InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Shades of Gray ❯ Fade to Black ( Chapter 12 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

 

 

 

Just…remember my reassurance, as with COTD, I like happy endings.

 

 

 

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Miroku's stumbled from his room his hair mess from his rough night of drinking with the company of some unnamed schoolgirl, of which he quickly ushered out of the apartment at the first crack of dawn. The night had been a blessed one however unfortunately ending with the pitiful whining of another broad who wanted his number. Miroku didn't do second dates; hell, he hardly did first ones, they just normally ended in his room after one drink and the bating of some irresistible ocean blue eyes. Miroku was a man's man, who didn't get caught up in petty relationships or that loathed word anniversaries. As a matter of fact the longest relationship Miroku had ever had was a three week fling with the girl next door when he was fourteen years old. She was blonde with pigtails, and by God he couldn't resist pigtails. But even that came to a tragic end when he slept with her best friend. It had been over a decade since Miroku's lost his virginity but what troubled him however with his inability to accurately recall to whom he had lost his virginity. Not that it really mattered anymore; and all he knew was that he was thirteen and she was hot.

 

Stumbling into the kitchen at seven in the morning, Miroku fumbled with the coffee pot, attempting to put in his favorite blend of Dunkin' Donuts coffee. `At least the commercials are accurate,' he thought, `America truly does run on Dunkin'.' Moving the curtain to glance out into the parking lot, he took note to InuYasha's black Hummer still sitting in the driveway where it had the night before. What had perturbed Miroku was the lack of his roommate's physical presence. Sure, there were many nights InuYasha's slept at that cunt's dorm room, but normally he let Miroku know that he was going to be there. When Miroku and that aforementioned schoolgirl stumbled into the house and three in the morning, InuYasha's door was open and his best friend was still missing. Okay so maybe Miroku had a bit of an overprotective parents syndrome when it came to regards about InuYasha but hell it was his best friend, and he knew everything about the bastard. So yes he worried a little bit when InuYasha disappeared unannounced and alone for a full night.

 

Digging through the dishwasher that he had yet to empty out from when Kagome had magically run it; he produced a single coffee cup and stared at the brewing caffeinated goodness until it was completed.

 

Finally at ease with his cup of coffee in one hand, Miroku's sauntered into the living room, and promptly fell over rogue book bag in the middle of the hallway. Somehow managing to land without his coffee spilling all over him, the barrage of curses that left Miroku's mouth left little question over his annoyance. Shooting up to his feet, he turned and swiftly kicked the bag in anger, somewhat relieved however with the knowledge that it had to be InuYasha's. And that meant that his beloved roommate was home, safe and sound.

 

Bending over to pick up his coffee cup, Miroku reminded himself to chastise InuYasha about his inability to put anything away properly. Returning to the kitchen and pouring himself the second cup of the four cups of coffee, Miroku once again returned to the living room, stopping to pick up InuYasha's backpack along the way. Throwing it over the back of the couch, he walked around and sat down next to it while setting his cup on the coffee table. `Since when has InuYasha ever carried a book bag?' he wondered whilst staring at the black bag in awe. `He always said they were trendy and for geeks, so what would change his mind now?'

 

It was the temptation of the greatest desire; that illicit yearning to know what his friend was hiding within that this cotton knapsack of doom. If was like standing behind a beautiful woman in the checkout line, resisting the temptation to grab her ass. He felt the palm of his hands began to itch as he continued his staring contest with the inanimate object. He had to open it, he had to know what was inside of this little black knapsack. Granted InuYasha had always been one about privacy and respecting other peoples possessions; but it was as if divine intervention had stepped forward, inserting itself into the everyday existence of Miroku's normally mundane life. God wanted Miroku to open this bag, Miroku wanted Miroku to open this bag. If God hadn't, the bag wouldn't have happened to get in his way of his morning ritual. Like Miroku's said, it was divine intervention.

 

`That or my morbid fascination to know exactly what would take for InuYasha to kill me,' worked with thought as the stared at the bag with a slight trepidation coming in the form of little sweat drops beginning to form along his hairline. The itch in his palm got worse as the stared at the bag, debating on whether or not to break the code of trust between the boys. It wasn't as if InuYasha ever went into his room and meddled in what was not his business, but if he had Miroku was nearly sure he would forgive him. What harm could come from opening a simple black book bag? Miroku was nearly sure that the consequences to his actions could it be that severe. Little did he know few was about to offset the universal balance of the life long friendship that existed between the two for the previous eight years.

 

Reaching over to the bag Miroku grabbed it around the straps and hauled it onto his lap. The bag barely weighed anything, proving that there could have been anything that consequential to the decimation of their relationship lingering inside. Granting the metal clips he yanked open the bag and paused dead in his tracks.

 

The first thing that caught his eye inside the bag was a simple gray sweatshirt which InuYasha had been wearing the day before when he sat out from the house at nine PM. That was the easy part of understanding exactly what the bag contained. What lay beneath however was what caused Miroku's chest to tighten and his heart to actually skip a beat. Reaching in, he pulled out the shiny material and stared at it for what accounted to quite literally ten minutes. He wasn't sure what to do; his brain not quite capable of functioning to the capacity it needed to, to comprehend the exactly what was before him. His body was telling him to laugh and to laugh loudly. The image of InuYasha's actually wearing what was in his hand was too much for Miroku to bear, hell the image nearly brought tears to his eyes.

 

Nearly jumping off the couch, Miroku decided this is just nearly too good to let go. Holding the pants out in front of him, a devious thought entered Miroku's mind. His eyes shifted down towards the end of the hallway, glaring his roommate door before returning to the sight in front of him. `I don't know if this is a gag, a test, or a really bad Fucking joke, but how the hell can I let this go?'

 

Eyeing the black bag, Miroku began to ponder exactly what other nifty little pieces of blackmail laid within. Setting in the leather pants down on the couch, Miroku nearly dove headfirst into the bag. The next thing he protruded would be his undoing. Miroku's stared at the whip for some time, his eyes fascinated by the ten inch long leather straps that protruded from the end of the dangerous little toy. Snapping at a few times in midair, it seemed as slice through the stagnant atmosphere that cluttered around the room without Miroku's knowledge. Why did InuYasha have leather pants and a whip? `What has he been moonlighting as?' Miroku chuckled under his breath as he waved the whip about as if were a wand. With a nearly girlish giggle, Miroku tiptoed down the hallway slipped into the bathroom, leather pants in hand.

 

It took him nearly a quarter of a bottle of Vaseline and a number of frustrating attempts to get the leather pants over his hips, but alas Miroku was victorious. `Leather pants zero, Miroku one!' he silently cheered as he looked at himself in the mirror. He had to admit his ass looked hot in the damn pants; the leather really did something for his figure. Removing his shirt, the boy stared down at himself in unbridled glee; he wished he had a camera to record the expression on InuYasha's face. `Talk about one hell of a priceless commercial; they could air this shit at the Super Bowl!'

