Chapter 1

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Coercion, Heterosexual, Wimp Husband, Wife Watching, Humiliation, Oral Sex, Size, Public Sex, .

Desc: Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The new Ambassador arrives in a hostile situation. His wife is forced to submit to hmiliation and degradation for her husband.

Jenna was very apprehensive. Her husband had been summoned to Rwanda on short notice. He had been vice Ambassador to the Republic of Congo for several years. The Rwandan ambassador had been reported missing a couple weeks ago, and the American Embassy needed some answers. They decided to send her husband, Joe, into Rwanda for a few weeks to calm the local officials down. Things had been tense for several months now. It was not a good situation.

The president of Rwanda, Leopold Mobutu, had been known to be somewhat corrupt. Joe was being sent in to advise him to clean up his act, or the U.S. would not support him anymore. They would withdraw their food subsidies if he did not cooperate. Jenna had scanned the U.S. Embassy website to review warnings on how to behave and proper dress code. The warnings were against tourist travel into the country because the political situation was not stable.

Jenna's husband, Joe, assured her that they would have diplomat immunity, and they did not need to worry. Besides, they would only be there for a couple weeks until everything got straightened out.

When the plane landed, the airport looked like something out of the mid 1950's. The hangars were corrugated buildings with missing panels and the rest rusting in the hot African sun. The planes were all propeller driven and none seemed to be bigger than six or seven portals along the side. It was a primitive country.

A long sleek black limousine stopped in front of their plane. A couple black Hummers pulled up alongside, and several soldiers carrying automatic machine guns stepped out and surrounded the limousine. A very tall black man with the uniform of an officer slowly appeared out of the back seat. He seemed to be at least six feet six inches tall. When he took off his sunglasses, Jenna felt she knew him. Slowly it came to her.

When she had been on the Olympic track team, she had run across him at several events and in the evening festivities in the evening. Marcel Gaston had been a national treasure for Rwanda. He had been a consistent gold medal winner in the 400mm event over the span of many years. He was tall, lean, and had the body of a greyhound. Jenna felt he had been rather handsome in a twisted sort of way; like the singer seal. She thought he might be interesting if he wasn't so damned arrogant. He just assumed she would throw herself at him. When she didn't he seemed to treat her with spite. She felt ostracized from whatever group he was with. She just learned to avoid him.

Jenna's husband escorted her down the stairs from their airplane. Once she took off her dark glasses, a wave of recognition started to wash over his face as he slowly remembered her. She was not eighteen any more. She was twenty years older. She was not dressed in the skintight running shorts and tight fitting track jersey anymore.

Marcel remembered picking up the Sports Illustrated magazine when he got home from the meet. He remembers the picture:

Jenna's long pink nipples were straining against the soaking wet track jersey after the meet. For all practical purposes, the shirt had been transparent with the light the photographer had behind her. Her track shoes had been removed; the laces tied together and flung over her back. Her tears showed the anguish of stumbling over the last few meters of the 400mm race and coming in fourth, without a medal. She had been under the Olympic record, but had stumbled when somebody stepped on the back of her shoe.

Instead, she was twenty years older than he had remembered. Never-the-less, the chiseled features, the soft smooth skin and the taunt firm muscles were clear underneath the light soft dress that fluttered in the soft breeze. Neither of them heard the introductions of each other from Joe. They went through the typical greeting formalities. Jenna extended her hand to shake his. He took her hand and kissed it. Jenna was embarrassed, but neither acted like they had met before.

Jenna got into the back seat first. Joe got in beside her. Marcel went around the limousine and got in the other side and sat next to Jenna. You could cut the air with a knife the attraction between them was so thick.

Jenna was oblivious to the actual conversation. She remembered being dropped off at the hotel. They were planning to visit the President for dinner that evening. They took their luggage up to their room to unpack. While they were unpacking, Joe had turned on the television to the local news station.

To their horror, the news was filled with rioting, killing and shooting. The president had been assassinated. The military was claiming responsibility for control of the country. Marcel was the new leader.

