InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Ornamental ❯ Inuyasha ( Chapter 2 )

Ornamental

By: The Dancing Pony

 

Chapter Two: Inuyasha

 

“You promised me.”

 

Inuyasha abruptly dropped his fork on the table with a clatter and his hands flew to cradle his aching head. He did not want this discussion now, or ever, really.

 

“Inuyasha.” Long, black, and slightly curling hair framed a heart-shaped face and pouting lips. Beautiful sunshine cast halos of light and rainbows on the white linen tablecloth and lit the woman's face at complimenting angles. Light blue eyes practically whined, so fiercely were they pleading. “You promised.”

 

“I know I did, but I was drunk,” was the weak reply from between clenched fingers. Inuyasha drew back his white, fluffy ears in annoyance and thread his fingers through his hair.

 

“But you still promised, and it's my birthday,” Kagome continued to whine and abandoned her plate of eggs and honeydew melon to scooch her chair closer to the object of her wheedling.

 

“For God's sake, why would you want to spend an entire day inside the mall, then the center, on your birthday? I mean, look at outside! Wouldn't you rather be out riding...? Or maybe we could take a swim down at the lake. You know I built that wharf for you to sunbathe on,” Inuyasha coaxed, pleadingly running the back of his hand down his girlfriend's cheek. The sun was shining, the sky was an amazing deep blue, the deep green trees were rustling peacefully, and the scent of fermenting wine was heavy on the breeze. It was a very nice day - one of the few - at Montagne prés de la lac vineyard.

 

Kagome withdrew, an annoyed frown creating angry depressions in her forehead. “It's my birthday. I can spend it the way I want, and you promised to take me shopping to get a slave. Mummy and Daddy won't buy me one, and they won't help me keep one. So that means a trip to the store for leashes, food and cleaning stuff. Then we can go to St. Charlie's and pick out my new boy!” Kagome bounced eagerly in her chair, abruptly forgetting her earlier grief. Inuyasha sighed tiredly, and resigned himself to a wasted day. Bad enough that he had to entrust the day's paperwork to Myoga, he had go shopping. Not that shopping wasn't all well and good, on a rainy day, and when the item being looked for was something important.

 

“Wait - a boy? Kagome, I don't want you getting a boy. You'll get a female, or none at all.”

 

“Why not?” Kagome put her hands on her hips and looked for all the world that what he had suggested was one of the silliest things she had ever heard.

 

“Kagome, you are not so naive that you don't know what personal slaves are for, and --”

 

“Inuyasha, I will not have this argument with you.” Kagome rose from her chair with an indignant huff, and started down the pale yellow hallway to the coat closet.

 

Inuyasha sighed and looked forlornly at his uneaten toast and sausage, but scooched back his chair over the carpeted floor of the dining room and rose to follow his woman to the door.

 

“Kagome,” he warned, but a pair of shoes shoved in his face was his only reply. “Kagome,” he tried again, but a swinging door and a blast of that enticing breeze was her only response. Inuyasha tugged on his polished shoes and grabbed his car keys from their hook by the door. “Kagome!” But she was already in the large white jeep and honking the horn to make him hurry up.

 

The loud noise shot a bolt of pain through his already twinging head and he heaved a martyred sigh as he headed for the driver's side. He climbed into the grey interior and remained stonily silent as he started the car and backed it down the graveled, tree-lined driveway. Casting one last longing glance at his lake with the merrily floating wharf and bobbing row-boat he turned left onto the route to take him to the highway.

 

Traveling sixty-six miles an hour, the expensive jeep was uncomfortably silent, with both of the passengers pretending that it wasn't so. Inuyasha - knowing that his maid would save the salvageable food, but irked that he had to abandon his breakfast on a whim not his own - kept his eyes firmly on the road and kept his driving maddeningly perfect, as he was wont to do when steamed. Kagome fiddled with her fur-lined purse and, giving a slight cough, reached over to turn on the radio. Sickeningly sweet pop music filtered through the car and Inuyasha's ears disappeared into his long white hair.

