His Black Pearl (6 page)

My heart pounds.

I want to tear off my collar. I want to jump
out of this tub. I want to fight my way past him and run screaming
across the hillside.

But I don’t.

He’s too big, too strong. I could never get
past him. And if the front door is locked…

My gaze travels back to his crop, and I
tremble again. He grabs my wrist.

My breath catches when he lifts up my hand,
but he doesn’t hurt me. He just inspects my fingers one by one.
Each one tingles and burns when he wiggles it, but he’s careful not
to bend it too far.

Maybe he won’t hurt me anymore.

He reaches inside the cabinet above me, and
when he pulls out something heavy and silver, I squeeze my eyes
shut. Playtime is over. He’s going to yank out my fingernails. He’s
going to cut off my fingers. He’s going to—

A sharp snap echoes through the room.

I keep waiting for the pain, but when I
finally steal a peak at my hands, no blood or mutilation awaits me.
Fingernail clippings fall to the bottom of my tub. White Coat
carefully trims each nail down to a nub, and when he’s finally
satisfied with his work, he moves on to do the same to my feet.

After he’s done, he rubs my cunt.

“Sona,” he says with each stroke. “Sona.”

By the time my bath begins, I don’t know if
I’m crying out of shame or relief.

He fills my tub with only a few inches of
water. He spreads soap across my breasts, my crotch, my ass. He
parts my thighs as he shaves every inch of my legs and pussy.

My whole body belongs to him now, and I keep
waiting for him to take it.

But he doesn’t.

He hesitates for a moment before removing my
gag. His eyes are on me. I know he’s waiting for me to speak, but I
don’t. I just flex my jaw and keep quiet until those scowling lips
curve up into something almost resembling a smile.

“Sona,” he says once more, and as I let him
inspect my teeth and gums, I try to tell myself I’m still in
control.

You’re Adair Bartlett, I repeat over and over
again. These people have taken your body, but your mind is still
your own. All you have to do is keep it, and you’ll figure a way
out of this eventually.

Once he finishes with my mouth, he moves back
to my body. His fingers massage whole rivers of oils and lotions
into my skin. The scent of lavender drips from my hair as he snips
away the dead ends and combs out any remaining tangles. When he’s
done, he braids my locks into a twisting brown coil that wraps
tightly around my head.

God forbid even my hair should have any
freedom.

He drains the tub and dries me off.

Something cool touches my backside, and when
I jerk away, he merely places a hand on my back. I go still.

“Sona.”

My pulse races.

He spreads soothing ointment across the welts
on my ass and thigh, and slowly I relax. God, that helps. It helps
a whole lot.

When he’s done, I feel almost indebted.

Almost.

He straps my greaves and gloves back in place
and unhooks my collar from the tub. He doesn’t replace the gag,
though. I’m grateful for the small reprieve, and when he carries me
to the heavy steel cage I’d seen earlier, I don’t even struggle as
he lowers me inside.

This could have been worse.

So much worse.

He closes the lid. He snaps a heavy padlock
between the bars. He reaches inside and strokes my back while I lie
there in compliant shock.

Why are these people doing this to me?

Firsts they abduct me, violate me, hit me…
and now they comfort me?

It doesn’t make any sense.

I could spend my whole life trying to analyze
their behavior, but in the end it all comes back to one easily
drawn conclusion: they’re monsters. They get their kicks out of
dominating defenseless women, and in their perverted little minds,
they probably even think their conquests like it.

I roll my eyes just thinking about that
deranged delusion. No woman would ever want this. It’s slavery.
It’s vile. It’s evil. It’s the complete opposite of everything
precious and wholesome in life. It’s—

Movement from the cage across the room
catches my eye, and I gasp when I see what’s inside.

There’s a girl…no, a woman.

She looks like she might be a few years older
than me—maybe even older than my master—but she’s beyond beautiful.
Thick blonde hair hangs in a long braid down her back, and
heavily-lashed green eyes stare at me from behind narrow bars.

She blows me a kiss.

I’m shocked at first. My pulse quickens for
some reason I don’t understand, and when she rubs her tongue across
those soft, pouty lips, I can’t turn away.

