Chapter 1

As hilarious as “Mulatto Butts” had seemed last night, my new ringtone has lost its charm as the piercing tones and whistles drilled into my pounding skull. I rolled and tried to grab my phone as it blared and vibrated, dancing across my glass coffee table and into several mostly-empty bottles, adding to the cacophony. Unfortunately, I had passed out right on the edge of the couch, and found myself falling to the floor.

My elbow crashed through the table’s surface, shattering the tempered glass into thousands of little cubes, and I landed on a bottle that seemed intentionally placed to hit my kidney. Fortunately, the bottle underneath me didn’t break, merely bruising my lower back rather than shattering and potentially sending me to the ER. It didn’t feel fortunate, though.

By the time I recovered myself enough to put my hands on the phone, it had stopped ringing anyway. I dialed the caller back, just out of habit, but I suspected that it would be yet another reporter that my lawyer had insisted that I not speak to. Oddly, the number seemed not to be in service.

I pulled the bottle out from under my lower back and immediately passed out again.

“Alexander Collins?” asked the voice in my ear.

“What? Um, who is this?” I honestly didn’t even remember answering the phone.

“My name is Anais Graciela Batiste,” the slightly accented voice informed me, “and I represent the Amizade International Group.”

“No comment.” I hung up the phone.

It rang again, and I reflexively answered, remembering, even as I did, that I hadn’t meant to.

“I am not seeking a comment, Monseuir Collins,” she said, quickly, “but rather an interview.”

“Oh, in that case, hell no.” I hung up the phone and blocked the number.

Since I was awake now, and my phone was already in my hand, I opened my pornhunter app, looking for something to start my day off right.

Sharp and persistent rapping on my door woke me again. I lifted my phone from my chest to check the time, but there was a fullscreen video paused, showing a petite eastern European girl with a massive cock impaling her ass. On second thought, I didn’t really give a shit what time it was.

“Monseuir Collins,” a voice called from the door before continuing the pounding. “I really must insist that you open the door. Please.”

“Fuck. Off.” I yelled at the door, rummaging around until I found a bottle that had a few ounces left. I took a deep swig.

The insistent knocking ceased, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Relief that was only too shortlived, as I heard a key turn in my lock.

Unsteadily, I pushed myself upwards, glad that I was wearing shoes, given the broken glass covering my floor.

I had barely stood up when the door opened.

A short, stacked blonde in her mid twenties stood there, wearing a charcoal grey pencil skirt and a white button-up blouse with a peter pan collar. The shirt was so sheer that it showed every detail of the black bra underneath. Behind her, a younger girl waited--sixteen at the most, looking ever-so-shy in a short, flowing sundress. Both wore slim satin chokers in black.

“I am most honored to meet you, Monseuir Collins,” the blonde said in her charming French accent, which semed stronger in person than it had been on the phone. “I am proud to count myself among your most dedicated of fans.”

“Who, exactly, are you?” I asked, immediately suspicious. I used to have fans, but no more. “And how the hell did you get keys to my apartment?”

“As I said on the phone, my name is Anais Graciela Batiste, and I represent the Amizade International Group. Your landlord was kind enough to give me the keys. We really must speak.”

“And as I said on the phone, Anais, no.” I hit the bottle again. “My bloodsucking lawyer has instructed me on no uncertain terms that I am to make no comments and give no interviews. He was very clear on the point.”

“This is not that type of interview, Monsieur.” She smiled sweetly. “I am to deliver my Master’s offer of employment and humbly request that you accompany me to the interview.”

“Ah. Well.” I muttered, thoroghly confused. “I’m flattered, I really am, but surely you must know that I am unemployable. Poison. Cancer. Any venture with my name on it will fail. Probably forever.”

I shook my head, trying to clear the lingering haze of alcohol and whatever the hell else I had consumed last night.

“And in any case, shouldn’t the offer come after the interview?”

“I must respectfully disagree with your opinion, Monsieur, as does my master. And the offer is already made; it is we who are applying to you, as it were.”

“Well, come in then,” I said, unsure of what to say or do. Unsure of anything, really.

I stumbled around the broken glass and frame of my former coffee table to the couch to collapse into its comfort.

