25 Days of Christmas
Summary: Botan based romance drabbles posted every day in December until Christmas. Crossovers are with: FMA IY DBZ YGO. Rating may change.
Rating for this chapter: M
Genre: Romance/Humor
Warnings: Bondage, rape, dark themes, torture
Paring: Itachi/Botan
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho or Naruto!
Author's Note: I wasn't sure whether to do Dominatrix story, or just a BDSMstory. The latter won. This is the only M rated chapter, so I won't change the story's over all rating. Eh… if BDSM isn't your thing, then don't read this chapter. Enjoy my twisted mind.
Chapter Twenty-One: Blood
" Never." A rare scowl graced her lips and she all but spat in her captor's face.
The sharp crack of the flailing whip echoed in the silence of the dungeon. Quivering with speed, it lashed forward once more, its path whistling through the dank atmosphere until it landed on pale flash. Her head jerked forward and a scream reverberated through her chest.
But no one could hear her. Not the tantei; they were probably looking for her. And not the man who looked like a shark, Kisa-something, who had helped in her kidnapping. Not the charming looking blonde haired, blue eyed androgynous human who was blowing up clay people. No one.
No one but the man before her, bereft of any expression on his pale features, eyes glowing with the faintest traces of red. Of all the people who could have kidnapped her on this mission (the snake Sannin, the avenger Uchiha…) it had to be the Akat-fucking-Suki. She almost snarled after the pain subsided, but that intense gaze stopped her dead.
And when he spoke, even the soft whistle of the wind outside seemed to withdraw into silence. "Obedience is one more virtue you must learn before you die, Death." His voice was deathly low, and the hand that held the whip was lifted with the menace of a threat. "For the last time, do you swear to bend only to the Akatsuki's wishes?"
By now, Botan was becoming increasingly frustrated. Being bound and whipped for hours on end wasn't the complete reason, though. It was mostly due to the fact that she couldn't for the life for her figure out why they wanted her.
Botan's only reply was a choked gasp, the air satiated with the sickening stench of blood mingled with sweat assailing her lungs. She couldn't move - the bands binding her to the ceiling like a macabre puppet tore mercilessly at her wrists - and let alone think... Yet, though in the midst of anguish, she found herself uttering a dry chuckle. If she was about to die, then she was going to die obnoxious. A talent that Hiei always said she had a knack for.
Despite the agonizing sting of her wounds, she stuck out her tongue, cringing slightly as she tasted the coppery tang of blood on her lips. "You wish, bastard." Her pink eyes glittered with renewed strenght (however small it was).
Her defiance was only rewarded with another blow of the whip, and Itachi's dry, mirthless chuckle.
"Your insolence is beginning to tire me," he commented disapprovingly, letting the whip drop to his side as Botan struggled to keep conscious. "I don't know why you would prefer to stand through this when we can just do it the easy way. Who knew Death could be so stubborn."
A myriad of colors swam past Botan's eyes, hazy and dilated from the prolonged torment. But her pride held up, though only barely. She managed a snort.
"If keeping me prisoner in this - this hellhole of yours - is what you consider easy, then I'd much rather kiss you than listen to you," she said disdainfully, wrinkling her nose.
She expected the whip to lash out again, but she was mistaken. When she opened her eyes, Itachi had moved from his spot and was approaching Botan. An inscrutable expression had replaced his steely one, and with deliberate footsteps he continued to severe the remaining distance between them.
Knots twisted in her stomach as dread suddenly filled her. Just what the hell was he going to do to her now? With every step he took, his long pony tail swished dramatically behind him. The knots quickened their pace and Botan wanted so desperately to die at that moment.
The whip was back in Itachi's hand; except that this time, it was the handle, and not its sharp tail, that was pointed at her, pressing against her chin until she was forced to stare into those cold, depthless, onyx eyes. A slow smile was spreading in his face, blank, dry, and unreadable, yet the temperature in the room seemed to rise until Botan had to struggle to breathe, rasping through parted lips.
The Uchiha let out a low, rumbling laugh before saying simply, "You did ask."
