5 comments/ 23253 views/ 6 favorites White Slaves of the Caribbean By: JimGrinsted Chapter One Old Jim Grinsted had been up and down the aisle a couple times. Married once - the father of three now grown children - he'd been married again for a few years. Didn't work out. So now he was on his honeymoon with Sabina - 30 years his junior. Honeymoon? Horsefeathers! Yes, he'd given her a $2,000 diamond ring (small change for Old Jim), but it wasn't like they'd gotten any licenses or seen any preachers. Nothing legal about it. But Sabina thought it was her honeymoon; she fooled nobody but herself. "Put the red suitcase over there," she ordered the bellboy. He obediently lifted the over-packed, overweight brick of luggage to the assigned rack. "And I want the grey one in the bedroom," said the self-proclaimed missus. The Black servant did as directed, but even as one accustomed to luggage this one defeated him - Big Jim had to give him a hand lifting it onto the credenza. What the hell did she bring all this crap for? Jim thought to himself. That question had occurred to him often over the day: as he had tipped the airport porter for taking the suitcases to check-in; as he paid $300 in overweight charges to the airline; and as the cabdriver tried to charge him a $30 "extra luggage" fee. But now he just felt sorry for himself and took it out on the Black bellboy - he gave him a $10 tip and told him to get lost. Jim slammed the door after him. "OK, strip naked," he ordered. Sabina looked shocked - but just for a second. "Oh Jim, that's not romantic at all! Shouldn't we have dinner first? Maybe on the beach, by candlelight? I brought this beautiful gown I was going to wear just for you. And then afterwards we can make love between the sheets." She put her arms around his neck and gazed smilingly into his eyes. What the fuck? All he wanted was to screw the little whore. What's with all the candlelight shit? He'd bought a lap dance from her a year ago - she was naked all over his body in the strip club. And she couldn't get naked here? He just wanted a little sex slave for the week - between hookers - and somehow she thought she'd be going on dates with silly gowns and crap. He could just rip off her clothes and force it up her ass. She'd get the point pretty quick, and if she ran out of the room on him then so what - he'd check out and move to the hotel next door. Plenty of hookers over there. But Old Jim was 62 and not in the best of shape. Sabina, barely 30 and totally buff, worked out every day. She'd beat him in a fair fight - rape (even attempted rape with an escape hatch purposely left open) wasn't an option. No way he'd put up with a week of candlelight suppers. He could just level with her and tell her to strip naked or get lost? That'd work, but... But what? But he had a glimmer of a better idea. Instead of just making her his sex slave, what if he turned her into a real whore - one who actually did it for money with other guys? He'd use her first for himself - of course - but when he got tired of her - like, say, by Wednesday - he'd pimp her out in the hotel. Jim the pimp. He liked the sound of that, plus it'd pay back some of the cash he'd invested in her. It would take some guile. "Yeah, you're right," he said, smiling. "It's just that you're so beautiful I got carried away." She hugged him with genuine affection. "Look, I'm tired," continued Jim. "How about I give you a little spending money and you leave me alone for a couple of hours?" "That's fine, Jim. I'll be back by 6pm to change for dinner." He peeled $300 off the roll in his back pocket. That's what she really wants. Well, you owe it to me with interest, bitch. Chapter Two Jim, not at all tired but horny as hell, went looking for nookie. The first place to go in a large, fancy hotel is the concierge's desk. Usually, with a little grease, they can be very helpful. And there Jim headed - a hundred dollar bill in his fist. He took his time getting there. The locals on this Caribbean island were Black, which is one of the reasons why Jim wanted to come here. Yes, he enjoyed Thailand, the Philippines, and Germany, but Black holes are fun, too. The maids tended to be older, but if the price were right... Jim liked fucking somebody else's wife. The barmaids were cute - there was one 20-something who he'd rate a 9 out of 10. Dark black skin, slender, perky boobs, cute little ass, great legs and fiery eyes - she'd be worth half a grand. He made a mental note: the name tag said "Josephine." He didn't see any professional hookers about. That didn't bother him - they generally frowned on that in the more expensive places. But behind the scenes anything was available. Anyway, he'd soon find out. The concierge's desk was busy - he'd have to wait. He took the time to check out the female customers - after all, he wanted to pimp out his "wife," and these were the competition. He caught sight of an attractive, slender, blonde, MILF lady, nicely dressed, trying to look moneyed (though Jim recognized the cheap jewelry from across the room). She sat on a chair in the lobby by herself waiting for somebody. Maybe she was waiting for Jim? He walked over to her. "Is this where you catch the bus to the airport?" "I don't know. I just got here. You'd better ask the concierge." "I already did, but he's busy and just motioned over here somewhere. I was hoping you'd know. I'm Jim, by the way. And you are...?" "Janet," she said reluctantly. "I'm waiting for my husband." "Cool,", he said, remembering how much he liked fucking other men's wives. "My wife's gone shopping. We can make a foursome of it for dinner some evening." He made it a command rather than a question, and continued before she could answer. "We're from Chicago. Where are you folks from?" "The UK," she answered, curtly. "Hey, neat! I really like Princess Kate. You know what - you remind me of her. You're very pretty - did you know that? All you'd need to do is get that loose skin under your chin tightened up - then you'd be more beautiful than the princess herself." That got her attention. She stared at him with confused emotion: insulted, complimented, angry, flattered, teased? She obviously didn't know and couldn't say a word. Jim, smiling, just let her sit there and stew. He'd dressed rich, wearing the gold chain and big gold rings. He'd put on the $500 sneakers, and he still had the $100 in his hand, which he casually played with. Otherwise, nothing fancy - Hawaiian shirt, shorts, no socks. He'd been a college athlete back in the day, and while looking every bit his age there was nothing ugly about him. Standing 6 feet tall he was slim, still had hair, and sported two-day stubble. He'd left the reading glasses in the room. They say money can't buy love. Who cares? It can buy sex and that's all he wanted. He conspicuously played with the benjamin. Janet, embarrassed, happily heard her husband approaching behind her pulling a suitcase. (What - only one suitcase? thought Jim, enviously.) "I got the room, Janet. Let's go." "I'm Jim. I was just talking to your wife." "I'm Fred," said the other, uncertainly taking the outstretched hand. "I was just thinking your wife and mine could make it a foursome for dinner some evening. I'll even spring for the drinks. Would that be fun?" He only looked