Pearl on Cherry

by Chanse Lowell

  What if she made things worse by being in here—but she had to know! If something should befall him . . .

  Oh God! Her feet moved faster.

  She searched the parlor, the kitchen, even William’s bedroom and her own, but they were all empty.

  Scriiiiittttttch!

  She jumped in place, pivoted to the left and ran after the noise.

  It had come from the servants’ quarters.

  She rounded the corner into their hallway and cast her eyes about, searching for that sound.

  It wasn’t until she got to Pauline’s room that she gasped.

  On the floor, lined up next to each other were all the servants—even the men—all tied up with William’s ropes he had used on her for fun. And each of them was gagged with cotton cloths in their mouths.

  They all squirmed and with muffled screams, pleaded with her to help them, but William was not here.

  Rather than free them all, she untied Samuel who looked the most upset, and yanked his gag out.

  He pointed and said in a gasp, “In the dark room. That’s where he’s taken her!”

  William took Pauline? Was that who he referred to? It seemed that was who he had to mean, since she wasn’t in here.

  Elizabeth was crying in the corner, her stockings torn at the knees.

  Oh God!

  Samuel began untying the rest of them, muttering something vehemently to himself. Clarissa flung herself out of the room in search of William and Pauline.

  What was happening? Did Pauline lie? Was she the culprit?

  But why did Samuel say that he had taken her?

  This made no sense!

  Her boots were quiet as she ran on tiptoe—making certain to avoid making an obscenely loud clatter with her boot heels.

  She didn’t want to alarm whoever was behind all this. It couldn’t be William. It simply couldn’t.

  Her legs slowed down when she got to the door to the dark room. It was open.

  She crept around the corner, and her stomach about fell out of her—it was compacted and shriveled at what she saw.

  A scene—not unlike the one William’s dad had shared—was before her now.

  Only it wasn’t William doing it.

  It was Rinaldo’s father—the Italian grocer that lobbed rotten fruit at her and her roommates when she’d been residing on Twenty-Fourth Street.

  Pauline’s stockings were torn at the knees and her knickers bunched at her ankles.

  Her torso was on top of the whipping table, with her hands stuck in the holes and tied together underneath so she couldn’t flee.

  She had lash marks across the backs of her thighs, her ass cheeks and lower back, and it was obvious this man had spanked her bottom furiously since the entire rounded cheeks were both scarlet red and angry looking.

  His cock was hard, pushing up against his trousers and he was stroking it through the material. Any moment now she knew he’d take it out, line himself up and get ready to push inside her ass against her will. He was already spreading her cheeks wide apart with his hands, fondling and groping them with a greediness that belied his uncontrollable lusts to hurt her.

  Pauline was gagged like all the others, screaming and sobbing, her eyes wide and filled with sheer terror.

  Rinaldo’s father didn’t see Clarissa—he was too busy playing with his caught prey.

  Clarissa stopped breathing—horrified when she finally saw William.

  He was under the table, tied to the legs on the opposite end, also bound and gagged.

  It wasn’t until she saw him wiggling around, trying to break free that she noticed him.

  He was kind of hidden in the shadows of the table.

  Clarissa grabbed the whip that Rinaldo’s father had obviously tossed on the ground.

  There was blood on it, and Clarissa winced at the thought of how hard he must have been snapping it at Pauline.

  She couldn’t see any blood on her backside, though, so maybe he did this to her front side?

  Clarissa picked it up, unaware of how to handle it. So, she went through her memory of how William looked when he’d used it on her before. Chills ran up and down her spine, and she was nauseated.

  Could she honestly hurt this man—draw blood?

