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PEARL2 young lady should use pads and
Pearl 2/? {Redman}
(c) December 2000
Comments welcomed at redman@seductive.com.
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Redman/
Pearl - Part Two
by Redman
Bobbi Sue, or rather Pearl as she liked to think of
herself now, was just as lonely in her new home as she
was in her one. Miss Love had taken her away from
the and Pearl had thought they were ready for a
new, grand adventure. But, even from the beginning
things had not gone as Pearl had expected them to.
That day there were two limousines in the front of the
farm. She had ridden away from the in style, but
she had ridden alone.
Inside the limousine, with its windows darkened on the
inside as well as the outside, Pearl saw nothing on
her trip. Eventually she grew so bored that not even
the thrill of leaving the or the new life that
awaited her could keep her awake. She dozed, only to
learn when they arrived at their destination when Miss
Love opened the door.
At first, she was thrilled. It was a huge house, a
mansion in every sense of the word with beautiful
gardens and grounds and large pillars in the front.
Miss Love had told her that this would be her new home
and escorted Pearl immediately upstairs to her room.
It was on the top floor, the third floor, and she had
practically a whole wing of the house to herself. At
first she was thrilled and overcome. Later she would
find out it was just another way to isolate her from
the world.
She was introduced to Brigitte, the only ray of light
in her confinement. Brigitte was beautiful and young,
no more than eighteen perhaps. She had long black hair
that she wore coiled around her head. Her face was
thin, her features delicate. Pearl was fascinated by
her large, full lips. At first Brigitte was a wealth
of information and seemed almost like a true friend.
Pearl found out that a wealthy named Mr. Smith
owned the house. But when she asked Brigitte further
questions about Mr. Smith, she ran into the first of
many blind alleys.
"Mr. Smith is out of the country on business, Pearl,"
Brigitte would say. "He'll be home any day now and he
wants to see you as soon as he arrives. Mr. Smith will
answer all of your questions, dear. He's such a
wonderful man."
Brigitte did show her many marvelous things. There
were new and wonderful clothes. At first, there were
just a few in Pearl's sizes. But almost every hour
Brigitte would bring her new clothes, almost as though
they were arriving at the house just for her. There
were new dresses and shorts and blouses. There were
new shoes and underwear and accessories. All of them
seemed very expensive and elegant to Pearl, whose
previous style and fashion only went to the dizzying
heights of when Pappy had bought her new blue jeans
every year.
Brigitte also instructed the poor about
certain other necessities. She taught Pearl how to
dine with fine table service, how to dress in elegant
dresses, and how to walk in high heels. Most
importantly, Brigitte instructed her on how to take
care of her personal hygiene. She explained about the
menstrual cycle of women in very clinical terms and
when a lady should use pads and when she should
use tampons. But when Pearl asked to see a tampon, she
ran into another dead end with Brigitte. All of her
answers began to seem dry and rehearsed, as though she
was allowed to go only so far and no further.
Pearl began to chafe, even against the luxury of her
new home -- her new prison, she wanted to scream out.
With the coming of her menses, Pearl's body ached even
more. Her breasts, though still small, felt
excessively large and bloated. Her nipples hurt. At
times they almost itched. It seemed that every time
she began to rub them, or any other part of her body,
someone would interrupt. As she floated in her new
large tub, Brigitte interrupted her four times to
bring in new clothes or towels or some such nonsense.
Pearl began to have the paranoid impression that she
was being watched. Sometimes she had felt the same way
at the farm. Would every place be the same? Would they
ever leave her alone?
Finally, the morning of the third day, Brigitte
announced that Mr. Smith would be arriving shortly
after noon. She rushed Pearl through breakfast, served
in her room of course, and her morning toiletries.
Then, to fill the rest of the morning, Brigitte taught
Pearl the mysteries of makeup.
Brigitte taught her about eyeliner and blush, about
lipstick and foundation; all the while, she emphasized
that Pearl didn't need much to enhance her natural
beauty. But, the makeup lesson showed her something
even more important.