 

After two hours, a pit stop so Kagome could check her makeup without “bumping around like we're on a motorbike track,” and another pit stop to fill the gas tank, the jeep pulled into the wide parking lot of St. Charlie's.

 

Inuyasha had been there many times before, mostly with his brother; his nine-year-old self tagging after the taller form of Sesshomaru, choosing the choicest office assistants. His father had usually gone to a less scandalous center to obtain workers for the vineyard, but they were eventually replaced with paid laborers when the business was passed over to Inuyasha. It had been a long while since he had been at St. Charlie's, and his contact with other slaves was few and far between.

 

“Why are we here? I wanted to go to the mall first,” Kagome said with a deep frown forming once again on her pale brow.

 

“I'm trying to put off the worst part for last,” he said wryly. “Besides, don't you want to know exactly what you have to get before you go shopping?” There was something to be said about procrastination, and Inuyasha was never one to offer acquiescence.

 

“But I wanted to meet Sango at one,” Kagome persisted, keeping her door ajar in the hopes that they could dash to the mall more quickly.

 

“And Sango will still be there at three - assuming we'll be done by then, and I really hope we will be - so you can meet up with her and even go some place for dinner.”

 

“Well, there will really be no point in shopping with her if she has two hours on me.” The click of Kagome's heels resonated in the peculiarly silent lot. Apparently, there was a show today. Expensive cars were scattered among the others like the marshmallows in a bowl of lucky charms before a child got to it. Inuyasha sighed in relief. If there was a showcase, all St. Charlie's finest would be on display, and Kagome wouldn't have to go through the less desirable to get a good find. “The most I may be able to do would be to buy my slave accessories, and even that would be hard since I would have to find stuff that Sango hasn't already bought.”

 

“I'm sure you'll manage,” Inuyasha muttered under his breath, averting his eyes to the carpeted entryway. Valets could be seen taking cars and driving off, women and men dressed in their best walking elegantly through the gilded doors used for the sole purpose of a grand entryway.

 

St. Charlie's actual front doors were about a half a mile away, on the opposite side of the building, and looked more like a hospital setup than an American, Hollywood g1amour. The front doors were used for new “arrivals.” Side doors were used for business and the everyday purchasing of working slaves.

 

After you entered the chrome-and-glass doors, a new slave would see a very tall desk, reaching well over three times his height. White dominated the very spacious room, and the acrid stench of cleaner filled the air, creating almost total sensory deprivation. The front doors were made to intimidate, cow, and downright terrify a new slave.

 

Inuyasha certainly had been. Dragging him out of the armored truck, Inuyasha had been led through those imposing doors and brought before that awesome desk; he had stared at the sneering woman with the headset, tears quickly welling in his eyes. At some level, he had been bewildered. Why such precautions for a five-year-old? However, such things didn't matter much, as long as when the slave arrived, he knew who was boss.

 

They had brought him to a small door at the bottom of the massive chrome structure, and Inuyasha had been fascinated by a shiny ball. It whirred softly and glowed a pretty gold. He reached out to touch it... and that's when his father burst in - dramatically, the man never could make a normal entrance - and jerked him away from the whirring ball of gold.

 

Kosachi had been furious, and all business with St. Charlie's had been terminated from that point on. How they had gotten Inuyasha, and why his background was never checked, came up numerous times in the court hearings, but the case had to be dropped, least the wine business suffer.

 

That golden ball, Inuyasha would later find out, burnt the fingerprints of the new slave's hands. If they had managed to strip him of his identity, there would have been nothing Kosachi could have done. One could not get a job without fingerprints. Nor enroll in school, nor get a bank account, nor sign a contract, nor buy a car, nor obtain any sort of license. Had Inuyasha's identity been taken away from his fingers, Kosachi's only option would be to allow St. Charlie's to raise him as a slave. Then maybe, just maybe, Kosachi would be able to buy him back, or reserve him from day one (but that was more than he could afford)

 

“And collars, pink or green? No shoes because I just don't see the point in buying a slave shoes.... Are you even listening?”

