Belize Adventure

"On the third day Ivan and some of his friends showed up at closing time; to teach me a lesson in respect. Robert killed them."

Sonia paused and shifted her attentions to Deirdre's other foot.

"There's more to it than that, of course. I just don't feel comfortable talking about it. Anyway, the police showed up. Robert was arrested and put on trial for manslaughter."

"He was acquitted?" Deirdre asked.

Sonia looked at her for a long moment, visibly making a large decision.

"He was convicted. They put him in prison. So Sara informed me that she was going to free him and I asked to help. Sara did all the real work. She found some white supremacists and convinced them that we had money to finance a jailbreak. We supplied the money and they did the work."

"Where did you find the money to pay for that?" Deirdre asked in amazement.

Sonia chuckled, "Sara. We're not just slave girls, sinjorino. We have full access to Robert's accounts and she and Robert stole some diamonds in Africa. He's wealthy."

Deirdre shook her head in amazement. "That's incredible."

Sonia's smile became thin. "It gets dark in a minute. The Aryans, actually a splinter group but that doesn't matter, performed the jail break. They raided a prisoner transit bus. And when they brought Robert to us, we killed them all."

She felt Deirdre attempt to pull her foot away in shock, but she held tight, still massaging.

"It was the only way to cover our trail. I felt bad about it, but they were animals. Early on one of them decided to rape and torture us until we told them where the money was coming from and how to get it. Easier than working with women as partners. Sara killed him. With her bare hands. I don't think she even worked up a sweat doing it."

"How many did you kill?" Deirdre whispered.

Sonia shrugged again. "I only shot the one, but I helped Sara with the mines and explosives we used to kill the others. She and Robert finished off the survivors. Then we drove to an airport to dump the van and muddy the trail. We sent charter planes off to five different destinations and sailed a yacht to Guatemala."

Deirdre exhaled in horror, "You killed them?"

Sara entered the room in time to hear the question and responded herself.

"Are you telling her about Africa, America, or Belize City?" she demanded.

"America, sklavinego," Sonia replied.

Sara nodded and set a tray down on the bed next to Deirdre.

"We killed them, sinjorino. The world is a vast ocean of violence with islands of law and order. And some people mistake the islands for the world. My master moves in that world of violence with a tarnished soul that he clings tightly too. He doesn't kill or cause pain for fun and he doesn't kill when he can possibly avoid it. He keeps his word and he'll risk his life for other people. He has other, less admirable, qualities too, but I would trade fifty more criminals for his freedom without thinking twice. Partly because I believe he did good and partly because I want to be able to crawl to him."

"Why are you telling me this?" Deirdre asked, "You're all... criminals. Are you planning on...?" she looked at them in terror.

Sara laughed. "Ne, sinjorino. Ne. Nothing is going to happen to you. But you needed to know. You've seen us laughing and happy, but beneath that there are some grim realities. Robert enjoyed you last night. Not just the sex, but your company. If you're going to be around us, then you needed to know about us. All about us."

Deirdre shook her head slowly from side to side. "He said, in the bar, that he was a murderer. I didn't believe him. Not really believe him."

"Do you know about the schools, the orphanages and the clinics?" Sonia asked.

Deirdre shook her head again.

"Did he tell you about taking Ilse and twenty-one girls just like her away from the Russian Mob?" Sara asked.

Again, Deirdre shook her head.

"He's basically a decent man, sinjorino. But he's not a saint," Sara said and then changed the subject. "Ilse didn't know what you would like for breakfast. She sent up some cut fruit, some toast and jams, and some milk. If you want more just let us know and she'll have it prepared."

Deirdre took a deep breath, held it for a minute, and then let it out in a whoosh. "What do you usually have?"

"Whatever Mastro feeds us," Sonia replied.

"Three bruises," Sara declared, "Don't be flip."

She turned her gaze to Deirdre, "In this room, we must be fed by hand, sinjorino. Or you could put a plate on the ground for us. We aren't allowed to use our hands. I prefer toast with strawberry jam when I'm being hand-fed, oatmeal when I'm not."

