Punished by the Dictator's Daughter (The Initiation 3, Book 3) Read online

  “What about Alice?” I challenge him.

  “What about her?” he challenges back. “You know I’d leave her in a heartbeat for you.”

  “And give up all this wealth, privilege, and opportunity?”

  “Oh, I see,” he says bitterly. “So it’s about all that for you too, I suppose.”

  Now he has gotten me in a quandary. The truth is that I didn’t think of that – not even once – when Greg declared his love for me. I’ll admit to having thought of it before. But not anymore. I have decided that no money in the world can make me go through Ursk again.

  “No, Greg, it isn’t.” I close my eyes. “It’s just too complicated to deal with right now, so let’s all just get out of here, OK?”

  I’m aware that I am behaving like a total bitch. But my mind is run all ragged and I just want to get my boys and myself out of this place.

  There isn’t long to wait. Exactly twenty-four hours after we arrived here at this brick farmhouse, Mansk comes to us.

  “It is time,” he says.

  We have the least baggage, I suppose, of his entire clan. Under the cover of of night, we leave the farmhouse. There are nine of us altogether, and frankly, I wonder if we will ever make it out alive. There’s Mansk and his brood, his brother and wife, and the three of us. No member of Mansk’s family will be left behind. His parents are already dead, and he has no other kin.

  “They’ll torture anyone who is left behind,” he explains as a matter-of-factly.

  I don’t doubt this. I’m not sure they won’t torture the neighbors though. Or cousins. Or friends. No one related to Mansk will be safe here.

  I’m beginning to feel really scared about all this.

  What if I’m making a mistake? What if I am needlessly putting everyone in danger? What if Potchenko will honor the contract after all – despite Aimelie’s threats – and return us intact?

  I should have waited. I’m rash, I know that now. Perhaps my rashness will doom everyone to an early death. But it’s too late to go back and change anything. I made a decision without consulting anyone, and we are all paying the price for it now.

  I do not share with anyone my fears as we pile into Mansk’s truck. Yes, he does have a truck. A Hungarian model that must have been twenty years old. Mansk’s family has brought the bare minimum with them. A battered suitcase for each person – needful things for the journey, gold and whatever foreign money they have managed to come up with.

  I have confirmed the ten million with Max, and he has agreed.

  Sensing my consternation, he says, “Gina, you did the right thing for all of us. Everyone says Aimelie wasn’t going to let us go. My father would never risk an international incident . . . especially the uncomfortable revelations that would come with it.”

  “You mean he would rather let you die?” I am incredulous.

  In the darkness, his profile is troubled. “I don’t know, Gina. Sometimes I don’t know. You have no idea what it is like growing up in that family. I’m the eldest son. In most families, I would have been the favored one. But no. No one ever gave me the time of day, especially when those three were around.”

  I know he means Alice and the twins. Normally, I would say something comforting and reassuring, even though it is probably meaningless. But today, I don’t. Max’s family is just too strange for me to comprehend.

  I reach out for his hand to clasp it. This gesture is not lost on Greg, who says nothing.

  We finally stop by the side of the road, near another farmhouse. Here, some men are loading large crates onto a large truck. They have no benefit of a forklift, but have managed to rig some sort of rudimentary pulley system. The crates contain some sort of farm machinery, as far as I can see.

  Everyone climbs out of our truck, and we follow suit.

  “Two people in one crate,” Mansk says. “No talking now.”

  Oh, I see.

  We get onto the truck, climbing two by two into several empty crates which have been conveniently placed on top. I get into one together with Max, yet another gesture not lost on Greg. It isn’t as if I want to exclude Greg for any reason. It just seems like the natural thing to do to get into a crate with my boyfriend. And besides, I wasn’t thinking about it – at least not in any conscious way.

  The crates are sealed, hammered shut. We are completely in the dark. Max and I cling to each other – our sweaty hands gripping one another’s in a tight clutch that has the air of finality in it. We are only able to guess at what is happening around us from the sounds. We gather that all the crates are finally on the truck – the ones containing people intermingling with the ones containing machinery.

  And then we are off again, the truck rumbling into motion. The crates bump and jostle each other on the uneven road. Our bones are jarred and our muscles ache. After about an hour, we arrive at some sort of train station, which I can decipher once again from the shrieks and whistles and general activity outside. Our crates are offloaded and loaded onto a waiting carriage. I can smell sawdust and steam around us.

  More time elapses. My head is a powder keg waiting to explode, and my heart has exhausted its percussive power. Any time now, I expect the shouts of guards outside, the metallic cocking of rifles pointing at our car. Everyone at the castle must have surely realized we have gone, and that Mansk is the perpetrator.

