Pearl on Cherry

by Chanse Lowell

  “Without the aid of my vision, I have no way to perceive if you mean for me to fend for myself or not,” she said, her tone sharp.

  He stroked her thighs and pinched them multiple times, causing her to rocket out of his hold. His head was humming off her heightened reactions. “Sit tight, dear woman. You are about to learn I will never leave you to flounder. Even when we are in public, and you might think I thrust you into an unsavory light, ‘tis not so. I always have your best interests at heart. You have no idea how vicious some of these people can be. I deal with various mercenaries in all aspects of my life, so trust that though I might not be at liberty to explain to you in a moment’s notice why I take certain actions, later I shall thoroughly explain it all, and you shall always come out triumphant.”

  She sighed. “Fine lesson this is—I can barely breathe. I am so disoriented and trying to stay merely attuned to your breath to make sure you are constantly with me.”

  “That’s is exactly what I want from you. I want you anticipating my every pulsing breath, every eyelash flutter and every desire to have you fill every empty, aching corner of my life.”

  He kissed her hand, and she melted into him.

  He kissed her shoulder, and she sighed, but when he brushed a few stray hairs off her neck and nibbled there, she gasped with a labored moan.

  “This is going to be a very fun lesson to enact,” he said, chuckling.

  She wobbled as they passed over the threshold to where he was taking her.

  It was time she learned what she meant to him and what she had put him through.

  * * *

  Clarissa sighed with the blindfold still on.

  She’d been standing for what amounted to forever and a week.

  William was chatting with a few men, conducting business, and she was still uncertain where they were.

  Her ears were very alert, though she didn’t seem to pick up anything they were saying. Her sense of touch was ultra-sensitive, so each time something brushed against her skin, it was akin to bursting into a mini inferno.

  She fanned herself several times, and her head ached a little because of the concentration it required.

  Her feet were unsure each time she walked, so she found herself leaning on him a little. Each time she put more weight into him, his breathing would deepen, and consequently—her heart would race.

  The cad was enjoying this. He did this on purpose.

  He stopped talking to whoever was with him and had her walking somewhere again with his arm around her shoulders.

  Her feet were unsteady as he led her up some steps.

  “Will! Enough. I have learned the lesson you meant to teach,” she said, out of breath as they walked up a few more steps.

  Where was he taking her?

  “Not nearly enough, my lovely one.” He helped her up a few more, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

  The closer she could get, the easier it was to manage her way.

  If she could crush herself to him without worry of who might observe it—she would have.

  A few times her throat constricted with thick, worrisome emotions rising like a tide through her body. She felt foolish, half strangled and so small.

  She sniffed. “Please . . .” She whimpered quietly. “Can this end?”

  “I know it’s unpleasant, sweetheart, but you’ll be so glad you did this.” He shuffled her over to wherever it was he wanted her and then his hands set on her shoulders. “Sing.”

  “I dare not.” She shook her head.

  “Even if we are in a grand hall where there is no one but me to enjoy your haunting tones?” He kissed her cheeks and rubbed it away with what felt like the pad of his thumb. His fingers brushed her hair out of her face. Had she kept on trying to look down at her feet, mussing up her hair in the process?

  “Are we in a grand hall?”

  “I only know you are to sing for me right this instant. If you do, then I’ll make it worth it for you.” His fingers continued to stroke her cheeks.

  “What shall I sing?”

  “Something that touches you, but in this instance, keep it a little more innocent and less tawdry, hmm? Right, then . . . I have work to do. You enjoy your music. Think of it as time to practice and hone your skill.” He stepped back.

  She lurched at him, her arms swinging around, trying to grab him back. “William—no! I need you!” She sucked in a tight breath and dropped her head. She sounded more than desperate—she sounded crazed. Were others around, seeing her act like a petulant child with this ludicrous blindfold on?

  Maybe if she did this thing for him, he’d end this torment.

