by Q. Zayne
I was tempted to spill my whole story.
But I suspected it wouldn’t matter. My father’s life hanging in the balance and our devotion to each other meant nothing to a soul as impoverished as Gabe’s. I had to get through another day here. I didn’t think I wanted to know any more about how bad the man might be. He’d already torn me way out of my comfort zone. This was worse than falling into the sea. Worse even than seeing The Chameleon gashed on his island’s rocky fangs. I hadn’t gotten over that.
Instead of being shut in Davy Jones’ locker I’d come face to face with Satan, or close enough for government work, as Dad said.
No telling what it would take to get over being the prey in his game once it was done. But first I had to get through it. Just that. One hour at a time. For you, Dad.
“Here. Take a look at the contract and the boat’s registration. If the contract meets your approval, sign them. Otherwise, you’re free to go. I’ll have someone take you to the mainland whenever you want.” He stood, averted his eyes. He took a packet of papers and a sleek pen from his inside jacket pocket and put them on the table. He turned stiffly and left.
What was it like for him to to talk to a stranger in the place he’d spent time with his fiancee? Did that loss have anything to do with his strange game? Wouldn’t he want to have a ritual to affirm life, not one of shooting a girl in a strange parody of murder? Had she been shot? I shivered. What a grim place Gabe’s island paradise turned out to be. Maybe I could learn more from Lucas. I wanted to see him again. But even with a fast sailing vessel, I needed to get off the island as soon as possible or I’d have no chance at all of making a new world’s record.
I sat watching the sea for several moments. Cormorants landed on the huge rock right off shore. Curiosity made me peruse the papers. They felt warm from resting next to his heart. Scanning page after page left me bemused. I always wondered how that felt. Now I knew. I’d entered a state of wondering puzzlement.
The pages were, in all seriousness, a long contract full of disclaimers and non-disclosure agreements. There were no specific details. Lawyers made good money writing such rot. It didn’t come out and say, ‘I, Angie, being of sound mind and young, desirable body, do hereby agree to let a bunch of rich fuckers shoot at my girl bits to make me scream their dicks hard out in a remote jungle so the winner can bang me raw — and of course I won’t sue any of them or tell anybody ever.’ I’m pretty sure all fetuses through future generations on down to the final scion of my bloodline were pledged never to speak of Gabe’s island, The Billionaires Club, any member of The Billionaires Club, or the twisted goings on thereof. My eyes crossed by the third page of fine print.
Gabe’s pen must have been the finest writing instrument in the universe. The finely balanced barrel warmed to my touch and changed colors as I turned it in my fingers. The effect was similar to the waves moving on that prize boat’s black body.
I needed that boat. I wanted that boat. I signed.
But the cost. I couldn’t breathe when I thought about a group of sadists tracking me, hunting me in that jungle out there. It was insane.
But the boat. I’d do anything for that boat.
I set the pen down and smoothed the thick stack of papers on the table. Seemed I ought to have signed in blood, like deals with the devil from the beginning of time. But I figured that part was coming. Something otherworldly about Gabe prickled at me. He may not be out to kill me, but in some way, Gabe was out for my blood. Maybe he wanted my soul since he’d obviously lost his own.
The sight of pelicans flying in formation with their long wingspans and prehistoric silhouettes hurt my heart. I closed my eyes. Gabe taught me something about human nature, how all your dreams could come true and you could be a poorer person for it.
Yeah, I signed.
Clever man, giving me the registration for the boat. I couldn’t refuse. Even with the lapping waves for company, it was a long night.
I didn’t slept well. I stood next to the doctor in the pre-dawn dark with my eyes feeling gritty. I wore running shoes, shorts that hugged my ass and a matching tank top in the same orchid color as The Amazon’s racing stripe. Gabe didn’t miss a chance to remind me what was at stake and reinforce my cooperation. He would have made a formidable general. My host was absent. I felt grateful for that. Difficult enough to drag myself out of bed to face this ordeal without having to deal with the man responsible for putting me through this.
