The Tomgirl and the Butterfly

Chapter 27 –Moths and Butterflies

Sitting in the back of the Jaguar, Charlotte lost her temper: "Jane – this is really pissing me off. Everyone keeps talking about my Mother. Look I know she and Mr Campbell had a relationship of sorts a long time ago, but no one will tell me the whole story. Goddamn it, it's not fair. I'm caught up in something that I don't understand, why can't someone tell me what the fuck happened all those years ago?"

"Language Charlotte. Look its okay around me but if Frank hears you speaking like that you'll get in a lot of trouble."

"I don't care – I just want some answers."

"Alright, I'll tell you what I can, but you'll have to get the rest of the story from Frank. Okay?" Jane turned to face Charlotte. She took a few moments to compose her thoughts.

"As I said, I can't tell you everything, some things I can't tell you because of privilege. Others because I don't know the whole story.

"When Mr Campbell first went to college he met your Mother. She was a few years older than him but for some reason he caught her eye. Frank in those days was so awkwardly shy you have no idea. He made your average wallflower look like David Letterman. But for whatever reason Janine befriended him and they became close. When he came home for Thanksgiving that year we all noticed the change.

"He was, I don't know how to explain it - he was brighter, more forthright. Something in him had changed. I cornered him and he admitted that he'd met someone at college. He couldn't stop talking about her, Janine this, Janine that. I knew at once he'd fallen irrevocably in love with her. After I met her some months later I could see why. She was beautiful Charlotte, your mother was one of the most singularly attractive women I have ever met. But not just pretty, she was intelligent and articulate. Any room she entered seemed brighter and she became the centre of attention wherever she went.

"I guess some of her 'presence' rubbed off on Frank. When she was around he was no longer the shy recluse that we all knew. He was more urbane and charming. They were a marvellous couple. I always worried a bit about the age gap, I mean at that stage Frank would have been 18 or 19; your mother would have been in her mid twenties.

"He brought her home for the holidays a year or so later and that's when your Mother first started seeing me. She knew I was a psychologist and simply turned up at my clinic one day. She had the same concerns that you do. Ever since puberty she had found herself aroused by the concept of being bound and dominated. She even used to tie herself up a night and sleep through till morning in self-bondage. Initially she thought it was some harmless fun, except then she found herself pushing the boundaries further and further.

"You have to realise Charlotte that this was almost twenty years ago. Society was a bit different then. People weren't as open about their sexuality as we are today."

Charlotte interrupted Jane here: "But that would make Mr Campbell almost 40, he doesn't look it does he?"

"No – he carries it well. Anyway, your mother found herself going further and further in her private experiments with bondage. She found that pain also excited her. In fact it was the only way she could enjoy herself. When she started seeing Frank and they began sleeping with one another she found that she couldn't get aroused, so she faced a tough decision. That was why she came to see me.

"First of all she thought there was something wrong with her. I quickly disavowed her of that notion, just as I hope to do with you. The second problem she had was whether to broach the topic with Frank. She was so distraught at the concept of admitting her secret to him. She did care for him a great deal, but she was absolutely petrified about how he might react. Today people like you and your mother have enormous conventions celebrating their sexuality. They have parades, there are enormous communities on the internet and even in cities. There are clubs, nightspots and magazines dedicated to Bondage and Discipline. I even heard recently that a bunch of practitioners set up a communal apartment building in San Francisco that only allows fellow practitioners to live there.

"But in those days no one talked about that sort of thing. 'Missionary with the lights off" was about the extent of most people's discussion of sex. So your mother had a very difficult decision to make. I didn't make her mind up for her, but we talked through the problem together. To her eternal credit she decided to talk to Frank about her needs. I never found out what happened after that. They both went back to college, and I assume your mother talked to him when they got back.

"Here's the sad part. It must have been six months later; six months after he'd brought her home for the holidays. I got a phone call from Frank's mother, god-rest-her-soul, she was so upset, completely distraught. Apparently Janine had left Frank and run off with his best friend. He was completely destroyed. I don't think he ever recovered, he's never married or even looked like marrying ever since. It was such a shock to us all. Poor Frank.

