InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ It ❯ Recollection ( Chapter 3 )

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

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the InuYasha characters. They belong to Rumiko Takahashi and Sunrise Studios. The only profit I receive in the telling of this tale is the reviews I receive from my peers.




So these were the tingles and stirrings her mother had spoken of. This was the itch and the ache other women felt when their men came near. This was the want and desire Sesshoumaru-sama said she should hold for him.

"Rin . . ."

She arched against him, leaving her upper regions open for his further exploration. From her mouth to her cheek, from her cheek to her chin, from her chin to her throat, from her throat to her left ear, from her left ear to her neck, from her neck to her collarbone and from her collarbone back to her throat. She mentally marked every spot his mouth came into contact with, his lips and tongue and teeth blazing lazy trails across her fevered flesh as they kissed and nipped here, licked and suckled there. The more he touched, the more she wanted him to touch.

She didn't feel ruined or disgraced, disgusted or ashamed. Every pass of the pads of his fingers was a shock to her system, a rejuvenating jolt that awakened her senses, allowing her to truly feel for the first time since her family's death. Every breath that passed from his body to hers was a sweet resuscitation, his soul communing with hers. Silently, sensually, it quietly coaxed her to leave the limbo she'd been living in for so long, that stifling stasis that kept her true self confined in a dark corner of her old home, fearfully, faithfully waiting that day when her family would return to her and they'd be reunited in death.

There was nothing to get attached to here: no friend to comfort her, no family to care for her. But she did as her mother wished, hoped and expected, carrying on with the men, so they would allow her to carry on her existence. She felt no joy, no pain, no real hunger, no true thirst. She simply did as she had to do to sustain herself. Then when one day while wandering through the woods, she came across someone more wounded than herself--a poor, pitiful creature not even able to move its own weight. She spied on it from afar for several moments, then curiosity overtook caution, and carelessly, she made herself known.

It had looked like a woman--long hair, furry clothing, pale skin, but it quickly changed to something else the moment it spotted her. Still, she'd come to help and help it she would. Heedless of the red eyes, bared fangs and piercing cry, she took the necessary steps forward and dumped the water over its head, attempting to irrigate its injuries. Afterward, it looked more shocked than angry, and she knew she'd done well. She left it and returned to her empty home.

But it wasn't empty . . .

The man told her to come in. He was sitting on her father's old stool in a darkened corner of her house. He said he'd been looking for her everywhere, and it was very naughty of her to keep him waiting. Then he grabbed her, turned her over his knee and spanked her.

It hurt, but she didn't/couldn't make a sound. It stung, but she stayed stationary in his lap. She knew whether she fought or not, it would happen. And experience had taught her the more she moved around in a man's lap, the quicker it would happen. As she didn't want it to happen at all, the longer it took, the more content she was.

He asked her where she'd been, what she'd been doing. Naturally, she didn't/couldn't answer--not that it mattered. This was just a game to him, and she was but a toy, a doll. It didn't matter what he did to her, what he said to her. It wasn't as if she had feelings, if she were actually alive.

He hit her harder for not replying. She could feel it growing beneath her, poking her in the ribs.

"No whining," he said, even though she hadn't uttered a sound. "This is your punishment for being such a dirty, filthy . . . naughty girl."

Soon, he'd stop hitting her and start "playing" with her. "Children need discipline," he'd say. "They need to learn to do as they're told." Then he'd tell her to take off his pants and put it in her mouth.

And he did. The blows lost their strength and what was once a strike became a pat, then a caress. She laid there while he rubbed her rear, then slipped his hand under her kimono and stuck a finger between her thighs.

"So young," he'd marvel. Then he'd suck his finger in his mouth and stick it back between her legs. "So tight."

He pushed her off his lap and forced her to stand. Altering his usual routine, he unfastened his own pants and pulled it out. "Suck it."

She dropped to her knees and did as she was told. If she did it the way he liked, he wouldn't touch her again till he was ready to finish. If she didn't do it the way he liked, he'd grab the back of her head and hold her still while he did it the way he liked.

The former was less uncomfortable than the latter.

"Good . . ." he crooned to her. "Use your tongue more. And your hands."

The taste of him was enough to make her gag. The sound of him always turned her stomach. And the smell of him made her want to wretch . . . but she didn't. She did as she was told, and completed her task as instructed.

"That's enough." He took hold of the collar of her kimono and pulled it off her shoulders. "You made me feel good, now I'll make you feel good."

But it never felt good. When her body felt anything, it was always pain. Pain, humiliation and shame.

He laid her down on her back and spread her short limbs. He slobbered down the front of her body, stopping to bite and suckle at her flat nipples. Then he stuck a finger inside of her, stirring it around, pumping it in and out as he masturbated over top of her.

She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side. At first she could feel the scraping of the intruding digit against her tender interior, but soon, all sensation ceased and, mercifully, she couldn't feel anything at all.

"Ahhhh!"

She felt the hot splash of liquid then the coldness of the night air.

"Good girl."

Even then, she didn't open her eyes. She waited till she heard him stand and pull his clothes up around him. She waited till she heard his footsteps head to the front of her house. She waited till she heard his parting words: "I'll see you next time."

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She clung to him then. Wrapped herself around him with everything she had--head on his shoulder, arms at his waist, hands behind his back, hip to hip, thigh to thigh--her air coming in loud gulps and swallows.

"Rin?"

She was shaking from head to toe.