  She took a deep breath, dropped her shoulders and began her vocal warm ups.

  “Very nice. A little louder, though,” William called out.

  Was he farther away? That tide from earlier was now a roughshod wind, running rampant through her body. Her voice shook, but not from natural vibrato. She was petrified, and the silliest part was she was unsure why this was so terrifying.

  “Oh, yes, my dear. You make me proud as always. A little louder. Drop your lower jaw—let your throat do what it must. No holding back now. I want to hear you as I move even farther from you.” William sounded so terribly far away.

  She clutched the sides of her skirts, praying she would not lose her balance and fall down or hurt someone’s head with her blasting voice.

  But she did as he asked, explored her range, pushing herself a little further, and hoping this would please him and fulfill the lesson he was exacting upon her.

  “A song now, love. I want real music. I’ve given you ample time now to get started. Show me why you breathe life into my soul,” he said, his voice booming, though he was definitely even further out of reach.

  Why? Why must he put her through this?

  Her mind whirred, but out of nowhere—lyrics came to her.

  She smoothed her sweating palms down the sides of her dress and thanked God she was without a corset since she intended to deafen this man for this frustrating education he deemed necessary to impart on her.

  “In the light of the lake, lies a woman with a sword—her weapon is not of elements, but of the fire of her tongue. She cannot be sought, she cannot be found. She is there when called upon by a wary heart, but what of her own, oh doth she have one? Face the woman made of dreams and dust. Face the way she takes who you are and gives you your lust. Passion for life, she gives it away. But there is nothing to do but take away. She gives it freely on a whim, nay, not so. She lives in the water, for that’s where passion swells. Build a place of peace in your walls, bury her gift in your heart. For it will only be loosed when she gives you leave and imparts—this one gentle saying, but be it so true. Love is what you make when you fail to fade, not to hide. It is what you will when you refuse to be blind.” The melody crescendoed, and her heart lifted with the notes. She was featherlight and free. He taught her a lesson, now she would sing him his. Was he positive he wanted to be with her? Was he certain she was worth seeking and revealing himself to her? Perhaps not. Perhaps that was why he resisted opening himself fully? She swallowed as the emotions enveloped her and came out through the song further. “Hide and she will seek. Run and she will find. Dignity is worthless when love is ever blind. Passion swells like fire, rains like blood. Hiding is forbidden when there is love. Hiding is forbidden when there is love. Passion like fire, rain like the blood—hiding is forbidden—so let the lady in.”

  The chorus was repeated again after she sang more fervently about how his hiding hurt her when she wanted to know all of him. She spoke of being pierced, clawing for more. Then she was back to the chorus again, and she let it die on the breath of a wind.

  She clasped her fingers together in front of her lower belly, rested them there and waited.

  Clat, clat, clat, clat.

  Was someone clapping? Her head darted to the right. She considered removing the material over her eyes, but she was determined to prove to William she was trustwort
hy. Then maybe he’d be more willing to share.

  “You’re right, Ferrismore. She’s refreshing and exquisite beyond belief,” a man’s voice said from the direction she was facing.

  She didn’t recognize his voice.

  Something brushed against her hair, and she jumped. “Ehhh,” she squeaked, stepping slightly to the left to get away from it.

  “Stay still, darling. Let him examine you,” William’s voice said, and she wondered how she’d failed to smell his comforting familiar scent.

  Once it hit her though, a soothing moment of peace overtook her.

  William was there. He had not abandoned her.

  He would keep her safe.

  Was this how he truly felt when she’d told him she’d gone looking for the man that was upsetting Pauline?

  Bereft—torn to pieces and a little trampled on when in desperate need of his partner?

  Tears squeezed their way into the corners of her eyes, but she held her head high. They wouldn’t see the water threatening to stream down her cheeks. It was hidden by the blindfold.

  Maybe they’d see her labored breathing and her fingers flexing a little, but that was the extent of it.

