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.