Then, the guards took her to
the punishment room, strapped her down across a bench, forced a vibrator up her
ass, placed dental clamps to hold her mouth open, then made her suck them off!

	But she was thankful that lately, this treatment was actually better
than what she experienced when she first arrived at where ever she was. She was
only allowed outside under the strictest of conditions, and not as much since
that horrid pony training had stopped. There was that pool, she thought. It
would be so nice to go for a swim, just once! Or to just lie in the sun, feel
the warmth on my skin.

	She shivered to hear a key on the lock. Omigod, now what? she thought.
Her heart pounded.

	"Please, leave me alone," she whimpered, not even raising her head.

	The click of female boot heels echoed loudly in the quiet of the stall.

	"Summer."

	The woman's voice was soft, gentle, almost friendly.

	"Summer, look at me."

	Reluctant but fearing the effects of disobedience, effects she knew too
well already, Summer turned her head toward the door.  "Please Mistress," she
begged. "Please, have mercy, please. I didn't do anything ..." her voice trailed
off in a sob.

	Cassandra knelt and stroked the girl's cinnamon colored hair. "There,
there," she soothed as she stroked. "I'm not going to punish you, sweet one. I
want to give you a rest from this."

	Summer turned tear soaked eyes toward the training mistress. Cassandra
brushed hair off the girl's wet face, and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
She moved to cradle the girl's head in her lap. Like a mother with a young
child, she soothed her frightened charge, calming her, reassuring her.

	"Now darling," said the training mistress, "I want you to calm down. You
and I are going to leave this place, and go somewhere where we can have a talk.
Won't that be nice?" She continued to stroke the girl's face and arms as she
spoke. Slowly, tenderly.

	"A-away?" Summer's voice was a little girl's. "Ho-home?"

	"Yes my darling child, we'll go away from this place for a while. You
and I. We'll have some coffee, some fresh fruit, and a talk. Just you and I.
Won't that be nice?"

	Summer buried her face in the training mistress's lap, sobbing
uncontrollably. She lay there for a few moments, and then raised her head.

	"Oh Mistress, I'm sorry, I've made your leather pants all wet, " she
exclaimed, her voice shaking. "I'm sorry, Mistress, don't punish me, please. I
can't stand anymore."

	"No, no, Summer, no punishment. Just coffee and talk. I promise you."

   She kissed the girl again on the forehead, then her eyelids, and finally,
brushed Summer's open, trembling lips ever so lightly with her own.

	"Come, my sweet," she said, "Stand up and let's get you out of here."

	"'Kay".

	Cassandra helped the girl to her feet.  Putting her arm around the
girl's shoulder, she led her toward the door and called for the guard. The door
swung open, and the two women exited the stall.

	A blanket had been placed on a table next to the door. Cassandra wrapped
it about her frightened, trembling charge.

	"We'll get you cleaned up, and you'll feel better," she cooed. Summer
started at the suggestion, and tried to pull away.

	"No, no, sweetheart. No more forced showers. You'll shower by yourself,
and I'll give you a pretty wrap to wear. Nobody will hurt you, I promise."

	Summer looked up, her eyes round, wanting to believe but mistrusting
this woman who had been so fierce. Cassandra smiled, and kissed the girl's
forehead.  "I promise."

	Being allowed to have a shower - alone - was heavenly. Summer luxuriated
in the feel of the water and soap on her skin, without the rough touch of
others. She let the water bead on her skin, enthralled with its soft caress. The
soap was perfumed with the sweetness of jasmine, the shampoo also sweet and
subtle.

   After drying off, she ran a brush through her hair, working to style it so it
was not so ragtag. An array of eye shadow, blush, lipstick, had been placed on a
vanity. Taking her time, she worked to restore her image of herself. Summer was
thrilled to discover a beautiful flowered wrap hanging on a hook by the bathroom
door. Like a little girl with a new dress, she swirled about in the pretty, soft
fabric. There was a second, filmy swatch of fabric - Summer immediately
fashioned a top to cover her breasts.  Surveying herself in the mirror, she
realized she was slimmer, fitter, than she had been in many a year, and she was
pleased.

	"If only Geoffrey could see me now." Tears began to drizzle down her
cheeks. She wiped the saline away with her hand, and turned to the door.
Mistress Cassandra, and the rest of her life, was waiting on the other side.

	Coffee was served on the terrace at poolside.	The serving girls
watched transfixed as the red haired girl literally attacked the fruit platter.
They shuddered in memory of their own arrival at the farm, and knew just what
the girl had been going through. Or at least, they thought they knew, but they
were unsure, for this was highly unusual - Mistress Cassandra bringing a slave
girl out to the pool, allowing her to take coffee.

	"Slow down, my darling, you'll make yourself sick," scolded Cassandra,
her voice soft and gentle. Summer looked up, eyes shining. A smear of pineapple
juice could be seen on her chin. She smiled bashfully.

	"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just that, it's so ..."

	Cassandra's laugh rang across the open terrace. "Summer, " she said,
"It's all right. I just don't want you to overdo it. We're in no hurry, although
I do have some work to do today."

	Summer placed the pineapple slice on the plate before her. Her eyes were
wide with curiosity, and not a little trepidation. She opened her mouth as if to
speak, but said not a word.

	"No my dear, this work is not like anything you've endured over the past
weeks," Cassandra said in her most reassuring manner. "I'm a psychologist, and
I'm doing some research into how people react to different situations and
stimuli ..." She leaned over conspiratorially. "I like you, Summer. So I've
persuaded the people I work for to release you into my care. So you won't end up
picking coffee beans or worse, in the barracks as a sex toy."

	"Tha - thank you," stammered Summer. She felt grateful to this woman,
but was confused as to why she felt that way.

	"There's no need to thank me, my dear. The things that they did to you!"
Cassandra shuddered. "And the things they were going to do! I couldn't bear to
see someone like you be treated like that."

	She leaned forward again. "Besides, I have some plans of my own, and you
can help me with them."

	Summer was even more confused. Plans? How could she possibly help this
woman she didn't even know? Who had been party to everything she had suffered?
But still, Mistress Cassandra was being so nice to her now ...

	"Cassandra!"

	Summer and Cassandra both turned at the sound. In the brilliant
afternoon sun, Angelita's small, muscular form was surrounded by a halo of
light, as if she had been deified.

	"And our new guest, too! How nice!" Angelita slid down on one of the
empty chairs at the table.

	"Angelita, this is a pleasant surprise", said Cassandra. "You remember
Summer?"

	"How could I forget such a darling creature? And what brings you out to
my poolside, Summer my dear?"

	"She'll be participating in my research, as we discussed, Angelita.
You'll remember our conversation of last week, I'm sure?"

   "Ah yes, the memory retention research thing, isn't that right?" She giggled
girlishly. "I almost forgot." The giggle contradicted her appearance - army
fatigues, hair pulled back in a severe bun.  She reached for a piece of fruit.

   Summer was confused and very afraid. Angelita was the maid, the one who had
found her in the hotel room, who had given her over to the soldiers, who had
ordered her treatment and mistreatment, and who scared the hell out of her.
Cassandra, on the other hand, was the training mistress. Cool as a mountain
stream, Mistress Cassandra had supervised all manner of beatings and painful
activities she called exercises, and now she was being her friend? 

   "Yes Angelita, Summer's going to be part of that program. I have a series of
sensory stimulation tests to administer, and because we'll be starting them
today, I thought she might like a little fresh air and relaxation beforehand."

	"Ahhh," said Angelita. Her eyes formed narrow, snakelike slits. "I
assume you'll keep me up to date?"

	Cassandra placed her hand across Angelita's. "Of course, Angelita. I'll
give you my usual reports, and of course, you can always sit in on the
sessions." She straightened in her chair and flashed a winning smile at Summer.
"But you might find them somewhat boring ..."

	Angelita just looked at Cassandra. One of the serving girls appeared at
her side, placing a cup and saucer on the table. Steam rose lazily from the hot
coffee. The girl knelt beside Angelita, awaiting instruction.

	Stroking the serving girl's face with the back of her hand, Angelita
turned her gaze to Summer.  "She's well trained, don't you think?" Angelita
enquired. "Didn't take too long to train her, either, not with the right
combination of stimulants and memory retention programs."

	Summer shuddered. Is this to be her fate? she wondered. Her heart raced
with fear. She could feel her face redden.

	"Now look what you've done, Angelita. You've scared the poor girl."

	Angelita shrugged.

	"So Cassie, you'll be starting today?"

	"Actually, I was going to take Summer over to my office when she
finished her coffee."

	"Well then, don't let me keep you." Angelita said dismissively.

	Cassandra, picking up a compact case that had been laying near her place
at the table, leaned forward toward Summer. She opened the case, and pursed her
lips.

	The serving girl gasped and involuntarily raised her hand to her mouth
as Cassandra blew a cloud of fine white powder in Summer's face. Summer sneezed.
Angelita jumped back in her chair, shocked.

	Cassandra continued to lean close to Summer. Her voice was barely
audible as she chanted a series of phrases, part French, part Spanish, with
Indio mixed in, over and over in a hypnotic rhythm. Summer's eyes began to roll
back in their sockets. Her lids slowly dropped to a half-shut state, the whites
clearly visible now. She began to weave in her chair, like a cobra rising out of
its wicker basket. Her motion began to become more erratic. Her arms and
shoulders twitched. Her head dropped back, exposing a long slender neck. She was
close to falling over.

	Angelita crossed herself and uttered a fast prayer to the Virgin and
everyone else she could think of. She pushed her chair back and rose to her
feet.

	Summer jerked in the chair, once, and fell forward. Plates scattered as
she hit the table face first, like a rag doll dropped from a height. 

   The serving girl squealed in fright, jumping back, as fruit juices and pieces
smacked her face and shoulders.

   Cassandra stopped chanting. Her compact snapped shut. She sat back in her
chair, and lit a cigarette.

   "Clean this up, bring me fresh coffee, and have her taken to my lab."

   "Yes Mistress," the serving girl blurted. She scrambled to her feet, almost
frantic.

	"Now! Or you'll join her!" barked Cassandra.

	"Yes Mistress! Immediately Mistress!" The girl scooped up dishes and
pieces of fruit, then hurried off for cloths and fresh coffee. Summer didn't
move. She lay face down on the table. One cheek pressed against the surface. A
pineapple slice could be seen peering out from beneath her powder-dappled skin.

	

	What's that stuff? It smells awful, like death. I think I sneezed? I
feel so ...so ... Their voices are weird. Very, very weird.  They go in and out
and up and down, like Mickey Mouse and fast or deep profound basso and s-l-o-w
and sometimes, both at the same time. And worse. There were echoes, and , and,
and

	Whoa! Somebody stop this! Can colours be alive? These are. They pulse
and swirl and shimmer and sometimes they look like women and then like aliens
and what the fuck is going on who cares?idon'tcarethisfeelssoweirdshiiii....

	Blackness. But not black. Like being and not being. A weird kind of deja
vu, being there before and now and in the future and all three all at once.  I'm
tingly. Like there's ants under my skin. Crawling and doing ant things. Are boy
ants really uncles? That's a dumb thought! Why did I think that?

	I can't move, but I know I'm moving. Around and around and ouch! That
hurt! Why did my shoulder try to jump out of my skin? Is it hot in here is it
me? Must be me because I'm not in here, I'm out here, an innie not an outie, no
that's wrong I'm out, I'm out I'm an outtie, an outtienotaninnieoh
shiiiiii......

	Blackness.



	

	"Cassandra! What the fuck was that?"

	"Calm down sweetie, have some coffee."

	"That was zombie dust, wasn't it!  Zombie dust!"

	"Angelita, get real. There's no such thing. It was just a mixture of
flour and face powder and some chemicals that would irritate the skin, and a
smack of white pepper. But it helps if she thinks it was zombie dust."

	"But what, she..." Angelita struggled for control. "Okay, if it was so
harmless, why is the cunt face down in the fucking pineapple?"

	"Because, my Angel, she drank her glass of orange juice. Which is
liberally laced with a nice blend of hallucinogens, a neurotoxin to induce a
temporary paralysis, and an old fashioned knock out drop. When she comes to,
she'll be tripping, she'll be very sore but unable to move, and highly
susceptible to my conditioning."

	Cassandra took a puff of her cigarette and a sip of coffee. "The zombie
dust is just for effect. She'll not know what hit her, and when I do it again to
her, the combination of the real drugs and believing in the zombie dust will
make her mind so malleable, she'll do anything to please me." She paused for
another drag of smoke. "Or you."

	"By the way, there is a rather powerful sexual stimulant in the juice,
too. Like a high strength viagra. She'll be so horny, she'll want to fuck
anything and everything, but she won't be able to move a muscle. It will drive
her crazy. And I will control her relief."

	Angelita gaped at her lover.

	" I learned a great deal about human behaviour in that gringo college,
Angelita. And I have learned a great deal more in my field research here, too."
Cassandra smiled. "I must thank you again for giving me the facilities in which
to experiment. Not to mention the subjects." Cassandra planted a soft kiss on
Angelita's hand. "And speaking of subjects, here come some now.

	"Hurry up girls, this table is a mess!" She yelled at the approaching
serving girls. Two men and a gurney could be seen behind the girls. "Now, my
sweet Angelita, let's have our coffee, and then I'll get to work."

	Cassandra flashed a mischievous smile across the table.

	"Or would you like to try the orange juice? I hear it's delicious!"

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 12



	The orderlies pushed and pulled the gurney bearing Summer's rigid form
along the concrete path. The one pushing remarked to his companion about the
steel bracelet welded around Summer's ankle.

	"Fuck! This one, she's belled like a cat!"

	"Hey, you saw the collar around her neck didn't you?" His companion
replied. "Not just the usual one, but this one has bells too. And it's welded
shut."

	"I wonder why?"

	"Maybe she's a dancer, or something."

	The wheels squeaked as the gurney rolled closer to a gleaming white
building at the end of the path.

	"Whatever she is, the she-devil has her now. Poor girl."

	"Hey, look on the bright side. Maybe when the she-devil's done with her,
she'll end up in the barracks!"

	The orderly at the foot of the gurney examined Summer's supine body. He
leered at the swell of her breasts, the flatness of her belly.

	"Hmm, that would be all right, heh? But I don't like my women to just
lie there like a zombie, you know? I like a little action, heh?"

	"Like you get with your right hand?'

	"Fuck, I get more pussy in a week than you do in a year!"

	"Yeah, but nobody else but you wants to fuck your sister."

	They had reached the door to the building. A video camera mounted above
the door swiveled in their direction. The orderly nearest the door ignored the
computer keypad, and rapped loudly on the metal frame. There was a loud buzzing
sound as the electronic lock was released. The two men pushed Summer through the
door and into the building housing Cassandra's laboratory.

	The foyer was brightly lit, with the antiseptic look of a typical
clinic: a couple of chairs designed for short-term comfort, magazines, several
potted plants, and a small coffee table. A shelving unit housed patient charts,
colour indexed in file folders. A young woman, wearing a crisp white blouse, sat
behind the desk.

	"We were instructed to bring this woman here," said one of the
orderlies.

	The young woman rose from behind the desk. She wore slacks to match the
blouse, not unlike a nurse's uniform. The orderlies were not surprised when she
shuffled in mincing steps to the gurney, a short chain locked between her
ankles. They had been here before, and knew there was no shortage of attractive
young women and men who were so obviously prisoners of the Captain and his
mistress Angelita. The soldiers enjoyed many of them - when a prisoner was
consigned to the barracks, it was in effect, a slow death sentence. The barracks
slaves had no restrictions on their use. It didn't matter, male or female, young
or old, a barracks slave was no longer human, and could be used - or abused - as
the residents liked.

