His Black Pearl (18 page)

As I go to sleep, my pussy throbs against the
wetness pooling between my thighs.

***

A songbird wakes me up the following morning,
and I crawl to the river’s edge for a fresh gulp of water. Only
after I raise my lips from the creek do I realize I’m not
alone.

On the opposite bank, a tiny freckle-flecked
girl stares at me. Her eyes are green, and her hair is the color of
flax. She’s just as naked as I am, but she’s on two legs while I’m
still on four.

And she’s uncollared.

Nothing but her own hair touches her skin,
and she smiles nervously at me as she wades into the water. I know
I should react. I should say something, do something, but the
memory of Miss Priss keeps me mute, and my legs are too shaky to
let me stand.

She pulls herself out of the water and
settles onto the silt beside me. Slowly she reaches for my collar.
My breath hitches.

“Shh.”

She strokes my face before gently touching
the pearl at my neck. I watch her eyes linger upon it, and my gaze
falls to where fat beads of water drip from her tiny breasts. My
face grows hot when she smiles up at me.

This girl seems so…odd.

She looks about my age. There’s no way she’s
under twenty. I know that surely she’s been turned into the same
base creature I have, but she isn’t bound by a collar or cuffs.
She’s free. Everything in her nature just screams free. I feel her
hands explore my body as she looks me over, and in her eyes is a
peace I’ve never seen before.

God, what is she?

I open my mouth to speak. No matter what
happened to Miss Priss, I still need answers, and this girl might
be the best chance I ever have of getting any. Before I can even
form a word, though, her wet fingers press against my lips, and she
shakes her head. With her index finger, she jerks her hand across
her neck in the universal slit-throat pantomime.

My mouth is dry as I nod back that I
understand.

Smiling again, she leans forward to brush the
hair from my face before taking my hand in hers. When she stands,
she waits for me to do the same.

How can I let her down?

I’m basically dead already. There’s nothing
she can do that can be worse than this slow starvation, and
besides, she has a kindness about her. Every time I catch her eye,
I see the same tender patience in her gaze that Master had in
his.

Is it any wonder I wouldn’t follow wherever
she leads me?

My legs are stiff and sore when we finally
enter the clearing. Sunlight shines down upon the grass, and my
heart quickens as other women come to greet us.

I want to run, but Flax squeezes my hand
gently. I flash a quick smile before squeezing hers right back.

Hands touch me all over.

I’m motionless as these wild women explore my
body. Each one is just as nakedly free as Flax, and several hiss
when their fingers brush my collar. I’m shivering now. I don’t know
how much more I can take. Just as a probing finger drifts down to
my pussy, I hear a growl from across the camp, and the tallest
woman I’ve ever seen stalks towards me.

She’s an Amazon, a giantess, a…Fury.

Lanky black hair hangs matted against her
shoulders, while long, tanned legs carry her across the clearing in
four short strides. She has to be at least six feet tall, and she’s
all muscle, all except for her breasts. Each one is just as massive
as she is, and they heave against her chest as she growls at the
women surrounding me.

Everyone flees. Everyone but Flax.

I’m trembling as Flax steps between me and
Fury. The wild woman still stands at least a head above the little
ginger, and she’s not wearing heels. She’s not wearing anything
except a single frayed rope with a handful of rusted tools hanging
between her breasts.

Flax ducks her head and whimpers as her eyes
dart from Fury to me. When the giantess sweeps her to the side, a
squeak escapes my throat. I step back, ready to run.

I should have known the bitch wouldn’t let me
escape.

Fury wraps her hand around my wrist, and her
fingers are like corded steel. I try to fight. I try to get away,
but she throws me to the ground like a broken toy.

I suppose that’s all I am to her.

Shoving me face first into the grass, she
straddles my back as I kick and flail and cry. From over my
shoulder, I hear the clank of metal.

What is she doing? Dear God, what is she
doing?

My chest heaves against the ground. I snort
up a lungful of dirt, but I don’t care. I have to get away. Escape
is all that matters. Escape from this madwoman and her herd of
wandering sluts.

