The Blue Butterfly

Chapter One The Storyteller Like a rag doll flung down by some giant, Lewis lay sprawled in the middle of a pile of damask pillows. He was naked, spread-eagled, on his back, arms flung out far, and legs loosely parted. His eyes were closed; his breathing shallow. His flaccid p***s nestled against his right thigh. But a closer look would reveal that the seemingly somnolent p***s was in fact beginning to stir, slowly thickening, uncoiling with the very first hint of arousal. Maybe it was the exposure to the delicious coolness of the air-conditioned room, or an acute awareness of the satiny smoothness of those oversized pillows under his nude body. Or maybe it was the simmering anticipation of things to come; the exciting nearness of the girl who he knew was looking down on him, even though his eyes were closed. She stood over him, silently watching, studying his calm face, the gentle heaving of his lightly-furred chest, his responsive prick. But whatever the source of his excitement, his manhood was clearly taking reacting, expanding now with the first stirrings of renewed lust. Otherwise, Lewis didn’t move a muscle, but lay as he had come to rest, his head propped up against the supporting sofa, his features relaxed in a placid expression, so that to the casual observer the man appeared to be dozing. But he wasn’t. Under that facade Lewis was keenly aware of the erotic sensations, the frisson of desire, every fiber of his nude body a-tingle with anticipation. He was waiting for her to begin. And so Chloe began, like she always did, with the letting down of her hair; it fanned down, enveloping her softly rounded shoulders in a dark cloud as she stood over him, gazing down on the naked man. Smiling to herself, she would take her time, pausing to contemplate that well-made male body for a moment, before raising up a foot, reaching down to slip off a pump. Normally, Lewis enjoyed watching Chloe strip for him, but tonight he kept his eyes closed, knowing what she was doing. Moving methodically, she opened the front of her dress, slipped it of her shoulders, shoved it down her hips, and stepped free of it. Next, she reached back to find the catch of her bra freeing her softly-mounded breasts to settle. Bare-breasted, she dropped to her knees and came to him, squirming up under a cradling arm, while his prick tightened in eager expectation. The pretty girl, in nylon stockings and a slick, champagne half-slip, snuggled happily against the outstretched guy. For the longest time the two lovers lay together like that, motionless, still but tense, both of them acutely aware of the simmering excitement that was building. It was only when she heard him sigh that she stirred, rising up to let a dangling breast brush softly over his arm and trail up his lightly-furred chest as she eased herself forward onto him. She tilted her head so that her silky hair spilled down in a fine curtain that partially shielded her face. And then she swayed back and forth, letting the slithering tendrils tease down his chest, and then trail across his taut belly, watching the flat muscles twitch as her hair and then her pointy n*****s brushed across his chest with a maddening tickle. This calculated teasing forced a barely suppressed moan to escape from the man’s tightly-pressed lips. Chloe lowered her head, and turned her cheek to lay her head on her lover’s heaving chest, to listen to his pounding heart. Lewis drew in a shivering breath, but otherwise held himself perfectly still. The woman could sense the quickening, the tension in his rigid body, as every fiber strained, taut with expectation as he waited for her to take the next step in the by-now familiar ritual. Slowly, very slowly, the long-haired girl slid lower down, inching her way down her man’s hard body till she lay with her cheek comfortably resting on his belly, her eyes only inches from where his semi-hardened p***s nestled in its fine tuft of springy pubic fur. She studied the blossoming manhood; watching, fascinated by the dawning awareness of her feminine presence that caused that eager c**k to stir, swelling in anticipation when she brought her lips closer. The girl pursed her lips and blew a thin stream of air through the wispy curls, causing Lewis’ c**k to jump, electrified by her warm moist breath. She smiled to herself. Chloe knew her man, knew him so very well; knew how highly responsive he was to her slightest touch. She need only slip her curled fingers under his drooping soldier and give him a gentle lift, to feel his burgeoning potency swelling up under her ministrations. And as she held him there, between her fingers, watching him grow, magically blossoming to renewed prominence right before her very eyes. Holding his s*x loosely, she would close her fingers and run her pointed nails down the under seam, scratching lightly, listening with delight to the low breathy sigh that turned into a half groan as the helpless male rolled his head from side to side. Then she would cover his furry scrotum, cupping him with her curved hand, lightly cradling his hairy balls, taking them up to roll gently in her soft palm. Suddenly, she closed her fist, giving his balls an urgent squeeze that sent his c**k rocketing up, unfolding with a sudden surge of lust. Once she had her man completely erect, she would begin to tease him lightly, using just the pads of her adept fingertips to trace along the shaft, till his prick became impossibly stiff and taut, the shaft