Jenny Marie Stephenson could hardly move. She tried as much as she could to just turn her mind off as she got out of the shower. She wrapped a beach towel around her and tucked it in to hold it up. She took another terrycloth towel and wrapped it around her hair. She tried not to think about the noise downstairs. She tried to shut her mind off to the doorbell that she had heard. She tried to pretend she could not hear the muffled conversation that was taking place.
She knew that her husband had gone over to open the door and let that monster in. She tried to ignore the civil exchange that was taking place; the cold, cordial repartee between her husband and the creature that had come to see her.
Jenny sat down in front of her make-up vanity and looked at herself. "How had her life come to this?" she wondered as she looked at herself. Sitting in front of her reflection her actions became automatic. She applied some moisturizer to her face. She was not going to put on any eyeliner, fake eyeliner or rouge.
"Fuck him." She thought. "I don't give a fuck what he thinks of me." She thought as she mindlessly prepared herself for what she had agreed to. The application of a slight color of lipstick was more of an automatic reflex to sitting at the vanity than a conscious effort to beautify herself. It was something that came automatically to the forty-year-old woman as she struggled with other thoughts.
Jenny walked over to the open box on the edge of the bed and turned it over. She examined the contents again, as she had done a dozen times before in the last few days after it arrived. Mindlessly, she removed the terrycloth beach towel and laid it across the foot of the bed. She sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the gray, silk nylons. She rolled them up her legs; first one then the other. The silk nylons had an elastic lace band at the top that stopped just below her naked, shaved cleft.
Jenny pulled out the "$400.00 Miz Mooz Siri Knee-High Suede Boots." Under normal circumstances, she would have never considered wearing something like these. They were a cross between the look of Ashley Dupre, was the $10,000 / night escort for Elliott Spitzer, and a $20.00/hour street corner whore.
Jenny tried not to think about how she looked. As she lifted the gray, silk button front dress. She didn't really need to unbutton the front to get it on. The buttons were more "ceremonial" than functional. It was a backless dress that could easily be slipped over her head. Thankfully, the short sleeves were an elastic lace that helped to hold the whole thing together and kept the thing from falling open or off of her shoulders. She had never tried it on before, but knew it could not be worn with either panties or a bra.
When she stood, the open back showed the top half of her butt crack and the middle half of her back. The hem of her dark silk dress barely brushed the floor. With her high-heel boots hidden, she looked exponentially taller and slender than she already was.
Her tanned and toned back shimmered because of the lotion she had put on. Her skin shimmered in the light like she had been oiled for the sacrificial offering her husband had intended.
The front of her dress was scooped so the tips of her nipples were barely concealed if she stood straight up. If Jenny bent her head, she could easily see the long-stem coral pink tips straining out against the thin fabric that did nothing to conceal their shape.
Jenny took the long strand of pearls and put them around her neck in a double loop. They looped down to the middle of her abdomen. She tried not to look at herself in the mirror as she put the pearl earrings on.
She had tried most of her adult life to go out of her way not to attract attention. She had dressed in high heels, but covered herself in slacks, long sleeved shirts, a vest and shawl-collared blazers. If she was at work, they would be wool; if casual, they might be leather or denim. But mostly, she dressed conservatively; covered up.
Jenny tried to focus on her hair as she sat in front of her mirrored vanity to comb her long red hair. She had had it permed, but it still hung almost to her waist. She had colored her dark red hair so that it had blond and brown streaks in it. The coloring just tended to accent the rich red coloring that few women her age had. Her perm only tended to enrich the thickness and weight of hair that was more unique and seen rarely outside of a Breck commercial.
She tried not to notice that as she reached up and behind her that her nipples had a tendency to pop out over the top of her low cut front. She was determined to take extra care when she went downstairs not to lean over or raise her arms. "What a ridiculous observation." She thought to herself; knowing the whole evening was orchestrated by her husband and this evil guest to humiliate and degrade her beyond her wildest fears.
