Rebecca Enslaves Her Auditors

As far as one's eye could see, the hills rolled away in cascading waves of luxuriant emerald. This was the best of East Africa. These were the hills Ernest Hemingway had fallen for. And here, nestled among them in a charming hollow, was where Rebecca Trudeau had made her home for the last eight years.

"Benedict!" she called out, twisting in her lawn chair back towards the lodge. "Benedict!"

A man of slight stature appeared from a door of the closest building. He saw Rebecca waving and rushed down the grassy slope towards her.

"Yes, madame?" he asked breathlessly as he approached.

"Will you please bring me another bottle of chardonnay?" she asked softly.

"Certainly madame. Which one, the Jordan or Bouchard Finlayson?"

"The Jordan, please. Asante."

The man nodded his head and walked back up towards the lodge. Rebecca watched him for a few moments before turning back around in her chair, the hills waiting patiently for her to resume her train of thought.

What had she been thinking about? Oh, yes ... the audit. That dreaded annual audit. She'd been the lodge's general manager long enough to know what to expect, but contrary to most things, it had never gotten any easier for her over the years. The numbers were never a problem; she kept a close eye on inventory, had the respect of her staff, and immediately fired any employee who jeopardized her track record. And she got along just fine with the lodge's owner - a no-nonsense, fellow Canadian woman with an Ontario penthouse for the summer months, and a beach house in the Kinondoni neighborhood of Dar es Salaam to escape to in the winter.

But this year, the owner had informed Rebecca not to expect her at the Arusha airport. In an effort to groom her son to eventually take over ownership of the lodge, she was sending him in her place, along with the company CFO. Both of them would conduct the audit, stay for two nights, then depart for Singida, where the company owned a safari operator.

"Here you are, madame," a voice sidled up alongside her. The glass beside her was refilled with chardonnay, and Rebecca signaled her appreciation absentmindedly, struggling to keep her cloud of thoughts together. As the sound of footsteps padded away, she reached out for the glass, keeping her gaze aimed straight ahead at the rolling horizon before her.

As she took a sip, she tried to understand what she was angsty about. The numbers were fine. The owner was nice. Was it her son she was worried about? She'd never met him before. He could turn out either way, but based on what she knew of his mother, it was safe to assume the apple didn't fall far from the tree. The CFO was new, so she'd never met him either; knew nothing about him, in fact.

"Hmmm," she exhaled, sinking lower in her chair. It was probably the fact that she hated being told what to do and how to do it. Especially by men, who always seemed to have some "advice" to give her on how to live her life better. Now two men, completely unknown to her, would be waltzing in here in approximately two hours to audit her and evaluate her management of the place.

Mired in these thoughts, she had polished off her chardonnay without realizing it. She thought about calling Benedict back over, but decided against it.

Instead she did her best to force everything out of her mind, closing her eyes as a breeze danced across her bosom. The sounds of the wild floated in from the jungle surrounding the lodge as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

*****

Whilst the sun sunk behind the hills, every employee of the Lake Victoria Lodge waited expectantly askance the gravel driveway, just outside the entrance. At the head of the group stood Rebecca, periodically glancing at the time on her phone with an air of impatience.

"Wamechelewa," someone in the back said impatiently.

Rebecca turned around slowly. "I know," she said wearily. "Ukitaka kutoka, hamna shida, lakini wataona umepotea halafu basi, tafuta kazi nyingine."

No one said anything else for awhile.

Just as the last beams of sunlight collapsed into darkness, two beams of fluorescent light crawled up the road towards them. An engine rumbled along in accompaniment. Before long, a tan, dirt-laden Land Rover pulled up in front of them, the gravel crunching underneath it as the vehicle rolled to a stop. The lights and the engine cut out as first the driver's door, then the doors on the left swung open.

The suffused incandescent light of the lodge's entryway wasn't strong enough for Rebecca to notice much about her two visitors. As they stepped out and slammed the car doors behind them, all she could see was that they were well-built, fairly tall, and held themselves confidently, as she would have expected. She'd have to wait until dinner to see and learn more. With any luck, at least one of them would be both good-looking *and* interesting. Her heart fluttered slightly. It had been awhile since she'd met with that combination. Living up here, with all its peacefulness, did have its drawbacks.