Her hand grabs my collar. She jerks back my
neck. From the corner of my eye, I see something glinting in her
right hand. A knife. It’s got to be a knife. She’s going to slit my
throat. That’s the only possibility.

I close my eyes and suck in one last breath.
At least this’ll be quicker than starvation.

Just as my body goes limp and I nearly wet
myself from the fear of it all, I hear a snap and then the pressure
on my throat is gone. I’m too startled to even catch myself as my
face catapults back into the earth.

I spit out a mouthful of twigs and dried
grass. Fury’s corded legs release me. Kneeling now, she lifts my
chin from the ground with one hand while she dangles a long piece
of leather in front of my face.

My collar.

It’s been a part of me for so long that my
neck feels naked without it. I reach for the black pearl now
swaying from its middle, but Fury snatches it out of my grasp with
a growl. Her hands jerk me out of the dirt, and she flings me into
the herd of women now clustered behind me.

I don’t know if this woman has claimed me for
her own or if she’s just trying to make me accept my freedom.
Either way, it doesn’t stop a cry from leaving my lips as she
flings my collar and that beautiful black pearl far away into the
forest.

I take a step to go find it, but tiny arms
wrap around my waist. Flax’s face presses into the space between my
shoulder blades. Her hands pull me to the ground, and I don’t
realize I’m crying until she rolls me into her arms.

If I close my eyes I can almost imagine my
master’s fingers are brushing away my tears instead of hers.

More women approach us.

Their hands touch me, but instead of probing,
they’re all comforting. They sweep back my hair, rub my shoulders,
pat my legs. I’m surrounded by a support group of women just as
twisted as I am, and in the presence of their acceptance, I let go
of any remaining inhibitions and cry myself sick.

Though the herd of women surrounding me must
be at least twenty or more, there are only two I can focus on
throughout this whole emotional ordeal. One is Flax. Her arms never
leave me, and the quiet shushing she whispers into my ear is almost
enough to lull me into sleep.

The other, though, is the wild Fury. The
giant woman’s gaze never leaves me as she slips her wire cutters
around her neck and stands watch. She’s their leader. There’s no
questioning that. But I think…I think she might be something more
also.

A protector, maybe?

Yes, the more I watch her, the more I feel
confident that she won’t hurt me, and she won’t let me be hurt.
There’s a familiar possessiveness to her gaze, and it comforts me
almost as much as the steady crooning from Flax.

Chapter Seventeen

We march daily.

I keep expecting to run across some form of
non-perverted civilization, but Fury keeps us far away from any
towns. Not that I mind so much. After my near miss at the inn, I’ve
become almost terrified of being around anyone other than the herd
of women I’m now a part of.

Fury holds up a hand, and we all wait as she
checks out the field we’ll cross next.

Flax’s hand slips into mine. I’ve spent
almost a week with the herd now. I only wish I knew how long it’s
been since I entered that monster’s shop in Florence. I suppose it
shouldn’t matter. Time is meaningless for a creature like me.
Still, it would be nice to know how long my family has been missing
me. Surely they’ve accepted me as dead by now. Momma always was a
practical person. She has to know I’m never coming home.

But maybe…

I nibble on my bottom lip. Even after all
this time, I still can’t let go of the hope of returning home. I am
free after all. Maybe I can break away from Fury’s little harem and
strike out on my own. Surely this perversion can’t go on forever.
There has to be someone left in this world who’s willing to help
me.

Flax nuzzles my shoulder. She really is a
sweet girl. I caress her back, and as soon as Fury beckons us
forward, we follow the herd onward.

The air smells clearer, almost moist as we
bed down that night. As always, I stick to the outskirts of the
group.

Night falls. A symphony of moans and gasps
fill the evening air. In the moonlight, women’s bodies writhe
together. No one sleeps apart in the herd—no one but me. Each woman
is just another link in a long chain of pleasure, but like every
night before this one, I force myself to stay apart.

I’m a free woman. I have to show restraint. I
didn’t run away from my master just to become the slave of a
dark-haired mistress.

