Inochi

By Linda

Chapter 9

“I was right. Your skin does mark wonderfully well.”

I didn’t need to open my eyes; I’d recognize Soujuro’s light, lilting voice anywhere. Instead, I concentrated on trying to breathe without sobbing. I hung by my arms from Kuroda's chains, and had given up trying to stay on my feet. It wasn’t worth the effort, even though I wondered if I would tear my arms from my body, hanging from them like this. Pain, sharp and heavy, lanced through my shoulders and back, spreading down deep into my spine. My muscles throbbed and ached as though I'd been tossed from the top of a mountain and had tumbled down, hitting each rock along the way, and my skin burned, as if on fire.

Soujuro stepped closer, wrapped his fist in my hair, and pulled my head up; I gasped as he jerked my hair. Slowly, I opened my eyes and blinked until he came into focus. He smiled at me, and the joyous light in his eyes frightened me.

“I envy Kuroda the pleasure of this,” Soujuro said softly. “There are times I would gladly change places with him.”

He leaned in closer, nuzzled against my ear, licked over my throat, just above the new collar. The chains clinked softly as I jerked and shuddered, but I could not move away. His teeth closed in the soft skin just beneath my chin, and I drew in a sharp breath. He pulled away with a high, breathy laugh, and released my hair.

Helplessly I watched as his pale hand moved slowly over my chest, over the bleeding welts left by Kuroda’s whip, through the blood and sweat, and panted as his fingernails raked over the cuts, scraped them open, made them bleed again. He pulled back his hand, wet and scarlet, and smiled as he looked at it. His tongue flicked out to taste it on his fingertips, and I retched at the sight, though my belly was empty.

“Delicious,” Soujuro said, and his smile grew more wicked. "The younger the blood, the more rich it is." With his free hand, he untied his sash and opened his robe; his body was smooth and pale and slender in the golden light from the lamps.

He was completely erect, his flesh as slim and long as the rest of him, reddened and already glistening with his excitement. I pulled uselessly at my chains and made a soft sound of dread; I could do nothing, ~nothing~ save hang helplessly before him. Although I was not particularly religious, desperation made me send a prayer to Inari-kami for strength to survive this. I didn't dare to ask him to deliver me from this; I was too small and insignificant for that much of his attention, but hoped he might spare me a small poriton of his strength.

Soujuro plunged his hand into my hair once again and jerked up my head, and then looking into my eyes, smiling that terrible smile, began to stroke himself with his bloody hand....

I wrenched awake, sweaty and nauseous, and my muscles almost shrieked with the sudden movement. The walls swam, and for a moment, I thought I’d be ill. A soft murmur of protest reached my ears even above the thunder of my heart, and I felt a shift of warmth against my chest---the jolt of tearing out of my nightmare had disturbed Genichi. I swallowed, my throat very dry from breathing hard, and my heart pounded in my chest like a hundred drums.

Slowly I raised a hand and ran it over my face; it came away wet with cold sweat. For a moment I thought I saw it slick with my blood, as Soujuro’s hand had been, but it was only the remnants of the dream that made me think so. I could only wish it had been a dream, a nightmare, but unfortunately, it had been memory. I could not escape it even in sleep.

From within this small room I shared with Genichi, I could not see outside; without a window, it was almost as black as night in the deep forest. I could not tell how close to dawn we were. But I couldn’t hear the other slaves stirring about, so I supposed it was still very early. Genichi murmured something, and his long tail curled over my thigh, twitching a little. I petted his back gently until he settled again, trying to ignore how my hand shook as I did so.

I could smell myself; I smelled of fear and despair. I wished I could wash, could make myself feel clean again. But I could only lie still and wonder if it was better to stay awake, or try and sleep and risk dreams again. I shifted, my body stiff and achy from lying in one place too long. Eventually I worked my way free of Genichi’s clinging arms and legs and tail, and turned over to face the other wall. I blinked into the darkness, trying hard to empty my mind.

Genichi curled up against my back, flinging a leg over mine, and I bit back a sharp sound of discomfort. I didn’t want to lie against him, but it gave him comfort, and I remembered how Mai had curled so against me, and many years earlier, how I had curled against my mother. It had made me feel secure then, and I couldn’t begrudge Genichi a little security now.

I lay there for long moments, listening to the house creak as it settled, to the distant, breathy sounds as someone seized a moment’s pleasure, to Genichi purring softly behind me. I thought of Mai’s cheerful face, of the sharp green scent of the deep pine woods, of the soughing of the wind in their branches, of the winter sky with its veil of stars. I thought of the snow on the trees and fields, of how it made everything so perfect and clean and white.

Eventually, I slept again.

The next morning, Genichi could scarcely stay still long enough to lead me down the hallways. He bounced ahead, then would come back to me, only to bound away once more. He had slept well, but I had not, my dreams again dark and disturbing, filled with images I could not quite remember, and was fairly certain I should not. We’d dressed after I'd washed and Genichi had put the salve on my skin. Then he had rolled up our futons and stacked them in the corner of our tiny room. After we'd stopped by the kitchen for leftover riceballs and fresh cold wellwater, we had set off to meet with Kin’iro for the day’s lessons. I could not say I looked forward to it.