to Fred for an answer, ignoring Janet. "Yeah, sure," stammered Fred, non-committal. "What room are you in?" "One thirty six." "Cool. I'll call you later." He let them go and went looking for the concierge. "Hey, bud," he said, displaying the sweaty currency. "Do you know of any girls available for the evening?" "N-n-n-no, sir. Absolutely not. Prostitution is illegal in this country. I don't want to go to jail." He sounded truly scared. Jim held up the money - surely more than a month's salary for him. "This is yours if you can help me out." "No sir. I can't. Please don't ask me." And he quickly turned away. Jim was shocked! He'd never had a concierge turn him down that way before. Prostitution was illegal in New York too, but for enough cash that didn't seem to stop anybody. What was it with these folks? For now it meant no nookie - but it also suggested opportunity. With the market to herself little Sabina could do a good business once he had her trained right. Chapter Three The candlelight dinner wasn't that bad. They were staying at the Palms Beach Hotel - it claimed to be the nicest property along Beach Street. Next door stood the similarly elegant Agate Resort - Jim resolved to have a conversation with the concierge over there soon. Past the Agate the hotels got cheaper further down the road. A mile or two down were the fleabag places where Sabina could stay if she didn't earn her keep. On the other side, The Palms Beach was adjacent to Charlesville, the small town that doubled as the island's capital. The beach became a boardwalk lined by souvenir shops, infested with hawkers and beggars, but still a romantic place to stroll on a tropical evening. And stroll they did. Sabina looked beautiful - she wore a sleeveless, figure-clinging, gold-colored gown, ankle-length, showing plenty of cleavage. She had the figure for it, as Jim remembered from the lap dance: full-bodied tits that didn't sag, a tight little butt, and great thighs. Standing 5'2 in stocking feet, she now wore 2" heels. It made it hard for her to walk on the slats that made up the boardwalk. If Jim had been a gentleman he would have taken her arm and helped her out. But he wasn't a gentleman - instead he owned her. She worked for him, not the other way round. He refused to let her touch him. When she tried to take his arm for support he'd pull away. He walked a step or so ahead at a pace slightly faster than she wanted to go. She struggled with the dress, the heels, and the slats. It put her out of her comfort zone - precisely the idea. At one point she actually did trip and would have fallen if he hadn't caught her. He did catch her, roughly propping her back on her feet. "Can't you walk? What are you trying to do? Embarrass me?" "Sorry. It's these heels. Could we walk a little slower?" He turned away in disgust and kept going. They ate at a place called Lou's Turf & Surf. Jim ordered the steak; Sabina the lobster. They shared a bottle of wine. Jim realized he'd better not overdo the slavery bit too fast - he'd scare her away. So at the restaurant he was the solicitous gentleman she expected. She enjoyed herself over good food, wine, and the attentive gentleman caller. The check came to $250. Jim paid it, mentally adding it to Sabina's tab. Bitch. They walked back to the hotel at Sabina's pace - no trying to trip her up now. In a couple of days I'll have the whore on a leash, or so he consoled himself. The door shut to their hotel room. Jim made sure he was not between Sabina and the door - Always let the girl escape if she wants. That way you won't go to jail. "OK - finally. Strip naked." Her smile faded. "I thought we were going to have a romantic evening and make love?" "I don't want no fuckin' romantic love. I want a blow job from a naked girl. Your a girl, you've got a mouth, so get naked and suck it up like you're supposed to." "A ...a blow job?" "Yes, stupid. A blow job. Don't tell me you don't know what a blow job is? After all, I did meet you in a strip club." "I'm not a prostitute," she said indignantly. "Just because I worked in a strip club doesn't mean I've ever given anybody a blow job. I don't want to do that." "I don't give a flying shit if you want to do it or not. All I know is if you don't get naked and start sucking right now, this gig is over. You'll have to pay for this hotel room yourself tomorrow morning." "I thought you were a gentleman?" she said, beginning to cry. "I don't care what you thought. I'm no gentleman - I'm a guy who wants a blow job from a naked girl. So stop your whining, strip naked, and start sucking." Bawling uncontrollably, the tears streaked her makeup. She stood up to get a tissue from the table. "Look - you got 3 minutes to get your clothes off. That part, at least, should be easy for you. I know you've done it before." Chapter Four She looked at him and decided he meant it. She bent down to unfasten her shoes - it's easier to strip in bare feet. Then she stood up and reached behind her to unzip the gown. Pushing the spaghetti straps off her shoulders she slid the dress down past her butt and knees, stepping out of it. She lay it neatly across the sofa. Her bra was a lacy support bra, meant to exaggerate the cleavage - not that it needed much help. She removed it showing off beautifully sexy tits. Jim almost wanted to call off the blow job so he could play with her breasts instead, but training came first. Her pantie was nothing special - meant as underwear. Jim vowed this would be the last time she'd wear something like that. She slipped it off her hips, revealing the trimmed little bush, light brown hair, with just a glimpse of the pussy lips as she stepped out of her clothes. "This'll be easy for you. I'm hard as a rock." He slumped back in the chair, spreading his legs. She walked toward him. "That's not the way you give me a blow job," said Jim angrily. "You need to crawl to me. Now start by the front door and crawl to me on your hands and knees." She paused in shame, looking at him to see if he was joking. "I'm not joking. Now get over there and do it right." She turned around and walked back to the door. Jim admired the sashay of the tight little butt. When she got to the door she turned again and red-faced got on her hands and knees and crawled toward him. She stopped with her face a couple feet from his crotch, not knowing what to do next. "Unzip my pants and get to work." He was careful not to call her any of the names he'd be using in the next few days: bitch, cunt, whore, etc. Right now she was still Sabina who thought they had a "relationship." She'd learn soon enough, but one step at a time. She tentatively rose on her knees and started unfastening his belt buckle. He took the opportunity to feel up her breasts - all natural and completely wonderful. He squeezed hard enough to break her concentration. "Hurry up," he demanded, pinching almost to the point of pain. She quickly unfastened the belt and unzipped his fly. He rose enough for her to slide his pants and briefs from under his butt, and past his ankles to the floor. She came face to face with his big, fully erect, throbbing cock. Her expression showed fear and lust in equal proportion. She froze three inches away. "Kiss it and lick it." She did, tentatively. With every touch it throbbed back at