Pearl Girls Chapter 17: Trustee’s Ball Buster

( c ) 2023 by Skarlette One

“I’m so glad my lectures will be paying off for you tonight, Alexis,” Dean Dickinson said as he led me downstairs into the private rooms hidden beneath the historic administration building of Skarlette City University—the domain where faculty, staff, and students were not allowed. We passed through two cypher locks and a retina scanner. For a moment, it felt more like a supervillain lair I might have faced in my days as the heroine Argent, rather than a sub-basement of a campus building frequented by Alexis Ames, PhD. These pearls around my neck did more than mark me as a Pearl Girl, they opened up entire vistas of erotic adventure!

“Your feedback on my … oral examinations will certainly serve me well tonight, Dean,” I said.

“You can thank me later, in my office,” the Dean chuckled. “More than that, I’ve used my considerable influence to secure you a reprieve from whatever retrograde Pearl Girl rule has kept you from your climax these last few months. I firmly believe that even for those of your … calling, the most sexually exciting partner is the one enjoying herself. The trustees will enjoy you and you will enjoy yourself tonight. Won’t you, Alexis?”

Despite the Dean’s request, Mistress Treasure had not actually granted me that reprieve from orgasm denial. She’d ordered me to fake as many climaxes as would please the trustees. If I actually came, I’d never get a chance to kiss her unspeakably luscious lips. Of course, I couldn’t let the Dean know that where it mattered, he had no influence. He was a pearl-level member of Club Absinthe and needed to be pampered in every way, especially his ego. “I am certain tonight will be truly exceptional. Thank you so much, Dean.”

The Dean led me through a crowded wine cellar laden with expensive vintages. At the back, the pull of a concealed handle caused a section of wall to swing open and reveal a secret passage. From within, I could hear the chattering of deep male voices and the echoes of wanton female moans. At the end of the hallway was another hidden door. Within was a large smoking room with dark paneling, chairs and benches upholstered in black leather. More than a dozen men mingled in the space—all of them old, all of them white, all of them with a beautiful college girl servicing their cock.

Not just any college girls. Nearly every member of the Chloros Neriada Sorority—except for sorority president and irresistible sex goddess Treasure Tartarus—was kissing, cuddling, sucking, or being fucked by the school trustees. A room full of Pearl Girls meant that the trustees wanted for nothing. Their every lascivious desire was fulfilled by eager girls a third of their age.

One of them caught sight of me. “Look what the Dean brought us, fellas. Professor Pearl Girl is here!”

While I hand never been one to seek out the spotlight, being a Pearl Girl had taught me how to play to an audience. Cocking my hip, I smirked at the trustees. “I hope you boys have boned up on the material. I give a very thorough oral examination!”

Over the next few hours, I became a dervish of debauchery, catering to every fantasy the trustees had nurtured about a sexy college professor. One produced a pair of glasses he wanted me to wear so he could cum all over them. Another wanted me to gaze deeply into his eyes while I recited Rosetti’s Goblin Market while he fingered me, so he could watch me fake an orgasm as I gasped out “Eat me, drink me, love me.” Two other trustees wagered ten thousand dollars on who could make me cum quickest on his dick (I faked it for both, but a little later for the one that ruined my French twist by trying to pull my hair).

Perhaps the strangest request was the trustee in his eighties who carefully unfolded a handwritten essay that had to be a half-century old. He lay back and wanted me to ride his Viagra-hardened cock while I read the the teacher’s comments on what must have been his college economics homework. I gasped and moaned as I read the faded red ink in flawless penmanship. While his economics professor had given his homework an A+, I could barely award his cocksmanship a D. Regardless, I faked two climaxes by the time he reached his own.

Faking an orgasm when you were truly, deeply desperate for release was quite difficult. The more I moaned, the better my body felt. The more I screamed, the hotter my actual desires burned. The more I writhed and squealed “I’m cumming for you, sir,” the more my actual orgasm threatened to overwhelm me with pleasure too powerful to deny.

But Mistress Treasure’s rules allowed no exceptions: No orgasm tonight.

By the time most of the trustees had sated their appetites and drifted to sleep, I was acting more by habit than by any plan to please them. I was so busy sucking whatever dick still had some firmness to it that I didn’t even hear the hidden door open. The trustee whose dick I was sucking gave a shout. “Hey! No women allowed in here!”

A feminine voice replied, “Really? Tell that to the exploited young female tickling her tonsils with your dick, Connor.” Even from behind me, with my face pressed against Connor nest of gray pubic hair, something about her voice sounded familiar.

“Unless you’re here as entertainment, Lyta, you need to leave.”

