Chapter 1

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Coercion, Heterosexual, Humiliation, Black Male, White Female, Oral Sex, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, Size, .

Desc: Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Jenny accepts an exciting new job in Venice as a curator in a famous museum, but stumbles across a cult that is not known to exist. She is caught and pays a price for this discovery in order to save her family

Jenny Marie Jenkins was ecstatic. Her frustrating career was hopefully over. She had worked quite a few years as the assistant curator for the Kansas City Museum of Art. They had just finished a monstrous addition that was the rage in all the national architectural magazines. Now they had room to display many of the exhibits she had been working on for years.

Her new job was technically announced as a sabbatical. She was leaving for Venice to be the new Curator for one of the worlds' most prominent art museums in the world. It was a sister museum to the one in New York City. For years, she had done research on the life of Marco Polo. Now she would be able to live and work in the unbelievable city where he lived until he was fourteen years old.

She had six months for a sabbatical to study and research whatever she wanted. If she didn't like the job or it didn't work out, she still had her old job to return to.

She had heard about the book:" The Travels of Marco Polo," a 13th-century travelogue written down by Rustichello Da Pisa, describing his travels through China between 1271 and 1291.

It was a very famous and popular book, even in the 14th century. The text claims that Marco Polo became an important figure at the court of the Mongol leader Kublai Khan, The book was written in French by Rustichello da Pisa, who was working from accounts which he had heard from Marco Polo when they were imprisoned in Genoa having been captured while on a ship.

Jenny had seen copies of the book and knew that two had actually been written. Rustichello had kept one, and given one to Marco Polo when he was freed. Polo took his back to Venice, where it influenced many to make world shaping events, including Christopher Columbus, who used the information as a basis for his premise that the world is round.

Jenny believed that the original was still somewhere in Venice. Her daughter Stephanie was staying on the mainland. Venice was no longer a true island. The government had built a spit to connect the mainland to the island, so busses could take more tourists out to the island and make more money. Stephanie knew English, Italian and Spanish and had been able to stay with her grandparents nearby, and work part-time at the Youth Hostel on Venice.

Her husband, Joe was not very excited to be going. He was quite a bit older than Jenny, so they had a number of differences when it came to friends, activities and even sex. They did not get along fantastically. It was O.K. but not spectacular. Jenny had met him after she had divorced her first husband, Sam. She and Sam had been high school and college lovers. They had married and were happy until she found out he had been cheating on her.

Life had been a struggle until she met Joe. She had been under the illusion that Joe was a stockbroker. It seemed to make sense; he was always on the phone doing business. She didn't know that he was a bookie that placed bets on sports games. He made a spectacular living. Jenny had no idea how spectacular. She had not been spectacularly in love with him; she just felt she would eventually grow to love him. It was hard to ignore his financial success. It was the best thing for her and her daughter, she tried to justify in her mind.

Joe had no objection to his wife's job; it kept her out of the way. The trip to Venice would be a technical struggle; but with all the computers and cell phones, he figured he could handle it for a few months.

Joe had been adopted by his parents who were from Italy. After they had made their fortune, they decided to retire back in Italy, where they had grown up. This set of coincidences seemed to be fortuitous for everybody. Stephanie had an exciting new job in an exciting city. Jenny's new job would unexpectedly get them all together.

From Dulles Airport, it would be a good eight hours flying non-stop to Venice. Jenny could hardly sleep, but finally woke up when the plane hit the runway. Stephanie and her grandparents were there to meet them and took them straight to the Hostel. It was getting late, so they went to a pizza restaurant nearby.

The restaurant was small; probably about six tables. Everybody seemed to be talking all at once. Stephanie could hardly wait to tell about her job and all the kids she had met from France, Israel, Spain and South Africa. She was going to take her parents to Murano and Burano to see all the glass-blowing and lace work; the pastel houses and gondolas. Summer was going to be great.

The next day, they took a bus from the mainland to the Island of Venice. They bought maps; took pictures of all the scenic spots along the Grand Canal. When they got to San Marcos Plaza, Jenny realized her cell phone didn't work. A shopkeeper explained the European phones used a different chip. He explained that there was a small camera shop near the first boarding stop on the Grand Canal. She would have to wait a while for the next vaporetto, which was their word for the water bus, a large boat.

