His Black Pearl (5 page)

I shudder.

Dear Lord, where did that come from?

I’m not this man’s slave or his pet. I’m a
woman. A free woman. I just have to figure out how to get out of
here, and then everything will go back to normal.

And that’s what I really need right now.
Normal.

The shopkeeper places a bowl of water in
front of me, and my master removes my gag. I know what they want me
to do, and I know if I had any self-respect I wouldn’t do it, but I
can’t help myself. I’m thirsty, so thirsty, and the water’s right
there. I lunge forward, and when I dunk my whole face in the bowl,
more sona’s surround me.

I guzzle down every last drop.

My face and hair are drenched by the time I’m
done, but no one chastens me. My master just pulls me into his arms
and lays my back across his lap. The shopkeeper hands him a
towel.

I feel the fabric skim across my chin, my
jaw, all the way down my neck, but I can’t focus on anything but
those gorgeous blue eyes staring down at me. They’re gentle and
firm, kind and commanding, serene and yet still passionate.

So, so passionate.

His hand trails to my breasts, and his
fingers toy with nipples. A moan builds up in my throat, but no…
No, I can’t give in. I’m Adair Bartlett. I’m a good girl. I have to
at least try to do the right thing.

I rest my gloved hand on his forearm, and he
goes still.

“Please,” I say. “Please, I—“

The crop smacks across my thigh.

I cry out. The man in the white coat raises
his weapon again, but my master just holds up his hand. He pulls me
tighter into his arms, and I cry against his shoulder as he strokes
my hair.

What was that even for?

I hadn’t been bad. I just said please, that’s
all. My skin still burns from my whipping, and I’m sobbing at the
complete unfairness of my life when the shopkeeper puts a gloved
hand on my shoulder and whispers into my ear.

“Is only little pain, bella. Master no hurt
you much, and only then to make you learn. Just be good. No speak.
No ever speak. If want to be happy, just obey. That all it take.
Old Pietro already know you good girl. Now just show master how
sweet you are.”

My cries turn into hiccupping sobs. Show
Master how sweet I am? What does that even mean?

My master rocks me in his arms, but I can’t
calm down. This man is a monster—a hypnotizingly beautiful monster,
but a monster nonetheless. I can’t just submit to him. He’s asking
me to give up my words, my freedom, my entire humanity, and in
exchange for what? The illusion of happiness?

I snort.

No amount of joy is worth the sacrifice of
independence. Even the founding fathers knew that. My life back
home might have been miserable, but at least it was my own, and no
matter how much this crazy old shopkeeper might think otherwise,
giving up my free will couldn’t possibly bring me any pleasure.

Or could it?

I shiver at the thought.

No, I’m just scared, that’s all, and fear
leads to doubting, and doubting leads to mistakes, and I can’t
afford to make any more mistakes. Not now.

I look up at the men surrounding me.

They’re all watching, waiting. More than
anything I want to run away, but the crop in the white-coated man’s
hand keeps me still. I have to be smart. I can’t handle pain—I
already know that. If I try to fight them, they’ll just break me
faster. No, my best strategy is to wait for the right moment. If I
pretend to go along with what they’re doing, maybe they’ll start to
trust me. They’ll have to let their guard down sometime, and then I
can escape.

I smile just thinking about my salvation.

“Oh, now there my good bella.” The shopkeeper
pets my head. “No more sad thoughts. Old Pietro find good home for
you, now you be happy.”

He says more words in that strange dialect to
the other two men, and he shakes each of their hands before
climbing to his feet. He strides towards the door.

He’s already outside before I realize I’ll
probably never see him again, and for some reason, I almost miss
him. He kidnapped me, sure, but at least he was the devil I knew. I
don’t even have names for these other two men aside from Master and
White Coat, and I highly doubt either of those would appear on
their birth certificates.

I take a deep breath.

My master’s blue eyes are on me, and I do my
best to smile. I have a part to play, and I have a plan. I just
have to stay in character until I finally get my big break, and
then…then…

Then I guess I’ll just have to wing it from
there.

