Sex Slave to the Dictator (The Initiation 3) (5 page)

I feel myself responding to him, raising my
hips to meet his so that he can caress my G-spot even more. My
vagina is still sore from the protracted stretching I received from
the wide throttle lever, but it’s a good kind of sore. A soreness
that is meant to be for my perpetually dominated state. I have
always loved the way Max fucks me – earnestly and skillfully.

The pleasure begins to build in my loins,
and I find myself getting more feverish and frantic – as though I
am racing towards a climax.

“Take those things off him,” Potchenko
says.

My heart skips several beats. Who is he
talking to?

“Come here, Greg Kingsley. Fuck him in the
ass.”

Oh.

He wants Greg to fuck Max in the ass. I
cannot see anything but I imagine Mansk dusting the sandwiches off
Greg’s poor, fatigued arms and Greg lowering them in a rush,
relieved to be spared the agony. Then Greg coming over, his silent
feet padding on the carpet. Greg looking at the view Max and I must
present, and kneeling behind Max.

I feel Greg’s ankles brushing my legs. Max
is still rigorously fellating Potchenko. There are moist, fleshy
sounds – tongue around cock, lips smacking the shaft. Max is doing
his duty, but the skin of his body is electrified. Tense.

I hear Max’s soft hiss as Greg impales him
in the ass.

Ohhhhh, how that must feel. Especially as
Greg’s cock is pierced. Can Max discern the cold metal bulbs on
either side of Greg’s penile head? I know I could when Greg fucked
me in the vagina.

We are now a four way with Max as a nucleus
– his cock in my pussy and a cock each in his mouth and anus. With
Greg’s added force, Max’s hips seem to augment in speed and sheer
blunt pressure. Every part of my vagina is probed and hammered, as
though his cock is a questing instrument. His tool scrapes and
pounds my nerve bundles into incoherence.

I build and build, the rivers of ecstasy
flowing and ebbing, and flowing and ebbing. My tongue loses
precision, and I stab at Potchenko’s anus in blurry, heated
movements as my throat grunts helplessly. The rivers delta into
every part of my body, and as it crests along my spine, it hits a
pleasure trigger in my brain.

I let myself scale that peak.

After all, he didn’t say I couldn’t
come.

I moan against his asshole as the
electrified spasms seize me. I jerk and writhe and let all my
muscles contract – sweetly shuddering movements that twist my spine
and send spools of pleasure into the gaping mouth of my brain.

Oh, I relish this. Made to cum by the love
of my life, Max – and in such bizarre circumstances.

It’s as though we are grabbing whatever
happiness we have. As though we
know
– by premonition or
some deep-seated soul knowledge – that something bad will happen to
us in Ursk, no matter how rich we are and where we come from and
how
protected
Max assures us we are.

Max, I love you!

I want to shout it out to the world from
forty thousand feet above.

Max continues to fuck me. Fuck fuck fuck.
The slap of his hips against my wet inner thighs. The slap of his
flesh against my buttocks. I let my orgasm roll over me, evaporate
into every part of my sore and misused body.

I feel Max’s semen gush into me.

Oh, oh, oh, will he be punished for
that?

He shudders and stops, panting against the
cock in his mouth. Greg hasn’t stopped fucking him in the ass. I
can still hear the slap slap slap of his groin against Max’s
buttocks.

Someway along the line when I’m sweating and
still rimming the asshole above me, Greg achieves orgasm as well,
judging by the soft cry issuing from his throat.

If Potchenko has climaxed, then Max is the
recipient of his sperm. I visualize Potchenko’s fluids pouring into
Max’s reluctant throat. And Max will lap and swallow every drop of
it. Max the alpha. Max who proudly struts around campus like he
owns the place because he knows he’s rich, powerful and beautiful.
Max who is mercurial and complicated and so multifaceted that I
will never learn all his secrets.

Max, the dom I fell in love with, and who
loves me in return. Max, the victim of consensual incest. Max –
reduced to being the filling in our bizarre human sandwich,
courtesy of his parents.

Oh Max. Why are we so fucked up?

Potchenko allows us to regain our collective
breaths and for all the shared juices in our bodies to swill around
and take seed.

Then we pluck ourselves from the tangled web
we have woven and rest our aching bodies. This time, he allows both
boys to eat, and they fall upon the food in ravenous hunger.

The plane autopilots its way towards Ursk as
we are thrown into our cell again. (Yes, make no mistake about it,
it’s a cell.) And my premonition about us being in danger – real
danger – seeps back into my bones as the sky darkens into European
night.

EROTICA BY APHRODITE HUNT

The ‘Bound
and Shackled
to
the Billionaire’ series

His Indecent Proposition

His Indecent Demands

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

‘
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 ‘Maid for the Billionaire Prince’
series

Mysterious Desire

Forbidden Desire

Infamous 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.

1

Susan Chalmers looks at herself in the
bathroom mirror and takes a deep breath.

