2 comments/ 11931 views/ 1 favorites Nightingale Ch. 01 By: lucidwings It was late on a Friday night. Pearl stood at the mirror in her bathroom, applying her lipstick as carefully as she could, which was never as careful as she might have wished for. She shot a bright, charming smile at herself in the mirror, then pulled several faces, tilting her head to one side, then the other. Her long natural golden curls bounced playfully around, and various mischievous, girlish expressions flickered over her young, beautiful face. Each of her lithe movements were mirrored by her body, a slim yet shapely figure in her black dress. However, the black wings attached to its back eventually attempted a bid for freedom, forcing her to adjust and reattach them. Her dark, almost sinister appearance belied the atmosphere of the apartment she occupied. The walls were painted pure white and the rooms were powerfully lit with unflinching accuracy with bright, warm down lights that splashed the brown polished floorboards and solid wooden furnishings. On the walls were a number of framed posters, hanging from the old-fashioned picture rails, showing well-known works of art. Below each of them was a quote; some could be considered inspirational, others quirky. The bright lighting and heat lamps in the bathroom allowed her to prepare herself with great care and accuracy; there could be no greater contrast between this and her intended destination. In the dim, flickering, thumping atmosphere of one of the many clubs to which she and her friends might wander, her focus would shift from the visual to the tactile; Pearl loved to be touched, and tended to accept any physical affection directed her way; only then would her persistent unease and faux-innocence underlying her playful girlish attitude give way, if temporarily, allowing the torrent of her powerful desire to burst forth. Any thought of constancy was suppressed by her a mixture of prankishness and a tendency to scattered thought and feeling that could easily, circularly, be attributed to her lifestyle. As she ventured from her front door, a thought occurred to her and she smiled to herself. She pulled her iPhone from its comfortable yet intimate space inside her bra, made easily accessible by the plunging neckline of her dress, and tapped a few buttons. The screenshot of a half-nude man that she had surreptitiously taken from Snapchat earlier that afternoon looked back at her, leading her to a fit of uproarious giggles. It did not matter whether he was attractive or not, only that she had won the game by convincing him to send her nudity. Distracted for a moment by her jovial malevolence, her phone almost slipped from her fingers, forcing her to catch it awkwardly in her other hand. She quickly recovered it and began tweeting and texting her friends and arranging to meet and congregate for a night of indulgence, amusement and anything else that might come to mind. She smiled to herself as she descended the stairs from her apartment block as quickly as her rather awkward, tall heels would allow and stepped out onto the street, making her way to the nearby tram stop. *** Pearl gazed through the tram window as the city lights streamed past through the darkness outside. As she allowed her focus to drift, the street and shop lights seemed to form trails rather than distinct points. The cool breeze from the open window gently touseled tiny threads of her fine golden hair. Slowly her temples and forehead relaxed and the rest of the muscles in her body followed, loosening and absorbing the atmosphere. The world around her drifted slightly, then snapped back into focus as she heard a voice and saw her friend Ruby stepping through the tram's front entry door. Ruby was a tall, slender young woman with a perfect hourglass figure; as was usually the case on occasions such as these, her choice of clothing left little to the imagination. Her tight-fitting red dress closely hugged everything from the low neckline to her thighs, leaving the rest exposed and the shape of her ample breasts clearly visible. Her long, straight black hair fell effortlessly down to just above her waist, and her face sported a smile that radiated a steady self-confidence. "Earth to Pearl," called Ruby. Pearl smiled at Ruby and gestured frantically towards herself. Pearl was always amazed and envious of Ruby's lithe, carefree, even movements. When Pearl would clumsily trip over her shoes, Ruby could walk on spike heels as gracefully as if she were barefoot. She smiled back at Pearl in her measured way, then gracefully sat down opposite her, crossing her legs in a carefully measured way. "Hey gorgeous," said Ruby, placing a hand on Pearl's thigh. "You're looking as sexy as ever." Ruby grinned and mimed kisses with her lips. "Making fun of me?", asked Pearl, still smiling. "Not at all. You're cute as a cute little kittycat." Pearl giggled and pulled her phone from its usual resting place. "This cute little kitty has boy pictures," she said in her little girl voice, beaming self-consciously and artificially. Ruby let out a laugh and put on her faux-Lolita voice. "Yooou wanna be deeer-dy." Pearl had barely stopped giggling from before and promptly started again. "Stop it already! I wanna show you." She pounced over onto the seat next to Ruby, her hair bouncing enthusiastically around. Pearl threw one arm around Ruby and pulled the phone from her bra with the other, then started flipping through the gallery. "So this one's funny, right. I sent him boobs and I got this." Ruby established herself as critic. "It's all bendy. And it's all skinny too. Would feel weird. Yuck. Next." Pearl swiped. "Gor-RILLA!" chuckled Ruby. "So um, my god, is this guy serious?" "I think he likes me. But like, I wanna fuck