Chapter Five

I never thought of myself as much of an
actor, but performing comes more easily than I’d ever imagined.

I moan and sigh in all the right places, and
my master’s lips twitch at the corners ever so slightly. If he
wants a happy slave, then I’ll give him a happy slave. All he has
to do is keep that crop away from me and I’ll be the happiest girl
he ever did see.

White Coat places a bowl of fruit in front of
us, and when Master lifts a dark grape up to my mouth, I swallow it
eagerly.

I’m so hungry.

My stomach rumbles, and Master feeds me bite
after bite of some of the most delicious fruit I’ve ever tasted. He
says the word pela every time he presses a piece of food to my
lips, and slowly I begin to realize that he must be saying eat in
his language.

Well, if that’s the kind of order he wants to
give me, then I’m only too happy to obey.

I savor every delicacy that touches my
tongue, and when his hands roam down my hips, my thighs, all the
way up to the slit between my legs, I force myself to stay
calm.

What should I do?

Oh, God, what should I do?

It was easy enough to call it an act when all
he did was feed me, but just how far do I plan to let this go? I’m
still a virgin for Christ’s sake. I can’t just sit back and let
myself be raped.

His fingers travel farther inside me, and my
breath hitches.

Oh God…

The shopkeeper’s leathery caresses had been
the first time anyone had ever touched me down there, but this…this
is just so… so…

I moan low and deep.

Master’s left arm pulls me tighter to his
chest. His free hand kneads my breast while his right digs deeper
inside me.

I gasp.

I shouldn’t like this. I shouldn’t want this,
but I do. Oh, sweet Lord, I do.

My hips grind into his touch.

He strokes me harder, deeper, and pulsing
heat blossoms between my legs. I’m so wet. My muscles quiver. My
back arches. Master leans forward and lifts my breast up to his
lips. His tongue teases the tip of my nipple, and when he finally
latches his mouth upon me, I explode.

Oh sweet mother of God!

I’ve never felt anything like this. It’s
ecstasy. It’s bliss. It’s…

Heaven.

My whole body tingles.

Waves of dark pleasure roll over me, through
me. He nibbles my flesh. He rubs unending circles into my cunt, and
I never want it to stop. Please, Lord, don’t let it stop.

I climax a second time and then a third, but
Master doesn’t stop there. He pushes me harder, further, deeper,
and it’s all I can do to keep up.

I cry out like an animal.

My head slumps against his shoulder. My whole
body melts into his. I suck in one delicious breath after the next,
and when my master finally looks down at me, I’m limp and pliant in
his arms.

He gives my breast one last tender kiss

“Sona, Isa,” he says. “Sona.”

I shiver.

What in God’s name was that?

I’ve heard of orgasms before, but I’ve never
felt one. I’ve never even masturbated. Why would I? I was always
the good girl. Sure, I might cuss a little bit here and there, but
when Friday night comes around, I’m always the one at home studying
while everyone else is out combing Sixth Street for a hook-up.

My eyes cloud over.

I shouldn’t be here. I should be eating
barbecue with my mom and dad back in Texas, not moaning like a wild
animal while some stranger fingers me. I should be ashamed. I
should want to die rather than let this man touch me. I should—

Master brushes the hair out of my eyes, and
when I look up at him, those terrifyingly beautiful eyes meet
mine.

Oh, Lord, why do they have to be so
perfect?

He smiles down at me and strokes my clit one
last time before pulling his hand away from my pussy.

“Pela.”

He holds one dripping finger up to me, and my
eyes go wide.

He can’t mean…

His knuckles brush my lip.

“Pela,” he says again, and in the background,
White Coat raises his crop.

My heart races. I open my mouth. His finger
grazes my tongue, and I expect instant disgust, but instead…

Instead my own juices taste almost…nice.

I clean his fingers one by one. The salty
flavor is a perfect contrast to the sweet fruits I’d eaten earlier,
and the feel of his flesh between my teeth is almost
intoxicating.

He strokes my cheek when I’m done.

“Sona.”

I smile.

God help me, but for some reason I actually
smile.