her. He enjoyed her coy embarrassment but faked impatience. With both hands he grabbed her hair and roughly pulled her toward him. She yelped in surprise - or maybe even pain. "Look - this isn't a boy scout summer camp. I want a fuckin' blow job." She didn't answer, nor could she with mouth and nose pressed tight against his organ. Her eyes betrayed fright. He stopped pulling her hair and spoke more gently: "Put the tip inside your mouth and suck." She did - he let her have control for a moment. And then he started pumping, pushing his engorged organ as far as he thought he could get away with. He felt the tide rising - there wasn't much time left for games. He pumped faster and harder, no longer in control. His hands now wrapped behind her head pulling her toward him, not by the hair. She'd lost her fear - and maybe she even started to enjoy it - he couldn't tell. Then the dam burst. She tried to withdraw as the cum hit the back of her throat; no way did he let that happen. The orgasm stiffened every muscle; his hands held her head tightly. Wave after wave of cum filled her cheeks and gullet. She tried not to swallow but couldn't help herself. The moment passed. Peaceful and relaxed he let her go. She coughed and spit, running naked to the bathroom. She came back to fetch her clothes. "You can't get dressed until you've cleaned me up." She dropped her clothes, and fetching a washcloth she tenderly cleaned his flaccid penis. He massaged her breasts. Chapter Five For lunch she wore a tight black skirt to mid thigh, and a white, frilly blouse that buttoned down the front. She left some buttons undone so that cleavage showed. With the heels and the jewelry she'd definitely be the center of attention. Lunch was with Fred and Janet in the hotel coffee shop. Jim, not as showy, nevertheless tried to impress - a clean, ironed shirt, dress shorts, and socks, along with the usual jewelry. Janet looked good, even though she didn't try as hard. A slender woman, maybe forty years old, she sported shoulder-length, blondish hair. Wearing a summer dress - not something designed to show off the body - it looked cool and colorful. The jewelry - still cheap - meant she cared. As best Jim could tell she had a full bosom and a cute tush - but she'd have to get naked before he'd know for sure. Fred - overweight and out of shape - dressed like a slob - beach shorts and a t-shirt. "Actually, we're here on a bit of business," Fred volunteered after a round of drinks and some small talk. "Really," said Jim. "I like business. Tell me about it." "We go to flea markets in Britain, and this is where we buy products to sell. It's actually my wife's business. I just help her out. But what it means this afternoon is I have to spend the day in the hot sun carrying heavy packages around. It's not fun." Janet glared at him, obviously not appreciating his complaining. "Why don't you hire a car?" asked Jim. "To save money. That's why we stay in this hotel - it's very close. It's actually cheaper for us to do that." "Do you really make money at it?" Janet responded. "We have to. Since Fred lost his job this is the only income we've got. But given the recession it's getting harder and harder." Fred, embarrassed by this revelation, stared at his drink. Jim saw his chance. "If you need help carrying stuff Sabina can go with you this afternoon." Sabina started to object, but a hard pinch on her thigh convinced her otherwise. "I'd be happy to," she said without conviction. Fred, who obviously liked this idea, looked at Janet.. Janet returned the gaze dismissively as if to say what a loser. "Look - she really could help us carry," Fred argued. "You want a girl carrying your stuff? What kind of man are you?" "Somebody who'd like to get as much done in one day as possible. And lord knows you don't carry anything." Janet paused, and then asked Sabina "How much are you going to charge us?" Jim answered. "Oh, we're just doing this as a favor. There's no charge. Sabina likes shopping and wants somebody to take her around town. I can't stand shopping. So this is a good idea." Sabina looked ready to throw up. But Janet and Fred were hooked. "Well, if it's ok with you," Janet said hesitantly, "we'd like to leave at 1:30. That's when the dealers get back from lunch. And we need to be back before it gets dark." And so the deal was struck. They had a few minutes to get ready back in the room. "You obviously can't wear heels if you're walking around carrying stuff," said Jim. "So put on some good flats." She resented the order, but since she was going to do that anyway her only complaint was a sigh. "Otherwise keep the clothes on you got." "Who are you to tell me what to wear?" she objected. "And why are you making me do this, anyway?" "Look, lady, you do what I tell you to do. If you don't obey me you're out of here. Got that?" He glared at her. "No money, no hotel room, no food, and you couldn't carry those suitcases if your life depended on it, so you'd be on the streets peddling pussy within 24 hours." He didn't tell her that she'd be peddling pussy soon enough anyway. "Besides, if you obey then I'll take care of you." White Slaves of the Caribbean She got the point, nodding submission. "And take off your underwear." "What?" "I don't like your underwear. You don't need it. Take it off." "But...I don't want to walk around with those two dorks without underwear. How embarrassing!" Had he pushed her too far? He thought she'd chicken out and leave the room. Now is the moment of truth he thought. If she does this I'll get anything I want. She also sensed the significance of the moment. She stared back at him, indecisive - for one last minute still in control of her destiny. They looked at each other in silence for what seemed like forever - her uncertain gaze meeting his cruel eyes. Now was decision time for her: freedom or servitude. If she dropped the pantie, she'd be a slave. The pantie fell to the floor. He owned her. Chapter Six Sabina looked like shit when she got back to the room just after sunset. Her make-up was smeared and streaky, her hair long since uncombed, and she'd lost an earring. Her blouse, missing a button, was dirty and askew. Her legs and arms were scratched up. "What happened to you?" "That Janet is a bitch," she replied angrily. "And Fred is a pervert." "Tell me about it." "We took a taxi to this warehouse district outside of town. There are a bunch of wholesale shops selling souvenirs and crap. They're not in the same building, but spread out over several blocks. We had to walk a lot. It was hot. "We first went to a store that sells dolls and shit. They bought a whole bunch of them - two shopping bags. I had to carry that. "Then we went to this tapestry place. They bought dozens of shawls, tablecloths, towels, and junk. Fred took off his backpack and they filled it up with textiles. "They then made me wear the backpack. It had a belt that fits around the waist - Janet fastened that for me and pulled it really tight. Like she tried to hurt me or something. Anyway, they made it so I couldn't easily take it off to rest. I wore that stupid backpack for hours. And they kept putting more crap into it. "When the backpack and the shopping bags were full they got this shoulder bag I had to carry. It kept falling down, and then