Abduction at Mont Saint Michel
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Reluctant, Coercion, Heterosexual, Wife Watching, MaleDom, Light Bond, Humiliation, Group Sex, Black Male, White Female, Oral Sex, Nudism,
Desc: Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Jenna, the Museum Curator, at last has her chance on Sabatical, to explore and examine the legendary castle and explore inconsistencies of ancient maps
Jenna was ecstatic. After working as the assistant curator of the Nelson Art Gallery for the last ten years, she now had a chance to do something real. In the cellar of the gallery there were thousands of paintings and sculptures which were similar to other valuable artifacts on display within the existing building or $400,000,000.00 new addition. Curators, professors and archaeologists from around the country came to study them. Jenna was in charge of cataloging, and assessing everything.
One item which seemed to go un-noticed, was the scale model of Mont San Michele. Jenna had been on various trips to France to study the original site. She had done AutoCADD 3D model drawings to document the entire structure. She was very skeptical of the model which was made several hundred years ago, and the current 3D studies she had prepared. There were a number of suspicious inconsistencies. She wasn't sure what was going on.
Finally she had been offered a one year sabbatical to go study the structure. She wasn't sure whether she would be allowed to stay on the island itself, or whether she would be staying at a small house on the mainland. Since she wasn't sure, she didn't know what she could take with her. She had her small backpack, and a large canvas suitcase with a handle and rollers. She left Dulles International Airport, and arrived about twelve hours later at Charles Degaulle Airport the next morning. She rented a small Fiat and traveled to Mont San Michelle.
The Island-Fortress was built by monks about a thousand years ago. It was heavily fortified for war as they knew it. During the 100 Year Wars, it had never been conquered. Armies from the land could not get out to it before the tide came in. Ships could not get to it before the tide left. The island was surrounded by ramparts with battlements for soldiers to stand in and fire back with cannons or bows at almost every position around the island. There was one very narrow road that meandered up through the stone buildings that was so narrow it was easy to defend. The spaces between the stone buildings were so close that a person had to walk sideways and a soldier at the top could defend the space single-handedly.
Everything was made of stone. The walkway up to the Cloisters and Marvel at the top was one of the grandest in the world. The view from the plaza at the top was incredible. The rooms now used for hotels were a different matter. Jenna had arrived in a slight drizzle. She felt she needed to duck down, going through the door to the hotel. The ceiling inside wasn't much different. She was told that there were no open rooms, and would have to go back to the mainland to stay. Disappointed, she turned to leave.
Just outside the hotel, was a small graveyard that was hundreds of years old. A large black man had been down on his knees starring intently at one of the graves. He looked up as Jenna went by. He had a sense from her expression that she could not get a room. "Miss, you seem disappointed. Are you O.K?"
"Oh, I'm fine. I was hoping I could get a room her is all. I am going to be doing some work here for a while, and I hate to have to have a rental car and go back and forth to the mainland every day. It will cost me so much time."
"How long are you going to be staying?" the tall man asked.
"I hope to be here a year." She said softly, trying to hide her disappointment.
"I'm only going to be staying a few weeks. I don't want to appear to forward, but you are welcome to share my room if you want."
Jenna was skeptical. She had a husband and daughter back home she would have to explain her situation to. Her husband, and Joe might be out to visit. She had to make a decision, at least on a short-term basis, for a day or so. What the hell! This was a monastery. There were people here all the time. Surely, she would be safe.
"My name is Jenna." She said as she tried to force a smile and extended her hand.
"Hi! I'm Marcel. Let me show you the room."
Marcel extended his left hand and wrapped it around the back of her waist as he held out the other to open the door for her. His room was to the right of the lobby. It had a window that looked out onto the graveyard on the patio outside. The room was Spartan to say the least. It had a tall walnut closet with carved tracery on the doors and sides. It was probably as old as the fortress. There was a small dresser with a white pitcher sitting in a large bowl. There was no bathroom. It was down the hall and shared by all. Jenna tried to hide her disappointment at the sparse accommodations. The bed was smaller than a queen, but bigger than a single. The room had another chair, and that was about it. The light from the exterior window beamed through and highlighted the cobblestone floor. It may have been quaint for a monk a thousand years ago, but not much by today's standards.