Jenny waited for quite some time before finding another water bus going all the way back. Once back, she was able to find the camera shop and get the right chip for her phone. Jenny got impatient waiting for the next water bus.

The shopkeeper soon recognized her situation and asked her if she was waiting for another water buss. She said she was. "Was she trying to get to Saint Marks Plaza?"

"Yes I am," she said nervously.

"Did you know that you can just go down these back streets to get there?" He gave her a small printed map and made some awkward scribbles with a yellow felt tip pen. He tore it loose from a big pad of printed maps. "Dumb assed tourists!" he said as he smiled and waved to her.

Half frightened out of her mind, Jenny started out tentatively trying to follow the map. The "streets" weren't really streets. There are no streets as Americans understand. The passageways are narrow strips of waterway, barely wide enough for two gondolas to pass. On each side of the waterway are narrow sidewalks. The sidewalks have steps up at the intersections so the gondolas can go under them.

The buildings are probably probably thirty to forty feet apart and rise three, four or more stories up on each side. The sun seems to bounce and reflect all the way down to the water surface. The pastel faces of the stone structures send mirrored sparkling reflections on to the blue green mirrors around the gondolas and their singing guides.

Gradually, Jenny began to enjoy her walk along the obscure pathways, smiling at the people sitting in the open-aired restaurants. The aroma of freshly boiled lobsters or shrimp made her hungry. She could hardly wait to get her husband and daughter and bring them back to the newly discovered restaurants.

Somehow, the map didn't seem to match the streets she was on. It was getting late. Jenny started to get concerned. She tried to double back. Nothing seemed to work. Soon she could see the restaurants closing. People were leaving. She could not seem to find the boarding points for the water buss. Once she got back to Saint Marks Plaza, it was vacant. Everybody had gone. The shops were closed. The vendors were getting on the last water busses. What should she do?

She tried to call her husband and then Stephanie. She got some recording and realized they had not changed out their chips. Jenny tried to back track. The lights were starting to go out. Deep down, Jenny knew; Venice is only a tourist spot. Nobody lives here. After dark they all go home.

Frantically she tried to follow the maps back to the start of the Grand Canal. Surely, there would still be one more water buss.

Jenny was frantic. She was starting to hurry. She tripped and stumbled. She hit the whitewashed cornerstone of a building. It chipped. Under the flake; 236 Fra Mauro "Holy Shit! Can this be real? This was the address in Rustichello's book; The Adventures of Marco Polo." Where he had lived and raised his children and died after he returned from China.

Jenny got up. Once she dusted herself off, she noticed some light coming through the window. The Glass had been covered with a dark tinting material. Behind that there were wood shutters both inside and out. "What was the big secret?"

Jenny walked back and for the along the sidewalk. She tested the doors; locked. She knocked. "Hello, ... hello ... Is anybody in there?" she shouted meekly.

Jenny walked over to a space between the buildings. Most of them were connected. This building had about sixteen inches between the buildings on each side. She was able to turn sideways and slide between them. She was getting dusty. Spider webs would have ordinarily gagged her, but she was oblivious to everything now. She saw a crack of light up about eight feet. There seemed to be an access panel of some kind that had been bordered up.

Jenny took off her high heeled boots. Because the buildings were so close together, she was able to lean her back against one building and brace her feet against the other and inch her way up. When she got to the light, she wiggled the plywood cover until it came loose. It was about sixteen inches square.

Jenny was paralyzed with fear as she wiggled in. She stuck her head in and wiggled in until she was upside down. She was thankful that nobody could see her. Her short summer dress was all over the place. She was covered with soot and spider webs. Her long reddish brown hair was a complete mess.

Jenny was able to pivot herself around until she was hanging by her hands. She could not see the floor. She let go, hoping for the best. She must have hit the edge of a table with one foot. Her uneven landing pivoted her body so she hit the floor with a loud crash.

When she gathered her senses, she could see about three huge figures with hoods silhouetted by the lights in the adjoining room. Her dress was up above her waist. Her nude/transparent fabric panties did little for her modesty. Jenny was more frightened than embarrassed at this point.

She curled up, straightened her skirt back over herself and rose gingerly. Nothing was broke. The men split up and approached her; one straight on; the other two on each side. They grabbed her by each arm and led her into the light of the next room.