 

“Yeah... green shoes. Right?”

 

“Ugh! Never mind!” Kagome stormed angrily ahead and smiled indulgently at the doorman. Inuyasha followed behind miserably. The doorman, identifying the trademark white hair of the Segal family, bowed deeply and granted them entrance.

 

Inside the gilded doors was a hall of startling magnificence. Marble floors reflected huge chandeliers of gold, with actual red candles, surrounded in chains of crystal and diamonds. The red carpet extended to a large entryway where shallow members of the upper class were served small hours' devoirs, elegantly drank glasses of champagne, and generally socialized. A grand stairway with disused velvet rope on either side created an elegant ascent to the second floor where the slaves were displayed.

 

“Oh! Inuyasha! You didn't tell me there would be a showcase! Now I'm glad we came. I hope they haven't been going for too long,” Kagome exclaimed, gazing at the stairway yearningly. “Let's go check out the merchandise.”

 

Inuyasha's only response was to follow his girlfriend up the tapered stairway. A quick perusal of the lobby by Kagome's shrewd eyes revealed very few people worth talking to. To Kagome, now would be a perfect time to introduce herself to influential individuals. However, Kagome was quite overeager to get her first slave, and she reasoned to herself that there would be plenty of opportunities to climb the social ladder later.

 

The second landing was much like the first. A few individuals exited from doors leading exhausted-looking slaves on nondescript leashes. There were four doors, spaced at uneven intervals along the walls, which were lined with sofas, chairs, and plants of varying sizes. Unlike the lobby, the second landing was completely covered in plush red carpet. Everything was very posh, and shouted extravagant wealth and luxury.

 

“Welcome, Monsieur, Mademoiselle, to St. Charlie's annual exposition. May I direct you through the showcase?” A man with a pompous air stood rigidly at attention. Kagome, feeling more than ever like royalty, giggled and nodded, looping her arm through Inuyasha's. “Very well, suive moi.”

 

“My name is Gaston, Mademoiselle,” Their guide informed Kagome, rightly assuming that she would be choosing any slave purchased. He led them to the door on the far right. Inside was an array of human females, against the far back wall, women presented cuisine, desserts, breads, and other delicacies for sampling. In the center, slaves folded and unfolded linens with practiced ease. On each of the remaining walls, maids wore very tight, skimpy outfits, revealing long, shapely legs clad in fishnet stockings. Inuyasha's eyes glazed over. He wondered if any of the chefs had cooked Ramen.

 

“As you can see, human females are on display. We have our best chefs of the year along the back wall, and if you are looking for a maid, we have several who—”

 

“Well, I was looking for a personal slave. My parents already have house-workers.” Kagome tightened her arm, warning Inuyasha to stay out of her decision.

 

“Ah, then Mademoiselle would be wanting to view the `lady in waiting' selection, or would an exotic suit Mademoiselle's taste?” Gaston's voice became smooth and persuasive. Inuyasha glared at Kagome, but she remained stubbornly unaware.

 

“The exotics please,” she said, smiling politely. Gaston nodded and sent a sympathetic look to Inuyasha who glared heatedly back. Gaston led them out of the human women chamber and across the landing to the closed door in the far corner. Kagome waited patiently as he produced a key and unlocked the glossy, wooden door. Moments after stepping inside, Kagome's strong scent of arousal hit Inuyasha's sensitive nose. He growled low in his throat and jerked strongly on Kagome's arm.

 

“It is your birthday, so I will let you browse as much as you want, but don't think for one minute that I am buying one of these,” Inuyasha whispered fiercely. Kagome's brows furrowed and her eyes grew watery.

 

“You are right Inuyasha. It's my birthday, which means that my usual birthday earnings would cover a slave of my choosing. Damn, I'll buy the slave I want if you're going to be an ass about it; you can just pay for all the accessories.” Kagome stubbornly glared, managing to look down her nose while looking up four inches.

