InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Fierce Lime and His PonyTail Assassins! ❯ Before You ( Chapter 1 )

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

Disclaimer: This might be the only one, depending on how I feel later on. Just know that all characters, unless otherwise stated are from the brilliant mind of Rumiko Takahashi.

The Fierce Lime and His Ponytail Assassins
lovin-sesshomaru-isnteasy [LSIE] // Poisoned Broccoli
Chapter One: Before You

Summary: Kagome was taken for her beauty and passed off for money. Where she ends up depends entirely on him, thechauvinistic pig. What can a girl do when owned by a hanyou? Yes, Kagome is a slave. Yes, InuYasha is a jerk. But Kagome isn't giving into his every command, and he isn't giving her any say in the matter.

AN: I'mcompletely rewriting this. I love the story and concept, but my writing two years ago was atrocious. I'm finding it hard to be motivated, so feedback would be very much welcome.

Shit, I had a lot of mistakes. Ok, so here is the final copy of this chapter.

Reviews molested with pride!

I awoke with a start, nearly smacking myself in the head with the force of the jerk that my body subconsciously completed. Sweat was dripping from my lithe, naked form in rivulets, marking the trail of a salty fear. The window over my bed revealed a pale-gray morning, the color of the sky before the sun rises above the horizon. I was gripped with a strong and inexplicable fear. A fear that the sun would rise, that the night would break, and that dawn would come.

My hand slithered to my stomach, where a necklace hung reassuringly. The links of the chain were so long that the object hanging from it reached my belly button when I was standing. The glassy pink orb hanging from my one treasure found my palm and cooled my aching flesh, somehow knowing that I would need the comfort of its cool surface. My eyes slid closed and I momentarily forgot my Eosophobia, my fear of dawn. It was fittingly irrational that I was afraid of the morning and not the night, after all, both brought me to a new day.

I felt my muscles relax.

I felt my body give way under the sun's unforgiving gaze.

Mostly, I felt his hand slide up my neck, and I willed my body to relax in its harsh grip.

Always at dawn.

Thursday nights were my own personal hell.

Fridays were a little better.

But tonight was a Thursday.

My body was being fussed over, tugged on, pinched, prodded, and I had no choice in the matter.

I didn't own my body.

Men gathered around me. One hovered beneath my feet, taking my most insecure measurements, while another stood over me, coiling and braiding my hair. Still other men hovered in the mix, jerking clothing about my feminine frame and toying with expensive jewels. There was but one woman in the mix: Kagura. She loathed the very ground I walked on, though she hid it in her expressions well.

Usually.

Currently, she was sporting a wicked grin at my displeasure.

Every Thursday.

Of course the end result would be dazzling. Of course I would outshine every woman in every age before me. Of course I would be hellishly miserable.

My dreams drifted.

The doors slammed open and the eunuchs scrambled.

Preparations for tonight ended abruptly with his anger.

In one smooth, practiced move, I lowered myself to my knees, resting my weight lighting on my heels with my arms held behind my back.

He called this position L'obéissance. Obedience.

Kagura wasn't as quick to lower herself, believing she was above such behavior. And she suffered for it.

With quick, jerky movements, he raised his hand and delivered a blow that sent her to the floor. “Bitch,” he seethed, grabbing her by the hair and jerking her to her knees. “Whore,” he spat, bringing his own knee into her nose, surely breaking it. I didn't flinch at the “crunch” of soft cartilage and bone. “SLUT,” he growled, pushing her to the floor.

And then he turned to me.

“What could you be thinking in that pretty, little head of yours, my lovely Kagome?” He sneered, rubbing his hand lightly along my jaw. He delivered a gentle slap. It hardly stung. Certainly it wouldn't make my face discolor. Suddenly his grip changed, his hand sliding to the nape of my neck to hold me still. “You better be thinking of some damn good EXPLANATIONS!” His furious growl shook me, but I refused to show outward emotion.

“Explanations, my lord?” I was very proud of my voice. Meek and slightly sultry.

From nowhere I could see, he pulled out an issue of Lovely Business, a magazine that covered business moguls and their lovely counterparts. I, I'm sad to admit, was a counterpart. On the cover was a picture of me, with tears streaming down my face. Immediately I knew the picture was photo shopped. I had not allowed myself tears in years. The headline on the glassy page was a sketchy “Kagome Shi: The Truth Behind the Image”.

Hm.

“I don't hear you, Kagome.” He lowered himself to my level. His gaze harsh as he glanced over my defensive form. His attention switched to one of the eunuchs that had remained. “How's she doing?” This particular attendant was tall, at least 6'3'', with dark hair and green, slightly yellow, eyes. He was my doctor.

“She's lost five pounds. Nothing to be alarmed about. Her blood sugar is low, though. Perhaps more fruit in her diet,” he muttered with his eyes on me alone. Sometimes having men surround me made me nervous, even if they didn't experience any true desire for me.

Where my master's hand was now resting lightly on my neck, he twitched, and his grip was suddenly more possessive. His other hand, which had been resting on my shoulder, skimmed down my body, ending on my buttocks, where he tightly gripped me to him. I turned my face away from his searching gaze so he wouldn't see the hatred burning in my expression.

