The Decimation of Mae (The Blue Butterfly) (6 page)

I shivered against the gentleness of his touch, the tips
of his fingers tracing each ridge of my spine from the dip in my lower back up
to the nape of my neck.

“Such beauty,” he whispered as his fingers bunched my
hair aside, placing it across my shoulder and granting him full exposure to my
neck.

His lips settled almost teasingly on the edge of my
hairline as his fingers ventured onwards, up the length of my arms until each
of his hands encompassed the cuffs around my wrists.

He’d softly woken me as soon as the birds had started
their morning serenade, placing a gentle kiss to my cheek. I’d scurried back,
much to his displeasure. The fire that had morphed his handsome face at my defiance
had been chilling and disturbing. The storm in his eyes had provoked me into
action, reminding me that I now belonged to him, no one else, not even myself,
only him.

He would never understand that I was now willing to give
myself to him though. I’d fought him at first, right to the very edge of my
sanity. But alone in the darkness with only hatred and despair to keep me
company in the previous two days of solitary, punishment for my outburst, I had
recognised some astonishing facts about myself.

What did I have worth fighting for? The end was close;
too close now. There was no one who would be there for me, no one who would
hold my hand as the angels heralded my arrival. No one who would mourn the end
of my existence, not a single person, apart from maybe Spud would watch me join
the many others in the field of graves.

Maybe Daniel would grant a swifter passing, stop the
debilitation of my illness and offer the end to my anguish. I was ready for
death, maybe even hungry for it. Peace and extinction were welcoming; the
finality of them comforting and euphoric.

“Why spoil such perfection, lamb? The marks you decorate
yourself with are nothing but masks hiding the real you that begs to be seen.”

I didn’t answer, I wasn’t expected to. It was the first
day of my ‘education’ he’d told me as I’d scrambled to my knees before him in
the bedroom. He’d led me to the ‘correction centre’ as I so aptly named it; the
room I had begun this adventure in. The room with the cross, the room with the
chains, the room with the many instruments lined up orderly along a wall. The
dark, damp chamber that fed the sinister in my Master and nourished his need
for control and order.

“Do you relish in the pain of your torture, Mae?” he
continued, giving me permission to answer him with the use of my name.

“Yes, Master.”

I had learnt quickly, his furious belts across my cheek
had encouraged it. His venomous words of instruction had engrained his conditions
swiftly into me. He’d made me recite the alphabet time after time, and every
single letter had to be accompanied by ‘Master’ – ‘A, Master. B, Master. C,
Master….’ And so on. Each time I slipped and forgot, his palm connected with my
cheek. Although I was grateful it hadn’t been his fist, it was still something
that had quickly soaked into my mind until it became second nature to answer
him with ‘Master’.

I hated myself for surrendering to his wants, but pain
had caused my instinct to defend myself to kick in. And if calling him Master
halted that pain, then so be it. I was all for easy right then, and although
fight still flowed amidst my blood, my mind had found the easiest route
possible through this nightmare.

“Tell me how it makes you feel when you cut.”

His demand triggered an involuntary tremble through my
blood, firing up my internal need for release and calm. I swallowed hesitantly,
wondering how to word the unique sensation that empowered me each time the
blood spilled from my veins.

“Do not hesitate at my questioning, Mae.” He tugged on my
hair, whipping my head backwards painfully until his face was upside down in my
vision. The hold on my wrists from the chains provided a sharp pull with his
blunt movement. “Truth comes with urgency. Indecision brings on lies.”

“It…” I gulped and blew out a slow breath. “It helps me
heal, Master.”

He was silent, his eyes narrow but clear as he traced
them over my face. His expression held both understanding as well as curiosity.
He nodded in reply as he released his harsh hold on my hair.

I startled when his breath heated my cheek, his mouth
against my ear. “Do you need release, lamb? Are you begging for the comfort of
pain?” He seemed almost pleased with me, happy that I welcomed pain and
suffering. I assumed this made my training easier, my spirit already spoilt and
eager for discipline.

