Chapter 2

“Bom dia, Mestre,” the girl whispered again, her soft voice pulling me gently awake. “Bom dia. Café da manha?”

I opened my eyes, looking at her. She was young. Fifteen, sixteen at the most. Fair skinned, grey eyes, light brown hair cut just above her shoulders. She wore a sheer, white off-the-shoulder tunic that was several sizes too large; with every movement she made, it threatened to fall completely off her A-cup breasts. The legged tray that she held prevented her from fixing it, and it seemed like its precarious hold on her little nipples was all that was keeping it up. I smiled.

“She offers breakfast, Chef,” Marina translated.

I glanced over at her. The young brunette had traded her sundress for a cream linen jumpsuit, the top styled like a business jacket, though she wore nothing underneath it, the wide, deep V-neck exposing much of the insides of her pert breasts. I noticed that the marks of yesterday’s punishments had entirely disappeared. Today, her hair was loosely braided in a fishtail, pulled forwards over one shoulder.

I nodded appreciatively at Marina.

“I need to piss first,” I said, sitting up and pulling the covers off of my matinal erection.

Marina smirked.

“Relax, Chef,” she said, leaning across the bed to shove a few pillows behind my back. “The girl will take care of that for you.”

“Ah, okay...” I leaned back into the pillows, and the girl set the tray over my lap, removing a cloche to reveal a tiny cup of coffee, a bowl of diced fruit, sliced ham and cheese, and a couple of steaming, golden puffs. “It looks good, but I really have to-”

“Vai, menina!” Marina snapped, cutting me off. “Tá esperando o que? Bebe!”

Abashed, the girl quickly laid face-down on the bed in front of me, carefully slipped her hands through the legs of the breakfast tray, grabbed my erection, and gently angled it downwards until she was able to wrap her lips around it.

“Go ahead, Chef,” Marina said, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “Pee freely. The girl will drink it for you.”

“Really? She won’t make a mess? And who is she, anyway?”

“She will not, chef. But if she did, e daí? You have the bed replaced, and you get to punish her. Win-win. As for who she is, she is one of Master Rutherford’s chambermaids, so she is most definitely used to drinking the morning pee. I don’t know her name, though. Maria something, probably, but who cares?”

Despite Marina’s confidence, it took me a few moments to relax enough to let my bladder go, as my morning wood refused to subside with a pretty girl’s mouth on it. When I finally did, the nameless girl made a quiet noise of discontent, but began rapidly swallowing my acrid first piss. I had drunk even more than usual yesterday, and it went on and on.

When it finally slowed to a trickle, I sighed in relief and picked up the coffee. It was strong as fuck; overly sweet but still bitter. There was so little, though, that it was half gone after just a taste.

“Marina, are there other coffee options in the house?” I asked, before swallowing the rest of the coffee syrup.

“Of course, Chef,” she assured me. “Espresso, French press, and pour-over. Shall I prepare some now?”

“Yes. You know how to make a red-eye?”

“I am sorry, Chef, but I do not.” She looked devastated by her failure.

“It’s the easiest thing, girl,” I reassured her. “It’s just a cup of French press with a shot of espresso.”

“Right away, Chef,” she barked, scooting off to prepare my preferred caffiene.

I set into breakfast with a will, as the girl underneath it continued suckling on the head of my cock. After a few bites, I slowed to look around. There wasn’t a lot in the bright, open room but a couple of comfortable looking chairs, but the real feature was that half of the wall to the right of the bed was a sliding glass door, through which I could see the ocean.

“This bread,” I began, holding up the still hot crispy-soft cheesy puff, as Marina re-entered my bedroom.

“Pão de quiejo,” Marina provided, leaning over the bed again to deposit a much more American-sized mug of steaming coffee on the breakfast tray, her mango-sized breast slipping out of her jumpsuit. “Cheese bread. Literally. Very common for breakfast, with coffee, as a midnight snack, whenever. It is the third most Brazilian food, I think, after beans and churrasco, our barbeque.”

With a subtle smile, she tucked her stray tit back into her top.

“I like it,” I said, tucking slices of ham and cheese into it and scarfing it down.

I picked up the coffee and drank deeply; she had let it cool just enough that I could drink without burning myself.

“Take this tray, would you,” I said, setting the cup on the nightstand. “I’m done with breakfast, and it’s in the way.”