"Jenny, honey, our guest is here." She heard her husband's voice from the bottom of the stairs.
Jenny gritted her teeth as she forced herself to stand. There was no need for a purse. They weren't going anywhere. Numbly, she forced on foot in front of the other.
The two men were sitting in the living room. Jenny's 6" stiletto heels beat the announcement of her arrival coming down the stairs. The shoes sounded like the drumbeat ahead of the firing squat as the soldier tied the blindfold over the prisoner's eyes. Every clip clop of her heels brought a new wave of Goosebumps over her as she descended the stairs.
She clung desperately to the handrail; even when she was at the bottom. Her mind was racing; waiting for some kind of command about what to do next.
"Have a seat, honey, her husband, Mark said as he stood and gestured to the Mies Van Der Rohe chair opposite him. The living room was arranged in a "U" pattern, with the long leather couch facing the fireplace. There was a long glass coffee table in front of it, and two Mies chares facing each other; one on each end of the leather couches.
Jenny sat; crossed her legs nervously and crossed her arms in a feeble self-conscious effort to conceal her breasts. It didn't work. Folding or crossing her arms only tended to tighten the already snug fabric around her breasts; highlighting and accenting her perky melon-sized assets.
"There he was; the fucker." She thought to herself. This was the epitome of terror to her. His image had been burned into her memory ever since she was fourteen-years old. He was much older now; bigger than the 6'-4" teenager she remembered.
He was at least 6'-6" tall now. In jail, he didn't have much more to do than work out. He had no fat. His muscles bulged. He looked more like an NFL tight end than the gangly high school center she remembered. The eyes were the same; cold, fierce and threatening. His hair cut was shaved on the sides. His flat-top was narrow; more like a Mohawk.
Jenny had gone to an away-game in her freshman year in high-school. She had been on the bus with the cheerleaders and other girls in the glee-club. They had watched their team get slaughtered by the home team. Hank Munson had been the featured center of the opposition and on most all-state player selections. He was a clear full-scholarship selection for most colleges.
Like the others, she had booed and jeered him any chance she had. He had not had a particularly good night, for him, but never-the-less used the taunts for incentive. After the game, she had taken longer than usual to get to the bus. The crowd had thinned by the time Jenny started for the bus. She must have gotten turned around in the hallways around the gymnasium. Trying to get back to the bus, she must have taken a wrong turn.
The first thing she knew was some huge hands had wrapped themselves around her mouth and neck. She remembered her coke and nachos flying all over the place as he picked her up and drug her into the electrical room.
His hands were so big and he was so strong, there wasn't much she could do to protect herself. "Shut your fucking mouth, cunt, or I'll slit your fucking throat." She heard from behind her. Jenny was too young and scared to know how to react. She didn't quite understand what was going on at the time.
The tall, gawky, half developed young teenager understood enough to know she was being raped, but powerless to know how to prevent it. When it was over, she managed to slip her torn dress back on and run out to the bus; only to find it was gone. She eventually was able to locate some security people and let them know what happened. The humiliated young girl had to endure hours of interrogation while trying to hold the few scraps of clothing she had left to conceal what she could.
The police officers seemed to enjoy her partial nudity as she struggled to hide her breasts. She sensed opposition to her accusations that it was Hank who had abducted and raped her.
Eventually he had been arrested and convicted. Since she was a minor and he was eighteen, he was convicted of rape, kidnapping, sex with a minor and assault. He had been sentenced to over 20 years.
The events of that evening stayed with her for many years. She resisted dating most of her life. She had met her husband, Mark, after she had started working. She was 25 years old; he was twice that.
"She would eventually learn to love him." She told herself. He had a great business. He was wealthy. He treated her well. Things were always strained. Jenny had never really gotten over the rape, and was pretty detached during sex. "It was something she owed him." She tried to tell herself.
Finally, a few years ago, they came up with DNA testing. A group of teachers, lawyers and law students became interested in the case. In the end, they proved that Hank was innocent. Another man, who wasn't even on the team, was now in jail. His DNA had been proven to match the rapist. Hank had been proved to be innocent. The newspapers and television stations had a field day with the story.
