The King's Creed Ch.01

I let out a huge breath and adjusted my pants. Sarah really was becoming something else. She was taking to her role like a duck to water. I drank the last of the orange juice and put my glass in the sink. Then I began to make my way up the stairs.

As I walked, I could feel that same languorous energy seeping through my limbs. This energy made my actions calm, smooth, and firm. With that energy, my darker thoughts came to the fore of my mind ... Like twisting vines hidden in an otherwise normal garden, they had become firmly entrenched in my mind.

"Master Jonathan," a cold voice said in my head, "we're needed upstairs."

The last tension of the day dropped from my body . . . and it was replaced with a curious state of mind. For a brief moment, I nearly paused . . . and thought about what was happening.

"No thinking," said the voice.

We are needed upstairs.

***

We entered my bedroom without noise. Sarah looked up at us from her position on the rug. Her smooth, pale legs were slightly spread and her supple shoulders were pulled back. She was proudly . . . or arrogantly, thrusting her breasts up at us.

She looked so confident in her beauty. But it wasn't hers. We owned her. That beauty was ours by right . . . by the right of our power over her.

"Touch your forehead to the floor," we said softly, almost lyrically.

Yes . . . that was it. Our words were like the first lyrics in an even greater song. A ballad of our ownership sung in the language of commands and unquestioning obedience.

Sarah quivered and slowly placed her head against the floor.

We walked behind her. Her ass was high in the air. We extended our hand and gently caressed the soft skin of her buttocks, before smacking it with a cupped hand. Sarah grunted, but our dear slave stayed in position. Casually, we ran our hands over her sex. Our finger came back damp with her excitement.

"Sarah, wouldn't you agree that you're becoming a real slut?" we asked coldly.

A red flush crept up her neck.

"Yes, Master."

We smiled. Such a good girl responding in the way we had commanded. We spoke again.

"Did you know that sometimes all you are is a cunt, a piece of ass, nothing more than my personal whore?"

She shivered. She wasn't used to us talking like this. She was used to the other me.

"Yes, Master."

We helped her up onto the bed and laid her down on her back. Then we placed a pillow under her ass. This raised her hips so that her perfectly naked sex was tilted upward...like an offering. We tied her wrists and ankles to the bedposts using a rope from the box under the bed. Then, using a larger rope, we tied her torso to the bed.

"How do you feel, Sarah?" we asked softly.

"Vulnerable, Master," she answered. "Maybe a little frightened."

We smiled.

"A little fear can be a very good thing."

Bending over, we ran our fingers softly over her sex. We spread her lips and felt her soft slickness. We snaked our tongue out to taste her pink folds. Sarah moaned, her sex opening and swelling with our attentions. Without warning, we brought our hand cruelly down on her exposed flesh.

Sarah stifled a small scream and sucked in her breath.

We swatted at her pussy several more times. She cried out and whimpered with each blow. Then suddenly, we stopped and leaned over her hot wetness and covered it with kisses until once again the little redhead was moaning with passion.

We reached under the bed and retrieved a dildo, placing its enormous head against her sex. Slowly, we inserted the huge phallus into her. Sarah whimpered a little, but she could not close her legs to stop us. We drew it in and out until it was coated with her juices. We could hear her steady breath fall. With a wet noise, we withdrew the dildo and set it down upon the bed.

We then retrieved a small riding crop and whipped her bare mound, smacking her spread pussy with sharp blows. Sarah began to cry hot tears of passion, pain, and confusion. We eased the intensity of her beating so it was more of a caress than a sting.

She moaned and arched herself just slightly back into the leather of the crop.

"Please, Master," she whispered. "May I?"

"No, dear girl," we said fiendishly. "This punishment is because you cannot set aside your own needs."

We pressed three fingers into her. We relished the feel of her as she gripped and clenched at our invading digits. We drew our fingers out slowly. Her breathing shifted into sweet pants as we pressed our thumb against her clit.

"Please, oh please . . . Master." Her voice was quivering with need.

We rotated our thumb ever so slightly as we pressed down on her button. Sarah went rigid and still for a moment . . . and then the dam broke. We couldn't deny our excitement as we listened to her cries as she jerked and arched in an unrestrained orgasm.

"What a naughty girl," we said as we watched her toes curl and twitch. "You didn't have permission."

