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Slaves of the Spartan Kingdom Ch. 01

By: perl10



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.


Slaves of the Spartan Kingdom Ch. 01



Another thing she first didn't think much of, but after awhile seemed peculiar, was that they drank a lot of water, and as such spent a lot of time using the restrooms at the stops. Yes, it was hot, and they should drink more water than usual, but this seemed excessive. The princess spent a lot of time sharing a bottle with her, and since she had to stay next to the princess, she had to use the restroom at the same time as her. This made for a crowded stall.

At the first stop, when the princess was pumping her gas, Marcie asked her where they were going. "No where in particular," she replied.

"Nowhere?" remarked Marcie. "Then what are you doing?"

"Just living our lives." Then continued, "Just living our lives on our terms and daring anyone to stop us."

The second stop went the same as the first, but the third had a couple of things happen that Marcie took note of. The first thing of note was when Princess Jasper attempted to negotiate the sale of gas with the owner. He was an elderly gentleman with what appeared to be a deep religious conviction. He wanted no part of her gang and their moral depravity.

"You don't want our money? Fine," the princess began. "But as my father made very clear, no one can refuse to do business with us. I am either going to get the gas I want, or I am going to burn your station to the ground. Which is it going to be?"

The princess appeared to have him flustered. Like Marcie, he couldn't reconcile the appearance of her and her commanding presence. After a minute stare down between them, he conceded. "Go ahead and take the gas like the thieves you are. I won't stop you."

"Wise choice," she replied. "If you had chosen otherwise, I would have taken the gas anyway, then burned down your station."

Marcie was the only one near her during this interchange, and she was once again marveled at the authority the princess displayed. She never invoked her gang by saying what 'we' were going to do. It was always what 'I' was going to do.

This raw display of power and command contrasted sharply with what Marcie saw less than five minutes later. As the princess walked past one of her men, he reached out and snatched her braid and yanked her brutally to her knees in front of him. He clearly caught her by surprise, but she recovered immediately, then quickly pulled his cock out and sucked him hard and deep. Marcie was stunned at the turn of events.

She was also amazed at how such a small woman could take in such a big cock. It was like the motorcycle analogy. There was no sense to her this should be too big, yet she took it completely in, over and over again. It was if she was doing something perfectly natural, and in no time at all, he came in her mouth.

Marcie had been standing right next to her at the time, and when she stood up after putting the man's pants back together, she reached out behind Marcie's head, and pulled her in for a deep kiss. The cum of the man was still in her mouth. She didn't know why, but she didn't feel like she was sharing anything of man, but something very personal with the princess, and this inflamed her more.

Back on the road, Marcie snuggled up to the princess like never before, and embraced the princess as tight as she dared. She wanted desperately to have these jackets they were wearing off, so she could get even closer to her. After a while the princess appeared to be motivated that way too, because she reached behind her with her left hand, and unzipped Marcie's pants, then worked a couple of fingers under her crotch.

Marcie was in heaven.

She was in heaven, yet there was someplace else she wanted to be. As she thought of it, she realized that she did not see anyone today reach inside the princess' panties. Did she dare do it now? While they were riding?

Slowly, she dropped her right hand to her pants. As she started to work on the snap of the pants, she felt more activity at her crotch, so she took that as a sign to continue. She got the snap undone easily, but the zipper on these leather pants was another matter. She needed both hands to get it down. Once down, she slid her right hand inside. What greeted her was an incredibly wet and shaven pussy. As such, she had no problems penetrating her lips.

Marcie could only enjoy this bliss for a couple of minutes, because she felt an abrupt absence at her crotch, then the bike skidding to a near halt. When she dared open her eyes, she saw that the princess was pulling right onto a side road from the highway that led to a motel about a hundred yards away. It was a single-story, 'U' shaped motel of the kind built in the 50's and 60's. It was probably pretty nice back then, but that was before the interstate came in.

It wasn't large. Marcie figured there were only thirty rooms, but the feature that attracted her biggest attention, was the pool out front. After riding in the blazing desert heat all day, she hoped dearly she could get some time in it. But as she soon found out, the princess had other plans.

Princess Jasper parked her bike in front of the office that was on the end of the right arm of the 'U', and went in as she was putting her pants back together. All of the other motorcycles were streaming in and swirling around before coming to a rest. She saw Marie get off her motorcycle and approach the office where the princess disappeared, and went inside also.

About a minute later, she saw them both come out, and as they did, she heard the princess say, "With only twenty five rooms, some of the women are going to have to triple up. After you have the assignments worked out, go back to that grocery we passed, and provision for a feast tonight. I see a couple of grills over by the pool. Let's have steaks."

"Right away, my princess," replied Marie.

Marcie was still perched on the bike with her pants wide open, and as the princess approached the bike, she took a quick feel before hopping on, and driving around to the front left arm of the 'U.' She wasted no time dragging Marcie off the bike and into the room in front of them.

As they entered she said, "The powerful need I have to devour you, is only exceeded my by need to shower and shave first. I don't know about you, but it's been four days for me." She was already peeling off her clothes as she looked back at Marcie, "Don't move. Just stand right there. I want to undress you."

Marcie did as commanded. She was standing two feet inside the door, which was still open – just like her pants. She figured if the princess opens her pants, then she better leave them open until told to do otherwise.

Marcie stared transfixed at the site of the princess baring herself to her. It wasn't anything like a strip tease, but nothing could have been more erotic. When she finally was free of everything that stood in the way of Marcie seeing every inch of her, she stood there undoing her braid, while obviously devouring the site of her prey.

As Marcie felt this morning, people may think she was an angel, but the real beauty was the princess. Every curve was perfectly proportioned, while she felt hers were a little too exaggerated. Many would say her breasts were sexier than the princess', because they were larger, but her smaller ones were firmer, so better shaped. While the princess was using her fingers to fluff her hair out to a gorgeous effect, Marcie's panties were soaking to the idea of making contact with that body.

The princess then moved with both power and grace over to Marcie, and slid a couple of her fingers back into her crotch. The smile that appeared on her face was no doubt due to finding her panties soaked. She confirmed that by saying, "You couldn't be more wet if you had peed in your pants."

"Speaking of which," replied Marcie. "I have to pee real bad."

"Really?" the princess said, as if this was something of great interest to her. She immediately pulled her hand out and took Marcie's jacket off, followed by her boots and socks. What she did next seemed puzzling to Marcie. She zipped up her pants and snapped them closed.

"Follow me," she said, and then led Marcie to the small bathroom in the back. As she entered, she directed Marcie into the bathtub, then told her to face her. "Now go," she said, as she propped a leg up on the toilet seat and began fingering herself. She then continued, "In case you haven't figured it out from yesterday, we're a bunch of kinky bastards. Now keep your legs together and pee in your pants."

Marcie figured that this wasn't the best time to tell her she had been subjected to far more kinky things than this in the past year, and just replied, "Yes, Mistress Jasper," and wet herself. She really did have to go, so she completely soaked the front of her pants and down both legs. It came out so strong, and with her legs tight together, the path of least resistance caused it to actually rise out of the top of the low-rise white jeans.

When the show appeared to be over, Princess Jasper leaned over and turned on the bath water. After adjusting it for the proper temperature, she turned it over to the shower, then stepped in with Marcie. She then positioned her so that the shower was hitting Marcie in the back of the neck, and then slowly stripped her. Marcie's clothes were soon flipped over the shower curtain bar to fall on the floor with a slap.

After pulling out Marcie's braid, the princess took great care washing them both. "I hope you are paying close attention because I expect you to bathe me like this from now on."

"It will be my pleasure, Mistress Jasper," she replied with all sincerity.

Her mistress paid close attention to every detail, and even lingered in certain sensitive areas. The bites on her swollen and rock-hard nipples were particularly devastating. When she appeared to be done, which was something Marcie hoped would never happen, her heart literally skipped a beat as she realized the princess was kneeling in front of her. Her legs began to buckle even before she felt the princess' breath on her pussy. Luckily, she could just reach the showerhead to hold herself up, as the princess' lips landed on hers down below.

The princess brought both of her arms between Marcie's legs, then brought them back around in front of Marcie, to slide her thighs onto her shoulders. Marcie marveled at her strength, but was also grateful because it allowed her to lean back against the shower wall, and then completely lose herself in complete delirium. The orgasm that soon followed was her best ever – no question.

Her recovery was quick, because she was brought back down into the shower spray. Yet even before she had a chance to catch her breath, she felt the princess' hands shove her shoulders down with a "My turn," as the commandment. In the past year, she had had to suck pussy quite a few times, but never with this sense of wanting to please, and wanting to please is what she felt with a sense of desperation. She prayed she could make her come so she would flow deeply in her, and of course, she would swallow every drop.

When it hit, it hit hard. Her flow was large, and came in three big squirts. The princess' reaction was the same Marcie saw this morning, and if this was what that girl had to deal with, then she now had a deeper appreciation for that girl's performance, because Marcie couldn't contain it. Luckily, she was still in a shower and could easily clean up – with the princess' help of course.

As they came out of the bathroom after drying each other, including their hair, Marcie noticed that the motel room door was still open, and the princess' bags were on the bed. The princess rummaged through her bags for a moment, then pulled out a wide strap. Marcie's first thought was she was about to get spanked by it, but then she noticed that it had rope loops on each end. "Here," the princess said as she held out one end. "Grab this."

Marcie quickly complied with a "Yes, Mistress Jasper" by grabbing the rope loop offered her. She was once again brought back to the image of a western movie as the princess pulled out a straight razor, snapped it open with authority, and while pulling tight on the other end of the strap, began working the blade back and forth across it.

"This strap is called a strop," the princess began. "And the end you are holding can be tightened around a door knob. Watch carefully what I am doing, because you will be expected to shave me almost every morning. In our kingdom, the only method permitted for anyone to shave is with a blade."

When the princess appeared to have completed, Marcie let go of her end, then as the princess threw the strop on the bed, she knelt down in front of Marcie, and placed the towel that was over her shoulder at the feet of Marcie. "Stand here," she commanded. "For this one and only time, I will demonstrate on you how this is done. Pay close attention, because even the lightest of nicks on me will result in the harshest of punishments on you."

On her knees, and staring at Marcie's bush, she said, "When you do me, you will start on my pubic mound, but you are not a willing member of the kingdom, so I will not be demonstrating that on you. Besides..." she paused. Then while brushing Marcie's nether hair from both sides toward the center – almost petting it – she continued, "...shaving this beautiful blond pelt would be a crime."

Snapping out of her trance, she reached over to grab a can of shaving cream, and then put a very light layer of cream on Marcie's right thigh. "You want to use as little as possible. The best amount is a layer you can barely tell is there." With a few deft strokes, the cream was peeled off. Only twice did she drop her hand to wipe the blade along the towel. "The more cream you use, the more you have to stop and wipe off the blade."

The princess continued onto the other thigh. "Notice the angle I hold the blade," she continued. "This may look dangerous to you, but it's not. As long as you don't do any sawing motions..." – she pulled the blade back an inch, and then moved it side to side – "...there really is no risk of cutting my skin."

The princess then moved on to the front and back of her legs below the knees. In just a few minutes she was done, and applying a lilac scented lotion. "Any questions?" she said as she stood up.

"No, Mistress Jasper," she replied.

Princess Jasper reached back down on the bed and grabbed the strop by the end Marcie just held, and then gave her the other end. She handed over the blade. "Let's see how well you paid attention."

"Yes, Mistress Jasper." Marcie began by moving the blade back and forth as she saw her mistress do earlier. "I've seen my father sharpen knives many times, but he moves the blade with the edge leaning forward." She demonstrated by moving it that way, but not making contact with strop.

"That's because he was sharpening and you're honing. You're not making the blade sharper. You're only straightening the edge, and taking out the fine scratches put into it by my hair." Marcie resumed the action required of her, and then the princess continued, "That's good."

After she dropped her end of the strop, she repositioned Marcie so that she was next to the bed, and she now stood on the towel. "Now when you start on my pubic, you should be able to easily see what area needs to be shaved. I've had a bikini line electrolysis, my hair is very black, and it's been six days since my last shave."

Marcie leaned over to grab the shaving cream, then knelt in front of the princess. As she knelt, she paused to consider her situation. Here she was, a slave, in possession of a very sharp knife. This just didn't compute.

She looked up into the princess' eyes and said, "I don't understand this. Why do you trust me with this razor?"

The princess paused for a few moments, then grabbed Marcie's hand that was holding the knife, and pulled her over to the bed. As she sat down on the edge of it, she pulled the razor up to her own throat. "Hold the blade at my throat, and keep your other hand behind you until I tell you to move them." She let go of her hand and then grabbed the back of Marcie's hair with her left hand.

In a voice that was commanding, and even slightly threatening, she said, "It's time we made the nature of our relationship crystal clear." She paused to let what she said sink in, and then continued, "I know you know who we are, and why we are doing what we're doing. You know that while I'll slap you..." with her right hand she slapped Marcie hard. "...and spank you..." Then slapped her hard again. "...and degrade you..." Slap. "...and humiliate you..." Slap. "While I will do all of these things, you know that I will never actually harm you."

With each slap, Marcie cried out in pain. And with each slap, she pulled the blade farther and farther from the princess' throat so that she would not risk cutting her. "So why do I trust you?" continued the princess. "Mainly because you know that you can trust me."

While continuing to hold Marcie's hair with her left hand, she used the other to drag the blade back to her throat. "Because you didn't do as you were told and hold the blade still, I'm now going to punish you severely. But first, I'm going to give you a chance to get out of it.... Go ahead and cut my throat. Go ahead. I won't die immediately, and I promise I'll tell my people it was an accident and to let you go. So here's your chance to be free. Just slice me!"

Marcie was emotionally ripped in two. She was at once horrified at the idea of harming this beautiful woman, and disgusted with herself for not having the self-esteem to take this opportunity to free herself. She was on a near emotional breakdown when Princess Jasper slapped her again and said, "Cut me or tell me that you would rather be spanked by me than harm me!" She paused for a moment then slapped her again, "Say it!"

Marcie was now completely broken down, and stammered as best she could, "I would rather be spanked by you than harm you!"

With those words the princess embraced her. Marcie took this opportunity to open up a floodgate of tears. The princess stroked the back of Marcie's hair and allowed her to cry into her shoulder for a while. "It's OK Marcie. I know this was traumatic for you, but it was for the best. The sooner you realize that you are mine to do with as I please, the better off you will be."

Eventually, she got her to look into her eyes. "I understand what you are going through better than you may believe. You were raised in a society that said you should be in control of your life, but you were never taught what that means. At best they said to trust others, like the government, to give you control of your life, but that's impossible. No one can give you control of your life. In my book, that's how you define not being in control.

"It's particularly impossible from people who really don't understand what control means. In their view, only when force is used is someone controlling you, but the fact is, you only use force when you are not in control.

"It's why my conscience was clear when I made you my slave, because I know you really don't know what it means to be free and in control of your life. It's against the interests of way too many people in this world for you to understand this. Hopefully, by the time I release you, you will understand, so that setting you free will not be some pointless exercise."

Princess Jasper resumed embracing Marcie until her breathing returned to normal, and then looked into her eyes again, "Before I spank you, I want you to complete my shave." She then stood back on the towel and waited for Marcie to continue.

