Helping Hubby Out

by neff trebor

Copyright© 2019 by neff trebor

Fiction Sex Story: A 40-year-old wife, Jennifer is coerced to bail her husband out of jail. Cornered, she has no choice? Used by a jilted former acquaintance.

Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Coercion   NonConsensual   Reluctant   Heterosexual   Fiction   Cuckold   Wife Watching   Wimp Husband   MaleDom   Humiliation   Group Sex   Black Male   White Female   Cream Pie   Oral Sex   Nudism   .

The basis of this story was taken from Shani 34 on I emailed her to compliment her on the story but listed some of the things I didn’t care for and some suggestions for a revised re-submission. I never ever heard back from her one way or another. The better part of a couple of years has passed. I also have been busy with summer activities. A tree fell on our house. I’ve been in the hospital. Ventura Fires, etc.

I am attempting to use the general idea of her story to create a “Part Two,” or an alternative story. As I lay in bed composing my outline, the story is eloquent and incredible. Now, in front of the computer, not so much.

Jenny tried to adjust the mirror as she pulled out of the police parking lot. She tried to carry on a conversation as

though nothing had happened. She was trying to avoid any more conflict than necessary. “I took Dakota over to her friends. They want to study together and go swimming at the lake this weekend. I thought it might be good for all of us.” Jenny tried to say as though this conversation was just another hum-drum, run of the mill conversation they had every day. In fact the air was filled with tension. Her husband, Joe, nodded quietly. He was fuming himself.

Jenn had just been into the police station to bail him out. The sheriff, Luke Santana, had arrested Joe, towed his car and put him in jail. This had been an ongoing issue for years. Luke had been on their case for years. Joe and Jennifer had tried to avoid the issue as much as possible.

When Jennifer had moved on from junior college to the local college, Luke was a big time football player there. Jennifer needed extra money in order to get through. The name, Luke, or Luc, was short for Lucifer. The association or relation with the name of the devil, made friends shorten it to Luc; or Luke. She had signed on as a tutor. Her athletic scholarship as a diver only paid for books, tuition, room and board, but there was no spending money for other things. She and her dad had managed to scrape up enough money for a car, but it was not very new. You could see through the pickup bed because of all the rust. Her dad figured she needed a four-wheel-drive car to transport all her stuff to and from school; get through the rough winters, and that over rode the decision to have a rust free garage queen.

Jennifer spent a lot of time with Luke. He was a huge black guy that rippled with muscle. Most girls would give anything to be seen with him. That presented a problem for Jennifer. She had to do something to discourage the idea that they were a couple. Joe had a degree in art history and a minor in accounting. About once a month, Jenny’s father and his accountant, Joe, would come up to spend the weekend and watch a game.

Jenny made it a point to be seen often with Joe, so the others would get the idea she was actually dating somebody. Although Joe was almost 10 years older, he was actually pretty interested in Jennifer. Jenn was just using him for appearances. Her studies, athletics and tutoring took most of her time.

Once Luc graduated, he went into the NFL and had a pretty good run before knee problems and concussions convinced him to quit. After the NFL, Luc was interested in politics. He felt he could make more money that way, rather than being tied down to a BBQ restaurant 12 hours a day and 7 days a week. With more contacts through politics, he could get favorable contracts for some of his other businesses. The position of County Sheriff was only a temporary one in the important path through County Commissioner and possibly a State Representative.

The conflict came when Luc continued to show interest in Jennifer. She was pretty much the only woman he was acquainted with who did not fall all over him. It became a contest in obsession for him. He often tried to give her tickets to his games; mostly the out of state ones where she would be in a hotel room by herself.

Jenny had had enough close and uncomfortable encounters with Luc during their study sessions. She had no option but to meet him at the library, meet him in his room and other isolated places for study dates. He had made it plain that he was interested in her. There were weak moments on her part from time to time where she did not vociferously discourage him. Luc had a tendency to take anything other than a direct “No,” or a hammer across the forehead as a possible “yes.” Sometimes she was a little curious, but never let it go very far. More so after he had declared for the draft and knew where he was going to play next. It was tempting; to be offered free trips to L.A., San Diego, Boston and New York. The Pro Bowl in Hawaii was almost too much to turn down. In the end, however, she knew she would have to fuck him for the 7 days with him on Maui.