"I never heard from Janine again, except for a Christmas card. It was cryptic but made a bit of sense. It read 'I tried, please forgive me and look after Frank.'"

Charlotte sat quietly for a few seconds as the car made its way through traffic. "That's it? You don't know why she left him?"

"I can't say Charlotte. As I said, you have to ask Mr Campbell that. But I hope that what I've told you helps a bit. Does it?"

"I guess so. Kind of. I still don't know what happened, but I guess I can see why Madeline hates me so much. He must have been so upset and heartbroken and she would have been there everyday to see it. People say that I look like my mom –"

"You're almost the spitting image of her."

"Yeah – well I suppose seeing me reminds Madeline of what my mother did to him. But still it's not fair to take it out on me."

"No, probably not – Well, come on, we're here."

The Jaguar pulled up outside a non-descript building. Just a plain door sat in the wall. No signs, no advertising, nothing. A plain building on a relatively busy street.

"Where's here?" Charlotte asked as Jane opened the car door and began to get out.

"You'll see in a moment Charlotte, a friend of mine runs this place. I want you to meet someone and have a chat with them."

Charlotte clambered across the seat, following the harness lead that Jane still had wrapped about her wrist. A handful of people where in sight, walking along the sidewalks. Charlotte followed Jane closely as the taller woman walked up to the front door and opened it revealing a small reception area.

A middle aged lady dressed in an evening gown sat at an expensive looking oak desk waiting to welcome them.

"Jane – a pleasure. And who's this delightful child?"

"Betsy-Jo, this is Charlotte, Charlotte this is Betsy-Jo. Charlotte is Frank Campbell's ward, her father had a nasty accident and Frank is looking after her while he recovers. Frank felt that Charlotte here needed a bit of an object lesson on how to behave like a woman instead of a tomboy."

"That sounds like Frank. He never does anything by halves does he Jane?" Charlotte stared at the woman, she was really very pretty, in her youth she must have been stunning.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure of your visiting my little establishment Jane? I assume you're not here as a customer."

"No, not quite Betsy-Jo. I was wondering if Lisa still works for you. Charlotte and she have something in common and I wandered if I could get the two of them to have a chat."

"She's currently with a client Jane, but she's free in half an hour. Just what in common exactly?" Betsy-Jo asked, her curiosity clearly aroused. The middle aged woman was carefully considering Charlotte now.

Jane responded brusquely: "No Betsy-Jo, she's too young, and I think Mr Campbell would have very severe issues with the concept of little Charlotte working here. Don't even think about it. I just want Charlotte to know that what she enjoys is far from abnormal."

"In that case would you like to watch? We've got a viewing room upstairs, might that be… educational?"

"Charlotte, would you like to watch?" Jane asked.

"Watch what?" Charlotte responded naively.

"Golly girl, you really are small town aren't you?" Jane was amused at Charlotte's complete naivety. "This is a brothel, a rather upmarket one though. Betsy-Jo's girls specialise in fulfilling some very special needs of their clients."

"Quite lucratively as well" Betsy-Jo chimed in as she opened a door from the reception that led to a staircase leading upwards. "A pity that Charlotte here isn't available, Lisa is one of my best girls, she's always in demand and her regulars are prepared to pay almost anything to spend time with her."

"A brothel?" Charlotte was shocked. Prostitution to her conjured up images of street girls in fishnet hose, caked on makeup and chewing gum. Too much time watching Law and Order she thought to herself. This place was indeed very up market. Like Mr Campbell's house it was understated, yet elegant. Still pulled along by her lead, Charlotte followed Betsy-Jo and Jane up the stairs.

The top of the flight of stairs opened out into a large open room. Natural light filtered in through a skylight onto soft pastel coloured sofas filled with expensive pillows that were arranged about the room. Doors opened out on all sides from the room. Against one wall stood a mahogany bar behind which an attractive brunette stood dressed in a stylish, and yet skimpy, waitress uniform. Besides the waitress no one else was in the room.

