The box was delivered by the jeweller's assistant. It was flat, black, made of the finest velvet, and so large the assistant had to lay it on the table before it could be opened. 'The instructions we received were very detailed,' said the assistant, her eyes lowered and her cheeks starting to redden. 'These are rare and precious jewels, and they have been set into a unique set of items.' Dianne was very curious. 'Do you want me to get dressed first?' 'Um... no. We were told very firmly that these items are enough on their own. Er - they are sufficient.' 'Sufficient, enough - what do you mean?' 'Both the gentlemen seemed to think they are to be worn alone.' 'Over nothing?' Dianne was stunned. And who were the two gentlemen she spoke about? Perhaps Brian was planning all this with Boris. Pehaps. 'Yes, madam.' The assistant's face was a picture of embarrassment. 'And I am to help you - they are custom made, and very delicate.' 'Yes - but what are they?' The lid of the black box opened, and Dianne's eyes were momentarily dazzled by the glimmer, gleam and shine of a thousand gems. Most of them diamonds, they glittered their fire and depth of clarity under the electric light. They rested in a sea of pure gold, with chains upon chains, spirals, twists and catches. Where was it all to go? How was this going to clothe her? She fingered a diamond, which was clamped delicately on a prong of gold, attached to a chain that led to another diamond, and then a large sapphire, and three citrines, then a topaz whose colour was most unusual. This led in turn to a spiral, a catch, a series of fresh water pearls and a cascade of aquamarines. She gasped with the rich beauty of what lay before her, but she did not comprehend how it was all to go onto her skin. 'Are you ready, madam?' Dianne slipped the hotel robe off her shoulders. Her scent rose in the room from her warm skin as the assistant started to unravel the tangle of chains. 'This is the bodice,' she said. 'Some people call it a Reggi-lette, from a combination of Italian and French words. You wear it...' she drew it over Dianne's left arm, and then her right. '... like a bra, but it is not meant to support or hide. It leaves - um, very little to the imagination.' The Reggi-lette was not a tangle after all, but a cunningly constructed bodice of jewels that surrounded each of her breasts to display them better. Strings of pearls fell from her neck in a spray, caressing her shoulders, encircling the swellings whose nipples were starting to enjoy the attention. A large clasp encrusted with mother of pearl, antique jade and turquoise was designed to poise exactly above her navel. From it, two extremely thin chains led to a pair of clamps of gold. 'Where do those go?' The assistant helped Dianne affix them to either nipple, hugging the stem. She gasped as the erect nipples were held in their little vice-like springs, and then Dianne gasped as she felt the pressure. 'Now, the armlets.' Two cuffs of encrusted gold were clasped on her wrists, their tops reaching half way to the elbows. Chains were connected to rings that were intended for each middle finger. 'The anklets.' The girl fastened similar cuffs to Dianne's ankles, with chains leading to rings on each middle toe. Onto each little toe went a diamond ring. 'And finally - the loin piece. This is a bit er...' The girl did not finish. Dianne could see why. A series of seven chains were to be draped about her hips, with spiralling chains leading to four tiny clips, which had to be attached to her labia. She understood now why the jeweller's measurements had to be so precise. She took the clips from the girl's hands and tenderly fixed them to her smooth slit, two on each side. Excitement was starting to dampen her secret places, and her lips and nipples swelled in sympathy. A rosy blush settled on her breasts. With the loin piece in place, the chains tugged gently and her vulva flared, exposing - but only suggestively - what lay underneath: her pink warm curling inner lips. The assistant was holding up a clit pin. 'Will you...?' 'Yes.' It was attached to several short chains. At the end of each a tiny bell hung, tinkling quite loudly at the slightest movement. 'Oh - oh my goodness.' She slid the clip around her clit and lips snugly. It fitted perfectly, of course. The shortest bells hung just below her vulva, the longest reached to her knees, and rang when she moved. Just as Dianne looked at herself in the mirror, exclaiming at her appearance, the door flew open and Boris Petrowski stood there, eyes wide with amazement. 