It is 1809 and Napoleon is soon to marry Marie-Louise of Austria. The French are at war with Britain and Portugal. In a sleepy outpost in the Indian Ocean 2,000 kilometers off the south east coast of Africa the French-Creole inhabitants of what the Arab sailors called “Dina Arobi”, the Portugese called “Cirne” and the French now called “Ile de France” had established their own version of paradise. Turbulent times were ahead and a name change of the island to “Mauritius” was coming soon. In the meantime, out on the edges of Imprial France, let’s find our way to Paradise. Jean thrust his huge cock again and again into the petite young girl’s perfect coffee colored ass. The tiny feminine creature cried out in almost-screams and moaned in guttural gasps as her dark ringed sphincter spread its limit to accept her imposing master’s huge white cock. Her anus was grabbing at Jean’s massive rod like an oiled glove, squeezing his member like a firm fruit. The young woman was perched on all fours, her delicate lace frock in tatters having been ripped to shreds by Jean’s lusting huge hands. The waif’s tight young silky-smooth ass was raised up, poised in the air in unabashed invitation to his manhood. The invitation being accepted Jean thrust again and again. Jean, behaving like a beast, was holding the young girl’s hips in a vice-like hold to steady her for the arrival of his merciless thrusts as he thudded into her fine flawlessly smooth ass. Jean’s strong army hardened body towered over the young girl’s tiny brown-skinned frame, his purple veins popping out prominently from his taut straining muscles. Jean gazed lustfully at his young teenage treat as he fucked her ass from behind like a crazed monster. Jean took a brief pause in his vigorous thrusts, catching his breath, and calmly reached out to take a sip of the locally produced version of Cognac that burned his throat like fire. Nothing like the fine Cognac you would get in Paris Jean thought, but then again this perfect little ass was nothing like the secondhand tramps you usually got in Paris either. The young girl craned her head back wondering why her master had paused. She grinned and fixed Jean with her big round hazel doe-like eyes imploring him to start thrusting again. The young girl knew if Jean were not completely satisfied his mood would darken. Besides, her ass had begun to crave these sessions of being filled to the very limit. Adele was very young, but suitably lusty Jean thought to himself with a grin, a perfect recruit to his ever-expanding prosperous household. Adele’s parents had adopted her when her mother had died in a sugar refinery accident. The woman working next to her mother in the refinery named Agathe had taken Adele in as a four-year-old waif. Adele’s adopted parents had subsequently found themselves heavily in debt to Jean’s trading company when their share crop of sugarcane had failed. The now sixteen-year-old Adele had been indentured to Jean as a personal servant at the age of fourteen to work in his large imposing manor house. It had been well understood that on Adele’s sixteenth birthday certain favors would be bestowed on her master if she wished to stay employed and prosper in the household. Adele actually needed little persuasion since she discovered soon that her own libido was much larger than her tiny body would suggest. In any event, this was simply the way of the island. Jean d’Langham had total control and more than one man was six-feet under having challenged his authority. The card game that evening with his junior officers had been a wonderful diversion. Jean loved the camaraderie of the military, the fraternity and brotherhood of like-minded men, the expensive alcohol and the cigars. The junior officers had, of course, let him win since to do otherwise might result in rather undesirable consequences. The only discordant note of the whole evening had been young Bertrand’s behavior. It was outlandish Jean thought that junior officers did not know how to behave any more. Lieutenant Bertrand Follet had put on a sour face when Jean had retreated from the game of cards to one of the anterooms to fuck Bertrand’s pretty young French wife. Bertrand’s beautiful young twenty-one-year-old wife Collette was a delicious blond morsel and Jean had been bored with the card game so why should they not have some fun together? Some men were so uncultured thought Jean. He was the senior officer on the island and such liberties were to be expected were they not? Besides Collette had confided to Jean that Bertrand’s cock was tiny and her husband’s “performance” in the bedroom was “pathetic”. Collette told Jean her husband would cum before he had even penetrated her tight young blond pussy. A big mess would be created, but no children would be conceived and the wife was left wanting. What woman could suffer such humiliation and degradation at the hands of her husband? Jean felt comfortingly that it was much better that Bertrand be the one humiliated by having his senior officer service his wife with a huge cock that could bring her to several shuddering body shaking orgasms. Perhaps he could even father her child? Bertrand