Shackled by the Dictator (BDSM Erotica) (5 page)

Oh, so he’s updated on our relationship
status. I don’t recall befriending him on my Facebook. I try to
catch Mansk’s eye – to mutely question him on how we should play
this. But he studiously avoids my gaze.

Around us, trapeze bars, hoops and ribbons
swing and rotate – the players seemingly oblivious to our plight.
Or perhaps they are too relieved at not having been singled out.
They know something we don’t.

“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.