Legacy: Book Two of the Chronicles of the Nubian Underworld (2 page)

Enjoy the ride. I know I will.

The grammatical errors that you might see in dialogue are not oversights, as it is the popular text and reverence used in some facets of the BDSM world.

PROLOGUE
RAMESSES

“So, how did You enjoy Your time in Dubai, youngster?”

Under normal circumstances, a phone call at 7:00 a.m. wouldn’t have bothered me, but coming home and suffering serious jet lag from the near fifteen-hour flight made this phone call something of a cruel joke Amenhotep was playing on me.

With the way I felt, I was in desperate need of a vacation from our vacation. We’d spent nearly a week in paradise, one of the most unique and luxurious locales on the planet while celebrating His and paka’s nuptials, and here He was sounding bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like the flight time never had one ounce of an effect on Him.

I looked at the phone, trying my best to match His energy, realizing quickly that I wouldn’t come close to meeting Him halfway. “Dubai was wonderful, and that’s putting it mildly, Sir.” I did my best to clear up the grogginess in my voice before I spoke again. My voice sounded like I’d gargled with broken glass. “I feel so drained right now. If I were working for someone else, I would be calling in sick. Why are You calling so early in the morning anyway, Sir? Is something wrong?”

“Well, to answer Your question, we have business to take care of, kid.” He sounded as serious as a heart attack as His voice carried through the air waves and into my ears. “Oh, and You are working for someone else…You’re working for Me, now.”

His trademark chuckle made me want to vomit. He couldn’t be serious about trying to get back to business now, could He?

“Come on, Sir? Give Me twenty-four hours to recover, veg out on the couch and enjoy the children, anything other than working the next morning after we’d gotten off the plane?” I hated sounding like a freaking teenager trying to beg his father for more time to be lazy, but I really needed some time to be lazy. Neferterri was soundly sleeping next to me, completely oblivious to the conversation I was having with Him.

Why in the hell did I have to be a light sleeper?

The laughter over the phone after I made my plea gave me the distinct impression that my request would not be honored. “See, that’s the problem with you young folks. By now, I would have taken care of the things that we need to take care of before lunch. Are You getting soft on Me already, youngster?”

I sat up after hearing that question. “Not by a long shot, old man, but I have to wonder how in the world You’re able to be so fucking hyper when You took the same flight we took to get back home?”

“Clean living, You should try it sometime.” His voice never lost its energy. Slowly and surely, it began to breathe life into me, providing the necessary adrenaline rush to lift from the bed and shuffle into the bathroom to begin freshening up. “In order to be great, You have to leave Your mark. Are You ready to leave Your mark, Ramesses?”

He appealed to my ego with that question. He knew full well I was ready to leave my mark, and I was ready to do it in a
big
way. I had been plotting and planning ever since the conversation we had in Dubai one night, when everything was set in motion:

“I’m ready to do this, Sir. The shock has worn off. It’s My time, now.”

“Is that right, Ramesses? Do You think You’re ready to take things to the next level?”

“I wouldn’t be here talking with You if I wasn’t ready to take things to the next level. The question is, are You ready for what the next level is?”

“Youngster, I’ve been waiting for You for the past few years to figure out when You were ready. I have the means for You to do what needs to be done, and You have the energy and drive

to make it all happen. The way I see it, it’s a win-win proposition for everyone involved.”

“So, why are we here talking when we can be laying the groundwork so I can hit the ground running when we get back? You know the expansion plans I’ve wanted to execute for some time now.”

“The answer to Your question comes with its own question, Ramesses. The plans for the Palace are only the tip of the iceberg. There’s something else I need You to do for Me. This is big, probably bigger than any plans You might have for the Palace.”

“I haven’t refused You before, what makes You think I’m backing down from this request?”

“The request I am making of You, Sir, will require You to do something that I don’t know if You’re going to be willing to do.”

“Stop speaking in riddles and get to the point, Sir. You know I don’t do the cloak-and-dagger nonsense. Spit it out.”

“In order for You to accomplish the expansion plans that You have in mind, You’re going to have to have two individuals to help with those plans. They haven’t spoken to each other in nearly a decade, and despite My efforts, they have yet to reach an accord. Where I have failed, perhaps You might succeed. It’s the only way Your ultimate plans will come to fruition.”

“If it’s the two people that I think You’re talking about, Sir, I might as well scrap the plans now.”

“Don’t be so quick to scrap what has been laid out for You, Ramesses. You and I both know things happen for a reason.”

“I’m dying to know what the reason is for this one.”

“Only time will tell, My old friend…only time will tell.”

“You haven’t answered My question, kid,” Amenhotep’s voice sliced through my thoughts. “Are You ready to leave Your mark?”

What He asked for was the impossible. A decade of non communication and animosity, and I was supposed to diffuse that in the course of months? If He couldn’t do it, what made Him think I would be able to do it?

Yes, I have an ego bigger than the great state of Texas, but even I have my limitations. On the one hand, what He was asking for was next to impossible, but on the other hand, if I had the right leverage, I might have the ability to do something my Mentor wasn’t able to do. The end game was too seductive to resist.

“I’m ready, Sir,” I answered. “And I already have a plan in mind.”

