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THE BUTTERFLY

J amie just fucked me on top of his brother’s tomb, and I loved it.

I fantasize about the next time we’ll go there, I’ll wear a coat and have nothing on underneath it.

It sounds sick.

Depraved.

I should be disgusted about having such thoughts but even in the asylum I had thoughts of Jamie fucking me there so all the patients can hear, and deem my screams as madness.

After I asked him to punish me, he left the room. This is what he does whenever I get too close, he walks away.

I stand in front of the mirror, my skin still warm from the shower, droplets clinging to the soft curves of my body. My ginger hair, damp and curling at the ends, it spills over my shoulders against my pale skin. I tilt my head, studying the fullness of my cheeks, the curve of my arms, the roundness of my belly.

My breasts are heavy and natural, they rise and fall with each slow breath. My thighs press together, thick and strong, with soft stretch marks which catch the light. My stomach has a gentle swell that speaks of comfort, of softness, of me.

I meet my own gaze. My eyes are sharp, lined with copper lashes, framed by freckles dusted across my nose like a constellation written just for me. I take a deep breath before I open the bathroom door, and put the light on in the room. I want him to see, I’m not ashamed of who I am, I used to be, but this journey, this experience of life is changing me in ways I’d never thought were possible.

“I said no more Penelope. I said if you do then…” he can’t even finish his sentence.

“I’d be punished. So punish me.”

A wildfire ignites in my chest, and my thighs shake as I say it.

“I’m not messing with you! I mean it!”

No more does he have the tourist clothes, we’d changed into yesterday, but he’s in a suit.

Where did he get it from? Was I in the bathroom that long?

It doesn’t look as expensive as the ones I’ve seen him in, it’s almost as if he wears a suit as a shield. One to hide under, so no one knows what is beneath.

“You shouldn’t be playing these games, you'll regret it,” he snarls as he moves closer to me.

His tone sends a chill down my spine, because one minute the towel is clutched to my chest and the next his fingers hook under the edge of the towel at my collarbone. He doesn’t yank.

He doesn’t ask.

He just…peels it away.

Then he puts his hand on my throat and the other grabs my arm, forcing me to be so close to him. So close I can smell every inch of him. My legs shake as he moves the other chair in the room closer to him.

“Be careful what you wish for, in case it fucking comes true!”

Then in one swift movement, he is sitting on the chair, and I’m on top of him. I lift my legs up, to move over his, but then he moves me like a ragdoll, with no warning over his lap.

“You wanted this,” he snarls.

I don’t say anything, because he’s right. I did ask for it, but by no means did I think he was going to give me a spanking.

He palms the middle of my back and with my stomach flat on his length, I can feel it rising to the occasion.

“You’re such a filthy girl,” he repeats as his hand smooths over my body firmly. I close my eyes, because his cock is getting ready for the offset.

My head faces the wall and it is just hanging, and he tosses my hair away from my back and he has one hand pressing into my back, making sure I can feel his length. I’m aroused before he has even began, but I’m not scared, if anything I’m excited.

This doesn’t feel like a punishment, because I’m so turned on.

“You really are a dirty girl!”

Each time he says it, his breathing deepens and his length gets harder. My nipples rub against the chair, they are pebbles, small rocks and they start to hurt the more turned on I am.

It’s like there’s a small breeze which enters the room as his hand moves away in one swift movement and then crashes against my backside.

“Arrh!” I scream.

The first slap is harsh and as he said, a punishment which I wished for, and my butt feels as if it is on fire.

Then without warning he does it again. This time I hold on to his leg, because every slap moves my body and my nipples and breasts jerk against the chair.

His slaps are hard and merciless, and yet, each cry shifts—pain softening into something breathless and needy.

The more I give in, the more fingers he presses into my entrance.

Then he pauses.

“I don’t think you’re being punished at all, because you’re enjoying it too much. You’re so wet you filthy girl.”

He’s feeding off it — each reaction from me only pulls him deeper into whatever this is.

I hear the soft, obscene sound as he sucks his fingers clean, tasting me like he’s starving.

