His Black Pearl (15 page)

I’m alone.

Completely alone.

Alone with no gloves, no cuffs, and not even
a chain to hold me in place.

For the first time in days, I smile.

Chapter Thirteen

Crickets chirp outside the open balcony
door.

It’s night.

Above me, Master lies slumped across his bed.
One hand hangs over the side. His fingers graze my back. I’ve been
counting every second since he first fell asleep, and when I
finally reach 5,000 I know it’s well past time to go.

I have to get up.

My legs are weak. I spent almost the whole
evening clenching and unclenching every muscle in my body, just
trying to get myself ready for the flight to come, but I still
don’t know if I can make it. I haven’t even tried to stand yet.
Master spent all evening on the balcony, and even though he
couldn’t see what I was doing, I hadn’t wanted to push my luck too
far. What if he heard me? What if he noticed I wasn’t in the exact
same position he’d left me in?

No, it was too risky to do much more than
wait, so instead I bided my time. When he finally came inside, the
room was so dark I couldn’t even see him. I felt his hand rest
softly upon the curve of my spine. His fingers swept aside my hair,
and I just knew he was going to notice my unhooked chain, but no,
he just tilted back my chin and tenderly pressed his lips into
mine.

It took all my strength not to kiss him
back.

A final pat on my hip, then, and he crawled
into bed. As soon as his breathing turned even and deep, I started
my count.

Now it’s time to go.

Slowly, carefully, I shift my legs. Every
rustle of silk is as loud as a fire alarm to my ears, and when I
finally pull myself free of my master’s touch, I’m sure the
pounding of my heart is bound to wake him.

But it doesn’t.

Lifting my arms, I cringe as cramps tear
through the muscles. I try to pull my hair free of the chain, but
my fingers are stupid and useless. They must have been bound up in
those gloves for too long. I can’t get them to move more than a few
centimeters, and I nearly cry as I realize my best chance of escape
might be thwarted by a simple lack of dexterity.

But no, no, I can’t give up that easily. Not
now. Not when I finally have some semblance of hope.

I shift my neck. The chain falls over my
chest, and it’s cold and hard against my flesh. Slowly, I twist it
around my forearm until it goes taut, and then I yank up as hard as
I can.

I can’t stop myself from gasping as the clasp
yanks out a clump of my hair. It falls into a clattering pile on my
pillow, and I freeze.

Above me, Master shifts, but he doesn’t wake.
My whole body is trembling from the close call, but after several
shaky breaths, I force myself into action. The balcony door is only
a few paces away.

I don’t trust myself to walk, not just yet,
so instead, I crawl across the room. A gust of wind blows the
curtains across my back, and they tickle my bare skin. My whole
body tingles. I remember the first time I felt such a breeze wrap
itself around my naked body, and my clit throbs. Our swing…

I can almost feel Master’s hands exploring my
body. His lips are suckling my breasts once more. His cock is
strong and hard against his pants, but not unsheathed, not yet. No,
that first day had been about me, all about me.

I’m wet just thinking about his fingers
inside me, his tongue flicking and tasting all the areas of myself
that I’d never once explored, and a throb of longing pounds through
my cunt. I pause in the doorway and spare one last moment to look
back.

Am I making the right decision?

Do I really want to leave?

But no, that’s just the animal thinking, not
me. I have to remember what’s really important here: my freedom.
That’s what I need, not his hands or his mouth or his cock, just
freedom. Once I escape, I can learn to be human again. I’ll go back
to my old life. Everything will be just like it was before,
and…

My chest tightens. I still remember the
sadness that drove me into the shopkeeper’s clutches, but I can’t
let it stop me now. I have to go.

Cool marble covers the balcony floor, and I
trip several times as I crawl down the long, spiral staircase
leading to the ground. By the time my hands finally touch the
earth, my chest is heaving. I crash into the dirt.

Where do I go? How can I ever get any
farther?

I’ve nearly exhausted myself, and I’ve barely
even started my journey. I can only imagine what Master and White
Coat will do when they find me down here. I’ll get the crop for
sure, and this time, I highly doubt Master will step in to save
me.

