Rise of the Dark Lord
Chapter Seven
by Jennifer Kohl
Ceilidh struggled to sleep that night, the last night as her Master’s property. She’d been so shocked at his words that she had said nothing as he left her in her room, to stew in her own thoughts.
Damn Lord Donal! Her hatred of him was stronger than ever. It was all his fault! He betrayed her, which admittedly brought her to her true calling as Master’s slave and all the bliss that came with it, but it didn’t change the fact that he was a treacherous, selfish weasel. Anyway he’d done it to claim her for himself, not Master. And even though she’d found her true place in the world despite his intentions, it didn’t matter; he was still coming to take her away anyway, hurting her yet again for his own designs. Did he even really want her, or the throne that came with her previous, false self’s position as princess?
But she had no choice. She had to obey Master, and that included obeying Master’s order to serve Donal. She had to do it. But that wouldn’t stop her from hating him.
So her thoughts went, around in circles while she tossed and turned, blending ultimately into dark dreams, until at last she woke in despair.
“Dress swiftly,” Maida ordered. “In the clothes you arrived in. Remember Donal desires the princess as his slave-bride, so Master’s order to you is to play the princess role you have practiced and do as Donal orders.”
The final order from my Master, Ceilidh thought sadly. “Will I even get to see him?“
But it seemed not, as Maida bustled her out and down the hall to a room she hadn’t seen before, a sumptuous banquet hall, where a breakfast feast was laid out. Maida gestured for her to seat herself at the head of the table, and Ceilidh did so. Not having any orders to the contrary, and knowing that the princess she had pretended to be would do something about the gnawing feeling in her stomach, she took a few pastries and began to nibble at them.
Some time later, the doors were thrown open and Donal strode in, wearing a nondescript, hooded traveler’s cloak in a dark green—clearly, he had not wanted to be recognized on his way here. He looked her over approvingly, then said, mockingly, “Good morning, Your Highness.”
Obey. Play the part. “Good morning, Lord Donal,” she said, her voice haughty, not deigning to look up from her pastry.
“Put that down and look at me,” he said. She’d been ordered by her Master to obey his commands, so she did, immediately. A slow, cruel smirk crept across his face. “Who are you, Princess?”
She turned back to her food and haughtily took another bite.
“You will answer all questions I ask you!” he snapped. “Who are you?”
“I am Princess Ceilidh of Mercia.” He hadn’t told her to stop playing the role, so she would.
“But what are you? Truthfully and without any pretense?“
She sighed. “A broken, stupid, helpless, obedient slave.”
His smirk widened into a vicious grin. “That’s what I like to hear.” He stepped closer, then reached for her face, but she flinched away. “What are you doing, slave?”
“I don’t want you to touch me!” she responded. Play the part. “I am still your princess!“
“You will let me touch you however I please,” he replied. Immediately, she stopped pulling away, and he was able to stroke her cheek, then tilt her face up to look at him. He leaned down to kiss her, and she did not resist or respond.
“Hrm,” he grunted as he released her. “Next time I kiss you, you will respond as if eager for it.”
She bowed her head. “Yes, my lord.”
He stepped back in to kiss her again, and these time she responded as he commanded, throwing her arms around him and responding to his kiss with passion she didn’t feel at all.
“Good girl,” he said, and his praise did nothing for her.
He really isn’t my Master, she thought. He might own me now, but he will never truly control me, never own my heart, my soul, my will. Those belong to Master and only Master, forever. A life of misery stretched out in front of her, sitting by Donal’s side as he ruled Mercia, birthing his children, never again knowing the true bliss of being used by her Master, just this pale shadow that came with obeying his order to obey Donal. But I will do what Master ordered me to do. I will obey Donal, and I will play the part of the princess.
“When we return to Mercia,” he said, sitting on the table in front of her and running his finger along her neckline, “you will not tell anyone the truth of where you have been since your kidnapping or what happened to you. Instead you will tell them that you were taken captive by agents of Breizht, and I rescued you from them. Upon witnessing my bravery, you fell in love with me, and we pledged our troth there and then. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Lord Donal,” she replied. “I will tell the tale you desire.” But I will know the truth, that I am Master’s slave, not yours! And I will never, ever truly love you.
“Whenever anyone else is around, you will act the part of the princess, pathetically besotted with her rescuer and devoted utterly to me. But I think I like you this way in private. Tell me, how do you feel toward me?”
She looked up at him, her eyes full of fire for the first time in many days. “I hate you with every fiber of my being. I know I have no choice but to do as you command, but I loathe every second of it.”
“Perfect!” he replied. “That is precisely what I desire. I will conquer you every night, knowing that your hatred of me matters not at all, and enjoy you responding as if filled with desire.”