Betsy-Jo began her tour: "This is our lounge, it's a bit quiet during the day, but in the evening the girls who aren't with a client generally congregate here. As Jane said, we cater to some very particular clients with unusual needs. It never ceases to amaze me what some people enjoy doing. I had one client who had a fetish for trees! Trees! Can you believe it?

"Anyway, I believe Lisa is currently in her bedroom. Come through here." Betsy-Jo opened a door revealing a small dark room. A curtain ran the length of one wall and two comfortable sofas sat before the curtain. "We can watch from in here. Take a seat. Jane. Charlotte." She indicated that they should be seated. While Charlotte was carefully arranging her skirts beneath her, Betsy-Jo pressed a button on a wall panel. An electric motor quietly hummed as the dark curtains pulled back to reveal what looked like a teenagers bedroom.

"Don't worry, it's a one way mirror, no one can see you."

A king sized bed was the only sacrifice to authenticity in this room. A desk was piled up with papers, CD's cases and all manner of mess. Dozens of posters adorned the walls, mostly promotional posters for various punk bands. Clothes were strewn across the floor and a wardrobe door was left open spilling its contents into the room.

Charlotte thought that the room she looked into was strikingly similar to her own at home. A constant mess, her dirty clothes dropped wherever it was convenient. Of course the posters in her own room were sport related and her cable television dominated the room whereas a large stereo seemed to form the centre of gravity in this room. But for all intents and purposes there was very little difference.

No one was visible at the moment. Perhaps this Lisa person was somewhere else.

"I wonder where she's got to. She might be in the shower – but I can't tell from here." Betsy-Jo explained.

Almost on cue a door opened and a girl walked in. She stood probably five foot ten and was one of the most eye-catching women Charlotte had ever seen. Her black hair was pulled up into two un-braided pigtails. Charlotte guessed it would have been only just shoulder length had it been out. Her alabaster skin contrasted sharply with her dark hair and the dark mascara the girl seemed to favour further added a stark contrast between black and white.

She wore knee high Doc Marten boots and a pair of fishnet stockings.

Little Black Dress. The dress deserved the capitalisation. The skirt ended mid thigh and as the girl walked it swished alluringly, hinting at the hidden treasures that it concealed. The sleeves ran to the wrists, and the top dipped in a vee to reveal a decent measure of exceptional cleavage. It clung in all the right parts and framed an exceptionally taut and firm young body. A black leather collar embraced her neck, it was relatively plain except for the "D ring" it sported at the front. Bulky silver rings adorned her fingers and her nails were painted a deep black.

Goth, Charlotte thought to herself. But not like those fat hoes back home who tried to squeeze their oversized asses into black jeans two sizes too small and hung around the dead heads smoking. This woman was eye catching, elegant and yet confronting. She oozed sexuality in everything she did. The way she walked, the way she'd turned the door knob. Charlotte envied her for her obvious style. It was uniquely individual, it challenged the preconceived vision of beauty, of skinny blonde cheerleaders with ditzy smiles. This girl challenged those preconceptions and won hands down.

Now a second person entered the room from the same door. A man wearing nothing but a towel. In contrast with Goth-Girl, as Charlotte termed her in her own mind, he was far from an exceptional example of the species. Middle aged, balding, bloated stomach. He wasn't disgusting, merely an ordinary white middle aged man. Where Mr Campbell clearly was concerned with his health and appearance it looked like this guy had other priorities. He probably drank a bit too much and didn't exercise quite enough.

He was talking to Goth-Girl now, but Charlotte couldn't hear a word. The pair's mouths moved silently on the other side of the glass. Betsy-Jo pressed another button on the wall and took a seat next to Jane. Suddenly Charlotte could hear every spoken word through a pair of speakers mounted on the walls.

"What a pigsty! Didn't I tell you to clean up your room?" The man had bad acting to add to his stable of traits Charlotte noted.

