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SYNOPSIS
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 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 suffering 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, and titillating suffering, 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….”