As Brigitte sat close to her in front of the mirror,
touching her face and demonstrating the techniques of
applying makeup, Pearl realized that no one had ever
really touched her before, had ever been so near to
her. Growing up on the farm, Pearl was used to people
maintaining their distance. The raven-haired was
so close, Pearl could feel Brigitte's breath on her
face. More than once Pearl became lost in her eyes.
She very much wanted to reach out and touch Brigitte's
face too. Her palms began to itch. Her ached.
For just a moment, Brigitte seemed to falter, too. Her
hand was under Pearl's chin and their eyes seemed to
lock together for an instant. She tilted the
blonde's head ever so slightly and leaned toward her.
Her large, soft lips brushed Pearl's and the
girl thought she was going to melt. Her body felt on
fire.
With conscious effort, Brigitte pulled back and shook
her head. "Oh, my," she said, "aren't you the pretty
one? We mustn't mess up your makeup before you see Mr.
Smith, though. You look fine now, dear. Let's pick out
a dress for you to wear."
And that was it. The moment had passed, but it had
left Pearl shattered and uncertain of herself.
Her body ached more than ever and she felt lonelier
than she had ever been before. Brigitte suggested a
few clothes and left the alone as though
she were fleeing the scene of a crime.
So for the rest of the morning, Pearl looked out the
window over the beautiful west lawn of the Smith
mansion. She wasn't sad. She thought to herself, What
have I to be sad about? I have exquisite clothes and
now I live in a wonderful place. But why do I feel so
empty?
Pearl felt as though her life had really not yet
begun. She closed her eyes and her heart ached as much
as her body did. When she closed her eyes, the strange
thoughts returned; thoughts of strange faceless
people, touching her; running their hands over her
body, over her breasts, between her legs.
Sometime after noon Brigitte came to her room and
announced that it was time for Pearl to meet Mr.
Smith. Lunch, she was told, would be served in the
garden at the rear of the house. Brigitte led the way
through the large house and onto the lush lawn. She
was led through high and well-manicured hedges into an
open space were tables were well spaced for outdoor
dining. A beautiful serving was putting
the final touches on the center table. As Pearl was
seated, the filled her glass of water and
before she had known they were leaving, both Brigitte
and the serving lady disappeared.
"Hello, Pearl. I'm glad we could finally meet. I'm Mr.
Smith."
Pearl turned to see a tall, handsome walking up
behind her. As she stood, he reached out his hand and
she instinctively reached out her own to shake hands
with him. He had black hair and a deep soothing voice.
The hand that gripped hers was strong, the fingers
long and sensitive. But, it was his eyes that caught
Pearl's attention the most, his eyes and his mouth.
Pearl looked up into the most fascinating, piercing
black eyes she had ever seen. They were intelligent
eyes, knowing eyes. She felt as though this
already knew everything about her, already had all the
answers she was seeking. And his mouth! Strong
sensuous lips that were turned up in just a hint of a
smile. He looked so serious, so charismatic.
"Please, be seated, Pearl. I'm sorry I wasn't able to
be here when you first arrived. Has Brigitte and the
rest of the staff made you welcome? Is there anything
you need?" he asked solicitously.
Pearl sat down again and Mr. Smith sat in the chair
next to her. She couldn't help but notice that their
knees were almost touching. The looked elegant in
his tailored blue suit even sitting down at ease.
"Gosh, Mr. Smith -- everything is wonderful. Brigitte
has been very helpful, but I still don't understand
what I'm doing here," Pearl responded while trying to
keep from staring at him.
Pearl, whose experience with was based almost
exclusively on her relationship with Pappy, was
completely taken aback by the presence of this man.
She suddenly felt so shy she didn't know if she could
speak at all. Her own reaction to him scared her and,
at the same time, exhilarated her.
"I understand you have a lot of questions, Pearl.
Today is the day you will receive some of those
answers you've been looking for. It isn't that anyone
wanted to withhold information from you, Pearl. We all
decided a long time ago that when the time came to
explain everything to you, I would be the one to do
that. Again, I apologize that I was out of the country
at the time. I rushed back as soon as I could."
