Paradise Isle, The Beginning
(fetish)
By ChangeYourPassword
Author's Note: This is a work of fiction. It is a story of sexual fantasies and fetishes. These sexual practices are not for everyone, but those of us who delve into them understand the allure. The characters in the story certainly do. If you enjoy this story and the fetishes involved, great. If not, please forget the whole thing.
Author's note: This story opens a door into a series of tales, all based on the 'sexcapades' that occur at a tropical paradise that specializes in, and caters to, all sexual tastes.
In part, it's a prequel, but most of it is an introduction to the types of stories to follow.
I hope it fuels your imagination and wets your appetite.
Several tales, based on the wonders of the island are on the way...
His Excellency, Hernando Calibri had been Gran Roque island's governor for eight years. And it had been a successful position and a happy one. His island, and under the region's usual political conditions it was for all intents and purposes his, is a tropical paradise, in the Southern Caribbean.
For many of those years, it drew vacationers from all over North, Central and South America. Wealthy people looking for the best of everything. And that's what he and his island provided. Unlike his competitors, though, his island wasn't part of the Bahamas, or the Virgin Islands, or associated with the collection of independent island-nations in the Southern Caribbean.
By some colonial quirk, it belonged to the nearby mainland nation run by Hernando's uncle. And his revered relative had always left him, and his island alone to prosper in peace. And Governor Calibri's annual profit-sharing payment directly into his uncle's personal bank account ensured that relationship.
But, much to his horror, it was now failing spectacularly. His uncle's government was falling apart. The whole mainland was tearing itself apart, and although it wasn't affecting the island directly, it was causing it to wither on the vine.
Visitors, who had to travel through the capital to catch the only ferry to his island stopped coming. Not only because of safety concerns, but also because of a growing, world-wide disgust over the politics of the mainland.
It caused the happy island's once-lucrative tourist-based economy to collapse.
Until the troubles, their laws were loose and flexible, and island life was easy and enjoyable.
Three huge luxury resort complexes were successful and happy places. Loaded with wealthy guests spending huge sums of money on the beauty and restful environment of their little slice of paradise.
Small towns spread around the interior and the small harbor housed the populace. Resort staffers and fishermen were the two largest groups, but there were also farmers and administrators and a fair number of comfortable retirees scattered about.
The residents were all relatively well off and therefore happy. Especially when compared to their countrymen on the mainland, they did very well for themselves.
Life was comfortable for residents and visitors, alike.
The guest taxes were, for the most part, reinvested in the island's infrastructure and it therefore enjoyed some of the best facilities in the Caribbean.
But the governor could see that now, as he watched, everything was falling apart.
For the last few months, while Hernando watched everything crumble, he had wracked his brain to find a way to turn it all around. The nation's new rulers, who struggled to rebuild after they threw his uncle out, had so many other challenges to worry about, that they left him alone, ignoring the needs of his insignificant little enclave, sitting far off their coast, in the middle of the ocean. And his people had been happy enough under his leadership that they too left him alone, trusting him to return the island to prosperity, somehow.
Although, at that very moment, he felt he was running out of time. As local life slowly deteriorated, his people began to demand that he fix things, somehow.
He was laying with one of the once high demand hookers, when the thought struck him like a gift from the heavens. The sex trade was one of the few businesses left, that made money. Some small number of
turistas
were still willing to brave the travel challenges to his island to enjoy that particular industry. He still saw yachts crowding the docks to invite the island's best hookers on-board for a day or two, before sailing away, and taking their money with them.
That, he decided would be the answer to his problems.
Island Building
It took almost a year to create 'Paradise Island'. He congratulated himself for having the foresight to not deliver the last happy year's profit-sharing payment to his uncle per the time-honored schedule. A fortuitous sixth sense had whispered in his ear the advice to hold off until his uncle stabilized his government. Of course, that hadn't happened. So, he had, painfully, pulled those many millions out of the off-shore banks and used them to finance his plan.
And it actually looked like it was going to work! Thank the Gods...
He had, with consummate salesmanship, convinced the local leaders and several groups of investors, including the three well-hidden, off-shore corporations who owned the resorts, to declare his island, 'the sex capital of the Caribbean'. That's what all of the advertising said, anyway.
As Disneyland was to children, and Las Vegas was to gamblers, the island of
Gran Roque
would be to wealthy adults who cherished sex.
And all adults cherished sex, didn't they?