Beads of My Heart

"Thanks, Pauline."

"No problem. You know, you look kind of agitated lately. I have a soul-poultice in my car—"

"No thanks, Pauline. I'm just a little stressed over...some stuff. I've gotta go, though. Bye!"

The club was dark and moody, the music sly and laced with something which sounded like espionage. It was classy but not uptight, and her attire was entirely appropriate. Though "classy" women probably wore panties.

The other woman was well-dressed and kept glancing her way; there was something akin to predation in her gaze. But hesitance, too. The thought made the necklace tickle Kelly's tits with glee, and she tensed her thighs to supplement the erotic charge she'd gotten from imagining this woman as kneeling supplicant, seduced beyond all judgment into worshipping at her pussy-altar. She sensed a vast untapped resource, there; a landscape of desires waiting to be unlocked...but she thought that the hesitation the other woman felt would color the lust somewhat, sour it. Still, she mentally resolved to check out establishments where that heat would flow unchecked...she knew of places. You heard rumors, even if you didn't live that lifestyle. She parted her thighs to the other woman's gaze, absorbing what she could of the tentative excitement found there, but spent her time and effort making the attached man need her.

And he did; she could see the undisguised bulge in his trousers. The woman saw it, too, and she dragged him out onto the dance floor with a frown. Apparently what was good for the goose was not permitted in the gander. Kelly didn't mind; she had other prospects, and she'd already absorbed all that gentleman and his girlfriend or wife could provide for her. Her panties were moistened and only getting better. The next candidate approached and offered to buy her a drink. She accepted a screwdriver, licking her lips after saying the words.

Man after man she took this way, sitting on the bar stool, leaning forward in a way designed to emphasize her décolletage, crossing and uncrossing her thighs constantly to force him to imagine what she held between them. Took them and brought them to the brink of desperation; most begged her to fuck them, two demanded she fuck them, and one even threatened her with bodily harm if she didn't "come across with the pussy, sister!" Each brought her a reflected desire—especially that last one, and she teased him even more, taking his finger in her mouth and gently caressing it with her tongue. He flushed to the tips of his ears when she excused herself to go to the ladies' room, and he trailed behind her. He even tried to follow her in, but one of the other women inside threatened to call the manager and reached into her purse for a can of pepper spray before he relented and slunk around outside the door.

"Problems, dearie?" a red-haired woman in the lounge inquired as they both touched up lipstick at the mirror. "Looks like you've got an admirer."

"Yes, he's quite—"

"Psychotic. Yes, that's Fred. He's here every night, and most of us have felt his wrath at one time or another. He pretends that when he calls you "cocktease" you're special that way, but start comparing notes with the other girls and you'll realize that he's just not very creative with nicknames." The woman turned to her directly. "None of the attempted sexual assault charges have stuck, although Betty nailed him with the stalking offense. Do you need help getting out of here?"

Kelly knew she wanted nothing more than to have this man blazing in agony over what she had dripping under her skirt, but she also knew if he were to lay his hands—or any other parts—on her, it would eradicate everything she'd collected tonight. She nodded at the offer of assistance.

"All right. I'll think of something. You just wait here a bit."

The woman left, and the ruckus outside was muffled but evident. Somewhat more disheveled, her benefactor re-entered and indicated the coast was clear. "I convinced the bouncers he grabbed my tits when I came out of the restroom, and they threw him out, but he's probably lurking around the parking lot. I'd leave by the back door, if I were you. Have the bartender call you a cab first. You owe me one, kiddo."

Kelly nodded, thankful she'd be able to return to her apartment with such a brimming mugful of unspent libido. "Thank you...I—Thanks." She faltered. "Can I...ask your name?"

"Peggy, kid. Nice to meet 'cha."

"Peggy. I appreciate it."

"Not a problem. We all have our moments of need, although I have to say you kinda brought it on yourself. I was watching you with the guys tonight, and you're sending all the sig—" Her commentary was stifled by Kelly's lips, which smothered her own, tongue probing deep. She closed her eyes and accepted the kiss and the accompanying caresses of her tits and ass, emitting only a medium-pitched moan in response.

Peggy stared in stunned disbelief and arousal as Kelly ran out of the ladies' room and hurried to the bar for a cab call. She'd not been wrong about the untapped sexual resources that were women.My cup runneth over, indeed...

The door was open a crack, but she was oblivious to any possibility of her neighbors accidentally walking in on her and catching a glimpse; she'd not had the strength of will to ensure it was closed and locked, but had instead gone straight to her futon, still damp from this evening's endeavors, tearing off each garment until her pussy was free to her grasping hands. She filled it, now, scooping forth the slippery fluids with one hand and rubbing them across the beaded necklace which now hung almost to her navel. Feeding it, she thought absurdly, grinning as her other hand pulled the necklace from her neck.

