Chapter 1

Alyx

 

The rich, as F. Scott Fitzgerald noted, are not like you and me. As Hemingway famously replied, "Yeah, they have money." But it's not just money that sets them apart, though possessing large amounts of money is a prerequisite for engaging in the sort of activities which truly set the wealthy apart from the rest of us. Flying privately owned jets, for example, or owning plush vacation homes at ski resorts on multiple continents. Or belonging to the Club on Dorado Cay, for instance.

Not many people, not even many quite wealthy people, know of the existence of the Club on Dorado Cay. It has no existence in the public consciousness or the public record. It has no name other than that informal phrase which its members use to refer to it. "The Club on Dorado Cay." Or simply, "Dorado Cay."

A very select clientele form the membership. A small group of dedicated employees, many of them children or grandchildren of older employees, comprise the very discreet staff. A very small number of highly paid lawyers watch out for its legal requirements and a few well placed, and also well compensated, government officials look after its interests.

Of the general public virtually no one knows of its existence, except for a very, very few unfortunate individuals such as the one we shall refer to as "Alyx". We'll call her that because that's the name she gave herself as one of her earlier acts of rebellion. Her parents gave her Alyssia. But she decided she would be called Alyx.

On the evening when her unwilling journey to the Club on Dorado Cay began Alyx had come back to one of her favorite liquor shops, in one of the seedier parts of town. It was not one of her favorites because she could buy there. She'd tried it, several times, and despite the disreputable appearance of the place and her phony I.D. card they hadn't wanted to take her money. She was half-way through nineteen but still looked maybe sixteen and too many of the stores in the area had been burned by sting operations to want to risk an underage sale. But that didn't mean there weren't others around to assist her.

The clientele of the store were mostly pretty grungy looking characters, the kind of people who go out to a liquor store at 1 or 2 am, and they weren't usually so fussy about breaking the liquor laws, especially for a cute young thing like Alyx. She knew it was dangerous, trying to score a bottle in this part of town this late at night, but she figured she could take care of herself. She'd already had to punch a couple drunks who wanted more than money for a bottle of peppermint schnapps and she thought she'd developed a good sense now for who to ask and who to avoid. So she wasn't too worried when she approached a likely prospect, a decent looking guy dressed better than most and made her pitch. But he surprised her.

"Christ, are you kidding me?" he said in a loud voice. "Buy you booze? Get on home before I paddle your ass. Don't you have school tomorrow or something?"

But then he said in whisper "Meet me around the corner. Peppermint Schnapps was it?" He winked at her.

She nodded and took off for the corner. Clever guy, she thought. Do the transaction away from the prying eyes of the liquor store clerk. She walked slowly, trying to look natural in case the clerk was watching, around the corner. Once in the shadows of the alley she waited. A pity it wasn't this easy every time she tried to buy a bottle.

Minutes later he came around the corner carrying a brown paper bag. Seeing her he smiled and pulled the bottle out part way, showed it to her, then dropped it back into the bag and handed it to her.

"Thanks," Alyx said. "How much do I owe you?"

"I was thinking," he said, "we might barter for it."

Uh, oh, she thought. Here it comes. Just another dirty old man. She briefly weighed the idea of turning and running down the alley. But he might catch her. He looked to be in much better shape than the usual dirty old bastards who wanted to get into her pants. He also looked like he could get mean if he wanted to. Better to find out just what he was thinking first. Maybe she could bargain him down to a blowjob. It wouldn't be the first.

"So, whatcha thinkin'?" she asked, trying to sound cool.

"Oh, nothing much, really," he said. "I'm pretty much an ass man, myself. I couldn't help noticing how well you fill out your jeans. In back there. Just fantastic. So here's my deal. I give you the bottle. You slip those jeans down just enough that I can get a good look at those beautiful buns of yours." He paused for a moment. "And you let me stroke them. Just a coupla strokes. I just love the feel of a beautiful young lady's silky smooth ass. Whaddaya say?"

Alyx thought about it. Takes all kinds, and as far as pervs went this guy was nothing. And she was always short of cash. So what the heck. She turned her back to him and started to loosen her belt.

"Sounds like a deal, mister."

