Free His Black Pearl by Jena Cryer Page B

hand
wouldn’t break me, so surely a hard one will. I can already imagine
the beatings to come, the rapes, the torture. Oh, God, he’s going
to turn me into Miss Priss, and there’s nothing I can do. He’s
going to break me down and…and…
    A warm breath tickles my ear. I didn’t even
know I’d closed my eyes until I open them now and see Master
leaning over me. His cheek brushes mine. His teeth nibble my ear.
He rubs my neck, my shoulders, all the while shushing me,
comforting me, and when his mouth drifts down to my breasts, I
can’t even remember why I was so scared.
    My breaths quicken.
    His hands move from my breasts to my hips and
then all the way down to my thighs. He parts my legs. He strokes my
clit, and I moan for him without even thinking. He reaches into his
pocket, and when he pulls out something long and pink and slim, a
little part of me is almost as excited about this new toy as Samson
was about his peppermint.
    It’s the vibrator, the same one he used on me
when I’d pleasured Miss Priss. Just thinking about the feel of that
tiny device has my pussy wet and my heart racing. I keep waiting
for him to stick it in—I want him to stick it in—but he doesn’t. He
just holds it up to me and raises an eyebrow.
    Is he…is he giving me a choice?
    I freeze. How can he be giving me an option?
I’m his. If I need any reminder of his power over me, all I have to
do is feel my collar or chain or even my pearl.
    My pearl…
    Its weight presses against my neck every day,
but it’s become so much a part of me that I hardly even notice it
anymore. I reach up to touch it, but my gloved hand can barely even
feel its shape through the padding of my palms.
    What should I do?
    He’s waiting. He doesn’t try to rush me. I
can tell he knows I’m weighing all my options, but I’ve never been
a fast thinker. Back in school, all I ever did was memorize facts
and repeat whatever mathematical tricks I’d learned from my
teachers. I never thought for myself. I just did what I was told
when I was told, and never once did I question the status quo.
    I close my eyes.
    Dear God, is that what I’m doing now? Does
all of this seem so easy because it’s what I’ve been trained to do
my whole life?
    I suck in a quick breath.
    This is all so sick. I’m a good girl. I never
wanted to be bad, but now this monster has found me and exploited
the very aspect of my nature that my own parents and teachers once
praised. I shouldn’t want him to touch me, much less stick that
vibrating phallus up my cunt, but I do.
    I really do.
    I lick my lips. If I was smart, I’d close my
legs right now and damn his disappointment. This has all gone too
far. It’s one thing to play along as a means of gaining his trust,
but to actually want to be violated, to beg him to stick that sick,
perverted object up my cunt is just…just…
    Exactly what I’m about to do.
    My eyes are still closed when I open up my
legs. I lift up my hips. I thrust my pelvis into the air, and when
I feel that sleek, silicone toy slip inside me, my lips form a tiny
“O” of delight.
    Oh, dear Lord in heaven, please don’t hate me
for this.
    Just feeling the pressure, the weight of it
inside me is enough to make me sigh, but when Master flicks the
switch and that little toy comes to life inside me, a part of
myself I’d always denied screams into being as well.
    Oh, God, yes!
    I buck. I pant. I writhe against my master’s
muscular arms and oh-so-hard chest. I feel the swell of his cock
against my back, but not once does he thrust himself inside me. No,
instead he explores my body with his hands, his mouth, his eyes. I
open myself up to him. I let myself belong to him. Once more, I
push aside all my doubts and just embrace the moment.
    And what a moment it is.
    His hands knead my ass, my breasts. His lips
trace a trail from the hollow of my neck to the curve of my hip.
His teeth nibble my ear. His tongue taunts my nipples.
    I moan and gasp through all he does to