His Black Pearl (7 page)

A little voice keeps telling me I’m being
stupid. This is exactly what these men want. They’re trying to
break me down, and the best way to do that is to make me forget who
I am. All I have to do is follow, and they’ll lead me into a life
of servitude I’ll never escape from.

But what if I don’t want to escape?

The thought catches me so off guard I trip
over my own two hands.

Oh, Lord, this is exactly why I can’t afford
to think. White Coat’s hands are rough when he lifts me back into
place. He jerks my chin up, pushes my chest forward, and makes me
crawl along in the same seductive half-trot that Miss Priss has
long-since mastered.

Any doubts—no matter how valid—are pushed
aside. I can be myself later. Once night comes, I can think about
my mom and my dad and the whole life I left behind, but right now I
just have to survive.

And my survival depends on mindless
obedience.

I let my thoughts drift away once more. I
fall into the same rhythm as Miss Priss, and as the hours pass by,
nothing feels more natural.

I was born to crawl.

My lungs burn and my arms feel like Jell-O,
but still I keep going. I don’t stop until White Coat gives my
leash a quick tug and leads me to an apple tree in the center of
the yard.

Oh, God, the shade feels so good.

My sun-warmed skin is covered in sweat, and I
collapse as soon as White Coat stops walking. He gives my ass a
quick pat. My chain jingles once more, and I’m almost scared I’ll
have to go back to trotting circles again, but no, White Coat is
just fastening my leash to a hook embedded high up in the trunk
above me.

He leaves me for a few minutes before
returning with a bowl of water. As soon as he removes my gag, I lap
it all down.

So much for my dignity.

I expect another order any second now, but
White Coat just pets my head before leaving again. Is this it? Am I
really done for the day? I know I shouldn’t hope for much, but the
relief of being left alone, truly alone, nearly overwhelms me.

No White Coat and no Miss Priss. Dear God,
what a blessing.

I know I should probably use the opportunity
to at least try to escape, but I’m so tired and that hook is so far
up. There’s no way I could ever get this leash and collar off
me—not with my hands bound up like they are—and it’s a sure bet
White Coat is out there somewhere watching me.

And then there’s Master…

My heart speeds up just thinking about that
handsome beast, but I don’t know if it’s out of fear or lust or
maybe even both. He’s easily the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met,
but he’s a monster, too. As far as he’s concerned I’m nothing more
than an animal to him, a pet, and if he gets his way, I’ll—

A branch snaps to my left, and I jump.

I expect to see White Coat coming back for
me, but instead I find the very man I was just pondering. Master.
He’s dressed in loose gray slacks and a thin silk shirt that does
nothing to hide the hardened body beneath it. A soft breeze ruffles
his hair, and when I meet those blue eyes of his, I can’t look
away. He’s just too beautiful, too strong, too…too…

Hungry.

Oh, God.

My breath catches, and I know there’s no
better way to describe it. This man is a predator. He’s a hunter,
and I’m his prey, his helpless, helpless prey, and there’s nothing
to stop him from taking me right here and now.

My pulse quickens.

He takes a step forward. He plucks an apple
off the branch above him and sits down at the base of the tree. His
fingers beckon me forward.

“Alore, Isa.”

I’m crying, but I don’t dare disobey.

I expect him to bend me over and take me like
an animal. I expect him to shove his cock in my mouth and make me
eat up every last bit of his burning seed. I expect him to violate
me and degrade me and use me just like the slave he thinks I
am.

But he doesn’t.

He just whispers a single word.

“Isa”

His voice sends a stirring of something hot
and needy through my insides, but I push back my lust almost
instantly. This man isn’t a lover. He’s a taker. He’s more of an
animal than I’ll ever be, and if ever want to see Texas again, I
can’t forget that.

He bites into his apple, but instead of
swallowing, he takes the piece from his lips and holds it out
before me.

“Pela?”

I freeze.

What should I do? It’s such a small token,
but the exchange feels so weighty. A bite of food for a pinch of
freedom. Is that what I’m giving up every time I submit? Am I just
losing another piece of myself every time I obey?

