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Chapter 2 – Ask The Sergeant
Please take note! Adults Only Literature
The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only. If you are an underage minor or offended by such material -or- if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now. This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental, etc. Copyright 2003****
It's surprising how much saliva and mucus I can produce when someone is gagging me by shoving his dick down my throat. I'd created a puddle on the towel that Denise had thoughtfully placed over Robbie's lap before he grabbed my head and forced me to bend over and take his cock in my mouth.
The others were watching me gag or choke then spit out a mouthful of the product of my salivary and mucus glands. It was dripping out my nose too. The General was staring at me, taking an occasional sip of Jameson's. You could tell he really got off on that kind of shit. Lois, always the dutiful wife, was stroking his trouser covered cock.
I wondered whether Robbie would blow his load before I choked to death. He'd force his pecker as far down my gullet as it would reach. Robbie was hung like a horse and I could feel my neck bulge every time he achieved maximum possible depth. I'd gag causing my scrapped raw throat to grip his cock. My stomach was doing flip-flops. Air would become scare after a while and I'd struggle to rise up and get a breath. Denise would help Robbie hold my head down as I kicked and thrashed about for air. Finally, they'd left me up and I'd take a loud deep breath then spit out a mouthful of saliva and snot. Tears were pouring down my cheeks causing my mascara to run. I was a fucking mess.
I had good reason to question my survival. The General had once shown me a video his Special Ops unit made when they were questioning some VC prisoners near Quang Tri, Vietnam. Two of the VC were women and that meant the GI's were going to have some fun with them.
On the rare occasions when the Donaldson's were on leave at the same time, the General liked to have everyone gather downstairs in his ‘play room' and watch torture and snuff videos. He'd acquired an enviable collection over his long career. A French general had provided some extraordinary films of Legionnaires using electricity on Algerian rebels. In Haiti, he managed to liberate an entire videocassette library of Papa Doc Duvalier's Tonton Macoutes working on enemies of the regime. There were some black and white classics from the Gestapo archives including the famous ones where the Wermacht officers who tried to assassinate Hitler were slowly strangled with piano wire. There were even a few grainy films from the USSR that a former KGB general had made in the Lubyanka. I never knew that being submerged in ice water could drive a person insane that quickly.
But the crown jewels of the General's archives were the ones he'd made personally. And the one that seemed particularly relevant to my predicament was where his unit snuffed the two VC cunts. I recalled how the girls were naked on their backs tied to tabletop. Their heads were hanging off the end of the table and someone had placed a belt strap on their foreheads to bend their heads back. You could see the strain in the ligaments of their neck.
The video had begun with a vicious gang rape by the eight GI's. The General was a Captain then but as the unit's commander, he went first. When he finished, he took out his K-bar and cut their nipples off as souvenirs. He probably still has them somewhere in his box of keepsakes.
After the girls were brutally raped, two Sergeants forced their mouths open and pulled all their teeth with a pair of dental pliers. I remember the loose bloody teeth scattered on the floor underneath the table. The snuff part consisted of Afro-American corporal shoving his long thick black cock in their throat. He'd keep it there until the last minute then withdraw. After this torture went on for a while, he just left it in until the girl expired. The odd part to me was that after the second girl was dead; the Corporal slowly fucked her throat until he blew his load. You don't often witness necrophilia. I'd sat there masturbating with the rest of the Donaldsons.
I didn't think the family would snuff me until after the funeral but you never know. My answer came quickly when I felt Robbie's cock jerk and sensed the familiar taste and smell of semen flooding my mouth. They held me down as he pumped his loads down my throat.
When they finally let me up, there were black spots in front of my eyes. Semen, saliva, mucus and stomach bile dripped from my nose and mouth. I fought for breath as Robbie pushed me off his lap tumbling me to the limousine's floor.
“Oh baby, you were fantastic,” said Denise to Robbie as she handed him a wet-wipe to clean his cock. I was lying there covered in my own secretions attempting to breathe normally.
“Ready to go inside, Gable dear,” said Lois?
“Not quite yet. Let's wait until everyone arrives then we make our entrance together,” said the General.
Generals, especially this one, are overly fond of showmanship and theatre. Having the whole family march in together with the General in the vanguard was exactly the kind of thing you'd expect from my father-in-law.