 

With a snicker of devious intentions, Miroku's slipped from the bathroom and strut up to InuYasha's closed bedroom door. Flipping the whip and is handed to hold it by the cattails, Miroku banged the stick against InuYasha's door twice, the arrogant cocky smile nearly consuming his face. Hearing in noncommittal grunt from inside Miroku banged harder against the door, licking his lips at the torture he was about to inflict upon his best friend. How InuYasha had managed to keep this little leather fetish a secret for so long evade Miroku's knowledge, but he was about to bask in the glory at his friend's humiliation. Raising his voice to a high pitched falsetto, Miroku produced a poor imitation of a maid. “Housekeeping; want me to fluff your pillows?”

 

Hearing the banging at his door, InuYasha found that he could barely lift his head off the pillow. He was completely disoriented; unaware of knowing what day it was, or for that matter, knowing exactly where he was. All he remembered was drowning in bottle at the bottle of Yuengling and having one to many Kamikazes in a fit of despair. InuYasha had somehow managed to stumble home in the drunkest of all stupors from the train station, walking an amazing five miles without falling over dead. The only thought that was running through his mind at that very moment were the two hundred and twelve ways that he can murder the man outside of his door. With a very noncommittal grunt, one he hoped could convey his sincere adversity against disturbing him.

 

Miroku gave him a moment, waiting to see if the male would actually wake up and answer his door and friendly and courteous fashion. Alas InuYasha's did neither. Against better judgment Miroku's tried the doorknob; finding to his complete elation that it was unlocked, Miroku knew that his quest now had meaning. Throwing open the door like a man on a mission, Miroku very flamboyantly burst into InuYasha's room, the whip poised above his head and the leather pants in all their glory reflecting in the dim sun light that poured through the curtains of InuYasha's window. Switching into a sultry and rather heavily accented Spanish male's voice, he shouted, “"Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to…” “And the words died on Miroku's lips.

 

InuYasha's could be considered a violent man points; sometimes when pushed too far, the hanyou had a habit of snapping (the neck of the person who pissed him off). Be that as it may, very morbid thoughts were coursing through his brain at the very moment that his roommate found the need to enter into his room. Had he the strength, Miroku would have been hanging out the window by his boxers. Yet InuYasha could hardly lift his head. Hearing Miroku's hesitation in his annoying a morning rant, InuYasha forced himself to look back towards the doorway to see what had put Miroku in such a giddy fucking mood. What he saw would be ingrained in his memory forever, and likewise on Miroku's behalf.

 

What InuYasha's saw could have been considered traumatizing. Miroku was poised like one of the damaged dominatrix bitches, dressed to boot in stifling leather that looked all too uncomfortable. With the whip in the air, InuYasha suddenly felt very uncomfortable with his roommate's close presence. Whatever the hell Miroku was thinking; InuYasha wanted no part of it. What made it InuYasha pause however was the stupefied look etched across Miroku's face.

 

Miroku very slowly lowered the whip to his side, his jaw dropping as he attempted to associate exactly what he saw in front of him to the picturesque reality that he had lived for so long. His mouth moved twice no words spewing forth, in the whip fell from his hand. In the most uncertain tone to ever come from the cocky boy's mouth Miroku's stammered, his brain still unable to believe what he saw in front of him. “Inu…InuYasha?”

 

InuYasha's stared at Miroku completely bewildered as to what would have made the boy act like this. “Have you done gone and hit your head, you fuckin' drunk?” InuYasha asked as he turned his head back into his pillow, trying to recall the previous night, oblivious to his roommate's plight.

 

Miroku swallowed thickly, a hand passing over his eyes as he considered InuYasha's comment. Maybe when he tripped in the living room he his head may be when he was seen from him was completely his own illusion. Maybe it was his imagination working overtime, or maybe he had just gone insane. But what was coming out of the white haired demon's mouth that lay on InuYasha's bed was undoubtedly InuYasha's voice. The problem laid in the fact that InuYasha was not a demon. How the hell was that possible?

 

“ InuYasha… what the hell happened to you?” Was it a feasible idea that InuYasha had possibly dyed his hair and had the two little triangle fuzzy things implanted on the top of his head just to fuck with Miroku? The answer seemed dim at best.

 

InuYasha grunted into that pillow, wishing to God that Miroku could simply leave him alone. Didn't the bastard know what a hangover was? InuYasha had never barged in a Miroku after one long night drinking, so why the hell was Miroku pestering him? And on that note; what the hell was he talking about? Lifting its head and off the pillow, he inventoried the blanched face of his friend and realized whatever was happening, it must have been serious. With the growl that reverberated through his chest, InuYasha sat at and stared at Miroku. “Fucking A! What the hell do you want?”

 

Golden eyes clashed against blue, and Miroku felt like he was about to pass out. It was as if InuYasha has simply shed his skin, gained some type of demon blood and had reenter society as a completely different person. His eyes quickly to know to the claws that graced each of InuYasha's long fingers, making the owner seem deadlier than he already was. “Dude, what…what are you?”

 

InuYasha's shook his head and brought his hand up to his face, with every intent of dragging it down his face in the frustration that this boy was there any causing him. If Miroku wasn't careful, he was going to give InuYasha a serious case of agita. As his hand connected with his face, InuYasha nearly cursed every name of God and the holy kingdom of heaven. It took him a minute to drag the claws from his forehead, and a second later a cold and brutal rationality over swept the man like a frigid winter's chill. He just got his claws embedded in his own forehead, but that wasn't what was bothering him. What was bothering him was the fact that he had claws visible in the first place. Nearly leaping from his bed, InuYasha grabbed a handful of his hair and a thrust in front of his eyes. Staring at the silvery white color, InuYasha's exploded in a set of vulgarities that took the map for the most of the profanity every spoken in one sentence. He made up words Miroku didn't even know existed.

 

“Fuck! Fuckin'…no, this cannot be happening! Miroku… shit…. I can explain honest, I swear! Is not what it looks like I'm not… I mean well, I am…but…fuck!”

 

As InuYasha began to panic, Miroku felt the welling urge to join him in panic as well. Holding out of shaking hand and pointing the finger at the hanyou, Miroku pressed “you're a bloody fuckin' demon! How long have you been a god damned demon? What the fuck, man?”

 

InuYasha's quickly began to pace the length of his bed, his eye is boring into Miroku's. “How long do you think I've been a fucking demon? You don't become one of these overnight Miroku! The shut the fuck up, I need to think.”

 

Miroku put his hands to his head, beginning to do a small pace of his own. His consisted of tight circles. “Were you ever planning on telling me? I thought we were friends? How could you not trust me with this?”

 

InuYasha fisted his hair, growling in frustration. Miroku took an inherent step back and InuYasha's face dropped. “Is this how it's going to be? Now that I had some Fucking demon blood in me, you're gonna treat me like some sort of menace? Newsflash Miroku I've always been a Fucking demon. You can't start treating me different now.”

 

Miroku held out both hands, ceasing the demon's rant. “Back the truck up; who the hell are you tell me what I can and cannot do? In case you missed this, newsflash InuYasha; my best friends has been lying to me from last eight years of our god damn friendship!”

 

InuYasha and didn't realize until that moment how loud their voices had become. Beckoning to Miroku with his hands to lower their volume, Miroku looked nearly appalled.