Jenna was somewhat concerned about her privacy. How would she change clothes? Were they sharing the same bed? Obviously they would have to. She couldn't make Marcel sleep sitting up in the chair for two weeks!
Jenna put down her backpack, and suitcase. Marcel took her hand and led her out of the hotel and gave her a tour of the different restaurants. Jenna was on a per-diem budget, so she would be able to eat out. The restaurants were fantastic. They were filled with incredible aromas of all kinds of different foods.
Marcel took her from the bottom of the island, and gave her a tour all the way up and onto the plaza at the top, through the cloisters, and back out to the plaza to admire the view. Jenna stood next to the tall black man as the sea breeze fluttered her hair and the hem of her dress. She was close enough to him to feel his body heat.
"Why are you here? " Marcel asked.
Jenna was excited to share her mission with him. "I am here to study the history and structure of this island. I have lots of new drawings I've made, but they don't really track with the ones made by the Monks who built everything." Jenna felt the big man tighten up and stiffen at her comments.
"It's probably a futile effort. You are probably wasting your time. The drawings made hundreds of years ago were not done to the accuracy and standards and technology that is available now. They are probably off just the amount of a drawing that was done by hand."
"You're probably right, but I need to find out anyway, Jenna said wistfully as she stared at the setting sun. The tourists were leaving the island, and the shopkeepers were shutting their doors. Jenna knew they would be going back to the room soon. They were able to stop at a small Seafood Shoppe and had a nice dinner with shrimp and scallops. Once dinner was over, Jenna was somewhat uncomfortable with the return to the room. They had not discussed any sleeping arrangements.
When they got back to the room, Jenna looked around, trying to decide how to change into her night clothes. Should she go to the bathroom, or could she ask Marcel to step out for a while?
Marcel sat down in the chair next to the dresser. He poured some water into the bowl, dipped the face towel into the water and wrung it out. "Take off your clothes. You've had a long trip, and getting cleaned will make you feel good." he whispered. Jenna was shocked. How dare he? "I'm not going to change in front of you. I'm a married woman. I don't know what I was thinking by agreeing to share this room with you."
"Jenna, you are here to do a job. Take a look at your drawings. The lower level and the mid level show the middle of this island to be solid rock. The buildings wind around this area, with hundreds of structures that are against that rock. If there are uncharted areas within these areas, how long do you think it will take you to find them? You would have to go into all of these buildings during work hours and look for concealed passages. It would be disruptive to all the businesses. They will send you home the first week. You will be a failure. Is this what you want?"
"They had slaves and prisoners build a lot of these structures. The slaves could not escape, but at some time while digging for rock, somebody found a seam in the rock. It led to a larger opening into a huge cavern. They were able to dig their way into this cavern and hide. They were able to dig a passage from there out the north side, so at high tide, they could swim out or use a boat to escape if they wanted. It was many, many years before they realized that slaves were no longer utilized. Those that did walked away or escaped. Others became so enamored with this underground life they were unwilling to leave. They developed their own system of "druids," serfs and religion inside this island.
"Look outside. Occasionally, you will notice somebody come out of a door in these massive retaining walls. Statistics say there are 42 people who live on this island. That is the count of the monks and nuns. The others are shopkeepers and workers that leave the island every day. Nobody knows about the hidden population within." They were able to pilfer food, have children and move around without the monks in the abbey knowing. There is a whole community down inside below the Marvel and Minster that history does not know about."
Jenna was dumbfounded. She didn't know what to do. Certainly there were unwritten and seldom spoken rumors about this concept, but was dismissed totally by the world of scholars. Was this a big scam? Jenna had to take a chance. She had to get on this man's good side; no matter what it took.
