Pearl on Cherry

by Chanse Lowell

  “Feel me inside you now—deeper, always deeper, exploring the heart of who you are.” His fingers pushed higher, and he found her spongy knot inside, then stroked it until it was squishy and filled with fluid.

  She moaned, “William—please, love . . . Please . . . Give me release.”

  “Shhh . . . I will, my beautiful girl. You’re so good to me. So very good, and I want you to have what is the ultimate in ecstasy. Just this once, keep quiet and still.” He braced one hand on her thigh to hold her down a little better while he edged another finger inside. Three. He’d done this before, but he worried it would sting a little with the stretch.

  She seemed pleased by it because her moans were louder, shakier and she was fisting the counterpane and still thrusting into his hand, fucking his fingers.

  “That’s it. That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want to disappear like you hide on stage? You want to be someone else? Well, this time you playact that you are me. That you are a dirty, twisted man, craving depravity. Take that charge upon you, and come undone when I tell you.” He kissed her clit, blew across it and sucked it in his mouth as he pushed a fourth finger inside her.

  “Christ!” She bucked and mewled, tossing her head from side to side.

  “Say ‘Pearl’ if it is too much. If I need to stop, I will—for you. Anything for you, even if it is difficult for me. I will do anything for you, darling. I love you.” He circled his tongue around the hood of her clitoris, tickling it with the tip of his tongue, poking up into the hood to get at the pink tiny sensitive organ that lay beneath it.

  She released a shuddering groan and bit out a hoarse, “Fuck.” She shook for a second.

  Not yet. Almost there.

  “All right—dearest—big breath—this will be a lot to take in,” he said, then his thumb was inside her and his fingers all squished together in a tapered fashion and his entire hand was inside her.

  She made this feral grunting sound, and when he cupped his fingers up, swept across that swollen spot inside her on her upper wall, she gushed until his whole wrist was glistening in her fluids.

  “That’s what I love about you,” he lilted, “the way you give in without reserve. It’s more than Heavenly to watch you. It’s the reason I keep from dying inside every moment of every day—I know you’ll be here and allow me this pleasure of watching you.” He did it again—fluttered his fingers all together, swiping it over that heady spot inside her.

  “Oh God . . . I cannot, I cannot, I . . . Will—you have no idea!” She licked her lips, sucked them in and whimpered as her eyes shut. Her head tipped back, and the tendons in her neck stood out.

  “This fist that wanted to break my father’s bones and snap his neck back, is now an instrument of love. I fist you for love. I make you shower me with your ripe come. I would have used my knuckles to bash into Giuseppe’s body, but instead you show me I can use them for better things.” He twisted his hand around slowly inside her so his knuckles kneaded into that delicious area that kept almost spraying him with her lubrication each time he pressed into it or coaxed it to give up its treasured moistness. “Breathe, sweetheart. I intend to fuck you with my fist now. I want you to climax on my hand when you can no longer hold back. You have my permission now to be you, rather than playact and pretend to be me. I want you for who you are. No more hiding for either of us. I’ve found you. I’ve caught you, now be mine entirely.” His hand moved inside her, and as he pulled away, putting pressure on her entrance, she opened her throat and cried out in a euphoric, throaty plea.

  “Don’t stop, Will. Keep it . . . Oh God, I’ve never felt this before . . . It’s . . . Oh, b-but it burns a little, but it’s . . . I am not enough to absorb it all.” She reached for him with her eyes closed, and instead of finding his shoulders to hold onto, she grabbed his head and slammed his mouth down on her clit.

  He slurped it back into his mouth, fucked her with his fist—smaller movements so she could adjust, but when she moved his head, commanding him to move faster, harder as she directed him, he did the same with his hand inside her.

  A moment later, clear fluids were flying out of her puss, coating his chin.

  He lowered his mouth, took it inside him and kept thrusting his fist inside her.

  “Oh dearest God!” She screamed with a moan that was louder than any note she’d ever sung before, and she flew apart.

  He lapped at her sopping pussy, slowly removed his hand from inside her, and when the widest part of his knuckles were crowned by her cunny, her hips launched off the bed.

  It was only her tied down ankles that kept her from falling off the mattress and harming herself.

  Her body continued to convulse as he licked her folds.

  “Please—no more. Too much. Pearl, pearl, pearl!” She tried to shove his head off her and did her best to close her legs off, though it was a useless endeavor since she was still restrained.

  He sat up.

  She stared at him with glazed eyes. “My God, I love you, and you better do that to me again later tonight.”

  His chest pounded as his heart soared toward the ceiling. He burst with giddiness as he threw himself at her, grinning like a fool.

  All his self-deprecating thoughts and self-flagellation were for naught. She wanted these types of moments as much as he did. By God, she was a miracle sent straight from Heaven.

  “I love you, darling girl. So much.” His lips sought hers, and his tongue was nothing but soft pressure until she opened to him.

  He brushed her hair out of her face that was now loose from its bun, and he stroked her cheeks with the backs of his aching fingers.

  She seemed oblivious to the fact his right hand was still damp from being inside her.

  He licked them a moment later when she lay lax, sighing and whispering about how he had undone her completely.