 

“I will not shut up! Fuck! Twenty minutes ago I thought the biggest thing you conveniently forgot to tell me was the fact that you were some kinky asshole! I mean fuck, leather pants InuYasha? No, no…the worst part is that you've been lying to me, InuYasha, your best friend; the guy who stood by for the last…how many years of our life, of our friendship? You just happened to forget to tell me that you're a demon. That's fan-fuckin'-tastic.”

 

InuYasha's closed his eyes praying to god that this was all a bad dream. Cracking open one golden orb, there was no such relief in store for the hanyou. Miroku was livid and livid seem to be hardly the term for measuring the amount for anger that was present in the boy's aura. “Miro, I… You have to understand, this isn't a secret I've wanted to keep. But this also isn't like me saying that I shagged some girl that I didn't, or that I copied off your chem. test. Do you know what will happen to my family if this gets out to the media? It would destroy everything in my father has worked so many years to build.”

 

Miroku's rubbed his hands over his face, a small chuckle of absolute insanity bubbling from his lips. “So you've lied to your best friend to protect the father that you hate, the brother that you loathe? You always said I was family InuYasha, you said if you could chose, I would be it, and I would be the end all. You call me family and then lied to my face. So yes…yes… I have plenty of reasons to be just a little bit angry with you.”

 

InuYasha turn on its feet, glaring daggers at Miroku. “Don't you get it? Is this beyond the status of your comprehension? I couldn't tell you! I'm sorry but I couldn't! Some things Miroku are not meant to be said, and this was one of them. I just couldn't.”

 

Miroku shrugged, a very InuYasha like scoff digging its way from his lips. “And that's supposed to make this better? You're sorry? I get that you couldn't tell me because of your daddy, but shit man, it's me. You've known everything about my life! I've never held anything back for fear that you might say something to the wrong person or that you might slip and fuck me over. And here I was upset that you hadn't told me that you were a closet freak.”

 

For the first time that day InuYasha looked down and raised an eyebrow into his silver bushy bangs in regards to the pants that Miroku was wearing. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, InuYasha sneered, “What the hell are you doing in my clothes? Can you learn to keep your fucking nose out of other peoples God damn business? See, this is what got us here in the first place.”

 

Miroku threw his hands up. “You really are one stupid son of a bitch, ain't ya? This, InuYasha, isn't what got us here. Your inability to treat me like god damn family is what fucking got us here in the first place. I can't believe you didn't tell me.”

 

InuYasha shrugged, trying to brush it off as if it didn't matter to him. The truth was that it did matter; for years he had longed to tell Miroku the truth. To have someone who understood what he went to day by day by the wearing that god damn collar that his father called a ring was what he really wanted. He needed a friend to bitch to about not being able to be himself, about having to hide in the darkness. He wanted someone to understand. He wanted his brother to know the truth, but he was never able to spit it all out for fear of this moment. He knew that if and when Miroku ever found out, he'd be livid. But this…it was like watching his worst nightmare come true.

 

Miroku looked away, a piece of him feeling violated by his friend's lack of trust. “All these years, InuYasha…” With a snort, Miroku pivoted and walked from the room, storming down the hallway towards his bedroom.

 

InuYasha followed behind him. “Miroku! Come on, guy, I feel like a dick as it is.” Stopping to realize just how absurd the conversation had gotten, InuYasha involuntarily shivered. They sounded like a couple…wouldn't Jakotsu be proud? “Look….just…take a moment to think about what I said. Don't you get that I couldn't tell you?”

 

Miroku grabbed a sweatshirt from his closet and shrugged it on over his naked torso. “Oh, I get it all right, InuYasha. You couldn't trust me with the knowledge. I get it.”

InuYasha bit back his retort because, in lieu of how horrid it sounded, what Miroku said was the truth, and both boys understood it. “I…I'm sorry, Miro.”

 

“No you're not. You're just sorry you got busted.”

 

InuYasha simply raised an eyebrow as Miroku brushed past him with his car keys in hand. “Where are you going?”

 

Miroku snorted again and cast him a dark glower. “Out. I can't be here right now.”

 

InuYasha couldn't help the smirk that slowly started to pull at his lips. Did Miroku even know how ludicrous this sounded? “Oh, right then. Is this when we're supposed to scream I hate you and I never want to see you again? Or am I supposed to break down and start crying that you never really loved me and you only said it so I'd give you ass?” this was ridiculous, they sounded like a couple fighting over an affair. Miroku had to notice just how ludicrous this way. They were grownups; they had to be able to verbally talk this out.

 

Miroku slowly shook his head, obviously not amused by InuYasha's words. “You really don't know how much you hurt me, do you?”

 

InuYasha snorted and rolled his eyes, a deep sigh bellowing from his lips. “Will you cut the fuckin' dramatics and come talk to me like a normal fucking man, not some pms'ing bitch? Think about how you're slandering our reputation right now.”

 

Miroku pursed his lips, and finally relented with a sneer, “somehow, InuYasha, I just don't give a damn.” Turning around, Miroku walked for his car.

 

InuYasha cursed and slid out of the view of every day light, glancing sideways to cover just enough of him by the wooden frame of the door way. “You're leaving…in leather pants?”

 

Miroku turned around and stared at the hanyou for a moment. “Yes, yes I am.” Seeming undecided for a moment, he hesitated before adding, “I don't have the time to change, and besides, they shape my ass nicely.”

 

InuYasha repressed a snicker. “Leather can shape anyone's ass nicely.”

 

Miroku shook his head twice, seeing how easily he was being sidetracked from being ridiculously angry with the demon in question. Without another glance, Miroku got into his Lexus and drove off, leaving one disgruntled and rather hurt hanyou in his dust.

 

InuYasha watched Miroku speed off, and then with a solid movement, turned and slammed the door closed, breaking one of the metal hinges and shattering the frame. With violent curses, InuYasha stormed to his discarded book bag and dug through to find his power limiter. Slipping the ring back into place, InuYasha collapsed onto the couch with his head in his hands. This was too much, his head and body hurt far to much for him to even consider what Miroku was implying. Sure, he got the gist, and he was sure that he would get more of it once he sobered up some. Glancing to his hand, he wondered what the hell he had been thinking, trudging around Long Branch without his concealment charm in place.

 

The night before was a blur to hanyou. He rode the train all the way up to the city with that chick Trinity, or whatever her real name was, and then they parted ways. She had strongly suggested, and even more so implored, that he didn't follow her to the club. It was going to be hard enough for her to explain the rip in her pants to Oberon without his presence, to add him into the mix would be like pouring one hundred and fifty proof liquor on to an open cut. Reluctantly he had to agree and they parted ways. From there, InuYasha returned to New Jersey and crashed a few bars, getting himself so shit faced he couldn't remember much after that. He knew that he was drinking because of her. Why was she invading his thoughts at every waking hour? Why did he feel like he couldn't live without seeing her? It ate away at him something fierce, and attempting to escape to Illusions had been his only hope of expelling the girl's curse. But no matter what he did, the image of Kagome Higurashi wouldn't grant him one moment of soothing peace.

 

Grabbing the coffee cup on the table, he swallowed down the contents of the settled cup then gagged. Cold coffee was never a good wakeup call.