another human, not a freaking baboon. Yeah, he's not muscly enough to be a gorilla. Not a hairy Conan, this one." "Yeah, so, um, he also needs to go to the beach more. Or go the fake tan, at least. OK, next." Pearl giggled some more as she swiped to the next picture. "And I have no freaking idea why this guy, like, keeps always snapchatting me." "Flab, flabber, flubber. Flap, flap, flapping around everywhere," was Ruby's critique. "Nah baby. Zero out of five, don't call again." "Yeah, I stopped screencapping, but here are the ones I did." She scrolled through another ten pictures. "Yeah, yuck. No more. Like, I think you need better standards. Why don't you block fat boy?" "He'll notice if I block him. This way he thinks he has a chance." "But he doesn't, right?" "No way." "You're just mean." "Why? If it's actually someone I want I don't screenshot. Then I just say to come over and fuck me already. The fact that I don't reply after like half a million snapchats should be enough, but if he's like, stupid enough to keep trying, then let him. Anyway, you can talk, nerd seducer princess, huh?" Ruby smiled triumphantly. "But that's fun. I mean, he has no idea what he's doing, but that's why I break him in and then I train him to do just what *I* want." "And then..." "And then he never touches anyone else. Because he only wants me." Pearl let out a sigh and put on one of her deliberately cute girlish faces again. "Alright. I do sexy girl, you do cute girl." "That's it, sister!" Ruby leant over and smoothly kissed Pearl on the lips. "You're gunna, like, mess up my lipstick if you keep doing that." "Anyway, what I was going to say," continued Pearl, "is, isn't it like, easier to let someone else do the teaching?" "Yeah, you don't get it. It's okay," smiled Ruby with her usual quiet, unshakeable confidence. "It's my thing, whuh-chuh!" she said, making a whipping motion with her hand as well. "Yeah, aaaanyway. People are looking at us." Ruby smiled. "So?" "So, like, yeah." "Oh, fiiine. I'll be good if you be good." "Alright. For now..." By this time, the tram, trundling through the traffic, was reaching the centre of the city, and it was almost time for the night to begin in earnest. *** The bouncer smiled at the two young women entering his club, arm in arm. Almost regretfully, he asked for their ID, looking particularly suspiciously at Pearl. Although they were both of age, Pearl's girlish expressions and exaggerated stylised but awkward gait tended to earn her suspicion that would otherwise have been quite unwarranted. Having proven herself to be officially permissible, she sucked her lower lip into her mouth and tilted her head at the bouncer, putting on her closest expression to a seductive smile she could manage. The fat, muscly man in a black suit let out a short, hearty but friendly laugh and nodded in acknowledgment, then waved her through. The heavy, rhythmic thudding from the subwoofers shook the sparkling phosphorescence of purple, red and yellow and blue that rattled through the darkness. The senses blurred at the unwavering assault; in this place it was barely possible to think, but impossible not to feel the carefully coordinated blur of sound and light blaring through the eardrums, to taste the sumptuous mixture of sweat and overbearing perfumes and colognes. It was a place in which the higher consciousness buckled and snapped from its moorings and gave way to the instinctive without so much as a whimper. Pearl made her way unevenly across the floor, with Ruby just ahead of her. While Pearl's flickering gaze lacked Ruby's steely self-confidence and commanding sense of purpose, Pearl was comfortable in these surroundings. The smiles and gazes she began to receive as she made her way across the floor to the bar took her from her usual edgy, slightly tentative self- confidence to feeling flattered, almost complacent. While Ruby seemed to care little for any sort of affection, Pearl felt the warmth of every admiring glance; she sometimes felt as if she wanted to make out with every man who looked at her just so as to redress the balance. As she smiled back and kept walking, her effusive impulses to kiss and touch made her skin tingle with anticipation. As Pearl reached the bar, she noticed that Ruby had vanished somewhere into the crowd, and sensed a familiar presence to her left. Turning, she saw a familiar, tall, dark-haired man standing next to her. He was slim but muscly, wore a tight black t-shirt, blue stretch jeans, and a black cap worn backwards on his head. The t-shirt carried a less than incidental message, written in bright yellow, that read "One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor." "Chasey!" exclaimed Pearl. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as if to kiss him, but then deftly pulled the cap off from behind, and hid it behind her back. "Mine now!" Chase laughed. The cap was part affectation, part spite, and as such, worked every time, despite lending his head a less than flattering appearance. It was also stolen, knocked off or otherwise disposed of often, and thus, was never actually the same cap from one month to the next. He feinted as if to retrieve it, but shortly afterwards seemed to forget about it, the disshevelment of his hair. This reflected his relaxed, playful but confident attitude; he was quick to move from one thought, or person, to the next, usually only looking back for amusement rather than reminiscence. Even so, he always found himself captivated by Pearl, with her beautiful facade and barely concealed desires, and was more than happy to indulge her. "Vodka?" teased Pearl. "Tequila." "Yeah, okay. Two of those." Pearl quickly replaced the cap over the top of Chase's tequila shot. Chase laughed, put it back on his