Eustace smiled at me and turned his gaze back to the central monitor in Gabe’s office. He reached out and squeezed my hand, his eyes still locked on the digital time readout. The seconds were ticking down to 4 am. It was way too early to be awake, but my days at sea helped me adapt. Adrenaline had me jacked. The hunt was on. In seconds, my head-start began. The doctor jabbed a button.
“Go,” Eustace said in a whisper as harsh as the call of a crow.
I ran. My lungs burned as I pounded down the trail toward the beach. I had a plan. A crazy plan, but it might be what I needed to get the drop on all those horny coots.
I reached the beach and walked backwards in my footsteps. An old trick, but a worthy one. They’d track me to the sand that filled in on footfalls. They’d spread out and search the beach. The subterfuge bought me time. All I had to do was stay ahead of them. Damn Gabe for making it an all-day event.
I made it back to the house faster than I expected due to being crazy wired. I found what I needed in a garden shed out of sight of the bustling movie-musical kitchen. I caught sight of Renee’s silver hair and it gave me a pang. I wished I was in that kitchen with its heady smells of fresh cinnamon buns and apple pie, not rushing into the jungle with my pack of supplies in an effort to outwit and outrun a pack of madmen.
Years of watching old war flicks with Dad and learning to hunt and trap with him on our sailing adventures paid off.
I strung wire and cord in strategic places, trip wires, sandbag traps. I invented new traps because I felt crazy and mean from having to try to hurt those fuckers for any advantage. Because they wanted to hurt me. It became energizing. I’d picture some over-privileged prick tripping and gashing his face on a rock and feel 6-feet tall. Fuck ’em all.
All my life I’d been a good girl. Not any more. Now I understood women who cracked without warning after years of living with a battering shit heel. No matter what you’re doing in life, no matter who you think you are, a trigger can trip that makes you say, No way. I’m not taking this. You’re done, fucker.
Nothing in the contract said I couldn’t hurt the billionaires. Hush my mouth forever, yeah, they covered that. But make their balls shrivel while they hunted me? Fair game. I bet Gabe would get a new lawyer when this was done.
I watched the light on the leaves, keeping a sense of time as I worked. I’d bolt before they started tracking me. I kept myself talking tough to myself, visualizing the shock on their faces when they found they didn’t have a fox or a rabbit to run to death, they had a warrior out settle their accounts. Way inside, I didn’t feel quite so confident, but I couldn’t afford to nurse any doubts. This was war.
I tracked and backtracked all through the jungle, laying false trails and creating nastier and nastier traps. Let the Billionaires Club jungle fill with screams. They wouldn’t be mine.
That’s all I let myself think about as I followed my plan, anticipating every route they might take and making sure their efforts would hurt them.
With an hour left to go on my head start, I set more false trails, tracks along the creek bank in the soft mud with a deep set to look like I jumped to the other side. Then I walked back toward the mansion, walking backward in my footprints, and disappeared.
I yanked out a hank of my hair and doled out strands on vines and branches like breadcrumbs for another false trail. The blonde strands caught the sun like spiderwebs, like gossamer. It was like a fairy tale. No, it was more like a cross between live non-lethal shooting roleplay and a porno computer game, shoot the bimbo or something disgusting.
I hoped Gabe was a man of honor and I wasn’t actually about to star in a death film. I swallowed hard, just the thought of the kinds of sickos who’d pay to watch me die . . . I mustn’t go there. Scary thoughts didn’t help. This was scary enough without adding a horror sound track.
I smiled. A grim smile. They wanted scary, I’d give those fuckers scary.
Late one night Dad told me things about his experiences in the war I bet he didn’t remember telling. It all stayed with me. With a shock, I knew I wouldn’t care if any of them died.
I used the last of the wire I filched from the garden shed and strung a trip trap that would pitch an unwary hunter over a ravine. Take that billionaire scum.