Then his hand twists in my hair, dragging me up with a roughness that makes my breath catch.

“Ouch… you’re hurting me,” I murmur, but my voice isn’t steady.

I don’t know if I want him to stop or to keep going.

“But didn’t you want to be punished, Penelope? Isn’t this what you craved, when you brought your naked body to me.”

I’m unable to answer, as I’m squirming as he holds up my head. This is what wanted, but now the Jamie who wants to protect me has left this room, and the Jamie who wants to hurt me has entered.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” I plead. I realize that I’m in over my head. I don’t know how to flirt with a man, but I came butt naked to him and asked for him to punish me. What was I thinking?

He releases my head, and then continues to slap me again and again. Each time harder than the next. My aching butt, stops me from screaming and crying anymore. No more am I reacting to his mercy. No more will I let him know that I want him to stop. I refuse to surrender, and bite my lip and act as if I’m not in pain. I’ll pretend as well as I can do, that this is what I wanted from him.

As my cries turn to sobs, it’s as if on cue the monster who slapped me turns into the Jamie I know as he rubs my butt, gently.

“It’s so red. I know it hurts. You’re not going to tell me to stop, are you?”

His voice is low, almost reverent, like he’s testing the line between cruelty and care.

“Penelope, tell me this hurts. Tell me the punishment isn’t what you wanted, or needed, let alone what you deserved.”

I won’t give in!

If I open my mouth, the truth will come spilling out, and it’s not the truth he wants to hear. I can’t tell him to stop. I won’t. I don’t flinch. I just lie there, flesh burning, heart thudding in my ears, and pretend it’s okay to want this.

It is okay. It’s more than okay—it’s necessary. I want help grief, to drag his pain out of himself and into me, to lash out until there’s nothing left inside him but breath and ruin. I want to feel it, to carry it, to become the vessel for every piece of guilt he can’t bear to hold anymore.

I want to be his Molly, I watched him as he watched Molly do it for Noah at the funeral, when she took his brokenness into her arms and made it hers. I want to give him that type of devotion, because he deserves it. If it wasn’t for me, then Ruslan would be alive, he never would have tried to protect me and risk his life, not one time, but twice.

I’m offering myself. In silence. In stillness. With every red mark across my skin, I am begging him to let me be the one who carries what he can’t.

I want to be his. Not just his girlfriend, not just some future wife he might one day love. I want to be his everything.

I won’t tell him to stop.

The truth is, I don’t want him to.

Then he moves to my swollen nub of my clit. He knows how to heal me, to undo the damage he’s done.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

My screams turn to moans forgetting the way he tried to torture me with the onslaught of his hand only moments ago. He’s now rewarding me as his fingers find their way to my swollen nub of my clit.

“There, there…” he murmurs and his length is poking me in the stomach as he flicks it once more.

It’s as if he’s enjoying the reaction of my body as he rubs my folds and starts to purr as he does it. He’s pushing me so close to the edge, no more am I thinking about my aching butt. It’s as if the pain has become a thing of the past as an explosion ignites my core and my body starts to react to him.

“Hmm,” soft murmurs betray me as they leave my lips letting him know I am enjoying what he’s doing to me.

“Yes, you dirty girl. Come for me.”

I'm past the point of no return. My thighs fall open, and the sharp press of my nipples against the chair no longer stings—it only fuels the ache building inside me.

It feels like I’m holding a live grenade, the pin already pulled, the sun dipping below the horizon in slow, burning surrender. I’m seconds from detonation, and there's no stopping what’s coming next.

“Yes!” I scream over and over again. A shudder overtakes me after Jamie stops, holding me firmly in place. To make things even worse, the moment my body stills, he throws me onto the bed and rejects me—just like he did in the woods.

Then he goes to the bathroom. I know why he is in a hurry, it’s because he’s so hard, and needs to relieve himself. Even with my aching butt, I have a big smile on my face as I think... He wanted to punish me, but in reality, he has only punished himself—holding back and believing he could ever do anything to hurt me.