Janet would get mad and slap me. Not hard, but how would you like to be slapped and scolded in a store in front of clerks and customers? She treated me like a child." Or a slave, thought Jim. "And then she'd tousle my hair - like you would with a child or a dog. It would get into my face and eyes, and since my hands were full there wasn't much I could do about it. She did it just to irritate me. Asshole." Jim decided he liked Janet. "But Fred was worse. Whenever Janet wasn't looking he'd pat my butt. Since my hands were full I couldn't stop him without making a scene. And I guess he figured out I wasn't wearing any underwear. So pretty soon he had his hands under my skirt. And then when Janet went into a store and we were standing on sidewalk, he unbuttoned the top three buttons of my blouse so that my tits almost hung out. And of course he couldn't resist copping a feel. What a jerk!" "Did Janet make you button up again?" asked Jim." "Of course not. She either didn't notice or didn't care. "And then we went and bought these bird cages - two big ones. They weren't heavy, but bulky - that's how I got all scratched up. Fred finally took the shopping bags so I could carry the bird cages - and the shoulder bag and the back pack. My arms are killing me. "At the end we stopped to get something to drink. At least they let me put down the packages. They only let me drink water, but I really needed that. We sat in a restaurant booth, with me on one side and Fred and Janet on the other. I thought I'd be safe. But no way. Fred took his bare foot and stuck it between my thighs under the table. I couldn't complain - Janet might get mad at him, but she'd take it out on me. "If he didn't already know I was naked underneath, he certainly found out in the restaurant." "Is that called 'pussyfooting around'?" Jim asked, smiling. Sabina didn't think that was funny. They sat quietly for a minute. "An afternoon well spent," said Jim. "That's $500 off your debt right there." "Debt? What debt?" "You have to pay back all the money you owe me." "What money do I owe you?" "The airfare was $2000. The hotel and food are $400 per day, and we've already been here a week. That doesn't count the dinners and stuff we eat outside the hotel - those are added separately. And then my time is $50/hour - I'm not doing this for free, you know. On the credit side you get $100 for the blowjob you gave me yesterday, and I'm giving you $500 for your service to Fred and Janet." He took out the little book where he kept records. "The total you still owe me is $8,200 as of right now." Sabina, astonished, didn't complain. Jim knew she wouldn't - the Rubicon had been crossed. "What about the ring?" she asked, holding up the diamond. "I'm not charging you for that. But you probably want to return it to me. A debt slave shouldn't be wearing a ring - it might get lost and then you would owe me. I'll keep it for you now, and then if it's appropriate later I'll give it back to you." Debt slave? Return the ring? Those words must have stung because she started to cry. Still, slowly, she removed the ring and handed it over. Chapter Seven Jim met Fred in the hotel bar for a man-to-man chat. "I want to fuck your wife," Jim said. "Tell me what you need to make that happen." Jim watched his face like a movie. First shock - he started to walk away. But Jim had just bought him a drink and he didn't want to abandon it - and he owed because of Sabina's help. Then came greed: just what did he need to make that happen? He probably thought of many things, none of which he'd get. Fred finally answered. "There are all these young and pretty native girls who would just love to have your money. Why are you hitting on my wife? She's not young, and she's not all that beautiful?" "She's pretty enough. And the natives are still there - I'll fuck them anyway. But I got a business idea and Janet and you can be part of it." "Business? What's that?" Fred leaned forward and Jim knew he had him hooked. "Prostitution is illegal in this country. When I first got here I tried to bribe the concierge, but he wouldn't bite. So they're serious about that. At first I was disappointed, but now I see opportunity. I propose a prostitution ring with White girls - paying guests who they can't arrest. It'll make a lot of money. Sabina will go along. If you and Janet want to help out I'll share the profits." Not entirely true. Jim's real intention was to enslave Janet. No profit-sharing necessary. "So you want my wife to be a prostitute?" "The thought did cross my mind." "So what makes you think Janet will agree?" He paused. "Why do you think I'll agree?" "There's money in it for you. And it might be fun. As for her, you'll have to convince her." He repeated his question. "What do you need to make this happen? Money? I got that. I don't mind over-paying her for starters. Flattery will get you everywhere." Fred, quiet, drained his drink and walked to the window. It took several minutes for him to process all this. He walked slowly back to the table: "five hundred quid." Jim faked shock at the price. He wasn't really worried about the money - he'd get every cent back from them and much more besides. The higher the bill now, the more they'd be in hock for later. "Let's see. That's about $800. I'll negotiate the best price I can with Janet, and the difference between that and $800 is yours." And then as an afterthought: "Oh, and if you want to fuck Sabina, that's gonna cost you $300." "So I still don't know how to get Janet to do it," Fred said. "She's a pretty strong person. I can't just tell her to go fuck somebody and expect her to obey." "No, you couldn't, could you," said Jim, appreciating the "unintended" insult on Fred's manhood. "Just tell her there's a booze, money and sex party in my room at 7pm tonight. She knows I'm rich - she'll bite. And no second chances - you both either show up tonight or the whole deal is off. I'll find some other lady." Back in the room, Jim needed to make sure Sabina obeyed. He couldn't risk a scene this evening. Between the front door to the suite and the sitting room was a short foyer. He put a chair in the foyer. "New rule, bitch," he said, finally addressing her with an appropriate title. "From now on you are to be naked in this room. Whenever you walk in the room you are to strip naked in the foyer before coming any further. I put a chair there for you to use. And the reverse is true - you need to get dressed in the foyer before leaving the room." She stared at him. "So get over there and get naked," he ordered, loudly. She slowly got off the sofa and walked across the room. She put her clothes over the chair, and when naked turned to him smiling, spreading her upturned palms to show off. "Ta da!" Jim smiled back. "Cool. Now crawl over here and give me another blow job." That wiped the smile off her face, but she got down on her hands and knees and obeyed. Chapter Eight Needing Sabina dressed for the evening he put her in a hippie skirt - one of those tie-dye, ankle-length thingys popular in the '70s. Her t-shirt read "I ♥ New York." Not high fashion, but that wasn't the point. Of course he didn't tell her what was going down. She surely knew something was up. The credenza, loaded with quality booze, suggested a party. Her wearing clothes also