required an heir for his family and who better to provide the seed than his superior officer? Besides this, all the young officers wives knew that if they wanted new frocks delivered from France they had better be in the good graces of the island’s commander. Jean fucked all the officer’s wives whenever he wanted and none of the other officers put on a sour face like Bertrand. Fucking the always-playful Collette had been a mere appetizer and after the officers had left Jean had called for young seventeen-year-old Adele. The fake island Cognac, a nasty potent mixture indeed, was making Jean’s head spin. The strong rustic alcohol mingled with the lingering tobacco-tar flavors in Jean’s mouth. These savory oral sensations co-mingled even further with the sensual acoustic stimulation of Adele’s cries of pain and feline lust. All of Jean’s senses were bombarded by the combined drugging effects of extremely strong alcohol and tobacco together with the visual treat of Adele’s obvious humiliation as his huge muscular body and massive cock dominated her; the whole concoction was inspiring. Jean once again drove his thick huge cock into Adele’s tight teenage ass. Adele’s wild female cries and Jean’s spinning disoriented mind aroused new debauched desires and Jean thrust even harder seeking oblivion and release. Humiliation was Jean’s true drug and he was now in its thrall. Jean looked down at the tiny girl on all fours beneath him. He paused in his thrusts and pulled his ten-inch long monster cock out of Adele’s convulsing young ass. Adele sighed and giggled at the sudden emptiness she felt in her anus that only seconds before had been stretched to its limits by her master’s huge cock. Jean reached to the side and scooped some whitish soft cream out of the blue dish on the side table coating his thick rod with the mixture of coconut oil and the island’s exotic fragrance oils. Jean scooped some more oily cream and then coated Adele’s tiny sphincter with more of the special mixture he had devised with the local chemist. Jean used two fingers to drive some of the slick oily mixture up Adele’s ass coating its walls liberally. Adele groaned deeply and moaned a pleasing response to Jean’s probing digits. Adele grunted in displeasure and disappointment when Jean suddenly withdrew his functional fingers. Jean replaced the void caused by removing the tiny wiggling appendages by ramming his big cock back into her dark puckered ring, driving even deeper than before. Jean’s “attaque cul” or “ass attack” as he lovingly referred to his technique of taking a young woman’s ass by surprise and driving to the hilt was assisted by the generous lubrication of his special cream. Young seventeen-year-old Adele cried out in shock, her rising cry bordering on a scream, taken-aback at the depth of Jean’s sudden thrust. No matter how many times her master had taken her ass in this way the sensation when Jean reached full depth with his huge cock was always a shock to Adele’s tiny body. Jean held Adele’s narrow teenage hips with his huge hands, gripping her in a steadying grip. Jean’s strong grip immobilized Adele as Jean thrust harder and harder. As Jean became aroused to new heights he slapped Adele’s ass with a hard smack and grabbed her long dark hair pulling her head back and straining her neck muscles. Jean was descending into his lustful crazed frenzy as he moved closer and closer to his nirvana of release. Adele screamed in a mixture of agony and passion as Jean’s massive thrusts became a fury and he slapped and clawed at her tiny body. Adele was coming close to her own release as Jean’s total possession of her intoxicated her own senses with the drug of submission. As Jean reached under Adele’s tiny body and began stroking her sopping wet pussy and roughly fingering her erect tingling clit with a pawing hand she lost her way and the Escort Şişli waves began to crash over her. Normally Jean could not care less if the servant girls he fucked had an orgasm, but tonight he wanted to hear Adele scream out her female screams of release. Jean wanted to feel Adele’s body shudder and shake under him, doing his bidding. Adele could cum like no other servant girl Jean had ever been with and it pleased his ego to toy with her and feel her shudder. Jean lovingly called all the young girls who worked in his household “slave girls” or “filles esclaves” since on the island he was their virtual owner. Of course they worshipped him and there was no compulsion involved, but still the idea was stimulating. Jean thrived on humiliation of the woman and in Adele Jean realized he had discovered that unique concomitant jewel, a jewel as rare as an emerald, a woman for whom the stimulant was submission. Jean chuckled to himself. In Paris you were a “noble” and fucked the leftovers of those above you, but here in Île de France you were like a king and took your pick of the prime virgins. Jean thrust his huge cock up Adele’s ass to the hilt, his hand simultaneously stroking Adele’s clit and pussy in a furious assault. Soon enough Adele could take no more of Jean’s feathery finger flicks and her body was writhing below him in an explosion of