Genichi stopped at a door, and slid it back, hopping inside with a cheery, “Ohayo, Kin’iro-sensei!” I came close behind him, though I could not help but hang back a bit at the doorway, my body aching and tense from both the walk to the room, compounded with dread of facing Kin’iro.

Kin’iro, seated on a fat scarlet cushion at a low square table, looked up at Genichi. His golden eyes flashed, one tall ear twitched, and then, he smiled. It was not the baring of teeth I’d seen before, but a true, genuine smile that reached those remarkable eyes and lit them from within. It transformed him; it made him even more beautiful, and I didn't think that possible.

“Genichi-chan,” he said in his fluid alto voice, and the tone was soft with affection. I blinked in amazement; I didn’t think he had it within him to sound so...kind. I had seen nothing from him but contempt, disdain, and a chilling superiority, and I found this gentleness toward Genichi wholly surprising. He set down the scroll he had been reading and reached to pick up three small cloth-covered balls from the floor. He threw them at Genichi, who caught them with ease. “Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, yes,” Genichi replied. He began to toss the balls up into the air, and as I watched, he kept them all there, going in a circle, never dropping or fumbling a single one. I’d never seen anything like it before, and his skill amazed me. “Inochi is very warm to sleep with.”

I felt it the second Kin’iro’s gaze slid by Genichi to spear me as effectively as any of the naginatas the guards at the gate carried. I met his eyes, and found them cold and closed once more, the warmth fled from them as if it had been only an illusion. The light flashed off his canines, a warning. “I trust that sleeping is ~all~ you did, ne, goat-boy?”

“Y-yes.” Even without the ability to sense ki, I had no problem feeling his animosity, his threat. I hated that my voice wobbled, and cleared my throat. It was still very sore from all my screaming of the days before.

“Hn. Sit. Over there.” He indicated a thin brown cushion across the broad square table from himself. “You smell too much like a human and too little like a kitsune to sit any closer to me.” He tossed Genichi another small ball; the boy caught it and added it to the three in the air without the slightest effort.

“He does not,” Genichi protested. “He smells like you do.”

“And you have my sensitive nose, little boy? I think not.” But the words were said without heat. Kin'iro watched me as I moved into the room and lowered myself onto the worn cushion he’d indicated. Although I still ached fiercely, I moved a little better than I did the day before---not much, but a little, and I was glad of any improvement, no matter how small.

A frown crossed his fine features. “Even with kitsune blood, you clump about like you have ten pounds of mud caked on each foot. I suppose being a ~farmer~ accounts for that.” He rested his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand to study me, and it was obvious he didn’t care very much for what he saw. Few people had ever found me acceptable, noting my lack of some quality in one way or another. I firmed my mouth and met his gaze squarely. I was growing very weary of having everyone disparage me for everything I was, or did, and felt a flicker of resentment kindle in my belly.

“Yes, I was a farmer. There is no shame in that.” My voice cracked, and faded in and out, but he heard me clearly enough.

One ear flicked, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward faintly. “So the mouse has a voice. Yare, yare. It seems that Kuroda’s whip freed up your tongue a little. Best mind your manners in the presence of your superiors, boy. And make no mistake—I am your superior here.” His golden gaze raked over me. “In all matters.”

Genichi wandered closer to the kitsune, still tossing the balls in the air. Without looking, and almost quicker than thought, Kin’iro’s hand flashed out and snatched one from the air. It was blue, the very last one he’d thrown to Genichi.

“Oi!” Genichi bobbled one of the balls, tried to retrieve it, and they all crashed to the tatami mats. His white tail whipped in annoyance. “I was doing so good, too.”

“So well,” Kin’iro corrected mildly. “But that’s enough, anyway. Sit. Ayano’s on her way.”

Genichi plopped down next to me and gave me the three remaining balls to look at, one red, one green, one yellow. I squeezed them in my hands. They were soft, filled with rice, from the way they felt. He grinned at me, all cheer and good humor.

“I’ll teach you how to juggle when you feel better. Kin’iro-san says it helps with co-co-co....” He frowned, unable to find the right word. “It makes your hands work better.”

The door slid open with a soft ~shoosh~ sound. I turned my head to see this Ayano girl whom Genichi had spoken of, and as I did, the most ~wonderful~ scent slipped by me. It was soft and musky and so delicious it almost made my mouth water, as if for some wonderful meal. Fragrant, a little flowery, a little like the wind sweeping over a sun-warmed meadow. It filled my nose, filled my head, and arrowed directly down my body, making my flesh stir and fill. Like Kin’iro’s scent, yet gentler, not as wild, but with the same very direct effect upon my body.

From the doorway, Ayano smiled at me.