gave the game away. On the coffee table was a deck of cards. But she knew better than to ask questions. She sat at her assigned place - alone on the love-seat. Behind it he'd stashed a bag with supplies. Seven o'clock rolled around, and nothing happened. He put some tunes on to suggest the mood - love songs from the sixties and seventies. At twenty past he told himself he'd give them another ten minutes and then make good on his threat to call off the deal. There was a knock on the door. "Hello Fred," he said ushering the man inside. Fred nodded a greeting without smiling. Janet followed, smiling broadly. "Thank you for the invitation. We're so happy to be here." She offered her cheek for a kiss. Jim obliged. She dressed modest but sexy - a pencil skirt to just above the knee, with a slightly translucent blouse that showed the bra line. Carefully coiffed hair proved she took this date seriously. "What's your poison?" asked Jim after assigning seats. Janet he put on the sofa, with Fred on the chair, who looked disappointed that he didn't get to share the love seat with Sabina. Fred and Janet got real drinks - Fred's extra strong. Jim opened a beer that he never drank. Sabina only got a glass of soda water. They talked about whatever. Jim, sitting next to Janet on the sofa, casually laid a couple clean benjamins on the table. Janet stared at them. After serving Fred his second drink Jim popped the question. "Janet," he said, looking straight at her, his hand resting lightly against her shoulder, "the reason I asked you over is I'd like to make love to you. Is that cool?" He pretended to care about her opinion. She turned bright red, looking first at Fred, then Sabina, then briefly at Jim. Intimidated by his steady gaze she fixed on the benjamins instead. Jim pushed them toward her. "Does that help?" In desperation she turned to Fred for advice, getting none. "Well, uh... I mean, ... I don't know," she stammered, with just the hint of a smile. "I'll try to make it easier for you," and he pulled another three benjamins out of his pocket. "I think a game would be fun. What if you and Sabina played a game of strip poker?. And if you lose, I'll put in this extra $300 if you have sex with me." "And if I don't lose?" she asked, hesitantly. "Then you still get the $200 for sex. But we'll try to jig the game so that you'll lose." "How will you do that?" "Not counting your shoes, how many clothes are you wearing?" "Four," she said, obviously referring to blouse, skirt, bra & pantie. "And what are you wearing?" he asked Sabina. "A dress and a t-shirt." "No underwear?" he asked in mock surprise. "Seems she doesn't like underwear," contributed Fred. "Well, that's not fair," continued Jim. "What should we do about that?" "Janet could take off her knickers," suggested Fred. Janet glared at him. "Or Sabina could put on some clothes like a decent lady." Sabina smiled at that idea. "I'm not sure about decent," said Jim, "but I do think she needs some more clothes." He rose and walked back around the love seat to his bag of tricks and pulled out a pair of leather handcuffs. "I don't want to be tied up," Sabina said, surprised with a touch of fear. "I don't really care what you want. You need to wear some more clothes." He extended the cuffs toward Janet. Fred had a hard-on. Janet smiled. She really did have that sadistic streak - that's why Jim liked her. Janet tentatively took the handcuffs. Jim pushed Sabina forward so that she could get her hands behind her back. She resisted. "Look, lady. You need to play along. Got that." She got the point. Janet walked around behind the love seat next to Jim to fasten the cuffs. Jim put his free arm around Janet's waist. It took her a minute to figure out how the cuffs worked, but then she fixed them good and tight, palms facing each other and the loose ends away from the fingers. Sabina grimaced but there was nothing she could do. Jim let her sit back again. "So that gives Sabina three clothes to Janet's four. Still not fair." They knew he had the answer, and so he did. He pulled another pair of cuffs from the bag. Janet walked round the love seat and knelt by Sabina's feet. She quickly fixed her ankles together - too tight for comfort. "How long do I have to sit like this?" She got no answer. "So now she's tied up, four to four. Still not good odds, Janet. You need to lose. What next?" "Janet could still take off her undies?" chirped Fred hopefully. "Nah, I got a better idea." Jim rummaged around in his stash and pulled out a ball gag. It was a professional deal - maybe 3" in diameter with a hole in the middle for air, and leather straps to go around the back of the head. "I don't want to be gagged," shouted Sabina, panic in her voice. She struggled against her cuffs, succeeding only in half pushing herself off the sofa. "Shut up bitch. We're not going to hurt you." Jim handed the ball gag to Janet, curious to test if she really was a sadist. "Hold her nose to get her mouth open, and then push this in." Janet hopped to. She stood over Sabina like some vicious dental hygienist. Sabina clamped her teeth shut, turning her head away. No matter - Jim held her head still while Janet pinched her nostrils. The lips parted but not the teeth. "Hold it over her mouth, but cover it so she can't breathe without opening it." Janet pushed the gag past her lips, restricting air as much as possible. Eventually the jaw relaxed and the gag slipped inside. Sabina breathed deeply but the jig was up. Janet shoved the ball hard past the teeth, deep inside. "mmmfh, mmmmmpf." The straps were fastened with more force than even Jim thought necessary - Sabina grimaced in pain. I'll get back at her thought Jim - a little sadism is OK, but Janet enjoyed this too much. He grabbed Sabina under the arms and lifted her back properly onto the sofa. And then, to totally rig the outcome, he put a baseball cap on her head. It made it hard for her to see. Chapter Nine "Here's the two hundred bucks," he said, pushing the bills toward her. "And if you lose the strip game then here's the other three hundred." He put three bills in the center of the table. "Either way I'm fucking you as soon as the game is over." It wasn't a request. The game was high card - each girl pulled a card from the deck, and whoever was low took off some clothing. "Sabina obviously can't play her own hand. Fred can play it for her." Janet lost the first round. "Oooo," said Fred, happily. "Why don't you take off your knickers?" Janet gave him an evil eye. She reached down and removed the low-heeled modest pumps, revealing pink-painted toes. These wiggled nervously into the carpet. She watched Jim staring at her. Janet lost the second round as well. "Guess it's time for the knickers." Janet hated her husband, but it seemed he was right. She wouldn't look any more naked without underwear. She put her hands inside the waistband to push them down, and then wiggled her legs to shake them loose to her ankles. Jim had hoped she'd lift up her skirt - didn't happen. But the shimmy and the shake got him hard anyway. Sabina, who desperately wanted to lose the ball gag, finally lost round three. She had to settle for going barefoot. Janet removed her sandals. "Mmmmmfph" was the only reply. But the girl got lucky again, and off came the cap. At