head, and they proceeded on his first step on the path to intoxication. It did not take long for Chase and Pearl to become reacquainted, which is to say, by challenging one another to drink more alcohol than the other. As had been the case on their previous meetings, they quickly lost track of time, although it was safe to say that less time had passed than they would like to believe for their level of intoxication, and very few words of substance had been exchanged. Pearl's view of the club was spinning when Chase's had barely blurred, but this was not a contest she wanted to win. As he saw her becoming vague and disoriented, he wrapped an arm around her and caressed her neck with his other hand. She exhaled sharply and tilted her head a little; to finally be touched as she had ached for all evening sent a powerful wave of shivers through her. Pulling her body to his, he kissed her soundly on the lips. As he sucked her lips into his mouth, he could feel the tension melting from her. She kissed him back hard, sucking on and biting his lips and pulling his head to hers, gasping for breath as he kissed her again and slid a hand over her breasts, pausing to squeeze each a little. She jumped up into his arms, with her arms around his shoulders and legs around his hips. Clinging to him like a child in her young adult's body, she gazed wistfully yet unflinchingly into his eyes; in his slightly intoxicated state, the disquieting aspect of her expression, which gradually grew to an intensely lustful stare, washed over him, leaving only allure and powerful sexual magnetism. He kissed her deeply again, holding her tightly against him, ran his hands down her back and squeezed her butt under his palms as he made thrusting motions against her. "You don't have to tease me. I want you," were the words with which Pearl broke her silence, softly slurring, almost whispering. The tones of her voice seemed to tumble into his ears like burning icicles of passion and longing. With the sensations reverberating through his body, Chase held her up in his arms and carried her into a dark corner, hidden behind a curtain, that others seemed to have forgotten and the blaring lights and sound could not properly reach. As soon as the nervous tension had fallen from Pearl's body, she had begun to feel desire building, and it was rapidly reaching the level of a feverish lust. Her usual restlessness turned to an anticipation and seemingly unquenchable thirst that effortlessly tore down any recitence and alcohol-induced stupor and filled her mind and body. She felt one feeling and one feeling alone; her body was full of desire that threatened to burn through her veins, and it needed to be beaten and fucked from her defenseless body before it burned her from the inside out. Chase lay Pearl down, face down, on a small low table in the corner of the curtained off area, relieving her deftly of her black panties as he pulled her dress up, leaving her bare from the waist down. The table felt rough and a little dusty against Pearl's body, and she wriggled a little, showing her next wish. Pulling a rope from his pocket, Chase bound each of Pearl's wrists and ankles to a leg of the table. As Pearl began to writhe theatrically against her bonds, Chase pulled the belt from his jeans, letting them drop with his briefs to the floor. His cock was partly hard and he stroked it with one hand while cupping his other over her butt. She moaned softly, barely audibly above the background noise from the club as he slowly squeezed her cheek in his hand, then suddenly pulled away. An instant later, he landed his palm soundly with force. His cock hardened as he alternately squeezed and spanked each side, each time with slightly more force, each stroke stoking his own searing passion. The wetness between Pearl's legs soon began to betray the desire that echoed through the heavy hand on her butt, sending shudders through her squirming body. As Chase felt Pearl begin to adapt to his powerful hands, in a rapid fluid motion, he pulled his belt from the floor, swung it upwards, and landed several strokes from it across her butt. As her moans began to turn to shrieks, Chase moved behind Pearl, unbound her ankles but held them firmly. He pulled her roughly to the edge of the table and pressed his hard cock against her, rubbing it across the wetness between her legs, which extended copiously from her pussy in all directions. "Tell me you fucking want this." Pearl let out something unintelligible, partly sounding like a moan, partly a shriek, and partly a frustrated growl. Chase responded by spanking her butt and jerking her body towards him, pulling painfully on her wrists at the other end of the table. "Fucking tell me. Now." "Fuck me. Put your fucking cock in me." "And tell me how fucking hard you want it." "Fucking make me hurt. Make me scream." She jerked from side to side for effect, but Chase's strong arms and careful knots held her firmly in place. "Ask me nicely, bitch." She let out a sound somewhere between a gurgle and a growl, and a short coughing fit, then recovered herself. "Please fuck me, really fucking hard, right now." Needing no further invitation, he pulled her legs up to align with his hips and thrust his cock deeply inside her pussy. The sharp angle, combined with his unusually large girth, sent a wave of pain and a thrill through her body and she cried out. He paused for a second, his hard cock buried inside her, allowing her to accustom herself to it, then pulled back and began thrusting, slower, but firmly, pulling her body by the legs to his. He breathed heavily and rhythmically as her body let out moans and shudders of pleasure. It was not long before she began to flush, and as her pussy clenched tightly around his cock, he