"Yes, Mistress Jasper," Marcie replied. After applying the cream to the princess' pubic mound, it took a few moments to get her hand steady enough to begin. As she started she asked, "You're right about what you said earlier. I have been researching your kingdom on the Internet ever since I saw your father's video manifesto, and I must admit, I'm really confused. Everything I've read said that the women in your kingdom are subservient to men, but what I see doesn't match up... but then again, what I saw that man do to you at the last gas stop doesn't match up with everything else I see either."




Slaves of the Spartan Kingdom Ch. 01



As Marcie moved on to the princess' legs, the princess replied, "I'm well aware of your confusion. For the same exact reasons you don't understand what being in control means, you also don't know what it means to be submissive. The women of this kingdom are profoundly submissive to men, and and it goes way beyond sex, which was all I was talking about to you yesterday after your rape. I seriously doubt you'll understand."

Marcie paused her shaving and looked up, "Try me... I would like to know. How does a woman become a leader of a gang that believes in male domination? Is it because you are the princess?"

"That would be the easy answer, wouldn't it?" After a pause, and nudging Marcie to continue shaving, she said, "My father set his kingdom up a bit different than most organizations of this type. He established himself as the king then determined who could enter his kingdom. Nothing more. Normally, a king would establish his chain of command, but not him. Doing so would be the easy way, but not the best.

"In his kingdom, he created the concept of packs. Who he recognized as the leaders of those packs was determined by any man getting at least ten men to swear an oath of loyalty to him. He would then bestow the title of Lord upon them. I would be a Lady, but I already have the title Princess.

"I personally don't like the word pack, but to him it connotes the idea of them being organic, and defined from the bottom up, not top down. All men and unmarried women must swear an oath to a Lord in order to belong in this kingdom – married women swear their oaths to their husbands.

"Packs can be any size above ten men. The upper limit is reached by the effectiveness of the pack leader. When a man swears an oath of loyalty to his Lord, the man in turn receives an oath of leadership from the Lord. Any Lord who has too many men with respect to his leadership skills, will by default be breaking his oath, and freeing any man who believes his leader is not effective. This process really focuses everyone's attention on what leadership means, and I can assure you, it's nothing like anything you were taught it to be. 

"So my father did not make me the leader of my pack. The men of my pack did. I actually defied my father by becoming a pack leader. His law stated that a man had to get ten other men to swear an oath to him to become a leader. He believed that this was necessary to make his kingdom patriarchal. I challenged him on his perception of leadership in that it is the men of the pack that make it patriarchal, not the leader.

"In fact, if what he believes about leadership to be true, then his problem is with the men who swore their oath to me, not me directly. If he believes their judgment to be faulty, then his only recourse is to expel them from the kingdom. If he allows them to remain in, then he must accept me as their Lady. In the end, he had to concede my point."

Marcie was now on the lower part of the legs, and carefully going along her shins. "I must admit you're right. Your concept of leadership is not like anything I had learned. How can a woman lead a patriarchal pack? And how does what you're saying fit in with what I saw today at the gas station?"

"It fits in quite well, assuming you understand what leadership really means. There's no way I can give you a full appreciation, but basically leadership has nothing to do with giving commands. In fact, the more commands you have to give, the poorer leader you are. The only thing that is required to be an effective leader of people is competence and shared common values with the people you are leading. To place any other requirement on it – and I mean anything else – detracts from what leadership really means.

"Whatever you may think of me, I have a deep need to submit sexually to men. This is a critical shared value of everyone in our kingdom, which is that women don't just believe that they should submit sexually to men, but have a profound need for it.

"Men of this kingdom share this value too – that women should desire, above anything else, a need to submit to their men. So it doesn't matter what role I play in this value system. All that matters is that I believe in it, and I do everything in my power to live by it and foster it within my pack.

"Now, as for what you saw earlier today, when I say I want to submit sexually to men, I mean exactly that. While I may be the leader of these men, I am in no way 'one of the guys.' I never want my men to lose sight of the fact that I am a woman. So what you saw today was actually done at my orders. Before I will accept the oath of any man he must swear to treat me as any woman of the kingdom, and to reinforce this, I require every man to demand sexual release from me at least once a week. This gets a bit tricky, because one of our laws states that no man can be required to engage in sex. Only women are required. I get around this by the fact that no man is required to join my pack.

Marcie was wrapping up her shaving of the princess by putting on the lilac after-shave lotion. She applied it liberally over her legs, but intentionally did not do the princess' pubic area. At which point the princess tapped it while saying, "You missed a spot." Marcie then applied the lotion carefully on her mound without any running down into her lips.

"Another rule I'm now going to give you is if you are on your knees in front of me, and my pussy is exposed to you, I expect you to lick it," commanded the princess.

"Yes, Mistress Jasper," replied Marcie. She leaned forward and parted the princess' vagina with her tongue.

"That's perfect, Marcie," purred the princess. "I should only feel your tongue and nothing more... that's it. Focus on the clit." After a few more licks, the princess pulled back, walked over to her bags on the bed, and put them on the floor. She then sat down at the foot of the bed and patted the area to the right of her. "Sit here."

Marcie replied, "Yes, Mistress Jasper," and sat down where she was commanded. She was a bit uncomfortable with sitting here, and was worrying about the spanking she figured would be next. She looked out the open door of the motel room and saw lots of the pack members playing in the pool. It again struck her as odd how there were so many more women than men in the princess' pack.

Maybe as a way of delaying the inevitable she asked, "I've noticed you have so many more women than men in your pack. Is it because you, a woman, are the leader?"

Princess Jasper saw right through her tactic, but figured she play along anyway. Leaning back on her right arm, which turned her torso to her, she said, "Actually, my woman to man ratio is lower than average. I have twenty men and thirty-seven women in my pack. Fifteen of those men are married, so that leaves twenty-two maidens – that's what we call unmarried women. I'm a maiden too, and in our kingdom, we must display this fact by keeping our pussies shaved."

She said that last bit a little seductively, and could see she was affecting Marcie, so she kept up that tone. "That makes my women to men ratio slightly less than two to one. The average pack in my father's kingdom has a little higher ratio than that. A few have almost four to one, but they are the ones that are holding down our sanctuary."

The princess brought her left hand around and began running the back of it along the side of Marcie, including her breast. "One of the biggest myths in civilized society is that men prefer to dominate women, more than women like to submit to them. Nonsense. It's completely the other way around. As such, we have no problems getting women to join our kingdom. The men on the other hand have very strict conditioning demands placed on them in order to make them into warriors, so we are often expelling them when they fail. 

The princess then began to lightly swirl her middle finger around Marcie's nipple. "You can imagine what kind of impact this has on us. We have incredibly virile men constantly around us, but too few to actually go around. We are forever in a state of need, so we look to who ever may be available to satisfy us."

Again, as a delaying tactic Marcie said, "You must have a lot of happy men with so many available women."

"It's not like you would think," the princess replied in her seductive tone. "No man is allowed to get a maiden pregnant, and maidens are forbidden contraception of any kind – including condoms. That leaves only fifteen women that can properly meet the needs of twenty men. So it's the married women that get the most fun." By now, her hand had drifted down between Marcie's legs and was rubbing her slit.

Hoping to delay further, Marcie asked as her breathing began to elevate, "As I recall last night, several of the woman that were shaved were having intercourse with men. How does that fit with what you just said?"

"Men can fuck maidens," as the princess said 'fuck' she accentuated it by driving her middle finger deep into Marcie's moist fold. "They just shouldn't cum. The only woman any of my men can't fuck is me. I reserve that for when they want to leave my pack...

"Let me back up. Twelve of my men were sworn to other men before me. In order to join my pack they had to get their previous leader to release them from their oaths. Most pack leaders are pretty liberal about letting men out of their oaths. They don't want to keep someone who wants to leave. I have a different approach. The only way I'll let a man out, is if he fucks me.

"In fact, I've told them never to ask. Just take me as if it were a rape. It's very difficult to fuck a struggling woman and not cum. So I don't plan to let many men out of their oaths, because no one will risk getting the king's daughter pregnant."

Princess Jasper was being very careful not to stimulate Marcie too much, and was also avoiding touching her clit, yet Marcie was breathing pretty heavily. "Don't you like to be fucked?"

"Hell ya!" the princess exclaimed. "I just think it would be really awkward if I got pregnant by one of my men. I get fucked all the time by men of other packs, particularly the the other Lords. I'm quite a prize and enjoy being so. I get more dick than any maiden in my pack and they're all jealous as hell for it."

"So in spite of the perception I have, there aren't many lesbians in your pack," Marcie remarked.

"There are absolutely no lesbians in this kingdom," the princess said suddenly serious. Then after taking a deep breath, and returning to her seductive tone, "Look, I adore the sight of a beautiful woman." She paused to stare up and down Marcie's wonderful figure. Then after looking back into her eyes, she leaned over and almost whispered, "I ache for the feel of a woman." As she said that she swirled her finger inside Marcie, "And I crave for the taste of a woman." She then pulled her finger out and sucked it into her mouth.

"To me, women are not a sexual substitute for men. I need to sexually connect with a woman far more often than I do a man, but in no way am I a lesbian. All it takes is the right look from a man to get me to cream in my pants. As much as I enjoy sex with a woman, no woman can compare in getting me submissive like a man, and submission is what I crave more than life itself." She then slid her finger back in before continuing. "I would rather submit than dominate... surrender than conquer... melt than do the melting."

All of this talk of the need of submission was nailing Marcie so bad she could barely breath. How another woman's desperate plea for sexual submission was causing her to desperately need it also mystified her. Then for some reason she couldn't explain she asked her "How old are you?"

"Nineteen," she casually replied.

"Aaaughhhhh!" she cried out as she fell back on the bed, with the spell the princess was weaving completely broken.

After pulling her finger back out, the princess also laid back next to her with her head propped up on her elbow. She had an amused expression on her face as she asked, "Not the answer you were looking for?"

Marcie looked over at her, "No! ...No, not at all! I was really hoping for maybe thirty-five and that you had found the fountain of youth, or at least a primo cosmetic surgeon. But nineteen... you're three years younger than me."

Still with an amused expression on her she said, "Sorry to disappoint you so."

Marcie was staring back at the princess and slowly shaking her head. "How... how are you even possible?"

Princess Jasper's expression went from amused to confused. "Uhhh... You'll have to explain that one."

Marcie just stared at her for a few seconds, and then said, "How can someone so young be so confident and... ...wise? ...I take that back. I don't think I have ever met a woman, regardless of age, who is so sure of her self, and can wear the mantle of leader with such ease – particularly with this bunch of frightening warriors. How can someone like you possibly exist?"

"The short answer is having a father like mine," the princess began. She lay there pondering her next response for a few moments, and finally said, "Sometimes the best approach to explaining something, is actually to explain what it's not. When most people think of female leaders, the term feminist is often used, but the facts are feminism is in contradiction with leadership.

"Leadership is always defined from the bottom up, and no amount of force can change that. Higher ups can assign people to positions of authority, but that just makes them a master, not a leader. This is why I demand that you refer to me as Mistress. I would never insult the concept of leadership by having you refer to me any other way. No one is a leader unless those that choose to follow them share their values.

"Feminists are not concerned with anyone sharing their values. They look upon men who don't respect them in positions of authority, as mean or ignorant. No consideration is given to get them to see that they share the same values. In fact, feminists would consider such efforts beneath them. As far as they are concerned, their ability to lead is self-evident, and any efforts to engage men who disagree does nothing more than validate those men's concerns. From their perspective, the only response to sexual discrimination is to bring Big Brother to the rescue, and punish those male chauvinist pigs.

"You see, a feminist really doesn't care about leadership. All she cares about is the title of leadership, which gives her nothing but authority. To become someone like me, the idea of authority without leadership has to be an anathema. It has to be something that turns your stomach and makes you want to puke to even consider it.

"For a feminist, though, she's all right with it. Living in some fantasy that she has attained something, when in fact it was handed her, is all she cares about. My way of looking at this is that while you can be a leader of feminists, you can never be a feminist leader. Any feminist who thinks she is a leader is either delusional, or did so by luck, not design. Feminism will never help women because it will always blame men for their own failings, and never themselves."

Marcie replied, "Let me get this straight. You expect women to accept lower ranking roles until men shake off their gender bigotry."

The amused smile returned to the princess' face as she rolled above Marcie, with her arms extended out like a pushup; her left foot on the ground between Marcie's legs, her right knee on the bed along side her. Since Marcie was sitting with her ass on the edge of the bed before she fell back, this put the princess' thigh in contact with Marcie's still wet pussy.

In a pouty, baby tone she said, "Awwww... Is sweetums distressed by the mean ignorant men who don't recognize the brilliance of a woman's business acumen?" The princess' hair was spilling down around Marcie, framing the princess' face so that all that she could see was her laughing demeanor. She continued in the same tone. "I suppose it's out of the question to start your own business and put those obviously stupid men out of theirs, because there is absolutely no question that you understand the business better than they do, so how could they possibly compete with you." 

She paused, and then continued in a more serious tone, "You want men to respect you, then compete against them. Beat them at their game. Just don't go whining to the government about how unfair they are, because it only confirms every negative thing they believe about your leadership."

The princess just hovered over Marcie, and the longer she did, the more aware Marcie became of the contact occurring between her thighs. As time passed (only a few seconds) the greater the urge was to start grinding her crotch on the princess' thigh. Finally she couldn't resist and did just that.

As if waiting for this to occur, the princess leaned down to Marcie's right and began taking slow, passionate bites off of Marcie's neck and shoulder. Between those bites she said seductively, "There is a great deal of respect when you compete against someone, because that is how you demonstrate that you respect them. Men recognize this easily enough, but not women." After switching to the other side she continued, "In order to demonstrate that you have shared values with men you must respect them, and that begins with recognizing that men aren't women. If you want to be a leader of men then it is you that must conform, not them. Remember, no leader gets to decide they are one. Only the followers do, and it begins by convincing them you share their values." 

The princess pulled back up and stared into Marcie's eyes again. "On the other hand, this doesn't mean you should have the same values as a man. A shared value doesn't always mean the same value." With Marcie still grinding away, Princess Jasper slid down to join her in her activity. "When it comes to sex, the two people involved need their values to join or match. They cannot be the same. One has to be the dominant and the other has to be the submissive. No exceptions. Without this dynamic all you have is physical affection, and I've always found that to be a poor path to an orgasm."

The princess then curled down to inhale one of Marcie's nipples. As she pulled off of one in order to move to another, she continued, "In business, don't pretend to be a man. Be a real woman. Don't re-enforce negative stereotypes by running away from what you are. Show them how being a woman benefits them. Show them how your values match theirs, and are no way in conflict. You will find this path a lot easier than trying to convince them you're just as capable to do the same things they can.

"In other words, don't listen to a single word any feminist has to say." As she was saying this she ran both her hands into Marcie's hair to pin her head down so she could engage in a passionate kiss.

Marcie was amazed at how this assault upon her lit her fire red hot. She immediately returned the passion of the kiss while reaching around to embrace the princess down on her. Slowly, but with force, both women were grinding their crotches on the others thigh. Just as Marcie was reaching her peak, the princess pulled back and stood up.

"Not yet." She commanded. While still trying to catch her breath she continued, "You have a spanking coming to you that will not be delayed any longer."

The princess then grabbed another towel from the bathroom, folded it in half, placed it on the edge of the bed where she had just been sitting, and sat down on it. "Get the strap out of my bag," She said to Marcie.

