Slaves of the Spartan Kingdom Ch. 01

No chain binds as tight as the one you put on yourself.

Chapter 1: The Second Day As The Princess' Slave

Marcie was always an earlier riser. It was something she developed as a child because she wanted to spend time with her father before he went off to work. If she waited until the evening, when he came home from a grueling day at the office, he was often very tired, and she would have to share him with her mother and three sisters. But in the morning, she would have him all to herself.

This morning though, she had another reason for waking up early. She found it very uncomfortable to lie on her side, on a wool blanket, outside in the desert, with her hands cuffed behind her back.

It was the pre-dawn hours, just as there was a hint of light in the east, promising the rise of the sun. As she looked around the camp, she felt as if she were looking at some old western movie. There was a smoldering campfire about twenty feet in front of her, and dozens of forms lying around sleeping under blankets. The major differences with a western movie were where she would normally see horses, she saw motorcycles, and those forms lying about were couples, not cowboys.

Seeing those couples huddled under the blankets, she was reminded of the scene last night. She wanted to call it an orgy, but that didn't seem right. It wasn't some big party like she had thought something like that would be. There were just a lot of people not hiding the fact that they were engaged in sex.

Thinking about what she saw last night was stirring her loins, until she recognized the figure that was approaching from the darkness across from the dim light of the fire. It was the man that raped her yesterday. Raped her in front of everyone at the McDonald's restaurant where she was having lunch at the time. Raped her in front of her best friend, Beth.

Recalling that humiliation sent a wave of revulsion across her. She had tried to console herself with the fact that he wore a condom, but she still felt defiled. Not having to worry about pregnancy or an STD was no consolation to the degradation she felt.

As he came around the fire, he was looking beyond her, and called out in a voice just above a whisper, – probably so he would not wake anyone up – "Princess. You were right. There are no police watching the road behind the ranch. We should be able to leave that way without any confrontation."

"I figured as much," said the voice Marcie heard no more than a few feet behind her, and also just above a whisper. "The police don't want to appear to be cooperating, but they have so far made it pretty clear what we should do so we won't have to kill anyone."

As he continued walking by Marcie, she heard him say, "So how's our angel doing?"

Marcie knew he was talking about her, because that was the name the woman behind her referred to her as. This name was a description she had heard many times before about her, but she didn't really know why. She herself didn't see what everyone else saw in her; long, wavy, honey-blond hair, a face that was all sweetness, and a figure even a goddess would have envied. Her appearance as an angel was enhanced by the tight, bleached-white, low-rise jeans she wore, along with the form-fitting, white t-shirt that bared her midriff.

"She's awake now," the woman said.

Marcie rolled her shoulder over just enough so that she could look back at the princess. She was about three feet away, casually leaning against a rock with her legs wide apart. The vision Marcie had of her was that of a pirate. Her hair was black as the night behind her, and flowing long and wavy around her head. She had on a near transparent, billowing, blood-red blouse – so transparent it was easy in this dim light to see the lacy white of the bra underneath. On her feet she wore black leather biker boots, and in between those boots and her blouse, was a short, black, leather mini skirt – so short that with her wide stance, and Marcie's angle from below, she had no problem seeing the white of her panties between her thighs – and this got her loins stirring once again.

As much as people called her an angel for her beauty, Marcie couldn't help thinking that this woman was the real beauty here. Her face was pretty, yet noble, like her title would imply. From her demeanor, it was easy to see her as the leader of this gang, but that was all. The rest of her appearance detracted from it.

First of all, she was young. She might have been older than Marcie, who was twenty-two, but not much older. Then there was her height, or lack thereof. Marcie wasn't very tall at five-seven, but the princess couldn't be more than five-three. Her entire manner and disposition clearly made her a leader, but on appearance alone, no way.

Right now this noble, young, short, but devastatingly pretty woman, was starring down on her like a hunter looks on its prey, but with a look that was more amused than fierce, and this got Marcie stirring even more.