least she could see straight. Then Janet lost - though even for her "losing" meant winning $300. Still, stripping in public made her blush. She paused before deciding to take off her blouse. She undid the five buttons - red with embarrassment as Jim watched her - and slipped it off her shoulders, revealing a low-cut, frilly black bra. "Sexy!" said Fred, sarcastically. Jim looked on appreciatively. Janet got the high card on round six - Sabina had to lose something. "Mmmmfpff" was her suggestion, presumably indicating the ball gag. Saliva dripped down the side of her mouth. "I'd go for the shirt," offered Janet, "but I guess with the cuffs and all that comes off last." "Not so," said Jim, producing a pair of snub-nosed scissors. He moved over to the love seat to hold his fiancee in place while Janet went to work. Not that Sabina struggled, but he had fun feeling her up. Janet started cutting at the belly button. It took a while for her to slice the shirt between the breasts. Jim grabbed her tits as it fell open, while Janet cut away the sleeves and pulled the garment off. Jim massaged her naked breast, while Janet mussed her hair into her eyes before sitting down. Round seven went to Sabina, which put Janet just that much closer to the extra $300. "Take off the skirt," said Fred, now on his fourth drink. "Why don't you just go fuck yourself." With that she reached back and undid the bra. She had full breasts. Jim gave Sabina's pair a good squeeze. Sabina lost round eight. Jim pulled her up off the sofa, lifting her up and swinging her round so her butt faced Janet. She got the full force of his throbbing dick against her crotch. Janet unfastened the hook that held the waistband together. As Jim relaxed his grip the skirt fell to the floor, three inches below her feet. He clasped the now naked girl against him again, his hardness against her nether lips. Had he not been clothed himself he would have entered her. For a brief moment he loved her. Her bound and helpless body triggered compassion, not sadism. He almost abandoned the mission - enslaving Janet - to make love - not fuck, but make love - to Sabina. Instead he pushed her back onto the sofa. She looked at him for mercy and affection. Finding none, she said "mmmmmpfhpf." Chapter Ten Only one more hand needed playing, and Janet lost. She reached behind her to unfasten and unzip her skirt stepping out of it one leg at a time, leaving the lady naked. Jim admired the brown pussy, the smooth thighs, the full breasts, and the cute toes. "Turn around." She did, and he slapped the shapely butt - not hard, but it got her attention. "What'd you do that for?" "Because I felt like it," he said sternly. Slaves don't argue back - she'd learn soon enough. He stood and walked behind the love seat and unfastened the ball gag, which Sabina removed completely as soon as he undid the handcuffs. She then unfastened the ankle cuffs. Well trained, she didn't even ask to get dressed. White Slaves of the Caribbean He poured Fred another drink. "You can look, but don't touch." Jim gallantly offered Janet an arm. She took it and he led her to the bedroom. His plan was to give her something she'd never had and would surely never get again - love. Then he figured he'd have her hooked - slave for life. He kissed her passionately before tonguing his way down her neck to her breasts. These he kissed, licked, fondled, enjoyed. He licked down her belly, slowly past the navel, finally tickling the pussy hair below. There he lingered, gauging her suspense from her breath and a light finger on her clit. She tried to push against him, but he wouldn't let her - moving away. Finally his tongue reached the clitoris. He could feel her wetness, but still played coy - he wouldn't let her cum yet. He gently licked her clit. When it seemed she couldn't hold it any longer he buried his lips against against her pussy and pushed his tongue inside. She throbbed against him - and now he let her, thrusting in rhythm. Fred had never done this for her - she completely lost control. Her sweat-covered body soaked the sheets. Her moans filled the room. Pussy juice dripped off his face. He cupped her buttocks with both hands, pulling her toward him and sinking his face ever deeper into her hole. She paused and trembled, and then succumbed to a great wave of orgasm wracking her entire body. Her hips shoved against his tongue as if she were giving birth. He held on tightly, every muscle tense, tonguing her hard and careful not to lose control. He didn't miss a beat but gave her what she needed - absorbing one wave after another of raw, female energy. Finally she was spent. He came up for air. Now it was his turn. He cleaned his face against her breasts, and then kissed her deeply on the lips. She hung in his arms exhausted, happily yielding to his every move. His hard dick, aching for relief, found the pussy lips. She was tight, but so wet that he entered easy. Now he pumped hard - first slowly and then more quickly. The male energy rose behind the dam. He resisted the orgasm for as long as he could. But when the dam burst it was uncontrollable. A flood of cum filled her. He pounded her ten or even twenty times to soak out the last drop. Then, too, he was spent. He withdrew and rolled off of her. She cuddled him affectionately. He let her rest there for a few minutes. So much for lovemaking. Let the slave making begin. "Clean me up." "What?" "Go to the washroom, get a hot wash towel and come and clean me up." "But I'm naked." "I know that. Do it anyway. And hurry up." To get to the washroom she had to leave the bedroom and walk into the other room, where Fred and Sabina were waiting. She didn't want to do that. But without too much hesitation she rose and cautiously opened the door. Maybe she thought they'd fallen asleep or something. "Looks like you just got screwed," Jim heard Fred say. "Oh Shut up." She was a sight. Pussy juice and cum dripped down her thigh. Her hair was completely messed. Dry juice and saliva dirtied her breasts. "How come you never fuck me like that?" All Jim heard was a door slam as she shut herself in the bathroom. But just for a moment, for she soon returned with a hot wash cloth and a towel. She did what she was told. Chapter Eleven In the week that followed Janet got trained nicely. She now slept in Jim's bed, except when Sabina slept there in which case she slept on the sofa in the living room. Like Sabina, she was naked when in the room, and sans underwear when abroad. She crawled for blow jobs on command. The girls hated each other, a sentiment Jim did his best to encourage. He played favorites, picking Janet as his favorite slave and letting her beat up on Sabina as she chose. Not literally "beat up" of course - Jim didn't tolerate actual violence - but anything just short of that was fair game. For example, every evening at 5pm Sabina would undergo an hour of "training." This started innocently enough: Jim would ask Janet for a drink, and Janet passed the order on to Sabina. Or Sabina had to sit like a dog at Janet's feet. Or she'd have to masturbate on the floor lying between Janet and Jim. As often as not Jim ordered room service. He let the girls get dressed for dinner: Janet in a nice-looking evening gown, and Sabina in an indecent French maid's