Marina hopped to obey, clearing my view of the teen that was still sucking on the head of my very hard cock.

“You’ve got, oh, about two minutes to get me off, cunt,” I said, grabbing the back of her head and pushing my cock deeper into her mouth. “And then I’m going to fuck your ass.”

“Ele disse quese vocé não faz ele gozar na sua boca,” Marina helpfully translated, “daqui dois minutos ele vai comer o teu rabo.“

The threat had the desired effect, and the little teen began trying to swallow my cock whole, gagging herself very cutely on my erection.

“William woulnd’t mind, would he?” I asked, just to be sure.

“He expects you to, Chef,” Marina assured me. “First, her collar is pink.”

I hadn’t noticed the slim band around her neck.

“Slaves in pink collars are available for anyone’s use,” she explained, as the slave girl finally got my cock down her throat. “If her collar was green, that would mean that she was private property, but even so, if he freely sent her over without instructions, it would be understood that he would be giving you the use of her. Even if she were wearing the ... the ... chastity belt? Yes, chastity belt, he would still be offering her mouth. White collar, though, that means for sale. If you use a for sale slave, you agree to buy!”

I was only half listening, as I pushed the girl’s head harder and harder against my crotch, enjoying her struggles as she fought to breathe.

“Blue collar is for like me, working directly for the resort management. Grey is similar to blue, but available for hire, like stud or bondage specialist or domme. But no collar, no slave!”

“Good, good,” I panted, grabbing the girl’s hair and lifting her head off me, letting her suck in a few breaths before shoving her back down. “Now get me some lube.”

I actually really wanted to fuck her raw, but if I did that, I would put my own unit out of commission for a day, at the very least. And I suspected that I would regret it if I did that.

Marina hopped onto the bed and reached over me, her pert breasts brushing my face (intentionally, I’m sure), and grabbed a bottle from the nightstand. She flopped onto the mattress next to me, casually flipping up the girl’s tunic. With one hand, she spread the taut, almost boyish cheeks of the girl’s ass, drizzling in the lube with the other.

“Come on, Chef,” Marina prompted, slapping the girl’s butt. “She’s not getting any tighter by you choking her with your deek. Plus, your coffee is getting cold.”

I laughed, and picked up the girl’s head again, this time pulling away before letting it fall to the mattress. I got up, and, as I did, Marina grabbed her hair, roughly pulling her up the bed. I laughed again as the girl wailed, scrabbling to move herself rather than be pulled along.

“Agora, dê ao Chef o seu cúzinho, putinha!” Marina crowed, turning the girl’s face towards her.

The girl moaned wordlessly, but moved her arms to her sides, placed one hand on each firm little cheek, and spread her ass open for me, lifting her pelvis ever-so-slightly.

I grinned. Marina grinned back at me, as I moved to straddle the girl’s slim thighs. She began keening very quietly, as Marina grasped my cock, slick with the girl’s spit, and pointed it down at her very cute little rosebud, glistening with lube.

Through gritted teeth, she screamed in pain as I plunged down into her, burying my full length in a single stroke. I smiled, reveling the feel of her tight sphincter around the base of my shaft. I noticed tears trickling from her eye, and licked them up, making her grimace.

“Oh, fuck, that’s good,” I hissed, slowly beginning to fuck her.

As I started to pick up speed, I bit her soft little earlobe, pulling back quite hard. I had to let it go quite soon, though, as I lifted myself up to give myself better leverage, so I could properly pound her tight little ass.

For long, long, minutes, the pretty little teen wailed as I hammered my cock down into her tight asshole, very much enjoying her intense discomfort. Occasionally, she would start to turn her head, and Marina would force it back around so I could see at least part of her pained expression. I could have relaxed and finished at any time, but I held myself back, sadistically enjoying abusing her.

Finally, when her wails grew hoarse, I gave a few final, powerful strokes, and blew my load deep inside her.

“Whooo, that was good,” I said, pulling out and standing up. The girl whimpered, and I slapped her flat little ass hard enough to shake her whole body. “I’m going to shower.”

I grabbed my coffee, and took several deep swallows, before deciding that it was too cool.

“Make me a fresh coffee, and then we can get started on the day.”