Deirdre gaped at them for a full minute before deciding they were serious. Wide-eyed, she began to put some jam on a piece of toast.

"Is there anything else I should know?" she asked, half expecting some new horror.

"Mastro really likes it when you moan while you're sucking his cock," Sonia announced, "The vibrations drive him over the edge."

Deirdre froze with a spoonful of jam in mid-air. She looked at Sonia who was smiling. She looked at Sara who was rolling her eyes. Her mind ran through a dozen possible responses. Then she decided.

"And another bruise for being cheeky," she declared.

True to her word, and obedient to her orders, Sara gave Sonia four bruises later that afternoon. Deirdre watched in fascination as the two women grappled in the stables courtyard. She was no expert, but she guessed that both of the women were competent fighters. They certainly seemed to go at with a real will and the bruises that Sonia sported were certainly nothing minor.

"But why naked?" Deirdre asked.

Sonia and Sara, both sweating heavily, traded sly looks before Sonia answered.

"Mastro likes to see us naked and sweaty, sinjorino. Sometimes, he gets so carried away by his lusts that he takes us right here. We like that," she smiled.

Deirdre laughed. "You're shameless," she declared.

Sara shrugged. "Nothing to be ashamed of, sinjorino. We're good sex slaves."

"Yes, you are," Robert announced as he walked into courtyard. A long train of men leading horses followed him in through the gate. Deirdre recognized the SAS men from the night before and Constable Fortin. Sonia and Sara slipped down onto their knees.

"Mrs. Crumbe!" Fortin exclaimed, "You're not chained to a bed. While somewhat disappointing this does mean we can finish your statement and then move on to more pleasurable pursuits."

Deirdre laughed. "Have you been playing in the jungle, Constable?"

"Christ no! I am far too experienced for that sort of nonsense. I was the referee between these over aged children." He climbed down from his horse, turning it over to a groom. "Among other things that means that while this lot are washing jungle filth off of themselves I'll have you to myself. Let me show you where Robert keeps his good liquor."

Deirdre glanced at Robert, who nodded, and then walked off with Constable Fortin.

They ate an early dinner on the living-room porch, Robert and Deirdre seated while Sara and Sonia knelt next to them.

"Your games went well then?" Deirdre inquired.

"Well enough," Robert replied, "The SAS soundly trounced us, but we made them work damn hard to do it. I think the next time they're out we'll have a few surprises for them. The troops were already discussing lessons learned when we left them. Crawling around in the jungle can be fun when no one is shooting at you for real. But I'm thinking about bringing in a real trainer for them. Maybe one of the SAS men; a retiree. Frankly I'm not the best trainer in the world."

"Juanita Alvarez says her brother and some of his friends want to join the militia," Sara reported.

"Jose Alvarez has a head filled with fantasies of martial glory," Robert retorted. "At least the Africans have an appreciation of what combat is really like." He fed Sonia a morsel of food and smiled at her.

"They feel like second class citizens, sinjoro," Sara pressed, "They grumble that you think of them as peasants and don't trust them. It's a sore and should be dealt with before it becomes infected."

"And knowing you as I do, you have a solution. Okay, there's a problem. How do you propose to solve it?" he asked.

"A real militia," Sara answered. "Belize recognizes dual citizenship, even if the United States doesn't. You arrange to become a citizen of Belize and set up a militia. In fact, you arrange for all the Africans to become citizens of Belize. Then you set up a real militia. Bring in some trainers and accept some local recruits. Belize gets an improved army without having to pay for it, you get a legitimate militia, and we set down some roots instead of acting like the wealthy foreigners. The locals will know that we trust and value them, and it will give them something to be proud of. Being a soldier is a high status job in Belize; the Defense Force gets three applicants for every position they have available."

Robert chewed his food in silence for several minutes as he mulled the idea. Deirdre, Sara, and Sonia ate quietly while they waited for him to speak.

"Have you already talked to Wesley about this?" he asked.