 

“Kagome,” he growled.

 

“We'll talk about this later. Gaston is waiting,” she hissed, for indeed he was. With a barely perceptible shrug to Inuyasha, he led Kagome through the weaving isles. Male exotics posed, flexed, or stood looking somewhat drugged. They stood in twos, with a trainer between the two whispering directions.

 

There were only about ten other customers perusing the stock, only three of them male, bar Inuyasha. Inuyasha thought his face was a rather unhealthy red. Many, many, of the exotics were unclothed. Inuyasha tried desperately not to look anywhere below eye-level. Gaston seemed unaffected, thought he probably would be. Maybe he's a eunuch. Inuyasha thought cruelly.

 

The first slave presented to Kagome was a startling Macaw exotic. Even Inuyasha was suitably impressed with his plumage, and was even able to compose himself long enough to admire the bold coloring. Kagome, however, was uninterested.

 

“I don't want my slave flashier than me,” she proclaimed, and followed Gaston to the next. An innocent seal exotic blinked at Inuyasha, straightening with poise to show off his legs. Inuyasha stared determinedly at the ceiling. Kagome, charmed by the coquettish behavior stepped closer to examine the slave. Inuyasha counted the light fixtures, hummed a song, and ran over a proposal scheduled for tomorrow; anything to block out the moans and Kagome's giggles.

 

“You're analysis, Mademoiselle?” Gaston inquired.

 

“I like him,” she said, continuing to check out, one slender finger stroking her chin. “But I'm looking for something... a little bolder maybe? What do you think Inuyasha?” Inuyasha heard a muffled snort, and Gaston carefully held back his amusement.

 

“I think... that I want to go wait in the car,” Inuyasha said very slowly, as if talking to a rather dim child.

 

“Don't be ridiculous. I need your card to pay for my new slave.” “Bu—” “Now, if your still sore about it, I'll pay you back, but I don't have my card with me. You'll just have to deal,” She turned to Gaston as he led the way down the isles and Inuyasha followed, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache.

 

The slave presented to Kagome, Gaston said, was raised by one of the very best trainers they had. He was a wolf exotic, with long black hair held in a ponytail, and glossy tail hanging down to his knees. He was alone on the stand; the other exotic was probably sold earlier. His bronze, oiled skin glistened from the huge chandeliers above. He had been dressed in a furred g-string, and rather accentuated his ample jewels. Kagome squealed.

 

Inuyasha did not see what she was happy about. His blue eyes seemed unfocused, his movements stiff and clumsy. His face looked flushed, and his breathing was slightly heavier than it should be. Kagome ran her hands along his heavily muscled legs, humming in pleasure. Unlike the seal, he remained stoic and silent, his eyes focused on the air in front of him.

 

Inuyasha bit back a snarl of outrage as Kagome grabbed the exotic, with both hands, but he could not satisfy his rage by simply glaring. “Kagome! Quit feeling him up and get on with it!” Kagome simply ignored him, but did move on.

 

At his shout, the slave glanced at Inuyasha, somewhat confused. Inuyasha met his eyes... and liked what he saw. Intelligence, persistence, maybe even an actual personality. The slave winced as Kagome prodded his stomach, shifting awkwardly, returning his gaze to the air. She grabbed his face, frowning.

 

“He's feverish,” she said shortly. She went behind him and forced him to bend over. Inuyasha looked away, almost feeling the humiliation radiating off the slave. “His rear end is nice, but it looks irritated.” She stood up and walked back to Gaston, her hands on her hips. “Show me one in good health. I won't buy a slave I have to take care of before I even get to enjoy him,” she snapped. Gaston nodded.

 

“Oui, Mademoiselle. Right this way.” He gestured for her to advance, and possibly choose a slave that caught her interest. Inuyasha watched her go and shook his head slightly. This was getting out of hand. Already they had spent an hour at the exhibition, and he just wanted to get home. Giving one last glance at the exotic with the cobalt eyes, he followed the guide.