quivering, straining with excitement. It was then and only then, that she would begin her story. *** The stories this clever girl invented were only half-thought through, for Chloe made them up as her tale unfolded. She would lift her head and shift back a bit, rising up on one elbow, breasts swaying, dipping her fingers in wispy pubic hair to sample the tiny curls. She’d take a small tuft of crinkly hair between thumb and fingers, and tug gently. She idly played there, so close to his straining prick, but never actually touching it, while her eyes studied that vibrant manhood just inches away. In her lowered sexy voice Chloe began her tale of seduction. And as a story unfolded, she would watch his reactions, acutely alert to the signs of what turned him on. In this way she would let his mounting excitement guide the narrative, Occasionally brushing her fingertips along his quivering length, giving him just a little of the touch he so desperately longed for, till she had that fully-erected p***s throbbing and stiffening in an intolerable ache of desire. *** Tonight, she began by telling him a story about a girls’ school, an elite finishing school where grace, deportment and good manners were instilled by strict discipline. The headmistress was a strict, no-nonsense woman named Nadia, in her younger years a very promising ballerina. It was said that she had danced with the Ballet Russe. Nadia was a striking woman with a tight-muscled, hard figure and handsome, though stern, features. She wore her jet black hair pulled back from her thin, gaunt face and tied in a severe knot; today her panther-sleek body was sheathed in a black leotard, for she was about to supervise a dance lesson. Tightly fitted to her lean form, with high-cut sides, the body hugging maillot left bare her long lean haunches and finely-muscled dancer’s legs. In her right hand, the headmistress inevitably held an 18” ruler... quite useful for pointing out errors. The bevy of young girls who now entered the room were all barefoot; identically clad in Greek-style tunics. These flimsy one-piece garments were sleeveless, with a shallow curving neckline that dipped low in front and rose in narrowing shoulder straps to loop the shoulders. The wide scoop neckline left bare the upper part of the smooth girlish chest while the loose bodice fell in soft folds, gathered at the waist to form a little pleated skirt, the shortened hem leaving bare most of a girl’s trim young thighs. The brief skirts were barely adequate to cover the behind, and then only if a girl held herself perfectly still, for even the slightest movement would expose a bare bottom peeking out from below the flouncing hem. Except for the sheer gym slips, the girls were quite naked, since, in their mistress’ firmly-held opinion, underwear unduly restricted the natural flow of the body’s movements. The pleasing result for the fortunate observer who might happen upon the scene, was to find that as the girls limbered up, stretching and contorting their supple young bodies at the barre before the mirrored wall, they presented a very inspiring sight indeed! (Lewis, his eyes closed, couldn’t help squirming in smiling contemplation of the mental pictures his seductive storyteller was conjuring up for him. Meanwhile Chloe brought a small hand into play, running a the pad of a single fingertip up and down the shaft, tracing the outline of his masculine equipment at hand with a sure but delicate touch. Lewis couldn’t suppress the tight-lipped moan of desperation, or the shiver of pleasure that rippled through his tightened body.) To Nadia, Chloe continued, freedom was as everything! She imbued in her young pupils the same spirit of freedom that she cherished so passionately. She constantly exhorted them to free themselves, to allow themselves to be loose, spontaneous and carefree. And should she be asked about the revealing gym slips in which she required be worn for exercising, she would shrug her shoulders with the nonchalant reply that such minimal clothing was, of course, quite sensible under the circumstances. Light, loose clothing liberated movement, thus encouraging her student to move freely in totally uninhibited dance. Of course, Nadia well knew what exciting effect the sight of so many scantily clad young women had on her eager male clients the ones who paid very well indeed to be secretly allowed the privilege of slipping unobserved into the secret chamber she had built on the other side of the one-way mirror that sheathed the dance studio’s wall. Now she waited as the girls took their assigned places. They lined up side by side, each separated by a few feet, forming a wide arc centered on their instructor. When they were in place, Nadia ordered the warm-up exercises; her curt commands tight-lipped; her manner haughty, imperious. She would demand their best performance from her “young ladies” as she always referred to them. Now she trooped the line as the girls bent over from the hips stretching down to touch the floor, or swayed and twisted in place with arms held high overhead in a practiced choreographed routine. The stern mistress of the dance seemed unusually impatient today, snapping commands, pacing up and down the line like a restless panther, rhythmically slapping her palm as though testing the thin ruler. She would pause momentarily to correct this girl or that, using the ruler to point out some error in posture: here a leg to be straightened, there a wrist to be bent, a delicate