"It is clean. You should have seen it this morning." Goth-Girl had it all, the attitude, the looks and also a sweet husky voice that screamed eroticism. She deliberately turned her back to the man and walked to the stereo which she promptly turned on. A deafening cacophony of double kick bass drums, distorted guitar and screaming lyrics began pumping out of the speakers.

"Turn off that racket!" The man shouted over the top of the music.

"Make me!" She smiled as she winked naughtily. Goth-Girl began dancing to the music, Charlotte would have thought it impossible to dance to such music in a sexy and provocative fashion but Goth-Girl, like everything else she did, managed it brilliantly. The veteran of a hundred rave parties, she crooked a finger at the man and began motioning that he should come to her.

The semi naked man cautiously approached Goth Girl as her hips gyrated to the music, her arms twining about her nubile body. In contrast, if he'd a rhythmical bone in his body it must have been broken, try as he might to join the writhing Goth Girl he failed. Unperturbed however Goth Girl began grinding herself up against him.

"I don't want to clean up – I want to be dirty… " Goth Girl purred.

Oh god, Charlotte had never seen anything so erotic in her life. Her own butterflies were being stirred by what she was watching.

"Dirty hey? I'll tell you what I do to dirty girls. Do you want to know?" He asked lewdly.

"Sure Dadsie, what do you do?" Goth Girl provocatively grabbed his crotch and pulled the towel away, revealing a rock hard member.

"I spank them."

"Yeah? Anything else, big boy?" Goth Girl grasped his hard penis with both hands and dropped to her knees. She enveloped his penis with her soft tongue, which Charlotte now noticed was pierced. Expertly she ran the ball of her tongue stud up and down his shaft as the man struggled to continue speaking.

"Spank them… Hard – oh yeah – I punish little sluts like you, smack them hard – Oh god that's good – smack their asses, whip their pussies, fill them with rock hard cock." Her ministrations were having an obvious impact. Charlotte wasn't surprised, Goth Girl clearly knew exactly what she was doing.

"Really? You punish sluts like me? Go on – show me." She released his member and skipped across the room to the king sized bed where she threw herself playfully upon it. Her dress rode up her thigh and she looked back across the room toward the man, her eyes burning with lust and desire.

"Show me big man. Punish me, make it hurt, I like pain."

The metal music continued pounding as the man approached Goth Girl's lithe form draped over the bed. She lightly brushed her breast, revealing a further hint of her brilliantly alabaster skin.

"Turn over slut! Get on your hands and knees."

Goth Girl acquiesced, slowly rolling onto her stomach and then pushing herself up onto hands and knees, facing away from the mirror behind which Charlotte sat. The man grasped her by the hips and ran his hands over her rump, muttering an exclamation of satisfaction with the firm taut flesh hidden beneath her little black dress.

Slowly he pulled her dress up to reveal a naked bottom. The fishnets were stay ups, neglecting the need for fiddly garter belts. Her perfect bottom was marred only slightly by a small tattoo on her left buttock. Charlotte couldn't see from here but it looked like a Chinese hieroglyph. Goth Girl's mons appeared to be cleanly shaved, however again Charlotte found that the distance made it hard to tell exactly.

The man cupped his hand and delivered a stinging blow to Goth Girl's bottom. Almost immediately a red handprint appeared on the pale white skin. Another blow descended, even heavier than the last and Goth Girl jolted forward, almost falling onto the bed from the force of his hand.

Now he got into a rhythm, delivering regular steady cracks to her taut bottom. He grunted with effort, she began panting with a mixture of pain and lust.

"No more, please stop! No – this little slut can't take it anymore, please stop sir!"

Goth Girl rounded on him, looking fearfully at the naked man with the incredibly erect penis.

"No. You'll take your punishment slut, or you'll face worse."

"No, I can't – my bottom hurts too much, please don't spank me there anymore."