I’m wet.

Sweet Lord, why is my pussy wet?

I’m not gay. I’m a Baptist. I’ve never even
thought of a woman that way before, but when I watch this being,
this…goddess thrust her moist pussy against the bars of her cage,
I’m…I’m…

I’m supposed to be sickened, but I’m not.
Lord help me, I’m not.

She wiggles her breasts in my direction, and
my face turns hot. She smirks.

Is this… Is this bitch toying with me?

Her deep-throated laugh confirms my
suspicions.

White Coat’s hand leaves my back, and he
turns toward the woman now mewling up at him. Gloves cover her
hands and familiar greaves encircle her legs, but her body, her
face, her whole attitude is so much different from mine.

White Coat reaches a hand inside her cage,
and she rolls onto her back. Her legs part. He buries his hand in
her cunt, and she moans.

It’s a terribly beautiful sound.

I want to tear my eyes away from the sight of
her arching back and soft, ivory skin, but I can’t. Her breath
quickens, and so does mine. Her eyes are on me when White Coat
finally coaxes her into an orgasm, and my pussy throbs to the same
beat of my racing heart.

What in the fuck is wrong with me?

She laughs again.

White Coat pats her ass once. He makes her
lick the juices off his hand, and then he turns to leave. The
lights go out. The door closes behind him.

It’s just me and this prissy little bitch
now, and for once I’m grateful for the cages.

I press my back against the wall behind me
and curl into a tight ball.

Was that other woman once like me? Did these
bastards somehow break her down and rebuild her into the sex-crazed
animal I see now?

Is that what they plan to do to me?

I shiver.

Oh, God, I need hope. I need to know there’s
at least a chance I won’t turn into a brown-haired version of the
whore across from me. I’m a person for God’s sake. I need to act
human, but I can’t. If I speak, they’ll hit me, and if I try to
stand…

Well, that didn’t work then, and it sure as
hell won’t work now, not when my cage—or kennel, I suppose—is so
short my back brushes the top bars even when I’m only on and
knees.

I cry into my paw-like hands.

This is all too much. It’s just too damn
much.

Across from me, Miss Priss roots around the
corner of her kennel. I know I shouldn’t look, but I can’t help it.
I’m curious.

She picks up something long and pink in her
mouth, and when she dangles it through the bars of her cage, my
stomach heaves.

It’s a dildo. A massive, flesh-colored
dildo.

Her tongue dances circles around its tip, and
only sheer willpower keeps me from throwing up.

Why is she doing this to me?

Amusement colors her eyes, and the sicker I
feel, the harder she goes at the giant phallus.

I’d hoped for an ally, possibly even a
friend, but this woman, this…animal, isn’t any creature I’d ever
trust. Her lips curl into a Sphinx-like smirk. She wraps her mouth
around the silicone cock. When she tilts back her head, the whole
length of it disappears down her throat.

This time I can’t hold back the bile.

My stomach empties itself in the back of my
kennel, and Miss Priss’s deep-throated chuckles echo through the
room.

She doesn’t stop laughing for a very long
time.

Chapter Seven

It’s morning.

White Coat enters our kennel shortly after
sunrise, and Miss Priss is already moaning for him through her
cage.

God, I hate that woman.

All night I could hear her sucking and
gurgling and thrusting herself upon the sex toy in her cage, and I
know it wasn’t just for her pleasure. She was torturing me. She was
trying to make my night the worst possible hell it could ever be,
and she just about succeeded.

My eyes burn.

I wish I could have slept at least a little
last night, but I was too sick with fear to do anything other than
just curl up into a ball and shiver. Now my muscles ache, and my
stomach still churns. I’m nowhere near strong enough to face the
nightmare to come, and from the look on White Coat’s face, he knows
it, too.

But of course, that doesn’t change
anything.

He takes Miss Priss from her cage first. I
watch him groom, bathe, and primp her for nearly half an hour
before he does the same to me. Not once does he force himself on
either of us. I guess that’s not his place. We belong to Master,
after all, and from what I can tell this man is just our groom.
Heaven forbid he should ever play with the animals he’s paid to
look after.