“Rozz, Trace emailed me those pictures of you making a whore out of yourself,” said the General.
“Yes, General,” was the only reply I made. What else was I going to say? They had me cold. I was thankful they had just one set of pictures. The Fourth of July party was only one of the dozen or so orgies that the doctors and nurses had organized while I was there. And that didn't include all the times; I'd been tumbled into an unoccupied bed for a quickie.
“I though you understood that sex was forbidden outside of the family,” said the General.
“I don't have any excuse.” That was the only type of reply that might keep me alive, no lies, and no excuses, admit your guilt like a soldier.
“You seem to enjoy what you and Lt. Colonel Rodney were doing,” said the General. The General was referring to the doctor who was in most of the photos with me. I'd screwed dozens of other soldiers during my tour. But Lt. Colonel Cecil Rodney, MD, 6'4” of hard muscled ebony perfection was the one that sensed I needed something extra. I'd lost count of the times, he ordered me to drop my fatigues and bend over his desk. Cecil usually began by setting my ass on fire with a thin whip-like bamboo cane. After my butt was covered with red stripes, he'd order me to hold my ass cheeks apart while he worked my anus open with the skilled hands of a board certified surgeon. Once my butt hole was opened up and yearning for his cock, he'd give it to me fast and hard while I stuffed a towel in my mouth to keep from screaming. We did some kinky shit, the doctor and I. My nipples still tingle when I recall him clamping them in a hemostat and using them as handles to drag me around the room at one of our ‘parties' forcing me to suck every cock and lick every pussy in the room.
“Yes, General.” Hell, he'd seen the photos. He could tell from the look on my face I was enjoying myself. What kind of girl doesn't enjoy a hard cock?
“Would you like to be fucked some more while we wait,” said the General?
“Whatever the General decides,” I replied. I knew I was going to wind up doing what he wanted anyway. Why fight it?
The General pushed a button on the limo's control panel and the partition between the driver and the passengers slowly descended. The General's driver, Master Sergeant Cordell Amesbury, had been with him for a number of years. He turned at the sound of the partition and looked expectantly in our direction. He glanced down toward the floor where I was lying with my skirt up around my waist.
I'd been forced to wear this slut costume by Mary Ellen. When I protested and said no way was I going to my husband's wake dressed like a hooker, Mary Ellen had stuck a 9MM H&K in my mouth and gave me the choices of dressing according to her directions or eating a bullet. I'd decided to go with the slut look.
The dress was an expensive St. John's knit and would have been appropriate except it was short enough to almost show my ass and tight enough to reveal every possible bump, nook, and cranny of my body. With no bra, my breasts and nipples were all but exposed.
A black lace garter belt held up my hose whose lace tops were visible when I stood upright. Seated, I was showing white thigh practically to my crotch. Mary Ellen adamantly refused to let me wear panties even though I begged her. A pair of spiky high heels, lots of make-up, and dangling earrings were my accessories. My appearance was more suited to selling my ass on a street corner in downtown Boston than attending my husband's funeral.
The Donaldson's were making a statement about their relationship with their daughter-in-law. They were informing the rest of the family I was a whore and a slut. I suppose it was true. However, the thought of being paraded around in front of the family that way was deeply humiliating.
“Rozz, ask the Sergeant to fuck you. But first show the Sergeant your pussy,” said the General.
Making me do the asking added to my humiliation. The General could easily have ordered the Sergeant to hop my bones but he wanted me to degrade myself. I turned around to face the Sergeant, hiked my skirt up even further and spread my legs so Sergeant Amesbury could view the goods before he took the plunge. I used my fingers to open my labia so he could get the full gynecological view.
“Sergeant Amesbury, come back here and fuck me,” I said knowing I had no alternative and might as well get it over with. I heard Mary Ellen whisper ‘what a pig slut' to Denise.
“I bet she fucks his brains out. Trace should never have married the whore, “ whispered Denise back.
“Yes, Ma'am,” replied the Sergeant who immediately existed the vehicle then opened a passenger door and stepped into the limo. The Sergeant knelt down on the limo floor in front of me.
“Well, Rozz, take the Sergeant's cock out and get busy,” ordered the General.
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