A snort breaks through the still night air,
and I freeze.

Who’s there?

I fully expect to hear the pounding of
footsteps at any moment. Maybe Master has already noticed my
absence. Maybe he’s called for White Coat or some other servant to
come down and fetch me. Maybe he plans to tie me to his bed and
fuck me all night long.

The thought both excites and sickens me.

Pressed flush against the ground, I wait and
wait, but nothing happens. Then, finally, I hear another snort
followed by a light whinny.

A whinny?

Popping onto my hands and knees, I see the
horse standing in the distance. He’s one of Master’s thoroughbreds,
the big one I always called Samson. He must have broken out of his
pen again. The moonlight reflects off his gray coat as he munches
on a bed of flowers by the front gate.

Ecstatic now, I crawl quickly towards him.
Samson, you magnificent beast, you’re my ticket out of here.

He’s not saddled, but using nearly all my
strength I’m able to climb the iron gate beside him. I thrust my
arm through the reins still looped over his neck. I throw one leg
across his back and mount him clumsily.

I’m breathing hard by the time I’m done, but
I’m also smiling.

I pull back on the reins. I use my forearms
to steer him away from the house. He fights me for a moment—I’m
sure those tulips are like chocolate to a horse—but eventually he
gives in and lets me direct him to the downhill road.

The steady clop of his feet fills the night
air as together we make our journey to freedom.

***

By the time the sun rises, I’m exhausted,
hungry, and sore.

I’ve ridden horses before, but never
bareback, and certainly never naked. Samson’s every step sends his
hardened spine pounding into my pussy, and his hairs are like
bristles against my skin.

Still, he’s a lot faster than I am.

I don’t know how much distance we covered
last night, but we didn’t make it to town. The city walls loom
above us on the next hill over, but I don’t think I have the
strength to make that journey today. Besides, Master will know I’m
missing soon, and a naked woman sitting atop a giant gray horse
won’t be too hard to find.

Just one field over, I see the dark outline
of a barn, and I turn Samson towards it.

We’ve passed several houses already, but I
never stopped. How could I? They were all so close to Master’s
estate. Any one of them could have belonged to a servant of his. I
know that all it takes is one knock on the wrong door, and then I’m
back where I started, back to the chains and cages and constant
fucking, and I don’t want that.

Do I?

No, I tell myself. Don’t second guess. Just
stick to the plan. Get to town first. As soon as the police spot
you naked and collared, they’re bound to whisk you away.

Samson stops. I slide off his back and
collapse to my knees. Weeds cover the ground. The wooden fence in
front of me is broken and half rotten with termites, but still I
crawl towards it. I press my forearms against its creaking rungs
and slowly leverage myself to my feet.

I’m crying now.

I haven’t stood on my own two feet in so long
that the action feels foreign, wrong. My legs shake. My feet stand
grounded beneath me. Deep down, a little voice inside me screams
out that I shouldn’t be doing this. The tops of my feet should be
pressed against the ground, not their soles. A small, small piece
of me longs to lock my ankles into the same ballerina-like pose my
old leather cuffs and shin guards kept me in, but I push back that
urge in disgust.

I’m human. I’m meant to walk on two legs not
four, and no matter how many times I totter and trip, I will not
reduce myself to crawling for even one second more.

My chin juts into the air. I take my first
step, and I gasp as my ankle nearly twists beneath me. Already I
long to return to my knees.

God, how long have I been kept like an
animal? What kind of beast am I that I can’t even manage a single
step without wishing to crawl through the dirt?

I tell myself it’s just my exhaustion that
has me thinking this way. I’ll be all right in the morning.
Already, as I lean against the creaky old fence, my feet are
remembering what to do. Each step is a little easier than the
last.

When I finally reach the barn, I stumble the
last few steps to the door and drag myself inside. Dirt clings to
my sweat-covered skin, and I huddle in a dusty corner. I fall
asleep to the sound of scurrying rodents.

***

When I wake up, Samson is gone.