costume. She'd have to deliver dinner in as labor-intensive manner possible. She could only serve small portions - just a few bites - and when the plate was empty she had to bring a clean plate with the next small portion. She'd run to the washroom to wash the dishes for subsequent servings. Same with drinks - delivered in swallow-sized cups, requiring constant refill and dishwashing. And one more rule: she couldn't let her butt or tits hang out - not easy in a costume made for just that. With all that running around sexy Sabina got Jim horny as hell. He'd take her into the bedroom and fuck the bejeezus out of her. Then she got to eat dinner. Today, Sunday, he turned the tables. Sabina ruled - and revenge was sweet. Janet looked terrified. With naked Janet's hands tied behind her back, Sabina sat her down on the floor in front of the coffee table. Then she opened a can of spaghetti - cold - and dumped it all on a plate. This was Janet's dinner - cold, canned spaghetti - to be eaten nude with no hands. "Chow down girl - eat all of it." Jim laughed. "Serves you right." Janet grimaced, but then took a noodle between her lips and sucked it in - as ladylike as possible. That happened again. But on the third try Sabina shoved her face hard into the spaghetti plate - she emerged with sauce on her eyebrows, chin, nose, and forehead, and a noodle in her hair. She shook, spit and sputtered to get as much of it off as possible. She turned her head to give Sabina an angry look. That was a mistake because Sabina pushed her ear and hair onto the plate. "Eat it, bitch. You're not getting out of this until it's all gone." Janet knew better than to concentrate on anything besides spaghetti - though Sabina still mussed up her hair good, getting sauce-covered bangs in her eyes. No point in keeping clean now. Janet sucked and slobbered and licked and swallowed her way through the pasta. Sauce and clammy noodles slipped down her tits and tummy. Sabina didn't miss a chance to slam the other ear onto the dish as well. Only after sucking up the last noodle and licking the plate clean was Janet presented with the coup de grace: the ball gag. "No - please don't gag me," she screamed. "No." Jim grabbed her from behind to hold her still while Sabina pinched her nose and shoved the gag in place. She then pulled it tight and fastened it. "Mmmmpfhfm" "Time for a shower, lady," Jim said. He stripped down, lifted the saucy girl to her feet and marched her to the bathroom. A girl bound and gagged can't exactly clean herself, so Jim helped her out. He lathered her hair, washed her face. soaped her tits, pussy and asshole - and then rinsed her off. Afterwards she got towel-dried and blow dried and hair combed so she'd look good. It seemed she enjoyed the ministrations, though probably rather without the ball gag. Once done Jim marched her to the bedroom where he fucked the bejeezus out of her. Only then did he remove the handcuffs and the ball gag. So ended his first week as a slavemaster. Not bad! But Jim knew it couldn't continue that way. He wanted sex slaves for the marketplace - what he had were slaves. Yes - having a bound and gagged girl suck up spaghetti is fun once, the second time it's boring, and beyond that it's just pointless cruelty. Jim had nothing against cruelty for a cause, but not for it's own sake. There's a difference between a slave and a sex slave. A sex slave is - sexy. That means pretty, flirty, stylish, charming, coquettish, and - important - available. His slaves were well trained - now he'd have to make them sexy. But first he had another problem to solve. Chapter Twelve He'd always expected a problem with Fred. Cuckolded husbands don't usually leave quietly and Jim figured he'd eventually have to buy him off, or let him fuck Sabina, or something. Fred was a wimp so he didn't much worry about it - it would all come out right in the end - with any charges added to Janet's tab. But the problem that actually happened threw Jim for a loop. Fred was jealous alright - but he envied Janet - not Jim. Far from resenting Janet's infidelity, he instead wanted the same attention from Jim that Janet got. Weird. It took Jim awhile to figure this out. Fred always hung around asking for something to do. He offered to fetch food from the restaurant, to clean the hotel room, to make coffee for Jim, or even try on the handcuffs and ball gag for size. Jim didn't really want him around, but the only thing that got Fred angry was asking him to leave. That's the one thing he didn't want to do. Jim figured he had another slave - certainly not a sex slave (yuck!) - but some kind of slave. A freebie. So Jim tried to think of something useful for slave Fred to do. Every brothel needs a bouncer - that seemed the obvious choice. But Fred couldn't bounce a rubber ball much less a drunken tourist. Jim laughed at the very idea. It took him a couple of days to come to an answer. "Freddy, I want you to be the butler." Freddy's eyes lit up, unperturbed by his new name. "I'd be happy to." Jim hadn't asked, merely stated, but Freddy would learn the role of a slave soon enough. "We need to buy you some clothes." They went to a tuxedo shop in Charlesville. A shirt, jacket and bow tie were carefully fitted to Freddy's amorphous frame. He learned how to tie the bow tie, at Jim's insistence practicing over an hour. "We don't need the pants," Jim told the surprised salesman. "But he does need a nice pair of shoes. Black wingtips is what they bought. "You shine them every day, like in the military." Likewise, he purchased several pairs of dress socks - the kind that rise to mid calf. Freddy had no clothes sense whatever, so almost any pair of pants Jim were to buy would pass unnoticed. Almost - but not quite. What Jim bought was a pair of off-pink shorts, such as what a 10 year old kid might wear. Maybe they were intended for a girl, for surely no man would wear them. They didn't fit quite properly, so Jim got roughly matching suspenders to go with it, along with pinkish Bermuda shorts for underwear. Freddy looked silly - even he realized it. "Do you think this is a good idea? I look like a clown." "You do as I say. Don't ask questions." That shut him up. "Clown" wasn't really the right word - people laugh at what clowns do, not at who they are. In Freddy's case they'd be laughing at Fred - he looked foolish, impotent, wimpy. This butler could serve two purposes: serve the customers as a waitress might, and stroke the customers' egos. How that? By being a silly old eunuch that makes everybody feel manly by comparison. He'd make customers feel good just by looking at him. Humiliation had a place in Jim's plan - the girl's would get their share - but it was Freddy's full portion. Janet laughed aloud when she next saw her husband. Sabina, who tried to be polite, couldn't help but smile. "I want a glass of water," demanded Janet, anticipating the rules. Freddy looked at Jim for guidance. "Do as they say." And Freddy fetched water. Janet upped the ante. "Lick my shoes." Freddy again looked to Jim, whose eyes showed anger. "Do as they say," Jim reiterated. Janet had her feet tucked under the chair - she didn't extend them. Freddy got down on all fours. Sticking his head under the chair forced his pink butt in the air. Sabina couldn't resist the