InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ His Desire ❯ Rosebud ( Chapter 2 )

A/N: I don't own Inuyasha, duh.

 

This story includes scenes of rape fantasies and violence. Please read at your own risk!

 

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After a week of being home with my dear wife Kagome, I sensed her growing boredom. We always had fun together, but sometimes, in the bedroom, both of us wanted something more. Something that most would find disturbing.

 

The story of us was somewhat strange. There were districts in our area that catered to and were frequented by groups of people that were on the fringe, sexually. These people did not like straight sex, something they called `vanilla'.

 

Kagome is ten years younger than me, and when she was in her late teens and very early twenties, she spent a lot of time working and `playing' (her term) in the center of this district, which happens to be less than a mile from my penthouse condo. While we both traveled in circles of people that liked certain fringe or fetish sex, we never met. In a group that is small and pretty exclusive, this in itself is very strange.

 

My pussycat, as I refer to my wife, is generally a very dominant partner. In bed, and in parts of her life, she controls everything. There were plenty of people that begged to let them become her slave, and she even had offers of some that wanted to be her pet. Kagome could have become a professional and made hundreds of thousands of dollars with her great talents at humiliation, punishment, and complete domination, but she chose not to. Kagome only wanted to play with certain people, and she felt that turning her hobby into a career would have made it less fun, less thrilling, and less dangerous.

 

Kagome only met new `friends' through references. She would find out exactly what a person (she worked with men and women) liked, and would first give it to them, and then slowly deny them, so that after awhile they practically begged her. She would drive someone to the brink of release, then stop, not allowing the person to even service themselves, and once they thought they had their body under control, she would start again.

 

She could be violent if that were what the person wanted. Some part of her really enjoyed the sound of the cat or crop hitting flesh of a willing victim. She never tortured, but she did bring them to their knees, and push them to their very limit.

 

With her, the satisfaction and fantasy of the one she would be with was important. She would think up scenarios, and sometimes write them down, incorporating what the person she would be working with wanted most, needed most. If Kagome was not aroused by the idea of the scenario, it was abandoned. If it would not appeal to her, it did not happen. This was one of the perks of having this as a hobby instead of a job…she could turn things down if they did not sound like something she liked. Everyone knows that if you feel a duty to perform something, even if it something you love, sooner or later, you will not love it anymore. It will lose its luster, and that was not something she wanted.

 

Kagome played dominant with her friends, and she played it well. She would dress accordingly, even when she was not out playing. She never wore bras, it was always corsets. She would find antique lingerie and if it flattered her body, she would have a seamstress duplicate it for her. This quirk ended up giving her a very shapely form: long, graceful neck, petite shoulders, large breasts lifted high, flat stomach, tiny waist, shapely hips, and legs that seemed to go on forever. Kagome's long black hair and flawless face combined to make her desirable to everyone that saw her, male or female.

 

There were things on her that you could see, subtle signs that gave her away if you knew what you were looking for. Kagome's nails were kept short and natural. She wore no jewelry, especially earrings. Her hair was always neat and tidy…nothing that could get caught or pulled anywhere accidentally. The boning in her corsets could be seen if she moved a certain way and her shirts were thin material or very tight. These things gave her away…but only to the few that looked for them.

 

Kagome could be rough. She could flog you or whip you until you begged for mercy. She could humiliate you until you felt like the most miserable, worthless being on earth. She could make you cry with her words cutting you like the sharpest knife. She could make you scream in pleasure and moan in pain. She was a Dominatrix that did not accept money for her trade. She was an angel. She was a demon. She was both, but she had a secret.

 

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Kagome and I met by chance in a coffee shop that was about five miles away from my apartment and her playground three years ago. We literally bumped into each other. Her coffee spilled all over my Armani suit, and she was so busy trying to blot the liquid off of the soiled clothing that she did not know she was rubbing my groin with nearly each stroke of her napkin laden hand.

 

“I'm so sorry!” this tiny angel exclaimed. “Please, let me buy you a new one!”

 

“It is alright, and do not worry,” I said with a sarcastic tone. I was already late for a meeting. “I do not think you could afford it anyways.”

 

She turned her sapphire eyes to me and I saw the fury there. “Armani, yes?” she spat. “Do not worry. I can well afford another shirt. What you should invest in, sir, are some manners. That might be a better use for your money than designer clothing.”

 

I could not believe how she spoke to me! The nerve! “You have quite a mouth on you, young lady,” I sneered at her.

 

Her eyes flashed, and I could see that she was trying to hold her tongue. “You have no room to talk, sir. I would teach you some humility if I were more inclined to be in your company.”