Marcie sat up and leaned over to the princess' bag. Right on top, she found the strap she was referring to. As she picked up the ten-inch long, three-inch wide leather strap with a round wooden handle, she flashed back to yesterday, when this was used on her at the McDonald's in front of everyone there. Yes, other women that were unlucky enough to be there received far worse than the six that she received, but it was still horribly degrading. As she handed it over to the princess, she couldn't help but think that what she is about to receive will be far worse than yesterday.




Slaves of the Spartan Kingdom Ch. 02



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

Chapter 2: The Sorority President's Slave

Marcie Peterson was pretty -- too pretty. She didn't realize she was, which was her downfall. Her beauty was as dangerous as a loaded gun, but the only possible victim was herself. Sure she knew she was pretty, but she didn't understand that the reason other girls got more attention from the boys, was because those boys were intimidated by her. She just figured that the lack of attention was because she wasn't pretty enough. No one can objectively quantify their own beauty. They need attention from others to measure it. After all, not only is 'beauty in the eye of the beholder,' but also 'we are our own worst critic.' So who was to blame for Marcie's low opinion of her appearance? Why, her father, of course.

Not that you could fully blame him either. He made the same mistake as the boys in believing her beauty was self-evident. Still, a father should know better. A father should know that his daughter needs his approval in many ways. On the other hand, he didn't lack in paying attention to her other fine qualities, which was why she was a kind and generous soul who always thought of others.

And Marcie certainly didn't feel she was lacking in any attention from him. She loved her time alone with him in the morning, when he dazzled her with his humor and wisdom. He never failed to make her laugh with some odd insight on life, or touch her heart with his perspective on the Scripture. She truly believed he missed his calling as a pastor by becoming an engineer. She had no doubt he could have easily filled the pews of their church. Instead, she was his only audience.

No, her father was not remiss in paying attention to his daughter. He was just a little too concerned about not raising a vain woman who focused only on her beauty, so his daughter was ill prepared to deal with the consequences of that beauty.

Another person who could share in some of the blame was her ex-fiancé, Billy. They were sweethearts in their small town, an hour outside Albuquerque, NM, since they were in Fifth grade. They sat next to each other in church since Ninth grade. Everyone figured they were destined to be married. Yes, everything was going well until Billy went off to college, and Marcie did not.

She would have liked to follow Billy into college, but she had to concede to her father's opinion that she had no other reason to go, so why should he pay for it? Marcie really had no other desire in life than to be like her mother, and stay home to raise children. Since he was only going to be an hour away at the University of New Mexico, there wasn't any real need for her to go. So he went away to college, and she stayed in their small town, to work as a receptionist at a law office, to save up money for their wedding.

It seems unfair in life how the low self-esteem of one person can crush the self-esteem of another, but that is often the case. Billy could never believe that this sweet little girl that he first knew, could develop into such a gorgeous woman, and yet still want to be with him. It's strange, but it never crossed his mind that she would cheat on him while he was away. He still couldn't believe that he could keep her though.

When Marcie got her 'Dear Jane' e-mail towards the end of his freshman year, she was stunned. He tried to use some lame excuse that he couldn't continue to wait for a girl who had to wait until marriage to have sex, but even he didn't believe it as he typed it. Yes, he did meet another girl at college who did want to have sex with him, but his real reason for choosing her over Marcie was that she better matched his own low perception of his attractiveness.

What deepened Marcie's humiliation even more was that he told his friends back in town that this was the reason he left her. He tried to make her out as some cold person who was uncaring about his 'needs,' when all she remembered was that they both equally agreed to wait until marriage before having sex.

Because of this shame, she could no longer face the people of her town. Even worse, she could no longer bear attending her church; because of how much her emotions with it were tied to her times with him there. Out of desperation, she went to her father and asked him to now pay for her to attend college in Arizona, so she could start her life anew. Her father was just as distraught by the turn of events and agreed, because he too had counted on her marrying Billy.

In a way, he felt he had let his daughter down, so sending her to college seemed the only recourse. Even still, he told her that he was not going to send her just to meet a husband. If she was going, she had to take some serious courses that he had to approve of. If she failed to achieve a 3.0 average in any of these classes, he would cut her off. Marcie agreed, and by the end of summer was attending Arizona State University.

Her freshman year in college mostly went by in a blur. She was an extreme fish-out-of-water, and didn't fit in at all. She didn't make any friends because she was focused heavily on her schoolwork. She had straight A's in high school, but that was from hard work, and not from any natural genius. Besides, the girls she met there always seemed to want to talk about boys, and the last thing on her mind was starting another relationship with one.

It wasn't that she did not ever want to try again. She had no doubt that there was another man out there for her -- another man like her father. She just wanted to focus on school for now, and let time heal her wounds.

Her only real problem that first year was with her roommate in the college dorm. She was a militant lesbian named Sindi (Marcie had been living with her for a month before she found out she didn't spell her name Cindy). She was a caricature of what a militant lesbian would be, with obviously dyed jet black hair, pierced tongue, never wore a bra, and always wore camo-fatigues. On their first day together, Sindi made it quite clear that she would not be shy about having her friends over, and if their 'activities' bothered her, then Marcie should go to the library for a while.

For the first couple of months, Sindi gave Marcie a chance to leave before she started anything with her many varied friends. As time went on though, she didn't give her any warning at all. She seemed to take a great deal of delight in shocking Marcie. Marcie got confirmation of this just before spring break, when she came back from her class one day -- at a time when Sindi knew she would be coming in -- and found her naked, with a cheerleader, going at each other with a double-ended dildo.

Initially she was too shocked to even breathe, let alone leave the room. The sight of them thrusting at each other with that flesh colored shaft between them was beyond anything she could process. The cheerleader seemed oblivious to her, but Sindi was staring up at her with a devilish smile on her lips. What snapped her out of her trance was when she heard her say, "Wan'a join us?" When she left, she didn't run screaming from the room, but if she hadn't maintained what little control she had of herself, she might have.

From that point on, Sindi got much more brazen with her come-ons. She even began openly masturbating in front of her. It started with just massaging her pussy through her pants while studying as if she was unaware of what she was doing. It quickly progressed to dropping her pants as soon as she came in, and playing with herself while staring at Marcie with naked desire.

Marcie tried her best not to react because she could tell that her roommate reveled in her reactions. But the more she tried, the more she found herself thinking about what Sindi was doing. This was her real beginning in fantasizing about sex with women. She never set out to think of having sex with her, she just found herself doing it occasionally.

Marcie didn't know it at the time, but this unbidden desire was what was keeping her in the room. She tried to convince herself that leaving would only give Sindi what she wanted most, but what she could never admit to herself, was that she was turned on by the clear attraction this young woman had for her. Then the most humiliating experience in her life occurred just two weeks before the end of the school year. Sindi walked in on her masturbating.

All her life, from as young as she could recall, Marcie played with herself. Nothing serious. She never tried to make herself have an orgasm. She would just find herself with her hand up her dress rubbing her crotch through her panties. This was on e of the reasons she wore a dress all of the time. Not because it made it easier to do masterbate, quite the opposite in fact. When she wore pants or shorts she would find herself doing it without thinking. A dress cut down on the absent-minded playing with herself, because it took some effort to get between her thighs.

Masturbation wasn't an obsession for her. It wasn't that she thought it was evil in any way. It just didn't fit her image of herself. She never had her own room growing up, so she was never free to develop an interest in it. Generally speaking, once she realized what she was doing she would stop. Sometimes she did allow her hand to move into her panties and play with what was inside there, yet she never allowed it to progress too far.

Having such an openly sexual roommate was having an effect on her. For the first time in her life she was looking for opportunities to run her hand between her thighs. It began with unnecessary trips to the restroom, where she would spend time stroking herself with her panties at her knees. Eventually she was doing it in her room when she knew Sindi would be gone for a while. It was at these times that she began to come near an orgasm, but never quite.

Later that evening, looking back on that fateful moment, she realized that she did know Sindi was going to be back when she walked in. She had to admit to herself that she wanted to get caught. Yet the real story that day was that Sindi blew it... Big Time! 

When Sindi opened the door to the room, she found Marcie on her bed, dress pulled up above her waist, panties down around her right ankle, furiously working herself towards her first orgasm. Marcie's shame at being caught was the tipping point that sent her over the edge -- soaking the bed between her thighs.

A woman caught in such a vulnerable position is putty to anyone with the smarts and foresight to take advantage of it. Never in Sindi's life had she been so close to making it with a woman this gorgeous, but instead, her need to ridicule this prude as a hypocrite overcame her. Marcie then ran from the room in tears, shoeless, and without her panties, yet she had the presence of mind to grab her car keys.

It didn't take long for Sindi to see the colossal mistake she just made. When it fully dawned on her what was in her grasp, yet she threw away, she collapsed on the floor and wept. She didn't see Marcie again until the next day. But by that time, Marcie had pulled herself back together, and wasn't interested in anything Sindi had to say.

She had spent the evening in her car going over what she had done to allow herself to get caught like that. When she realized that she wanted to be caught, she just knew that Sindi's reaction was God's punishment for her behavior. This thought even gave her the courage to go back and face her. If Sindi continued to ridicule her, then it was only what she deserved. She had stayed in a room she knew she should not have, and was punished for it.

By the next morning she had made up her mind that she was going to get her own apartment and move out. This also solved her dilemma for the summer. She had originally planned on moving back home, but she didn't want to spend any idle time back in town when she could run into Billy. Her father had told her he would only pay for a dorm, so if she wanted her own apartment, she was going to have to get a job, and if she had a job, then she would not have to move back home for the summer. It was the perfect excuse.

Yes, she still loved her parents, and always looked forward to visiting her family, but only for a day or two. The only thing that bothered her on these visits was her father's pleas to go back to church, which was something she still wasn't ready for. Getting an apartment solved everything.

Marcie continued to deal with Sindi in a civil manner while she looked for an apartment, and within five days, she moved out. She had enough money saved up for the down payment and to live on for at least a month, but by then, she would have completed class, and should have a job easily enough. In fact, she found one at the first place she applied.

With her experience as a receptionist at the law office in her town, she decided to try the same thing at a very prestigious law firm in downtown Phoenix that had an ad in the paper. The job description sounded more like a law assistant, but she figured she would give it a try anyway. Little did she know that no one else was seriously considered after she walked through the door.

That summer in Phoenix was wonderful for Marcie for three reasons. The first was her job. It was demanding, but rewarding. Everyone seemed to really appreciate the work she did. What she didn't realize was how stunned these people were of her, because no one expected this knockout to have actual skills. She really was hired on looks alone. Yet Marcie was never raised to use her beauty to gain her anything, so she worked hard, and only sought help when she really needed it. She never used the crutch of beauty to make her work easier, nor even knew it was possible.

The second thing that made the summer wonderful was her apartment. This was the first time in her life she was free to behave how she pleased. Most importantly, she was now able to masturbate at will. Her experience with getting caught by Sindi didn't shake her desire to play with herself. Not by a long shot. The orgasm she experienced that afternoon woke something up inside of her that she had to explore more of. As for her belief of God's punishment that day, she rationalized it to only her desire to have sex with a woman was being punished, not the masturbation itself.

When she was in her apartment, she kept her blinds closed and her clothes off. She played with herself constantly. If she didn't have her hand between her thighs, then she was experimenting with what objects she could rub her crotch against, like the corner of her kitchen table. This was particularly exciting because it freed both hands to pinch and pull her nipples.

The third reason for this being a wonderful summer was her new best friend, Beth, which she met her third week on the job. She was the daughter of one of the senior partners, and was there to drop off his briefcase that he had left at home that morning. Her beauty was in league with Marcie's, but she was taller and slimmer. She was a blonde, but as Marcie would eventually find out, not a natural one. The real difference between their beauty was that Beth knew how beautiful she was, and how to use it.

They were both the same age and went to the same university, but as Beth started a year earlier, she was a year ahead of Marcie. Marcie never recalled seeing Beth before on campus, but Beth remembered seeing her a few times. In fact, as she walked through the lobby to her father's office, she did a double take on her. After dropping off the briefcase, she stopped off at Marcie's counter to chat with her. Marcie was flattered by the attention this obviously beautiful young woman was paying her, and then was thrilled to learn they went to the same university. Before she left, Beth got an agreement from Marcie to meet her at a local nightclub. Marcie told her she wasn't twenty-one yet, but Beth told her not to worry. She could get them in.

Being a small town girl, she was dazzled by the things that Beth introduced her to over the summer. She didn't really understand why Beth paid so much attention to her, because they had so few things in common, but then she never understood the kind of personality that gets a charge out of dazzling someone. From her parent's palatial home, to the most exclusive restaurants and country clubs, Marcie got to experience so much, in such a short time, that she couldn't have dreamed such a life was possible.

Beth also opened Marcie up to new ideas that she never fully contemplated. Her father had done a good job at explaining what right and wrong behavior was, but like most religious types, he did a lousy job at explaining why. She had been able to easily get through her freshman year without being influenced by the heavy liberal environment of the university, but now that she was connecting with someone on a personal level, she had to see that the 'other side' wasn't so bad at all. Marcie didn't break down into wild abandon; she simply had what she thought were the right things in life shaken.

Of particular note was her belief in feminism. Both her father and mother had taught her that feminism was simply about women blaming men for the things they had failed in life. Beth really wasn't political like Sindi, but she did espouse feminist dogma and how it was supporting women in a paternalistic society. It was nothing more than balancing the power in society in order to make things fair, which made a lot of sense to Marcie.

As summer was drawing to a close, and they began to prepare for their return to class, Marcie remarked that she was not looking forward to going back to the dorm, which meant sharing a room with someone (she didn't go into any detail why she didn't want to share a room), because she couldn't keep her job while trying to stay up with class. She was going to have to quit, which also meant she couldn't afford to keep her apartment.

Not to worry, said Beth. She could get her into her sorority, and at their house she would have her own room. As far as her not being a freshman, well, she had connections that could make anything happen. Within a week before class started, Marcie had moved out of her apartment and into sorority life.

Her sophomore year at college went so much better than the previous. She now had a built in support network with her sisters in the sorority. She had worried that she would never fit in with all of these daughters of very wealthy families, but they made her feel right at home. And she really loved her room that Beth said she didn't have to pay for. It was the best of both worlds. She had friends to chat with when she wanted, and privacy to play with herself whenever she desired.

Beth even paid to fly her to Cancun for spring break. That was one wild time. In all the time Beth bought her drinks, Marcie only drank a little. Getting drunk was not high on her agenda. But in Cancun, she 'let her hair down.' She got hammered actually. Beth even had to carry her back to her room. The rest of the evening was a blur. She thinks she remembers Beth licking her pussy, but that could have just been a fantasy she was having. She didn't do it often, but she sometimes had fantasies of having sex with her sorority sisters, Beth in particular. So she couldn't be sure. All she did know was that the next morning Beth didn't act any differently than she normally did, so Marcie figured she just dreamed it.

With summer coming up, Marcie prepared to do what she did last summer and get her old job back (which they were delighted to have her back) and get an apartment. The major difference was she wouldn't be spending the summer with Beth. Beth's aunt, who was much younger than her mother, had promised many years back to take her to Europe once she had turned twenty-one. Well this summer was it, so off she went for ten weeks with her aunt and uncle.