thrust in harder, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her to him, letting her feel an intense wave of pleasure while carefully holding his in check. As her waves of pleasure began to subside, Chase leaned forward, grabbed Pearl's hair and painfully jerked her head back and to the side a little. She shrieked and turned to him, looking down his muscly arm. "Tell me how fucking much you liked that." "Very much boss," whimpered Pearl, as her arms stretched to their limits, rope digging into her wrists and hair straining from its roots. "Tell me you fucking want more and harder." "Yes boss, please fuck me, fuck me harder..." Chase suddenly released her hair, sending her crashing down onto the table, then began suddenly fucking her harder, making sharp, deep thrusts into her pussy with his cock. Pearl's whole body shook with each, and she half-moaned, half-yelped in time. As Chase felt her pussy begin to tighten, he leaned forward and gripped her neck with one strong hand, applying just enough pressure to cause her to gasp for breath. Suddenly increasing his pace to double, he heard Pearl's moans turn to gasps and gurgles as he felt his own climax approaching. Pearl strained wildly and uncontrolled against her restraints as she felt her climax blast its way through her trembling, choking form. With her last ounce of strength, she clenched her pussy as tightly as she could and thrust hard back against Chase. She gasped and breathed deeply as he released his hand from her neck and felt the sudden, uncontrolled burst of his climax shudder through his body like a blinding flash of white light and static. Pearl gasped and managed a weak smile as she felt his heavily pulsing cock explode inside her. Neither knew if the other yelled or screamed, and neither could tell if they had blacked out for a second. Their next flash of awareness was that Chase had fallen backwards against a chair behind him, and Pearl lay limply on the table, still gasping a little for breath and wriggling slightly. Chase stood hesitantly, wobbling slightly on his feet, and moved to untie Pearl from the table. "Feeling better now?" "So well fucked. Thank you," said Pearl, with genuinely heartfelt gratitude in her voice. "You're welcome, sexy," said Chase, slapping her butt playfully as he finished untying her. Pearl fell backwards into Chase's arms as she tried to stand from the table. It was only at this point that she noticed that her wings were missing. They were nowhere to be seen. Nightingale Ch. 01 "Want me to take you home?", he asked. "I want my wings back," she slurred, staggering from his arms. Chase stood behind her and caught her again as she almost fell forward. "I didn't see them, I'm sorry." Pearl inspected the rope burns on her wrists and smiled warmly at them, then at Chase, immediately forgetting her wings. She paused for a second and attempted to catch her breath, but her eyes carried a glazed-over look of intoxication, exhaustion and bliss that made it quite impossible for her to focus. Her body still swayed erratically from side to side. Determined not to give up, Pearl summoned what little strength she could and began to stand again; this time, Chase rushed to the rescue and held her upright from behind, realising that her overestimation of herself would inevitably cause even Pearl's shameless personality embarrassment, given enough failed attempts. She began to cough and heave painfully and wave her head around wildly as Chase held her body firmly in position. A few moments later, a large, rancid projectile of vomit burst from her lips and splattered the wall opposite. The circular putrid mess of purple and red sparkled from the bursts of flashing light seeping through the curtain, then began to slide ungracefully down the wall. "I think we're getting you home." Pearl coughed throatily once again, wiped her face off with the back of her hand and attempted to regain some dignity. "Alright, mister hung like a fucking horse that made me puke everywhere." Chase laughed and rearranged her dress back into position, then sat her on the chair while he redressed. A few moments later, he picked Pearl up in his arms and carried her from behind the curtain back into the club. Only a few looks were cast his way; just as he was about to step through the exit, Pearl waved weakly at Ruby. She was standing in a circle of people, most of them men, holding a plastic cup of pear cider. As Pearl waved, she turned slightly, smirked, waved, shook her head, and turned back to the group. *** Chase and Pearl sat together on the tram, arm in arm. The bright white lights in the carriage blurred and intertwined with the afterimages of the club and the smell of sex; the cold cacophany of sense and memory was their gently burning reminder in their retinas of the return of the real world and the retreat from the hyperstimulation that the evening had brought. They sat almost motionless and semi-aware in a corner, as far away from the other passengers. Bright red rope burns were clearly visible on Pearl's wrists and ankles, despite Chase's halting attempts to cover them with old newspaper. Blood threatened to trickle from one wrist, held back only by the merest thread of skin. A bruise was visible on each shoulder. From time to time, a passenger stepped onto the tram, looked at them, then turned in the opposite direction. The passage of time blurred into oblivion. It could have been seconds or days; it had actually been about fifteen minutes before Pearl spotted a landmark, pulled the cord, and seemingly an instant later, stepped from the tram with Chase. Making their way through the darkness and cold night air soothed Pearl's pain, a feeling she greeted with some degree of disappointment. Any attempt by Pearl to