  “You are my master now,” she said when they both had settled. “The master of my body. You know me better than I know myself, and know parts of me I never knew even existed.” She sighed and giggled, sounding tipsy.

  He was uncertain of what to say to that, so he only drifted his fingers up and down her belly. She let him do this for several moments as he let this calm settle over him and seep into his bones.

  When he’d had enough, he lay down beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist.

  “Speak to me—tell me how I can help you. You’ve waded through Hell’s mire today with your father and with Giuseppe. There must be something weighing you down inside. Help me to find the rope to that anchor, and I shall cut you adrift,” she said softly, snuggling into his hold.

  “You already did, love. You already did . . .”

  He stretched and then wrapped her up tighter.

  “Sleep then? Can you do it?” She pressed her cheek to him tighter.

  “I will try. Sleep with me, and we dream together, all right?”

  “Yes, Master. Anything for you.”

  He kissed her crown and let a lone tear drop into her hair. That was the last one for today. No more water in his eyes. She was safe, and they would be free now.

  Both of them.

  * * *

  Water. Everywhere!

  Oppressive and heavy—on his chest, in his eyes and ears.

  “Gaaaaaammmmf!” he choked out with water invading his mouth when he tried to call out for help.

  Hands bigger than his own were around his neck.

  He kicked and fought, digging his claws into their wrists to break the hold, but they only pushed William deeper into the water, ensuring his demise.

  Oh God. He would surely die now.

  He blinked hard, trying to focus. It was his duty to at least know who ended his life.

  At first, it appeared to be the dark, mountainous Giuseppe, but then it morphed into something more sinister.

  His father. He was smiling—and talking to somebody else above the surface, standing a little behind him.

  And they were laughing, having a grand old conversation.


  A small figure emerged, and a petite hand reached into the water, smacking his father’s hands away.

  It was definitely a feminine hand that took charge, dragging him by the collar up and out of the water.

  “William, stop playing these games. I said no more hiding.” She shook her head a little, clearly amused.

  Then her eyes turned red, and hail and fire shot out of her mouth as she changed into something entirely malevolent. She was on top of his father, sitting on his chest, choking the life out of him now. His mouth was being doused with water while she was holding him just under enough so his mouth and nostrils were flooded, but kept so his eyes were above the waterline, watching her.

  “You deserve this, you nasty couillon. I want to watch you die and know I did this to you,” she said through her teeth, her eyes vicious slits of fury.

  Somehow his father’s hands were bound behind him. When had she done that?

  “Whip him, William. Whip him soundly. Gouge his eyes out with your whip so he can never look on you again. Show him how much we both detest him and all that he is,” she told him.

  He stumbled backward, falling on his backside. “This is not you, Cherry girl. You are not yourself!”

  She flung her bloodied-looking eyes at him and her teeth were revealed as fangs. “I said blind him!” she hissed like a snake.

  William shook his head, still scrambling to get away from her.

  “Then I shall do what you never can!” She turned back to his father, sunk her teeth into his face, and that’s when William screamed so loud, his throat felt like it had been flayed open with a sword that had been resting in a fire.

  “William! Wake up, sweet man!” Clarissa jostled him, her voice tight and filled with dread. “You’re having another one!”

  “Clary?” His eyelids fluttered, but his vision was blurry. “Where are you? I cannot see you!” His arms flopped out, reaching, but his limbs were drained of power and heavy. His legs were worse. They failed to move at all.

  “Right here. You were thrashing, and you almost hit me. I had to tie your legs down,” she said, pointing at his ankles. “I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t wake, and I wanted to prevent you from harming yourself.”

  “Come here, please. Let me hold you,” he said under his breath, drained of all life.

  She undid his legs first, freeing them and then she was tucked up into his chest.

  “Nightmares are so . . . I am sorry I woke you again,” he said, patting her hair.

  “It has been four weeks since that mess at your estate. We have moved elsewhere at your behest, but still, you are unwell. We need to see a doctor,” she began.

  He groaned. “No. We have spoken of this many times. Doctors cannot help with this. These dreams will fade.”

  “And so will you. I see it. Every day you grow more sullen and withdrawn. I can barely draw you out at all. What can be done to salvage your spirit?” She ran her fingers through his sparse tufts of chest hair.

  He kissed her forehead. “Nothing is to be done. I am alive, I am with you—that is all I need to survive.”

  “Good Lord—I want more than mere survival for you. For isn’t that what we both said we did before we came together? I want you thriving like you used to,” she said, her voice strong and her tone emphatic.

  He didn’t know what to say, so he sat there, mute.

  She pushed up to sitting. “Today I go to rehearsals alone. You are to go speak to your father, since I know he’s the one driving these ghoulish dreams. Tell him you will buy the rest of the rail station so you do not have to see him again.”

  “He already takes me to court for it. Miller’s backing him. They say I provoked him, and if I do not give the bulk of my shares to my father, he will not rest until he sues me into a penniless state,” he confessed.

  She went motionless and failed to even blink or breathe.

  “Say something,” he said, beckoning for her to return to his arms.

  She licked her bottom lip, shook her head and her shoulders pushed back. “No. This is over. You end him completely, or decide to give him what he wants, but this cannot go on.”