A breeze ripples across my skin, and my
nipples harden. Even though I know I should cover myself, I don’t.
This man doesn’t want me covered. He wants me exposed. He wants me
broken. He wants me built up again in whatever image he
decides.

And he wants me to want it, too.

I tremble.

I can’t be the creature he wants, but I can’t
disobey, either. His eyes are on me. He’s assessing my every move,
and a tiny part of me doesn’t want to let him down. I’m not an
animal, and I’m not a slave, but I am a good girl, and thought of
disappointing anyone sends a shiver through my soul.

He beckons me forward, and I come.

The bite of apple still hangs between his
fingers, and I take it gently with my teeth. It’s moist and so, so
sweet. Heavenly nectar rolls down my still-parched throat, and my
stomach rumbles, desperate for more.

Master’s knuckles caress my cheek. “Sona,
Isa.”

He bites off another piece before removing
the wedge from his lips. I let him feed it to me. Every bite I take
is a bite already touched by his lips, his tongue, but not once
does he plant his own mouth on mine. He just watches and
praises.

When I’m done, he lets me lap the juice off
his fingers. His other hand rubs my shoulder.

“Alore, Isa.”

I come closer, and he lifts me into his
lap.

My heart races.

I try to tell myself it’s all a game. I just
have to pretend I’m his slutty little concubine, and everything
will be fine. He’ll like me. He’ll trust me. Hell, maybe he’ll even
love me, and then…

His breath rolls down my neck, and all
thoughts of make believe disappear. This is real. Too real.

His knuckles trace the line of my jaw. He
drags those wonderfully strong fingers down every inch of my skin.
My nipples tingle. My breaths come out in heavy pants. His fingers
dance circles around the lips of my pussy, and just when I can’t
take the tease any longer, he reaches inside.

My back arches, and I moan with all my
soul.

“Sona.” His teeth nibble my ear. “Sona,
Isa.”

I’m starting to love those two words.

My hips thrust against his lap, and his cock
is hard as stone beneath his pants. Dear God, he has to be huge. A
part of me trembles just thinking about taking his manhood inside
me, but another part…

He spreads a trail of kisses down my
collarbone, and my pussy’s so hot I can barely stand it.

Sweet Lord in heaven, what is wrong with
me?

I shouldn’t be acting this way. I should be
repulsed, terrified even. This man might look like a god, but he’s
a monster. He’s sick and perverted. He’s manipulating me, training
me, and here I am gasping and grunting to his every command.

I should hate him more than anyone else in
the world, but I don’t.

God help me, I don’t.

He tips my chin back, and when I look up at
his eyes they’re almost…loving. I’d expected to see arrogance,
maybe even condescension. He is sort of having his way with me,
after all. But no, his gaze is filled with the same look of pride
my parents’ held every time I brought home a good report card.

I don’t know why, but just seeing his
satisfaction sparks a bolt of passion inside me that sends me
completely over the edge. I moan louder, longer. I arch my back
even harder against his arm, and when his mouth is only an inch
away from mine, I lean forward and kiss him.

He jerks away from me before our lips have
hardly brushed.

“Ki, Isa.” His breaths are coming in heavy
pants. “Ki.”

What did I do?

He keeps his fingers inside my cunt, but his
hand is still now. His eyes are wild, maybe even a little sad, and
his lips tremble with barely suppressed emotion.

He grabs my chin in his hand. “Ki.”

I nod quickly, and he presses my head to his
chest. His chin rests against my hair. His heart pounds loudly
against my ear.

What in the hell is going on?

I thought he wanted a willing slave, but I
guess kissing isn’t in my job description. I’m not supposed to act
human, after all. He just wants me to be his animal, his pet, and
if I get out of character, all the fun is gone.

But if that’s the case, why is his erection
digging into my side even harder than before?

I suck in a huge gulp of air. We’re both
trembling now, and I don’t know why. I should be happy, thrilled
that for at least another minute I get to keep my virginity intact,
but instead I’m just…

Oh, God, I don’t know what I am.

