Sex Slave to the Dictator (The Initiation 3)

(BOOK ONE OF THE INITIATION 3 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

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

My name is Gina Wesley. I am nineteen years
old. I’m from Minnesota and I’m a college student. I was a sex
slave contracted to Russell Devlin, father of my beautiful
boyfriend, Max Devlin – but I have been recently purchased by
Vladimir Potchenko, absolute dictator of the small Eastern European
nation known as Ursk.

I’m so terrified that it’s everything I can
do to hold my pee from running down my naked legs.

Max, Greg and I are in a small compartment
of Potchenko’s private jet. This is the Ursk version of Air Force
One. We have not seen Vladimir Potchenko since we boarded the
aircraft. We were shepherded here, pushed into this chamber with
its flimsy, detachable walls and locked in.

There’s a dog bowl of water in one corner
that we are supposed to share. The fact that it’s a dog bowl says
it all.

The three of us are collared – black leather
with metal studs. We wear nothing else. I can only thank our lucky
stars that we are not bound. It would be a most uncomfortable
thirteen hour journey otherwise, like with prisoners shackled to
walls.

I’m not even sure we will be fed.

I’m shivering in a corner of our confined
space and Max and Greg are on either side of me. We huddle together
for comfort and warmth, but I still can’t stop my shudders. I think
they are borne not of the low temperature but a deep-seated terror
within me that I have yet to fully acknowledge. My subconscious is
keeping it contained like a Pandora box of secrets too awful to
contemplate.

It’s the only way I know how to survive
this.

“Gina, we’re with you. It’s gonna be OK,”
Max tries to soothe me.

He massages one right wrist while Greg takes
my left hand and clasps it. Both boys are worried as hell about
me.

“Are you so sure?” I whimper.

“Yes. The terms of this slave contract spell
out clearly that we cannot be injured or disabled permanently in
any way. Not a single blemish must be left on our skins when we
leave Ursk.”

“It’s true,” Greg avows, his eyes
hooded.

I don’t believe either of them.

“B-but what about the accidents?” I say.

“What accidents?” Max says.

“You know . . . the accidents . . . like
slaves not coming back and the cover-up and money exchanges that
take place . . . ” I falter. It seems a lifetime ago since I heard
that. And from whom I don’t even remember. Probably from one of the
two here.

“Gina.” Max grasps my arm firmly. “It’s not
gonna happen to you, OK?”

“We won’t let it. We would die before we’d
let anything happen to you,” Greg adds.

His eyes are shining with such fervent
honesty that I almost believe him. Oh Greg. If I hadn’t met Max
first, I would have fallen for you. And why do you have to be
Alice’s fiancé? Is she even worried about you?

I picture Alice, snug on her father’s lap in
his study. I don’t think she’s even thinking about the three of us
– that self-consumed, selfish brat. Oh, how I would like to tear
her eyes out.

But you know, I wouldn’t trade places with
her for all the money in the world. There’s no way I will leave
either of the boys alone here. I’d never forgive myself either if
something happens to either of them.

Max leans over and kisses my wet cheek.

“I love you, OK? Always remember that,” he
murmurs into my ear.

This is not lost on Greg. A wistfulness
takes over his soft brown eyes, but it’s only there for an
instance. Then it dissipates as he masks his features.

Oh Greg.

“I love you too,” I say to Max. I clasp
Greg’s hand in return. “I love you, Greg. I love you as a
friend.”

I said that last so as not to incur Max’s
jealousy.

There has always been a tenuous connection
between the two boys, like strangulation wire. It’s still there,
but I can tell that they are keeping mum about it because of me. I
have become a common bond for them. They have set aside whatever
differences they’ve had because of me.

For that I’m very grateful and I love the
two of them more because of it. But I know that in this terrible
trial that we are put into, it will flare again.

But not right now, I hope, because I have to
use the bathroom.

Are we allowed bathroom privileges?

Max shakes his head ruefully. “This is not
my home anymore, so your guess is as good as mine. The only way
we’ll know for sure is to ask.”

The thought of asking the dictator if I can
go pee sends my spirits cascading down faster than a paralyzed
bird’s plummet.

“Maybe I’ll just hold it in.”