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She went to wash herself in the river, then, scrubbing herself from head to toe, trying to wash away his touch, his scent. She rinsed her mouth out, trying but failing to rid herself of that awful taste.

She felt like crying, but what was the point? No one would see her. No one could help her. No one would save her. She was the daughter of a "whore," and seemed to be destined to play that role herself.

Why did she promise her mother such a thing? To go on when there was clearly nothing to go on for. To hang on simply for the sake of haning on . . .

And then she remembered. Her forest friend was probably hungry by now. She should bring her something to eat. So she pulled her clothes on, gathered some grain and took the food to strange woman in the woods.

She was exactly as Rin had left her. Her hair had dried, and she looked somewhat cleaner, but she hadn't moved an inch from her spot beneath the tree. Carefully, quietly, respectfully, Rin entered the clearing. The woman watched her, but didn't say a word as she set the food down then went her own way.

The following days progressed in the same manner. She'd visit the lady in the midday, the men would come to her in the evening, and she'd visit the woman again at night. Sometimes, she'd just bring the food and water and leave; other times, she'd sit and watch the woman for hours at a time. She had nothing else to do really, and the longer she stayed here, the less she had to deal with them.

Offhandedly, she wondered how long the woman would sit there before someone would come for her, or she'd be able to leave herself. Absently, she considered the possibility of leaving whenever the lady left . . . Not following her, exactly, just traveling in the same direction. Certainly, two women in the world would have a better chance than one. Even if she wasn't human, unlike the people in her village, she'd never caused her any harm.

Maybe, just maybe . . .

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"What is wrong, Rin? Have I . . . done something?"

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Yes. When the woman left, she'd leave with her. It didn't matter where they went, what they did, what she, herself, had to do, if she had someone, anyone, she could depend on, she could go on. If not . .

No. There was no "if not."

But if they were to leave together, she had to get the woman to eat, so they could both be strong enough for their travels. She wouldn't simply leave the food anymore, she'd present it, and she wouldn't leave until she'd eaten it.

"It's useless."

That . . . wasn't a woman's voice.

"This Sesshoumaru doesn't eat human food."

And that wasn't a woman's name. Still, he hadn't raised a hand to harm her, and every time she came to see him he was there. She would still leave with him.

If rice and grain wouldn't suffice, the village had a reserve of fish. Certainly, they wouldn't miss one little one.

She hiked her kimono above her knees, waded into the water and caught the first fish that happened to come within her reach. She was about to snap its neck when the men came.

They shone bright lights in her face. They grabbed her and made her drop the fish. They threw her to the ground and kicked her, beat her.

Not now, she silently prayed. Please, don't let her family come for her, now. Please, don't let these men take her last hope of happiness in this life.

She wasn't fighting. She wasn't resisting. She didn't argue. She just laid there and let them do what they wanted. Wasn't that enough?

Was she so hated and despised that even doing nothing was an excuse to beat her to death?

"Enough," one of the men said. He jerked her up by her collar and slapped her. "Don't ever let us catch you stealing from us again."

Us? she idly wondered as she limped away. Stealing from us? Wasn't this her village, too?

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"Rin . . ."

She felt a strong hand rubbing slow circles into the small of her back.

"Tell me what is wrong. Why are you shaking?"

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She didn't have the fish, but she couldn't return empty-handed. If he didn't grow stronger, they'd never be able to leave. And if they never left . . .

No. They would leave. She'd feed him, he'd get strong, and then they'd leave.

She'd just have to set a trap, and whatever she caught, she'd give him.

Rin sighed as she again made her way to the clearing. She knew it wouldn't be to his taste, but it was all she had, all she could catch. He just had to like it . . .

She knelt beside him and held it up for his approval. He looked at it, then looked away.

Rin frowned. She'd failed. Time and time again she seemed to fail.

"What happened to your face?" he asked.

All problems and pain were instantly forgotten. Had he actually asked what happened to her?

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

For the first time in a long while, she felt . . . What was that word? She used to know it so well . . .

Happy! She felt happy. And since she couldn't say as much, she let it show on her face. Through the bruises and despite the black eye, she contorted her face into the biggest smile she could muster, showing her broken teeth and all.

He simply stared at her.

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She lifted her head and drew in a deep breath, the first real breath she'd drawn in since her second resurrection. Something had changed between them, even back then. She wasn't quite sure what it was, but she knew her Sesshoumaru-sama had gone through a great deal to keep her by his side.

Why he'd done it, though . . . Why he wanted her so much . . . Why everyone said he'd seemed so stricken at the thought of her loss . . . She didn't dare guess at. But since that day, quite unconsciously, she'd been holding her breath till she could put those thoughts into words.

"It's okay," she said. "Sesshoumaru-sama can have Rin as long as he wants in any way he wants." She loosened her hold on him, only to tighten it again. "Nothing bad will happen because of it.

"You're not your father. You're not your brother . . . And you're not one of those men. I . . . don't get . . . hurt . . . because I'm with you. I stay safe because I'm with you. I want to stay with you. I want to . . ." she swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath, "be with you."

"Hai?" he asked.

"Yes. You . . ." There was that shame she should've felt the first time they were together, but she wouldn't let even that stand in her way. "You can't be my first, but you'll certainly be my last."

"Rin . . ."

This time she didn't wait for him to reach for her, she grabbed his face with both hands, slanted her mouth over his and attempted to suck the very life out of him.