Lyta? Behind me was Hipolyta Leasch, the woman I’d humiliated just a few hours ago by all but bragging about how I’d seduced her husband. I slowed the bobbing of my head so that this trustee could focus on getting rid of her, rather than relishing my hot, wet mouth.

Before he could push the issue, Lyta Leasch responded. “I’m a trustee of this school, Connor. Same as all of you. My family foundation and I have given millions to this school’s endowment. I have as much right to the perks of being a trustee as anyone. … Unless you really want to face a discrimination lawsuit that will drag all these student extracurricular activities out into the open?”

Connor pushed my face away from his shaft. “There’s no need to get catty, Lyta. It’s just that you haven’t been down here since you got married.”

“Wedded bliss is overrated,” she growled.

“We all learn that sooner or later. If we’d known you were coming, the Dean could have made arrangements. As it is … well, it’s just that we only ordered Pearl Girls for entertainment.”

Lyta laughed. “Don’t worry, Connor. I’ve had my fill of dick for a lifetime. I’d much rather unleash my lust upon one of these high-spirited young ladies. Which of you little sluts wants to play with Lady Lyta?” Her voice came closer. Still on my knees, I tried to crawl away as discretely as possible. Hoping to avoid her attention, I ducked around the far side of a divan …

Only to find myself facing a full-length mirror.

In reflection, Lyta Leasch gazed down on me with a cruel twinkle in her eye. “Alexis Ames? What a surprise to see you here. Faculty aren’t normally allowed to even know about these little get-togethers, let alone participate.”

Maybe I could spin some sort of story to salvage what vestige of dignity I had left? Worth a shot. Rising to my feet, I turned to face her with chin held high, despite my cum-spattered nakedness. “That’s a funny story, Lyta. It all started—”

“She’s not faculty tonight, Lyta. She’s a Pearl Girl,” Connor bellowed. “Damn fine cocksucker, too.”

“A Pearl Girl? She’s here to entertain the trustees?” Lyta said in a tone of mock-surprise, cruelty never leaving her eyes. “Is this true, Alexis?”

I knew my necklace wouldn’t allow me to lie to a direct question from a trustee, not tonight when she was effectively a pearl-level member. Maybe I could evade? “Don’t you find the issue of identity to be one of endless nuance, Lyta? One might say that—Oooohhhh!”

Lyta’s sharp nails seized my nipples, jolts of burning pain-pleasure surging through my body. I’d barely seen her take a step toward me, but now her lips were at my ear. “It’s a simple question, Alexis. Are you here to entertain the trustees?”

The intense sensation wouldn’t let any words past my lips but the truth. “Y-yes, I am. Aaahhh!”

“Good. You’re going to be very entertaining to me, you fucking home-wrecking slut!” She slapped me across the face. The truth of her words added a sting to my cheek that I hadn’t felt in battles against super-powered foes. I had destroyed this woman’s life and now I was at her mercy. There was a certain dark kismet to the whole thing.

“Let’s just have a look at what kind of trash tempted my pathetic husband. Hands behind your head, Pearl Girl.”

“Of course, Lyta,” I said, raising my arms and lacing my fingers behind my neck.

Smack! She slapped my naked tit. “Don’t speak to me like we’re friends, Alexis. I know your Pearl Girl rules. You have to treat me with respect.”

How could she know tonight’s rules? Was she bluffing? I couldn’t chance calling that bluff. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Not yet, Lexi, but you will be sorry before I’m done with you.” She looked toward the nearest sorority sister.

Mandy was tucking a blanket around one of the trustees. He’d just emptied his balls inside her and nodded off for a post-orgasmic nap. Lyta pulled Mandy up by the ear. “He’s got no more need of you, Pearl Girl. You’re with me now. Get me out of this dress.” Mandy scurried behind the surprisingly kinky archaeologist and busied herself with the clasps.

Lyta glared at me. “How did you do it, Lexi? Did you get him drunk? Read him Shakespearean sonnets? Or did you just show Grant your pathetic tits and he was so tired of fucking his fist that he leapt at the first trim on offer?”

While I couldn’t lie to her, I could spin the truth in the most hurtful way possible. “Grant came to me. He found out that I was a Pearl Girl. Frankly, I don’t think he could help himself.”

Lyta scowled at me as Mandy helped her step out of the red silk gown. Underneath, Lyta wore an ornate black leather corset with matching panties and tall black leather boots. “You Pearl Girls think you’re so irresistible, don’t you? Think you’re the sexiest thing mankind has ever seen?”

“We do leave a trail of very, very satisfied pearl-level members in our wake … and the occasional neglected English nerd.”