Joe looked out the window and noticed the limousine was still there. He rushed down the stairs as fast as he could to try to catch Marcel before he left. Marcel had been expecting him. He was seated in a large chair in the lobby with several guards on each side.

Joe was panting and out of breath and demanding to know what was going on.

"Joe, you are here as a guest of the president. As far as this country is concerned, you are an ally and associate of this corrupt man. You will be tried and punished accordingly!"

"I have diplomatic immunity. You cannot touch me!" Joe said.

About that time, Jenna appeared. She had followed her husband at a much slower pace. When Marcel saw her, he remembered her aloofness from many years before. "I'm so sorry that you are a part of this mess, Miss Jenna. Your husband is under arrest, but there is no reason for you and me to be feuding; is there?"

Jenny didn't answer.

"I'll tell you what. We are having a nice dinner tonight. I am promoting several of my men for their courageous behavior today. You will both be welcome as guests of honor."

"Do we have a choice?" Joe asked.

"Not really. Miss Jenna, I will have some clothes sent up for you. You probably didn't bring anything formal that would be comfortable in the heat of this country. I will send a car for both of you at seven o'clock tonight. Please don't be late." Marcel said with an evil smile as he turned and left.

As Marcel was walking away, he stopped and turned. "Oh, if you are wondering whether you can get away, I will show you where the former Ambassador and the rest of his family are. You will see him along the road to our dinner ... all along the road. You will love his wife and fourteen-year-old daughter. They are quite beautiful." With that he turned once more and disappeared out the door and into his limousine.

Jenna and Joe were terrified, but didn't know what to do. Joe tried to hide his fear by appearing overly confident. "Don't worry honey. He is all talk. Nothing is going to happen to us. I am the Ambassador. They won't dare touch me." Jenna didn't believe him. They went into their room, locked the door and watched the news. The country was torn with anarchy. Marcel's men had taken over, and killed anybody in their way.

Soon, there was a knock on their door. Joe went to the keyhole. It was a bellman with a box. Joe opened the door to take the box. He noticed four armed guards outside their door. It was twelve stories down from their balcony, so escape over the balcony was impossible.

Jenna opened the box. There was a pair of high suede boots that zipped up the side. There was a pair of black silk stockings with very ornate patterned elastic on the top. There was a pair of long black gloves that would go most of the way up her arms. The dress was a full length black sleeveless silk dress that buttoned all the way down the front. There was a handwritten note wrapped around a pair of very expensive Louis Vuitton dark glasses that fell out of the dress when she held it up. It said:"You are to wear everything in the box and nothing else if you don't want anything to happen to your husband. If you think I'm bluffing, look out the balcony. You can see a long way from up there. There is a mud hut about 200 feet from the edge of the hotel property. If you look hard, you will be able to see the former ambassador. Tonight you will get to meet his wife and daughter. They will tell you what happens when you don't listen.

Jenna's hands shook so bad she could hardly let go of the note. At about six o'clock, Joe told her she needed to start to get ready. Joe was putting on his tuxedo.

Jenna started to dress. She put on the black silk stockings. They stopped just below her crotch. She slid on the black dress. A long pearl necklace dropped out of the folded dress. She wrapped it twice around her neck, but it still hung down past her breasts. She tucked it into her dress where it wouldn't show as much. There was no bra in the box. She slipped on her high-heeled black suede boots and zipped them up. She put on the long black gloves. Jenna didn't want to look in the mirror. She could tell that the dress fit like a glove. Her long pink nipples strained against the thin fabric. The top of her dress had a high back, but the front was cut square and almost to the top of her nipples. If she bent down any amount, her breasts were sure to fall out; or at least her nipples would show. There was no mistaking that she had no bra or panties. Jenna was humiliated, but she felt that if this was the only indignity she would suffer, it would be worth it to get them out of this depraved country.

Soon there was a knock on the door. Jenny went over to the balcony. She could see that the limousine had arrived. Reluctantly, the frightened couple unlocked the door and followed the armed guards down to the car. Jenna put the sunglasses on when she went out of the hotel and before she stepped into the limousine.