She lowered her jeans until she felt the belt slip under the curve of her buttocks. She bent forward slightly, pushing her butt towards the man.

"Oh, God, that's a beautiful pair of buns you've got. Just absolutely fucking beautiful!"

He paused. She heard his breath coming faster. Was he jerking off, she wondered.

"OK, don't be startled, but I'm going to touch them now."

She felt his hand brushing her right butt cheek. And then she felt a sharp prick, like a hypodermic needle.

"What the fu..." she yelped, jerking upright. She turned to face the son of a bitch, to see what he'd done, but her legs started to collapse beneath her. Her eyes started to lose their focus. The last thing she heard before she passed out was the sound of breaking glass as the bottle of peppermint schnapps shattered on the pavement.

The next thing Alyx knew she seemed to be in a sitting position. Her arms seemed to be up over her head, but she couldn't think why they should be. Her upper body seemed to be swaying slightly forwards and back. She raised her head and opened her eyes. They didn't seem to want to focus.

"She's coming round." Alyx heard a voice say.

"Good," another voice, husky but still feminine, said. "Raise her up."

Alyx felt a pull on her wrists and then she was being lifted up by her arms. She tried to struggle onto her feet but she was still too shaky. As her head started to clear she remembered that prick on her butt. The bastard had drugged her! At first she was angry. But then she started getting scared. What were they going to do to her?

She was on her feet, wobbling and swaying, and she felt the tugging stop. She was almost off the floor, the balls of her feet just touching a cold floor. She was barefoot. They'd taken her shoes off. Then with a start she realized that not just her shoes were gone. She had been stripped naked. Instinctively she tried to pull her legs up, to cross one leg over to shield her sex, but her ankles were fastened to the floor.

"OK, let's see what we've got here."

Her eyes were focusing now and what she saw really pissed her off. The sonuvabitch who had drugged her was at the far side of the room, a room that looked like it was garage or workshop of some sort. He had his hand on the crank handle of a winch and a smirk on his face. The cable that came off the spool of the winch went straight for the ceiling above her. Even with her still foggy brain Alyx could figure out the connection.

"Let me down, you asshole!" she screamed.

A second later she was seeing stars and the left side of her face was stinging from a hard slap administered by an unseen person.

"Quiet, or you'll get even worse, my pet," a voice said. It was the feminine voice, one that seemed most likely to go with an older woman, especially a woman who worked as a teacher in an inner city school or matron in a facility for hard cases. It was that sort of no nonsense permitted voice. Alyx, surprised and a bit intimidated, complied, letting herself hang limply.

"That's better, my dear," the voice said. "Yes, this one looks quite promising."

Hands traced the outline of Alyx's body, felt the muscles of her legs and arms. Alyx gasped slightly as they felt her buttocks, spreading her cheeks as if her anus were being inspected. They reached around to feel her breasts, lifting, then squeezing, then pulling on her nipples.

The examiner then stepped around where Alyx could see her. She matched her voice, an older woman, dark gray flecked hair done in a short pageboy style. She was a bit shorter than Alyx but stockier. Something in the way she moved, the way she handled herself, told Alyx that beneath the conservatively cut business suit was a body that was solid and well toned.

The woman's eyes traveled up and down Alyx's hanging form. It made Alyx uncomfortable and she tried to look away, but the woman grasped Alyx under the chin and looked her directly in the eye, then turned her head left and right.

"Very nice face. The black hair cut short like that sets off her fair complexion nicely. Young looking, but very sexual. Her eyes show spirit. That's good."

The woman's hands fondled Alyx's breasts again.

"Oh, these are lovely," she said. "Don't you just love the way they stand out, so proud. No sag at all. Did you ever read Orwell's '1984', Albert?"

"No, can't say I have," the man replied. He was obviously Albert, as there appeared to be no one else in the room.

"Read it many, many years ago," the woman said. "One phrase stuck in my mind. The main character embraces his girlfriend. He feels her breasts through the fabric of her blouse. They feel 'firm yet ripe' to him. That phrase has always stuck with me. And it describes our little friend here. These breasts are firm yet ripe."

