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

a victim.
    I wonder . . . I just wonder . . .
    The tarp at the back of the truck is lifted,
and sunlight streams through. I narrow my eyes in the sudden glare.
A couple of guards rasp something in Urskan. The four guards inside
get up. They gesture at us to get out.
    We climb out, wincing in the bright daylight.
We are parked by the side of a country road in the middle of a
forest. The air is redolent with the scent of pine and freshness.
I’m guessing this is a midway point to wherever we will be taken.
Some of the guards disappear into the thickets of trees – probably
to relieve themselves.
    I watch Mansk and his family being taken out
of the other truck. Mansk catches my eye. His expression is like
the gallows itself. His wife, Suri, is nowhere to be seen. Nor are
his children. My heart roils at the thought of what has happened to
them. I can only hope and pray that not much pain will be
administered to the children.
    A guard beckons at me to follow him. I turn
around to look at Max and Greg, but they are being similarly
shepherded into the trees. Alarm shutters my stomach. What does the
guard want with me?
    I follow him anyway. What am I but a slave to
everyone’s whims? I am already a dead girl walking. Perhaps if I am
obedient, he will be lenient with my friends.
    He leads me to a cluster of trees. Then he
unzips his pants, whips out his slender cock, and proceeds to piss
against the bark of a tree. He cranes his neck to look at me as he
does this. I wonder if I can make a run for it through the trees.
But no, I can’t bear to leave Max and Greg behind. And Mansk too,
for the matter. I talked him into this, and now he will die like
his sister because of me.
    The guard is looking at me again. He waggles
his penis. Two final drops of urine drip from it, and he tucks his
member back into his pants again.
    I quail as he turns his attention to me. He
says something to me in Urskan. I shake my head fearfully, not
understanding. He makes some hand gestures, indicating the
tree.
    Oh. He wants me to pee.
    It is actually a good idea, seeing as we have
a long journey ahead. My bladder is surprisingly not full, and my
throat is parched. They gave me some water to drink in the truck,
but I didn’t dare take too much. Nausea was the main occupant in my
belly.
    The guard does not move away. He’s plain and
nondescript. I wouldn’t have picked him out from a crowd, although
he’s young enough to be fairly attractive. He wants to watch me. I
know it is his job to literally watch me, but I am ill at ease,
despite being naked for so many people in my sojourn here. Perhaps
it’s the situation of impending doom that is getting to me.
    I make myself undo the drawstrings of my worn
cotton pants. I am still in my peasant garb. I push the pants
halfway down my thighs, and proceed to squat before the tree. I am
not wearing any underwear. Suri did not give me any. It must have
been an Urskan custom not to don underwear. They are after all
quite medieval.
    The guard never takes his eyes off my shaven
pussy. My stream begins to flow and flow copiously. My urine pools
on the ground, stirring dirt, until it becomes a puddle. I inch my
feet away so that my shoes would not get wet.
    When I have finished, the guard motions me to
stand up. Some part of me challenges him to stop me as I pull my
pants up and do the drawstrings tightly. He doesn’t say or do
anything, and my relief is palpable.
    We go back to the truck. Max and Greg are
with their minders. They are waiting for me.
    I make to climb into the back of the truck,
but my guard stays my arm. He says something to me. When I don’t
move, he grabs my arm and jerks me to the direction of the truck’s
cab.
    Max bridles and makes to come after us, but
two guards grab hold of his arms.
    “Gina,” Max warns, “you don’t have to do
anything you don’t want to do.”
    Do I have a choice?
    I say steadily, “I’ll be OK, Max.”
    He does not appear convinced, but all that is
lost to me as