As she pondered the men before her, her employees moved up past her to offer up their customary greeting. They cleared their throats before breaking out into song:

"Jambo, jambo bwana,

Habari gani,

Mzuri s-"

"ALRIGHT, everyone, thank you for the welcome," interrupted the taller of the pair as he began to wade through the employees towards Rebecca. "Now please shut the fuck up."

Rebecca's heart sank. This was not an auspicious start.

As the song died down and the employees began to disperse and murmur amongst themselves, the pair reached Rebecca and extended their hands to her.

"Good evening Rebecca. I'm Jean," the taller one said. "Your future boss," he added with a smile.

"Pleased to meet you Jean," Rebecca forced out with a grimace. She turned to the other man before her. "And you are?"

"Enzo," the man said curtly. "The new CFO."

"I've heard so much about you two. Karibu sana. Shall I show you around the place now, or wait until tomorrow?"

Jean snorted. "It's dark, we can't see shit now."

Enzo nodded in agreement. "I want to get started with the audit. Tours can wait."

Rebecca frowned. "Now? But it's already 7pm."

"So?" Enzo shrugged as he picked up his luggage and ambled up the paved walkway and towards the lodge foyer. "This place'll take some time. We've only got two days before we need to be in Singida."

"Agreed," Jean said, collecting his own bags and following after him. "We'll have dinner while we work. Get us some food Rebecca, and bring us your tax statements and asset manifests for the last two quarters, we'll tackle those tonight."

She watched them enter the foyer and converse rudely with Marco, the receptionist. This was not going well. As they stood in the doorway, the bright indoor lighting illuminated the pair such that she could observe them clearly. Both of them were definitely attractive. And both were apparently assholes. But not even the good kind of asshole; rather, the kind that only cared about money, wanted everything done "chapu chapu," and couldn't see through the bullshit of the expectations they had constructed for themselves. Rebecca sighed. "The worst kind of asshole," she thought.

"Hey," Jean called out from the foyer. "Marco here is taking us to our room, then to the dining room. Meet us there."

Jean nodded curtly. She turned right and trudged over in the direction of her office, pulling out her phone to call the head chef.

"Mzee, please set out dinner for three now. I'll be there soon."

Upon reaching her office, Rebecca fumbled with the keys before managing to unlock the door. She walked over to the filing cabinet, opened this year's drawer up, and began to rummage around for the documents Jean had asked for.

***********

"I don't understand this," Enzo muttered, his words escaping through a mouthful of chicken curry.

Rebecca raised her eyebrows. "What don't you understand?" she asked wearily.

"This asset list says you have three generators, each depreciated to $1,500 USD in value. But on your latest tax statement you only deducted for two of those. Where's the third?"

"One of my employees filled it with diesel instead of Super by mistake. Until we get the cylinders cleaned it'll only generate at half capacity."

Enzo rolled his eyes. "Okay, but will the revenue authority ever know that? No. This is not the place for complete honesty. By not deducting for the third you're throwing a few hundred dollars down the drain each quarter."

Jean glared at Rebecca. "You do realize we're running a business, right?"

Rebecca stared at the glass of water before her and said nothing.

"You do also realize," Jean announced as he nudged his chair closer to Rebecca's, "that we're taking notes? Certain things are required of you if you'd like to keep your job. Fiduciary responsibility happens to be merely one of those."

"And what would the others be?" Rebecca asked coldly.

"Whoa, let's take it slow honey," Jean laughed as he placed a hand on Rebecca's thigh. "I think you might be the cutest general manager I've ever seen."

"I hate that word," Rebecca shot back as she pulled Jean's hand off her thigh and threw it aside.

"Which one?" Jean inquired with mock concern.

"Cute."

Jean laughed. "Well cutie, that's too bad. Say, I just remembered another one of your responsibilities. Go and get me a glass of merlot."

Rebecca looked over and up into Jean's eyes. "Seriously. You're really going to be like this?"

"Like what? I'm going to be your boss, you're going to be my bitch," Jean grinned, keeping his eyes locked defiantly on Rebecca's. "If you don't like it, quit. Now get me my merlot."

Rebecca stood up slowly, methodically, so as not to rupture the fault lines she felt crackling inside of her. She turned towards the kitchen and began stepping forward, one foot in front of the other. Her mind and her body were on autopilot.

Inside the kitchen, she almost ran into Happy carrying a scalding pan of freshly leavened bread.

"Samahani Happy," Rebecca apologized as she sidestepped out of her way.

