Brutal Passions
A/N: I'm like, the world's greatest procrastinator, I mean, I have seven chapters done and I'm just now posting the fourth. It's because I'm never satisfied, but enough about me, more about the story. This chapter is so lime flavored you'll be pucker faced for a week. So if you think I've been needlessly raunchy or inappropriately smutty before, get ready for more….LOL.
Warning: Studies show people with small brains are incapable of self censoring, so I provide you with this tid bit of advice, if you are disturbed in any way by nudity, sexual descriptions, and steamy chapters, then you might want to go elsewhere for entertainment.
CHAPTER FOUR: Burn for Me
"You just don't get it, you keep it copasetic, you learn to accept it, and you know you're so pathetic…" -Local H "So Pathetic"
"Sell me a body
I have yet to taint
I'll be your sin
Your soul to paint"
She navigated the dimly lit corridors, stealing silently down the hallways in nothing but her silken navy night dress and slippers. Having been told there was no time to change, and urged out her bedroom in the dead of night, she couldn't help but feel a consuming dread as she eased open the door to her capture's study.
Green eyes loomed, baring into her, burning through her.
"Your late," He hissed, dragging her none too gently towards himself.
"You've been drinking," she retorted, briskly releasing herself from his grasp.
A week had passed in her fiancé's tender care, a week of western dresses, simpering parties of spoiled twits, and his possessive and condescending attitude towards her. She tried not to think of the incident in her room, her mind burned with shame and rage at the thought, and comforted herself that he hadn't tried anything of that nature since.
He lashed out at her with one hand, too clumsily, and missed, swearing venom as she tried vainly to stifle her smirk. His blows were as constant as his foul temper, he expected her to bend and scrap at his feet, and had no tolerance for her innate sense of inner pride, saying such things were unbecoming in a woman. As if she were to give thought to his preferences.
"Are you laughing at me?" He demanded darkly, stealing all mirth from her expression.
As docilely as she could muster, past the revulsion this man induced, she demurely lowered her eyes and shook her head (as he'd previously instructed her was to be the sum of most of her answers). Women, he informed her, were meant to be silent obedient creatures. Her protests had been met with a rather convincing show of brute force. As much as she detested him, she disliked being man handled more so.
He reached forward, snatching her wrist and drawing her towards his booze ridden self, his eyes glassy and expression cruel. "My pretty little wife," he cooed sickeningly.
"Not yet," she reminded him primly. His hand connected this time, sending a stinging jab of pain across her flushed cheeks.
"Surly whore," he spat, "I'll teach you to mind your tongue yet."
She shuddered, attempting to distance herself from him. It was evident he was unstable, and his summoning her at this late hour seemed more and more foreboding by the minute. She took a few hesitant steps backward.
"Don't try and run from me," he growled, snagging her long hair and dragging her forward by it so that their faces were scant inches apart. His eyes greedily roved her chest, licking his lips he smirked. "A punishment, for my willful little beast of a wife, I think."
Her eyes grew wide, fear striking her chest in a jagged icicle of terror.
"N-no, p-please…" she whimpered, fearing the worst.
"Are you contesting me?" He snapped, shaking her a bit in his sudden rage. His temper came without any indication, and it was a snarly beast of a thing, a horrid relentless monster.
"My lord-" She began, knowing he preferred to be addressed as such. His nostrils flared, eyes slitting as he backhanded her with a resounding crack. She tasted blood on her tongue, her vision swimming for an instant.
"Unless you plan to beg for my attentions, save your breath," he growled, his hands already petting her perky breasts with a devious smile, keeping her close to him by tightly winding the punishing fistful of hair he held. She stiffened, cheeks flaring and her breath hitching uncomfortably. With a jerk of his free arm his administrations turned fierce, splitting the tender fabric of her night dress with ease.
Free of bindings, her breasts tumbled out for his lustful inspection. Ignoring her stunned gasp of outrage and fear he latched onto one soft petal pink nipple, squeezing it punishingly until she cried out a muffled moue of distress.
Beaming now, clearly excited, he groaned in desire, pulling her roughly by her black silken hair to his large downy day bed. She balked, and he sneered, tossing her harshly forward onto the small futon. Before she could right herself he was on top of her, legs digging into her hips as he yanked her upwards by her locks, by this time her skull burned with the abuse.
He was behind her, breathing heavily in her ear as his body settled to surround her in the scent of his acidic cigars and sickly liquor. His hands rose to cup her exposed chest, ripping down the fabric so it was a blue puddle at her slender hips. She tried to shriek, to fight him off, but he held her down easily.
"This is your only your second lesson, pet," he whispered darkly, "Relax, it will go easier if you comply." He promised this with a sadistic chuckle, pinching her chest at random intervals. Unable to find her voice Kaoru sat trembling and mute, fear washing her in icy tidal waves.
"I find pain keeps a woman in her place, and pleasure keeps her useful," he mused amiably, slapping her chest with a mean crack. Her chest ached, feeling to hot as a red hand print rose on her pale flesh. "I also find, some of the simplest objects make the best tools for educating one such as yourself into this life of servitude. You do recall my belt?" He enquired, tone light as he reached behind her to smartly pinch her bottom.
Nodding stiffly, she prayed silently that obedience would gain her release. He chuckled.
"Take these, for instance, womanly trinkets though they are," he pulled two wooden clothes pins from his breeches, watching her expression as he held them for her inspection. He snapped one expertly, grinning as she flinched. The smirking man's frame was lean but packed with muscle; her adamant struggles were easily constrained by his towering mass of hostile weight.
"I find, with the right application, precious, these can be ever so much fun," gleaming green eyes danced with mirth and anticipation. She waited, ghostly white, for him to continue. Instead he returned to petting her, his index finger lightly flicking her budding nipple until it rose towards the touch.
Repulsed by the flare of pleasure, she attempted to move away, stomach churning sickly. His response was to hold her more firmly, pinching her tit until she squirmed and bucked in an attempt to be free of the hurtful pressure. He smacked her chest again, delighted with her innocent and panicked responses.
"Let me show you, my pet, why you will always endeavor to keep my hands at your, might I say, stunning little breasts," He growled, his left hand opening a clothes pin as his right rolled her nipple between his fingers. With no further ado the wood clamped onto the tender skin, bursting pure agony through her chest.
