His Black Pearl

by Jena Cryer

  My arms can’t support me any longer. Every last bit of strength leaves my limbs, and I collapse beneath a blanket of grapes. As the truck’s engine sputters to life, I tell myself I should at least look to see if she’s still alive, but I never do. I’m far too much of a coward to even steal a peak.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I never want to leave my box. I never want to leave my box. I never want to leave my box.

  If I’d have thought just a day ago that this little wooden crate was destined to become my sanctuary, I’d have known I was going crazy. Now I can’t even tell. Up, down, right, wrong, everything’s so switched up around here that I can’t make sense of anything I’m seeing.

  This world I’m in, this place, this…whatever it is, it can’t be real, can it? Have I really gone nuts, or was I just drugged out of my mind? Maybe these grapes aren’t really grapes. Maybe they’re coated with hallucinogens. Maybe I’ve been tripping out all day long, and when I open this crate I’ll find myself on the edge of some quaint Tuscan town. I can find help and get rescued and go home…

  I slowly raise the lid of my crate and take a peak outside. The sky is darkening. In front of the truck, a two-story bed and breakfast rises up against the hillside. Men’s voices bleed out of the open windows. The clink of glasses chimes across the yard, and the heavy scent of beef and wine linger on the breeze.

  My stomach growls.

  If it weren’t for the cluster of nude women begging for handouts at the open window, I might consider calling out for help. But of course, I can’t. After seeing Miss Priss today, I don’t think I’ll ever speak again. Certainly not here. Not around these men that keep their women as pets. Not around these monsters.

  And not around Master.

  My chest twinges just thinking about him. To put him in the same category as these other men just seems so…wrong. Master isn’t mean. He isn’t cruel. He’d never turn me into his personal pony or let any man truly hurt me—not unless I actually deserved it.

  No, Master is different. He’s just a victim of this world the same as I am. Of course he has to treat me like all these other men treat their women. From what I saw today, it’s the law. No wonder he and White Coat were so strict with me. Better a few whippings than what Miss Priss got. Maybe if her Master would have been as strong as mine she wouldn’t have lost her tongue.

  My mother’s voice is in the back of my head now. She’s screaming at me to wake up. Master isn’t nice. He isn’t kind. He bought you. He manipulated you. He turned you into a sex-crazed animal. He’s the enemy here, just the same as those men in town.

  My hands shake, and shame fills me as I realize the truth of her words. She’s right. I know she’s right. Still, knowing and believing are two different things, and even though I know the truth, I still can’t stop believing the lies my Master fed me.

  I remember the feel of his warm, strong hands against my skin, and I sigh. His smiles were once the highlight of my day, and those eyes… Oh, Lord, I could spend a lifetime staring up at his eyes.

  But none of it was real, I try to tell myself. His comfort, his patience, his…love, that was just his way of molding me into his perfect, obedient pet, and it worked.

  If he wanted my loyalty, he got it. I might have run away, but that was only because I’d spent so much of my life doing exactly what my parents said. When I had that dream, when I saw their disapproval, how could I do anything but try to win back their favor? I know it wasn’t my real mom and dad I’d been speaking to that night. It was just some lingering vestige of my own conscience. But still, my parents instilled those values within me, and to forsake everything they ever taught me…well, I just couldn’t bare the thought.

  So I ran.

  I had to put forth at least some small effort to be good. I had to tell myself I didn’t like what I’d become, that I was sick and dirty and sinful, and that the pleasure my master gave me was nothing but some erotic Pavlovian conditioning.

  But still, it felt so good…

  I shake my head to bat away the memory. Remember what Momma said. You’re sick. You need to get away from here. You have to run again. You have to run now.

  You have to leave before you run inside that restaurant and beg those men to return you to Master.

  My eyes dart to the inn’s front door. The truck’s driver disappeared inside nearly an hour ago. If I wait much longer, he’ll return, and surely he’ll go through these crates sooner or later. The sheer fact that I haven’t been found out yet is beyond a miracle, and with every passing second I know God is getting more and more frustrated with me.

