White Slaves of the Caribbean

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."