Jenny struggled to adjust to the light. When she could see, it looked like a Klu Klux Klan meeting. The figures were huge hooded demons. They were barefoot. They had wide brown leather belts around their waist. The grey gunny sack style hooded robes covered them from head to foot.

Then she saw it: CAMBALALAUK. She knew what it was. There was a theory among many historians that Marco Polo took much more than the stories of spaghetti, pizza, chopsticks and the modern day compass to Italy from China. There was an unproven secret that he had taken much more that had not been published in Rustichello's book. There was speculation that there was another book.

The circle parted. The men brought her to the center of the circle and then stepped back. They went to their spots within the circle and sat down. A huge man had been sitting on a heavy carved oak chair with ornate carvings. He stood at the top of several steps leading up to his chair.

He threw his head back and the hood fell behind him. Giovanni Contadino! She recognized him. There had been speculation within the Archaeologist circles that he was the head of the secret society: CAMBALAUK.

Historians had argued this fact vehemently. How could a black man be in charge of this Chinese society; if there was indeed this secret society?

He extended his hand. She handed over her purse, but kept her boots. Giovanni looked in the large hand bag. He threw out her map. He threw out her apple. He picked up her wallet and threw the remaining contents on the ground. He fished through the wallet and threw out the money and travelers checks. He pulled out her master card, passport and drivers license.

"Jenny Marie Jenkins. Are you from Kansas City? Are you from the Art Gallery? Are you the one who published the articles about the possible existence of Cambalauk?."

Jenny's head dropped. How could she deny his questions?

"That's me, but I am here strictly on vacation. I had no idea you were here. I stumbled on this place by accident. I promise you that's true."

"It's kind of hard to climb up the side of a building in a dress; pry off a duct cover and climb through a vent by accident. I think you are here to spy on us and write an article to expose us. Right now, people are not sure we exist. I don't quite see how we can let you go; do you?"

"Please don't hurt me. I am here on sabbatical to the big art museum on the Grand Canal. You can check the articles on the computer. This was not planned. It was an accident."

"Well, now, Mrs. Jenkins, I think you are going to have to do some convincing. You are going to have to pay for your intrusion. What would be the sentence in your country? I think you are here to verify whether or not there was a third manuscript by Rustichello Da Pisa. Is that right Mrs. Jenkins? I know you've written several papers on the issue."

Jenny looked at him imploringly. "That isn't true. I write those stories and an intellectual exercise. If somebody had said they were true, I would have made the argument they do not exist."

"Yes, but you're here, and we have you. We have the opportunity to stop the stories."

Jenny was petrified. She had no answer. Her head bowed. She put her hands over her mouth, not knowing quite what to expect. Would they kill her to keep her silent?

The last thing in Giovanni's hands was boarding passes and hotel receipts for her and her daughter. It gave their names and room numbers where they were staying. He didn't say anything about them, but she clearly knew he had them. They made silent eye contact. There was an unspoken threat that was loud and clear to her. She was in control of the welfare of her husband and daughter. The cult could go get them if they wanted.

"I'm curious whether you are as attractive as some of your pictures. Right now, you look like a pig." Giovanni pulled a comb and brush out of her bag and tossed them to her. They fell at her feet. Jenny bent over to pick them up; one in each hand. She could see the progression of threats that would be coming if she did not cooperate. She knew she had to do whatever it took to keep her daughter and husband out of this.

Silently, she pulled the rubber band out of her long reddish brown hair. She leaned forward and began combing the braids and cobwebs out of her hair. Trying to procrastinate whatever he had in mind, Jenny tried to re-braid her hair into a fishtail pattern down the right side of her face. It was a very loosely braided French braid along her right side rather than down her back.

When she was done, she stood there with the comb and brush in each hand.

"The dress is beautiful, but it's dirty. Take it off."

Jenny wanted to gag. What were her alternatives?

Jenny reached for the hem of her short summer dress. It rose up to meet her fingers as she forced the first button through the eyelet. Her copper toned legs came into view as she raised the dress. She tried to keep the sides together as she moved her hands up to the next button. The room was silent. The men were mesmerized by her beauty. One by one, the buttons and the eyelets parted until her sheer nude panties came into view. Jenny tried hard to keep the sides together as her fingers moved above her waist.