'Heavens! Heavens - my dear girl. You look outrageously beautiful.' Dianne turned. 'Boris...' There were no words she could voice without choking. Her excitement was complete. She blinked. 'Where is Brian?' 'I am to take you to where he is,' said the old composer. He could not take his eyes from her naked form draped so outrageously with all manner of precious gem, with ropes and chains of gold. He took his own cape and drew it around her shoulders. It was still warm from his body. Impeccably dressed in an evening suit, he led her down to a waiting limousine. The cape did not quite cover Dianne's front, and there was nothing she could do to silence the sex bells that hung from her vagina. They announced her presence before she arrived. They were silent in the car, driving through the outer suburbs of Las Palmas until they reached a road that ringed a low flat isthmus whose lights reflected on a dark sea of vivid blue. Palm trees and reddish sand filled the car window as they cruised past a bank of low white houses. In the distance, across what looked like a wide bay, Dianne could see a range of grey conical mountains against the darkening sky. 'It's beautiful,' she whispered, half to herself. She was surprised to hear Boris agree from his side of the seat. She forgot he was there with her, and she shifted on the sleek leather, which clung to her thighs under the borrowed cape that was a few inches too short, and a few inches to narrow to cover her completely. Her legs, long sleek and tanned, were crossed in front of her. When she moved, the bells tinkled loudly, making her face redden with subdued sexual excitement. She was dressed especially for Brian, expressly for him to see her come and offer herself to him. 'Dressed' was not the accurate word, she supposed - the jewels draped about her frame did not cover her in the least. They exposed the fact her body was close to perfect: that she was announcing her sexual willingness to be exposed, displayed and taken. That she was an object of hedonistic pleasure, and totally unashamed of it. Her nipples were tickled by the lining of Boris's cape. Expectant and plump, pinched by the gold clamps that she felt but did not mind, they were sensitive and aroused: had been since Astra's massage and the buffing and creaming of the beauticians. They reacted to the slightest sensation, even a draught of wind. The tips were swollen, like dark baby rosebuds, and longed, yearned, for the touch of fingers, lips, the skin of another's body. 'Here we are,' rumbled Boris as they pulled up outside the ornate gates of a property engulfed with trees. The car entered and drove up a gravel driveway, which was flanked by dense tropical foliage. Although night had fallen, it was possible to feel the heat and sense the nature of the surroundings. Dianne lowered her window and felt the balmy air, not only on her face, but also on the parts of her the cape did not cover: her deep cleavage, her thighs and legs. She tried to pull the cape together at the front with little success. She knew it would come off when she was taken to Brian, in any case. Excitement made her look around and forward. What she saw was a huge villa of white stone, whose windows blazed with the interior lights. It seemed every available light in the house had been lit to welcome her. 'It looks wonderful, Boris.' 'This is Brian's villa,' said the old man. 'He bought it expressly to enjoy with you.' Dianne sighed. She could hardly believe her eyes. Music assailed her ears. An orchestra seemed to be present, in the open air. The car stopped and they alighted. 'Give me that,' Boris asked. He took the cape and slung it over one arm. Dianne looked down at herself, blushed and then turned to Boris. 'I don't know whether I can...' He smiled. 'Brian has planned for weeks, and waited for this with bated breath. He is dying to see you.' 'But...' But Dianne felt exposed, naked except for the extravagant jewellery made for her body. The old man took her arm and led her up the end of the driveway. Music and the babble of loud voices reached her ears. 'He's not alone!' cried Dianne. 'Of course not - this is a celebration. Come on, my dear.' Dianne saw a gathering of people in the middle distance. The music seemed louder. She looked around. Boris had disappeared. She was now alone, and saw the people ahead had noticed her presence. She could not hide or retrace her steps. She could only go forward. 