He paused as she looked up at him. Her heavy mascara had begun to run with a few strategically shed tears. Charlotte looked at her and thought that she had seen nothing so beautiful as this moment before in her life. Goth Girl, her dress gathered up around her hips, her mascara stained face begging for mercy, yet knowing that none was forthcoming.

"Then you've got a choice slut. Fuck yourself with the punishment phallus or get your pussy whipped? What is it?"

Goth Girl's face dropped as he made the ultimatum. Charlotte had no idea what the punishment phallus might be, but if it was the equivalent or worse than getting her pussy whipped it must be very bad indeed. Charlotte pretended she was in Goth Girl's position, crouching on the bed, Mr Campbell standing in front of her, naked, ready. Forcing her to choose between two equally nasty fates. She closed her eyes for a moment imagining the scene and feeling herself get wetter and wetter at the thought.

"Please sir, not the punishment phallus – anything else but that."

"Then pass me the whip."

"Oh sir, no that's too much. You'll hurt my poor pussy, look at it, you'll ruin me." Goth Girl now revealed her vagina fully. Charlotte had been almost right, Goth Girl did shave, but she left a very fine line of trimmed hair running vertically up from her slit. Goth Girl had both her hands spreading herself apart, showing the man just what he was about to enjoy.

"Back on the bed whore, and pass me the pussy whip." Goth Girl leaned over to a bedside table and rummaged around, she pulled a number of things out, but handed the man a small whip. It stood probably one and a half foot in length and was comprised of a dozen thin leather thongs. Knots had been tied into the thongs every few inches along.

Goth Girl now leant back and spread her thighs, presenting her naked shaven vagina for punishment.

"Ten on the pussy, an extra two for each time you close your slutty legs." He intoned solemnly.

"Yes Sir" Goth girl gripped her Doc Martens about the ankles and fortified herself for the upcoming ordeal.

The man looked at the whip closely, noting the knots designed to provide even more pain than the instrument was designed for. He weighed it carefully in his hand and took a few practice swings through the air. Then he looked down at the prostate girl with her legs spread wide and grinned evilly. The whip swung through the air and splattered against the soft unprotected flesh, a blood-chilling scream ripped out of Goth Girl as she struggled to stop herself from automatically flinching from the blow.

Charlotte looked on with horror and fascination as the second and third blows descended. Goth Girl's nether lips were glistening more and more. She was getting off on the whipping! Charlotte found herself incredibly aroused by the scene, had she not had company she might have pulled her own panties down and played with herself then and there, she was that excited.

Goth Girl was screaming continuously, yet in a display of pure discipline she kept her legs spread far apart, her hands gripping onto her leather clad calves. The knotted leather thongs of the whip landed brutally on her, each blow leaving a delicate pattern of red welted flesh on her mound.

Jane broke the silence in the viewing room. "Aren't you worried that one of your clients will go too far one day?"

Betsy-Jo turned her face from the unfolding scene in front of them to explain, "Of course we are. That's why no client can get in here without passing through a concealed metal detector, additionally they must shower and change before meeting one of the girls. They're not allowed to wear anything while they are here unless we provide it. Additionally there are cameras and microphones in every room. Davies, our security guy, monitors them constantly. If there ever was a problem he'd be in the room with his Baretta drawn before the John had enough time to grab his balls and kiss his ass goodbye. Thankfully we've never had a problem. Strangely all our clients understand the rules, respect them and behave themselves. I guess they know that if they fuck up they'll never be allowed back in and they'll never find another place like this.

"What do you think Charlotte?" Betsy-Jo asked, changing the topic quickly and taking Charlotte by surprise.

"Um… I don't know, that must hurt a lot."

"Apparently it does, Lisa informs me however that it is the pain itself that makes it all the more alluring to her. She is the pre-eminent pain slut - that's Lisa's term, not mine. I'm actually surprised she didn't go for the punishment phallus. It's her third favourite toy." Betsy-Jo amazed Charlotte with the candour and ease with which she spoke of these things, while in front of their eye's Goth-Girl, aka Lisa, received the tenth and final stinging whip blow to her exposed pudenda. Her lips were inflamed, red and angry. Small red lines and squiggles, sharply discernable against her pale skin, criss-crossed her punished crotch.