“Of course, chef,” Marina said, getting up. “Ajuda ele no banho, moçinha.“

With a whimper of pain that made my cock twitch, the girl got up, dropping her tunic to the floor. Her young body was lithe, with slim hips and bee-sting nipples on a nearly flat chest. Her mound was completely bare.

“She will help you in the shower, sir,” Marina said over her shoulder, as she left the room.

“Let’s go, then,” I said.

With a sad sniff, the girl shrugged. I took that to mean that she didn’t understand, especially given Marina’s translations. She turned and walked past me to the bathroom, though, so I followed.

The bathroom was massive; all tile and glass, with a shower big enough for three and a tub big enough for four. The girl looked between the two, then at me questioningly, so I pointed to the shower. She obediently padded into the huge stall, turning on the water. She held her hand under the flow, adjusting it several times before beckoning to me, barely making eye contact as she did.

Demurely, she washed me, keeping her eyes on the ground. Her small hands were deft, thorough, and very arousing. I didn’t just stand there, though. I fondled, carressed, pinched, and poked the girl’s body. By the time she was done, I was hard again.

I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. She followed me out and gestured at the towel, so I let her have it. Gently, she patted me dry, methodically using the entire towel.

When I thought that she was about to wrap up, I pushed down on her shoulders. She dropped the towel to the floor, kneeling on it, and obediently began sucking me.

I let her take the initiative for a minute or two, but soon, I got bored, and grabbed her head and began thrusting. I jabbed the back of her throat a few times, eliciting uncomfortable but sexy gagging sounds, but it didn’t take her long to sucessfully swallow me.

“Novo café, Chefe!” With a smile, Marina handed me the steaming mug, then reached down, grabbed a handful of the girl’s hair, and jammed her face harder into my crotch.

“Do you know where my suitcase is?” I asked, tasting the coffee. It was, again, the perfect temperature. “I need a shave.”

“I hope that it is okay, Chef, but I unpacked for you.” She pulled open the mirror and pulled out my soap, brush, bowl, and razor. “May I prepare it for you, the... espuma? Only I do not know how?”

“That’s fine,” I said, resting my hand on the girl’s head as she steadily bobbed up and down.

“You’re much more confident today than you were yesterday,” I commented as I guided Marina through the steps of preparing lather.

“Yes, Chef,” she said, whipping the soap with the badger brush. “Anais scares me, and it also was my first trip out of Brazil. Today, I am the boss of these girls, like Anais was the boss of me.”

She quickly, produced a thick bowl of lather that was much creamier than I usually bothered to make. I moved closer to the counter, and the girl awkwardly moved with me. I ended up trapping her head between my crotch and the counter.

“Hold still, cuntlet,” I said, picking up the brush and pushing myself deeper into her throat. I began slathering on the lather.

“Fique be-e-e-m quetinha, agora, putinha, “ Marina growled at the girl. “Se voçé faz o mestre se cortar, çé vai arrepender por um bom tempo.“

The girl squeaked in fear.

“You know, I could get used to this.” Marina smiled happily. “I will have to learn portuguese, though, won’t I?”

“I am so happy to translate for you, Chef,” Marina assured me. “And if you like I will add to your schedule classes, or I can order a course, if you prefer?”

“If I stay, definitely get some lessons set up for me,” I said, starting my shave.

About a third of the way through, the girl began trembling.

“Ah, Chef,” Marina said, timidly, “the girl, I think she does not know how to breathe right. I do not want her to shake so hard that you cut. I can do the deepthroat and be still as long as you need?”

“No,” I said, grabbing the girls hair and pulling out. She took a deep, ragged breath. “She’ll be fine. You can blow me later.”

I waited until she had taken three breaths, then plunged back into her mouth, smacking the back of her head against the edge of the granite countertop.

I took my time finishing my shave, and the girl stayed mostly still. She must have figured out how to breathe at least a little.

“Ass again, or pussy?” I asked myself, as I washed the remaining traces of lather off of my face.

“She has no preference, Chef,” Marina offered. “She will only be grateful that you choose to use her.”

“Good to know.”

I grabbed a thick handful of her hair and used it to lift her to her feet; she was pretty limp, and quite dazed. I bent her over the sink, positioning myself against her asshole, now red and battered from my previous abuse, and pushed forwards.