'Here she comes,' she heard, whispered and announced by many mouths. 'Here she comes!' Dianne walked, and heard above the music the tinkling of the sex bells that hung from her secret slit. How could she possibly walk into a crowd of strangers dressed in nothing but a glorified string of gems? She was practically nude: her breasts and pubic mound were surrounded by chains but certainly not covered. The jewellery declared and displayed rather than minimised the fact she was bare. 'Bare but beautiful. Beautifully bare,' Brian would say. Wouldn't he? She had to smile. Tossing her head, Dianne plucked up all her daring and started to walk, straight and tall, towards the people. She recognised a face or two: Annika and Rosita, the lesbian couple who had frolicked in Boris's pool. The Boccherini couple, who had mated so lustily before her very eyes. She saw a few unknown faces, and a few more she recognised dimly. Faces with no names. Where was Brian? All these people were elegantly and fully dressed. Even the lesbians who had disported themselves so unselfconsciously naked were now in lovely evening dresses, clothed neatly from neck to ankle. Everyone there was fully clothed... except her. She did not know where to look. She was conscious all of a sudden of the pinching sensation of the clamps at her nipples and labia: they were such an ostentatious declaration of her as a sexual being. Of her willingness to be recognised as a sexual object. Her face flushed, and a rosy hue was apparent also on her thighs and breasts. But it was not totally embarrassing, being seen like this. Brian obviously wanted it of her. He was showing her off to all his friends. She moved proudly, starting to feel the glimmering beginnings of arousal as the bells were noticed by the crowd. The people parted, and she walked between them, up an aisle that was flanked with beautiful women in shimmering dresses, and men in evening suits. They all looked for the source of the loud tinkling, and spied the bells that fell in a cascade from her inner thighs to her knees. The music stopped. The bells jangled out her presence and her movement. Then the orchestra launched into a romantic tune she did not recognise. She was approaching a flight of stairs: white marble that led upward to a terrace, where she saw Boris and by his side, Brian. His name left her lips involuntarily. She saw the smile on his face. He looked her up and down, his eyes brilliant and welcoming. 'I'm speechless. Dianne... you look stunning. But that's such a poor word. I can't tell you how you look. It's everything I imagined, and more.' He held out a hand and she placed her own in it, palm downward. He turned over her hand and kissed her palm, the inside of her wrist. His lips travelled the length of her arm and he kissed the inside of her elbow. His cheek brushed a dozen jewels he had had cut specifically for this night. His cheek touched the side of her exposed breast. 'Everyone can see your body now, the way I think of it,' he whispered in her ear. 'I want them all to see the extent of your beauty, and how you must have been created for sex.' 'Brian!' 'Yes - you were. A body like yours is made to be admired, ravished, taken, roused.' He turned her and she looked out at a sea of faces below them. It made her dizzy to feel their eyes on her. Boris's voice rumbled in the night. 'Thank you for attending this gathering, ladies and gentlemen! Dianne has at last arrived, and we welcome her as eagerly as Brian does. Well...' he laughed. 'Perhaps Brian awaited her more eagerly than anyone here. He has waited for tonight for weeks, during which time both these young people have been chaste and celibate. Tonight, Dianne will give up her body completely in a physical vow that will bind her to Brian.' The older man stood back and there was a small scattering of applause. Brian took Dianne inside and shut the beautiful doors behind them. It was quiet inside. At last, they were alone. 'Brian.' 'Dianne. Are you ready to release your body to me?' He held her, looking deep into her eyes. 'Will you be mine and only mine?' 'Of course.' She parted her lips to be kissed, and felt Brian's mouth on hers; warm, demanding. The exhaustion she feared she would feel after all the preparation was dispelled in an instant. Her body reacted immediately to his proximity and the action of his passionate mouth. His tongue explored hers as if it were the first time, and he crushed her against him, the gems nearly piercing her skin in a number of places. 