by NJ Cole
FUCK!
FUCK!
FUCK!
I could hear her heartbeat, and it was strong—slow, but strong. Her breathing was even, yet her body was lifeless.
FUCK!
I ran for my phone and called Gabriel, brokenly whispering, “help.”
“We are on our way!” he replied, needing no further explanation.
What the fuck had I done? How could I have been so selfish? What if my need to claim her as mine had harmed her? I was a murderer. No, I was worse than a murderer. People were afraid of murderers, yet she trusted me. She trusted me and I did this to her. Whatever it was that had happened to her, it was my fault.
As I waited, I covered her with a blanket, hoping to keep her warm and comfortable, but also preserve her modesty for when Gabriel arrived.
I counted her heartbeats as the seconds ticked by slowly, and realized that if for some reason her heart were to stop beating, I didn’t want to exist either. I’d heard of Bocaj ending their existence when they lost a mate, and I never quite understood it…until now. Now I understood it all too well. If she didn’t exist, I didn’t plan to either.
Gabriel, along with everyone else, arrived in under five minutes. Two hundred and fifty-seven seconds to be exact. It was the longest two hundred and fifty-seven seconds of my life.
I heard them at the door, and the fact that they were all there, snapped me out of my melodrama.
“Tell me exactly what happened, step by step,” Gabriel said, entering the playroom and walking over to Bec’s catatonic body.
The guilt all came rushing back. “Well, I had her go out today wearing a revealing outfit, and then she came back here for our scene.”
“Did anything happen to her while she was out?”
I thought back to that guy, Cal, and his dog, Bandit. I’d wanted to kill him—the fucker—for asking her out the way he did, or how his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he finally saw her. Then again, what did I expect? I’d sent her out looking like and smelling of sex. The florist was a Dom I knew from the club. I’d asked him to help me out with a bit of training, and he readily agreed. I knew that as much as he would make butterfly squirm, he would never step out of line with another Dom’s submissive.
That guy on the street, however, I didn’t know at all, and I didn’t like how he was looking at my butterfly. I was halfway over to them—consequences be damned if he even attempted to touch her—but she had turned him down flat, saying she was in a relationship. I’d never been happier.
I couldn’t see how any of that would have affected her in this way, so I kept my explanation brief. “I kept my eye on her the whole time, and other than a dog sniffing her and some creep asking her out, nothing happened.”
Gabriel nodded his head. “Alright, then what happened here? Did a punishment get out of hand?”
“No, that’s the thing. It was going great. She had, um…” I looked at the expectant face of my mother standing next to Gabriel. “She uh…oral.”
“Oliver, I’m sorry to remind you, but Caroline knows all about oral sex. Now, will you please just tell me what happened?”
“Yeah, ok,” I said, trying to avoid my mother’s eyes. “I came in her mouth. And again, it gave her extra strength. Gabriel, I actually strapped her down so that I could um…” I hesitated.
Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “Drink from her?” he finished, making me cringe.
I nodded. “She was screaming out in what I thought was pleasure and had an orgasm that put the other orgasms she’d had to shame, and then nothing. She collapsed. She was just like this.” I indicated to her body.
“I thought you said last time that she had Bocaj-like senses briefly and then she fell asleep. How is that different from what happened today?”
“She didn’t fall asleep, Gabriel,” I said, though now I was doubting myself.
And with perfect timing, she shifted a bit on the table and sighed, “Mmmmm, my Sir.”
Payton laughed, breaking the tension in the room. “She dreams about you,” she teased.
“She’s beautiful,” Caleb said, looking at her.
“Lovely,” Caroline agreed.
I’d forgotten that none of them had met her yet.
“I totally get what you mean about the smell of her arousal,” Sydney said to Shane.
“What the fuck is wrong with her aroma?” I growled, causing Bec to stir.
“Nothing, it smells heavenly. No wonder Shane comes home so horned up. I hope you will share her with me like Payton shares her pet.”