ecstasy, her mouth gaping in a silent scream, her lungs expended. Jean’s cock began to burn like lava and he groaned senseless while he pumped his huge load of cum into Adele’s firm tight young ass. Jean’s own guttural groans escaped from his throat as he descended into a delirium of frenzied sexual surrender. The high-pitched cries of Adele’s massive orgasm pierced Jean’s low-pitched groans, rising to the ceiling and reverberating throughout the huge chateau. In his mind Jean pictured his other young servant girls huddling together in their quarters listening to Adele’s mewing feline cries raising the roof. The girls were no doubt clinging to each other in their cotton nighties wishing Jean had bestowed his load on their ass. Jean chuckled to himself and pushed Adele away roughly from his now shrinking weapon. Adele rolled to the ground whimpering meekly and asked if her master was satisfied. Did he want her to suck his cock she asked? Jean was sleepy and waved Adele away dismissively; her work was done for the evening. Jean was weary after a long day and retreated to his bedchamber. He called for the two pretty bedchamber maids to prepare his bed. Jean would sleep well tonight, his body sated, his senses satisfied and his soul surrendered to the goddess of humiliation. An excellent game of cards, a nice civilized fuck of a pretty young French wife, a suitably chastened subordinate husband, fine alcohol to take away all unnecessary thoughts, a calm smoke and finally a debauched ass fuck of a tight-assed honey-skinned seventeen-year-old servant girl who worshiped the ground he walked on. What more could a man want? Jean thought back to the first time with Adele and how Adele’s huge doe-like eyes had opened wide in shock and wonderment the first time he had driven his huge ten-inch cock up her tiny teenage virgin ass. Adele had been only sixteen and Jean had no idea she would grow to be one of his favorites. Now that first time with Adele was simply a wonderful memory, Jean chuckled to himself, a most wonderful memory. Jean drifted off to sleep in a hazy alcohol and sex induced slumber. The next day passed in business and his normal many duties. That evening Jean fell into a meditative and meandering mood. Jean’s decision to follow his mentor and protector Général Charles Mathieu Isidore Decaen and take up residence in Grand Port, Île de France in 1803 had been the best decision of his life. Reflecting on the card game the night before Jean sighed as he thought of fucking the pretty blond young French wife Collette. French girls were refined, but could a man actually be satisfied married to one he wondered? Seriously Jean doubted it was possible to be sexually satisfied with a French wife? Jean contemplated his soon to arrive young wife now on a ship en route from France and wondered how he would need to deal with her? Count Jean Henri d’Langham exited the large glass-paneled mahogany doors and stood on the grey stone deck of his imposing African chateau. He leaned on the wooden balustrade and looked out across the vast green fields of towering sugar cane that spread endlessly as far as the eye could see. Jean’s huge grey haired Great Dane walked up and sat down beside him. Jean reached down and stroked the massive dog’s head. He looked down and noted the dog’s regal posture. “It’s quite a sight isn’t it Drake? And it’s all mine.” The dog looked up at his master and Jean smiled and reflected on all of his achievements over the past years. In a mere six years Jean had become the most successful and powerful businessman on the tropical island off the coast of Africa that the English-speaking world called “Mauritius”, but the French knew as the island named “Île de France”. The island was named, of course, for the wealthiest and most populated of the twenty-seven administrative regions of France. In France “Île de France” contained the city of Paris and refined pleasures, but here off the coast Africa, this new tropical Île de France contained opportunity and the rough and tumble of unrestrained freedom of will for the strong and inclined. Under the firm hand of Governor Decaen the island had prospered. The Governor curried favor with the elite by allowing slave trading and privateering, both of which offered huge profits. For the local citizens he founded primary schools and the “Lycee Colonial” college and set up a hospital. Trade with Madagascar, the Gulf of Aden and India had brought new markets for spices, sugar and alcohol. The bustling new trade routes had also brought many more ships and sailors who needed to be re-provisioned with supplies. The sailors and traders spent gold and silver coins in the port enriching the Governor and especially enriching Jean. While the Governor liked to spend his time in Port Napoleon and on Reunion Island with the various hairless smooth-skinned young men that Jean arranged for his distraction, Grand Port was left under the control of Jean to do as he saw fit. Everyone on the island knew that Count d’Langham represented the Governor and his word was law. Jean had proven a rather Draconian steward of the island and broached no breach of his strict rules or