  He gripped her thigh, but she pushed his hand off.

  “Please, darling, I just need time . . .” His voice was a pathetic plea.

  “No—time is not yours to take. You are failing to get better, and I need my Will back. It’s been weeks of this. I die inside without him. I wither away daily. I will give up the stage if that would be what it would take to revive you, but it is not anything I am doing that has you wilting before me. It is that man.” She jabbed a finger into his palm he had outstretched.

  “Clary, I—”

  “Don’t you Clary this girl. She’s yours, that is an undeniable fact, but you must own yourself as well, and right now, you are a mess.” She blinked back the beginnings of what looked like massive tears. “Please . . . Be well again. Be whole. Confront him.”

  “Come with me,” he said, but it sounded like a question.

  “Yes, Master. I will be there.” She reached over for her piece of leather she sometimes wore around her neck from his whip he had since burned. “I will be whatever you need me to be—a voice of reason, an uplifting source of support, or even a nurturing soul for you.”

  He swallowed down the thick lump of overwhelming emotions. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She took his hand that was still hovering, and set it on her waist. “Now, what usually makes you feel better and lulls you back to sleep?”

  “Coupling,” he groaned.

  “And this time, will you please take advantage of it? You’ve been so hesitant lately, and it breaks my heart.” She squeezed his hand on her waist. “Please, Master William—let me be under you, hear your breath in my ear and feel you surging inside me. Take me like you used to with biting, scratching, pulling hands and a wicked tongue lashing my nipples. Be a creature of the night with me.”

  “You want that?” he croaked like a damn dog that had been kicked.

  He had moments when he knew she did, but then his mind would tell him that couldn’t possibly be. That his father was right all along—that women did not enjoy such things as anal sex and being restrained or treated roughly during the act.

  “Yes—more than anything. Your father has overrun your head, and I wish to take his stead. Let me back in there.” She stroked her fingers across his forehead, then ran her hand through his hair.

  “Your oratory is enough to take me to my knees. God, Clary—you unman me with such ease,” he said, pressing her down to her back.

  She only smiled in return, and her eyes went heavy with desire.

  Over the next hour, he did exactly as she commanded, and he was possessed by every sensual curve of her body and even more so by her mind.

  She was the brilliant one—not him.

  Not that he had ever really been unaware of this fact, but now it was glaring and right in his face.

  She. Was. Stunning.

  * * *

  Before stopping by the rail station, William insisted they visit Leo and Elizabeth—now wed after a surprising elopement and living in a modest home that William had bought and paid for them.

  “It appears they have company. That’s Pauline’s carriage,” Clarissa pointed out.

  “Oh yes, then let us skip past them then. I wouldn’t want to intrude.” He rubbed his jaw.

  “Yes, I’m certain they have much to discuss since Pauline and Elizabeth are so close now, but no longer living under the same roof.”

  She massaged the back of her scalp, pushing her fingers up into her hair. Her eyes twisted a little as she kneaded that spot.

  “What’s the matter? Did I pull your hair too hard? You said harder.” He moved toward her at a striking speed.

  Her hand thrust out—halting him by bracing him at the chest. “No, I am fine. I loved it. The tingles are still there, that is all, and I adore the sensation. I’m only encouraging it to continue on.” She smiled,
and it was lazy and filled with a sated appearance.

  His chest lifted and warmed like a drizzle of warm honey ran over it. “Maybe we stay right here and have another round in the motorcar?”

  “I will gift you that after we see to your father, and I will neither prevent you from being inside my backside, nor from spanking me if you so wish.” She grinned and settled into her seat, wiggling her hips back and forth as she did it.

  His cock jumped and strained at her words. He swallowed and put his thoughts into a more wholesome place.

  No. Bring yourself behind her, and fuck your way into her anus. She wants it! Be that man again! his body screamed.

  He shut his eyes, silenced his mind and then he was alert again, driving on toward the rails.

  His grip was tight on the wheel, and she was singing softly next to him.

  My Lord this woman knew him so well. What would he ever do without her?

  The thought was sickening and clamped his chest down until he could scarcely breathe.

  When they got to the rail station, she kissed him and stroked her hand down his chest. “’Twill be fine. He’s not your father. He’s not even a man. He’s a burdensome tyrant, and you will decide what is best. I believe in you and all you are.” She smiled.

  Her radiant goodness seeped into his pores somehow and gave him the resolve he required to remove himself from his motorcar and march with her hand in his, straight into the office.

  His father looked up and grinned, but it resembled a grimace instead. “Ah, yes, come to antagonize me on the day of love?”

  William’s brow gathered into deep furrows. “I beg your pardon . . .”

  “St. Valentine’s day is the day of love, so one can only assume you come here to piss on it by spreading your misery and heaping it upon my head.” His father dismissed the man signing documents at his right so there would only be him, Clarissa and William in attendance.

  “I paid no heed to the day it was—I only knew I needed to see you,” William began, clearing his throat after he said this.

  He shifted in his spot. Had Clarissa known this was the day of love? Had she expected him to do something grand to woo her? Was this her gift to him—a resolution with his odious father?