The limousine took them to the presidential compound. There was a wide colonnade leading up to the front door. Once inside, the foyer led to an open cobblestone courtyard in front of them. To the left were the reception areas, game rooms, meeting rooms, and library and television room. To the right were the kitchen, several different size dining rooms, pantries and different kinds of utility rooms. Joining the two areas, was a large guest house or changing areas for the pool. The pool was towards the back, with the main courtyard open to the sky. There were a number of ornamental shade trees arranged symmetrically around the perimeter of the courtyard. Cannas, re-blooming irises, pflox and blue-wave petunias were scattered along the perimeter of the courtyard, creating a blanket of color in front of the granite columns.

There were round tables set for groups of eight people scattered in front of the head table set for Marcel and his guests. When Joe and Jenna were escorted in, the food had been served, the guests were seated and guards were spaced around the perimeter. Marcel placed himself at the head table, in the center and Jenna between him and Joe...

Marcel started off thanking various soldiers for their bravery and courage in the Coup. He praised his men for getting rid of the corrupt president and the officers in his cabinet. He looked at Jenna and Joe and said they were good friends of his and they would probably be entertaining them this evening.

He said something in French, and two women came in carrying pitchers. They were serving drinks. The two women were naked. One was only about fourteen years old. She was wearing high-heeled shoes. Her long black hair had been braided into a French braid and hung down her back past her waist. Her pubic hair had been shaved. Her labia had been pierced so that a tiny padlock had been placed at the back of her vulva. This was effectively a chastity belt. Nobody could screw her without the key Marcel kept in his pocket.

The older woman was about forty, or a little more. She was essentially dressed the same. Both women were very slender, tanned, well groomed and terrified. Under their terror, it was obvious they had once been proud women that were hard to humble. Slowly the realization came to Jenna that these women were the ambassador's wife and young daughter.

While the women were pouring drinks, Marcel leaned over to Jenna and whispered into her ear: "Miss Jenna, these brave men have faced death and some have lost relatives. They are mostly poor peasants. I think that It's in the best interest of your husband's welfare if you, as the Ambassador's Wife, would get up and go around to all of the men and thank them for their bravery and heroism. As a strictly political thing, I think you should make the gesture. They need to be rewarded for their deeds." Marcel put a heavy emphasis on the word "rewarded" as he looked her in the eye.

Jenna shivered as the Goosebumps raced across her body. Her face turned white.

Jenna looked over at her husband and back at Marcel. "I can't do that! I am a married woman. Please do not make me do that." She whimpered. Joe had not heard, but from Jenna's body language, he had a good idea what was going on. He started to scoot his chair back as his face turned red.

Jenna knew Marcel would have him killed. "Please Joe, please don't do anything. I can take care of myself." Jenna tried to put on a brave confident front to calm her husband. In spite of the proud front she tried to present, she could not hide the tears starting down from beneath the dark glasses.

Marcel stood, helped her with her chair as she stood. With knees shaking so badly she could hardly walk, she started towards the first table, which seemed to be in the center of the room. The crowd hushed, sensing that something was about to happen. Jenna stood in front of the first man. He had dirt and blood smeared on his clothes. He had not shaved for a few days. She did not offer her hand; instead she put them together between her legs, bent slightly and said: "The general wanted me to thank you for your bravery today." With that, she had planned on moving on to another table to thank others.

Before she could get away, the huge black man said something in French: "I think you can thank me better than that!" he said as he snaked on arm around her and pulled her closer. Jenna tried not to pull back or visibly cringe in a way that would offend him. The man pulled her closer and then sat her on his lap.

With one arm around her waist to prevent escape, he used the back of his hand and fingers to caress the front of her dress. "You aren't afraid of me are you?" he said in French.

Jenna's eyes were closed in terror. The man raised her glasses to look in her eyes. He wanted to see her expression as he caressed her nipples. He touched them like it was his first time. Inquisitively, he pulled the front of her dress out a little to look at her nipples. They were right there. Jenna was dying of humiliation.