That was basically what led to the events of the evening. Hank had called. He had come over. Jenny and her husband, Mark had agreed to meet him in order to apologize. The meeting had turned ugly.
Jenny's husband was worth millions. Hank said that he was going to sue the City and Jenny for his years in prison. The city had already agreed to pay him millions. As Jenny's husband, Mark was liable for the same amount. Jenny and Mark knew that they would lose everything; the business, their home, all of their savings.
Mark was determined to save himself. "Mr. Munson is there anything we can do to make this right?" he asked. Hank knew he was getting enough money from the city to be set for life. He would have more money than he could ever spend.
Knowing he had them over a barrel, he decided to kill several birds with one stone.
"I've been ruined financially. I could have played in the pros. I could have made lots of money if Miss Jenny, here hadn't fucked me of my future. I have not had a wife or children. I haven't had sex for years. How do you plan to make that right; just giving me money?" he sneered.
"What do you want?" Hank asked, sensing some possibility that he might not have to lose everything.
"Well, Miss Jenny; you're the one that fucked me over. You're at least partially responsible. I don't think it is fair for your husband to take the entire loss for your mistake. How do you propose we make things up?"
Her husband could see where he was coming from. "What do you want her to do?" Hank responded, somewhat eager to find a solution that didn't involve his money.
"You two think about it and discuss it. I will come back next week. By then you will have come to some agreement." Hank had said as he stood and left.
After Hank left, the couple was quiet for the longest time. "What do you want, Mark?" Jenny asked, afraid to breathe or look up at him. "Jenn, this man can take everything we have. It was an honest mistake, but legally he has us. I don't know what we can do now." Mark replied. He knew, but he wanted to get into it gradually; trying to test what she might consider.
"I think he is either interested in you, or could be persuaded to be interested in you. Let's face it. You won't admit it, but every man you have met wants you. You could probably persuade him to not sue us."
Jenny didn't like the way the conversation was going; especially from her husband. "You haven't said what you want me to do?" she said a little firmer, hoping he would say he would fight the man in court no matter what the cost.
"It's not for me to say." Mark said without looking up at her. "You are probably the one who controls our future at this point. What do you think it's going to take?" he asked.
Her lips shook. She could hardly spit the words out. "You and I both know he wants to fuck me."
"What's it worth to keep our house, our savings and our business?" he said as they looked at each other. Jenny couldn't answer. She probably didn't need to. She knew they had few options. She is not the one who made all the money he had. She couldn't be the one to bankrupt her husband in a lawsuit. Maybe something else would happen.
That had been last week. Hank had sent her the box with no instructions. It was clear what he wanted. Hank watched Jenny as she opened the box and laid the items out on the couch. Nobody said anything. Nobody needed to.
"Jenny, honey, I want you to call Hank and tell him to come over Saturday night. We can have drinks and discuss this a little more." Mark had said. The words had hit Jenny like an eighteen wheeler. She was stunned. He had abandoned her. First she had been devastated by the rape. It was even worse; knowing she had mistakenly identified the wrong man and he had spent over twenty years in prison. Now her husband had given her up to this creature.
Jenny had tried to control her voice when she made the call. She stuttered and stammered as she spoke to him. "M ... m ... my husband and I n ... n ... n ... need to see you again. C ... c ... can you come over this Saturday?" It was just a question. It was just an invitation for dinner, but everybody understood.
Jenny was now sitting; facing her husband with Hank between them. "Jenny, honey, why don't you go get all of us something to drink. Go get us all a beer." Mark wasn't doing much better. He was nervous. He still didn't know what his exposure was. He needed a good outcome from his wife.
Jenny got up. Hank watched her as she left the room. The backless dress was incredible. He had no idea he could get turned on by seeing a woman's ass crack. It wasn't just the ass crack. Her exposed back gave such an incredible insight into the rest of her. With that much exposure, he could see how tanned and toned she was; no fat. Her gait was that of an athlete as she glided across the room.
