She roamed through her garden, admiring it’s beauty. It was a big area filled with flower bushes and trees . She was a model. A highly paid one. She could afford five garden’s like this if she wanted to. The demand for her was frightening. She was absolutely stunning. It was early morning as she walked the long path round the near acre garden. She wore a long silky brown dress that came down to her ankles and with each step she took, her long slender leg’s would appear through the high slit of her dress. She wore a pair of flat brown sandal’s. Four leather strap’s went round her foot ending in a thong between her toe’s. Two other leather strap’s, long in length, wound, up her ankle, up to her knee’s and were tied in bow’s. She looked like a Greek goddess. She walked along the path stopping now and again to smell the flower’s on her way. She reached a rose bush and saw two butterflies mating on the petal’s of a rose. She smiled in fascination as their wing’s flapped a few time’s, repositioning themselves. They were beautifully juxtaposed against the rose. Almost heavenly like against their surrounding’s. They reminded her of a commercial she once did for a bottle of shampoo. Butterflies were used along with numerous other creature’s and flower’s to promote the “natural” element of the shampoo. She stood centre, holding a butterfly in her palm as score’s of different animal’s came to greet her and admire the sheer gleam of her hair. What a farce! The shampoo’s ingredient’s were closer to washing up liquid than they were to anything natural. She remembered leaving the studio in a rage after a bust up with the commercial’s director. She hated the idea of the commercial. It was so tacky. She began to re-inact the whole scene again with the two butterflies, now in the palm of her hand. She had been quite careful not to break their wing’s as she lifted them carefully upwards. She looked at them with great interest. The beautiful pattern’s on their wing’s, the graceful motion’s they made. They were quite spectacular. They were so beautiful yet so very fragile and frail. The merest pinch of her finger’s would easily break them. The thought played through her mind gradually growing in appeal. She was also very beautiful. It would be unheard of, one beautiful being killing another and that made this situation all the more interesting. Her heart began to pound at the very idea of total dominance over these creatures. These beautiful creatures. What would make this even more shocking, would be to treat them like a common parasite. Like a cockroach. The idea sent her senses into overload. It felt almost sexual to be thinking these kind of thought’s. when you saw a cockroach your immediate reaction would be to kill it. She tilted her hand and the two butterflies floated down and landed on the hard path below. They didn’t even make an attempt to fly away. It could have been interpreted as an act of defiance or a certainty that no harm would befall them, after all they were butterflies. They lay there instead, just flapping their wing’s in the breeze. She watched them for a while, gradually letting her desire reach it’s sexual peak. She grabbed at her dress, hand’s either side of the long slash and pulled at it. She created an opening wide enough to reveal her long slender leg’s and her sandaled feet. The long leather strap’s rapped round her leg, up to her knee’s, gave the impression she was wearing thigh high, Roman style boot’s. The straps intersected and crossed over each other, upwards, leaving diamond pattern’s of smooth silky skin. All this leg fashion was attached to flat leather thonged sandal’s. The whole effect was very mythical, possibly used by Venus herself. In these modern times she was Venus. A goddess, a giantess compared to the tiny creatures at her feet. As that goddess, she would show love and compassion, but this was the new Venus, filled with her own personal desires. The pleasure arrived from killing these beautiful creatures not loving them. And the ultimate way of killing such a beautiful creature would be to simply crush it underfoot. This would treat them like a common cockroach. A distinct difference between the two. One at the foot of the ladder and frequently crushed there, the other at the very top, admired and loved by many for what they represent. She would defy the difference and combine the two in one single step. She raised her foot over the two butterflies and rested on her sandal heel. The leather straps creaked and stretched as she lowered her flat hard sole down towards them. They did not move. Not even when her sandal’s sole touched them and restricted their wing movement’s. she lowered her sandal until she could feel their tiny fragile bodies under her foot. She pressed slowly. She could feel minute snaps and cracks as she applied her weight further until her hard sandal sole met the concrete path. Raising her heel she leaned on her sole pressing further. She began to grind her sole, mashing the butterflies into one big mess. Lifting her foot up and away from them she peered down and laughed. All that was left was a sticky ugly stain on the path. She had turned what was once beautiful, into an ugly horrible mess. She had great power as a goddess. She quickly looked around. This was her garden but there was still the possibility that someone was watching. The gardener perhaps. No . it was his day off. No one witnessed the butterflies pressed out of existence. She was on her own. Left to rule her land. She moved on.
She was searching now for more examples to prove her theories on beauty and beast. Her mind producing a warped sexual philosophy on innocence and guilt. Something she needed to prove in practice, not for the good of others, but for her own selfish need. And her ultimate way of carrying out these experiments ridiculed and spat in the face of what beauty represented. An instant change from gentle, fragile loveliness, to twisted, mangled destruction. She found more victims. She approached a bush. Inside the bush was a nest full of baby birds. The mother had abandoned them. As she looked in the chick’s squealed, thinking it to be feeding time. But the only thing that was going to be fed was her hunger for satisfaction. She pulled out the nest and headed back to the concrete path. The chick’s in their blindness continued to shriek and squeal. She looked down on them and smiled the kind smile of a mother. They were orphans now and she could not watch them perish without care and nurturing of a parent. But she would watch them die under the sole of her advancing sandal. She pulled one out by the neck. It’s slight movement’s enough to show it was still alive. She dropped it to the ground. It wriggled around violently. It was obviously hurt from the fall. She rose and placed her foot next to the chick. She looked down at the baby bird and then to her sandaled foot. She had beautiful feet and legs. The sandals served only to highlight them. Very slowly she lifted her sandal’s sole back on to its heel. Swivelled it over the chick and brought it down slowly until she could feel it’s breathing under her sole. She began to press and press until finally it burst. She rose her heel and swivelled her sole back and forth until the chick became a gory paste.