Total Woman Trainers Ch. 03

"Sir Stephen?" she whispered. No response. Again, a little louder. Sir Stephen!" Still no response.

Her plan was working perfectly. Valea sedative-laced lipstick transferred the second component dose during their kissing foreplay. The sex had raised his pulse and coursed the drug rapidly through his blood stream. Sir Stephen would be out for a few hours, long enough for Valea to achieve her real goal.

She removed the keychain from around his neck and began a fine comb search of the bedroom suite, seeking the hidden safe. She found it rather quickly behind a painting. Inside was a brown manila folder. The documents detailed the research for the island resort; a map revealing its location. Valea swiftly re-donned her foreplay rumpled street clothes, taking the packet with her as she left the penthouse.

Sir Stephen awoke several hours later. He was rested and ready for a second fuck of the luscious sweet blonde vixen with the long legs and long hair. He was disappointed to find his bed empty. He touched his chest and discovered the key was gone.

Sir Stephen smiled broadly; the plan had worked perfectly. The stashed documents were a rouse, planted to throw off the competition. The false island location was a non-farmable volcanic rock with narrow beaches that would further disappear because of the island's settling and worldwide rising sea levels. It was a non-productive money-pit which would decimate his competitors' finances. And Valea would unwittingly convince her clients to waste their resources trying to trump Sir Stephen.

Sir Stephen lay back, still aroused. Before showering, he called for his limousine and private jet to be prepped and fully stocked for his journey to the airport and then on to Africa. He was taking some guest coach tutors along to help improve one of his latest acquisitions in Kenya.

When he slipped into the town car later, he saw that his instructions had been obeyed. Two car service hostesses awaited him, fresh from a night shift assignment. The little Japanese twins still wore their sequined club dresses, low cut and short hemmed. They parked their barely covered butts on either side of him. He heard them chattering about a just completed night of pandering to a group of visiting Tokyo businessmen. They confessed to being a bit sore from pussy overuse. Embarking on the rush hour ride to the airport, Sir Stephen shared his story of forlorn bedroom abandonment.

The empathetic pair were well versed in alternate ways of consoling a gloomy client. They took turns, swapping between sucking and kissing. While one black haired head bobbed on his cock, the other sucked his tongue. The party dresses were pooled at their waists as he flicked their cute little nipples. At last, one relieved his uncomfortable spermatic pressure, ingesting his essence while the other muted his groan with her lips.

At the airport, he met his three travel guests. The four gentlemen transferred to the corporate jet, freshly stocked with food, beverage and two topless thong-clad Thai air hostesses. Considering the long flight ahead, there would still be plenty of time for sharing. Sir Stephen and his companions should arrive on a different continent feeling relaxed and well taken care of.

---

Hazima

Hazima slowly walked in front and then paced behind her three newest employees standing in an inspection line. The young women wore identical day uniforms for this exclusive safari lodge in East Africa: white slip-on tennis shoes, leopard pattern booty shorts and white tank tops.

As she walked the line, Hazima paused to test a butt for firmness, pulling a waistband higher for a more pronounced camel-toe or bouncing a braless tit to ensure its restrained wiggle trapped in the stretchy translucent fabric.

She expected perfection. That attitude had done her well in her steady rise to this executive position in Sir Stephen's far flung organization. He had nurtured her development from green recruit to trusted advisor to competent corporate manager, just like many before her and almost certainly many more to come. Any of the young women standing in line could advance in time, just as she had started on the bottom and now sat on top. It was a man's world, ruled by women that knew how it worked. For now, her charges needed her professional mentoring that the 30-something Hazima offered in abundance.

Taking her station beside her three new staff, Hazima watched the distant dust cloud draw closer on the safari camp's remote access road, signaling the imminent arrival of Sir Stephen and his cohort of coach tutors.

The SUV slowed as it neared the lodge, weakening the dust cloud, finally crawling to a stop at the arrival area with only puffs surrounding the tires. Sir Stephen in the shotgun seat spritely alighted first and was followed immediately by the rear passengers. Hazima glanced sideways to be certain her compliment of neophyte hostesses were in welcoming pose, despite any uneasiness as to the upcoming training regimen.