With all the humiliation and embarrassment she was being subjected to, she still had the dignity and class of a princess. Hank watched with fascination as her perky nipples bounced and jiggled like manometers, echoing the sound off of the walls. She click-clacked herself across the honed limestone floor into the kitchen; opened the refrigerator, put three beers on a tray and three glasses.
When she returned, she held the tray first to her husband. Their eyes locked as she bent over. Mark's eyes darted quickly to the opening at the top of her dress. She could see he was staring. She could not help that the dress hung open and her nipples showed. She could see the sparkle in his eyes; that he was hoping this scene would entice Hank to think about something besides money.
Jenny turned to Hank. She had no way out. She had no choice but to again bend at the waist to offer him the beer and glass. He stared down her dress at the magnificent offering. He looked up. They both knew what he had seen. Jenny blushed that she knew what he knew. Hank grabbed her hand. His eyes told her to put down the tray. She did so. Hank tugged at her hand and seated her across his lap.
Jenny looked over at her husband. They both knew it was starting.
"Well Miss Jenny, what did you do today?" he said as he reached for the top button. Jenny looked over at her husband. "I took the plants from the back porch and moved them outside and against the north wall." She said as he undid the top button.
When he reached for the next button, Jenny grabbed his hand with both of hers. She did not stop him. She did not help him. It was an emotional struggle for her. It was her feeble attempt to stop what she knew she could not. She squeezed his hand as he reached for the next button.
"What kind of flowers are they?" he asked as he pushed the next button through the eyelet.
"I've got several orchids." The words were almost a whisper now. They were words between him and her; not for her husband. She had a death grip on his hand, but knew better than to resist outright.
"You do it." He said.
Jenny let go. She cupped her hands over her mouth and nose. It had been unbearable before; letting her husband watch him undress her. Now he was commanding her to do it instead. If he had screamed it and slapped her across the face, she could have acquiesced, knowing she had no choice in the matter.
But this was different. The words came with his lips against her ear; in a whisper. Her husband had not heard. Jenny knew she had no choice.
She bent over and reached for the hem. She pulled it up above the top of her boots. "We could go out and look at the flowers, if you want." The words were a procrastination she knew wouldn't work. She didn't really expect an answer. She didn't get one. She pushed the bottom button through the eyelet.
"I think we will go out soon enough to look at your flowers." He said as he folded the sides of her top open to get a better view of her breasts. He had his left hand around her back to brace her. His right hand brushed the fabric clear of her right nipple and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger as she pushed the next button through the next eyelet. Jenny had looked over quickly at her husband; hoping for some sign of sympathy. She had a sense that he was gloating that Hank might just be more interested in her than his money.
"Do you have to feed the plants with anything?" Hank asked as he glanced over at her husband. By now, she could not stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. Jenny stopped what she was doing. She used one hand to remove her wire rimmed glasses and wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her right hand. "I mix a table spoon of orchid plant food with a gallon of water." She said as she put her glasses back on.
Neither one of them really had their mind on what was being said. Jenny was hoping she could form some bond with him; some hope that he might connect with her and take pity on her as she continued to open the dress.
From a tactical sense, it was a ridiculous exercise. He could have just peeled the backless dress down over her in two seconds. He could have had her naked instantly. He could have ordered her to stand and then just pull the backless garment off of her.
This was a more humiliating way to degrade her; make her help. For her to know she was going to be raped and to make her help in front of her husband was exponentially more exciting to Hank. He wanted all the retribution he could extract for his years in prison.
Finally the dress hung open. All the buttons had been opened. The garment hung lifelessly beside her; supported only by the tight sleeves.
"Why don't you stand and show us how you look without the dress; Miss Jenny?" he whispered into her ear.
"Hit me you fucker. Slap me. Tell my husband that if I don't cooperate you will ruin him." Her mind screamed. At least if he gave some loud threatening command so her husband would know this was not her initiative, she could have borne the humiliation more.
