The Decimation of Mae (The Blue Butterfly)

by Sidebottom, D H

  He stared at me. I had already braced my body in preparation for the backlash and annoyingly I cowered when he shot upright, although I blinked in shock when he held out his hand. “Come with me.”

  “I don’t want to.” I knew I was in trouble, the next few hours of my life booked in the ‘correction centre’. I was tired. My body was exhausted and my mind was weak. I wasn’t sure I could withstand any more physical abuse. I knew he would give it me anyway so what did it matter if I goaded him enough into dishing out my punishment in the comfort of my room; at least I would have the butterflies to look at whilst he tried to beat all lucidity out of me.

  He rolled his eyes. “See, I told you that your spirit was still in your possession.” He thrust his hand further towards me. “Please.” I could see his polite request was forced but nonetheless it was there.

  I had nothing to lose. His fingers curled around my own when I slipped my tiny hand into his large one. The heat of his grasp when he curled his fingers around mine caused a hard shudder.

  Master didn’t look at me as he pulled me through the house. It was night time, the darkness outside the windows providing no light in the dimly lit corridors. The eerie silence enveloped us as my eyes roamed the scenery on my journey. There were many paintings hung from the walls, but no personal ones, no family portraits or photographs that would give me any clue to who Master was. Small sconces decorated the wallpaper providing sufficient light to illuminate our passage. Occasional ornaments, lamps and vases full of flowers provided a reprieve against the harsh deep red colour of the décor. But nothing was personal; none of it was a home.

  He pushed a door and our excursion ended in a huge rustic kitchen. It was square in shape but the many orderly cabinets and cupboards gave it a soft hexagonal appearance. It was hard to explain but the way it had been designed to soften the hard edges and strict contours made it finally feel like a home. The deep smell of many different aromas reminded me of my own childhood; herbs and spices still lingered in the atmosphere, traces of jams and sugars tickled my nostrils as remnants of the evening’s dinner were exposed in the yeasty scent only slightly eclipsing the faint smell of garlic.

  “I like this room.” It slipped from my mouth easily while a smile ghosted my lips when cosiness surrounded me.

  Master didn’t acknowledge my words, he just pulled me across the cool tile floor into a door at the far end. We carried on down some steep stone steps, the air chilling and dampness rising considerably the further we descended.

  My mouth fell open when my eyes took in row after row of dusty bottles. They were arranged methodically around the room, each bowed shelf groaning under the weight of coloured glass and vintage wine.

  He pulled me through endless lines of different wine until he briskly halted and turned into another room. It was small, maybe six foot square with an incredibly low ceiling and brick walls. I gawped at the endless varieties of whisky. There were hundreds of various shaped bottles, each their own distinct colour and style.

  Master reached up high and pulled a dusty bottle from the very top shelf. He dropped my hand and swept off the dust, faintly blowing at the label to make sure he was holding the precise one he wanted. He remained silent as he gave himself a nod then grabbed my hand again and proceeded to pull me back through the house, retracing our steps, but instead of climbing the stairs to the upper level of the house, he guided me into a huge room.

  It was a lounge but the sheer size of it was overwhelming. The furniture and décor was dark, blacks and greys covering the walls whilst numerous smoked glass fixtures did nothing to break the deep slate shade of the four couches positioned on each wall.

  “Wow,” I breathed out. “I guess you like gloomy then.”

  “You’ll soon find out there’s nothing bright about this room, lamb.” I frowned at his cryptic reply. I had long since given up trying to figure out his riddled conversation.

  He dropped my hand and tilted his chin towards one of the sofas, ordering me to sit before he stalked harshly across the room. He snatched up two crystal tumblers then returned to me. Staring at the bottle in his hand, he settled beside me then unscrewed the lid.