The two ladies followed me in, Anais taking a seat in the armchair to my right, primly pressing her knees together. The teen moved to stand behind her.

A long, awkward silence ensued.

“Well, then,” Anais began, with a disarming smile. “Introductions. Monsieur Collins, this is Marina da Silva. If you are to accept my Master’s offer, and if you find her acceptable, she is to be your personal assistant. As I said before, my name is Anais, and I am here on behalf of Amizade Group International.”

I took a second look at the girl. Short and slim, she had dark brown eyes and light brown skin with a smattering of darker freckles across her cheeks, her brown hair done in a thick fishtail braid draped forwards over her shoulder. Brazilian, I guessed, based on her name and complexion.

“You have, no doubt, many questions. I am not, unfortunately, authorized to answer very many of them. I will, however, tell you what I can. Amizade is a highly specialized import-export company that is now venturing into the hospitality industry. We are about to open a beach-side resort, and are in need of your skills. My Master, as well as the board of directors, would like you to direct our Food and Beverage department.

“We are prepared to offer you a salary of one hundred and twenty thousand euros a year, as well as a substantial and ... unique benefits package that includes healthcare and retirement considerations, private housing, and, well, Marina. Or another, if she is not satisfactory.”

“I must be drunker than I thought,” I slurred, “because not a single thing you said makes any damn sense.”

“Perhaps some coffee would be in order, Monsieur?” Anais suggested.

“Yes. Yes, coffee,” I muttered, drunkenly pushing against the sofa in an attempt to stand.

“Please, Monsieur,” Anais said, gesturing for me to sit. I obliged, since I evidently was too wasted to do anything else. “Marina will be honored make us both some coffee. You must not trouble yourself with such menial tasks.”

Without a word, the petite brown girl went to the kitchen. A few months ago, I would have had to tell her where to find things in my kitchen, but in this new, smaller apartment, everything she needed was in plain sight.

I let my head flop back into the cushion, trying to process what I had heard. The chemical fog was too thick, though, as no time passed for me before I felt a delicate hand lift mine and wrap it around a hot mug.

Where did she find a clean mug? I wondered, leaning towards the fantastic aroma of the cup. Coffee was one of the few things that I refused to compromise on, despite my newly reduced economic state. I breathed deeply, pulling in the hypnotic vapor.

This was my own custom blend and roast, freshly ground and french pressed, as that was the only coffee option in my kitchen, since I no longer had my italian espresso machine. I sipped the coffee, and found it not only perfectly brewed, but also already cooled to the proper temperature. I drank deeply of the invigourating nectar, my eyes closed in pure bliss.

After a properly long contemplative silence, as my faculties returned, I opened my eyes and looked up. Marina stood in front of me, her eyes downcast and an eager-to-please expression on her face.

“Now, where were we? Your company is actually willing to hire me after everything that occurred?”

“Not my company, Monsieur, but my Master’s company.” The capital M was unmistakable. “They more than sympathize with your unfortunate plight.”

I paused. That was the first expression of support that I had heard since the videos leaked. The accusations of sexual harrasment that had come before, I had been able to weather, though my business partners were incensed. But the footage of me ramming the tight asshole of one of my restaurant’s hostesses, thrashing her back with a flogger, while she was tied facedown across my desk, screaming her safeword ... Well, my lawyer took half of my fortune to keep me out of prison. I had considered his price for the plea bargain a good deal, until the bitch’s civil suit took the other half of my empire, and then some. I had actually been living out of my car for several weeks until I got a job at a seedy liquor store (hooray for employee discounts!) and managed to get a shitty week-to-week apartment. Even now, damn near half of my paycheck was garnished to go towards the judgement, which would be paid off in a mere 314 years at this rate.

I looked back up at Marina, who was still standing in front of me, hands behind her back, eyes downcast.

“Sit down, girl,” I said. “Quit looming.”

“I may not, Mestre,” she murmurred. “I am permitted only to stand or kneel in Sir’s presence.”

“Well, you can’t very well kneel with this broken glass here,” I began.

“Of course, Mestre,” the brunette said, turning away before I even finished the thought.

She quickly returned with a trash can, dustpan, and brush. She deftly began placing empty bottles in the can, gently placing them to minimize the noise.