He laughed, rubbing himself against her back at the sight of the wood bobbing at her pearly breast, he flicked the pin, issuing a small whimper from the girl. His cock ground against her buttocks, while his legs held tighter against her arms' struggle to be free.
"Cease, precious," he murmured, "Or the other will follow soon." She did stop, eyes brimming with tears and humiliation.
"Stop please, please," She begged, "I'm sorry, please…"
"No you're not, but you will be," he promised her snidely. "Soon, pet, I will put you on display, my friends are ever so adamant about meeting you." As her horrified gasp, he continued, "Yes, precious, all eyes on us as I show them how a real man treats his bride." He smacked her breast as punctuation, the clothes pin bit the flesh, burning the captured bud hotly with pain.
"Now precious, I will show you the true point of this," he released the pin, and her nipple was there, taunt and red with its abuse. His hand cupped the swollen flesh, rubbing the aching bud against his palm in rough squeezes, each of which felt like a flame held to her tender nub.
The second pin clamped on with no preamble, and he toyed with her teasingly as he waited for the irritation of wood and pressure to rub the nipple raw like the first. All the time stroking her and grinding from behind, his drunken chatter cruel and taunting. Once done he spun his pretty bride to be, kissing her roughly and thumbing the tear trails from her cheeks.
In the end he was forced to bind the chit's wrists behind her, as she began her aggressive defiance anew, and with mean force he tied the rough rope, smacking her bobbing tits repeatedly. A crack on flesh, and another, stinging blow after blow he dealt until she was almost screaming. Until her sobs wracked her small frame and he found her much subdued, to his delight.
He placed both pins at her breasts, squeezing the wood mercilessly, as she writhed, all the while sobbing and begging from where she knelt. With a cruel appraising smirk to her pert breasts adorned with the bobbing wood, he bent, twisting the wooden clamps harshly, searing her tits in anchoring flame and agony, until she let out a garbled cry of distress. He released them only to smack the reddened mounds, his finger dipping into the warmth of her mouth. When she attempted to bite his digit, his expression hardened into anger, a crack sounding as he struck her face, and then another and another as he hit her swollen chest.
Removing the clips he hefted her sobbing form to him, eyes greedy at the red and painfully tight nipples protruding outward. His mouth dipped, taking one aching nub and nibbling it mercilessly as she squirmed and cried. He repeated the process to the other, pinching the wet nipple he'd left with his fingers, chuckling as she attempted to draw her chest from his suckling affections. He bit the nubs, rubbing and playing with them to his heart's content, holding her to him by her tied wrists, rubbing his hardened groin against her as he did so.
Eventually, only when he gained his release from this sadistic game, did he allow her to slump to the floor, his mouth smirking in satisfaction.
"Very well," he regarded her bent sobbing form, her chest crimson with his blows. "We are through." He cut the ropes, allowing her to spring from him in fright. He smirked at her deeply breathing form, her wary and skittish regard of him.
She opened her mouth, a million names burning there for him, a million taunts, denials, pleas, all bubbling on the appendage, and yet none escaped. With a resigned sigh she allowed herself to face the truth, she wouldn't speak her mind, not this time. She wished to be in bed, covered and safe, not trading barbs with her putrid jailer. With a pert spin she took her leave, hands clutching her gown together best she could.
Relief swallowed her when entering the hallway it was clear he would not follow. He was so cruel, so forward in his perversions. A new fear blossomed in her that night; fear that she would indeed be subdued by that wretched man if left prey to his violent affections for long. Marriage would bind them in a way no one could contest, and his promise, that he would have others watch her degrading torment, filled her with urgency.
She must escape.
Tomorrow.
-*-
Clad in nothing but a leather collar, the docile young girl timidly made her way through throngs of intertwined couples, whimpering woman, and greedy eyed men. She was young, sixteen at most, her body supple with youth but well used, marred with scars and bruises from her hard life as an unwilling pleasure slave. Having long desensitized to the images of debauchery and torment, no expression flitted across her face as she wound effortlessly through the nefarious crowd.
Approaching the center, her goal became visible, a dashingly handsome man who reclined in lavish wealth across a plush couch, a tethered girl crying as he yanked her back towards him. Stilling for but an instant, she closed her mind to the scream of agony the leashed woman let out, as the burning red poker scalded her tender flesh just above her bleeding buttocks.
"My lord," she bowed, prostrate and nude, lying her face to the floor. He didn't acknowledge her right away; distracted by his toy he continued his administrations for a moment longer. Only when he was of mind to do so did he bring the tormented woman into his lap and grace the bowing slave with his notice.
"Rise," he ordered, petting the crumpled pet in his lap absently. Demurely she did so, careful to avoid eye contact. The Lord of this shrine to sexual perversions was a hot tempered man, prone to violence, and she didn't wish to be the next in his lap.
"My master, Shinto, begs your presence," she uttered, still kneeling as she spoke. From behind a rowdy patron kicked, delivering a sharp boot to her raised ass, but she was forced to pay it no mind.
"Does he?" The man mused, "Stand then, I will have a reward for my generous offer of time." He snapped his fingers, and she flinched inwardly, obediently rising to stand directly before the man.
"Shinto has fine tastes," he praised, eyeing the Japanese youth with a heated stare. She was lovely, and he very much wanted to have some fun if he was to be drawn away from his pleasures.
His second in command trained his own slaves, and the woman always came out so accommodatingly docile. If he was a man of lesser pride, he might've considered handing his future wife to the capable trainer, but he was too jealously possessive of his things to share. Besides, his errant bride would have to face his wrath for her attempts to leave him. The bitch. She was his, and he'd paid too much already for the chit. He by no means relished the amount of funds he was now forced to use to locate her. Again.
Taking his mind from his future wife, a subject that always served to sour his mood, he turned to the fair beauty before him in avid interest. The simpering sop on his lap was turned over to the nearest servant, at her whimpers for mercy he informed the servant of her apparent need to visit the dungeons, his pet name for the worst of their training methods. He chortled at her shriek of denial and brutal fight for release, grinning wickedly as two large servants pinned her and left to deliver her to her fate.