After Luc left, Jennifer seemed a little bit out of direction. Her dad and Joe kept coming to the games and swimming meets. He had proposed many times. Eventually, she had told herself: “I can probably grow to love him.” He seemed safe. He seemed to be a safe choice. By then, she had used up her four years and did not have a lot of options.

After they married, this seemed to make Luc even more determined to get her away. He called her, harassed her and tried to coerce her into spending time with him. Lately it had gotten progressively worse.

This latest issue was the culmination of events. He had sent her an ultimatum; “Meet me or you’ll be sorry” he texted her. Jenny took it as a bluff. Joe knew about it and also took it as an idle threat. Maybe it was just a warning shot across their bow? Maybe it still was just a form of harassment? Perhaps it might blow over, but it had cost them thousands of dollars to bail Joe out.

Once she and Joe had married, they saved their money and were able to open Joe’s dream job. He had started an art gallery in Midtown. On First Fridays, there were a gazillion millennials that stormed the area. All the galleries were full. Joe had local artists and famous European names that were selling like Colorado Weed. It was easy to see how Luc, being a sheriff or potentially County Commissioner, could ruin them if he wanted to.

Jennifer dropped her husband off at the house. She needed time to think. She didn’t want to get in an argument with her husband. Her grandfather and grandmother still had a small business in Midtown next to her husband’s gallery. Her Grandfather had come over from Italy as a young man and opened a watch repair business. Her mother had met her grandfather on the boat to New York. Her family had been making the feathered masks used in the Mardi Gras. They were all gone now, but her mother had built up a respectable business, sending masks to Venice, New Orleans and places like Brazil. Her grandfather had scraped up enough money to buy one of the warehouse/office buildings overlooking the cattle meat packing plants.

People used to drive or ship cattle from Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas and Nebraska to the Ohse, Wilson, Armor, Swift and Cudahy plants. The cattle brokers had a 7-story brick building on the bluffs overlooking the stockyards. Eventually her grandfather was able to purchase the warehouse, convert the upper floors to offices and rent them out. Eventually his wife moved her mask making business into the basement next to his watch repair business.

When they retired, her grandfather sold the building at a huge profit; with the condition that the watch repair and mask building spaces be permanently deeded to their family. One of the recent events was that Luc had purchased the rest of the building and was trying to evict Jenny and Joe. He was not successful.

He tried to turn off the electricity. They put in a separate meter. He tried to turn off the water. Again they put in a different line. Same with the sewer. He opened a bar and nice restaurant; thinking the noise or lack of parking would drive them out. He didn’t want to drive them out as much as he wanted to have Jennifer under his control.

She had to think. She drove to the Watch Shop. She turned on the lights, locked the door and pulled out the different bins of feathers. She looked at her latest sketches and tried to figure out what else needed to be dyed.

She heard a knock on the glass door. It wasn’t a small tap. It seemed like hammering on the glass with one of those long police flashlights. She peeked around the corner. She could see the red and blue lights from several squad cars blinking. Had they picked up Joe again? At first she was panicked about her husband. “Open the fucking door Mrs. Stephenson,” she heard through the glass. She had no options. She went to the door and opened it. She felt partly safe, because there were enough police there, that she didn’t feel Luc could do anything.

Luc came in with a flashlight glaring at her. Several others were behind him. When he saw she was by herself, he turned and told them to wait outside. “What is it you want now?” she said as she defensively crossed her arms in front of her. Luc sat down and turned off his light. He had a faint smile he was trying to hide.

“Well Mrs. Stephenson, you make some nice masks. I think they might come in handy. You know I can come out there to your house again in the morning. I think I have a case that your husband is selling bogus paintings. I think when I double check the sales receipts for the autographed Pablo Picasso I’m pretty sure it’s a fake.