She was beautiful, more beautiful than any woman I’d ever seen before. Long, shimmering blush-colored hair, pale, perfect skin, a small, slim figure just beginning to round with a woman’s curves; I thought her close to my own age. Tall, graceful red ears sat atop her head, and a long, full fluffy red tail swished slowly around her ankles. Big golden eyes blinked at me and her generous mouth smiled sweetly. Kitsune.

I felt utterly overwhelmed by her. I shifted, my flesh suddenly hard and full beneath my robe. My heart pounded hard within my chest, which felt suddenly too tight to draw a deep breath. I could feel heat climb up my throat, into my cheeks, and out to the very tips of my ears. A little trickle of sweat snaked down my spine, the salt burning as it touched raw skin. I shivered as the beads of sweat trickled down a place suddenly, crazily sensitive, seemingly connected directly to the flesh that grew hard between my legs.

I wanted...I wanted...I wasn’t sure what I wanted, other than to be very close to her, to breathe in her glorious scent, to put my hands upon her and see if her skin and hair truly felt as soft as they looked. At the very thought of touching her, of running my fingers over that silky-looking skin, my flesh throbbed demandingly.

Of course, Kin’iro noticed; few things escaped his keen regard. He laughed, the smooth sound somehow very mocking. “Ayano-chan. You have an admirer," he said, with exaggerated sweetness. Then his voice sharpened again as he spoke to me. "Close your mouth, goat-boy---it’s hanging open like an idiot’s.”

Mortified, I realized that it was, and closed my mouth with a snap and looked down into my lap. Quickly, I arranged my hands and full sleeves to try and cover my very obvious reaction to her, but I knew that at the very least, Kin’iro had seen it, and more than likely, Ayano herself. My throat and cheeks heated even further.

Ayano glided into the room and paused beside me for a second, looking down at me. Her red tail flicked over my arm, brushed across my hand; it was so very silky and warm, and I clenched my fingers into fists to keep from touching her to find out just how soft it was. Her scent flowed over me, and my body tightened even further, the throb between my legs turning into an ache. Although in the past year or so, I’d woken with my flesh hard like this, and had discovered how to make the ache into something messily wonderful, I’d never before had it happen with anyone else save Kin’iro, the day the Meijin had brought me here. I was very glad when she moved on and sat down next to Kin’iro, her long-lashed eyes sleepy-looking and heavy, her full mouth curved upward at the corners.

Kin’iro’s hand stroked over her blush-colored hair in an affectionate gesture, and pushed it aside. He leaned in and licked her slim throat, just above the black band of her collar, which made her smile and wriggle most enticingly. Heat moved slowly and heavily through me; suddenly and fiercely, I wanted to do that, to taste her soft skin, to make her all shivery like that.

“Ohayo, Ayano-chan,” Genichi said with a little waggle of his fingers. He was too young, I think, to be affected by the barrage of scents that made me ache with longing, though he was undoubtedly aware of them.

“Ohayo, Genichi-chan,” she murmured, but her sparkling eyes rested me, openly curious. Her voice was soft and light with a sweet, musical sound. I barely restrained the urge to shift, betraying myself. “And who is this pretty boy?”

My face was so hot I knew I must be the scarlet color of ripe berries. Embarrassed, I looked away from her; unfortunately, my gaze swept across Kin’iro, who appeared openly amused at my discomfort. He rubbed a few strands of her long hair between his thumb and forefinger, as if testing its softness.

“This is Inochi. He’s new here, and Soujuro-san has specified no one is to touch him. Not me, not you, so keep these lovely, clever fingers to yourself." He brought her hand up and pressed her fingertips to his lips. "Gossip tells me he’s to go to the House Retsujou, next to the Temple of Ai. A most prestigious place, ne, Ayano-chan?”

“Yes, most favorable.” Ayano leaned forward, studied me more carefully, her big golden eyes wide. She had a tiny little mole on her left cheekbone that drew attention to her eyes. “I think I’d be better suited for there, but I suppose I’d rather go to an individual owner, than to a House.” Her sigh was sweet and light, like a breeze. “Yesterday, Soujuro-san told me I’m to go to the home of a mage in a few days---Taisoh-sama, I believe he said. He’s very powerful and respected.”

“That he is,” Kin’iro said thoughtfully, running his fingers over the velvet of her tall ears, and down the fall of her hair. “I’ve heard of him. You’re going to a good place, so behave yourself.”

Ayano wore the same loose trousers with a slot in the back for her full tail and sleeveless wrapped tunic as did Kin’iro and Genichi, but hers were a soft, pale pink that complemented her coloring. Kin’iro leaned in and pressed a kiss to her bare arm, but his eyes were on me, gauging my reaction to his freely given caresses. When I realized what he was doing, teasing and tormenting me by touching her when I could not, I schooled my face to blankness, and tried to will the longing, the desire, the erection away. But with her beauty, her scent so close, it was a most difficult thing to do.

Over the course of the morning, I learned the proper ways to walk, to kneel, to sit, to move, to look up at one’s Meijin. The latter Kin’iro and Ayano had turned into a form of art; to see them look up from beneath their long dark lashes, eyes full and golden with promises of pleasure beyond imagining, was something I could not make myself do, I would not do.