reach her apartment without assistance would have been a precarious one, and Chase's conscience demanded that he help, at least to ensure her safety. As they reached the bright lights and smooth wooden floorboards of Pearl's apartment, having closed the door behind them, Pearl smiled at Chase and kissed him on the lips. "You're so sweet to me," she said with genuine appreciation. Chase sighed and gave a resigned smile. "It's fine." "No, no, all of the things you do are sweet," she replied rapidly, a little of her customary agitation returning already. "If I could... if who I am would let me, I'd want this to be more." Chase pulled his cap from his jeans and placed it on his badly ruffled head of hair, backwards, as usual, and grinned. Pearl laughed and moved as if to put her hands on her hips, but instead paused, grimaced, and let her arms fell limply back to her sides. "You're intentionally doing this when I'm too weak to take it off you." "I'll stick around 'till you can stand again," he promised. "You'll have to deal with the cap, though." Pearl pouted and sighed dramatically as Chase guided her to the armchair on one side of her lounge room and sat her there. "Water?" he asked. "Sure." This was always how their meetings ended. Chase was never affectionate, but always kind and helpful; Pearl was grateful, but knew better than to try to tame her tempestuous nature to the task of keeping a stable relationship. Even so, Pearl was always glad to have earned a brief respite from her internal machinations; even if only for hours, the incessant gyrations inside her mind fell silent, leaving an unfamiliar feeling of peace. She did not love Chase--could not love Chase, but she loved the feeling with which he left her more than anything in the world. Nightingale Ch. 02 It was four o'clock in the morning, and Pearl's head was throbbing. She stared at herself in the mirror with a morbid fascination, expressionless and nude. It was worse than she had expected; her wrists were still red raw from rope burns, and a small scab had formed on her right wrist where the rope had finally caused her skin to give way. Her ankles were similarly afflicted, and there were bruises on her neck, shoulders and arms from thrashing against, and being dropped onto, the table in the corner of the club. As bruised and battered as she was, she felt a lingering contentment and peace, and her youth, perfect proportions and proud posture lent her an air of beauty that belied the beating she had taken. At length, she swung her hair from side to side, letting the blonde curls bounce as they customarily did, and smiled at herself. She turned and twisted her body so she could see the reflection of her butt, one side at a time; it, like her wrists, was bright red, and a multiplicity of bright red hand marks and a shining swathe of belt marks were visible. She looked at each tortured cheek with an adoring fondness, as though it were a beautiful piece of jewellery. After lingering several moments longer, she turned and made her way from her bedroom to the adjoining passage. Still drunk, she wobbled out toward the bathroom. One of her favourite pieces of art, hanging on the wall, caught her eye. It was of a golden-haired woman, sitting in a chair, combing her hair and looking at herself in a handheld mirror. She wore a light, skin-coloured dress, loosely draped around an otherwise nude body. Below the picture, the caption read as follows: "A vision of perfection... Isaiah, Rossetti, Browning" She managed a weak smile at the picture as she shuffled past and entered the bathroom. Stepping into the shower, she slipped, smashing the soap dish, and left a shallow slit on the hitherto unbroken skin on her left wrist. Blood oozed forth from the wound; she picked herself back up with difficulty and bandaged the wrist before stepping back into the steaming shower. As she stepped under the stream, the wrist oozed blood through the bandage and onto the floor of the shower, and splattered onto the shower curtain, and the grazed skin on her other wrist shone out bright pink into her eyes, dazzled by the bright heat lamps in the bathroom. She washed herself as best she could, ignoring the plaintive whining of her body, dried herself and rebandaged both wrists. She was stronger than this, she told herself, and she was not about to let one night's enjoyment interfere with that of the next day. Stepping back into her bedroom, she noticed that dawn was breaking. She remembered that Warwick was visiting late morning, and breathed a sigh of relief that she would sleep at least a few hours. Nevertheless, presentation was important. She put on a pure white padded bra that covered her already ample breasts adequately, a long-sleeved tight white top, and a white cardigan over the top, thick white panties and jeans that were slightly too long for her. This, she thought, should cover the problem areas. With that, she slumped onto her bed and fell asleep within seconds, without so much as pulling up the covers or turning off a single blaring light. *** "Pearl, sweetie?" came the voice, echoing through Pearl's slumber and calling her back to consciousness. She roused and moved with some effort, carefully concealing the pain she was still in and smiling sweetly at Warwick. Warwick was a short but stocky man, only slightly taller than Pearl, but nevertheless perhaps twice the size. He had a square-shaped face with a carefully crafted kind smile and unusually intense green eyes that, had he not worn glasses, have appeared to be the result of mischievous contact lenses. If it were not for his rather prim manner and insistence on "morality", Pearl would have been attracted to him. He seemed, to Pearl, to self-consciously attempt to make up for his manner and