She released Alyx's breasts and reached into a pocket of her suit. She brought out a pair of latex gloves and put them on. Then the woman knelt down and spread Alyx's sex, gently exposing her inner secrets.

"Not a virgin, of course," she said, "but then who is anymore. Still, very nice, neat. Very attractive little flower here."

She retracted the clitoral hood, exposing the little pink nubbin. Deftly she began to lightly tease the sensitive organ with just the tip of her finger. In spite of herself, in spite of the situation Alyx began to react to the unwanted attention, a fact not lost on the woman.

"Excellent," she said. "A good, strong libido. Just what we like."

She stood up, peeling off the gloves.

"Yes, just delightful," she said. "I must hand it to you, Albert. You're a fine judge of horseflesh. Or should I say girlflesh. She'll do just fine. I believe we have a deal."

Good God! Alyx thought. She was being sold.

"I knew we would the first time I saw her," Albert replied.

Alyx took a good look at the man's face. She remembered now. Several times in the last month she'd had the feeling someone was following her. It had been him. He'd dressed very differently each time. Worn sunglasses, hats, baseball caps to disguise his face. But she'd had enough glimpses of him that now it all fit together. The son of a bitch had been stalking her. Why she hadn't recognized him outside the liquor shop baffled her. In too much of a hurry to get a buzz on, she guessed.

The woman stepped back, reached inside her suit jacket and withdrew a manila envelope. She walked to Albert and handed it too him. He took it, opened it and pulled out a stack of bills. He counted them quickly.

"Bingo," he said. "Right on the mark. Always a pleasure doing business with the Club."

He pocketed the cash.

"And now I can collect the rest of my finder's fee?" Albert asked.

"Yes, but mind you, don't damage the goods."

"You know me, Syl," Albert replied. "I'll be gentle." He laughed, a repulsive snorting sort of laugh and approached Alyx. He bent down next to Alyx's right leg and unfastened the tie. He was careful to position himself where she couldn't easily kick at him. Then he went around to her left and undid the other leg. Having freed her legs the man now stood in front of her, a safe distance away of course. He began to remove his belt. His face had taken on an evil grin.

Crap! Alyx though to herself. He's going to rape me. She'd experienced a couple situations during her partying that might, in the most literal sense, be considered rape. She didn't like it, more for the loss of control she felt than anything else. Alyx liked to think she was in control of her little world and right now it was very clear she wasn't.

But instead of dropping his pants Albert doubled the leather belt in one hand and began slapping the loop thus formed against the other hand. He stepped closer to Alyx. Seeing where his eyes were focused she suddenly realized what he had in mind.

"No!"She screamed, "Not..."

But before she could get the words out the belt was slicing through the air and impacting against her left breast. Albert wound up again while Alyx was still screaming and delivered a similar blow to the right breast. Then he walked around behind her. She braced herself.

The blows came fast and hard against her butt cheeks. Alyx's arched her body forward to try to escape the bite of the leather. Her legs began to flail in the air in a mindless, wild effort to escape. She was grateful when she heard the woman say "Ok, Albert, that's enough."

"Just one more," Albert said.

He walked around in front of Alyx. She watched him with dread, her ass still throbbing from the beating he'd given it.

He stepped off seven or eight feet in front of her. He let the tip of the belt drop, holding it just below the buckle. He began to swing it slowly back and forth, then a little faster and a little faster. Then suddenly the tip of the belt was lashing out for her like a deadly brown snake, sinking its fangs into her mound just above her slit. In reaction she thrust her ass backwards, away from the pain. As she did so she felt a prick on her left buttock. She barely had time to realize what had been done when all faded to blackness.

 

Chapter 2

Kris

 

It was quite late when Kris set off for home. She was going to be really late getting there. Not that Richard would notice since he wouldn't be there anyway. Working out of town today, he'd said. Going to stay over until tomorrow. Yeah, right.

Kris knew all about Richard and all those nights he'd had to work late and all those trips out of town to see clients. It took her a long time, but eventually she figured it out. She'd been so naive, for so long! Not anymore, she told herself. Naive, trusting, gullible Kris didn't live here anymore. There was a new Kris in town and she wasn't taking any more shit from Richard.

