French Teacher Changes Occupation

Part 1 - MY NEW OCCUPATION

The first day I arrived in Juneau, Alaska the sky was a deep blue. The air was cool and frosty, there were no clouds on the horizon. I love the cold weather, the white fresh snow, the green forest, and the wild creatures that live there. I emigrated to Alaska thinking I'd have no problem securing employment. But I came to the wrong place for work. I should have gone to an area that valued education. Here in Juneau, the public values hand and blow jobs most highly. So, where did I end up working? In a massage parlor!

There is no lack of these establishments in the State Capital of Alaska. You can find more than twenty-five places where you can get your wang greased, and if you are a high flier, your belly as well. Try not to hit the ceiling, I don't like climbing a ladder to clean up.

When I went to work for Mr. Fang, I was surprised when he greeted me with, "Bienvenue en Alaska." Mr. Fang spoke excellent French. He was a well-educated man. I shouldn't have been surprised. Mr. Fang explained that although his native country was never a French colony, Thailand's interaction with France began in the Sixteenth Century and continued into modern times.

Mr. Fang was very tall for an Asian. He had dark black hair and a Fu Manchu mustache. He was a real pro who owned several massage parlors, managed by members of his trusted family. This flagship parlor had a red-painted door and the rest of the one-story building was candy-striped.

The parlor's name was on a sign with big letters that stretched across the building. It said simply, "CUM'IN ATCHA." I thought at first this was an Eskimo name. In fact, it was an accurate description of what we were offering.

Mr. Fang suggested I work one week for free, and during that time, I could watch how the other girls did their work on the security TV kept in his office. There was no tape machine hooked up to the video. To make tapes would have been illegal and provided evidence of the blatant sexual activities that went on.

The color camera transmissions were of a good definition but served purely for security. If the security officer saw violence in a massage cubical, he'd come forward. Usually, Mr. Fang acted as the security guard, but he was one tough mother fucker. On one occasion, I saw him reduce an abusive client to tears with one slap to the face.

I watched Giselle, Fanny, and Tiffany do their job the first few days. The girls were mostly bleached blonde with shaved pussies. Mr. Fang gave me a new violet-covered paperback entitled "The Art of Erotic Thai Massage - 5th Edition" All the rudimentary moves are inside the book, plus hints on how to give a happy ending in several different ways.

Mr. Fang hired me on a trial basis. No one insisted I provide the client with a happy ending. At first, I was pretty reticent to touch a strange man's privates. Mr. Fang called me into his office after the first few days to discuss my technique.

"Francine, we charge $80 an hour for our service and $45 for a half-hour. We pay you $20 for the half-hour and $38 for the full hour. You do the math. What is your average tip, Francine?"

"Usually $10, sometimes $20."

"OK, how much do you think the other girls make?"

"More? I guess the guys like them better?"

"Not them," Fang shouted, "they like what they do. The other girls get $30 to $50 in tips for wanking or sucking off one customer."

"Are you kidding? Then I recalled that when I watched the girls on the video, they would turn their back to the camera and lean forward. I thought something might be going on.

"Not only do the girls get good tips, and gifts, but they keep the customers coming back, which means more money for me," said Mr. Fang. "Francine, your return rate is the worst. When they come in, they talk to me. A lot of horny guys say they like you. But they want a full-fisted masseuse. They say they'd like you to let them grab your big pink tits, but you pull away."

I was surprised by his negative comments. When Mr. Fang called me in I thought he was going to tell me what a good job I was doing.

I responded, "I understand what you are saying. Let me think about it."

"Think fast, or tomorrow is your last day."

Mr. Fang opens at 10 am. The bright yellow sun was peeking through the clouds. He was waiting for me inside the door,

"OK, Francine, what's it gonna be?"

He had a heavy Asian accent, but I had no problem understanding him.

"I thought about it, Sir, and you are right. I'll do it."

"You'll do what?"

"I'll jerk the guys off."

With the wave of his finger, he indicated I should follow him into his private office. Once inside, he closed the door and threw off his robe. Stripped bare, his skin was a light creamy shade with very little body hair. He lay down on his massage table.

"Tu vas commencer par Moi" (You can start with me), he said as he laid down face up.