I have to remind myself that I’m just playing
this man. It’s an act, nothing more. So what if I fall a little too
easily into character? That’ll just make my escape all that much
easier in the end.

Won’t it?

He lifts me onto my hands and knees, and when
he pushes the bowl of fruit in front of me, I lower my face to the
bowl and eat like the obedient pet I am.

He strokes my cunt. “Sona, Isa.”

I eat while he fondles me. When I’m done, he
puts the gag back in my mouth before handing my leash to White
Coat. Words are spoken. Master goes one way, and White Coat leads
me in the next.

I have no choice but to follow.

My heart pounds and my arms shake, but I
can’t give in now. I have to be brave. I have to be strong. I’m
Adair Bartlett, and I can get through this. All I have to do is
remember who I am, and nothing these monsters can do will ever
change me.

God, I just wish I could believe that
lie.

Chapter Six

I crawl quickly behind White Coat.

I don’t dare fight him. Those giant arms
could crush me if he wanted to, and that crop…

I shudder just thinking about that crop.

He leads me through one ornate room after the
next. Marble floors turns to carpet and carpet turns back to
marble. We pass through a long corridor with tall windows on one
side and floor to ceiling mirrors on the other. The sun is out. The
whole room glows. I steal a glance at the mirrored wall beside me
and there I am: naked, gagged, and chained.

My breasts sway between my arms, and the red
welts on my ass and thighs burn brightly against my pale skin. My
matted brown hair is bad enough, but when I see my eyes…

God, they might as well belong to an
animal.

I can’t look at myself for long. That
reflection, it’s not me. I can’t let it be me. I need to remember
who I am, what I am. That’s the only way I’ll ever get out of that
madness. If I forget…

My thoughts slip away as I pass a group of
towering marble statues at the end of the corridor. They’re women.
Naked women. Each one is collared and kneeling beneath an armored
man who holds her chain in one hand and a coiled whip in the
other.

I stare at their faces, each submissive and
blissful as she stares up at the man holding her captive, and for
the tiniest fraction of a moment, all I feel is envy.

I suck in a quick breath and shake the
thought from my head. No. No, that is no way to think. It’s just
the trauma, that’s all. This…this…whatever this is, it’s fucked up
and sick and in no way anything I ever wanted to be a part of.

You’re Adair Bartlett. You’re a woman. You’re
your own woman. You’re meant to be free. You want to be free. It’s
the only right way to be.

Isn’t it?

I’m so lost in my own inner turmoil that I
don’t even notice I’m outside until I smell the fragrance of
freshly cut grass. I want to bolt. I want to run down that rolling
hill I see ahead of me and not stop until I’m all the way back in
Florence.

But of course I can’t.

I’m hobbled. All I can do is crawl as I’m led
down a long, stone walkway. A giant gray horse grazes in the field
to my left while on my right several men in black uniforms weed the
massive flowerbeds surrounding my master’s villa.

One of them looks up at me, and I dare to
hope for a quick rescue, but no. He hardly even gives me a passing
glance before turning back to the daffodils.

Bastard.

I follow White Coat into a small building on
the edge of the hill. Inside the air is cool. Plain white tiles
cover the floor while stainless steel cabinets rise up against pale
blue walls.

I’d become so accustomed to the elegance of
the mansion that this almost aseptic atmosphere seems foreign.
Behind me, the door closes. Only then do I notice the cages.

Oh, God, the cages.

There are two of them. Each one is the same
shiny, stainless steel as the cabinets beneath them, and they’re
big, too big to house any pet other than the human variety.

Warm urine runs down my legs.

White coat looks down at me, and when I
realize what I’ve done, I cower against the floor. He’s going to
kill me. Oh, sweet Lord, he’s going to kill me.

I’m shaking hard when his hands wrap around
my waist, but instead of a throttling, he just carries me to a
large steel tub in the back of the room.

I don’t fight him.

I stay in the position he places me. On hands
and knees I watch him unclip my leash before fastening my collar to
a two-foot tall pole at the end of the tub. He removes the straps
from my thighs and the greaves from my legs. He even takes off my
gloves.