hand to be held just so. The dance mistress was precise; her standards, demanding perfection. It was on the third or fourth pass when she had turned her back on two of the girls at the far end of the line, one of whom she had corrected repeatedly, that the trouble began. An alert observer would have noticed that the second girl from the end, a lively dark-haired girl with a slim willowy figure was making fun of her instructor, silently grimacing to the girl beside her who couldn’t help laughing at the crude caricature. Nadia’s head snapped back at the sound of the barely suppressed giggle and she caught the miscreant making faces at her behind her back! At a ringing command all movement was instantly stopped and a deadly hush stilled the room. Nadia turned on her heel, and slowly closed in on the troublemaker who stiffened and held herself rigid at the approaching menace. The one drawback observers found with being placed behind the one-way glass was the inability to hear what was actually being said in the room, but this time the gestures were unmistakable. Nadia exchanged a few sharp words with the troublemaker, and then beckoned her forth, ordering her to stand before the group. She was a thin girl with straight chestnut-brown hair pulled back from her plain narrow face and tied in a youthful pony-tail. Apparently, the girl was unrepentant, for when called to task she gave a insolent toss of that pert pony tail, straightened up, and came forth with head held high, chin up and defiant. The miscreant was ordered to stand at attention facing the glass wall, a placement which, incidentally had the effect of allowing the unseen audience to better appreciate her spare clean lines, the pair of small maidenly breasts showing through the diaphanous bodice, and the dim shadow of the thin haze of wispy pubic curls barely visible through the skirt’s pleated folds. For a few minutes, Nadia berated her in front of the group, while the girl stood without moving a muscle, her face set; eyes, quite expressionless. Then, Nadia pronounced the punishment: The girl was to be spanked, a not uncommon form of punishment and one much favored by the mistress of the dance (and not coincidentally, by her much-appreciative male clientele). At Nadia’s orders, two of the girls were dispatched to bring forth a portable barre, a waist high horizontal bar, cradled between two stanchions. This was set in front of the line of girls who waited quietly in the center of the room. The culprit was ordered to step up between the stanchions and stand with hips pressed up firmly against the barre. At a word from her mistress she, rather reluctantly, lowered herself bending over the bar till her nubile young body was folded over at the waist, inverted head hanging down on the far side. Nadia, pointing with the ruler, ordered the girl to reach down and clasp her ankles to hold the dreaded pose as she stepped behind the upended figure and with two fingers delicately plucked the hem of the flimsy skirt, lifting it up to lay it up over the girl’s arched back. The gesture exposed a tight-cheeked young bottom, smooth and tautly-rounded. Nadia was careful to step to one side so as not to obstruct the pleasing sight now presented to the eager eyes peering through the glass wall. The few privileged observers who were lucky enough to be there that day were able to appreciate the clean lines of those bare limbs, straight supple legs pressed rigidly together. The youthful thighs, tapering slightly from the narrow hips, were squeezed tightly together so that just a hint of the girl’s small vulva peeped out, tucked as it was between the inner curves of the columnar thighs. Did the little rebel feel the first twinge of anxiety as she waited stretched over the bar in a pose that strained the calve muscles, stretched the taut skin at the back of her thighs, and tightened the smoothness of those choice, upturned mounds? (Chloe smiled at the half strangled moan that escaped Lewis’ lips as he arched back, his eyes clenching shut, as though against some sweet pain. She continued to resist the temptation to touch the quivering p***s and instead curled her fingers into a claw, and then used her raking nails to lightly tease up and down his thigh, all the while careful to avoid the straining manhood. This brought an urgent whimper from the tantalized man and his loins rose and twisted, instinctively seeking more, the fuller pleasure of her touch. His c**k leapt as it brushed her hand; but Chloe would force him to wait, and she quickly drew her hand away, and in that low breathy voice, she continued her erotic tale.) Now Nadia had the girl part her legs slightly and then, not quite satisfied with the result, leaned down to tap an ankle with the ruler, urging her to set her heels even further apart. This widened stance put additional strain on her stretching body, bringing the girl up on her toes as she struggled to maintain the pose holding on to her ankles. The widened stance also opened her willowy thighs, separating them further, thus giving an improved view of the soft bulge of the v****a with its light fringe of pale brown fur. The silent watchers saw the girl shift her hips, giving a provocative little wiggle to her appealing young bottom as she settled into place. Now the stern mistress of the ballet took up her stance to one side and brought the ruler up to lay it flatly across the jutting rear cheeks. At the first touch of the menacing wood, the girl became instantly