InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Feni's Ficlets ❯ The Scourge of the Sands ( Chapter 3 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Fenikkusuken 
A parody of silent film star Rudoph Valentino's hits 'The Sheik' and 'The Son of the Sheik'...beware of gratuitous historical romance novel cliches!
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama / Comedy | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 04.28.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.3K | Visits: 3.5K | Status: Completed
A parody of silent film star Rudoph Valentino's hits 'The Sheik' and 'The Son of the Sheik'...beware of gratuitous historical romance novel cliches!
Anime/Manga: InuYasha Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama / Comedy | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 04.28.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.3K | Visits: 3.5K | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I don't own anything… especially not Inuyasha
A/N: This is an out and out parody, painted in very broad brushstrokes! Inspired by a plot bunny named `Rudi' and modeled on Rudolph Valentino's insanely popular silent films `The Sheik', and its sequel `The Son of the Sheik'…plus dramatic historical romance novels in general. There's more clichés in here than you can shake a stick…er, scimitar…at!
First posted on Live Journal April 26, 2006
The Scourge of the Sands
Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж
“Unhand me, you barbarians! How dare you! This is an outrage..."
The feminine shrieks of near-hysterical anger could be heard clearly across the rapidly cooling desert sands, as the dark-haired, curvaceous young woman was manhandled, as gently as possible, towards the open flap of the silken tent. The silent, indigo-draped women propelled her inside, through the foyer, into the inner chamber and tumbled her onto the opulently tasseled and beaded cushions.
Kagome twisted herself upright to sitting, panting in fear, as she took in her surroundings. A spacious room within what was obviously the leader's tent, the fabric walls billowing lightly in the evening breeze. A costly Turkish carpet protected her from the ground, and piles of luxurious velvet and silk-covered pillows lay scattered about. Nothing appeared poised to ravish her at that precise instant, so she calmed her breathing and considered the events that had lead to her current terribly scandalous situation, which was certain to ruin any chance she may have had of making an advantageous match back home...if she ever returned to England. Who knew what these foreign devils had planned for her?
The feminine shrieks of near-hysterical anger could be heard clearly across the rapidly cooling desert sands, as the dark-haired, curvaceous young woman was manhandled, as gently as possible, towards the open flap of the silken tent. The silent, indigo-draped women propelled her inside, through the foyer, into the inner chamber and tumbled her onto the opulently tasseled and beaded cushions.
Kagome twisted herself upright to sitting, panting in fear, as she took in her surroundings. A spacious room within what was obviously the leader's tent, the fabric walls billowing lightly in the evening breeze. A costly Turkish carpet protected her from the ground, and piles of luxurious velvet and silk-covered pillows lay scattered about. Nothing appeared poised to ravish her at that precise instant, so she calmed her breathing and considered the events that had lead to her current terribly scandalous situation, which was certain to ruin any chance she may have had of making an advantageous match back home...if she ever returned to England. Who knew what these foreign devils had planned for her?
Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж
It was early afternoon when their sight-seeing caravan was attacked outside the purported ruins of Carthage; that lecherous preacher had insisted on visiting the site of Rome's triumph at the end of the Punic Wars, saying he desired a bottleful of the salted ground as a souvenir. She and her faithful lady's maid, Sango, had been resting under the shade of a tarpaulin as their Bedouin guides had brewed strong, sweet tea...when there was shout, a thunder of hooves, and they were surrounded.
As she and Sango clutched each other, bewildered and disoriented by the swirling sand, the circling horsemen, the screams and cries of fear...she saw Him. Astride a magnificent white stallion, robes the colour of a desert sunrise shimmering in the heat waves, the rest of his face hidden by a fold of his white burnoose, ...for just a moment, their eyes had locked, and she felt a strange heat pool in her loins.
Eyes as golden as the coins worn by their guides, heavily rimmed in the dark kohl used by the desert dwellers to protect their vision from the harsh glare of the sun, had pierced her soul with their fiery, conquering gaze. He gestured with his gloved hand, and she was torn away from Sango, dragged up across the lap of another horseman and carried off, vainly struggling, into the desert.
She was exhausted by the time they reached the infidel camp, and did not offer much resistance when she was finally allowed to touch ground again, her hat lost and her hair wantonly disarrayed. Still somewhat stunned, she attempted to straighten her smartly-cut redingote coat and smooth down her voluminous skirt. Before she could properly regain her sense of dignity, she was surrounded by women swathed in robes the deep purple-blue of the Atlas Mountains at sunset, her arms firmly gripped, and she was carried off to a large tent, where her torment truly began.