 

The next slave had the longest hair Inuyasha had ever seen, and that was saying something, considering his brother had hair that was longer than most girls'. The long black braid pooled at his manicured feet. It was apparent that he was unlike many of the exotics in the room. The trainer, eager to sell his slave, said he was an elemental exotic. Lightning. Kagome's eyes lit up. She exclaimed over his long hair, his dark eyes, his “beautiful” hands, and his delicately pale, unclothed body.

 

Inuyasha looked away in disgust. How could she? Was he not her boyfriend? What does she think she's accomplishing here? Is this to teach me some kind of twisted lesson? Does she just want out? His eyes fell on the slave they had just left. Another prospective buyer was walking away hurriedly, shaking her head. He saw the slave's trainer zap the poor exotic in the thigh, a red welt quickly blossoming on his tanned skin. The slave's hard muscles tensed in pain, and sharp canines poked out to bite his bottom lip.

 

In the approaching months, Inuyasha would look back on this moment and wonder what had come over him. He explained it as an impulse, a lapse in judgment, a moment of temporary insanity. An action that was completely incongruous to his life, and yet he would also later admit that he would never change it.

 

Locating Gaston, he tapped the man on the shoulder, suddenly overcome with nerves. As Inuyasha had avoided comment throughout the entire tour, Gaston was somewhat surprised, though he hid it well. He turned politely to his client with a respectful, “Oui, Monsieur?” his grey mustache moving oddly with his lips.

 

“That slave earlier. The one with the tail...,” he trailed off, beginning to think better of his decision. Another look to see those blue eyes brought the unwelcome sight of the slave, bound in rope. His hands were corded tightly behind his back, and the skin of his neck was indented by the tight collar the trainer had on him. “I wish to purchase the slave,” he finished decisively. With one last violent push to the young man's muscled shoulder, they were through a door that Inuyasha had not noticed before.

 

Gaston coughed slightly into a fist, repeatedly clearing his throat to get any amusement under control. When he was positive that he was completely professional once again, he nodded once to his white-haired customer. “Very good; would Monsieur like to follow me? There is a selection of collars at each table--”

 

“No,” Inuyasha cut him off, glancing at Kagome warily. The lightning exotic was bent over in much the same fashion as the wolf. Kagome was running her hands intensely around his bottom, down his legs, and feeling his toes. He cleared his throat and continued. “No, the trainer has already left with the slave, and I won't be able to take him home myself.” Inuyasha pulled his wallet from his back pocket and drew out his credit tag. “I need him delivered to my address along with a note. I need him there by eight, and I need this kept from the young lady I am here with. Can you do that?” Gaston nodded, lowering his voice so as not to attract Kagome's attention.

 

“That is all very simple, Monsieur. Is there anything else I can do?”

 

“Yes. Stick around. I'll probably be buying another soon,” Inuyasha said grimly. Gaston's eyes widened in shock.

 

“Deux exotic slaves, Monsieur?” This man was either insanely wealthy, or just insane. Inuyasha winced, pulling out a small slip of paper to pen a note to his butler.

 

“Yes, yes.” He muttered, almost as if he were talking to himself. The absurdity of the situation rose slightly, and Gaston accepted the note and the credit tag. With a small bow he pocked them and both men returned their attention to Kagome, who was just stepping away from the lightning exotic. His face was flushed, and his jaw set firmly, as if trying desperately to keep a frown off his face. His braid was wrapped several times around his waist, the tail end hanging beside his long cock.

 

“Inuyasha? I want this one,” she announced proudly as she clapped her hands together under her chin. Inuyasha nodded to Gaston, mouthing “Separate bills,” when Kagome went over to inspect the array of collars.

.o.

.o.

.o.

