by Powerone
Jessica began to cum, her asshole suddenly and painfully stretched open by the ball, the other two balls keeping her open as they pulled through her anal tract. She came on his fingers, feeling her juices running down her thighs again. Another ball was pulled through her clenching anus quickly, the tiny cavity pulled open and closed in one quick movement. Another orgasm hit her. She was not sure if it was the Captain''s fingers, the aide watching her debasement, or the probe stretching her asshole. Or maybe it was all of it. She arched her ass up as the last ball was pulled from her asshole, the smallest, barely felt. Her tiny anus was now red and slightly agape, a testament to the abuse it had suffered.
Jessica was finally released and allowed to dress. The aide did not leave, watching her as she quickly put on her clothes, handing her a new pair of panties from her suitcase. The guards put her toys back into the boxes, both glistening from use.
The aide escorted her out until they reached the taxis outside. “"I must apologize for your mistreatment by the soldiers, but as you were probably told, this is not the United States. There is nothing you can do about it now, so it is best that you forget it ever happened and do not mention it.""
""Tell the Senator I owe him deeply. I would have been fucked if you had not appeared.""
""The Senator just wanted to make sure everything was all right. And I am sure that the Senator will find a way that you can repay him."” He eyed her body as he said it. “"Now hurry, there is another plane to Cap-Haitien in ten minutes. They will be wondering about you by now. Jessica, it was a true pleasure to meet you. I hope to see you again.""
Chapter Four
Jessica''s New Job
Haiti was not what she expected. She had known it was a poor nation, but it was worse than she thought. She saved an arduous eight-hour drive by catching a small airplane from Port-au-Prince where she had arrived, to Cap-Haitien in the northern peninsula. Mr. Jergen lived on Ile de la Tortue, an island to the north, about sixty kilometers from Cap-Haitien, separated from the nearest port by a twelve-kilometer channel. The roads from Cap-Haitien to the channel were the worst she had ever seen. Most were unpaved, dirt byways, the taxis old and in bad mechanical shape. Except for the beautiful view, the trip would have been torture. It was hot, with the temperature about thirty degrees Centigrade. She was beginning to get used to Centigrade and kilometers, refusing to convert them into Fahrenheit and miles, wanting to fully immerse herself into the culture.
Cap-Haitien had been more Spanish-influenced architecture, but it quickly turned to one and two room shacks in the rural area, supporting families who farmed their small plots of land. The road meandered along the coastline on Rue 21, passing some excellent beaches amidst the poverty-stricken communities. Professor Johnson had told her that Mr. Jergen''s house, or more appropriately, mansion, was on the beach on Ile de la Tortue. If it was even half as nice as the coastline here, she knew she would have a fabulous summer, as she loved the sun and the beach. She had bought a new bathing suit, a tiny thing that barely covered her nipples and pussy, a thong leaving her ass cheeks exposed. She planned on getting a great tan over the summer.
A small ferry, or rather, a boat, brought her to a private dock on the whitest beach she had ever seen. She looked up to see Mr. Jergen''s mansion, a magnificent structure that was so grand it must have been built as a palace over a hundred years ago and then converted into a residence. It was Spanish architecture with lush landscaping and she could see a large number of workers tending to the massive gardens surrounding the house. She knew Mr. Jergen''s staff numbered over fifty, many working outside, with an inside staff consisting of more than twenty girls doing the cleaning and cooking.
She''d been told that given Haiti''s poor economy, Mr. Jergen had his pick of people for employees as he paid exceptional salaries by Haitian standards. From her reading, she knew the island people were black or mulatto, a mix of black and the French who colonized the country. The mulattos were light skinned with straight hair, spoke French and were the upper class of the society, having advantages in education, with jobs or connections in the government and military.
As Jessica exited the taxi, she was approached by a group of men, one obviously the leader, the others walking behind him.
""Bienvenue, vous êtes aussi beau qu"ils ont dit,"” he stated as his eyes seemed to devour her.
""Beyond ‘'welcome'', I don''t understand much French,"” Jessica admitted.
""I said, ‘'Welcome, you are as beautiful as they said.'’”” He grinned, his eyes continuing to travel up and down her body.
""Thank you."” She returned his gaze with a blush.
""My name is Henri. I am the head of the household. I take care of all the details of running the Master''s house. You do not work for me but the Master has requested that I take care of all your needs while you are with us.""
""Apportez-lui les sacs le long,"” he motioned to the others, the men grabbing Jessica''s luggage and moving toward the house.
Jessica was impressed with Henri. He was about forty-five, and obviously kept his body in good shape. He was mulatto, with many classic French features, and appeared to be well educated. He must be the one who was rumored to be a Voodoo priest, she thought. Jessica had promised herself that she was going to attend a Voodoo ceremony so she intended to get on Henri''s good side, as she knew outsiders were rarely invited to an authentic ceremony. They had ceremonies for the tourists, but that was not what she wanted.
""You use the term, the Master. Are you referring to Mr. Jergen?""
Henri smiled at her. “"In the presence of others, you must refer to him as the Master or Sir. It is very important that the staff respect his position. The same applies to me. You may continue to call me Henri, but you must not disrespect me in front of the staff.""