Was this what it was like in war, a tiny bit — I couldn’t compare my experience to a mass horror — but maybe this was a glimpse of that kind of nightmare, where you feel your humanity leeching away, because if it’s me or them having to be tortured or die, it sure as fuck isn’t going to be me. Die, rich scum, die! I wanted to scream it through the jungle, but I wasn’t too far gone to be willing to give up my position for a moment’s release.
Inspiration struck. I scratched the words into the bank with a stick in foot-high letters.
No. Not a good idea. I didn’t want to tip my hand. Better to let them think I was running scared, just a petite blonde girl desperate to evade capture.
If they knew I was mad, my traps wouldn’t come as such a surprise.
I wanted to surprise them.
The sink hole was a bonus. I discovered it when my foot slid into its mouth. I pulled back from the crumbling edge, panting and leaned over bracing my hands on my thighs. I felt slick with perspiration.
I threw a pebble. It took long seconds to hit bottom. Deep, a deep hole, a good twelve feet or better. Not even the tallest of the hunters could climb out of that pit. It was like the pit traps of a carnivorous plant designed so that the prey couldn’t escape. Who’s the prey now, you fuck heads? Maybe I’d get more than one of them.
Oh yes. I cut palm fronds and covered it with the garden clippers I took from the shed. Take that, mighty hunters. I glanced over my shoulders — yes, I’d left a clear track. I broke a branch for good measure.
Walking on leaf mulch, I skirted my tracks, jumped back to the middle of the trail, and ran on so my trail showed on the other side of the trap.
I smiled. It felt odd on my face, but the prospect of beating them at their own game cheered me up immeasurably. I didn’t care what the odds were. I was playing to win.
The sun shifted past its zenith before I heard the hunters moving in the jungle and on the beach around me. They all outweighed me by many many pounds. Being light and quick, and having many years experience watching birds and wildlife with Dad gave me an advantage. I could move through many kinds of terrain without making a sound. I stayed down, nestled in a hollow in the thick foliage beside the creek.
I’d evaded them for hours, it had to be about 2 o’clock, well past noon. The rustle of big leathery jungle leaves, flapping of wings and the calls of monkeys gave the impression of serenity. The normalcy of everything camouflaged the horror enacted in that jungle. A few screams punctuated the peaceful paradise. They gave me chills, yet the fear and pain in them rewarded me. Those were the enemy. Those were the hunters with their pain giving guns. The more of them I took down, the fewer would be left to shoot me. Maybe the rest would turn back. These guys didn’t want a fight, they wanted sport. To many hunters, that meant going after a creature who was at a great disadvantage and slaughtering it. They only found animals who mauled hunters entertaining when the injuries or death happened to someone else. Now I was on The Billionaires Club island, and this was personal.
The last sounds from any of them had been a shriek at the pit trap more than an hour before. I’d taken a break to eat and relieve myself. I drank some water. A few strands of my hair had escaped my ponytail. I pulled them away from my sticky face.
My energy began to lift. I’d make it. Days were short at this latitude. Dusk came fast out here.
A breeze shifted the big leaves around me. A hand clamped over my mouth. I wanted to bite it but the grip was too tight. I couldn’t even open my mouth. I smelled his sweat, but over that man tang, the fresh forest scent.
My worst fear. Gabe was the one to capture me. I squeezed my legs together. I was sure he wouldn’t be gentle.
“Get on your knees.”
I hesitated and he shoved my shoulder, pushing me toward the ground. I got on my knees. His harsh voice made it clear he expected me to do what he said. I looked up at him. I’d never been in that position, kneeling at a man’s feet. A weird flutter started in my belly and an aching heat suffused my pussy. Hell, I felt turned on. His bulge strained his worn jeans right in front of my face.
He held a strange gun, trained right at me. He lowered the barrel. Maybe he wouldn’t shoot. The gun glowed blue as though crackling with electricity. He shot my breast. I clamped my teeth together, terrified of making a sound that would draw the rest of the men. Tears ran down my face. His eyes widened in approval. He shot my other breast. The bright blue radiance dazzled my eyes. The pain radiated through my entire body. I hunched over, convulsing. Saliva filled my mouth and I spat on the ground.
