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 old one. Miss Love had taken her away from 
the farm 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 farm 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 farm 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 man 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 farm girl 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 young 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 girl 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 breasts 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 young 
blonde's head ever so slightly and leaned toward her. 
Her large, soft lips brushed Pearl's and the young 
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 young 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 young girl 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 blonde serving girl was putting 
the final touches on the center table. As Pearl was 
seated, the blonde 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 man 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 man 
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 man 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 men 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 mother and I have discussed many times how 
to tell you of your inheritance and of who you are."

"My mother? Is my mother 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 men 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 mother 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 mother 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 farm 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 mother 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 man 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 young 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 girl 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 girl 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 men 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 boy 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 Mother and you and Brigitte?"

"That's what we want, too, Pearl. Here you will be 
loved and nurtured as the beautiful young 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 mother now?"

"Soon, dear. First you both have to be prepared. 
Pearl, as I said, your mother is very sensitive. 
That's one of the things that attracted me to her. If 
you and your mother 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."