Despite her struggles, and pleas for mercy, she was summarily stripped of her protective layers of coat, skirt, patent boots, blouse, lawn petticoats, corset, linen chemise and silk stockings. Kagome kicked and screamed, and even scratched and bit as she was reduced to bare skin and humiliation...but the worst was yet to come. The senior of the women, who sported a black eye-patch, pointed derisively at the nest of curly dark hair defining the apex of her creamy thighs, and the next thing she knew, she was being held down, spread-eagled, as other women went to work on removing the downy covering of her Mound of Venus. They didn't stop there; even her underarms were plucked clean of hair, and Kagome wondered if she would ever regain her English-rose complexion. She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and `thought of England' as her beloved sovereign undoubtedly would have done, should the august Victoria Regina have ever found herself in this situation.
The pain of the threading was cooled by the application of the juice of some desert herbs, but the excruciating pain of her humiliation? That had no easy cure, and must be borne with a very stiff upper lip. She submitted to being bathed, her hair washed and combed, her body oiled and perfumed, and then she was garbed in a skimpy lavender silk chemise that revealed as much of her virginal alabaster skin as it concealed. Her wrists were been bound with a silken scarf, and she was lead to her doom.
It was when she realized that she was leaving the relative safety of the women's tent for the unknown that she gave way to her fears and began abusing her captors with all the righteous indignation of a proper young lady who had reached her limits. Her guards only grinned toothily, and left her in the silken stillness.
As she and Sango clutched each other, bewildered and disoriented by the swirling sand, the circling horsemen, the screams and cries of fear...she saw Him. Astride a magnificent white stallion, robes the colour of a desert sunrise shimmering in the heat waves, the rest of his face hidden by a fold of his white burnoose, ...for just a moment, their eyes had locked, and she felt a strange heat pool in her loins.
Eyes as golden as the coins worn by their guides, heavily rimmed in the dark kohl used by the desert dwellers to protect their vision from the harsh glare of the sun, had pierced her soul with their fiery, conquering gaze. He gestured with his gloved hand, and she was torn away from Sango, dragged up across the lap of another horseman and carried off, vainly struggling, into the desert.
She was exhausted by the time they reached the infidel camp, and did not offer much resistance when she was finally allowed to touch ground again, her hat lost and her hair wantonly disarrayed. Still somewhat stunned, she attempted to straighten her smartly-cut redingote coat and smooth down her voluminous skirt. Before she could properly regain her sense of dignity, she was surrounded by women swathed in robes the deep purple-blue of the Atlas Mountains at sunset, her arms firmly gripped, and she was carried off to a large tent, where her torment truly began.
Despite her struggles, and pleas for mercy, she was summarily stripped of her protective layers of coat, skirt, patent boots, blouse, lawn petticoats, corset, linen chemise and silk stockings. Kagome kicked and screamed, and even scratched and bit as she was reduced to bare skin and humiliation...but the worst was yet to come. The senior of the women, who sported a black eye-patch, pointed derisively at the nest of curly dark hair defining the apex of her creamy thighs, and the next thing she knew, she was being held down, spread-eagled, as other women went to work on removing the downy covering of her Mound of Venus. They didn't stop there; even her underarms were plucked clean of hair, and Kagome wondered if she would ever regain her English-rose complexion. She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and `thought of England' as her beloved sovereign undoubtedly would have done, should the august Victoria Regina have ever found herself in this situation.
The pain of the threading was cooled by the application of the juice of some desert herbs, but the excruciating pain of her humiliation? That had no easy cure, and must be borne with a very stiff upper lip. She submitted to being bathed, her hair washed and combed, her body oiled and perfumed, and then she was garbed in a skimpy lavender silk chemise that revealed as much of her virginal alabaster skin as it concealed. Her wrists were been bound with a silken scarf, and she was lead to her doom.
It was when she realized that she was leaving the relative safety of the women's tent for the unknown that she gave way to her fears and began abusing her captors with all the righteous indignation of a proper young lady who had reached her limits. Her guards only grinned toothily, and left her in the silken stillness.
Ж Ж Ж Ж Ж
Kagome shivered suddenly, her rosy nipples becoming erect, as the tickling desert breeze crept under the walls of the tent, brushed over her newly-bared skin and caused her to again feel the heat of humiliation stain her cheeks. It was at that moment her captor arrived. There was a swish of fabric as the divider was pushed aside, and then He was there, molten gaze boring into her, garbed in truly barbaric splendor. Boots of richly tooled Moroccan leather, loose trousers and robe of crimson silk, an ivory-hilted scimitar thrust through the sash at his waist, and a flowing pure white over-robe completed the image of a true Son of the Desert.
His lower face remained covered, but those eyes devoured her in a single hooded glance. Kagome was under few illusions as to the probable fate of her innocence at his hands, but was horrified at how her body eagerly responded to his silent appraisal, that same warm, liquid feeling making her feel faint. He pulled away the concealing veil, and she could now see his arrogant smirk as he began to divest himself of his robes. The first items to drop at her feet, his gloves, sparked her into action; she scooted backwards and found herself only deeper in the pile of cushions. The desert chieftain chuckled at her maidenly panic and continued to disrobe; Kagome found herself completely distracted by the sight of his masculine beauty.