"Well, that was pleasant," he remarked dryly, turning once again to the still standing slave. He touched her thighs, wondering what amusement would suite her request. It was a game he loved, torturing the slaves for their master's demands, and with such a lovely specimen he didn't wish to waste the chance. Decided, he pulled out a thin oblong device with various straps and clamps attached to it, smirking as the girl's eyes widened in unease.
"I see you're familiar with this," he teased, placing his hands as her woman's center and working up a wet passion there. She panted for him as he played with her, trying to quell her own arousal in a fruitless attempt to avoid the device. He shoved it in harshly, eliciting a wanton moan from her soft lips.
Securing the clips to her tender clit and breasts pulled forth both sounds of pleasure and pain, and he yearned to have his Kaoru before him, her fiery spirit made the game more fun. Yet, this willing beauty would do, and with a pert smack to her now engorged center, he took the chain of the leash, tugging her after him by her most sensitive areas. When she fell behind his fast stride, he turned and hit her, striking her dead center and thrusting the painfully large instrument so deep that it hurt, only to tug the delicate chain which yanked at her in the worst sort of ways.
"She's a treat," He told his grey eyed business partner, handing him the leash upon entering.
Shinto's silver stare flickered to the girl briefly before returning to his cousin's green gaze. He sat behind a large mahogany desk, its wood gleaming in the dusk; unlike his cousin he preferred the local culture, dressing himself in kimonos of the finest silk. Today he wore a navy blue one, it brought out his fair hair and peculiar eyes.
"There is troubling news," Shinto admitted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Elder then his cousin, and more sensible, the calculating man ran his life on numbers and tallies, where his relative was a brash man of brutal passions and self indulgence.
Together they balanced well, creating the most lucrative slave trade to enter this island for decades. The key to their success was their many politically powerful clients, who worked diligently to make sure their favorite supply of pretty woman didn't run short. Brothels provided a quick lay, but they didn't have the perks of owning the women, there were limits to what could be done in some whore houses, reputations to upkeep.
A slave girl could be taken home, dealt with without limit, and discarded if there were appearances to keep up. Not to mention that many found suitable wives here, docile woman who would deny their husbands nothing. Proper beauties so unlike the stuffy socialite women of their time, women who fainted at the slightest shock. The women they secured and trained were bred to be perfect little ladies in dresses, as well as wanton and subservient in bed.
"I hate bad news," Alastair pouted, kicking his boots up on the polished legs of the expensive chair provided for him. Shinto frowned, his cousin acted western in every mannerism, marking himself as a brash foreigner, his early childhood years in France had taught the man no self-restraint. As was apparent by his cousin's latest failure to avoid scandal, one that tarnished his reputation and forced him to resort to paying a little known noble family for his bride.
"Yes, well, be that as it may," He tried to keep the disgust out of his voice, pouring himself a small cup of sake. "One of our trainers was found the other day, dead."
"Oh?" Alastair enquired, bored already.
"Yes," Shinto reiterated, taking a breath to calm his ire at his kin's obvious disinterest. "Gutted and beheaded, and his slave boy found days later, your future brother-in-law, as I recall." This did perk the sullen man's interest, brows rising in surprise.
"I'd forgotten about that brat," he grew speculative, "Do you think it was her?" He asked eager to recover his runaway fiancé.
"Not unless she has an unbelievable skill with a blade that you neglected to mention," Shinto pointed out dryly, "This was a professional execution, an assassination, cousin."
"So handle it in the usual way," his cousin uttered flippantly, "send our men to search the town, smoke the assassin out. Likely another irate family member, which trainer did you say?"
"I didn't," Shinto sighed heavily, "It was Lord Takeo," at his cousin's blank look he elaborated, "The fat balding man who always smells like the fish he trades in?"
"Many nobles are fat and bald and smell of fish," Alastair pointed out dismissively.
"This one was known for preferring boys," Shinto rolled his eyes as he finally saw recognition flitter through his cousin's expression.
"Ah, him," Alastair shrugged, "Little loss, he was a disgusting man. His replacement should be easy enough, why bother me?"
"Because," Shinto gritted, "This doesn't look like the normal irate relative, this was done professionally, coldly. Furthermore, I suspect the slave boy witnessed it, though we have been unable to get him to speak. I was hoping your previous relations with him might be of some use."
"My fiancé's brat brother…" Alastair mused thoughtfully, "Very well, I will attend to the matter, Shinto. I am certain I can get the boy to speak, and he will be of some use, I think, in helping me locate his bitch of a sister." He grinned cuttingly, "Win-win."
"Very good," Shinto praised half heartedly; simply glad he'd gained his cousin's cooperation. The man was a veritable pedestal to self indulgence, and it would not have been the first time he waved off his business partner's concerns about their trade.
"In the mean time," Alastair stood, regarding the previously ignored slave girl who stood ram rod straight in the corner, a human piece of furniture, "Might I avail myself of this lovely tid bit's body? She and I have connected, I think." He grinned cruelly at the pallid drain of color from the girl's complexion.
Shinto was already pouring over the financials, a never ending stack of paper work that he always insisted on seeing to himself. His grey eyes flickered upward, noting the gleam of intent in his cousin's eyes and desire in his posture.
With a careless shrug he uttered, "As you please, only don't damage that one too much, you know how I detest bandages." He shuddered, waiving a fluttering hand towards his now broadly grinning cousin, gesturing the fool onward and out of his affairs.
Alastair griped the leash, sadistic amusement shining in his stare as he jerked the slave along with him, in a husky growl too low for Shinto's ears he informed her, "There is much damage one can inflict without leaving marks, shall we prove it to him sweet?" She wasn't allowed an answer, and he expected none, smiling as he tugged her smartly, with nefarious intent swimming deliciously through his thoughts.
-*-
Battousai awoke feeling as if his head contained a variety of massive rapidly firing cannons, their explosions rocking his mind into a throbbing state of distress. Sunlight filtered weakly through the dust covered window above the small futon, piercing his eyes in shards of too bright light. Groaning he turned, and met the sight of ebony tresses and flawless porcelain skin. Disturbed, he rose, admitting groggily that this was in fact not his bed chambers, nor his bed, and staring down at the saucy wench beside him with growing unease.