"I'm . . . so . . . sorry . . . Master," Sarah whimpered between gasps.

"I'm going to use you now," we said.

Sarah nodded, her eyelids drooping. She looked wrung out.

We hurriedly removed the last of our clothes and tossed them into a bundle in the corner of the bedroom. We then climbed onto the bed and straddled her at the hips. Slowly, we eased our large cock into her reddened, defenseless, owned cunt. She was an object . . . nothing more than our fuck toy.

If it pleased us to beat her and fuck her, that is what we would do.

Where are these thoughts coming from...Is this truly who I am?

I paused for a brief moment, but then the sweet energy that hummed in the deepest parts of me pulled me back under.

We were this girl's Master.

We slowly picked up our pace. Soon, we were thrusting with careless roughness, and Sarah's entire body was shaking and vibrating underneath us. We roughly grabbed her hips and dug in with our fingers.

Sarah gasped in pain as we roughly pulled her ass into our already brutal thrusts. She began to cry softly as her body was forced to endure and enjoy our treatment. Soon, however, we could feel our climax coming. We truly did want to hold on longer, to savor the feeling of that hot, open cunt massaging our cock.

But it was too good. With a deeply satisfying groan, we spurted our essence deep inside Sarah. Our previous strength left our body.

We tumbled off our bound slave girl. Her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and her eyes were closed. Tears clung to her cheeks and lashes. That was the last thing we saw when sleep pulled at us and made us close our eyes.

My energy deserted me, and my poor Sarah moaned her dark pleasure into my ear.

Sleep took us both, and as sleep often does, it kept other thoughts at bay.

Chapter 3

I was dimly aware of the bedroom door opening.

My lethargy held me paralyzed. Through the haze of sleep, I dismissed the noise as part of a dream I couldn't remember.

"Good God," came a female voice, "is there no end to this depravity?"

I jerked awake suddenly. Sarah groaned slightly as my movement disturbed her bound, sleeping form. I glanced up. Carol was standing in the doorway, my cell phone in one hand and a look of disgust on her face. I could feel a warm blush creeping its way onto my cheeks.

Carol spoke through gritted teeth.

"Your cell phone rang, Jon."

I nodded.

I stood up, distinctly aware of my state of undress. I grabbed my boxer shorts and quickly slipped them on and glanced embarrassedly in Carol's direction again. She had set the phone down against the doorway and was wobbling back down the stairs again on her crutches.

"What a dear," I muttered to myself.

I put the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I said.

Jim's voice crackled on the line.

"Hey, Jon. We just got through with our raid on the warehouse. It was a no go. The processors looked like they were moved the day before. Somehow, they must have gotten wind that we were coming."

"Do you think someone knew Moretti was going to sound the alarm?" I asked as I tried to wiggle into my pants one-handed.

Jim sighed.

"I have no idea. He's currently in transit to his California safe house. We'll have to contact him when he gets there to see if he knows anything more."

He paused.

"Jon, that warehouse was the only thing that gave credibility to Moretti's story. The boys upstairs are going to investigate him and his confidential informant status."

Shit.

"Which, by the way, I noticed he doesn't have a CI form on file here at the agency. Why is that?" Jim asked.

"Because he wasn't acquired through the proper channels, Jim," I said slowly.

Another pause. This one felt distinctly more . . . agitated.

"Shit, Jon. I know agents do that all the time, but you do not want this to get dragged through the mud."

"I know, Jim, I know that . . ." I trailed off, my voice somehow not conveying the proper sarcasm that I was shooting for.

"Well . . ." Jim said, ignoring my churlishness, "just ride out the rest of your vacation. The new task force probably won't want anyone getting in its way. So unless they call you, I'd just stay out of the office for a while."

"I don't think Moretti would lie to me. He'd have no real reason to," I said cautiously.

"I don't know what to tell you. Enjoy time with Sarah, and for God's sake, man ... I overheard Carol. Try and keep this whole weird thing you two have going on under control, OK?"

I glanced at Sarah's bound form. Her red sex and pink posterior were still raised lewdly by the pillow underneath her ass. I think I saw a tad of my 'spendings' leaking out of her.

"I'll keep that in mind."

He sighed again.

"Goodbye, Jonathan."

