His Black Pearl (17 page)

My arms can’t support me any longer. Every
last bit of strength leaves my limbs, and I collapse beneath a
blanket of grapes. As the truck’s engine sputters to life, I tell
myself I should at least look to see if she’s still alive, but I
never do. I’m far too much of a coward to even steal a peak.

Chapter Fifteen

I never want to leave my box. I never want to
leave my box. I never want to leave my box.

If I’d have thought just a day ago that this
little wooden crate was destined to become my sanctuary, I’d have
known I was going crazy. Now I can’t even tell. Up, down, right,
wrong, everything’s so switched up around here that I can’t make
sense of anything I’m seeing.

This world I’m in, this place, this…whatever
it is, it can’t be real, can it? Have I really gone nuts, or was I
just drugged out of my mind? Maybe these grapes aren’t really
grapes. Maybe they’re coated with hallucinogens. Maybe I’ve been
tripping out all day long, and when I open this crate I’ll find
myself on the edge of some quaint Tuscan town. I can find help and
get rescued and go home…

I slowly raise the lid of my crate and take a
peak outside. The sky is darkening. In front of the truck, a
two-story bed and breakfast rises up against the hillside. Men’s
voices bleed out of the open windows. The clink of glasses chimes
across the yard, and the heavy scent of beef and wine linger on the
breeze.

My stomach growls.

If it weren’t for the cluster of nude women
begging for handouts at the open window, I might consider calling
out for help. But of course, I can’t. After seeing Miss Priss
today, I don’t think I’ll ever speak again. Certainly not here. Not
around these men that keep their women as pets. Not around these
monsters.

And not around Master.

My chest twinges just thinking about him. To
put him in the same category as these other men just seems
so…wrong. Master isn’t mean. He isn’t cruel. He’d never turn me
into his personal pony or let any man truly hurt me—not unless I
actually deserved it.

No, Master is different. He’s just a victim
of this world the same as I am. Of course he has to treat me like
all these other men treat their women. From what I saw today, it’s
the law. No wonder he and White Coat were so strict with me. Better
a few whippings than what Miss Priss got. Maybe if her Master would
have been as strong as mine she wouldn’t have lost her tongue.

My mother’s voice is in the back of my head
now. She’s screaming at me to wake up. Master isn’t nice. He isn’t
kind. He bought you. He manipulated you. He turned you into a
sex-crazed animal. He’s the enemy here, just the same as those men
in town.

My hands shake, and shame fills me as I
realize the truth of her words. She’s right. I know she’s right.
Still, knowing and believing are two different things, and even
though I know the truth, I still can’t stop believing the lies my
Master fed me.

I remember the feel of his warm, strong hands
against my skin, and I sigh. His smiles were once the highlight of
my day, and those eyes… Oh, Lord, I could spend a lifetime staring
up at his eyes.

But none of it was real, I try to tell
myself. His comfort, his patience, his…love, that was just his way
of molding me into his perfect, obedient pet, and it worked.

If he wanted my loyalty, he got it. I might
have run away, but that was only because I’d spent so much of my
life doing exactly what my parents said. When I had that dream,
when I saw their disapproval, how could I do anything but try to
win back their favor? I know it wasn’t my real mom and dad I’d been
speaking to that night. It was just some lingering vestige of my
own conscience. But still, my parents instilled those values within
me, and to forsake everything they ever taught me…well, I just
couldn’t bare the thought.

So I ran.

I had to put forth at least some small effort
to be good. I had to tell myself I didn’t like what I’d become,
that I was sick and dirty and sinful, and that the pleasure my
master gave me was nothing but some erotic Pavlovian
conditioning.

But still, it felt so good…

I shake my head to bat away the memory.
Remember what Momma said. You’re sick. You need to get away from
here. You have to run again. You have to run now.

You have to leave before you run inside that
restaurant and beg those men to return you to Master.

My eyes dart to the inn’s front door. The
truck’s driver disappeared inside nearly an hour ago. If I wait
much longer, he’ll return, and surely he’ll go through these crates
sooner or later. The sheer fact that I haven’t been found out yet
is beyond a miracle, and with every passing second I know God is
getting more and more frustrated with me.