   As a result, those prisoners fortunate enough to be assigned duties, like
this young woman, worked very hard not to end up in the barracks.

   "I'll take you to Room C", she said, looking down at the body on the gurney.

   Summer was still, as if dead. Even her breathing was imperceptible - one
would have to hold a mirror to her mouth to see if there was any air coming
through. She was very pale.

	The nurse swiped a computer passcard, and led the way down a short hall.

	 The orderlies had brought many a patient to this clinic. Some came with
actual physical injuries that Cassandra or Angelita did not want to appear on a
medical chart anywhere - or the patient no longer existed in the legal sense.
Others were brought to be participants in Cassandra's experiments. Some were
prisoners, opponents of the Captain, who were interrogated with pharmaceuticals
instead of whips. A small, very select few were brought here for the final
conditioning necessary for their new life as a slave.

	Room C looked like the most modern of torture chambers - a dentist's
office. Brightly lit, with a counter and sink, cupboards, shelves, and a glass
cabinet full of bottles of varying sizes and shapes, the room was dominated by
what looked like a dentist chair. Mounted on a pedestal, obviously adjustable,
the chair was made of metal and covered with a bright red leather upholstery.
There were armrests on either side, and a headrest attached to the back. Like a
dentist chair, there was a small swivel table mounted on a lamp stand, which led
to the typical very bright dentist lamp. Unlike the typical dentist chair, there
were two leg rests attached to the seat. And the seat was very, very short,
obviously insufficient to support an adult body.  The contraption clearly had
some other purpose than providing the patient with comfort while allowing the
dentist ease of access to a patient's mouth.

	The woman walked to the head of the chair, and stepped on a foot pedal.
With a motorized hum, the chair unfolded itself and reclined into a horizontal
position. With one man wrapping his arms under Summer's arms, and the other
taking her by the feet, they lifted the unconscious girl on to the chair.  The
young woman in the nurse' outfit quickly passed leather straps around each of
Summer's ankles. She placed each arm on a padded armrest, and again using
leather straps, secured them. Finally, prying Summer's eyes open, she placed
some drops in each orb, before closing them again.

	The threesome left the room.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 13



	

	Cassandra carefully scrutinized the immobile form before her. Satisfied
at last, she began her preparations. Vials were plucked from drawers,
exquisitely crafted metal devices lovingly withdrawn from felt lined boxes and
placed in a sterilizer, cables and tubing, all these things and more were
strategically situated throughout the room. Having selected the various tools
she desired, Cassandra strolled over to a large wood cabinet. She took a
computer "key" from her pocket, and swiped it in the lock. With a click! the
door moved less than an inch on unseen hinges. Cassandra swung the door wide and
examined the contents therein.

	The closet was redolent with the heady aroma of leather and rubber. This
was where Cassandra kept some of her most prized playthings - like the black
rubber catsuit that fit so smooth over her body it almost showed her birthmarks.
It also held a myriad of straps, cuffs, plugs, gags, hoods, binders and almost
everything man has conceived as a way of binding someone. She selected a number
of items, and placed them on the table next to the chair where Summer lay.

	Cassandra moved to the third wall of the room. Like the wall opposite,
this one also had cupboards and cabinets and shelves. She wheeled a stored
trolley over to a spot near Summer's head.

	There was a knock on the door.

	"Enter", said Cassandra crisply.

	The young woman in the nurse outfit opened the door. Using her backside
to prop the door open, she pulled a serving cart into the room. Without asking
where it should go, she automatically rolled it over to a position opposite the
cart near Summer's head.

	"Hook her up," ordered Cassandra. She moved around the chair to the
serving tray.

	"Yes ma'am," replied the nurse. Her low heels clacked in the quiet room
as she traded places with her mistress. The young woman surveyed the equipment
on the second cart. First, she connected the power cord with an outlet in the
wall. Lights flickered and came to life. An oscilloscope beeped, green lines
appearing on the screen. She took a small vial, and turned to Summer's supine
form.

	Oil drizzled from the vial across Summer's naked breasts. The nurse
trickled a trail of oil down Summer's abdomen, into the soft cleft between her
legs. She began to smooth the liquid, rubbing it in to the soft skin. Like a
masseuse, she worked the fatty tissue of Summer's breasts, but her touch was
more a lover's caress than a massage technique. She paid particular attention to
the round pink nipples. Her touch warmed the oil, causing the skin to take on a
shiny luster.

	"Careful sweetheart, you're supposed to be prepping her, not
masturbating yourself."

	"I'm sorry, Mistress," the nurse replied. She began to smear the oil
along Summer's smooth belly.  Her fingers and palms danced lightly over the warm
soft skin. She moved lower, down the pubic mound and began to slide her hand
between Summer's legs. Leaving her left hand down between the girl's thighs, the
nurse reached for the vial with her right. With the touch of a foot pedal, the
chair began to move. Summer's legs, strapped to the chair, began to spread
apart. The nurse drizzled oil along the mound, and down the tops of Summer's
thighs, before resuming her massaging. She rubbed the hard bud that hid beneath
pink petals, and slid one finger inside the moist passage below.

	Summer didn't move, didn't utter a sound. Not even her breathing
changed.

	The nurse, however, gasped to feel the waistband of her slacks being
pulled back, and a warm hand slither along the crack of her butt. She didn't
lift her head, but moved her feet slightly apart, as the hand cupped her own
female core. She moaned when the hand rubbed against the tender hot flesh.

	"You're very wet, Marissa," Cassandra's voice whispered in her ear.
"Perhaps I'll amuse myself with you, once she's prepped."

	"If it pleases Mistress," the nurse replied hoarsely.

	"It might please me to have you on that chair again, one of these days,
too."

	The nurse Marissa's knees trembled at the threat. Suddenly her head was
jerked backward as Cassandra pulled on her hair. Fingers thrust themselves
inside her hidden place, just as the other hand slid around front and caressed
her throat.

	"Be careful my pretty," hissed Cassandra," Remember my instructions.
Obey them to the letter. You've been warned."

	"Yes Mistress," the nurse whispered. Cassandra's hand slid out of her
pants.

	There was a click, and the door to the lab swung open.

	"Well Cassie, I see you're hard at work."

	"Captain! What a nice surprise!" Cassandra gushed, having been caught in
flagrante delecto. She patted Marissa's ass, and instructed her to leave the
room. "You can finish her later."

	"Yes Mistress," the nurse said. She scurried to the door as quickly as
her leg irons would allow.

	"Hold," stated the Captain. "She can stay. I'd like to watch you prep
your new subject."

	The nurse stopped in her tracks, and then looked over at her mistress.
Cassandra nodded, and Marissa turned back to Summer and the chair.

	Cassandra met the Captain as he crossed the small room. Placing her
hands on his chest, she stood on her toes and kissed his lips. Molding her body
into his, she slipped her arms around his back. He responded, pulling her close,
his left hand sliding down her back and cupping her buttocks.

	"Mmmm," she hummed in delight at his touch.

	His right hand grabbed her other cheek. Cassandra pushed her pubic bone
hard into his crotch. Like a snake on its prey, she slid one leg around his.

	"I've missed you," she whispered, her lips pressing wetly against his
neck. Her hands ran up and down his back. She could feel his hardness pressing
against her through his uniform trousers. She grabbed it, cloth and all, and
made him gasp with anticipation and pleasure. She laughed throatily as she
rubbed him up and down.

	"Doesn't feel like a banana," she teased, "so you must have missed me
too."

	Cassandra unzipped his fly, and thrust her hand inside. His cock,
swollen with desire, was released from its khaki tent. She stroked it lovingly,
lustfully, as she slowly slid down his body.

	Kneeling, she kissed the purple head, and flicked the small opening with
the tip of her pink tongue. "Did you miss me?" she said coyly.

	The Captain laughed, and thrust his hips toward her face. Cassandra
opened her mouth and swallowed the man-meat. He groaned with pleasure as she
masterfully sucked his cock. Her teeth were sharp as she carefully dragged them
across the engorged flesh, making him moan even more. One hand on the base of
his cock, her mouth full of him, she looked up at his face, eyes full of
mischief and lust.

	With her free hand, she beckoned the nurse to come near. The young woman
obeyed. She fell to her knees beside Cassandra.

	Cool air brushed across the Captain's wet and swollen manhood as
Cassandra withdrew her mouth. With her mistress's hand on the back of her head,
the nurse Marissa brought her open mouth forward. Her lips were soft, red, wet.
Cassandra, from the other side, placed her open lips on the nurse's, capturing
the Captain's rigid cock between the two mouths. The captain groaned as tongues
flickered back and forth. .

	"Don't make him come or you'll find yourself as one of my lab rats,"
whispered Cassandra as she rose to her feet. She placed both hands on the
Captain's face, and kissed him hard. Her tongue probed deep in his mouth.

	Sinuously, she slid away from him and glided over to where Summer lay
still. The nurse's slurping and sucking sounds, intermingled with the Captain's
groans and moans, echoed throughout the room. Cassandra knew that her lover
would not last long with Marissa working on his cock - she had trained the woman
herself. Her oral skills were exceptional, and, as a bonus, the girl enjoyed
sucking more than fucking. This was going to prove very interesting, she mused,
for soon she would have a slave who loved to suck and a slave who loved to fuck,
and both of them would be loyal to her and only to her. No matter what Angelita
may think.

	In fact, Cassandra thought, if Angie knew about her fucking the Captain,
there'd be hell to pay. And Angelita, dear sweet Angelita, who thought she was
so much better than she really was, would be the one to pay it. Cassandra would
see to that.

	Yes, things were taking shape very nicely.

	Cassandra listened to the moans, groans and slurps as she expertly
attached electrodes to Summer's temples, biceps, breasts, nipples, labia, inner
thighs, and soles of her feet. Taking the tangle of wires in her hand, she
plugged various leads into the appropriate receptacles on the machinery that
filled the cart. Summer was almost ready.

	Two metal prongs remained on the tray, wires leading from the flat ends.
Cassandra rubbed lubricant over the narrower of the two. She spread Summer's ass
cheeks with her left hand, and began to work the gleaming metal into the
puckered opening. She twisted it slowly, forcing it past the anal ring until it
was almost completely buried inside the immobile young woman.

	"There we go," Cassandra exclaimed, patting the helpless girl's exposed
pussy. "We'll save the other one for later, when you're awake."

	"UNHHH!" At that precise moment, the Captain, who had been watching
Cassandra slide the prong into Summer, let out a mighty groan. Grabbing the
nurse's head with both hands, he rammed his cock hard and deep down her throat.
He pumped his hips, roughly fucking the girl's mouth. A trickle of sperm
drizzled down Marissa's face as he shot his seed.

	"AAHHH!" The Captain's face was contorted with pleasure.

   Smiling her wicked smile, Cassandra watched as the nurse gobbled all traces
of cum from the Captain's rapidly shrinking cock. The girl's face was flushed.
She kept one hand on the Captain's genitalia, holding them like they were
precious jewels. With her other hand, Marissa brushed her hair back from her
face. She was panting, her breasts rising and falling inside her white uniform.

   "Fuck! She is good! Where did you find her, Cassie?"

   "Yes, she is good, isn't she," Cassandra said as she slithered back over to
where the Captain stood. She tousled the kneeling girl's hair. "But she was not
allowed to make you cum," Cassandra added, her tone sardonic. Tangling her hands
in the girl's hair, Cassandra yanked the nurse's head back. She stared down into
the girl's eyes and smiled. "And so, I'm afraid she must be punished."

	"If it pleases Mistress," the girl whispered.

	"It does please Mistress," was the reply. She gestured to the far corner
of the room. "Get over there, strip, and wait for me."

	"Yes Mistress", the girl said. She crawled away.

	Cassandra was very aware of the man's eyes following the young girl as
she crawled away.

	"Well Captain Mine," she cooed as she sidled up to the uniformed man.
"You like my little Marissa, yes? She's fun to play with, you know. She likes it
- the more pain, the more she comes."  She licked the Captain's neck, just under
his chin.  "Would you like to play with her some time?"

	"Hmmm, sounds like fun."

	"Well, maybe later," Cassandra kissed the Captain, a quick, light brush
with her lips. "Now, I have some work to do." She turned back to where Summer
lay helpless.

	"Angelita has asked me to turn this little thing into a bedroom slave
for her," she explained as she hovered over several devices connected in various
ways to the chair and to Summer herself. "So, there are several steps to be
taken. First is to break her spirit, make her dependent and feeling helpless.
That was started when she first arrived."

	She paused while she wheeled a device close to the chair. On top of a
large box covered with knobs, dials and switches, was what appeared to be a
football helmet. Attached to the front was a strange pair of goggles.

	"Part of the process is to impose sensory deprivation, isolation, and
humiliation. Keep the subject feeling alone, helpless, and afraid."

	She fitted the helmet over her captive's head, adjusting what appeared
to be ear pads before buckling it under the girl's chin. She then adjusted the
strange looking goggles over Summer's face.

	"It's necessary for the subject to develop a dependence upon the
trainer, to need the trainer's approval, and to rely upon the trainer for food,
warmth, comfort, and to fear punishment or rejection by the trainer. Summer
here, has a good start on all this."

	She flicked a switch on the box connected to the goggles. Selecting a
syringe from the metal dental tray, Cassandra deftly plunged the hypodermic into
a bottle, and drew some of the liquid into the needle. She poked the needle into
the girl.

	"There! All set," she crowed. "Now we just have to wake for the little
darling to wake up."





   "Summer, Summer, Summer ..."

   The voice came from all around her, and from inside her head. Echoing,
reverberating, surrounding.

   "Swim, Summer, Swim Summer, Swim, Summer ..."

   "What a nice voice," she thought as she swirled and floated through the
multicoloured world in which she found herself. "She must be very nice, to have
such a nice voice. So-o-o nice ..."

   "Summer, swim to me, swim to me ... to me ... me ..."

   Summer floated in her gelatinous multicoloured world, feeling light as a
microbe, floating easily, comfortably, without a care in the world, just
floating, floating, floating... She could feel her body? Mind? Spirit? Soul?
Self? slowly float upward, not that that made any difference, for upward,
downward, over under, it was all the same to Summer, she just floated away,
floating, floating ...

   Where am I? she wondered. Why am I? It is so pleasant here, but I can't ...
can't ... what? What can't I ? I forget. She smiled to herself, content to be
floating, floating, slowly rising to the ... surface?

   "Swim, Summer ... to Me ..."

   So nice. S-O-O-O-O nice. But, the Voice says swim, so I will swim ...





   Huddled in the corner, the nurse Marissa could still taste the saltiness of
the Captain. She watched as her Mistress Cassandra busied herself with the naked
slut on the conditioning chair and the all-powerful Captain. Marissa knew her
Mistress well enough to know she was up to something - she was always up to
something - but the nurse had not yet figured it out. She hoped that whatever it
was, that she would still have a place in her Mistress's bed when all was said
and done.

   At the same time, Marissa was jealous of the attention that naked slut was
getting from her Mistress. The Captain, well, he had power of her life and
death, but she loved Mistress Cassandra, and wanted nothing more than to please
Her. Thank God the bitch was being prepared for the witchcunt Angelita. She
still remembered the beating the wicked one had laid on her, for no reason at
all. And then, to be turned over to those two swine guards of hers! Marissa
clenched her anal ring at the memory.

   She was grateful for her professional training, for that had saved her life.
While vacationing, she and another woman had decided to explore the island. They
had been cautioned against it by some of the locals, but paid no heed. They
wandered into the dense jungle mountainside, heading up and down various trails.

   It was the adventure of their lives, full of mystery and excitement. They saw
magnificent birds, and heard animals moving invisibly through the undergrowth.
Carrying cell phones, confident of finding their way back, the two women pushed
their way through vines and bushes, around logs and over stony paths.