I clicked the off button on the phone and set it on the dresser. With my hand freed, I was now able to button and zip my pants properly. I moved over to the bed and slowly began undoing the ropes that clung to my slave girl's sleeping body.

Just looking at her made my passions rise again. I could feel that dark, delicious energy seeping down my spine.

I glanced at the clock. It was six thirty. I probably needed to fix dinner . . . or have one of the conveniently nearby females fix it for me. I made all the money around here . . . Why did I have to fix dinner?

I chuckled at my internal dialogue. My mother would be ashamed.

I once more looked down at my slumbering slave. If only she would wake up, we could maybe have a little fun before dinner. All of a sudden, the curious energy that had been circulating through my body left me. My legs went weak for a moment, and I had to grab a bedpost for support.

Sarah bolted upright in the bed, her eyes wide and aware.

"I'm awake, Master!" she said as if answering a question.

I raised an eyebrow.

Sarah looked up at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something.

"I didn't say anything, my dear," I said slowly.

Her pale forehead furrowed, and her beautiful face gathered into an adorable pout.

"But I could have sworn you ordered me to wake up! It was like when you give me one of those commands. My body gets all hot and my brain makes me do what you say, whether I want to or not ..."

She trailed off, and I watched her sitting there tangled in the bedsheets.

Strange . . . I had been thinking she should . . .

No.

I refused to believe I had just given a sleeping girl a mental command to wake up. This was not science fiction . . . Psychics were for carnivals and episodes of Dr. Who. I decided to play for time to let my incredulous brain process the information.

"You can't resist the commands I give you?" I asked.

Sarah shook her pretty head. Her glossy red hair moved with her like a mane.

"No. Recently, I can't resist them at all. When you first imprinted me, I could resist what you told me to do. It was like wading up a strong current . . . difficult, but I could do it."

"And now?" I said.

"Now I would compare it to trying to lift a building," she said with a small, nervous laugh. "I can't do it. Your words . . . they hit me with such a force . . . obeying you is the only option."

"Oh . . . I can't say I knew that," I said in barely a whisper.

Sarah's green eyes looked up at me, with what I could only name as worship.

"Don't worry about it. Every time I obey you, my body gets all warm . . . and this feeling of submission... of slavishness, comes over me. It burns in my belly and feels so right."

She looked down quickly.

"I enjoy nothing more than doing as you say, Master," she said. "What you did when you got home . . . I want more of that . . . I like it when you remind me I'm a slave. I like it when I feel powerless before you."

Yes, came the slithering voice of my other.

Yes, this girl will do very nicely. We will strip her of all free will before we are done with her.

I shivered slightly. The energy I had felt before was trickling back in. Those words echoed in my skull. Those horrid . . . and terribly exciting words.

"Master?" Sarah said.

I snapped my attention back to her.

"Yes, my dear girl," I said softly.

"So, did you command me to wake up?" she asked. "I didn't know you could do that while I'm asleep. That would be pretty cool."

I shook my head slowly.

"No, I simply thought about you waking up . . . and you did."

Surprise flitted across her face. I watched as her eyes dilated and her breathing became audible.

"Oh . . . Master, that is unbelievable. Do you really think you can do that? Command me with . . . with your thoughts?" She spoke as if the very idea was the greatest thing she had ever heard.

"No," I said. "It was probably just a coincidence." The energy subsided, and a huge ache erupted in my skull. I turned and cradled my head in my hands.

"Come on," I said after a moment passed and the pain subsided, "you're making dinner."

"Yes, Master," was Sarah's only reply.

***

I swirled whiskey around in a glass while I watched Sarah turn the steaks over in the pan. I brought the glass to my lips to hide my smile. Sarah's pale and still slightly pink rear wiggled at me as she busied herself with the cooking.

I had allowed her to wear an apron to protect herself from grease spatter . . . nothing else. The fiery whiskey trickled down my throat. Yes . . . for the moment, life was very good.

A small chuckle escaped as I put my feet up on the table. I could tell Sarah was enjoying the current division of labor as well. Every once in a while she would turn and look at me, her face flushed. She licked her lips a lot, and I didn't think it was because she was hungry.

My perfect scene of domestic bliss was shattered as I heard the thump of Carol's crutches on the stairs. I briefly entertained the thought of making Sarah put clothes on. In some ways, I suppose it wasn't fair to make Carol witness all these things when she truly did have to live here.