The mayor is running for State Senate. I think you should be my guest to our fund raiser. I will take you to see his copy. Even if I’m wrong, I doubt you have the money to spring him on bail again. In fact, since he’s out on bond now, a second charge may automatically send him back no matter how much money you can raise. Your rent on the gallery is due. Your house payment is due. All of your insurance and health insurance payments are due. I think you are in trouble.” Luc tried not to smile. He didn’t want to upset her any more than she already was.

If she was scared, she might panic and not think straight. If she was angry, she might decide to tell him to go fuck himself. He didn’t want her uncooperative. He wanted her frightened.

Jennifer dropped to the floor. Her face was in her hands, between her knees. Her back heaved from her sobbing. It was too much to absorb. Too much to sort out.

“I give up. You’ve been after me for years. Don’t you understand I’m married now and...” She stopped. She didn’t want to bring up her daughter. Surely he knew; she just didn’t want to remind him.

“What ... what ... what d ... d ... do you want ... me to do to end all this?” she sobbed. Deep down she probably knew. Perhaps if he had to spell it out; maybe he had too much integrity to put it into words?

“Will Mrs. Stephenson; you are one of the most magnificent looking women I have ever known. You are no dummy. Just what do you think you have that I might be interested in? What do you think I might be willing to commit crimes for that involve you?” He stared at her. She wouldn’t look at him.

“I’m open to some creative suggestions. Do you have any?” he asked. He didn’t actually think she had any recording going on in her store. He didn’t think there were any video cameras, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Plus it was more humiliating for her to make her come up with the proposition.

Jennifer would not respond. Several minutes passed; an eternity. Jennifer was not going to say she knew she had to fuck him to make the problem go away. More silence.

“I’m having a meet and greet party for the mayor tomorrow night. I think this store of yours would be a nice place. All these old clocks on the shelves; all those masks on the wall would give this party a tremendous theme. The mayor, if elected to this position would be a tremendous influence on my next election. I’m beginning to like this idea already.

In the back of Jenny’s mind she had reluctantly accepted the concept that she might ultimately have to fuck this creature. Now she was puzzled. What was this about a party if he just wanted sex with her? She was either slow, naive, flat out confused.

“The party starts about 8:30. It will be dark by then. I want you here by noon. We have things to go over.”

Jenny didn’t say anything. Again, in her situation, the absence of a “no,” means “yes.” She just couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Stand the fuck up; young lady.” He almost whispered. Jenny was confused. Sitting on the floor with her butt between her splayed heels, she raised herself to a sitting position. Subconsciously she must have had some sense of what was going to happen, because she crossed her arms in front of her; shielding her breasts.

“I want to see your fucking twat.” It was almost a sneer. It was almost a whisper. Jenny’s head dropped like she had been hit with a hammer. Still it was just words. Nobody would actually make her do that would they?

“Strip; cunt.”

Jennifer was stunned. He was serious? She raised her head to look at him; searching his eyes for some insight to his real intentions. He had the look of a hungry servile. Jenny didn’t get up.

She looked down; stunned at the words and struggling with her thoughts. Still in a bit of a trance, she uncrossed her arms and reached for the top button of her blue oxford cloth dress shirt with the button down collar. Her fingers shuddered as she pushed the first button through the top eyelet. “He’ll make me stop before I do all of them.” She told herself. She reached for the second button, but hesitated, waiting for him to tell her to stop; that this was just a joke. Nobody stopped her. It was now open to the bottom of her cleavage.

Jenn was starting to realize it was real now. Her fingers would hardly work; they were shaking so badly. She reached up and took her wire rimmed glasses off; wiped the tears from her face; desperately trying to procrastinate. She put the glasses back on. Slowly she pushed the next button through the next eyelet.

“Stand the fuck up. I want to see this.” He said.

Jenn was trembling too bad to get all the way up. She pulled her ankles together. She set her butt on the back of her ankles. This was the last exposed button above her jeans. She could hardly see what she was doing as she opened it. She struggled about what to do next. Her mind was in a fog about knowing what to do. Slowly, she pulled on the shirt, tugging the tails out of her jeans. She unbuttoned the rest of the pearl clasps and crossed her arms in front of her, waiting for the next order.

