InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Hedonism ❯ Broken Into Fragments ( Chapter 5 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
“Broken Into Fragments” by Abraxas (2008-05-30)

The castle. The dungeon. A void of nothing stabbed by the light.

It was a mirror held by the hands of a tiny, fragile body.

A laugh erupted. Lips, eyes – the face of a man emerged through oblivion.

A scene unraveled across the face of the mirror – echoes of it eked out of the glass then vanished like wisps of smoke.

Slowly and deliberately Naraku smiled.


***********

It happened so quickly that Kohaku could not fathom it.

A girl. Met along the path. A conversation. Too trivial to remember anyway. A gang. Of demons wanting blood. Fragments of memories, diverging moment by moment, was the extent of it. The details were blurred by a corruption of the mind. He did not struggle against it – that condition – he accept it as part of reality.

It was the way he was made to be.

Still, as the two raced through the wilderness, she leading and he following, he wished at least to recall where they were doing and where they were going.

They stopped when they encountered a house.

“What’s happening, Rin?” he asked.

It was so fast – so fast – he feared a tryst threatened the mission he had been sent to do.

The girl did not answer except to urge him into that house.

Within the structure, playfully and innocently, she lured him into a room. She pressed his body against the wall. Her kimono, untied, sagged and parted. Naked. He felt her skin – her flesh, warm and smooth, begged to be fondled. His hakama, loosened, tented and fell. Defenseless. She cupped his erection – his arousal, vigorous and potent, ached to be explored.

They shared a kiss.

“But is it safe?” he asked. “What if those demons find us?”

He did not recall what happened with the demons.

“They won’t,” she replied. “You killed them.”

He sighed; she knelt.

Wet, sweet lips enveloped his tip. Teeth nipped his foreskin. He squirmed but did not cry. Slurping, bobbing, she suckled without mercy.

While his body was pleasured by the girl, his mind was gripped by a vision that he did not understand. It was as if he were trapped in a realm where time and space twisted into a series of impressions. Disjointed mixtures of sights and sounds. Memories, broking into fragments, merged chaotically from instant to instant.

At first the effect appeared to be random – then, gradually by degrees, a pattern emerged.

He sweated and panted. Constantly out of breath and restless. His eyes were glazed. Lifeless. He shook involuntarily while her hands teased the stem and her lips kissed the bud of his manhood flowering by the tenderness of the girl.

A voice gasped delighted at the stiffness the affection produced –

But Kohaku did not hear it –

The universe was stifled by the scream that played again and again within his mind.

And the face that uttered the scream!

Who was she?

Confusion evolved fear.

Visions of fire. Glimpses of children. A village was attacked. Men and women were struck by a sickle and broken into pieces. The chain of the weapon swung overhead. He almost screamed at the sight of it, whirling, twisting, as close as if to brush against his flesh.

At last a sight of the unspeakable came into view – death itself would have been preferable – it was his weapon, it was his sickle, his chain, it was his hand.

He was the monster!

“Kohaku!” the face, scarred and bloodied, gasped with sorrowful eyes stabbing into his heart. “Why, Kohaku?”

“No!”

Fear became anger.

“I didn’t do it! How can you think I did it? I didn’t do it!” he yelled.

Rage surged like a rush of pleasure through his body. Throbbing, jerking. Reality melted into a haze. Vulnerable and powerless, he fell onto his knees, his body acting as if with a mind of its own. The ultimate betrayal of will.

When weakness succumbed to strength he was aware only of a surge of wetness. Warm, sticky wetness. And a strange pressure against his boyhood whose blossom withdrew into its bud. Confused and fearful, he gazed between his legs and screamed –

From the waist he was bathed by blood –

Yet that was the sight that froze his soul!

It was the head of the girl, severed below the neck by his weapon, the jaw clenched tight into his shaft.


***********

The creature, shaped into the figure of a man, chuckled as it fastened its hakama. Satisfied, it smiled. Completed, it returned into the void.

Only the mirror, with its slant of light, and its keeper, with its deceptively benign appearance, remained. Yet. The two were different. The two were changed. Stained by marks of violation – streaks of white - splattered against their faces, dangled like webwork.


(800)