She saw the young Hindi maiden cocking one knee forward on a tiptoed foot, her hands clasped behind her fulsome brown body, with a little hip weave that presented the textbook exhibition of shy anticipation. She was unconsciously replicating her belly dance sashays, learned at the theatrical boarding school she had attended not so long ago.

The buxom Australian blonde stood statuesque tall with her tanned athletic physique. Sir Stephen's network of recruiters had spied her bumming at a surfing contest Down Under. They itched to assist shaping her beauty and vitality to her undeniable destiny. Sir Stephen concurred. His minions persuaded her to pursue a life of power and pleasure, found while gratifying the world's alpha males. Now, here she was, eager to be drilled and trained for that ideal purpose.

The lithe Somali woman stood unmoving, not yet used to exposing so much skin to masculine eyes in public. Still, the white of her shoes, blouse and fixed smile flashed bright and inviting against her blue-black complexion. And this was a much better life than the dusty refugee camp she had escaped.

Hazima stepped forward to welcome Sir Stephen with a dual hand clasp. He let her cheek buzz him a formal 'hello' before wrapping her in his customary hug, compressing her full jugs to his chest as he whispered his rascally greetings in her ear. She happily squeezed a little harder, giving her endorsement of his mischievous intentions for later when they were alone together. She broke the hug to perform the introductions.

The trio of coach tutors looked a bit disheveled from the rigors of the journey. Hazima asked each young lady to introduce herself.

"Hello, I'm Amara" said the Hindi.

"I'm Nicki" waved the perky blonde.

The Somali girl shyly nodded her greeting before stating her name as Kaduna.

One of the coach tutors started to introduce himself when Sir Stephen cut him off. He spoke brusquely to the assembled female staff, pointing to his associates.

"These are your guest coach tutors; you may address them as 'Sir' if and when they request or demand something from you."

The visiting males stood a little taller, ready to act out their roles and responsibilities in compliance with Sir Stephen's curt instructions.

Hazima's young women shuffled in place, straightening their line and awaiting the commencement of the weekend training sessions. It was late afternoon, a great time to see ranging wild animals emerge from the shades and shadows as the heat of the day diminished.

The herds would gather at the watering holes before dusk, getting refreshed before they hunted and grazed all through the night. Hazima wanted the coach tutors and novice guides to get acquainted by short tours in the two-seater electric jeeps. Then they could gather back at the lodge for dinner refreshments before performing their own sexual version of hunting and grazing all through the night.

Hazima dismissed her guides to the jeeps as the coach tutors watched the swaying leopard patterned butts and gently quaking boobs saunter away. When the driver guides were ready in the jeeps, Hazima addressed the mesmerized coach tutors.

"Well, gents, the choice is yours. No swaps until lunchtime tomorrow. Enjoy!"

The men started strolling together towards the parking lot. But as one got a pace ahead, the others would quick step to get even or ahead of him. The march devolved into a mad dash at the end, like a game of musical chairs when the music stops. Shortly, each coach tutor was seated with his first female matchup and the jeeps rolled off. Hazima led Sir Stephen on his inspection tour of the main facility and everything seemed in prime working order and Hazima's expected efficiency. The working staff was polite, even cheerful. Eventually, the pair of bosses settled into the open air main room, watching the gathering dusk as they discussed business.

"This latest troupe looks promising, Hazima. Anything about their recruitment that I need to know?"

"Not really, sir. It was the usual routine: a round of appointments at private schools, bribes to headmasters, candidate medical and background checks, discrete interviews, the chance-of-a-lifetime career pitch and then mutual acceptance. A time consuming process but very necessary for safety and security. I sent our experienced guides away to the beach this weekend for R&R. The camp is exclusively ours with skeleton staff and only the novice staff during this training assembly."

"Okay, sounds good. These coach tutors I selected are the best at quick tune-ups and they viewed this trip as a perk for dedicated service to the TWA organization."

The crunch of tires signaled the return of the spontaneous safari tourists. It must have been a fruitful search for game that kept the newbies occupied. All of the ladies were still nattily clothed in their uniforms and the men seemed anxious to get on with the evening's festivities.