The other things, which should have been so simple to master, however, proved beyond my capabilities that day. All my usual grace had fled, taken from me by the beating, and Kin’iro was not the most patient of instructors. More than once he called me useless, stupid, graceless, but if he thought to hurt me with words, he was surprised he could not; I met them with blank, smooth looks, and merely tried to do better the next time. I’d grown up with those words ringing in my ears, and they had little power over me now. He’d hurt my feelings with them the day I first saw him, but now that I knew him, I could see his beauty was only as deep as his skin. His words had lost the power to hurt me.

A little past midday, after pronouncing I was too stupid for him to bear looking at anymore, he sent Genichi and me to the kitchen for food. In truth, I felt grateful to escape his disapproval, if only for a little while. The cook petted Genichi and spoke sweetly to him, no matter that he was constantly beneath her feet. He seemed determined to peer into every pot, open every door, his curiosity unsatisfied until he’d done so, chattering practically without stopping to draw a breath.

I stayed quietly in the corner, out of the way, well aware of the nervous sidewise looks the cook’s helpers gave me; I wondered if they truly thought I’d pounce on them. They were young and fairly pretty, one even with surprisingly golden-colored hair, but none of them made my flesh stir with desire as had Ayano. Cook was a large, fleshy woman of middle years; the ample billows of her body fascinated me. Though I'd never seen anyone quite so rounded, rather like a rolled up futon, she was surprisingly graceful and light on her feet, and in more or less constant movement. She prepared baskets of food for us, gave Genichi a cup of fruit juice of some kind, and even smiled at me before sending us on our way.

When we returned to the firmly closed door, Genichi stopped, and tilted his head a little, his ears pricked forward, listening. His face shifted into a moue of displeasure. “Oh, they’re doing it ~again~,” he said in an aggrieved tone of voice. “We’ll have to wait until they’re done, or Kin’iro will yell and throw something at us. And he doesn’t miss very often.” He set down his basket and sat down on the floor opposite the closed door, his back against the wall, his tail thrashing in agitation. “And I’m hungry, too.”

Now that he mentioned it, I could hear...sounds coming from behind the closed shoji, though my ears were probably not as keen as his. Soft sounds, of breathlessness, of pleasure, of...desire. I’d heard those sounds from behind Hamanari-san’s door the other day, and as before, they made my body come alive again. An involuntary deep breath brought their scents to me, and this time, I could not stop the reactions of my body. I felt myself grow hard again, that sweet tension curling tightly low in my belly.

I glanced over my shoulder. Genichi pulled at his ear, scowling. “Pretty soon she’ll get noisy. She always does.”

Almost on cue, I heard Ayano’s voice rise in a long, loud moan that made a shiver slip down my back, made the tension twist tighter in my belly, made me throb with want. My hand dropped to the full, heavy flesh beneath my robe, but then I realized what I was doing, and snatched my hand away. Apparently bored, and unaffected by the scents and the sounds that I found so alluring, Genichi began digging in one of the baskets. With a happy little trill, he produced a rice ball wrapped in seaweed, one of his favorites, as he’d told me while watching the cook prepare our lunch, and settled down contentedly to eat.

Unsettled and restless, I set my basket down beside the other, and as if someone else controlled my body, went to the screen. A tiny push, and it opened, fractionally. I knew better than to do this; I myself was a very private person, and I knew I should be ashamed to spy on them. Doubt seized me, and I almost pushed the screen closed and almost sat down to wait patiently like Genichi.

Almost.

But my curiosity, as strong as Genichi's, finally got the better of me, and I moved to press my face close to the opening, and peered through. The scent of sweat, of musk, of sex, washed over me like warm water, and I bit my lip to keep from letting out the low, hungry sound that welled up in the back of my throat. The first thing I noticed were their clothes strewn haphazardly about, and the very thought they were naked together, bodies rubbing against one another, was enough to make my blood burn even hotter. I eased the door open a little wider, changed my angle of viewing a little, and then I saw them.

I blinked. It took a moment to figure it out; they were a tangle of arms and legs, long hair, long tails, pale, perfect skin, all seemingly in constant motion. I knew I should not watch; I knew it was evil and wrong to spy upon them. I knew I should not witness such a private thing between two people.

But their mingled scents reached some part of me deep within and made me long for more, to touch, to taste, to scent. Their soft sounds of breathless pleasure made my own breath rush more quickly in my lungs, made me dizzy and light-headed. Tingling excitement zipped down my spine, pooled at the small of my back, then dove deep into my belly, and grew stronger and more intense with each moment more I watched. I pressed closer to the door, one hand grasping the doorframe so tightly I wondered that my knuckles didn’t pop through my skin.

They were slim and lithe and inhumanly beautiful, moving together in an ancient rhythm. On her hands and knees beneath Kin’iro, Ayano had curled her auburn tail around his waist, and rocked back into him, meeting his powerful thrusts into her with equal passion, those shiver-inducing moans growing louder and longer, deeper and more urgent. One of his smoothly muscled arms held her tightly and securely around her slim waist, and the other on the floor helped to support his greater weight; she was so small compared to him.