Listen, young lady, if you are going to be worth a fuck tomorrow at this party; if you give a fuck about the future of your husband, you better show a little more life. Her shoulder sagged as she looked over at him trying to absorb what he was saying.

She grimaced as their eyes locked. Jenn pulled the rest of her shirt out of her jeans and arched her back as she slid the shirt over her shoulders. She slide the garment off her shoulders and brought it in front of her to hide her breasts. She had done it quickly but he had seen them before she hid them with her crumpled shirt. She was naked; or at least might as well have been. Her sheer, transparent Lycra bra did nothing to hide anything behind it. With the shirt in front of her and her arms around it Jenn bowed her head, almost to her knees to provide maximum concealment. Jenny chocked back a sob as she waited for the next command.

“I don’t expect to have to tell you everything. If I ask you to strip, you know what the fuck to do. Tomorrow I don’t expect to tell you everything. If I expect you to suck a dick, you better not expect me to tell you every fucking step. You are a forty year old woman who has probably sucked a mile of dicks; just not mine. You better show me and the others what the fuck you know.”

“Now, Mrs. Stephensen, what the fuck do you think I expect you to do next?”

The room was quiet. She couldn’t make herself respond. Instead, she slowly arched her back again, reaching for the clasp in the middle of her back.

“Mrs. Stephensen, I asked you what you think I expect you to do.”

“I ... I ... I ... you ... you ... you want me to strip.” She said it. It nearly killed her but there it was; out in the open. Words that made her tremble with humiliation.

Jenn kept one hand in front of her; feebly trying to hide her nearly naked breasts. The other hand went behind her to undo the clasp. It snapped open. With her one hand already in front of her, she was able to trap the useless garment and keep it from falling off of her.

“Get up and get over here. Give me the fucking bra.” He whispered. Jenny struggled to stand. She struggled to take the several steps separating them. She had both arms crossed in front of her; more in humiliation than from thinking she was actually hiding anything from him. Her long stemmed pink coral nipples had a mind of their own. Un-ashamed of their exposure, they peeked curiously out over her crossed forearms.

Jenn could not bear to look at him as she placed the sheer garment in his extended arm; palm up. When she extended her hand over his, he grabbed her and pulled her up close for inspection. His grip was like steel. His hands massive, calloused and rough. He let go of her. Like a deer in headlights, she did not have the power to pull away.

She looked up at him, trying to read his thoughts for her next step. She stood there, helplessly, as he extended the back of his hand and grazed the surface of her breasts. She jerked, like she had been hit by an electrical short. Her face flushed in humiliation. She knew better than to move. She shivered as he rubbed up against the red nipples slowly; until he thought he could feel them stiffen a little. Jenny felt it too; only it was her reaction of humiliation and fear that forced them to stiffen. He watched as her body shuddered with a wave of goosbumps fanning over her.

Their eyes locked as she felt him reach for the brass snap at the top of her jeans. It sounded like an explosion in the silent room when he undid it. However futile and ridiculous an effort it was, Jenn crossed her arms across her breasts in her only effort of modesty she could present.

With one hand on the top of her jeans, he grabbed the tab on the zipper. On one level it seemed like resistance. On the other it also looked like an intimate erotic gesture as she placed her hand over his. She didn’t really try to stop him; but her eyes had a pleading expression for mercy. Maybe she was trying to hide what he was about to see.

When the zipper hit the end of her fly, she now had one hand trying to cover her breasts. The other was trying to cover her pubic hair.

Luc reached around her with one hand on each of her hips. Slowly he tugged her snug jeans down until the sides of her fly slid far enough to expose her downy patch. Her panties were made of the same sheer fabric as her bra. Practically transparent. “Had she manicured it or was this real?” he wondered.

The center was thicker, browner and curly. From there, the thickness, and color graded to thinner less red to an almost blond or clear at the edges. He knelt slowly as their eyes met. She had never known a black man with eyes like his. Were they blue? How could they be blue? But no, they seemed to change color. He had the eyes of a hypnotist. She tried to make eye contact to send a silent message: “Please if you have any decency, please stop this.” He put his hands behind her and pressed his nose against it. He inhaled the sweet strange smell of her. Perhaps it was his imagination. To him it had the sweet smell of perfume.