Master pulls me tighter into his arms. He
whispers soft words into my hair and rocks me gently while his
fingers stroke soft circles against my clit.

I want to ask him what’s wrong, but of course
I can’t. I’m just an animal, and everyone knows animals can’t talk.
But he sounds so sad, so remorseful. It’s almost breaking my
heart.

He kisses the top of my head, and I close my
eyes.

I’m so tired, and his touch, his voice, his
very being is so soothing that I can’t hold out any longer. I drift
into the first truly restful sleep I’ve had in days.

Chapter Eight

The days blur together.

I think this must be at least my sixth day
here, possibly even my seventh. I don’t want to lose track of time,
but it’s so hard to keep up with its passage. Every morning, I’m
bathed, fed, and told to relieve myself outside. Afterwards, the
training begins.

I’m forced to crawl, even trot on all fours,
for hours on end. I learn to sit and stay and fetch on command. I
keep expecting something more…intimate than the continuous drudgery
White Coat puts me through, but other than a steady bit of
fondling, no man has ever tried to force himself on me.

I appreciate that.

Ever since that afternoon beneath the apple
tree, I know Master has been trying to go slow with me. I hardly
ever jump when he touches me now, and I really do try to be good. I
need him to take my obedience for granted, but sometimes…sometimes
it’s just so hard. If I let my thoughts fade away, if I just let
myself pretend that crawling and begging for a fingered cunt are
typical everyday activities, then I can sometimes manage. But when
I actually think about what I’m doing, what I’m becoming, then the
shakes start all over again and it’s all I can do to push myself
back into action before White Coat’s crop bites my rear.

God, I hate that crop.

Only a few lingering welts remain, but
they’re enough to remind me of what’s to come if I don’t obey. I
suppose I’m lucky that disobedience doesn’t come naturally. I
generally do like to please, but to be expected to obey every act
of depravity White Coat sets before me…

I shudder.

I’ve had it easy so far. God only knows how
I’ll react when the really hard stuff begins. But of course I can’t
think about that right now. No, now I have to watch White Coat. He
beckons Miss Priss to the center of the yard, and she crawls easily
to him, her breasts swaying gently along with her hips. When she
glances back in my direction, a shimmer of amusement colors her
eyes, and she wiggles her ass my way.

God, I really, really hate that smug
bitch.

White Coat snaps his fingers above me, and I
turn my attention back to him. He points down to Miss Priss.

“Voro.”

Watch. Okay, I can watch.

I sit back on my knees. All week we’ve gone
through this. Miss Priss will demonstrate each command, and then
I’ll be expected to do the same. It’s become pretty monotonous by
now, but I don’t dare let my attention wander. Lord knows I don’t
want any more marks on my ass.

“Nita!” he says, and Miss Priss sits back on
her knees just as I’m sitting now.

He’s drilled this command into me for so long
that by now I do it almost on reflex. Just like Miss Priss, I
spread my knees open in a wide V while resting my ass against my
own upturned heals. The big toe of each foot touches the tip of the
other. My chin is up, shoulders back, and each arm bent at the
sides so that my breasts are fully exposed while my hands hang
aloft like the paws of a begging dog.

Miss Priss and I are mirror images of each
other, and White Coat nods to us both before moving to the next
order.

“Dinsi.”

I don’t know dinsi.

Miss Priss drops back to her hands and knees
before lowering her chest to the ground. With one side of her face
pressed against the grass, she looks up at White Coat and parts her
legs.

My stomach lurches.

He strokes her cunt before turning to
retrieve something from the black case he’d brought with him this
morning.

God only knows what he has locked inside that
case.

I see its tip first. Silver and long, an
ungodly-sized dildo rises up from White Coat’s supplies. My mouth
goes dry.

Sweet Lord, that thing has to be nearly as
thick as my wrist. There’s no way any woman could ever take
something that size. There’s just no—

He thrusts the massive phallus up Miss
Priss’s cunt, and I gasp. I expect her to cry out, maybe even fight
to get away, but instead she grinds her hips into each thrust of
the giant silicone cock. White Coat pounds it into her again and
again and again.