"First Francine, when a client lies face down with his head over the hole in the massage table, he is saying, "'I want a massage.'"

"When he lies down with his back on the table, as I am now, he is saying, 'jerk me off or blow me.'"

"Oh." That was when my eyes focused on his large genitalia.

"Francine, I know you can give a good standard massage. What is my posture saying to you?"

"Branle moi ou copule moi oralement (Jerk me off or blow me)"

"Yes, very good, bravo, you are a quick learner."

"OK, Francine, the first thing you do, when the client undresses and lies on the table, and you have started the massage, is, at a certain point if you see he has an erection, ask the client in sign language, what he wants. This way, if he is a policeman, he cannot record your answer. You make a circle with your thumb and index finger and move it up and down. Or you move your hands in front of your mouth and do the same. All men know what that means."

Mr. Fang continued, "I should add, if you ever get a client who you suspect is from law enforcement, who asks a lot of questions, don't answer, just come and get me. I know the head of the police, and I can take care of any problem. The Chief comes in every now and then for the full treatment, and we never charge him. So Francine, what do you do?"

"I do this." (repeating the sign language)

"Yes, the client will tell you yes or no. You can say that requires a $30 tip or whatever you think he will pay. Best to start low and confirm with the other massage girls what they charge. A satisfied customer will be generous."

"Now show me again what you will do?"

I made the indecent motions even though my face turned red when I indicated the blow job.

"OK, let's start with the jerk off. Use light sesame or mineral oil to lubricate the client's cock and balls. A dab on his ass hole is always recommended. We also have vaseline if there is a preference."

I did what he said, and Mr. Fang raised his hips. I could see that his legs and pelvis were very muscular. Grabbing my hand, he made me rub the oil on his ass hole.

"Now, the easiest thing to get a man erect is to let him suck your tit or to let him finger you. A man who wants sex will never stop touching you while you work. Now, lift your bra."

I pulled up my t-shirt with the letters 'Cum-in-Atcha' written in large letters and my bare tits popped out,

"I don't wear a bra to work."

"All the better," and Mr. Fang pulled me closer and started sucking on my left nipple. I must admit it felt very good.

Wam, he was instantly erect.

"OK, you see my point?" He pointed at his cock that was moving back and forth on its own.

If a client prefers a blow job instead of a jerk off, remember, gagging does not make for a good blow job, though some men like to hear it as it makes them think their cock is super large. You can avoid the gag reflex by placing the tip of your tongue on the roof of your mouth to block your throat.

Seeing Mr. Fang's moving cock got me distracted.

"How do you do that, moving your thing?"

"It's elementary."

"And your thing is very large."

"Francine, we are both adults, call it what it is, not a thing.'"

"Your cock, dick -- your very big penis?"

"Yes, that's better."

"You have probably been told that Asians have small dicks, and my heritage goes back ten generations. What you are looking at is a pure nine-inch Asian cock. Now oil me up with some sesame and show me how you masturbate me--start jerking."

I did what Mr. Fang said, but it was taking a while. His staff was very firm with a blue vein that curled around it.

"Am I doing it right?"

"Yes, Francine, now hold my balls and gently squeeze." His balls were firm and smooth-shaven. I could feel the slight wiry bristles.

"Ah yes, you are doing fine. I'm about to cum, now before I do, stick your finger in my ass hole, don't worry, I am very clean. If you have an unclean client, I advise you to use a glove or a condom as a finger protector."

I did as he said and a river of hot cum came gushing out of the head of his large penis. I was still holding on to his large balls and could feel them contract with every spurt.

"Now, before we finish, try sucking my cock."

I wanted to wipe his dick off with the wet towel but I did not hesitate and mouthed it sperm and all. He was still very erect.

"Run your tongue under the shaft. There is a magic spot. Oh yes, if I were twenty again, I'd be able to cum for another time."

The volume of cum was too much for me. I gagged twice.

"OK, Francine, Bon travail. Gagging is sometimes a problem when you are learning, and you can use a well-formed firm green hothouse cucumber to practice at home. But, you will see, the more cocks you mouth, the easier it will be. I think you will do quite nicely after this training session."