“OK, don’t panic. You can do it. He’s not as
scary as everyone makes him to be,” she mutters to herself.

Then she freezes. She turns around to check
if anyone is in the stalls of the fourteenth floor ladies’
restroom. Wouldn’t do to have any spies in the vicinity. None of
the stall doors are closed, but you never know. So she does a
cursory examination, her high heels going clack-clack-clack on the
black and white tiles.

I’m getting paranoid,
she scolds
herself. It’s this intense competition that is getting to her, not
to mention that slimy bastard, Leonard Drake. Leonard is aiming to
be the youngest VP in the company, and yes, she has to admit she is
older by a full year than that sneaky twenty-eight-year old who is
always telling everyone he graduated from Stanford at age nineteen
because he is some sort of accelerated home-schooled genius.

(Well, she’s older by exactly nine months,
if you want to be picky about it.)

But VP!

Ohhh
.

She can almost see her name in gold
lettering on her door. SUSAN CHALMERS, VICE-PRESIDENT. She has
earned her way to that promotion and she fully deserves the post.
She has brought in the Stoughton contract, worth three hundred
million dollars. OK, so Leonard is neck-to-neck with her with the
Habber contract to the tune of three hundred and fifty million
dollars, but what is a mere fifty million, right?

Her heart sinks.

Actually, if they wanted to be picky about
it, that fifty million can mean the whole world between a promotion
and another few more years of waiting in the wings. It just so
happened that Dan Barry, the previous VP, dropped dead of a heart
attack. Susan was genuinely sorry about it, even though Dan was a
lecher who liked to grope all the women and cheat on his wife.

She looks at herself in the mirror again.
She’s attractive enough with her coppery curls and wide brown eyes,
but she has always wished she could be prettier and taller. But
being pretty is not going to cut it with Mr. Channing Crawford, the
CEO of Crawford, Peterson and Fulham Inc. As far as she knows, Mr.
Crawford hasn’t even
looked
at any woman in the company.
Rumors might have abounded that he was gay had it not been for his
extreme alpha male masculinity and the way he seems to suck all the
air out of a room.

Nope. This is all going to be based on
merit. Maybe she needs the extra fifty million dollars after
all.

You can do it, girl
.

She plucks her purse off the sink and makes
herself walk out of the restroom. Her legs are slightly wobbly as
she strides to the elevators. The CEO’s office is on the top floor.
Even after five years in the company, her encounters with Channing
Crawford have been thankfully brief and limited to boardrooms and
town hall meetings.

She doesn’t wish for broader contact. The
man is frankly intimidating.

The light on top of one of the elevators
comes on, and the doors slide open. Susan makes to step in, and
freezes when she sees Leonard Drake inside.

Leonard smiles craftily. He is a tall black
man with a full head of straight black hair. He is always
impeccably dressed and he doesn’t walk – he
glides
like a
shark.

“Going up?” he says.

She wonders if it’s a metaphor. She debates
whether or not to postpone this appointment with Channing Crawford
to another time. But you don’t postpone appointments with Channing
Crawford. You don’t get a second chance.

She steels herself and lifts her chin
up.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” she says.

She walks into the elevator with an air of
confidence that she does not feel.
Gotta keep those hands from
trembling
. She presses the button to the top floor, aware that
Leonard is sizing her every move.

“Oh,” he says in a silky voice, “going to
the CEO’s office?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’ve just been there.”

Oh? Susan pricks up her ears. She will not
give Leonard the satisfaction of turning her head to address him,
however.

Leonard goes on, “Let’s just say the VP job
is pretty much wrapped up.”

“Nothing is ever wrapped up until it’s
over,” she says acidly.

Internally, she’s going
damn damn
damn
in dismay. What uproariously stellar interview did Leonard
give Channing Crawford? What new projects did he promise to deliver
if he were to get that VP post? Leonard is an upstanding member of
his church community, and he has a lot of contacts channeling in
from that way.

As for her, she hasn’t gone to church since
grade school.

Damn
.

She wonders if it’s too late to court a
parish.

The elevator reaches the twentieth floor and
Leonard gets off.

“Good luck,” he says, grinning. “You’re
gonna need it. Lots of it.”

She glares balefully at him as he turns tail
and walks off. The elevator doors hiss shut again, and it’s up, up,
up to top.

If only.

Her nerves are jangling when the doors slide
open to reveal a wide passageway. At the end of it is the CEO’s
office. It takes up almost the entire floor.

Susan steps out. She is wearing red heels,
and they sink into the blue and cream carpet. Her blouse is red
silk and her skirt is a pencil-silhouetted tartan. She looks every
inch the powerhouse professional, or so she hopes.

Her steps are strident until she gets closer
and closer to the office, and then she falters.

Why oh why am I so nervous?

Relax, you’ve got the goods. So what if
Leonard gets the job? At least you’ve given it your best shot.

But I don’t want him to get the job! He’s
never going to let me live it down!