Jenna stood in front of Marcel with her hands numbly at her sides. Slowly, she raised her hands to her belt. She unbuckled it; pulled it through the loops and laid it on the dresser. She reached down and lifted the hem. Slowly, she unbuttoned the dress from the bottom to the waist. With the last button free, she held the dress in place, trying to gather her mind. With a couple of deep breaths, this proud woman was able to summon the courage to bring the dress away from her and fold it on the dresser. Jenna reached up to her neck and began pushing the pearl buttons through the eyelets one at a time until the front opened to reveal her bronzed abs and legs. Jenna's legs were shaking so bad she could hardly stand. She lowered her head in order to reach the snap at the back of her bra. The bra seemed to explode when the snap opened. She was able to keep it from falling by pinning the sides against her body with her arms. She hesitated for a couple of breaths; then caught it with her hands and laid it on top of her skirt. The sun was just light enough to cast streams across the room and highlight the 3/8" long pink nipples that pointed out of the front of two beautiful melon sized breasts that had no sag to them. Jenna's head hung down with her hair over her face as she reached her thumbs into the sides of her light blue transparent thong. Once she pushed them past mid thigh, the fell and puddle around her feet on the floor. Jenna raised her feet, bent over to pick them up, and placed them on top of the rest of her clothing.
She stood in front of him wearing a double strand of pearls than hung down between the bottom of her breasts and belly button. The brown high-heeled boots tended to frame and accent her beautiful labia and rippling abdominal muscles. Marcel reached out to hold her hands. He pulled her a little closer and then reached out for the wash towel. He placed a pillow on the floor between them and pulled gently on her hands until she kneeled in front of him.
Marcel reached out with his hands and the face towel. He gently rubbed her face until what little makeup she had was gone. He applied the towel to the back of her neck. He turned her sideways and did her back. He turned her again, and washed her breasts; slowly; not caring whether she was clean, but intrigued with the form of her body. He raised her up to a standing position and placed her in his lap. He rinsed and wrung out the towel again. Now he wiped it slowly along the tops of her legs. She had to raise her right arm and wrap it around his neck for support as she raised her right foot and placed it on the dresser. He unzipped the boot and helped her out of it. He washed the part that had been within the boot. He repeated the process with the other leg.
Finally, she felt his hand between her legs. She parted them slightly. He put down the wash cloth. He dipped his hand in the bowl, and used the back of his fingers to brush her labia. Jenna had shaved herself so that she had a bit of a landing strip above her vagina. The rest was clean shaven and smelled wonderful. His fingers were almost as big around as her husband's penis. She kept her head up and eyes closed as she felt one, then another digit snake it's way inside her. They seemed to have a mind of their own; turning, searching and exploring as though for the first time. The "slurping" sound of his fingers entering and squirming around inside her seemed to echo off of the stone walls of their room. It was both embarrassing and exciting to the couple. Finally, he put her down; stood and placed her in the chair.
Jenna had just realized that their lights were on, and the blinds were still up. She picked up her dress and held it in front of her as she went to the outside door and window to draw the blinds. The tourists were gone, and the island was almost deserted, but still she wanted the feeling of seclusion. Jenny turned; walked back to the chair and sat down, inches from the growing tent in Marcel's slacks.
Her hands trembled as she reached out to undo the buttons of his shirt. As she worked her way down, she dropped to her knees again. Nervously, she reached for his belt buckle. It was the "boy scout" kind, where the belt slips through a folding clasp. She didn't know how to undo it. Marcel reached up and unbuckled it. Jenna slipped his shoes and socks off. She reached her index and middle fingers into his waistband and tugged his pants down as he raised up enough to help her take them off. As she pulled his pants off and folded them over his shoes, she realized he was only partially erect. She looked up at him wondering what was next. What did he want?
He didn't get up to go to the bed, but grabbed her left hand and guided it over to his shaft. "Blowjob," she thought. He wants me to put that thing in my mouth. She was familiar with the term. She had struggled in her teenage years with trying to maintain her virginity. Her friends had giggled about the concept. Some had used it as a way of not getting pregnant. She had given a few hand jobs as a method of avoiding complete sex. Most boys welcomed any form of release that involved some cooperation from the girl. They didn't want the horrors of a teenage pregnancy either. Her husband had tried, from time to time to get her to perform, but could tell she was reluctant. Jenna knew that she needed Marcel's help to find out if the rumors he had discussed were true. It was a necessary sacrifice to find out.