"We've covered all the bases except for your new costume. It is hanging there in the clothes closet. Open the door."

I pulled the wooden door open, and there, to my surprise, on a hanger was a darling French maid costume in black and white with a string belt and a zipper up the back.

"I bought two of the costumes, so you'll have a fresh change when we launder this one. I suggest you start talking a bit of French to the customers. Just pursuing your full lips should get them off. French is a very sexy language. We'll give you another week to catch up with the other girls. Now that you have the tools of the trade, you should quickly catch up and double or triple your tips."

I gave Fang's big reddish cock a hard suck and let it pop out of my mouth with a boom. I was ready for mortal combat. My hand and mouth against a world of pricks and a secret finger trick to set them off if needed. These were my primary tools, but I would also learn firsthand and mouth from my clients many interesting and exciting facts. I enjoyed my newfound occupation, and I was ready to set to work with a willingness I had not felt before. I'm not stupid. The way the men would wiggle, pop their fleshy boners, reach out to touch me--I knew what they wanted. Now I was prepared to do what they wanted--with gusto.

"J'aime vraiment ce travail." (I really love this job)

Part 2. - MY SEXUAL HISTORY

Before telling you about the various situations I encountered as a massage parlor girl, let me briefly give you a little of my sexual history.

I was raised in a small town north of Nice in France. I lived on a farm with my brothers and sisters--seven of us. Our farm was bordered by a pine forest. Every so often a rabbit would pop out of a thicket and run to raid our vegetable garden.

We raised goats and sheep and sold their milk to the local dairy, who were busy transforming it into various cheeses. We did most of the milking by hand; my father thought this produced a superior product, as sometimes milking machinery frightens the animals. In retrospect, pulling on those teats was good preparation for jerking off my massage clients.

I attended the nearby Catholic School run by Nuns and was an exemplary student. Of course, the school was not coed, there was a boy's school not far away. On special occasions, the boys were invited to see our plays or attend our social dances.

I was popular at the dances and wore a tight lace dress. I had grown rapidly and was one of the tallest girls in my class. I had auburn hair and full breasts that my dance partners squeezed against. I had grown a shapely rear and I grew accustomed to boys flirting with me, but I wanted to remain a virgin so I resisted their advances. As you may know, there is no age of consent in France, although we have laws to prevent adults from having sex with children. I was never into drugs or alcohol. Every French child drinks red wine, I was no exception.

I wore my hair in a stylish pixie cut and had a pinkish complexion with my small nose that the other student assumed I'd had altered by some high-profile Parisian Plastic Surgeon.

In school, we were taught to value our virginity. The closest I came to having sex was allowing a boyfriend to touch my breasts. When that wasn't enough to satisfy him, I broke up with him. Apart from what you might expect, I was strong enough to stop the boys probing fingers and I was still an intact virgin when I attended the University in Nice, where I majored in languages expecting to be a French teacher. I was also reasonably fluent in English.

You may wonder why I did not return to my family's home. Several nights before I left for Saudi Arabia, my older brother and I were watching television, the Euro Song Fest. My brother, who fancied himself a rock star and a poet, unbeknownst to me, with a cigarette dangling from his lower lip, had opened his pants and allowed his erection to stick out.

He took my hand in a brotherly gesture and laid my hand on his cock. I was flabbergasted, let out a scream, and ran to my room. "Je plaisantais," (I was just kidding)" he shouted after me. Having lost trust in my sibling I do not wish to return to the house where I was raised. Who knew what other schemes he had in mind.

Several days later, I was driving our small white tractor to the dairy with five metal containers in the cart behind. One of the men who I knew for the longest time, locked the door behind me in the accounting room, saying,

"You are old enough now to give an old friend a fuck."

When I refused to be coerced, he said, "Que diriez-vous d'une pipe" (If not a quicky, how about a blow job)," and at that he grabbed me forcibly by my shoulders and pushed me down delivering a painful blow to both my knees. When I finally looked up, he'd opened his trousers and out popped his red cock. I pushed him away repeatedly and only when his boss opened the door was I able to smack his cock's head. He let out a shout and I escaped.

It seemed that the men in my village were all going crazy. Even the bus driver who always was courteous offered to buy me a drink and invited me to spend a few hours in the upstairs room of the village bar.

