The Charleston City Market sits near the waterfront - and near the remains of the Old Slave Mart. In these four blocks of open-sided buildings are sold all manner of wares from clothes and jewelry to beans and candy to freshly woven sweet grass baskets. It's an open, friendly environment, the roof keeping the worst of the heat out of the stalls even in the depths of summer. Nevertheless, Charlie wiped sweaty blonde hair from her forehead as she strolled among the offerings. She'd just moved down here from Lansing and had yet to adjust to the humidity.

Her eyes came to rest on a table of vintage jewelry.

The stall owner was a striking young African-American with sweet caramel skin and wide cheekbones that gave her face a catlike appearance. "New to Charleston?" she asked, her voice tangy with Lowcountry accent.

Charlie raised her eyebrows. "Yes, I am, but how did you know?"

"I'd say you're from up around Lansing, Michigan. Am I right?"

"It must be my accent, huh?" Charlie blushed.

The woman shook her head and smiled. "No, I knew where you were from before you said a word. It's a talent I have. Got it from my mother, and she from her mother, and on back as far as we can remember. I also know you're interested in pearls, isn't that right?"

Slightly uneasy now, Charlie forced another smile. "I do like them, yes."

The woman pulled a small wooden box from under her table. "I don't show these to just anybody, but I think you might appreciate them." She opened the lid, revealing a pair of simple pearl drop earrings.

For a moment Charlie did nothing. She couldn't see what was so special about these earrings that the woman had to hide them away from the public. They weren't even real pearls. But then her eye caught something gleaming deep beneath the surface. She felt herself drawn down into the pearls' luster, bathed in radiance, drowning in soft white pleasure. Her mind grew soft and her pussy, wet.

With an effort she pulled herself out of the depths and met the stall owner's eyes. Just for a moment she thought she saw something sharp and possessive there. Then the woman smiled again. "They're something special, aren't they?"

Charlie blinked, unsure if what she'd just experienced was real. Tentatively she reached for the pearls, and when her fingers touched the smooth white surface, a very real warmth pulsed through them. The edges of her vision fogged with pleasure.

The owner, looming sharp in the center of the fog, gazed at her with knowing eyes. "Like I said, they're special."

"Yes," Charlie murmured, "they are. How much are you charging for them?"

"One hundred dollars."

That was far too much for costume jewelry, but Charlie imagined what it would be like to wear those pearls, to have that soft white radiance snug against her skin. She imagined the warm glow spreading out through her ears and head, soothing her brain and firing her clit. Would the feeling stay with her as long as she wore the earrings? Maybe it was worth a hundred dollars to find out. "I'll take them," she said.

Charlie wore the earrings that night on her fourth date with a coworker named Ted. She'd been deeply attracted to him from the first, but tonight all she could think about was the soft white warmth of the pearls against her skin. Even though she couldn't see them, she remembered the blank pleasure of staring into them and fingered them constantly with pleasure.

Ted just couldn't compete. Charlie ended the date without inviting him into her apartment and went straight to her bedroom, flopping down on her bed and taking out a single earring to gaze into its gentle depths. It drew her in just as before, and she hardly noticed when she eased her hand under her panties and began strumming her clit. The stall owner's face swelled large in her mind for a moment, and Charlie remembered her secretive smile. She bet the woman knew what she was doing, but she wasn't concerned. All that mattered now was the radiance in her mind and in her cunt.

The next day she was back at the market, wondering if the jewelry stall would still be there, wondering if its owner would remember her. Charlie hoped she would. The woman's face still hung in her mind, as it had since the night before.

Sure enough, the stall owner was there, smiling just as Charlie knew she would be. "I knew you'd be back," she said.

Charlie felt a warm glow. "Oh? How'd you know that?"

"Simple. I have something you want."

And she did. Charlie fingered the earrings, which she still wore, and felt a warm zing between her legs. "Do you have any more pearls?" she breathed. Somehow she knew the answer would be yes.

"As a matter of fact-" The woman reached beneath her table and pulled out a box almost identical to the one she'd shown Charlie yesterday. "Would you like to guess what's in here?"

Unconsciously, Charlie's hand closed around her ring finger and she began to stroke it. The stall owner's eyes followed the motion. "Very good. You're learning."

Charlie looked down, surprised at herself. Then she laughed. "I guess I am. Do you think I'm going to end up like you?"

"Not exactly," the woman purred. Then she opened up the box, displaying a simple gold ring with a pearl set between two small diamonds.