As I watched, his hand moved over her skin, up to caress small round breasts, then down into the shadowed places between her thighs. My hands clenched in want, but whether it was want of touch or to touch, I could not be certain. Kin’iro’s tail lashed back and forth, a golden flash of fur as he moved within her steadily, the sounds of their bodies meeting again and again wet and mouth-watering. He tossed his head to get the pale, shimmering hair out of his face, then his ears flattened and he leaned in, teeth flashing, and bit the back of her neck.

I wasn’t certain I could breathe as Ayano thrashed beneath him, her face tight with pleasure, a long, loud cry of what was unmistakably satisfaction coming from her throat; she shuddered hard against his body, arching into him. Unbidden, one of my hands crept to the nape of my neck, beneath the heavy fall of hair. A memory that was not my own came to me, one of the incredible sensation that would arc like a bolt of lightning through me should a lover do the same thing to me. My fingers rubbed the tender skin over the bumps of spine, over the awakening and sensitive net of nerves, and my mind drifted in growing pleasure even as I watched them moving together.

Tension grew and expanded within me, until my skin felt too tight to contain me and my thighs trembled as I watched Kin’iro thrust harder and quicker into her, seeking his own completion. When he flung back his head, a keening moan escaping him, his features drawn as tightly as hers had been in a passion I could only imagine, my fingers tightened almost brutally on the back of my neck, and then...

...and then I felt my coming burst from me, blinding and consuming and fierce. I folded in upon myself, a shuddering gasp escaping me, the shriek of abused skin and muscles somehow distant compared to the immediacy of orgasm. My hand dropped from the nape of my neck to my groin, where beneath my robe, warm wetness spread over my belly. At the touch of my own hand, my flesh pulsed again, and I gasped and shivered once more, squeezing my eyes closed so tightly I could see little white sparks dancing in the darkness there. My heart pounded madly beneath my ribs, and my breath rasped harshly in my chest. I swore I could hear my blood rushing in my ears and head. It was both wonderful and terrible, all at once. I pressed my hot cheek to the cool wood frame of the door, my whole body throbbing and singing with pleasure.

“Ne, fox-chan...what are you doing?”

At the low sound of Genichi’s voice, my eyes flashed open, and I looked back over my shoulder. Genichi still sat there against the opposite wall; he’d opened one of the cloths containing dried fruit, and picked through it for the choicest pieces. He looked up at me, his wide eyes blinking.

“Nothing.... It’s nothing,” I whispered back. I felt my under robe beginning to stick to my belly, the warmth beginning to cool, and it was unpleasant. I could scent my own seed, and I knew if I could smell it, he certainly could.

“Your face is all pink,” he observed. “And you smell funny.” Once again, I wished my skin less fair; I knew I blushed even harder. I made a motion with my hand to shush him; with a growing sense of apprehension, I realized it had grown still within, and though we spoke quietly, in whispers, I was certain that to sharp kitsune ears, it was more than loud enough.

I wondered then if they had heard us; certainly not while they were...busy...but now that it was quiet, there was nothing to keep them from hearing our low voices. Hesitantly, I moved to peer through the open space. Within, they lay curled together, quiet. Ayano lay with her back to me, her hair and tail a bright spill on the floor; one tall ear flicked lazily. Kin’iro’s hand moved over her back, over the slight curve of her hip in a calm, slow, repetitive motion. I could easily see the softly auburn stripe that ran down her spine, from hairline to the base of her tail; the sight of it made me throb in the most peculiar way, and I made myself look away, to look at Kin'iro. He lay facing me, his cheek propped up on one hand, a picture of lazy repletion.

And those sharp golden eyes looked straight into my own.

I was certain my heart stopped for one sickening moment before starting up again into an erratic rhythm. I pulled away from the door in a flurry of robes, stuttered an excuse to Genichi, who looked at me as if I’d gone mad, and then I hurried down the hallway as quickly as my stiff muscles would take me.

My destination was the bath. I felt deeply ashamed of what I’d done, and wanted to wash away the visible sign of my weakness. In addition to the revulsion at my own actions, I had no doubt that Kin’iro would punish me for spying. I just wasn’t certain what he’d do in his anger, and anticipation of the form his punishment would take was a heavy weight in my stomach. I knew him to be tempermental and vindictive, and he was no doubt very creative in the delivery of his vengeance.

I kept glancing over my shoulder, expecting to see him close on my heels, but he did not follow. The halls were empty save for the occasional slave hurrying about his or her business, and the few guards who gave me suspicious looks as I limped by. But none impeded me; my collar, as much as I despised it, gave me free rein throughout the house. They knew I couldn’t run, so they left me be.