'You know - you do not look naked at all in that,' he said, holding her at arm's length. She laughed. 'It certainly feels as though I am! Everyone can see my... my...' 'Yes, it's beautiful, but not bare. Not totally bare. I don't know. It's perhaps more exciting than having you totally naked. More provocative, but not naked.' His finger touched a nipple clamp tentatively. 'So provocative,' he repeated, shaking his head. 'It's perfect.' He turned her around and saw how chains were strung underneath her buttocks, gently caressing her skin. 'Perfect.' He stroked her buttocks repeatedly. 'I have longed to touch you for weeks now.' His fingers traced the opening between her large cheeks and she trembled. His fingers spread over her buttocks and as he pressed, he drew her towards him, once more embracing her forcibly. His evening suit smelled new, his cologne subtle yet exotic. 'I am ready to enter you here and now.' 'I'm ready,' she whispered. 'But first you must take your vow.' 'Now?' He nodded and led her up a grand staircase whose red carpet was brilliant under chandelier light. They entered a massive room, equally brilliantly lit, where a small knot of people was waiting. At one end of the room was a raised platform, where Dianne was gently led. Here, with no orchestra and no loud voices, the sound of the dangling bells was so loud it made its own announcement. 'What is going to happen?' 'I will ask you a series of questions, and you will answer...' '... Yes.' He smiled. On the platform, Dianne was not surprised to see an extravagantly attired divan, with bolsters, pillows, throws and tassels of gold. Sheets of brilliant white satin draped to the floor. Brian sat her in the middle and started with his questions. At the same time, he caressed her, on one knee before her. He touched her shoulders, her neck, stroking down to her breasts. Cupping each in a palm, he asked another, and then another question. They were all about her and her body. She was conscious of being watched as he spoke. 'Are you willing to give yourself up to me?' 'Yes.' 'Will you give your skin to me?' 'Yes.' 'And your hair?' 'Yes.' 'And your most sensitive erogenous organs?' 'Yes.' 'Your breasts and nipples?' He touched her erect peaks lightly, and her whole body reacted. She forgot they were being watched, and closed her eyes and sighed. His hands worked magic on her, stroking and seeking, fondling and cupping and tweaking, until she was moaning softly. Her string of yeses went on, although she was not really listening to what he said. She wanted him, she was giving him her body, and it was yes, yes, yes that she wanted to say. Brian released one of the clamps, and her left nipple sang with joy. Circulation returned in a flood, and full erection followed. She felt his mouth on it, his hot tongue and lips, and the tug as he started to suck. He was gently ridding her of the artful strings and coils and spirals of chains, laying her fully topless. 'Are these mine?' 'Yes.' 'Can I show them to the world?' 'Yes.' He squeezed her left breast and she moaned again. The clamp on her right nipple was taken off, and he repeated the sucking there, taking a full quarter of her swelling breast into his mouth and wetting it, licking and returning to suck deeply. The top section of the jewelled Regi-lette disappeared. Brian made her lean forward so her breasts swung gently, and he teased them, pulled and stimulated them until the stems were so long and sensitised it was unbearable not to be touched. She sighed when he let go and moaned when contact was resumed. 'Will you always let me do this?' 'Yes.' 'Anytime?' 'Yes.' 'Anywhere?' 'Yessss.' He tugged at her mammaries like a kitten, pawing and suckling fiercely. Then he pulled her to her feet. 'We can celebrate now.' Wearing only the loin portion of the jewelled garment, Dianne was led down from the platform, was handed a flute of pink champagne, and was greeted by a dozen or so guests, who congratulated her. Dizzy and aroused, she was hardly conscious of their names or faces, wanting only to be alone with Brian so they could consummate her promises. Her vulva was wet and swollen, longing to be filled with his visible engorgement. He may be formally dressed, but his excitement was apparent to anyone who looked at his trousers. They drank champagne, and Brian fed Dianne tiny morsels of lobster, which was being offered on trays by two waiters. Their eyes took in Dianne's shape candidly, and she revelled in their gaze. It was