Butterfly Wings

BUTTERFLY WINGS

By Tcheena3

 

CHAPTER ONE  - Metamorphosis, Wings Begin to Flutter

 

They say that the sweep of a butterfly’s wings in the Amazon rainforest can cause a hurricane on the other side of the world.

Sounds great, but it’s a ridiculous premise, really, when you get right down to it. Oh, yes, I’m sure we all understand cause and effect. But to suggest that such a small action could spiral into such a huge reaction in such a comparatively short distance seems absurd.

At least, that’s what I used to think.

I know differently now.

I suppose I used to be like many people. My name is Erika and at 32 years old my life was pretty good, by and large. We were reasonably well-off, although comfortable rather than really wealthy. I was married to my childhood sweetheart - a handsome, loving husband and although we had no kids of our own, we had raised my 19 year old niece, Libby, since the death of her parents in a car crash when she was 6. She was gorgeous; sweet natured, beautiful, athletic and smart.

We had a large house that I was really proud of, with a Mercedes and a BMW in the double garage, and Phil had recently got a new position as a senior executive in another company. Nothing significant to complain of and lots to be thankful for!

Perhaps you’ve had those times in your life?

Everything is going so well, you get complacent. Sure, you understand that ‘things’ happen in life including disasters like the death of my sister Sally and her husband - Libby’s parents. But fundamentally, you know you are a good person and you don’t expect bad things to happen, certainly not as a result of your own stupidity and naivety.

Especially, hurricanes don’t get caused by the butterfly wing breeze of your life’s ordinary activities.

+++

 

I guess you could say it wasn’t a normal activity for me. But it certainly was an ordinary activity. Just a girl’s night out, really.

As I said before, Phil had a fairly new job. He was Sales Director of Lowry Life Systems, or LLS as it was commonly referred to. As I understood it at the time and I guess I wasn’t really that clued up on Phil’s new organisation, LLS was a ‘boutique’ pharmaceutical company, if that’s the right term.

What I did know about them, from Phil, was that they had supposedly developed a couple of new ‘products’ or drugs that were apparently going to revolutionise their particular sector of the marketplace.

Phil was very hush-hush about it. He wouldn’t even tell me what they were. However, he travelled frequently and sometimes for quite extended periods, apparently negotiating several major contracts to do with the new products. Phil was excited about his job for the first time in years and felt it was quite a feather in his cap that he was reporting directly to the company’s owner and CEO, Vida Lowry.

I tell you this, because it explains why I was involved in an ordinary (but not normal for me) activity.

You see, about two months after Phil started work at LLS, Vida Lowry had directed her PA to invite me to a ‘girl’s night out’ (her term). Apparently this was something she did fairly regularly as part of maintaining the ‘friendly’ atmosphere at LLS. Supposedly, Vida usually invited about six or eight women; either senior female executives, or the wives of her male execs.

I’m not typically a particularly gregarious character. I much prefer being out with just one or two close friends or maybe a small dinner party at home. But as the ‘new girl’ on the block, so to speak, I didn’t feel I could refuse. The invitation was for the coming Friday, when I knew Phil was going to be away on one of his trips. So of course I accepted, with all the due statements of deference and delight at being invited.

Phil had given me his thoughts on Vida before. He considered her to be an extremely accomplished CEO. He said she was sharp and incisive, making decisions quickly and effectively. She was fair and well-balanced in her judgments and looked after her people. Nevertheless, she was a hard task-master (or should that be mistress?), paying well but expecting a lot in return. He was learning an enormous amount working with her, but he had told me on a couple of occasions that there was something odd about her that he could never put his finger on… something that suggested to him that he should never entirely trust her.

Still, as he said, it was just a feeling and nothing had ever occurred to validate the feeling.

“It seems odd! How come she only invites the women?” I asked Phil. “You’d think there would be a more family atmosphere if partners came too, don’t you reckon?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Phil grinned. “I think she believes that people need to let their hair down and that’s better if it’s without partners. Anyway, apparently she does organise events for ‘the boys’, albeit more ‘blokey’ affairs than the girls nights. I haven’t had a chance to go yet, ‘cos I’m always travelling! Still, I guess that’s one of the downsides of earning a big salary!”