What had occurred last night?
He recalled drinking, the soured taste of whiskey lingered like a bad perfume, and with his memory a jumble of jagged pieces he managed to construe a vague recollection of incidents, but it hardly accounted for much. There was his argument with Aoshi, which had, he admitted to himself, been fueled by the unwise amount of whiskey he'd consumed. Then there were dim memories of men drinking, wenches flirting, followed by his ultimate destination, Sanosuke's fiancé's bedroom.
He rubbed his aching temple, booze had the unfortunate side effect of making him a brash and lewd fellow, but as he stared at her slumbering profile, so docile and enthralling in the early morning light, he no longer wished to deny there was more to it. Verily, he conceded, alcohol had made him uncaring of her betrothed state, but there was no denying that just the sight of her silken kimono dipping daringly low to reveal the top of her pert chest had his cock responding.
He hoped he'd claimed her last night.
Sanosuke be damned.
He remembered kissing her, but afterwards his memory was blank, an infuriating blackness blanketed the rest, hiding it from his view. He licked his lips, remembering her smell, the enticing whiff of jasmine and soap, her taste, like honey and fire.
He smirked like the devil himself; glittering gold irises gleaming as he stealthily settled his frame over the unconscious girl. She was soft, tender, the feel of cool silk and warm skin engulfed his sense of touch, making him crave more. He wanted her naked, beneath him, flushed with desire, his hands clenched at the tempting image, craving to make it a reality. She would not appreciate his forwardness, but something dark and primal within him insisted he could make her enjoy it, despite her protests.
If he'd already bedded her, the point was mute wasn't it?
His rough fingers trailed to the brilliant crimson and navy hem of her kimono, eyes devouring the slim column of her throat, the tender swell of her chest. He remembered her as a mussed chit cursing him and struggling in his quarters, the stolen glimpse of her pert mounds enticed his fingers to slowly spread the silk farther apart, careful of waking her. Two globes of pale flesh, with pink tips that looked velvety soft ensnared his vision, bringing a fresh onslaught of lust through him with piercing intensity.
He was straddling her hips, legs on either side as he peered down at her, admiring her unblemished flesh with almost possessive intensity. He drew the silk farther, stopping at the loose belt encircling her middle, and a single finger traced a pattern from the dip of her navel to one tender swell of tit.
In sleep she murmured, turning her head slightly, but did not rise. Satisfied that her slumber was deep enough to warrant more explorations, he teasingly circled one nipple, feeling the smooth texture rise yearningly towards his toying digit. The thought of her awakening to an already aching body, thrumming with lust for him, roused a strong sense of satisfaction in him, and he set about his task with determined passion.
-*-
Kaoru was suspended above a growing pit of flame, the tongues of fire licked at her in playful conspiracy, shooting warmth and something hotter and more elusive through her system. The dream confused her, seeing as fire should burn, not feel so delicious, but she ignored logic, still suspended in a cocoon of dreams that needed no explanation for circumstance. Lazily she conceded.
A hot wash of flame trailed her chest, tickling at her, engulfing her in heady lust. It was a foreign concept to her psyche, but she limply remained tethered to her figment, the flames rousing an aching need between her thighs. When the flame bit, she gasped, blinking between awareness and sub conscious whimsy. Something drew her upward, away from the darkness and flame, to a different sort of consuming lust that enraptured her physical body.
She saw red, a glimpse of flame she supposed sleepily, and amber, but there was something nagging at her from within a haze of sinfully wanton feelings, a warning bell tugging at her thoughts. Something was amiss. She felt it then, very real fingers, very real sensations, hot hands rubbing and pinching her in ways that left her chest swollen and aching for more.
Whimpering softly, eyes closed, she didn't know whether she wished it to stop or continue. Her mind groggily supplied the wrongness of it, but her body disagreed most adamantly against her mind being given any say.
"I know you're awake," a masculine voice murmured into the shell of her ear, raising an icy dose of reality in her sleepy stupor. She tried to sit, cerulean eyes flying wide, turbulent with mixed emotions of lust and fear. Instead of dimming the lust, the anxiety seemed to heighten it, enflaming her abdomen in what felt like pooling lava.
"Not so fast," Gold eyes flashed warningly, his hand pressing her back into the bed with easy force, "I am not finished."
"I am," her voice didn't come out firm like she intended; it was throaty and filled with suppressed desire. His sensual lips tilted into a frown, and she had to bite back a sound of encouragement as he roughly thumbed at her taunt nipples.
"Oh?" he demanded with a cutting smile, his hands enclosed around her breasts, kneading them in a way that shot fire down her nervous system like lightning. Jagged white sparks danced at her vision, hazed red with passion. "I think the lady doth protest too much," he quoted, and she couldn't conceal her shock at the pirate captain's knowledge of literature.
Shaking herself of such foolish distractions she bit out, "Stop. Now."
"I think not, wench," he growled, holding her down as she attempted to pry him off, "You burn for me, I am not blind." He bent, and to her mortification, and her libido's delight, he bit at her sensitive nub, a tantalizing scrap of teeth.
"Only because you-you-URGH!" She attempted to slap him, and with a knowing smirk he gripped both wrists, pinning them above her head. "This is rape," She protested, eyeing him with two accusing sea storm eyes.
"Verily, you will find, my morals are lacking distinction between willing and wanting," His grin was predatory; his free hand traced her rigid form from neck to navel, enjoying the burning torment she displayed at the contact. "You may not be willing, but you are wanting."
Her mouth opened to deny such a lewd assumption, but his lips covered hers, swallowing the words in a heady press of teeth tongue and demand. He was a dominating kisser, hands fisting in her hair as he plundered her mouth soundly, she was too aroused to fight him whole heartedly, he'd seen as much, and wished to press the advantage as long as possible.
He didn't break the contact, keeping her distracted with his tongue entangling hers, one hand slipping to pinch and caress her soft breasts. When he bit her lip, pinching in sync with the branding nibble, she moaned, unable to withhold her body's traitorous need any longer. That soft exclamation enflamed him, shot heat straight to his groin. He continued the same in various ways, his own lust rising as she writhed unknowingly beneath him, trapped by her flesh's demand.
