Read Online The Decimation of Mae (The Blue Butterfly) by D H Sidebottom - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: D H Sidebottom
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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
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
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