  I have to go.

  Slowly, I open the lid of my crate just enough to slip out through the top. My eyes never leave the front of the restaurant. Men’s bodies are illuminated through the open window, but the sky’s dark now. No one notices my movements.

  I slide one leg out of my crate, then the other. My whole body is wet and sticky. I can only imagine how bad I must stink. Crawling across the bed of the truck, I cringe at every creak, and when I finally drop to the ground, I huddle behind a tire as my heartbeat pounds against my eardrums.

  You’re doing the right thing, I tell myself over and over again. You’re being a good girl.

  Still, it’s hard not to cry as I crawl away from the last hope I have of ever returning to Master. Two days ago, I was so ready to be rid of him, but now…

  My eyes are so focused on the inn that I don’t watch where I’m going. My shoulder brushes against soft leather, and then the leather moves.

  I slap a hand over my mouth as I jerk back from the being above me. I’m caught. It’s over. I’ll be whipped, beaten, and only if I’m lucky dropped back on my Master’s doorstep just in time to be punished all over again.

  I expect strong hands to hoist me off the ground. Maybe he’ll throw me over the back bed of that truck and take turns fucking me with his friends. After what I saw in town, I wouldn’t be surprised if that kind of treatment is mandatory.

  But as seconds pass and no word is spoken, I slowly realize I’m not in the company of a man, but rather a woman.

  Or what used to be a woman.

  Her hoofed boots stomp the ground as she dances from foot to foot. Moonlight illuminates her skin. I watch her writhe against her harness and bit. Bare breasts sway violently from side to side, and from their tips, shining silver bells jingle frantic notes that cut through the silence of the yard.

  My breath catches.

  Inside the inn, I hear the voices go silent. Footsteps thud across a wooden floor. The door squeaks as it opens, and without thinking I dart beneath the woman’s legs, under her carriage, and out into the empty field beyond.

  I’m inches away from the hedgerow when a flashlight beam sweeps across my flank. I hear a man shout out for me to stop.

  But I don’t.

  I’m shaking all over. I’m scared shitless of what’ll happen if these men catch me. Thoughts of Master, yearnings to return home, the ever-present desire to please, it’s all swept away as fear courses through my body, and I push myself onto two feet and run.

  The pounding of much heavier footsteps mixes with my own.

  Faster! Faster! I tell myself, but they’re gaining. I’m still too weak. There’s no way I can ever possibly escape these monsters, but I have to try.

  I keep running until my right foot hits open air, and only a sudden gasp strangles the scream building in my throat. It’s a ditch. I’ve run straight into a drainage ditch. I tumble down the muddy bank, all the way into a gorge that feels at least a hundred feet deep, even though I know it can’t be more than ten or twenty, and lay there surrounded by the mud and filth.

  I’m on my belly. A frog croaks to my left. Distant footsteps grow louder, closer by the second.

  Up. Got to get up!

  I jerk my head out of the mire and gasp for breath. Sludge covers my face. Grit leaks between my lips. I try to push myself up, but the mud’s hold is too strong. My knees and elbows sink further. I tug
and writhe, but no matter what I do, I can’t get free.

  I’m trapped.

  My breaths come quicker. I hear their voices only a second before the beam of their flashlight grazes the ridge above me.

  Oh adrenaline, you fickle bitch. Couldn’t you have lasted just a little bit longer?

  Lying there surrounded by filthy runoff, I just manage to flip myself onto my back as the first hunter crests the embankment. It’s over now. There’s no way I can escape, but at least now I can look my captors in the eye when they crawl down to collect me.

  Mud drips from my heaving chest. Water swirls into the concave between my thighs as the flashlight beam sweeps along the ditch bank. I hold my breath. I watch the light sweep over my mud-covered legs, and I close my eyes.

