Natasha Lord attempted to free her ankles yet again. The binds were holding them together in a tight grip. They were cutting into her skin but she knew her attempts were futile.
At 22 years old, she barely remembered the small Eastern European country from which her parents had fled. But now a journalism graduate, she returned to the soil where she was born. And she had arrived hell bent on exposing the dictator that had made her country miserable.
The blindfold was unforgiving around her skull. It had been a few hours since she had been caught sneaking into a government building. Her limbs shook with trepidation. Spies had been known to suffer terrible fates.
Natasha shifted her head to focus on the sounds around her. For a while she had heard people entering and leaving via a heavy metal door. Finally she heard a distinct shuffling sound in front of her. A chair moved into place and Natasha lurched backward as a pair of rough hands removed her blindfold.
Her breathes increased as her eyes adjusted to the sudden light. A tall, lean man was sitting directly in front of her. A large rifle hung dangerously along his torso.
For minutes he stayed silent, watching her sweat. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough.
“You have been caught red-handed, spying in a government facility.”
Wisely, Natasha chose not to reply.
“There are two doors behind me. You are lucky to be granted a choice between the two. You can either go to jail where you face a lifetime in prison for spying, or else…” He trailed off.
Natasha had a premonition of doom.
“What is the other option?” she begged, the words escaping her lips before she had a chance to think.
The man gave her the hint of a sarcastic smile. “The other door leads to Alik Kazimir’s bedroom.”
Natasha gasped. Alik Kazimir, the dictator that had forced thousands from their homeland, the spreader of terror and bloodshed.
She was suddenly shaking even more than before. She was terrified. No matter which door she chose, she was doomed. If she chose not to go to him, she would be facing life in jail.
Within seconds, her decision was made. Natasha surrendered and chosen the sane option.
“I choose the bedroom,” she whispered, lifting her face in pretend confidence.
Her binds were swiftly removed. The man held her arm in a tight grip as he took her to a large metal door. Her knees shook like jelly underneath her. She had never been more scared in her life.
The door closed behind her as she entered. Her heart raced with terror. She felt as if her life was truly over. She had no idea what the dictator would do to her.
It was then that two olive-skinned, beautiful women walked silently towards her. She looked around and realized that she wasn’t in a bedroom. It was more like an oversized bathroom. As the women immediately reached for her clothes, she stifled a scream as they undressed her.
Natasha couldn’t think. She shook as the women pulled off her blue t-shirt and unhooked her bra. Her breasts spilled free and Natasha quickly covered them with her arms.
By the time the women reached for her jeans, Natasha had resigned to her fate. She could do nothing. Her hands felt as heavy as lead weights, but when the denim stuck to her moistened hips, she reluctantly helped them by pushing down her jeans. The women continued by peeling off her blue panties and sliding it down her legs and calves.
“Bath,” one of the women said in awkward English.
Naked, Natasha followed them around a corner to a large, white marble bathtub, sunken into the ground. The water was warm and climbing in, it cascaded over her young, full breasts.
The women began to caress her naked body with washcloths. The lavender scent of the bubbles filled her nostrils. She had no idea why the two women were treating her so gently. If she was just the dictator’s plaything, why did she have to be bathed?
Still reclining, one of the women lifted Natasha’s leg past the edge of the tub. Natasha jumped as the woman began shaving it with a bright pink razor. Her chest rapidly rose and fell as the razor got closer to her pussy. Her breasts quivered as her arms were quietly pulled up and her already smooth underarms were shaved.
The women asked Natasha to stand. Natasha clenched her eyes shut as the delicate razor shaved her pubic hair. She had never been completely shaved down there before and the feeling was both queer and terribly offending. However, considering her circumstances, she knew didn’t have the option of complaining.
After all of her young body hair was removed, she stepped out of the tub and was dried off with two large, white towels. One of the women walked over to a corner and retrieved a white nightdress. It was pristinely pressed and on a hanger.
As the women put the nightgown on her, Natasha accepted what she had been trying to deny. She was going to be the mistress of a gruesome dictator. She quivered and clenched her thighs instinctively. Life in prison or life in an evil man’s bed, she considered. Without thinking she had chosen to be used for a brutal man’s brazen pleasure. Suddenly realizing what such a man was capable of, she was now no longer sure which sentence would be worse.
Natasha swallowed through a lump of tears as the women adjusted the beautiful nightdress. Looking down, it barely hung lower than her ass. Then focusing on the top, she found that the thin straps were attached to lace that lack the silk lining on the rest of the dress.
Although now clothed she felt even more naked knowing that this was how the dictator would see her. Looking down again, her breasts were almost bare and her pink nipples protruded through the spaces in the fabric. As she shifted, the soft cloth tickled the tender flesh of her nipple. Suddenly needing to hide, she lifted her arm to cover her breast.
“Do not cover yourself in front of the master,” the woman ordered in fear.
Natasha lowered her arms and tightened her eyelids as she considered the possible consequences of displeasing her new master. Would she be beaten or worse? What could be worse than that, she considered. She didn’t know. Her tears threatened to spill over onto her cheeks.
Natasha was brought out of her fantasy when a door at the far side of the room opened. Hesitantly, she walked toward it. Even walking slowly she felt the breeze cut through the spaces around her breasts. The feeling would have been titillating if she wasn’t also so terrified.
Through the doorway in the sparsely lit room, she saw a tall, broad shouldered figure sitting comfortably in a high-backed chair. Traditional music played softly in the background, creating any airy feeling about him.
“Come,” she heard the deep baritone voice boom through the room.