Hello my beautiful Steemits, yes it is that time of the week again, where I inflict your eyes with more visual pain than a Masochistic, Narcissist Optometrist. So read on my beauties, read on!
Chapter 7
He sees her there by the kitchen fireplace, the firelight shadows dance upon her visage. He walks closer to her and stands watching her every move, she was exotic poetry to him, a boy of seven summers. She looks from the pot to him her strange cat like pupils widen in fear. “M-m-my Lord, I did not see you there! Forgive me sire!” she attempts to bow but his hand gently catches her beautiful face to stop her. “You need not bow to me.” he coos, Her soft strawberry blond hair done in plaits, dangle from under her bonnet. He hesitantly brings her into his arms, she resists for a moment, “But my Lord, what of your father you mother?!” he leans in close to feel her cheek against his and whispers “What of them?” her eyes widen but then she gives in to him and accepts the embrace.
They stand there, embracing for some time before he moves back to look at her. “I want you.” Fear fills her face and she starts to resist, trying to pull away. “No my Lord, do not, I beg you.” she whimpers. “No, no not like that, I would never do such a thing to you.” he assures her. “I mean, I want you to be my wife, I want to consummate it here and now, I want you forever by my side.” anew fear washed over her and her voice went small and feeble “but what of your…” She looks to and fro in such terror then back into his eyes “... Sister!”.
He knew that fear, he lived it himself, from the day he was born to now she entrapped him in her psychotic snare. “The Bitch will be dead by the end of the day, no longer fear her, I do not.”. Her face softened and she re-entered his embrace, they are now adults, grown in a blink of an eye, “I will be yours my Lord, take me and let me be your pleasure.” He pulls her away and slowly undresses her, letting her tattered slave rags fall to the floor. He reaches for her bonnet but she viciously grabs his hand away. “No!” she snaps, then horror fills her “I'm sorry my Lord I did not..” he puts a finger to her lips. “Do not apologise my Butterfly, but please may I remove your bonnet?”
She trembles, naked save the bonnet, tears well in her eyes as she looks away in shame. “My Lord, do not, please. For my affliction will make you turn away and you will never love me, you will only see the horrors of my defect.” He feels a tear leave his own eyes, empathy tugs at his heart and he lifts her eyes back to him. “I will not force you but, I hope one day you will have faith in me and let me see.” She looks deep into his loving eyes without a word. She starts to undress him and soon they stand naked together by the warm firelight.
They lay down before the fireplace and he guides her on top of him, letting her chose the rhythm of they intimacy. He closes his eyes and lets her take him on their journey of love, feeling every stroke of her womanhood pleasing his member. He opens his eyes and is startled for a moment as she wears a different face, a familiar face, a face he abhors. He blinks and his butterfly comes back into focus, they love for a moment more, her tempo rises, she is everything he had hoped for, he holds her tight, he is lost in bliss.
“Ah, you are liking it again.”
The voice jars him, it's not her. His eyes springs open, Butterfly is still there but her voice is different. “Yes brother, take it, enjoy it.” mouths Butterfly in Junta’s voice. He struggles to fathom what is happening, he looks around the room, it is melting away, changing, folding into a room he is being kept prisoner, a prison he struggles to escape.
“No, no, no please no!” he stammers, her smile starts to meld into wicked lips, her eyes change into dark brown pools that fill him with dread.
“What is the matter brother, fill me, you know you want to.” He starts to scream and struggle harder, her rhythm of ecstasy turns into a dirge of torture as she now pumps her body hard upon him.
He tries to push her off, his butterfly now Junta but his hands and arms shrivel into deformed, useless appendages. “NO! NO!” he scream again but it is wrong, broken, inhuman. His dream melts away he tries to cling to it, to his butterfly. Fear and regret flood him, wishing he had the guts to speak to her, instead of voyaging her from afar. 'No, no don't go, stay butterfly, BUTTERFLY!'