Jenn’s abdominal muscles were rippled like the six-pack of an Olympic diver that she nearly was. Her muscles roiled at the invasion. He held her there for the longest time. She felt a slight push as he raised his head.

“Go home and tell your husband about tomorrow.

“Oh, that fur thing: I want to see what you look like without it. I think it’s going to be sweet. You can either do it yourself; tonight or we can do it at the party. I like that. We can all take turns with it. Whatever; you decide and let me know. I guess we’ll know when you get here, won’t we?” he said with a smile.

“Tell him to wear something nice. Tell him what you are expected to do. He needs to know what his fuck-up actions are doing to the both of you. I suspect he will be pissed. He needs to know he caused this. You get here at noon. I’m going to clean you up and dress you up for the big dance. Leave me the keys to this place. I will lock up tonight and make sure everything is ready for tomorrow night.”

Jenn might have been outraged that he was going to do something with her headdress shop. On the other hand she was so thankful at being able to get out without being fucked she didn’t question anything.

When she got home, she didn’t look up at her husband. She threw her keys on the stand and didn’t look up. She was still in defensive mode as she kept her arms crossed in front of her oxford cloth shirt. Joe didn’t need to be told that plenty had gone wrong. He had guessed she had had another run-in with the sheriff.

“What the fuck happened?” he whispered; searching her expression to see if he knew anyway. Jenn looked up at him for a second; searching to see if he already knew the answer. “The sheriff came by with his posse. He says he has evidence the Picasso you sold the mayor a couple of months ago is a forgery.” Jenny didn’t look at him. She didn’t want to know one way or the other. “He’s been on my ass since I started tutoring when I was twenty.”

“You know what he wants. I should have just fucked him before and after each tutoring session back then. It would have been over when he left school. Now we have money tied up in bonds; potential problems with our businesses. He may take an interest in Dakota. Who knows?”

She sat down at the dinner table and put her head in her hands; not wanting or able to evaluate their situation.

“He wants me over to the Watch Shop tomorrow at noon. He wants us to both go to a Meet and Greet for the mayor, or somebody tomorrow. I don’t know what the hell all that stuff is about between noon and when the event starts in the evening.”

“Why does he want me there?” Joe asked.

“Evidently he wants you punished to some extent for your stuff. I think it’s also to make me feel extra bad for not fucking him all those years ago. I don’t know what to do. I don’t see how to get out of this. He’s drawing up charges for you now on the forgery thing. Do ... do ... do you have any ideas?” Neither of them looked at each other.

“What are you going to do, Jenn?”

“What can I do? I ... we ... we have to go over to the shop tomorrow and cooperate; do ... do ... do what he says or he files charges. We ... we ... we can lose the businesses, our house, everything. Even if we beat the court charges it may cost a million to do it. I have to be there tomorrow.”

Jenn got up and headed for the shower. She must have thought a good long shower would erase all the humiliation and embarrassment from her. Tomorrow she would wake up and the nightmare would be over. None of this happened.

Joe went into the T.V. room and turned it on; trying to avoid what had happened. In the morning, Jenn went down for breakfast; barefoot and wearing only a long t-shirt. He was still in the T.V. room with the paid programming still running. They both had their own ways of avoiding the issues.

She had taken a shower last night. She took another one before she came down. She took a long time; shaving herself. It took much longer than usual. She was used to doing the bikini line. In fact it had always been much more than a bikini line. The legs took longer too. It was the fact that she was so humiliated as to why she was doing it that made the procedure so much more emotional. Why did she keep running her fingers back and forth over everything looking for any feeling of stubble?

She hadn’t been this thorough since her wedding. Perhaps it was the only other time that she knew ahead of time what somebody else would see? As she dried off, she looked at herself in the mirror. She may not have psychologically realized what she was doing. She was probably oblivious to everything she was doing. Her mind was trying to shut out everything. Who would she have to fuck” What would be the situation. It was not a conscious line of thought. Something else in the back of her mind was her concern for her daughter.