"Usijali dada," Happy laughed as she kept placed the pan on the counter and tossed her oven mitts aside. "What do you need?"

"The worst bottle of merlot you have."

Happy raised her eyebrows. "OK ... is something wrong?"

Rebecca chuckled sardonically. "Wrong is just the start. Happy, are you still messing around with the driver of the Land Rover?"

Happy smiled shyly. "Yes, why?"

"I need a favor. In the passenger side glove compartment, your man keeps a dart gun and a small bottle of clear liquid. You know what I'm talking about?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Good. Please go butter him up, then sneak his keys away so you can get the bottle. Bring the bottle to me before you put the keys back."

Happy opened her mouth inquisitively, but realized that Rebecca was in no mood to answer any questions. "Yes ma'am," was all she said before she turned and walked out the kitchen door.

*********************

After just one swallow of his wine, Jean began to protest.

"This is the worst fucking merlot I have ever had. Who stocks your alcohol?"

Rebecca looked at him blankly. "I do."

"Jesus. Is this all you've got?"

"Unfortunately for you, yes."

Jean glared at her and took another swig. "Here Enzo, taste this shit," he said, as he proffered the glass in Enzo's direction.

Obligingly, Enzo took a drink, swirled it around in his mouth, then took another. "Pretty bad," he agreed as he handed the wine back to Jean and returned his attention to the financial documents spread out on the table before him. "We'll need to hire someone to do your stocking for you."

Rebecca stood up. "I'm tired. When you two are done, let Marco know and he'll escort you back to your room."

Jean scowled. "We'll be here promptly at 6am. I want a full breakfast spread out when I arrive."

Rebecca ignored him and walked out to find Marco.

"Habari za jioni Rebecca?" he greeted her when she entered the foyer.

"I'm fine Marco, thanks. Hey, do you have a spare key for Jean and Enzo's room? I want to make sure everything's perfect for them tonight."

Marco rummaged around the top drawer of his desk. "Here," he extended the key out to her.

"Thanks. Good night Marco, pole na kazi."

"Usiku mwema madame."

**************************

The key turned, the lock clicked, and the door creaked open. Without a sound, and without flipping on a light, Rebecca felt her way along the wall to the closet and hid herself away in the back corner. It wouldn't be long now. Elephants took about 15 minutes. These two? 10 minutes at most.

Not five minutes later, Rebecca could hear footsteps. Two sets of uneven, uncoordinated footsteps. Then the key scratching in the lock of the door.

"Why ... the fuck ... am I asleep?" Rebecca heard Enzo slur as the pair eventually succeeded in getting in.

"Yeah ... did we drink ... many wine?" she heard Jean struggle to say.

Then the sounds of bodies collapsing, separated only by a few moments in time: one softly atop the mattress of a bed, the other smacking hard against the stone floor.

Rebecca waited until she was confident they were out cold, then crawled out of the closet and flipped on the main light of the bungalow. A smile crept over her face as she pondered what to do next.

Flipping off the light switch and locking the door to the bungalow behind her, she began to make a mental list of what she needed from that lockbox sitting underneath her bed.

*******

Rebecca was awakened at 6am by someone's phone alarm. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she sat up and observed her compatriots.

No movement. Not even a twitch of a muscle.

Rebecca grinned, put her head back on the pillow, and fell back to sleep.

At 8am, Rebecca awoke to a low moan. Enzo, lying on the floor by the other side of the bed, was finally coming to. Rebecca clasped her hands together giddily, got out of bed, and walked over to the chair by the door so she could watch Enzo as he awoke.

Writhing on the floor, Enzo was clearly in a state of mental shock. He repeatedly tried and failed to prop himself up. A pair of handcuffs prevented him from doing so. He saw his clothes piled up in a corner of the room, instinctively reached out for them and failed again. When he raised his head to take stock of his naked body, his jaw fell. A small metal cage had been affixed to his genitals with a tiny gold lock.

Enzo looked up pathetically at Rebecca. "What is the meaning of all this?" he struggled to yell.

Rebecca just threw her hands up in the air and smiled. "I run this lodge. I'm the boss, you're the bitch. And you're about to find out just what that entails."

Enzo looked down at his imprisoned cock, then back up at Rebecca. "This is illegal! This is -"

"- East Africa. You would be laughed out of a police station in this condition. Forget the law. It's just you and me now, and no one is going to hear you scream. I don't want to take any chances though, so you'll have to wear this for me."