 

 

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Kagome slowly opened her eyes, wincing as the fragile rays of the morning light slipped into the normally pitch black room. Rolling over through silk sheets, her left hand sought out the man who had fallen asleep next to her, yet found nothing. Sitting up slowly, she rubbed her eyes. She was still tired, having gone to bed not even four hours prior. Nevertheless she still sought out the man who had once been her lover. A light by the desk in the corner of the apartment suite caught her eye. Wrapping one of red sheets around her body, Kagome slipped silently from the bed and padded into the next room.

 

Catching a glimpse of the man who should have been in bed next to her, she studied him for what felt like eternity. It was so rare to find him in normal clothes…that is to say, clothes that aren't over three centuries old in fashion. His long ebony hair was in a tight braid that had to be longer then hers, his bangs cluttering in his eyes, masking his line of sight. Tilting her head just slightly, she appreciated the way that the morning rays of light slipped past the windowsill and danced about beautiful features. He was gorgeous, there was no question in her mind about it, but he wasn't hers.

 

He was a creature of the night; a creature created by this club…or was it the club created by the creature? She was never sure, and frankly, she never wanted to find out. For as long as she had known him, Oberon always had a dark side; there was always something sadistic lingering about his aqua eyes. Kagome never understood it until he showed her the club in it's fully glory. When Kagome had first started attending the club, before she had hastily signed up as his subservient slave, she knew nothing of the back rooms. To her, the club was a beautiful scene of dark goody magic. Then he introduced her to the world of dom/sub relationships. It was rough, to say the least, getting started; the bruises that the training whip left on her took forever to heal, and her body always ached. But as she grew more daring and more inept to his simple tactics, he began to up the game. He grew bolder with the whip, bolder with his request and her body resented her for it for a long time. He began to treat her more like a slave then a girl friend, and soon, their relationship crumbled. But it didn't matter, the games continued without reserve. If anything, Oberon grew more callous of her feelings, more dominant then she was ready for. Forced to keep up or leave his side forever, Kagome couldn't think of living without his protection, so she continued. And then she was introduced to the rooms that they called the `Dom Chambers'.

 

The Dom Chambers were decorated in the dreary and morbid fashion of a sixteenth century torture chamber; cement blocks that were painted over to look molded and decayed lined the walls, the floor a freezing cold concrete slab that chilled her feet in the midst of winter. There was poor ventilation, and even worse lighting. Wall scones decorated the walls, normally only half lit and were encased in metal, impenetrable to insure safety. Two security cameras hung in the corners for liability regardless of the waivers that all occupants had to sign. As for the room itself that was the adventure; each of the four walls had two sets of manacles hanging adrift, waiting to ensnare the next victim; one would be for the wrists, the other for the neck. On the furthest wall from the door was half a table that the subservient participant would be chained to, normally laying on their stomach, one collar to fit around their neck to hold them in place and manacles hanging from above, to make the torture more agonizing. Oberon had installed ankle restraints to make it all the more terrifying. There were a few more items in question in the room the size of a normal billiard's hall; a rack that was jammed so that torture in the most excruciating way could not ensue, a wooden pony* was also included, suspended about a foot off the ground, that was the one thing that Kagome feared the most. The other Dom Chamber mimicked the aforementioned to a T.

 

Oberon broke her in slowly, only using the chamber when the bedroom games grew too rowdy or when she managed to anger him to the severest of extents. He had only strapped her to the pony once, and that was a tale that was never to be repeated. It only took him a grand total of ten minutes to break her with that infernal device, her body unable to take the pain derived by the simple planks of wood.

 

Then there was one more room, a room that she had never been in, and had decided nearly two years prior that she refused to ever step foot into. It was what was referred to as the `black room'. It was a room where lighting was optional, and cameras were refused. There were no windows, only a small slit for ventilation, and was soundproofed. The only person with any access to the room was Oberon. Kagome had heard stories of a previous sub of whom Oberon introduced to the room, before severing all ties with the individual. No one was willing to tell her what happened to her, or if anyone ever even saw her again. Kagome shuddered at the thought of her dominant master angry enough to call upon the use of such a room, but it was there for a reason, and it was that reason that Kagome never dared to fathom.

 

Staring at her lord and master from where she stood, she saw past the façade of the business man in a second. What lingered beneath was terrifying, and had she more common sense at that moment she would have turned around and slipped back into bed undetected. Unfortunately the fates were not on her side.

 

“Good morning.”

 

Kagome startled as his silken voice reached her ears. Blushing fiercely for being caught staring, Kagome wrapped the sheet a little tighter, completely aware that he had yet to look up at her. Licking her lips, she forced moisture to her otherwise dry mouth. “Good morning,” she whispered back with a yawn intermingling with her words.

 

He chuckled as a response. Reaching up slowly, he removed the thin glasses from his face and set them down beside his laptop. Aquamarine eyes drifted very slowly from the computer screen to the beautiful woman who had kept his company the night before and a tiny smile pulled at his otherwise expressionless countenance.

 

Kagome's right hand bunched the sheet up in her palm nervously fiddling under the direct gaze of his eyes. It was those looks that he gave her, the distant glances and indirect scrutiny that always made her quiver. Maybe it was because she couldn't tell what he was thinking when he could play it so cool. Licking her lips again, this time out of a lack for a better thing else to do, she slowly padded her way towards his desk, her movement silent against the cold tiled floor of the upper levels of Club Illusions.

 

Oberon stretched backwards, his right arm snaking out to catch Kagome around her waist when she got close enough. Immediately she bowed down to him, and he placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. He nuzzled against her cheek with his nose, kissing her lightly once more before whispering, “Its six o'clock in the morning, Chibi. Go back to sleep.”

 

Kagome smiled softy, mewing in the back of her throat from his attention. Slowly letting her eyes drift closed, she murmured, “come back to bed, it's too early for both of us to be awake.”

 

Oberon merely chuckled. “There's no rest for the wicked, baby girl, you know that.”

 

Kagome's smile dimmed. Opening her eyes, she turned from him very slowly to take in his magnetic stare, the one that always managed to pierce her soul…and her heart. His eyes bore into hers with as intensity as strong as lightning, and possibly more deadly. “But…”

 

A finger came to rest against her lips, as his stare turned parental in nature. “You had a rough day yesterday, Kagome. You should try to get more sleep.”

 

Kagome's smile finally fell off her face, only to be replaced by a frown. “I'm fine, I told you.”

 

A heavy sigh was her response. “Are you insistent on staying awake?”

 

Kagome nodded once. Pushing his chair back slightly from the desk, Kagome quite literally crawled onto the man's lap like an oversized cat. Resting her head against his left shoulder, she closed her eyes, making herself comfortable. “I stand by my notion that you are the most comfortable couch I've ever owned.”

 

His lips twisted up into a smile. “Oh, you own me now?” Humor laced his words, obviously interested to see where she was going with this.

 

Kagome didn't respond at first. “Yup,” was asserted about thirty seconds later.

 

Oberon nodded his head slowly, his right hand coming up to stroke her cheek. “When did I miss the signing of this deal? I'm going to have to fire my lawyers for this one, aren't I?”

 

“Maybe,” she giggled as her right hand twiddled with his hanging braid.