Jenny stood, but could not conceal the roiling in her abdomen; the shaking in her knees or the quivering of her lower lip. "Are you okay with this?" she mouthed silently as she turned to her husband. He did not reply, but his eyes showed he did not object. "You greedy cock sucker." She said to herself as her eyes pleaded with him to end this.
Jenny was forced to face her antagonize. She nervously grabbed some of the long red hair that flowed over her left shoulder with her right hand. She tried to pull it around in front of her for cover.
Hank glared at her. He didn't need to say anything. Jenny thought about her husband losing all of his money. She thought about them possibly having to move in with her sister, or something. She gritted her teeth and tossed her head; throwing her long red hair back over her head. She could not hide the single tear that dropped off of her chin as she lowered her hands to her sides.
Hank stared in fascination. Her pubic hair seemed to be manicured. It had been shaved to a landing strip configuration above her cleft. Other than that, she was bare. The shaved area was like a Japanese garden. Each pubic hair seemed to have been thought out carefully. The middle of her patch was thicker and curlier; being a dark red-brown in the middle. The curls diminished in number and color going away towards the edges; where they thinned and lightened in color to an almost transparent golden blonde with strands as thin and soft as a newborn baby.
Her clitoris had a mind of its own. It could not be humbled or humiliated. It stood proudly slightly above the delicious, surrounding soft pink tissue. Hank leaned forward and inquisitively sniffed. His tongue extended itself like an inquisitive animal with a mind of its own. The tip changed shape from a wide shovel to a flickering dagger; lifting Jenny's soft fold for inspection.
Jenny's minds screamed silently to control and stifle her groan of humiliation. She closed her eyes to keep from gagging. She raised her hands unable to stop herself from bracing them against the back of his head. To Mark, she looked like she was caught in the throes of ecstasy. In truth, she needed some kind of brace to keep from falling over with her eyes closed. Her stomach shuddered in humiliation.
"Turn around." She heard him say. Jenny searched for her husband's expression as she turned. She was angry when she did not sense the same amount of despair in him as she felt. She sensed some jealousy and excitement in his eyes.
"Bend over." She heard him say. "Why can't we do this somewhere else?' her mind screamed, knowing that her husband's presence was increasing her humiliation and embarrassment. Jenny's cheeks turned scarlet as she bent at the waist. Her long red hair puddled on the coffee table.
"Spread em." He whispered.
Jenny almost gagged as she struggled to obey. She put her hands on her knees and closed her eyes.
"Spread em. Means not only to put your feet wider apart; it means to spread those lips."
Jenny almost vomited. She had to take several deep breaths to absorb the words. She had to think hard about why she was there and remind herself of the stakes involved. Her hands shook. She bent down farther so her left elbow lay on the coffee table. She reached up between her legs and used her index and middle finger to spread the soft pink lips enough to expose the pink inner tissue.
It wasn't much, but it was the principle involved. The humiliation of feeling the cool air wafting between her legs; the feeling of the chill between the soft red tissues told her what her husband could see. For her husband to see her bent over in half, with her head and elbow supporting her head on the coffee table and her right hand up between her legs; spreading her womanhood was killing her. Her mind screamed for an end to her humiliation. "Somebody please kill me." Her mind screamed in embarrassment.
Just when she didn't think things could get any worse, her blood seemed to freeze when she felt the tip of one of his fingers brushing the opening. She couldn't prevent the feeling to clench her buttocks. She caught herself and forced her mind to relax her muscles. Her husband could see the muscles in her legs quiver like a horse shaking off flies as she struggled with the invasion.
Mark could see her sob as she struggled with her emotions. He could hear her groan as Hank rubbed his finger up and down the slit, trying to moisturize it with her own fluids. He could have just shoved his finger in; she wouldn't have resisted. It would be more humiliating if he could milk some of her fluids out of her and get them to coat his fingers.
