Trained to submit

On Friday morning, they all woke up with a small envelope slipped under their doors sometime during the night. It was a personal invitation. Personal in that it was signed by Fidel Castro himself, or at least it was his signature that graced the bottom of the gold printed invitation. It was for Saturday night at the El Capitolio Nacional . The building was the former head of the government, patterned after the White House. It now housed several museums, but still maintained grand ballrooms for state dinners. The girls were all excited, having worked so hard during the week with little time to do anything else but go to bed at night. They had all brought formal dress, as well as Michael bringing his black tuxedo, hoping for an opportunity like this. None more excited than Michael, for he hoped for this opportunity to meet Fidel Castro first hand.

“Well, it seems our good fortunes continue,” Michael commenting to the girls over dinner on Friday night. This will be a good chance to meet many others outside the Finance Ministry. And I hope we have a chance to meet Fidel.” Michael had not spent time with any of the girls since arriving in Cuba, all of them too busy and tired by day’s end. He was hoping that by the weekend he would enjoy one of them, his balls and cock recovering from the inspection. And Joanna had been hinting the same thing since yesterday. He always loved a blonde bush, but not as much as a red-haired one.

A limousine was waiting for them, another mystery that Michael could not solve. Maybe tonight something would be revealed. They pulled up in front of the El Capitolio Nacional. While they had seen lots of old cars before, tonight the front of the building was lined with black limousines, all dropping off lavishly dressed men and women, many wearing formal dress military uniforms, their chests filled with brightly colored ribbons.

“This is a magnificent building,” passing through the Capitolio salon-des-pas-per . They entered the ballroom, armed security guards checking the credentials and invitations before allowing entrance. Monika was impressed by the ballroom, filled with tables set with splendor she had never seen, a small band playing softly in the background. They were ushered to a table of twenty, the seats half filled around, the guests still streaming in.

They were more gracious to them, Michael suspecting the ones in the Finance Ministry were warned of them beforehand. Not so with the guests sitting around the table, probably seated with them by chance. All were connected with the government in one way or another, capitalism non-existent in Fidel’s country, the government having their hands in every aspect of the country. Including most employment.

Dinner was elegant, seven courses, Monika hoping to catch a glimpse of Fidel Castro, though she secretly sought out the General that had saved her. They were having desert, Monika asking one of the women seated next to her. “Does the President attend?”

“ El Presidente has many dinners and cannot attend any more than a few moments. He greets the important guests in private, preferring one-to-one tete-à-tetes. It is an honor to meet him.” The woman was in her mid-thirties, her husband looking like a General, but not as many stars as the one Monika met.

“You must have met him many times,” Monika impressed by the woman.

“No, I haven’t had the honor, though we have only been attending these in the last three years.” She still sounded impressed.

The music began to play, Michael asking Joanna to dance, Monika a bit jealous as she watched him holding her so close, almost able to feel his cock against her. A young Captain asked Sandra to dance, leaving Monika feeling left out. The song ended, but Michael and Joanna didn’t not return, Monika sure that he found a quiet place away from peering eyes to go to. Sandra was standing near the bar, a drink in her hand, the young Captain talking to her. The music started again, Monika startled as a hand touched her naked shoulder gently. She looked up into the big brown eyes of the General, her pussy getting wet from just his touch.

“Monika, I promised I would see you soon. May I have this dance?” He took her hand, not waiting for or expecting an answer. She got up, seeing the woman she had talked to surprised by her companion. Obviously he was very important by the way her husband sat more rigid in front of his superior.

Miguel looked at her, even more beautiful in the red dress. His hand slid around her waist, feeling the satin cloth beneath his fingers. The crossover bodice clung tightly to her breasts, Miguel eyes feasting on the gentle bounce as she walked, unrestrained beneath the sensuous material. His hand slid around her back until he found her bare skin, the back open to way below her waist, his fingers sliding over the tiny hairs on her lower back.

Her nipples burst to life when his hands touched the bare skin on her back, pushing out the smooth fabric, every step rubbing the hardening tips back and forth over the satin material. His hands felt so hot on her skin, wishing they would slide down more, over the gentle swell of her buttocks. God, he was doing such things to her body and he had barely touched her. What would it be like if I let him have his way with me?

She was mesmerized by the way he moved, his hands gliding her body back and forth over the dance floor with such ease, Monika not expecting such grace from him. There was only the gentle swish of her dress and her breathing as he pressed closer to her as the music slowed down. She felt his cock pushing against her, Monika welcoming the intimate touch. His hands guided her hips as though he was masturbating her body against him, all the while hundreds of people watched. One hand slid lower down her back, a finger slowly tracing circles in her skin as it moved down below the edge of her dress until she felt it touch her crack. She almost lost it then, her body shuddering, afraid of cumming.

She had such a delightful body, graceful as she glided with him along the floor, Miguel ignoring all around him as he enjoyed her. His hands took possession of her and she did little to stop him, moving exactly as he instructed, his body pressing against hers until his cock jerked against her pussy. She didn’t move, seemingly un-offended by his bold move. Her hips moved from side to side, his hands guiding her, the soft shimmer of the satin dress rubbing up against the front of his dress uniform pants. He could almost hear her labored breathing. It was unfortunate that it would not be tonight, for he had more urgent business to attend to first.

She could hardly breathe, the medals on his chest pushing into her breasts, making her nipples tingle with every movement. And his cock, moving back and forth, Monika sure it was rubbing against her clit, or maybe she just hoped it was. She never felt such passion from just dancing. It was as though he was making love to her on the dance floor for all to watch their erotic coupling. And the one hand slipped beneath the back of her dress, resting at the beginning of the crack of her ass, sent her body into a state of perpetual arousal, waiting, expecting, hoping for it to move. The music stopped, but he still had his hand around her waist. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours. I hate to call you General.”

“Miguel at your service, Monika.” They walked off the dance floor.

They went the opposite direction from the table, Monika confused, looking around. Was he like Michael, trying to find a dark place to ravish my body? They walked down a hallway, two guard snapping to attention when they approached. “Where are you taking me?” She had a hint of concern in her voice, though she would have followed him anywhere, as aroused as he made her.