Milked, Volumes Five Through Eight

by Alex Carlsbad

  "Hello and thank you," Jenny replied. "Yes, this is Melody." The two-year-old infant was staring cautiously with big saucer-size eyes at the small crowd of people that had suddenly congregated around the vehicle.

  "Isn't she precious!” The two women said almost in unison. Before Jenny could reply the two bubbly ladies had left her and moved to unbuckle Melody from her car seat.

  "You must go now!" one of them said. "His Excellency is expecting you for dinner. Don't worry about sweet Melody here. Everything has been arranged. We are the nannies."

  "But…"

  "No buts," one of the nannies said placing a soothing palm on Jenny's arm. "We will take care of your precious little bundle with our lives. If she so much as falls and scratches her knees, we will be beheaded."

  Seeing Jenny’s horrified expression the woman broke out laughing. "Just making a joke. Go now. You don't want to make your future boss angry."

  Jenny felt so very tired all of a sudden. She wondered how many hours it was since she had boarded that military cargo plane in Kinshasa. She felt weak and tired like as if she hadn't slept for a week. Ben hugged her tight around the waist, "She's right you know. We have to go be nice and sweet and impress his Excellency with how smooth and well-educated we are." Jenny nodded as they started walking up the polished marble steps of the palace.

  "I still cannot believe our luck," she said. "If anybody had told me only last week that we will be together again so soon, and you would be gainfully employed no less, I would have laughed them out of the room."

  "I know, right! Come let us try and not spoil the first impression. I hear the man is a stickler for detail and very eccentric."

  "What? You mean to say you haven't met him yet?" Jenny exclaimed.

  "Of course I haven't," Ben replied. "This is the first time I am in Kazakhstan myself. I signed all the documents and was debriefed in London before I left."

  "How strange. What if we don't like him?" Asked Jenny. "What if you don't want to work with him?"

  Just then, a cold wind blew in sending icy chills right through the thin material of her tight little black dinner dress. Ben never had an opportunity to answer her question as they reached the entrance and two soldiers in pressed parade uniform opened the doors in perfect sync letting the young couple enter the palace.

  Mr. Ismailov took a long sip of his red wine luxuriating in the taste and texture of the exquisite vintage. Observing the president, Ben realized that for the first time this evening he felt relaxed enough to actually sit back and look around the sumptuous dining hall. His eyes were immediately drawn to the exquisite wood paneling that lined all sides of the spacious room with images of what appeared to be ancient Hindu goddesses and gods. He noticed with surprise that many of the scenes actually depicted the mythological characters engaged in lovemaking! Ben didn't consider himself to be a prude, but many of the engravings made him blush deeply.

  "Do you enjoy the murals, Ben?" Asked their host, his casually sonorous voice making the young couple jump in their seats.

  "Yes, they are exquisite, your Excellence," Ben cleared his throat casting a quick glance at Jenny who had lapsed into an uncharacteristic silence. She appeared to be blushing. Had she also been looking at the engravings?

  "Are they depicting scenes from Hindu mythology?" Ben asked.

  "Indeed they are." Replied Mr. Ismailov. "You must be wondering how come I, the head of state of such a virulently conservative country like ours tolerates such obviously pagan imagery in my own home?" The president said leaning forward to dip a drumstick into a bowl of steaming sauce by his side. Obviously he didn't appear too encumbered with decorum. Ben watched how with obvious delight his new boss brought the delicately glazed piece of chicken meat to his mouth and took a generous bite. Ben saw droplets of oil trickle down Mr. Ismailov's hand and slowly drip onto the immaculate tablecloth.

  "In all honesty, I do have to admit that the images did surprise me…"

  "Good! Excellent, actually," the president roared interrupting Ben. "I do value honesty, especially in my employees." The president smiled but in his eyes Ben detected a steely glint of ice. "I would like you to always be candid with me, Ben. In fact, I insist on it. Rest assured that as long as I am around, you will never be punished for speaking your mind. And neither will your wife," the president added looking over at Jenny who had reached out and placed her hand atop that of her husband. Ben instinctively took her hand in his and realized how cold it felt.

  Punished? What the hell? What a strange man the president of Kazakhstan appeared to be. A momentary shudder coursed through Ben's body. He wondered for a fleeting second whether he had done the right thing by bringing his small family to this odd country and accepting to work for its president who he barely knew anything about. Truth be told, Ben had spent a long time on the Internet trying to glean as much information as he possibly could about his future employer. But try as he might, it turned out that Mr. Ismailov was a genuine recluse indeed. His country had recently leapfrogged itself into the top five economies in the world as a result of its burgeoning oil industry and the crisis that had so drastically crippled the Western economies.