That woke her up, and goddamn, her wail of pain was hot. However, the lube from before had dissapated, and I still didn’t want to hurt myself, so I repositioned myself. Even before I pushed into her sex, I could feel the heat, and for all that she was dripping wet, I could swear that her sweet little cunt was every bit as tight as her ass.

The little teen moaned just as loud as before, as I began fucking her. With long, steady strokes, I pistoned into her, driving her slim thighs into the edge of the counter.

“So, what is on the schedule today?” I asked, slamming the little teen’s cunt with each word. “Do I have appointments?”

“No appointments, Chef, because you have only just arrived, and I did not wish to commit you too early?” Marina answered, as professionally as if we were in an office, though she was looking at the piece of fuckmeat with fascination as I pounded into her. “An itinerary, though. Master Rutherford wishes to meet with you as that you are ready. He will to show to you the resort and finish to negotiate your salary and contract.”

“Negotiate?” I interrupted, though I didn’t change my rhythm.

“Ah, yes,” Marina looked a bit abashed. “I was not supposed to say. But! If I tell you that they are such eager to have you here and you make a better contract, I am more useful to you!”

“That’s right,” I recalled, pressing on the small of the girl’s back to change the angle of her pelvis. It must not have been a good angle for her, as she began wailing like a banshee. “Both Anais and Rutherford mentioned that I could choose someone else if you don’t seem like a good fit. Shut her up, would you?”

“Yes, Chef,” she agreed, looking a bit concerned as she stuffed a washcloth into the girl’s mouth. “But I assure you, I am the best! I have five languages, and degree in hospitality, and I know all of mother sauces--tomate and béchamel and velouté and espagnole and hollandaise! And I know almost all of the small sauces already--”

“Okay, okay,” I said, stopping her short. “I’ll interview you later. Or rather, the next few days can be your interview, maybe. After Rutherford, then what?”

“If you turn him down, nothing. A boat to Salvador, a ticket to New Jersey.”

“I think it’s safe to assume,” I said sardonically, as I railed the tight little teen slave, “that I will not be turning him down. Don’t sass me, bitch.”

“Yes, Chef. Of course, Chef,” Marina fake-pouted. Damn, but she looked cute. “After Mestre Rutherford, some interviews. There was originally some difficulty in obtaining your, um, comutação, and so Master Rutherford hired one chefe consultora? She says how the kitchen goes and what to buy.”

“Oh. A consultant?”

“Yes, I think. After then it is up to your pleasure. There will be much to do, I’m sure, but also you must hire chefs, for which you have many curriculos to review, you will have slaves to be choosing. Much more, but you will have to say to Master Rutherford for the other things.”

“Good, good,” I said, turning my focus back to the girl I was fucking and pulling the impromptu gag out of her mouth. She kept quiet, though.

I had been fucking the girl’s tight and incredibly hot little cock sleeve for probably five minutes now, and her deep throating, though clumsy, had really gotten me going, so I was actually quite close to finishing. I lifted her hips a bit, and began jerking her back against me with each thrust.

Marina reached underneath the girl, who immediately arched her back and screamed in pain. That was all I needed to tip over the edge, and I groaned as I unloaded into the sexy young thing for a second time.

“Thanks. That was just perfect,” I complimented Marina as I pulled out of the limp chambermaid. “Nipple?”

“Bico do peito,” she said with a radiant smile, tapping the neat, french-tipped nails of her thumb and forefinger together. “I peench.”

“Bico do peito,” I repeated, beginning my portuguese lessons and brightening her expression to incandescant. “Bico do peito.”

Seemingly from nowhere, Marina produced a cigarette, which I happily accepted, and puffed while she lit it. As I took a deep drag, she grabbed the little girl’s hair and roughly pulled her off of the countertop, thrusting her face into my crotch again.

“Olha essa bagunça que voçé fez! Limpe agora mesmo!“ Marina snapped at the girl, before looking at me and translating into english. “Look at your mess and clean it right now.”

“Bagunça is mess?” I guessed, as the girl began gently licking my remarkably sticky junk. Marina grinned and corrected my pronunciation a little.

I turned around and leaned back on the sink, the girl scrambling to keep her face in my crotch.

“Yes,” I sighed, picking up my coffee as the girl’s tongue industriously slipped across my ballsack. “Yes, I could get used to this.”

