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.