This is your house. That girl belongs to you as much as the redhead does. Your attitude concerning her is pathetic.

I shook my head to clear my mind.

Sarah was looking over at me with a concerned expression on her face.

"Yes, girl?" I asked.

The redhead shook her head.

"Nothing, Master. It's just . . . for a moment, I felt like you were upset."

"It's nothing," I said calmly.

"Of course, Master," she said, going back to watching the steaks.

The last thud on the stairs told me that Carol had finished her descent. I turned in my chair to look at her at the bottom of the stairs.

"Hey, Carol. We're just cooking steaks and potatoes. They'll be ready soon."

Carol wasn't looking at me. Instead, she was staring directly at Sarah's bare bottom as she cooked in my apron.

"Jon," she said quietly, "are you trying to get me to slap you?"

I raised an eyebrow.

Make her bow and scrape . . . She is insolent . . . She is willful . . . She'd be happier on her knees.

"What is it now, Carol?" I said politely.

Carol pointed an accusing finger at Sarah's naked ass.

"You obviously missed a few lessons in political correctness, so I've been generous. But this is too far . . . especially with another person in this house! I don't enjoy looking at a naked girl while I eat!"

It would be so easy . . .

"Carol," I said patiently, "you know Sarah wants this. You know her chip makes her want this."

Carol looked at me for a long time. Almost unconsciously, she brought her hand up to the back of her head.

"I know what it's like, Jonathan . . . to have a chip make you do things you don't want to do . . . to know things you don't want to know . . . You don't know what it's like."

"Thanks to you, Carol, I have a chip as well," I said slowly.

She grimaced a little at that but kept going.

"Yeah, but what did it do? Nothing. A chip that was supposed to make you lose your mind didn't do anything except hack into mine to steal me away from my father. So I'm sorry if I'm not pouring out sympathy for you, Jon, but your chip did nothing but help you! You don't even have to obey anyone!"

I tapped the table.

"There is nothing on your chip that is bad, either," I said, my voice gaining volume. "All yours has done is given you access to medical knowledge most people need to spend four years in school for."

Carol wobbled right up to me and got in my face.

"I still have to obey . . . I still have to be next to the man who put my father in jail and broke my leg!"

"ENOUGH"!

The voice in my head had screamed . . . except it wasn't just in my head . . . my mouth said it aloud. The voice was cold, the sensation strange. It wasn't as if something had taken over my body. I was still in control. It was just like a different me was suddenly . . . me.

But that didn't make sense.

Carol staggered backwards slightly.

"What?" she said, looking slightly confused. "Jon . . . What's wrong with your eyes? They look . . . different."

"You will sit down, Lydia," my new voice said. "For the rest of the night, you will speak when spoken to, and you will call me sir. AM I UNDERSTOOD?"

Carol collapsed onto a chair and looked down into her lap. Her face was perspiring, perhaps with shame . . . perhaps because she was putting everything she had into resisting my commands. Then, her shoulders sagged and the tension left her face.

"Yes, sir," she said meekly.

"Good," I said, my old voice returning abruptly. Again, I felt a curious sensation of energy leaving my body. Except, this time, it was far greater. I felt weak.

Very weak.

I glanced over at Sarah who had been quietly working throughout the encounter. She had three plates filled with steak, potatoes, and peas.

I nodded at her.

She quietly moved around the table and set the three plates. She poured water for each of us out of a jug and then quietly took her place at the table and looked at me.

"Thank you, Sarah," I said with as much warmth as I could muster in my black mood.

Her cheeks flushed.

"Of course, Master," she said huskily. Then her voice became quiet, too quiet for me to hear. "I live to serve," she whispered under her breath.

I didn't know what to make of that. That voice didn't sound like role play. That whisper was lead-heavy with her personal convictions. I was in way over my head. So I decided to ignore it. Instead, I turned to my plate. To my own amazement, I discovered that I was absolutely ravenous.

I cut off a huge hunk of steak and crammed the whole thing into my mouth. I realized I was being slightly uncouth, but eating suddenly seemed to be the highest thing on my 'to do' list. I could feel my thoughts narrow down until they were entirely focused on bringing food to my mouth. It was a curious sensation. It was a focus that I had never felt before.