Even though she was still looking at Marcie, she said to the man, "Rob. Start waking everyone up. I want to be rolling before the sun rises."

As Rob began to gently nudge the sleeping forms awake and inform them of the princess' orders, she lay down behind Marcie on the blanket, but propped herself up on her left arm. With her free right hand, she ran it along Marcie's thigh and hip.

"Sorry about the hand-cuffs," she said to her. "I won't put them on you again. You may not believe this, but I actually put them on for your benefit. I didn't want you thinking about escape during the night. By the end of the day, you should see that there really is no hope of it. Even if you do get away, I'll eventually hunt you down, and then I'll have to hurt you real bad."

She continued to rub her thigh and began to work it towards the inside of it. "Even though you can say the words anytime, and I'll release you immediately when you do, this is the last time I'm going to ask it. Are you going to say them, or are you going to be an obedient slave and do as you are told?" As she said this last part, her hand arrived at Marcie's crotch, and she began to slowly work her middle finger up and down along it.

Marcie didn't know why she couldn't say the words. She hadn't even been to church in the three years since she went away to college. The best reason she could give herself was that she believed her father would be disappointed in her if she did. She knew for certain that nothing could make him say them, but maybe he expected her to do so? Maybe he believed it would be more honorable to say them rather than endure this? She wished more than anything she could talk to him about it, but she had already been told she would never be allowed to communicate with anyone until she was released from slavery.

With shame in her eyes and voice she said, "I'll do as I am told."

"I'm glad to hear that," the princess said. She then moved her hand to the top of her jeans to unsnap, and then slowly unzip them. Once the front of her jeans were parted, she slowly began rubbing her crotch some more with her middle finger, this time only Marcie's panties separated her from it. "You're of no use to me handcuffed. It makes it hard for you to serve me. And as for your primary function, which is to ride on the back of my motorcycle so that you will be killed if any cop decides to shoot me – it's very difficult to hold on to me with them on."

The princess pulled away and removed Marcie's cuffs. Evidently no key was necessary. Marcie immediately brought her hands around and rubbed her wrists to work out the ache in them.

The princess stood up, resumed her pose against the rock, and said, "Stand up and face me." As Marcie stood up, she began to snap her pants back together, so the woman continued, "Don't bother with that. You're about to take them off, so spread them back open again."

Marcie froze for a second then slowly complied, baring her panties. The princess stepped forward and slapped Marcie hard across her face. In a tone that was commanding, but not in anger, she said, "I warned you yesterday. When I give you a command, you will do it immediately, without any hesitation. Also, when I give you a command, you will respond with 'yes, Mistress Jasper.' Do I make myself clear?"

Holding her left check with her right hand, Marcie cried, "Yes, Mistress Jasper!"

Princess Jasper continued, "Yesterday I pretty much left you alone to give you a chance to recover from the ordeal of your capture. Now it's time to start dealing with the reality of your situation. I let you wear those pants overnight because you were handcuffed. I'm certain you would have felt even more vulnerable if you were wearing the skirt you should have been wearing. As you can see from every woman walking around this camp, all women must take off their riding pants when they arrive at camp, and wear a skirt or a dress."

Marcie looked around and did see that all women were wearing skirts. When she looked back at the princess, she saw her pulling a white skirt out of some saddlebags next to her. "Here," she said as she handed the skirt to Marcie. "Put this one on."

"Yes, Mistress Jasper," she replied. Normally she would be mortified at the idea of taking off her pants in front of a large group of people like this, but this wasn't a normal group of people. As she had already seen, they were very open about nudity and sexuality. With the pants off, she stepped into the white, pleated skirt with a side zipper. She didn't know if it was by design, but it hung low on her hips, and barely reached half way down her thighs.

"Looks like I picked the right size," said the princess.

Just as she said this, a woman in her mid thirties, with brunette hair, stepped within a foot of her, raised her skirt to expose her panties, and said, "Princess Jasper?"