“Ooooohhh… sound’s scary!” I joked, “Ms Lowry all on her own with a bunch of boofy blokes down at the pub!” “Yeah, right!” he responded sarcastically, “I’m sure she has better taste than that. Anyway, she’s pretty hot! I can’t wait for my night out with her!”

“Don’t you even think about it!” I swatted his arm playfully.

“Come on, Darling, you know me… you’re the only one I’m remotely interested in”.

“Hah!” I replied, “Who taught you to be so smarmy?”

“Nothing smarmy about it! Why would I need anyone else when I’ve got the hottest little number in town all to myself? You’ve got the plumpest, roundest ass I’ve ever seen… and as for the rest of the package… well, what can I say?”

I giggled and turned my back to him, bending slightly and rubbing my buttocks up and down in his crotch. “And just what makes you think you’ve got me all to yourself?” I teased.

I could feel the beginnings of an erection in his pants. I knew he found my bottom really sexy and I also knew he wasn’t the only one. It’s a funny thing… I’ve always thought my ass was too big and fat, but I also know that lot’s of men seemed to find it really attractive. I couldn’t begin to count the number of times I’ve caught some guy leering at my backside when I’ve been out and about. In fact, I have to admit that I like the attention and often dress for it.

One of my favourite outfits includes a pair of light-weight white pants that hug my ass and legs and reveal every dimple on my butt cheeks. It’s about as close as I can get to being naked and still stay legal! I usually wear them with a tiny thong which is clearly visible or sometimes no underwear at all and take great delight strolling in the sun watching men eye me off.

Phil says that when I wear them, my buttocks are like two plump globes, separated by a deep cleft, which jiggle and sway from side to side as I walk. He says its no wonder that guys stare at me, since it makes him want to sling me over the arm of a chair and fuck me hard… preferably up the ass! I always laughed when he said that because he knew I wouldn’t have anal sex. It was sort of disgusting as well as probably painful. Anyway, I wasn’t game to try and I thought our sex was inventive and hot enough without going there.

There is one downside to wearing those pants. I often find myself getting very turned on by all the attention and if it goes on too long, or I get too hot, I end up with a spreading patch of dampness between my thighs that shows up clearly and darkly against the white of the pants! I usually have to rush home and get some relief. When I’m getting that relief, whether it’s a quick hard fuck from Phil, or a finger job, I invariably indulge in my favourite fantasies… fantasies that were the butterfly wings that caused my world to turn upside-down.

+++

 

The evening of Vida’s ‘girl’s night out’ was one of the weirdest I had experienced, although things were to get progressively worse over the months that followed. It might not seem that odd in the telling but I was naïve and really quite inexperienced in the ways of the world. I’d probably always thought of myself as ‘the girl next door’ type. Blonde and pretty but not beautiful. Friendly and outgoing but only in my comfort zone. And that meant sticking with people I knew, going to places I was familiar with, doing the things that felt safe.

I arrived at the venue for our evening shortly after our agreed meeting time of 7:30 pm. I had spent a nervous hour or two getting ready, finally stepping out of the taxi feeling prepared but a bit anxious. I was dressed in black heels and my favourite black cocktail dress, a silky number that was hemmed just above the knee and draped sensuously over the contours of my body. I was slightly more heavily made up than usual and my blonde locks were brushed to a sheen and cascaded over my shoulders.

I felt quite presentable until I stepped into the gloom of the dimly-lit nightclub. The club was small and intimate and opulently furnished; discreet lighting, a small but well-stocked bar, leather armchairs and sofas, plush carpet and soft laid-back bluesy jazz playing in the background. I scarcely had time to look around before I spotted Vida and the other four women that made up the party seated in a far corner booth.

I felt immediately outclassed.

These women were absolutely gorgeous! I’m not quite sure how you tell things like this, but I knew in an instant that this group represented serious wealth and I felt like a shabby poor relation. They were all older than I. Probably ranging between 35 and early forties. In fact, I knew from what Paul had told me that Vida was 42.

There was something about their dress and their makeup and their hairdos that was just exactly so. A degree of perfection that you didn’t get by sitting in front of the mirror as I had, doing yourself up.

Vida, herself, I had met once before, shortly after Phil joined LLS. But on this occasion her height and her stunning body and her glorious mane of long black hair held an exotic commanding presence over the group. She greeted me warmly as she held my outstretched hand in the coolness of her own. As she introduced me around the table, she continued to hold my right hand in hers and placed her other arm lightly, but almost possessively around my shoulders.

