The Sex Slave's Final Punishment (BDSM Erotica) by Aphrodite Hunt

Author:Aphrodite Hunt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: orgy, bdsm, domination, submission, bondage, multiple partners, anal sex, sex slave, escape, dictator, execution, capture, triple penetration

7

In the castle, we are led to a chamber we have never been in before. Previously, all our encounters have only been in the back part of the castle. We were never allowed in ‘the front’, where all the decent people congregate.

The chamber is obviously a parlor of some sort. Luxurious, ostentatious – with brocaded furniture and tapestries. We are even ‘dressed’ for the occasion. Max and Greg are in clean white shirts and dark pants. It’s not what they would normally wear. In fact, it would be something we consider ‘old-fashioned’, back in the days we were allowed to complain.

I am in a powder blue dress suit. I look every inch the prim and proper young lady, European finishing school style.

When Max sees the people waiting for us in the parlor, he gives a strangled cry. His mother holds out her arms and he dives straight into them. Russell Devlin stands awkwardly beside her. I don’t know if he’s fully aware of what we have been through, but from his embarrassed expression, he probably has some clue of what he has subjected us to.

But I can’t be angry with Russell. I’m too glad to finally be out of this nightmare to hold any grudges. Maybe the anger will come later, but right now, I’m too delirious and lightweight with relief to be anything but teary.

Max hesitates for a fraction of a second, and then he hugs Russell too. So he has decided to forgive and forget . . . for the moment. Greg hugs the handsome pair next, and I follow. We don’t say anything but the briefest of pleasantries. It’s almost as if we have been away on an exchange student program, and this is now Parents’ Day.

“How’s the weather?”

“Splendid.”

“How’s the food?”

“Passable.”

“Were you well treated?”

“Uh, as well as they could treat us.”

No mention is made of our ordeal. At least, not right now. Not until we take the first flight out of Urskan soil. And even that, I wouldn’t trust the attendants. Not until I’m safely through US Customs would I dare to breathe a sigh of absolute relief.

There is no sight of Potchenko or Aimelie. Perhaps they are out executing more dissidents. But I don’t want them here. They might change their minds. Especially Aimelie, as volatile as she is. Perhaps Potchenko is keeping her away for this very reason.

“Well,” Russell says, “what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

What are we waiting for indeed?

We have packed nothing for our trip here, and so we go back as we came. Only we are fully clothed now, as a marking up of our status.

We are no longer sex slaves.

There are two vans to take us to the airport, but we opt to squeeze into one. We daren’t let one another out of our sights. We wouldn’t be able to forgive ourselves if one of us went astray.

We are brought to the airport. We board the private plane Russell has charted. We clamber into our seats and buckle up. I am as tight as a wounded clockwork toy.

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