She felt something hot and consuming clawing within her abdomen, melting her, making her liquid and pliant as he continued his relentless administrations, giving her no quarter to gather her thoughts, no mouth to speak her protests.
When she realized what he intended it was too late to stop him, the friction of his hand slowly sliding down her stomach, dipping in and out of her navel made her clench in places she'd never been aware of before, a mimic of each thrust his finger made into the tender dip of her belly. Still not done, his hand continued lower, she meant to struggle, but suddenly her mouth was free, and his was at her breasts.
He bit her, hard, and she bucked, flames dousing her as his teeth scrapped and nibbled the tender nubs. And I thought his hands were trouble… she managed to think meekly before her mind scattered to the sensations he was dragging from her. His other hand clamped her center, startling her with the intimate contact between her throbbing thighs. He'd slid down, so that his mouth could easily reach her swollen tits, and in doing so he'd allowed the space between them his hand needed to reach her womanhood.
With eyes like molten sunshine he stared at her, flicking her clit and watching her expression melt into a shudder of lust. It brought the most charming blush to her features, and with a sudden and fleeting rage he knew that none had touched her here before, her surprise was too genuine, too consuming, as displayed by her puzzled and enflamed features.
The anger came from the thought of any other daring to place their hands upon her; in his heady passion he didn't question the inner voice that demanded she was his, completely and only his. Though later he might dismiss it as a passing fancy, the moment it occurred it went unquestioned; undeniable in it's absolutely feeling of rightness.
Growling in appreciation, he caught the nub in his forefinger and thumb, pinching it softly in a building rhythm. She gasped, unaware of her hands' freedom, or uncaring at this point, her nails raked grooves down the futon as she bit her lip. Heat flared like a beacon with each spine melting press of his fingers, he bent to nibble her nipple as one pinch grew almost painful, and another wave of heady pleasure washed her trembling frame.
"please… please…." she begged. Later she would be mortified to discover she wasn't certain if she was asking him to stop, or continue.
His other hand splayed her kimono, letting it frame her body in stark reds and blues. Embarrassed to be nude, she attempted to rise, his response was to flick her tender clit, and she sank down limp and helplessly addicted to the sensations he manipulated her with. His index finger plunged into her wet center, feeling the slick proof of arousal with masculine pride. He traced the wetness across her nub, smirking at her startled exhale.
"You like that, do you?" he murmured huskily, seeing the conflict in her expression he allowed her no response, plunging two fingers into her as he pinched the little nub. She bent backwards on the futon, clenching his fingers in heat and warmth as he bite the slender vee of her neck, marking her with his teeth. His mouth planted gentle nibbles and bites downward before drawing in her stiff nipple, teasing his teeth against its velvety texture.
"Captain Battousai?" A hesitant voice called, followed by a rapping of knuckles at the door.
The captain stilled, growling lowly in denial. He eyed the flushed maiden beneath him with a lethal warning glare, lest she thought to scream or some such nonsense. They'd come too far for him to relinquish her now, and despite the man at the door, he couldn't help but touch her breasts, feeling their soft weight in his calloused hands.
"Sir?" More infernal pounding followed this. His hands fisted, eyes fringing crimson with irritation.
"GO AWAY," he growled; when the wench opened her mouth to speak he clamped his hand down across her lips. She glared at him heatedly, bucking in an entirely different way beneath him, trying to gain her escape. It seemed their guest had awoken her damned senses, the ones he'd been successfully enflaming moments before.
He'd kill the bastard.
"Aye captain…" a weak throat clearing, "but Shinomori requests your presence."
"Tell him to bloody wait!" He snapped; grabbing the chit's wrists as she once again tried to strike at him. He raised one eyebrow at her furious profile, a mocking smile on his lips at her obvious frustration. The spirited wench attempted to bite his palm, earning her nipples a punishing tweak.
She whimpered, a muffled sound of distress and desire issued as one, blue eyes flashing with promised vengeance.
"Captain he said to say, that is," the nervous nature of the man was evident in his muffled voice; he didn't wish to anger the temperamental man. "It is an urgent issue, he said to say a name, Kanji, Caster….no err…. Katsura."
Battousai stiffened, fury warring with duty. Finally, duty prevailed, and with a reluctant growl he affirmed that he would be along shortly. The man left, glad to be free of the unwanted chore. No one liked rousing Captain Battousai after he'd spent the night drinking, the man was naturally foul in temper, but liquor made him more so.
He turned his attention back to the fuming girl pinned to her futon, body on display, features flushed, oceanic eyes brimming with anger and unspent passion. He moved his hand from her mouth, directing it to the side so that it cradled her cheek.
"This isn't over," he promised her, amber eye gleaming with his own lust. She scowled, pulling her kimono around her body defensively.
"It is unless you wish my fiancé to kill you," she whispered with venom and false bravado, body still thrumming with his touch. He arched a delicate eyebrow, eyes going flinty with anger as they narrowed.
"Sanosuke?" His grin was mean, full of malice as he stroked her hair from her face, "I think not, it is my regretful duty to inform you, I could beat that incompetent fool blind folded. I wager he's more fond of living then rescuing girls, in fact, I'd put coin on it." Distracted with the rising violence the thought of Sano's intervening rose within him, he missed the warning signs of her impending attack.
Her hand crossed his face in a chilling THWACK.
"That," he growled dangerously, griping the hand that'd struck him with bruising force, "was unwise."
"I hate you!" she hissed, clenching her fist even as his fingers dug into her tender wrist.
"Shame," he commented dryly; his expression smoothing out to a mocking smile, "I'm growing rather fond of you."
"Bastard."
"Indeed," he agreed easily. His thumb traced her lower lip, frowning slightly as she turned her face. "But I will have a farewell kiss, bastard or not," he teased, lowering his head. She pursed her lips, turning her face completely to the side in defiance.
"Tch, such spirit, but unfortunate for you, even pouting doesn't dim the appeal," his lips grazed her forehead in a surprisingly chaste kiss. His fingers gripped her chin, eyes catching a flicker of doubt in her churlish expression as she reluctantly moved to face him.