  “Truly, worthy of this stage. How did you find such a treasure as this?” the man asked William.

  She shook off warring feelings over being spoken about if she was not here and appraised as if she was a horse being considered for sale.

  “She was languishing away in the back of the stage—helping the likes of Lenora Cheri. Can you believe it? This raw talent—untapped and hidden away. She creates most of her own lyrics. A lot of them are done in the spur of the moment. Her gifts are astonishing. I cannot seem to get enough of it or her.” William’s voice traveled closer, but it was circling around, behind her.

  “Brilliant—simply brilliant,” the other man agreed.

  He was moving now, as well. In front of her, though. Pacing?

  Why? Was she that mysterious of a creature he had to pinpoint what she was made of?

  “Clyde—you will spare a good word for her then? She’s an actress and dancer as well. I’ve seen her do all of these—and she’s simply breathtaking.” William’s words positively glowed with tender affection.

  Her puss actually clenched for a moment. Even under this duress, he still had a potent effect on her womanhood.

  Her eyes rolled back in her head as she considered all the ways he might ravage her later, and for some inexplicable reason, she hoped the blindfold was involved.

  “I daresay I will. She’s an asset we cannot deny,” this Clyde person replied.

  She shifted toward William. What was the meaning of all this?

  “She’s your prodigy then? You’ve trained her?” the man asked, his voice hesitant.

  William chuckled. “Good heavens, no. She’s had far superior teachers above me. I couldn’t have produced such a result. I only encourage it and have taken it upon myself to be her manager so I can protect her from the filth you know so readily squeezes through these hall doors.”

  “Too true, my friend.” Clyde sighed. “Yes, fine. Good. Good. Take a seat. We have less than an hour before rehearsal begins. I hope you rather enjoy it, Miss Stone. It was a pleasure hearing your candid audition. I was quite breathless through the majority of it. Brilliance like yours is a rare gift. Take care not to squander it.” His footsteps got louder as he approached her. She tried to look down and see past the blindfold, but it was useless. “William. Might I shake hands with her to welcome her to the fold?”

  “You may.” William grabbed her behind her right elbow, helped her to lift her hand.

  She was clumsy, but somehow she grasped onto this Clyde fellow’s hand and shook.

  “Thank you. Enjoy your day,” Clyde said.

  “You’re welcome, sir, and I’m pleased to meet you, even if it was under odd circumstances. May I inquire into your last name so I know to whom I’m grateful?”

  “Clyde Fitch—and William here tells me you’re a student of truth, so my play you’ll be listening to—or watching if you both agree to your returned sight—is called precisely that. The Truth.” There was a clicking noise, followed by the unmistakable sound of Clyde walking offstage.

  Chapter 18

  Clarissa was a vision—humble, obedient, dependent on him and absolutely radiant with her submissiveness on full display.

  He kept her blindfolded throughout the entire play, testing her as he slipped his hands under her skirt and fingered her delicate folds in such a way no one else would see.

  There were few people seated about in the audience since this was merely a rehearsal.

  This was the ultimate test of faith, and she was surpassing his expectations in every way possible.

  She rested her head on his shoulder now as he drove her to a restaurant for some lunch.

  “How did I ever live without you?” she whispered, holding on to his arm.

  “The same way I did without you—barely at all. I existed, but it wasn’t anything to boast about. It was not a life I would wish on anyone. Though in some ways maybe you fared better emotionally, while I was more blessed in the monetary department—but we both suffered.” He set his cheek on top of her forehead for a moment.

  Her innocence drove him wild with passion. It was more than he could withstand at times.

  “Did you hear what Clyde told me after the rehearsal?” he asked.

  Her lips parted. A soft breath left her, but she failed to answer.

  “Tell me, or I may consider keeping this blindfold on you tomorrow as well.”

  She gasped. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, so I suppose the answer is yes—I heard bits, but not all.”

  “What did you hear me tell him about you?” He lifted his head and sat a little taller.