ONE
SAJIRA

The headset I wore felt like it had become a chain, weighing me down against my will. Thanks to my Daddy, I hadn’t minded chains much anymore. What had begun as fun, sitting on the phone at home and talking dirty to anonymous men, knowing I was getting them off with a slutty voice and filthy language, had fallen into a mundane pattern.

The monotony started when I started spending most of my time screaming,
“Oh yeah, baby, fuck me in my ass”
to men whose wives or girlfriends refused to satisfy their fantasy of anal sex, and quite frankly, I didn’t get it. I absolutely enjoyed it, especially with my Daddy. Damn, I got chills thinking about it.

Oh, and let’s not forget the “hetero-flexible” men, either. All they ever wanted to talk about was fucking guys who looked like girls, so, on those calls, I pitched my voice deep and pretended to be a horny transvestite, and even with this variation, I still spent most of the time screaming,
“Oh yeah, your cock is so big up my ass, baby.”

Yeah, right. At least I could take pride in the fact that I could manipulate my voice to be whatever they needed me to be. While it was a lot of fun doing that, it became its own problem to maintain the motivation.

Okay, before you go there and tell them I’ve been a bad girl, my
Daddy and my Goddess know about the side gig. In fact, they encouraged it as part of my slut training. In their minds, it was a welcome contrast in style to my accounting career during the day. So, before you think about going to tell on me, I figured I needed to drop that bit of information on you. Besides, they’ll only look at you like you’re nuts for telling them what they already know.

Believe me, they…know…
everything
.

Anyway, there’s one caller, we’ll call him “George.” His calls were probably the only calls I actually dreaded, and he called at least once a night, sometimes it would be six or seven times a night, and it was sick and repetitive what he wanted to talk about. The funny thing was he always wanted to try and dominate me, be his little bitch.

Only one man had that power over me, and it’s not my husband.

It was easy to get him riled up whenever he tried that mess with me. Neferterri always told me guys like that usually had no power in their own lives, so they used a chat line or phone sex line to regain some sort of balance. It was pathetic, in my opinion, but sometimes you had to do what you had to do to get by. I was glad I didn’t have to do it.

I was daydreaming about Neferterri when the beep came over my line again. It was so vivid, I had trouble getting into character. “This is Tina, your sex goddess. Can I verify that you are over eighteen, please, before we continue this phone call?”

“Don’t worry, Tina,” the caller said. “I think I more than qualify.”

The caller had a deep voice, but it was soft also, possessing a hint of ruffneck around the edges. It seemed to travel over the phone line and almost invaded every one of my senses, like he was in the room with me. I didn’t pay it much attention, though. All I worried about was finishing this call as soon as possible, so I could get some rest before my husband came home from work.

“Hello, caller, may I have your name, please?” I asked.

“No, Tina, you may not.” The silky-smooth, masculine voice was so sexy it always had me wondering if there was a body to match every time he called. His answer still perturbed me, nearly pissing me off because he wouldn’t participate in the burgeoning fantasy playing out in my mind. I wanted to give him his money’s worth, but he was fucking up a wet dream in the making.

“So, what shall I call you, sir?” I asked again, sticking to the script when dealing with assholes that wanted to play a role. God, all he had to do was play along and we could both get off.

“I think you have figured it out,” he answered. The enigmatic tone in his voice intrigued me and repulsed me at the same time.

“You want me to call you ‘sir’?” I questioned. I tried to keep my wits about me, but this guy was turning me off by the second. I was going to have to pull an Academy Award-winning performance with this one.

“That’s right, Tina, I want you to call me ‘sir.’ How old are you, Tina, and tell me the truth; I will know if you don’t.” He was insistent, almost controlling, as he inquired.

In truth, I couldn’t call him a mystery, or even a stranger, for that matter. He had been calling for about the past month or so, and he always called me on the same days, but not often enough to where I could figure out when he was calling so that I could be prepared for his call. Sometimes the calls would be hot as hell, to the point to where I needed to masturbate again between calls. Other times, it would be a test of my patience before he finally got off. But it seemed as if he was doing enough to keep me interested and repulsed at the same time.

But, whatever, it’s not like this dude had a polygraph over the phone or something. “I’m nine…”

“The truth, Tina, you are never supposed to tell me anything
but the truth,” he demanded. “I can hear the maturity in your voice; you’re older than nineteen.”

“I’m twenty-three, sir.” I lied anyway, this time a little more demurely to keep up the façade of my “submission” to him. I didn’t care who the person was, the one thing I never do, and what the company that I work for requires, is to give my real name, age, or location.

“And what is your real name, Tina?” he asked. I noticed more aggression in his voice this time. I swear this guy wouldn’t quit. I didn’t care how turned on I was with him in the past, I was two seconds shy of disconnecting the line, but not before I milked him for what he was worth.

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“Your real name, bitch…
now!”

“It’s Melissa, sir,” I snapped as the fake name rolled off my tongue like it was my real name. Yeah, I was really going to tell him my real name; who the hell was he kidding? He had me mixed up with another clueless bitch or something. He wouldn’t know if I was lying or telling the truth anyway; I was on a secured line. Daddy made sure of it before I started working.