Supper was buffet style. Rather than formal seating at the dinner table, the four pairs munched and mingled in the bar lounge. When one couple finally slipped away to a cabin, the others followed their cue and retired for the night. Sir Stephen followed Hazima to their waiting executive suite and renewed their special acquaintance. As usual, she started on the bottom but finished on top. The African wildlife songs were accompanied by human carnal harmonies. Breakfast melded into brunch as the sex worn pairs straggled to the dining room late into the next morning.

After brunch, Sir Stephen and Hazima took a jeep to the savanna. They dressed casually: shorts and tee shirts. The camera safari was fruitful. Herds of gazelle, zebras and wildebeest were stalked by hungry predators. They witnessed one lioness take down her meal and drag it back to share with her pride. The electric jeep followed at a distance and finally crept to a vantage point far enough away not to disturb the cats. Some ate, others slept in the afternoon heat.

One lioness was lazing prone on the ground, preening her paws. A hairy-maned male lifted himself and moved behind her, sniffing her hindquarters. He moved over her, straddling her body. She lay still, allowing the male to crouch above and assume the primal position. He braced and pushed his penis into her welcoming loins. She flinched and he took a firm bite on her neck to hold her in place as he mated. The female purred, resigned to acceding the male's lusty domination.

Hazima fidgeted in her seat. The scene stirred her on a base level. Sir Stephen watched her peripherally as she lifted her ass and slid off her shorts. She rolled the her tank top off her head, then leaned away and posed on hands and knees, presenting Sir Stephen with her hindquarters. He took the hint, cued by the lions' ongoing mating not far away. Shuffling his shorts down, he kneed up sideways on the seat. She leaned forward on elbows to offer her genitals more openly.

Preferring a different footing, he lifted her hips over the console so that her knees joined his on the driver's seat. He pressed his groin to her bottom cheeks. Hazima's helpful fingers fumbled between her thighs; she aligned his knob with her vaginal opening and Sir Stephen smoothly entered her wanton pussy.

Half settled, he palmed her breasts, lifting her upright, hugging her back to his front and plowed in all the way. She gripped the center console with her elongated arms for support.

Sir Stephen set a leisurely pace, attaining unusually pleasurable friction for them both. Hazima mewed with pleasure at the fat flesh probing deep inside her. He pressed his ear to hers and clamped her shoulder in a love bite. She shuddered in his embrace, muttered a titter of elation, swathed in his perpetual hunger for her body. He stroked quicker and finished with an easy rush of semen that warmed and coated her womb. She took pride in his satisfaction; it gave her purpose and passion. She waited for him to slacken and withdraw. The sun was high and the air hot. They headed back to the lodge, still naked. The ride was quiet as they both simmered in their respective afterglows.

They arrived to find lots of activity in the main camp area. The coach tutors had effected the mid-day swap. Amara, the Somali warrior princess, was practicing with one coach tutor in the poolside hot tub. Her ebony ass bounced gently in his ivory lap and the bubbly waters lapped the tub scuppers. There was lots of noise: bubbles, bird calls from the surrounding hedges and lovers' laughs as they caroused in the water. She had abandoned her stoic air after getting more familiar with her current sex-mate.

Suddenly, her tutor lifted them both from the water; Amara squealed in surprise. They were still connected at the groin. She hugged her nimble black body tight to his. He stepped out and lay her on the paved deck, braced over her as she clamped her ankles behind his back and clasped his biceps bracing his body aloft. Taking a big breath, he set a pace that hammered her core. Amara voiced her delight, writhing beneath him.

Hazima and Sir Stephen watched the vigorous fucking with awe and curiosity. The pair were a cacophony of sounds and motions. But then, other sounds coming from the lounge pavilion, required investigation.

Amara, the Hindi girl, was laid back naked across a coffee table, her equally naked coach tutor standing between her legs. He was teaching her to employ her belly-dancing tricks during standing tabletop missionary. His hips oscillated, shuttling his cock back and forth into her cunt. Her ass, with its high spread legs, was positioned attainably at the flat surface edge. Her hands gripped the opposite side. She lay still, letting her man set the pace.

That was not his plan. He wanted her to emulate the vigorous poolside couple fucking away for dear life, but with a unique cultural twist.

"Come on, girl... get in the game... shimmy your tits, roll them in a dance rhythm... yeah, yeah, keep that waggle going... now, big hip rolls... use figure 8's... that's it, that's the way... oh yea, that feels good... rub my knob all around inside you... Yes!..."