Jenny knew she had to submit and tried to relax. She knew what he was trying to do. She tried to relax; knowing that if she was dry, it would hurt. Mark could see her breath shorten. He could see sheen start to form on her. She started to mew in protest that sounded just as much like acceptance if you chose to see it that way.
"Ohhhhh ... mmmmm ... ohhhh" she groaned softly in humiliation. She knew what was coming. Each time Hank slid his finger along the length of her cleft, it went a little farther into her. Once he got it quite a way in, he found the soft tunnel at the back of her cleft. The finger seemed to have a mind of its own. Hank's index finger seemed to have alerted the others about what he had found.
Slowly, more fingers began invading the opening. She almost screamed when she felt three huge fingers wiggling to enter her. "I can't fucking do this." Her mind screamed.
"I think your husband is done with his beer. You need to go get him another drink, hon." She heard the alien voice between her legs saying. Jenny was humiliated that Hank was so casual about it. On the other hand, she was thankful for the reprieve. She felt the fingers leave her entrance.
Grateful for the respite, Jenny turned to head for the kitchen. This time she just got one can of beer and brought it back. She glared at her husband as she handed it to him. She turned and walked back to Hank. She sat down next to him, hoping that would end his invasion of her. "Would you like to see one of the orchids?" she asked; hoping for some sort of reprieve from her humiliation.
"We can get to that a little later." He said softly. "Do you give good blowjobs?' Jenny froze. She was familiar with the term. As a teenager, so many years ago, she and her friends had talked about these things. They had discussed how it was a way to avoid getting pregnant; that men didn't care as long as something happened to them.
To Jenny, it was a horrible abstract concept; like a unicorn, Pegasus or a dragon. "Nobody would actually do such a degrading act." She had always told herself. Now it was real. He had asked her about it. She had adamantly refused whenever her husband had made the motions. She understood when he put his hand on the back of her head. She would shake her head violently and say: "No; I can't do that." It had become a sore point between them.
Had she been given any indication in the beginning, she would have told both of these men to go get fucked. Now, she was naked; in high-heeled boots and full length silk stockings sitting beside him. She knew she probably would not escape alive now that he was aroused.
"P ... p ... p ... please don't make me do something like that." She sobbed with her hands over her mouth. "What do you think, Mark?" Your wife is starting to decide she is making the rules. Shall I just leave?'
"She's in charge. I can't tell her what to do." Her husband replied. Hank started to get up.
"N ... n ... no. Please don't go. Please give me time to get used to the idea." She sobbed. Hank sat back down. He could wait, but it wouldn't be long. "You better get your mind around this pretty fucking quick." He said.
Jenny put her hands over her face and laid her head down on her knees, trying to adjust her mind. Both men could see her back shudder as she sobbed. "Get a hold of yourself, Miss Jenny. I'm not going to wait all fucking night."
Jenny kept her head down on her knees; trying to get her mind to accept the words she had heard. Hank rubbed her back. Her sobbing subsided somewhat. With all the dignity she could manage, Jenny straightened up. "If they are running you out of town, act like you're leading the parade." She thought bitterly as she stood and walked to the kitchen. The long gray silk stockings and her tanned torso framed her alabaster butt magnificently as she seemed to glide slowly into the kitchen. It didn't seem to matter how much they tried to humiliate or degrade her, she refused to concede her dignity.
Jenny turned on the hot water as she fished through the wall cabinets for a large Tupperware bowl. She put a couple of inches of hot water into the bowl and draped a couple of fresh towels over her arm.
Her beautifully formed melon sized alabaster breasts jiggled slightly as she clip-clopped back into the living room. Her nipples were as long and pink as anything Hank had ever seen. They seemed to be at least a half inch long. They seemed to be higher on her breasts than just the middle. They seemed to point more up than straight out. Each clip-clop seemed to give each nipple a double beat; up twice and down once with each step. This was a woman who, by rights, shouldn't ever wear clothes.