Servers arrived with three trays of food and
refreshments. While the food was placed on the table,
Pearl watched as Mr. Smith spoke to each of the staff
by name. They greeted him with obvious respect and
pleasure.
"Let's try some of food while we talk, Pearl," Mr.
Smith said as the staff was leaving. "Where should I
begin? Your and I have discussed many times how
to tell you of your inheritance and of who you are."
"My mother? Is my here?" Pearl asked excitedly.
"Yes, Pearl. You haven't known it, but there have been
many people watching over you all your life, including
your mother. I know you're anxious to meet her and to
ask her where she's been all your life. That's part of
what I need to explain to you. After I explain, I
think it will be clearer to you why we've had to do
what we've done."
"Pearl, almost everyone that lives here -- me, your
mother, Brigitte and most of the staff -- all of us
live with a common condition. Pearl, have you ever
heard of the term 'hypersexual'?"
"No," Pearl said softly hoping she didn't sound
ignorant and immature.
"Hypersexuals are people that have a heightened
sensitivity and response to sexual stimuli, Pearl. Not
only do we need more sex than the normal person does,
the way that the world stimulates us is different.
Sometimes people can be so sensitive to sexual
stimulation that, if not properly controlled, the
condition can be almost debilitating. Hypersexual
women, in particular, have been taken advantage of and
abused. They are called nymphomaniacs and considered
promiscuous or worse.
"But given a loving, supportive environment,
hypersexuals can lead productive lives. That's what
we've done here. We have a safe place here for and
women where they won't be treated like freaks and
where they won't be made to fit into the mold of what
is considered normal. Out in the rest of the world,
we're treated like addicts. Here, we are treated with
love and respect."
"You said my was like this?" Pearl asked.
"Yes, dear. Your mother's case is extreme. She was
forced to leave home shortly after she became pregnant
with you. She survived on the streets, even at a very
young age until you were two. Pearl, she found even
the normal contact that a has with her own
child too stimulating. That's why she had to take you
back to the farm. I found her three years later and
brought her here. She didn't tell us about you until
you were almost eight years old. At that point, we
made the decision to leave you at the until you
matured so that you can make your own decision. I was
concerned about leaving you with that man, but we took
precautions. Were you safe growing up? Did anyone
abuse you?"
"No, Mr. Smith. No one abused me, but I've been
terribly lonely. I've never had a friend and there's
so much I don't understand. Gosh, do you think I'm one
of these 'hypersexuals,' too? Would I be one just
because my was?"
"Pearl, no one knows whether hypersexuality can be
inherited. Miss Love seemed it think it is possible in
your case. So does Brigitte. They both should know.
They're both hypersexual women."
"But Brigitte and Miss Love seem like normal people."
"They are 'normal' people. But they are also people
who are more sexually responsive than other people and
people who respond to sexual stimuli more strongly. It
doesn't mean they're not normal. This is normal for
them."
"How can I know, Mr. Smith? How do I know if I'm
hypersexual?"
"That should be rather easy to discover, Pearl. Do you
want to find out now?"
"Yes, please!"
"Okay, just relax. May I touch you?"
"Oh, Gosh," Pearl blushed, wondering if she could
stand for this handsome, charismatic to touch her.
She asked warily, "Where?"
"Just on the face, dear."
"Sure, Mr. Smith," she answered tentatively. "That
would be okay."
"Okay, close your eyes, Pearl, and just relax."
Mr. Smith moved his chair closer to Pearl's and began
to gently touch the face of the girl. He began
by lightly placing his whole hand over her face with
her mouth and nose covered by his palm and her eyes
and forehead covered by his fingers. Then, as her
breathing deepened, his fingers began to softly stroke
her forehead. He curled the sensitive fingers down and
began to stroke the girl's temples. Her breath caught
and her chest began to heave. He worked his hand to
her neck and stroked Pearl behind her ear until the
young woman could hardly sit in her chair any longer.
"Try to resist the sensation, Pearl. Try to ignore the
stimulation."