tendency to preach by being effusively affectionate and sweet, and keeping his mop of light brown hair carefully brushed. He wore an immaculately ironed beige dress shirt and a pair of rather unremarkable looking grey suit pants. On the surface, Pearl mirrored his affections back at him, a facade he was rather eager to uncritically accept. "What time is it?" "It's nearly midday, bub. What were you doing last night?" "Oh, I was reading," she lied, with a perfect pokerface. She pointed at a volume of "The Little Prince" she had carefully left sitting next to her on the bed. "Want me to read some more to you?" "No, no, it's okay baby," said Pearl, smiling her slightly strained, wantonly insipid smile back at him. Pearl's body was beginning to recover from the previous night due to the extra sleep she had unintentionally obtained, but was still somewhat sore and took some extra coaxing to move from its comfortable position. She played the delicate flower facade well, slowly picking herself up and delicately putting her feet on the floor, one at a time; the ease with which she was able to do this, however, reassured her of her strength to carry out the day's plans. "Want me to get you some breakfast?", she asked him. This was a courtesy she always extended. "It's okay, really," replied Warwick. "I ate before I came here." "I can't let you go without proper breakfast though. My breakfast," she said, looking downcast, and pouted at him. "Okay, okay. Breakfast it is." Pearl shuffled out to the kitchen. The whitewashed walls, mirroring the bright sunlight from the kitchen's large curtainless window, dazzled her eyes as she steadfastly maintained her sweet pretense. Smiling, she poured out two bowls of cornflakes. In one bowl, she poured full-cream milk, the carton of which had been opened and marked with a line in red permanent marker across the top; into the other, she poured skim milk, from an otherwise unmarked pink carton, for her. She handed the full-cream version to Warwick with a coy little smile. "You don't have to do this, you know," he said, looking genuinely abashed. "It's a bit late for it, anyway." "No, no. I insist. I know you like it," she replied, knowing it was not just he who liked it. They sat at the bench eating while she attempted to carefully construct a convincing story of what she had done the previous night. Meanwhile, the thoughts of what had actually happened, and her immediate plans, caused the warmth and wetness between her legs to build and her skin to tingle. Her flash of goosebumps was, however, deftly hidden by the clever disguise she had wrapped herself in earlier in the morning. Although she did not always have such an excuse to cover herself, she always dressed this way for Warwick. It made him feel more at ease, and that was important if her plan was to succeed. "So tell me baby," said Pearl, beginning to smile less coyly, "how are you feeling?" "Oh, I'm okay. A little sleepy, actually," he said, moving his hand to the back of his neck, his eyelids starting to involuntarily lower themselves. Pearl put down her empty cereal bowl on the counter and moved over to him. "You sure you're okay there? Do you wanna lie down for a bit?" It was at that point that she noticed a bulge in his trousers and grinned. "Are you feeling a bit turned on sweetie?", she asked, slowly running her fingertips down his chest, eventually reaching the bulge and stroking gently. "Uhh, I umm.. why does-" "Shhhh," she said, pressing the index finger of her other hand across his mouth. He stopped talking in an instant, looking bewildered and befuddled. She gradually stroked the growing bulge in his trousers faster, until it strained painfully against them. The intense involuntary reaction was intoxicating to her with the same power, if not the same derangement of her thoughts, as the tequila that had now almost departed her body. Pearl was powerfully swept away in the moment and felt her fervor and hunger grow with every sensual stroke she gave. She removed her finger from his lips and said to him, as his eyelids began to fall further, "I think you want to ... let's just say ... make love ... to me." She giggled girlishly and just a little wickedly, having imposed her most mocking tones on the two words "make love". This, she had actually tried, once, but as she described it to Ruby, "it was so frustrating, like trying to scratch an itch with a feather duster when there's a fingernail right behind it. He had the fucking fingernail; he just wouldn't *use* it properly." She had, therefore, devised a better plan, by which she could put Warwick to proper use. "I really don't feel... very comfortable..." he said, beginning to slur his words together and lean backwards. Pearl caught him with unexpected deftness and strength, wrapped her arm around him just under his shoulders, and dragged him sliding across the floorboards back into her bedroom; even battered and bruised, Pearl was easily the stronger of the two, at least Warwick was in no condition to offer any resistance. With some effort, she carefully lay his half-conscious form down on the bed, her sweet smile turning to a truly sinful grin. "It's okay. Pearlie's here and will take care of you, sweetie," she said, still grinning at him from ear to ear. He was barely conscious and murmured something unintelligible. This was her cue; she flipped the clip on his belt and pulled the belt from his trousers with a flourish, then yanked the trousers and his briefs down to his knees. His cock sprang out at her as she had anticipated, already hard. She stroked it playfully, squeezing on the upstroke, feeling it easily become engorged under her fingers, and let out a chuckle as she fluidly stripped herself of panties and jeans, leaving only the