Slaves of the Spartan Kingdom Ch. 02



She had promised to stay in touch through e-mail, and Marcie did send her many, almost every day actually. Initially she got a lot of responses, but as the weeks went on she got fewer and fewer. The last three weeks she only got two quick notes telling her she was having a wonderful time on the French Riviera. Oh well. As summer ended, she would be back, and things could get back to they way they were... or so she thought.

Marcie was unpacking her boxes in the same room she had last year, and thinking about what a great time she was going to have this year. Her best friend was elected the sorority president, and she figured that had to come with some perks.

The only down side for the year was one of the classes that her father insisted she take was a math class, and that was her worst subject. Even at her job, if she had to help the accountants, she was lost. Numbers were not her thing.

While at work, she got talked into some more sophisticated clothes that she hoped to impress Beth with. Beth had tried to get her change her look last year, but she didn't feel it was 'her.' It was those new clothes that she was hanging up in her closet. Right now she was dressed as she always had in one of her favorite pale blue skirts that fell down to just above her knees, a sleeveless white blouse, and her most comfortable flat, white leather sandals. She had also been experimenting this summer with ways to make her long, naturally wavy, honey-blonde hair look more up to date, but today she just had it in a ponytail.

"Marcie!" she heard exclaimed behind her. She spun around and saw Beth in her doorway.

"Beth!" she excitedly replied as she raced into her outstretched arms.

The girls embraced for a few moments, then Marcie pulled back to take a good look at her friend. She was dressed as she often was, with a very short skirt -- red this time, a black silk blouse, and her usual three-inch stiletto heels on closed toed red shoes. At five-eleven, three-inch heels may seem excessive to some, but not to Marcie. Being proud of her height was one of the things she admired about Beth. The only change she noticed in her was her killer tan, which set off her shoulder length blonde hair nicely.

With a beaming face Marcie said, "I'm so glad to see you. I have missed you so much!"

"I've missed you to," said Beth, but not with the same enthusiasm. 

Marcie could tell that something wasn't right. "Is anything wrong?" she asked with a worried expression.

"There doesn't have to be," was her cryptic reply. She took a deep breath, reached out to Marcie's hand, and continued, "Come up to my room."

Beth led Marcie upstairs to the president's room. She had only been in that room once last year. It was easily three times the size of her room. It was more like a hotel suite, with a living area, kitchenette, and a separate bedroom. After entering the room, Beth stood to the side to let Marcie go by, and then closed the door.

Marcie stood in the center of the living area, and turned back to face Beth. "What's wrong?" she asked now deeply concerned.

Beth started slowly towards her, and said, "Before I get started, I want you to know that I do still want to be your friend..." She paused then continued, "...but only on my terms. Sit down." She pointed to the left end of the couch, as she sat down on the right end -- the end closest to the door.

Beth continued ominously, "I'm going to be very blunt. In a few minutes I'm going to have my way with you Marcie, and if you want to end our friendship afterwards, then so be it. I spent a year trying to seduce you, but I was so concerned with losing you as a friend that I just didn't push it. Not anymore. After spending time with my aunt, I have decided that life is too short to continue living on anyone else's terms but mine."

"You're a lesbian?" Marcie asked shocked, although she didn't quite grasp what 'having her way' meant.

"I don't think so," she said as a statement of fact, not as a question.

She then continued, "This sorority has had a long, well known history of taking in wealthy young girls who are serious about getting an education, but at the same time, are serious about attracting the right kind of man to marry. We act as a very intimate support group. Not only do we help you with your education, as I'm sure you have seen and experienced, but we also help you become the kind of woman a man wants to marry, not just fuck -- although that too.

"And when I say intimate, I mean just that. What is not well known -- and we work hard to keep it that way -- is that we help each other deal with the physical desires we get so that we don't do something stupid with a man. Not every woman who has passed through here has experienced this. I would say most had no idea that some of her sisters were engaged in sexual activities. Like you for instance. I'm sure you did not know that more than half the girls here are regularly engaged in cunnilingus."

"No, I wasn't." Marcie replied. She truly never had any sense that her sisters were anything but heterosexual. Sure, one of the things she admired about them was that they didn't seem boy crazy like many of the other girls she met at school, but she didn't think anything like what Beth described was happening. She often saw them dating men, so thinking they were lesbians never crossed her mind.

"As the incoming president, I have decided to change this," Beth continued. "My aunt -- a past president of this very sorority -- has convinced me that society has changed enough that we can now be more open about what we do, at least amongst ourselves. Outwardly we will still present ourselves the same, because we don't want to attract lesbians. There are already plenty of choices for them if that is what they want. Our focus will remain the same; we're just going to be honest with ourselves on how we do it.

"Some of our requirements will be repurposed. Before, sluts of any kind, regardless of whom they were attracted to, and no matter how wealthy their parents were, would never get in this sorority. They weren't the kind of women that would attract the kind of men we wanted visiting us. Now, it's still true enough, but part of why we have sex with each other is so that we don't risk catching STD's, and if a slut liked playing around before she came here, she'll probably do it again outside of our group. We just can't have that."

Marcie was dumbfounded by the concept of fidelity within multiple partners. She had to ask, "So if I am dating a man, I can't have sex with him?" Not that she was planning anytime soon. She just liked having the option open for her.

"In a way... yes," she replied. "It's not like we'll kick you out of the sorority if you do. The reason why we do this is to put off sex with men as long as possible. If you feel you have met your one and only, then by all means, do as your heart requires. It's just from that point forward you won't be able to partake of your sisters again. Keep in mind this is about preventing cheap and frivolous sex, so that the only kind you will have with a man is the kind you know your heart really desires."

Marcie felt she could keep from engaging in cheap sex just fine without any help, but felt it wouldn't do any good arguing this point. "So what does this have to do with me, and you 'having your way with me?'"

"Look Marcie. I know you a lot better than you think I do. I know you probably believe it is ridiculous for heterosexual women to rely on each other for sex. This is a quality of you that I recognized right away, which is why I had to get you as a sister. You're gorgeous, sweet, radiant, everything in abundance that makes you someone anyone would want to be around, and there is no doubt that you are not a slut.

"I began working behind the scenes, trying to get you into our sorority, long before I ever told you about it. But in fairness to me, while I would have liked for you to be able to join us in our intimate support network, that wasn't my goal at the time. I just wanted you in. Nothing more."

Beth moved her left arm up on the back of the couch, and began lightly rubbing Marcie's right shoulder. Marcie, for her part, decided to not to stop her.

Beth continued, "What happened exactly, I don't know. I just remembered trying over and over again to seduce you in order to get you to join us, and at some point you became an obsession. Cancun was a real heartbreaker for me. I thought for sure I had you. I went down on you and everything. But the next morning... you acted like nothing happened."

"I was drunk!" Marcie exclaimed. "I don't remember anything!"

Beth pulled her hand back from Marcie's shoulder, and replied angrily, "You weren't that drunk!" She closed her eyes, and took a few moments to calm herself. She then continued, "I've had sex with drunk girls many times, and they don't have orgasms like I gave you that night. I am willing to accept you were so ashamed of yourself that you blocked it out, but not that you were too drunk. 

"All right," pleaded Marcie. "I blocked it out. I'm sorry I don't remember anything. I just want to know what happened on your trip that makes you act the way you are, so we can get back to normal."

"There is no getting back to normal, Marcie." Beth paused for a second then said, "What happened was I spent those ten weeks with my aunt as her slave... and it was wonderful! She did as she pleased, and I did as she pleased. It began even before the plane took off when she stuck her hand up my skirt without any warning. When I tried to get an explanation I was told there would never be any explanations.

"Over the next several weeks I had some of the best orgasms ever, and the word that best describes my experience is 'liberating.' I was free to let go and let whatever happened wash over me. I spent at least once, and sometimes twice, a day sucking my aunt's pussy. She loved coming up with new places to do it. Many times in public, and a few times we were caught. It was so thrilling."

What Beth was telling her was spinning her head. It was just too much. In order to drag this back to some reality she could understand she asked, "What about your uncle?"

"He was just along for the ride," she replied. "And what a wild ride. He never touched me, but he was almost always present. It was an incredible turn on to perform in front of him. The evenings usually ended with him getting a great blowjob or fuck from my aunt.

"The only thing that marred the experience was your e-mails. They were like little reminders of what 'proper' behavior was, and how something that was so profound in my life, I could never tell you about. What made matters worse, was from almost the first day, I began fantasizing what it would be like to make you my slave. The more I fantasized, the more I realized nothing like this would possible. I couldn't seduce you to regular lesbian sex. No way could I make this happen.

"That's when I got mad. Here I was, feeling ashamed about enjoying something that I could not see anything wrong with, just because I knew you would never approve. I'm not exactly sure when it happened, but I decided that our relationship had to change -- or end. But I didn't want to just end it. I wanted it to go out in a blaze of glory. Since there is no way I could seduce you to becoming my slave, I made up my mind I was just going to take you.

"When I am through with you this evening you can decide for yourself whether you wish to be my friend anymore, but if it continues, you must accept that you get no say in what that relationship is." Beth stood up and put out her left hand to Marcie. "Your cooperation would be appreciated... but it's not required."

Marcie knew this was no idle threat. Beth was so much taller and stronger than she was, so she stood no chance against her physically. The thing was, in spite of these turn of events, she still wanted Beth as her friend. Whatever she may have planned, Marcie figured she would go along with it for now. She knew her friend may be wild, but at her core she was a good person.

Marcie extended her hand to Beth, and stood up next to her. Beth then led her over to the bedroom, but as she was going, Marcie pondered her situation. There was much about sex she still needed to learn, but she did know a rape when she saw it. She maybe cooperating, but cooperation did not constitute consent. She also knew that most women sexually responded to their attacks, just as she was right now. Whatever Beth may have planned for her, she knew she was going to find some very soaked panties right now. She could only hope she would be able to handle the embarrassment.

Before they passed through the doorway Marcie asked, "Aren't you concerned I'll report this?"

Beth spun around and grabbed her Marcie's other hand and thrust both against the frame of the door. Then holding both hands above her head with just her left, she used her right to painfully grab Marcie's left breast. At the same time she jammed her left thigh into Marcie's crotch.

"Like I said before Marcie. I know you too well. There isn't a vengeful bone in your body. While I run a very serious risk of you ever speaking to me as a friend again, I know there is no chance you will speak of this beyond this room. I'm right aren't I?"

As she asked that question, she gave Marcie's breast a tight squeeze. This caused Marcie to cry out as she exclaimed, "Yes! You're right!"

With that, Beth leaned in to give Marcie her first kiss by a woman. It was a passionate kiss that Marcie fought hard not to return. When Beth pulled back she said, "Since you're being honest with me, I'm going to be honest with you. You're going to come, and you're going to come hard. And when you do, I promise not to use it against you. I'll never tell you that you must approve of what I am doing by your reaction. So don't hold back. Don't restrain yourself. I am giving you the freedom to not be responsible for what happens to you. Enjoy it for this one evening.

"Will you give me at least that?"

After a moment's hesitation, she quietly replied, "Yes, I will."

Marcie's reply brought tears to Beth's eyes. "Thank you," she said as she kissed her again.

She then pulled Marcie into her bedroom and proceeded to strip her. The blouse went first, then the skirt. She paused to admire Marcie for a few moments in just her panties, bra and sandals. She then sat down on the bed and spun her around to face her. "In Cancun, the room was dark., and even though I've known you for over a year, I have never seen your bush. Now I want to savor the moment." She stroked the back of her fingers of her right hand up and down the front of her panties -- as if trying to learn something about what lay underneath. She then drove her middle finger between her thighs, and felt the evidence of Marcie's growing arousal.

She stroked her finger back and forth a few times then leaned in to kiss her on the growing dampness. "If our friendship continues beyond today, these school girl panties of yours have to go. The first thing I'm doing is taking you to Victoria's Secret to update your lingerie."

Beth was thrilled when she heard Marcie reply breathlessly, "Okay."

Beth pulled out, and then reached behind Marcie to remove her bra. Once freed of their bondage, Beth took each nipple in her mouth and sucked hard eliciting Marcie's biggest reaction yet. To Beth's delight she found that her breasts were large enough that she could squeeze them together to suck both nipples into her mouth at once. When she had both firmly between her teeth, she bit down and got a scream of pleasure from Marcie.

Without any more delay she ran her hands down either side of her, and pulled her panties down to her knees in one quick stroke. "Oh my gosh! Your pussy is beautiful." She petted her bush like a cat, and then continued, "I need to get a proper taste of it right now." Beth stood up and spun her around, tipping Marcie onto the bed. Her clothes quickly followed Marcie's onto the floor.

Standing over her she said, "I just love your scent. I couldn't get enough of it on the times I came into your room after I know you were playing with yourself. And after Cancun I found out that you taste as wonderful as you smell."

Marcie replied in a shocked voice, "You knew I was..." She then covered her face in shame.

Beth lay down on the left side of Marcie, and pulled her left hand away. "It's Okay. Only women who are absolutely fucked up in their head don't. And as long as you don't have an infection of some kind, masturbating regularly is essential to keeping yourself fresh."

Beth got Marcie to slide further up the bed, and as she did so, she pulled her panties the rest of the way off. She then positioned herself between her legs. Marcie had often fantasized what it would be like to have her pussy licked, but didn't seriously think her first time -- that she could remember -- would be with a woman, let alone Beth. As Beth leaned down into her, Marcie first felt her breath on her, and got a real charge from that alone.

Beth gave her the lightest of kisses right at her apex, and then moved to her right to first lick, then suck, on the junction of Marcie's left leg and crotch. After only a few seconds there, she moved over to the other side and gave that junction the same treatment. By now, Marcie's breathing had noticeably quickened.

Marcie starred down at her friend as she starred back at her. She then watched her as she slowly drew a long, but not deep, lick along her slit. She followed that by another, then another, then another. On her next she parted those lips and just held her tongue over Marcie's not quite emerging clit.

After holding it there for nearly a minute, Beth finally got the reaction she was looking for, which was to get Marcie to start grinding her hips against her face. She then rewarded Marcie with several deep licks, followed by a loud hum right on top of her nub. This elicited a barely perceptible mew from Marcie.

"Your taste is everything I was hoping for, Marcie," said Beth. With these preliminaries out of the way she began to slowly build up to some serious stimulation. Not only was there licking, but the sucking was a sensation Marcie had not anticipated at all. At several points, she thought Beth was going to suck her clit completely out of her.

She continued on for over a half hour, and would build Marcy up to a fever pitch then back off by just holding her tongue on top of her clit. But now, when Marcie tried to grind herself against Beth, Beth crossed arms across Marcie's pelvis and pinned her down to prevent her from doing so. This drove her mad with desire.

Marcie was so dizzy from stimulation that she did not recognize right away that Beth had gotten off of her completely, until she heard the nightstand drawer to her right open up. When she looked over, she saw Beth pulling out a dildo and black leather panties. Neither was like anything she had ever seen before. The dildo was white and shaped like a check mark. It was a 'V' where one leg was longer than the other, and the shorter leg was a little thicker. The panties -- shorts really -- had an extra hole, like an oblong slit at the crotch.

"Every night my aunt used one of these on me," Beth began. "All I could think of was how much I wanted to use one on you." She had grabbed the dildo by the longer shaft and began rubbing the shorter thicker end at her crotch -- all the while staring deeply at the still quite excited Marcie. After a dozen or so strokes, she slid the panties up passed her knees then slid the long shaft through the slit in front, and then brought them all the way up, sliding the short shaft right into her vagina.