Sitting upright, leaning against the dresser, she cupped the pile of beads in her hand and let them slowly, reverently trickle downward to pool in her lap. Her orgasms— suppressed all through this night, through her desires to fuck and to be fucked—came all at once at the black plink of the orbs' touch, seemingly, their intensity like nothing she'd felt before. Her hips rose to meet the puddle of bliss and when the beads touched her insides again she reached down to crush them into her, to grind them into her clit and slutty little quim.

The fuzzy clasp had come undone again, accidentally, but instead of agonizing over it she grabbed half of the tangled mass of balls and spread it across her chest, leaving the rest to massage her pussy. The beads dripped like a liquid orgy across her chest and neck, and she smelled her fresh juice on them as she sucked part of the chain into her mouth, savoring the flavor of whore.Whore,she christened herself,Filthy whore.

Thrashing around on the mattress while she contemplated her new name, she tangled the necklace around her throat, and when she thrust her hips her hundred-odd pounds of weight made the jewelry tighten about her windpipe, making breathing difficult. This only thrilled her all the more, with the danger of it all, and she seemed to recall hearing someplace that orgasms while suffocating were somehow amplified, euphoric. She couldn't imagine how they could be better than what she was feeling right now, anyway, and she was only halfway to passing out as it was.

She screamed wordlessly into her pillow, though the noise sounded far away to her ears, and she barely had the strength to untangle her neck before dropping off to sleep.

The ad lay on her chair, folded in half and with Pauline's characteristic pink highlighter marking it "For Kelly!"—as if someone else might be picking up messages in her cube. She sat down and opened it up.

It was a Xerox copy of a page from one of Pauline's magazines, and circled in the center of the page, adjacent to marketing material for Dial-an-Oracle and KittenChimes, was a little blurb about PassionBeads.

Experience enhanced pleasures with these powerful bead bracelets. Cultivate the inner, sensual you by making use of the distilled essence of primal fertility forces, embodied in material form by an ancient Eastern ritual known only to our powerful sha-women. Harnessed in nature's purest form, the circle, these spirits will provide the thrill for love and life you have been missing.

Don't miss out on this! Take your passion to untamed heights and order today.

Then followed a Post Office box address for "Primal Pleasures, Inc.", a price (plus shipping and handling), and a final stipulation:

Note: we cannot accept returns of broken or otherwise damaged bracelets.

Utterly useless, thought Kelly, though she supposed she could look up the company on the internet. A search on that name brought forth hundreds of websites she didn't feel comfortable exploring at work, and she didn't expect to find anything there anyway.Damn.She spent her lunch hour typing a letter to Primal Pleasures asking for any information on the beads: how they were supposed to be used—or, perhaps more importantly, how they werenotsupposed to be used. What to do if the bracelet were damaged, though of course she'd repaired hers.

She mailed the letter and got back to her normal work tasks, hoping tonight would not be so weird. Maybe she would just go out tonight by herself and have a relaxing drink or two...

Her nylon stockings were utterly wrong for this place; their straight seams were too classy, too expensive. They said "fetish", perhaps, but of the vintage sort rather than the kinked-out, ready-for-fucking-wearing-nothing-but-latex kind.

This place was not respectful of her wishes, or of any messages she wanted to convey. To this place, her clothing said "fucktoy". "Expensive fucktoy", perhaps, with black-patent spiked heels and a satin dress that shimmered as she moved on the dance floor, but nothing indicated anyone should take her more seriously than that.

She was serious, though; serious as cancer. And she proved it with the men who flocked to her in droves.

At first, she'd danced with each one individually, letting each man's hands roam her body, getting carried away so much in the intensity of her feelings that she'd forget they were in a public place and press back against his palms hard. But soon it wasn't enough for her, and while one man's cock knocked against her ass, she'd made eye contact with another. And as this new acquisition rocked her from the front, she looked over her shoulder and conjured another. And another.

She cycled among them, driving them all to peaks of excitement, knowing they were each wondering which of them would have her tonight...knowing that at this point, everyone suspected that theyallmight. Her sweat and their sweat diffused together, and it was all she could do to stop them from dragging her away with them like the whore she was, to fuck in the men's room or wherever they could reasonably take her nearby. The man behind her was mock-sodomizing her, now; and she could feel through the tight throb of his dick that he was about to make an embarrassing mess of himself on the dance floor...and that she could not permit.

She was here to collect lust, and if he spent himself, there would be that much less for her. To give...

She swung around to the other side of the man whose hands were on her inner thighs, making their way inexorably toward her pussy. No panties were present to stop them, of course, and so this, too, must be shunned, despite the fact that she wanted nothing more than to have those parts of her touched. She was the receptacle of this raw passion, and if her cunt spasmed in orgasm, that was just more lust wasted. And the state of her clit was such that if he did get his fingers on it, she would fuck them helplessly and come within seconds.