  He brought his nose to rest against the top and inhaled deeply. His eyes closed, his eyelids slowly veiling his delicious muddy gaze as a sigh rattled through him, his senses shivering in ecstasy. I chose to ignore the pulse between my legs as I observed my Master’s eyes roll in delight. It was evidently a favourite brand of his.

  He frowned and grumbled something under his breath when he observed me sitting precariously on the edge of the couch, both of my palms tucked securely between my thighs, my back ramrod straight and my eyes flicking over every dark corner of the room. “For Christ’s sake, Mae, nothing is going to jump out and devour you.”

  I flicked my eyes his way. My brow quirked, in return granting me a lift of one of his own. “For pity’s sake, drink,” he mumbled as he shoved the half full glass of liquor in my hand.

  My lips twitched at his frustration. He was a stern, controlled man but my attitude flicked something inside him every time. I could rile him so easily. A small chuckle came from my lips.

  He settled back against the cushions and eyed me with suspicion. “Care to share?”

  I took a gulp of my own sour whisky. The burn in my throat felt good and I shivered when it flowed into my tummy and heated the chill. “Nothing, really. It just stuns me how much I affect you.”

  His eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “Your meaning?”

  I rested back, imitating his pose as I studied him. He really was spectacular but his handsome features were ruined by his cruel character, his deep rich bronze skin marred by the blackness inside him, and the cold light behind his eyes destroyed his soft gaze. “I can always guarantee that whatever I say or do upsets you. Yet, you still find me humorous and quirky.” His eyes widened at my perception. “You desire me, yet hate yourself and deny yourself for that.”

  “What the…”

  I held up a hand. Taking the bull by the horns I continued before he could stop me. “I intrigue you. You can’t understand me and that aggravates you, infuriates you even. Whatever or however you try, you know deep down that you will never own me. You will never control me and I will never surrender to your darkness.”

  “I think you may have underestimated me, Mae.”

  I shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe, but what are a few beatings, Master? Your fists will never reach my mind, your harsh cruelty will never brush against my soul. You hate me for that, but you also admire me for it.”

  He looked furious, my brazenness burning something inside him. Because he knew it was true.

  I took another long swallow of my drink. His chest heaved, the cotton of his shirt lifting as he pierced me with the sharpness of his stare. I shrugged again; I had nothing to lose anymore. Although I knew he could rain pain on my body, my frame was fragile enough to snap under it, ending this debilitating wait for death. My mind was secure enough. Fuck his mind games and his attempts to take my sanity. It would never belong to him, and I would never let go of it for him. I was me. I was Mae fucking Swift, daughter of Madeline Swift and Graham Swift, and sister of the strongest fucking heart that had ever graced this God damned diseased planet.

  “I won’t lie to you, Master. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that. On the other hand I won’t give you the truths of my life either, nor will you ever be granted my secrets.” I held his gaze and smirked. “You want to kill me right now. Please do, nothing would bring me greater delight. I no longer want to be here. That is where you made your first mistake with me.” I leaned towards him, the alcohol stripping my anxiety, making me forthright and truthful. “You can’t kill someone who is already dead inside.”

  He exhaled then took a long pull of his drink, his eyes still on mine over the rim of his glass. He moved the glass from his mouth, a twist of his lips on show before he leaned towards the small table before us and gently placed it down.

  “You got all tha
t, Mae?”

  My stomach shifted as I watched the darkness snake across his deep brown eyes, the tell-tale sign of his cruelty hanging on the very edge of his control.

  He nodded slowly and pursed his lips. “I never realised just how perceptive you really are. However, there was one thing you got wrong.”

  I stared at him. I strived to keep my fear buried, he fed on it, thrived on it and I refused to let him have it.

  He slid across the sofa until his thigh pushed against my own, virtually squashing my tiny frame between his large one and the arm of the couch. “The part where you said that I desire you, yet deny myself.”

  I inched back, the groove of my spine crushing against the wood under the plush fabric. My heart sped up, shifting my pulse into panic mode. Why couldn’t I ever shut the hell up? Why the hell had I been made this way, uncontrollable and unruly?