She was now standing next to Marcie, and close enough for her to see that the shaft was shaped just like a man's penis, with veins along the side and the odd looking helmet on the end that Marcie could never make out what it was for. Before she could properly contemplate what was to obviously come next, Beth climbed over Marcie and placed the tip at her door.




Slaves of the Spartan Kingdom Ch. 02



Beth immediately started rubbing her white cock against Marcie as she planted a deep and passionate kiss on her. Marcie was actually blown away at how much she enjoyed the taste of herself on Beth's lips. Beth eventually broke off to whisper in her ear, "I know you're still a virgin, so I'll be real easy on you."

At first she would only penetrate her slightly, followed by rubbing up and down along her slit. Eventually she began penetrating her deeper, but not much. This went on far more than Marcie could deal with. Finally she cried "Oh please!"

By now, Beth had worked herself up quite a bit too; so she replied breathlessly, "Please what, Marcie?"

"Oh please!" was the only thing she could manage.

"Please what?" Beth again asked.

Marcie was now staring back passionately into Beth's eyes, and after a few moments hesitation she pleaded, "Please fuck me!"

The 'me' barely escaped Marcie's lips when Beth drove home.

The pleasure and pain of that single stroke was off of Marcie's charts. No scale she could have conjured up could have evaluated what she had just experienced. Her mind literally shut down for a second before she let loose a guttural cry of agony and ecstasy.

Beth held herself still -- buried to the hilt -- until Marcie started to return back to Earth. When she felt Marcie grinding against her, she knew she had adapted to the size, and slowly -- but with power -- she set up a rhythmic stroke that quickly brought Marcie to an intense orgasm. With her out of the way, Beth began grinding against her to quickly and easily join Marcie in bliss.

Beth cuddled and kissed Marcie for quite a long time while keeping the shafts inside them both. When Marcie appeared to have reasonably recovered, she broke off her kiss to say to her, "The last thing I want to make my fantasy come true, is to have one last kiss with the taste of each other on our lips."

Marcie understood what that meant, and nodded "sure."

Beth eased out of Marcie, which brought a gasp from her. Beth then rolled over on her back, and eased her end out of her as she pulled the panties that held it in her off of her legs. She followed that by giving one more quick kiss, then spun around to settle her pussy close to Marcie's face. She began to lick Marcie as if to show her what she wanted, and then brought her pelvis down so Marcie could reciprocate.

The more Beth went at Marcie, the more Marcie returned her enthusiasm in kind. Beth slid her arms under Marcie's hips to bring them up higher and embrace her tightly. Marcie responded by embracing Beth at her waist. In no time, each was in ecstasy, and had their lips coated with the proof of each other's mutual joy. Beth wasted no time in turning back around for one last passionate kiss, and then licked what she could off of Marcie's face.

Afterwards, she settled down alongside Marcie, and said, "Thank you for cooperating, and I want you to know that I meant what I said earlier. I won't use how much you enjoyed this against you. You can lie here as long as you would like, and go whenever you want. If you desire, I'll never speak of what occurred here tonight. But I want to make one thing perfectly clear: if we continue to be friends beyond this, it will be on my terms. I will be your master, and you will be my slave.

"Oh. And if you are concerned about us becoming lesbian lovers -- don't. I don't want to be lovers. I just want to make love."

Marcie stared at Beth for a while and wondered what to do. Literally. She didn't know what to make of what she just experienced; from what actually occurred, to her body's reaction to it. And she did mean her body's reaction; as if her body was something separate from her. She herself couldn't react to it. She was just too stunned.

Intellectually she knew she was raped, but that description didn't fit with her understanding of it. And the problem with understanding it had nothing to do with the fact the person doing the raping was a woman. She could easily imagine a woman actually raping her. Yet the source of her confusion continued to elude her.

She began processing all that she had learned about the act of rape, but none of the pieces she grabbed fit this puzzle. Then she stumbled onto the idea of how rape is described as a wound that's very personal. But was it really? That might adequately describe how the woman feels, but to the rapist, it's very impersonal. Not with Beth. With her it clearly was personal. It didn't excuse her behavior, but it did make it easier for Marcie to accept it, and accept her body's reaction to it. 

"All right, Beth," she began. "I do want to be your friend, so I'm willing to at least try at being your slave. So what's next? Chains? I'm not sure what proper slave behavior is?"

Beth busted a big grin with Marcie's surrender. "That's the beauty of being a slave, because knowing what you need to do is not your concern. As your master, it's mine. As for chains... they'll come soon enough."

Marcie got a shocked look on her face. "I was only kidding about that!"

Beth replied, "I know... but I'm not."

Putting a more determined look on her face, Marcie asked, "Seriously. Is this something between you and me, or am I to be paraded out in public on a leash?"

Beth got a slight smirk on her face, and looked away wistfully. She then looked back at Marcie and said, "Not withstanding the lovely vision you just conjured up, I meant it when I said I don't want to be lovers, which means I don't want to go around acting like we are. While there will be a select few who will know the truth of our relationship, to the general public we will only be friends. Even among our sisters, where I plan to be open about our sexual support network, I don't want our relationship to be seen as anything more than what is necessary.

"Right now though, with one need slated, I'm ravenous of another kind. Let's clean up and I'll take you out for dinner."

The shower stall in her suite was very spacious, and easily accommodated the two of them. In no time they were clean, primped and dressed, and on their way out.

Over the next few days before classes got underway, Marcie noticed that Beth's treatment of her in public had changed very little, but it all had taken on greater meaning. She had always paid for everything when they went out before, but now it seemed more right. When she was true to her word, and took Marcie to Victoria's Secret the next day, Marcie felt comfortable with her spending so much money on her.

That time in the store was very special to Marcie. To the sales ladies, Beth just came off as a friend helping out another. Nothing more. Yet when no one was looking, Beth took serious liberties with her. As Marcie tried on different varieties of underwear, Beth would inspect the feel of it on her body, and see what kind of access it still allowed. They had planned on having lunch at the mall afterwards, but they had worked each other into such a state, that they had to run back to the sorority house to satisfy a very different hunger instead.

In the privacy of her room, Beth was a completely different person. It was quite clear that someone was running the show, and the show was Marcie. Beth did not permit her to do anything that she had not commanded of her, and some of those commands were non-verbal. Like when she grabbed her by her hair, yanked her to her knees, and shoved her face into her brunette pussy. It seemed to Marcie that Beth wanted to push to an extreme what she could get away with, and for the time being, Marcie was willing to let her get away with a lot.

As classes got under way, Beth began the process of meeting each of her sisters, and informing them of the true history of their sorority, and how none of them need concern themselves of being put into uncomfortable situations. She made it clear this was about supporting them, not forcing anything on them. More importantly, it was about making them more desirable to men, and not turning them into lesbians.

Marcie was present at each of these meetings because Beth said that her sweet and innocent demeanor was a calming influence. With her there, the girls would be less likely to believe anything untoward was going to happen, as opposed to being alone with Beth. Still, she was quite surprised at how well each girl took what Beth had to say. She figured it must be how she stressed the part of making them more desirable to men that made everything so easy to swallow.

As she explained to most of them that while most women fantasize about having sex with a woman, few would push to make it happen, except under one particular circumstance, and that would be as part of a show to turn on a man. Just about every heterosexual woman alive would at least consider it, and most would actually do it. While Beth had no proof, she figured far more women in this world licked pussy in order to turn on a man, than did so to turn on the woman being licked.

She wanted them to keep that in mind when they considered making themselves available in their support group, and not let the word lesbian cross their minds. In fact, lesbians would not be tolerated in this group. While they would never consider kicking someone out of the sorority because of her professing to be a lesbian, they simply would never be allowed to participate in their activities.

The freshman rushes were another story. Beth couldn't be open about anything. She just had to feel them out. This was actually no different than previous years. They were still looking for the same type of young woman. It just added a certain spice to it. 

Shortly after accepting the girls they planned to take, Marcie came to Beth's suite at her request. She had dressed how she was instructed to when ordered to come to her room, which was a slutty-Catholic-schoolgirl kind of dress. The outfit was a white blouse that was tied off to reveal a bare midriff, and a very short plaid pleated skirt. The look was finished off with white knee socks, and canvas black and white saddle shoes.

When she got there, Beth directed her to sit on the couch next to her. She was dressed in a tight teal satin dress that just barely reached her thighs. As Marcie sat down next to her she said, "I've got a problem with Nancy."

Nancy was the girl Marcie liked most among the new freshmen. She seemed the least worldly, and had the fewest pretensions. She was a very sweet and pretty young girl who was always smiling; in other words, she was just like Marcie. Her only difference was in appearance. She was five-foot-one, with short straight brunette hair. Marcie was reminded of a pixie whenever she saw her. 

"I wouldn't have even allowed her in, except that she was a legacy," continued Beth. "Every time I try hinting to her about our ways, she seems unable to grasp it. I think she is just too innocent, and I believe the best way to deal with this is to force the situation."

Marcie didn't like the sound of that -- particularly the way Beth was looking at her as she said it.

"I've talked this over with my aunt, and she believes I'm correct. Nancy is much like you, which means she is very susceptible to accommodating sexual domination. In other words, she needs to be taken, and I want you to do the taking."

Marcie just shook her head in disbelief then exclaimed, "What!? Why me?"

"With all of the things I have hinted at, she would have her guard up with me, but not you. You're too sweet and innocent and won't cause any alarm as you move on her. You stand a far greater chance of success than I do."

"What are you talking about?" Marcie asked in a very incredulous manner.

"I know it's difficult to grasp, but girls like you are very susceptible to domination, regardless of what the gender is of the person doing the dominating. Sure, a man would be more effective, but a woman will do."

"If she so susceptible, then why don't you do it?" remarked Marcie.

"I could, but I think it would be best if this happens to her first by someone who is not in a position of authority. You're not even a senior. I could even be someone she runs to if things go wrong, and keep her from going outside our sorority. If I do it, and things go south, damage control would be very difficult."

"So you really expect me to rape Nancy?" Marcie asked flatly.

"Rape? Who said anything about rape? From my perspective, we are doing is what's best for her. It's better she learns what she will from us, than it is from the first man who seduces her. Besides, I'm not asking you to do anything that I was not prepared to do to you, and I am not one bit ashamed of it."

Marcie didn't know that Beth was in fact, very ashamed of what she did. It wasn't anything sitting directly on her conscience, but it was enough to drive her to do what every criminal has done, by getting others to do as they did, in order to feel better about themselves. The only difference here was that Beth was able to spin a convincing yarn on how Marcie would do a better job. 

Even so, Marcie's resolve was starting to crumble. "Why do we have to force her? I don't understand why she couldn't be left alone like the others who don't want to participate."

The most troubling aspect to Beth's response was that at some level she actually believed what she said. "I know this type of girl. If she's not part of what we are doing she is going to cause us trouble." The truth was that Beth had a taste of sexual domination with Marcie and wanted more -- particularly with another sweet girl like Nancy. The only reason she didn't want to do the initial take, was that her need to have Marcie share in the blame/guilt was greater. "Think about it, Marcie. Would you have fallen for any kind of seduction other than what I did?"

Marcie had to admit that she wouldn't have. She tried to convince herself that the only reason she was Beth's slave was that she wanted to remain her friend, but even if her mind wasn't sold on what has become of her, her body was. She now craved for Beth to take her. Even something as simple as her reaching under the short skirts that Beth insist she wear was enough to soak herself. When this began, she was terrified by the idea of anyone recognizing what was going on between them, but now, she was turned on by the thought of Beth surreptitiously playing with her in public, and looked forward to going out to dinner, movies, or nightclubs with her specifically to create these opportunities.

Stranger still, she was starting to get turned on by the prospect of what Beth was asking of her, but many doubts remained. "I don't understand what to do. This is not my thing. How am I supposed to pull this off?"

Beth could now tell she had Marcie, and it sent a thrill through her as great as any conquest she had made of her -- more so in fact. "You're going to have to trust me, Marcie. I learned a lot from my aunt, and key among what I learned is how certainly a woman can be brought under submission if you approach her right. To start off with, you must be non-threatening so she doesn't get scared, but at the same time, you need to be firm and act very sure of what you are doing. The sooner you convince her of the inevitability of it, the easier things will go.

"Here's the plan. I have already asked her to come see me, and she should arrive here in fifteen minutes. I want you to head her off in the living room, and tell her I have been delayed for at least an hour, if not more. Then without any explanation of any kind, lead her to your room and take her. I'll be hiding in your closet watching everything.

"Now what do I mean by 'take her?' First of all, just state as a matter of fact that you are going to lick her pussy. Don't put it as a question or a request. Just state it with the kind of conviction as if there is no doubt about what is to occur. The only thing you need to determine is how much resistance you have to overcome before she no longer feels responsible for what is about to happen.

"You may have to pin her down some way, or even threaten to use these." She then produced a pair of handcuffs that Beth had used a couple times on Marcie. "It's best that it doesn't come to this, but if it does, then it does. At some point she will come to the realization that she is no longer responsible for what's happening, and if you remain calm and non-threatening, she will relax and let whatever happens happen. If you follow that up by bringing her to an orgasm, she will be yours... and by default, ours. No doubt about it."

There was considerable doubt left in Marcie, but her growing desire to make this happen was dispelling, or at least making it easier to ignore those doubts. Still, she had to ask, "How can you be so certain this will work?"

Beth replied as if the answer was obvious. "Your problem comes from looking at this from the wrong perspective. If a beautiful girl like yourself walks up to a guy and says that she would like to suck his cock, how do you suppose he'll respond?" The question was rhetorical because she went on, "He'd jump at the offer, and if he had any hesitation at all, it would be to wonder what the catch was. The important thing here is that you would attribute his response to him alone, and not factor in the beautiful girl whose making the request.

"The same is true for Nancy. Don't think about what her response would be to a generic person's advances on her. Her entire defense mechanism is geared around warding off men, not women, especially one as attractive as you. The resistance that you will need to break down is not based on what she doesn't want, but on what she perceives she shouldn't want."

Marcie's resistance to Beth's reasoning was slipping, and her yearning to place her face between Nancy's thighs was rising. So far she was only licking Beth's pussy, and she really wanted to try it on someone new. Finally she said, "Okay. I'll do it."

Beth was ecstatic by Marcie's response, and embraced her tightly. "Thank you so much!" She pulled back and stood up from the couch. "We'd better get going. She could arrive any minute." On their way down to Marcie's room, Beth had some final instructions. "The less you say the better. If she asks why, just tell her because you want to. Nothing more. At the same time, be calm and assuring, as if what is happening is perfectly normal. When you're done, make sure you tell her that this doesn't make her a lesbian, yet again, be reassuring. Let her know what a wonderful thing she has done and how appreciative you are."

By now they had entered Marcie's room and Beth went to Marcie's closet. She had French louvered doors on her closet, which were ideal for spying on anyone in the room. Her view of Marcie's bed was perfect. As she entered the closet, she turned to Marcie and said, "The most important thing to remember is that I am in here. Which means I'm trapped until she leaves, so don't dawdle too much when you are reassuring her at the end."

Marcie left Beth in her closet and walked to the living room of the sorority house. She only just now realized that no one else was here, which was probably Beth's doing. She had been sitting in an easy chair in the living room for less than five minutes when Nancy walked in. She was dressed in a pretty pink dress that fit her snuggly across her torso, but flowed freely passed her hips to just above her knees. On her feet she wore a pair of comfortable walking shoes with ankle socks.