"Well?" she demanded crossly, "Aren't you leaving?" Her prim manner, and the way she attempted to distance herself from him, verbally if not physically, irked him.
"After this," he conceded, griping her face in his hands and lowering his mouth to hers. He kissed her with demand, dominance, the promise of his return, plunging deep into her mouth, memorizing her taste. He didn't stop until she was breathless and acceptant, pulling away with smug satisfaction.
"See you this evening," he told her by means of farewell, while rising from her luscious form. She stiffened, but made no comment as the door slammed behind the nefarious captain. Her head was still spinning with the aftershocks of his kiss.
(A/N: Whew*fanning self rapidly* Is it hot in here or is it just Battousai?)
-*-
Aoshi drummed his long fingers with deft agility across the scarred wood table, the only indication of his malcontent. He sat in the kitchens, pondering fate, life, and the only other known survivor of their people, his commander and friend Battousai.
When their secluded village had been betrayed, and eventually burned to rubble, they had both despaired of ever finding peace or happiness. Kenshin Himura, their kind and fair leader, became Battousai, a merciless tool of his own revenge, and Aoshi followed, his own heart torn free and left with their people's ashes. It was a cold, estranged existence, their kind had been a tight knit community for so long, that they knew little else. Now three hundred people had been cut down to two survivors, two men who only knew the art of death, the kiss of steal.
There were legends of their kind, in time they would be nothing more than myth, lost to the tide of time, shrouded because of their fierce secrecy. A simple people, they portrayed themselves as meager farmers, concealing the riches of their society from the world, for fear of others greed. They had been happy, once. Kenshin was engaged at the time, and though the elders frowned, muttering their leader should only chose the woman he was marked to, the exuberant and besotted Kenshin ignored them all. His eyes and ears belonged solely to Tomoe, fated mark or not. When all was said and done, Kenshin would ultimately place the blame of her betrayal on his own shoulders, a heavy burden to be sure.
At the time Aoshi had been glad for Himura, though his own wife cautioned that she saw something off in the girl, something cold in her perfect oval brown eyes, and he should've known, Mora's predictions were never wrong. Where Aoshi could hear a lie in a man's voice, and sometimes slip into hiding, becoming one with the scenery, his beautiful young wife was a talented seer, the rarest gift of their kind. In the end, his wife's perceptiveness had been her undoing, they lead her into a trap, Aoshi still saw haunting images of her broken and lifeless, he'd awake in the still of night panting and ice cold, the image of glassy eyes hovering with him like a ghost in the moonlight.
It wasn't long after Mora was discovered that he and Kenshin were lured away, along with a regiment of their finest assassins, for their people's most common skills made them relentless and skilled fighters. Slipping in at the touch of dusk, and vanishing before the first cry of alarm, they were the demons in the night, only spoken of in whispers. They were fed lies by Tomoe, ones Aoshi couldn't discern, because something about Himura's fiancé kept all gifts null to her, which was most likely the reason she was selected for this task, only she was capable of hiding her true intentions from them all.
Afterwards, Aoshi had speculated that she might've been one of them, and that her ability was the blocking of other's talents, but he kept such thoughts to himself, the mere mention of her name was akin to driving a knife through his friend's heart. With their major line of defense absent, their enemy struck, by the time he and Kenshin had discovered the ploy they themselves were knee deep in ambush, most of the men lost their lives to the mercenaries' blades. Those who escaped returned to find ash and rubble, the sickening tremor of revulsion as they approached their strong hold, a brick fortress that had withheld against the flame.
What their eyes found that day would scar the most brutal of men, the sight of women and children, men and the elderly as a teaming pile of corpses and none of them spared from gruesome, horrific deaths. They'd been tortured, tied, and murdered, down to the smallest babe. The very memory left his stomach a churning sea of agony and outrage. What's worse, many were missing, fallen into nefarious hands, their worst fears realized that fateful summer day. The intention was obvious, take the gifted, kill the unneeded or untamable, as was the case with their most loyal and skilled. The remaining men worked through the night, burying their fallen friends and family. Some left in search of the culprits, they never returned.
"You have news?" Himura strode into the room, and the milling woman gave him wide berth. There was something different in the man's posture, a defining point in his volatile gaze. The usually distant and unaffected captain looked more like the passionate man Aoshi had known, seeming to eerily coincide with the morose turn his thoughts had taken. Shaking himself of the past's skeletal grip, he turned his attentions to the matter at hand.
"By way of messenger," Aoshi replied in a low voice, luckily it was yet so early in the morning that most lay asleep upstairs. "He wishes to meet us at mid day."
Madame Rose took one look at the darted glances and grim demeanors of the captain and first mate as they bent over the table exchanging whispered words, and determinedly went about shooing the gawking woman out. They were only loitering to catch the eye of the men, Megumi knew, but there were things not meant to be overheard, and she'd known the two men long enough to recognize the signs when she saw them.
"Here," she handed the captain his breakfast, and he turned his amber gaze towards the proprietress in a contemplative look.
"Megumi," he could be charming when he needed, and she saw that the captain was in fact trying to be congenial. Only experience allowed her to hide her shock so well.
"Hai, Kenshin?" Instead of correcting her informal tone, he grinned, pushing some loose strands of crimson hair from his delicate face.
"The girl that came in with Sanosuke," he met her eyes with persuasive intensity, "She is not to leave." His tone was authorative, as if the matter was settled. Megumi's eyebrows rose into her thick glossy black bangs, turning a searching gaze to Aoshi, who was as stoic and unreadable as ever.
"I can hardly force the girl to stay," she pointed out wryly. "In any event, Sano does not have the coin, nor the knack for hard labor, that would afford another night here. I sent him on a single errand the night before and he came back at dawn, drunk and obviously fresh from a brawl." Her moue of disappointment was telling, she had worried about the idiot, making her all the more irate when he had stumbled in.
"Then toss the lout out, I will pay for the girl's stay," he commanded dismissively, digging into his breakfast with gusto. Something did not sit right with her about the way he spoke, not to mention the oddity of seeing the captain take any interest in Sanosuke's companion after her cold demeanor towards him the night before.
"Oh? And what does the girl think of this?" She enquired, folding her arms and gifting the captain with a perturbed look.