I didn’t really know what happened, but I snapped. Maybe it had been the stress of thinking something terrible had happened to my Bec, or maybe it was Sydney’s tone. Either way, I lost it.
I grabbed Sydney and threw her against the wall. Shane was on me in a moment. Gabriel and Caleb were between us almost as fast—Gabriel grabbing at me while Caleb grabbed at Shane.
Ironically, the thing that stopped the entire skirmish was a single word, uttered by a very confused Bec. “Oliver?” she asked, blinking.
It was only then that I realized our fighting had been taking place hanging from the chains on the ceiling. The five of us were up there, Sydney still snarling, when Bec looked from me to them. When her eyes landed on Shane, they widened a bit. “Shane?” she asked, still clearly confused.
I had no idea what to say or do, but luckily I wasn’t alone in the room.
“Shhh. You are having a bad dream,” Caroline cooed, smoothing my Bec’s hair.
Bec looked back at me before blinking, then blinking again much more slowly. Finally, her eyes closed again as she fell back to sleep.
We all climbed down in silence, but I was still pissed.
“Keep your fucking bitch on a tighter leash,” I spat at Shane.
He growled at me, “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”
“No, he’s right,” Sydney said. “I was being a bitch. I’m sorry, Oliver. She really is lovely, and smells great. I get it, though. It took me nearly thirty-five years to even consider sharing Shane, and even then, it was hard. I understand, really. I shouldn’t have fucked with you. Sorry.”
It was hard to be mad when you could tell a person was genuinely sorry.
“Hey, don’t mean to break up this happy family moment, but you really need to get her to bed—like in her own bed—if you want her to think this is a dream,” Payton informed us.
I wrapped the blanket around her and picked her up. She curled into me, and I couldn’t help the grin on my face as I walked her through my family and out into the hall.
By Sunday night, I wasn’t sure it could get much better. I was having my cake and eating it, too. Literally. I had no worries, and even though I had to hold back some, she wasn’t nearly as delicate as she usually was.
I’d learned a lot this weekend. Most importantly, I’d learned that my come gave my butterfly abilities that Bocaj had, for brief periods of time. They weren’t to the level of an actual Bocaj, but after giving me blowjobs, she had superhuman strength, hearing, and speed. I’d discovered some of the side effects, too. She wore herself out quickly, and her demeanor changed, becoming almost animalistic—like a true Bocaj. If this was any indication, she would need quite a bit of training after her alteration, and for some reason, my dick hardened at the thought.
Earlier today, I’d discovered how strong her body could become, as well. I’d bathed her when she’d arrived and her skin, like usual, was soft and delicate. I had to take great care when washing so I didn’t bruise her. Yet later, after she’d given me another amazing blowjob, her skin and muscles were much stronger. In fact, when I went to touch them to begin a massage, I’d started with the same amount of pressure I’d used on her in the bath, and her skin didn’t even move. I actually had to use quite a bit of force, and for once, I wasn’t afraid of breaking her.
I noticed that about the same time she fell asleep, her body became softer again. Afraid of injuring her, I stopped my massage immedia
tely; instead just holding her in my arms on the couch. When we were together like that, it felt so right. Yet each time I thought about her, enjoyed her, I realized that the entire thing was a lie. Last night when I read her journal, it hit me about how open and honest she was with me, and there I was lying to her—about everything, really.
My phone buzzed with a text from Payton.
Let’s go for a run.
Payton was a lot like me; she needed to be in control, and running helped her focus. We met at a large nature preserve, and without a word, we just took off. We ran hard for about half an hour before she slowed in a clearing.
“Gabriel told me about some of his prophecies.”
I stopped running and circled back to her. “About me? About my butterfly?”
I needed to know what she knew. I needed to know how long butterfly and I had together, and how and when the genetic alteration happened. If Gabriel really saw us together, did that mean that butterfly was ok with what I was, or did I just change her anyway?