 

“Anytime, pussycat.”

 

“Fine. Seven o'clock. I will meet you here.”

 

“See you then. I wonder if you will be up to your boast?” I left her sputtering in anger.

 

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I arrived at five to seven that night, and was surprised to see her there. I was even more surprised to see her attire. Costume would be a better word for it. She was wearing a black halter top and what looked like a corset underneath it. She was wearing a form fitting skirt that reached her knees along with black stockings with a seam in the back and stilettos that were shiny and had ankle straps. The straps on the shoes were silver and matched the buckle on the belt she wore around her tiny waist. The corset seemed to make her have an exaggerated hourglass shape, and she was just about the most sexy thing I had ever seen. I couldn't wait to see if she was wearing a garter underneath that skirt, to see what she was hiding. She had a black leather trench coat to complete the outfit, and her hair was straight and wrapped in a shining coil.

 

She looked at me when I came into the coffee shop, and did a once over, evaluating me. I knew that the black outfit I had chosen would accentuate my pale skin, blueish white hair, and golden eyes. Black jeans and a black button down look good on just about everyone. The black engineer boots completed the outfit.

 

I approached her, suddenly nervous. She was holding a large tote bag in black, and I was unsure as to what could be in there. She said she would teach me a lesson in humility, but that could mean a lot of things.

 

“So, Mr. Armani, I see you actually had the balls to show up,” she said. “I must admit, I am surprised.”

 

So this is how she wanted to start out. “My, my. It seems as if the pussycat has claws.”

 

“We will see if you are so cocky when morning finds you.”

 

I was intrigued. No one spoke to me this way, and I found it refreshing. “My name is Sesshoumaru, pussycat. What is yours? Shall we at least exchange names?”

 

She sat down at a little table in the back of the coffee shop. I followed her, and she flashed a grin of victory at this. I could already feel anger at this little show of submission.

 

“My name is Kagome. Do you play around here?”

 

I did not really know what she was talking about, and told her so.

 

She seemed surprised at this. She leaned closer and whispered in my ear. “I am always looking for more playmates. I would assume, based on your actions just now, that you are looking for someone to top you?”

 

Now I knew what she was, how she was. This did not scare me in the least. “I am not averse to this types of activities, but do not put me in one box so quickly. There is more to me than meets the eye…”

 

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This was how it all started. Three years ago, I met and soon fell in love with the girl of my dreams. She knew all about me, and stayed with me, even when I was arrogant, tempermental, and sometimes, emotionally stunted. I stayed with her even when she was flighty, changeable, and a total bitch.

 

We had some very unusual wants and needs, and luckily we were both open-minded enough to listen to the desires of our partners, and give them exactly what they wanted. Kagome loved to be the dominant partner, but at some points, she loved to be dominated. She enjoyed violent sex, and sometimes, she loved role playing, including rape fantasies. We would chose a safe word, and then enact the fantasies of the other. She knew I enjoyed submission and humiliation. She knew that I loved hearing about her and other, random men. It made me feel both powerful and insignificant to hear about her and others. Powerful because I knew that while others desired her, she loved me, she returned always to me. This made me feel insignificant because she engaged in casual sex and came to tell me about it later.

 

I ran one of the most successful and riches companies in the world. The decisions I made affected the lives of the more than 200,000 people that worked for me in various capacities all over the world. Being one of the riches and most powerful men in the world was an enormous burden. Kagome realized that, and knew that at times, I needed someone to take everything away, to feel as small and powerless as some others felt. It was a relief, and I thanked my wife even as what she did sent daggers of pain through my heart.

 

My half-brother, Inuyasha, saw Kagome in a bar one night when I was on a business trip, and could not wait to tell me about how she was behaving. As soon as I arrived in the office, he ran in, locked the door, and the words were flowing out of his mouth like water. She is a tramp, she is unfaithful, she is a whore. I told him that our life was none of his business, and that she did nothing that I did not know about. He was suspicious because his wife, Kikyou, and cheated on him and left him for the owner of a competitor, Naraku Onigumo. I told him that not every marriage was divided between black and white. He would not listen. I told Kagome to play in another bar. Inuyasha never came to me again.

 

Kagome called me the same night she had seen Inuyasha. There was nothing going on that I did not know about. She even told me about how he wanted to fuck her. Inuyasha is lucky that my father made me promise to never throw Inuyasha out of the company. Otherwise, he would be looking for a job right now. Normally, Kagome would consider offers of a threesome, if the person was right and I approved, however; she would never consider my own brother. Even if he was only half, it would never occur to her. That's my girl.