He of all men should know her reservations about holding a girl here against her will. Kenshin was a good man, Megumi assured herself, but he was also a hard man, used to getting his way. He turned a chilly amber glare on her, crimson hair falling about his face in a wild manner, she'd never seen the man so….bed rumpled, it was slightly endearing, it took the some of the bite from his frosty scowl.
"That is of no relevance," he growled, forking his plate harshly and jabbing it into his mouth, all congenial manners vanishing at her contesting his wishes. Men.
"I believe it is," Megumi retorted, just as firmly.
"You will keep her here," his glared sliced upward, full of menace. As Madame of a house of ill repute it would take a lot more than a look to frighten her, she stubbornly stood her ground.
"No, I won't," Megumi bit out, "Sadly for you, I find her amiable, much unlike your surly self, and I will not have a hand in whatever it is that you intend for her, as far as I'm concerned, she is free to do as she pleases."
The fork stabbed the table, coming down with fierce force, and he turned feral tiger gold eyes to her, his anger leaking from his form in heavy waves.
"Ruining my silverware changes nothing," Megumi informed him pertly, "If you wish her to remain, you should seek to convince her yourself."
He said nothing, pouting over his meal with a sullen scowl. He even crossed his arms, looking for the entire world like a spoiled child denied his favorite toy. Moments of tense silence followed, interrupted only by the kitchen door banging open with careless force.
"What's eating him?" Sanosuke asked, stretching his arms and giving off a large yawn as he ambled in. Megumi delivered a swift elbow to the outstretched man's ribs as he passed her, sending him doubled over in pain, clutching his middle.
"Next time, you will return on time when sent on an errand," She sniffed at his sputtered outrage. He winced, rubbing his now bruised rib cage.
"Awe, Megumi, you know I'll always come back to you," he replied with a saucy wink, griping her about the shoulders. She crinkled her nose, disengaging herself from his embrace with a prim scowl.
"Hey, where's Kaoru?" He asked, looking around the kitchen and scratching his head.
"Heaven help the girl," Megumi prayed mockingly, "With an escort like you, she's sure to need divine assistance." Sano pouted, but his boyish tan features melted too quickly into another smile regardless, he wasn't one to brood long.
"Kaoru's a big girl," he insisted, "I'm sure she's still sleeping, once she's out she's impossible to wake up." He rolled his eyes, grinning fondly, "She gets this little drool on her lip and snores, and it's absolutely adorable."
Megumi frowned, because while she'd never admit it, seeing that soft look on Sano's face stung. Battousai's demeanor took a decided turn for the worst; his mind tinted in fury at the thought of the spiky haired moron sleeping next to her, and with her consent apparently. The image of it arose maddeningly jealous feelings in him, possessive feelings that insisted she was his. Furthermore insistingthat no one should be in bed with her but him, and although he tried to dismiss them as foolish, the emotions lingered, taunting his self control.
Oblivious at the tension he'd brought into the room, Sano heaped a plate full of food, sitting down with a clamorous thunk. Between bites he continued his musings, gushing like the fiancé he'd told Himura he was, though he himself thought of her as more of a little sister, "She's got this temper too," he grinned, mouth still full, "but it's so cute to see her all hot and bothered so early in the-"
Unfortunately, the well meaning Sanosuke had said one thing to many. Without thought, simply reacting, Battousai stood and cracked the man across the jaw with one balled fist. It sent the spiky haired man backwards, to sprawl on the floor in blinking confusion. Battousai stood, fist out stretched, seemingly confused as well, his breath coming ragged pants of unexplainable anger.
"Kenshin…" Aoshi toned warningly as Sano stood and rubbed his sore jaw. The irate red head looked as if he was contemplating crossing the table and throttling the perplexed man. The furious man in question turned and pinned him with a bone chilling glare, looking inexplicably dangerous and on edge.
"Whoa there," Sano held up his hands in surrender as the red head spun and once again fixated his lethal focus back on his slowly standing form, "Did I miss something? Why are you about to beat me to a pulp? As it will be my beauteous face that suffers, I think I deserve to know."
"Sanosuke," it was Aoshi that spoke, bringing an element of calm to the tense atmosphere, "I think it is about time for you to admit you were lying." As both men turned blank looks towards the stoic man, he fought the urge to sigh.
"Lying?" Battousai demanded darkly, eyeing Sano with malicious intent.
"Heh," he rubbed the spiky tufts of his chocolate locks bashfully, "What do you mean Shinomori?" He enquired innocently, trying to ignore the daggers Kenshin was shooting him with his eyes.
"The girl, Sagara," Aoshi explained calmly, "What is she to you really?"
Sano paled, too blunt a person to catch the subtle nuances of Aoshi's command, ignorant of the reason for Himura's rage, or the words that had made him the object of it. He thought the taller man was trying to ensure his impending beating by revealing that he hadn't been truthful with the captain the day before.
"My fiancé," he responded uneasily, all three missed the brief flash of horror on Megumi's features.
"I shall have to give her my condolences," Battousai growled, "no one will marry her to a dead man."
"D-dead man?" Sano questioned in a timid stutter, blanching when understanding dawned. He turned a pleading look to Megumi.
"There will be no killing in my kitchen," The Madame of Fluer Lascivité order imperiously, Sano sagged in relief. "I don't want blood on my floors, if you're going to do it, take it outside." The spiky haired man's jaw dropped at her callous instructions.
"Gladly," Himura promised.
"Enough," Aoshi drew all eyes, his voice cutting the air in his seldom expressed irritation, "The girl is no more engaged to this fool then I am."
"Is is true?" Battousai demanded darkly of the other man. Sullenly, and with fear for his life, Sano nodded, waiting the man to lash out at the news he'd been deceived yet again, the captain had a well known hatred for liars. The red head's hands did curl into fists, nostrils flaring as he stood for a moment a rigid spectacle of fury, and then he exhaled, breathing all his tension from his lithe form.
"You both will stay until I return," Battousai commanded darkly, "And in exchange I will leave your head attached to your neck." Sano gave a weak chuckle.
"I am rather attached to my head," he commented wryly. "It's been with me for a while now." No one laughed at his poor attempt at humor. Himura nodded, taken that as agreement, and pressed a few coins into the hands of the scowling Megumi.