When the last button at her low neckline was free, she clung to the sides desperately. She looked up at Giovanni, hoping for some empathy. There was none. Jenny was devastated as she slid the sides over her shoulder. She pulled the garment around in front of her and held on.

The only sound other than the flickering candles was: "Drop it!"

The light summer dress fluttered to the ground around her feet. She did have a bra and panties; technically. Jenny self-consciously crossed her hands across her front; her left hand grabbed the fishtail braid and used it to support her arm across her breasts to hide her long-stemmed pink nipples. Her right hand lowered to cover what little pubic hair she had. The stretch fabric did nothing but form a psychological of modesty between her and her tormenters eyes. Yes her private parts were covered; but not obscured.

"Next." The words from her tormenter seemed to flutter the room full of candles; at least they all shuddered when he spoke.

Jenny reached up behind her; arched her back and self-consciously freed the clasp. Her hands sprang back in front of her to grab the fabric before it could come away from her. It was useless of course. The alabaster white breasts were clear through the fabric. She was not quick enough to keep her long pink nipples from peeking out of the top of the fabric. They were twice to three times as long as anything the men had ever seen.

Giovanni didn't say anything. His glare seemed to bore through her closed eyes. Jenny was filled with embarrassment as she pulled her arms away and let the transparent fabric flutter to the floor.

She was too devastated to cover up. She could feel the stares from her tormenter in front of her. She seemed paralyzed by his presence.

She didn't need to look up. She knew he had the room numbers where her husband and daughter probably were. Her arms could hardly pull their own weight as she raised them to hook her thumbs between her waist and the waistband of her panties. It didn't take much for the panties to slide down and catch at her knees. Jenny crossed her arms over her breasts as she raised first one knee and then the other to let them fall the rest of the way.

Naked. She was naked. Everything was showing. She could feel the breeze from the overhead fans as it rushed across her most private and intimate secrets. She felt waves of goose bumps wash across her body; goose bumps of embarrassment; goose bumps of despair; of humiliation.

Giovanni raised his arm. A couple of men came over with a dishpan of water, and towels. She felt one man run a wet face cloth down her back. He made her raise her arms out level with her shoulders. He washed her sides; then her front. She felt pressure on her head; forcing her down. She put her hands on her thighs and leaned forward. He put his foot between hers and forced her legs apart. She felt the washcloth go over her again. Now it went down past her waist; between her thighs. It went between her legs. Jenny felt more than water on a cloth. She was covered in humiliation as the cloth paused between her legs. This man was not trying to clean her anymore. The hand moved slowly, exploring everything.

A hand appeared under her arms; straitening her to a vertical position. Her arms were repositioned to be extended straight out in line with her shoulders. She was aware of another smell. Somebody had brought out a small vase of fragranced oil. Now there was no washcloth. He put the vial in her hand. He cupped his hands together and let her pour a small quantity into them.

The man came up behind her and rubbed both oiled hands along each side of her neck; massaging her. He tapped her hand; signaling her to refill him. He brought the oil up and massaged her face. The process was repeated; this time the hands behind her cupped her breasts. Jenny groaned as he cupped and massaged her breasts. She was having a hard time holding her pose with her arms extended. She was going to gag. She was humiliated.

The hands moved to her back; massaging her back and ribcage. He bent her back over; like before. His hands went between her legs; finally coming to a stop as they covered her vulva. Now she felt one finger mysteriously prying, searching, like a blind animal until it found the opening. Jenny groaned in despair as the finger entered; one digit at a time. Now the beginning of two fingers. Aaarrrrg! She couldn't take it.

She bit her lip. She had to take it. She needed to keep them here and distracted from her husband and daughter ... Stephanie ... She had to keep them away from her daughter. She had to do whatever it took.

Jenny grunted in despair as the three fingers found their way in. She had to spread her legs farther to accommodate them.

Finally they straightened her up again. They pushed the fishtail braid back over her head. Giovanni handed her the boots. She bent down on one knee to put them on. She zipped them and stood, fearing what would be next.

Jenny stood there with everybody starring. She was worse than naked. With the boots, it appeared as though these were her clothes of choice. Her tummy was forced out a little by the posture dictated by her high heeled boots. Her alabaster white breasts and vagina were accented by her beautifully tanned and slightly freckled skin around them. Her long stemmed pink nipples looked like a boutonniere on a Pierre Cardin suit.