Botan's eyes popped open and her mouth snapped shut at the suggestive tone of his voice and she wrenched herself violently backward, increasing the burning pressure of the cuffs binding her hands and painfully bashing her head into the wall behind her.
"You dirty-" she snarled; then launched into a litany of less-than-polite phrases that could, if looks could kill, reduced Itachi into a puddle of glop on the ground.
Itachi looked on dryly at the normally well-behaved girl, somewhat amused. "Your extensive vocabulary of such colorful language impresses me, Death," he remarked, his tone growing intriguingly silkier.
Botan scowled again. If there was nothing more she hated about her captor, it would have to be that he always referred to her as Death. No matter that she had told him her name numerous times.
He moved the whip slightly, so that it traced a languid path along the bruised edge of her face. "You might want to put that mouth of yours..." A smirk lifted in one corner of his mouth. "...to better uses."
"Fuck you!" Botan screamed, jerking her head away to avoid the touch of the whip.
A slender black eyebrow lifted at this. "Truly? My, you beg for far too much."
At that an outraged yell escaped Botan's lips before Itachi, with lightening speed, got behind her and wound the whip so that it wrapped twice about her head, trapping her mouth with the coarse skin of leather. A whisper and Botan could feel the man's warm breath close to her ear.
"I am beginning to weary of this silly cat-and-mouse game," Itachi said, the voice low and hypnotic. "If I can't watch you make yourself useful for our Leader, then I'll make you useful for something else."
Botan shuddered with growing disbelief at the dead seriousness as Itachi spoke. She tried to wriggle free, but the whip wound ever tighter, numbing whatever feel was left in her lips. A sense of foreboding overcame her senses; everything - the unyielding bind of the whip, the exhaustion in her battered body - everything had faded, melted by the heated promise in Itachi's words.
As though in a trance, she found her lips parting again - to cry for help, to take mouthful of air... and to beg for something she didn't know. The close proximity between the two's bodies was torturous, to the point that Botan involuntarily trembled when Itachi moved to look directly into her eyes.
There she saw - a threat, and a promise, skillfully molded into one - in those deep black eyes, mesmerizing and terrifying her at the same time.
"Stop - that," Botan forced herself to say through gritted teeth, although her gestures clearly betrayed her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
All she got for her efforts was another chuckle; Itachi's eyes never left her, leaving Botan bare and transparent as a piece of crystalline glass. The black-haired man regarded her carelessly.
"Are all the Death Gods this stubborn?" he asked, lazily trailing the handle of the whip across Botan's eyebrows, drawn in a forcibly angry expression. He leaned even closer, until all that hindered the touch of their skin was the thick leather whip still wrapped around Botan's head. "We'll just have to do something about that, shall we?"
Then he began to touch her.
Slowly, carefully, as though one wrong move could shatter her, his long, slender fingers brush lightly over Botan's forehead, down to her eyelashes tinged with sweat, teasing her eyelids closed with one smooth gesture.
Finding in herself no resistance, Botan acquiesced, and, although she felt the terrible quench of guilt in her gut, a warm pleasure washed over her, easily overthrowing her wavering defense.
His hand dropped from Botan's face - the other never letting go of the whip still wrapped tight - down to the slick wetness of her neck, skillfully seeking and caressing the spot where her pulse was jumping wildly, and in response she felt her body tense at every contact - every feathery touch of her skin against Itachi's own. It wasn't pleasure, it wasn't pain - it was Itachi, above all else.
Itachi was seducing her... and succeeding, as Botan felt herself arching to the unspoken passion he was offering, vulnerable and defenseless. His touch was languorous and feather-light, as though weaving a dream, but the arousal he provoked was very, very real.
Get a grip on yourself! The part of her mind that had yet to succumb frantically urged her. Don't think about him - think about Koenma- think about the others back at Rekai -
But it was all in vain, as Itachi purged on relentlessly, Botan's discomfort only seeming to encourage him further. And when Botan caught a glance at Itachi's hands, they seemed no longer just hands, not a mere physical part of his body, but a weapon... a weapon he was presently using with flawless skill to his utmost advantage.