  This is it. I expect the men to clamor down around me at any second, only…

  Their voices sound angry now. They argue and bicker. A man in a bowler hat stands on the rim and gestures to a field far off to their left. Is he my driver? I only caught the briefest glimpse of the man driving my truck, but I’m sure he was wearing a hat shaped exactly like that one. I’m not sure, though. I can’t hear his voice. I guess it doesn’t make any difference, though. Even if I could, I wouldn’t understand a word he was saying.

  More talking follows, and slowly the man in the bowler hat leads them away.

  Did they not see me? Maybe the gobs of mud clinging to my body provided an unintended camouflage. Or maybe those men simply didn’t want to soil themselves by pulling me out. Who knows? Whatever the reason, they left, and rather than question my good luck, I flip myself back onto my stomach and use all my remaining strength to sliver into the metal culvert just a few yards to my left.

  If they come back, so be it, but for now, I have to assume I’m safe. I’m too exhausted for anything else.

  With cool water trickling beneath my back and the sound of an owl hooting in the distance, I quickly fall asleep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  One day rolls into the next and the next and the next.

  Ever since waking naked and alone inside my culvert, I’ve been on the move. I crept along the inner lip of my ditch until it finally evened out into a slight incline that fed into a natural stream. Trees rose up around me as I followed the twisting waters further and further into the woods. Only after hours of walking did I even think to stop and clean myself. Layers of caked-on mud encased my body in a cracked plaster shell, and as I knelt down at the river’s edge, I couldn’t stop myself from crawling head first into those cool, clear waters.

  I held my breath and let the waters wash through me and over me. My legs parted and I broke the surface with a gasp as a burst of water sluiced through my insides.

  God it felt good.

  I remembered the baths White Coat used to give me. His hands were so firm and encroaching. They pried apart every last inch of me as he slowly disassembled my nature before building me back in a form more pleasing to my master.

  I thought I hated him, but now...

  My fingers moved between my legs. I stroked my own pussy with the same steady, gentle touch he used whenever I’d been good. My breaths turned into moans. I knew I should move. I couldn’t stay in any one place for long, but it’d been so long since I’d felt any real touch down there. I needed to be touched. I needed to be held and fucked and filled.

  It’s what I was meant for.

  Only that was a lie.

  White Coat and Master pushed me into becoming a sex slave just the same way my parents tried to push me into becoming a doctor. There was no real difference between the two, honestly. In each case, I had outside parties imposing their will upon me. And did I rebel? No, I was always the complicit victim. I tried to please Master just as hard as I tried to please my parents.

  Only with Master, I actually felt happy with my life.

  I gasped then, and my head nearly fell underwater. Not a good thought. No, not a good thought. You weren’t happy. You weren’t ever happy. You were used. You were degraded. You were…

  I bit my lip as tears slid down my face.

  Oh, Master, what have you done to me?

  Pulling myself from the waters, I crawled back to shore and forced myself to remain on two feet as I continued deeper into the woods. I could be strong. I could get through this. I made the right decision, really I did. I deserve to be free.

  Still, as I walked along the creek bank, I couldn’t stop my hand from reaching up for the pearl still hanging around my neck.

  My pearl.

  My black pearl.

  It’s the only thing left I have to remember him by, and even now, after days of wandering aimlessly through these never-ending woods, I can’t bring myself to let go of it for more than a minute at a time.

  Oh, boy, am I ever fucked up.

  As night settles overhead, I find a nearby bush and curl up beneath it. Since leaving my crate, I’ve had nothing to eat except a few handfuls of berries and some wild onions that I vomited back up after only a couple of bites.

  My stomach growls as I drift to sleep.

  I’m going to die here.

  I’m helpless and alone and if I wasn’t so damn miserably depressed, I’m sure I’d be scared out of my mind. But I don’t have enough space left inside me for fear now. All I can think of is Master.

  The further I get from him, the more he fills my mind. Curling into the brush, I feel soft limbs brush across the side of my breast, and his fingers are caressing me once more. The wind moans with his contented sighs. I hold onto my pearl and every last pleasure he gave me rolls through my body.