Jenna allowed him to place her left hand around the base of his shaft. She braced herself with her right forearm against his left thigh. She looked up at him for some sign of assurance; then back down at the thing in front of her. She squeezed her fingers around it. She wagged it slowly from one side to the other, examining the bulging veins. Each time she moved it, it seemed to uncoil an inch or so. "This is going to hurt!" she thought. Maybe she could bring him off first. She squeezed and pulled her circle of fingers from the base up towards the crown. The motion milked a slight gob of white out the end. She looked from the gob, inches from her lips up to meet his eyes and then back down. Reluctantly, Jenna leaned forward and kissed the tip as she sucked the small gob into her. She tried not to gag.
She straightened it up and laid it against his abdomen. She leaned forward to smell it. She rubbed her nose against it from the base to the bottom of the crown. The skin was as soft as a baby's bottom. How this huge, muscled black man that rippled with muscle could have such soft skin in one spot, she wondered. She stuck her tongue out, flattened it and used it to explore and examine the length of his shaft. It continued to grow.
Reluctantly, Jenna straightened it out to point straight at her. By now, she was able to place one hand in front of the other and still not cover the crown. She placed her forehead against the crown, steadying herself for what she knew she had to do. She thought about the giggling conversations she had been a part of as that teenager so long ago. She looked up again at him as she kissed the tip. She opened her mouth enough to feel the opening against the tip of her tongue. She began stroking the soft tight skin back and forth between the hand at the base of his shaft and the crown within her lips.
She felt his hands at the back of her head start to press. She felt his body tighten and shudder. She looked up to see his head go back. His body was telegraphing what was about to happen. Jenna tightened her thumbs against the canal along the bottom of his shaft and was able to trap the stream of fluid before it shot into her mouth. He groaned and shook in spasms. As the spasms started to subside, Jenna was able to accept the fluid into her mouth in small increments that she could swallow. She fought the urge to gag as the steaming hot fluid shot into her mouth. She used her right hand to "milk" the rest of it out of him. She kissed the tip and used her tongue to lather and sooth the disappearing black salamander as it seemed to withdraw from her grip.
Jenna looked up at him to see if her performance had met with his approval. His eyes were closed. He was drained. No thanks; no chastisement; no reaction. His hands moved from the back of her head to caress the side of her face affectionately. He pulled her head against his abdomen. Jenna turned her head as they embraced with her cheek against his abdomen. They held their position for several minutes.
Once Jenna had given the blowjob, Marcel dressed. He went over to the side door which opened to the outside terrace. "Put your boots back on." He took her hand and she followed him, naked, into the fading light. He led her to the huge stone retaining wall that formed the beginning of the next level above. He pushed back a huge iron latch on a gigantic oak timber door. It opened.
Jenna followed him down a narrow corridor. It was dark, but there were just enough candle sconces to keep them from bumping into the cold damp walls. They walked towards the light in the distance. As they got closer, she could hear the faint chanting of some kind of religious service. Once they got close, Jenna could see that there were a bunch of men having a religious service of some sort. When she and Marcel went through the door, the man holding the service was facing them and stopped speaking. When he did, everybody turned. They all had long burlap robes with hoods. The leader had a white linen robe and was hooded like a Klu Klux Klansman. Everything seemed to stop. The sounds of the underground water seeping through the walls echoed in the stillness.
Jenna was terrified. Her perspiration beaded on her body and sparkled in the candle light. Marcel turned to her and whispered: "If you want to see the hidden rooms, you will need to be a part of these initiation ceremonies or you will not be accepted." Jenna trembled, but did not acknowledge him.
Two men approached her. They stood there looking at her. One of the men went into another room and came back with a couple of silver urns. One of them pulled out a white nylon rope about ¼" in diameter. He tied one end around her arm above the elbow. He wrapped the rest of the rope in even turns around both arms above the elbow. It was not tight, but each turn tended to bring her elbows closer together behind her, until there was only enough left to tie it off around her upper arm. The net effect was that Jenna could still use her lower arms and hands, but the binding pulled her elbows back so that her long pink nipples stuck straight up and out more than any bra could do.