Dakota was a typical young girl. Girls at 11 look like they’re 14. At Dakota’s age of 14, she was a full blown woman. She was a typical long-legged teenager. Tanned from working at the Community Center Pool and lithe form her time on the three-meter board. Her muscles looked like her mother. She could do a one-and-a-half inward and barely make a splash. She could swim the butterfly for 1000 meters. Tall, thin, tanned and buff for a fourteen-year-old. The only indication she was not a woman was her small breasts. In a paper thin Lycra one-piece, her long nipples looked like bulls-eyes in the middle of some grapefruit sized bumps. Stepping out of the pool, the suit was practically transparent. Jenn was a little concerned about the one-piece, but apparently most of the girls were wearing them.

When they got up the ladder, they pulled up their top and pulled down the bottom of the suit. Which was more scandalous: the transparent top or the fact that the bottoms were skimpier than a thong? The back barely covered the crack. The sides were cut above her hip bone. The camel toe front made you forget about the top.

If Luc ever saw her daughter at the pool, he would not be focusing on Jennifer. Like a wild quail trying to lure a coyote away from her nest, Jennifer knew she would have to keep the focus on herself, rather than her daughter. She knew what she had to do, but it did not lessen her anger at her husband for giving Luc the ammunition for her coercion.

Jenn took Dakota to school. As she got out of the car she said: “Thanks for the ride, Mom. Cindy’s mom is bringing us home. I’m getting my back pack cause were stain at her house for the weekend. Her mom is taking us to the meet Saturday morning. Is anything wrong; mom? You seem so distant.” Jenn shook her head and blew her daughter a kiss as the passenger door shut. Her hands were trembling.

When Jenn got home she threw her keys on the dining room table. “I have to get ready. For some fucking reason we ... I have to be there at noon. I don’t know why, but I guess you have to be there too?” She didn’t really look at him. “He said for you to dress up. I don’t know if that means wear a suit over there or take it with you. This thing doesn’t start until 7:00pm.”

Jenny went into the bedroom and looked at herself in the mirror. “What to wear?” she wondered. She combed her long red hair out. She used a green butterfly clip to hold it all behind her. She put on another purple long-sleeved western shirt. She wasn’t about to give him anything revealing. She slid on her boot cut Levi’s and her high heeled lizard skin boots. She had no idea what she was doing. She looked at herself in the mirror. Presentable but nothing erotic or sexy.

When she got downstairs, Joe was sitting on the couch with a dark suit on a hangar beside him. His eyes searched hers for some indication from her about what might happen. Jenn didn’t really look at him as she grabbed the keys and headed out the door.

As they drove towards The Watch Shop, somehow in her mind, the events from yesterday never happened. They did; but she was trying to convince herself they hadn’t. Somehow in her eternally optimistic mind, what she was afraid of was not going to happen.

When they got to the Watch Shop, Joe followed her in. Luc was already there. He was behind the counter, examining everything. The Watch Shop had some counters with jewelry and old watches under glass. What had intrigued Luc were the feather headdresses and masks. There was a mannequin with a very expensive mask with many different colored feathers. He took the dress off of the mannequin. It was an Art-Nuevo style of dress? It was long and sheer. It was almost transparent black. There were lots of silver stripes running the length of it; from shoulder to hem. The stripes seemed to start at the crotch and radiate up and down the dress.

“Jenn; you’re here tonight as part of a fund raising get-together. I’m wanting to run for the position of State Senator. I have a few men who could really help me out. I need you to convince them.” Luke said.

About that time a white van pulled up outside. It looked about the size of a 15-passenger cargo van with dark lettering that said: “Gabriella’s Styles.” Another tall, black man with an athletic build knocked at the door. “Come on in, Joaquin.” Luc said as he waved the man in.

“Joaquin, this is the woman I want you to fix up for the gathering tonight.” Joaquin was one of Luc’s teammates from the Raiders that he was trying to help with his new business. “Joaquin, this is the dress she is to wear. Can you do something with her hair before tonight?” Joaquin smiled. “Well, were not going to have to do very much.” he said as he eyed the statuesque woman and the old dress Luc was holding up.