Her long slim and tanned legs seemed to go from the ground to her arm pits. Her long hours of jogging and kept any sign of age or fat from her body. Except for the faint tears that cut their way down her face and dripped onto her breasts, she looked like a magazine cover.

Giovanni turned and went to his throne. He sat down. He gave Jenny that stare. Nothing was said. She knew. With her knees shaking so bad she could hardly walk, she started over. It was only about three steps, but it seemed like a mile. Jenny's long-stemmed pink nipples bobbed up and down like manometers to echo the clip-clop of her high heeled shoes over the honed limestone pavers.

She could hardly lift her legs and place one foot in front of the other. It was so different. She had done it once in high school. She had done it once with her husband, Joe, before they were married. Women will do some things to get married. It's a different story after that. She did it in high school because the young man was so popular and she had a curious desperation to keep her first boyfriend. She had been fourteen and he was eighteen.

It was so different now. Before there was a certain amount of affection involved. It was different now. Now she was trying to protect her husband and daughter. She was worried about whether she would even get out of this situation. She had to do whatever it took to get out of this.

Jenny walked up to him. He parted his legs to give her room. Jenny fought his unspoken mental command to kneel. She stood there with their eyes locked. She was trying to see if there were any kinks in his resolve. There was none. Jenny dropped to her knees. Her knees were on the ground. Her butt was on the ground between her ankles, splayed out beside her. Her vulva parted from the painful and embarrassing posture. Giovanni could see the pink inner tissue.

Jenny's head seemed to bow in defeat; knowing what she was about to do. She was about to give this huge powerful stranger the loving sanctity of her mouth. This was her most cherished sign of affection that she could bestow on anybody. Now it was going to be performed in the most humiliating and grueling of circumstances; in front of so many strangers.

Jenny looked up to meet his eyes. He held her stare for some time then gazed down at his belt buckle. The belt buckle didn't really do anything. He had no clothes underneath. She could see the monster starting to wake. It looked like a four foot black snake in somebody's back pack trying to escape.

Giovanni reached out and grabbed her hands; like lovers. He caressed them. He brought them up to the buttons along the front of his garment. He unbuckled his own belt.

Jenny's head bowed; trying to mentally obliterate what she was about to do. She grabbed the hem and worked her way up the robe to the first button and slipped it through the eyelet. She could hardly move her hands. She forced her hands. She forced her mind to unbutton the robe upwards. For each button she undid at the bottom, the vile evil tormenter unbuttoned one at the top; working down.

They did not meet at the middle. Giovanni was much more comfortable and quicker unbuttoning more of the top than she had from the bottom. He quit once he had exposed his pubic hair at the top. Jenny could see the thing moving. When she opened the last button, it sprang free and almost hit her in the face.

Jenny had already turned her head to her right and had her gaze averted. She could feel the heat. She could see the shadow of this animal. She could smell the closeness of him; an inch or so from her face.

Jenny took her right arm and rested her elbow on his thigh. She put her forehead in the crook of her elbow. She reached up with her left hand. She didn't need to look. She didn't need to see.

Tentatively she extended her left hand and found the base. Timidly she wrapped her index finger and thumb around it. At least she tried to. It wouldn't fit. Good fucking God; how big was it? She pulled. She pulled the circle she had formed up the shaft, trying to gauge the length and girth without looking. She hit the edge of the crown. It throbbed and jumped. She could feel it growing in spurts with every movement of her hand. If she squeezed, it grew even more.

Finally she was able to squeeze and stroke the length of it without it growing any more. She peeked over her forearm to see what she had. "This is going to hurt. This is going to kill me." She thought. "There is no way it is going to fit in my mouth."

She looked up into Giovanni's eyes, hoping he would reconsider. Maybe if she was a bigger woman? Jenny thought she was going to gag, just at the thought. She looked at him, pleading with her eyes. Her lower lip quivered with terror.

Jenny had a way of getting whatever she wanted from men. She had a very tender side and could be amazingly erotic when she chose. In the tenderest voice she could bring out of her, with her eyes watering, she squeezed the base with one hand, leaned down and tenderly kissed him on the tip.

