Chapter 3: Collar and the Name

The morning after that first night, I woke to the feeling of warm lips trailing down my stomach. My eyes fluttered open to find Pearl between my legs, her blonde hair spread across my thighs like spun gold, her tongue already working its magic. The collar was still around her neck; we’d never taken it off. She’d slept at the foot of the bed, curled up like a loyal pet, and now she was waking me in the most beautiful way possible.

“Good morning, Mistress,” she murmured against my skin, her tongue flicking out to tease my clit. “Pearl wanted to wake you properly. Pearl wanted to serve you from the very first moment. Pearl wanted to taste you. Pearl wanted to worship you. Pearl wanted to be used by you.”

I groaned, my hips pressing into her mouth. “You’re getting too good at this,” I managed.

“Pearl has a good teacher,” she said, her fingers joining her tongue, sliding into my wet pussy. “And a good reason to learn. Pearl wants to please you. Pearl wants to serve you. Pearl wants to be perfect for you. Pearl’s mouth exists to please you. Pearl’s tongue exists to worship you. Pearl’s fingers exist to fill you.”

She worked me with practiced precision, her tongue circling my clit while her fingers curled inside me, finding that perfect spot that made my vision blur. I came with a soft cry, my body arching against her. She kissed her way up my body, her lips leaving a trail of fire across my skin. When she reached my mouth, she kissed me deeply, letting me taste myself on her tongue.

Keith stirred beside us, his hand finding my waist. “You woke me up too, you know,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.

“Then Pearl will take care of you too, Master,” she said, turning to him. “Pearl’s mouth exists to serve you too. Pearl’s throat exists to be filled by you. Pearl exists to be used by you.”

She took him in her mouth, her blonde hair bobbing as she worked him with practiced skill. I watched them, my body still humming with the aftermath of my own orgasm. She was beautiful like this on her knees, her mouth full, her collar gleaming. This was my life now. This was our life. And it was beautiful.

We spent the next hour in bed, tangled together, using Pearl in every way we could think of. Keith took her from behind while she ate my cunt, her moans vibrating against my flesh. Then I took her with a strap-on while Keith fucked her mouth, her body stretched and filled and completely claimed. By the time we finally got up, she was covered in our combined fluids, her body thoroughly used. She thanked us for using her. She thanked us for owning her. She thanked us for freeing her.

I looked at her as she knelt before us, and I felt a surge of love so intense it almost hurt. “You’re perfect, Pearl,” I said. “You’re absolutely perfect.”

“Pearl is perfect because she’s yours, Mistress,” she said. “Because she belongs to you. Because she’s finally what she was meant to be. Because she’s finally free. Because every inch of her exists to serve you. Because her mouth is your mouth. Because her cunt is your cunt. Because her ass is your ass. Because she is nothing but property.”

That was the first full day of our new life together, reader. And from the moment we woke, Pearl began the process of unmaking herself. She was determined. She was focused. She was ready.

She didn’t dress herself. She stood perfectly still, arms at her sides, while I chose a simple sundress from her closet and slid it over her body. She didn’t move, didn’t help, didn’t do anything but stand there, passive and trusting. Her body was mine to dress. Her body was mine to use.

“The woman I used to be used to dressing herself,” she said softly as I smoothed the fabric down her body. “She used to choose her own clothes. She used to decide what to wear. She used to think she was in control. But she was wrong. She was never in control. Pearl isn’t her. Pearl is property. Pearl is a doll. And property waits to be dressed. Property is passive. Property is owned. Pearl’s body is not her own. Pearl’s body belongs to her owners.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine. “You’re really doing this,” I said. “You’re really letting go of everything. You’re really becoming something new.”

“Everything, Mistress,” she confirmed. “Pearl doesn’t want to be her anymore. Pearl doesn’t want to be anyone but yours. Pearl wants to be nothing but what you make her. Pearl wants to be nothing but a hole for your pleasure. Pearl wants to be nothing but property. Pearl wants to be nothing but a doll. Pearl wants to be nothing but your whore. Pearl wants to be nothing but your cunt. Pearl wants to be nothing but yours.”

I kissed her forehead. “You’re so brave, Pearl.”

“Pearl isn’t brave, Mistress,” she said. “Pearl is just finally being honest. About who she really is. About what she really wants. About what she’s always been about the whore inside her. About the property she was born to be. About the doll she’s always wanted to become. About the cunt she’s always been. About the slave she’s always been. About the freedom she’s always needed.”

Keith joined us in kitReynolds. Pearl served us breakfast, moving gracefully around the room, her sundress swishing against her thighs. Underneath, she was wearing nothing, no underwear, no bra. Just her collar and her skin. Her body was on display beneath the thin fabric. Her nipples were hard against the material. Her cunt was bare and ready.

She knelt beside the table while we ate, her eyes downcast, her body still. She didn’t speak unless spoken to. She waited. She served. She was perfect.

“The woman I used to be would have been fidgety,” she said quietly. “She would have been impatient. She would have wanted to be doing something. She didn’t know how to be still. She didn’t know how to wait. She was always rushing, always worrying, always trying to control everything. But Pearl knows. Pearl knows how to wait. Pearl knows how to be still. Pearl knows how to serve. Pearl knows how to be property. Pearl knows how to be a doll. Pearl knows how to be owned. Pearl knows how to be free.”

I reached down and stroked her hair. “You’re doing so well, Pearl. You’re learning so quickly.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” she murmured. “Thank you for giving Pearl this opportunity. Thank you for letting Pearl be what she was meant to be. Thank you for owning Pearl. Thank you for using Pearl. Thank you for making Pearl free. Thank you for making Pearl property. Thank you for making Pearl yours.”

The first outing was the hardest, reader. I wanted to test her, to see how she’d react to being exposed in public. I wanted to see if she could handle the judgment, the stares, the whispers. I chose a simple task: a trip to the grocery store. I dressed her in a sheer dress, one that left nothing to the imagination. Her collar was visible above the neckline. Her body was visible through the fabric. Her nipples were clearly visible. The curve of her cunt was visible through the thin material. She was completely exposed.

“Are you ready, Pearl?” I asked her as we stood in the doorway.

“Pearl has never been more ready, Mistress,” she said. “The woman I used to be would have been scared. She would have been ashamed. She would have wanted to hide. She would have been terrified of what people would think. But she’s gone. Pearl isn’t her. Pearl is property. Pearl is a doll. And Pearl wants to be seen. Pearl wants to be displayed. Pearl wants to be owned. Pearl wants the world to see what she is. Pearl wants the world to see that she belongs to you. Pearl wants the world to see her body and know that it’s not hers. Pearl wants the world to know that she’s nothing but your property. Nothing but your whore. Nothing but your cunt. Nothing but yours.”