Disclaimer --- Naruto don't own it
The supposedly refreshing interlude that awaits him is now a source of enmity. He stands before the door suppressing the urge to walk in and methodically break every bone his puppets body. He wants so badly to hold its life in his hands. But he is control, and will not succumb to his raising blood lust.
Inside, the puppet is kneeling beside the tub. Itachi shuts the door behind him, and rids him self of his cumbersome garments. He focuses on the water. Only by ignoring the toy can he contain his rage. Easing into the warm water he disregards the rustlings of clothing behind him. The puppet acts as the perfect servant, obedient, doting, and insubstantial. Slowly, cautiously, the puppet pulls the tie of his coal colored hair free. Before the tie collides with the floor, his hand wraps around the servile wrist and pulls, bring them face to face. Red meets violet, quickening the pulse beneath his thumb. His eyes examine the bit mark that mares his (already flawed) canvas.
Beneath his placid façade a torrent rages. Itachi tightens his grip, weakening the pounding pulse. The puppets eyes grow soft, not from fear of the coming reprimand, but concern for her master's impotence. From the point were they connect, the puppet pours her chakra into him. Itachi lets go, I have time. I can take my time and think of the most satisfying way to punish you. Leaning back he closes his eyes to the ceremonious care the puppet is about give him.
Itachi's hair is washed and combed. The grit and grim is sponged from his well formed frame. He is dried, and clothed in something light, with a lot of breathing room for the rigors of the night. Upon a stool he squat like a general, to have lacquer reapplied to his hands and feet. Beneath these genial movements anticipation mounts between them, one ready to strike and the other ready to be struck. The cool breathe that solidifies the polish of his toes, simultaneously kindles a suppressed need. The puppet crawls away to retrieve his hietai, and tie. Beneath ebony locks, crimson eyes study the puppet. Engrossed by an old scar he did not gift. Perhaps I should know the thing I am about to crush. Ideas of what he wants to do filters through his thoughts making him eager, and impatient. When the puppet is close again he strikes.
Swiftly, and effortlessly he pins his toy to the ground. By locking the puppet's arms over its head, and contouring his knees around slender hips, he immobilizes his prey. A mere inch separates them. The puppet's eyes are adverted, waiting for his command, his strike, anything. As Itachi reigns in his senses, his breathe cascades over the puppet's face and neck. Looking down, Itachi marvels at the power his has over this creature. His minds whirls the images of blood, and sound of screaming. Suddenly he craves to hear It beg, to plead for leniency. But all he gets is a whisper, 'your tired.' Itachi smirks with the relation of why he enjoys his toy so much. He speaks low and languid, "What is your name?"
Violet eyes snap to attention, and he remembers how to make her beg. Confusion dances in those translucent orbs, but pouting lips have yet to part.
"A name," he commands, sliding he free hand up to an exposed throat. He stokes the layer of skin over the windpipe to coax out sound. "I will not ask again", he croons. The smoothness of the flesh beneath his calloused thumb is enticing him to bear down.
"M…Mi….Mizuho"
He repeats her name softly. In a passing glance he notices that the bit has healed. The only evidence that it was there is red patch. Knowledge of that it existed irritates him, but there is another scar that enrages him. He shifts uneasily above her, moving his hand to caress the jagged scar that runs the length of her torso.
"Tell me Mizuho, if I am the only one who can touch you, why is someone else's mark on this body?" He asked filling his voice with disappointment and disgust.
"This body belongs to Itachi. It is for you and only you," the pleading in her voice is music to his ears. But he wants more, and begins to pull away from her. Just as planned she responses. A small hand dares to reach for him, only to be slapped away.
"You don't deserve to touch me"
The reaction he gets is worth his waiting. The look of terror in her eyes, the whimper of frustration in her throat, excites him to no end. Backing away he looks down on her, as she crawls after him. He takes a deep breathe, that comes out as an apathetic sigh.
"If you insist", the top of his foot collided with her clavicle bone. Knocking Mizuho into a kneeling position, the second kick slammed her into the side of the tub. The wind is forced out her lungs from the impact, but she still tries to pull her self up. Itachi watches these futile efforts. He knows she is weak, what little charka she had was used up to heal her wounds then to kill Zetsu. The last reserve is coursing through his body. Maybe his puppet did deserve a reward.
Sorry yall Im just to lazy to type everything he does to her just use your imagination.