I enjoyed my coffee and cigarette, watching the girl lick up the slimy residue of her rape, carefully and very thoroughly tonguing me clean.

By the time my coffee was empty, I felt like I was as clean as her very nice tongue was going to get me, and my cock was beginning to re-inflate a bit. More importantly, though, I now had a couple of cups of coffee to get rid of.

“Is she expected back at Rutherford’s any time soon?” I asked Marina.

A quick exchange informed me that she wasn’t needed until lunch.

“Oh, good!” I exclaimed, taking a deep drag on my cigarette. “You’re so good at cleaning that I want you to take care of something for me.”

I glanced meaningfully at Marina, who quicly translated for me, though with a puzzled expression. Stepping away from the girl--I didn’t want to be in the splash zone, as I had just showered--I winked saucily at Marina and immediately unleashed a torrent of urine into the girl’s face.

Caught completely off guard, the little teenager sputtered and choked, but submissively, if reluctantly, opened her mouth to the hot, clear stream of piss. Obligingly, I filled her mouth, but then I directed the stream up her face and into her hair. I didn’t just pee on her, though. I alternated between her and the floor, making sure to spray near the toilet, then in her eye, then in the shower, then at a dry spot in her hair, then under the sink, in her ear, on the bidet, in her eye. I remembered, then, her clothes. I forced the stream to stop, ran out and grabbed it from the bedroom floor, and dropped it in front of her. Only then did I continue peeing, now alternating between her tunic and her face, hitting her eye again, her nose, her still-open mouth. Finally, it trickled to a stop.

I glanced at Marina, who had a very smug look on her face.

“Pick up your dress,” I said slowly, pausing so that Marina could translate, “Hold it over your head and wring it out. That’s it, all over your face. Now, put it on.”

The piss soaked tunic clung to her skin, translucent now, and she looked to be on the verge of tears.

“Alright, cunt, before you go back to Rutherford’s, I want you to clean all this up. Ah, ah, ah,” I chided, as she reached for the washcloth that had been in her mouth. “Clean it with your tongue.”

She did start crying then, silently, tears streaking down her already wet cheeks, but she obeyed, lowering her face to a yellow puddle, slurping it up and then tonguing dry the last streaks, before moving on to another.

I laughed heartily, took a last drag on my cig, and flicked the butt into one of the puddles.

“Clothes?” I asked Marina, as I left the bathroom.

She darted past me and opened what turned out to be one of two walk-in closets, revealing my sparse selection of clothes.

In my past life, I had worn suits when I wasn’t in the kitchen, but as a working class retail drone, I had slipped into a much more casual style. I was glad, though, that I had at least grabbed my one remaining suit, even if my best ones had long since been sold on e-bay to make rent.

As I dressed, I glanced over at Marina, appraising her outfit.

“Your jumpsuit is fine for today, but moving forwards, I want you in a skirt and proper jacket,” I said, buttoning my pin-striped shirt. “Thigh-high stockings, garters, and panties over the garters. Skirt should be exactly fingertip length. If you need new clothes, get them quickly. Clear?”

“Yes, Chef!” Marina said. “If you want, I can change now. Mater Rutherford had my things moved here yesterday.”

“No need,” I waved her off, stepping into my shoes. They were custom made; italian leather uppers, but with non-slip soles. It had been too long since I wore them. I shrugged on my jacket, but decided against a tie. It was good to be properly dressed again; I drew a deep breath and felt confidence surge through me. I looked back at the silently crying girl licking up my urine and felt my cock swell against my silk boxers.

“Let’s go see Rutherford, shall we?”

“Of course, Chef,” Marina said, moving quickly to keep up with my purposeful stride. “I called a driver, and he is outside now.”

“Good, good,” I said, opening the bedroom door.

I hadn’t even glanced at the house the night before. It was absolutely stunning. It was all open, with high ceilings and wooden floors. To my right was a fully stocked wet bar, sparkling and new. The living room was so big that there were actually two separate clusters of couches. The kitchen was straight ahead, too, a huge teak island filling the space, and the dining room was to the right of that, with a table for ten. Most impressive, though, was the wall to the right, with floor to ceiling glass.

“The car can wait a minute?” I asked, moving towards the glass doors.

“Of course, Chef,” Marina assured me.

