Page 15 of Sincerely, Butterfly

Oh shit, I didn’t even notice that until now. My interest is piqued. I sit back up, lying back against my pillows, and prop my laptop on my legs.

It’s about to get good.

Ashnikko continues to play through my speakers, adding the perfect background track to the show on screen.

Mr. Robinson's shouts become loud enough for me to hear again, and he begs for them to have mercy and give him another chance. A zing of giddiness sparks through me.

I can’t believe this is really happening, and all because ofme. They’re doing this forme. Because he messed with something that didn’t belong to him…me.

I belong to no one, except these men. My men. My everything.

I fucking breathe for them, and I’d do just about anything they asked of me.

But that would require them to actually come near me. It’s best that things stay this way… for now. It makes it easier to do what I’ve been doing.

Sylas grabs something from the table and holds it up. I watch as pure terror causes Mr. Robinson’s eyes to widen.

I mean, I’d be worried if a pretty boy with a manic smile waved a machete in my face, too.

Okay, maybeIwouldn’t be, buthedefinitely should be.

Sylas raises the machete above his head, ready to swing. My adrenaline spikes through me as I eagerly await his next move.

But then Jasper grabs his arm, shaking his head, and I sigh in disappointment.

Now is not the time to be a party pooper.

Sylas steps back, and Wesley takes his place.

A cigarette hangs from his mouth, like always. I watch as he plucks it from his lips and brings it to Mr. Robinson’s face. Wesley presses the lit end against his cheek. I wait for the scream, but Mr. Robinson only makes a face of pain. There’s not a sound loud enough for me to hear.

“Come on,” I grumble. “I’ve seen you three at work. I know you have it in you. Don’t drag it out. Make the fucker pay! Chop off his dick, slice open his throat, stab him in the heart… something,anything!” I shout before sighing with annoyance.

I’m being a bit impatient, I know, but I’ve been daydreaming about this asshole getting his comeuppance. Sure, I’d have loved to have been the one to do it, but I’m happy to allow these guys to do it for me.

One of my favorite pastimes is watching these three at work. They’re like fucking gods; the power to extinguish someone’s life is always at the tips of their fingers.

Normally, it’s a blood bath, and because I can’t hear what they’re saying, it’s getting boring.

Just as I think that, Jasper raises his hand and points a pistol at Mr. Robinson. The sound of a loud bang makes me jolt in surprise. My heart races as blood-curdling screams waft through the speakers of my laptop.

“Holy fuck,” I moan as he keeps screaming and screaming. “That’s more like it.”

From the looks of it, Jasper shot him in the thigh.

Wesley takes Jasper’s place and crouches in front of Mr. Robinson, cocking his head to the side. Wesley’s lips start moving, and I whine in frustration at not being able to hear what he’s saying.

He continues to talk, raising his hand with what looks like some kind of knife, before slamming it down into Mr. Robinson’s leg.

He does this over and over again, and his lips move as he continues to talk.

With each scream, my pulse pounds faster and faster. My body breaks into a sweat, and arousal creeps its way into my every bone, and works its way down to my core.

Growing slick, I press my thighs together, trying to ease the ache between my legs.

Biting my lower lip, my breathing picks up.

I watch with fascination as they take turns torturing Mr. Robinson.