Never marry a lawyer, her cousin had told her. And some of her friends had even backed that up. But she went ahead and married Richard anyway. And why not. He was handsome, successful, had a beautiful home in the best neighborhood in town. He belonged to all the right clubs and had a wallet with all the right credit cards, not to mention a wad of cash that could choke a horse.

And he was a goddamned philanderer.

And not just once. Who knew how many there had been before she got suspicious and had him followed. Based on what she knew of his activities in just the last year, if he'd been keeping up that pace during the whole twelve years of their marriage he'd screwed his way through an entire village by now.

So Kris had vowed to show him. She would get revenge on him. A very public divorce with all the dirty laundry put on display would show the world what a pig he was. And she would take him for every cent and every precious thing she could.

But she knew she had to be careful, very careful. Richard was smart and well connected. So she found a lawyer in the next town to take her case. It wouldn't do to have Richard find out what was up. She wanted Richard to undergo his very own personal Pearl Harbor.

She'd had one meeting with the lawyer, last week, and turned over the evidence the detective had accumulated. He was impressed. He'd called her to set up another meeting tonight. Things were looking good, he said, but he was concerned with Richard finding out. He even recommended that she be evasive, not take the freeway. He gave her directions to follow back roads. If anyone was following her it should be obvious. It seemed like a bit much to her, but then she didn't want to take any chances so she followed his advice.

So, after the meeting, she found herself driving home late that night, again on the back road route the lawyer recommended.

She was about halfway back to her home town when without any warning the engine of the Jaguar suddenly cut out. It didn't really surprise her, though. Friends had warned her about buying a Jag. Just not reliable, they said, and they'd been right. Just like they'd been about Richard.

She coasted to a stop at the side of the road. She put the transmission in park and tried to start the engine. It turned over but wouldn't catch. She fished in her purse for her cell phone. She had the number for the AAA towing service programmed in the phone, but just as she was about to dial it a yellow tow truck passed her. She thought about flashing her lights to try and get his attention but before she could the truck had already slowed and pulled over. Then it backed up to the Jag.

A tall, lanky man in grease stained overalls stepped out of the cab and walked back to Kris' car. She rolled down the window.

"Got a problem, ma'am?" he asked with a faintly Southern drawl.

The overalls, the drawl, the five o'clock shadow all made Kris wonder if she'd found her way into the old Andy Griffith show. She instantly thought of the tow truck driver as Gomer.

"The engine just cut out on me all of a sudden," Kris said, "and it doesn't seem to want to start."

"Well, I'll just take a quick look at it and then if'n I can't get it goin' we'll just tow it back to the shop. Hey, this is my lucky day. I'm just comin' back from a job and I get a two-fer. Can't beat that."

Kris pulled the hood release and Gomer raised the hood. He poked around for a minute or two, then stuck his head out from beneath the hood.

"Ma'am," he asked, "you got any fancy anti-theft devices on this car?"

"No, nothing that I know about," she replied. "It's just like it came from the dealer, except for the alarm."

"Oh, then you gotta see this, ma'am," he called to her. "I don't know who's been workin' on your car, but I wouldn't go back to him again if I was you. Somethin' mighty funny going on here."

Kris got out of the car and stepped to where the mechanic was leaning over the fender. He was holding a flashlight, aiming it down to illuminate something low in the engine compartment.

"You see that down there?" he asked when Kris leaned over next to him.

"I really don't know much about engines," Kris said, "I won't really know what I'm looking at."

"You know what that is?" he asked with a chuckle. "No, 'course you don't. But you see that hose that comes in one side of that box and out the other? That's your fuel line. That there little box is a fuel cut-off. Now maybe that was put there as parta some kinda anti-theft device and that's just fine. Except this one looks like it's got a radio thingee hooked up to it. Like it's rigged up so's someone with a remote control can cut off your gas by flippin' a switch. Now why would they put somethin' like that in your car? Beats all, don't ?"

Kris looked but had no idea what he meant. Suddenly she felt a prick on her left thigh, as if she'd bumped into a sharp wire or a thorn. She started to say something but then her legs began to collapse beneath her and she felt drowsy and everything started to fade. The last thing she felt was her body sliding down the fender of the Jag.