"Let's see how this works." He again whispered in French, as he began playing with the buttons. His hands were huge. The fingers were gigantic, blistered and calloused. It was hard to undo the buttons without tearing something.

"You do it." The man commanded with a curious but menacing smile. Jenna looked over at her husband, who could not hear the conversation. She knew she had to cooperate or he would be dead. What made it even more humiliating was that from that distance, she appeared to be cooperating or acting on her own initiative with this man.

She had no choice. With her hands trembling, she reached for the first button. Joe's face turned red and his body tensed up.

Jenna tried to force a smile at him, and faintly shook her head, trying to tell him she was o.k. "We'll get through this" she tried to send with her lips and eyes as she slowly opened several buttons. Half way to her waist, the sides parted enough to let the two long stem pink nipples peek through. Jenna shuddered as she felt the breeze on them. Her eyes were closed, but she knew what they could see.

The man reached for a nipple, fascinated with the coloring that few black men had seen.

"Next!" Marcel cried.

Jenna stood. Several hands pushed her out toward another table. Jenny was sobbing now. The dark glasses had been tipped up and she was unable to hide her anguish.

She ended up at another table. The next man sat her on the table with her feet hanging down. He bent over and peered at her dress. He picked up the bottom of the hem. He started to unbutton it, like a child opening his only toy on Christmas morning. Jenna had her hands in front of her eyes, sobbing into them. The man stood. He took her hands and put them to her sides. Next he placed them on the table behind her back. He put his hand under her chin and tipped her head back. In this position, her partially revealed breasts pushed up and outward, with her long pink nipples pointing skyward. The top of her dress had opened and fallen away enough to reveal most of her nipples and about half of her breasts. They jiggled like manometers that echoed her shudders of anguish.

With her head and shoulders back, and arms behind her, the man went back to work on her dress. Slowly he worked his way, up from the hem toward the waist, slowly unbuttoning the soft fabric hardly able to restrain himself. Finally, the man stood, grabbed Jenna around the waist and lifted her to stand on her own.

The dress had not fallen completely off. Although it was completely unbuttoned, she still had the sides pinned between her arms and body. Although she fought vainly to pull it around her, the unbuttoned garment did little to contain her modesty. Other hands from behind reached up to gently tug the dress off of her. The jolt of being changed from the sitting position on the table to back on her feet pivoted her dark glasses from the top of her head back down to the bridge of her nose. At least she had this last shred of cover to hide behind. Even though naked, the dark glasses seemed to offer some anonymity. Marcel was willing to grant her that.

This beautiful proud woman, who he remembered twenty years ago, still had the muscle tone and sleek athletic build as he remembered on the pages of Sports Illustrated. No amount of humiliation or degradation seemed be able to beat the proud elegance out of her.

"Next!" Marcel shouted.

Somebody turned her around and guided her to another table. She felt hands on her shoulders. They were pressing her down. Jenna looked over at her husband. She was looking for compassion from the only man in the room she could depend on for it. Joe's expression had changed from boiling anger, to "I can't believe you are actually going to do it!" (Disbelief).

The man in front of her reached down and grabbed her hands. He guided them up to his khaki uniform belt. Jenna wrapped her fingers over the top of the belt to steady herself. She looked over again at her husband. His expression of disbelief had turned to curiosity. "How does she even know what to do?" It looked again like she was acting of her own accord.

"The man took her glasses off. They wanted to see everything. They brushed her hair over her back and away from her face.

Marcel left his place at the table next to Joe, and walked over to stand next to Jenna, but facing her husband. "Do you know what to do?"

Jenna had her eyes closed. She rested the top of her forward against his crotch and nodded almost imperceptibly.

"What?" he asked.

"I have to take his pants off and take him in my mouth." Jenna whispered with her stomach convulsing and her shoulder shuddering.

"Then do it!" came the reply.

