On a remote Mediterranean island in the mid-1970s, General Pereira, a power-drunk tyrant no longer content to merely terrorize a nation of innocent people, launches a foul plot to infect the rest of the world with his vile depravity by master-minding a world-wide network of entrepreneurial white slavery operations, fueled by his diabolically innovative torture techniques.
Only Diana Jensen, a Pulitzer-prize winning heiress and UN official, has the courage to dismantle the dictator’s evil scheme, and she herself has now fallen into his sadistic clutches. Pereira’s latest “acquisition” sets off a chain reaction of carnage and mayhem all over the globe, touching, by turns, the young woman’s wealthy uncle, her unsavory lover, high-ranking government officials, and her hapless colleagues and their families, twisting them one by one into the megalomaniac’s seductively nightmarish web of pain and pleasure.
Quite unexpectedly, as the general embarks on his fiendish mission to control Diana’s body, she finds her mind subtly betraying her as she becomes increasingly and inexplicably drawn to the magnetic animal’s inhuman seductive powers. Will she be able to retain her selfless virtue, or be morally corrupted and destroyed --- condemned to a life as nothing more than The Dictator’s Slut?
In his second novel for A1AdultEBooks, on the heels of 2005’s Losers Bluff, BDSM author General Dom levels his cynical pen at deranged dictators, psychopathic white-slavers, and unrepentant spouses and their lovers, exposing power-mongering and torture along with its inherently contagious nature, revealing a world where even your closest friend or lover can be bought or sold for the right price.
Brimming with steamy sex, barbaric bondage, rapacious rape, and titillating torture, this darkly-toned adventure novel will snag you from the very first page, not letting go until your prior conceptions of international espionage, political power-plays, and even BDSM itself have been ripped to shreds.
EXTRACT
Close, she had been so close to escape.
She had everything: plane ticket, passport, $2000 in cash that
her mother had wired her only this morning. The airport bus was only
fifteen minutes from arrival when she had suddenly decided to make one
last trip up to her hotel room before dropping off the key at the
front desk. Just one last look, to ensure nothing had been forgotten,
before she put this awful place behind her forever.
But when she opened the door, the room had been turned upside
down. What was once a well-appointed hotel suite was now a makeshift
torture chamber.
Sobbing softly, she now bites down on the rubber puck that fills her
mouth underneath the sweaty, filthy gag. Her back, raw from a steady
stream of beatings with a rubber hose, digs mercilessly into the harsh
metal coils of the shredded box spring to which she is strapped.
The fat man in the white suit is exultant. He struts around the
room like a peacock, puffing on a large black cigar clenched in his
jaw. With a negligent flip of his diamond-studded hand, the hoods on
either side of her once more activate the power, fed through an
elaborate, industrial-looking console that resembles a recording
studio mixing board, replete with ominous black dials and red ceramic
switches.
The power rips through her body as she screams with insanity, a
useless, futile gesture. The large rubber bit in her mouth muffles
almost everything. She desperately wonders if the supply of
electricity in the hotel won’t be affected somewhat by the monstrous
appliance: when it’s activated, the lights in the room appear to dim
somewhat, as power is sucked greedily into the diabolic tool and
channeled expertly to all parts of her body. Her feet, her arms, her
ass: all now mere receptors for the hideous symphony of pain conducted
by her evil torturer, the man whom she has come to call White Suit.
Above her head, the 8mm movie camera whirrs and hums, held in
the gloved hand of one of White Suit’s obedient goons. As she cries
and attempts to arch her back in vain, the lens looms closer to her
face, recording the terror and helplessness in her eyes. White Suit
laughs cruelly, his bearded, ruddy face dancing with ecstasy as he
sucks deeply on his fat stogie, drooling on the tip.
“If only your tits were bigger,” he muses, “perhaps we could
find other uses for you.” He smirks with disgust and drops a huge
white ash onto her left breast. The small mountain of powdery cinder
sizzles as it explodes over her pert, milky tits. “What a shame I have
to ruin these…” he laughs. White Suit punches her heaving globes
brutally, then grabs her jaw and begins to shake it from side to
side.
“But, maybe I can make these babies bigger, eh, bitch?” he
cackles.
He snaps his fingers and another thug brings a small leather case to
him. He unclasps it and stares, almost entranced at the contents: an
array of titanium surgical syringes, softly glistening in the fading
light permeating the hotel room window.
Under normal circumstances, it would have been a marvelous
sunset. Now, Debbie thought, it seemed more like a final curtain call
prior to her last night on earth. She began to sob at the sick
pointlessness of her wretched, impending death. Her entire life, so
filled with promise, ended for no reason at all: killed to provide
only the briefest interlude of pleasure for a rich, twisted,
paramilitary psycho.
White Suit takes one of the needles in his manicured hand and
gazes at it appreciatively. He then draws it close to one of the few
meaty portions of her left mammary. He draws the metal back suddenly,
and she can almost sense the evil wheels of his mind turning;
grinding, producing a smoke far more foul than that of his cigar.
Without explanation he takes a gleaming gold lighter from his breast
pocket, opens the top, flicks it alight. He singes the tip of the
syringe and then savagely plunges it into her tit. He is almost
purring with delight as he snaps his fingers imperiously, indicating
that his men should once more start the current.
Licking his fat lips, the monster then produces an air pistol
from beneath his suit coat and attaches a tight-fitting, narrow rubber
tip to the end of the gun. He jams the rubber into the end of the
needle protruding from her tit and then grins evilly as he guns the
trigger. A blast of air shoots from the pistol, stabbing through the
thin piece of metal. Her breast gyrates crazily for a moment and she
goes wild with agony.
“Ah, the pain,” White Suit marvels, looking supremely satisfied.
“The sweet, sweet pain….”
