Shackled by the Dictator (BDSM Erotica) Read online

  “What do you want, my sweet?” Potchenko asks Aimelie. Whenever he looks at her, his eyes light up with love. It’s obvious he cherishes his daughter above everything else. Perhaps it’s because he lost her mother at childbirth. Perhaps it’s because he never remarried. Perhaps it’s because her brain and psyche are damaged beyond repair.

  We will probably never know.

  Aimelie inspects us – me, Max and Greg – like we are dolls in a toy store. We stand straight as she bounces around each of us, her skirt flouncing with shimmers and spangles. She spends the longest time with Max, touching his chest and abs again as if she can’t get enough of him. A shiver runs down my back. I clench my fists.

  She finally finishes her tour of our bodies, and pronounces something in Urskan. The clowns immediately surround Max, Greg and me. They seize my arms.

  What the hell did she say to them? Are they going to behead me at the Guillotine?

  Suddenly, I am more than terrified.

  They pull me to one of the cords trailing from the ceiling. It is a vivid blue in color. Someone lifts my left leg high above my head – so high that I would have lost my balance if someone else weren’t holding on to my waist. A clown ties my left ankle to the cord, leaving my right leg anchored upon the floor.

  My legs are split severely and my pussy is displayed once again for all to see. I’m supremely uncomfortable. What has she ordered them to do to me? Am I to be drawn and quartered in this barbaric fashion? My tethered foot is already starting to develop pins and needles as the blood drains rapidly away to my center.

  Not content to leave me in my discomfort, they pinion my arms upward as well and tie my wrists to the cord.

  My body is now in a straight, uncomfortable line. My natural instinct is to close my exposed pussy – to shield it from being so vulnerably exposed, prey to all kinds of indecencies from Aimelie. I long to raise my right leg, but right now, I don’t have the strength.

  Aimelie laughs gaily as she leads Max to a trampoline, still with the club inside his ass. She pushes him down on it, and as his body hits the taut material, he bounces slightly. His expression is as anxious as mine.

  Mansk positions himself before me. I can smell his mild soap scent. He begins to unbutton his pants. I suddenly understand what it is Aimelie commanded him to do.

  “She asked you to fuck me,” I accuse.

  He shrugs. “I have wanted to fuck you since the second I saw you. And now I am permit the chance.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Potchenko lead Greg out of the chamber with a lariat. Greg turns to eye us. So Potchenko seems to prefer men. Then again, how many nights have we been with him to make a judgment?

  Aimelie lifts her skirt. She wears nothing underneath, and her pubic hair is a dark, unruly thatch. She positions her pussy hole above Max’s erection and lowers herself down upon it. Psychologically impaired or not, she knows how to get that part right. Then again, there’s nothing complicated about fucking.

  Mansk on the other hand grabs my waist tightly with both hands to stop my body from swaying to the cord. His cock head nudges my wet pussy hole and burrows snugly in. His warm rod of flesh cleaves apart my walls, and I feel the familiar satisfaction of being taken roughly – of being desired. Mansk rubs his hips against mine as he starts to thrust, each upward stroke accompanied by a grunt.

  “You feel good,” he murmurs.

  “What else did she ask you to do to me?”

  “I will not be the only one tonight. She wants you fucked at both ends . . . while she fucks your boyfriend.”

  Just as he forewarned, someone else behind me grabs my breasts. I half-turn. It is one of the clowns. His face is a splotchy leer as he posits his red cock – red by natural means, not painted – at my puckered asshole.

  Without giving me warning, he pushes it in, enlarging my sphincter and filling my rectum with his stiff stick of flesh.

  I give a cry of pain.

  They both thrust against me now. I am a veritable doubly penetrated sandwich. The thin membrane between my two orifices is nestled and jostled and pounded without mercy. The friction from both cocks against my walls is intense – intensely painful at first, especially from my anus as that clown gave me no lubrication, and then intensely pleasurable.

  My tethered leg begins to scream with an aching pain. Because I am bound in such a manner, the sensation in both my holes is different from what I am accustomed to. The angles are different, the stimulation bizarre. Their cocks rub and roll against my passages in a slant, sending a new load of my nerve fibers into fiery cacophony.

  My gaze is riveted to Aimelie and Max, however. The trampoline does not allow much solid leverage. The entire apparatus creaks and groans with their pounding. There is an extra bounce to their upward trajectory, and so Aimelie has to slam upon Max’s hips even harder as she comes down – which no doubt makes for an extra hard descent.

  My own suitors are pounding me hard. Their semi-clothed heaving bodies soak in my sweat. I’m a morass of moans and grunts and pressed muscles. My groin and buttocks feel compressed and flattened. The two men are nothing if not energized.

  The crest starts in my pussy first, enabled by the copious rubbing of my nerve bundles there. But no, I will not allow myself to come. Not while I’m unsure of Aimelie’s agenda for me.

  I will not be caught in an orgasm while she slices off my head.

  I say to Mansk between gasps, “And after this, what?”

  Aimelie gives a particularly loud cry. If she hasn’t come yet, I reckon she’s real close.

  Mansk says, “As you Americans like to say, your guess is as good as my guess.” He cores a particularly hard thrust into me, sending paroxysms of ecstasy up my G-spot.

  “Ohhhh,” I moan.

  “Enjoy this while you can,” he warns. “You might not later.”

  “Why?” I pant.

  “Because she might not let you.” His breathing grows labored. “She is not predictable.”

  The image of Aimelie’s unpredictability dances in my fevered mind as both Mansk and the clown impale me with increased vigor. Their movements are harsh and frenetic. The clown’s large hands grope my tits while Mansk clutches both my hip bones with a growing, ragged fervor. My own hands clutch whatever strip of cord that I can hold on to. Sweat runs down my face. Even if I were to fight it, I don’t think I can stop myself from coming.

  Besides, it’s as Mansk says: Enjoy this while you can. You might not later.

  Those ominous words toll in my head as Aimelie throws back her head and utters a shriek. Maybe Max has come inside her. Maybe he hasn’t, but his head lolls upon the canvas of the trampoline in a daze.

  My own peak takes me by storm. I allow myself to roll in it – to be lifted by its magnificence. My back arches as I scream my orgasm into the vaulted ceiling – into the bars and trapezes and swings and curling ropes decorated with pretty, perfect slaves like myself. My fingers squeeze around the cord that so mercilessly binds me.

  And therein I escape. I escape from the prison that confines me. I escape from my tethers and bonds and my human captors who treat me as nothing more than a piece of sandwich meat. I escape from my fears and terrors and fetid memories of bondage and servitude and fates far worse than being a sex slave.

  The bliss goes on and on, and I never want it to stop. But it has to, as with all things that must come down to Earth.

  When I open my eyes, Mansk and the clown have disengaged themselves from my body. Their sticky residue trickles out of my orifices to stain the inner thigh of my dangling leg. I slump in my spent state, my body hanging by my wrists and one ankle. My eyes are blurry. My lungs suck in heated air.

  Because my face is downturned, I can see the approach of spangled shoes before me. I force myself to raise my head. Aimelie peers at me, an innocent grin on her mouth, which is smeared by lipstick.

  She says, “I will ask Father to let me keep your boyfriend forever and ever, or until I tire of him. And I will keep you
and your brown-haired friend too . . . just in case your boyfriend refuses to behave.”

  With that, she turns and flounces gaily away, leaving the ominous note to fester deep within my consciousness.

  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

  Shacked by the Dictator

  ‘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 ‘Maid for the Billionaire Prince’ series

  Mysterious Desire

  Forbidden Desire

  Infamous Desire

  Royal Desire

  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.