Publicly Display Yourself for Me

(BOOK THREE OF THE INITIATION 2 SERIES)

This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2012 by Aphrodite Hunt

Cover art by Aphrodite Hunt

Published by Aphrodite Hunt at Smashwords

WORKS BY APHRODITE HUNT

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

‘
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 ‘Naughty Nymphomaniac’ series

I was a Naughty Nymphomaniac

Officer, Please Spread and Cuff Me

Gang Banged by the Chain Gang

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

Her First Clit Ring

Dear reader, as this list is not always
comprehensive due to more stories being churned out after this
point in publishing, please visit
http://aphroditehunt.blogspot.com/
for more stories and updates

1

I’m curled up in my bed, alone, wondering
how I’ve gotten myself into this mess.

Oh yes. I remember.

It’s the $250,000. My contract money to be a
sex slave to a billionaire philanthropist and his three horny sons,
locked in for a period of time in which I do not have a safe word
to opt out from.

And yes. It’s also because I am afraid of
losing my boyfriend – the superrich and super-gorgeous Max Devlin –
if I say no to his family.

I’m sick, sick, sick.

Depraved, more like. But although my
thoughts oscillate between two extremes, I have no qualms that if I
had to relive the last two days, I still would have signed the
contract. It’s my nest egg, you see? I have to look after myself.
I’m not much different from a kept woman – she opens her legs for
somewhere to stay, privileges and money. The main difference is
that she opens her legs for one man.

I’m opening my legs for everyone in the
family, and whomever they choose to fuck me. In there a term in
history for one such as I? Bonded slave? I certainly haven’t heard
of many cases such as mine. Or maybe they are all kept hush hush in
the family closets.

The soft breeze wafts in through the
windows, tenting the curtains. It’s such a beautiful day out there,
and I’m sick to my stomach. I wonder if I can feign illness. It
wouldn’t be a total stretch. I
am
ill. The kind of illness
that knots my stomach and makes me feel as if I’ll never be worthy
to look my mother in the eye again.

A knock sounds on my door. My stomach does
another flip. Honestly, I don’t want any sex today. My pussy is
sore from all that rough thumping I received yesterday, and if
anyone suggests more sodomy, I swear I’m going to cry uncle. My
butt is still having hot flashes from the flat paddle that was
applied gleefully to it yesterday.

This is why I’m lying, not
sitting,
down. I don’t think I can
sit
on anything harder than a
plush cushion.

It isn’t Max who comes in through my bedroom
door but one of the twins. Alex. Maybe Brad. Yes, I still can’t
tell them apart despite having fucked and sucked both of them
individually and as a ménage.

“Good morning,” he says, smiling.

“Good morning,” I reply in a timid voice,
hoping he would think I have laryngitis and go away.

Of course, he’s blessedly gorgeous, with his
dark hair and well-shaped nose and lips that are totally kissable.
A spasm of desire passes through my loins despite myself. But I
still don’t want sex. Can a sex slave state what she wants without
getting another round of punishment?

He walks up to the bed and hands me a paper
bag that says ‘Erotic secrets’. I open my mouth to begin my
rebellious protest (which I have rehearsed to good measure all
morning in bed) but he wags a finger.

“It isn’t what you think, Gina. Put it
on.”

I take the paper bag from him, feeling a
little dazed. When I see the bag’s contents, I ask, “Where are we
going?”

“The beach.”

“The one downstairs?”

He winks. “Just put it on. You’ll see.”

*

I traipse down the curving grand staircase,
feeling self-conscious. My muscles ache as if I’ve just been
through a brutal Thai massage. I’m wearing a white terrycloth robe
and high heels. Yeah, I’m going to have a ball digging those heels
in the sand. I’m already having trouble digging my heels into the
soft, sink-into-me carpet that must have been worth hundreds of
thousands of sex contracts.

Voices waft from the den. One of them sounds
terribly familiar. I frown, trying to remember where I’ve heard it
before. It’s not anyone who lives in this house, for certain.

The trill of female laughter follows.

Alice walks out of the den. “Well, one of
the guest bedrooms is taken, but there are plenty more to go
around. And oh, my Dad is – ”

She freezes when she sees me.

My feet grow roots at the bottom step. Alice
always does to me. Makes me feel as if I’m an errant little girl in
want of smacking.

Alice narrows her eyes. She puts her hands
on her hips. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the beach,” I squeak.

Yes, yes, I’m still a coward.

She moves closer to me. So close that I can
see the mascara on her long eyelashes and the fine makeup on her
face.

She hisses, “Don’t think I don’t know what
you’ve been up to with my father.”

I’m too frightened to say anything. My
tongue seems to have turned into a piece of leather, and a cold
draft wraps itself around my bare legs.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” she goes
on, the light in her eyes taking on a devilish cast. “I want you to
know that you won’t get away with it.”

An answer forms like a bubble in my throat.
But I’m not trying to get away with anything!
Does she mean
the contract? I thought it was a ‘willing buyer, willing seller’
case.

Unless . . . unless she thinks I want
something more
outside
the contract.

Do I?

Well, I do want the affections of her
younger brother, but does that count? Or do I know myself and my
secret inclinations as well as I think?