The man put the whip down and crawled onto the bed next to Goth Girl. He grabbed her about the waist and muttered something into her ear that the microphones failed to pick up.

Goth Girl reached back to the other items she had pulled out of the bedside table. One was a condom, which she expertly ripped open and put in her mouth. Placing a gentle hand on his chest she pushed him onto the bed before moving her way down his torso placing small fluttering kisses all the way down his chest, stomach and finally his cock. With the condom in her mouth she engulfed his penis, she pushed herself further and further down his shaft until her lips reached the base.

Charlotte, as yet unaware of some of the more technical aspects of sex and fellatio, remained naïve to the fact that only years of experience prevented Lisa from gagging on his penis as she smothered his penis with her mouth and throat. Her task completed she sat back up, her customer's penis now sheathed safely in a ribbed latex condom.

"Come on slut, ride me!" He extolled lasciviously.

"One minute sir, I need your help first. She retrieved the final item she had taken from the table, a length of chain with a small springed clamp attached to the end.

She fed the chain through the "D Ring" on her collar and handed him both the end of the chain and the clamp: "We can't have this little slut actually enjoy what your about to do to her poor little body, can we?" She asked cheekily.

Apparently this guy wasn't a new customer, he knew exactly what Goth Girl meant. With the clamp in one hand he motioned Goth Girl to him. He lay down on the bed as she knelt above him. With both hands he parted her labia and eagerly sought out her burgeoning clitoris. His target identified, he coaxed the tiny nubbin out from its hiding place, before brutally and effectively clamping it.

Goth Girl breathed in sharply as the teeth of the clamp bit down on the tender and exposed flesh. "Thankyou sir, may I please ride your big hard cock?"

"Go to it slut."

Goth Girl shuffled down the bed on her knees before placing herself over his erect phallus. Slowly she lowered herself onto him, her knee high Docs straddling his thighs.

The chain attached to her clamped clitoris ran up her torso, through the D ring and into the man's hand, at the moment it remained slack, but as she settled herself down around the base of his penis he gave the chain a sharp tug, eliciting a moan of pain and animalistic pleasure from Goth Girl.

Slowly she built up a rhythm, grinding her pelvis against him, as he lay back, his eyes closed and moans eliciting from his mouth. The rhythm gained momentum, the chain jingled back and forth against Goth Girl's body, torturously tugging on her harshly clamped clitoris. Momentum increased until Charlotte could see that she was grinding herself against him in time with the rapidly paced music screaming from the stereo. Primeval cries emitted from Goth Girl's mouth:- "Squeeze my tits, now, please, twist them, hurt them, please!"

He put the end of the chain between his teeth to maintain partial tension on her clitoris and reached up to begin mauling her breasts, he was far from gentle, pinching her nipples, squeezing the two mounds severely together. Goth Girl now increased her pace further, the chain increasing its rapid bouncing off her body. She closed her eyes, her mouth locked in a grimace. The pace rose now to frantic levels, and suddenly she pushed her head back, opened her eyes wide to the sky and screamed in a primal explosion of orgasmic relief.

Spurred on by the pain he could see in her eyes, her contracting and pulsating pelvic muscles, he could hold on no longer either. Together they achieved release, her screaming, him moaning as the chain was pulled ever tauter, extending and magnifying the explosive orgasm that Goth Girl had clearly undergone.

Finally, after what had seemed an eon, Goth Girl rolled off him to lay next to him, her dress still pulled up around her waist. She placed her hand deftly on the clamp and released it, Charlotte clearly saw her wince as soon as it was removed. She could sympathise with Goth Girl, the removal of a clamp was a terrible thing as the blood rushed back into the battered and abused flesh.

"So that's Lisa, Charlotte. She's the girl I want you to talk to. Do you understand why now?"

"Yes, I think so; I'm just like her…"