bandages on her ankles, a little ragged from the morning's restless slumber. Her pussy felt wet already at the thrill of what she was about to do, but still, she took some time to seduce herself, letting her fingertips slide over her inner thighs. She let out a little gasp as her fingertips finally made their way to her now very wet opening. Pearl continued to stroke Warwick's cock for a moment longer; incoherent moans escaped his mouth, but no speech. His head wriggled from side to side a little, as if an artefact of a dream, but the rest of his body was still. She paused a moment to admire him in this state; he really was quite good looking, now that he was asleep, she thought. His hair had become touseled and untidy through being dragged to the bed; his cock was easily thick and hard enough to be a thing of pure pleasure for her. Free of his usual self-restraint, he was exactly the man she wanted him to be. Finally, smiling wickedly and feeling bolts of excitement and arousal pulsing through her, Pearl picked herself up and squatted directly over his cock, then lowered herself carefully down onto it, moaning as she felt its engorged form submerging inside her pussy. She began to ride it, rhythmically, slowly at first. While Warwick had, for all intents and purposes, lost consciousness, Pearl did not want to risk shocking him awake, in case he became aware of what she was doing. She was practised at this and had never woken him before, but was taking no chances. Gradually, Pearl picked up her pace, letting out some soft moans as she rode his cock harder and faster. He let out a few more incoherent noises, which might have been a moan, part of a sentence, or perhaps anything else, but his body was continuing to respond to the mixture of her and the chemicals that had been added to his milk; he was beginning to move in time with her, so she paused, turned away from him, leaned backwards and began to ride him with considerable force, an achievement from her battered body. After several minutes more, she felt her climax building and decided to let it play out; she deserved one for the effort, she thought. Her breathing quickened and as she slammed her body down on his, she felt her muscles spasming and let out a long, shameless moan. Her bleary-eyed victim moaned a little along with her. Pausing for a moment, she returned to her task, turning once again to him and fixing Warwick's face with a fiendish grin. She began to ride him again in quick, forceful strokes. As she pulled upwards, she clenched her pussy around his cock. She wanted to feel him come hard inside her. She leaned forward and wiggled her butt on the upstroke, clenching around the head of his cock, and alternated with long strokes down on him. Soon she felt him pulsing, and responded in kind by fucking him with all her might. Finally she felt the first burst of come shoot inside her, then the next and the next, and laughed manically, slamming her body down on him harder and harder until she had squeezed the last drop from him. As she felt his reserves deplete and finally run dry, his cock still painfully pulsing, Pearl picked herself up from Warwick. As she rose from the bed, she picked up her copy of "The Little Prince" and threw it at his still shuddering, sleeping, defeated form, cackling at him. Even drugged, he still wasn't half as much fun as Chase, she figured, but this would keep her feeling calm, at least for a while. "How's that, mister old rich cunt? Feeling better now?" She paused for a moment, then continued. "You couldn't keep a dandelion happy, but this little venus flytrap can kick your arse right back to hell." She tried not to ponder too deeply about which of them would be going to hell for this; it should be Warwick, she thought; after all, he had tempted her into wanting him. She had only extracted from him what he was too awkward to give freely and willingly. His cock was slowly losing its hardness, but the rest of his body was unmoved. She picked up a towel from next to the bed and wiped him off, then replaced his briefs and jeans perfectly in position. She smiled proudly as she inspected her handiwork; but for a slight wet patch seeping through his jeans, he looked more or less the same. Her work here was done, and her restlessness had abated, if only a little. Pearl turned and inspected the incoming messages on her phone, ignoring Warwick for the moment; it would be a while before he regained consciousness, and she needed a way of filling in time, she reasoned. The most prominent icon on the phone's homepage was Snapchat, with 52 new messages. She chuckled to herself and beamed; the tempting messages she had left for all the boys the night before had had their intended effect. Of the 52, most would be revealing. "All, of the sexy pecks and dick pics," she said complacently to herself. "All fucking mine ... yes," she whispered triumphantly. Warwick's expression, a feature Pearl had conscientiously ignored, began to betray slight signs of awareness; mainly, it showed confusion, but as he twitched uneasily from side to side, flashes of grief and pain began to seep their way through the fog behind his glazed eyes. As his emotions seeped to the surface, a single tear welled up through his right eye, slipping out and dropping silently and unseen onto the sheets below. At this point, another thought occurred to Pearl, which, she realised, was far more important than Snapchat. "Wanna pay my bills now?", she asked the unconscious form in a mock-girlish voice. "I thought so." She dug her hand into his front pocket and retrieved his wallet, picking out several $50 banknotes and a credit card for herself. "Did you lose your credit card baby? Awwww," she mocked, making her best exaggerated duckface at him. She