“This is Maria,” she said, indicating a tiny, slim, sharp-featured, dark-haired woman of about 40 on my left. “Maria is not with LLS, but she’s been a close personal friend for many years and often joins us at our little soirées!” she went on, with a low throaty chuckle.

“Beatrice is Director of Product Development at LLS. She’s been with us about 7 years now. We just call her Beat for short!”

There was an amused laugh that went around the table at Vida’s comment. It seemed to contain knowledge of something that was hidden to me. I could only smile at Beatrice in shy acknowledgement of a joke that left me out.

She was an almost polar opposite of Maria. Tall, with a large frame and big breasts which she obviously made no attempt to hide given the tight sweater that was stretched over them. Her hair was a silvery white-blonde, long and pulled back severely into a tight bun at the back of her head. Beatrice was almost stereotypically Nordic, even down to the guttural Danish accent with which she said “Welcome”.

The two remaining women turned out to be sisters. Tabitha and Tallulah, nicknamed Tab and Tall, were pale-skinned redheads. When I say red, I mean seriously red – flaming, stand-out-in-a-crowd red. Their names apparently meant ‘gazelle’ and ‘leaping, running water’. They certainly appeared athletic enough, although Tall was actually the shorter of the two! They were married to two of the LLS executive team.

So – that’s the introductions.

What it doesn’t tell you is that, with the exception of Vida, they looked at me as if I was some weird insect that had crawled in. Actually, to be more accurate, their looks were predatory.

It started like that and continued for the remainder of the evening. Almost every time I glanced at one or other of them I seemed to intercept a look that had me pinned to the floor, undressing me with their eyes. I think I know now what a mouse feels like under a cat’s gaze. I assumed there was some internal politics in the company and perhaps I was seen as a threat of some sort. I certainly didn’t feel like they were sizing up a peer. More like a victim!

Thank God for Vida, though.

She was delightful. Warm, friendly, good-humoured, witty and a fabulous raconteur.

If it hadn’t been for Vida, I’m sure I would have left early. As it was, I was able to tell myself that since I wasn’t interested in playing office politics, they would soon lose interest in me. Vida plied me with drinks far more swiftly than I was used to drinking, and kept me involved in the banter that flowed back and forth.

It wasn’t long before I was well on the way to being drunk. I relaxed and started to enjoy myself.

It can’t have been more than half an hour of us being together than the talk turned to sex.

I was a bit shocked actually. I don’t really think of myself as a prude, but I wouldn’t have dived into a conversation like that with my girlfriends so quickly. Maybe one-on-one after an evening together we might have shared a bit about boyfriends and husbands. But this was down-and-dirty raucous talk about sexual encounters and fantasies and what partners would or wouldn’t do.

I was very uncomfortable although increasingly aroused at some of the talk. I dreaded the moment when the conversation would come around to me. I was far too embarrassed to share stuff like that with strangers.

Fortunately, just before the contributions had gone right around the table and ended up at me, Beat decided to demonstrate a point she was making. It was something about being able to get sex whenever and wherever she wanted it, but still be in control.

“Watch this!” she said.

When she stood up it was clear that she was truly a magnificent looking woman. Tall and strong, her ass swaying seductively beneath her skirt, she sashayed up to the bar and slid along next to a handsome young man who was sitting on his own nursing a scotch. Pressing one of her large breasts against his upper arm, she spoke softly into his ear. He looked up surprised and glanced over in our direction.

He said something to her and she pressed in closer and murmured some more. After a few more words his expression took on cat-with-the-cream smirk and he stood up and held up his elbow, offering her his arm.

She wrapped her arm around his and the two of them made their way across the darkened club into the hallway that led to the washrooms. She leaned heavily on him and swayed a bit as they walked, clearly well intoxicated.

It was obvious what had been arranged and there was an excited murmur around the group at our table. I found myself unexpectedly getting moist between my thighs and fantasising about how it would be if Phil was in Beat’s place and had ordered me to accompany him to a public place for a quickie! I felt myself blushing, but fortunately no-one noticed in the dim light.

Almost twenty minutes later, Beat and her ‘beau’ emerged from the hallway.