"Ne, sinjoro," Sara replied, "I wouldn't do that without talking to you first."

"I think it's a good idea. Wesley has already been pushing for some active patrols to deal with the Guatemalan border encroachment. At least this way I'd have official support higher up the chain of command. Do you have any other ideas about how we can blend with the local population?" Robert said.

Sara looked apprehensive for a moment. "You could take Ilse on as your third slave," she told him.

"No," he said firmly, "absolutely not. She's barely eighteen years old and she doesn't have a clue."

"She's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, sinjoro," Sara agreed, "but I've talked to her. She's developed a real hero complex about you. She's like me; she gets separation anxiety when you aren't around. She's going to see a therapist about this, I insisted. But she has a good grasp of how shitty life can be and she has a well thought out plan for her life. She wants to be your head cook and she wants to be in your bed. She really is attracted to you, but she also sees being your slave as her ticket to legitimacy."

"Run that by me again, please. Slowly this time. She thinks that being my slave will what?" Robert demanded.

Sara took a deep breath. "Who runs your household, sinjoro?"

"You and Sonia," he replied. "Oh crap..."

Sara nodded. "Exactly. Just about everyone in the world thinks of slaves as being the lowest of the low. But with us it's just roles that we prefer. You always treat us with respect and you gave us positions of considerable authority. It's like the Janissaries. They were warrior slaves and ended up rulers. And there are only two of us, so our positions are not regarded as menial, but as elite. Which means some of the smarter girls have already been sucking up to us in hopes of advice and introductions."

"This is what happens when you have smart slaves," Robert pointed out to Deirdre, "They start to think and then all sorts of strange things begin to happen. Are you seriously suggesting a harem?" he asked Sara.

"Who really ran the army in the Congo?" Sara asked and then answered her own question. "The women. The women who cooked the meals, cleaned the clothing, organized the supplies, helped the doctors, and kept the papers. The same women the troops were beating and raping every night. You knew this. You told me George would destroy the army because he didn't understand how important the women were. What I am suggesting is that it makes sense to have a staff of dedicated servants who are bonded to you personally."

"Sonia? What do you think of this?" Robert asked.

Sonia shrugged. "Honestly I think it's going to cut into my sex, sinjoro. But putting my personal desires aside, it makes a certain kind of sense. It's not the only way to go, and it might not be the best way to go, but it would work. If her fears are anything like Sara's then she's not going to go away. If she's going to be part of your household anyway then you might as well bring her into your bed. I've seen the way you avoid looking at her, sinjoro. You want her."

"But I'm not in the habit of thinking with my dick," Robert retorted. He sighed. "I make a real effort to be decent and God puts imps like these around me," he complained. "What do you think, Deirdre?"

"I think you're all insane," she answered cheerfully "and I have to go back to New Zealand to put my affairs in order. But I would listen to your women, Robert. They're smart and they care about you. Think about how it will affect the rest of your staff though, will they be jealous?"

"You're leaving?" Sonia asked.

Deirdre nodded. "I want to go back before David is shipped back. I don't think I want to see him again. This way I can clear out my things without him around. My life is a shambles right now, and I need to know what I want it to look like when I put it back together."

"That makes sense," Robert said, "both your point about jealousy and your plan to go home. Will you be back?"

"Oh I think so," Deirdre replied, "At the very least this is going to be where I take my yearly vacation."

"We'll miss you, sinjorino," Sonia said, "Mastro has a light hand with the lash when he isn't actually meting out punishment. I enjoyed serving you."

"You could go with her, Sonia," Robert said gently.

Sonia shook her head emphatically. "No. Not unless you order me to, sinjoro. I mean no offence, sinjorino, I really do enjoy serving you and I hope you return quickly, but my heart is here."

Deirdre brushed her hand across her eyes, blinking back the tears she felt forming. "Thank you, Sonia. It was a pleasure to have you serve me. I mean that."

"When?" Sara asked.

"Tomorrow morning," Deirdre replied, "Sooner started, sooner done."

"Then we had best make the most of this evening," Robert declared.