 

Moving his finger from her cheek, he ducked down to run his lips against the skin. “We need to talk, Chibi.”

 

Kagome's eyes opened, staring up into those guarded orbs that suddenly didn't seem quite as friendly. Hoping to keep it discreet, Kagome swallowed what felt like a growing golf ball in her throat. “Oh?” was all she managed to croak out.

 

Kissing his way down her cheek and across her jaw line with butterfly kisses, he muttered, “I handled those men who attacked you. They won't be seeing the light of day any time soon.”

 

Kagome gasped and attempted to sit up. Oberon would have none of that. Tightening his left arm around her waist, he held her in her place. “Don't fret, my dear, your name was never mentioned. Mine, however, still holds a lot of political sway, if you know what I mean.” She knew what he meant, hell, nearly all of Manhattan knew what he meant. No one fucked with this man; it was nearly a written law. Those who did ended up dead. What frightened Kagome, however, was the fact that his left arm was unyielding to her attempts to move.

 

“You didn't have to do that.”

 

Oberon chuckled, shaking his head slowly. “Of course I did. They touched what is mine. They attempted to violate what is mine. They had to suffer the proper repercussions, just as anyone would who defies me.”

 

Kagome didn't like the way that sounded. Yes, she wanted those boys in prison, but from the dark undertone of his voice, she began to wonder if prison was the punishment. “You didn't…” seeing nothing on the man's face, she attempted once more to sit up. This time he allowed her to, straddling her over his right knee. His hands instantly came to her hips, holding her there by brute force. “Tell me that you didn't have them killed.”

 

Oberon stared at the girl, his eyes attempting to see through hers, to understand what would be so horrendous if the world was down three rapists. But as always, she eluded him in her reasoning. “No, Kagome…I did not order to have them killed. Could you imagine what that would do to my name?” Letting his normally stoic persona slip to the floor like a discarded mask, the real Oberon opened up to Kagome, something he hadn't done in months, if not a year. Life animated his voice, the monotone nature slipping away like a whispered façade. “I'm not that fucking stupid, Kags. I wouldn't directly order anyone dead. If I wanted them in the ground though, I think my meanings would be well conveyed.”

 

Kagome tipped back slightly, putting a hair more distance between her and the man who had her crotch on his kneecap. Hearing him speak more then two sentences at a time, besides for when his cock was buried in her, was rare. “I…that is…” With a sigh, she looked at his chin, avoiding his eyes. “I don't want anyone to be hurt in my name, or because of my involvement.” `That include a white haired god who lusts after me nearly as much as I do him,' she thought as she kept her eyes averted.

 

A hand roughly grasped her chin, yanking her head level with his, his other hand pulling her body closer. Those dangerous aquamarine eyes broiled in what could be mistaken as anger. “You don't want to hurt anyone? Those fuckin' idiots tried to rape you, Kagome! Hell, they nearly did to. That hole in your crotch proves what their intent was. Don't worry…they ain't dead. They're just some asshat's prison bitch now. We'll see how they like getting things shoved up their holes. Maybe it will make them think twice about raping some defenseless girl.”

 

Kagome didn't like how his eyes were staring into hers. He accented certain words as well, words that didn't deserve the extra attention, words like defenseless and nearly. The dubious nature that screamed behind each one made her begin to question if he was seeing more to the picture then she had alluded to about the prior night. Yes, of course she had to explain herself when she showed up requesting her change in clothes that they kept in the pent house. Her explanation was simple; she had been attacked. Oberon had opted immediately to call the police and have her checked out, but Kagome refused treatment, relying in her excuse of not wanting her name to be dragged into reports, which went double for Oberon. All police needed was that bit of dirt on the happenings of Club Illusions, and he could kiss his empire goodbye. Instead, he apparently handled it this morning before Kagome was out of bed.

 

But now…something was wrong, she could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way he held her. Something that had set him off, or was about to, and Kagome knew with unyielding dread that she was about to become the dead center of his rage.

 

“Tell me, baby girl, just how did you get away from those mean men?”

 

Kagome's mouth went dry. `Oh…shit.' Trying to remember her conjured story, she attempted to stay to the basics. “I'm not sure,” she responded softly, praying her voice didn't give her away. “I know that right after one of them made the rip in my pants, someone else came into the car. I heard a lot of noise, and when I turned around, this guy my age was fighting the last standing of the three. He grabbed my hand and got me out of there when the one guy was off his feet. The guy told me to find help. I didn't…I fled, like a coward.”

 

Oberon's eyes sought hers and held her gaze like a vice grip. “And how were the police alerted to the scene?”

 

“I don't know,” she said with a huff, distraught that she was unable to break the stare he had her prisoner with.

 

Oberon slowly licked his lips before sitting back, his hands loosening against the silk sheet that covered her body. Tracing the contour of her side, his smile softened. “I'm sorry baby; I don't want to stir up any more bad memories for you. I just need to be sure that we're on the same page. Because I know you wouldn't lie to me. You would never be that stupid.” How was it that one man could sound so deadly with such few words?

 

Bowing her head so that her forehead came to rest against his chest, she was glad he couldn't see the fear in her eyes. “Of course I wouldn't lie to you. I could never lie to you.”

 

And that set him off like a firecracker.

 

Grabbing her by her waist, he twisted her with enough speed to make her want to vomit. Kagome found herself suspended over his knee, like an unruly child, the sheet that had been the only stitch of clothing fluttering to the floor, abandoning her to the cold room. She was now, quite literally, bare assed like a four year old on a parents lap. Her lungs actually stopped producing air for a moment, every part of her body pausing, waiting in absolute terror at what thoughts could be going through his brain. There was no way that he knew the truth, it would be impossible. Wouldn't it?

 

The hand that weaved its way between her legs caught her off guard, completely un-expectant of anything sexual in nature coming from this. A single finger found the opening between her legs, caressing the tiny bundle of nerves directly above it for a moment of short lived pleasure, before seeking shelter inside of her warm cavern.

Kagome gasped, her body arching just slightly upon violation, her eyes drifting closed. At the angle that she was on, the intrusion wasn't all to welcomed, but then again, she was no one to complain about a semi-rough finger fuck. What worried her, however, was that she knew something was wrong, and he was using sex to drag it out of her.

 

His mouth dropped to the back of her ear, lavishing the tender cartilage with a barrage of kisses, taking moments to suck in the top of her lobe into his mouth. Letting her ear go, he dragged his lips down over her neck, pausing once to sweep his tongue over the purple bruise that stood out like a diamond among the dirt. “And this, baby girl…did they do this to you also?”

 

Kagome mewed for her response, unable to form words from the torture he was beginning to impose upon her body. His finger was working at a gentle yet passionate rhythm and his mouth quickly becoming her undoing.

 

Oberon simply continued to trail his mouth down a bit further to rest at the junction of her neck and collarbone. “Chibi,” he teased the tender skin with his tongue, “you're lying to me.”

 

All the pleasure that had elated Kagome left with those four words, her blood running cold. “I…am not.” She added, trying to keep the stutter from her words.

 

She could hear the rising ire in his voice, and could just about feel his frustration with her unyielding alibi. His finger dug deeper into her, a second one joining its quest. But gone were his soft touches to create pleasure and warm fuzzy memories; in its place was something darker, something more sinister. “Tell me the truth, Chibi, and the punishment won't be as sever.”