“We need to have her wearing exactly the same garments she will be using tonight, so I get the fit and colors all correct.” he said; looking back and forth at Jenn & the dress.

“Strip, young woman.” Luc said softly. Jenn jerked. She looked back and forth at Joaquin and Luc. She had almost forgotten her husband was sitting near the door. “What?”

“We are getting you ready for the gathering tonight. Get fucking started. Am I going to have to put up with more of your shit or are you going to fucking cooperate. Hey! I’ll explain the situation to your daughter. Her mother and dad are about to lose everything. She can fuck me for a reprieve. How does that sound?”

Jenny almost chocked. “He knows.” her mind recoiled. The events from yesterday were real. It was not her imagination. She tried to ignore the presence of her shocked husband. She looked around slowly, trying to gather her wits. “Not in front of all these people.” her mind was screaming. She reached for the dress, and with her eyes, implored with a desperate look towards Luc: “Where could she go change?”

Luc read her mind; smiled slowly & slowly turned his head in a well understood, “NO.”

Jenny lowered her eyes; pushed her glasses back up her nose, & reached for the buttons on her shirt. Her face reddened as she lowered her head and closed her eyes. Her hands shook as she pushed the first button through the eyelet. Without looking up she whispered: “P ... P ... P ... Please, Luc, can’t Joe wait outside or something?”

Luke tried to hide a smile. “Not only is he going to watch, as your husband, he has to approve everything; give his consent; tell you what to do so it is not me making you do something against your consent.”

What do you think, Joe?” Joe felt trapped. Whose fucking fault was this? What were his choices? Now the bastard had brought their daughter’s name into the picture. He knew his wife would fucking kill him if he allowed anything to happen to her. He choked on his words. He dropped his head and in a voice barely above a whisper: “O ... O ... Okay.”

It wasn’t loud, but practically thundered into the humiliated wife’s ears.

“Tell her to take off the fucking clothes. We have a dress to fit. We have her hair to fix. Does she give good blowjobs?” Jenn’s blood curdled as she heard all the ideas.

“Jenn; Jenn, honey, we’ve got to do what he says.” His voice trailed off.

“Tell her, you measly cocksucker. Tell her what to do.”

“Jenn, honey; t ... t ... you’ve got to take off ... off your clothes...” It was exponentially more humiliating. Not only were three men watching, the man she had tried to grow to love all these years was joining in her torment. She tried not to think beyond the next button as she slowly guided her hands down the row of buttons.

When she had the buttons done to the waist, she looked around, trying to stall. She walked over to a chair; sat down and crossed her legs. Slowly, she used one toe to pull the heel of the other boot loose. She reached down; pulled it off and set it beside her. Then she did the other. She took her socks off the same way as her mind swirled; looking for some other method of procrastination for what had to come next.

She didn’t look up as she unbuckled the brass buckle of her jeans. In a silly effort to prolong everything, she pulled the belt through the loops. The room was silent as she stood enough to take the weight off of her hips. She slid the jeans off down over her hips and to the edge of the chair. She looked up for a millisecond; hoping for some reprieve in Luc’s eyes. Seeing none, she slowly pushed the jeans down over her feet; picked them up and folded them beside her boots. So far, the long dress shirt helped to hide the rest of her.

Jenn tried to avoid all eye contact. With her head down, she pushed her wire rimmed spectacles back up her nose again. Slowly moving her head back and forth in a: “No; I can’t believe I’m doing this, she held one sleeve as she pulled her elbow out of the shirt. She turned her head and watched herself; somebody she didn’t think she knew anymore; as she slowly pulled her other arm out of the shirt. She tried to hold it up against her front; for cover as she folded it. She covered her front with one hand as she placed the folded up shirt over her jeans.