I have to go.

Slowly, I open the lid of my crate just
enough to slip out through the top. My eyes never leave the front
of the restaurant. Men’s bodies are illuminated through the open
window, but the sky’s dark now. No one notices my movements.

I slide one leg out of my crate, then the
other. My whole body is wet and sticky. I can only imagine how bad
I must stink. Crawling across the bed of the truck, I cringe at
every creak, and when I finally drop to the ground, I huddle behind
a tire as my heartbeat pounds against my eardrums.

You’re doing the right thing, I tell myself
over and over again. You’re being a good girl.

Still, it’s hard not to cry as I crawl away
from the last hope I have of ever returning to Master. Two days
ago, I was so ready to be rid of him, but now…

My eyes are so focused on the inn that I
don’t watch where I’m going. My shoulder brushes against soft
leather, and then the leather moves.

I slap a hand over my mouth as I jerk back
from the being above me. I’m caught. It’s over. I’ll be whipped,
beaten, and only if I’m lucky dropped back on my Master’s doorstep
just in time to be punished all over again.

I expect strong hands to hoist me off the
ground. Maybe he’ll throw me over the back bed of that truck and
take turns fucking me with his friends. After what I saw in town, I
wouldn’t be surprised if that kind of treatment is mandatory.

But as seconds pass and no word is spoken, I
slowly realize I’m not in the company of a man, but rather a
woman.

Or what used to be a woman.

Her hoofed boots stomp the ground as she
dances from foot to foot. Moonlight illuminates her skin. I watch
her writhe against her harness and bit. Bare breasts sway violently
from side to side, and from their tips, shining silver bells jingle
frantic notes that cut through the silence of the yard.

My breath catches.

Inside the inn, I hear the voices go silent.
Footsteps thud across a wooden floor. The door squeaks as it opens,
and without thinking I dart beneath the woman’s legs, under her
carriage, and out into the empty field beyond.

I’m inches away from the hedgerow when a
flashlight beam sweeps across my flank. I hear a man shout out for
me to stop.

But I don’t.

I’m shaking all over. I’m scared shitless of
what’ll happen if these men catch me. Thoughts of Master, yearnings
to return home, the ever-present desire to please, it’s all swept
away as fear courses through my body, and I push myself onto two
feet and run.

The pounding of much heavier footsteps mixes
with my own.

Faster! Faster! I tell myself, but they’re
gaining. I’m still too weak. There’s no way I can ever possibly
escape these monsters, but I have to try.

I keep running until my right foot hits open
air, and only a sudden gasp strangles the scream building in my
throat. It’s a ditch. I’ve run straight into a drainage ditch. I
tumble down the muddy bank, all the way into a gorge that feels at
least a hundred feet deep, even though I know it can’t be more than
ten or twenty, and lay there surrounded by the mud and filth.

I’m on my belly. A frog croaks to my left.
Distant footsteps grow louder, closer by the second.

Up. Got to get up!

I jerk my head out of the mire and gasp for
breath. Sludge covers my face. Grit leaks between my lips. I try to
push myself up, but the mud’s hold is too strong. My knees and
elbows sink further. I tug and writhe, but no matter what I do, I
can’t get free.

I’m trapped.

My breaths come quicker. I hear their voices
only a second before the beam of their flashlight grazes the ridge
above me.

Oh adrenaline, you fickle bitch. Couldn’t you
have lasted just a little bit longer?

Lying there surrounded by filthy runoff, I
just manage to flip myself onto my back as the first hunter crests
the embankment. It’s over now. There’s no way I can escape, but at
least now I can look my captors in the eye when they crawl down to
collect me.

Mud drips from my heaving chest. Water swirls
into the concave between my thighs as the flashlight beam sweeps
along the ditch bank. I hold my breath. I watch the light sweep
over my mud-covered legs, and I close my eyes.