"Hi Marcie!" Nancy called out and waved as she passed through the room.

Marcie got up and headed her off. "You're going to see Beth, right?" 

Nancy stopped in front of her, and said in her usual cheerful way, "Yes. This morning she asked me to come over about now."

"She asked me to tell you she's been delayed -- possibly an hour or so," Marcie said matter-of-factly.

"Oh darn! I have a class to get to by then," was Nancy's reply.




Slaves of the Spartan Kingdom Ch. 03



Chapter 3: The Professor's Slave

"You can't be serious?!" Beth asked incredulously. "Your father wouldn't really stop paying for your education, would he?"

"Oh yes he would," replied Marcie. "My father is a man of his word. If he said he'll stop paying if I don't get 3.0 or better on the classes he picked out, then that is exactly what he will do."

Beth still couldn't believe what Marcie was saying, and so asked, "There's no way to change his mind?" 

Marcie shook her head, and remarked, "Nope. Not unless I can come up with a better excuse than I was too busy being your sex slave to study for my math tests."

What she said wasn't entirely true. Being Beth's slave was taking up a lot of her time, but it wasn't the sole source of the problem with her grades. She was officially Beth's slave, but she was often lent out to the other sisters as part of their support network. Beth figured that like Nancy, all of her sisters would be willing to let Marcie lick their pussies; she was right. It only took a month into the school year for all of them to surrender to Marcie's advances.

When this started off, Marcie was only interested in doing it because Beth wanted her to. Also, her nature was always to help people, and if her sorority sisters enjoyed having their pussy's licked, then it was in her character to do what they desired. She could never say that she enjoyed licking them, but she did like that they enjoyed it. She also liked experiencing the different taste of each girl had. They all had a completely unique flavors, and she figured she could identify each one by their taste alone.

What was particularly unusual, though, was that she did not care much for her own pussy to be licked. She liked it all right, but her preference was having Beth use her favorite toy on her, and Beth always rewarded her handsomely for performing her duties. When she was between another girl's thighs, she would imagine Beth taking her from behind at the same time. These fantasies got so vivid she would sometimes come while just licking the girl in front of her.

On the other hand, when Beth was fucking her, she would imagine it was some guy doing her. As Beth had said, having sex with girls was building her sex drive, and it made her far more aware than ever of the boys she was encountering in school; this was the real source of why her grades were slipping.

She had never touched a cock before, but now they occupied an incredible amount of her time. In class her favorite activity was not focusing on the lesson presented, but imaging what it would be like to suck the cock of every boy in class. Then later, alone in her room, she was always searching the Internet for videos of women sucking men's cocks.

What really struck her as ironic, was the notion that Beth believed that having sex with her sorority sisters would help her keep from having sex with guys. It was in fact having the opposite effect. Before this all started, she had no problem keeping her thoughts off boys, but now she was besotted with them. She now felt that at any time she could succumb to one of them in an instant.

This distraction was already having a big impact on her grades in general, but when this was coupled with her innate aversion to the subject of math, a poor grade was inevitable. Yet when the math class started, she thought she had lucked out. The professor turned out to be a woman that was well known to be a strong feminist whom she thought she could count on to help her get by. But as time went on, it was clear she would get no breaks from Ms. Jenkins. She even seemed particularly hostile to her.

What was especially heartbreaking for Marcie was that Sandra Jenkins, her math professor, looked and sounded like her favorite actress, Kathleen Turner. She must have watched Undercover Blues a hundred times as a teenager, and always loved how she balanced her life as a wife, mother and spy. While she couldn't see herself as a spy, she still looked upon such a life as an ideal to aspire to, or to at least have her self-confidence to deal with the adversity she saw thrown her way. But now, a woman that appeared to embody the very traits she adored, was about to give her the grade that would see her lose her father's support.

"You're making this into a lot bigger deal than it needs to be," said Beth. "I'm sure we can arrange a student loan for you."

"It's not just the money," replied Marcie. "I really do care about my father's opinion of me. No matter what happens, I'm going to have to explain myself, and I'd like a better story than the truth."

"You know..." said Beth. "I think Ms Jenkins is a lesbian..."

"I don't think so," contradicted Marcie. "I'm pretty sure she's married." She didn't like where she knew Beth was going.

"That doesn't mean anything," continued Beth. "I'm quite certain that a while back one of our sisters got her grade boosted by putting out for her. I think it was Victoria from '05."

"So what exactly are you suggesting I do?" Marcie asked incredulously. "Just offer to lick her pussy?"

"For the record, I want it known that in spite of your tone, you didn't reject it out of hand." Beth paused for a second. "First of all, you can't be blatant about it. You just need to let your beauty work for you. Dress in something sexy, but not slutty. Then, when you are talking to her, don't say something like you will do anything to get your grades. That's too obvious. Just talk about how important it is for you to get a better grade.

"You could make a play for feminist unity. You know... appeal to her sense of helping a fellow woman who is trying to make it in this male dominated society. You could even try telling her the truth. Maybe explaining to her how your father will cut you off might work. The important thing is you need her to believe she has you over a barrel, so you can get her to offer a transaction of some nature." 

Marcie looked off into space, and said, "I can't believe I am considering this."

"Looks to me like you have no choice," said Beth.

"I don't see how this can work," Marcie continued. "She treats me like she hates me."

Beth exclaimed, "Well that seals it! There's no way anyone can hate someone as sweet as you. She must be turned on in a big way to hate you. Trust me. She's yours."

The next day, Marcie was wearing one of her favorite dresses. It wasn't all that sexy, but it was very pretty. It was light green with a well-fitting top that accentuated her chest, and a flowing skirt that just reached her knees. She finished the look with light brown flats that showed off her legs, because they highlighted that they needed no enhancement. There was no way anyone could say her look was provocative, yet it showed her off splendidly.

Her math class was the first period and she knew Mrs. Jenkins didn't have another for a couple of hours. She herself didn't have any problems being late to her next class, Creative Writing, because she was doing quite well in it.

As the other students were filing out of the classroom, she followed Sandra into her adjacent office. "Professor Jenkins?" Marcie asked as she entered the room in order to get her attention.

Sandra wore a black dress that was cut like something Grace Kelly would have worn in her movie career days. It was sleeveless, but with a high collar, and a hem that fell full down to her knees. Her dirty-blond hair was wrapped up in a tight French braid. As she approached her desk, she looked over her shoulder to see who had called for her. "Yes Marcie," she said skeptically.

Marcie could already sense a certain amount of hostility from Sandra, so she was very nervous about how to continue. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about my grade. Do you have a few minutes?" 

Sandra was now sitting in her office chair, but didn't motion for Marcie to sit down in any of the others in the room. "Sure Marcie. I have a few minutes, but I don't know what you're concerned about. I believe you're on track to receive at least a 2.5, which should be more than adequate for a student such as yourself."

Marcie didn't detect any condescension in her tone, but the words Sandra chose conveyed that message anyway. She tried to put as brave a face on as she could when she replied, "Normally it would be, but I have a unique case. My father expects me to receive at least a 3.0 on certain courses that he has picked out for me, or he'll stop paying for my education. I was hoping... "

Marcie trailed off hoping that Sandra would fill in the blanks, but she was obviously in no mood to play along. "Hoping for what?"

With the ball back in her court, she decided to follow some of Beth's other advice. "Surely you must know how difficult it is for a woman to make it in a world controlled by men." Sandra's eyebrows shot up as if she were shocked by what she was hearing. Marcie could sense this was going really badly and tried to recover. "We women need to stick together. I'm sure you've faced discrimination. Right?"

"Wow," Sandra replied rather flatly. "You really have no clue about the kind of woman I am. Do you?" She leaned forward and placed her arms on the desk. "Yes. I have had to overcome a lot of prejudice to reach the position I have attained... no thanks to women like you.

"Let me make myself very clear on something. When I hand out a grade I never consider what a student deserves. I don't care what adversity they have had to overcome to achieve what they have. Each and every grade I have given has been based on what they have earned – nothing else.

"And you should be grateful for it too. If I were to give you the grade you deserved, you would be receiving a zero. You are so obviously here for the grade and not the knowledge. It sickens me to see clearly bright women dismiss the world that would open to them with the knowledge that math can give them."

Ms. Jenkins paused for a second, and then continued, "You should thank your lucky stars that the only criteria I use to grade someone is based on their understanding of the curriculum, and if that grade gets you kicked out of here, good. The fewer women there are who are just coasting through college, the better things will be for us who take our education seriously. Good day." Marcie could tell she was dismissed. Not just from Sandra's tone and words, but also from the way she proceeded to go through the papers on her desk.

Marcie was now standing there, stunned. She had no idea how all of this would turn out, but she didn't think it could have gone this badly. She started to turn around and leave in defeat, but the thought of her father, and the disappointment she would see in his eyes, gave her the resolve to continue.

Yet she was still mindful of Beth's warning not to make an overt offer. She thought about what she just heard Sandra say, and wondered whether what Beth said about the other girl could be true. She decided to try bringing her up and seeing where that would take her. Maybe if she showed an understanding of a circumstance where Sandra did make an exception, she might follow down that line and make the same offer to her.

"Professor Jenkins," she again said to get her attention. Marcie saw her eyes look up to her while her head remained pointing towards her desk. She continued to look as if waiting for Marcie to say something, so Marcie continued, "I understand that one of our sorority sisters, Victoria, was able to work out an arrangement with you to improve her grade. Would it be possible for me to make the same arrangement?"

With the mention of the name Victoria, Sandra leaned back in her chair and looked away wistfully. When Marcie finished her say, Sandra commented, "Ahhh Vicky... Lovely girl... She earned her grade old school." Looking back at Marcie she continued, "Are you prepared to earn your grade old school?"

Marcie thought it was odd to call having sex with your teacher 'old school,' yet she was deeply grateful that things were moving in the right direction. She blurted out, "Yes. Of course. Absolutely."

Sandra cocked her head to the right in a curious sort of way and asked, "Do you even know what I mean by old school?" She cocked her head the other way and continued with, "What do you suppose Victoria did to earn her grade?"

'Damn!' Marcie thought. Just as it seemed to be going right, this had to happen. "I uhh... didn't she... you know? She put out for you."

Sandra snapped her head back and let out an almost demonic laugh, "Hahahahahaha."

Marcie was really concerned now. Had she and Beth completely misread Professor Jenkins?

"Oh she put out all right," Sandra said after regaining her composure, "for services rendered," She then continued in a more serious tone, "I seemed to have not made myself clear enough. The only grades I give are the ones students have earned. No one is going to just lick my pussy to get a better grade."

Sandra reached into a drawer to her right and pulled out a large ruler. Marcie could see that it was eighteen inches long and a little wider than normal. As she stood up she said, "I prefer my students to be motivated to learn what I teach because they see the benefit of it."

She then walked slowly around her desk and said ominously, "At the same time, I have nothing against using other forms of motivation." As she said her last, she slapped the ruler into the palm of her hand with a loud crack.

She was now standing less than a foot from Marcie. She was probably the same height as Marcie, but had on at least two-inch heels, so with them and her demeanor, she towered over her. "If you want to improve your grade, I can make that happen, but it's going to take a lot of work on my part, and a lot of pain on yours." She emphasized the word pain. "Are you prepared to make the sacrifices necessary?"

She then leaned into Marcie's face and asked very slowly, and seductively, "Are you prepared to pay for the services I'll provide by being my slave for the remainder of this semester and through the next?"

Marcie was in full panic mode now. It was one thing to have sex with her to improve her grade, but to be her slave? It sounded to her like she intended to have her work for her grade anyway. 'What kind of situation am I getting into now?' she thought. 'Yet what choice do I have?' she also thought.

"Will you promise me that I'll be 3.0 by the end of the semester?" Marcie asked.

"Marcie," Sandra began. "You'll either be 4.0, or in the most excruciating pain that you have ever imagined. I'll except nothing less."

She thought again that she didn't have much choice, and so nodded her head and said, "I'll be your slave."

"Not so fast, Marcie." Sandra turned away from her and walked over to the wall to grab a high-backed chair that had no arms. She pulled it a few feet out, and then sat upon it. "I need to determine your level of commitment to this endeavor before I agree to be your master." She followed this statement by patting her lap and commanding, "Over my lap."

At some level of consciousness, Marcie knew what was in store for her the moment she saw the ruler; she was able to ignore it until now, but not anymore. It was painfully obvious what was about to happen; yet she could not accept that it was true. The last time she was spanked was by her father when she was twelve years old. She was so stunned by this she couldn't move.

Sandra only waited a few moments before saying, "I don't have all day. Either you get over my lap right now, or accept the grade you have earned."

Marcie complied as if she were in a daze. She walked around to Sandra's right and knelt down, then leaned over Sandra's lap. Her sense of trepidation was so great she could barely breath. 

Sandra wasted no time pulling the hem of Marcie's dress onto her back. "What lovely panties," she said. Marcie had on a pair of cream-colored, high-cut silk panties. They had a lace front, but that portion wasn't visible now. She had worn her sexiest pair of panties to contrast with the plain dress she wore, as an indication of what she was prepared to do once she had shown them to the professor.

Yet the next words out of her mouth showed Marcie had wasted her time. "In the future, I expect you to wear plain, white, cotton panties that have a more modest cut. I prefer my slaves to wear panties that aren't meant for people to look at."

'Great,' thought Marcie. 'I have one master that wants me to wear sexy panties, and another that wants me to wear granny panties.'

Sandra placed the ruler at the center of Marcie's bottom, and rubbed it back and forth. Then with a quick flick of her wrist, she delivered a stinging crack across the center of her ass.

"Eeeeeee!" Marcie squealed.

Sandra resumed rubbing her bottom with the ruler for a few seconds, and then produced another cutting blow.

Marcie bellowed a loud, "Ahhhhhh!!!"

"Well. We can't have anymore screams like that." Sandra said. "Someone will hear us."

'Us?' thought Marcie sarcastically. She had gotten the idea with those words she would be let off for now, but instead felt the professor pull down her panties. Marcie cried out, "What are you doing?!", then made a lame attempt to prevent her getting them past her knees.

In an obviously agitated tone, Sandra remarked, "You don't fool me Miss Marcie. I know exactly what you were prepared to offer me for a better grade. So for you to act all indignant over my baring your ass is preposterous."

Marcie was shamed sufficiently enough by Sandra being able to see through her so well that she offered no further resistance to her pulling the panties completely off. It never crossed Marcie's mind as to why she was pulling off her panties, and how this was related to her screaming until she felt Sandra push her panties in her mouth.

Sandra commanded, "And keep them in there, or I'll tie them in with your bra!" Marcie didn't have any chance to contemplate how that would work as she felt several cracks delivered on her ass. Now all that escaped her lips was a muffled "Mmmmmm!"

Sandra set up a rhythm delivering a smack of the ruler every 3-5 seconds. No portion of Marcie's bottom was spared from torment, and eventually Sandra included her upper thighs.

As Marcie was anticipating another stinging report to the junction of her ass and thighs, she instead felt the ruler slide between them. When the edge of the ruler touched her clit, she shuddered to an immediate and jarring orgasm. She truly had no clue she was on the verge of one, and the realization of what that orgasm implied shook her idea of who she was. 'Certainly I couldn't want this spanking?' she asked herself without any conviction.