“I don’t know much, and I can’t tell you or it might not work out the way it is supposed to. Mostly what Gabriel said was that you were doubting yourself. I’m just here to give you advice as your friend and a fellow Domme. So tell me how you are feeling.”
“Honestly, I feel amazing and terrible at the same time. I am the happiest I’ve ever been, but I’m filled with guilt because I feel like it’s all a lie.”
“Oliver, it’s not all a lie. There are more truths than lies. Everything you feel is the truth. Everything you’ve done together is the truth. The only thing that remains a secret is who you are.”
“A big fucking secret, Payton.”
She was quiet for a moment, and I wasn’t sure how to take her silence. She wasn’t disagreeing with me, so what did that mean?
“Should I tell her? I mean, I want to, it’s just that I’m afraid she won’t accept it—accept me—and I’ll lose her.”
“Why not let her decide?”
“Decide? How? It’s not like I can say, ‘Hey, if I were a different species, would you want to know? Oh, you don’t? Then never mind.’ Payton, can’t you just tell me what to do?” I knew my words were rushed and I was taking a lot of my frustration out on her. I waited for her to respond.
“I am not saying you need to ask her if she wants to know what you are specifically, but you can ask her what she wants. Why don’t you put it as simply as that. Just ask her what she wants most from you.”
It sounded too simple. What if I asked her what she wanted and I couldn’t give it to her? Or what if she said she didn’t want anything from me, that this was fun while it lasted, but it wasn’t for her anymore. Then again, what if what she wanted was me? I was so conflicted that even running for ten days straight wouldn’t clear my head. Payton had given me something to consider though, and when the time was right, perhaps I would ask my butterfly what it was she wanted.
“I’ll think about it, Payton. Thanks for the run, and the advice. Say hello to Caleb for me.”
“I will, but he won’t be saying it back. I’m using a ball gag on him tonight. I don’t want to wake the neighbors.” She took off into the woods in the direction of their home, leaving just the sounds of her laughter remaining. She seemed so optimistic—maybe there was hope after all.
Chapter 47
butterfly
My weekend had been a blur. Some parts of it I remembered vividly, some parts were fuzzy, and other parts I couldn’t remember at all. And to top it off, some of what I swore I remembered seemed impossible.
Oliver and Shane could fly—they were warrior angels. Well, at least that was what they had been in my dreams. They were fighting off these two bad angels, and there was a girl angel…or was it two? Wait, maybe they hadn’t been flying. But they were fighting and up on the ceiling…unless I was on the ceiling and they were on the ground, but that didn’t make sense. Oh hell, none of it made sense. I’d have to chalk it up to a crazy dream. It had to have been a dream. There was no way that Oliver and Shane were in my Sir’s playroom.
I didn’t even remember ending our scene in the playroom Saturday or how I got to bed. The last thing I did remember was feeling like I was going to come. Had I? Why couldn’t I remember?
On Sunday morning, the only clue that told me the entire thing hadn’t been a dream was a bouquet of lilacs sitting on my dresser with a card that said, Playroom 10:00 am.
There was nothing set out in the playroom except a blindfold, and I wondered if he was going to have me go out again.
He didn’t. In fact, it was a wonderfully relaxing afternoon.
First, he bathed me in warm bath water until I was positive there was not a speck of dirt on me. Then he carried me back into the playroom and placed me on what I recognized was a small bench on the floor. When I knelt on it, I knew I was at the perfect height to give him an amazing blowjob.
That was exactly what he wanted. It was similar to the times before in that he tasted delicious, and once again, I felt invigorated. My Sir lifted me and placed me on something soft. I recognized the feel as the leather table, but it now had a sheet on it.
My Sir then proceeded to give me a head to toe massage, and I tried to fight the sleep, but it was of no use. I felt myself drift off and awoke hours later on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. There was music playing softly and candles lit around the room.