But still…

Their lust is like a siren’s call, and it’s
all I can do to push Flax’s hands away when she tries to pull me
towards them. It’s Fury who leads Flax away in the end. She won’t
let anyone badger me for long. I’m not sure if it’s a blessing or a
curse, but she seems to take pity on me. No way would she ever
force me into doing something I’m not ready for.

An orgasmic cry fills the nigh, followed by a
second, and then a third. I press my hands against my ears and curl
into a ball.

Sometimes, I really hate free will.

***

My strength builds with each passing day. I
slowly become more confident. I might not be the successful doctor
my parents imagined, but I’m no longer a mindless animal either. I
walk on two legs. I take care of my own needs. I even make some of
my own decisions.

The freedom of it all should be enough to
make me smile, but the more time I spend with the herd, the emptier
I feel.

I want to go home.

I still don’t know if the home I’m thinking
of is a little brick house in Texas, or if maybe it’s a rolling
estate littered with scratching posts and chains. Either way, I
want one of the two. I can’t spend the rest of my life roaming
along the fringes of humanity. True freedom or true submission,
that’s what I require, and as the days pass, I find myself
searching once again for an escape from the women around me.

I think Fury realize what I’m thinking.
That’s the only way to explain how close she keeps me.

Between the Amazon and Flax, I never have a
minute’s peace. Someone is always there watching me, just waiting
for me to break rank. I don’t know what will happen when I finally
do. Maybe Fury will just let me go. Or maybe she’ll chase me down
and break one of my legs.

Either way, I’m too scared to find out.

After several weeks of what seems like
pointless roaming, I begin to sense a change in the air. Salt. If I
open my mouth, I can almost taste the salt, just like when I used
to visit the beach as a child.

My eyes fly open. Only Fury’s hand on my
wrist keeps me from bolting. By the time the waves are finally
close enough to hear, I can’t stop myself from whining as I shuffle
from foot to foot.

The trees part, and a pebbly beach spreads
out before us.

My heart pounds. Where are we? The Cinque
Terre? I can’t believe we’ve walked all the way to the Italian
Riviera, but that has to be the only explanation, right? I search
the shore for some sign of the famous coastal towns I’ve read
about, but the beaches are empty save for a single granite monolith
rising up from the water’s edge.

Fury leads me toward it.

Seagulls caw above me. The surf pounds
against the shore.

What are these women waiting for? Freedom has
to be close by. We need to run. We need to—

Fury points up at a bronze plaque on the
giant marble column. Foreign words cover it. Fury’s eyes are on me
as I struggle to read what it says.

Isola di merce. Ile d’emprise. Isla de
esclavo. Thrall Insel. Thrall Island.

Wait a minute. Island?

My gaze darts from the sign to the shore, and
then to the one person I know would never lie to me. Fury.

I point to the crashing waves before making a
quick circle in the sand. Is that it? Are we really on an island?
Is that why she and her herd settled on a free-ranging lifestyle
rather than endure the slavery of civilization?

She must understand me, because she nods
slowly before leading me to the other side of the monument. Any
remaining hope leaves me as I stare up at the image emblazoned
across it.

A long, irregular landmass juts above the
loping curves of rumbling waves. In each corner, familiar reliefs
fill the scene.

A collared woman crawls on all fours.

A bridled woman pulls a carriage.

Another kneels crying beneath a whip.

And in the last corner, gagged and bound, a
final woman stares out of her carving with inhuman peace as her
master rests his hand on her head.

I’m shaking so hard I can barely stand. At
either side, Fury and Flax hold my hands as I gasp and sob. All
hope is gone. There won’t be any salvation, no rescue. I’m trapped
here on this island forever.

Flax’s palm strokes my face, and I crumple
into her before I can even stop myself. I’ll never see my parents
again. I’ll never see my home.

And worst of all, I’ll never see my
Master.

By this time, I’ve long since given up hope
of ever dispelling my feelings for him. I might have run away, but
he still owns me, every last little bit, and as I sob against the
little ginger’s shoulder, I cry not so much for the loss of my
freedom, but rather the loss of my servitude.