“Okay, then,” I said, turning back to Anais. “If you wouldn’t mind explaining what you said earlier? Perhaps more details?”

“I shall tell you everything that I am permitted,” she said with a pretty smile. “The resort is set to open in eight months on some of the most beautiful beaches that you have ever seen; construction is nearly complete. Eighty rooms, two penthouses, twenty guest cottages, three guest villas, thirty staff cottages--one of which would be yours exclusively--and dormitories for the remaining staff. Five star, four diamond amenities: four pools, a dock and marina, two spas, a gym, conference rooms, parasailing, diving ... so much more. I will give you more documentation once you sign the non-disclosure agreements.

Marina had finished picking up the bottles, and bent at the waist to begin brushing the broken glass into the dustpan. I eyed her hungrily as the hem of her dress crept up the back of her thigh, exposing her slim, tanned leg.

“You would command the entire food and beverage department, with almost no limitations. Three restaurants, one of which is twenty-four hours, two lounges, two bars, room service, a single twenty-four hour cafeteria for a little under four hundred staff.

Marina, heedless of my predatory gaze, turned as she continued sweeping up the glass cubes, her luscious bottom coming into full view, revealing that she wore no panties. It took great effort to keep paying attention to the French woman’s spiel.

“The Board does have some vision for the initial direction, but you may regard that as mere suggestion, as they believe that you would know best. You may even direct decor and uniform selection, if you like.

The girl turned a little further, revealing her bare sex to me. Even bent over as she was, her fat outer lips barely parted. Past that, I could see up her dress all the way to her pert, smallish, bra-less breasts. I breathed deeply, feeling my pants tighten.

“The base salary would be one hundred and twenty thousand euros a year. You would recieve a monthly bonus equal to half of the difference between the employee dining budget and expenditure, an annual bonus in December of twelve thousand euros, and a performance-based bonus in July, based sixty percent on guest satisfaction as measured by feedback and fourty percent on food cost targets, per guest per day.

“You would have a corner office with a spectacular view, a secretary and a personal assistant, a private three bedroom cottage with a beach view, your own maid, and your own cook. Free medical care at the resort’s private clinic and reimbursment for all medical costs elsewhere, and full guest priveleges anywhere on the resort. We expect you to allocate three weeks a year for travel to research culinary trends, expenses paid, but, of course, there will also be thirty days of paid vacation a year, as required by law, though it would be restricted to June through September.

Marina stood, her dustpan full, and deposited it in the trash can, somehow managing to keep the cascade of falling glass somewhat quiet. I realized that I had been leaning forwards to get a better view, and fell back into the couch as I reached towards the end table for a cigarette.

“So do you have any questions, Monsieur Collins? Or were you too distracted to listen?” She smirked coquettishly and raised an eyebrow at the teen, who had again bent over in front of me.

“I am perfectly capable of chewing gum and walking at the same time,” I said, smirking right back at her and lighting my cigarette. I took a deep drag, contemplating what I had heard and returning my gaze to Marina’s tight, tanned ass, now winking its light brown star at me. “A beachside resort which certainly cost hundreds of milions to build, and they’re willing to hire me, despite the scandal poisoning my name and the criminal conviction, and with a princely compensation package to boot. But why is the salary in Euros? And a month’s paid vacation is required by law? And I’m sure that I would have heard of construction of that magnitude here, were anyone insane enough to build such a thing on the disgusting shorefront in this state.

I took a sip of coffee, followed by a long drag on my cigarette, enjoying the view.

“I must conclude then, that the resort is not the United States, much less in the beautiful state of New Jersey. And if a company has the resources to find me and offer something like this, they must also be aware of the fact that I cannot, per the terms of my parole, leave this state, even if I was tempted by this clearly fictional offer. Oh, but that’s not a question. Would you like me to rephrase it as one, Madameoiselle Batiste?”

“Please, call me Anais,” the blonde entreated, sounding almost horrified; I must have committed a rather serious faux pas there. “You are indeed correct about the location, but I cannot say more until the non-disclosure agreement is signed. But I assure you, once it is, you will see that the travel will not be an issue. And as for the veracity of the offer, while I cannot offer much in the way of evidence until I have the non-disclosure signed, perhaps I can make certain aspects a little more ... concrete.