""I would never do that. This is your country and I have so much to learn while I am here and I am hoping that you will teach me,"” Jessica smiled at him.
""I would love to teach you, Jessica. I have many things that I think you would enjoy. Come, let me take you to your room. You may take a bath and freshen up. I will give you a tour of the house after you are fresh from your trip. The Master is out with Jerome until dinnertime.""
It would be strange to call Mr. Jergen, Sir or Master. It sounded so submissive, but Jessica did not want to show any disrespect to him. This was her adventure; she knew that she would have to submit to certain things that would be different from anything she was used to. Professor Johnson had explained that Haiti was a very male-dominated society, so she would have to remember that and be careful not to offend anyone.
The house was magnificent. She had never seen such expensive furnishings and perfection in the attention to detail. There were many people buzzing about, mostly females, but a few males were present. All of the girls, as they all looked around eighteen to twenty-one years old, were black. They were in maid costumes, straight from the old French postcards she''d once seen of the early 1900s. The black dresses clung to their skin. You could see every bump on their bodies, their outfits were so tight. Each clung to their breasts, their pointed nipples protruding, a testament to the fact that none wore bras underneath. Their skirts were short, very short. She noticed one girl bending over to dust a low shelf, the skirt riding up her legs in the back, her black panties showing. She made no attempt to pull it down or change or position, unconcerned about the view of her sex from behind, hidden only by the tightly drawn black panties.
Henri caught Jessica''s gaze. “"The girls are very lovely, oui?""
""Très beau,"” Jessica said, throwing out one of the few French phrases she knew.
""The Master and I both interview the new girls very extensively to make sure that they are suitable to this environment. We do not want any girls who would make trouble for the Master. It is very important that they respect the power the Master and I have in the household. The Master pays exceptionally well; the girls are almost bound to the position for economic reasons. They can be dire
""I''m sure they just want to do whatever they can to please the Master."” She was still uncomfortable with calling him Master, but trying to accommodate.
""It is different here in Haiti than it is in America. We tend to solve our own problems before going to the police who are terribly corrupt and will only do something when paid well. When we have employee problems, whether theft or something else, the Master and I decide and carry out the punishment. Sometimes we do it in front of the other employees to make sure that they all are aware of the consequences of their actions.""
""You punish them?"” she asked, surprised at what he said.
""Yes, we must in order to maintain control over the staff. We have over fifty employees working here at any one time. It is not like in America where they know the police will arrest them if they do something wrong. Here it is different. If they did not have some fear that illegal actions would bring about a consequence, we would have anarchy.""
""What do you do to them?"” Jessica asked, curious as to the power they both held. Would it include her, she wondered?
""It all depends on the severity of the crime. For rather a simple crime like theft, the punishment would probably consist of some type of whipping, spanking or caning. This might be done in private or, if serious enough, might be done in front of all the employees. In the latter case, the punished would be stripped in front of everyone, as the humiliation of being naked before one''s peers is almost as bad as the whipping itself.""
""Would that include me?"” Jessica asked. She imagined all of the employees gathered around, her wrists bound around a large whipping post. Hands stripping her of her clothes, her legs parted, everyone able to see her naked sex. Then there would be the pain.
""Everyone is included, even me. No one can be exempt. But you don''t have to worry; I''m sure that you will not do anything purposely that will deserve punishment. Though the thought of punishing you does excite me,"” he said, laughing at his own comment.
Jessica looked at him, a little fear in her eyes.
""Only teasing, Mademoiselle. Here is your room. I will send someone for you when the Master returns."” He opened the door for her.
She looked around as she entered—a large room with a huge bed as the centerpiece, four posters holding up a large canopy. It must have at least two feet of mattress and springs beneath it. A dressing table with three adjustable mirrors sat near the bed, a large upholstered bench sat at its foot spanning the width, heavy wooden legs supporting it. There was a vast closet, more like a second room for clothes, and the bathroom was all Italian marble, a large bathtub in the corner. In one section of the bedroom was a mini-living room, a sofa and two chairs, all with wooden arms and overstuffed cushions surrounding a large wooden coffee table. She caressed the bed, her hands sinking luxuriously into the mattress. She caught a movement, and looked up, surprised to see her own reflection. The interior of the canopy was mirrored. It seemed a little strange, but this was a French colony and, obviously, the French took their boudoir activities very seriously.
An entire wall of the room consisted of windows with a large French door and a spectacular view of the oceanfront. The door opened to a patio, some furniture for lounging outside, and a small path that seemed to lead to the beach. She could hear the gentle pounding of the waves in the distance, and a slight breeze blew into the room. There was no air conditioning, but there were gently circulating fans in all the rooms. While it was warm, it was quite comfortable.
Jessica just wanted out of her clothes and into the bath. It seemed that she had been wearing the same skirt and blouse for years now. She had all but forgotten her encounters on the way with the Senator and at the airport, the excitement of the new job making them now seem trivial in nature.
