Shackled by the Dictator (The Initiation 3, Volume 2)

To all my Erotic Romance readers:

I'm never sure if it's a good idea to send you an alert through the Mailing List on the availability of a pure erotica novelette. So a warning is in order here. This is hardcore EROTICA. Although there are romantic elements in it, the hardcore BDSM elements take precedence.

After being purchased as sex slaves by dictator Vladimir Potchenko, Gina, Max and Greg land on his hidden European nation of Ursk - a land of horrifying secrets. But nothing has prepared them for how vast Potchenko's power is . . . or how this will impact them.

Then Potchenko reveals his pretty but deranged daughter. A daughter who immediately decides that Max is hers to keep - never mind that he is contractually bound to be freed in a month . . . or that he is Gina's boyfriend.

This 11500 word BDSM novelette is the second volume of 'The Initiation 3' series. 'The Initiation 1' and 'The Initiation 2' have been in the Amazon US Top 2 Erotica and Top 30 Romance bestseller charts. The series has sold well over 80,000 copies.

OTHER BOOKS IN THIS SERIES

THE INITIATION: 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: 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: Sex Slave to the Dictator, Shackled by the Dictator (NEW!)

Excerpt:

Two clown grooms drag me to a silver apparatus that comprises of two horizontal bars - one above the other. Greg is being similarly brought toward us.

"Greg!" I cry in relief.

"Thank God you're OK," he says as soon as he approaches, breaking out into a wide smile. His shining eyes hold complicated emotions. Emotions I'm not ready to acknowledge or face . . . as yet.

Mansk says, "Is this one your boyfriend?"

I say, "No, it's the other one. The blond. Max."

Mansk nods to the clowns and says something in Urskan. Then he turns to me. "Everything is correct. String them both up."

He moves away without as much as a backward glance.

At first, I am bewildered. The grooms/clowns/whatever grab my arms and upend me as if I'm a ragdoll. My balance is completely disrupted. My hair shivers and trails to the floor like seaweed. Rough hands grab the flesh of my thighs, my legs, brushing against my pussy and buttocks interminably. The groom before me squeezes them. His painted face leers very close to mine - so close that I can smell the fruity, chemical paste of his gaudy makeup.

Hands grab my ankles and tie them with ropes to one of the horizontal bars. I'm in a precarious position - wrong side up and secured to the flimsy bar by only my feet at either end of the silver rod. My arms are left free.

Someone pinches my clit, and a spool of cream unearths from the recesses of my pussy. Because I am upside down, it pools at the mouth of my cervix.

My grooms are certainly taking liberties with my body, unlike so many of the grooms who have attended to me back in America - including Greg. Fingers prize open my pussy lips, stroke my clit, worm themselves 'accidentally' into my holes. Pincer grips tweak my nipples. Hands slide into my clefts. My juices begin to pool and pool, because I am excited despite my apprehension . . . or maybe because of it.

I desperately long to be fucked. I can sense it - this hollowness permeating my vagina, spreading all the way to my anus. I long to be fucked in both holes - invaded and penetrated so wonderfully and deeply that I can almost feel the towers of flesh inside me right now.

What is happening to me? Am I turning into a nymphomaniac in any circumstance - even one fraught with uncertainty and danger?

When they have finished with me, I feel like an acrobat. A bound acrobat. My pussy is a pink flower - just begging to be played with and despoiled.

Amazon! Finally!

It's available here!

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009XECBQ0

His Indecent Revelations

This novella is already out on Nook, Smashwords and ARE, but has been stuck 'In Review' status at Amazon for the past 3 days. So sorry, but I already sent an email to Amazon to rectify this. I am not the only one in this boat, apparently.

This is the emotional finale to The Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire series. I had fun writing it. I hope you will be moved by the Epilogue.

THE BARNES AND NOBLE TOP 25 and AMAZON EROTICA TOP 50 SERIES CONTINUES!

Susan Chalmers and her billionaire lover, Channing Crawford, are now prisoners of Channing’s ex-girlfriend, Alia.

Alia’s fury over the past knows no bounds as she tortures Channing and secretes Susan to a citadel in Baghdad. And now the endgame looms. Channing will have to make a terrible choice: the woman he loves . . . or the lives of the people he is responsible for.

At 14,000 words, HIS INDECENT REVELATIONS is the final volume in the ‘BOUND AND SHACKLED TO THE BILLIONAIRE’ BDSM erotic romance series.


READ AN EXCERPT

That night, they lie in each other’s arms, unable to sleep.

“You think they’re going to kill me?” Susan says. Her head is on Channing’s chest.

“I don’t think so.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t think Alia would let you die. She’s not the type. She thinks you’re kindred spirits. You share a common bond. That is, you’ve both been majorly fucked by me, and I don’t mean it in a positive way.”

“So why am I here?”

“As a pawn to keep me in check before they kill me.” His tone is a matter-of-fact.

She realizes he has come to accept that he is going to die.

“I don’t think she’ll kill you,” she whispers, stroking his chest. “She still loves you. I can feel it. As a woman, I know these things.”

He is silent, but his heartbeat thuds erratically.

“Permanent imprisonment isn’t on my bucket list of things to do either,” he says.

“Channing . . . I love you.” It seems as though she has loved him forever.

He lifts a tendril of her hair.

“I love you too,” he says hesitantly.

She tenses and holds her breath. This is the first time he has ever said it to her.

“But I’m afraid to jinx you by saying it too often,” he adds. “So don’t expect me to say it again until . . . unless we get out of here.”

His eyes are shining the dim light of the flickering lamp on their bedside table.

“It’s all right. You said it . . . and that’s all that matters,” she says.

Tears come to her eyes and her heart expands with sudden emotion. She has always wondered why folks made such a big do about those three little words, and now she understands. They are monumental. They represent anything and everything that has happened in their relationship, and for it to come to this pivotal moment . . . well, it’s as good a time as any to say them.

She clasps his body to hers, and he does likewise. They hold each other like this for a long, long time, gazing into each other’s eyes, studying each other’s faces and thinking about what might ensue tomorrow.

About what may never be.

After a while, he says, “You want to try again?”

She knows what he refers to. Do you want to try to make love again? Because we may never get the chance . . . again.