“BUTTERFLY!”
The Queen drives herself upon his member, harder and harder. Her groans of delight turn into shrills and yells of “Give me seed, give it to meeee!” He tries to close his eyes and not look upon her but scavenge what he can of his daydream, willing it to return. His stomach churns vomit, ready to explode at her sickening sight, his body is wrenched in pain from broken bones and bash welts, and he feels his member betraying him, enjoying its voyage inside Junta’s cunt, ready to spew forth its own vomit of seed from his balls.
Every other man would be wanting this, her upon them. For his Sister, was beautiful. Her long black hair was like silk to touch and flowed sensually down around her face. Her brown eyes sparked like diamonds and drew men into their shiny lustre. Her breast were pulled a little from three babes of milk but they were still firm and round. Her body was curvy and plump like a fresh peach to behold and many a man wanted to plough her day and night and put their bastards inside her womb.
But no, not him, he had had his fill of his sister, both of his sisters, as they all had obeyed her orders to be his wives for her Gods. They all were a sickening thing in his eyes, but his older sister, Princes Junta was an abomination. A demented animal that now runts and grunts as she reaches her climax, her cervix sucking hard upon him, like a pump, vacuuming his seed violently from his soul. No longer did he see her as a beautiful woman but a hideous beast, a soulless incest demon, fucking her own brother, murdering his own true wives to create a living vessel for her demented God.
His seed thrusts forth through his member, his ejaculation is filled with pain, defeat and sorrow. She cries in delight as his warm cream fills her tubes till all is spent and even then he still feels her cunt suck for more. Junta sighs deeply satisfied and looks down at him with an evil smile. “Oh dear brother, how you fill me. There felt to be so much there that I can not give it all a home in my womb and it now pours out from me.” her eyes sparkle at the joy of the fill.
She looks long and lovingly into his red, teary eyes, her smile slowly fades away to a venomous scold. She grabs him by the throat and squeezes it close. She spits her next words into his face. “You were thinking of that slave of father’s, weren’t you brother?!” He could only struggle to breath, his useless limbs banging and flailing about as he gasped for air. “I laughed when mother stormed father’s chamber and had that whore beaten, I wonder who told mother that lie about father and the whore slave...” his eyes grow wide with shock at this admission “… oops.” she giggles maliciously, he struggles with anger against her “And when Uncle stormed the summer house looking for little ol’ me. He was so disappointed, shame his informant was eager to believe me, he was sooo trusting while I entertained his manhood.” She viciously licks Argons chest then looks at him with distain “but it looks like it's not enough to stop you fucking her in your dreams.”
Tears fill his eyes till everything is a dark watery blur, 'You bitch, if uncle has hurt her, she was innocent. Dear Gods don't let harm to Butterfly, my Butterfly Whisper.'
Junta leans in close to his ear and breaths the words, “Maybe I should get the little whore back, have her limbs chopped off, then be fucked by ten stallions till their seed pours from every hole in her body and finally I will personally saw her in half, slowly, all done right before your eyes.” She musters up a huge phlegm and spits in his face. She abruptly rises from him and stands upon the bed, his seed flowing from between the lips of her womanhood, down onto his broken, twisted body.
She snaps her fingers and two male slaves produce a fine cotton robe and dress her there upon the bed. She steps down and heads for the open door of the room. She stops at the threshold at looks back at him. “Don't fret little brother, I will make sure that.. now what was the name you called her.. Butterfly, Butterfly Whisper, that's it, that Butterfly will die as painful as possible. But in the mean time brother you have our wombs to fill.” Junta cackles as she leaves and in her place stands another, younger woman. Argon's eyes once more fill with tears and terror, wishing, wishing hard to be in that daydream once again with his Butterfly.
The second woman, his younger sister, now naked stalks like a tiger upon the bed to his member and she leans close to him and whispers “Fill me Brother, fill me full too.” He closes his eyes and screams as his nightmare starts again.