Yes, her clit...all she could think about was her cunt.Cunt cunt cunt.Her eyes glazed at the thought of touching it, of dropping the beads into her lap like a puddle of exquisite painpleasure, feeling them engage her.

It was time to go.

The men followed her off the dance floor, but she lost herself in the crowd, hearing shouts of indignation from her dance partners and unconcealed derisive comments of "Fucking slut!" from the women who'd observed her antics. Yes, Kelly reveled in the thought as she left the club, telling the bouncer that her ex-boyfriend and his friends were chasing her and to please stop them. I am a fucking slut, and I'm going to go home right now and be nothing but that. I'm going to play with my pussy until my ass is soaked in juice.

She barely contained herself in the cab, and she knew the driver could smell her from the front seat. But the beads that crisscrossed her torso and dripped over her ass like a corset, weaving in and around the few clothes she had bothered to wear, told her to wait, that it would be better, hotter, wetter...ecstasy... Get home, they implored her. Tonight will be the best yet.

Kellyslut laid back on her mattress, the room reeking of sweat and cunt. Part of the long pearly string filled her mouth, dancing on her tongue, and she moaned as she released the drool-coated orbs, one by one, between her lips onto the bed. The strand of beads encircled her bare throat twice and then snaked its way down through her breasts to form a congealed mass between her thighs. Her fingers guided the little balls into and out of her drenched pussy with the complex motion of a sewing machine needle, and further, to plunge lower; owning her ass. The sensation of the beads sliding past her clit, her tits, her rectum, forced her to push grunting words past her teeth, words she had rarely used until this week, words like "cunt" and "fuck" and "cum". The string was moving so fast the individual bumps were lost to her overworked nerves, perceptible only as a continuous streaming vibration which drove her into paroxysms of squirms and thrusts and moans. The little balled knot she'd fastened the chain with was coming loose, and the string now had two ends once more.

The beads were tightening around her throat as they had before, and the lack of oxygen was giving her the same heady heat that had made her brain melt in the past. Her skin tingled over its entire surface, and her cunt was afire as the lubricated blackness invaded her womb, her mind, her soul. She would give herself to the beads, if they were sentient, if they could but ask her to be theirs. She knew it was probably her near-asphyxiation, but it seemed that her fingers grew slack while the strand seemed to keep moving past her holes, encircling her clit, her nipples. Yes, she thought through thoughtless abandon, yes! I am yours! Take me! Make me yours! She pulsed with the feeling, and came to the edge of her climax, and as her body went rigid, so did the black pearls throttling her neck. Rigid and exceptionally tight, cutting of her breath as she yielded herself to the power which enfolded her in strings of ecstasy and agony. Her orgasm thrust itself upon her, but she couldn't cry out through her empty lungs.

She accepted her end with a weak smile, and her world went blacker than the voided darkness of the things which had crushed her life away.

"I'm a relative. Her sister. Janet Amunds." She fished in a briefcase for something.

"No, you don't need to show me the court order, I can see the resemblance. Come on, I'll show you in." The landlord grabbed an immense ring of keys and indicated she should follow him up to the second floor.

He opened the door of 2D. "I'm sorry about your sister. She was a nice gal and always paid her rent on time, until..." He grew uncomfortable. "Did they ever hear anything from her?"

Janet was silent, but seemed to feel the man was worthy of some kind of answer. "No. No, she's gone. She's just...gone." It had been a bizarre situation, but ultimately the police had put the file in the same place they tossed all the other unsolved disappearance cases. No evidence of foul play, no known history of mental illness. The only indication of anything odd before Kelly had disappeared had been some withdrawal from her friends and some agitation at work. One of the police officers had suggested somewhat hopefully that perhaps she'd met someone and they'd run off together, but the family had seen this unwarranted optimism for what it was and coalesced around their sorrows.

The room was bright with the afternoon sun, and the landlord excused himself while she looked around at her sister's belongings.Former belongings.The tears still came too quickly, even after all these months. She saw clothes strewn untidily around the household, mostly fancy dresses and underwear—which seemed unlike Kelly, who'd always been fairly tidy—but the weirdest and most obvious thing in the room was certainly the huge mass of glassy beads which filled the bed. Some craft project Kelly'd been working on, undoubtedly, though imagining an artistic use for hundreds of small bracelets was beyond Janet's capacity.

She lifted one of the smooth, beaded things into her palm. It was cool and dark, feeling nice against her skin. Pretty, in fact, and might go with that slinky little black dress Tom liked so much on her. It made her think of her sister, and she looked around again, sighing. All of this was hers, now, and much of it would be sold at the estate sale, or in an online auction if that didn't work out. She'd keep some of the bracelets, though, and maybe give some of them out to Kelly's friends—to remember her by. There was damned little else left of her to give.

Blinking away tears, Janet put the bracelet around her wrist and looked for bags large enough to hold the remaining hundred-odd pounds of her sister's shiny black beads.