  As I go to sleep, my pussy throbs against the wetness pooling between my thighs.

  ***

  A songbird wakes me up the following morning, and I crawl to the river’s edge for a fresh gulp of water. Only after I raise my lips from the creek do I realize I’m not alone.

  On the opposite bank, a tiny freckle-flecked girl stares at me. Her eyes are green, and her hair is the color of flax. She’s just as naked as I am, but she’s on two legs while I’m still on four.

  And she’s uncollared.

  Nothing but her own hair touches her skin, and she smiles nervously at me as she wades into the water. I know I should react. I should say something, do something, but the memory of Miss Priss keeps me mute, and my legs are too shaky to let me stand.

  She pulls herself out of the water and settles onto the silt beside me. Slowly she reaches for my collar. My breath hitches.

  “Shh.”

  She strokes my face before gently touching the pearl at my neck. I watch her eyes linger upon it, and my gaze falls to where fat beads of water drip from her tiny breasts. My face grows hot when she smiles up at me.

  This girl seems so…odd.

  She looks about my age. There’s no way she’s under twenty. I know that surely she’s been turned into the same base creature I have, but she isn’t bound by a collar or cuffs. She’s free. Everything in her nature just screams free. I feel her hands explore my body as she looks me over, and in her eyes is a peace I’ve never seen before.

  God, what is she?

  I open my mouth to speak. No matter what happened to Miss Priss, I still need answers, and this girl might be the best chance I ever have of getting any. Before I can even form a word, though, her wet fingers press against my lips, and she shakes her head. With her index finger, she jerks her hand across her neck in the universal slit-throat pantomime.

  My mouth is dry as I nod back that I understand.

  Smiling again, she leans forward to brush the hair from my face before taking my hand in hers. When she stands, she waits for me to do the same.

  How can I let her down?

  I’m basically dead already. There’s nothing she can do that can be worse than this slow starvation, and besides, she has a kindness about her. Every time I catch her eye, I see the same tender patience in her gaze that Master had in his.

  Is it any wonder I wouldn’t follow wherever she leads me?


  My legs are stiff and sore when we finally enter the clearing. Sunlight shines down upon the grass, and my heart quickens as other women come to greet us.

  I want to run, but Flax squeezes my hand gently. I flash a quick smile before squeezing hers right back.

  Hands touch me all over.

  I’m motionless as these wild women explore my body. Each one is just as nakedly free as Flax, and several hiss when their fingers brush my collar. I’m shivering now. I don’t know how much more I can take. Just as a probing finger drifts down to my pussy, I hear a growl from across the camp, and the tallest woman I’ve ever seen stalks towards me.

  She’s an Amazon, a giantess, a…Fury.

  Lanky black hair hangs matted against her shoulders, while long, tanned legs carry her across the clearing in four short strides. She has to be at least six feet tall, and she’s all muscle, all except for her breasts. Each one is just as massive as she is, and they heave against her chest as she growls at the women surrounding me.

  Everyone flees. Everyone but Flax.

  I’m trembling as Flax steps between me and Fury. The wild woman still stands at least a head above the little ginger, and she’s not wearing heels. She’s not wearing anything except a single frayed rope with a handful of rusted tools hanging between her breasts.

  Flax ducks her head and whimpers as her eyes dart from Fury to me. When the giantess sweeps her to the side, a squeak escapes my throat. I step back, ready to run.

  I should have known the bitch wouldn’t let me escape.

  Fury wraps her hand around my wrist, and her fingers are like corded steel. I try to fight. I try to get away, but she throws me to the ground like a broken toy.

  I suppose that’s all I am to her.

  Shoving me face first into the grass, she straddles my back as I kick and flail and cry. From over my shoulder, I hear the clank of metal.

  What is she doing? Dear God, what is she doing?

  My chest heaves against the ground. I snort up a lungful of dirt, but I don’t care. I have to get away. Escape is all that matters. Escape from this madwoman and her herd of wandering sluts.