  “That’s it—my little slut. You always loved it when I shoved it up your ass. Just like Sophie did.” Rinaldo’s father bent at the waist for a moment to taunt William under the table. “Oh, yes, that’s right—it was my bastard baby. It was s’pposed to be yours. I had her sleeping wit half your father’s staff for fun, but none of ‘em came inside her ‘cept me. And then you, of course.” He shook his head and buzzed his lips. “But Rinaldo was a mistake, too. Too many whores to keep count of, and only two were ever stupid ‘nough to get pregnant by me. Sophie was da worst, though. I hated she got wit child, since she took it up the ass better than any of da others. She loved it. Loved to be beat by me—couldn’t get enough of it. She’d get so fucking wet, she’d drip down her legs. Mmmm.” He laughed with a dark, sickening, gutted sound. “Well, I made sure ta kill dat baby since she wouldn’t do it. Too bad she didn’t make it. I guess I was too rough wit my knife.” He laughed. “Giuseppe Costa does not accept da word no from little stupid girls like these ones. All brainless street trash—their only redeeming quality is what lies between their legs, and I wi—”

  Whaaaaaap!

  The whip flew through the air, and she hit him. Ripped through his fancy dress trousers in fact. Where had he gotten them? He was not a high-born man with money at his disposal. This thought left her when she spotted the dark red mark on the back of his left thigh.

  She actually did it. She aimed it and harmed him.

  “Ahhhhhh!” Giuseppe howled, grabbed at the spot she hit him, turned and was about to come after her, but she sliced it through the air over and over—hitting him randomly, lashing out as hard and as quick as she could.

  It was like a tiger with its claws out, striking at the person in a panic.

  “You will not rape her! You will not harm her, you fucking beast!” Clarissa spit in his direction, landing it on his bared feet.

  He roared, trying to grab the flying whip in the air, but he couldn’t catch it, and it only sliced through his arms, angering him further.

  Slaaaaaam!

  Out of nowhere, Samuel launched himself at Giuseppe, knocking him down and he was jamming his elbow up under Giuseppe’s chin, choking off his air as he punched him over and over in the gut with his other fist.

  Clarissa scrambled over to William as Samuel and Giuseppe wrestled around on the ground.

  She freed William’s hands first so he could help her get himself free as quickly as possible.

  Her chest heaved as her heart thundered, and her fingers fumbled with the ropes.

  There were footsteps rushing down the hallway toward them.

  Two more servants rushed in, covered with red and raw rope marks all over their arms and obvious scratches and fist marks on their faces where Giuseppe had attacked them.

  “She’s mine! I do wit her as I like! I own dat tramp!” Giuseppe yelled, struggling to get out of Samuel’s grip.

  He clawed at his face, tried to knee him in the groin, but William took over, getting behind Giuseppe and tying his wrists together with the rope that had been around William’s arms.

  “Clary, free Pauline and get her out of here. I don’t want you to see this!” William barked, motioning with his head at Pauline, still weeping on the whipping table.

  She did exactly as he said, her hands even shakier while freeing this poor creature who had been about to be sodomized in a brutal fashion.

  Right before she dragged Pauline out the door, Giuseppe screamed at Clarissa. “You were next, whore! I was clearing out my whores from dat house. They were ratting me out to da police, so I taught dem what it means to keep their mouths shut! You were next—next to take it in da ass and shut your filthy mouth! You are mine, too!”

  Whaaaam! Whaaaam, whaaaam. Craaa
aack!

  Samuel had Giuseppe bound as he stood behind him, and William pummeled Giuseppe until he was screeching and she could hear nothing but bones breaking.

  “Leave, Cherry! Now!” William ordered her as he kept pounding his fits into Giuseppe.

  Samuel was hauling a struggling, jaw-snapping Giuseppe over to the whipping table, and William was taking a moment to roll up his sleeves and grab the whip.

  “You like to hurt people against their will. Well, it’s time you see what that feels like yourself!” William watched Samuel bind Giuseppe to the whipping table, face up.

  And right as he retreated so William could whip Giuseppe senseless, she squeaked, “Please, William! Leave him there. Let’s call for the police. They can handle this and you—”

  “No!” William’s head snapped toward her, his eyes ablaze. “I remember this man now—coming around here, talking to Sophie out in the garden. He was a servant from across the way.” His voice went up in pitch and broke as tears welled in his eyes. “He tortured Sophie—if I give him to the police, he’ll only fill their heads with false stories, and they might release him. He’ll be back. He’ll always come back.”