"For your trouble," a side glance at the still shell shocked Sano, "of which he seems to supply a never ending source of." She nodded gratefully, pocketing the money.
"Aoshi," The captain snapped, "Make the arrangements, I will follow shortly." He turned to Sano, "God help you if she's not here on my return, no one else will." With that said, he took his leave, ignoring the curious stares he received and slamming the door behind him.
"What was that about?" Sano asked dazedly. Aoshi stood, fixating the man with a cool emotionless blue stare.
"It is as I told you before," he informed the man, "she is his mate." Sanosuke sputtered at this announcement, his disbelief apparent.
"But that's not possible!" He protested, "She's not even one of you." Sanosuke was one of the few who knew their secret, he and Megumi.
"Tell that to Battousai," Megumi toned wryly, finally understanding the chaos surrounding the captain and young girl.
Although Aoshi and Kenshin spoke of their origins rarely, Aoshi had confided to her once about the nature of their people, and how Kenshin's forgoing the finding of his true marked mate had in the end, meant the downfall of their people, and the end of their society. Supposedly, according to what she'd pulled from the tight lipped man, there was no closer, no more sacred joining in their culture then this destined bond. If it was true, and judging by the captain's uncharacteristic behavior, it very well could be, only a fool would endeavor to cross Himura in this matter.
Megumi was more cynic than romantic, but a part of her still wished to hope for such a thing as love between a man and woman, no matter how cruelly that dream had been taken from her.
"But Kaoru hates him," Sanosuke pointed out, remembering the look in his friend's eyes as she spoke of the captain. It was almost as venomous a look as she gave when speaking of her former fiancé.
"Passion, Sagara, can often come out as hate, when dealing with inexperienced hearts," at the man's skeptical expression, Aoshi assured him, "I'm sure you'll see in time, her opinion will change." Or so he hoped, for Battousai's sake.
"Or she'll beam him with a bokken," Sanosuke supplied, sitting down to return to his meal, "Either way, I don't think Battousai knows what he's getting into."
"Then you can be the one to disagree with him."
"Hell no," Sano denied swiftly, "he's on his own with that one. I can't handle many more of his punches; I think he almost knocked my jaw off."
"You had this planned all along," Megumi commented, staring at Aoshi with a searching gaze.
"No," Aoshi denied bluntly, "but I have hope." With that mysterious comment, he left as well, white coat trailing behind him.
-*-
A/N: Bwa-ha-ha-ha…. Ahem, I mean, GO BATTOU-CHAN! Way to fog up my computer screen. I can hardly claim any praise for this chapter, I swear the mini-Battousai in my head was sitting next to me whispering steamy evil goodness. So I was like, 'really? You want to…?!?' and he just gave me the golden eyed evil smirk. Dirty smutty little Battou-chan! LOL. Hope you like how this is coming, and of course I will be boring everyone else by responded to my reviewers. Cuz I wuv you guys *Misty eyed grin*
Domo: Okay, if this is good enough to keep you up to 4:20am, than I have officially gotten more of an ego boost than I deserve. Please don't die! I might not update quickly, but it is an honest promise that I will try and get a chapter up once every two weeks. Thanks!
berry-tan: Your first review? I'm honored!! Anyone who says 'bloody amazing' and 'boom baby' is A-O-K in my book. I hope this chapter does your review justice!
Brukaoru: *Grins* I do hope the 'spectacle' of their morning together was not a disappointment, Battousai is a notoriously possessive character, and well, that is always fun. Thank you for your support, and kind review, I hope you enjoy what is to come!
Sulou: My Aoshi is a bit of a meddler, but somebody had to push those two stubborn characters in the right direction or they'd never get to interact. Misao seems like the girl for the job, but as everyone will soon discover, she's quite preoccupied for the meantime, although she will make her début pretty soon.
Tigresa89: LOL, no don't speak French (online translators are my best friends), but I do speak some very elementary level Spanish. Enough to understand your brief phrases and in return say, Muchas gracias!
The Holey Gred and Forge: It's always nice to meet a true fan of the anime series, and here's my confession that I hope doesn't disappoint anyone… I've only read, like, one chapter of the actual manga, but I fell in love with the fan fiction and was inspired to create my own. *Sweat drop and nervous chuckle* A million hugs for your awesome review!
Reignashii: Yes, the slave boy was Yahiko, as is pointed out (briefly) in this chapter. Good guess! As for Misao and Aoshi, well *evil grin* in the later chapters I'm working on, their relationship is almost as fun to write as Kaoru's and Battousai's, I think some Misao fans might beat me for what she goes through, but I'm saying too much without saying anything at all, ne? Thank you so much for your review, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Mish: You were dead on! Yahiko is the slave boy, gosh; I'm not very good at being sneaky am I? LOL. I hope you continue to read and enjoy!
Icyvfrost: You want to see Battousai checking out Kaoru's mad bokken skills? *Contemplative smile* I do believe that can be arranged, keep in mind I'm already on chapter seven in my word doc., so it might not be soon, but it will occur, I just love creative suggestions!!
Kokoronagomu: Wow, *blushes*I am horrible at grammar. Malapropisms (what a word!!) are apparently my undoing. It's a great learning experience to have someone sit and give such detailed criticism; I smacked my forehead on the two instances you pointed out. It seems I can re-read these chapters a million times and still miss something. Thanks for your generous offer; I've never had a beta before…. Hmm, sadly to say I'm indecisive as well as a procrastinator, but I wanted to give you massive kudos as being the most detailed and informative reviewer yet.
: I see where you get your user name, LOL, and I mean that in the kindest way. You're 'OMG's made me smile, and I wanted to say thanks a bunch for the review!
half-breed-demon-fox, kingdomfantasyanime453; Sunkissed Dreams; Kao-Misao1728; xo-melodrama; iNsAnE nO bAkA; Paramecio; nma5; RabidMoneys; Thorns of beauty
I wanted to respond to every reviewer I swear!! But sadly, I'm a lazy wench, feel free to beat me. To those I didn't get to individually, please know it doesn't mean I don't love your comments, I really do! *GROUP HUG* LOL. Please continue to read, and of course, review at your leisure.