With every step, pain seared from his belly, made all the worse from his slightly oxygen-deprived brain. It felt like a knife was twisting in his gut, just near his navel, and it flared through his lower regions. The large plastic plug deep inside his ass never felt more unwelcome. His fingers were going numb, and small black spots were beginning to dance at the edges of his vision. 3370 tried very hard to concentrate on breathing, even though it felt like shrapnel flying down his throat to his lungs with every breath.

 

Another show, another failure, another excuse for Trainer Keeloff to punish him. Punishment had gained a terrifying edge since the machine. After that, 3370's punishments became sickening. In the dirty room, which 3370 now barely left, he was made to do unspeakable things. To Trainer Keeloff... to 3369, and 3369 participated unwillingly as well. 3370 could still remember when he had found 3369, in emotional torture on his bed. He could still remember the awesome feeling of comfort that was aroused just by stroking his soft white hair. He wished anything to go back to that. Now 3369 hated him just as much as 3370 hated Trainer Keeloff.

 

“Well, it looks like you've done it again. Do you know how much it costs me to set you up like that?” Trainer Keeloff's hateful words floated around his pointed ears. “You're an embarrassment. You should have been sold the first time, along with your little whore.” No. 3369 was not a whore. Trainer Keeloff was a monster, inspiring hate, pain, and terror. “And you know what this means now. It's time for punishment,” he said, and stopped.

 

3370 stumbled. He knew it was coming, but the fear overwhelmed him. Not again! Please, not again! He begged silently. Tears filled his eyes, glazed with fever. It wasn't just shock anymore. The shocks were normal, 3370 would give anything to go back to just the painful colors. Now there was touching. Huge things being rammed in and out of his sore bottom. Shame in wanting a building feeling to finish, but something long and hard shoved up his cock preventing anything from happening. Utter humiliation of being bent over a pole, strapped down and beaten; or trussed up like a pig, hanging in the air. Then 3370 would be taken to the white room, the emotionless eyes, and the evil colors would explode like normal. But the agony began long before that.

 

“You know what you have to do,” Keeloff said, sounding like a parent scolding an unruly child. With an overwhelming feeling of shame flooding through his body, 3370 nodded and knelt. Clearly reluctant, he moved closer, his face close to Trainer Keeloff's groin, his own pressing against his leg. “Please punish me... I deserve it. I need it.... Please,” 3370 choked out. He ground his face in that disgusting juncture of Trainer Keeloff's body, and humped his cock against his leg. Every time....

 

Keeloff grunted, and continued walking, pulling the leash around 3370's neck taught. The kneeling exotic struggled to regain his footing without the use of his hands, but the tension on the leash brought him crashing to the ground before he could get a leg in front of him. The slam of his body on the ground made him see stars, and he couldn't hold back a loud yelp, which was a moot point because no noise would come out of his damaged throat.

 

Keeloff turned at the sound of a thump. He was furious; his red face had a pulsing vein traveling across one temple. Sweat broke out on his furrowed forehead, and his fist clenched tightly around the leash. He turned, with every intention of dragging the impudent slave back to his room by his neck, and found him face to face with Jeremy Fallon; a slave dealer.

 

“F-Fallon! What do you want?” Keeloff quickly regained his composure, and turned to make a show of helping his slave up. He quickly loosened the collar, patting the young wolf exotic on the shoulder. 3370 was breathing shallowly, and Keeloff feigned concern while returning Fallon to his attention.

 

“Someone's purchased your slave,” he replied evenly. “He's being delivered and must be on the truck in fifteen minutes. You have just enough time to gather his booklet, and accessories that come with him.” Fallon was always a serious character. Hired only a year ago, he had all the seriousness of a trained professional who had not yet relaxed into the workplace. Keeloff nodded and turned to gently lead the exotic to his office, excitement surging through him.

 

“April was very pleased with such an unlikely sale,” Fallon continued, filling up the silence between the two. “You'll be sent on the customary month-long vacation, and then four slaves will be assigned to you. Boss thinks you can handle it.”

