His Black Pearl (12 page)

“Sona,” he whispers. “Sona, Isa.”

I nuzzle his muscular chest, and as he lowers
me down beside Miss Priss, I’m shivering with excitement. He’s
going to take me. He’s going to take me. He’s finally going to take
me.

I want to laugh, I’m so happy.

Since first arriving in his mansion, my
virginity has been a weight around my neck. I’ve been ashamed,
timid, and at times even terrified of all the rigors my master has
put me through. But each time my fears were unfounded. Each time my
master subjected me not to another horror, but rather another
release, a new and exciting chance to push my body closer to the
rapture I know this final lesson will bring.

A tiny voice screams that I’m about to be
raped, that my deranged kidnapper is about to strip me of the very
last shred of innocence I have left, but I just tell that voice to
go to Hell. I want this. I need this. Dear God, I need this so
badly. So what if I lose the last bit of my self respect, maybe
even my soul. It will be worth it.

It will be so worth it.

I wait for my master to say “dinsi,” but
instead I hear “pela” leave his lips. I look up at him. He points a
finger at Miss Priss’s pussy, and then I understand.

Pela.

The bitch’s ass is still raised up high in
the air. I crawl forward and place my lips upon her cunt. His salt
and her sweetness nearly overwhelm me. I lick away both her juices
and my master’s seed. God, I know I should be sickened by this, but
I’m not. I’m really not.

If anything, every taste of their sex just
makes me hungry for more. I breathe in deeply. I bury my nose, my
lips, my whole mouth inside this woman’s pussy, and when I hear her
gasps rise up from the pillows I push in even further.

More.

I need more.

I need so much more!

There’s a creak ahead of me, and when I look
up, the bedroom door is open. White Coat stands in the doorway
along with another man I’ve never met before. Master invites them
in. I hadn’t even felt him leave the bed, but there he is, his
black robe bound loosely around him and his arm reaching forward to
shake this stranger’s waiting hand.

Master catches my eye, and I can tell from
just a glance that I’ve done enough. I lick my lips and back away
from the still-moaning blonde. The stranger smiles broadly beneath
his handlebar mustache.

“Alore!” the man says, and in front of me
Miss Priss goes rigid.

My pulse quickens. Slowly the blonde lifts
her head. Those green eyes of hers never leave the stranger’s face
as he takes a step forward and says once more, “Alore.”

She throws herself off the bed before I can
even blink.

I’m shocked at first. I’ve never seen Miss
Priss move with anything other than graceful disdain, but now she
can barely keep her arms beneath her, and all because a simple
stranger told her to come.

No, not a stranger, I think. This is her
master. Her real master.

The longer I watch them, the more certain I
am. The man with the handlebar mustache stares down at Miss Priss
with the same appreciative longing that my master bestows upon me.
His hands roam across her body knowingly. He whispers soft, foreign
words into her hair, and she croons back with fervent devotion.

Behind them, Master chuckles and even White
Coat cracks a smile. I listen to the three of them talk, and even
though I can’t understand a word of what they’re saying, the
camaraderie is unmistakable.

They’re all friends. Good friends, probably.
I guess they’d have to be close if they’re each so willing to
assist my master in breaking me.

Breaking me…

My heart pounds as I realize the truth of
it.

I’d become so caught up in the pleasure of my
new life, that I’d almost forgotten the reality. I’m being broken,
trained, forced into slavery.

My arms shake. I watch the man with the
handlebar mustache lead Miss Priss away. Her eyes never leave his
face. She leans down to lick his boots as he stops to say one last
goodbye to Master, and she follows him out without even a flicker
of hesitation.

Is that what I look like?

Is that what I’ve already become?

My breath comes out in hitching jerks as
Master closes the door on his two friends. I know I should be
ready, receptive. I’d wanted this so badly just minutes before, but
now…

Now I can’t think of anything but Miss
Priss’s tongue licking the mud off that man’s shoes, and my stomach
heaves. I can all too easily picture myself doing the same
thing.

Dear God, how sick am I?