challenge to his will. Even the smallest infractions could result in floggings, imprisonment or even worse. In a mere six years and at the age of only thirty-eight Jean had accumulated huge estates of sugar cane, he owned hundreds of indentured servants and controlled the sugar, alcohol and flour markets for the entire island. Everything of value that flowed in or out of the port was subject to Jean’s tax. After being granted huge land holdings on the island and developing the monopolies that now secured his wealth Jean had finally sailed back to his estate in Caen in Lower Normandy. That trip had been six months ago and as arranged Jean had married Governor Decaen’s beautiful and delicate sixteen-year-old niece Marie during the visit. Now the beautiful and innocent Marie was on a ship and would arrive in Grand Port within two or three weeks. Jean had not bedded his beautiful new young wife after the wedding ceremony in France. Jean preferred to wait, as he wanted to introduce his new young virgin bride to the strict obligations of wifely duties in the pleasure chambers he had especially constructed in the basement of his huge stone chateau in Île de France. This evening Jean’s bookkeeper Francois was over helping him to take account of the take from his various businesses. They also needed to calculate the current prices for sugar Jean could expect for the next harvest in the upcoming auctions. Looking at the impressive tally of income from his various ventures Jean could not help but grin. All the businesses were increasing every month with more and more gold piling up in his accounts. While Jean loved sugar and had great respect for alcohol (sailors will pay always for good alcohol), Jean retained the fondest affection for his brothels. With seven large brothels and five smaller outlets for sailors who wanted only the quick service release of say a “hand job” or oral sex Jean had full control of the market. If any woman or man tried to offer sex of any kind without working for Jean they would be immediately arrested and flogged. If they tried a second time they would be locked up and then put on the next ship out. And where did Jean get his girls, which were renown for their beauty in the entire region? Well it was the beauty of Jean’s women that was the reason Jean’s port of call was the most looked forward to port by every ship’s captain, every French official and every sailor who plied the local seas. Nowhere could you find young Sultangazi escort women of such beauty and so skilled in their task and beyond even this, so eager to please. Every indentured servant woman on the island knew that if her daughter was beautiful and was able to keep her virginity until her sixteenth birthday she could hope to join “Les femmes de Jean” or “Jean’s women”. While indentured workers generally had a terrible struggle to survive in the rat infested sugarcane fields, or in the hot, humid and dangerous sugarcane refineries, the young girls Jean accepted into his more luxurious brothels lived lives of relative luxury. All the young lower-class women coveted the spots Jean could offer in his elite brothels. This ample supply of beautiful eager young women meant ship’s captains and wealthier French officials or visiting diplomats could always count on the most succulent young virgins being available—at Jean’s price of course. In Jean’s brothels these beautiful ripe young women would be brought in at the age of sixteen as a fresh recruit. They had older ladies who attended to them, took care of their clothes and bathed them with warm water, a true luxury for a mere servant girl. They also had cooks who made food on demand as well as guards who protected them from any harassment. The women lived in large luxurious houses and had rooms with real beds and real cotton sheets. The young girls also knew that if Jean himself ever took a fancy to them and impregnated them, then they would be granted a small plot of land and given their freedom to raise his child. For these reasons Jean required no compulsion to gain recruits; beautiful young servant girls eagerly awaited their sixteenth birthday and their interview with Jean hoping to be accepted. Jean had to admit the reputation of his girls for beauty was well deserved. Île de France was a melting pot of ethnic peoples, a veritable potpourri of swirling genetic material, resulting in the most exotic, sexy and beautiful female specimens Jean had ever seen anywhere in his travels. The mixture of slaves from Africa, tall and slender Arab traders from Ethiopia and the Gulf of Aden and beyond, a few remnants of the original Dutch settlers, Hindu traders from India, some Chinese merchants from the Far East and then of course the French sailors and officials meant a wild mix of Negro, Asian and Caucasian races creating the most tempting and tantalizing young female creations imaginable. If a man had a “dream girl” in mind and wondered where in the world he might find her then he could do no worse than to search her out on the island of Île de France. Out of the many young girls turning sixteen each year Jean would select only those who were tall, full but firm-busted