Jenna's hands started to shake as she moved them closer to his buckle. You could hear a pin drop as the brass belt clattered when she opened it.

The sound of the zipper being pulled down seemed to echo off of the stone walls of the courtyard.

With his pants open, Jenna reluctantly put her forefinger and middle fingers inside his waistband and tugged everything down. They would not go down easily over his massive organ. Once she pulled the pants down over his massive phalanx, it sprang free.

Jenna turned her head so it wouldn't hit her in the face. In doing so, she was again facing her husband. Subconsciously, he had to know she was being forced, but his male hormones had him starring in amazement at the site of his beautiful wife clad in long silk stockings and high heeled boots on her knees in front of this gigantic penis waving in front of her face. Jenna was horrified and humiliated with the image she was presenting to her husband. Knowing their lives depended upon her cooperation, she struggled with her dilemma. She tried valiantly to put on a brave front to mask the humiliation and embarrassment. If she looked tormented, her husband might try to take matters in his own hands. They would be killed. Or, at least, he would be killed. She fought with herself to present a cooperative attitude.

Again, she tried to force a faint assuring smile towards her husband as she raised her left hand and let her thumb and forefinger encircle the base of the massive member a few inches from her lips. She tried to get her fingers clear around the base. She couldn't. She slid her hand forward the tip in order to get the other fingers around it. She squeezed slightly, causing it to wag to one side. The warm contact of her hand and the pressure caused the evil salamander to uncoil an inch or so. It jumped in response to her pressure. The movement of the monster in turn, caused Jenna to flinch. She wagged it back away from her face. The movement again caused it to uncoil some more.

Jenna could sense the growing size in length and girth with their combined reactions to each other. No matter what she did, her movements caused him to grow longer, and harder. It had now grown far enough that even though Jenna had not been looking towards him, the thing extended into her view. It seemed to be wagging back and forth on its own. She could feel the heat from it. The evil ectoplasm seeping out of the end glistened as it seeped out and spilled onto her breasts.

Jenna was stupefied with the hot liquid dripping on her. She dared not offend the man by wiping it off.

"Quit stalling!" Marcel whispered loud enough that only she could hear him.

Jenna looked up at him, trying desperately with her eye contact to implore for mercy. His expression made it clear she would get no reprieve.

"Show us how much you are willing to do to keep your husband alive." Marcel whispered.

Jenna closed her eyes. She tipped the member straight up against the man's belly. She leaned forward and laid her left cheek up against it. She rubbed her face against it, from her left ear to the left side of her lips, trying to work up her resolve to comply with his orders. She turned to face it squarely. She puckered her lips and planted a soft kiss to the bottom of his shaft.

Jenna pulled back and made eye contact with Marcel to see if this was enough, knowing that it was not. Jenna used her left hand to lower it to a horizontal position. She looked up at Marcel, as if for approval, as she squared herself up to face it. She closed her eyes as she wrapped both hands around it as one grips a baseball bat. She leaned forward and kissed the opening. She leaned back searching for Marcel's approval.

Jenna leaned forward again. She loosened her lips and rubbed the end of the black salamander softly across her mouth; with her lips wet against her closed teeth. She tried not to gag as she tasted his fluid when it seeped through the openings between her teeth. Jenna pulled back, wiped her lips with the back of one arm, and picked a loose hair from her lips. Her head bowed, knowing she had procrastinated as long as she could.

Jenna placed her hands again one in front of the other, with her thumbs firmly along the canal at the bottom of his shaft. She kissed the end again softly, and reluctantly opened her mouth enough to accept the tip into her open mouth. She bit down; with her teeth; not painfully; not savagely; but enough for him to feel the pressure of her teeth about an eighth of an inch past the tip of his opening. The man almost screamed; not knowing whether he was in agony or ecstasy.