I turn my eyes to the bed sheets as Master
walks towards me. I can’t let him see me like this. I can’t let him
know I’m having doubts. I’m supposed to be his good girl. He wants
me to be a willing slave, and as long as I am, he trusts me.

And I oh-so-desperately need that trust,
especially now.

His hand touches my shoulder. It’s all I can
do not to pull away.

Get a hold of yourself, Adair, I scream into
my mind. You can do this. You have to do this. You…

His hand drifts to my cunt and for no good
reason I start to cry.

Oh, Lord, how much more of a fuck up can I
be?

I’m not surprised when Master’s hand moves to
my back. He rubs steady circles into my skin, and his soft, deep
voice slowly calms me down.

I can do this.

I have to do this.

He waits until all my sobs are gone before he
finally orders, “Dinsi.”

I lower my chest upon the duvet
obediently.

My breath comes out in trembling fits, and my
whole body shakes, but at least I’m not fighting him. I can do
this. I know I can. I just have to get past these nerves, that’s
all. Seeing Miss Priss with her Master, realizing that her only
purpose here was to be used as a model of what I’m expected to
become, well, the shock of that epiphany was almost too much to
handle. It’s no wonder I’m jittery.

But still, that’s no excuse.

I’m expected to perform. I’m supposed to be
like Miss Priss. I have to be like Miss Priss if I ever want to be
free again, and freedom is something I want. Yes, it’s something I
need. Even though the thought of escape only rarely crosses my mind
now, I know I can’t give it up. Freedom is hope. It’s real and
right and pure and everything I should ever strive to attain.

But if that’s so, then why does submission
come so much more naturally than disobedience?

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Such thoughts can wait until tomorrow. Right
now I need to focus. I need to get through this final act of
depravity, and then…then…

Then I’ll just repeat it over and over again
for days, months, maybe even years to come.

The pain of that thought pierces me more
deeply than any cock could ever hope to penetrate.

My master’s lips kiss my spine.

“Shh, Isa,” he whispers. “Shh.”

His breath tickles across my back, my ass,
and then all the way down to the slit between my legs. I wait for
his cock to plunge inside of me, but instead of a dick, I feel a
strong, warm tongue brush the lips of my pussy.

His mouth descends upon me, and I gasp

Oh, dear Lord in heaven!

I’d once thought Miss Priss was the master of
this art, but I was mistaken. Oh, God, I was so mistaken.

Master uses his lips, his tongue, even his
teeth to coax me from a reluctant lover into a more than willing
victim.

I should hate him for these little
manipulations, but I don’t.

Dear God, I don’t.

The hunger is back. My body aches for more,
and no number of shameful admonitions can stop it from giving in to
this man’s touch.

I need him.

I need his cock inside me, and I need it
now.

My mind cries out that I’m just a filthy
whore, but what does it matter? This is what I’ve been trained to
be. After giving in to his conditioning for so long, what hope
could I possibly have of rebelling now?

None.

I have no hope at all.

I’m an animal. I’m his animal. His gasping,
needy, slut of an animal.

Tears course down my cheeks. His mouth
finally leaves me and the pressure of his dick takes its place. I
sob into the covers, but for the life of me I can’t tell if I’m
crying out of shame or rather the relief of finally feeling his
manhood enter me for the first time.

His flesh fills my insides, and I suck in a
trembling breath.

No number of vibrators or dildos could ever
compare to the feeling of him. I’m trembling. He pauses to rub my
back, and even though I’m grateful for the tiny comfort, my hunger
is still so overwhelming.

More, Master. Please, give me more.

He chuckles when I whimper plaintively over
my shoulder, and then I feel him thrust inside me, and…and…

Oh, God, there are just no words to describe
it.

I buck against the sheets. I fill the bedroom
with a symphony of carnal grunts and growls that can’t even begin
to express the heat and passion flowing through me.

I need more. I beg for it, and my master
gives it to me readily.

So readily.

Master’s fingers dig into the muscles of my
hips. He pulls me closer. He thrusts his cock deeper and deeper
yet. His quick, heavy breaths are almost an echo of my own, and
I…I…

I can’t think. I can’t fight. I can’t do
anything but submit wholly and completely to the man now possessing
my body.

