Chapter 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jenny didn't answer.

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

"Do we have a choice?" Joe asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Next!" Marcel cried.

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

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

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

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

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

"Next!" Marcel shouted.

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" he asked.

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

"Then do it!" came the reply.

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

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

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