 

It was a nightmare, to say the least. He had her in the most compromising of positions possible, and he wouldn't stop until she told him everything. She knew how he was, and how he cared little about inflicting physical pain. Kagome knew that she should come clean at that moment, tell him everything, and suffer the minimal consequences. But what if he didn't know the full truth? What if he only made assumptions based off of a collection of half truths patched together by witnesses at the station? She could be writing her own grave stone if she confessed.

 

She yelped as his motions became stronger, his voice deeper. “Kagome, tell me the fuckin' truth! I'm sick of playing this game.”

 

Kagome chose death. “I don't know what you're talking about! Oberon, stop, please…you're hurting me.”

 

“Am I?” The whimsical tune to this voice made Kagome cringe. “Think, Kagome, about how you're hurting me.” Using the left arm that was wrapped around her neck and under her right arm, Oberon lifted Kagome's torso upwards, bringing his mouth intimately close with her left ear. Inhaling deeply, he sighed slowly, like some sort of deranged sexual sadist (or more to the point, exactly what he was) and then continued. “I put myself out on the line for you, Chibi. I used my name and my power to try to protect you. I thought when you came to me yesterday, with tears in your eyes that someone had tried to take you from me. I thought that you were hurt.”

 

Switching sides, he pressed his chin into her right shoulder, tipping her back slightly enough for him to free his left hand to grab some sheets of paper off the desk in front of him; ones that Kagome hadn't noticed were there. Holding them up to her face, she could hardly read the print. “So what was my surprise when I requested copies of the police report and witness statements?”

 

Kagome's mouth dropped open. She knew what the police report had to contain. Undoubtedly, at least one of the bastards and some of the passengers had to notice a white haired demon among their midst. “Oberon.” Maybe she could plead with him; maybe she could make him understand why she feared telling him the truth. The truth was always more dangerous though, wasn't it?

 

With a shove, Oberon pressed Kagome to the desk, his chest constricting her movements, his fingers pounding away at her sore hole. “Here I wanted to protect you, and instead I find out you already had protection from those men.” Adding a third finger, he felt Kagome seize up, and pressed on harder. “My question to you, Kagome, and I better get the God honest fuckin' truth; how did you get the hole in your pants?”

 

Kagome swallowed hard, her right cheek pressed against the mahogany surface of the cold and unyielding desk. Her breast were squashed beneath her weight, the pain nearly intolerable, but not outdone by the agonizing pain of her stretched hole. Sure, she had fit a few things larger over a lifetime of experience, but the pounding he was giving her was nothing short of unbearable. “I…”

 

“Think before you lie to me again, Bitch.”

 

In the most defeated voice she had ever heard, her response echoed hardly above a whisper. “Sha.” Kagome didn't want to call out the hanyou for helping her, she didn't want to see anything happen to him for her meddling; but if she lied, and it was evident that Oberon knew the truth, she would be dead, and more then likely, Sha would be as well.

 

Oberon nodded slowly, a snort bellowing from his lips. “Sha…that's who I figured.” He stood silent for a moment, staring off into nothing as his fingers continued to move in and out of her dry slit. He knew the pain he was causing her; he could feel it ripping through her body. She was too scared to allow her body to enjoy in his ministrations, and therefore it was grating against her like sandpaper. `Good,' he thought as he lowered his head, to speak in a softer tone, `after today, she will never go against me again.' “And tell me, precious; what part of his anatomy made that rip in your clothing?”

 

Kagome closed her eyes, tears beginning to leak from the corners. Sha was right, she should have gone home. She should have avoided Oberon at all costs. He would never have known…why had she been so stupid? She had been elated by their experience, and had believed herself invincible, that had to be it. She had to have been on some induced hanyou high to believe that she would have slipped by unchecked by Oberon. Chewing on her lip, she nearly screamed when Oberon added a forth finger. “His fingers…we didn't…I wouldn't…” Kagome grit her teeth, her eyes coming to a squint as he pumped away at her, regardless of her body's rejection. “I wouldn't do that to you, Oberon, I wouldn't defy you to that extent!”

 

“You wouldn't? Somehow I find that hard to believe. I'm sure it was propositioned…a quick fuck, who would know? I need to know, Kagome…I need to know if I'm now playing sloppy seconds to a half breed. And if you won't tell me, I'll find someone who will. And then…my dear…then you will learn the true meaning of the word pain.”

 

Kagome tried to swallow down her ache in a number of constricted gasps, finding it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. His motions felt like it was ripping her in half, and it was nearly unbearable. “I…didn't…I swear it to you. I swear on everything I have, everything I am. I promise!”

 

“Swear on Souta's life.”

 

Kagome's mouth fell open in indignation, all images of this torture session fleeing her mind. Arching her back, she made a drastic attempt to stand upright, and to shove him away from her. She failed miserably. It was times like this that she wished they had devised a safe word. This was past their game; this was past their rough foreplay and sadistic sex. It was going way too far. Had she been facing him, she would have belted the bastard. “How dare…”

 

“Bitch, I would suggest you keep your mouth shut, unless you want to know what it feels like to have a grown man's fist inside of you!” Grabbing a handful of her raven locks, Oberon dragged her up towards him, arching her back at a painful angle. Pressing his mouth to her ear, he hissed, “Besides for him sticking his grimy fingers up your tight hot box, what else did you do? What else did he shove up you?” Slamming her head into the desk, his weight crashed down onto her back as he leaned against her. “How else did he defile what is mine?” If she answered one question to his disliking, tight would never be a word that would describe the wench in front of him again.

 

Kagome's mouth moved but nothing came out. She couldn't believe the man's audacity. How could he mention Souta in something of this measure? That was so far below the belt, to far for Kagome's tastes. She wanted out; she wanted to hit the pause button. She was done. “Stop it! I'm serious, you're scaring me.”

 

“Good,” he seethed with all the conviction of some deranged villain. “Someone needs to put a stupid slut like you into your place once in a while!” Pulling harder on her hair, he attempted to press his thumb into her already filled cavern with every intention of showing her exactly what pain was. Pulling his weight off her back, he intended on breaking Kagome like he never had before. She wouldn't look sideways at another male for the rest of her life, as far as he was concerned. He'd break her, and continue to break her until she learned the error of her ways. In his book, Kagome was in for a world of hurt, and his dick hardened at the thought.

 

Pulling at his grasp, Kagome yelled out as the pain increased ten fold as he began a feeble attempt to violate her with his entire hand. Tears ripping her cheeks raw, she attempted to kick him, yet his strong thighs kept her plastered against the desk. Becoming desperate, she screamed once; “Please, Bank, stop!”

 

With a sneer, the business man turned sadist dropped the girl to the desk, removing his fingers from her channel. He backed off instantly, his eyes narrowing. She dared to break their codes by using his real name. Not in two years had he heard his name slip from her lips, not even in the roughest of sexual encounters. Yet her pleading cracked something inside of him, something that was nearly blinded by his anger. His anger was un-refuted, absolute. The girl before him would bow to him before the sun set, and she would do so with bruises and lacerations that wouldn't heal for weeks.

