He continued to watch me, waiting for me to answer and just as victory crossed his face I fixed my stare on him, knowing I was defying him with that simple action. “You will never pen me in like some timid animal that is too scared to fight. I have nothing to lose. You can beat me, hurt me, control me even, but you will never ever own me.” And I would make sure he never did. I was born Mae Swift, my parent’s little tower of strength. I needed to not only prove to them that I was strong, but also to myself. My parents’ legacy would fight all the damn way... right up to the end if need be.
A flicker of fury ghosted his eyes before he regained his composure and laughed with a mocking quality. “We’ll see, Mae. But I can promise that I will enjoy the hunt. I will most definitely relish in your destruction. When you yield and give yourself over to me it will be as luxurious as witnessing your despair along the way.”
I forced myself to hold his stare, refusing his need for dominance.
Our contract had just been signed but my fate had been decided before his words had even left his mouth. However, he underestimated just how little I had to give. His game wouldn’t even see the players reach the end square; he would never relish in the victory of the end game. My life was a game of snakes and ladders; my route through life had always presented snakes at every roll of the dice, constant downward spirals no matter how hard I had fought to reach a ladder.
And it was this knowledge that helped me challenge him at every square on the board.
Chapter Six
‘’Lessons lead us into knowledge.’
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 sc
alpel 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.
He stepped back, put his cock back in his trousers and walked away. I stared at the door when it closed behind him, blinking at his indifference to me.
I had been wrong. What I thought had been a glimpse at his weakness had actually been my own. I had been stupid enough to think I was different from any other woman who had sucked on his cock. I had foolishly thought I had been the only one to ever pleasure him, whereas the reality was, to him I was just another whore, another woman who gave him pleasure.
My stomach revolted at the twist in my mind, the humiliation of what I had enjoyed when I should have felt nothing but disgust.
I flung my body round and vomited into the corner of the room, gagging at the taste when realisation of what I was throwing up hit me. I crawled across the floor to get away from it.
Abhorrence found me at the same time I found the scalpel Master had slung away so easily.
Chapter Seven
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��Take the burden, never give it to others.’
His face was a haze, almost eerie as he stormed towards me. I tipped my head slowly, my movements stunted but composed.
He really was quite stunning; the power of him both physical and psychological. His body gave reason to idolise him; strong, lean and hard. The rawness to him, the perfection of his physique demanded attention whilst the supremacy he radiated ordered obedience and submission.
His anger was palpable, suffocating as he neared me. Yet in my calm I smiled up at him. He crouched before me, his face almost glowing in fury.
He ripped my arms from my sides and tore his eyes over the deep red lines decorating my pale skin. The pattern of blood trailing down my arms resembled tiny rivulets journeying to the ocean, begging for escape. They really were quite orderly; four scarlet lines of my life, each trail straggling down the centre of each of my four fingers until deep ruby teardrops wept from the tips of my fingers.
He pulled out a phone from his pocket and stabbed at the keys angrily. “I need you in the school. Bring Frank,” was all he said before he terminated the call and shoved the phone back in the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
I smiled at his tie, the deep red colour an exact replica of my arms. Reaching out slowly, I ran my finger down the length of it. Master never flinched as his eyes followed my daring move, the deepness to his gaze soft and troubled as he let out a deep sigh.
“This is very nice,” I whispered.
I jolted when his palm softly settled on my cheek and his eyes found mine. “Why do this, Mae?”
He used my name, therefore ordering an answer from me. “It feels so good.”
He parted his lips as he ran his thumb over my cheekbone. “It is no longer your job to do this. It is now my privilege, lamb. Your pain belongs to me, your need for release is now mine to provide.” He held my gaze when I sighed contentedly. “Do you understand, Mae?”
The Decimation of Mae (The Blue Butterfly) Page 6