alert, holding herself rigidly still, every muscle in her lithe body tensing in instinctive anticipation. Nadia tapped the nicely presented target lightly; two, three times, sending the small mounds wobbling with expert flicks of the wrist. Then she hauled back and swung: a smooth even swing with a slight upward curve that brought the pliant lath into sharp solid contact with the vulnerable girlish bottom, delivering a stinging slap squarely across the twin curves. THWACK! The sound rang out like a shot in the quiet room, loud enough to be faintly heard in the darkened adjoining chamber. The girl’s head and shoulders jerked upright under the impact but she managed to keep her grip on her ankles. She wriggled her spanked bottom as though trying to shake off the maddening sting. THWACK! The second shot was delivered with the same smooth efficiency, this time topped off by a snap of the wrist that sent the ruler biting into the soft resiliency of those bouncy mounds. Again, the girl bounded up on her toes at the thudding impact and her head shot up, although she did manage to maintain her grip on her ankles. Still keeping the pose, the girl squirmed excitedly, wriggling her shoulders and shaking her hips before she was able to settle back down and tighten her grip on her ankles. Nadia waited patiently. She watched the buttocks contract fearfully, coiling down, tightening to harden the rear mounds, hollowing the sides and constricting the crack to a narrow slit. THWACK! Nadia struck, smacking that tight-cheeked young with a snap of the ruler that sent the girl bounding up on her toes. Her hands immediately flew to her stinging behind which she rubbed frantically, looking over her shoulder at her mistress with a rueful expression on her flushed face. (Lewis whimpered as Chloe’s playful fingers tangled in a tuft of pubic hair; twisted and tugged at the wispy curls till she had his hips rising up off the cushions). Nadia stood regarding her victim with hands on her hips. She spoke sternly to the girl, no doubt chastising her for having abandoned the mandated position. The girl lowered her head meekly, and nodded. Slowly, submissively, she folded her lank form back over the dreaded barre once more, up on her toes, renewing her grip on her ankles with anxious fingers. Nadia, like all the other watchers, saw the small rump twitch; the coiled muscles tighten once more, as the girl set herself to receive the last few strokes. But Nadia didn’t strike; not just then. Instead she brought the ruler up to lightly trace the curves, following the pleasing contours of that pert girlish bottom, watching the taut skin flinch as the wooden ruler passed over the crest of a rounded dome. The ruler paused to move curiously into the hidden juncture between the legs. The intimate probing electrified the girl whose hips bounded forward in surging reflex. The evil ruler was held there for only a moment before being extracted to continue its journey, being drawn straight up the centerline causing the tantalized girl to shift from one foot to the other in her growing agitation. The Headmistress drew her hand back and held herself still, silently regarding her blushing target. The presented buttocks clenched in instinctive spasms. Nadia waited till she saw the muscles slowly uncoil as the inverted victim allowed herself to relax. She held her hand for a while longer, till she saw the buttocks fully slacken and only then, when she had judged that all the tension had drained out of those cringing cheeks, did she strike again. THWACK!... THWACK!... THWACK!... three rapid fire slaps delivered with surprising vigor had the girl bounding and hopping from one foot to the other. With the last smack she shot straight up, arcing back as her hands flew back to vigorously rub her stinging bottom. Nadia waited till she was through and then approached her victim and slung a loose arm around those thin shoulders. With their heads close together, she whispered something to the girl, who only nodded. Then with head hung low, the girl backed away and made a sort of curtsey to her mistress before returning to take her assigned place in the ranks of the waiting students. By now Chloe had Lewis’ vibrant erection between her fingers and she ran the pad of her thumb up the underside of the stiffened shaft, pressing firmly, making him jump in her hand and getting a long ecstatic groan from the helpless man who could take no more of her sweet torture. He arched back and upward, rising hips straining up, buttocks tightly clenched, thrusting his needy prick into his lover’s caressing hands. “Do it!..DO IT!” he pleaded through clenched teeth, his voice husky and strained with emotion. Chloe’s lips widened in triumphant smile, and quite deliberately she wrapped her fingers around the throbbing p***s, her claws digging into the spongy shaft; causing Lewis to suck in a shiver of breath at the delectable pain. As he whimpered, her nimble fingers relaxed. Then, immediately, she squeezed him again, harder, but not extending her claws this time. She held him tightly and pumped her fist, once, twice, and again, sending her man into paroxysms of pleasure till he bounded and twisted helplessly in her iron grip. His raging prick shot off immediately in a tremendous climax, sending pulsating gobs of thick white cream erupting to splatter her pumping fist and fall in a wide arc raining down to splatter his heaving chest. Chloe’s stories always came to the same shuddering climax.