“Mari,” Anais snapped. “Mostra a bucetinha!”

Quick as a whip, the girl stood and turned towards me, fast enough that the edges of her skirt spun up. She smiled shyly and slowly lifted her skirt to display her puffy, bare mound. Even with her legs together, there was still a tantalizing two-finger wide gap between her slim thighs.

“Mais perto!” Anais ordered, looking at the girl with a lust that mirrored my own. “E abre essas pernas. O Mestre Collins vai querer tocar.”

Looking slightly less happy, Marina stepped forwards, spread her legs to shoulder width, and stepped forwards again, until her calves were against the front of the couch and her crotch was inches above my knee.

“Go ahead, Monsieur Collins,” Anais encouraged me. “Touch her.”

I took a deep drag on my cigarette and passed it to my left hand, putting my coffee cup on the end table. Hesitantly, I reached out my hand, palm up, my fingertips trembling as they brushed delicately against her mound. It had been months since I had touched a girl this beautiful. The prostitutes that I could afford now were a definite no-go, and even they were never this pure, this fresh or innocent.

“She won’t bite, I promise,” Anais said.

Marina and I both gasped as I thrust my hand forwards, ramming the heel of my palm against her mound and curling my fingers up into her asshole. Immediately, I felt her hot moisture against my palm.

“My god, Anais! The little slut is soaking wet!”

“Oh, she always is, Monsieur,” Anais said with a musical laugh. “Try inside her!”

I moved my hand back and slipped a finger up into her cunt. The intimate passage was tight and soaking wet, and almost feverishly hot. Looking up, I locked eyes with her as I pushed another finger into her beside the first.

Humiliation was clear on her face, and even though I was being quite gentle in my probing, pain flickered across her delicate features.

“She is tight, no?” Anais asked with a grin. “She is practically a virgin, I am told. Would she not look amazing, tied to your desk, screaming, begging for mercy as you hit her, as you fuck her?”

Fear seeped its way into Marina’s expression, though the dominant emotion was still humiliation.

“Would she not make a delightful assistant, Monsieur Collins? At your beck and call twenty four hours a day, seven days a week; always ready to service you as required. Yours to train and to mold, to punish and reward.”

I curled my fingers inside her, watching her expression as I pressed against her g-spot. With an intense gasp, her hips bucked and her cunt spasmed around my digits.

“Marina!” Anais snapped. “Did you just come on Monsieur Collins’ fingers?”

The brunette nodded, clearly scared and still humiliated.

“You will be punished for finishing without permission, girl,” Anais growled. “When we are on the plane, you will be made to regret your lack of composure.

“I hope, Monsieur Collins, that you will be there as well, to help me discipline her for her slutty abandon,” Anais said to me, her sharp rebuke turning smoothly to a sensual purr. “I am to ask you to accompany us to the resort. My Master would like to show you the resort and speak to you in person.”

“I surrendered my passport as part of my probation, Anais,” I lamented. “Otherwise...”

“Oh, this is not a problem,” Anais crowed. “It is on the plane, and you shall have it back if you sign our confidentiality agreement.”

“Even so,” I demurred, “if I leave the state of New Jersey, I will be arrested on my return to the US.”

The French woman smirked at me and raised an eyebrow. Of course she had a plan for that, as well.

“You win,” I said with a shrug.

The blonde’s expression was bright and genuine as she grinned in triumph, reaching down into her atache case and withdrawing a thick contract.

Marina whimpered as I pulled my fingers back out of her. I reached towards the stack of paper that Anais held, but pulled up short, realzing the wet, sticky state of my fingers.

“Clean him, Mari,” Anais ordered.

I moved my hand back towards the deeply embarrased girl, and she gently guided it up to her mouth, sucking my fingers clean hard enough that I thought she wanted to take the skin off of them. Slowly, she pulled them free of her lips, leaving them clean and dry.

I skimmed through the document. I had seen many similar ones, though there were a few glaring differences. Aside from very stiff civil penalties for revealing the “business plans, practices, clientelle, and vendors of Amizade International Group, Amizade International Hospitality, and Resorte Recanto das Prazeres,” there were actual criminal penalties as well. That was new and different. The criminal statutes listed, however, didn’t match the format of American legislation, not to mention the fact that extradition treaties were cited.