She snapped herself out of her perusal of his muscular torso when his sword thumped to the ground, his sash fluttering to drape over it like a woman embracing her destiny. Moistening her full lips, she desperately hoped that this smouldering-eyed pillager of maidenly virtue understood the Queen's English. "Sir," she began, sitting up straight and modestly shielding her comely breasts with her arms, "It is dishonourable to take a woman against her will..."
"Oh, you will be more than willing by the time I am done with you, little flower." His voice was gently mocking...and held a trace of Eton in its tones.
She sat up straighter, and raised her chin. "I am a British subject, and I demand that you release me forthwith!"
Another chuckle, and his boots were now discarded. He glided toward her, like a stalking cat, and Kagome swallowed hard as she looked up at the man towering over her. He dropped to his knees and took her chin in his strong fingers, his hypnotic eyes only scant inches from hers as he studied her face, focusing finally on her moist pink lips. "Little flower, do you expect a detachment of the Coldstream Guards to ride in to save you? I am the law and the master here, and you will learn to obey."
Then his lips crashed onto hers, and she was pressed back into the pillows, her bound wrists pinned above her head, her firm bosom arched up against his manly chest. She attempted to fight, to struggle against his steely grip, but alas, it was to no avail. When she went limp, tears rimming her dark fluttering lashes, he gentled the kiss, and his hand began to caress her delicious curves, lingering longest over her thinly-covered rosy pink peaks until the tingling flesh hardened, and she gasped against his lips. He took the opportunity to delve inside her sweet mouth, and smiled to himself when he sensed her crumbling resistance.
Pulling back, he trapped her with his gaze, and trailed his hand down her flanks, raising goose-bumps on her delicate flesh. He hesitated a moment before brushing aside the thin silk lightly veiling her naked beauty, and the spell was broken. Kagome began to struggle in earnest, and twisted her hips violently to the side in a vain attempt to preserve what little tattered shreds of her modesty remained.
"Oh! Oh! Unhand me, you beast! You are not a man if you..."
The golden-eyed man laughed then, released her wrists, and sat back on his heels grinning shamelessly at her; Kagome was transfixed by what appeared to be a glint of fang at the corner of his lips. His eyes crinkled with humour, and he reached up to swipe off his burnoose, revealing silver-white hair that spilled down his back and over his muscular shoulders...and a pair of dog ears perched on the top of his head. Kagome blinked, and stilled as she stared at the twitching appendages, her cerulean blue eyes glowing with astonishment.
"As it happens, I am a male, but not exactly a man, my dear." She was still gaping when he dropped his silken trousers, and his engorged manhood was revealed in all its turgid glory. Kagome let out a shriek and covered her face with her hands, which allowed her captor to remove her filmy robe and cover her quaking form with his masculine intent. She cried out in fear, and he sealed her lips with his own, sliding and shifting against her, growling deep in his throat as she trembled.
"Do not worry, my Pearl of the Desert. You will experience such pleasure at my hands that the rest of the harem will be jealous of your ecstasy..." he purred, his tongue scribing circles down her lily-white throat as he moved to enjoy the soft favours of her virgin bosom. "Give me your name, little flower, so that I may memorize the taste of your nectar..."
"K-kagome..." She whimpered, his firm stomach muscles brushing against her naked womanhood, as he slid further down her body, until his hot breath seared her most intimate flesh.
"I am Inuyasha, Scourge of the Sands...and I claim you as mine." His mouth began tracing patterns of liquid desire on her rose-petal thighs, and she couldn't stop the moans of pleasure bubbling from her lips as he ventured closer and closer to her moistening temple of delight. Her hips bucked upward of their own accord when his tongue slid over her, and she cried out again, but this time in pleasure, not fear. Too soon, far too soon, she rode the rapturous waves of bliss, and lay, sweat-slicked and panting, as her captor rose up over her, golden enchantment in his heavy-lidded gaze.
He removed the bond restraining her wrists, and she wrapped her arms up around his neck even as her legs hesitantly rose to welcome him into her portal of pleasure. "Your nectar is sweeter than any honey I have tasted, my pearl," he whispered against the shell of her ear. "I could become addicted..."
Kagome flushed, blooming like a delicate desert flower, opening fully to engulf the length of his fleshy scimitar as he sheathed it with aching slowness, their cries of pleasure echoing among the starry reaches.
