His Black Pearl (14 page)

Just remembering their expressions sends
tears streaming down my cheeks, and then I’m sobbing. Hard. My
chest aches with each contraction, and my gut churns. I’m going to
be sick. Oh, God, I’m going to be sick, and I can’t even open my
mouth.

Master rips off my gag as the first heave
tears through me, and he flips me onto my stomach only a second
before I vomit onto his rug. As if in the distance, I hear him
bellowing. His voice echoes through the room. His body leaves mine
as he reaches for something behind us, and I expect to feel the
bite of his crop, but no. No, there’s only a clatter, and then he’s
cleaning my face with something soft and velvety and blue.

His curtains, I realize. He’s ruining those
beautiful curtains just for me.

For a moment, guilt washes over me. I feel so
ashamed to be causing him this much trouble.

And then I just feel disgust.

This man isn’t someone I should feel indebted
to. He’s the bad guy here. He’s the reason I’m naked and collared
and trembling on the floor. I shouldn’t feel grateful for anything
he does, and I certainly shouldn’t love him.

Love.

My body stiffens.

How can I even associate that word with my
master? Sure, it’s pretty to think he loves me, but how can he? I’m
nothing more than a possession to him, just and animal. He’ll keep
me around as long as I please him, but once I’m old and boring,
he’ll cast me aside and find someone new. He’ll probably even bury
me beneath a tree just like my daddy…

I throw up again.

Master pulls me closer to him. He rests his
cheek against the back of my neck and rocks me gently in his arms.
More than anything, I wish I could deny the truth, but I can’t.
I’ve lost my control, my humanity, even my sense of self. I’ve let
this man turn me into his own four-legged fuck toy, and I’ve liked
it. For God’s sake, I liked it.

Shame steals away my breath. One last tremor
runs through my body, and then everything goes limp. Master’s voice
whispers into my ear softly at first, and then louder, much louder.
He shakes me. My limbs flop against the carpet, but not a muscle
moves.

He must realize I’m beyond hearing, because
he flips me over and lifts me into his arms. My cheek rests against
the warm hardness of his chest, and I can hear his heart beating
fast inside him.

Oh, Master…

A part of me still craves to reach out to him
and be the good little girl that I once was, but Momma was right.
I’m just an animal now, and I really do deserve to be put down.

We’re outside. The sun is setting. Master
runs across the yard, and I bounce in his arms. My head lolls to
the side. Up ahead, White Coat throws his cigarette to the ground.
He yanks open the heavy kennel door, and Master carries me
inside.

Words are exchanged. Master’s tone is
clipped, threatening, and no matter how much White Coat paws at me,
Master won’t let me go.

Oh, God, if he’d only let me go.

His breath tickles my cheek as he leans down
and speaks softly now, so softly, and once again I’m back in my
dream, back in my mother’s embrace, and the realization of how
right she was washes over me fresh and hard, and I turn into a
gasping, trembling wretch once more.

Vaguely I hear him call out, and then White
Coat appears, a vial in one hand and a dripping syringe in the
other.

I don’t want to die, but sweet Lord, I can’t
live like this any longer. I just…can’t.

I don’t fight them. The sobs are so strong I
can barely breathe, but I hold still while White Coat brushes
something wet across my hip. I feel the bite of the needle. I suck
in one last breath, take one last look at my Master and for a final
time let myself get lost in his sky blue eyes.

Then the poison enters me, and my whole word
goes dark.

Chapter Twelve

I’m not dead.

The realization is more of an after-thought,
really.

Waking up, I recognize the ceiling of my
kennel. Across the room, a sunset fills the giant double-paned
windows. My muscles are still weak and my vision hazy, but I can
feel the warmth of a familiar body cradling me close. Strong
fingers give my cunt one last caress. The hand moves to my chin and
gently tilts my face towards my master’s.

I don’t make a sound. I don’t move as his
soft, deep words pour over me. When he leans down to kiss my
forehead, my eyes remain fixed on a paint chip in the corner.

I might not be physically dead, but I’m sure
as hell not alive either.