In the bath, I stripped off my robes and crouched beside the trough to wash off. I was all sticky, and didn’t like it; part of it had dried on my belly, leaving me itchy. I didn’t linger in bathing as I often did; nervousness made me hurry. As I sluiced off the soapy lather, my mind tracked back to what I’d seen. Unbidden, my hand crept up to the nape of my neck and rubbed lightly, fingertips tracing over nerve pathways I’d never realized before could give so much pleasure. I wondered what it had felt like to be Kin’iro, to take, to lose myself in the act, to give myself over to it utterly. I wondered with equal curiosity what it had felt like to be Ayano, to be a woman and take a man into her body.

My fingers stroked slowly over my neck as I lost myself in sensation. As before, it felt good, and sent little chills of excitement slithering down my spine to pool at the base, where my tail would be, if I had one. I knew what it was like to touch myself, to give myself pleasure, but I had exploded without even touching myself; this sensation was different, somehow, than that one. I liked it very much.

My eyes opened wide in shock as my flesh began to fill and firm again. This was neither the time nor the place for such things, and giving in to such desires had caused me enough trouble as it was. Jerking my hand from beneath my hair, I stood, turned, and found Kin’iro standing in front of the closed door, watching me. I’d been so engrossed in sensation I’d not even heard the door open and close, had not heard the sound of his bare feet on the boards. I jumped in surprise, and an embarrassing little squeak of sound escaped me, the pain of sore muscles filtering beneath my skin to the bones of my body.

Kin’iro bared his teeth in a very unpleasant smile, and helpless to prevent it, terror washed over me. I could admit to myself without shame that I feared him, and with good reason; he was bigger, more muscled than I was, and armed by nature with those sharp canine teeth and formidable nails. His nose twitched, and as he caught scent of my fear, something bright and feral glinted in his eyes. I had the very real sense that I was little more than prey as his tail slowly swished around his ankles.

“So. You like to spy, little boy?” He took a step toward me, and involuntarily, I took a step back, onto wet, slippery tiles, covering my nakedness with my hands.

I shook my head. “No, Kin’iro-sensei. I....”

“But you were. You were watching us. I saw you, boy. You can’t deny it.”

“I...I...I’m sorry, Sensei. I’m so sorry...I don’t know why....”

All the time I stuttered, trying to suppress the fear and searching in a suddenly blank mind for words to explain the unforgivable, he stalked forward, his eyes those of a predator. I kept backing up, looking around for escape routes, but there were none. If I stepped to either side, he moved smoothly to intercept, and it wasn’t until my back bumped into the wall did I realize he’d maneuvered me into a corner, like I had herded the goats I once kept.

“I know why,” he said silkily. “You’re a spy. Soujuro sent you to spy upon us slaves, right?”

The idea was so outrageous that I could only stand there before him in shock, my nakedness forgotten. Me, work willingly for Soujuro? The very thought made bitter bile rise in my throat. I wanted nothing to do with Soujuro; the dreams I’d had last night had been mostly about him, and they’d been filled with revulsion at what he’d done.

“No! I would ~not~! He sent me for punishment...he...he...~touched~ me....” I could feel my face burn again, feel the queasiness of before as I could see again in my mind’s eye how he had tasted my blood, and had smiled before slipping his hand down my belly and.... I shook my head until my hair swirled around me, trying to dispel the memory.

Kin’iro took another step closer; with the wall at my back, I could move no further. He was close enough I could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. I could smell his and Ayano’s mingled scents. He extended his forefinger, and touched the base of my throat, where my pulse hammered wildly. I could feel the sharpness of his nail as he slowly dragged his finger down my chest, the slight bump as it passed over each and every welt, but his touch was light enough he did not break skin. I squirmed in misery and fear; I didn’t like anyone to touch me. Touch almost always meant pain in some form or another.

“Ah, yes. Punish you he did. Kuroda does very fine work. You look almost like a nekogen, with these stripes.” His hand stopped its downward movement at the slight depression of my navel. The muscles in my belly shivered and jumped beneath my skin.

“Kin’iro...please, don’t....”

His eyes glinted. “Please don’t what? Don’t touch you? Get used to it, boy---there lies your fate. You’re going to a House.” He laughed when I blinked at him, and it was a cruel, hard sound.

“You don’t even ~know~, do you?" A malicious, unholy gleam shone in his eyes. "Well, little country boy, when you first go there, your virginity will be auctioned to the highest bidder--and it will bring a high price, as that is a rare and valuable thing in a House. After that, your new Meijin will give you to paying customers for their use. And I imagine you’ll be very popular---even I must admit you’re quite pleasant to look upon, and the prospect of taking a kitsune---even a part-breed, is very enticing to the humans.” He smiled nastily. “Get used to constantly being on your belly or on your hands and knees. It’s where you’ll be spending most of your time for years to come, fucked by those who have paid gold to own you for a few hours.”

The heat that had burned in my throat and cheeks drained away. Cold gathered in my chest, and began to slowly spread out over my body, until I thought I’d been immersed in frigid spring water. I was innocent, but not as naive as he thought; I knew what he meant by fucking---it was what he’d been doing to Ayano only moments before.

