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.