He looked shocked and pale and walked unsteadily towards the front door. Beat seemed to be supporting him although he looked a bit reluctant to accept her support. When they reached the door, Beat pretty much shoved him outside and then she swaggered back to the table with a grin and a fierce gleam in her eye.

“Hah!” she said as she arrived. “He won’t be doing that again in a hurry!”

“O.K., come on tell us, what did you do?” asked one of the red-head sisters.

“Well, I offered him to fuck my ass if he was prepared to do it right then!” she responded coarsely. “He thought all his Christmases had come at once! When we got to the Ladies, I locked us in so we wouldn’t be disturbed and let him have his way with me…

Well, actually, I had my way with him! I made him lie back on the floor and greased up his pathetic little weaner with the moisturiser. Then I sat on it!”

I couldn’t help myself. I blurted out “What, in your bum?!”

The rest of the table burst out laughing and I felt my face going a deep fierce red as I realised how silly I must have sounded.

“Of course ‘in my bum’!” Beat gave me a withering glance. “You’ve gotta give them what you promise.”

“Yeah, but what about what you don’t promise?” asked Maria, with a sly grin.

“Ah! Well there’s the rub, so to speak. I waited till he’d rubbed himself almost to climax in me,” she punned. “And then…”

She paused.

The women eyed her expectantly.

“Then I got up and turned around into a 69 position,” she continued. “At first he lifted his head and groaned, thinking he was going to miss out on his ‘cum’. Then he stopped and relaxed back a bit when he realised I was going to suck his filthy little stick... At least that’s what he thought I was going to do…!

Anyway, I trapped his arms between my knees and sat on his face so he couldn’t breath. Then I held his balls in one hand and used my other hand to help to squeeze them as hard as I could! It was amazing! He screamed so hard, I could feel the vibration right up into my womb. That’s probably the only reason you didn’t hear anything out here. Once he breathed out with the first scream he was really fucked! He couldn’t suck a breath in through my butt and I just kept squeezing harder!”

She paused again and then continued.

“Jeez! I felt so powerful! He struggled like mad trying to breathe and at the same time trying to lock his thighs together so I couldn’t keep hurting him. I bet he thought he was going to die. I just pulled ball his balls upwards and squeezed them even harder! I think I might even have crushed one ball… there was a disgusting sort of squish! Phew! It was so hot…, I came in about 10 seconds flat!

The whole thing only took a few minutes. The rest of the time I’ve been helping him get to his feet!”

There was a round of applause and quiet cheers from around the table.

I found myself again just blurting out the thought uppermost in my mind. “But why?”

Beat turned to look at me.

“Because the sniveling little prick is married! He shouldn’t be so ready to accept favours from strangers. And anyway, it was fun! He’s hardly going to complain to his wife that he got beaten up by a woman in a club for trying to fuck her! Mind you… he’s probably going to have a hard time explaining the state of his balls.” She laughed - a wicked, deep-throated laugh.

+++

 

Not long after that, the party started to break up.

Shortly before, I had gone to the toilet to relieve myself. When I returned there was a fresh drink waiting for me. I downed it quite quickly as the others were making moves to go. Before long, I started to feel quite peculiar. I was definitely drunk, but with a strange kind of dissociated feeling, not unlike once in college when I had taken some acid.

 A weird mixture of conflicting emotions flowed through me. I was clearly still under scrutiny from the group which made me rather nervous but I was also feeling excited in a way that I couldn’t remember for a very long time, if at all.

I made moves to go as well, but Vida begged me to stay, saying she hadn’t enjoyed so much getting to know someone in a long time. She made me feel that she really wanted me to be part of the group. All evening there had been smiles and light touches of inclusion on my arm. She didn’t seem anything like the hard boss that Phil had made her out to be. I wondered if maybe he was covering up feelings for her. It wouldn’t surprise me… she almost had me wanting to be in relationship with her!

I’m just joking, of course.

I wasn’t that way inclined. But I had found myself becoming sexually aroused a few times during the evening, with all that erotic talk, and I guess one needs to hang one’s sexual excitement on something or someone.

Eventually everyone had gone except Vida and me. She didn’t seem at all inclined to go and the conversation continued on its raunchy way except that, with Vida’s encouragement, I was far more forthcoming than I had been with the others around.

Somehow I found myself sharing fantasies with Vida that I had never told anyone about before… not even Phil. I seemed to be talking from a great distance away, as if I was looking at myself from outside.