with narrow waists and flared hips and a toned firm rounded ass. The girl must also have a beautiful face, flawless skin and a pretty smile. Above all the young lady must show a clear talent and eagerness to please. Jean was a connoisseur of debauched unrestrained sex and he would have the more experienced women train his young new recruits to ensure a service of the highest quality. Whatever twisted unusual request his richest clients could come up with, Jean always had talented girls more than willing to satisfy. The very finest young girls were always reserved for Jean himself and his favored clients. For the first few months of service Jean might reserve them for his own use as training disciples in his chateau’s special basement. Other times Jean might offer these exotic “reserved” beauties, “limited edition specials” as Jean liked to think of them, as a special treat to a privateer’s captain who had made an especially profitable raid and had copious amounts of money to spend. Eventually Jean would move these special beauties on to his finest brothel known in town and across the seas as “le Maison Rouge”, or “The Red Mansion”. The name derived from the special luxurious red velvet curtains Jean had imported from Italy and the fine red-maroon Moroccan leather of the sofas. Jean only rarely took even a special girl’s virginity himself. A beautiful young girl’s virginity was a very valuable commodity commanding a high price from officials and ship captains. However, if a girl were especially desirable sometimes Jean could not resist and would bed her for the first time. Otherwise Jean would simply satisfy himself with taking the girl’s “ass virginity” and then offering her second “pussy virginity” to a paying customer. Usually these beautiful servant girls had no idea who their father was and securing their services was not problematic. A servant woman might be working in the sugar cane fields and a stronger male would get horny and he would simply fuck her if the foreman were not looking. If she were attractive then the foreman would certainly take her whenever he wanted and these women rarely refused. Usually the workers were moved around from district to district and the younger and more attractive field girls could be fucked by several men in a week. Many of the women thoroughly delighted in their sexual freedom on the island and by the age of eighteen or nineteen would have become highly erotic beauties with insatiable libidos. Other young women worked as domestic helpers in the households of more important men. These French officials easily tired of their complaining and gossiping pale-skinned anemic French wives who required “decorum” in the bedroom. These men of power often-sought refuge in wild animalistic unrestrained sex with the more primal and orgasmic creole maids fluttering about their house so teasingly. Most French officials could afford several such beautiful young women as domestic helpers. Inevitably two or three of these young beauties would secretly seek to seduce the head of the household to gain favor and privilege. As a result there was a huge supply of mixed-race female children being born on Île de France. Most of these mixed-race girls were stunningly beautiful with light coffee-colored skin and shining honey-toned brunette hair and occasionally even blond hair and blue eyes would sprout forth from a recessive French gene gone awry. In a limited number of cases low-class men worked in the factories or a warehouse and if they were big enough and strong enough and they had the favor of their foreman, then they could keep a woman as a form of “wife”. This was not any legal status, simply recognition of a long-term relationship. One such male indentured servant who had kept a “wife” was “Number 28” who worked in Jean’s horse barn caring for his Arabian stallions. Most servants did not have official names, only nicknames, and this tall strong man was simply referred to as “Vingt-huit” (French for 28) since that was the number on his sales receipt when Jean had purchased his debt from his former master. Vingt-huit’s unique ability with horses meant he had a privileged place in Jean’s household. Vingt-huit was a tall but very strong Hindu man from India with fine jet-black straight hair and high cheekbones and a narrow angular nose. His woman was one-quarter African, one quarter Arabic and half French as the result of a French captain’s dalliance years before. A most striking woman, she had given birth to a daughter sixteen years ago. Vingt-huit being huge and muscular and a fearful fighter had managed to protect both his woman and his daughter from rapists and aggressive males this whole time. Jean had been watching the gorgeous daughter for some time and now her birthday had come two days before and it was time for her “interview”. Hopefully if she agreed this young woman would, in due time, be seconded to one of Jean’s special brothels. This young woman was beyond beautiful with a tall athletic body, full rounded breasts that stood high and firm, a tapered waist and strong flared hips for child bearing. The girl’s hair was like her father’s, jet-black, very long