The Spicy Tales of Peril Group presents…
The Perils of Lianni
By Dana Bowman, Jeb, and Jeanne Thorne
Chapter the Fifth
Night hung dark and quiet over the Macumba village. Jeb checked the cutlass in his belt, took his knife in his hand, and slid down from the tree. He'd seen more than enough.
Jeb Stuart was not a man without his own ambitions. He'd more than once asked himself if there might not be some profit in trying to wrest the Rover from Jeanne-by any of several methods-but what he'd seen today drove all such thoughts out of his mind. What lay ahead for Jeanne-Marie Dela Croix and himself he had no idea… but one thing he did know was that there was one black bastard who was going to pay dearly for what he'd done today (jealousy? Jeb asked himself. And so what if it was?). And as for the Golden Goddess…
#
Jumbo Weathers had lived under that name for so many years that he'd nearly forgotten it was a corruption of M'Jumba, son of D'Weth, the name he'd been given at birth. In the years he'd spent wandering the seas, first with the British Navy, then with some more "private" mariners, he'd also nearly forgotten the hardships of life in a Macumba village, and there were days when he wondered if returning to his ancestral home had been a good idea. As a result, he was finding his sleep getting more and more restless.
That was doubly true this dark night, as the chill of cold steel against his throat interrupted his dreams.
"Let's be very quiet, now."
Jumbo blinked against the dimness, and saw a grinning black-bearded face at the other end of the knife.
"Stuart," Jumbo whispered, and the man nodded. "You're here with her, aren't you?"
Jeb nodded, relaxing the blade a bit. "Can we have a quiet chat here… just two old mates?"
Jumbo nodded, relieved as the razor edge left his throat; it remained in plain view, though, and Jumbo's recollection of Jeb's skill with the thing kept his wary eye on it.
"So, my old son," Jeb's tone was amiable. "You were always fond of telling us how you were going to be some kind of king one day. Was that just a load of old cobbles?"
The huge dark head moved slowly in the dim light.
"No, I told it straight. My father was the king of the Macumbas. When word reached me that he was dying, I left the ship and make my way back here, to take my rightful place as king. But when I got here..."
"You found that yellow-haired harridan in your place."
"She had my people convinced that she was a goddess. I wasn't treated badly, but there was not going to be a place for me."
"Why didn't you just go back to sea?"
Jeb could see the white teeth as the big face split into a grin.
"You think I was so well treated on board that I should have been anxious to return? Spend a voyage in my skin some day."
Jeb ignored that, and shook his head.
"A goddess? Come, what-- does she do a few parlor tricks to impress these heathens?”
"It's not that way," Jumbo shrugged. "To the Macumbas, a goddess is not someone who wields magic power... she is more like a symbol, a talisman, if you will. She brings fertility and good fortune."
"Lot of that about these days, then?"
Jumbo's voice dropped. "No one's starving, but…"
"But a legitimate member of the royal Macumba tribe sleeps on a dirt floor, while a white-skinned bint orders your warriors around. Strange, eh?"
"What's on your mind?" the big man rumbled.
Jeb shrugged. "Unless you want your throne back, nothing."
"I'm listening."
"Look, Jumbo, the woman held prisoner in that hut would gladly take this ‘Goddess’ off your hands, if you'd like her to. With her gone, wouldn't the Macumbas turn to you as their new leader?"
"Well, yes-- except that your lady there had her chance and lost. What am I supposed to do?"
"That was because the Goddess had an army supporting her against our small band. You know these people-isn't there some way we could undermine her, so that the people wouldn't support her any longer?"
"Well… there is the `tanguin'".
"And what's that when it's at home?"
"An ancient form of challenge, one that no Macumba, not even a king, or queen, could refuse. One-to-one combat in our arena. "
"To the death?"
"No." Jumbo shook his head. "Our ancestors were not interested in the finality of death, but preferred instead a lingering humiliation. The `tangun' challenge is fought with rope. The first to bind the other to helplessness is the victor."
Jeb nodded. "And the loser?"
"Can be claimed by the victor if they choose. Slavery, banishment, servitude… just as the victor desires, short of death."
"I like the sound of this."
"You mean have your lady challenge the Goddess? How do you know she'd win?"
Jeb's eyes narrowed. "I should think it would be worth your while to help make sure she did."
Recognition spread across Jumbo's face. "We rig the challenge? That's unheard of."
"Better yet. No one will suspect anything then."
"But how…?"
"Come, Jumbo-- surely you know someone close to her bleedin' highness that would be willing to slip a little something in her refreshment. Nothing too strong-- believe me, she only needs to be off her game by a fraction for my captain to take her down. You've only seen her as a beaten captive-- trust me, that's a hellcat you have bound in that hut over there, and once allowed to face the Goddess on equal footing… well, let's just say the drug is only a precaution."