He pulls out a couple of dishes and feeds us.
I’m too hungry to even question the mound of boiled chicken and
chopped vegetables placed before me, and I eat it all without ever
lifting my face from the bowl.

He strokes my cunt. “Sona.”

I’m already so used to this I don’t even look
up, and I’m just swallowing the last bite of my food when something
sharp bites me in the rear.

I jump.

What in God’s name…

He rubs my back and says a whole string of
words I don’t understand, but I can’t focus on anything except the
syringe in his hand. What did he just give me?

Miss Priss’s ass is already in the air when
he leans forward to administer her shot, and she coos when he’s
done. Dear God, is this what made her into the animal she is now?
I’m shaking hard. A whole list of chemical compounds roll through
my mind, and I’m busy trying to figure out what the most likely
intoxicant would be when the vial slips out of White Coat’s hand
and falls to the floor beside me.

I steal a quick peak at the label.
Medroxyprogesterone. The name sounds so familiar, but I can’t place
it. The drug’s not a hallucinogen or a barbiturate. It sounds
almost hormonal, almost like…

Birth control.

I let out a shaky breath. Of course they’d
have to give us birth control. No self-respecting master would ever
wear a condom, and what good would a sex slave be if she was always
getting pregnant?

I’m trembling hard when White Coat slips the
gag into my mouth. The leash comes next.

I keep expecting for a bathroom break at some
point, but when White Coat opens the front door I curse myself for
ever hoping for something as mundane as a toilet. These men are
monsters, horribly perverted beasts. In their eyes, women are just
animals, and I shouldn’t be shocked to see Miss Priss squat in the
grass as soon as she steps outside.

But I am.

Lord help me, I am.

I try to turn away when she starts to relieve
herself, but White Coat jerks my head back in her direction.

“Voro.” He forces open my eyes and points at
the now-straining blonde. “Voro.”

I have no choice but to watch.

When she’s done, he pats her head and cleans
her bottom with a damp cloth. Miss Priss wiggles her behind, and he
gives her clit a quick stroke before slapping her rump.

Then he turns to me.

“Isa, alore.”

He steps out into the tall grass and tugs at
my leash, but I hold my ground. No. I might be naked and collared,
but I’m still a lady, damnit, and ladies don’t shit in the
yard.

“Isa…”

I still don’t move. Let the bastard get mad,
I don’t care. He’s not the one I need to please anyway. Only Master
matters, and once I win Master’s trust I’ll never—

White Coat pulls the crop off his belt.
“Alore, Isa.”

I shoot forward before I can even think.

White Coat forces my body into a quick squat,
and the sight of the crop is all I need to get going. Oh, God, I
can’t believe I’m doing this. Fear and disgust ripple through me.
I’ve never been more ashamed in all my life, and my eyes turn to
the ground as tears leak down my cheeks.

I’m crying hard by the time White Coat lifts
up my chin.

“Sona, Isa.” He strokes my cheek. “Sona.”

He pets me over and over again. He looks down
at me with accepting, even approving eyes, and for an instant—just
a second, really—everything feels so…natural.

My tears fade.

When I stop thinking, life can be so easy. I
force myself to forget who I am, what I am, and instead, I take the
moment for what it is: just a simple act of life. Sure I could
fight it. I could face pain, degradation, and an unending amount of
agony. But if I embrace it…

White Coat cleans me up when I’m done, and
his fingers stroke my cunt.

“Sona.” His touch sends agonizingly sweet
waves of ecstasy up my loins. “Sona.”

I’m breathing hard when he pulls away from
me.

I don’t fight him anymore after that. This
man might be a lunatic, but at least he’s a fair one. As long as
I’m good, as long as I obey without question, I’m rewarded. If I
don’t…

I try not to think about what will happen if
I don’t. In fact, I try not to think about anything at all. It’s so
much simpler to follow orders, and obedience always did come easily
to me. I want to be good. I need to be good. And I’d be lying if I
said all the sona’s don’t motivate me at least a little.

God, how sick is that?