“Yes, Master.” I answered him as quickly as possible as a
trickle of hope spread through me, excitement kindling my need for stimulation.

His hand slid down my back, his palm sweeping softly over
my buttocks. I gasped when he glided further, the whole of his hand now
pressing over my sex. This was the first time he had touched me sexually. I was
surprised at this. The first time, three years ago, it had been his main
mission to take my innocence as brutally as possible. Yet now there seemed some
ulterior motive for my imprisonment.

“Punishment seems to be reward for you, Mae. I’m not sure
how to give when you have nothing to offer in exchange.”

A sliver of anger heated my belly at his false
temptation. It was obvious he never gave anything willingly, always wanting
something in return.

His nose buried into the dip of skin behind my ear as he
pushed the heel of his hand onto my clitoris, igniting a surge of desire
through me. The feeling was new. I never felt desire; the human impulse to
procreate had been taken away from me when my innocence was ripped away so
cruelly.

The strange sensation of lust caused the air in my lungs
to still. Master’s scent assaulted my nostrils, the pure sex he radiated amplified
my desire. Disgust and self-hatred rolled over me. He was doing it again,
manipulating my emotions with his touch and attention, making the need to
please mix with the abhorrence of revulsion.

He suddenly pulled back and I let out the breath I had
been holding. I ignored the throb that my body was pulsing wildly with,
disgusted with nature’s carnality as he strolled across the room.

I tracked his finger as he ran it slowly over each of the
tools he had ready for my ‘punishment’. “Which appeals to you, Mae?”

His offer confused me but I answered quickly, as was
expected of me. “The blade, Master.”

He cocked his head to the side without turning to look at
me. I could sense his shock. He’d expected me to pick something easy and light,
yet those items did nothing for me.

He guided his hand to the small scalpel that rested
against a larger knife and paused. “This one?”

“Yes, Master.” My voice was small and wheezy as
enthusiasm turned the air in my lungs to vapour, excitement humming headily
through my bloodstream.

“Is this what you used on your face, lamb? The tool that
marred your beauty?”

I did stall then. How did he know? It had been over two
years since the incident. Did he know the rest of the story regarding the day I
defaced myself?

He turned on his heels and narrowed his eyes, his chest
heaving against the crisp white shirt he wore. His physique was lean and hard,
his sculptured muscles straining the material as his rage pulled it taut.
“Answer me!”

I narrowed my own eyes, still mystified how he knew I had
abused myself. Anyone else would have presumed that an attack of some sorts was
the reason for the scar that ran straight through the right side of my face,
especially
as it was to my face.

He threw down the blade angrily, the clang of the metal
on the concrete jolting me in surprise. My eyes widened when he picked up a
riding crop, the long, thin instrument his own obvious choice now punishment
was called for.

I squeezed my eyes shut when he brought it down swiftly
on my backside, fire spreading across my skin and taking my breath. I was too
shocked to scream. The pain I always punished myself with was nowhere near this
devastating, a fraction of this agony now scorching over my ass.

“Shit!” I hissed as he lashed another strike over the
already delicate skin.

The chains above my head rattled vigorously when he
knocked me sideways with a fist to my face. “There’s that filthy mouth again,
lamb.” His anger was unbridled as he appeared before me, spit flying onto my
face.

“FUCK YOU!” I roared, spontaneous anger over-ruling the
pain pulsing my cheek, bringing out my insolence and need to challenge his discipline.

He shook his head angrily, his face morphing before me as
the whole of his hand covered my nose and mouth, restricting both my available
inputs of air.

I yanked against him as his other hand wrapped into my
long hair, twisting until I couldn’t move my head. “You disgusting cunt. The
filth you spew disturbs me.”

I was gasping for breath, my lungs squealing in panic
when the remaining pockets of oxygen keeping me alive depleted rapidly. My
brain throbbed against my skull as starvation tortured it.

I tried to shake my head at him, my eyes watering and
bulging as his own angry slits watched the life drain from me. My chest
stuttered as a pain tore through my breastbone with the pressure in my lungs.

I endeavoured to apologise with my eyes, begging him to
stop as my vision tunnelled and my body sagged against the restraints.