His head thrashed from side to side. His head went back and his hands covered his face. Jenna released her grip with her teeth. She used her tongue and lips to caress the crown and held it in her mouth without moving for about a minute. She moved her teeth back about an eighth on an inch farther down his shaft. Knowing now, what was coming, he braced himself as she slowly clamped down on him again. The pain was now clearly ecstasy. He shuddered. She held him that way for a long time. Shock waves shot up and down his spine. Jenna slowly released her pressure, and then used her tongue to sooth him and give him time to recover.

Knowing what was coming almost exceeded the thrill when it got there. Jenna inched her lips a little further up his shaft. She had not fully accepted his entire crown before clamping down on him again. The excitement was too much! Jenna felt him shudder and groan. She felt the canal along the base start to expand. Before it got past her second thumb, she was able to clamp down with both thumbs and stop the flow before it reached the end.

Jenna let him groan, shudder and thrash. When the shuddering began to subside, she released the pressure of her thumbs to accept the fluid incrementally in spurts that she could swallow. In spite of her horror, despair and humiliation for the situation she was in, Jenna had an instinctively tender nature about her that she used to mask her reluctance and horror. She dared not look over at her husband for his reaction. She knew that if he could see her humiliation and despair, he would surely go berserk and kill somebody before they could stop him.

"You can pick up your clothes and go back to your seat, young lady." Marcel whispered to her as he brushed some of her hair back over her shoulder.

"Can't I please get dressed first?" Jenna implored.

"All in good time." He responded.

Humiliated, Jenna walked slowly with her bundle of clothes in front of her to cover her nudity. When she got to her chair, Marcel was standing next to it to help scoot it back in after she sat. Marcel took her clothes and handed them to one of the guards, who took them out of the room. Jenny forced herself to go through the motions of eating, adding to her humiliation that she was sitting naked at the front table with the main dignitaries.

Soon, Marcel ordered her to stand. She stood there, with her hands at her sides, long pink nipples jiggling to echo her nervousness. Marcel announced in a loud voice, like a judge at the end of a trial, that she and her husband were guilty of in -subornation during the takeover. Her husband would be jailed for an unspecified time based on her behavior.

Jenna was sentenced to an unspecified time of community service. They were separated and sent to prison. The next morning, Jenna was awakened by the sound of boots coming down the hall towards her. Jenna had been forced to sleep, naked, on a small canvas cot. She still had her high heeled sued boots. She had taken them off to sleep. She was ordered to put them back on. When the cell door was opened, Jenna was handcuffed with her hands above her head against the cell bars behind her.

The cell door was opened. Marcel, two guards and a man in a white lab coat, who looked like a doctor, came in. Marcel said something in French to them. The two guards came over to stand on each side of her. The doctor got down on his knees between hers. He took out a syringe. The two guards spread her legs, and she was given a shot of Novocain on each side of her labia. Jenna screamed in anguish, pain and humiliation. They had numbed her labia so the doctor could make several incisions on each side towards the back and middle of her clit.

"Young lady, you will be doing community service for a while. You are far too beautiful for me to want to see you get pregnant. My doctor is going to create some piercings to assure you cannot get pregnant. The doctor made several small piercings and inserted two small silver padlocks through her labia that effectively created a chastity belt. The two padlocks were strategically placed so that she could not have practical intercourse without injury.

The doctor wiped her vagina with an alcohol swab, stood, and stepped back to admire his work. The guards let go of her legs and un-cuffed her arms from the bars. Jenna put her hands on her knees and put her head down over them, embarrassed at being naked in front of this crowd and pierced. She tried to muffle her sobbing, but her shoulders shuddered to give her away.

They took about twenty feet of nylon rope and tied one end in a loop around her arm just above her elbow. They wrapped the rest of it around both arms from the elbow up. They hooked the end of a dog leash to loops of the padlocks and and ran it between her legs so she was led like a dog out into the hot morning sun with a guard in front of her and the strap between her legs to the guard ahead of her. Jenny was led, naked down the hard dusty road towards the city center, about two blocks away.

The guard leading her was shouting to the curious onlookers as he led the proud but humiliated naked woman down the street. He was shouting out in French the litany of her transgressions. The women looked at her with scorn, the men with lust.