  Ben forced himself to snap out of his doltish reverie. What was wrong with him? Mr. Ismailov had already helped his little family so much. He had spared no expense in sending one of his personal jets to pick up Jenny from where she was hiding from the virus in Africa. He had even made sure that trained military personnel were available to provide her with all the safety she might need. Obviously the powerful man had their best interest at heart. Ben was being completely irrational right now. And yet, why was Jenny trembling?

  "Thank you," Ben said glancing over at his wife. She appeared so pale and fragile that for a moment he wondered whether she wasn't about to faint. It had to be the trip. It was ages since she had last had an opportunity to get some rest. Ben was just about to thank the president for his generosity and lavish hospitality and bid him good night when he suddenly saw something so strange that he forgot his original intention.

  The president had just waved over one of the two maids who had been serving throughout dinner tonight. Ben remembered her name was Giselle. He recalled how stricken he had been by her exquisite beauty when she had offered to take their coats and introduced herself upon their arrival a couple of hours ago. Blonde like his wife, Giselle was almost a full had taller than Jenny with lustrous curls that cascaded halfway down her back. Tall, lithe, and with a hint of German accent, she was the epitome of a top-tier supermodel. The fact that someone like her would be employed as house help here evoked more questions in Ben's mind that he was prepared to consider right now.

  It was however what she did upon walking over to the president that totally blew Ben's mind away. Quietly, without so much as a questioning look or even the hint of a frown, the supermodel knelt by the president’s side and took his hand in both of hers bringing it up to her lips. Ben heard his wife's sharp intake of breath as they both watched transfixed the ritual before their eyes. For yes, it was nothing less than a ritual, Ben realized, and it was being played out for his and Jenny’s benefit.

  Instead of merely kissing the back of the dictator's hand, Giselle lovingly took every finger in her mouth bathing it with her tongue and sucking it all the way in. Ben could clearly hear Giselle gag a couple of times on her master's long thick fingers as they entered her throat.

  Her master? Ben wondered at the word his mind had instinctively provided for him. But how else could one describe the tableau unfolding before his eyes? How else, other than a master being serviced by his… Servant? With consternation Ben felt his cock grow hard at the display of raw power before him. Suddenly he felt mortified and embarrassed by his animalistic reaction to what had to be an act of pure humiliation for the servant girl.

  He looked over at Jenny and was shocked to see his beautiful wife blush a deep crimson red as a thin sheen of sweat had blossomed across her upper lip that she was sucking in. He suddenly realized tha
t Jenny was tightly squeezing his hand and from the corner of his eyes he could see imperceptible convulsions rock her slender waist. Ben now recognized her expression for what it was: she was on the verge of coming! He felt pain as his cock strained against the confines of his suit pants. Jenny was acting like a woman he had never known before, someone so sensual and sexualized that she was on the verge of coming by merely watching a woman kneel before a man.

  Suddenly, Jenny saw him staring at her and immediately let go of his hand barely stifling a groan of embarrassment.

  The president who up until this moment had been checking messages on his smartphone with one hand while Giselle sucked the other one clean, looked up as if just now remembering the presence of the other people in the room. For a fleeting moment Ben saw a knowing twinkle illuminate the president’s preternaturally dark eyes.

  "Please pardon my manners," Mr. Ismailov said. As he spoke Giselle was just done licking his fingers clean and was now using her long blond hair to dry his hand. The president followed Ben's stare to the girl kneeling by his side and then back again.

  "I see shock in your eyes," he said.

  "Pardon me, sir, I don't… We," Ben was at a loss for words.

  The president smiled, "No need to apologize, my dear man. After all it is only understandable that Giselle's obvious progress in getting used to our customs has taken you by surprise." Ben looked at the girl on her knees and she smiled broadly back at him and nodded in Jenny's direction.

  For a long moment that felt to stretch into eternity the president looked at Ben and Jenny scanning their flustered expressions with his deep black eyes. Finally he cleared his throat relaxing into his seat and turning to face his guests.

  “We were talking earlier about your interest in the wood paneling in this room." The president started.

  “We meant no disrespect, sir," Ben immediately tried to apologize

  “Shush now,” the president said his intonation suddenly sharp even though his voice stayed low and measured. “Remember what we talked about earlier? I know you did not mean to disrespect me and you haven't.” He smiled and for the second time tonight Ben felt shivers run up and down his spine. “If I thought you meant me an affront, we wouldn't be having this conversation, believe me. But enough about that,” the president said and placed his large hand atop the blond servant’s head. She was sitting back on her heels demurely kneeling on the floor as he gently caressed her head like somebody would pet a dog. “You were asking about the apparent conflict between these obscene images and the culture of our country, correct?”