   The adventure ended abruptly when the two of them ended up on their knees in
a clearing in the jungle, two soldiers in camouflage fatigues holding guns to
their heads. Her friend tried to escape - she was shot in the back and left for
dead. The soldiers had tied Marissa, fondled her - abused her, really - then
brought her silently through the jungle to a camp, where the witch Angelita
decided what was to be done.

   What was done was what appeared to be standard operating procedure for those
Angelita fancied: rape, torture and finally, assessment.

   Marissa was brought forward to a second encampment, where she was dumped into
a tent. Bruised, battered, she lay on her belly sobbing when the "assessor"
arrived. It was Mistress Cassandra, also in camouflage fatigues.

   She had no idea what but for a rudimentary desire to survive made her blurt
out to Mistress Cassandra that she was a nurse and could help with patients and
injuries. Marissa had no idea that this lab existed, and she knew nothing about
sadomasochism, brainwashing, any of that, she just wanted to know she was going
to wake up tomorrow without having some brutish disease ridden cock inside her.

   Cassandra had nodded, said something to the guards, and now here she was,
kneeling naked in a corner, very wet, eager to please and serve in any and every
way imaginable.

   And there was that interloping newcomer, about to experience Mistress's
pleasures. Huh!

   Lucky bitch.





    "Swim Summer, Swim upward!"

   Swim Summer, said the nice voice ... swim said the nice momma fish, swim ...
oop oop diddum daddum waddum shoo! Giggle. I'm swimming, look at me, I'm
swimming! Giggle.

   But where am I swimming to? And how can I be swimming? I can't feel my legs
or my hands or my breasts or ...

	Don't want to go... feels so nice here quiet, peaceful, so nice ...

	"Swim to me Summer, come up!"

	Hunh. Going up, don't want to go up, like it here. Going up to the voice
... nice voice, friendly ... like the voice ...Makes me think of ... swim swim
swimming ... nice, want to swim, like to swimmmm ...





	Cassandra watched the various monitors very closely.

	"She's coming out, slowly, but steadily."

	"That's good?" queried the Captain.

	"That's very good," she replied. "I want her focused on me, dependent on
me as she comes out of her unconscious state."

	"What does that spike there mean?" The Captain pointed to a sudden jump
in one of the green lines wriggling across the small display screen.

	"She's beginning to regain some feeling in her limbs." Cassandra paused
to adjust a setting. "The drugs she ingested have completely immobilized her.
She cannot move, her entire body went numb, just as if she were dead. She
couldn't feel a thing, you could poke her with a knife, she'd bleed but wouldn't
notice it, wouldn't feel it."

	"The beauty is, her mind is fully active, just very disoriented by the
hallucinogens. She is aware, but so stoned, she could be on the moon for all she
knows."

   "So what happens now?"

   "Well, first we must bring her to a state of consciousness. Which is what is
happening right now. She is slowly becoming aware of her surroundings, but
thanks to the drugs, she will still be quite disoriented."

   The Captain walked over to the supine, naked form. He peered at her goggled
face.

   "This looks like a virtual reality device," he observed.

   Cassandra smiled a wicked smile. "It is."





	The colours and softness are all dissolving ...  Where are all the
colours and softness going? They feel so nice around me ... Come back colours!
Come back! 

   Light, over there ... I'll just float over there ... Maybe the colours are
over there ... Swim Summer swim little fish giggle ... The light is nice ...
Look! The light is getting bigger, and it's all around me! Nice ... but feels
diff...erent ...

   "Summer, pay attention ...to me ..."

   There's the nice voice again. So nice ... I like her ... she sounds nice ...
but I feel so ... I felt soft and colours and nice but now I don't feel so ...
nice ... any ...

	UNNHHH!

	My skin, it feels like there's a million bugs crawling on it. Yech!

	Why can't I move?

   The light is nice, though ... Hey! That looks like me ... only I'm naked and
I'm giggle wearing some kind of funny hat and glasses giggle maybe I'm an
astronaut ...  and look at the weird chair...I don't remember getting in the
chair ... must be the astronaut chair giggle ... where's my space suit? I'm not
wearing a space suit ... giggle ... I'm not wearing anything! Giggle ... Wonder
where my clothes are? Nice dress, I had a nice dress ...  I don't remember
taking off my nice dress ... I don't remember ... don't ... Don't like bugs on
my skin!  Want to move, don't want bugs on me, don't want to play anymore ...Got
to swat the bugs away ... get them off my skin ...

	Unnhh!

	That's strange ... Why can't I move?





	"Summer, pay attention to me," Cassandra cooed into the microphone
headset. Her eyes locked on the LCD displays, green needles spiking like crazy,
Cassandra's voice was soft and gentle, warm and friendly.  "Summer, it's all
right, Summer."

	The naked girl strapped to the chair twitched and exhaled a slow puff of
air.

	"It's all right Summer, trust me. You can trust me, Summer."

	The spikes began to smooth, gradually assuming a less frantic pattern.

	"Well, she seems to be settling down," the Captain observed. "If your
machines are any indication, that is."

	"They are, my Captain, my love," Cassandra smiled. "She is very wired
in" - Cassandra waved her hand at the array of equipment before her - "EKG, EEG,
body temperature, I want to monitor just about everything she feels. All part of
the process."

	The Captain pondered the various instruments near the chair, and the
assorted wires leading to strategic spots on the girl's naked body. He followed
one of the wires with his hand, tracing its path from the cold steel and plastic
box, across empty air and ultimately to the tanned, naked flesh. He rubbed his
hand along Summer's body, enjoying the feel of her flesh beneath his.

	"Hmm, her body's firmer than it looks. You've kept her in good
condition, Cassie."

	"Believe me my love, when I'm done, she'll be in the best shape of her
life."

	The Captain slowly ran his hand across Summer's belly, drifting upward
to the underside of her breast. He could feel the rib bones beneath his hands
and he liked the feeling. Her breast was firm, smooth, and supple as he cupped
it.

	"Careful you don't disturb the electrode," cautioned Cassandra. She
watched as her sensors showed the girl's body temperature rising at the man's
touch. She smiled, and reached for a switch.

	"Captain?" she stated, voice flat.

	He looked up, lifting his hand from the girl's breast.

	Cassandra flicked the switch up, then down.

	The girl grunted once then lay still.

	"Didn't want to shock you too, Captain my dear," Cassandra said, her
eyes glowing with mischief.  "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to start the
program. Once it's under way, we can turn our attention to that one." Cassandra
flicked her head in the direction of the nurse, naked and cowering in the
corner.

	The Captain ran his hand down Summer's leg, then crossed the few feet to
Cassandra. He took the training mistress in his arms. "So what is it you plan
for this one, my evil lady friend?" he said, nipping at Cassandra's ear while
his hand kneaded her butt. Her dark, dark hair smelled like jasmine, sweet and
enticing. He sighed to feel her hand rubbing against the front of his fatigues.

	"You are incorrigible," he moaned into her ear, "Do you never get
enough?"

	"Never, my love my Captain, there can never be enough" she replied. "I
want it all."

	"Be careful what you ask for, sweet Cassandra, for you might get it."

	She snapped her head back, placing her hands on his chest, and pushing
slightly away. Her eyes were bright, inflamed with passion and lust. "I'm always
careful, " she replied, her voice throaty. "And I always get what I want."

	He leaned in to kiss her throat.

	"Un-un-un-uh! Later my sweet," she teased. "First there is work to do." 
Cassandra pushed herself away from her lover's embrace, and turned back to the
switches and dials.



	Summer tried to move, but her arms, legs, would not obey. She could see
that she was strapped down, but could not understand how four little straps
could render her completely immobile. But she could feel - oh yes, she could
feel. Her skin felt like it was going to burn away. Little smoldering prickles
of fire, all over her body, and especially where the straps held her down. She
could feel something hard between her legs, knew something was stuffed up inside
her, something that was solid, nice, filling, very pleasurable. She could feel
her lust growing by the second, she wanted that thing between her legs to move,
to wiggle, to caress her clit and make her come over and over and over with
waves of hot thick soupy pleasure that would carry her into that oh so welcome
blackness again...

	Ohh! A touch. She watched a soldier stand next to her, his hand slowly
caressing her flesh. She could see him say something, but could not hear his
voice. His hand, oh! It felt so good, but it burns, it ...

	UNH!

	She felt the shock on her breasts, the electricity burning her like a
thousand simultaneous wasp stings. Hurt! Hurt! Hurt! , I hurt!

	She was now even more aware of the thing filling her bum, it hurt but in
a pleasing way to be filled so ...The conflicting feelings were making her mind
foggy ...

	Where did he go? The soldier is gone now, out of sight.

	It's quiet again. No more shocks, thank God! But my skin, it's like I've
been dipped in some kind of fiery oil and I hurt all over ...

	Huh? Everything is black ...

	"Summer" ...

	The Voice, yes it's Her! Yes, yes!

	"Summer, I know you can hear me, but you can't speak, can you."

	No! No! I can't and I want to speak, I want to move I want to...

	"This is nice, isn't it, Summer, doesn't this feel nice?"

	Oh yes! Nice, very nice! The thing in my ass, oh, it's warmer, and it's
moving and ohhh, so nice ...

	OWW!

	That hurt! It shocked me!

	"Remember, Summer, what gives you pleasure can always give you pain, too
... but if you're good, and you pay attention, you'll get nothing but pleasure,
and wouldn't that be nice, Summer?"

	"Yes, yes! Yes! Please ..."

	Mmmmm, that's so nice ...it's so big! Filling me, sliding into me ...
yes, touch the clit, OH! It's so big and hard! YES! Back and forth, like that,
yes! Faster!

	Colours, look at the lovely colours, flying in front of me, going round
and around and ...and that feels so nice, yes! Oh, oh! I can feel ... I'm coming
... inside me, ...oh! So good! So ...oooohhhhhhh! Yessss! Omigod, yesss!!





    "So, Cassie, what's happening here?"

   "To begin, she's been given a rather potent cocktail of hallucinogens
combined with a drug which causes complete physical paralysis, for a controlled
period of time, of course, and what's commonly referred to as 'truth serums",
hypnotics really. Add in a sexual stimulant, by the way - she's going to be
insatiable very shortly.

   "I control all her senses - visual through the VR system, auditory through
this handy little mike which feeds into specially designed earplugs inside the
helmet, and tactile, because she can't move or resist.

   "The overall effect, when combined with several weeks of deprivation,
manipulation and abuse, is the creation of a very willing subject."

   "Willing to ..."

   Cassandra smiled coyly at the Captain. "Willing to do anything I ask, of
course."

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 14





	Cowering in her corner, the nurse was all but forgotten as Cassandra
started the process that would turn Summer into Angelita's bedroom slave.
Marissa knew that pain was going to be an essential element - Summer had too
many wires connected to too many ultra-sensitive body parts for any other
purpose. As well, she knew that Cassandra used electroshock, maybe not on a
regular basis but frequently enough that most of the ranch's inhabitants feared
receiving a summons from her.

	The virtual reality helmet was an interesting twist though, she thought.
She wondered what images Cassandra would be showing the helpless girl, and how
that would tie in with the shock treatment. Clearly some form of behaviour
modification was contemplated, but as a professional nurse, she had to wonder if
that would have a long-term effect. Of course, the witch Angelita could always
send the girl back for future programming and re-education, assuming the girl
lived long enough.

	Marissa squatted quiet as footstool, watching and listening. Although
the girl would gasp and groan, apparently in pain, she hardly moved at all. The
nurse wondered just what drugs Cassandra had used to render her victim so
helpless. Her Mistress Cassandra was truly a spider-woman, with a very potent
bite.

	Spider bite, that was it, the nurse realized. Mistress Cassandra had
incorporated some form of neurotoxin in the drugs given the girl. Puffer fish,
maybe? Marissa shuddered to think of how painful the recovery process was going
to be for the girl in the chair. First she would be unable to move, and only
barely conscious. As she slowly came to, she would begin to be aware of her
surroundings, but if Mistress had added hallucinogens and hypnotics, well, who's
to say what that reality would be? As the drugs wore off, and especially the one
that induced the catatonic state, the girl's pain would be enormous. It would
start with her skin feeling like fire ants were all around, then burning itching
pain as all her nerve endings slowly came back to life....To be touched, even
ever so lightly at that time would make even Superman scream.

	I'm glad it's her and not me, she thought. Very glad indeed.

	Because that would just be the beginning of the fires of hell.

	She could imagine some of the things Cassandra might do. Clamps,
floggers, pinching, pins and needles, sure, but even a feather could become an
almost lethal device when you're that susceptible to pain. She knew from
watching and participating that her Mistress was a very skilled practitioner of
chemicals and brainwashing techniques. She remembered her own experiences early
on, the ones designed to ensure she would be totally and permanently loyal to
Cassandra: the whipping, the bondage. But it was the white room she feared the
most.

	It wasn't a room, more like a closet, or even more properly, a white
seamless cylinder that was either so brightly lit you had to squeeze your eyes
shut against the light or it was so dark you could not imagine light ever
existed.

	The white room. Marissa still had nightmares about that place. She had
been allowed to work in the infirmary. Then, one day, she had made the Big
Mistake. She was just making conversation, she just wanted to know where the
soldier patient was from, that's all, but Mistress Cassandra caught her breaking
one of the rules - no communication with anyone admitted to the infirmary.

	Big mistake. Mistress had had her slapped in irons so tight she still
had the bruises, then frog-marched down to the hall to one of the laboratories.
Marissa was strapped to a frame and flogged. She screamed, she cried, and still
the blows rained down on her until she was so bruised and sore it hurt to feel
the breeze across her skin. She had fainted more than once. Each time she was
snapped back into consciousness, then a different part of her anatomy was
flogged until she fainted.

	Her head was yanked up by her hair, a funnel thrust in her mouth, and
some foul tasting concoction poured down her throat. The last thing Marissa was
aware of before the drug induced blackness set in, was being untied from the
whipping frame and dragged down the hallway once more.

	When she woke up, she was in the brightest room she could imagine. It
was like standing in a beam of pure light: top, bottom, all around her was
totally brightly white. She tired to look down, but found she could not lower
her chin. She had some kind of neck corset keeping her head up. Her range of
movement was severely limited by the neck corset too. It was strange, for it
seemed as if the rest of her wasn't tied down in any way, but neither could she
move. There appeared to be a rod or pipe running down behind her head, attached
to the neck corset, and she guessed it was also attached in some way around her
waist. And her waist was tightly constricted - she could feel the compression
against her lower ribs, almost to her breasts. Her lower body seemed to be
dangling in air, although she could reach down with her toes and touch a smooth
bottom to her cell. There was no way for her to raise her hands. She tried but
her hands were encased in rubber mitts, and the mitts were fastened to the
sides. Anyway, the chamber was just too small to allow her movement much beyond
a flexing of her elbows, wrists and other joints.

	All in all, she was stuck like a bee in a honeycomb in the centre of the
sun.

	It was warm in this cell. She could feel it getting warmer as the lights
continued to blaze. She had to squeeze her eyes shut and even then, the world
was bright, only red instead of white.

	"Help?" she asked. Her voice was soft, without any trace of echo at all.
She tried yelling louder. It sounded much the same.

	Marissa had screamed and yelled herself hoarse, and had only hurt her
throat. No one came to see what was happening, not a sound in reply. Only her
heart beating and breath whistling in the tiny bright white space.

	She tried to measure time by counting heartbeats, but gave up. Time was
meaningless here. It didn't count; it had no value, no worth in a microcosmic
universe of bright white light and immobility.

