Copyright © 2025 - is an original work by Dark Fem Noir, edited by Commando Dave. Protected under copyright by U.S. copyright law. It is only submitted at Literotica.com, and any submission to any other site must be authorized by the Copyright Holder/Authorized Writer.
I just arrived on a work visa sponsored by my new employers. I was blessed to get the position, knowing that this would be the start of my new life.
I've always been tall and voluptuous for my age. Because of my beauty and smarts, I was told that I would be a princess in my village. I had many opportunities to wed men in my township and start a family, but I chose to decline, to the dismay of my parents and village elders.
Now that I'm a grown woman, I find that my pussy always seems to ache for something different than I thought I thought I'd never find.
You can not imagine my joy when I discovered I had been hand selected through a limited employment sponsorship program, arranged directly by my mentor that would fast-track me for a green card in a few short years.
The email read: Live in housekeeper sought for a family home in Charleston, SC, United States. We are looking for someone with previous housekeeping experience, ideally within a large private residence for business professionals. 3-5 Year contract, all expenses, special services required, mandatory training, and medical physical.
I imagined it would be a husband and wife who both worked, and they needed a reliable foreign housekeeper who would commit to a long-term contract. I made it through customs and saw a sign with my name. I was thrilled for this opportunity of a new life.
When we arrive at the home, I am filled with excitement for how spacious and elegant the property is. I just know I'm going to like it. I was dropped off at the front door and told my luggage would be brought to me. I knock on the shiny brass door knocker.
"You must be Amina," a handsome stranger says, opening the door and allowing my entry.
"Thank you," I say, bowing slightly out of respect, entering the expansive dwelling.
The man is tall and well built with a toasted almond complexion and stunning green eyes that sparks when he smiles.
"Welcome to our home. I'm Harlem Hunter."
"Mr. Hunter, thank you for the opportunity. I won't disappoint you," I said, showing gratitude.
"I don't imagine you would." His remarkable eyes seemingly locked to mine every time I look up from the tour of the house and the explanation of duties from room to room and floor to floor.
His handsome smile and easygoing mannerisms made me wonder if an introduction to Mrs. Hunter was in store. The tall and handsome black man, so far, had no introduction to a wife and no sounds of screaming children in the background, I thought, watching his clean cut features as he spoke.
"Here's your room," he says, handing me the keys to a fully furnished bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen on the lower level. I found it odd that he seemed to sniff me when he handed me my bedroom and household keys.
My luggage was already there.
"Get settled, Amina. House meeting at six in the kitchen," he says, closing the door to leave me.
I got settled in, and at 5:55, I emerged from the room to the upstairs kitchen. I heard Mr. Hunter's voice and that of another man.
"Hilton, this is Amina, our new house staff." Harlem was quite handsome, but the other man was slightly older and drop dead stunning. I figured they must be brothers. With cinnamon, mocha skin, and deep hazel eyes, you could easily get lost in. A light stubble perfected his chiseled facial features. He intently watched my every move.
"Amina, my name is Hilton Hunter," he extended his large, well manicured hand to shake.
"I want to get started with the meeting right away. Please have a seat." We all take a seat at the table. Hilton not wasting time down to business.
"As you may be aware, we could have just about anyone be an executive housekeeper. Perhaps even someone with more experience and qualifications than you. We are looking for more than just a maid."
I listen intently, having a feeling where this is going as Hilton continues.
"My brother and I have specific needs outside of your household duties that we want to train you for," Hilton says, observing my response.
"What will you teach me?" I ask, already settled in my mind that no matter what, I am willing to do it.
"You are very smart and extremely beautiful. It's not a coincidence that Daniel sent you to us. To put it plainly, my brother and I could have just about any woman we choose." Harlem paused, trying to choose his words wisely.
My facial expression can't hide a scowl of disgust when I cross my arms, shooting daggers with my eyes at my handsome employers. Anger flared in me that my mentor, Daniel, basically sold my life to these men.
Hilton walked to my side of the table, lowering eye to eye with me. "Did you notice how much your pay is and what the accommodations and amenities are, including your vehicle and expense accounts that you have already agreed to?" he mentions impertinently.