I opened the door, stepping out onto the deck. It was covered by trellisses packed with tropical vines, and there was a pool, glistening and blue. The deck ended in a white sand beach. To the left, there was an outdoor kitchen as well, with a gass grill and an open brick barbeque. I headed over to check it out, and was very impressed with the quality of the equipment. I re-entered the cottage through a smaller door next to the kitchen, finding myself on the other side of the dining room, where I discovered two more bedrooms.

“My things are in this room, Chef,” Marina informed me, pointing to the further room. “The other room has two beds. But I will move wherever you tell me.”

I poked my head in and saw her bed, just a twin with a small pillow and sheets, no blanket at all.

“You don’t get cold at night?”

“There is no air conditioning in these two rooms, Chef,” she explained. “It gets very hot, even at night.”

I shrugged and headed back through the indoor kitchen to the foyer. There were two doors there, as well. On the left, heading out, was a den, with half set up as a library with a desk and computer, the other half as a home theater, with a huge screen and speakers, and two thickly padded black leather recliners.

Across the hall from the den was a utility room and a garage, though it was empty. I shrugged and went outside.

There was, indeed a towncar waiting, a very attractive driver in a gauzy sundress with her hand on the open door. “Keep up that initiative, and I won’t have to fire you.”

“You won’t ever have to fire me, Chef,” Marina said, with the fervent conviction of an oath, as she slipped into the car behind me.

I stayed in the middle of the seat, so that Marina was obliged to squeeze herself in next to me, though she didn’t seem to mind. As the driver closed the door, I leaned over her and slipped my hand into her jacket, cupping her soft, perky breast.

“And why is that so important to you?” I asked, slowly squeezing her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. “What happens if I do fire you?”

“If you reject me, Master,” she said, dead serious, “first I will go to ‘therapy.’ Metal cocks in my ass and my pussy, and wires to clamps on my nipples. Sometimes ‘therapy’ is short, but I am sure that for this, I will get shocked all day. Sometimes weak, sometimes so strong I scream and my whole body shakes, and the whole time I have to please the ‘therapist.’ I dance for him while he shocks me, and I suck his cock while he shocks me, and when he cums he shocks me more. Then he will choose my punishment.”

“That isn’t the punishment?” I asked, moving her hand to my rapidly-growing erection.

“No, Master,” she whispered, squeezing my cock, as the car pulled out. “The punishment is different every time. Last time, because the therapy was assigned when I was too slow to put in my butt plug because it hurt, I had to spend hours and hours putting needles in me, wherever I was told, to teach me that I must never hesitate to obey, even if it causes me pain. I had to put them in my nipples, and all over my breasts, and in my, um, my labia? And then the mistress made me put my legs behind my shoulders and put needles around my asshole.”

“Mistress? I thought the therapist was a man?”

“He is. But he does not do the punishments, he only assigns them. Many people can do the punishments.” Gently, she stroked my cock. “Before the one with the needles, I was assigned punishment for being to slow to get to my knees, so I had to spend thirty six hours on my knees, sucking all the cocks of all the builders. Another time, I was not clean for inspection, and I had enemas. Big huge ones, some hot and some cold and some that I had to hold in while they made me jump and exercise while they whipped me.”

“What other delicious punishments have you been given?” I asked, pinching harder.

“Those were the only times that I visited the therapist, Chef,” she said, wincing. “But my friend in the dorm was sent to the therapist so many times. She was fisted several times, and once, when she tried to attack a guard, she was fisted in her ass and her pussy at the same time. She also was made to peirce her own nipples and then sit on a triangle of wood, with weights on her ankles so her pussy was right on the wood, for hours.”

“Well, it sounds like this therapist is someone that I will need to get to know,” I said, truly impressed. “And I like the sound of you dancing for me while you’re being shocked, so it looks like you’re not getting out of that either way, huh?”

“I will be happy to do anything you like, Chef,” she said with enough sincerity that I actually believed her.

After a very short trip, the car stopped at a small two-story building, and the driver came around to open the door, so I gave Marina’s nipple a final tweak.

Marina led the way in, and I dropped just far enough back to get a nice view of her ass. Between the two sets of doors, a uniformed security guard sat behind a desk. Aparently, he knew Marina, as he nodded at her and buzzed her in to the luxurious lobby.