  His stare was smouldering, burning a route straight from my eyes into my lower belly.

  “Don’t!” I snapped. He knew what he was doing, twisting my thoughts with lust, structuring arousal from my fear. “I won’t let you.”

  He barked out a laugh as he took a strand of my hair between his fingers. I jerked back as I attempted to remove myself from danger. However his contact was delicate, the tips of his fingers smoothing my hair between them. He slid his fingers down, gently brushing my scar and along my neck until the full width of his hand spread over my throat.

  I gasped and stiffened beneath him, my heart pounding in my ears. Maybe I had underestimated him. He scared me intensely, but I would never let him see that.

  His eyes darkened to slate, the intensity of his wrath as potent as his grip on my neck, his fingers slowly blocking the tight tunnel of my lifeline. “I will break you, Mae,” he hissed in my ear, his hot breath torture against my cold, damp skin. “I will possess you so entirely that you will ask for permission to fucking breathe.”

  He stared at me as I stared back, both of us unwilling to back down, both as strong as each other. Courage and determination came from nowhere as my gut bubbled angrily and my mind blocked him, refusing his request for surrender.

  “Never,” I whispered through the strength of his hold. “I will never be your possession. And I can promise that whatever you do, you will never succeed in breaking me. Only God can break me now and that decision is in his hands.”

  He held my gaze but his anger was suddenly overwritten by something else and he pulled back, dropping his tight grip on my neck before he picked up his glass and refilled it.

  I nodded when he held up the bottle to me in question. “So, Mae Swift,” he started as though the previous conversation had been nothing but general gossip, “tell me, what happened to your parents?” He noticed my flinch and looked at me curiously. “Their death still saddens you?”

  “Of course it does.” Was he for real? “Tell me, Master. Do you have family?”

  “We aren’t here to discuss my parentage, lamb. I asked you a question.”

  “And if I choose not to answer?”

  He snorted and devoured his drink, the amusement in his eyes bright and clear. “Would you care to find out?”

  The edges of my lips lifted involuntary. “You amuse me as much as I amuse you.”

  “I amuse you?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, your dialect, your accent. It makes our conversations quite entertaining.”

  His top teeth sank into his bottom lip as he tried desperately to hide his reaction to me. I nudged him with my elbow, endeavouring to find the human side of him, the part of him that could interact with me in normal banter.

  “Oh come on,” I practically pleaded as he stared at me, his gaze far from angry, apprehensive maybe. “There’s just us here. For one hour, just us; chat, drink, get insanely drunk, sing rude bloody songs…” I swallowed when he showed no reaction to my request. “Please.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to get drunk and have some fun one final time before I die.”

  I didn’t miss the fire that slid across his face, but he managed to bate his anger. He sucked air through his teeth and narrowed his eyes. He seemed to be struggling with his thoughts, the decisions giving him a dilemma he couldn’t seem to work out.

  “Can I trust you, Mae?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  His face lit up instantly before he snorted and nodded. “Go put on something pretty and meet me here within an hour.”

  My heart slammed violently against my chest. My brain struggled to work out what he had just said. “Sorry?”

  “You want to get drunk, you want to sing your heart out, then we go out. We don’t do it here.” He leaned towards me causing the hairs on my stubborn body to reach for him. “There are cameras here. You need to relax and get raging drunk without any comeback on either of us. But I need you to promise me, Mae, you give me your word that you will remain by my side constantly.” I nodded eagerly, giving him my best smile, the hugest smile I could muster.

  “I need to make you aware that the consequences will be dire should you choose to ignore my warning.”

  “I promise.” I knew he meant every word. I knew that so far I hadn’t witnessed the extent of his wrath and if I was truthful, I never wanted to witness it.

  He stiffened when I leant into him and placed a small kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

  He gulped but nodded. “Go, hurry.”