 

“Four?” Keeloff questioned gruffly. “A trainer is only supposed to have two at a time. It's been that way for years. We advertise that fact.” He glanced at Fallon, annoyed at his presence, and quickened his pace. 3370 hobbled behind.

 

“Resources are being spread thin. Less people want to train slaves professionally, and more buyers want to do it themselves. New hires were down by ten percent this year, and all the surveys show that most young graduates enter arts or sciences in college, not behavior modification and suppression. Guess which sounds better?” Fallon had a slight edge to his voice. He himself had majored in business management, focusing on retail, never imagining it would land him a job as a dealer in one of the most lucrative businesses in the country.

 

Keeloff grunted noncommittally, turning down a hallway to the right. Three doors down, he opened his office door and left Fallon and the slave outside. The office was sparse, hardly used, and infrequently visited. Keeloff opened a shallow drawer and pulled out a booklet. It contained 3370's entire history, and personal data. Where he was picked up, his identity before capture, his stats at the time of capture, his parents, and a short genealogy. It also showed his sales history, which was short as he was young and there were only two other failed shows to report. Near the back, it displayed a list of domestic skills, and an analysis of potential to lean more complicated skills, as according to the observation of the trainer. A discrete, private note of the slave's sexual prowess was stated on the last page.

 

Moving toward the exit, and shutting the light to the dusty room, Keeloff turned to face Fallon, who had his slave's leash in hand. Fallon held out his hand for the booklet, and Keeloff sputtered, “Now, what's the meaning of—” but was cut off.

 

“There is no need for you to escort him to the truck. Hand me the booklet, and you can begin planning your vacation.” Keeloff, slightly annoyed at being denied one last time to torture the boy, roughly proffered the pamphlet. He watched as Fallon walked away beside the slave, one hand on the small of his back in preparation for any stumbling.

.o.

.o.

.o.

The man, who had introduced himself as Mr. Fallon, had been surprisingly gentle as he led 3370 to the black, armored truck. From what 3370 could gather of the conversation, he was going somewhere. Whether he was sold, or he was going through some type of new punishment, he didn't know.

 

Mr. Fallon led him to a large, concrete room. They were standing on a cement platform the rose about three feet above the ground. A black truck, with a ten-foot-long, cargo hold was backed against the platform, the floor of the truck level with the platform. The room was not as large as the exercise room that 3370 remembered going to, but the ceiling went up at least fifty feet. Voices of others echoed off the smooth cement walls.

 

There were three wide doors on the wall facing the platform. They looked metal, and two were lifted, letting a breeze flow through the room. 3370 halted sharply when he felt the cool wind drift across his heated skin. It felt wonderful. A small niggling at the back of his mind told him that he had experienced that fluttery feeling before, but he couldn't remember. He closed his eyes and savored that amazing, gentle sensation.

 

When he opened his eyes, Mr. Fallon was looking at him fondly. Understanding briefly flitted across his face before the slack on the leash was tightened and 3370 walked forward again. He was led to the black truck closest to the door he entered through. The interior was painted black and a deep blue. Despite the darkness, the colors were comforting, and 3370 imagined that the cool colors were like that soft wind, caressing him all around. Two soft lights hung from the ceiling.

 

There were three others in the truck, and nine other seats were empty, lining each side of the truck. One looked highly uncomfortable, one looked to be in bliss, and the last one looked blank. 3370 had seen that look only once before, and it was the scariest thing he had ever seen. His eyes were soulless, empty pools with no personality. 3370 quickly looked away.

 

Mr. Fallon guided him to a seat next to the slave quietly humming in pleasure. A large black phallus stuck up, angrily declaring just where it would go once 3370 sat down. The blue-eyed slave balked, turning his eyes fearfully to Mr. Fallon. Should I ask? Mr. Fallon is not like Trainer Keeloff, but this still could be some kind of punishment.