Lyta unlaced one of the many leather cords out of her corset. “The more venom you spit at me, Lexi, the more you’ll need to swallow. I know your weak points and will strike them relentlessly.” She walked behind me as she spoke, fiddling with my wrists and brushing my hair away from my neck.

“Lexi, turn and face the mirror,” she said. I had little choice but to do so. “You’ll notice that I’ve wrapped a thick cord of leather around each of your wrists. I slipped the other end of each loop underneath this outre pearl necklace you’re so fond of. If you move your hands it will be a contest of strength between that thick, seasoned leather cord and the soft gold chain links holding your necklace together. My money’s on the leather, but if you want to test it, go right ahead. I’m sure your Pearl Girl mistress will be so happy if you let her precious pearls scatter across the floor. Unless you think you can prove me wrong, Lexi?”

Studying the reflection, I could tell immediately that she was correct. If I moved my hands away from the back of my head, it would be my precious pearl necklace that would pay the price. Damaging the necklace in any way would surely end my life as a Pearl Girl. A sense of dread buzzed from my neck to my toes. I moved my hands lower, to the base of my neck, to lessen any stress on my necklace. “No.… I mean, no, ma’am.”

Her eyes glinted evilly. “Look at that! When I put something you care about at stake, suddenly you learn how to treat me with respect. Too bad for you that you didn’t respect my marriage, Lexi.” Without breaking eye contact with me, she snapped at Mandy. “Little slut, fetch me that leather case and then lie on your back on the floor, your head between Lexi’s feet.”

Mandy hurried to comply with Lyta’s orders. Soon she was looking up at my naked body from below.

“Lexi, squat down so your little friend can lick your filthy, cheating little twat.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I lowered myself over Mandy’s face, careful to keep my balance. I couldn’t risk toppling over. Any instinctive movement to catch myself with my hands would end my life as a Pearl Girl, and destroy my only hope of ever kissing Mistress Treasure Tartarus.

“Little slut, start eating Lexi’s worthless snatch and don’t stop until I tell you to. Do everything you can to make her cum.”

Mandy’s tongue was as talented as any Pearl Girl’s, nuzzling and nibbling my sensitive folds with great skill. Every lick sent a wave of bliss threatening to overwhelm me. Mandy didn’t know that Mistress Treasure had forbidden me from cumming tonight. A trustee had ordered her to make me cum and she was doing her best. I’d need to put on a good performance to fake my climax to Lyta. I let out a blissful moan that was only a bit louder than my pleasure demanded.

Lyta opened the leather case she’d brought. “Earlier tonight, Lexi, you asked if I had found any fertility statues on my dig. I didn’t, but what I did unearth is far more valuable.” From the case, she drew out a wooden rod, perhaps twelve inches long. Its surface had been intricately carved in an undulating, abstract pattern that almost seemed to pulse in her hand. The surface had been stained a deep red color, with a rich patina that attested to its age. Strips of dark leather, obviously new, were woven around each end, with a single, ragged strand of ancient horsehair dangling from one end. “My primary research interest is in an ancient warlord that most scholars consider mythical. What sources we have refer to him as the Lord of Rutting, or the Sovereign of Copulation, or the He Who Rules the Thirst of the Loins. Those may be more exact translations, but I prefer the more poetic one: The Lust King. Ancient tales tell of his empire held together by primal human erotic desire. He is said to have ruled with an enchanted implement. The translation is even more unreliable. Some call it the Rod of Pleasures Beyond Number. Others say it is the Flail of Dominion or the Lash of Lust. Again, I prefer the more poetic term: the Blisswhip. During my excavation, I discovered where it was buried, untouched by human hands for more than five thousand years. With just a bit of restoration, I think it makes quite a thing of beauty, don’t you?”

Lyta’s long speech showed just how far over the edge of reason she had plunged. Taking cultural artifacts for personal use was a crime! However, her lecture had been helpful to me in obeying Mistress Treasure. In listening to Lyta’s lecture, my attention focused on following her absurd chains of logic, rather than succumbing to the pleasure that Mandy’s tongue was painting on my cunt. Although every cell of my body thirsted for the release of orgasm, Mistress Treasure had forbidden it. I held myself at bay, just as I had for so many months.

But perhaps letting Lyta think that I had succumbed would get her to direct Mandy’s attentions somewhere else. “Y-y-yes, ma’am! So … oooohhh … beautiful … oh … fuck … I’m cumming!” Careful to keep my hands tight to my neck, I shrieked and shook as though I had given into the powerful climax I so desired.