He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. His thumb jabbed into my jaw, forcing my mouth open.
“Suck me like your life depends on it.” His low voice and the threat sent a thrill up my spine.
He unzipped and released his big, stiff cock. I opened my mouth and he forced the thick head between my lips. It tasted salty. I sucked. I had no idea what to do or how, but I sucked him like one of those long ice pops. He moaned. I worked my tongue on his hard, pulsing shaft.
“Yes, yes. Lick me, work your mouth and tongue on me. Now open your throat baby, you’re going to get it all.”
That’s all the warning I got. He bucked his hips and shoved his entire cock down my throat.
I gagged and retched, starting to spit up. He yanked my hair hard and stared right into my eyes.
“Swallow, and keep swallowing. Drink everything I give you.”
I did my best to breathe and obey. Eustace told me, and Lucas told me, and the winsome woman who touched me and kissed me in a time so different it seemed long ago, told me, too. They all told me to do what Gabe said. As much as I felt an urge to resist, I surrendered. I let him use my mouth, pumping his cock deep and hard, using my tight throat like a socket, a fuck toy for his pleasure.
I’d seen sex dolls and laughed with my girlfriends about guys being so hard up. Now I was one, just a hole for Gabe’s cock.
I felt debased. I was sure that’s what he intended me to feel, having me kneel in the dirt with his hairy balls swinging at me, his cock forced deep, grinding into my gullet, making me fight for air.
He arched, his pubes in my nose. Growling, he let go. His seed flooded my throat so hard and fast some backed up into my nose and rolled down my lips. My vision went purple.
“Oh, fuck yes!” His voice came out throaty and low, as though he didn’t want anyone to hear us, either.
He fastened his hands around my throat and choked me, draining his balls all the way with my throat super tight around the head of his thick cock.
I struggled to breathe. The pressure between my legs intensified as I asphyxiated, making me hotter.
My eyes rolled back in my head. He released his grip and backed his cock out super slow. It rested between my lips, its weight pressing my lower lip on my teeth. He yanked his spent dick out with a flourish. I gasped in a ragged breath.
“Shh, shh, shh. This is what you’re for. Be glad for the treat I gave you.” A shadow crossed his face when I wiped his sperm trail from my nose off my mouth and pushed back my hair. The lowering sun made my hair glisten. A sadness as deep as any loss I’d ever seen made his eyes dark and bottomless.
His face contorted. He looked as though he was in terrible pain.
“Go. I’m releasing you
. Go.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Go, Angie! Think about the boat. Get out of here now. Get the hell away from me and finish your trip around the world.” His words came out like a warning and a benediction.
Again, I remembered the advice the masseuse and Eustace and Lucas gave me. Do what Gabe says. Do what you’re supposed to do.
I ran. I felt confused, rejected, hurt. It was too weird. He’d turned me on from the minute I saw him standing over me after the shipwreck. But I never imagined he’d just use me and discard me. Pretty stupid. He was a billionaire. He could run through as many girls as he wanted however he wanted.
A vine lashed me across my nipples and revived the pain from his shots. I clenched my teeth and ran on, fighting tears. I was probably a novelty because I’d crashed into his fucking island by chance. At least I hoped it was by chance. I wouldn’t put weather manipulation past these fuckers. Lots of countries were still experimenting with weather mastery for military advantage. Maybe every bit of this was a game for Gabe’s Billionaires Club. I hoped I’d hurt enough of them to keep Eustace busy for days. Maybe they’d all sue Gabe and shut down the club.
The taste 0f Gabe’s seed lingered in my mouth, tangy and bitter, the essence of him. A tear ran down my face. I wiped it off with my arm, pissed as hell. No crying over him. He wasn’t worth it. I deserved a good man, not a man who discarded me, who couldn’t cope with what he wanted. Bastard.