  I didn’t need to be told twice.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Remember there is always a price for happiness.’

  I laughed at his attempt to dance with me. I had finally found something this arrogant bastard was crap at – dancing.

  He smirked, rolling his hips unnaturally as his eyes danced over my own moving body. I shook my head and laughed loudly. “Do not give up your day job,” I shouted to him over the loud throb of the tune powering around us. “Maybe next time you should kidnap a dance instructor.”

  He stared at me, his eyes wide with my sick humour but I shrugged and winked.

  “Bloody hell, Mae.”

  I giggled and danced around his body until I was positioned behind him. Taking his hips in my hands I pushed my front against him and tried to direct his movements, swaying us both to the beat of the music. He placed his own hands over mine and looked behind him to watch what our hips were doing.

  “Relax your body,” I encouraged. “Close your eyes.”

  “Uhh.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not going to run off, you can keep your hands on mine.”

  He shrugged then did as I asked, closing his eyes and trusting me. I’m not sure what emotion his trust in me evoked but I didn’t like the thrum in my chest as I studied his relaxed face, his whole body loosening with the interruption of his sight, his surrender to me quite overwhelming.

  I swallowed it back and settled my chin on his shoulder so he could hear me. “Feel the beat, Master.” I tapped the side of his hip in tune with the heavy beat of the song. He conformed to my instruction, listening and obeying to what I was telling him. “Let it take over. Allow your body to absorb it.”

  His body relaxed further against mine, his hips finally moving fluidly. “That’s it. A lot better.”

  He smiled. It was a carefree smile, his entire face untroubled as he concentrated on his body and the beat controlling him. His troubles and concerns evaporated around us when he succumbed to the music and allowed it to take him. His backside pressed against my lower stomach, the firm muscles of his buttocks causing me to briefly forget what I was actually trying to do. The way he ground back against me generated a deep heat to form between my legs. My breathing deepened and I closed my own eyes, letting the moment dictate us both, the sultry rhythm influencing my manipulation while I let myself go for the very last time.

  I opened my eyes and blinked when Master turned in my arms until he was facing me. His body still moved with mine, but now it was no longer his backside pressing against me, it was his erection.

  He smirked at
me when my eyes widened. “You dance skilfully, lamb.”

  “I had lessons as a child.”

  He smiled softly. “And what else did your childhood contain?”

  “Just the usual stuff. Horse riding lessons, piano lessons and extra maths tutoring. Stuff like that.”

  “Did you enjoy those particular lessons? It sounds like your childhood was ruled by many different classes and dictations.”

  “Not at all. My parents appreciated the many opportunities open to Connie and myself. I happen to be grateful for the many possibilities they encouraged.”

  He watched me, his eyes soft but intense. “You were close to your sister?”

  Just the mention of my beautiful sister ached something deep within me. “Yes, we were very close.”

  “That would be due to the fact she was your twin?”

  I blinked at his knowledge, anxiety curling in my stomach when I wondered what else he was privy to. “I suppose, but we were complete opposites. I think that’s why we got on so well.”

  He nodded and smiled, sliding his hands across my lower back to pull me further in. I put it down to the rise in the music volume, making it difficult for him to hear my answers. I had drank quite a few cocktails which had loosened my tongue along with my inhibitions. This was to be a last for me and I both needed and wanted to enjoy it.

  “I gather you were the outgoing one.” He laughed. I jumped as his hand slid over my bottom, his fingers resting against one arse cheek.

  “However did you guess that?”

  He shook his head and smiled but then his smile disappeared. “You must miss her.”

  “I do, very much. I lost half of myself when…”

  When I didn’t finish my sentence he nodded, as if aware of the pain inside me when I spoke of her. I wasn’t sure how much he knew of Connie’s death. I didn’t want him to know if he didn’t already.

  Our bodies still moved to the music as Master spun us round, his hands now moving round to hold my hips the way I had held his. “Mae…”