Flipping back to the first page, I went through again, this time not reading, merely initialling on the indicated lines and signing the last page.

Anais surprised me again by not only signing as witness, but pulling out an embossing seal and notarizing the document.

“Very well, Monsieur Collins, I am now free to answer any questions that you have.” Anais pronounced, as she tucked the document back into her bag and stood. “However, I would prefer to converse on the plane, as it is waiting now. If you are amenable, we might go as soon as you pack a bag.”

“Welp, that works for me,” I said, draining the last of my coffee.

Marina took my mug and offered me a hand up, which I gladly accepted. I overbalanced a bit as I stood, stumbling against the teenager’s lithe form. She slipped her hands around my waist to stabilize me, and I took advantage of her occupied hands to reach around her as well, though I grabbed her pert bottom instead of her waist, giving the firm cheeks a solid, two-handed squeeze.

She stiffened slightly against me, but remained submissively in place, so I pulled her firmly against me, rubbing my raging hard-on against her abdomen.

“Do you need to relieve some pressure? You can fuck her before we go, if you like, Monsieur Collins,” Anais offered, gently pulling the girl’s hair back and turning her pretty face up towards mine. “A blowjob, perhaps? Or you could have her ass a bit, and then make her suck your cock clean?”

I looked down into the brunette’s deep brown eyes, exhulting in her resignation. I moved one hand from her bottom to her chest; her breast filled my hand nicely, her nipple hard against my palm through the thin sundress. Anais slowly pulled the spaghetti strap of her dress down, sliding the thin material between my hand and the girl’s breast to remove the barrier.

I squeezed much harder, now that my palm was against her bare skin, mauling her until pain showed in her expression.

“Just a blowjob, for now,” I decided out loud. It had been long enough since I had such a young and beautiful morsel that I would probably embarrass myself with an overly quick session.

Anais smiled gracefully and slid Marina’s dress off her other shoulder as well, pushing it down to leave her completely naked. Slowly, the teenager knelt, raising her hands to my belt.

Marina opened my pants, freeing my erection, as Anais looked on approvingly. Both ladies’ delicately sculpted eyebrows raised at the sight of my throbbing cock. Anais gathered up Marina’s thick, brown hair in her hands, and guided the younger girl’s open mouth towards the tip of my penis.

“That’s it,” Anais coached the Brazilian girl, as she opened her mouth wider to take me in. “Suck Master Collins, slut.”

Anais rocked the girl’s head as she began sucking in earnest, pushing her further down with each stroke. Within moments, Anais’ expert guidance had Marina taking me nearly to the hilt, though each descent made Marina gag a little.

With a wicked smile, Anais grabbed my hands, which I had let fall, forgotten, at my sides, and placed them low on her hips. She moved fowards, trapping the brunette’s head between us, and leaned forwards to place her own hands on my ass. I quickly caught her drift, and pulled the blonde closer to me, driving her hips against the back of Marina’s head, while simultaneously thrusting my own pelvis forwards, driving my erection fully into her throat.

Anais licked her lips, and looked up at me with a pleading expression, the first she had shown that wasn’t absolutely self-assured. I bent my head and kissed her deeply. The French girl moaned, and we began thrusting our hips forwards, Anais grinding her hips against the back of Marina’s head, me using the Brazilian’s face like a surrogate cunt, as if we were fucking.

As Anais and I made out, Marina began moaning and squirming, probably because she couldn’t breathe with my cock down her throat. I moaned as well, feeling months of pent up desire building. Adjusting my hands to grip the blonde’s ass better, I began pounding Marina’s throat, ramming my pubic bone against the teen’s face with each thrust. Surprisingly, I found myself lasting for two, then three long minutes as I face-fucked the increasingly desperate girl.

Finally, I felt my climax approaching. I pulled Anais even closer, grinding Marina’s face against my crotch as I unloaded down her spasming throat.

“Fucking hell, I needed that,” I groaned, stepping back.

Sputtering, wheezing, and drooling spit and cum onto her chest, Marina slumped to the floor as I tucked my slowly deflating cock into my pants.