This is it. I expect the men to clamor down
around me at any second, only…

Their voices sound angry now. They argue and
bicker. A man in a bowler hat stands on the rim and gestures to a
field far off to their left. Is he my driver? I only caught the
briefest glimpse of the man driving my truck, but I’m sure he was
wearing a hat shaped exactly like that one. I’m not sure, though. I
can’t hear his voice. I guess it doesn’t make any difference,
though. Even if I could, I wouldn’t understand a word he was
saying.

More talking follows, and slowly the man in
the bowler hat leads them away.

Did they not see me? Maybe the gobs of mud
clinging to my body provided an unintended camouflage. Or maybe
those men simply didn’t want to soil themselves by pulling me out.
Who knows? Whatever the reason, they left, and rather than question
my good luck, I flip myself back onto my stomach and use all my
remaining strength to sliver into the metal culvert just a few
yards to my left.

If they come back, so be it, but for now, I
have to assume I’m safe. I’m too exhausted for anything else.

With cool water trickling beneath my back and
the sound of an owl hooting in the distance, I quickly fall
asleep.

Chapter Sixteen

One day rolls into the next and the next and
the next.

Ever since waking naked and alone inside my
culvert, I’ve been on the move. I crept along the inner lip of my
ditch until it finally evened out into a slight incline that fed
into a natural stream. Trees rose up around me as I followed the
twisting waters further and further into the woods. Only after
hours of walking did I even think to stop and clean myself. Layers
of caked-on mud encased my body in a cracked plaster shell, and as
I knelt down at the river’s edge, I couldn’t stop myself from
crawling head first into those cool, clear waters.

I held my breath and let the waters wash
through me and over me. My legs parted and I broke the surface with
a gasp as a burst of water sluiced through my insides.

God it felt good.

I remembered the baths White Coat used to
give me. His hands were so firm and encroaching. They pried apart
every last inch of me as he slowly disassembled my nature before
building me back in a form more pleasing to my master.

I thought I hated him, but now...

My fingers moved between my legs. I stroked
my own pussy with the same steady, gentle touch he used whenever
I’d been good. My breaths turned into moans. I knew I should move.
I couldn’t stay in any one place for long, but it’d been so long
since I’d felt any real touch down there. I needed to be touched. I
needed to be held and fucked and filled.

It’s what I was meant for.

Only that was a lie.

White Coat and Master pushed me into becoming
a sex slave just the same way my parents tried to push me into
becoming a doctor. There was no real difference between the two,
honestly. In each case, I had outside parties imposing their will
upon me. And did I rebel? No, I was always the complicit victim. I
tried to please Master just as hard as I tried to please my
parents.

Only with Master, I actually felt happy with
my life.

I gasped then, and my head nearly fell
underwater. Not a good thought. No, not a good thought. You weren’t
happy. You weren’t ever happy. You were used. You were degraded.
You were…

I bit my lip as tears slid down my face.

Oh, Master, what have you done to me?

Pulling myself from the waters, I crawled
back to shore and forced myself to remain on two feet as I
continued deeper into the woods. I could be strong. I could get
through this. I made the right decision, really I did. I deserve to
be free.

Still, as I walked along the creek bank, I
couldn’t stop my hand from reaching up for the pearl still hanging
around my neck.

My pearl.

My black pearl.

It’s the only thing left I have to remember
him by, and even now, after days of wandering aimlessly through
these never-ending woods, I can’t bring myself to let go of it for
more than a minute at a time.

Oh, boy, am I ever fucked up.

As night settles overhead, I find a nearby
bush and curl up beneath it. Since leaving my crate, I’ve had
nothing to eat except a few handfuls of berries and some wild
onions that I vomited back up after only a couple of bites.

My stomach growls as I drift to sleep.

I’m going to die here.

I’m helpless and alone and if I wasn’t so
damn miserably depressed, I’m sure I’d be scared out of my mind.
But I don’t have enough space left inside me for fear now. All I
can think of is Master.

The further I get from him, the more he fills
my mind. Curling into the brush, I feel soft limbs brush across the
side of my breast, and his fingers are caressing me once more. The
wind moans with his contented sighs. I hold onto my pearl and every
last pleasure he gave me rolls through my body.