His lower face remained covered, but those eyes devoured her in a single hooded glance. Kagome was under few illusions as to the probable fate of her innocence at his hands, but was horrified at how her body eagerly responded to his silent appraisal, that same warm, liquid feeling making her feel faint. He pulled away the concealing veil, and she could now see his arrogant smirk as he began to divest himself of his robes. The first items to drop at her feet, his gloves, sparked her into action; she scooted backwards and found herself only deeper in the pile of cushions. The desert chieftain chuckled at her maidenly panic and continued to disrobe; Kagome found herself completely distracted by the sight of his masculine beauty.
She snapped herself out of her perusal of his muscular torso when his sword thumped to the ground, his sash fluttering to drape over it like a woman embracing her destiny. Moistening her full lips, she desperately hoped that this smouldering-eyed pillager of maidenly virtue understood the Queen's English. "Sir," she began, sitting up straight and modestly shielding her comely breasts with her arms, "It is dishonourable to take a woman against her will..."
"Oh, you will be more than willing by the time I am done with you, little flower." His voice was gently mocking...and held a trace of Eton in its tones.
She sat up straighter, and raised her chin. "I am a British subject, and I demand that you release me forthwith!"
Another chuckle, and his boots were now discarded. He glided toward her, like a stalking cat, and Kagome swallowed hard as she looked up at the man towering over her. He dropped to his knees and took her chin in his strong fingers, his hypnotic eyes only scant inches from hers as he studied her face, focusing finally on her moist pink lips. "Little flower, do you expect a detachment of the Coldstream Guards to ride in to save you? I am the law and the master here, and you will learn to obey."
Then his lips crashed onto hers, and she was pressed back into the pillows, her bound wrists pinned above her head, her firm bosom arched up against his manly chest. She attempted to fight, to struggle against his steely grip, but alas, it was to no avail. When she went limp, tears rimming her dark fluttering lashes, he gentled the kiss, and his hand began to caress her delicious curves, lingering longest over her thinly-covered rosy pink peaks until the tingling flesh hardened, and she gasped against his lips. He took the opportunity to delve inside her sweet mouth, and smiled to himself when he sensed her crumbling resistance.
Pulling back, he trapped her with his gaze, and trailed his hand down her flanks, raising goose-bumps on her delicate flesh. He hesitated a moment before brushing aside the thin silk lightly veiling her naked beauty, and the spell was broken. Kagome began to struggle in earnest, and twisted her hips violently to the side in a vain attempt to preserve what little tattered shreds of her modesty remained.
"Oh! Oh! Unhand me, you beast! You are not a man if you..."
The golden-eyed man laughed then, released her wrists, and sat back on his heels grinning shamelessly at her; Kagome was transfixed by what appeared to be a glint of fang at the corner of his lips. His eyes crinkled with humour, and he reached up to swipe off his burnoose, revealing silver-white hair that spilled down his back and over his muscular shoulders...and a pair of dog ears perched on the top of his head. Kagome blinked, and stilled as she stared at the twitching appendages, her cerulean blue eyes glowing with astonishment.
"As it happens, I am a male, but not exactly a man, my dear." She was still gaping when he dropped his silken trousers, and his engorged manhood was revealed in all its turgid glory. Kagome let out a shriek and covered her face with her hands, which allowed her captor to remove her filmy robe and cover her quaking form with his masculine intent. She cried out in fear, and he sealed her lips with his own, sliding and shifting against her, growling deep in his throat as she trembled.
"Do not worry, my Pearl of the Desert. You will experience such pleasure at my hands that the rest of the harem will be jealous of your ecstasy..." he purred, his tongue scribing circles down her lily-white throat as he moved to enjoy the soft favours of her virgin bosom. "Give me your name, little flower, so that I may memorize the taste of your nectar..."
"K-kagome..." She whimpered, his firm stomach muscles brushing against her naked womanhood, as he slid further down her body, until his hot breath seared her most intimate flesh.
"I am Inuyasha, Scourge of the Sands...and I claim you as mine." His mouth began tracing patterns of liquid desire on her rose-petal thighs, and she couldn't stop the moans of pleasure bubbling from her lips as he ventured closer and closer to her moistening temple of delight. Her hips bucked upward of their own accord when his tongue slid over her, and she cried out again, but this time in pleasure, not fear. Too soon, far too soon, she rode the rapturous waves of bliss, and lay, sweat-slicked and panting, as her captor rose up over her, golden enchantment in his heavy-lidded gaze.
He removed the bond restraining her wrists, and she wrapped her arms up around his neck even as her legs hesitantly rose to welcome him into her portal of pleasure. "Your nectar is sweeter than any honey I have tasted, my pearl," he whispered against the shell of her ear. "I could become addicted..."
Kagome flushed, blooming like a delicate desert flower, opening fully to engulf the length of his fleshy scimitar as he sheathed it with aching slowness, their cries of pleasure echoing among the starry reaches.
finis