"Won't you please have some consideration? Will you please have some compassion for me? I want to leave. I will never tell anybody what I have seen or know." She squeezed him softly. This was probably a reflex borne out of her soft and tender nature, but it was the wrong thing to do to a man while trying to convince him you do not want to give him a blowjob. Whatever evilness he had, who can sit in front of a phenomenally beautiful naked man squeezing your penis after you have kissed it and be able to walk away?

Giovanni glared at her. He said nothing. His glare was intense. He seemed to be able to send messages by mental telepathy. It wasn't that complex. It isn't hard for most women to read that look from any man; but from this man in this situation, it was pretty basic. They were in a "fuck-or-walk situation. She was in a closed building in the middle of nowhere with her life and the welfare of her husband and daughter in jeopardy. It wasn't that hard to get mental telepathy readings from this glare.

He reached out with both hands. He used the back of one hand to brush back a few wisps of lose hair from her face. He put one hand on each side of her face. He held her face in his hands. Nothing was said. It projected a tender gesture that belied his savage glare. Jenny knew that she was not going to get out of this with her dignity.

Giovanni took her hands off of him. He placed them down and behind her in a position as though she had been bound or handcuffed. Jenny held the pose with her hands behind her.

He took his hands and brushed her cheeks; affectionately; lovingly; and guided her lips toward him. When she felt her lips meet the end of his penis, she turned her face. She leaned forward to brace her face against his crotch. She needed more time to accept what she was about to do. She leaned against him for a few seconds.

With her hands still behind her, she leaned back one more time to make eye contact. "Are you sure this is what you want me to do? Do I still have no alternative? Am I and my family going to escape un-scathed if I cooperate?" These were the thoughts she was trying to pass to him through their eye contact. She had no options, and she knew it. All she could do was hope for the best. She was going to have to suck him as best she could and count on his mercy.

Jenny couldn't really see it because the tears had clouded her vision. She had her hands behind her. She fought to maintain the pose demanded of her. This huge monster in front of her didn't particularly hold still. It throbbed. It wagged slowly from side to side. Each heartbeat made it bump. She could sense the energy and excitement flowing through it like somebody close to a live barbed-wire-fence. She could feel the throb without touching.

Jenny leaned forward. It hit the side of her cheek. She turned her head slowly back and forth to caress it with her cheek. She used her cheek and forehead to straighten it up and pin it against his belly. She stuck her tongue out and flattened it. She caressed the bottom of his shaft with it. She could feel it jump.

She turned her head. She opened her mouth to caress the bottom portion of his shaft with her mouth. She grabbed the looser, more sensitive skin from the bottom of his shaft with her teeth. She pulled back with the skin in her teeth. He groaned. His hands came up to caress the sides of her face. His legs went out beside her. This evil monster that had shown no emotion to this cult of followers was exposed. He truly did have feelings. He could not control them. His head rolled back and thrashed from side to side. He was not in real pain. Oh, it hurt, but it hurt in a painful but erotic way. It was a pain he was not willing to end. His hand went to her forehead and brushed and massaged it affectionately.

Jenny had not done any of this before. She was a real novice; she had done it twice in her life under thinly veiled situations of coercion. All she felt was humiliation. All she felt was degradation as she pictured herself in front of this giant of a man with his dick in her mouth. She knew this would not be the end of it. The worst was still to come. She knew she would be feeling the hot sticky fluid somehow.

She knew the biological sequence; that once erect this fluid would come shortly. She had never had it in her mouth before. Was that going to happen? What was she supposed to do? Was she supposed to hold still? Was she supposed to spit it out? The thoughts did not really register. All she felt was the humiliation of being naked in front of all these strangers with a cock the size of a boa constrictor trying to crawl down her throat.

Jenny straightened up and squared herself to the animal. It seemed to have be able to see through the mouth at the end of it; searching for her lips; panting and drooling with erotic expectation. Jenny turned her head to follow it. She cupped her lips and got it over the tip. She kissed it again; softly, trying to comfort the creature so it would quit moving. It was home now. She would take care of it.

She opened her mouth a little more and moved forward until her lips were covering the ridge at the back of the crown. Giovanni had his head back. He straightened up to watch the scene in front of him. He had to see it. He had to see her mouth open up and accept him. With her mouth covering the end and her tongue flittering along the bottom of it, trying to get out of the way, they both held their poses.