  Giuseppe started to scream some profanities, and Samuel crammed his mouth full with what looked like a torn piece of fabric from Pauline’s knickers.

  “Please, Cherry—leave. I don’t want you to see this, but I have to do this. He has to know he will answer to me.”

  “But you’ll only make him even more enraged and filled with vengeance, and then he’ll wind up bombing your home.”

  “Then I’ll kill him!” William hollered, leaning toward her, his face turning red.

  There was this odd scratching noise behind William.

  “Gaaaaahhhaaa caaaahaaagh!” A loud coughing rang out and there was a sloshing fluid sound.

  Clarissa flew at William, leaving Pauline cowering up against the doorway. She was worried Giuseppe had somehow harmed William while he was arguing with her, but it was not him.

  She turned and saw blood spurting out of Giuseppe’s right shoulder and Samuel on top of him, stabbing him over and over with a bloodied knife.

  “My sister, Suzie, was not your whore!” Samuel choked on his breath, and then his arm swung back high, and he impaled it in the most grotesque way in his captive’s gut. “She loved your son. Rinaldo loved her, too!”

  Giuseppe managed to hiss out a dying, “He was only allowed to fuck that tart when I made him do it, and I watched. He broke the rules!”

  “Ahhhhh! No! You motherfucking pig!” Samuel pierced Giuseppe in the ribs with the blade.

  A moment later, he was about to plunge it into Giuseppe’s manhood, though the man was already being strangled, being drowned in his own blood, bile and saliva, and writhing as his life drained from him.

  William lurched at Samuel, pulled him off Giuseppe and pushed him up against the wall.

  “No, no, my friend. Stop now. This is not who you are,” William told his deranged servant.

  Samuel crumpled, keened in a ball on the ground, kicking his legs in a tantrum and muttered about how it was his fault Suzie had died. How he should have done more to help her by sending her more money and taking her in even if she refused to be coddled by him.

  Clarissa stood in spot, mouth agape, crying quietly until Pauline came up behind her, crashing her body weight into her back.

  She maneuvered about and took her in her arms. They held and consoled each other as best they could.

  Giuseppe spluttered and gagged on his final breaths and then he went motionless, lying in a heap.

  It was William who handled everything with a steely self-control she found astounding.

  He helped Samuel out of the room, along with Pauline and Clarissa.

  He locked the door to the dark room, called the police and attended to the wounds on the rest of the staff, leaving Giuseppe alone—bound, dead and his body still bleeding all over the place in the dark room.

  Everyone was pacified by William’s calm, kind exterior.

  He knew just what to say to each of them, and it was obvious he knew each of them very well and their character. This man cared for these people, and Clarissa’s heart went out to him.

  He saved Pauline, and in so doing, he absolutely saved Clarissa. For now she knew this man was the absolute owner of her—mind, body and soul.

  She walked over to his whip he’d set aside at one point. Her fingers yanked and pulled at one of the loose black leather strands, and she broke it free.

  When he was finally sitting down and closing his eyes, she wandered over to him.

  All the servants were in their quarters, the police on their way—now he needed to be taken care of. And she wanted to be the one to do it.

  She stopped directly in front of him, tied the leather strand around her neck, collaring herself.

  “Sir, this girl is here for you—to nurture and love you with her whole heart. She is yours.” She dropped down at his feet, kissed his boots, avoiding the blood and anything else foul, wiped them off with her skirts for him and then went down into a full kowtow. “Please—use me for your pleasure. This girl loves her master with every part of her, and cannot live another moment knowing he’s sad and beaten down. Please—” She lifted her head a little to look in his eyes.

  His jaw twitched, tears spilled down his cheeks and he grabbed at her, hauling her up into his lap.