“What...what are you talking about?” My voice came out a hoarse whisper, and I stared at him, horrified at the picture he painted for me, of years of...that, against my will. He was wrong; I knew he was wrong. Hamanari-san was not sending me to such a place. He was sending me someplace else, surely. This was only the form of Kin’iro’s punishment, this cruelty on his part. He meant this only to terrorize me; it was not true.

He raised his hand, stroked my long black hair in a parody of gentleness. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know what they had in mind for you, boy. You can’t be that stupid. Or that naive.”

Anger rose in me, a bare trickle of warmth in the cold. I slapped his hand away, gratified to see a spark of surprise in those golden eyes. “No. You lie. I am not going to such a place to do such things.”

Kin’iro laughed again. “Blessed Inari. He ~did~ find you under some rock out in the country,” he said, amused. “They will find you quite entertaining at the House Retsujou. Soujuro’s not beaten the spirit out of you yet. The one who first takes you will need to be strong, or they’ll have to chain you in place to hold you down. Some people do find that terribly exciting. Perhaps they’ll give you drugs to make you pliable and easy to fuck....”

I could not bear to hear more; the memory of time spent hanging in Kuroda's chains was still very strong, and horrified me. My head began to ache again, but I pushed it aside, angry. “You lie...you want to hurt me...to make me afraid...I...I...” If I still could feel the stir of the curse, everything within reach of it would have broken by now, I was so furious. I could feel the wards around throat and wrists and ankles throb, feel the power course through them as they worked to suppress its power within me. I felt choked, restrained, and I hated it. I shook my head. “You lie...I am not a woman like Ayano, made for such...such things.”

For a moment those golden eyes stared at me incredulously, and then surprisingly, he began to laugh. Anger whipped through me and my hands knotted into fists, came up to strike before I even realized I’d done such a thing. Still laughing, Kin’iro easily seized one forearm, and with his free hand, grabbed a fistful of my hair. He used his grip and his leverage to slam me against the wall, and the pain that exploded through my already aching body made me gasp aloud.

“You ~are~ a stupid little country boy,” he said, he said, his face close to mine. Kin’iro smiled, and nuzzled through my hair to lick my earlobe. In spite of my anger, in spite of my fear, I shivered as warm wetness of his tongue slipped over my skin. This close, his scent, his warmth, overwhelmed me, and I felt myself beginning to get hard again. I pushed at him with my free hand, but it was like trying to move a boulder; he was stronger than any of my brothers had ever hoped to be.

Kin’iro laughed again, and pulled away. Before I could even draw a breath, he spun me and slammed me against the wall again, this time facing it. Pain shook me in its teeth like a wolf with prey, and for a moment, my vision greyed alarmingly. I blinked, holding on to consciousness fiercely; I feared what Kin’iro might do to me if I fainted. The wall was cold against my cheek and chest and belly. He leaned in, his chest pressing against my back, and I could feel his hot breath stir my hair just behind my ear.

“Do you think you can’t be used in the same way? Just because you’re not a woman? Think again, boy.”

He leaned into me, his weight holding me in place even as I thrashed to escape him. He was lean, but not thin, and surprisingly strong. His fingers tightened in my hair and pulled until I arched in pain and stilled, panting. I could barely see him out of the corner of my eye, but the flash of his smile was bright and vicious.

“You have strong kitsune blood, though you are not as beautiful as we are,” Kin’iro said softly. His hand loosened in my hair, pushed it aside, and I shivered as I felt his warm, moist breath on my neck. When he brought a finger up to lay it on my skin just beneath my hairline, I jumped, my heart hammering painfully in my chest.

“No!” I hissed. “Stop it! Don’t touch me.”

He laughed again. “I’ll do as I damn please with you. Did you know you have our stripe? All kitsunes have a stripe of color the same as our ears and tails than runs down our spines, from here,” he pressed lightly at the base of my skull, and then trailed his finger down the groove of my spine. It made every hair on my body rise, made every nerve come alive, made me grow even harder, “to here.” He pressed at a certain place at the base of my spine, and the world whited out a moment with the strength of the pleasure that arced through me. I thought of Hamanari and what he’d done to me before Rei, and my skin burned with shame. Kin'iro's laugh was cruel and cold in my ear.

“Pitiable ear-less, tail-less kitsune. Made more like us than those weak humans. Most of them will never know how to touch you, how to make your body sing in passion. They won’t care. They’ll just want to use you.” He smoothed his hand over the slight curve of my bottom, and I thrashed again, desperate for escape from his touch. His fingers slipped between my cheeks and one fingertip rested over the opening of my body. I went utterly still, my eyes wide, breath catchiing in my throat.

I could feel every inch of him pressed against me, feel his heat, feel his erection press big and hot, against my hip. I was acutely aware of my nakedness, of his strength, of his power over me. My fists clenched, and I could feel my own erection, pressed between my belly and the wall, throb. Helplessness and anger made my whole body shake.

“Here,” Kin’iro said softly into my ear, and rubbed his finger lightly against that tender, secret place. “You’ll lie down for them, and they’ll take you here....”