swift kick. Freddy turned red with shame - maybe even anger. He looked to get up to leave. "Lick her shoes!" insisted Jim, now truly angry. "You're out on your ear if you don't obey." Freddy swallowed his pride and licked Janet's shoes. From then on he served Jim and the girls without complaint - breakfast, lunch and dinner. Between meals they'd ask him to do humiliating things, like eat off the floor, or sit in the corner with a dunce cap, or walk around on tiptoes saying "I am an ugly old fool" for an hour. Or whatever. Chapter Thirteen The rules changed for the girls, too. Instead of always being naked in the room they had to dress up. Nicely. Indeed, Jim expected them to look sexy at all times - occasionally that meant naked, but usually it meant dressed in some provocative way. Sabina liked that - she got to use all her luggage. Janet had more difficulty. They weren't allowed to wear the same clothes two meals in a row. Jim spent much of the next week trying to analyze just what "sexy" meant. It mattered because that's what prostitutes do, and Jim wanted it down to a science. He let them experiment. He planned to start pimping them out this coming weekend - but then events intervened. The event was Barbara. He saw her first in the hotel restaurant. Probably in her late twenties, she could have been pretty. But slovenly described her better - no makeup, hair uncombed, cheap, dirty clothes with no fashion sense. He saw a girl with very low self-esteem. This was a problem Jim could solve. Girls with no self-esteem are easy to talk into prostitution. But beyond that prostitution would be good for Barbara. In much the same way as the military turns boys into men, whoring can turn a weak little girl into an erotically empowered woman. Jim, feeling charitable, resolved to help Barbara out. The problem, he saw immediately, was Barbara's mother, Delores. She - mid-forties, overweight, unkempt - hovered over her offspring needily, desperately afraid of losing her. Another great candidate for prostitution - too bad she's so ugly. A job for Freddy. And the rules changed yet again. The butler's clown suit temporarily got put in the closet, and Freddy dressed like a mini-Jim - nice t-shirt, clean & pressed shorts, faux-gold chains, along with a fake Rolex. Delores wouldn't know the difference. "You see that lady over there?" Jim asked, pointing her out. "You need to seduce and fuck her by the end of the week. Do you understand?" "Yes," said Freddy, hesitantly. "But what if she doesn't want to fuck me?" "You make it happen or you're out of here. I got no place for slackers." Freddy looked panicked. "Here's $300. You spend what you need on her - take her out to dinner, buy her some sexy lingerie, whatever. Offer her money for sex. Do what you need to do. I can give you more money if you really need it." Freddy took the money and sat there like a beached whale. "Get moving, stupid. Go offer to buy her a drink or something. You're wasting time. Use that British accent of yours - she'll fall for it." Freddy pulled his strategy together, then slowly waddled around the pool to Delores. The next couple of minutes would tell the tale - if Freddy couldn't make a good first impression then he'd be back in the clown suit that afternoon. Jim breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Freddy head to the bar and order a couple of drinks. Freddy wasn't shy, and Delores didn't require high charm anyway. She'd sell herself for cheap just for the date. The two spent the afternoon together. Disappointingly, he reappeared in Jim's room shortly after dinner. "Why didn't you screw her?" demanded Jim. "I did screw her. Sheesh - how long do you think that'd take? Then we went to dinner. She wants to spend the evening with me, but I thought I'd check with you first." Jim didn't like the lip, but he let it go on the good news. "How much money did you spend?" he asked, pretending to be angry. "Not much. Food was included with her room, so I just sprung for the drinks. About fifty dollars." He pulled the change from his pocket. Jim saw immediately that he wasn't lying. "Keep it. Spend as much of it as you can on her tonight. Try to hang out with her daughter, too." And then as an afterthought: "You can screw the old lady all you want, but don't lay a finger on her daughter. Do you understand?" "Yes. But I haven't seen her daughter yet. I don't know where she is." "She'll show up. You can buy them both drinks and stuff. Try to keep them together as much as you can. Spend the night with them - check back with me around lunchtime tomorrow." Freddy nodded assent. Jim continued: "Invite them to a booze, money and sex party in my room tomorrow night. They both need to show up. And don't take no for an answer. Insist. Your future depends on them both being here tomorrow evening, 7pm. Have I made myself clear?" "Yes," said Freddy, sheepishly. "Yes!? Is that the way to address me? I'm paying your fucking bills, after all. Show me a little respect." Freddy, intimidated, stood at attention. "Yes Sir!" Chapter Fourteen By seven pm neither Freddy nor mother and daughter had appeared. Sabina and Janet were ready: dressed like whores, or at least what Jim imagined whores should dress like. He'd spent a lot of time thinking about what a whore should wear, and now was a chance to test out a couple of theories. In Jim's mind there were at least two kinds of whores: the cheap whore and the expensive whore. Not that there'd be any difference in the actual price - he'd charge the same for both of them. But the psychology was different. This evening at least, Sabina played the role of cheap whore. The cheap whore is desperate, probably behind on her rent, or strung out on crack, or ripped off by her boyfriend. You're doing the cheap whore a favor by fucking her - not only does she want the money, she needs the validation. Her customers feel sorry for her and pay extra for charity. She's available because she's needy. The cheap whore dresses like a streetwalker: too much make-up, too much cleavage, too short a skirt. In Thailand, for example, the cheap whores are nearly naked, parading down Walking Street in Pattaya in fancy lingerie. In a classy hotel Sabina couldn't do that. Still - she sported more make-up than in good taste, the top three buttons of her blouse were undone, and her school-girl skirt was short enough to get her kicked out of school (though probably not the hotel). Janet - at least this evening - played the expensive whore. The expensive whore makes the customer feel special. Be it because you're so handsome or so charming or so rich, whatever it is you uniquely get to screw this very choosy and fastidious woman. Her message is "I don't usually do this, but just for you I'll have sex for $300." The expensive whore is available only because you're so cool. Faking selectivity requires the expensive whore to dress modestly. Janet wore a dress suit - with the loose skirt to just above the knee and the blouse buttoned to the neck. A vest accented her waist and bosom, with hair done up in a business-like bun. But it wasn't all like a day in the office: she sported two-inch heels with no stockings, and a slightly translucent blouse that showed off the less-than-modest bra line. Her clothes invited hands-on investigation.