I sat up and picked up my journal before heading home. I wished this were my home. I wanted to be here always—maybe not in the playroom, but definitely with my Sir in this apartment. I realized that it likely wasn’t even possible. I wasn’t sure if I was the only woman who used this playroom, let alone the apartment. Refusing to allow myself to think of my Sir with another, and not wanting it to kill the amazing buzz I had, I chose instead to bask in the feeling of peace he had given me.
Things were amazing when we were together, yet there was something that kept me from feeling truly happy. The entire time I was in the playroom with my Sir was wonderful. He claimed me as his over and over, and I served him in every way he asked. But when we weren’t in the playroom, I was constantly thinking about him. That wouldn’t have been a bad thing, except I often wondered where he was and what he was doing.
Mostly, I wondered if he was with anyone else the same way he was with me. I knew it was selfish, but I wanted him all to myself.
The other thing I wanted was to see him. Initially, I’d found the blindfold to be erotic, but lately it made me wonder what he was hiding. Was he someone I would recognize—like a politician or a movie star—and was afraid the secret would get out? Or was he a married man who didn’t want to take chances?
Maybe it wasn’t his face that he didn’t want me to see. Maybe it was his body. I imagined it grotesque, covered in scars. Perhaps he was handicapped or deformed in some way. Each time I pictured it more hideous than the last, and yet, every time, I decided that it didn’t matter. The fact was: I was in love with him—no matter his physical appearance. I just wanted the mystery to be over.
But I knew I would never have the courage to bring it up. First of all, he didn’t give me the opportunity to talk to him freely, and as butterfly, I’d never speak out of turn like that. Second, as much as I wanted to see him—to know the truth—a bit of me was scared that asking him would ruin everything. I was worried that somehow it would be a deal breaker. Or if I did find out he was married, what would I do? Would I be strong enough to end our relationship, knowing it was wrong?
Today at work, I was still thinking about my questions when the flowers came. They had come yesterday, as well. A huge bouquet of lilacs. The scent instantly reminded me of the playroom, as it had done the two days before.
It still bothered me that I couldn’t remember how Saturday night had ended, and that I’d had that bizarre nightmare about the people I work with being able to fly. I picked up the card and noticed that it had a long purple ribbon attached to it, much like the white one I’d used as a blindfold the day I’d gone t
o get the flowers. The card simply read: I can’t wait until tonight. Meet me on the seventh floor—now.
I looked around quickly. Was he here?
I didn’t see anyone out of the ordinary. In fact, the office was mostly empty since many people had gone out for lunch. Oliver and Shane were talking near Sarah’s desk, and Teri from the mailroom was walking through. That was about it.
Giving the flowers one final sniff, I grabbed the purple blindfold and headed for the elevators. My heart beat anxiously, as it always did when I was about to serve my Sir.
As I walked into room 712 my phone rang. “Hello?”
“Hello, butterfly,” my Sir whispered. “Open the blinds.”
I looked across the nearly empty office toward the large picture window. My heart raced as I pulled the string, revealing the city outside.
“Now, remove your panties. Keep the rest of your clothes on and get on the desk.”
Slipping off my damp panties, I climbed onto the desk.
“Unbutton your blouse and pull up your skirt. That’s it, little one, show the city your pretty pussy.”
I did as he said and looked out the window nervously. Was he watching from out there? Was someone else watching?
“I want you to play with yourself. Get that pussy wet. Pull those beautiful breasts from your bra and rub your nipples.”
I began to rub my clit and felt the wetness coat my fingers. I tugged on my nipples the way I liked and was surprised to find myself on the edge of orgasm in only a few minutes.
“Now put on your blindfold and lay back. Keep that pussy wet while you wait for me, my butterfly.”
I continued to rub my clit and tug on my nipples while lying on the desk. I didn’t stop when I heard the office door open, though for a moment I was afraid it was someone other than my Sir.