He caressed her long, thin neck and then ran a finger
lightly over her lips. The girl's lips parted,
trembling. He penetrated her lips and stroked the
edges of her slightly parted teeth, feeling her warm
breath on his index finger. Even if Pearl had not been
responding, Mr. Smith would have had to quite soon.
Just the sensation of touching this exquisitely
innocent was beginning to overwhelm him. In one
last telling, defining touch, he rubbed the tip of her
tongue lightly with the finger. Pearl, overwhelmed,
engulfed the finger and began to suck it vigorously.
"Enough!" Smith said forcefully but tenderly. Both of
them were breathing rapidly and deeply, both of them
were flushed and excited. If Smith showed any
indication at all that he would have accepted it,
Pearl would have thrown herself into his arms right
then. He could have done anything he wished with her
at this point.
"Pearl, it would have been normal for any your
age to have been excited by a man's touch like that.
But in my opinion, the level of your response
indicates to me that you are hypersexual. Do you feel
like you could have resisted me if I had wanted to go
farther?"
Pearl blushed, embarrassed by the question. She wanted
to say that she could have. Pappy had taught her that
women that allowed to touch them only came to no
good. But, Mr. Smith her respond. He knew she couldn't
resist. Even now, when he wasn't touching her, she
wanted him to. She could smell him. Her body ached for
him to touch her.
"No," Pearl whispered. "I couldn't have resisted."
She expected him to grab her. She wanted him to grab
her. She didn't know what she wanted him to do after
that, but she desperately wanted him to touch her.
"That feeling, Pearl, the feeling of wanting to be
held and touched, that's normal for us. When your body
aches and you long to be touched so desperately,
that's normal for us. Other people feel that too, but
not as strongly. They can control it better. We can't
control it as easily. Even now, as protective as I
feel about you, I want to touch you again. But I know
if I touch you right now, I won't stop.
"We want you to have a real choice, Pearl. Out in the
real world, fourteen-year-olds like you aren't
supposed to have sex. Certainly not with adults. If
you choose to stay with us, that will happen. Already
Brigitte was almost overcome by her feelings about you
this morning. Your life here wouldn't be considered
normal by the rest of the world.
"But, Pearl, I honestly don't think you would have a
normal life no matter where you go. The first that
held your hand or gave you a kiss would be able to
take advantage of you. You're completely naive to
flirting and sexual dynamics. Any of my staff could
seduce you immediately if they were of a mind to do
so. There are many bad people out there that would
take advantage of you in your condition. You would
most likely end up on the streets like your mother."
"I don't want that, Mr. Smith. Can I stay here? Can I
live here with and you and Brigitte?"
"That's what we want, too, Pearl. Here you will be
loved and nurtured as the beautiful woman you
can be. Are you sure that's what you want?"
"Of course. Don't you think I want to be loved? Can
you realize how lonely I've been?"
"Yes, Pearl. I think I can. I've felt that lonely too.
Everyone here has. You're one of us, you see."
"I guess you're right. I must be hypersexual. Mr.
Smith, can I meet my now?"
"Soon, dear. First you both have to be prepared.
Pearl, as I said, your is very sensitive.
That's one of the things that attracted me to her. If
you and your both were reunited in your present
conditions, the sensations of that meeting would
overwhelm you both immediately. You may be as
sensitive as she is, dear. You remind me so much of
her. Can I ask you to trust me a little while longer?
You need to learn a little more about controlling your
sexual responses before you meet her, Pearl. And I
need to work with her a little more as well. Will you
trust me, Pearl?"
Mr. Smith turned those charismatic, beautiful eyes on
her and Pearl's heart almost melted. Her body was one
big, throbbing ache. If he would only touch her, she
would do anything for him.
"Yes," she said softly. "I'll trust you."
"Okay, let's do this then. It's been an emotional
morning for you and I both. Why don't we both freshen
up and we can have dinner together in your room. We
can start your training tonight if you still agree. Is
that acceptable?"
"Gosh, Mr. Smith, that sounds fine. But tell me, how
long will I have to wait before I can see my mother?"
"Depending on your training, not long. Perhaps another
day or two. Not as long as a week no matter what."
"Okay then," Pearl said resolutely. "I'll do it."