The other man inserted a hand towel into another urn filled with oil. He wrung it out and rubbed her body with it until she had a dazzling bronze sheen. Marcel placed one hand around her and guided her up to the front of the room. The man in the white robe must have been about six feet six inches tall. Jenna was led up to him and guided to her knees on the step at his feet. The man looked down at her through the slits in his mask. He pulled the rope around his waist to untie it. He reached down and parted his robe.
Jenna could see that he was naked beneath. His semi flaccid member was as wide as her wrist. Jenny was trembling. Her breath was coming is short bursts. Her tears were streaming down her face and off her nipples. Jenna closed her eyes as the man reached down and grabbed the base. It was slowly expanding. With her eyes closed, Jenna could sense the heat of this huge phallus creeping closer as he wagged it slowly back and forth. Finally she felt it against her cheek. She turned her head sideways to avoid him as he held it in one hand and ran it back and forth against her face. He held it still and pointed it at her. Jenna turned her head slowly, using her cheek to get accustomed to the size, length, heat and throbbing monster.
He held it in his right hand like a flashlight and used the end to force her mouth open. She knew what he wanted. She turned to face him and relaxed her lips. He wagged it back and forth within her lips against her clenched teeth. He pulled the crown to one side; hard; forcing her to relax the muscles in her jaw. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth enough to accept him; or so she thought. As she opened her mouth, it continued to swell in girth and length. She knew she would gag if it went any further. She turned her head to keep it from going down her throat. She groaned at the penetration and anguish of her humiliation. His hands wrapped in her hair. He started to slowly move pack and forth. As he moved back and forth in an out of her, Jenna slowly moved her head from side to side.
Finally, the man pulled out. He tilted her head back. "Open your mouth ... Wider ... Stick out your tongue ... wider..." he whispered.
Jenna had her head back, her mouth open as far as she could and her tongue as flat and far out as she could get it. Then it came. The steaming white ectoplasm shot all over her. The first blast went across her mouth and into her nose. The next went into her eyes. The smaller ones went into her mouth. Jenna struggled to hold her position. She was not able to breathe. When the blasts subsided, he reached out and shoved her mouth back over his slowly deflating member. It filled her mouth, but did not go down the back of her throat. With her head now straight up, she managed to breath. They held their positions for some time.
Once the druid had gained his composure, he tightened his belt to cover himself. They stood Jenna up. Semen was dripping off of Jenna's face, down her cheeks and onto her breasts. The man in front of her reached up and started smearing the semen evenly across her face, down her neck and over her breasts. She was humiliated to have this fluid coating her, and announcing to the world what she had just done.
They guided her over to a large stone slab and laid her down on it. Jenna's bindings kept her from laying down flat. Her bound arms kept her back arched up in the air, pointing her long pink nipples skyward. Her head was thrust back due to the distance down to the stone. She felt hands spread her legs as they forced her knees up in the air. Her high heels were wedged against the edges of the slab, forcing her open like an OB chair.
She was not able to see the syringe. He was adept enough that she never felt the Novocain injection into her labia. She never felt them shave her. She never felt them pierce her. They placed piercings into each side of the back of her labia and placed two very small silver padlocks in her. In effect they were a chastity belt. They blocked the path for normal intercourse. Whoever was in charge could unlock the padlocks for access. A thin silver leash was connected to the padlocks. At the bottom of the chain was attached a small silver bell. It was the kind that Motorcycle riders attach to the bottom of their motorcycles for good luck.
When Jenna was put back on her feet, she realized what they had done. She was humiliated at her situation. She stood there in her high heeled boots, with her shaved alabaster white labia shining in the candlelight. Her only u-tanned skin was the focus of attention as it contrasted with her beautiful copper tan. Her face and breasts glimmered with the semen and perspiration beaded and smeared over her.
What was going to happen to her next?