Black Pearls - Lily

She was powerless to resist them as they spread her legs wide open, letting her sex breath free. They remained at her legs, and they tickled and crawled. An enterprising hand suckled on her big toe, fleshy tongue swirling around it as if it were a nipple. Shella suppressed a giggle as some curious fingers tickled the underside of her other foot, lips kissing her ankle.

Spread wide and helpless, something told hands to seek her sex. Three or four of the now-countless marauding appendages slid to her wet, aching sex. The first finger to touch her folds set in a wave of pleasure through Shella, making her moan into the suppressing kiss.

There, the hands seem to squabble and fight for a touch or taste of Shella's womanhood. All she could feel from it was growing passion as her folds were splayed, tugged, kissed, and licked. Her inner thighs became endlessly graced by hands pushed to the outside before they dived to return to her flower.

Somewhere in that delirious tangle of hands, fingers, lips, and tongues, they found her clit, hard, aching, and needy. Shella stiffened as something dry, yet soft, poked at it, suppressing another groan amidst the onslaught. That only got their attention, and soon, they squabbled over her hard nub as well.

Her hips gyrated to the pleasure, guided by hands from nowhere. Her whole existence was devoted to feeling the heat of passion, the delirious ecstasy, the delight of touch. It consumed her, bit by bit, and it controlled her. She didn't know what exactly it did, only what she felt. What she felt were endless loving touches, endless loving kisses.

Her calves were kissed by sweet lips. Her breasts ached with pleasure underneath the groping and the suckling. Her stomach thrummed with the passage of hands inlayed with mouths. Her thighs were playground to fingers that seemed to hug her lovingly. Her lips were encompassed by another. Her folds were splayed by fingers, kissed by lips, and tongues teased and dared to try and dart inside. Her clit was pinched and tickled in a delightful onslaught.

Shella's flower was soaked and ached with passion. She couldn't describe the unending pleasure that throbbed through it. There were no words to that which was so good. She could only experience it, groan and mewl to it, be slave to it as its sensual emanations rose and mounted up in her.

The ecstasy grew higher and higher, more indescribable, yet unendingly delightful. Shella tried to hold on, to resist and control her body, but it was futile. With an aching cry, her mind was swept away by delight. Her every inch seemed to glow with pleasure as she shook and shivered from passion. Not even the many hands seemed to matter as Shella came.

As the numb delight died down inside Shella, she was distantly aware of the hands having vanished. Her body felt cold without them. A wry thought entered Shella's head as she craned her neck to try and kiss Lily. "Must admit, you're a hell of a kisser," she teased.

Two hands clung to the bindings around her hands and worked to remove them with a fervor. After they had been freed, they collapsed onto the bed weakly. Though the blindfold was still on her, Shella didn't mind. She was exhausted, and rolled over on to her stomach. Lily's body was next to her, she could feel it with still-tingling skin. She swung a hand over Lily's waist and began to drift off to sleep. The last thing she was aware of was a nice, thick, warm sheet falling over the two women.

* * *

Shella did not wake up alone. She woke up in Lily's possessive arms, the blindfold they had used last night gone. She groaned and struggled upright. Around her, the cabin had been restored to its former glory. The bed and its tantalizing posters were in one piece, and the doors and windows had been restored. There was no sign of the destruction from before.

She got out of the bed and located her clothing. Again, neatly folded. Shella slid into them and looked back at Lily. Lily was rubbing her eyes. Shella still didn't know if Lily slept or not.

"You ready?" Shella asked.

Lily looked down and shook her head. No-one would be.

Shella crossed over to where Lily sat, took her own place on the bed, and held Lily's hands. "Th' only way to get this done is to get started on it, me girlie. If we delay, we'll keep on delayin', an' nothin'll get done."

Lily nodded, and slid out of the bed. She walked past Shella completely naked and walked through the wall facing the deck. The cabin doors creaked open, and Lily was in the doorframe, wearing her dress.

"You got the pearls?" Shella asked as she rose from the bed.

