Ace Of Slaves

An eBook By Adrian Hunter.

No, she'd have to take her chances with the police. Her word against his. He only had his local reputation, a signed receipt, dozens of employees and spectators who witnessed Jerry's spectacular losing spree, and a video of her taking off her clothes in his office. "Your honor, the defendant told Mr. Forte she would do anything to save her husband…"

Something cold, hard and greasy nudged the very unprotected opening to her ass.

"You require stretching."

Becky bit down hard on the noxious rubber in her mouth as Forte pushed the prod deep into her rectum.

"And if it falls out, we'll just move on to the next size tonight instead of tomorrow."

Her mind was so overloaded with white flashes of pain and panic – the next size? Tomorrow? – Becky barely heard the knock on the door, nor did she register the entrance of the another man into the office.

Not until she saw the wheels parked next to her head.

"What color, boss?" she heard the stranger snarl in a KGB-model accent.

"Oh, that's right," Forte replied. "Thank you for reminding me, Curly."

The sound of shuffling cards rasped as harshly as the shredder.

"You pick."

Curly stomped over to the desk with the grace of a rhino learning to walk upright.

"Eight of hearts, boss."

"Heart eight. Heartache. How appropriate for a lovely lady in such tragic circumstances."

Becky felt the floor shake as the two men walked back to her prostrated body.

"Up," Forte said.

Violently aware of the promised consequences for losing control of the hateful plug, Becky clenched the muscles in her ass as she struggled to her feet. Once standing, she was startled to see that the new grunt looked exactly like the two men who had bum-rushed her husband. Meaning Forte's goon squad was probably composed of identical triplets. Or else a cloning experiment gone terribly wrong.

But that tidbit of information wasn't nearly as interesting to Becky as the dolly being pushed behind her that was clearly designed for hauling something other than boxes and suitcases. In addition to a support rack for the handlebars, a long metal pole rose from the chassis, adorned with at least a dozen thick leather belts.

Including one in the middle that hung down vertically sporting a gigantic dildo covered in plastic spines.

Curly slid the lip of the loading platform under Becky's heels and tilted the dolly backward.

Becky struggled to keep her balance as her bound arms pressed against the post. After Curly returned the dolly to the upright position, he wrapped the first strap beneath her breasts and pulled it as tight as he could before buckling it.

"Such a pity airports don't offer skycap service anymore," Forte deadpanned as he watched Curly bind her ankles, then her shoulders, neck and forehead, before pushing the massive dildo into her sweat-slick pussy and securing its belt to the one around her waist. More straps followed around her calves, ankles and hips.

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