Crack! A sound cut through the air like a breaking bone. “That’s the first lie you’ve told me, Lexi. You faked it, just like you faked it with these limp-dicked old men. For one thing, I know that your mistress denied you permission to cum tonight. More than that, there is truth in pleasure and in pain. This beautiful artifact is infused with ancient magic. The Blisswhip can sense that truth of pain and pleasure. Beyond just sensing that orgasm you didn’t have, the Blisswhip can elicit pleasures and pains that have not coursed through human flesh since the pyramids were built.”

Now I remembered seeing Lyta’s red silk dress at the doorway when Mistress Tartarus had reminded me of the rules. She must have overheard our conversation and suspected my duplicity. I would need to make sure my next “climax” was more convincing (even as Mandy made it very hard to keep myself out of the true abyss of bliss). It was almost a shame that her husband’s infidelity had broken Lyta’s sanity. That a brilliant scholar could believe a historical artifact had actual magical powers was rather pathetic.

Crack! A stripe of searing ecstasy cut across my naked back. I shrieked.

_Crack! _The Blisswhip fell across my back again, its kiss like fire and passion in a single sensation. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before. I’d faced alien sex conquerors, seductive robots, and amorous demigods, but nothing compared to the Blisswhip. Each stroke made my flesh cringe in anticipation of the next one at the same time that it hungered for that sweet sting. Coupled with my months of denial and Mandy’s talented tongue, my body burned with lust, hotter than I’d ever imagined.

Crack! The Blisswhip struck my naked tits, pleasure-pain exploding throughout my body. It took every ounce of willpower to keep my hands clamped behind my neck and to keep myself from plunging over the edge of orgasm. “Please! Please, Lyta! Please, I mustn’t cum. Please don’t make me cum!”

“You think begging will save you, Lexi? Would it have saved my marriage if I’d begged you to please don’t fuck my husband? Fuck your please and cum for me, you worthless little slut!”

Crack! She struck my nipples again. They stood straight up like two lightning rods channeling the pleasure-pain right into my soul. My whole body trembled, the pressure of release building higher and higher. If I covered my tits with my hands, maybe I could hold my orgasm at bay another few strokes.

If I did, my pearl necklace would shatter.

Lyta raised the Blisswhip again and I needed to choose: Obeying Treasure by not cumming, or cumming like a slut but remaining a Pearl Girl.

Crack! I clamped my hands tight behind my neck as the stripe of burning, stinging, tingling ecstasy broke across me like a tsunami, too powerful to resist. I screamed and came harder than I had ever cum. The months of denial, finally released, turned my body into a single, raw nerve of sensation. I rode Mandy’s tongue as I writhed in helpless ecstasy. Every stroke of the Blisswhip drove the climax deeper into my soul.

Once I’d given into one orgasm, stopping was impossible. Lyta drove me over that edge again and again and again. When I tumbled off Mandy, collapsing to the floor, her whip still found my unprotected flesh. I heard a spineless, high-pitched voice thanking Lady Lyta for making her break the rules and barely recognized it as my own.

When Lady Lyta finally let me stop cumming, I could only gasp like a fish while my whole body throbbed. Somehow, I had kept my hands clamped behind my neck the whole time, so my pearl necklace had weathered the ordeal better than I had. It was one small bit to be grateful for.

It was the only thing be grateful for, as Lady Lyta visited every humiliation upon me that night, driven by a cruelty worthy of a supervillainess. I promised to never speak of Lady Lyta to Mistress Treasure. I begged to worship every inch of her body with my tongue, letting her ride my mouth until I nearly passed out from lack of oxygen. I confessed that I had seduced Grant and blackmailed him. I pleaded to be punished with the Blisswhip for my crimes. I counted out strokes and orgasms until even my superheroic stamina ran out and I succumbed to a red-dark unconsciousness.

When I awoke in the late morning, naked and sticky on the thick carpet, Lady Lyta was nowhere to be seen. For all its ferocity, the Blisswhip had left no trace of my ordeal on my flesh, only on my soul. Nothing proved that the dark lady had ever been here, except for the leather cords that still looped around my wrists and necklace. I had to nudge Mandy awake and ask her to untie the thin, strong cords.

As I gathered my clothes, I was filled with shame for so many things: breaking Mistress Treasure’s rules, failing to learn anything useful from the trustees, destroying Lyta’s marriage, succumbing to my simpering thirst for climax, submitting to Lady Lyta and her cursed Blisswhip, failing to protect Yvonne and Thora from a misogynist monster.

I knew I still had farther to fall. For one thing, I needed to confess my failures to the sexiest girl I’d ever known: Mistress Treasure. My blood ran cold at the thought of how she would punish my failure.

The worst part was that just thinking about how low I had stooped made my pussy run hot, awaiting the next fall.

—To Be Continued…