The city buildings were laid out in a square around a central park that was about a small block square. In the center of the square, was a small building. It was a square concrete podium with about three steps to the top. The main level was about twenty feet on a side, with timber columns at each corner. The columns were about sixteen feet tall and supported a high pitched corrugated roof. The center of the space also had a well. The well had stone walls about three feet high with a four foot diameter opening down into the water. The well also had a heavy timber framing around it so a bucket could be lowered down into it.

Around the perimeter of the structure were a series of wood benches so some people could wait while others were drawing water, or washing clothes in the small basins around the perimeter.

Jenny arms were untied, but she was tethered to one of the timbers near the well by the leather leach. It was long enough for her to help draw water, kneel naked on the ground to wash clothes, and sit on one of the benches ... She would be there for an unspecified time each day.

The two guards walked away from her and sat in an opposite corner in the shade. Alone, naked and humiliated, Jenna sat on the bench with her head bowed, not knowing what to expect next.

Soon, a young boy came up to her with a large five gallon bucket. He handed it to her and said something in French. Jenna understood that he wanted it filled. She walked painfully slow over to the well to draw the water. The boy stood behind the naked woman and watched her as she bent over to draw the water. Wide-eyed, he took the bucket, placed it on his head and left. He would be back soon, with several of his friends to get more water.

Jenna returned to her seat and bent over with her hands over her face. Soon, she felt a shadow above her. She looked up to see several tall young black men forming a circle around her. they looked nervously over at the guards. The guards shouted something in French and they all laughed.

Finally, the biggest and probably bravest young boy walked up and stood inches from her. He started saying something in French she did not understand. More talk ... No response. Finally the young man grabbed her two hands. He raised her hands to his crotch, and formed her fingers around his penis. He held her hands in his against him.

Jenna could feel it begin to throb with her contact. Did she want her to fondle him? Curiously, reluctantly, she tightened her fingers, hoping that was all she had to do.

More French; he shook his head. He pointed to his penis, and then stuck his finger in her mouth. He spoke very softly in French; obviously in the throes of excitement. He looked nervously over at the guards who smiled and nodded.

No Jenna knew. It was to be more of the same. Jenna started to tear up again. She tried desperately to make eye contact with him and plead with all the tenderness she could summon. "Please ... please ... please have some compassion for me. Please don't make me do this ... I am begging you."

The boys sensed that she either could not or would not resist. They laughed and the guards smiled. The boy raised her hands to his waist and guided her fingers to his belt.

Reluctantly, Jenna knew she had no choice. Her husband's life probably depended on her cooperation. With her mind growing numb, her fingers started moving around his buckle. She opened his belt buckle; opened his brass button, and slid down his zipper. The circle grew closer. Nobody spoke. Hardly anybody could be heard breathing.

Jenna hesitated. The boy raised his arm, as though to strike her. Jenna grabbed him firmly with both hands and shook her head as she looked into his eyes. "Just give me time. I need to get used to this." She said to herself and tried to convey the idea to him with her pleading eyes.

Jenna put her fingers into his waist band and his pants dropped to the floor. He was young, but his penis looked full grown. Once out in sight, it seemed to have a mind of its own.

The young man ran his fingers into the hair in the back of her head, ready to force his weapon clear down her throat. Jenna could sense it coming, and wrapped her hands, one in front of the other and her elbows against his thighs. She put her forehead against the crown and he was unable to force it in.

Jenna knew this was only a temporary avoidance on her part, and she would soon have to capitulate. In order to let him know she was not going to completely resist, she turned her head and caressed the tip of him with her cheek; back and forth from her ear to her lip. She looked up into his eyes to see how he was reacting.

The boys were now talking and giggling. They knew she was going to do it. The guards came over, entranced at the scene they were experiencing from across the structure.

Jenna looked down at it. "Oh, my God! This is definitely going to hurt. Could it actually fit into her mouth? Her mouth! The reality was now hitting her."