He slipped a hand down the front of her dress and cupped her breast. She didn’t resist as he massaged it, teased it, nor could she help the way her nipple hardened under his attentions. “You are mine now,” he said.
But that was a statement, not an order. She did not have to believe what he told her, only Master’s words were unerring truth! “No,” she said. “I will never be yours. Not in my heart.” And she could say that, because he hadn’t ordered her not to, and it was what the willful princess she was ordered to play would do.
“What do I care about your heart?” He hopped back down off the table, then turned and shoved plates and cutlery out of the way, sending half of it clattering to the floor. “Get up on the table, then lie back.”
Ceilidh had no choice but to obey. Knowing what was coming, she trembled. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said as the princess. “I am your princess!”
“Yes, you are,” he replied, hiking up her skirt. He’d half-stripped while she was lying back, she saw, and his cock was already hard. “You are my princess, and as you are mine, I will use you as I see fit.“
He spread her legs, then climbed up onto the table and knelt between them. “Beg for this,” he said, gesturing at his cock. “As if you were desperate for me to take you.”
Ceilidh groaned inwardly, but she had to obey. Outwardly, she turned it into a moan of need. “Please, Lord Donal. Please, I need your cock, need you to take me. Please fuck me, please!”
He plunged into her, and she cried out in momentary pain. Shutting her eyes, she tried to imagine she was being fucked by her Master, even though this wasn’t remotely as pleasurable. It still helped, her body loosening and responding to that remembered pleasure and desire, even if there was none of it in the moment.
“That’s right, slut,” Donal growled. “I’ve wanted you for so long, you haughty little bitch, and now you are mine, you understand? My slave, my slut, to use as I please, when I please! Keep begging!“
“Please, my lord,” she replied between pants. “Please use me, use your slut princess, fuck your property!” She didn’t believe it, but her fantasy of being taken by her Master was blending into reality as Donal thrust into her, and some of her true desire leaked back.
Donal cried out as he filled her, and then pulled back, leaving her panting and unfulfilled on the table, his seed dripping from her slit. He slid to the floor and retrieved his dropped clothing, half-turning from her while he put it back on. “Where is that scrawny enchanter? I’m going to need to make sure he doesn’t talk.”
He’s going to kill Master! Ceilidh thought. She felt something against the knuckles of her right hand. It’s the only way to make sure no one can reveal what he’s done. He’s not just going to take me away from Master, he’s going to take Master away from me! She gripped it, barely registering it as her thoughts whirled. I have to play the part of the princess. The defiant princess who— She rushed toward Donal. Who Master broke.
He grunted and fell, the bread knife she had taken from the table buried inches deep in his side. He twisted toward her as he did, reaching out to her, his expression more puzzled than angry. He struck the floor, gasping, while Ceilidh covered her mouth in horror at what she’d done.
Bubbles of mingled blood and spit burst from his lips and dribbled down his face while he gurgled, whatever he was trying to say completely incomprehensible. Then he gave one last, rattling gurgle, and was still.
That was when Ceilidh heard the screams, while the world around her seemed to fade into a fog. It took her a moment to realize she was the one screaming, and she couldn’t tell how long it was until she felt arms around her, warm and familiar.
“Shh,” Master said, smoothing her hair. “Calm now, calm and quiet.”
The moment the command registered, she obeyed, relaxing at once. Master is here. Everything is fine. But... Tears filled her eyes. “Master, I—I’m sorry. I had to! He was going to—“
“Hush, slave,” he replied. “Why do you think I never ordered you to love him, only to obey him? I knew you would do this. And on the off chance you didn’t, I had contingencies to ensure he could not leave with you alive.”
“What? But Master, I—I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t,” he answered, smiling indulgently. “You’re just a stupid, broken slut, remember? I told you about Donal so that you would hate him. I allowed that hate to continue, even encouraged it in subtle ways—do you think I would do that if I ever intended to let him have you? I provide better quality goods than that!”
She gazed up at him enraptured, waiting to hear the secret, the purpose to which he had used her. Master wanted this, she thought happily. He never wanted Donal to take me! Does he—does he want to keep me?
“I did all this to save you from him, my slave. Everything I have done, all the slaves I have made and sold, was building to this: to take a slave who could make me a king. Donal was as much a pawn as you are, and I trusted you to remove him from the board once his purpose was served.” He kissed her, and her heart soared.
“Now we will return to your former home—and you will introduce me as your savior. You will be my slave-queen, and through you, I will have Mercia—and in time, all else I desire. You have done very, very well slave.”
“Oh, thank you Master!” she cried. “I promise I will serve you and please you, because you are my savior!” And every word of it was true.