"Well, I do know some of her court that are disaffected…"
"There you go, son. Easy as pie," Jeb smiled again. "Now, my lad… tell me all about this `tanguin'."
#
"Hey." Jumbo's voice was low in the quiet of deep night. The guard standing outside the hut looked up at the big man.
"Jumbo. What is it?"
Jumbo weaved slightly for effect. "Some very good stuff I took off one of those pale-skinned devils." He giggled. "Care to try some?"
The guard looked warily about. "Well…"
Jumbo held out the flask Jeb had given him. "Have you heard the story about…"
As the two men swapped liquor and licentious tales, Jeb quietly slid past them, into the hut unseen.
Inside, he let his eyes adjust… and they damn near popped out of his head.
He'd seen Jeanne-Marie naked before, of course, and he'd watched her punished and sodomized…but this was different. Lying on the floor before him, the Tigress of the Caribbean lay on her side, trussed like a Christmas parcel.
Her hands were bound in front of her, pulled down and tied to her knees, which had been brought up to her chest. More rope creased her pale skin across her arms and shoulders, compacting her fine form into a ball of what Jeb imagined was agony. Her mouth had been filled with a thick pad of leather which was strapped behind her head; her breath bubbled around it as she slept-the gag was forcing the lovely captive to drool noticeably.
Jeb bent down on one knee. For an instant, he rejected the elaborate scheme he'd come up with. "Just cut her free," he thought to himself "Then she and I can…"
No, he'd already decided. No turning back. He gently stroked dark hair back from her face, and watched as the eyelids fluttered and opened… then popped to the size of saucers.
"HHnnggg!" Jeanne-Marie moaned into her gag, all her senses now awake, feeling every bit of the ache from the bondage.
"Hush, cap'n. There's a guard right outside."
Jeanne groaned quietly as she tried to find a comfortable position. It had taken her an hour to fall asleep bound like this… and now all the pain was shooting back-along with the memory of her mouth being raped like a whore's. God, she asked herself. Did Jeb see that? Her face reddened, but if her First Mate noticed, he gave no sign. Instead, he laid a hand on her shoulder, and she couldn't remember ever having been so comforted by another's touch.
"I can take that thing off your mouth, cap'n, while we talk," Jeb whispered. Jeanne had nodded gratefully before she realized what he hadn't said. Once the gag was removed, she hissed at him.
"Get me out of this, Mister Stuart! The pain is terrible!"
"I'm sure it is cap'n," Jeb told her, "but you need to listen to me first."
She spluttered, fixed her Mate with a baleful eye… but he looked as though he had something up his sleeve… and he was holding all the cards at this point.
"What is it?" she gritted.
"I could cut those ropes now, and sneak the two of us out of here tonight."
"Then what are you bloody waiting for?"
"But if I do," he went on as though she hadn't spoken, "that's it-- just you and me. There is no way we can break the lads out."
"Well, that is hard for them, I know…"
"And then we go back to the ship with… what?"
Jeanne nodded, sensing where he was headed.
"No treasure, two dozen of the men dead or captured-- good as dead, you might say… and we two make it back alive."
"Then we lead the rest of the men back here…"
Jeb shook his head. "You know as well as I that if we return empty-handed, leaving their mates behind to be tortured to death… well, let's just say THEY might decide to come back here, but there's not much chance we'd be leading them. We'd be sitting in the brig, or chatting with Davy Jones."
Jeanne growled, but sighed. "They would, too, the scurvy rats." Her eyes narrowed "I know you well enough, Mr. Stuart, to know that you've got something in mind."
Jeb patted her shoulder, settled back, and smiled. "Let me tell you about the `tanguin'…"
#
Twenty minutes later, Jeb had finished filling Jeanne in on his plan… neglecting only to mention the small matter of the drug… no point in risking her balking over a matter of pride.
As he got ready to leave, he sighed. "Cap'n, you know I have to put this back on you." He held up the leather gag. "Can't have them thinking anyone has been in here with you."
Jeanne swallowed. If the plan worked, she would have revenge that she could already almost taste. But to remain in this position… and to be gagged again… but what choice, really, did she have? Grimly, she nodded her head, and opened her mouth.
Jeb lifted the leather to her lips and inserted it back into her mouth. She felt his strong fingers as they gently, but firmly, took control of her mouth. Not that there was anyone to call to for help here… but it still sent a shiver of fear all through her as her First Mate placed her at his mercy… fear and something else? She preferred not to explore THAT any further as he re-fastened the leather binding on the gag.
She looked up at him now in the dim light… and stretched her face up to his, straining against her bonds. He blinked for a moment, startled… then lowered his mouth and placed a soft kiss on her gagged lips.
He turned then, and slipped out of the hut, so that neither had to look the other in the eye. Jeanne was left alone with only her pain… and her hope… she endured the pain, now, in anticipation of her revenge.