wonderful to be the only disrobed person in the room, it made her feel extraordinarily special. The bells tinkled and the diamonds on the chains sparkled the more she moved. She could hardly keep still. When she was led to the platform and the divan again, Brian pushed her back gently and prised her legs apart and up, flexing her knees and pushing them outwards. No one had any doubt how the bells were fixed to her body then. The clit clip was visible, but Brian slid it gently off, putting all the chains and bells it held to one side. He unfastened the two clamps on each outer lip, and returning circulation did its work. Dianne's explosive sigh and loud sexual moans filled the room. She spread her thighs, opening herself to Brian's inquisitive fingers. Lying back like a limp ragdoll, she allowed him access to do as he pleased. 'Is this mine?' 'Yes.' 'Can I touch you like this, always?' 'Yes. Yes.' 'Can I lick and probe you here?' 'Yes.' 'Anywhere?' 'Yes.' 'At any time of day or night?' 'Yes.' 'In the presence of anyone?' 'Yes. Yes.' Three of his fingers entered her, rimming her vagina and making her arch her back. A collective sigh left the watchers as she started to rock her pelvis and plead with Brian to please, please enter her. But he neither disrobed nor showed any sign of going into full blown coitus. His fingers worked on her vulva, wetting her completely. He followed with his tongue, slowly sliding first up one side of her labia then down the other. Slowly, smoothly, until she was pacified and relaxed, enjoying the sublime pleasure he was giving her. He had asked no physical response of her so far. He only wanted to pleasure her, and she was more than willing to allow him. 'Yes,' she repeated, even though no more questions were asked. 'Yes!' His tongue entered her again and again, plunging stiffly, like a small version of his penis. Then he held her lips wide apart with one hand and frotted her clitoris openly with the other, held flat and stiff. Circular motion one way, and then the other, rhythmically and smoothly, had Dianne panting loudly, uncaring there was an audience. 'Yes,' she moaned. 'Yes...' she pleaded. 'Do you succumb to this pleasure?' 'Yes.' 'Will you always want it?' 'Yes.' 'Can I take it for myself?' 'Yes.' He took her hard round clit between his lips and pulled repeatedly, wetting with his tongue and shaking his head slowly from side to side. Dianne exploded. Her orgasmic scream and bucking hips announced to everyone present that she meant what she promised. Brian kept her at a constant level of extreme pleasure for some minutes, then brought her down slowly, lolling his tongue loosely between the swollen folds of her curled shiny secret lips and withdrawing. 'Let's celebrate,' he said. How could she celebrate? Her head was spinning and her body was demanding more, much more. Her skin tingled, her nipples and clit so aroused and exposed it was impossible to stand, take a glass and sip delicately and elegantly. She had no idea how she looked: what state of disrepair her hair and make up had reached. Was she tousled, ruffled... looking as if she had been taken sexually right there and then? Her skin was reddened, her extremities moist and evidently well sucked. All of this did not seem to trouble Brian. He was out of breath and slightly tousled, but his demeanour returned to elegance, his voice modulated. He led her naked from the platform to where Boris stood with three other older men. 'You are enjoying tonight,' stated Boris formally. Dianne blushed deeply. There was a spectacle they were all enjoying, and she was the centre of it: the only naked, debauched woman in the room. She remained silent and sipped her drink. Brian held her other hand tightly, smiling victoriously at what they had done. 'All that's left now is the giving of rings.' 'Rings?' 'I am presenting you with four rings, my lovely. Everyone here will see me placing them on you.' Once more, Brian led her upward to the platform. A waiter brought a velvet cushion upon which there were four gold braided spirals. Dianne looked at them, knowing immediately where they were to go. Just as she thought, Brian treaded a spiral onto each of her middle fingers, and the other two onto each nipple. His fingers where hot, but he managed to put the rings in place. Everyone clapped. 'You are mine,' he said in a loud voice. 'Yes.' There was music to be heard outside. The doors had been opened and people were once more moving between the doors, mingling and celebrating. Brian gave Dianne's hand to Boris, who led her to a chamber. 