	She had to pee, and that bothered her. She could not move but for a few
centimeters. She certainly could not squat to relieve herself and as to cleaning
herself after, that was totally out of the question. She waited, distracting her
physical urge with mental games, concentrating on not having to urinate.

	It was the shame she felt when the hot golden liquid first trickled down
her inner thigh, then gushed as her bladder voided itself, that hurt the moist.
She had not peed herself like that since she was 3 years old. The acidic flow
stung where it drizzled over her whipped and broken skin.

	In retrospect, Marissa decided that some sort of electrical contact was
made when her urine puddled at the bottom of the cell. The urine closed a switch
that caused the lights to go off. All in all it was very clever, she mused. She
had been isolated and feeling almost smothered in brightness, prayed for relief
from the interminable light. When she could no longer hold back on a basic
bodily function, she got what she asked for - darkness.

	Blackness in a honeycomb cell was unlike anything she had experienced in
her life. It was not just dark, it was completely, totally, absolutely dark.
There was no chance pinpoint of light, no varying shades of darkness, just a
complete and total absence of anything and everything.

	She could not move, could not see, could not talk to anyone, could not
hear anyone - she was in absolute darkness in every sense.

	Without the light, the temperature in the cell began to drop. Or maybe
it was her nerves that began to crumble, but no matter, all she remembered was
how she began to feel colder and colder, and more and more alone and afraid. She
shivered and trembled and begged for relief for assistance, for some sort, any
sort of human contact.

	All she received in reply was water.

	It was the water that had truly frightened her beyond rational thought.

	She gasped in surprise when it first touched her toes. The water was
warm, warmer than the air in the cell. But where had it come from? She could not
remember hearing anything to indicate that something was being placed in the
cell with her. But then, she had been screaming and crying so loudly ...

	The water slowly trickled higher, over her toes, lapping at her instep,
before rising to drench and finally immerse her ankles. The thought ran unbidden
into her mind. Was this how she was going to die? Was she to drown like some
kind of bug in a jar?

	Her knees, her thighs became wet as the water slowly rose in the cell
like the red liquid in a thermometer on a warm day. Her tears, born of horror
and frustration, dripped down her cheeks and joined the rising tide. Anxiety
grew faster than the water. If she was to drown like a trapped rat, if she was
to die like this, she wished it would hurry up and happen.

	When the level reached her waist, and stopped, the tears and terror
broke forth like the shattering of a levee in springtime.

	She did not know how long she remained in the absolute blackness, waist
deep in water, helpless. It could have been five minutes, it could have been
five hours, there was no way of knowing. All she knew was fear.

	The nurse shivered at the memory. God forbid, she would never, ever want
to experience anything like the white room again! She would rather suffer
physical torture than go back to that horrid place.

	It came to her that the girl on the chair would sooner or later find
herself an insect in an all white cell. The nurse crossed herself and offered a
quick prayer.

	Cassandra took that precise moment to look back over her shoulder to the
corner of the room. At Marissa. And smiled.

	"Oh God, Mistress saw me?" the nurse wailed in her mind. Panic flooded
in. She was terrified that Mistress would think she had misbehaved, but she had
done exactly what Mistress told her to do, and she had been good, and she sucked
the Captain dry just as Mistress instructed before he arrived, and, and  ...

	Cassandra turned back to adjusting dials and monitoring Summer.

	"Perhaps my Captain," she began, "we will play with the little slut in
the corner soon. Would you like that, my Captain?"

	He reached over and like a lover, ran his hand down Cassandra's cheek.

	"Perhaps we will, Cassie, we'll have some fun with her, and then," he
smiled as she kissed his palm, "And then you and I will enjoy some time to
ourselves, too, hmm?"

	"But what about Angelita ..." Cassandra's voice trailed off.

	"Fuck Angelita. I'll send her off on a training exercise, or some other
excuse."

	Cassandra was almost purring as she rubbed herself against him. "You
could always give her to me, you know,"

	He laughed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you."

	Cassandra just smiled, and turned back to her monitors.



	Marissa had been suspended in the pitch-black capsule, half her body
immersed in water, for an untold amount of time. Her mind was wandering, panic
haven given way to desperation, and almost hopelessness. She squeezed her eyes
shut, her jaws clamping in pain as the lights suddenly came back on. Once more
she was drowning in bright light. After the seemingly interminable darkness, the
light was at the same time a torment and a relief.

	She had just managed to develop some focus when the light went out.

	The water rose higher against her waist. One inch, two inches, until it
touched the underside of her breasts.

	The light came on. The water flow stopped. Then blackness. More water.

	She screamed her terror, her frustration, and her anguish.

	The light came on. And the water continued to rise. Now her breasts were
submerged in the warm liquid. She tried to look down, but the neck corset
blocked the movement and her peripheral vision just wasn't quite good enough.
Her neck was sore from being held in the stiff position for so long, but that
was the least of her concerns. Now she could not only feel the water, she could
smell it, and it stank of her death.

	Wait! Someone was screaming! Was that someone who had heard her? Was she
to be rescued? Then, in a tiny corner of her battered mind, she realized that it
was she who had been screaming all along.

	The water was at her neck, when it stopped.

	And she was plunged into blackness once more.

	She waited, frightened, wondering.

	Nothing. No light. No sound.

	She screamed, to feel a slow trickle of water over the neck corset and
touch her chin. The level was rising again! She panicked, not wanting to drown,
screaming, kicking, thrashing, and only succeeded in making her face wet with
the splashes she caused.

	Its wet kiss touched the sloping skin beneath her lips. And still it
rose higher, deeper, touching her mouth.

	Marissa choked as it splashed into her throat when she screamed. She
tilted her head as far back as the neck corset would allow, keeping her nose and
mouth out of the water so she could breathe.

	The wet blackness consumed her.

	She took shallow gasping breaths, the sound flat in the overwhelming
blackness. Her chest heaved with coughing. She realized she had fainted from the
terror and almost drowned. But now, something was different. The water - the
water didn't seem to be as deep as it had been.  In fact, she thought it had
dropped a fair bit - yes, it had, it was no longer chin deep, and migod, it was
draining out! She was not going to drown after all!! Oh Mistress, I've learned
my lesson, she cried, I'll never disobey you again, never, ever, just let me
free from here, don't let me die here ...

	The water continued to drain from the cylinder, the level receding from
her shoulders to her breasts, from her breasts to her waist, and then, with a
sudden rush, from her knees down the unseen hole through which it rushed to who
knows where.

	To her amazement, the capsule began to tilt backward. Slowly she was
placed in a supine position. Then, it began to rotate forward, turning her 180
degrees, until she was dangling face down.  The light came on and she could see
a little ball of water rolling in the smooth concavity of the capsule. She
watched it as best she could as it ran down the side out of sight as she was
once again turned 180 degrees, back to a supine position. She no longer cared
which way she faced, however, she just wanted out so she could say how sorry she
was to her Mistress.

	There was a hiss, and she caught a whiff of some foreign smell, but that
was all she could recall of her experience. The next thing she knew, she was
back in the lab, naked and strapped to the red leather chair.

	Just like the other girl was now.

	Not a good place to be, but still, there are worse places.

	Marissa shivered, knowing that things were unfolding here, that she had
a part to play in them, but just what was coming next?

	And would she survive to see the final curtain come down?





	"So, lover man, would you like to see what she is seeing?"

	The Captain looked at Cassandra. "You can do that?" he asked.

	She smiled and pressed a button on the panel in front of her. A monitor
beside the chair flicked to life.

	The images on the screen rivaled the murals in the brothels of Pompeii.
Two women, three, even four women, locked together in combinations that boggled
the Captain's imagination.

	"Right now, she is receiving some very positive sensations. She will
associate them with the Sapphic behaviours she is watching on the virtual
reality goggles. In fact, she thinks she is part of all this, and is being
fucked every which way by these women. But when I do this ... " Cassandra made
some adjustments on the panel before her "... things change."

	The screen dissolved through the women into a new tableau, a man with an
immense erection plunging it into an unwilling female partner. Simultaneously,
the woman in the chair groaned.

	"She's just received an electrical shock from the metal dildo in her
pussy. The longer this scene goes on, the more intense the voltage. And the
shocks will hit her nipples, her ass, her pussy ... "

	The girl's body jerked in the chair.

	"And as the drugs slowly fade from her system, the sensations of pain
will increase dramatically."

	"Couldn't she just close her eyes?"

	Cassandra's throaty chuckle was a menacing sound. "No, that won't help.
The goggles are wired with a sensor that monitors how long her eyes are closed.
More than about a second and a half, and she will get an intense jolt."

	"Very impressive," commented the Captain.

	"The only downside is, she won't sleep well for the rest of her life.
The body memory will be expecting a shock, and she will only reach stage One
sleep."

	"Stage One?"

	"The shallowest of sleep levels. Not very refreshing, I'm afraid, and no
dreams."

	"The Captain pondered this information. "What does that mean, Cassie?"

	Cassandra looked over at the girl in the chair. "Unfortunately, she will
eventually burn out and collapse from exhaustion. Or die of chronic fatigue. Or
go mad."

	She slid her lean form against the Captain's hard muscular body.

	"But enough of that. I've got the program on automatic, and that means
we can play for an hour or two, " she purred. Cassandra snapped her fingers.

	The nurse crawled out of the corner, and rubbed her face against the
Captain's legs.

	"Shall we play, my love?" Cassandra punctuated her invitation by licking
the Captain's ear.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 15



    "Summer, fetch me my sandals, that's a good girl."

   "Yes Mistress."

   Bells jingling, Summer left her kneeling position beside the dressing table
and crawled across the richly polished hardwood flooring. Summer was familiar
with every square inch of this floor, for she had polished it often enough. When
Mistress was peeved, or encountered a ball of dust, or dropped an earring,
Summer seemed to end up polishing the floor, by hand. One time Summer had to
hold a feather duster in her mouth, and sweep the entire room.

   After six months as a bedroom slave, she was accustomed to being on her hands
and knees - it was the position she was trained to hold whenever Mistress was
present.  The jingling of the bells was now as natural a sound for her as her
own breathing. Some days she was chained at wrists and ankles, and the chains
made a slithering sound as she crawled about, but today, she was as free as her
servitude allowed.

   The girl rummaged through the walk-in. Which sandals did Mistress want? There
was at least a half dozen pairs to choose from, and she knew if she chose wrong,
she would be punished.  To her surprise, Summer had come to enjoy some of the
harsher treatment she had received from Mistress Cassandra and Mistress
Angelita. Quite often she had been brought to orgasm while being soundly
whipped. Pain and pleasure were not so far apart anymore. And anyway, she was a
slave, a little slut, and did not deserve better.

   Swimming! To go swimming, that would be heaven sent. She would have to be
exceptionally pleasing to Mistress before she would be allowed to go near the
pool, let alone swim in the pool.

   Summer selected the rainbow sandals. Gingerly, she took the thin leather
straps in her mouth.

   Angelita was preening. A shopping trip to Miami had resulted in several
luxurious items finding their way into her closet. The designer bikini and silky
wrap she was wearing were among these new acquisitions.

   "Thank you Summer," she said as her slave girl placed the sandals at her
feet. Angelita continued to run the brush through her hair, making it shine like
a black topaz shot through with red streaks.

   Summer crouched beneath the dressing table.

   The brush hit the tabletop with a clunk. Angelita hummed as she rummaged
through a dish on her dresser, the sound of metal against china clinking in the
quiet of the room.

   "There we are!" she exclaimed with pleasure. "Well Summer, what do you
think?"

   "Mistress is beautiful."

   A smug peal of laughter bubbled from Angelita's throat.  "You'd say that no
matter what I wore, you little slut. But I thank you anyway."

   Summer examined the pattern in the wood grain of the flooring. She remained
perfectly still, perfectly quiet.

   "Think of how you can please me later," Angelita said as she snapped one end
of a short lead to Summer's neck collar. The other end was securely attached to
the table leg.

   Angelita's sandals click clacked across the room.

   Summer studied the floor as the door snicked closed.

  

  

   "Hey Leon, what's this shit that we have to report to the clinic for a
physical check up? Nothing wrong with me."

	"The order came from my cousin. She says all the soldiers have to have
one."

	"Hey, cousin Angelita can come give me a physical any time, heh heh."
Miguel pumped his hips to demonstrate.

	Leon laughed. "Yeah, that ass of hers makes me want to take up incest."

	"Well, I got better things to do." Miguel raised the beer bottle to his
mouth. He closed his eyes as he poured the liquid down his throat.

	"Like what? Angelita's going to Bogota; we're supposed to go with her.
And she says we have to have a check up before we go, so we'll have the fucking
check up, man."

	Miguel spat on the floor.

   "Shit."

   Leon crossed his feet in the coffee table, and swigged his beer. "Listen,
While we're in Bogota we'll find some nice pussy, score some stuff ...Anyway,
you don't want to mess around with Angie's buddy Cassandra. So have the fucking
physical, and don't be such a hardon, okay?

   The upholstered chair squeaked as Miguel lurched forward.

   "Leon," he growled. "Something's not right here, get it?"

   "What do you mean?"

   "When was the last time you had to have a check up, huh? Why does the bitch
want you to have one now, huh?"

   Leon scowled.

   "Hey man, I don't know. What does it matter anyway?"

   "Listen, it may not matter to you, but I think something fucking strange is
happening here, and I don't know what the fuck it is, but I know I don't fucking
like it."

   "Shit man, you're just being paranoid."

   Miguel slapped Leon on the temple.

   "Hey fuckhead! You want to end up in the jungle? "

   "Hey! Don't slap me, man!"

   "Then pay attention. I don't want to end up feeling monkey shit falling from
trees and roots pushing their way through my body because someone put a gun to
my head and pulled the fucking trigger, see? I got no interest in dying young
unless I can do it while fucking the ass off some puta, and frankly, I don't see
no one around here that makes that worthwhile."

   "Just don't be slapping me around, okay?"

   Miguel took a puff of his cigar and laughed. He put his boots back up on the
table.

   "Or what? You'll tell the witch cunt Angelita, your cousin? Fuck."

   "Well fuck you too," Leon whined.

   "Leon, don't be such a pussy, okay compadre?"  Cigar smoke circled around
Miguel's head as he spoke. "Something stinks, I don't like it, okay? But we'll
get the fucking check ups and keep you and your cousin the witch happy, okay?
But I ain't going near that clinic, no way.  That nurse, she can come here."

  



   A nimbus of light grew around the door. The light became a beam that ran
across the hardwood floor. Summer was instantly awake. It was a skill she had
learned, like sleeping sitting up, one that helped to keep her in Angelita's
good graces.

   She was surprised to see Cassandra de la Huerta stride through the open door.

   "Summer, my precious?"

   Summer kept silent.

   Cassandra crossed the bedroom floor. She stood still, pirouetted, searching.

   "Ah, there you are! Come out, little Summer."

   The girl moved ahead only slightly before the chain pulled taut.

   "Summer?"

   Cassandra took several steps toward the dressing table. She crouched, and
reached to caress the cowering girl.

   "Summer, come out of there," she coaxed, stroking the slave girl's face.

   "I'm sorry Mistress, but I can't. Please don't punish me for disobeying."

   Cassandra followed the chain from the padlock at Summer's collar to the
padlock at the table leg.

   "Oh, I see, Angelita has kept you here. No matter, I can fix that."

   The training mistress rose to her feet and stepped away from Summer's line of
sight. There was the distinctive sound of drawers being opened and closed.

   "And here we go!"

   Cassandra crouched again before the cowering girl. She jingled a set of keys,
then unlocked the padlock at Summer's neck.

   "Out you go!" she said, helping the girl out. Stiff as she was from her
cramped position, Summer assumed all fours, and awaited further instruction.

   "Sweetie, go over and sit on the bed, I want to talk to you."

   "Yes Mistress."