  Max grips me so hard that my palms feel flattened. I think he is every bit as afraid as I am.

  But miracle of miracles. There’s the blare of a whistle, and the train’s wheels start to churn – axles and gears grinding in a familiar rotational interplay that floods me with relief.

  And we are off! Going to Hungary on a cargo train filled with farm produce. Ursk maintains minimal trade ties with some of its neighbors, against the wrath of Uncle Sam. But we are very far from America in this part of the world, and not everyone thinks in the terms of sanctions against despotic dictators. With every mile the train traverses out of this terrifying nation, my chest grows a little lighter.

  And then it happens.

  With a massive screech of brakes, the train excruciatingly skids to a halt. Have we reached our destination? My intuition tells me no. Something has happened. Something bad.

  After an interminable time, there comes the clatter of boots outside our carriage. Voices ring in the stillness. The thumping of my heart almost drowns out everything else. Max is holding me so hard that I can feel the indentations of his fingernails in my flesh.

  Footsteps on the floor of our carriage. Crates being hauled out. More voices in Urskan. More crates being dragged, toppled and thrown out of the carriage. Red spots dot my vision, and I have to bite my knuckles to keep myself from screaming. Everything seems to happen in a flash, although minutes and minutes must have passed.

  And then . . . the inevitable. Our crate has been discovered. The prizing out of nails. The pulling out of the front board.

  Max and I blink in the sudden light. Flashlights shine on our faces, dazzling us. In the glare, I can make out the gleaming silhouettes of guards and the shiny butts of their rifles.

  Get out, the menacing command is unmistakable in Urskan.

  The vivid image of the Guillotine blade cuts across my mind in a sweep of terror.

  EROTICA BY APHRODITE HUNT

  The ‘Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire’ series

  His Indecent Proposition

  His Indecent Demands

  His Indecent Desires

  His Indecent Secrets

  His Indecent Revelations

  The ‘Initiation’ series

  Open Your Legs for Me

  Blindfolded and Spread-eagled

  Thighs Wide Apart

  Teacher, Please Spread my Pussy

  The Final Initiation

  The Initiation: A Bundle of 5 Stories

  The ‘Initiation 2’ series

  Open Your Legs for my Family

  Bend Over for my Family

  Publicly Display Yourself for Me

 
; Sex Slave at Sea

  Paraded before the Billionaires

  Sex Slave at the Auction

  The ‘Initiation 3’ series

  Sex Slave to the Dictator

  Shackled by the Dictator

  Punished by the Dictator’s Daughter

  ‘The Royal Captive’ series

  Prince Miro’s Capture

  Prince Miro’s Submission

  Prince Miro’s Enslavement

  Prince Miro’s Punishment

  Prince Miro’s Escape

  Prince Miro’s Final Confrontation

  The Royal Captive: Vol 1 to 3

  The Royal Captive: Vol 4 to 6

  The ‘Naughty Nymphomaniac’ series

  I was a Naughty Nymphomaniac

  Officer, Please Spread and Cuff Me

  Gang Banged by the Chain Gang

  Tempting the Hot Navy SEAL

  The ‘Delicate Piercings’ series

  Her First Clit Ring

  Her First Clit Ring 2: Menage

  Her First Clit Ring 3: Desensitization

  The ‘Undercover’ series

  Undercover: Exposing the Bad Doctor

  Undercover: Stealing from the Sexy CEO

  The ‘Alien’ series

  Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens

  Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens 2

  Hot, Wet and Steamy (individual stories)

  When He’s Inside You

  My Stepson is a Naughty Stripper

  The Gorgeous Naked Man in my Storm Shelter (Erotic Suspense)

  WORKS BY ARTEMIS HUNT

  EROTIC ROMANCES

  The ‘Inhumanly Handsome, Humanly Flawed Alpha Male’ series

  A Virgin Enslaved

  The Pretend Boyfriend

  The Pretend Boyfriend 2

  The ‘Maid for the Billionaire Prince’ series

  Mysterious Desire

  Forbidden Desire

  Infamous Desire

  Royal Desire

  Maid for the Billionaire Prince

  ROMANCES

  The Body Snatcher Wears Lipstick

  Snow White and the Alien

  Dear reader, as this list is not always comprehensive due to more stories being churned out after this point in publishing, please visit http://artemishunt.blogspot.com/ and http://aphroditehunt.blogspot.com/ for more stories and updates. I write as Artemis Hunt for erotic romances with a more romance feel and Aphrodite Hunt for pure erotica and erotic romances which are slightly kinkier. So please be aware of what you’re getting into, dear reader, when you read one of my stories. Thank you so much for your support.