'Goodnight, my dear,' said the old man. 'I shall see you both tomorrow, perhaps. You were wonderful. It was a memorable sight, seeing you like this.' Dianne did not know what to say. When he left, she looked at her surroundings and found she was in a private bedchamber whose appointments were sumptuous and comfortable. She repaired her hair and makeup in the bathroom next door, approached the bed and slipped between the heated sheets. Her body responded to the warmth and she was soon drowsy and relaxed. She knew Brian would join her at some point, and could not contain her excitement. She had come, she had enjoyed the eyes of everyone, especially Brian's, upon her body. But now she wanted complete consummation with him, and she knew it was imminent. She must have fallen asleep. When she opened her eyes again sunlight streaked between the cream jacquard curtains onto the matching counterpane. Where was Brian? She shifted under the sheets and waited. He would come. Soon. Why was he not there? Dianne sighed, tossed and turned between the sheets. A knock at the door was so soft and subdued she hardly heard it. Leaping out of bed, she threw the double doors apart eagerly, only to find a demure maid bearing a tray. The woman looked at Dianne's unclothed body with an arched eye. 'Senorita!' Dianne blushed and turned away, seeking a robe, a gown: anything to drape around her form. 'Where is...?' she started to ask. But the maid placed the tray on a table and started to offer her juice, coffee, a dimpled jug full of crystal clear water. 'Will you take a drink now?' Chastened and rebuffed, Dianne did not know what to do. She sipped from a goblet and felt tears coming to her eyes. She sat on a beautifully upholstered chaise where she slumped desultorily. The robe fell open. She looked down at her thighs, at her baby-smooth mound and slit, that had been so well prepared for a night of love, and were now so summarily ignored. Where was Brian? Why had he not spent the night with her - in her? A tear dropped and rolled down, finding the channel of her thighs and resting just above her sex. She brushed it with a finger, wishing it was Brian's finger that caressed her. The maid's eyebrow rose once more to see her touching herself so. 'Will Senorita take a bath?' She was helped into a frothing and foaming spa bath whose water was tinted green. The scent that rose made her feel invigorated. She sighed and twisted and turned her body, sweeping and scooping water over her skin until she felt clean and sparkling once more. Her limbs were refreshed. The maid held out a bath sheet and she enfolded herself inside it, warm and pampered, smelling of all the citrus fruits in the world. When she was once more alone, she sipped some lime and orange juice and shrugged off the robe. Looking at it on the sumptuous grey carpet, it reminded her of the number of times she had undressed for Brian. The number of times she had been massaged, oiled, beautified, for him. Sleeking on preparations, creams and lotions from a battery of bottles and pots on the dresser, she smiled. Why was she so impatient? All she had to do was wait a while, and he would return. He would touch her, alone, privately, and spend an inordinate amount of time looking at her. He would take her, making her his, enjoying his penetration after so many weeks of abstinence. Oh - she needed him so. She pulled the robe on once more, enjoying the way its deep softness swept over her breasts. She rubbed her front on the towelling, then allowed her hands to caress her skin once more, this time without the excuse of pampering herself with lotions. She lifted her breasts, kneaded them, frotted her own skin until she sighed again. Brian - where was Brian? The first piece of jewellery he had ever given her was in her case. She knew what instructions had accompanied it when it was given to her. She knew it was to be worn alone, entirely alone. She held its chain in her hands and let the jewel dangle in front of her eyes. It was so beautiful, so perfect. Naked, her skin glowing from bath and lotions, from oils and creams, she lifted the ornament over her head and let it dangle against her skin. Oh - she knew it looked marvellous. She knew it was perfect. It tickled her where it dangled, between navel and pubis. This was how she would wait for Brian: just as he liked her, nude and ready, wearing only the black pearl pendant.

Return to The Black Pearl Menu