Jenna took several big breaths trying to calm herself. She had to do it. She looked around at the crowd of smiling faces. She looked up to meet her antagonizer's face. She tried with all of her might to force a smile. The soft tender smile seemed incongruous with the tears running down her face.

Jenna leaned forward and rubbed the opening against her lips. They barely touched each other, but the young boy was overcome with excitement. He groaned. Jenna extended her tongue and flicked out just for a millisecond to make contact with his opening.

She was pretty new at this, but knew that whenever this massive penis jumped, she was doing something he found exciting. She extended her tongue, flattened it and fondled the underside of him with it. He groaned and his head went back. His fingers dug into her hair.

Jenna bit down slightly with her teeth on the flesh about an eighth of an inch past the tip. It was too much for the young man. She recognized the reaction when he groaned and his body tightened up. She caught the flow of semen in his canal before it escaped. She let him groan and shake. When it started to subside, she loosened the grip of her thumbs against his canal and let it flow a little at a time into her mouth, where she accepted it without spilling.

It was a trick she learned reluctantly during the dinner the previous night. Jenna dropped her head and hands to her knees in humiliation as the men laughed and giggled. Jenna felt the shadow disappear and another take his place.

Jenny was forced to repeat her previous performance. On her knees, she numbly opened the next man's pants. As he was being exposed, she felt hands lift her so she was now standing. They bent her over to force her to continue. She felt hands exploring her other openings; searching; probing; exploring. They forced her legs apart. She was forced to stand with her legs spread apart to accept somebody's hands groping into her; darting from one opening to another.

She was forced to bend over and open her mouth. Reluctantly, she repeated the previous performance; with hands fondling her nipples, vagina and rear. Jenna felt she was being roto-routed at each end.

The boys were not quite men, and didn't last very long. Individually, they didn't last long, but the line of endless young men ready to experience the time of their life, seemed endless.

Once the work day ended, the older men ran the teenagers off and formed a line of their own. Occasionally, a group of men would bring a towel; force her to draw her own water from the well and wash off. The washing of her body was almost as exciting a ceremony as the sex itself. These black men had never seen a white woman this beautiful.

At the end of the day, Jenna's strap was unhooked and she was marched, naked, back down the road to the prison. With all of her activity, there was quite a crowd to watch her being led across the dusty road in her high heeled boots with her magnificent breasts jiggling as she stumbled. In this country, only the very young girls had breasts and nipples that stuck out as far as hers. They were not used to seeing a middle-aged woman look so youthful. Jenna had began to numb herself to her nakedness and humiliation, but still could not stop the tears from running down her face, off of her cheeks and dripping from her nipples. The tears formed a glistening streak, cleaning the slight film of dust on her tanned body.

When she was unbound and sent back in her cell, Marcel smiled from the window in his office overlooking her room. He would be down in a minute. In the meantime, he noticed a chime. He walked over to where her clothes and purse were piled on his table. Eventually he would let her dress. He walked over to the pile of garments and opened her purse. Jenna's cell phone was ringing. Marcel looked at it: "Message from Stephanie..."

It was a text message:


School is out now. Your sister has some time off. Can the two of us come out to visit you?

How is the weather there? How are living accommodations?

What is there to do there?

Are there any cute boys my age?

Marcel smiled. You could never get away with this with the old phones.


The weather here is great.

We have the top unit on the end in the Sheraton. View of ocean and mountains is terrific.

Embassy will cover tickets for two and separate rooms.

Bring a couple of swimming suits. Your passport and credit cards are in the safe.

Password is *667834DD****

We can go to Paris for a few days before school starts.

Your reservations are for tomorrow morning.



Marcel smiled as he turned the phone off and slid it back into Jenna's purse.

Back at home, Stephanie and her aunt ran around like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to pack what they needed. They both had the biggest luggage bags they could take on the plane. Little did they realize they would need none of that; perhaps lots of sun block for their time at the well...

But that's another story, and not very pleasant one about a fourteen-year-old girl and her thirty-year-old very beautiful aunt.

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