Jenny wasn't sure what to do. Giovanni didn't care. He was in the throes of ecstasy. It was just beginning. Her mouth was warm, moist, tender and exciting. Nothing else in the world mattered. He would give up anything in the world to remain this way the rest of his life.

Jenny felt the pressure on her face change. The hands that had been caressing her cheeks had moved to the back of her head. A wave of deeper embarrassment and fear washed over her. "No!" her mind screamed. He was going to ram it down her throat.

Jenny fought the urge to gag as it moved forward. Her cheeks stretched to the point of tearing. Her neck muscles bulged as she wagged her head slowly from side to side like a bass coming out of the water trying to throw a hook. She was turning to keep the slowly invading monster from finding a straight passage down her throat.

Jenny pulled back. Her mouth "popped" when the monster came free. She looked up at him as she brought one hand around to break the strands of semen and spittle connecting them.

"Please ... p ... p ... p ... please give m ... m ... me a chance to catch my breath. I can do this. I will do this. Please give me some time. Jenny laid her head against his thigh as her lungs heaved. Giovanni stroked her face. Again, he brushed some strands of hair out of her face. Jenny shook her head a little and stuck out her tongue. She reached up to take a pubic hair out of her mouth. The thought of it made her gag.

When her breathing returned to normal, her humiliation of what she had done returned. She tried not to think about her nudity. She tried not to think of where her mouth had been. She tried to blot out the approaching fears of what would happen next.

She put both hands behind her and clasped them together like a soldier in the "at-ease" position. She blinked to gage where it was. She closed her eyes to blot out the image of this panting mamba. Jenny leaned forward and stuck out her tongue; in a sense, inadvertently mirroring the image in front of her of the panting cock. The two panting, flickering objects met, with Jenny's mouth being slightly larger and engulfed the other.

"How was this to end?" Jenny chocked as it slithered towards the back of her throat. She pulled back but not clear out. Slowly the pressure on the back of her head and neck reached a compromising rhythm. She accepted him until she felt she would gag. When her neck muscles tightened and she pulled back, Giovanni relaxed his grip. The movements back and forth were almost imperceptible.

The men in the circle could see the edges of her cheeks slide away or curl back inward as a sign of movement. Jenny was wavering in her pose. She fought to keep her hands behind her. She needed them for support. Right now the weight of her body and head were pivoting on the cock in her mouth.

Her arms wavered, then her grip came apart. Her hands and arms slowly moved until her hands and fingers were open and her arms were extended sideways, out level with her shoulders. With no reprisals from Giovanni, she slowly brought her hands up to his thighs. She rested her elbows against his thighs to take the stress off of her neck as he pushed in again.

Jenny managed to get her left elbow close enough that she could get her left hand around his shaft; just the forefinger and thumb, but it seemed to take tremendous pressure off of her neck and throat. It also made it easier to keep her teeth off of him without straining her lips.

Her pain of holding the previous position had pretty much over-ridden any thoughts of embarrassment. Now she was not as physically stressed, she was more aware of the humiliating position she was in.

Finally she felt it. She recognized it. She knew what was coming.

If you are shot with a gun, you are dead instantly. If somebody skins you alive, you are tortured beyond imagination.

Jenny felt the sensation washing over Giovanni. She could feel the twitching, the body tightening and feel the groan starting in his abdomen and rising out of his throat. The first eruption went down her throat. She gagged. She pulled back as he grabbed the back of her head.

She got her mouth off of the end as the second burst hit her in the face. It went into her hair. It went into her eyes. It went up her nose.

"Open your mouth. Wider. Stick out your tongue. Wider." Jenny did as ordered.

She leaned back with her knees on the ground, ass between her ankles and hands behind her on the ground. Her head was tilted back. Her mouth opened. She stuck her tongue out and flattened it as far as she could. She was still only inches away from the tip as it continued to splatter the vile ectoplasm all over her face and into her mouth. It dripped off of her chin down onto her long-stemmed pink nipples.

Giovanni groaned and thrashed until his spasms subsided. When the gushing subsided, Jenny turned her head sideways and wiped her face with her hand. Somebody handed her her dress. She used the clean inside portion to clean herself off.

I will continue this story if the readers are interested.

Do they want to see her escape?

Do they want to see her become part of the cult; the designated cocksucker?

Do they want to see her husband and daughter coerced into participating to save the mother/

Do they want to see Jenny escape and write an expose' on the cult?

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