He shifts me slightly. He reaches behind us
and holds up a single grape clutched between his fingers. More soft
words follow, and then he presses the fruit to my parted lips. Even
catatonic as I am, my body can’t seem to bring itself to close my
mouth. I guess White Coat’s training was even better than I
thought.

His voice grows harder. He squeezes the grape
above my lips, but its moisture just dribbles down my chin. A
shake, a plea, an order, nothing works. He lets out a choked sigh,
and when he sits me up my whole body slumps backwards like a broken
marionette.

His bellow sends White Coat running through
the kennel door.

I hear them talk. I feel White Coat’s fingers
prod the newly-formed lump on my head. They both try to rouse me.
They tempt me with food and water, but it does no good. Adair
Bartlett is dead. She died the moment that Italian pulled her into
his shop. For a long time, I thought she was still alive, but all
it took was one nightmare to show me the truth.

I’ve let her go now. I’ve reconciled myself
to her parting. I’m already prepared for this body to follow her
onward. All that’s stopping me is my master’s possessive hold.

If only he’d just let me go.

Sharp words fill the air, and from the corner
of my eye I see White Coat shake his head in frustration before
Master lifts up his fist with a growl. My eyes drift shut. White
Coat’s quick footsteps pound across the floor, and then the door
slams in his wake. My master’s grip tightens around me. His voice
is hard and inflexible as he breathes into my ear.

I should have known better than to expect him
to give me up so easily.

***

I’m still not dead.

Days have passed. I’ve watched sunset after
sunset pass through my window, and still I haven’t eaten. I tell
myself I’m being strong, but whether it’s my resolve, my
ever-present nausea, or maybe just the delayed shock of everything
I’ve been through, I don’t really know. The reason no longer
matters, just the result.

Still, I’m ready for my end to just hurry up
and come.

Locked inside my kennel, I’ve come to the
conclusion that dying is a pretty tedious affair. It’d be so much
easier if it wasn’t for Master and his lackeys. If it isn’t White
Coat constantly dribbling water down my throat, it’s that new
doctor prodding me with his pointy sticks and needles.

He’s here now. The doctor. Or veterinarian,
maybe. I’m beyond knowing what type of specialist I warrant. His
bony finger press against my neck as he checks my pulse. He counts
the seconds on his pocket watch before shaking his head. Another
moment passes, and then he’s pulling back my eyelids, inspecting my
ears, running his old-man-hands across my lips and gums.

They’ve laid me on my stomach. I guess after
my initial bout of vomiting, they’re worried I might be sick again.
Wouldn’t want me to choke on my own puke, after all. No, that would
be just too easy.

The doctor is speaking to Master now, but my
master’s eyes aren’t on him. No, they’re on me. Always on me.

I don’t think he’s left the kennel since he
brought me here. Though I’m aware I spend more time unconscious
than not, he’s always there when I wake up. He paces the floor. He
barks out orders at White Coat. He holds my hand and tries to rouse
me over and over again, but I never respond. At this point, I’m
starting to wonder if I even can.

I hear the doctor let out a sigh. In the
background White Coat’s shoulders slump. He drops his gaze to the
floor. Everyone knows I’m as good as gone.

Everyone but Master.

His voice is sharp. He reaches through the
bars and squeezes my palm, and that’s when I realize it. My hands,
they’re free. The gloves are gone, and if I had the strength to
look down, I’m sure my shin guards and leg straps would be missing,
too. Only my collar remains. I can feel it there against my neck,
the black pearl trapped snuggly beneath my chest

I wonder if they’ll bury me with it.

Master pulls my hand through the cage. He
kisses my knuckles softly before he moves his grip to my wrist. His
body blocks my view. I can hear shuffling. The clank of glass
reverberates through the room. A hand comes to rest on my head, and
I don’t even need to see him to know that the hardened fingers
stroking my ear belong to White Coat.

More noise follows, and then I feel it. A
stab. Something cuts through the back of my hand, and when Master
releases my wrist, a long IV line connects me to the large glass
tank now hanging from the corner of my cage.

His hands reach through the bars to pet me
again. He whispers more words I don’t understand and settles down
into the chair he keeps propped beside me.