   She crawled across the floor, then perched on the edge of the mattress, knees
apart, hands behind her back, head bowed.

   Cassandra studied her. Summer's auburn tresses fell raggedly past her
shoulders. She ran her fingers through the girl's red hair, soothing and
smoothing. She sat beside the frightened girl.

   "Now Summer, I want you to remember back many months ago ..."

   "Yes Mistress?"

   "I rescued you from the Training Centre, and took you into my clinic,
remember? That's where we worked together to help you get strong, and to know
how to serve Mistress Angelita."

   "Training centre ..." she shuddered.

   "Yes, that horrible place," sympathized Cassandra. She placed her arm around
the girl's waist. Comforting her. "They did terrible things to you there, didn't
they Summer."

   Tears welled from Summer's eyes. Vague shapes flickered through her mind, of
things being done to her, being raped and beaten ...

   "But I rescued you from there, didn't I, Summer."

   "Re-rescued me? ..." she sniffed.

   "We went to the pool together, and I gave you pretty things to wear, and I
was going to take you swimming ..."

   Summer brightened. "Swimming ..."

   "That's right, swimming. Would you like to go swimming, Summer?"

   The girl shook her tear stained head up and down.

   Like a mother with a child, Cassandra wiped the tears from Summer's cheeks.

   "Then I'll make the arrangements for you to go swimming when ever you like,
sweet Summer."

   "Bu-but Mistress Angelita won't ..."

   "Sshh, Summer. I'm here to help you, and you can help me."

   "I don't know, Mistress. You, you hurt me, too."

   Cassandra stroked Summer tenderly.

   "Yes, I did, Summer, but like you, I didn't have a choice. It was Angelita
that ordered me to hurt you. "

   Summer turned to Cassandra, puzzlement written across her face.

   "Yes, it's true. Angelita ordered me to do those things to you. Just like she
ordered those soldiers to take you captive and to rape and beat you ..."
Brushing Summer's hair back, Cassandra continued. "Just as you're a prisoner
here, in a way, so am I. Angelita is the one who runs things around here, and
she is very, very wicked. She's planning on giving you back to those soldiers
..."

   "No!" Summer started and began to rise from the bed. Cassandra, placing her
hands on the girl's naked shoulders, held her down. Summer began to cry.

   "There, there, dear one," soothed Cassandra as she enfolded Summer in her
arms. "I won't let this happen to you. No I won't".

   Summer sobbed her fear, her tears wetting Cassandra's blouse.

   "But I need your help, little Summer. Help me, so I can help you."

   Her eyes wide and wet, Summer spoke.

   "Help? You?"

   "Yes dear, you can help me. And then, I will help you. You just have to do
one tiny little thing for me, and then I will save you from those awful
soldiers."

   "No, no," Summer shook her head in defeat. " Mistress Angelita would never
... I can't."

	"Yes you can, Summer."

	"No, don't know..." The girl tried to turn away from Cassandra, to flee
the bed.

	"Summer!" Cassandra's anger flared. Immediately, the girl stopped her
struggle. She dropped her head, but did not face Cassandra.

	"Summer," Cassandra's voice was soft once again. "I know this is hard
for you, but I do need your help. And I will protect you if you help me."

	"Don't know ... I'm afraid, Mistress. Afraid."

	The training mistress rubbed the small of Summer's back. The skin was
soft, smooth, the muscles underneath tense and taut.

	"I know you're afraid, dear. You've been mistreated, badly mistreated,
and by Angelita. You don't want to be hurt any more, either ..." Cassandra
kissed the top of the girl's head. Placing a finger beneath the girl's chin, she
lifted Summer's face.

	"Help me Summer. And I will help you."

	A tremble ran the length of her body as she looked into Cassandra's
eyes. She sniffled.

	"Oh-okay."

	Cassandra took her into her arms. "Good girl!"

	



	It was all arranged. Leon made a call to the Clinic, and set it up.
Cassandra's nurse would do the check ups in one of the offices at the Training
Centre at 1600 hours.

	"Gentlemen," Marissa said, snapping a rubber glove over her hand. "This
is just a routine check up. As you know, we have a number of new residents here
at the ranch. With all the diseases out there..."

	"Nothing wrong with my willie," laughed Miguel. Leon chuckled.

	The nurse glared at the two men.

   "With all the diseases out there, it has been decided that all residents of
the ranch are to have a basic physical examination and some blood tests.  I
understand you two are accompanying Mistress Angelita to South America?"

   "Yeah," grunted Miguel.

   "As a result, Mistress Angelita felt now was the best time to have hers, and
your check ups done and out of the way. Now, gentlemen, one at a time please."

   She opened the door. Leon looked over at Miguel.

   "Hey compadre, I'll go first, then you, okay?"

   Leon nodded and left the room. .

	"I'd like you to strip down to your shorts, please," the nurse said. She
was cool and professional.

    "You gonna strip down to yours too, heh?"

    Marissa smiled sweetly.

   "Maybe" she replied. "When it's time to check your prostate."

   Miguel laughed and unbuttoned his shirt.

   "Trousers too, please".

   "You want I should drop my shorts too? I'd be glad to do it for a pretty lady
like you."

   She smiled, ignoring his advances.

   "Take a deep breath please."

   "Hey, this thing's cold!"

   "Yes, we refrigerate them before use. Just for fun."

   "He. I can believe it!"

   "Now, just keep taking deep breaths. Thank you."

   The exam was routine, and the nurse was very cool and professional: blood
pressure, ears, throat, reflexes, and the gamut of routine tests.

   "So, how am I doing?" Miguel asked.

   "Just fine," was her reply.

   "Anything else you want to check?" he leered. "You'll be pleasantly
surprised, you know."

   She smiled sweetly. "I'm sure I will. But first things first."

   Marissa walked behind her patient and explored her traveling case.

   "I need to take some samples of your blood, and then we'll be almost
finished."

   Showing him the small glass vial for his blood, Marissa gave her patient a
coy look. She swabbed his arm, and stuck him with the hypodermic.

   "Ow!"

   "Now, a brave soldier like you isn't afraid of a little needle is he?" she
teased. She brushed her hand down the front of his shorts. "I'd be disappointed
if you were, because I still have to check your prostate, and I wouldn't want to
ruin the fun..."

   Miguel swaggered. "I'm ready when you are, pretty one." He grabbed his
crotch.

   "Good", she said, jabbing a new needle into his arm.

   "What the fuck? You didn't say you were gonna give me a shot."

   "No I didn't, did I. But I gave you the shot anyway."

   Miguel jumped the table. He grabbed at the nurse, and missed. She backpedaled
away quickly.

   His knees gave out and he crashed to the floor.

   "What the fuck did you do to me, you bitch!" he yelled.

   The room was spinning around. Miguel's legs jerked spasmodically, then he lay
gasping for breath.

   "Just gave you something to make you sleep, Miguel. You're going away for a
bit. And I'll be there when you wake up."

   "You ... bitch!" he hissed.

    "One final matter to check, Miguel," Marissa stepped toward him. She used
her right foot to kick him in the crotch.

   He moaned in pain.

   "Yes, your prostate is just fine," she said. Her voice oozed honey. She knelt
and whispered in his ear. "Dream of me, Miguel. Because I can hardly wait until
we meet again."

   His eyes rolled back as consciousness fled.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 16

  

	The light was very bright, so bright she jammed her eyes shut. She could
feel her pulse in her temples: pum PUM, pum PUM. And her mouth! God, it tasted
like the battle for Iwo Jima had been fought there, with her tongue the hill to
be gained.

	"Summer," she croaked.

	"Yes Mistress?"

	"Draw the curtains and turn off the lights. And get me some juice and a
Midol."

	"Yes Mistress."

   Angelita knew she had had a few drinks last night with the Captain, but she
wasn't drunk when she returned to her cottage. At least, she didn't think she
was drunk.  But god, she felt rough!

   "Where is that stupid girl," she mumbled. "Summer!"

   No reply.

   "Stupid cunt," Angelita grunted. Her shoulders hurt, too.

   Angelita decided to get out of bed. When she got her hands on Summer, she
would smack the little bitch into next week.

   She tried to rise, but something was holding her back.

   "Oh no, don't get up, Angie my sweet. Just stay in bed. Don't trouble
yourself."

   "Cassandra?" Angelita's eyes snapped open. Reality bit her, hard.

   "What the hell?" She barked, shaking her arms against the ropes leading to
each bedpost.

   "Good morning to you too, Angie. Did you have a good sleep?"

   Angelita concentrated and brought the room into focus. Cassandra was sitting
on the wicker chair next to the bed, her long legs crossed, shapely ankles
resting on the bedcovers. A cup of coffee steamed on the end table next to her.
Summer knelt with her head in Cassandra's lap.

   "Cassie! What the fuck is going on here? Untie me, right now!"

   "I'm fine thank you, Angie. And yes, I had a good sleep too."

   "CASSIE!"

   "There's no need to shout. I can hear you just fine. But I do think that
certain pleasantries should be observed when one awakes, or the whole day can be
ruined. Isn't that right, Summer dear?"

   "Yes Mistress," Summer replied. She moved her head beneath Cassandra's hand
like a puppy eager for her mistress's touch.

   "Fuck you!" growled Angelita. "Now let me out of here."

   Cassandra raised the china cup to her ruby lips. "In good time, Angie. There
are things to discuss first."

   Angelita's yell echoed in the room. She wrestled against the bonds that tied
her.  The bed rocked.

   Cassandra rose, languidly perching herself on the edge of the bed. "Struggle
all you want, you're only going to hurt yourself, dear," she said smiling. "Save
that pleasure for me."

   Legs still covered by blankets, Angelita kicked her feet as she thrashed
about. The movement made Cassandra's coffee slop over the cup rim and on to her
blouse.

   "Oh now look what you've done," said Cassandra looking at the brown stain
spreading against the fabric. "You've made me spill! Summer, go get me a damp
cloth, there's a good girl."

   "Yes Mistress." The slave girl left the room.

   "Angie, Angie, Angie," Cassandra said over the sound of water running. She
leaned forward to where her friend lay one the bed. "You have so much to learn."

   "Fuck you, you bitch," Angelita snarled.

   "Here's lesson number one." Cassandra's right hand whipped out, smacking
Angelita hard in the middle of her left cheek. Angelita's head snapped to the
right with the force of the impact.

	Cassandra grinned broadly. "Damn! That felt good!" She stroked Angelita
on the side of the face as angry red welts appeared. "Was it good for you too,
Angie my love?"

	"Mistress?"

	Summer had returned, carrying a silver tray with a bowl, a cloth, and a
carafe.

	"Thank you Summer," Cassandra said sweetly. "Just put it over on the
table, please dear, then go fetch a glass of orange juice for our little friend
here."

	With a polite curtsy, Summer scampered from the room.

	"You know Angie, that girl has a very nice ass, don't you think? And she
is so eager to please!"

	"Cassandra, what is going on here?" Angelita's voice was quieter, but
menacing.

	"Why I should think it's obvious, Angelita. I've taken you prisoner."

	Angelita grunted as she thrashed against her bonds once more.

	"Angie, if you'd just stop that for a minute or two, I'll explain what's
happening. If you keep it up, you're only going to hurt yourself, or the bed, or
both. So cut it out."

	"Okay you conniving bitch, tell me what's going on," Angelita spat
through clenched teeth.

	"Where should I begin? To be brief, I'm taking over the island."

	"The island!" Angelita brayed her contempt. "And how do you think you're
going to do that, Cassie?"

   "It's already happening, dear one. I'll start with last night. While you were
busy screwing the Captain, I was here with our friend Summer. She was the
perfect weapon for me, you know, she fit into my plans wondrously! You are such
a tart, so full of lust, you asking me to train her gave me the opportunity to
create the ideal weapon to defeat you. Which I did. I trained her well, don't
you think? She is the perfect little bedroom slut, obedient, willing to please.
And so suggestible, darling, it's amazing! I hardly needed the chemicals at all! 
So I trained her for you, and planted a few suggestions of my own. Then last
night, it was so easy to bend her to me." Cassandra paused to light a cigarette.
"All along you thought she was yours, when really, she was my little pet project
just waiting to be put into action."

	"Mistress?"

	"Ah, speak of the devil! Thank you Summer. Please offer the orange juice
to Angelita. You'll have to help her drink it, of course, she's a little tied up
at the moment."

	"Yes Mistress." Summer walked to the head of the bed. She sat on the
edge of the mattress near Angelita's head. Turning, Summer offered the juice
filled goblet to the woman on the bed.

	"You should drink it, Angelita," said Cassandra. "The drug I had Summer
administer to you last night must have left you with a very bad headache, not to
mention the horrible taste in your mouth. The juice will help."

	Angelita turned her face away, her jaw clamped shut.

	Summer turned and looked questioningly at Cassandra.

	"Angie, I know what you're thinking. The juice is not poisoned or
drugged. It will make you feel better."

	Angelita pressed her head as far away from the proffered goblet as she
could.

	"Oh very well," Cassandra sighed, "Summer, give me the glass." Cassandra
took a long draught of the juice before handing the glass back to Summer. "Now
I'm certainly not going to drink it if it's poisoned, am I. So drink the damned
juice, Angelita."

	Her eyes shining like a viper's as it sizes up its prey, Angelita slowly
turned her head.

	"When I get free, Cassandra," she snarled, "I'll give you to Leon and
Miguel, and then I'll take what's left of you, and ..."

	"Please, spare me the drama, Angelita. Your cousin Leon and that pig
Miguel are dead." She extended her thumb and forefinger. Placing her fingertip
against her temple, she bent her thumb like the hammer on a revolver. "Now, shut
your hole and listen. You. Are. My. Prisoner. Get it? Don't piss me off."

	Angelita formed a gob of saliva and spat.

	Slap! Slap!

	Cassandra's hand flicked out in exchange, striking Angelita's face. She
grabbed Angelita's nightgown, and, with a single yank, ripped it open. Summer's
eyes grew wide as Cassandra smacked Angelita's exposed breast with the back of
her hand.

	Angelita sucked in air, but didn't shout. Blood oozed from the line
where Cassandra's rings tore tender flesh.

	Cassandra grabbed Angelita's cheeks, her long red fingernails digging
into the skin.

	"Try that again and I'll burn your nipples off!" she snarled. She waved
the cigarette in front of Angelita's eyes. "You know I'll do it, Angelita, so
let's be civilized, all right?" She gestured at Summer. "Now, drink the juice."

	Summer raised the goblet to Angelita's lips. Marks from Cassandra's hand
glowed bright against the dark hues of Angelita's skin. Reluctant, the prisoner
drank from the glass. Her eyes never left Cassandra.

	"That's better. Your body has always been amusing to me, and I don't
want to hurt it. Not yet, anyway." Cassandra settled back in the wicker chair.
She placed her feet upon the bed, crossing her ankles once again. "Last night, I
had Summer administer an effective but short term knock out drug to you."

	Angelita's eyes widened.

	"You're probably thinking: How did I know what you might drink before
bed? I didn't."

	Cassandra glowed with self-satisfaction.

	"It was applied to the rim of the glass, my sweet. It didn't matter what
you drank, Summer was to serve it to you in the appropriately prepared glass.
Which she did. And here we are."

	It was too much for Angelita. She exploded, her words a torrent of
venom.

   "What do you think you're doing Cassandra? I can have you tortured, killed!
With a snap of my fingers! I run this island! It was my father who ruled before
me, and his father before him. You're dead, you and your family! All dead!"
Angelita sneered her disgust. "You, your father was a soldier who took orders
from my father, just like you take orders from me. Your mother was a fisherman's
daughter." Angelita pointed her chin at Summer. "You have no more rights around
here than she does."