  Not trusting himself to speak Ben merely nodded.

  “Well, the simple answer is that there is none.” The president said. “No conflict at all. I am no religious scholar, mind you,” he chuckled. “But my understanding is that it took us a long time to get to where we are today. Does that mean we have to turn around and spit on our history?” His voice had grown in strength and his words were coming out forceful like a politician delivering a speech. Ben saw Jenny nod from the corner of his eyes and did the same.

  “What is more, I do not consider myself to be overly conservative.” The man said. “If people want to have sex, let them, is what I say. Our country can only benefit from more happy families and a larger population. Especially in times like ours…,” he added and Ben felt a pall of darkness cross the president’s face.

  “I don't consider myself to be a conservative, but please do not take that to mean I'm not a fervent supporter of our traditions. Which brings me to Giselle here,” he said tapping the blond girl's head. “Go on, tell them what is your occupation in our household please,” the man encouraged her.

  Maybe it was Ben's imagination but he thought he saw the girls eyes moisten as she spoke. "I came from Germany she said her voice beautifully sonorous and heavy with accent. "I joined my master's – my, the president’s household as a servant…"

  "And…" The president encouraged her.

  "And I was recently promoted to the position of body servant to his Excellency."

  The president laughed softly as Ben's eyes grew big as saucers.

  "Tell them Giselle what does that entail," the president ordered. "It seems our guests are not quite clear on the meaning of the word."

  "Put simply I am in charge of Mr. Ismailov's body," Giselle explained, her voice mechanical as if reading off a script. "I make sure I bring him food and drink, I take care of his laundry and attire, and sometimes, when he requests it, I make him happy in other ways."

  "She's a slave!” exclaimed Jenny making Ben almost jump out of his seat with shock. He reached out and took her by the hand holding her tight and preventing her from standing up and leaving as she was about to do.

  The president was about to say something but Giselle interrupted him, "No I am not!" She said and her voice sounded forceful and sincere as she clearly enunciated every word. "I am no slave. I am here of my own free volition, and you have to respect my choice!" Giselle's retort obviously struck Jenny deeply. She sat back down, her mouth agape as she stared speechless at the girl kneeling by the president’s side.

  “There, there, now," the president said. “There's no reason to get upset. We all come from different cultures and have different ideas about morals and what is appropriate. No reason to start yelling at each other,” he chuckled. Ben looked from his wife to Giselle who appeared to be still furious as she knelt on the floor by her master.

  "It is more than simply a job for me," explained the servant girl. "I do enjoy what I do even if I am handsomely compensated for my services," she added.

  “This is not to say that pretty Giselle is not sometimes in need of chastising. Right?” the president said gently nudging the girl with his shoe.

  She nodded. “Yes master.”

  “I want you to show them what I am talking about,” the president said. “But first let’s adjourn to the couches, shall we? There we can have some refreshments and desert in a more comfortable setting.”

  They followed him into a large spacious study. It was decorated in a way that made it feel cozy and intimate. Large ottoman couches lined the sides and at its center there was a big silver and gold hookah.

  Giselle demurely followed them carrying a large intricately engraved silver platter with a diverse assortment of sweets and chocolate. She brought it over to the president and curtsied.

  “Stand up, please,” Mr. Ismailov said almost absentmindedly as he selected a couple of sweets. "Take off your skirt and panties and show our guests what I mean."

  Ben would have protested the president’s order but somehow the rational part of his brain had suddenly taken a leave of absence. He and Jenny watched dumbfounded as the girl stood and demurely unzipped the black skirt of her maid uniform. She let it slip down her long lithe legs and fall to the floor where it was soon joined by her white lace panties.

  Ben had to swallow a couple of times at the sight before his eyes.

  Now only in a white shirt and the dark navy sweater of her uniform, Giselle stood ramrod straight in her high heels as she gathered up the hem of her shirt bringing it up around her waist revealing her naked crotch for all to see.

  Both Ben and his wife felt their hearts skip a couple of beats at the beauty before them. Tall and lanky, her abs were clearly delineated, as were the muscles of her well toned legs. But it was her baby-smooth pussy that drew Ben’s attention immediately. He had to force his eyes up and away lest he appear like a drooling primate.

  “You are frowning, sweetheart,” the president observed. “I believe I know why but please tell our honored guests why you aren’t happy.”

  “I hate it when you display me like that, master,” the girl said.

  “Why?”

  “I have committed myself to you, master. You are my air, the sun in my life, I serve you and only you,” Giselle said her voice husky as she spoke. The way she looked, half-naked and reluctant, made Ben want to grab her and take her right then and there. Giselle had pledged her
self body and soul to this man. She seemed perfectly at peace now that someone else had such tremendous power over her.