Free Pearl (The Pearl Series) by Arianne Richmonde Page B

insatiable feast. “I’m coming baby, I’m coming hard,” I groaned into her mouth, lashing my tongue all over her, thrusting into her with abandon at last, as my orgasm ripped right through me.
    She lay there panting. Satiated. Fulfilled, with me still inside her. “I came with penetrative sex,” she meowed, releasing her claws from my ass. She was shocked. Amazed. She couldn’t believe what had just happened.
    Was I shocked?
    Not a bit. I knew what I was doing.
    I started young, remember? I’d made more women come by the time I was twenty-five than most men could even fantasize about doing over an entire lifetime, even if only in their wet dreams.

9
    B y the time I hit my fourteenth birthday, I was already physically mature. My balls had dropped and my voice had broken to a deep baritone. I was getting tall, muscular; my Alsation roots from my mother’s side of the family began to really show. Compared to other guys my age, I was pretty developed. I was masturbating constantly. All I could think of were pussies, asses and tits. But I was shy and had no intention of doing anything about my obsession.
    One of Sophie’s co-workers took a shine to me. She took me under her wing.
    Her name was Hélène.
    Sophie had been in the game since we left home when she was seventeen. But she was picky. She started out as just as an escort, refusing for a full two years to have penetrative sex. Wouldn’t even blow the guys. No, she was educated, she maintained—she had more to offer. She could hold an intelligent conversation and she looked like a top model. She was ambitious, too. It wasn’t long before she was the darling of several politicians and men in extremely high places. Sex was not her thing. She hooked them in a different way.
    She was a Dominatrix.
    They’d get off on being whipped and scolded. She’d set the scene, sometimes playing mommy, nanny or a wicked stepmother, sending them to bed with no supper or dripping hot wax onto their chests. They loved it. Some wanted golden showers. One, she even dressed up in giant diapers and spanked when he cried. It was all pretty sick but she was making a fortune. The more insane it got, the richer she became. There was one, though, who became obsessed with her. Set us up in a luxurious apartment in the Champs-Elysées, and wouldn’t share Sophie with anyone. He paid handsomely for exclusivity. She became his official mistress. We were still both going under false names. She had read The Three Musketeers and liked the name of the author. So she chose Dumas. I was fascinated with chivalry and jousting knights so I chose Chevalier—Knight when translated into English.
    We were the Two Musketeers, fighting to survive.
    She then got bored of having to cow-tow to the politician, but before she left him, she managed to extract enough money from his coffers to set herself up in business. She became a Madame. He was furious, but her Little Black Book with all the names and phone numbers of some of the most powerful men in Europe spelled Doom for anyone foolish enough to mess with her. She was above the law because, guess what? She had them in her pocket: politicians, government aids, heads of police, big business men married with children, with too much at stake to lose face. Sophie was practically running Paris, not to mention her British and German contacts. She had it all sewn up very nicely.
    What I later told Pearl about our stepfather helping us set up HookedUp with his piddly 15,000 euros? Bullshit. It was Sophie who funded HookedUp. She needed to launder money, needed to put all that cash somewhere legitimate. That’s where I came in.
    But back to my fourteenth birthday, several years before…
    Hélène knew that I was obsessed with her. She wore black stockings, held up with garters, and a gray schoolgirl uniform. She also had a lot of powerful clients and they loved that dirty-sweet look. She was thirty but looked a lot younger. Slim, but with a curvy ass. I could