Again, she scanned the room, looking for sympathy, reprieve or some look of anything to indicate she could stop. She looked imploringly at Luke, hoping it might end. Luke turned to her husband and whispered something. They looked at each other. Down deep, Jenn must have known he was just following orders. “Jenn ... Jenn, honey, please take off the bra. We ... we ... we want to see you. Show ... show us your ... tits.”

Jenn felt like she had been hit with a hammer. Her own fucking husband had turned on her? It was in direct command from Luke; of course. Her mind didn’t really process all of it. Just...”show us your tits.”

Jenn sobbed a little. She arched her back; pushing her coral pink nipples up in the air as she reached for the clasp behind her. The bra was really fucking ridiculous. It was the clear nylon that panty hose is made of. Most women now use the heavily padded thick fabric that make them look twice as big. Jenn had not bought new bras for years. These were still some of her old ones from college.

When the clasp came undone, she cupped her left hand over her right breast to hold the bra against her. Her forearm cradled the left nipple to it peeked up over her like a curious puppy. Jenn brought her right arm back around; cupping both breasts in a ridiculous attempt at modesty. She wouldn’t look at anybody. They were going to have to order her to put her arms down. She wouldn’t do it on her own. She couldn’t.

Luke looked over at Joe; glaring at him in an understood; unspoken command. “Jenn ... honey ... put ... put your arms down. Show ... s ... s ... show us your tits.” These weren’t his words, but to Jenn, it didn’t make much difference. But in a strange way, Joe’s voice was changing. It was changing; subtly; from outraged and humbled to a bit of curiosity?

However outraged Joe had been, he was now curious; intrigued and enchanted with his wife’s humiliation.

Jenn kept her hands over her nipples and lowered her upper body down over her knees; trying to hide what she could.

Her husband’s words were almost a whisper but still sounded like they were issued from a loudspeaker. They were again coming from Luke.

“Jenn ... honey ... Stand up. Stand up; show us your tits and take off the ... the ... rest.” The actual words from Luke were: “Tell the cunt to stand up and strip.” Joe couldn’t use those words.

They could both see the back of Jenny’s body convulse at the words. She took a couple of breaths to compose herself? She tried to project defiance she did not feel. She sat up straight. “Let them fucking look.” her eyes seemed to be saying as she lowered her arms to her sides.

She stood and faced Luc. She tucked her thumbs into the sides of her panties and slid them down over her hips. She tried not to blink as she felt them slide down over her thighs. When she felt them around her ankles, she stepped out of them; bent over to pick them up and tossed (hurled) them at Luke. She tried to stare daggers at him, but the tears out of the corner of her eyes gave her away. She was not as defiant as she tried to project. She was humiliated. She was not going to let them see her cry. Jenn stood there. She could not anticipate the next order. Her nervousness and humiliation caused her to shudder. Her coral pink nipples shuddered and goosbumps washed over her. “What next?” her mind screamed.

Luke knew he had won; in a small sort of way. She was now cooperating without any outward signs of revolt. “What was it?” he wasn’t sure. Perhaps the threat of including the daughter? Luke would have to keep this in the back of his mind.

Luke looked over at Joaquin. The men looked at each other. Joaquin motioned over to the large glass coffee table in front of the couch. He extended his hand. Reluctantly, Jenn extended her hand and allowed herself to be led over to the coffee table. She seemed to understand he wanted her to sit there. She sat; crossed her legs and cupped her hands over her nipples.

Joaquin went to his car and brought back a bunch of tools in one of those worker-type bags that carpenters use. He set it down beside Jenn and proceeded to come out her hair; mindlessly chit-chatting with Luke; a little with Joe and almost ignoring Jenn. “We’re going to fix you up real nice lovely little lady. You’re going to be the hit of the party tonight.”

He combed Jenny’s long hair straight and smooth. It hung almost to her waist. He separated different groups of strands and applied a fluid to lighten parts of it. When he was done, Jenn’s already beautiful brownish hair had lots of streaks in it, like when she was a teenager and spent summers in the sun. It was originally red hair, but the years had put a brownish tint to the bright red hair. Now it was Reddish brown with blond highlights; making her look 20 years younger? She felt his hands on her shoulders; pulling her back into a prone position against the top of the glass.

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