Jenny moved the coffee table out a little so she had more room between it and the couch as she dropped to her knees and set the hot water and towels on the coffee table. She looked hesitatingly up at him, unsure quite what to do next.
Hank grabbed both of her wrists with his; stood her up and tugged her over to a sitting position facing him on his lap. He guided her hands to the buttons on his dress shirt. Without being told, Jenny started to slowly unbutton it. "W ... w ... will y ... you promise not to sue my husband if I do this?" she stammered.
"I guess it depends on how good you are and how enthusiastic you are." He answered.
"You're going to have to give me a chance to get used to this. I'm not sure what I'm doing." She whispered as she finished unbuttoning his shirt. Her eyes searched his, looking for signs of cooperation. "You're a married woman; and not really that young. Don't you suck cock?"
Tears ran down her face. Her head turned slowly, almost imperceptibly in a "No" response. "Give me a chance." She whispered as she slid down off of his lap. She kind of knew where she had to be.
She got down on her knees. Slowly, hesitatingly she reached up to his belt and unbuckled it. She pulled the sides away and reached for the brass snap under it. The room was deathly quiet with anticipation as the two men watched. The faint noise of the brass snap seemed like an explosion as it came apart.
Down in her subconscious mind, she must have thought if she could do it quietly, her husband wouldn't know. It was a ridiculous idea, but her mind was desperate for a way out of her humiliation. The zipper seemed like a room full of Uzis going off at once as they sprayed a concrete wall as she pulled it down; announcing what she was doing again.
Jenny now changed her attention to his lizard skin boots. The boot cut Levis would not slide down past his boots. She pulled of one boot than the other and set them tenderly beside him. Mark could see her fingers shake as she got down to the last remnants of his clothing. She tugged his socks off and stuffed them into his boots.
"I'm so sorry that you spent so much time in prison. I have not slept much since I found out you were innocent." She said softly. "You're not as sorry as I am." He replied with bitterness he did not try to hide.
She had procrastinated about all she could. Jenny looked up at the unzipped jeans. Her lips trembled as she reached up to tuck her thumbs between his jeans and waist. Hank used his hands to lift himself up off of the couch as she slid the garment off of his butt.
Jenny tried to close her eyes and turn her head as the garment cleared the creature hidden inside. It wasn't a foul smell. It wasn't a dirty smell. It was the un-mistakable smell of a man. She recognized it immediately. It was like walking into the locker room just before a track meet. The lineament; the sweat; the man smell was something she had learned to never forget. It was that smell she remembered when she had been raped.
It probably happened in a millisecond. But to Jenny, her mind was working in slow motion. Even with her head turned, she could not ignore the massive creature as it swung free from the restraints of his underwear. It was like an 11" switch blade opening up and snapping into its locked open position.
It seemed to vibrate when she unfurled it. "I ... I ... need to know that you are not going to sue us." She stammered. She was really blathering to cover up her humiliation. She was not in a position to bargain, and she knew it. Never-the-less, she struggled to make some kind of bargain in order to justify what she was about to do.
Hank did not respond. Jenny had no choice but to continue. She turned to reach for the Tupperware bowl and one of the dry towels. She soaked the towel in the hot water and wrung it out. Her hands shook as she reached up to steady the black phalynx in front of her face.
By definition, a phalynx is a group of heavily armed infantry formed in rank and file close and deep with shields joined and long spears overlapping. For an unprepared scouting party coming around a corner and facing such a foreboding sight and the confrontation of death could be a terrifying experience.
That was Jenny's experience, facing such a massive and terrifying sight. "This is going to fucking kill me." She thought to herself.
Her hands shook as she tentatively touched it to hold it still. To Hank, the towel was hot and painful. On the other hand, he saw what she was doing and could prepare himself for it. Pain and pleasure are like love and hate. They are almost the same reactions depending on your frame of mind.
For Hank to have that hot, wet towel brush the side of his shaft was a new experience. The hot painful sensation was now replaced by erotic sensations. Jenny's husband watched in equal parts of puzzlement and fascination.