 

Reaching forward, Bankotsu Koizumi grabbed Kagome by a tuff of her raven hair. With a violent jerk, he pulled her from the desk and deposited her onto the floor. Holding down his cream covered hand, the crimson stain of the blood drawn from his rough handling too hard to miss, he growled, “clean up your fuckin' mess, you stupid cunt.”

 

Kagome couldn't raise her eyes from the floor. How could he push her that far? Their games, their sadistic relationship, had always been pushing the limit, but for him to hurt her like that… she didn't know what to do. For the first time in a long time, she was afraid of what he was going to do to her. Slowly looking up, his expression did nothing to calm her fears. The Dominant was supposed to look after his subordinate, pain and pleasure met fine lines, but this…this destroyed that line with a wrecking ball.

 

His hand was still extended in front of him, his eye's narrowed. “Lick. It. Clean.”

 

Kagome looked back to the floor, and in a brash action, she curled up backwards and slipped under his desk. She heard his roar of anger and she brought her knees to her chest, praying to God that he would walk away. All rationality told her that maybe she should just submit to him and do as he says; that if she gave into him now, he'd beat the hell out of her and then put her on the first train back home. He'd use her, abuse her, and lose her, and then she would actually have a shot at seeing another sunrise. Yet as she slid further under the desk, just about feeling his fist slam into the top of the desk, she realized that she had only succeeded in making him even angrier (if that was even possibly). She was alone with a beast that wanted to do nothing more then tear her apart, probably from the inside out. And what scared her most was that no one knew where she was, who she was with, and even that she was missing. Even when they would say to no one that she was missing, she'd be long dead, buried or burned, and no one would look twice at the business man. He had the opportunity to commit murder, and Kagome knew that he was well aware of that fact. Sha would have been her only salvation.

 

Bankotsu dropped down to his knees, aqua eyes clashing against her chocolate as he gazed under the tiny desk. For a moment, Kagome feared that he was actually going to tip the entire desk over just to get to her, but to her shock, he simply sat down, his knees pressed to his chest, and stared at her.

 

The contest lasted for about twenty minutes, neither party saying anything, yet a battle of unspoken words and body language waging brutally between the two. Finally Bankotsu seemed to give him. Slowly pushing himself forward onto his knees, his glare softened from stone to something more pliable. Holding out his hand, his eyes sought out redemption in hers. “I'm sorry,” he spoke softly, his eyes yielding to every word. “Kagome, I was wrong. I shouldn't have lashed out like that. Chibi…I'm sorry, are you okay?”

 

Kagome simply shook her head, weary of anything being offered by the sadist in front of her. How could he expect her to trust him after what he had just done to her? A rough finger fuck to some, the breaking of the superstructure of their relationship to her. How could she know if he wouldn't simply turn on her the minute she was within striking range? Bankotsu wasn't known for his patience, and Oberon was well known for his brash actions. Kagome knew that he could be deadly when provoked, and was willing to spend the weekend under the desk to avoid adding to the body count.

 

Seeing her reluctance, Bankotsu slid slightly further under the table. “Kagome, please, don't look at me like that. I know…I know what I did was stupid, and you're right, I shouldn't have brought Souta into this. We need to fix this, Chibi, you know we do. I can't do that though, if you're under there.”

 

Kagome's eyes narrowed as she backed herself up even further to the desk. Oberon never begged, he took what he wanted, and damned anything that got in his way to suffering. Bankotsu was another story; Bankotsu would be willing to work things out, talk them out with more decorum then his night time counterpart. He would eventually see things rationally and come to terms with the truth. But her question was; who was she talking to? It was as if dealing with someone who was schizophrenic, trying to appeal to the right personality with the right words. One wrong step and it could be her last.

 

“You're full of shit.” She couldn't believe that was the first thing out of her mouth, and she would curse herself later for it. “You're full of shit, you lying bastard. You don't want to fix this, you want to handle this. I know you; Oberon…Bankotsu, whoever you want to be called, and I know what you're capable of. And I know what you're thinking as well. You think I'll fall for your reformation, that I'll believe that you want peace. I'll come out of here and not only will your hand be up my box, but every god damned toy you own. No way…I'm not…no.”

 

Bankotsu nodded slowly, a smile rising to his crimson lips. Nodding once, it was her only warning. Snaking a hand under the desk, using the other as an anchor to the desktop, he grabbed her leg and pulled. Scratching her nails into the slippery tiles, Kagome tried everything to withstand his attack, yet was completely helpless. Grabbing a firmer hold on her ankle, Bankotsu pulled her clear of the desk, his other hand coming to wrap around her neck. Hauling her like a rag doll, he threw her on top of the desk, and nearly threw himself on top of her. Straddling her waist, the true torture began.

 

One hand remained around her windpipe as the other coiled backwards. The blow to her face was nearly blinding; her entire world exploding in a vivid array of white lights and dark blue spots as his knuckles cracked against the thin bone of her jaw. Her head whipped to the right, only then breaking away from his hold on her throat. Her skin broke on contact, blood pouring into her mouth from the laceration to her tongue made by her own teeth. Gnashing her molars together, she could feel the impact point on her face immediately begin to bruise, the color nearly vibrant. It was as if the entire world fell mute, as silence crept over the girl, and a moment of tranquility slipped between the two. Everything was so surreal to Kagome, she could hear her own heart beating rapidly against her chest, attempting to break free of its prison and run for its life. She felt everything and nothing all at once, her entire body tingling with this sensation. She attempted to swing back at him, as the sensation dulled, yet her hand was captured by his and pinned to her side. Her nails dug at his jean covered thighs, yet the material would not yield.

 

Then it rained blows. Bone crushed against bone as his fist connected with her face, marring the skin with dark blemishes that wouldn't fade. The second blow was nearly as devastating as the first. A hard closed fisted punch to her right cheek snapped her to her left, blacking out the world for a moment to the horrified girl. And in that moment, Kagome was sure that he meant to kill her. He had hit her before yet never anything like this. She didn't dare open her eyes, for fear of losing one to the maniac, but she could just about feel his anger, the seething beast that was untamable. And in that moment, she slowly started saying goodbye to everything she knew. Hope was a precious thing, but as the next blow collided with Kagome's left cheekbone, the phrase Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'intrate* never seemed more fitting, because at this moment she had entered hell, and all hope was abandoned.

 

As the fourth blow came to terms with her face, and blood began to seep down her chin, its origin anyone's guess, she saw her mother staring at her from behind her eyes. That look that always adorned her mother's face, the one of understanding and compassion, smiled at her at this time of despondency. She would never see her again, Kagome realized with a heart wrenching sob. She would die under her master's hand, a nobody who would be a mere shadow of a memory. Her mother would be left with an empty casket and unanswered demands; her mother would never have the satisfaction of justice, or even the truth of what became of her daughter. And then there was Souta.

 

Dear little Souta who had ripped her family apart. Dear little Souta who would never know the truth. The boy who was never asked into this world, and was hated by the man he knew as his father; the boy who would lose his sister without ever really knowing her. Her mother would be left to raise the bastard child, without any help or anyone to support her. Her brother would be alone to bear the weight of his existence once he knew the truth.