“I – I – ” I stammer.

A girl tumbles out of the den, laughing. Her
hair is coppery and streaked with blonde. Her complexion is clear
and pink. Health glows from every pore of her athletic body, and
she’s wearing a Nike tank top with running pants. Her midriff
displays a bellybutton ring. A tattoo of a beautiful woman’s face
adorns her right arm.

“Say, Alice – ” she stops short when she
sees me. “Hey, who’s this? You didn’t tell me you had other
visitors?”

“She’s not a visitor anymore,” Alice sneers.
“I’ll tell you later exactly what she is.”

The girl’s eyes roam up and down my body. A
flush comes to my cheeks. I am no stranger to having someone gaze
at me with desire, of course – but this girl wears a ravenous
hunger in her eyes, as if she’s a beast who would like to devour
me.

“Heather?” A man exits the den to stride
into the hall. He pauses in his tracks as soon as he sees me.

I recognize him, of course.

No wonder his voice is so familiar. I
remember his soothing tones in Dean Whitehouse’s mansion during the
night of my final Initiation. I recall his hands bathing me, his
fingers worming into the tight confines of my pussy as he cleans my
insides. I remember desiring his prettily decorated cock so badly
there was an actual ache in my loins.

“Greg!” I say, doing everything I can to
stop myself from running into his arms.

2

“Gina?” His face lights up.

An inexplicable joy explodes within my
chest. I’ve always liked Greg. No . . . I
adore
him. Of all
the people who initiated me, he by far has been the kindest – even
when he has no need to be.

He is as handsome as ever – with his curly
hair, now a tad longer, and the sexy cleft in his chin. His beauty
is different from Max’s. More boy-next-door wholesome as opposed to
my boyfriend’s Abercrombie and Fitch model looks. His arm muscles
bulge from the T-shirt he is wearing, which is not particularly
form-fitting or tight.

Alice turns to him and possessively hugs his
waist. Lover-type possessive.

Oh no.

“You know her?” she says jealously.

“Sure, of course. Gina is, uh . . . ” He
arrests my eyes, unsure if he should proceed.

I don’t know how much Alice knows of what
goes on in an Initiation, but I’m not sure if Greg wants her to
know that he was part of
mine
.

“I’m Max’s girlfriend,” I conclude for Greg.
My heart is tapping fast against my ribcage. Greg is such a fine,
decent young man. Far too good for the likes of Alice, even if
she’s an heiress to a billionaire’s fortune – divided four ways, of
course.

Greg’s face is open and searching.

“So you hooked up with Max?” he marvels.
“Wonders never cease.”

“What do you mean by that?” I say.

“It’s just that I have never seen him hook
up with an . . . uh – ”

Again he stops. I know he was going to say
‘initiate’, but he’s once again unsure of how much I want to
divulge. That only endears him further to me.

“It’s OK, Greg,” I say, a lump forming in my
throat. “Everyone in this house knows I was a former initiate.”

An expression of scorn flits through Alice’s
fine features.

“A former and current whore, more like,” she
remarks.

Heather crosses her arms, amused.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Greg retorts. He
sounds like he means it too.

“I’m just telling it like it is.”

“You don’t know Gina.”

“And you do?” Alice turns suspicious all of
a sudden.

Greg seems uncomfortable. “Let’s can the
subject, OK?”

“No,” Heather chimes in, “this is all
terribly interesting. Please go on.”

Alice flashes Greg a vicious glare. “I’ll
can the subject only when I want to, not when you tell me to. You
forget your place.”

I’m bewildered. Whatever relationship Alice
and Greg are having, it’s clear she’s in the driving seat. What the
hell is someone as nice as he is doing with her?

I am saved when Max comes in through the
front door. Silhouetted against the late morning sunshine, he
resembles an angel. OK, fallen angel, because there’s a seductive
streak of darkness within him that all of us can clearly see. My
gut does a flip flop. Max is so gorgeous that he eclipses everyone
else in the room, including Greg.

“Hey, baby,” he says to me, “you ready to
go?”

“Yes,” I say in relief, running as fast I
can into his embrace.

Max grins as he kisses me on the top of my
head. He smells of sweet soap and eau d’ toilette, which is the
only scent he seems to prefer. He’s affectionate-like – in the
manner that we used to behave when we were having blissful vanilla
sex, back before this whole family visit/sex slave contract thing
started.

Ordinarily, I am ecstatic when Max does
this, but now there are undercurrents in the hall. I’m aware of a
quick shadow of disappointment flitting across Greg’s handsome
face. Alice’s mouth twists in an almost snarl, while Heather
observes everything with a casual nonchalance, as though she is
above all these petty politics.

Max says, “Gina, I assume you have met Greg?
He’s Alice’s boyfriend, come for a visit.”

Yes, this affirms it. No reference to my
Initiation. It’s safe to hazard a guess that Alice doesn’t know of
Greg’s involvement. Max has also cleverly made the assumption that
Alice thinks I’m unworthy to be introduced to anyone.

“And this is Heather, Alice’s friend from
college.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Heather says, smiling
in that mysterious way of hers. She doesn’t come over to offer me
her hand, but under the circumstances, I don’t blame her.