At first I think I’ve only been asleep for a
few minutes. The sun still clings to the horizon. Only, I realize
with a jolt, it’s the wrong horizon. A whole day has passed. The
sun is setting once more, and I shiver as I watch the shadows grow
longer.

What am I going to do?

At least when I had Samson, I had hope. Last
night, I’d been so filled with adrenaline that I hadn’t noticed how
close to dying I really am. Looking down at myself now, though, I
cringe at how skinny I’ve become. My ribs press tightly against my
skin, and my breasts don’t seem quite as full as they once
were.

No wonder Master finally gave up on me.

That IV might have given me fluids, but it
didn’t do much in the way of sustenance. I’ve been out of it for so
long that for a time hunger was only a vague inconvenience, but now
it presses upon me urgently.

I’m starving. No, it’s more than that. I’m
caving in.

I stagger to my feet. I cling to the wall for
support and search the barn. Everything here is old, though.
Cobwebs drip from the rafters, and a pair of ravens flutter against
the ceiling. I creep outside, and the landscape is much the
same.

Weeds. Untrimmed shrubs. Collapsing
fences.

The field is completely overgrown. Except for
Samson and me, I doubt anyone has been here for years, maybe even
decades.

I stumble over a pile of stones, and when I
fall, I don’t even think to get back to my feet. I just crawl. I’m
halfway around the barn when I realize what I’m doing, and even
though I’m shaking, I force myself back to my feet and stumble
onward.

Oh, God, if my parents could see me now.

My dream still burns fresh in my mind. It
never faded, not really. I know I’m just some disgusting creature
now, that I have no right to expect my parents to love me,
especially after what I’ve let myself become, but still, I can’t
let them down so easily. My parents would want me to be human, so
that’s exactly what I intend to be.

I’m shaking hard when I finally stagger
around the back of the barn, and then I see it.

A crate.

Several crates.

They’re stacked upon the back of an old truck
lying vacated across the yard, and my breathing turns fast and
erratic. My heart pounds. All I can think of is that box the
shopkeeper put me in. Is he nearby? Did I somehow wander onto his
property? Is he going to find me here and box me up again only to
sell me to someone else this time, a new master who’s hard and cold
and mean and…

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no!

I’m sobbing uncontrollably now. I don’t even
mind that I’ve slumped back to my knees. What does it matter? I’ll
be spending the rest of my life on them anyway. I’ll be the slave
of some new man, some man who isn’t Master.

Oh, God, I want my master!

The thought’s so quick and heartfelt that the
shock of it nearly pushes me over the edge.

Don’t think like that, I tell myself. You
can’t think like that. You’re wrong. Everything you’re feeling is
wrong. Remember what Momma said. You’re sick. And if you stay here,
you’ll always be sick.

I’m on my feet again. I’m ready to bolt, but
just as I turn to flee, a breeze carries the scent of something
sweet and familiar. I freeze.

Grapes. Those crates are filled with
grapes.

I creep forward.

Looking at them more carefully now, I realize
these boxes aren’t anything like the crate I’d been trapped in.
They’re slatted, and lined with tarp. One of them sits partially
open, and when I squint, I can just see the piles of black grapes
waiting inside.

My stomach growls.

I cross the yard in less than a moment. I
don’t know how I manage to climb into the bed of this truck, but
somehow I do. I stagger over to the open crate, and before I can
stop myself, I shove my whole head inside.

Food. Wonderful, wonderful food.

My teeth rip through the tiny black grapes,
and I moan as their juices fill my mouth. My mother’s voice is in
the back of my head. She tells me to slow down. Use my hands. Don’t
just eat like an animal.

I tell her to shut the fuck up.

I’m starving, and no matter how much I’ve
slept today, I’m still exhausted. I eat and eat and eat, and when
my stomach turns, I retch over the tailgate before turning back and
digging in for more.

I have no idea how long I gorge myself.

The sky darkens. A bright moon hangs high
above me. In the distance, an owl hoots, and I jump. Behind me, the
barn is just a dark outline. A cool breeze caresses my skin, and I
shiver. My nipples are hardened nubs.