 

The face that came to her next caused her chest to constrict and tears to begin anew in her eyes. While staring death in the face at the hands of her master, why was she seeing him? Feeling her heart twisting in what defined a vice grip, a strangled sob ripped from Kagome's mouth a moment before Bankotsu's fist collided with the open crevice, blood spraying everywhere. InuYasha stared down at Kagome, a look swirling around his purple eyes Kagome longed to know more about. His mysterious revelation about their `relationship' would never be explored, their words unsaid and the truth unspoken. Her heart lurched, the pain nearly unbearable; and for a moment, Kagome wasn't sure if it was the physical beating that left her so deplored, or the knowledge that with InuYasha, affections would be never more. Would he marry Kikyo when she was gone? Would they grow old together and have children?

 

Three more blows came to each side of her face, each worse then the previous, blood beginning to spray across the room, staining the pristine white carpet beneath the slaughter table. At some point during this sick torture, he had entered her, and was pumping into her as his fists destroyed her spirit. The sickening snap of her head hitting the desk after each blow was the constant rhythm that filled the room, the beat of abuse resonating for all to hear. With the last blow, Kagome felt the bone around her jaw splinter, the blinding pain inducing her into a nearly cationic state. A pool of blood had formed underneath her head, all running from her nose and mouth. Her lips were torn open, bleeding from at least four large lacerations, all dug raw by his bruised knuckles.

 

His right hand revisited its prior position, wrapping around her neck like a boa constrictor. She could feel the air being suppressed within her body, her eyes unable to open. She could feel the blood oozing down her cheeks, down her neck and pooling under her shoulders. A part of her begged her body to open her eyes, to take one last look at the world around her before she yielded to death, to say goodbye to the man who had once been her lover, and was now her executioner.

 

She felt his nails pierce through her skin, digging tiny shallow graves, not unlike the one she would be buried in. she wondered, as her right hand came up to grab onto his wrist, if this was what it felt like to drown. Digging her nails into his wrist, she knew it would do her no good. His thrusts into her lower body felt like a dagger, digging in and out of her gut with each grind of his hips. She felt something inside of her snap, maybe the breaking of her heart, but with it, she screamed. Her scream was only drown out by his, as his seed spilt deep within her, his enjoyment with the abuse more then evident. Darkness ensnared her afterwards, leaving her violated and alone; ready to fade from consciousness just to escape his wrath.

 

`What the hell are you doing, stupid?'

 

The part of Kagome that had begged for the pain to end responded first to the voice, her entire muscle system receiving what felt like a jump start. There was no question to whose voice she was hearing, but what haunted her more was why. Why now? She was inches away from being beaten to death, centimeters away from the end of her life. Why was the last thing she was to hear in her life his cocky condescending voice?

 

`Fight back, Kagome! You aren't this dumb, you aren't this weak! Why are you willing to simply die? Why? Damnit, bitch, get your ass in gear and save yourself! Your family needs you Kagome…I need you.'

 

And that was enough of that.

 

Kagome forced her right eye open, refusing to succumb to the swelling muscles that had already inflated around her jaw, cheeks and left eye. Taking aim on the man whose hands were choking her of her life, she reared back and lashed out with one last blow, her only chance of survival. Just the thought of her inner debate gave her enough adrenaline to make a flight attempt possible. Her right fist flew through the air with as much grace as she could manage, and fell short of her target by mere inches.

 

Bankotsu let go of Kagome's throat, grabbing the hand that had made the pathetic attempt to wound him. Staring down at the girl, he marveled for a moment, staring into her opened eye. Holding the contact, he saw her determination to live through this torture, to survive this abuse. He saw a glimpse of the spitfire he had once been in love with.

 

Nearly jumping from the desk, Bankotsu stared at the girl before him. His mouth moved silently, as if choking on his words. The amount of blood was ridiculous; it looked as if he had attempted to film some low budget horror film. His hands and shirt were covered in it, and the carpet was matted. Kagome had to live; if anyone ran a UV light around the apartment, he'd be in jail without question. He met her questioning gaze, her daring glare, and took a number of deep breaths, trying to control his temper. Had he not removed himself from her, he would have killed her; there wasn't a doubt in his mind that denied that fact. He had planned on making her suffer when he learned the truth, but when she openly lied and then defied him, he planned on making her dead. But now…he had messed it up, he let his emotions overpower his intent, and would have to deal with the consequences. Though it would take a miracle for Bankotsu to admit it, staring down at his pet, a strange sadness kindled inside of him; the sadness one would feel when staring at an aged pet, knowing that euthanasia would be the most humane method of death, but couldn't bring about the hand to deliver that fatal blow. She was his pet after all.

 

With a shake of his head, Bankotsu walked to the desk and squatted down next to it, his face level with Kagome's. Staring into the eye that followed him everywhere, he brought a hand to her blood soaked hair and attempted to sooth her tears and make his point. “Well, my dear; it seems we have made quite a muck out of things. The only question that remains is have you learned your lesson?”

 

Kagome studied Oberon for a moment, her eyes taking in the seriousness of his stature and the humor in his eyes. He was having fun with this; he was relishing the fact that he nearly beat her to death. She knew that if she said yes, there was a slight possibility that he would bathe the blood off her body and not attempt to drown her in the process, but that seemed far like a far fetched reality. If she told him to go to hell, words that were at the tip of her lacerated tongue, he would probably see her there personally. So she selected silence as the best answer.

 

Bankotsu's smile dimmed as he stared at Kagome, who was refusing to admit personal defeat. With a shrug of his shoulders, he stood up and grabbed Kagome's right arm, dragging her off the desk and let her body crumple to the floor. He knew she was too weak to stand, her entire body shattered from the brutal beating. He had half a mind to lock her in the Black Room and wait for death to claim her. His conscious bore otherwise, though, as he watched her attempt to lift her head. She had had enough for the day. She learned her lesson, and they would revisit the teaching later that night, in a much more mannered fashion. But for now, he would allow her to seek shelter in sleep, leaving her crumpled in a stain of her own blood. And as she watched his bare feet retreat across the floor, disappearing from her view, she slowly gave into that elusive darkness of sleep, praying that it would be kind in the dreams that were to come.

 

 

*X*X*X*X*XX*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*

 

:: ran away long ago, hiding in some distant land from all the angry readers:: it's not my fault! Oberon made me do it! Well…at least you know now who Oberon is. One question answered; and a million more to follow it up with.

 

The next chapter will be lighter, I promise.

 

*- A big thank you to Inugrrrl, she helped me tremendously with this chapter.

 

*- Wooden Ponies are basically a torture device used for centuries as one of the worst forms of torture. Now used more tastefully in dom/sub games. It is two pieces of wood suspended in the air, forming a triangle edge. Hand restraints normally hang above it, or the sub is put in handcuffs, anything to restrain the use of hands. They are forced to straddle the wood, only able to touch the ground on their tip toes. Therefore, the pressure is placed on the genitals when they cannot hold their own weight. From having to lift themselves off the plank and ultimately unable to hold their own weight, the motion seems more like a `riding' gesture, and hence forth can be referred to as `riding the pony'. http://bondage.com/id/8/which/316/show_column.html