“My lord, the banquet.” I hated how my voice was nearly a plea.

“And the magazine?” He questioned me with the single-minded-ness of a dog. His grip was just this side of painful. He'd never get out of control with me, never bruise me, never scratch me, but the threat was there.

“I've said nothing to anyone, my lord. Not about myself or any of your plans. Someone else has slurred your name.” My gaze flickered to Kagura before I could stop myself. It was something that she would do.

“Yes, of course.” His hands were gentle once more, lightly rubbing circles over the flesh it had been ready to bruise. “Clean her up. She's to be ready in an hour. Dr. Drenn, might I suggest you stay the fuck away from my property? Perhaps you can deal with Kagura.” He kissed me forcefully and was up and away before I did something I'd regret. Like, I don't know, bite him.

I stayed where I was until he had left the room.

Slowly, I crawled to where Kagura was moaning and panting on the floor. Her face was stained with her own blood. Her teeth were set in a grimace and I could see the red that stained those as well.

I stared down at her and felt nothing.

She rolled onto her side and grabbed me by the robe, hauling my face level to hers. From my new position I could smell the copper on her breath and for an insane moment I wondered what it would be like to kiss someone with a mouth full of the metallic liquid. “You're so fucked,” she told me and my eyes snapped to hers.

“No,” I reassured her, “you're fucked.” And I spat in her face.

I ripped myself away from her hands and her claws left holes in the sheer cloth that she had been gripping. I didn't care. I backed away from her prone form and dropped the torn robe to the ground, standing naked in the middle of the room.

My attendants returned and Dr. Drenn had two of them remove Kagura from the room.

Another girl entered, this one I didn't know. In her hands she held a red chiffon rag. One that I was meant to wear. She was also carrying a box, carved and inlaid with rare woods from South America. The rag was draped over me, double sided tape held it to me, and from the box two golden clasps were presented to hold the dress together. What looked like two scraps of cloth became my dress and it was painfully obvious that I was naked beneath the cloth. It draped over one shoulder, covered both breasts, left my stomach exposed, barely covered my cunt and ass, left my hips bare, it dipped and swayed and was a work of art.

I almost loved it.

I rested a shaking hand on my stomach and waited while more attendants swept my hair into an elaborate twist of braids and curls. The style was sloppy and fell about my shoulders. My grey-blue eyes were lined in kohl and smudged until they were smoky, and that was the only makeup applied to my face. My skin was fair and milky, my lips pouty and pale, and my master never believed in covering my assets. The dress only served as a reminder of that.

The last eunuch knelt before me and gently lifted my foot. I didn't hold onto anything, having already adjusted my center of gravity. He slipped a gold anklet over my foot and tightened the clasp so it would not slip. My foot was returned to the floor with a soft jingle and I was declared physically ready. An underdressed gypsy princess.

I was left to myself to prepare myself mentally. There were no mirrors in my room due to the hazard of broken glass, so I did not even have my image to distract myself. My necklace hung heavy next to my navel, fully exposed due to the nature of my outfit, and I grasped it softly, brought it to my lips, where I bestowed a kiss upon it.

The door to my dressing room was opened and three men walked in, ready to escort me from my wing. I left gracefully, my bare feet making no sound and the anklet jingling softly. They flanked me, flexing their muscles and bulging their tendons. It was disgusting and I tried to pay them no mind. We came to the largest set of doors in the house and I took a step back.

In dramatic, practiced movements, the men arranged themselves around the doors and pushed, throwing their weight against that of the doors and straining under the massive bulk. Painfully slow, the doors creaked open. I danced through the door way and again dropped to my knees. I waited for him to comment as his shining black shoes filled my eyes.

He crouched before me and lifted my chin, smiling.

He looked good in a suit, I had decided years ago, and this one was no different. I was reminded of the first day I saw him, just four years ago.

I was spinning, bounding, flying through the air. I was on top of the world, with the stage as my stratosphere. I twirled and lifted, stretched muscles average people didn't even know existed. This was my third major recital. I was sixteen and well on my way to becoming a professional dancer.

Gently, the song came to a close and so did my dance. Adrenaline was pumping,heady in my veins as I took my bow, scanning the crowd for my grandfather. I smiled brilliantly when I spotted his balding head until I noticedthathe was distracted by a man in a black suit.

My grandfather looked scared.

The man looked sly.

I bowed again, stepping forward as the star of the recital. I kept my eyes on my grandfather, no longer smiling. He passed the man a slip of paper, barely visible from where I stood and he looked at it for what seemed like hours before nodding sharply and standing to leave. My grandfather looked at me and something passes between us. He was withdrawing and I knew it. He smiled sadly and I turned away.

The car ride home was depressing.

He was silent.

I refused to open a conversation.

Houses passed us and I felt bitter. I should have been ecstatic, drunk from the performance, but my glory was stolen from me by the man sitting beside me. I couldn't feel the joy I knew I deserved because he had brought business to my sanctuary, and had ruined my mood. We pulled up to the shrine and I made to get out of the car, but he locked the doors.