Charlie knew, of course, that none of it was real; but that wasn't important. She felt her attention drawn to the pearl and allowed herself to be swept into its depths. The world dwindled to a pinprick while her clit swelled to take its place, filling her entire awareness. It throbbed in time with her heart, shaking her small frame until she was forced to tear her eyes away or fall to the ground.

"That'll be five hundred dollars," said the stall owner.

Charlie paid it.

That night she lay in bed, running the new pearl over her clit and circling it around her tight little hole. Lightning lanced from the point of contact and shook her entire body. Then she plunged the ring inside herself and came screaming.

The stall owner's face was still sharp in her mind.

"Hello, Charlene," said the stall owner as she returned the next day.

Charlie paused, a tickle of unease breaking through the spell of the pearls. "I've never told you my name, have I?"

"No, you haven't." The shopkeeper made no move to explain, and after a moment she gave her catlike smile. "But I'll tell you mine. I am Miss Marguerite."

Miss Marguerite. Of course. Somehow that explained everything. Charlie found herself smiling back at the woman, honored that she had seen fit to share her name with her. "Thank you," she said earnestly. "I won't forget it."

"I know." Miss Marguerite reached under her table and pulled out a larger box than the ones she'd shown Charlie previously. "This is what you came for today."

Charlie's breath was taken away. It was a whole bracelet of pearls, each one a seduction into whitehot ecstasy. Charlie soaked her panties as her eyes rolled back in her head, but still she saw the gleam of those pure white spheres burning through the darkness in her brain. Her thoughts stilled as she contemplated their perfection.

Miss Marguerite's voice broke through her reverie. "Hold out your wrist and I'll put it on you."

With difficulty Charlie brought her eyes down from the back of her skull, but it became easier to focus when she caught sight of Miss Marguerite. The woman had such beautiful caramel skin, smooth enough to lick. And her eyes were like black pearls, deep and perfect. They knew her to her core.

Almost swooning, Charlie held out her wrist. As the pale warm orbs locked around it, she knew she'd do whatever she had to to own more of these pearls. No, wait - it was the pearls that owned her. She was caught, bound like a prisoner in the most delicate of manacles. And she loved it.

Miss Marguerite demanded one thousand dollars for the bracelet, and Charlene wrote the check with a smile.

That night she lay perfectly still on her bed, her consciousness drifting from one pearl to the next, enjoying the feeling of being bound by magic. It had to be magic, and Miss Marguerite was the magician. Charlene could almost love her for it.

The orgasm rolled over her like a wave, carrying all thought away and leaving her adrift in white.

The next day Charlene went back to the market, but Miss Marguerite wasn't there. Charlene was devastated. What had she done wrong? She'd paid without complaint each time the woman offered her a pearl, and she'd treasured each piece of jewelry she'd been given. She'd come to see Miss Marguerite every day. What else was there to do? All she knew was that the pearls throbbing at her ears and finger and wrist, enticing as they were, suddenly weren't enough. She went home wrapped in a veil of blackest despair.

The next few days passed in a haze. Charlene went to work and tried to focus, to no avail. Ted came by her desk and flirted with her, but she couldn't even muster the will to shoo him off. All that mattered was the absence of Miss Marguerite.

Then came the night Charlene dreamed of her, caressing that sweet body, searching out her darkest places and kissing them into life. In her dreams she loved the feel of Miss Marguerite's juice on her face, the taste of it on her lips, the things she screamed as she came. In her dreams Charlene loved to make her come.

On waking, she was only slightly disturbed. She'd never been with a woman before, but she had to admit that Miss Marguerite was beautiful. And more importantly, she was the source of the pearls that gave Charlene so much pleasure. Wasn't it natural that Charlene should tie her in with that pleasure?

But after three more nights of dreaming, Charlene woke in a pleasurable sweat to realize that she longed for Miss Marguerite herself, apart from the pearls. She remembered her sweet caramel skin, her fathomless black eyes, her smile which said she knew everything there was to know about Charlene and more. She'd long for a woman like that even if she'd never given her a thing. Miss Marguerite was perfect.

After that it was only the work of a few moments to realize that Miss Marguerite owned her as surely as she owned the pearls. The realization brought no fear, only relief. Now Charlene understood what was happening to her, why she was so lost without Miss Marguerite in her life. She missed her owner.

The next night Charlene lay in bed, too listless even to masturbate, although her fingers roamed constantly over the pearls she had yet to take off. Occasionally she would stare into one and let herself be drawn for a moment into its mindless depths, but then Miss Marguerite's face would loom in her empty mind, and the sense of loss she felt would draw her out of her reverie.