She unpacked her suitcases, barely able to even put a dent into the large closet. She went to pull the curtains and realized that there were none to pull. She looked outside. Her patio and room seemed to be fairly hidden on all sides by heavy foliage. While the view of the beach and ocean was clear, no one appeared to be in sight. It looked to be very private. She was a little puzzled and would ask Henri about it later, but for now, she concentrated on her bath.
She lay in the tub, the warm water sliding over her body, soothing her. She thought about her encounters of the day, her fingers sliding beneath the water and gently running up and down her pussy lips. She put one leg on the edge of the tub, her fingers beginning a gentle masturbation as she thought of Michael, the Master, punishing her for some minor infraction. He had her over his lap, her skirt pulled up high, his hands inching down her little panties, her naked ass cheeks waiting to receive their punishment. It hurt as his hand crashed down on her sensitive skin, but his other hand had crept underneath her and began a gentle massaging of her clit, offsetting the stinging pain he was inflicting on her butt. She could feel his hard cock rubbing against her, and wished he would force her to her knees, sticking his member into her mouth until he came. Her body shuddered, the water spilling over the edge as she climaxed on her fingers.
Partially sated, she lay on the bed, naked, forgetting about the open windows, staring up at her own naked body. Her nipples were still hard, her body fresh from the bath, her sexual appetite re-ignited. She still felt a stirring in her loins, something only a real cock could satisfy, something, for all she''d been through these past three weeks, she''d gone too long without. She would take out her toys tonight, hoping to make some of those urges go away.
Jessica awoke from a knock on her door. She grabbed a robe, barely able to cover herself when the door opened and a girl walked in. She was one of the maids, a young girl, barely eighteen, the black maid outfit molding to her body. She was lovely, jet black hair hanging down her back, a shapely figure like all of the maids, long legs perched upon a pair of absurdly high heels.
""Master would like you for dinner in one-half hour,"” she said in almost perfect English.
""Thank you. My name is Jessica. What''s yours?""
""Charisse, welcome to the manor.""
""You speak English very well. Does everyone here speak as well as you?""
""The Master makes everyone learn if they want to keep their job. He doesn''t like us to speak Creole or French. He thinks we are talking about him.""
""How long have you worked here, Charisse?""
""Been going on a year now since the Master hired me.""
""Do you like it?""
""Master pays well; makes up for the other things.""
""The other things?"” Jessica inquired.
""Just obey the Master and you won''t have any problem,"” Charisse said.
""Charisse,"” she caught her before she left the room, “"how come there aren''t any drapes on my windows?""
""Don''t need any. It''s pretty private around here. The Master would punish anyone caught peeping. Not many would dare to defy the Master. Don''t forget, one-half hour. The Master doesn''t put up with lateness."” She left the room, the door closing silently behind her.
The dining room quieted when Jessica entered. She had put on a black dress with spaghetti straps and no bra, her youthful breasts not requiring one. The hem came about six inches above her knees, showing a generous amount of leg. She wore black stockings with seams running up the back, a pair of high heels accentuating her toned legs. She felt so sexy with the garter belt and stockings. She smiled as Michael noticed her first.
He was every bit as handsome as his pictures. He was in his mid-forties, sandy blonde hair, five o''clock shadow highlighting a roughly handsome face. Great build, over six feet of solid flesh. God, no wonder I dream about him when I masturbate, thought Jessica, feeling the wetness between her legs already. You''re such a tramp Jessica; this is your boss, act your age.
""Good evening, Sir."” Jessica stammered, uncomfortable with the idea of calling a man “"Sir"". “"Master"” would definitely be difficult.
She was every bit as beautiful as Henri and the Professor had said. She was an excellent choice and Michael was looking forward to a very interesting summer. While he enjoyed the Haitian girls, especially the maids, he often longed for a white, American girl. With his wife away, Jessica might just fill the void in his marriage bed. The Professor''s test had shown that she might service his needs nicely.
""Glad you finally joined us. I hope your trip was acceptable. Getting here is always a chore, an often unpleasant chore that we must sometimes endure and I am sure that flying by yourself on a commercial flight made it even worse. I hope that we can make up for any unpleasantness you may have endured with our luxurious accommodations.""
""Your house, or should I say, manor, is beyond words, Sir,"” she replied, beginning to get the hang of the “"Sir"” thing. “"And my room is more than I am used to.""
""Very well, then. I would like you to meet your charge. Jerome, this is Jessica. Say hello to her.""
Jerome was the cutest little four-year old boy she had ever seen. He had long blonde hair, with features like his father, a rugged handsomeness in miniature. He was dressed similar to his father, more formal than he would have been in the United States, a neat pair of slacks and shirt highlighting his small frame. He sat in the chair as if he was an adult.
""Hello, Jerome, I''m glad to meet you,"” she said, extending her hand to him. He reached out, shaking her hand like a gentlemen.
""Hello, Jessica,"” he said shyly, a little uncomfortable with the new stranger.
Michael told Jerome, “"She is going to take care of you for the summer, Jerome. She will be playing with you and teaching you new things. Won''t that be fun?""
""Yes, Daddy,"” he said. “"I like to play, Jessica, but there is not anyone here to play with.""
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