The fantasies all revolved around being humiliated and made to perform obscene acts in front of groups of people. There were often women in the groups but they served only to increase the depth of my humiliation, not to have sex with. The sex acts were always with men. Sometimes I was forced to perform for emotional reasons… humiliation, arousal or blackmail. Sometimes I was forced physically… tied down and fucked in the ass. Sometimes I was actually hurt… beaten or whipped.

I should say that except for pain and anal penetration, I could imagine myself being aroused by all fantasy elements in real life situations. However, those two things were something that existed only in my unreal fantasies. If I ever tried to imagine them in a real situation, you know… imagine someone really hurting me in real life or actually trying to fuck my ass, as opposed to just fantasising about it, I know it would turn me right off immediately. Strange how the mind works!

Anyway, there I was spilling the beans to Vida, a woman I had only briefly met once before.

As I continued I found myself becoming more and more aroused. No doubt it had a lot to do with the alcohol as well, but there was also that spacey detached feeling and before long I was as wet as soup between my thighs. The more I talked, the wetter I got and the harder it was to keep still. I was twitching about, hoping like mad that I wasn’t leaving a snail’s trail of slime through my dress onto the seat, and trying not to let it show to Vida. I couldn’t even get up and rush to the loo which was what I wanted to do, because it would have been immediately obvious. No doubt I’d have had glistening knees by the time I got half way there!

Vida sidled closer to me until she was pressed right up against my side, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. I immediately froze, not wanting her to feel the trembling or the twitching of my desperate arousal. I could feel the heat of her body seeping through the thin fabric of my dress.

She turned to me and whispered gently in my ear “Why don’t you let me help?”

As she did so, she slid her hand swiftly under my skirt. Before I had a moment to react, her hand had moved up between my clenched thighs, its passage made easier by the lubrication coating the inside of them. Without a pause her middle finger struck out straight up into the swamp of my vagina, her long pointed fingernail scraping against the roughness of my g-spot and the pad of muscle on her palm at the base of her finger pressed firmly up against my swollen clit.

I gasped in shock, but couldn’t say a word.

One part of me wanted to scream “Get away! Don’t touch me!”

The other part couldn’t stop even if it wanted. Her hand seemed to vibrate against me as she moved her palm in small fast jerks against my clit and her finger scraped away inside. Within a very few seconds, I exploded into the most extraordinary orgasm I could ever remember. For a moment I thought I had peed myself. For the first time in my life I actually squirted liquid out onto the seat as I orgasmed. My back went rigid and my heels dug into the carpet, pinning me to the seat, body quivering all over, thighs locked in spasm against that marvellous hand. I could hardly contain the squeal that seemed to want to tear itself from my lungs.

Somehow, I managed to suppress the sound and just a long strangled gasp escaped. As the quivering waves eased off, my muscles relaxed and my body slumped back into the seat. I glanced around the room in horror, feeling sure that the whole room must be watching me. But astonishingly it seemed that no-one else had noticed.

Except Vida, of course.

“Well, you really are the little slut, aren’t you?!” she hissed. “I think we might end up having a little bit of fun with you!” For a very brief moment there appeared to be a predatory gleam in her eye but as soon as I thought I’d seen it, it was gone. I wasn’t even sure if it had really been there.

“No, please… I’m sorry…” I gasped. “I can’t… I won’t… I mean… um… ummm…”

I had no idea what I was talking about, what I was trying to say.

“Shhh…” she said, pressing her finger lightly against my lips. She leaned close to me again. With her lips almost touching and her hot breath bathing my sensitive ear, she whispered:

“Some very interesting desires you have there…! You might be surprised at what can be arranged!”

Without another word, she rose swiftly, swept up her bag and the coat that was lying on the seat across the table from us, and strode out of the door leaving me trembling, exhausted, flushed as red as a berry and with a nervous pit in my stomach about what had just occurred.

Eventually, I managed to pull myself together, collected my belongings and made moves to go.

Once I was standing, I could see clearly the pool of moisture that had gushed from me during my orgasm glistening against the darkness of the leather upholstery. Looking around nervously to make sure no-one was looking, I quickly mopped it up as best I could with a couple of tissues from my bag. Then I bolted for the front door and made my exit.

+++

End of Chapter 1.

To Be Continued