 

Mr. Fallon looked enquiringly at the trembling slave, taking hold of his shoulder firmly, and frowning at the heat he felt there. “Is something the matter?” his soft voice asked.

 

Glancing nervously at the kind man, 3370 felt some apprehension drain away. He did ask. Maybe it's okay to tell him. He cleared his throat. “Um... T-Trainer Keeloff... um....” It was hard talking to a person. Trainer Keeloff did not like him speaking much. Only for begging and singing around his cock, he said. “He - I... I'm, uh, plugged. Um, can it, please, be removed before I have to, uh, sit down?” Mr. Fallon's mouth was hanging open, shocked, and his brown eyes were wide and unblinking. 3370 cringed, believing that he had, once again, read a person's intentions wrong, and he was not supposed to have asked. But the plug inside him was already so long! If he were to sit on that one as well, he would be speared through the gut!

 

Fallon, seeing the slave's fear, smoothed his features and smiled calmly at the cringing young man. “Of course. You should have asked earlier. Is that what has been paining you?” The exotic nodded, his fevered eyes looking in many places, but not Mr. Fallon. He gently pushed on the slave's shoulders speaking calmly the whole time. “Now just rest your hands on the seat, and I'll see what I can do.” He stepped behind the slave, wincing at the angry red surrounding the fevered slave's hole. “I'll be as gentle as possible, alright? But it may sting a little.” He located the small ball of plastic that rested against the ring of muscle and gripped it. 3370 whimpered, already in pain. “I'll count to three. Ready? One... two... three.”

 

The ten-inch butt plug was yanked out of the abused ass, feces coating the entire length. 3370 yelped and cried, but held his ground and did not curl into himself, as Fallon expected. Deciding quickly, he discarded the soiled piece of plastic out the door, and reached for an overhead compartment where medical supplies were kept. Extracting a tub ointment, he unscrewed the cap and scooped a large amount onto his fingers. His slick digits slid over the red, irritated flesh, spreading the soothing balm along the inside of the mistreated slave's cheeks, around his anus, and inside.

 

“There, that feels better doesn't it?” Mr. Fallon asked. 3370 nodded and tried not to moan at the soothing feeling. It had been so long since someone touched him with any caring. The slick substance filling his ass was cooling, and the tingling overrode the sting from the removal of the butt plug.

 

After five minutes, Mr. Fallon took away his hand, replacing the cap on the ointment and returning it to the cabinet. He pulled 3370 up and gently backed him to the chair. 3370 tensed, but Mr. Fallon spoke calmingly again, and ran his hand over the slave's chest. “You shouldn't tense up; otherwise it will hurt very much. Just let your muscles relax, and I promise it will feel good.” Mr. Fallon's hands on his chest felt nice, and 3370 was able to calm down.

 

He felt the blunt tip of the phallus press against his opening, and forced his muscles to loosen. As the added pressure of his body pushed him further onto the intrusion, he felt the slick walls of the dildo push past, squidging through his cheeks pleasantly. When he touched the warmed seat, the pain below his navel returned full force, and 3370 whimpered. But then he could feel the presence inside him warming. The warmth spread like syrup through his body, and was accompanied by a soft vibrating. 3370's head fell back, his mouth open in a moan.

 

Fallon smiled, glad that he could ease the discomfort of another abused slave, if only for a little while. He did not know what the young man's new owner was like, and he supposed it was better that the slave knew abuse before, if he was to be abused later, instead of the harsh reality surprising him. However, that didn't mean he couldn't make them feel cared for once in a while.

 

Fallon exited the truck, sticking the newly sold slave's information packet in a basket near the door of the truck. He had eight other slaves to collect before they could deliver the goods. He quickened his pace. He had deadlines to meet.

 

AN: So what do you think? My favorite part to write was when Koga first felt the breeze after years inside the building. Let's see... He's 23, and he was caught at eight.... Fifteen years he was at that training facility. Now I have a favor to ask you:

REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW!

 

Disclaimer:I do not own Inuyasha or any related characters.