The phone rang. It had rung several times over the last few days and Charlene hadn't bothered to answer it, but somehow, this time, it seemed important that she do so. Maybe it was the pearls telling her to pick up the receiver and whisper, tentatively, "Hello?"

"charlene."

It was her! "Miss Marguerite," she gasped, bouncing upright in bed. "Oh, Miss Marguerite!"

"It's not 'Miss' any longer, is it, charlene?"

Of course it wasn't. charlene knew that intimately. "No, Mistress," she whispered, and at that truth white ecstasy throbbed at the edges of her vision. she fell back against the mattress, frantically sliding her panties down with one hand. "It's not."

"Did I say you could do that?"

charlene didn't doubt for a second that her Owner knew what she was doing. "Forgive me, Mistress," she panted, pulling her hand to her face and running the ring along her cheek. It was warm against her skin. "I was wrong to presume."

"Yes, you were. But you'll learn."

A thrill shot through charlene's pussy. she wanted to learn. Wanted it so badly. "Teach me, Mistress," she begged. "i'll do anything you say."

"Yes, you will. And this is what I say. I want you at the Old Slave Mart in one hour. You can find it even in the dark, can't you?"

"Yes, Mistress! Of course, Mistress!"

"Very good. I will see you there."

The night was warm, but charlene still trembled as she waited. After all this time, she was going to see her Mistress again! she couldn't wait. A thick gray fog covered the ground around the Old Slave Mart, and charlene peered restlessly into it, searching for any sign of the woman who owned her. The pearls at ears and wrist and finger throbbed warm against her skin, but she didn't dare gaze into them for fear of missing her Owner. she waited and waited, and just when she thought she could bear the tension no longer, she heard the click of heels behind her. she turned with a radiant smile on her face.

Mistress Marguerite stood there, wrapped in fog as though in swirls of cloth. Only Her eyes gleamed out of the haze, alive and exultant. "you've learned," she purred, and stepping forward, ran the back of her hand along charlene's cheek. The slave sighed and shivered at her touch. It felt even better than the pearls. "you know now what you really want, and it isn't pearls, is it, charlene? They're only a means to an end."

"Yes, Mistress," charlene sighed. "i want you. i want to love You and serve You for the rest of my life. Your pearls taught me that."

"But how can you serve Me if you're not wholly committed to Me?"

Shock brought tears to the slave's eyes. "Mistress, i am wholly committed to You! i've been learning that over the last few days, just like You wanted. i'll do anything for you!"

"No," said her Owner, "not yet. But you will soon. Kneel, slave, and I'll give you your final gift of pearls."

charlene's knees rapped hard against the cobblestone. she gazed upward, awestruck, expectant.

From out of the darkness her Mistress produced a final strand of pearls, a choker barely large enough to fit around her neck and collar her. charlene had just enough time to squeak her joy before the pearls took her, sucking her in like a black hole, crushing all thought of resistance. White filled her vision; devoured her will; exploded through her pussy in a sizzling, wet bolt of ecstasy. she fell forward on her face and never noticed the rough stones beneath her.

"Up on your knees," Mistress commanded, and she floated back to an upright position. For a moment she could see nothing but pearl, but then Mistress' face broke through the glow like an island through thick fog. charlene's mouth slipped open and she began to drool, the wetness at mouth echoing that at cunt.

Slowly her Owner's dark presence drew nearer. Then she felt the sweet, tight embrace of the necklace as Mistress Marguerite settled it around her neck. she heard the tiny snick of the clasp locking and knew that it would never unlock again.

"you know how much this one costs," said her Owner, and charlene nodded dazedly.

"Yes, Mistress. The cost is me. i give you myself for the collar."

"Very good." Those two simple words filled charlene with quiet ecstasy. "Now you are wholly committed to Me, and I give you your final gift." She laid Her hands one at a time on each of the pieces of jewelry She'd given charlene, and as She did so, the pearls melted into the slave's skin with the sweetest of warm, tingling sensations. As the last of them flowed beneath the surface, the white which had left her skin welled up in her eyes, turning them into a new set of pearls.

Mistress filled her vision like the monolith She was, and charlene bowed gracefully to kiss Her feet. It was all she could think to do. The pearls in her mind encased her thoughts and bound them firmly in place.

Mistress let her abase herself for a long moment, then drew her back to her knees. The slave stared hungrily into Her ebony eyes, finding there all the warmth and pleasure and mindless abandon she'd once found in the pearls.

Mistress Marguerite reached down and tousled her hair. "Good slave," She purred. "Now come with me."

She took charlene's hand and led her away into the pearlescent fog.