"Spread your thighs," Sandra commanded. Marcie saw no point in putting on some pretense of modesty and quickly complied. Sandra replaced the ruler with her hand, and as she caressed Marcie's vulva, she spoke to her. "The way things are going to work around here is that you are going to come over to my house two times a week for personal instruction. This instruction is highly effective because errors in your work will result in very painful consequences." Sandra punctuated this by pulling her hand from between her thighs and delivered a soaking wet slap with her hand to her ass.

She followed that up by shoving Marcie off of her lap and commanding, "Kneel before me." Once she was in position, Sandra continued, "And the price for this high quality instruction, that is delivered in a very personal manner, is that you will allow me to indulge in... shall we say... my rather particular tastes." She allowed Marcie to contemplate this for a few moments, and then asked, "So. Are these terms acceptable to you?"

Marcie looked up to Sandra with tear-stained cheeks, nodded, and replied with a muffled, "Uh-huh."

Sandra said, "Pull those panties out of your mouth, and reply with a clear and firm voice, 'Yes, Mistress Sandra.'" 




Slaves of the Spartan Kingdom Ch. 04



Chapter 4: Are You A Slave? 

Marcie's drive back from her parents place was very different than her drive out there. When she drove out there, her heart was filled with dread and desperation, but after her talk with her father, her heart was now filled with hope and serenity.  

It wasn't that her father solved her problems for her. He just gave her reason to believe they could be solved. She no longer felt defined by – thus burdened by – what she had done. It allowed her to believe that she wasn't stuck in a cycle where she needed to drown out the things she had done, and in turn, creat new things to be ashamed of that her sense of desperation created.

She now needed to take stock of her life, so that she could reject the things that weren't working, and build on the things that were. It's not like she couldn't have done this before she had talked to her father. She had known for some time how ridiculous it was to believe that having sex with her sorority sisters was going to help her keep her urges under control. At first it seemed kind of obvious that it should work. After all, if you do something enough you'll grow bored with it; that wasn't working with sex. The more she did it, the more she wanted it.

Even though she knew that eliminating sex from her life would solve her problem, throwing it all out was not an option because of Beth. What she thought was odd, was she was sure that her father thought her problem was with a boyfriend, yet even though he was wrong, her problem was still the same. Just as a girl would have a hard time putting the 'genie back in the bottle' after having sex with her boyfriend, she had the same situation with Beth. She couldn't tell her no more sex if she wanted to keep her as a friend.

Not only did she have to deal with Beth's demands, she also had to deal with how horny she was after Sandra was through with her sessions. She had to admit that Sandra's methods were effective in teaching math, but as long as she was taking instruction from her, she was going to have her fire stoked red-hot by her, which required release afterwards; this was another reason she had to continue with Beth.

Her sessions with Sandra were probably the most conflicting thing she dealt with because of her reactions to the spankings. After several months of them, she was always quite beside herself from the moment she laid across the arm of the couch and received those warm-up spanks. They lit her fire like nothing else she encountered in her life, and she despised herself for it. Being turned on by being spanked just seemed so wrong that she felt she must do something to control them.

She was thwarted at every attempt she made, because she kept encountering evidence that other girls like to be spanked too. She didn't know how that could be possible, but it was true. Not only did Beth say she was spanking Samantha that fateful night, but it was clear Jessica was turned on by what happened to her also. Nonetheless, just because others were as excited by it as she was, was no excuse for her to like it too, and somehow she was going to find some way of mastering that desire. 

Initially she made great strides in getting her sexual desires under control. She completely stopped seducing her sorority sisters, and she had gotten back into masturbating more often, which helped a lot with the post-Sandra sessions. Within a couple of weeks after her talk with her father, she had actually gotten to the point where she felt she could confront Beth, and start talking to her about turning their relationship into a non-sexual one. Then something happened that completely tripped her up. It was the release of the video from the king of the Spartan Kingdom.

A week after the news report that Marcie saw about a man killing police officers who were trying to take custody of his son, a video appeared on YouTube. It didn't last long there because of the sex and violence in it, but it didn't need to be. It was soon posted to sites like YouPorn, and many others. In a matter of days, it had gone completely viral.

Some people had stripped the tedious and boring speech that was at the front of it, so that the sex part could download faster and be sent around easier, but the sex part made no sense on its own, and created a demand by many to see the whole thing. What really got it moving around the Internet was all of the condemnations that were made of it. Many people on the left and the right were condemning it, which got everyone in the middle curious to see what would get both these groups to agree on something.

With less than two weeks left in the school year, Beth burst into Marcie's room saying excitedly, "I've finally got that Spartan Kingdom video!"

"You have?" replied Marcie. She had been very curious to see what all of the fuss was about, particularly now that they appeared to be carrying out the threats mentioned in it.

"Yep," confirmed Beth. "The first part is like they say it is. Some right-winged nut is yammering on and on about how this country is not this country anymore, and how he plans to punish Christians for it. But the second part is absolutely delicious!"

Marcie was sitting at her desk cramming for exams, and Beth plopped down on the bed. "I can't believe this whack-job in the front of it. He's a conservative who blames Christians for the decline of this country. Can you believe that? Boy is he confused."

Beth popped back up, "Come on up to my room. I have it on my computer."

Marcie followed her out of her room, and up to the president's suite. As they approached her iMac, Beth said, "The ending has a real sick twist, too!"

Marcie was looking over her shoulder as Beth sat at the desk and clicked on a video file that was on her desktop. When the media player launched, a face appeared that mesmerized her. The face froze for a second while the computer was loading in the file, which gave her a chance to take in its features. The face was that of a man that was mature without appearing old in any way. The only hint of age came from the dusting of grey along the sides of neatly trimmed black hair. The face looked wise, but not solemn, and even had a wry smirk to it.

Then all too soon for Marcie, the face on the display started talking, "My name is Gabriel Alexander, and I am the king of the Spartan Kingdom." Marcie was enthralled by the voice. It was smooth and firm without an apparent accent. "I've made this video to ask you a simple question. Are you a slave?"

Marcie thought his question was oddly prescient, considering her situation, then he continued, "Now I know why many of you are watching this video, so feel free to fast forward to the part you came for…"

"Don't mind if I do," Beth said. She then proceeded to grab the slide bar and move quickly through his speech.

"Hey! Wait a second!" Marcie exclaimed. "I want to hear what he has to say." She said this as she slid in along side Beth on her chair.

"If you insist," Beth replied petulantly. "Don't blame me if you get bored silly."

Beth brought the slide bar back to the beginning then let it go. It eventually got back to where he last spoke.

"… because I know you will be back.

"Before I get too far into this, I want you to consider how most people learn what goes on outside the world they live in; it's really no different than going to a tarot card reader. All the card reader does is flip over cards, and then offer her spin on what they mean. The person who is having the reading done then attempts to find ways to see how what she said fits within their lives, and sure enough, they always do.

"Think about this: who do you suppose is engaged in the greater deception? Is it the tarot card reader who is pretending that these cards have actual relevance in anyone's life, or is it the receiver of the reading whose self-deception makes him see the relevance that could not possibly be there?

"What is sad is that most people use the evening news, or other media sources, in the same manner. Here the self-deception is greater because the receiver believes that these sources have integrity, but they don't. Most media sources flip out their carefully chosen 'facts' and offer their spin on them in a manner no different than the tarot card reader. It's like they go through the deck to pick the cards they want to show.

"Personally, I have more respect for the tarot card reader because she doesn't have an agenda for what you should believe. She just wants you to believe in something so you'll believe in her.

"The point is, don't accept the spin given by people just because you want to believe them, and by the same token, don't reject what I have to say just because you want to believe that I am evil. Use your own critical analysis skills to see what is really working in life, and not what you think should be working."

Beth was now opening and closing her left hand in the universal signal of 'blah-blah-blah-blah.'

Marcie mouthed, 'stop that,' as if voicing the words would interrupt him.

"I say all of this because what I am presenting to you now is my video manifesto. I want to make sure I get my side of the story out, because many people are about to die, even though I have neither desire nor inclination to kill anyone. I don't even want to harm anyone – at least by how I define what harm is. Yet many people are going to be compelled to stop us at any cost. They believe that if they bring enough violence to us we'll back down… Not anymore – Not ever again.

"Before I get started on explaining myself, I want to make something perfectly clear. If you want me to stop what will be presented shortly…"

Beth interjected, "Not short enough," which got a glare from Marcie.

"…the only effective means will be to convince me to do so. You will not be able to use intimidation, or force, to get me or my people to stop, and so I fear many will die before you all get that through your thick, arrogant skulls.

"So why am I making my own declaration of intimidation and force? What has prompted it at this time? I'm sure most of you have heard the news reports of what occurred last week when one of my men killed seven police officers that were attempting to take his son from him. In many of those news reports it was said that he was abusing his son, but in none of the reports did they go into any detail. 

"Allow me to provide those details. I'll even admit up front that what I am about to say will probably only convince you that the authorities should have taken his son… Too bad. We don't recognize anyone's right to take our children, and will fight to the death to keep them.

"Those of us in my kingdom take a very different view of child rearing. We do not believe it is possible to raise a child to become an adult. You can't treat someone as a child until they are eighteen and then expect them to act like an adult. If you want an adult you need to raise an adult. You don't wait for them to act mature before you treat them as mature. They can only become mature when you place the expectation on them to be so.

"One of the many ways we place adult expectations on our sons is that beginning at age eleven we train them to kill. We don't just train them how to use a gun, we train them how to take a human life with it. Why? Because the most important thing we train our children is how not to become a slave. Only when men are prepared to kill can they ever be sure of their freedom."

Gabriel paused for a moment, then continued with a questioning look, "What? Are you some pacifist that doesn't believe that sometimes the price of your freedom means that the lives of those trying to take your freedom must be taken instead? Or do you expect others to fight for your freedom, like how some people like to have their McDonald's hamburgers, but get all squeamish at the thought of actually slaughtering a cow?

"We expect our children to fight for their own freedom, and to kill and slaughter their own meat. To do this, we don't isolate them in some bubble, and wait for them to be mature enough to handle it. Instead, we mature them by gradually exposing them to the realities of this world. Maturity doesn't just happen, it has nothing do with their age, and it most certainly won't happen while you expect them to be children."

The initial view of Gabriel in the video was from his shoulders up. But now the camera was pulling back to reveal that he was leaning on the back of a couch. Behind him Marcie could see a brick wall and a fireplace. So the couch was facing the fireplace. The mantle was bare, so it appeared the identifying details were removed from the room. Still, it was clear to Marcie that this video was made in someone's living room.

When the video began, Marcie could tell he was wearing a white shirt, but now she could see all of it. It was a long-sleeve, white, silk shirt that was draped over his lean, yet hard frame. He wasn't some muscle-bound body-builder, yet there wasn't any mistake that this was the body of extreme physical power. The pants he wore appeared to be black leather.

"For the past week I have been trying to work with the authorities to come to some reasonable solution to this matter. It's now clear, though, that if the father is put on trial, it will really be my kingdom that will be tried, and that is not up for negotiation. We will not raise our children to accept the slavery you have all so willingly accepted."

He then stood up, and continued, "It appears our only course of action is to continue with the next phase that we have planned all along. To explain that, I need to cover what we are all about in the first place.

"Many people think that I named my kingdom after the Spartan people, but that isn't exactly true. The Spartans did have many admirable qualities. Like them, we consider ourselves to be great warriors. They also had some terrible qualities, such as they were slaveholders; slavery is an evil that harms the master as well as the slave.

"No. We aren't named after the people, but the after adjective. For the kingdom I established, I wanted our people to keep their focus off of the material world, and live Spartan lives. I didn't want them relying on all of the creature comforts our society offers. They are seductive, and can instill dependency. It's not that they can't have any comforts, I just require that they live a life that shows they can be happy and fulfilled without them.

"After all, Stone Age people lived a life filled with as much of the happiness and joy as the people in this day and age do. So all the whining, and anger, and sadness that people of this age express over the most trivial things, I find pathetic."

Gabriel started pacing slightly before the couch, and as he did so, the camera followed him to keep him in the center. "Others believed I started this kingdom as part of preparing for the 'Y2K' fiasco. Not at all. I did start my kingdom in 1999, and I did have my people prepare for a catastrophe associated with it, but more because of how I thought the general populace would react, and not because I believed any of the doomsday scenarios people came up with like banks failing and such."

He then stopped and looked back into the camera. "My problem is that I just don't have any faith in the citizens of this country anymore. I believe they are weak, and getting weaker with their continued dependency on the government to take care of them. The best evidence of this weakness is in the increasing numbers of our citizens that don't believe that this is the greatest country on the planet, and don't see this country as the greatest source of goodness and freedom for all of mankind."

Gabriel paused, leaned towards the camera, and said with a smirk, "I bet quite a few of you just snorted out of your nose whatever you were drinking when I said what I just did. Didn't ya?"

Leaning back and continuing more seriously, "You see, I have no faith in any people who have no faith in themselves. The more the citizens of this country do not believe this country is worth fighting for, the more likely it will be taken over by those who think it is. Just take a look at what is happening in Europe if you don't believe me.

"The best analogy I can give is what happened in the last presidential election. I am sure Hillary Clinton felt quite safe in running down the Bush administration, and believed what she was doing was setting herself up for an easy victory. Yet she hadn't counted on someone else coming along with more passion and conviction in his message, which caused her to lose what she thought was a sure thing.

"In the same manner, many liberals continue to run down this country by convincing as many people as possible how evil they believe it to be, and whether what they believe is true or not doesn't matter. What they refuse to believe is that convincing people that this country is not worth fighting and dying for, means surrendering it to those that do.

"As counter intuitive as this may sound, the only life worth living is a life worth dying for, and there are others quite prepared to die to see what they believe is right prevail. These people can't be reasoned with. They will not be quelled by being nice to them, nor will they accept anything other than your unconditional surrender.

"Do I really need to name them? Isn't the fact that I don't have to, mean anything to you?"

Gabriel leaned back against the couch again. "As such, I have been preparing the members of my kingdom for the time when we will have to retreat into a sanctuary to protect them from the inevitable surrender here that is already taking place in Europe. As overpopulated as you may think this country is, there are vast stretches of isolation that people committed to not being found can disappear into.

"My first reaction to the realization that no peaceful means was going to be found with the conflict over the police officers who were killed, was to initiate our evacuation to our sanctuary. Yet the longer I thought about it, the more it galled me to think about what I was actually doing. I was in effect, renouncing my citizenship in a country that I no longer believed existed.

"I know what you're thinking. Of all of the incomprehensible things I've said so far, what could I possibly mean by saying that this country no longer exists? Let me explain. President Reagan is famous for once saying 'I didn't leave the Democratic Party. The Democratic Party left me.'

"That's my attitude about this country. I believe that what it is now, was something never intended by our Founding Fathers. I would have accepted this transformation if those that caused the change had had the courage to say so, but they didn't. They want to pretend that there is a smooth lineage from 1776 to today, but there isn't. Our Founding Fathers would never have condoned what has happened to the country they began.

"How do I know this to be so? Easy, really. Many would say that it is our Constitution that defines our country, but it's not. The Constitution is only a collection of words, and as such, they only have the meaning that we believe them to have. People who talk about our Constitution as a living document are people who want to change the meaning of the words, without having to acknowledge that they are changing the Constitution itself. The only way to have a constitution that protects the rights of its citizens, is to pay attention to what the meaning of it was when it was made into law."