and straight, and her eyes were blazing black orbs with the fire of youth burning in their irises. The girl’s teeth were perfect and white and her neck was long and tapered. Jean thought of the girl, his mind spinning with her image and then he turned and asked his servant to summon Vingt-huit. Jean turned to his mousey bookkeeper dressed in an ill-fitting baggy brown suit and shabby worn shoes. “Francois enough counting of money for tonight. This is a tedious matter and the hour is no longer respectable. I have more pleasurable business to discuss.” The meek bookkeeper with his round metal spectacles almost falling off his pathetic nose, his face pale and sickly, rose slowly his body mousey and hunched and bowed deeply to the Count. “Yes Count d’Langham. I beg your leave?” “You are dismissed Francois.” Jean waited expectantly for Vingt-huit to arrive. He had never before asked a father for his permission to take his daughter into his brothel. In fact such a situation had never arisen before. The man had an unusual talent for horses and it might bode well Taksim escort bayan to keep him moderately happy? Jean turned to his burl wood desk and poured himself a glass of amber-hued golden brandy, this time real liquor from the town of Cognac, France. Well Jean thought to himself, it is only good form to ask the father’s permission when you plan to deflower his daughter and turn her into a harlot. Jean grinned and thought of the humiliation he could inflict on this poor man. Humiliation had become Jean’s supreme talent and he relished honing his skills. Shortly Vingt-huit was brought in to Jean’s dark wood office. Clearly worried and nervous the large muscular servant bowed, but somehow Jean felt he retained his dignity, even as an ostensibly humble servant. This undeniable pride irritated Jean and he fidgeted with his crystal snifter of Cognac. They talked and Jean was shocked. The man did not consent to his daughter becoming a prostitute and talked some rubbish in Creole that all men should be “free”. How preposterous thought Jean, “men are free”? How could he be “free” when he owed such a debt? How could his daughter be “free” when under the law she inherited her father’s debt? Why when pigs fly I should think so Jean chuckled to himself as his indentured servant was escorted away. Jean turned to his servant again. “Bring Vingt-huit’s woman Florette.” Jean sipped the fine French Cognac that was warm and soothing as it slid down his throat the warmth radiating and suffusing throughout his entire body. Jean swirled the snifter impatiently as he waited relishing the wonderful scent wafting to his nose, the hints of honey-caramel teasing his nostrils. Jean’s mind was turning as he thought how it was necessary to humble and humiliate Vingt-huit for his insolence. But how Jean wondered to himself? Just exactly how should I humiliate this insolent man? A flogging was not sufficient Jean thought to himself. The wheels in Jean’s devious mind spun in machinations only a debauched and draconian master with no mercy could conjure. The most tantalizing part was that Jean would have Vingt-huit consent to his own humiliation. Jean chuckled and smiled his mind easing. Jean’s servant returned and the woman named “Florette” was brought in. My god Jean thought to himself, in her day this woman must have been an exquisite beauty. No wonder the daughter is so desirable. This woman would be thirty-two or thirty-three by now Jean thought and certainly far past the age when he himself would consider fucking her. Imagine her at sixteen or seventeen though? Jean’s eyes surveyed Florette’s magnificent body, still firm and desirable he had to admit. Jean and Florette talked. Thank god Florette was more reasonable than her foolish male partner. Yes, Florette acknowledged, her daughter Manon had been waiting for her interview. But would her daughter consent Jean wanted to know? Florette informed Jean that Manon was more than eager to help her mother and perhaps earn a piece of land. Jean smiled and handed Florette a small sliver of the expensive brandy in a brilliant crystal snifter. Jean had specially imported the crystal snifters from the tiny village of Baccarat located in Lorraine in Eastern France. In the village of Baccarat the Verrerie de Sainte Anne made the finest tableware in all of France. Since the Governor’s family were close friends of Bishop Montmorency-Laval in Baccarat it had been possible for Jean to acquire his wonderful stemware. Jean appreciated Florette’s practicality and watched her nervously gulp the brandy in one gulp. He leaned forward and slipped a large silver coin into the palm of Florette’s hand. She did not look down, but clutched at the coin like a buzzard clutching carrion. A grin crossed Florette’s lips and her eyes danced as she dreamed the dream of improved circumstances. Florette’s grin was contagious; Jean grinned a mischievous grin as a new idea crossed his mind. “Have your daughter Manon come to my chateau tomorrow night for her interview. She is very striking. I have decided to interview her myself. You know I don’t often interview girls myself. But your daughter is especially