“I can tell, Monsieur,” Anais said, grabbing the gasping girl by the arm and pulling her to her feet. “You nearly choked poor Marina to death!”

I nearly apologized, until I saw Anais’ grin.

“Of course, Marina was honored to serve you,” the blonde assured me. “And she will happily do so whenever you desire. Won’t you, girl?”

“Yes, Mestre,” the brunette intoned, wincing as Anais squeezed her arm. “I wish only to serve you in any way that pleases you.”

“Of course, we must be careful to not actually kill the little slut,” Anais cautioned, more serious. “For one, you will only hold her lease, not own her. For another, Amizade Group does not condone snuff.”

I must not have hidden my reaction as well as I thought, because Anais laughed melodically, looking very amused at my look of surprise and horror.

“But more on that later. For now, would you like any assistance with packing? No? Then I shall clean up our little slut.”

With that, Anais breezily pushed the compliant Marina past me to the bathroom. I paused, contemplating for a moment, before heading back to my cluttered room to pack. As I passed the bathroom on my way, I saw Anais holding Marina’s face in the sink, as the blonde vigourously scrubbed at the brunette’s chest with a damp washcloth.

“Just an overnight bag, you said, Anais?” I asked, amused at the Brazilian girl’s spluttering distress.

“If you like, Monsieur Collins,” Anais confirmed, rinsing the cloth. “Should you choose to stay longer, anything that you require will be readily available.”

I shrugged, and grabbed my carry-on from my closet, throwing in a few changes of clothes. Once the girls were done in the bathroom, I grabbed my toothbrush, comb, and shaving kit, zipping up the bag as I entered the living room.

There was almost no evidence of our recent fun, only Marina’s red-rimmed eyes offering any hint that she had just been throat-fucked to the edge of conciousness.

“Shall we?” Anais asked primly, turning towards the door.

I followed her down the stairs, as did Marina. A small limo waited at the curb, looking entirely out of place in my neighborhood, which was barely better than a slum. The two girls climbed in first, and I watched appreciatively, as the driver took my bag.

I joined Anais on the back seat. To my mild surprise, Marina wasn’t in the rear-facing bench, but was instead kneeling on the floor, her knees spread wide and her hands behind the small of her back.

It only took a few minutes to get on the Parkway, but the driver got on the southbound.

“Relax, Monsieur Collins,” Anais reassured me, when I pointed it out. “The driver knows where he is going. Now, we have about 45 minutes. Would you like a little entertainment?”

I shrugged and nodded.

“Marina, vem chupar o seu mestre,” Anais commanded. “Más se deixe ele terminar, eu vou fazer vocé arrepender, hein?”

Whatever Anais said, the Brazilian girl didn’t much like it, fear and humiliation clear on her face.

I decided quickly that I liked the order, as the young brunette crawled to me and opened my pants. My cock was limp against my thigh, and she fished it out, sucking it into her hot mouth. It quickly responded to her ministrations, engorging pleasantly.

I reached down and pulled her breasts out, tucking the thin material of her sundress underneath the orbs, then leaned back and enjoyed the view.

“Now, if you’re not too terribly distracted, Monsieur Collins,” Anais interrupted, “here is your passport and your ‘get out of jail free card’.”

Tucked into my passport was an envelope. I opened it to find a letter, signed by the famously corrupt governor of New Jersey, granting a commutation of my sentence to work release under the supervision of Amizade International, with a complete pardon at the end of a three-year term.

“Now, Monsieur, do you have any more questions?”

“Dozens, Anais,” I said with a sigh. “But I believe they can wait.”

“Very well,” she said, sounding quite satisfied with herself. “Shall I hold on to those documents for you?”

I passed them over, and the rest of the car ride passed in silence. Mostly, anyway. Marina’s sucking and slurping got pretty enthusiastic, at times, and I’m pretty sure that I gasped quite loudly more than once; each time, Marina backed off from whatever technique she was using at the time, though she never removed her mouth from my cock.

When we arrived at a small airport, I was throbbing almost painfully.

The driver surprised me again, pulling past the passenger drop-off, through a gate, and directly on to the tarmac.

“Welcome to Cape May Airport, Mr. Collins” a man in a pilot’s uniform said, opening my door.