	Cassandra's eyes narrowed, just for an instant, before her lips curled
into a broad smile.

	"Sweetheart," she began, "do you think your mother was a Spanish
princess? She too was just a merchant's daughter. You forget, pirates and
thieves founded this island, and we all come from that magnificent bloodline.
Your father was Captain, true, and his father Captain before him. But Angelita,
sweet proud Angelita, do you think your father was the only child your
grandfather sired? " She paused to let the statement sink in.

	"Your grandfather was also my grandfather. My mother was his daughter."
Cassandra chuckled, a sardonic laugh.  "Maybe she was a bastard, but aren't we
all, here on this island paradise, Angelita?  My mother was your aunt, and I, I
am your cousin."

	Her eyes glistened as she leaned forward.

	"Your father knew it. He also knew that I was smarter than you, that you
were ruthless, petty and spoiled. Why do you think he paid to have me sent away
to be educated? Because he was a kind and generous man? Ha! He sent me away so
that I wouldn't be around while he set it up so you would inherit and that idiot
Rasquedo would be in charge. Rasquedo was to keep you from going berserk with
power, and to ensure the bloodline. I was supposed to go to college, meet some
Yankee stud, fall in love, have babies and just disappear. But I didn't. I
studied, and I learned, and I came back here.

	"All the time, I was planning, dreaming, waiting for the right
opportunity. I did everything I had to do to get ready. I have made alliances,
and gathered support.

	"And I am now claiming my rightful inheritance."

	"Whore, cunt, bitch!" Angelita spat. "You'll never have what's mine, I
promise you. Never!"

	Sitting back, Cassandra poured herself a cup of coffee.

	"Ah but don't you see? I already have it. Leon and Miguel are gone,
you're mine, and soon, very soon, the Captain will find himself, shall we say,
demoted?" She patted her abdomen. "After he fathers my child, that is. He is so
good in bed, don't you think?"

	Angelita screamed her fury. The veins in her arms stood out, muscles
rippling, as she pulled against the bonds. Her face glowed red with anger and
effort.

	"Enough of this," said Cassandra in a calm voice. "Time to move on.
Summer, please get me the compact case from my bag."

	"Yes Mistress," the slave girl replied. She rummaged through the bag
that lay on the floor near the dressing table.

	Angelita was still thrashing about on the bed as Cassandra accepted the
small round object from Summer. The training mistress rose from her wicker
chair, and moved toward the bed.

	"Hold her legs. I don't want her kicking me. "

	"Yes Mistress." She climbed on the bed and with some effort in
overcoming Angelita's struggles, maneuvered herself to straddle the captive
woman's thighs.

	 Pinned, Angelita's face was a mix of rage and hatred.

	"I'll get you, Cassie. You'll pay for this ..."

	"No, I don't think so, Angie." Cassandra opened the compact. Bringing it
close to Angelita's face, she puffed, and a fine white mist flew forward.

	Angelita coughed as the cloud descended upon her face.

	Summer stared at the two women, her mouth open.

	 "What the ..." Angelita stopped in mid-sentence as the first tremor
racked her body.

	"What is this powder, is that what you want to know, Angie? It's just a
little something passed down to me from my grandmother," Cassandra stated in a
menacing tone. "You must remember her? My Gran' Cass? I was named after her, you
know.  She was the fisherman's wife, the old lady who spent her time muttering
to herself, the one that you and your uppity friends called the bruja?

You were right. She really was a witch." Cassandra paused, and fixed Angelita
with a look. "Well, more correctly, Gran'Cass was a high priestess of voudon. 
And she taught me her secrets." She paused as another series of tremors coursed
through her captive's body. There was the sudden smell of urine.

	"A high priestess, who knew the secret of real zombie powder."

   With a snap! the compact clicked shut. Cassandra leaned back. Her smile was
feral. She began to chant, her voice low, hypnotic.

   Angelita's eyes showed white as they rolled back. With a final shudder, she
collapsed and lay still.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 17



	The guard checked the monitor before rising from his chair. A woman,
nurse's cap astride her crown of hair, was clearly captured by the security
camera perched above the front door to the ranch house. The chair rollers
squeaked as he lifted his bulk from behind the desk and strutted to the doorway.

	Cassandra's silky housecoat flashed open, briefly exposing her naked
smoothness as she raised a finger, conspiratorially, to her lips.  The guard
smiled his agreement, and nodded. Cassandra touched the finger to his lips and
blew past him into the house.

	He watched the sway of her buttocks as she glided down the hallway to
the Captain's office. Licking his lips, the guard turned back to his post.

	The click clack of shoes on the ceramic tiled hallway alerted the
Captain to his visitor's arrival. He glanced at the clock on the wall - 11:15 -
then at the monitor showing a woman scurrying down the hallway toward his door. 
The nurse, with her delicious body and expert mouth, was on time as usual.
Returning to the papers scattered across his desk, the Captain smiled with
pleasure. According to the weekly reports, the island's business - smuggling,
drug running, and even some legitimate dealings - was very good. When business
was good, his wealth grew. Not just the money that Angelita knew about, the
family money that came with running the island, his private wealth too. He
chuckled at how easy it was to cheat on Angelita - with money, and with pussy.
He let her have her fun and games with the women, he had them too.

	The singing board in the doorframe signaled the arrival of his guest.

	The captain looked up.

	Cassandra smiled as cat-like, she walked toward him.

	She threw the nurse's cap into the corner, and shrugged the silk
covering from one shoulder.

	"Well, this is a surprise," exclaimed the Captain.

	Cassandra purred her reply. "Hello handsome".

	Her hips moved like mercury as she slinked around the desk. The Captain
turned his chair to continue facing her. Cassandra placed her hands on the
Captain's chest, and pushed.

	The leather office chair rolled back.

	She shrugged the gown from her other shoulder, and stepped across his
lap. The silk slid down her arms, exposing her breasts.

	The Captain raised his hands. Taking his wrists, she placed his hands
against her rounded flesh. Throwing her head back, baring her teeth, she sank
down to straddle his lap. He could feel the heat of her molten core through his
trousers.

	Squeezing her breasts caused a soft moan of pleasure to issue forth from
Cassandra's mouth. Reaching between her own legs, she started to rub the
Captain's private parts through his trousers. She could feel his burgeoning
hardness.

	"Mmmmm," she thrummed. She kissed the Captain, hard, on his parted lips.
Her tongue tickled his gums.

	"Fuck me, right here," she hissed. "I want your hard cock inside me."

	She thrust her pelvis against him. He bit her nipple.

	Cassandra rose from his lap, and perched her butt on the edge of the
wood desk. She swept the papers to the floor. The Captain rose from his chair,
unbuckling his belt. The hiss of a zipper heralded the dropping of the pants to
around his ankles.

	Cassandra leaned forward. With one hand on each side of his hips, she
slid his underwear down to below his knees.

	His cock sprang to attention, finally freed from its cloth prison.

	He gritted his teeth in pleasure as Cassandra took his hot manhood into
her mouth. He could feel her sharp teeth against the swelling flesh.

	She leaned back. Bracing one hand against the desktop, she grasped his
now glistening wet erection, guiding it toward the cleft between her legs. She
stood on her toes, positioning herself, and with a groan, sank back on her
heels, capturing him.

	The Captain thrust forward, his hard manhood shoving its way against
soft wet tissue, pushing itself into the tight hot cavity.

	"Fuck me, Captain," grimaced Cassandra, "do it to me, hard!"

	He planted his feet. Placing one hand at the small of her back, he
pulled Cassandra to him. He plunged into her. He could feel her pubic bone grind
against his as he buried himself.

	"Yes! Hard!" she hissed. "Like that!"

	The Captain grunted and pushed, again, harder than before.

	Cassandra clenched her vaginal muscles, gripping him in a hot wet vice.
Wrapping her legs around his waist, she braced herself with her hands on the
desktop. She raised her hips from the edge of the desk, and pulled his cock
deeper inside.

	Like a raging, lust-crazed bull, the Captain buried himself, time and
time again. He could feel his member growing harder with each mighty thrust.

	Without missing a beat, Cassandra turned and presented her shapely
buttocks to the Captain. She dropped to her elbows, raising her ass into the
air. Her ebony hair swept the desktop as she tossed her head from side to side.
The Captain bunched the silk housecoat around her slender waist. He grabbed the
twin moons of her cheeks, kneading them. Growling with pleasure, he mounted her
doggy-style.

	"Unh!" moaned Cassandra with each thrust of his hot phallus.

	The Captain grabbed her hipbones, pounding into her as if trying to
touch her throat with his cock.

	Cassandra reached back with her right hand, between her legs. She
stroked his balls with her fingertips. The sensation had an immediate effect -
she could feel his cock grow bigger, harder inside her. She rubbed a knuckle
against her clit. Waves of pleasure swept over her, through her, around her.

	The Captain grabbed her by the hair, like reins, pulling her head back,
hard. The sudden pain intensified her pleasure, her back arching as the passion
burned trails through her body.  Every fiber of her being was alive as the slow
tension built, thighs burning as the feel of his rigid staff ripped through her
sex.

	His entire body went stiff. A hundred million sperm fired through his
cock and burst into Cassandra's hot wet pussy. After the first magnificent
eruption, he jerked again and again, his hips bouncing against her butt as he
and rode her to his release.

	Cassandra slowly lowered herself to the desktop. Her breasts flattened
against the polished wood.

	Her lover slowly withdrew his glistening member from her love passage. A
splash of cum fell from its tip to the floor.  He leaned forward, and bit her on
the waist, then ran his tongue down one cheek. He bit her taut ass meat.

	"Ohhh!" Cassandra moaned as he stuck his tongue into the wetness between
her legs. She pushed backwards with her hips, smothering him as he licked the
juices from her clit and slit.  Her head lolling back, soft moans escaped from
parted lips as his tongue trailed over her wetness, then diving deep into her
burning core. The heat grew as welcoming blackness of pleasure satiated
surrounded her. Cassandra's breathing began to come faster, heart racing as she
fought for control of the building tension. Stars burst into black holes and she
screamed as his tongue brought her to a sudden, second climax.

	

	

	Her toes, nails painted bright blood red, pointed to the ceiling of the
Captain's office study. Cassandra's leg was draped over the back of the sofa,
leg muscles causing the pillowed soft leather to move as she wiggled her foot. A
puff of cigarette smoke escaped from the small O she formed with her lips.

	"Tell me lover man," she said, her voice husky and redolent with sex and
satisfaction. "Is your skill with your tongue natural?"

   She dropped her right foot to the floor, exposing the patch of dark curls and
pink flesh between her legs.

   "Or was that a one-time event?"

   The Captain smugly leaned back in his swivel chair. He smiled.

   "Are you trying to seduce me, Cassie?"

   "Are you trying to refuse me, my Captain?"

   "Heh, as if any man could refuse you."

   Her hand languidly slid down her smooth belly. She twisted some of the rich
black curls with her fingers. Like a cat doing yoga exercise, Cassandra slowly
arched her back. Her hand slid lower.

   "Mmmm," she softly moaned.

   The Captain watched the long muscles of her left thigh clenching and relaxing
as Cassandra slowly moved her hand back and forth.  Rising from his chair, he
stepped across the room.

   "Ohh!" Cassandra sighed at the touch of his hand on hers.

   "Play with yourself" he replied. "I want to see you come."

   "Hmmm, why don't you play with me?"

   "Cassie, you're insatiable."

   Purring, twisting her body, Cassandra displayed her heat. Her hand darted
back and forth like the tongue of a snake. She lifted her hips from the leather
sofa, belly and thigh muscles taut. She pulled the Captain's face down to hers.

   "I want to feel you inside me," she hissed. Her breath was hot and damp. Her
musk was strong, heady.

   The feel of her tongue probing his ear made him shiver.

   "Now, my Captain," she demanded. "Fuck me now."

   Using his rigid cock like a rudder, she steered him between her waiting legs.

  

  

   "I'd like a brandy. Do you want one too?"

   "Hmmm, brandy, a good cigar and you, what more could a man want?"

   Cassandra leaned over and kissed the tip of his penis. The saltiness of his
semen tickled her taste buds.

   "Mmmm, I know what I want, and more of it," she said.

   The Captain's laughter rang in the quiet of the room.

   "Madre de Dios, woman, you trying to kill me?"

   Cassandra smiled. "Not yet."

   He laughed again. Sated with pleasure, he closed his eyes.

   Cassandra crossed to the cabinet where the Captain kept his liquor. Selecting
two snifters and a crystal decanter, she poured the drinks. The rich liquid
splashed into the ballooned glasses. Her right hand slid into a hidden pocket of
the silk garment, emerging with a small vial of colourless liquid.

   "I feel like dancing, " she said as she emptied the vial into one of the
glasses. "Lovemaking with you makes me want to dance". She swayed her hips
seductively.

   The silk dressing gown swirled and twirled as she glided across the floor.

   With hooded eyes, the Captain watched as Cassandra's sleek form gracefully,
sinuously sambaed closer to where he lay. Her breasts slid out from behind the
fabric as she leaned over, presenting him with a glass.

   'All I need now is a cigar," he joked.

  

   The guard was puzzled. Cassandra's nurse assistant and another woman were
outside the door. It looked as if they had a gurney too.

   "What are you doing here?" he asked.

   "I got a call on my beeper from Mistress Cassandra," the nurse answered. Her
voice was tinny through the small desktop speaker. "It was the emergency
response call."

   "I don't know nothing about no emergency."

   "It just came through a minute or two ago. We rushed right over."

   "I don't know. Maybe I should check."

   The woman shrugged into the tiny camera. "Hey, check all you want. You're the
one who'll be buried in the jungle, not us."

   The soldier sat back in his chair. The woman had a point. He did not want to
be executed, and if something really was wrong, and he didn't let the nurse in
... At the same time, rules are rules, he thought, and no one told him of any
trouble.

    "I think maybe I should check with The Captain."

   "Mistress Cassandra's with him, right? She paged us with an emergency call,
right? Go ahead, interrupt them, be my guest. And if something goes wrong for
you, we'll light a candle."

   Reluctantly, the guard pressed the buzzer that unlocked the door. He wasn't
sure if it was the right thing to do, but he did not want to be shot. Or worse,
for he knew there were much worse things than being shot.

   He watched the monitor. The strange woman turned her back to the door, and
began to pull the gurney through. The nurse pushed. His eyes flicked over to the
monitor showing the Captain's study. He hesitated just before pushing the button
that would activate the dark screen. He heard the wheels of the gurney squeak.
He pushed the button.

   A flicker of white in the centre of the screen.

   A voice took his attention away from the monitor.

   "You know something soldier?" the nurse smiled. "You should have obeyed
orders."

   "Wha...?" 

   There was a crackling sound. The guard flew from the chair. He convulsed
several times before lying still.

   "Cuff him."

   Bells jangling softly, Summer stepped to where the guard lay. His eyes were
rolled back. She flipped him over. With a zip, plastic binders fastened his
wrists and ankles.

   "This way".

   Summer pushed the gurney, following Marissa down the hallway.

  

  

   "Mistress?" the nurse queried, knocking on the study door.

   Summer was astonished at the interior of the hacienda. The flooring was a
combination of beautifully polished woods and rich ceramic tiles. Original oils
and watercolors were everywhere. Pre-Columbian figures perched atop plinths in
alcoves and throughout the immense reception area. Everything was exquisitely
designed and constructed, without even a hint of ostentation. The quiet, simple
richness spoke volumes, far more than lavish decadence ever could.

   It was a dream world for her, made even more so by the contrast with the way
she had lived the past six months - confined to a dog kennel, or chained within
a single room.

   She was almost bewildered by the sheer beauty.

   The knock on the dark wood door with its carved handles brought her back to
reality.