Rage gave me strength. I struggled fiercely in his grasp, and his fingers tightened around my arm, his long nails threatening to cut into the tender skin of my forearm, but I didn’t care. My free fist pounded against the wall in impotent anger. I could feel my eyes sting with tears.

“No! No! I ~won’t~! It’s not right...not fair to do this to me....”

Surprisingly, he released me, and I almost went to one knee before I caught myself and turned. Before I could move further, attempt to escape him, his hand went to my throat and squeezed; his nails bit into tender flesh. The collar around my neck reacted to touch, and gave both of us a sharp warning shock to leave it be. Kin’iro flinched, but didn’t release me, and this time, the shock was almost enough to drive me back to my knees with a sharp cry of pain. He snarled, a vicious animal sound, and moved his grip enough to clear the collar, his thumb and fingers pressing tightly against my jaws; the strength of his fingers was easily enough to break bone if he wished. The erection I’d had faded, as if it had never been.

“What in hells do you know about fair, or right?” His eyes blazed like a fire, and his ears flattened against his hair. “You’re a child...an ~infant~ in comparison to me. You’re...sixteen? You’ve been a slave for what, less than three months? That is ~nothing~.”

He leaned in even more closely, teeth bared, white and shining. Anger still made my blood hot, but a healthy dose of fear began to rise again within me. This was the Kin’iro I’d seen when Soujuro had baited him, the half-wild creature caught between man and beast, the one who could cheerfully tear his opponent apart limb from limb, and lick the blood from red-stained fingers.

“For three hundred and thirty-two years I ran free. Restrained by no man, answering to no one save myself. One fucking moment, one act of betrayal, and all that changed. Do you think it’s hard for you? Try imagining that. I was a damn ~lord~ in my own right.” His fingers tightened around my throat, his eyes blazing. “And now I curry favor with an inferior creature. For two years, I’ve lain beneath him, accepted him into my body. I’ve given him pleasure no human should know, used all my skills upon him, all to make him complacent while I waited....” Abruptly he shut his mouth with an audible snap. “Nothing.” He gave me a hard shake that threatened to rattle my bones and released me. “One word of what passed between us, and I’ll rip open your belly, pull out your guts, and strangle you with them. Understand?”

“Y-yes.” My voice was very small and hoarse, and I knew my eyes were huge and wide. Though the fierce expression in his eyes changed little, his ears rose again from their flattened position, and his snarl faded. He drew a deep breath, shook his head, reached up and stroked an ear, ran his hand through his bright hair. It made me think of a cat grooming after hissing and spitting. The motions seemed to calm him a little, and when he looked back down at me, most of the wildness was gone from his eyes.

“Get dressed,” he said roughly. “Come back and attend me. Pay attention to what I teach you. Your only hope for survival lies in making yourself an asset to House Retsujou---if you do not please them, then you’ll eventually be sold to houses of lesser value, until you finally land in brothels, where they’ll fuck you to death within a year. Though I don’t particularly care if you die, there are better ways to do it.” His golden eyes glinted, then darkened, and I had a terrible feeling someone he had cared for had come to such a fate.

He turned away, and with a flick of his long tail, was gone. I stood there a moment, overwhelmed, before my knees gave way and I sank to the floor. The tiles were chill, but I felt even colder, so cold I was sure I’d never feel warm again. I wrapped my arms tightly about myself, and rocked myself, as I often did as a small child, right after mother died. For a long moment, I wished she were there to hold me, to comfort me, to pet my hair as she’d often done when I was little. Even after all these years, I could still remember how she smelled, how her voice sounded when she would murmur that everything would be all right.

But it would not be all right.

All the things that the Meijin had said, that Soujuro had said, the inferences Haruna had made---now, I understood them. I had been bought for others to use for their pleasure. What I wished made no difference. I was not even to have control of my own body, to be granted that much dignity. I could see no honor in what I would be doing, no pride, no choice. They would...they would...I could not even allow myself to think of how they would use me, what they would demand of me. How foolish I had been to think I might be field labor or sold to a merchant; Soujuro himself had said that they’d paid an exorbitant amount for me, and in spite of that, they’d sell me for much, much more. Sell me to a place where I would be nothing but a toy for those who had the gold to rent use of my body.

Something splashed on my bare thigh, warm and wet. Surprised, I watched as it slid down the red-striped slope of my thigh. Another followed, then another. I raised my hand to my face; it was wet. Tears. I’d not cried in so long...not for years. Not since mother had died.

“Hahaoya,” I murmured. Mother. “Hahaoya....” My breath caught harshly, and I leaned into my knees, my whole body shaking. Everything that had happened in the past months came crashing down upon me, filling me with sorrow and pain and betrayal. The room echoed with my rough hiccoughing sobs, but I didn’t care. A lifetime of suppressed tears, of hurt, came rushing out, unstoppable, and I wept for all that had been, all that had been taken from me, all that would be.

I let it all go; it didn’t matter who heard. The tears of a mere slave had no value to anyone.

Chapter Ten

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