Lily nodded, and motioned for Shella to come outside.

Shella obligingly followed Lily to the ship's bow. The air outside was freakishly still, as if any moment it'd turn and whip into a fearsome squall. Out on the deck, 9 black pearls were arranged in a circle, spaced so that a tenth would complete it.

Something tugged at Shella's heart. She didn't really want to leave Lily. Lily was the everything, Lily was the ship! How'd she survive without Lily?

No, she was bringing Lily back with her, one way or another. They wouldn't be gone that long. Lily'd come to the real world, they'd be together, and it'd be treasure, exploring, booze, and each other for the rest of their lives. That's what'd happen.

Shella looked expectantly at Lily. Lily's hand angled into her stomach and dived into it as if it were water. She pulled out a large, shiny obsidian pearl. It was magnificent. Truly unique, there could never be anything else like it.

Lily gave the pearl to Shella, and Shella placed it in the final spot on the circle. She stood back, waiting for something to happen. Nothing, then boom! All ten pearls exploded into smoky clouds of dust with an ear-splitting crack!

Shella was left gaping. Did it work? Did they fuck up somehow? As the smoke dissipated, Lily leaned on Shella. Mutely, Shella hugged Lily.

Plop! A fat raindrop landed on Shella's face. She wiped it off, and looked up. The sky was a dark and angry grey. When had it become like that? Another fat drop slapped onto the deck, and then another.

Lily was loose in Shella's arms. She looked down at the woman, and nearly dropped her. Lily's eyes were closed, her face oddly serene, but it was obviously painted onto a finely carved wooden doll!

Shella pulled up one of Lily's arms. The fingers were jointed wooden cylinders assembled by pin, their flesh-tone paint already fading and chipping away. The body that Shella now grasped was stiff and literally wooden. Lily's breasts were hard wooden mounds, her spine as stiff as a tree trunk. Lily was well and truly a doll.

It happened. It actually happened. Shella's stomach dropped and the color drained from her face. It happened, and now Lily was gone.

Alone, Shella carried Lily's doll back to the cabin and placed it in the bed. She pulled the sheets up around it, to make it look as if Lily was only sleeping. She'd get Lily back. Her last words to Lily were, 'You got the pearls?'. Shella broke down crying.

* * *

Shella looked down at the bed. In it, Lily's body, or the doll Lily had used, lay neatly in the bed, sheet pulled up around her with arms atop the sheets. It was the only time Shella could ever recall bothering to pull up the sheets to the bed. Even in the real world, her face had remained perfect. Her arms, though, were losing paint and splintering.

It really was odd, Shella thought. Everything around her, excluding the coral, was Lily, and here she was, presenting the puppet. Or perhaps it'd be more apt to call it the hand.

Davy Jones' frame creaked as he bent to walk into the room. Somehow, his form shifted once he got past the door so that he only stood as high as the ceiling, still more than a foot and a half above Shella. His green feet carried him to the end of the bed, and he looked at the doll. "It's always interesting finding a new living ship, even if they are, well, not quite of this world anymore. You never know quite how they were made - or born - and what they do varies from ship to ship," he commented, a hint of jesting in his voice.

"Ye said ye're going to help her," Shella said.

"That I will. I am beyond such things as death. Even a situation as... interesting as this, is within my grasp," Davy Jones confidently affirmed.

"What d'ya mean 'interestin'?" Shella demanded.

"Ah, it is nothing but how animate she was. I must assume that she could bend her own body and alter it to her will? Perhaps make this avatar into flesh, however skin-deep? I'm assuming you know her very, very personally," Davy Jones taunted.

"Jes' tell me what you want from me," Shella said. Damned if she was going to let him pry at her with their relationship.

Davy Jones knotted his fingers together and flashed an unnerving smile. "Well, well. A case like your dear Sea Lilith here is, how should we say it? Ah, yes. Quite Expensive. She is functionally dead right now. Her soul, her animating, living force, is quite somewhere else right now, in a place of perpetually peaceful seas, am I not wrong?"