   "Come."

   The nurse pulled the door open. Standing behind the gurney, poised to enter,
Summer peered into the Captain's private study for the first time.

   It was a huge room. Broad wooden plank floors, polished to reflect the soft
glow of light that filled the room. Shelf after shelf of leather bound books
along one wall. Opposite, marvelously wrought antique mahogany sideboard.  An
antique desk. Papers scattered across the floor. 

   Cassandra's shapely ankles were crossed, one heel resting on the desktop. A
feathery nimbus of cigar smoke circled her head.

    Summer could see the Mistress's naked body beneath the silk dressing gown.

   Looking around, Summer realized the Captain was asleep on the black leather
sofa near the desk.

   Cassandra gestured with her cigar.

   "Put that lout on the gurney and take him back to the lab," she ordered. "And
don't worry about waking him up, he'll be asleep for a couple of hours yet."

   The nurse smiled.

   "Yes Mistress."

   She pushed Summer toward the unconscious man.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 18



   The sweetness of jasmine and hyacinths flavoured the night air. The high
drone of heat bugs was punctuated with the occasional sound from the surrounding
jungle. Cassandra's filmy silk dressing gown flowed behind her as she crossed
the grassy parade grounds.  Goosebumps covered her smooth skin, for the air was
cool.

   She approached the door to the medical offices. Lights beamed through the
shaded windows of the small building.

   The soldier standing guard snapped to attention. He opened the door for her.
Cassandra nodded, and passed through the portal into her lair.

  

  

   Captain Phillipe Rasquedo was a prisoner. He was shackled hand and foot to a
wooden X frame. A leather gag sealed his mouth. Confusion was evident in his
eyes. He was still groggy from the drugs.

	The nurse was leering at the naked captive. She held a braided leather
whip. Angry red marks striped his torso. Blood could be seen where the leather
had split the skin.

	"Nice outfit, Marissa."

	"Thank you Mistress," The nurse curtsied politely. Marissa had shed her
fatigues and stripped down to a sports bra and boxer shorts. She was sweating, a
testament to the warmth of the room and the exertion of whipping her captive.

	"You understand your instructions?"

	"Yes Mistress."

	"He is to be milked of his semen, which is to be stored for in vitro."

	"Yes Mistress."

	"I don't care how you get it from him, whether you beat it out of him,
whack him off or suck it out with a vacuum, just be sure you get it and that it
is properly stored."

	"Yes Mistress."

	Cassandra stepped over to her lover, now her bound captive. She stroked
his face, then let her hand slowly run the length of his side in a lover's
caress.

	"Ah, Phillipe, my Captain," she cooed gently. "Who would have thought it
would turn out like this, hm? You married Angelita so you could have power, you
fucked me for your pleasure, and now ..." She laughed. The Captain threw his
head back in agony as she twisted his nipple.

	"Now the pleasure, and soon, the power, will be all mine."

	Cassandra turned back to face the nurse. "Where are the others?"

	"In the sensory deprivation room as instructed, Mistress."

	Smiling, Cassandra swiveled and faced the Captain once more. She grasped
his hair and pulled his face forward. She kissed both his cheeks, her lipstick
leaving red imprints.

	"Good bye, lover man. It's a shame you won't live to see our children."

	She stopped in the doorway before exiting.

	"Marissa, six hours. No more. Then ..." She snapped her fingers. "And
get me his seed. Other than that, he's all yours."

	The door swung shut behind her.

	 "Nnnnhhh!" Grunting in frustration and effort, the Captain raged
against his bonds. Muscles in his arms bulged, veins in his neck swelled as he
attempted to pull himself free.

	"Hahahaha ha!" Marissa's sardonic laughter ripped through the room.

	"Whoosh! Swack!"

	The Captain jerked as the fiery end of the leather single tail bit into
his flesh.





	"Fucking bitch!"  he spat out his fury. "I get my hands on you ..."

	"You had your hands on me, you son of a whore, now it's my turn."

	The cattle prod crackled. The man in the cage howled in pain as the
electricity burned his calf.

	"Just be glad I don't burn that slimy cock, you pig."

	Leon glared at his tormentor. Little rivers of sweat snaked down his
hunched form. Bruises and welts and burns gave his skin a patchwork covering. He
smelled of fear and piss. 

	Summer poked the prod through the bars of the cage. Leon wiggled away
from her as best he could - with his forearms bound to the roof of the small
cage, there was little he could do. Her thumb on the control, Summer jabbed
Leon, hard, several times, along his legs.

	"Fuck!" he yelled in agony as the cattle prod sent a sudden massive jolt
across his back.

	A pitiful whimper came from the adjoining cage. Leon and Miguel had been
placed in steel cages. Forced to kneel, their arms were raised behind them and
shackled to the bars atop the cage. 

	Leon hacked up a gob of saliva and spit it at Miguel.

	"Fucking pussy" he growled.

	"Screw you."

	"Hey, you were the big tough man, 'the bitch nurse can come to me', you
said ... well, asshole, she came to you all right. And now you cry like a baby."

	Summer used the moment to touch the sole of Leon's foot with the prod.
He jerked so hard, he almost dislocated his shoulders.

	"Shit!" he bellowed. "That hurt!"

	"Enjoying yourself my dear?"

	Summer swiveled upon hearing Cassandra's voice. She immediately fell to
her knees, head bowed.

	"Hello Mistress. Have I displeased you, mistress?"

	Cassandra smiled as she walked over to the kneeling girl.

	"No, Summer, you have not displeased me." She raised the girl's chin
with her finger.  "I was just wondering if you have been having fun with these
two pigs."

	Summer's smile stretched from ear to ear.

	"Oh yes, Mistress! I have been poking them with the cattle prod, and
made them squirm and scream, and ..."

	Cassandra placed a finger across Summer's red lips, to silence her
gushing.

	"Good girl," she said. "Now, what about our other guest?"

	"As Mistress instructed, she is still in the isolation tank, the white
room."

	Cassandra looked at the two men in the cages. Smiling, she turned to the
vertical white tank in a corner of the room.

	"Splendid."

	Cattle prod in hand, Cassandra sauntered over to the cages.

	"Miguel, Leon, how nice to see you again!"

	"Cassandra, what is ... what are .. ??" Miguel whimpered.

	The cattle prod barely grazed his flank.

	Miguel screamed in pain and terror.

	"I didn't say you could speak, pig," Cassandra barked.

	A gob of spit splattered near her foot. She looked over at Leon. He
leered back.

	"I always said you were just a whore."

	"You did?" she said, feigning surprise. "Why Leon, I'm shocked!"

	She jabbed the cattle prod between the bars.

	Her growled and swore as the pain rocketed through his upraised, numbing
arms.

	"Now you're shocked too."

	She tossed the cattle prod in Summer's direction.

	"Sweetie, I want you to keep an eye on these two for a while longer
yet."

	"Yes Mistress."

	"You can continue to amuse yourself with them, just don't hurt them too
badly."

	Summer's pleasure was obvious.

	The sensory deprivation chamber was a technician's dream come true.
Connected to the chamber by spaghetti-like strands of cables and wires was a
complete workstation, with an array of computers dials, oscilloscopes, and
assorted technical doodads. Cassandra walked over, and seating herself in a
leather chair, studied the dials and computer settings.

	"She has been in here for how long now?"

	"Since Mistress Marissa and I brought her here two days ago, Mistress."

	"Good."

	A red lacquered fingernail touched a switch and a monitor flickered into
life.

	The camera peered down from an awkward angle, yet a woman's form was
clearly visible. She floated, completely immersed in liquid. A black rubber
outfit covered her from head to toe - not a speck of skin or hair could be seen.
Hoses led from her nose and between her legs to the outside. She twitched as
Cassandra watched.

	The red fingernails moved to a dial, and turned it clockwise a notch.

	The black figure on the monitor twitched and jerked with greater
violence.

	Cassandra busied herself with punching keys on the keyboard. The words
"vert pan down" appeared on the monitor. The picture changed as the camera began
to move inside the tank. Slowly, the details of the woman's trapped form were
revealed.

	For a few minutes, Cassandra watched the slow, steady progress of the
camera from top to bottom. She punched more keys. The image on the screen began
to revolve as the camera moved to a horizontal pan. The rounded curved of the
imprisoned woman's body were clearly defined as the camera conducted its
circumnavigation of the isolation chamber.

	Cassandra ignored the male grunts and groans of pain floating through
the room. She pushed the chair away from the workstation. Rising, she turned off
the monitor.

	"Summer dear."

	Summer hurried over to Cassandra.

	"Here is what I want you to do."

	"Yes Mistress?"

	"First, you know how our friend here" - she tapped the isolation tank -
"is to be displayed when she is released from her bath?"

	"Yes Mistress, hooded, kneeling on the frame."

	"Right. You are to deliver her yourself."

	Summer smiled. "Thank you for the honour, Mistress."

	"Now, as for those two, Mistress Marissa is in charge of how they are to
be prepared ..."

	"Excuse me Ma'am". The soldier's voice was crisp, respectful.

	Cassandra looked at the door. A young soldier stood smartly at
attention. He saluted.

	"Yes?"

	"Ma'am," he began, "Lieutenant Merielle and his squad are ready, ma'am."

	"Perfect!"  Cassandra turned back to Summer.

	"Summer, you stay here with these two pieces of meat. Amuse yourself
with them. But they must be able to perform, understand?"

	Summer curtsied. "Yes Mistress."

	Cassandra stepped close and whispered.

	"And Summer, I want them to be very angry, very much looking to rip
someone's heart out in revenge."

	"Mistress?" the girl asked.

	"Make them hate each other. Play 20 questions, and when someone gets a
right answer, shock the other. Do the same if he gives the wrong answer too. Use
your imagination."

	Summer smiled.

	"You're a bright girl Summer, you know what to do." Cassandra patted
Summer on the cheek, then left the room.

	The slave girl sauntered over to the cage containing Miguel.

	"Hey Miguel," she said softly. She reached into the cage and stroked his
cock, balls. "I have a hot cattle prod here. Would you like me to use it on you
... or on Leon?"

"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."

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

Chapter 20

  

   It was dusk. That time when the predators have roused and are searching for
fresh blood; when the prey begin to slink back into their hideaways. When the
lines between life and death are blurred.

   The first scream froze the jungle creatures like a snapshot. It stilled the
cacophonic symphony of birds and beasts and breeze the way no other sound had
ever achieved.

   When the screams continued, and the shouting and drumming joined in eerie
harmonies, the jungle creatures returned to their familiar ways, yet remained
ever vigilant, for some new terror was loose, and they did not want to cross its
path unwittingly.

   Bonfires burned in the clearing like red and yellow blossoms of some giant
plant. Men and women congregated around each one, singing, dancing, swilling
fiery liquid from large jugs.

   A small platform had been built in the center of the ring of fires. A cross
had been stationed to one side of the platform; an altar-like device was
situated just slightly off center.

   Summer tried to lurk on the outer circles of the clearing. She did not know
what was going on or what was to happen. She was confused, overwhelmed, afraid.

   Along with a number of the dancers, Summer had been hustled from the hall and
herded into the back of an army truck. The others were jabbering in a mix of
Creole type French, Spanish and Indian, with the occasional English phrase
thrown in. She gathered they were on their way to some kind of celebration,
somewhere deep in the hills of Las Brisas.

   Bottles of liquor were passed around the truck. The sweet smell of marijuana
quickly blossomed in the crowded environment.

   One of the dancers strode across the truck, and straddled a man's lap. She
kissed him, offered him her breasts, grinding her hips against his crotch.

   The man across from Summer leered hungrily. A joint was passed her way.
Summer shook her head no. The man passed a jug, slopping some of its contents
across her leg. Again she shook her head no. Laughing, he made drinking motions
to her, rubbed his belly as if he were contented, then pumped his hips
lasciviously. Others, watching, laughed. Summer could not help herself. She
laughed - it was a comic scene. He offered her the bottle again, and this time
she took it.

   The liquor was sweet as honey, thick and ripe, as it flowed down her throat.
Then all fire as it burned inside her. She felt her face flush.

   Her fellow passengers laughed. Rising, the man gestured for her to drink
more. When she said no, he scowled and advanced toward her. He placed his hand
on his crotch, menacingly.

   She threw the bottle at him.

   A roar of laughter as the bottle bounced off his arm, the truck bounced on
the road, and the man was almost knocked off his feet. He stared hard at Summer,
then roared out his laughter.

   There was a surge of bodies toward the center of the clearing. An aura of
excitement shot through the gathering. Summer found herself being jostled, and
slowly pushed forward through the sweaty partying bodies, until she found
herself near the front.

   The same barefoot, regal woman who had been the centerpiece of the dancing at
the club appeared through the glow of the flames. Her ample physique glistened
in the firelight. She wore the same full, black skirt and billowy white blouse.
Her braids of ebony hair now gleamed with bangles and feathers. Her eyes shone
like the burning coals of the bonfires.

   Summer watched transfixed as the large woman climbed the three stairs to the
platform. The clearing slowly went silent as the woman took command of the
night.

   "Mes amis!" The woman's voice was surprisingly powerful. It was hot as a
summer breeze, soothing as a mother's prayer. "Mes amis! L'heure de notre
victoire sont arriver!"

   The clearing erupted with cheers and frenetic pounding of drums.

   "La grenouille! Apportez moi la grenouille!" she shouted.

   The crowd parted. Two men, dragging a third, his body mottled in red and
yellow and black paint, emerged from the jungle. They thrust him forward into
the throng, forcing him through a gauntlet. The celebrants spat at him, slugged
him, knocking him to his feet. The two men pulled him to a standing position,
pushing him forward.

   "l'hibou!" cried the woman on the stage. "L'hibou!"

   A second man stumbled from the jungle. Covered with feathers, he followed the
first through the gauntlet, staggering like a fighter who has been hit several
times too many.  The throng hooted as he stumbled and crawled by.

   Each was grabbed by several men, and hustled to the cross on the platform.
Nooses were placed around their necks. Ropes thrown over the crossbeams. Seconds
later, each danced on tiptoe, straining to keep from strangling. Bloody spots
appeared around the rough hemp as fingernails pierced flesh in desperate
attempts to loosen the noose.

   The woman, whom Summer recognized as the priestess from the supper club,
laughed at the efforts of the two hanging men. She took a mouthful of drink,
then spat it in the face of the one she called "l'hibou".

   Turning to the assembled throng, bottle in one hand, walking stick in the
other, she raised her voice yet another time.

   "Et maintenant, apportez ici la chienne!"

   It was the spectacle from the supper club all over again. A line of dancers,
beads jangling against bare breasts, skin slick with fragrant oils and sweat,
led the procession. A tumbrel pulled by two women in traces, wearing bridles and
harness followed. Summer recognized the woman standing in the cart. Dressed in a
leather outfit and brandishing a vicious looking cat of nine tails, was the
nurse Marissa. She looked imperious, haughty, her wicked grin an evil Cheshire
cat look that made Summer uneasy. As the cart passed, Summer could see a naked
form lying at Marissa's feet. The pony girls continued toward the platform at
the center of the clearing.

   A touch on her breast. Rough hands, kneading her ass flesh. Summer turned to
see who was assaulting her. As she did, a hand clasped over her mouth, another
hand thrust her skirt up above her hips. Twisting, Summer jabbed an elbow behind
her. And struck air.

   A man's laugh, as brutal as his hands, burst forth.

   "You don' like that, gringo puta?" the man sneered. "You try dis , den."

   A puff of smoky stuff in Summer's face. It tasted awful, dry like powdered
bones.  She coughed.

   He laughed, and thrust a flask before her lips. Grabbing her hair, he pulled
Summer's head back and poured a vile thick wine-like liquid into her throat and
across her face. She choked and coughed.