Amara closed her eyes in concentration. Her mate found that unacceptable and playfully spanked her cheek, returning her focus to him.

"Hey! No squinting, always look in my eyes... blow me a kiss... smile, always smile... show your thrill at having a fat prick ramming your pussy... beg him for more..."

Amara engaged her whole body in sensuous gyrations. Her cock master slowed his strokes and gave her fewer directions as she dutifully followed his guidance. She sensed that he was now standing still, leaning his hips against the table. Amara continued the motions on his stationary prick. Her magnificent body in total motion succeeded in extracting her reward. Thick sticky cum jetted into her cunt, accompanied by the man's encouraging praise, telling her what a great fuck she would be someday if she applied all she was learning. They were both breathless from the encounter.

Across the open pavilion space, Nicki, the Aussie girl, was kneeling between her man's legs, hand-jobbing the shaft and kissing his tip, adding a few licks. Her coach tutor held handfuls of her blonde tresses and tried pushing her lips down his shaft but she resisted at half in. He wasn't too large; she was just too inhibited. The man finally relented and let her take the lead. She suckled and licked his knob and corona as she fingered and fisted the root shaft. But he wasn't getting enough stimulation he fulfill his ejaculation; he was stalled at half aroused. This wouldn't do; 'blue balls' were not welcome or healthy for any man. He must solve his immediate dilemma and deal with her reticence later.

Pulling her up, he placed her doggy pose on the floor facing their impromptu executive audience. Mounting her from behind, the cum-filled man drilled her proffered pussy, executing a simple fuck. As he stroked himself inside her womb, he closed his eyes and fanaticized about how the blonde should have gobbled his manhood.

The man she was supposed to gratify had reverted to using her as a convenient cum-bucket. Nicki felt her shame witnessed by her bosses. She hung her head, letting her long straight tresses obscure her tear-filled blue eyes. She would endure this episode of being screwed and scrutinized, but it wasn't one of her shining moments.

The coach tutor huffed to a peak and released the pressure in his prostate, pumping his fluids inside her womb. He withdrew his softening erection, stood and paced away from the bowed female. It was his body language signal of disappointment with the blonde's performance. Nicki slouched on her elbows and knees, recovering her composure. She eventually stirred and rose; whipping away her tear-stains.

The four couples reconvened, watching the sunset, sipping drinks in small conversations, somewhat satiated, waiting for dinner to be served. The table gong sounded and they arrayed themselves, still nude, in alternating genders around the circular table of eight. As the meal progressed, so did the refracting of ardor and lust. Hands not busy with eating were busy in their near companions' laps: caressing inner thighs, tumescent flesh and soft vaginal lips. The playful males occasionally toyed with neighboring boobs and nubs.

Over dessert, the disaffected coach tutor mentioned Nicki's feeble blowjob attempts. She again flushed with embarrassment as her earlier sex-mate described his disappointment. Sir Stephen rose to her defense, acknowledging differences in technique but saying diversities had their place.

The two other coach tutors were ambivalent but tended to agree with their cohort. Deep throat was the best. Sir Stephen proposed a cocksucker contest, a blind taste test of sorts. The octet moved to the lounge where the three nude coach tutors were seated on the same long sofa. Hazima invited the female guest guides to take their stations. Each knelt at the feet of a waiting man.

Hazima directed the men to sit on their hands unless they would prefer handcuffs to exclude interference. They unanimously chose the hand-sitting alternative. She blindfolded them.

"Ladies, you may start at the sound of the gong. When the gong sounds again, shift one man over and continue. Use your favorite and most practiced cock-sucking technique. The men will judge the best. Ready?"

She tapped the suspended metal disk, producing a melodious tinny signal to begin. The girls commenced their oral stimulations of the soft cocks before them.

Kaduna and Amara licked and kissed the shafts from beneath to set off the stiffening. As the meaty tubes thickened, the swelling knobs lifted into the air.

But Nicki leaned in and took the soft knob into her mouth. Her tongue glazed the tip as she lightly held the upper shaft with her teeth. The knob sprouted growth and her bite widened in sync with the engorging of the shaft. A minute passed too soon and she heard the gong. Releasing her man, she shuffled to her next partner and found his cock less solid than the one she had just left.