Without taking her admiring eyes off of Marcie, she slid her right hand between the woman's thighs. Then after a second or two, looked at her and replied, "Yes, Marie?"

"Shall we prepare a hot breakfast for everyone?" the newly arrived woman asked. "I'm sure there is time before we have to go."

Princess Jasper replied while obviously stroking the woman's pussy. "No. The sooner we go, the better. Just pass out the Clif bars, then start breaking camp right away... and get the other four slaves involved. It's time they started contributing."

"I think that it will just be more of a pain than it's worth. We can work faster without them," she replied, but without any hint of disobeying the princess.

"I agree, but that's not the point, Marie. You know my father's orders. All slaves are to be treated as such."

Princess Jasper then turned her head at a slight angle, which seem to Marcie like a signal to Marie. Marie then leaned into the princess to exchange a quick open-mouthed kiss. As soon as the princess pulled her hand out of her crotch, Marie broke off the kiss and said, "Right away, princess."

The princess then looked back at Marcie and said, "Part of your duties will be to prepare me for riding by putting my hair in a French braid. Are you familiar with how to do this?"

"Yes, Mistress Jasper," she replied. At which the princess turned her back to her, and handed back a brush from the bag she had pulled out the skirt Marcie was now wearing. Marcie reached out and began brushing and braiding her hair. Marcie used to do this all of the time with her sisters' hair, so she did it with considerable skill.

As she began, the princess said, "I want it nice and flat along my head to make it easier to put my helmet on, and use this to tie it off on the end." She then handed back to Marcie a leather string. When Marcie completed her task, the princess admired the skillful work, then said to her, "You will do the same with your own hair, and I expect you ready in ten minutes."

Marcie began brushing her hair as she watched the princess walk off to talk with other members of her gang. She was talking to both men and women, but when she approached the women, Marcie saw that they did as Marie did and raised their skirts to her, which she then responded by sliding her hand in their crotch and engaging them with a passionate kiss. It seemed inconceivable to her, but this appeared to be done as a way of exchanging an intimacy with these women, and not as some intrusion on her part. The women clearly enjoyed the attention they were receiving from the princess.

As Marcie was completing her own hair, she saw the princess approach one young woman and grab her by the hair on the back of her head. She pushed the girl down to her knees, and while bringing her face into her crotch with one hand, she pulled her panties aside with the other. Marcie watched in fascination as the princess clearly, and quickly, brought herself to an orgasm in the girl's mouth.

By the time the princess had worked her way around the camp and back to Marcie, the entire camp was picked up and stowed away in the saddlebags and hard side cases of all the motorcycles. Without thinking, she did the same as she saw all of the other women doing, and raised her skirt to the princess. The princess then responded just as easily as she did with the others, and slid her hand into Marcie's panties, but as she placed her kiss upon Marcie, she moved her other hand around to embrace her tightly. She also maintained the kiss much longer than she did with the others.

When the princess pulled back, she looked up into Marcie's face and said, "I'm glad to see you have started to accept our ways. Things are going to go much better for you if you do."

When Marcie looked back at the camp, she saw that most of the people were milling about their motorcycles. That feeling of looking at a western movie came back to her again, because all of the men were wearing revolvers in holsters on their legs, and also because there were rifles strapped to all of the motorcycles like she remembered seeing in those movies on horses. None of the weapons she saw were automatic, and the rifles were of the kind you had to cock to shoot, like the old west rifles. Even so, as she looked upon them, she still could not get over the fact that all of them, men and women alike, appeared powerful and athletic. Old style weapons or not, there was no doubt in her mind that this was one formidable gang.

She then heard the princess say, "All right girls. Prepare to ride." It was then she noticed that there were many more women than men in this group, and all of the woman began pulling pants out of their bags and taking off their skirts. It was quite a sight for Marcie to see all of these women in their panties as they transferred from skirts to pants. Some put on leather pants, like the princess, while others wore jeans with leather chaps. Most of them also strapped on holsters with guns.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Marcie heard the princess say to her. She snapped out of her revere of the sight of all this, and did the same for herself.