"Yes, Sir," I said, bowing my head and lowering my hands to my lap to
acknowledge that he was right and he's the boss after all, but not liking his tone.
"We are fully grown men with needs. Are you ok with servicing our sexual needs in addition to your household duties, Amina?" Hilton stood over me for an answer. His pants look like thick portions on this handsome man.
"Servicing you both? At the same time?" Fear at the thought of it, but knowing that I would do whatever they asked of me. I lowered my head, disappointed, for all that I had hoped for, I was here to be a whore.
Harlem lifted my chin. His handsome features and soft touch helped me begin to accept my fate, and I hoped it wouldn't be bad.
"You won't have both of us at the same time, but you are expected to begin your training immediately to learn what we each expect of you," Harlem said with those kind green eyes.
"Are you going to be able to accept the job in its full capacity, Amina?"
Hilton looked annoyed with his arms folded.
"Yes, Sir." I'm barely able to speak, feeling broken, lost, and betrayed.
"Take off your clothes, now," Hilton ordered, raising his voice.
"You have a uniform, but your nudity at our request any time of the day or night is a part of your job," he mentioned.
I slowly rise from the table, trying to conceal my anger at his arrogance, feeling like Hilton would be the difficult one out of the two men. I work my way out of my clothing, stone faced, with my eyes averted, feeling embarrassment with the heat of both men watching me undress.
Once I stood nude before them, they gave each other a conspiratorial look of approval.
"Grab your clothes and follow me," Hilton said, turning to lead the way.
"Yes, Sir," I said, still glaring at him as I followed him out of the kitchen and upstairs to his private bedroom suite.
His bedroom had dark grey walls and carpet with burgundy accents. His large bed is framed in wood. The light from the windows was probably the only thing brightening the space. His room fit his personality.
"Come in. Set your clothes here. You're really beautiful." He softens for the first time this evening. His deep hazel eyes admiring my naked form.
"Thank you." Trying not to make eye contact. He's so handsome. It's hard to miss.
"Here's what's going to happen. I want to know everything about you," he says while unbuttoning his light grey shirt and slipping out of his pants, revealing an incredibly masculine chest and a big surprise, seemingly thick in his flex boxers.
He stepped close to me from behind to show me where his laundry goes and what would be expected of me.
"Amina, massage my feet while we talk," now out of his underwear, naked, waiting for me to fulfill my first duty of this unique job I've been called to do, handing me a bottle lotion to begin his foot massage.
I kneel on his bed and massage his warm feet. Music is playing in the background. I can feel his peculiar eyes on me while I try to focus on the massage and not his enormous member. I shouldn't be attracted to him. I curse myself for the conflicting feelings.
"Have you ever had sex before?" he questions.
"Yes, I've had sex."
"Were you in love?"
"Every time I thought I felt love, it wasn't," I say to him bluntly, not daring to look at anything beyond his athletic calf.
"Sexually, I am what's called a Daddy Dom."
"You expect me to call you Daddy? You're not my father," I laugh, and for the first time, I look him in his eyes willfully.
"When we are in this house, that's how I expect you to address me as Daddy.
Amina, did I tell you to stop massaging?" His whole demeanor returned to the no nonsense authority from the kitchen.
"No, Sir." My heart is beating faster, and my entire body tenses.
"No, Daddy. Say it, and look at me when you say it," he sternly instructs.
"No, Daddy." My eyes meet his, and I can't understand why the tension has suddenly turned to tingling in my belly.
"That's better. That's all for tonight. You have an early morning with Harlem in the kitchen tomorrow morning," he says, slowly stroking his fat dick. Those hazel eyes laser focused on me.
He dismisses me to my room. When I lay in my bed, all I can think about is how beautiful Hilton is, and I'm trying to shake the thought of how I felt when I called him Daddy.
The next three weeks were filled with paperwork, a visit to the doctor, and tedious training on my role as a household manager, personal chef, and sexual servant to these men. My work uniform is a form fitting polo shirt with a khaki miniskirt or shorts. I also got a driver's license, a bank account in my name, a new phone, a computer, and lots of pretty clothes and shoes that arrive every few days for my growing closet.