A chill ran through Shella's veins as she tried to meet Davy Jones' gaze. Those darkened pits of his forced her eyes away. "Ye may be right, but that ain't for you to know. Ye're here to give her back to me," she commanded.

"Where she's gone is easy to run from if one cannot die, like you. That world's owners are there to keep watch over their chosen dead," Davy Jones continued.

"I jes' want to know how to get her back," Shella said through gritted teeth.

"Pulling her from their amused clutches will be trickier, especially given her size," Davy Jones said, almost ignoring her.

"I said, I want to know how to get her back!" Shella yelled.

"I wonder how much she is missing you right now. Wonder if she's standing all alone, or if she's doing anything, perhaps anybody, to fill the void..." Davy Jones idly wondered.

"Stop it! Just... just tell me what I need to do. I'll do it, an' we'll be done," Shella said, barking at first, then wearily trailing off.

Davy Jones' yellow teeth flashed again, before he opened his jaws up wide. A single bony claw reached in, sinking past his wrist, before dragging out a dagger and flicking it into the wood at Shella's feet. His jaws shut with a clack, and he said, "That weapon is a tool for your payment. Pick it up, why don't you?"

Shella pulled the tip out of Lily's floorboards. An opaque pearl-like crystal was embedded in the hilt, and the blade wavered back and forth like a serpent. Its hilt felt almost like bone, carved into fantastical curved shapes, with a pale leather strip wrapped around the hilt for a grip. "Freakish thing," Shella muttered.

"Thank you. I made it myself," Davy Jones cracked.

"What I ask from you," he said, returning to a more serious tone, "Is simple. See that gem? It's a container. It holds the souls of those killed with the dagger. All I want is 66 souls inside that gem, and for you to return here with it. Once you do, place it over your doll's heart, and I shall drag her back to life for you."

Shella turned the weapon about in her hands. It was vicious and nasty, the edge sharper than anything she'd seen. 66 souls? 66 murders? Yeah, she could do it. It'd be all right. Probably. Wasn't like the bastard was asking for sex. "Anythin' else?" she asked.

"Well, I'll have my men take you back to The Abyss out there. She is but one of my ships, and she'll transport you about for as long as you care to," Davy Jones said. He turned to the door and ducked under it, resuming his incredible height and stretching.

Shella followed him outside, where the rain continued to beat down and the wind still lashed. His two cronies were still there, hunched yet standing attentive and proud. Davy Jones nodded at them, and the corpse-like one turned around and began to shimmy back down the rope that they had used. When the skeleton was back at the rocking rowboat, the crablike one followed suite.

Shella gripped the rope and swung a leg over the railing.

"One more thing, before we part ways, Sheila," Davy Jones said. He stood even taller now, as if he guided the winds. "Every year from today, every single soul in your dagger will be drained from it. It won't stop you, but if you want your plaything back, you'll work quickly."

Shella stared at the gaunt man as he laughed and the wind roared around them. Green flame began to crawl along his form, and the currents snatched them up and took them away. More and more, in a spiraling dance, Davy Jones was taken away by the seaborne winds, until his last shred was snatched and with it, his cackle.

"Hurry up," said the crab-man below her, "We do not have forever."

Swallowing, Shella clambered down the rope and set off for a new existence. One that very much filled her with nervous dread.

* * *

We thank you for reading this story. We, the author, would also like to thank all those who volunteered to edit this story as well as those who provided feedback. Your contribution was invaluable.

This story was exceptionally necessary for my growth as a writer of erotic fiction, and as a writer in general. Though the road may have been long and winding, we did reach the end, and with it, all the lessons and change that it brings. It is (rather embarrassingly) visible how much I learned and changed from the beginning of the story to the end.

As for Shella and Lily, it's hard to say what their future is. While there is a path available, it is a dark and violent path, and one that would be unhappy and shocking in many portions - I am not sure I should write it, though I've come to love these two characters. It's odd. Lily was just introduced to make the story go faster, but she ultimately saved it and took it over. It only proves that a story is something not even its writer can fully control.