  “I heard you talk more about Tyrone Power than you did about me. You truly despise that man, don’t you?”

  “Yes—even more so now that he covets you. He can’t have you.”

  “Well, that’s a relief, since I was leaning toward finding a chastity belt and wearing it anytime he’s near—the dastardly villain will not take no for an answer.” She snorted. “Will you hear yourself, sir? He hasn’t really done anything, other than be a pompous, undignified ass, but there are moments we all act the spoiled brat, so it’s forgivable.”

  “Let’s go back to that chastity belt around him. Hmm… I rather like this idea for you whenever you are away from me. I may have to devise one of my own making.” He laughed.

  She swatted his arm blindly and chuckled too. “You will do no such thing, or I’ll make sure not even you can break the lock.”

  “You would never injure me that way. You love me too much.”

  “It’s a truly deplorable state I’m in over you. But it cannot be helped. What you did for me today—thank you.” Her breath hitched. “My God—I had no idea what you did to make that happen, but I cannot tell you what it means to me. If this is what being chained to you means, then yes, please add an extra set of chains. I will gladly take them.”

  “Fuck—I must have you now.” He pulled the car over, his heart stuffed in his throat and his dick crammed tightly in his trousers as it throbbed and swelled uncontrollably.

  His hands were frantic and shaking while his breathing went raspy and erratic.

  “Do not be scared. Lie still, and I’ll do my best not to hurt you,” he said, pushing her flat on to the padded bench of the motorcar. “In fact—keep your hands tucked under you.” He took her hands in his.

  “But, why?”

  “I am barely in control right now. If I truly hurt you and scare you beyond what you can handle, say ‘Pearl.’ Then I’ll remove myself from your presence until I can gain back some semblance of control.” He growled and shoved her hands under her. His hands rammed themselves up inside her skirts and then he was tearing at her breasts, pulling them up and over the constricting fabric.

  “No one will see. They will think I am ill—lying down i
n my motorcar. Just keep quiet,” he told her. He sucked a nipple in and bit it.

  Her back bowed off the seat, and her right boot hit the inner door.

  He growled even louder and bit harder, twisting the bud with his tongue a little.

  His fingers plunged inside her pussy, and she was sopping in no time at all. He pinched her clit and even pushed himself off to the side of her and smacked her wet folds a few times with the flat of his fingers.

  She whimpered and moaned. He licked his fingers, then pushed three of them inside her.

  “I must see you unravel. Do it for me, Cherry girl. Show me you accept this—accept me. Take me inside your body directly after, and this time, I may not be able to stop myself from spilling inside you.” He bit at the top of her breast, then sucked.

  He bit again, then sucked.

  Over and over . . .

  Bite. Suck.

  Blood. He wanted it.

  Right at the surface of her pale, thin skin.

  He didn’t want to break it, just bring it about so he could see it—feel her vitality pulsing right under his tongue.

  This was better than breaking bone.

  This was being offered as she arched her neck back.

  Her moans grew more incessant and louder as he brought her to the edge of ecstasy.

  “Cave in for me—then coat my fingers with your essence. It’s you I long to taste and savor on my tongue.” He edged his teeth along her left nipple, then slid them up to the tip. He nibbled, and his fingers moved faster, rocking up toward that spongy, knot inside her upper wall.

  His fingers swam in her wetness, and she gasped, “Oh God, William—I am . . . I want more!”

  He yanked his fingers out of her, set one of her legs up on the steering column, and the other over his shoulder, and he ripped his cock free, then plunged ahead recklessly inside her.

  He could barely hear her own pleas and groans of pleasure as he bit her neck, dug his hands into her waist and rammed himself inside her with no thought at all about how this might be too vicious.

  He could not stop. And he thought she was telling him to keep going with the way she kept meeting his thrusts, and the way her insides pulled at him—sucking him back in like she would die if he disappeared from her body.