 

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I walked into the house one night at nine, expecting to find my wife working on her latest novel about the Sengoku Jidai, but she was not at her computer. I checked our bedroom and the master bathroom, but Kagome turned out to be in the kitchen, with her back turned toward me. She barely acknowledged my presence, just offering a casual, “Hi babe” as I entered the kitchen. I walked up behind her and grabbed her left arm above the elbow and spun her around so she would face me. Her hair flew around her in a shining flow of obsidian, and when she was facing me, I said her name softly. She looked up at me, dawning comprehension in her eyes as she saw. She said one word, “Rosebud”. This was our safe word. This signified that the game was beginning. She could beg and plead, but until that word was uttered again, I would not stop.

 

Before she had time to prepare herself, I drew my right hand back and slapped her, careful to not use a hand that had a ring on it. I backhanded her when her head was still reeling from the first strike, and then let go of her arm, causing her to crumple to the floor. I reached down and took a handful of her lush black hair with one hand, digging it into her scalp, getting it tangled around my fingers, yet trying to unzip myself with the other. My cock was already rock hard, and this caused me to fumble with the zipper and the clasp. I pulled her up by her hair as my raging hard-on was finally freed. I took myself in my hand and pushed it against her lips.

 

“You will take it, bitch, or I will do worse things to you than pull out your hair.” I said in a low growl. “And if you try to do anything smart, you will regret it.”

 

She looked up at me with tears in her blue eyes, and opened her mouth to try to speak, perhaps plead. I took advantage of this and shoved myself in until I heard her struggling for breath. I fucked her face, faster and faster as she struggled not to gag, struggled to breath. I held her head, held her in place. I could hear myself grunting, egged on by the sounds of her struggling with tears, and finally felt myself begin to come. I pulled out and watched as the come shot on her face, into her mouth and in her hair. The sight of her like this seemed to make the orgasm more intense, and I groaned as it seemed it would never stop. Her breath was hitched as she was now pulling in great gasps of oxygen, and I looked down at her; tears in her eyes, face red, cheek swelling from the blows, and come all over her face. I used her hair to push her away from me. A throw away gesture. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. She got up on unsteady legs and made it to the kitchen sink and used a dishtowel to get all the liquid off of herself. Her skirt was up around her waist, and I felt myself getting hard again. It was so soon that the rally was almost painful, but I knew I was not done getting my pleasure from her body this night. I went up behind her and pushed her against the sink.

 

“Come here, and you will not get hurt worse,” I whispered into her ear as I grabbed her breast in a tight grip. I took hold of her arm as she began to fight me. She scratched and tried desperately to pull away, even trying to bite, so I backhanded her again. She collapsed against me as I pulled her towards our bedroom. I threw her onto the bed, and the jolt brought her awake again. I jumped on her, pinning her to the bed before she could escape. She scratched me on my face, and I grabbed a hold of her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. I used the other to rip her panties from her, exposing her shaved pussy to my hand. I shoved a finger inside her and found her wet and ready. I guided my cock to her opening, and once I felt it, I shoved it in her quickly.

 

She cried out then, and the cry was not so much pleasure as it was pain. I knew why she cried…she was wet, but she was still tight. It was nearly uncomfortable for me as well, so I started fucking her, slow and jerky at first, but the pace soon became fast and frantic. I did not even pull down my pants before I entered her, and I knew the zipper must be chafing her a bit, but did not care. I tore the top of her shirt and pulled it down, baring her breasts to me. I took one into my mouth, and bit down on her nipple. She cried out again, but this time, the cry was pure pleasure. She tried to move her hips with me, but I bit down harder, causing her to whimper. I did not want to relinquish any control. I heard her moaning, but did nothing to help her reach her peak. When I felt myself coming again, I let it shoot into her hot snatch, waves and waves of it. I collapsed on top of her, but a little to the side so that she could breathe. She is such a small little thing. I released her wrists, and she lowered her hands, using one of them to caress my face gently. She wrapped the other of them in my hair.

 

She raised her head up and kissed me. She still had some cum on her lips, but I did not mind. “Thank you, Sesshoumaru.”

 

I looked at her, and could see all of the boredom and malaise was gone from her eyes. She looked at me with that dark look. That look that says she saw me, she saw all of me, and that she loved it all, every little bit of me. The look said mine. The look said she still desired me, still loved me. She had not mentioned the other word. The word that would have made it stop if she had not been having fun. It was the word she always chose.

 

“Rosebud.”