Although he did not consciously equate the scene to that of Mary Magdalene washing the feet of Christ, it had the same effect; watching his nearly naked wife, in high heel boots and dark silk nylons on her knees stroking this black creature between this gigantic black man's legs.
Hank knew his wife well enough to be able to see her humiliation and embarrassment as she spoke to him reluctantly. Each stroke of the towel made his 3" wide by 6" long phallus increase by an inch or so. It was as though this creature was slowly waking up. Inch by inch, it seemed to grow; like a cobra swaying to the sound of a flute. It jumped another inch each time it swayed from side to side.
Jenny could not keep her eyes closed or her head turned away. She watched in silent horror as the creature in front of her transformed itself from a sleepy flaccid stump to a vile, throbbing weapon of mass destruction. "This is going to hurt." She told herself subconsciously; knowing the end result of her conversation with him.
What was this thing in her hand? It seemed to sway back and forth with a mind of its own, searching with an evil eye at the tip; searching for her mouth like a German shepherd at the end of a leash watching a rabbit go by. She watched the eye turn into a mouth; the mouth of a cobra; flickering a forked tongue of clear liquid that seeped out and then split as it dripped off the end. She almost vomited at the sight, knowing this had to go in her mouth.
Jenny straightened up; turned and placed the towel and bowl on the coffee table behind her. She steadied it with her left hand and rubbed the steaming towel tentatively along the side of it.
Jenny toweled it off. She looked up at him, hoping to detect any sign of relentment. She turned toward her husband looking for signs of sympathy. She didn't see any signs she was hoping for.
"I need some assurances that you are not going to sue us." She said again, realizing it was probably useless.
"I need some assurance you are going to suck my cock." Was the hollow response that only increased her despair.
"Tell her what to do, Mr. Mark. She doesn't seem to have a clue." Hank said as he mockingly turned to her husband. Mark did not respond.
"Tell her, you cock sucking, wimpy assed, sniveling coward." Mark cleared his throat.
"You know what will happen if we don't give in to him, honey." There it was. This greedy fucker had the audacity to use the term; "We?" Where was the "We," in this? "I'm the one who is naked and on my knees with a cock in my hand." She thought bitterly. "He is going to be the one with the secure bank account and assets if I do this." She screamed silently to herself.
Jenny levered the creature up against his abdomen with her left hand. She laid her right forearm against his left thigh and let her forehead rest on it as she struggled with her thoughts. "Why can't I just find the whore in me and suck it without thinking?" she thought.
She struggled with the analogy of just diving into an ice-cold lake, rather than wading in slowly to fight the freezing temperatures. "I've just got to open my mouth and swallow it." She thought, but couldn't seem to bring herself to do it right away.
"You know what? I want to see your face. Your husband wants to see your face. I want him to see this thing slide in and out of your mouth. Your hair is going to get in the way. You need to do something to your hair so we can enjoy this better." He said as he looked first down at her then over at her husband. "Tell her Mr. Wimp."
Mark fidgeted and cleared his throat again. "G ... g ... go put something around your hair, honey. M ... m ... maybe you can put it into that French braid you do so often. You look g ... g ... great with your hair back like that." He stammered. As much as he wanted his money, he wasn't comfortable contributing so openly to her humiliation.
The double-humiliation of her tormenter and now her husband was too much. She somehow managed to turn her mind off. Still on her knees, she leaned back. Her long pink nipples pointed straight up at the ceiling. She flipped her head back so her long hair flipped back behind her and lay on the coffee table. She rested her head and neck on the edge of the table. Her butt was on the carpet between her heels. It was impossible to keep her knees together. Her knees were spread for some support. Her alabaster cleft opened a little as Jenny raised her arms above her to begin braiding her hair.
She started at the top and added in more hair as she worked the braid down the back of her head. Once she had it down to her neck, she straightened her torso up to face Hank in more of a sitting position. She brought the braid around to her right side to finish the braid. Hank handed her a rubber band to finish the end.