   Still laughing, the assailant slipped back into the crowd and disappeared.

   Eyes tearing, still coughing, Summer turned to see the tumbrel had reached
the platform. Using a booted foot, Marissa pushed a body from the back. The
celebrants cheered as it tumbled to the dirt.

   "Mes amis, la chienne!" crowed Marissa. "The bitch!"

   Summer thought it must be the heat, the excitement, for her vision suddenly
shifted diagonally, then righted itself. A burning heat started in her loins and
belly, then slowly crept throughout her body. The drums were hypnotic, the
woodsmoke and sweet smell of marijuana and sweaty bodies mingling with the musky
dankness of the jungle. Another racking coughing fit doubled her over.

   Struggling to straighten herself, Summer saw the form referred to as la
chienne being partly dragged partly carried to the platform. She recognized her
former mistress Angelita, as la chienne was placed on her hands and knees and
strapped to the altar.

   The world turned kaleidoscopic. Summer did not feel herself fall in a heap on
the ground.

  

   It began as an itch, evolved into a torment of a thousand ants biting her
skin, the fiery lances of a thousand bees jabbing her.  Summer groaned, the
sensation unrelenting. She wanted to scratch herself raw, to rip the burning
flesh right off, but her hands would not work for her.

   She hung like a rag doll against the center post of the cross, between the
two hanging men, a rope wound around her waist holding her upright. Women were
painting her naked flesh in bright reds and yellows and blacks, like the frogman
to her right. A woman would dip a rag into a bowl of colour, then smear the
colour against Summer's skin. At first, the sensation was normal, like a gooey
liquid. Then, it started to itch, and the torment began.

   "Ah, you are returning to us," came a deep voice from nearby. Hands grasped
her hair, and pulled her head up. Summer looked into the mad face of the large
woman.

   "Unh" Summer replied, her muscles refusing to allow her to speak.

   "Ha ha ha!" The woman cackled, "you will make plenty of noise soon enough!" 
She thrust her cane between Summer's legs, roughly jerking it upward into
sensitive flesh. "Paint her here too," the woman commanded. She looked at
Summer's now fallen head. "Imagine what she will feel, when her skin is so
painful even a breeze will cause her agony, and that is when she will be given
to la grenouille to be fucked!"

   Hearing every word, feeling every touch, unable to move or resist, Summer
sank deep into terror.

  

   Headlights appeared along the dirt track cutting through the jungle. A green
Toyota Landcruiser rolled into the clearing. A large square shape filled the
pickup bed. Firelight reflecting off its side exposed it: a big metal box. The
Toyota stopped at the edge of the crowd.

   Soldiers, well armed and in camouflage, began to appear from the shadows of
the jungle. They advanced slowly, like molasses creeping across a tabletop.

   In seconds, the only noise in the clearing was the crackling of burning logs.

   The soldiers moved forward, circling the clearing in a pattern of crossfire
that could only mean certain death to all in the center.

   One stepped to the driver's side of the Toyota and reached for the door
handle.

   The door swung open.

   The soldier stepped back, saluted.

   Lieutenant Mereille, still in his dress uniform, dismounted.

   Snapping back a salute, he marched to the passenger side. Opened the door.

   The red of the bonfires glimmered against the deep red of the hooded cloak
worn by the woman who descended from the cab of the truck.

   First kissing the Lieutenant, the woman turned to the hushed and still crowd.

   Cassandra threw back the red hood.

   "Elle est arrive!" bellowed the large woman from the platform.

   Screams and cheers and drums and gunshots erupted. Men and women dropped to
their knees, reaching out to touch her hem, as if for blessings, as Cassandra
majestically strode to the platform.

  

   Fighting through the constant pain, Summer managed to raise her head enough
to see Cassandra's entrance. Her heart lifted - perhaps now she would be
delivered from this horror in which she was now enmeshed. She watched through
tangled hair and lidded eyes as Cassandra strutted and preened like a haughty
queen, the red cape swirling around and around.

   "Please" Summer moaned. She could flex her fingers, the unpleasant tingling a
sign of life restored. The strangled gasps of the two men hanging beside her
drowned out her feeble noise.

   She looked to her right. The one called "la grenouille" was an agony. He
twitched and shuddered. Unbound, his hands raked his body. Long bloody
scratches, raw red streaks were carved in the multicoloured paint. His neck was
bleeding too, the harsh hemp slowly sawing through the skin.

   Their eyes met, fleetingly.

   Summer shuddered. Closed her eyes.

   Leon had looked back at her.

  

   The large woman raised her cane. An expectant stillness slowly settled over
the throng. A handful of soldiers stood ready at the base of the platform,
Lieutenant Merieille among them. The drumming slowed, then stopped.

   An eerie quiet settled over the clearing.

   She started speaking in her broken French, her voice soft as a mother's kiss.
"Mes amis," she began, "we are here to celebrate the birthing of our new leader,
and the death of our oppressors. The ones who have come in the night for our
wives and daughters and lovers, and stolen them away. Now it will be their
turn."

   Murmurs of assent echoed in the night. "Vive la mort!" cried one voice.

   "La chienne!" cried another. "Give us the bitch!"

   The noise began to rise when the large woman again raised her staff.

   "Soon enough!" She roared. "You will have your turn, all of you, soon
enough!" her voice quieted, and she smiled a rictus smile.

   "But first, before you cut to the bone where the meat is sweetest, you want
to try some of the other slices, non?"

   She pointed toward the cross. The crowd screamed its approval. The sound
raced through the jungle like grape shot fired from a cannon.

   The large woman turned to Cassandra.

   "Maintenant, notre reine! La Maitresse! Priestess Cassandra de la Huerta!"

   Wrapping herself in the red cape, Cassandra stepped to the edge of the
platform. The worshippers below screamed their adoration, drums pounding
frenetically like hearts at the climax of passion. Cassandra stood still as the
sound built around her.

   Then, slowly like a bird of paradise revealing its plumes, she raised both
arms, the cloak rising and opening with her.

   Naked breasts, painted gold, nipples rouged a bright red, were revealed as
the folds of the cloak fell away. Her entire body was painted a lustrous gold.
Flames from the bonfires made her flesh shimmer and move, burnishing her form as
if she were a golden idol to be worshipped.

   She whipped about, seeming to fly across the platform to the altar. She
grasped Angelita's hair, thrusting the head back almost to the breaking point.
Marissa handed her a long machete like knife.

   Cassandra placed the flat of the blade against Angelita's throat. Flicked it
ever so slightly.

   Droplets of blood appeared against the pale skin. Smiling, Cassandra slashed
down with the blade. She held a tangle of severed hair aloft as a trophy.

   Angelita's head slumped back down.

   Cassandra crossed the platform. She stopped before le hibou. Stepped in front
of Summer. Then continued to le grenouille.

   Turning to the crowd, she gestured to le hibou.

   "Un!" she cried.

   "Deux!" pointing at Leon.

   "Trois!" she said, slapping Summer's face with Angelita's hair.

   "Et finalement," she paused, then threw the handful of hair out into the
crowd.

   "Finalement, la chienne!"

  

   Summer cried, tears burning her face as the salty fluid mingled with the
paint on her cheeks. Marissa had given her a vile tasting liquid, and she had
regained more feeling in her body. Now she was truly on fire.

   "Pig slut," Marissa had sneered. "You thought you could replace me with La
Maitresse? Ha!" She grabbed Summer's hair, banging the back of the girl's head
against the cross. "Do you have any idea what has been done to you?"

   Summer blubbered in terror.

   "You think you are in pain now, with just the effects of the poison frog
paint on your skin. It burns, doesn't it, sweet one? It is a horrible way to
die, the poisons slowly eating their way through your skin to your inner organs.
I assisted with the experiments, you know. It takes about two days ..." Marissa
raised her arm. "And until then, you are mine."

   Her arm flashed. The knotted leather strands of her cat-o'-nine-tails raked
across Summer's thighs. Summer screamed as little spots of blood formed in the
fresh welts.

   "You think this hurts," Marissa crowed. She struck Summer again, this time
across the breasts. "Wait until you feel the kiss of the djambok - the whip of
elephant hide. It will peel the flesh from your bones."

   She stepped close, her nose almost touching Summer's.

   "Two days, if you're strong." She thrust the handle of the whip against
Summer's now painted, inflamed labia. The pain was worse than childbirth. "But
before you die, you are going to be fucked and bruised and cut in so many ways,
you'll think this" - she ground the whip into Summer's vagina, the hard leather
scraping tender flesh - "is a reward."

  

   The orgy was frenzied. Dancing, drinking, fucking, kissing, groping,
squeezing, kneading, lusting.  Through her tears, Summer could make out a scene
that looked more like a Daliesque nightmare fantasy than reality.

   Angelita was being brutalized. Marissa had whipped her, slowly, methodically,
each stroke exactly the same force as the previous, until Angelita's ass, thighs
and back were the same shade of red. Then she had switched to something that
looked like a carpet beater made of bamboo. Each time Marissa touched her with
this new device, Angelita howled her pain. Marissa kept tapping it quickly, over
and over on the same spot, then moving over just inches to the next.

   "Be glad, sweet Summer, that she is not doing that to you," Cassandra had
whispered. "When Marissa is done, Angelita's skin will be so inflamed, so
tightly swollen the touch of a feather will cause it to split." She paused.

   "Oh poor Summer," she cooed, seeing the girl's tears. "You are so frightened!
But dear, what did you think was going to happen?" Cassandra looked Summer in
the eyes. "Did you think this would have a fairy tale ending, that you would
live happily ever after? Foolish, foolish girl!"

   She stepped away, leaving Summer dangling.

   "Marissa!" Cassandra shouted so the crowd could hear. "Is the bitch ready?"

   "Wiping hair from her brow, Marissa turned to her Mistress. "Soon", she
replied.

   Cassandra turned to the large woman.

   "Have those who want to participate draw lots to determine the order of
fucking the bitch. Then, when the lots are done, we will pluck the owl."

  

   Summer's mind was on the edge of shattering. She was dying, she knew it. She
could not stand much more pain, yet every time she gave in, every time she said
enough and tried to slip away, she was revived. Given a respite.

   Then it would begin again. Each time just a fraction more horrible than the
last.

   At the same time, she knew the others were suffering even more than she, if
that were possible.

   "How do you pluck a bird?" had been the cry to the throng. "Fire! Knives!
Tongs!" had been the answer. L'hibou, who Summer knew now to be Angelita's aide
Miguel, had been lashed to a spit. A fire was lit beneath him, tongs and knives
heated, and then the tar and feathers and chunks of flesh were slowly cut from
him. He was not allowed the luxury of death, however. He had been cut down, his
flesh further tenderized with coarse salts and pepper sauce and alcohol, he was
pounded into unconsciousness with the butts of pistols, then he was thrown into
the large metal box that had been moved from the back of the Toyota to near the
platform.

   When they were done with Miguel, the rape of Angelita began. Cassandra was
right - the woman's flesh was so tender, the touch of a feather could cause
extreme agony. The rapists were told to do as they like.

   But she was not to die, not yet.

   Leon's fate was as horrible. The poison had been on him long enough to drive
him insane with the pain; he had literally ripped his own skin away as he tried
to ease the burning itch.

   His skin was slowly flayed from him. He was castrated, emasculated, the wound
cauterized. When he passed out, he was revived, each time the resurrection
taking just that little bit longer.

   When at last he did not recover right away, he too was tossed into the steel
bin.

  

   Marissa advanced on Summer, still bound tightly to the center of the cross.

   A pool of urine appeared at Summer's feet. Her terror was absolute.

   Marissa raised her arm. Metal hooks glinted in the night, dangling at the
ends of the leather strands.

   Summer raised her hands to cover her face and breasts.

   Cassandra's hand grasped Marissa's wrist.

   "Wait."

   Marissa turned to her Mistress,

   "But ..." she began.

   "No, the slut was useful to me. She deserves mercy."

   "Mercy, Mistress?" queried Marissa, her disappointment obvious.

   "Be quick. And do not over use your toys. You had your fun with Rasquedo, did
you not?"

   Marissa's smile was broad at the memory. "He squealed like a pig, Cassandra."

   "Then do as you are told, Marissa", warned her mistress.

   Cassandra called one of the soldiers over to her. She instructed him, then
turned back to her servant, her nurse.

   "When he is done, she is done, and you are done with her. No more." With
that, Cassandra stepped back into the shadows.

   Marissa nodded obediently. Turning back to Summer, she raised the brutal cat,
and lashed forward. The fishhooks ripped the burning flesh from Summer's
breasts. She thrust her head back in a scream of pain.

   The soldier slipped the garrotte about her exposed throat and began to
tighten. Summer's feet drummed against the timber.

   Marissa struck once more, across the other breast, then dropped the cat.

    "Soldier!" Marissa shouted. "What are you doing?"

   "Obeying orders," he grunted. "She goes into the box."

   Marissa placed her hand on his arm. She could feel his strength.

   "Then do this for me," she oozed. "Take her breath, and take her to the edge,
then throw her in the box. Let the jungle sun cook the meat from her bones,
along with the others."

   She turned, and walked to join Cassandra, the Lieutenant, and her new
cabinet.

  

  

   A week later, Marissa returned to the clearing on inspection. The crew had
done a wonderful job of cleaning the evidence. Ashes from the bonfires had been
scattered, the grasses and weeds already poking their heads through the
blackened debris. The platform as gone, without even a ripple on the earth.

   All that remained was a large steel box in the center of the clearing.

   An army truck rumbled along the dirt road. Several soldiers dismounted, and
ambled over to Marissa's jeep.

   "Dump the contents of the box into the bay for the fish. Then get rid of the
box."

   "Yes ma'am!" the commanding soldier responded. He ordered his men to begin.
One of them complained about the stench of burnt rotted meat emanating from the
steel container.

   "Oh sergeant," she said as he walked away. The soldier turned back.

   "Yes ma'am?" he asked.

    "When you empty the box, gather up any bones you find. Crush them into
powder. And bring them to me. "

   The soldier looked hard, his eyes turning into slits.

   "Yes ma'am."

   Marissa smiled.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

   Chapter 21



  

  

  

   Island Leader Lost at Sea



(Reuters) -  The tiny Central American island of Las Brisas is in mourning
today, as it was learned that the island's political leader, Captain Phillipe
Hernandez de Rasquedo, and his wife Angelita are missing and feared lost at sea.

	The Rasquedo's were on their way to visit South America when their small
private jet disappeared from radar view shortly after take-off. Search and
rescue helicopters sent from Las Brisas reported seeing small bits of debris and
oil on the surface of the ocean near where the aircraft was last seen. No bodies
have been recovered.

	Dr. Cassandra Maria Elena de la Huerta, a cousin of Mrs. Rasquedo, has
been asked to form a temporary government. Las Brisas is a small principality
with hereditary leadership undisturbed since its founding in the 17th century.
According to Las Brisan tradition, when a leader dies without an heir, a special
council of community leaders is convened to elect the new ruler-for-life.

"Summer in Paradise" by Fox

   Epilog

      



   Island Leader Gives Birth to Son and Heir



(Reuters) - "It was announced today that Dr. Cassandra de la Huerta, the new
ruler of the tiny island principality of Las Brisas, has given birth to her
first child and heir, a son.

   "De la Huerta was appointed temporary regent by the island's ruling Council
when the former leader, Captain Phillipe Rasquedo and his wife Angelita, were
first declared missing when their private aircraft was feared lost at sea less
than one year ago. She was confirmed as the new leader of Las Brisas a few weeks
later when the bodies were recovered by a military search and rescue operation
led by Lt. Alexander Mereille .

   "The child is to be christened Phillippe in honour of the late ruler of Las
Brisas, "

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