All of a sudden Itachi pulled away, and, to Botan's surprise and shame, she found herself disappointed and ultimately thankful that the whip was still secured around her mouth, preventing her from screaming for more.
An almost inaudible chuckle. "Felt good, did it not?"
Botan could only stare back motionless, her tongue useless.
Itachi tipped her head back, as though to study her better, running one hand across the surface of the whip and each time deliberately slipping so that his fingers brushed past the exposed part of her cheek, flushed with unbidden rapture. "Well, if you can't answer by telling me, you must do so by other means."
Other means... Terror seized her at the thought of what those "other means" could possibly be, and she looked away. It was a most terrible feeling - of physical torture, of twisted pleasure that she couldn't bring herself to accept, and of helpless confusion, losing herself in the seductive labyrinth Itachi had created.
With one tug of the handle of the whip, the Uchiha yanked so that Botan was forced to face him again. "Answer me," Itachi said, and his voice held a warning.
Still no reply.
"And if you can't tell me," he murmured, breaching the distance between them to flick his tongue against Botan's ear for the briefest of moments. "Show me."
Without warning, Itachi abruptly jerked away the handle of the whip, brutally pulling its long tail away from Botan's face and releasing a yelp of pain from Botan. Her throat was burning, dry of thirst, and when she inhaled a rasping breath, she choked, coughing out a mixture of spittle and blood. Deep red welts marked her wrists like angry bracelets where her bonds still held fast.
She ached to be set free, yet at the same time craved for the touch that would bring her release.
Itachi remained oblivious to her distress, continuing to run his hands down Botan's flat torso, deftly yet delicately tracing from between her breast to her abdomen, sometimes probing, sometimes light and teasing that she couldn't tell when a casual stroke would combust into a pleasurable flame.
"You're not speaking, Death," Itachi warned her, his voice becoming increasingly ominous as he spoke directly to her mouth, the silky strands of his fair hair glancing enticingly over Botan's face. One fingertip brushed past her bloodied lip, and came away stained in crimson.
"No," Botan gasped, at the edge of her fraying self-control.
A low, guttural, honeyed sort of laugh. "I intend to rectify that mistake..."
Suddenly, Itachi's hand left her face... and thrust into Botan's panties, fingering the ferry girl.
"Yes!" Oh, dear God... Botan could hardly bear hold her head up as she heard the single word escape her lips, frayed with undeniable desire... guilty lust.
Itachi chuckled with immense approval and pushed on ruthlessly, persistent yet meticulous as he worked with his hands, pumping in and out at a slowly quickening pace, until a violent spasm wracked her body. It ripped through whatever strength remained in her, and forced a cry from her cracked lips.
And when her shivering subsided, Botan's head went limp, dropping like a lone snowflake upon her breast.
"Is that better?"
"Yes, yes..." Botan's voice was barely recognizable.
"Say it," Itachi hissed.
"Yes, I -"
"You are not a wimp, Death," Itachi interrupted. The whip was back, cracking to life, and was edging dangerously close to the girl's already sore back. "Look at me. You cannot deny that you derived pleasure by my hand, even in the midst of torture. Say it."
It was shame, shame so great that she almost preferred whatever death Itachi could offer next to the unbearable humiliation. Yet, despite everything else, she raised her head, strands of her blue hair falling in disheveled clumps down her back.
"Yes... I liked it."
"Now," the Uchiha said, flicking his hair over his shoulder as though nothing had happened. "I'll ask you again - do you swear to give yourself to the Akatsuki's service?"
"Yes."
"Good choice."
With a satisfied smile, Itachi lifted a hand, and the bands around Botan's hands were severed, letting her drop to the floor, crushed in body and spirit.
It was finally over.
But there are some things that don't perish with release.
Yeah… Itachi's OOC (I think anyway). I hope the whole thing didn't disturb you too much (sweat drops). Heh…
Next Chapter: Kakashi/Botan (eh... it'll be done to make you laugh)