Realizing my virtue was being assaulted from all directions, I packed my bag for my new career in Saudi Arabia. Once there, I expected the strict Islamic laws would protect me

Part 3 - SAUDI ARABIAN BONDAGE

I completed my course of studies and received my degree printed in Latin on parchment. I had been recruited to teach in Saudi Arabia and had signed all the paperwork. The monthly salary was three times what I might have earned in France.

When I arrived at the airport, the Master's chauffeur picked me up. He drove me to a large house that was outside the city and surrounded by brown sand. It looked rather desolate but I was eager to make the most of it. They provided me with an air-conditioned room and a comfortable bed and desk.

I was expected to teach the Master's five children for several hours a day. The pay was more than satisfactory, but I soon learned that my services included things I had not expected.

I was told to address my employer as 'Master.' After a few weeks, the Master called me to his office on my day off. I expected he would compliment me on the excellent job with his children, instead, he offered me an odd golden liquor and insisted I drink it. It knocked me out. When I awoke, I was nude. My hands and feet are tied to a small blue cloth-covered chaise lounge. When I looked up, the Master was apologizing, saying,

"I didn't know you were a virgin."

I realized why I was feeling pain and wetness in my vagina. I was lying in a pool of blood.

"Yes, I know we will have to get the sofa recovered. Virgin blood is damn near impossible to remove from fabric."

"Please Master, untie me."

"No. Not yet."

The Master spoke English and French and a slew of Mid Eastern languages. I had taken him for a gentleman. Why did he need sex with me? The Master had a beautiful wife who looked like she had just stepped off the runway of a Paris fashion house, she was always traveling. I rarely saw her. Maybe that was the reason?

As I lay there pleading to be released, the Master said.

"I promised my brother a turn. 'Toi, mon Professeur,' you woke up too soon. Would you like another drink?"

I shook my head. Then Achmed, his stupid brother, burst into the room, slamming the door. Seeing me in a state of distress, he just opened his robe, and he was wearing no underwear. His long tan circumcised cock, strangely attractive, was already erect although half-hidden by his massive growth of pubic hair. He jumped on top of me without hesitation.

Thankfully as soon as he penetrated me, he came almost immediately. When he withdrew from my bleeding vagina, he shoved his spermy dick into my mouth. I tried to bite it. Achmed slapped me so hard I was unconscious. I awoke just as he pulled his dirty dick out of my mouth. The Master attempted to apologize.

"Excuse my little brother. He has the run of the female servants, not a beauty like you, but he will learn."

"Can I go now, Master?"

"Yes, my pretty one, of course"

"Achmed, untie her. But my dear, we will repeat our entertainment with you now and then. I assumed like most westerners you were sexually promiscuous. I suggest you accept this treatment as part of our Saudi tradition. Slaves and servants are compelled to be intimate with their Masters. After all, you are an infidel and a non-believer. Sex with foreigners should not matter to you."

He handed me a 'day-after' pill and advised me to take it to avoid getting pregnant. aThe Master said his doctor would supply me with birth control pills or devices for that purpose.

"If you decide to stay with us after your contract is finished, I would like to have several children with you. In that case, you would become one of my wives."

I did not find his proposal very attractive. I got up from the blood-soaked sofa, grabbed my clothes, and ran sobbing to my room. This horrific experience was not my idea of how I would have my first introduction to sex in this unloving and disrespectful manner. My prized virginity, which I was taught to save for my future husband, was squandered on that bloody couch, and I had no recollection of how it was taken from me.

The next day, from my window, I saw two workmen carrying the sofa out to a pickup truck. I could see the upholster's men laughing as they pointed at the blood spot. The sofa chair returned a week later, now recovered in red plastic. The Master and his brother would continue to service me tied on that same chair, though I would no longer bleed. Affida, one of the female servants, remarked,

"The sofa is now much easier to clean after they play with you, just very sticky."

After being raped, my status among the other servants had changed. They smiled and laughed at me. The women, whose faces were always hidden by veils, would put their arms around me while chattering away with each other. The men became immediately more familiar with me and would grab me in the dark hallways, feeling my breasts and reaching under my robe to grab my sore pussy.