He released his hold as suddenly as he had brought it on,
leaving me panting and wheezing, my lungs burning with the sudden fuel
inflating them.

“Will you ever learn, Mae? Will you ever heed my advice?
That smut you speak repulses men, therefore lowering your value.”

I snapped my eyes to his and stared at him, my chest
struggling to cope with the oxygen and shock. “What did you say?”

He scoffed and shook his head, a cruel sneer curling his
lip. “What? You thought
I
wanted you? That
I
desire you?”

His words shouldn’t have hurt me as much as they did and
I looked away, blinking back the pain that settled in my gut at his ridicule
and rejection. What the hell was wrong with me?

“Did you think I was forming you into something that I
would want?” he continued as he stepped closer to me. He laughed mockingly as
his disgusted gaze roamed my body. “You are nothing but a whore. I prefer my
conquests to be clean and pure.”

My mouth dropped open as anger surged through me. “I
would be innocent if you hadn’t forced it from me, you bastard!”

He crashed into me, his fist once more bruising my lip as
his fingers wrestled with the cuffs on my wrists. I dropped to the floor as
soon as they snapped open but I didn’t have chance to feel the impact before I
was being dragged across the concrete by my hair. Instinct brought my hand up
to curl my fingers around his grip but it was an impossible task, his grasp was
too tight.

He threw me onto the floor, his wrath sucking the air
from the room. I drew back, scuttling into the wall when he started to unbuckle
his belt. My eyes shot up to his, angering him further when he yanked his zip
down and pulled out his cock. I quickly diverted my gaze. Although twenty-one,
it was actually the first time I’d set eyes on one. My cheeks flooded with heat
as he barked out a cruel laugh.

“Oh come on, lamb. You asked for it.”

I shook my head at him, denying his words. “No…”

“Oh, but you did. Your expression told me everything when
I told you I didn’t desire you. My declaration ached your heart, I saw it.”

I shook my head again as he stepped to me and grabbed my
hair, pulling me to my knees before him with my face to his groin. I winced as
he dug his fingers into my jaw and forced my mouth open. “You use your teeth,
then I will delight in pulling each and every one from your mouth.”

I knew he meant every word; torture fed his dark side,
fuelled his black heart.

I choked on the tears when he pushed his length into my
mouth. A shudder ripped through him as his grip on my hair started to control
my movement, directing his own pleasure. I sank my lips around him, the act
natural and instinctive. He hissed faintly and my eyes lifted to his. His jaw
was tight, his teeth clenched together as he drew air through his nose noisily,
his strong chest rising and falling rapidly.

I whimpered as his expression changed from anger to awe,
as though surprised by my ability to suck on him. It was hardly rocket science;
however, even I was shocked by my reflexive worship. His whole face softened
and his eyes widened. He released my hair with one hand and drew his thumb
across my cheek, wiping away a tear that had slid free.

“That’s it,” he urged softly as he pulled and pushed
gentler, his rhythm slow as I pleasured him with my mouth.

I was amazed at the taste and texture. I had expected
repulsion as my tongue tickled the underside of him, but I was shocked to find
I didn’t mind the unique taste.

He grew hungrier, his hips pumping faster as he started
to groan. Fire filled my belly as my pussy pulsed heavily. I was turned on by
something sickening, something cruel and twisted. Shame surged through me but
Master smiled as he slipped his thumb into the corner of my mouth alongside his
cock.

The pressure between my thighs grew with the simple
action. His moans intensified and I released one of my own, vibrating the
tremor around his cock. He hissed violently and swelled further inside my
mouth. My nipples hardened as I saw the rapture on his face explode when his
cock did inside my mouth. I savoured it, hungrily devouring every drop.

I had watched him succumb to my deliverance. I had given
him a weakness, a pleasure he hadn’t expected. And although sickening, it energised
me, gave me a sliver of influence over him. I had witnessed his knees buckle,
his heartbeat pound in the base of his neck and his breathing stutter from
something I had done, a moment of role reversal, and damn, if I didn’t feel
euphoric.