And that submission brings me more joy than
I’ve ever felt.

I’m yours, Master. I’m no longer responsible.
I’m no longer ashamed or afraid. I’m no longer even myself. I’m
your pet, your creature, your animal.

I’m your Isa.

I cry out high and clear as unrestrained
passion ripples through me. I come again and again and again.

My head falls to the mattress, and for the
first time, I catch our reflection in the mirror, and what a sight
that is.

Master’s robe is gone. Tight, lithe muscles
ripple beneath his skin. His abdomen is a perfect six-pack, and
those strong, broad shoulders flex as he pulls my hips into
his.

A tuft of blonde hair falls across his
forehead, and when I look up at his face, I see him staring back at
me. Our gazes lock in the mirror. His lips curve into a soft,
gentle smile, and his eyes hold more appreciation, more pride than
I’ve ever seen before.

I steal a peak at my own reflection, and the
creature staring back at me is a being I’ve never met. Her legs are
long and sleek. Her body is curved into a beautiful bow of
submission. Sweat glistens across her flawless skin, and her
face…

Her face is the epitome of unadulterated
bliss, of serenity…of perfection.

I’m perfect.

For the first time in my life I feel perfect,
and I have only my master to thank for this transformation.

And I so want to thank him.

I yield up every last bit of my soul to him,
and Master takes it readily. He brands me with his seed. He thrusts
one last time, harder, deeper, more powerfully than ever before,
and I cry out in rapture.

I’m yours, Master. Now I’m completely
yours.

Slowly he pulls himself out of me. He wraps
his arms around my waist and pulls me into his lap. His right hand
traces the contours of my breasts, my waist, my hips, all the way
down to the slit between my legs, and I part my thighs at his
touch. I feel his fingers delve inside me. I breathe heavy and deep
as he traces light circles against my insides.

I desperately wait for him to speak. I need
him to tell me I’m good. Please, dear Lord, let me have been good.
But he’s silent. Even when he holds his soiled fingers up to my
chin, he still doesn’t speak. He just watches as I lean forward to
lick our juices off his skin. I clean every fingernail, every
knuckle, and when I’m finally done I lick my lips and wait for
more.

His smile widens.

“Sona, Isa. Sona, sona, sona, sona!”

He hugs me hard against his chest. He kisses
my forehead, my nose, my chin, and then my lips.

It’s the first time he’s ever kissed my
lips.

His tongue traps my own. His lips overwhelm
me with their power, their passion, and only the steady support of
his hand behind my head keeps me from melting into the bed
sheets.

He loves me.

My master loves me.

I know this as surely as I know I’ve lost any
remaining hope of escape. I belong to this man now. I’m his pet,
his perfect little Isa, and that’s all I want to be.

That’s all I ever want to be.

Chapter Eleven

My life shatters into a series of
moments.

I’m crawling through tall grass. Dandelions
tickle my sun-warmed skin. Master gives my leash a tug, and I lay
my chest upon a bed of daffodils before arching my hips into the
air. His fingers stroke my clit softly and then he’s inside me, his
cock thrusting harder, deeper as I press my ass into him, desperate
to feel every last inch. My moans and pants fill the garden.

I’m kneeling in my tub. White Coat’s soapy
hands caress my body. Bubbles cling to me from head to toe. His
words are soft, and he strokes my hip gently before pressing the
nozzle of his hose into my cunt. He turns on the water full force,
and I gasp. Massaging streams pulse through me, up me, and I writhe
in the tub as I come again and again and again. Master watches from
the open doorway.

I’m straddling my scratching post. My hips
pump against the stationary cock as I gasp and moan beneath my gag.
Master’s eyes turn to me. His book lowers. He leaves his spot on
the sofa and pulls a chair in front of me. I’m riding the post hard
now. My hips move automatically. Smiling, he leans down and removes
my gag. He unbuttons his pants. My lips are on his cock before he
even commands it. We come at the same time.

Only vaguely do I realize how fucked up I’ve
become.