He kept his gaze straight as he talked to me, his voice dead. “Stay out of sight tonight, Kagome. I'm having some associates over to discuss my debts.” My grandfather was a gambler. I rolled my eyes.

“I don't care about your business,” I snapped, wanting to hurt him. Sometimes I was really immature. I couldn't help the way I felt.

“KAGOME,” he snapped right back, “I'm serious this time, this isn't a game. Keep your ass out of sight.” Eyes rounded with shock, I just stared as he got out of the car. He had never raised his voice to me. Not ever.

I walked up the shrine steps slowly, practicing how I placed my feet. I honed all of my concentration on the placement of my feet and the arch of my legs as I climbed a step. It took me seven minutes to climb to the top and once I had arrived I felt sick. My stomach was churning, my face was burning. I felt my eyes sting and blinked back the tears scraping at them.

Carefully, I opened the door. The living room was already spotless, cleaned in a rush by my guardian. I'dlived with my grandfather and brother for as long as I could remember, which was about my eighth birthday. I was in a car accident when I was young. My mother died. I don't remember her or anything before the accident.

Grandfather says I should think of it as a blessing.

I walked to my room and sat on my bed, stomach still churning. Downstairs, I could hear knocking on the door, the sound of it told methatit was the men my grandfather was having over and not a shrine guest. It was a sophisticatedknock.

I slipped from my room unnoticed and moved closer to the murmur of voices at the bottom of the stairs. I sat quietly and listened as the noises waxed and waned.Straining, I was able to make out the voice of my grandfather talking to what sounded likethree other men. Two sounded like goons, the other must have been the owner of the sophisticated knock.

The voices grew quiet, threatening. There was a crash and grandfather's strangled cry of “my wife!” and I knew they must have broken grandmother's urn. I quietly put my thumb to my mouth, numb as to what I could do. Grandfather distinctly told me to stay away. “This is not a game,” he had told me. I debated with myself for a few seconds and finally decided to stay put. The house was quiet, no noise came from the living room. My grandfather's voice hesitantly broke the silence and I only managed to catch what he said due to the utter quiet. “Kagome?”

My eyes snapped open.

Why was he bringing me into this?

His voice again, pain-filled: “Please, no. . . not Kagome.”

I stood, calm, and walked back to my room. Sliding the door closed, I tip-toed to the window, well aware that any solid steps would creak andthe thugs downstairs would know I was home. I slipped the window open and grabbed my yellow backpack, which had been packed since last weekend. I sometimes keep and overnight bag ready for quick breaks away from home. Sometimes I needed to get out; Grandfather and I didn't always get along.

I shifted my weight onto the window ledge and allowed my backpack to drop down. Reaching for the tree branch closest to me, I made my way from the window to the tree and climbed down. I walked calmly away from the house, acting as if I completely belonged. Even as a sixteen year old, I was adept at lying and deceit. Behind me, I heard the door open and close and footsteps pounded behind me. A quick look back and I spotted the supposed goons. And there weren't just two, there were four. Standing in the doorway watching me was the man from my recital. His wicked grin was the last thing I saw before dragged and blindfolded into a dark limo.

That wicked grin was all I saw now as he inspected my outfit. His fingers caressed my bare stomach and reached for the jewel hanging there. Out of reflex, I jerked back and landed on my ass. He stood swiftly, angry, and I didn't bother to justify it. He snapped his finger once and a child was brought forward, a boy of seven or eight. He was finely dressed and baby-faced. I knew his name was Shippou and that he wore a concealment spell to hide his kitsune youkai shape. My heart broke when I realized what I had done. Shippou of the red hair was essentially my whipping boy. And I had essentially earned him a punishment.

I lowered my head to the ground and pressed my forehead to the cold marble, quickly showing my obedience.

“It's too late, Kagome,” he hissed at me as the boy was dragged forward. He snatched all of that red hair in one hand and yanked Shippou close. I watched as he kissed the young fox-demon on the cheek before tearing into his arms with his claws. I felt shadows of Shippou's pain, my psychic empathy grasping on to his emotions. I didn't cry, but looked on emotionlessly, knowing that any movement in my eyes or on my face would only add to Shippou's punishment.

My master shredded the boy's skin until blood flowed freely and then dropped him in a heap at my feet.

“What are you, Kagome?”

“A slave,” I murmured, my silky voice sounding inappropriately sexy.

“Who do you belong to, Kagome?”

I lowered my blue-grey eyes to Shippou's green. His beautiful face bled and he could not stop his salty tears from flowing into the open gashes. “You, Naraku. I belong to you.” My master held out his hand to me and I gracefully accepted it without hesitation.

He would not bruise me, would not scar me, would not maim my flawless skin. But my heart was broken and a boy, whom I cared for irrationally, lay bleeding at my feet. Despite my every intention of keeping myself away from the ones Naraku punished in my place, I could not help but be drawn into their innocence.

They were like me.

I accepted Naraku's hand and the passionate kiss he gave me while my heart lay bleeding on the floor.

They were like me.

End of chapter one.

AN:

6pages, 3,216 words. I'll try to keep it consistent.

Kagome's dress in this chapter? ::

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Thanks for reading, reviews molested with pride!