Rebecca reached over to the table next to her and pulled out a bright red ball gag. Enzo's eyes grew wide with fear as she stood up, sauntered over to him, and tightened it around his head. He tried to jerk his head away, but she slapped him hard, stunning him into submission long enough to securely fasten the gag.

"Ffffff yyuuuuu," he muffled.

"You should be thanking me. Being the early riser that you are, I thought I'd be so gracious as to give you a handicap for the game we're about to play in a little while. Jean won't be so lucky."

Enzo raised his eyebrows fearfully.

Kneeling over him, Rebecca placed one hand on Enzo's hip, the other on his shoulder, and pushed him as hard as she could, rolling him over on to his stomach. She moved down to his ankles to add some slack to his ankle restraints, then stood and rummaged around the bedside table. When her hand emerged, it clung to a large glass plug and a bottle of lube. Excitedly, she dabbed some lube onto her right hand and knelt back down over Enzo's exposed rear.

"Just let me in and everything will be fine," Rebecca coed as she gently rubbed her right index finger around Enzo's puckered asshole, coating it with lube. She ignored his increasingly loud groans. "You really do have such a nice ass. Not as nice as Justin Trudeau's though."

One finger. Two fingers. Enzo's groans became subdued yells. Finally, Rebecca positioned the plug at the entrance of his ass and gave a few soft pushes before quickly, violently, showing it into place. Even she winced as Enzo screamed, knowing how much that must have hurt.

"Good job," Rebecca intoned. "Now just sit there while we wait for Jean to wake up." She stood up, picked up a book from the bedside night stand, and brought it back to her chair to read.

A few pages later, Rebecca put down her book and stood up to get a bottle of water from the other room. But she froze when she looked over at Jean. He was awake, eyes wide open, staring directly at her.

"Good morning Jean," Rebecca greeted him. "I didn't know you were awake."

"Rebecca," Jean replied deliberately. "Unlock these restraints, get this ... contraption ... off my dick, and let us go. Do that and we'll leave immediately. You'll never hear from us again."

"But I like you two. Plus I could always use some extra hands to help out around here."

"BITCH, LET ME GO," Jean screamed.

"Don't speak to me with that tone boy," Rebecca retorted sharply. "I merely silenced Enzo over here. You, on the other hand, will pleasure me with your silence." Clutching another gag from the table, she walked over to Jean and stood over him. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be my bitch."

Jean jerked his face aside and spit upwards at Rebecca's face. She wiped it away. Then with one hand on his throat, she squeezed until he involuntarily gagged, gasping for air with his mouth wide open. She set the ball of the plug in his mouth, straightened out the thick silicone cock protruding from its other side, and fastened the strap tight around his head. With a giggle, she stepped back to admire her work.

"You look ridiculous," she laughed. "Now look at me."

Adjusting her gaze to one of soft sensuality, Rebecca stared into Jean's eyes. She brought her hands up to her shoulders and slowly pushed on the sleeves of the red and black nightgown that clung to her. She swished her hips teasingly from side to side, inching the sleeves ever so slowly away from her. Finally the sleeves fell down her arms, and with them her nightgown dropped to the floor in a puddle around her feet.

Jean's eyes flickered up and down, taking Rebecca's body in. Rebecca noticed this and smiled.

"Do you like what you see Jean?" she asked.

Jean's eyes returned to hers. He said nothing in reply. But involuntarily, he tried to adjust his constricted legs. Rebecca saw that the cause of his discomfort was his caged cock, growing erect and struggling desperately to break free.

"Ah," Rebecca whispered. "So you do like what you see. Thank you for the compliment."

As Jean took in Rebecca's body, he fell into the deepest pit of despair he'd ever known. The woman before him was irresistible. Long, jet black hair. Porcelain white skin. Perfect breasts that hung and swung in just the right way. He wanted nothing more than to stand up, pull his dick out, and slide it inside her tight, shaven pussy. Pound her until she cried. Grab her by her wavy black hair, pinch those pink nipples of hers and slam into her until she came, collapsing in a sweat-drenched heap atop him.

Rebecca smiled innocently down at him. She bent down and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, then climbed up on the bed next to his head, facing away from him. She raised one leg up and over to the other side before slowly lowering herself down and onto the giant plastic dildo sprouting forth from Jean's mouth.