Oh, Lord, how much longer will it be before
he finally lets me go?

***

The IV keeps my body alive much longer than
anyone expects. I can see it on their faces. Every time White Coat
or the doctor looks through my cage, it’s as if they’re waiting to
find a corpse. Master, though, he just stares at me with eyes that
are beginning to grow just as dead as I feel.

I know the others want to remove the line.
They’re ready to let me pass. Only Master keeps them at bay. His
devotion lights a tiny flame of warmth inside the cold shell I’ve
become, but still, it doesn’t change the fact that I deserve to
die.

Outside, the sun is setting once again. A
barely touched plate of food lies on the counter across from
Master. He doesn’t notice it, though. I don’t think he notices much
of anything besides me.

His skin is pale. His hair is lank. The god I
knew is dying, and I wish he’d just leave. Seeing him waste away is
crushing what little soul I have left. Doesn’t he know he’s
supposed to be the perfect one? He has to stay constant. No matter
how much I hate myself, he’s still my master, and I…I…

Moisture clouds my vision, and I don’t know
if I’m crying for my master or the pathetic creature that I’ve
become.

The kennel door opens.

White Coat slowly approaches my cage. His
hands reach through. He kneads my back, my thighs, my rear. He
stretches my arms and legs, shifts my body, checks me for
bedsores.

A soft cloth washes me from head to toe, and
when he’s done, I hear him sigh.

The motions have become just as routine as my
sunset.

This time, though, Master says a single word,
and White Coat’s breath catches. He whirls around. More words, and
then White Coat is at Master’s side. He’s shaking his head. I know
the two must be arguing, but for what reason I can’t tell. I only
know with absolute certainty that my master will win, and of
course, he does.

White Coat gently removes the IV from my
hand. He opens my cage. Master reaches inside and easily lifts me
into his arms. He kisses my forehead. One of his fingers reaches
down to stroke my clit.

My heart beats faster, but still I don’t
respond.

White Coat leads us out of the kennel, and I
wonder if they’ve already dug a hole for me, or if maybe they just
plan to drop me in an incinerator. Master’s estate is huge, and
I’ve seen so little of it. The possibilities are endless.

I know I should feel afraid, but somehow I
don’t. I’m just tired, exhausted from the shame and anxiety and the
constant pressure to please everyone I meet. Maybe death really
will be more restful than life.

But Master doesn’t carry me to a grave or an
incinerator. Instead, he takes me back into his house, up the
stairs, all the way to his grand bedroom with the animal-foot
furniture and gold-plated mirrors.

My red-silk bed is already waiting for me,
and Master gently lowers me onto its softness. He lays me on my
left side. He tucks my legs together, one foot slightly over the
other. He bends my left arm so that it’s a pillow beneath my head
and crooks my right one softly across my breasts.

It’s just how I sleep naturally, and I wonder
how much time he must have spent watching me to know every slight
detail.

White Coat’s voice breaks the silence, but
Master doesn’t respond. His hands trace my spine, my hips, my legs.
He cups one breast in his hand and kisses it. His tongue darts over
my nipple, and his teeth coax it into a hardened nub.

Master strokes my cunt one last time before
placing a final kiss on my forehead. White Coat’s voice is louder
now, insistent, but Master doesn’t listen as he reaches for the
chain attached to the corner of his bed and lifts it to my
collar.

Another word from White Coat, and then Master
whirls on him with a snarl. His face is savage, feral. He grabs
White Coat by the collar and tosses him from the room. The door
slams shut with one last ear-shattering blow.

My heart races, but it’s not out of fear. No,
it’s hope that sends blood coursing through my veins again, the
hope that maybe Master won’t notice his error, that maybe he won’t
realize he didn’t properly secure my chain, that maybe, just maybe,
he’ll leave me alone in this room with my arms and legs unshackled
and the clasp of my leash caught in my hair, not locked around the
ring of my collar.

He wipes a hand over his face before turning
towards me one last time. His eyes are bright, glistening. His
hands are shaking. He whispers my name into the silence of the room
and then flees through the open balcony doors. Windswept curtains
block him from view.