“Are you kidding? We’re not even two hours
into our journey.” Max raises himself from his haunches. He bangs
on the flimsy door and says in a loud voice, “Excuse me? Excuse
me!”

“Ssssh!” I hiss in panic. “Not so loud, Max,
you’ll rouse him.”

We know who I’m talking about, of
course.

“I’m not trying to wake him up, if he’s
asleep in the first place. I’m just trying to get one of the
guards.”

I have no idea what time zone we’re flying
over, being completely disorientated as I am. But it never hurts to
be cautious. There are no windows in our compartment, only an
overhead lamp.

My stomach flips as I hear the pad of
footsteps outside our door. Oh shit, he heard us! Now he’s coming
to beat Max up. I cringe in my corner, the coward that I am.

The door clatters and opens. I cower in
fright.

But it’s not the dictator himself, as Max
predicted. It’s one of the guards who brought us here. He is
swarthy in appearance. Clean-shaven, with a snakelike scar on his
chin which he probably got for taking a knife wound meant for the
dictator, or something equally heroic. He wears the green military
uniform of Ursk. His gun is apparent in his holster.

“What?” he says brusquely.

I think all my pee has just fled upwards
from my bladder.

Max stands his ground stoically. “The lady
here needs to use the bathroom.”

The guard says something in Ursk, which none
of us understand. My heart sinks. Oh dear, he doesn’t know what
we’re talking about. How the hell are we ever going to
communicate?

Then the guard surprises us by pointing at
me and saying, “Come.”

Greg helps me up to my wobbly feet.

“You two, stay,” the guard says. He grabs my
arm roughly. I cry out.

“Don’t hurt her.” Max’s stance is
challenging.

The guard reaches for his gun.

“No,” I say shakily to Max. I hold my hands
up. My heart is battering my ribcage. I’m just so afraid Max will
be injured in some way. “He isn’t hurting me. I’ll go alone with
him. I’ll be OK.”

“Gina . . . ”

“Max, it’s going to happen sooner or later.
He’s going to want to see me alone . . . or one of you alone. We
can’t always be together.”

Oh, listen to myself, the voice of reason.
If only I am truly as calm as I try to sound!

Max and Greg look on helplessly as the guard
slams the door in their faces. He turns to me and grabs my arm
again.

I lied. His grip squeezes all the
circulation out of my arm, and so it hurts.

His eyes are lascivious as he gazes at my
bare tits and pussy.

“Come,” he says in a husky tone.

I have no choice but to be led by him down
the narrow airplane corridor. My trepidation rises with each step.
I have a feeling I’m not going to like what he does to me. But what
choice do I have as a lowly sex slave?

If only I knew then what he was going to do
to me.

It is nothing like what I have come to
expect.

It is far, far worse.

2

He leads me to the toilet at the back of the
plane. The plane is fairly large – a modified Airbus, I think. I
haven’t flown in enough planes to be able to tell the difference
between one or the other. He holds the toilet door open for me as I
walk in. I am barefoot and self-conscious. The toilet is spacious –
obviously modified for guests – and he squeezes in with me.

He latches the door and the overhead light
comes on.

“Sit,” he orders, pointing at the
latrine.

So he means to watch me pee. OK, I can live
with that. Plenty of people have seen me piss before. They actually
get hard from it, and I have never questioned what goes on in their
demented little minds. Whatever rocks their boat. But then I’m
demented in my own way too, so I have no right to judge anyone
else.

I seat my buttocks on the toilet seat. I
keep my legs demurely closed, but he gestures to them.

“Open,” he says in his Eastern European
accent.

I part my thighs obediently. My bladder is
so full that I cannot hold it in anymore, and so I let my urine
flow, rejoicing in the pleasurable release of tension. Urination, I
have always conceded, is one of life’s natural joys.

The guard’s eyes are on my pussy, watching
my steady stream of clear liquid. I flush despite myself. He makes
no move to touch me, which I find perplexing. I thought he would be
caressing my breasts by now. Most of my minders often do. I am as
pliant and welcoming a sex slave as they make them and my entire
ripe body invites abuse.

Does he not find me beautiful? The way his
hungry eyes take me in seems to suggest he does. And yet he’s not
acting on it. What gives?