paused, then chuckled again, and sauntered out of the room. She would, of course, replace the credit card, but both her use of it and the missing bills infallibly went unnoticed. When he awoke, Warwick remembered nothing of his experience. He always noticed that he felt unusually relaxed but moderately nauseated and disorientated, and wondered why he always felt sleepy when he visited Pearl. The first few moments of consciousness were a strange, dizzying sensation, and were always coupled with a feeling of emptiness and soreness of everything between his legs. He looked directly at, and felt the truth deep beneath the threshold of consciousness, buried somewhere in the place where his subdued senses lurked while Pearl worked her wiles on him. However, he failed to drag to the surface the vision of Pearl's acts that all the time was staring him in the face with its lustful, predatory gaze, expressed as it was through her quaint self-presentation. Occasionally, he dreamt about Pearl, always dressed as she was for him in her white cardigan, but in the dream, her legs had been replaced by a dozen tentacles. The tentacles would hold him helpless and rip the limbs from his body; Pearl would smile sweetly at him and whisper something unintelligible in his ear. Awakening from his dreams of Pearl felt similar to awakening with Pearl; the same sense of dizziness and disorientation would return. The association of Pearl and Pearl's apartment with a mixture of soreness and relaxation held a peculiar fascination for him. He could not understand why falling asleep at a friend's apartment would cause this, nor could he understand the peculiar mixture of captivation and dread that went with it. At a loss, he attributed it to his former attraction and initial encounter that he had never dared to attempt again. Indeed, the idea that he always "fell asleep" at Pearl's apartment was an embarrassment; his friends, like him, were socially conservative, and "sleeping" in a woman's apartment would immediately have garnered interpretations that, as far as he was concerned, were incorrect. This had the fortuitous result, for Pearl, that Warwick kept any feelings, thoughts and his confusion about what was happening carefully and conscientiously to himself. *** It was Sunday afternoon. The sun shone brightly through the wide open window, and the breeze rustled its way soothingly through Pearl's bedroom. Pearl meandered around, holding her mobile phone to her ear. She was wearing a tight, low-cut blue top, through which the form of her breasts was clearly visible, and black leggings, through which she sported a rather obvious camel toe. Ruby's musical voice, incredulous, pealed down the phone line into her ear. "So you fucked the boy in his sleep? Again? Doesn't he suspect anything?" "He seemed a bit weird afterwards, but like, I think he just figures he was sick and I was the nice little girl that looked after him," Pearl replied, smiling with mock-innocence, an expression Ruby effortlessly imagined. It was at this point that Ruby had to consciously remember that not only was Pearl of age, but also a year older than her. "But like, always at your place? Always the milk? She's gonna pick you up on that, sister." Pearl laughed. "Okay, you've been seducing too many computer nerd boys who still live with their parents. Anyway, how am I going to dissolve all this stuff in someone else's milk? Or worse still, into a beer? I think the boy would, like, notice if his beer fizzed up like a berocca." "You've really thought about this a lot, haven't you?", mused Ruby, sounding somewhat perplexed. The question was rhetorical. "You're coming out clubbing next week, right? "Wouldn't miss it for the world." "Ah ha! We'll do all of it again." "All of the boys," giggled Pearl. "Or maybe just the ones we want," was Ruby's reply. "Yeah, yeah." Pearl's phone made a number of bell-like noises. "Are you getting more nudie boy pics again?", asked Ruby, the amusement evident in her voice. Without waiting for confirmation, she continued, "and have you blocked fucking fat boy already?" "Yeah, I finally blocked him, but now he's all pissed off with me," said Pearl, sounding a little pained. "I think he, like, wanted to fuck me. Gorilla boy wanted to fuck me too and now he's all, yeah, butthurt." Nightingale Ch. 02 "Life's hard, eh?" "Yeah," said Pearl, pausing to look at her phone, on which a new picture of a new specimen had arrived, engorged behind the touchscreen. "And speaking of hard..." Ruby let out the closest to an uproarious laugh she could manage in her naturally tuneful fashion. "Screenshot. Show me later sister." "Ten at my place?" "Done deal." As Pearl pressed the hangup button on her phone and dropped it on the bed, she glanced back across the bed. The volume of "The Little Prince" was still sitting next to the pillow where she had flung it the day before. She picked it up and opened it at a random page, then began impatiently flicking from one page to the next. At length, she let out an exaggerated sigh, as if for an audience, and replaced it on her bookshelf next to "Alice in Wonderland". "Nup," she said to herself, looking, once again, at her reflection. "This little flower looks after herself. And this little flower," she said, taking on a triumphant tone and fixing herself with a mock-lustful stare, miming and gesturing theatrically, "has all of the boys ... right where she wants them." She did the best she could to channel her energy through this display to herself, but inside, she could feel knots of frustration forming; the warm breeze was becoming enough to send little shivers of desire through her. It was time to take advantage of another opportunity. She picked up her phone again and tapped her finger on 'reply'.