When she was done, the princess told her. "You are to stay next to me at all times. If at anytime I can reach out and not touch you, you will be punished."

"Yes, Mistress Jasper," she replied.

As the princess led Marcie over to her motorcycle, Marcie noted that most of the people were riding their own bikes, only a few appeared to be doubling up. Of those doubling up, included the four others that were outfitted like her all in white; including white boots, jackets and helmets.

As the princess mounted hers, she said, "I'm not going to repeat all of the rules that I gave you yesterday, I just want to restate the consequences for doing something stupid like panicking, leaning the wrong way, or banging your helmet on the back of mine. In other words, if you do anything that annoys or endangers my life, I will immediately pull over and spank the crap out of you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mistress Jasper."

"Good," she said as she fired up her motorcycle. Everyone else took this as their signal to fire up theirs also. "Now get on."

"Yes, Mistress Jasper." Marcie settled in behind the princess, and placed her feet upon the rear foot pegs. One of the rules she was given yesterday was to never – under any circumstances – remove her feet from those pegs until she was told to do so. She then reached underneath the princess' arms and grabbed her jacket above her breasts – just as she was instructed to do yesterday. Since she was taller than the princess, and her seat was higher than hers, she had no problem seeing over her.

With a roar like thunder, Princess Jasper lead her gang out the way Marcie saw Rob approach this morning, which was due east along a dirt road. By now the sun was definitely lighting up the sky, but it was easily another half hour before it would rise. As the day grew lighter Marcie relaxed more and more. Yesterday she was just too stunned to even pay attention to where they were going. Now she was looking around and enjoying the desert view. Just as the sun began to peak above the horizon, they hit a paved highway and headed north.

Now on the smooth highway, she was able to relax even more and contemplate her situation. Most of it she couldn't make sense of. This was the third woman in the past nine months that has demanded her submission. Up until then, she never questioned her sexuality. Even after the first two women got her to sexually respond to them, she still didn't consider herself a lesbian, but with Princess Jasper, there was something different, and she didn't know why.

Maybe, she thought, it had to do with her sense of authority. The cliché of a short person in a position of power brings to mind a Napoleon complex, but there was nothing like that with the princess. There was no sense of her having to prove she was in control. She just was. Marcie had to admit that she was in complete and utter awe with how easily the princess led the powerful people in her gang, particularly the men. There wasn't a beta male among them. These guys could only be called warriors.

As she continued to ride along, she realized an interesting analogy with how the princess handled the motorcycle. She would normally have thought this bike was too large for her. Most of the other women rode smaller ones. Yet she rode it without any hesitation or difficulty, and more importantly, she didn't ride it like she had something to prove. She controlled the bike as if it was nothing special – that it was just a matter of course that she should be riding such a big bike.

The princess' matter-of-factness of authority over the bike, her gang, and most importantly, of her, was devastating to Marcie. As much as her mind was rebelling against any notion of being a slave, there was a part of her that couldn't be more thrilled to be exactly where she was. Until now she could have only imagined feeling this way about a man, but the fact was, she was feeling this way about a woman, and this shook her to her core.

After an hour on the highway, they pulled into a gas station for the first of three times that day. Marcie noted that each time, Princess Jasper pulled in first, then moved off to the side to allow the other women to fill up as the men assumed defensive positions around the station. Then the princess would go up to the owner or operator of the station, and negotiate cash payments at all of the pumps they were using, which often was all of them.

As the first women completed their tank fill ups, they set about acquiring snacks and water bottles to hand out to everyone. Of course, the princess paid for them too. Slowly, but with a certain precession, the bikes were filled from women to men, then lastly the princess.

She also noted that at each of these stops most of the people engaged in sexual activity ranging from girl-on-girl kissing, to oral sex, and even intercourse. They didn't care who was watching them. And always, Princess Jasper was involved with what was going on.