  “My lovely one—you are the love of my life, and I will endeavor to always keep you safe from people like that man! You were . . . When you left Leo’s you were living next door to that monster!” He bit back a scream of anguish, buried his nose in her hair, then kissed her all over—washing her with his tears, his kisses and every sweet word known to man.

  This man had put an end to the terror known as Giuseppe—the man who had hurt and defiled so many.

  Chapter 20

  Clarissa sighed, wrapped up tight in William’s arms.

  He stared at his hands with minor abrasions on them, but they were clean. He’d managed to wash all the blood off them.

  He had not let her go since she’d fallen at his feet in undeserved worship, other than to briefly clean up so he could take her in his arms.

  His mental tirade at himself had not ceased—not even when the police arrived and took down all their confessions.

  Samuel was taken away in their custody, and Giuseppe’s corpse was removed as well.

  Nothing was the same.

  Nothing.

  Giuseppe had polluted Sophie’s mind, and she had tutored William to be the perverted man he was today.

  And now he had done the same to his sweet cherry girl.

  Only, he couldn’t deny he longed to do more. To restrain her and be even more wicked with her.

  But no—he would not be in her asshole again. He would rest his whip and spankings would stop at once.

  “Come,” he said, tugging her with him to his bedroom, cringing as they passed by the locked dark room, still bloodied and marred by what had transpired when Giuseppe claimed it for his own reasons.

  “Yes, sir,” was all Clarissa replied, remaining docile and ready to do his feverish bidding.

  Something unraveled inside him.

  He stripped her of her soiled clothing with calm, unhurried hands, though inside he was screaming and banging at a cage.

  “Be silent, be still and all will be well. I only need to feel you right now,” he told her, pressing her down to the bed, spreading her out.

  She nodded and kept her eyes on him.

  Even though he was scolding himself inside for doing this, he just needed it. Just one more time.

  He bound her ankles, hating himself for doing this to her.

  She’d witnessed Pauline strapped down not more than two hours ago, about to be . . .

  He shook his head. This isn’t the same! I will not harm her. I will only bring her pleasure, and I will refrain from even being inside her!

  He growled low—right in the pit of
his belly, then smoothed his hands over her ties.

  She sighed, and her eyes were heavy with desire. Why did she sound relieved to be put in this position? She should be screaming at him with obscenities, telling him he was disgusting. My God, he’d wanted to rip Giuseppe to bits and murder that bastard. She had stopped him, and Samuel took that pleasure away from him.

  He could not deny he still wished he had been the one to end that man.

  With a thick swallow, that feeling traveled down his core and now all he knew was her pink luscious puss before him.

  He could do something good today. Something of value.

  His father’s words filled his head, and he wanted to beat them out of his skull.

  I can see straight through you to observe the blackness in your heart.

  His eyes rolled up in his head, and he ground his teeth together, but he kept stroking her legs, hoping to find some peace by touching her.

  “This will be very intense, but I assure you, no harm will come to you. Do you trust me?” he asked, voice tight and cracking a little.

  She nodded, and her face was a bright beam of adoration.

  Once more. He must do this one thing and then he could be an ordinary fellow—one that did not wish for carnal base pursuits of the flesh.

  He caressed his fingers up her thighs, nipped his lips along the way and inhaled deeply at her cunny. His head buzzed from her aroma. She was so lovely and fair, and his body ached to have her—smother her lavender aromatic smell in his own male essence.

  But he would stay the course and do what he must for satisfaction.

  “Cherry, breathe deep when I tell you to. ‘Twill help,” he said, rubbing his fingers at her slit, engorging her folds.

  She had to be open and swollen, inviting him in.

  He leaned over, sucked at her clit and nibbled on it until she was jutting her hips at him and thrusting toward his mouth for more.

  “Higher. Reach higher, lovely one. I want you to grasp at my fingers.” He slipped his index and middle finger inside, but only at the very opening. There was a way to ease her into this, and he could find a way to make it pleasurable for her. He had to.

  He needed this—needed her to want it so that he could be well again—sane.