beautiful. Plus she must agree herself.” Florette’s gaze was steady and she did not let her nerves get the better of her. “Oh don’t worry Count d’Langham. My daughter has watched you from the far buildings and she knows what a fine man you are. Your turn of leg and your presence are an attraction for all the women on the island your worship.” Flattery was something that did penetrate Jean’s otherwise thick egotistical skull and he puffed out his chest in self-importance at Florette’s blatant compliment and sexual innuendo. Of course the young girl thought he was impressive Jean ruminated. I will have young Manon worshipping my huge cock in no time he thought to himself. Jean’s mind turned to a new idea that resonated and caused him to pause; what about the up-coming birthday party? What a wonderful opportunity to show off Manon to the gens du commun, the hoi polloi of grasping social climbers of the island Jean thought to himself with a chuckle? Yes the birthday party was a perfect chance to display his virility and untouchable power to the island’s elite; the most alluring of the island’s virgins on his arm attired in the most stunning ensemble of the most expensive imported silk and lace. As the assembled elite danced he would strut the floor like a peacock and swing Manon in a dazzling swirl of lace and silk. At the party Jean knew that as he and Manon danced all eyes would be on him and the beautiful young decoration attached to his arm. As Jean escorted beautiful Manon around the room and they walked to greet the couples at the party every man would envy Jean with unadulterated lust. Everyone at the gathering would know that beautiful young Manon was to be deflowered later in the evening by Jean’s very own impressive cock. The fact that Jean would put on this debauched display of arrogance only days before the arrival of his new arristocratic young French wife made the whole idea even more tantalizing to him. On Friday 14th of April 1809 Jean had arranged a wonderful birthday party for his friend and mentor the Governor Decaen. Jean had even arranged for a special young man of seventeen with flawless light-toned skin and pouting ruby lips to spend the night with the Governor. Jean’s maids had removed every hair from the boy’s body and softened his skin for days by applying the special oils. Jean’s physician had examined and certified the boy’s ass was a proven virgin hole. The Governor would certainly be pleased with Jean and in his gratitude who knew what further concessions Jean might be granted? A monopoly on salt perhaps might be in order Jean thought to himself? It was accepted custom on the island that powerful men could attend parties with young island girls as their “Attendant” ostensibly to assist their wives. The only rule, to protect social decorum on the island, was that the girl must be at least sixteen years of age. This rule was very sensible as it recognized that the wives of the senior officers would have certainly taken a young officer in training as their lover. It would be very burdensome for an officer’s wife if her husband were not suitably distracted so the wife could be serviced as she wished by her young stud. The young “attendant” girls were the intended distraction for their husbands so the wife could be relieved of the tiresome task of servicing him them selves. Jean turned to Florette with his new thought. “I will have Manon attend the seamstress Madame Montebourg to have a dress and lace underclothes prepared. I want her to be my “attendant” at the Governor’s birthday party on Friday. I will have Madame utilize the most expensive fabrics, silk, French and Belgian lace and whale bone. Your daughter will be my treasure for the night.” Jean grinned and Florette’s mind was spinning in disbelief. This declaration by the master was beyond any expectations or dreams Florette had ever dared harbor. Her daughter would attend a party with the nobles? “On Friday bring her early. I want my servants to prepare her for me. You are dismissed woman.” Florette put down the heavy Baccarat snifter on the glossy burl-wood sideboard and then bowed tentatively, not knowing quite how to exit the presence of such an august man. Florette shuffled her feet and backed out of the imposing room with all its dark wood, book lined shelves, maroon leather chairs and lighted candles, the whole time continuing to take deep bows. Such opulence was enough to strike most servants mute; Florette was amazed, but smart enough to keep her wits the whole time. As Florette made her exit and the servant closed the heavy solid wood door with a thud she turned and smiled. Everything was working according to her plan. Florette chuckled to her self and grinned. The years of preparing and training her daughter would now bear the sweetest fruit. If only her stupid arrogant man Vingt-huit had kept his mouth shut. All his rubbish talk of “free men” meant nothing. If “freedom” were to be achieved Florette knew, it would only be delivered from her daughter’s very valuable virgin cunt and her own intelligent cunning brain. Florette hastened back to the rough servant’s quarters to give final instructions to Manon.