Gabriel looked down at his feet, and then said as an aside, "I am reminded of what I heard someone describe a law as. It is nothing but a football put into play by politicians, so that lawyers and judges can derive whatever meaning they can get away with. The original intention of the law is quite meaningless to them."




Slaves of the Spartan Kingdom Ch. 05



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

Chapter 5: The Princess' Slave

After Marcie's highly traumatic experience watching King Gabriel's video, and then succumbing to her desires with Beth following it, she became obsessed with finding everything she could about the Spartan Kingdom. She didn't really know why, but she felt there was some connection between her father and King Gabriel that she needed to understand.

Her search for information wasn't hard. There was actually quite a bit about him and his kingdom on the web but it was mostly speculation, and a lot of it contradictory. There once had been an official web site, but the government had long since shut it down; all that was available of it was some cached pages that people had and were passing around.

Even still, Marcie didn't know what was real and what was just slander. Most of what she read said that the kingdom was based on complete male supremacy, yet the women she was seeing in pictures and short videos didn't fit the shy, cowering type. They didn't look subjugated at all.

By the time Marcie had seen the king's manifesto, three weeks had passed since it was made, so the Spartan Kingdom had already begun its punishment of Christians. The news reports of what was going on were as contradictory as the information Marcie was finding about them. The reports ranged from four to ten groups of twenty to fifty members each, crisscrossing the nation on motorcycles. They were never in any one location long enough for the authorities to stop them, and being on motorcycles, the police had a hard time just trying to intercept them. Of course, the hostages that they were carrying had something to do with the difficulties they had.

Still, Marcie didn't fully comprehend why they couldn't stop them until she saw a news report the following week. Instead of a quick hit and run, as was their usual MO, one of the thirty member gangs roared into a twelve-house cul-de-sac, in a small Nebraska town, and took it over. 

The reporter that was on the scene shortly thereafter said that after setting a guard of five men at the opening, they immediately fanned out to all of the homes and began demanding the owners open their doors. Most complied, but a few had to be busted in; women were dragged from their homes, and led or pulled over to one of the homes towards the back.

The gang remained there that evening, the next day, and through the following night. It quickly became a media circus, and the police were having a hard time keeping the crowds back. They weren't kept back far enough, however, not to hear the occasional screams of pain from women being spanked in the home they were being held in.

During one particularly round of blood curdling scream sessions, a reporter thrust her microphone in the face of the police chief, and demanded why he and his men weren't doing anything to stop them. "Has it occurred to you," the police chief began angrily, "that maybe the intent of the screams you hear is to get us to do something rash, like barreling in there with guns blazing?"

His emotions as he responded to the reporter were pretty plain, and he was obviously quite distressed. He took a few moments to calm down before continuing. "In spite of what you are hearing, I have no evidence that anything different is occurring than what is happening all over the country. No one's life is being threatened, yet I am quite certain that if I do anything without careful planning, people will die; including the women we would be trying to save.

"There is no doubt in my mind that they are not bluffing when they say that they will fight and die to the man, if attacked. For now, I'm just doing my best to keep this from exploding into a bigger situation than it already is, and hoping an opportunity will present itself to do something more."

Before dawn of the second day the gang had busted down a fence in the backyard of the far house they had been holding up in, and had roared out through it, with three more hostages than when they came.

This particular incident prompted a lot of recrimination from both ends of the political spectrum, against law enforcement in general. Those on the right were calling on them to confront these gangs of the Spartan Kingdom and stop them, while those on the left had no desire to see them martyred. They were actually quite angry that these women weren't just saying they weren't Christians, and so were telling the police to leave them alone. As far as those on the left were concerned, the Christians of this country needed to accept the responsibility of what was happening to them.

It was no wonder that law enforcement didn't know what to do, considering these deeply conflicting messages from the politicians.

For several days after that, Marcie wondered what had happened to those women in that house. She had heard on the news some of the cries, and could only imagine what it would take to elicit them. None of the women involved would talk of what happened to reporters, and one husband was arrested after beating to a pulp one particularly persistent reporter. The fact that these and so many of the other women weren't talking, nor pressing charges, was just more ammunition for those on the left to say this was a situation of their own making.

Marcie didn't have to imagine about what happened for long, because the first of many videos was released from the Spartan Kingdom showing what they had been up to. The legality of these videos was a real hot potato, so places like YouTube wouldn't have them. Beth, of course, had the kind of connections to get them, and after viewing them herself, forwarded them on to Marcie.

Beth had told her that these videos had the same boring crap on the front of them like the first one, and she wasn't interested in sitting through them like last time. Yet she also said that if after watching them Marcie had any particular itch that needed scratching, she would be available in her room.

Marcie was now sitting at her computer almost paralyzed. There were three video files sitting on her desktop: SK_1.wmv, SK_2.wmv and SK_4.wmv (Beth was still looking for #3). She desperately wanted to know more about what was going on, but was afraid that after watching them, she would indeed end up in Beth's room over her lap.

Without allowing herself to think about the consequences too much, she drifted her mouse over the first file and double clicked. The image that appeared was again of Gabriel, but this time leaning against an outside brick wall with his right leg pulled up, foot planted flat against the wall. He was wearing the same outfit as last time, which was a white, billowing, long-sleeve shirt that did nothing to hide his lean, hard frame. He also wore the same black leather pants; the whole effect was that of a pirate.

"Hello America," he said as he pushed himself away from the wall by his foot. After taking two steps toward the camera, he continued, "This is the first of many videos that I'll post of the punishments my people are administering to Christians. I want to make sure these Christians are thoroughly humiliated by what they will be required to perform, so I'll be sending out to the Internet their recorded degradation for the entire world to see.

"Since there will be many perverts who will get off watching what's in them, I want to take advantage of this opportunity to elaborate more on what I spoke about in my video manifesto in order to clear up a lot of confusion. At the beginning of each of these videos, I'll answer questions from people who obviously have no idea what I am talking about. Considering all of the willing slaves of this nation, that confusion won't be hard to come by.

"For my first confused slave, I would like respond to one that is representative of an opinion that is quite common." Gabriel held up a sheet of paper and read from it. "Pete of Sarasota Florida writes. 'It is you and your ilk that are attempting to rewrite history. Our Founding Fathers were not the ones that put 'In God We Trust' on our money. Words like 'Under God' did not appear in our Pledge of Allegiance until the 1950's. Anyone can clearly see that our Founding Fathers did not want our government imposing religion on anyone. What else would you call having tax money that is forcibly removed from you, to then finance what you want to harmlessly characterize as religious expression? They did not voluntarily offer that money, so that makes it an imposition. 

"'And as for your bemoaning freedom of religion turning into freedom from religion, well you cannot have freedom of religion without freedom from religion. One requires the other. Only when reason - and only reason - is used by our elected officials, will there be real freedom in this country.'"

Gabriel looked up into the camera and commented, "Oh really? So the words 'of' and 'from' are interchangeable? Do you really think that on the day after Congress passed the first amendment to the Constitution, they believed they were violating that amendment when they passed a resolution of Thanksgiving to God Almighty for affording them the opportunity to establish this Constitution? Our Founding Fathers were concerned with government interfering with religion, and would be horrified by their amendment now prohibiting the influence of religion on government. Do you honestly believe these people would object to 'Under God' in our Pledge of Allegiance?

"As for the faith you place in reason, you do realize that everyone believes they have good reason to believe as they do, don't you?

"Reason is nothing but a tool, just as democracy is nothing but a tool. Both are neither good nor bad, and relying on either will only lead you to tyranny of the majority. I know you atheists are a very small minority, so I'm sure you're wondering how I can make that claim, but there is an ever growing number of liberal Christians that also believe in freedom from religion… which I find appalling. Can you imagine that? Christians who have no faith in their faith. Why bother being one if that's the attitude? They are probably the ones that think Christ is a liberal.

"Let me ask you, Pete. Would you be willing to concede that what makes a theocracy what it is, is that it seeks freedom from other religions? I know that the accepted definition of a theocracy is that it seeks to impose a particular one, but would you not also concede that this is not achievable? I mean that it is impossible to make anyone believe in any thing? On the other hand, you can ruthlessly suppress any differing opinions, so you can make sure no one objects to what you believe.

"You need to understand these distinctions in order to understand our past properly. As you look back into our history and do not see our Founding Fathers establishing a theocracy, you then assume that they didn't want religion in government. Your problem, specifically, is that you cannot see a middle ground between a theocracy and one devoid of religion.

"Let me put this another way. Let's say there is a city council that votes to paint a cross on the local library for no other reason than they want to foster Christianity in the community. Contrary to what the ACLU and many judges would have you believe, there is nothing unconstitutional about this. No one is being forced to pray or believe in anything, and more importantly, nothing is being suppressed.

"As a citizen of that city, it is within your rights to object to how your tax money is being wasted and quite frankly, if you ran for a seat on the council to prevent any such further wastefulness I would probably vote for you. I, too, do not want my tax money wasted that way. Yet if you ran to waste even more tax money to have the cross painted over, well then you would have just lost my vote.

"Your notion that having your tax money spent on things you don't believe in, as infringing on your right to freedom of religion, I see as quite lazy thinking. Take socialism as an example. At the beginning of the twentieth century, you could have had an intellectually honest debate on its merits; not anymore. The only people who still adhere to its thoroughly disproven precepts, are those that cling to it as their religion. I don't claim that my religious freedom is being suppressed because billions are wasted annually on liberal programs that enslave our citizens. I'm willing to engage these liberals and debate their socialistic ideas – even though they refuse to use the word socialism. I have no desire to suppress them; that's the point

"You freedom-from-religion types want to suppress any debate on the merits of government fostering religion. It is you that seeks to impose a theocracy.

"What!? You say. How can I say something so incredibly daft as an atheist imposing a theocracy? Easy. In the immortal words of Rush – that's the rock group, not the-man/the-myth/the-legend – 'if you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice'. In the same way, to have no religion is still your religion. Your zeal to drive God out of our government is your effort to create an atheist theocracy.

"I know you will never concede that point, but I'll call you a coward nonetheless because cowardice is the hallmark of all theocrats. You don't want to debate the merits of religion in our society nor the proper reflection of it in our government. You just want to get equally cowardly judges to decide in your favor, and save you from having to defend what you obviously have no faith in.

"Not all atheists are like you, Pete. I happen to know several atheists who have no problem with crosses on public land or 'Under God' in our Pledge of Allegiance. These are atheists I respect. Sadly, they are a small minority of the already small minority of atheists.

"I hope one day you will have the courage that these few do, and abandon the suppression of opposing ideas as a means of making your point. This is always the choice of a weak mind, and it's a choice that will only make your mind weaker.

"As for your faith in reason, always remember that it is a means to an end, and never an end itself. Voting for politicians who claim to only use reason to make their decisions, are the ones most likely to throw your rights out the window when they believe they have good reason to do so.

"Reason as an end rather than a means is a very seductive idea because reason can be used to arrive at any destination you desire."

The picture Marcie was watching switch jarringly to the front door of a home where some man was pounding on it. "Open this door or we'll break it down!"

Almost immediately the door opened to a man standing with a shotgun leveled at his would-be intruder. "You take one step closer, and I'll kill you," the man with the shotgun said.

The man at the door, with his back to the camera, calmly asked, "Are you a Christian?"

"What difference does that make?!" replied the home owner. "If you don't leave I'll shoot you!"

The man at the door took one step closer and said, "Shoot me then. See where that gets you." After a moments pause, he slowly walked through the door asking again, "Are you a Christian?"

The camera was following him in and it showed a stunned expression on the gun owner's face. The intruder was now close enough to reach out and grab the barrel and yank it aside. He then said menacingly, "I'm not going to ask you again. Are you a Christian?" 

Whoever was holding the camera moved along side to show both men in profile. The intruder was a tall man of obvious physical strength, but it was the lean and hard kind like King Gabriel, not the bodybuilder variety. In fact, Marcie thought, he looked somewhat like the king, only taller and younger. He was wearing jeans with a black leather motorcycle jacket. Underneath the jacket Marcie could make out a black button up shirt.

The other man – who still had his finger on the trigger of the shotgun – was of average size and typical in appearance for a man moving into middle age. He wasn't overweight; his body was just rounding off a bit. He was dressed in a business suit with the jacket removed and tie loosened – as if he had just come home from the office.

It didn't take long before the older man hesitantly replied, "Yes. I am a Christian."

The intruder yanked the gun out of the other man's hand then asked, "Do you wish to challenge me in unarmed combat, or do you surrender?"

In a barely audible voice he said, "I surrender."

"In the name of King Gabriel, I declare you a slave of the Spartan Kingdom. Kneel before me," he commanded. Once the slave was on his knees, his master asked, "Is there anyone else in this house?"

The slave replied with a slight edge of panic, "My wife and daughters are upstairs. Please don't hurt them!"

His master replied solemnly, "No harm will come to your children, regardless of how well you cooperate – that is assuming they are children. The fate of your wife, however, is still to be determined."

His master then flipped open a cell phone and after it chirped said, "Monica and Belinda. Come in here." Within seconds, two women came through the door. Marcie was shocked to see that one of the girls was the Belinda she saw get spanked by her sister in the king's manifesto video. Only she wasn't dressed all sweet and innocent like she was previously. Both of these women were dressed in short, jean skirts and red, cotton blouses that were tied below their breasts exposing a considerable amount of midriff. Marcie couldn't see their feet, but from the way they were walking, she knew they had on high heels.

"Yes, Prince Michael," said the other one, who Marcie figured must be Monica.

"I want both of you upstairs," the prince began. "Belinda. Stay with the children and keep them calm. Monica. Bring the wife down here."

"Yes, Prince Michael," they both replied in unison, and then were quickly gone upstairs. As they went up, Marcie's suspicion was confirmed; they did have on high heels.

The video cut immediately to showing Monica bringing a woman down the stairs; it also showed that the prince and his slave had moved into the living room. "She has surrendered, my prince."

"Pants, huh?" the prince commented, then commanded of Monica, "Strip them off of her, bend her over the back of that couch, and spank her until I say stop."

"No!" cried out the slave next to him.

With stunning speed, the prince landed a vicious blow to the slave's head, sending him sprawling backwards. The other slave broke free from her mistress' grip, and rushed to her husband's side. "Please don't hurt him any more! I'll do anything you say!"

Without any sense of compassion, the prince replied, "Slaves do not make demands of their masters, and are beaten severely if they do. As for you, you will do as I say anyway. There is no desire of mine that you will not fulfill. Do you understand?"

Cradling her husband's head to her bosom she meekly replied, "Yes."

Monica closed the gap in a couple of steps and slapped her slave hard. "The next time you need to be corrected for not saying master or mistress in your replies, you will be whipped. Try it again!

The slave looked up to the prince and replied, "Yes, master."

The prince then pronounced, "For his disrespectful outburst, and your audacity at negotiating your and your husband's treatment, when Monica is done with you, you'll experience the wrath of my belt. Now stand up and drop your pants."

"Yes, master," she replied. After caressing her husband's head one last time – he seemed a little dazed, but otherwise OK – she stood with as much dignity as she could muster, then unbuttoned the jeans she was wearing, and lowered them to the floor.

Marcie took a closer look at the woman who was being degraded in front of her husband. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, with curly, blond hair down past her shoulders, and a soft, but not too overweight, physique. Along with the jeans she had just dropped, she was also wearing a baby-blue, short sleeve blouse, and matching blue running shoes. Just peaking out from underneath her blouse was the white of her panties.