InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Whispers Behind Rice Paper Walls ❯ chapter 6 ( Chapter 6 )

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

Chapter 6: A night of pain for the innocents.

The room was dark and gloomy, water seeped from cracks between the irregular stones of the wall, undetermined brownish substances coated the lower part of it. Traces of dried blood stained the rock flooring on numerous places, giving any onlooker a good indication on what the room was used for. It could also be deduced that no one would come in such a place for a sight seeing tour or on a leisure trip.

Surprisingly, someone did come here for his own pleasure on regular occasions. In fact, he was the only one privy to the existence of the small cavity carved underneath the lowest and dampest part of the castle, namely the bath house.

Of course, he was far from being the only one that had had the honor of penetrating this sinister Hell pit, but no one enjoyed it as much as him. To be honest, anyone accompanying him down there was doomed to know the worst sufferings he could have experienced in his life.

What he liked the most, though, was hearing young and innocent females scream in terror and pain. The louder the better.

Sometimes, he wondered why. It was quite odd for an old dog such as him to appreciate screeching and high pitched noises, but those particular sounds made his toes curl with elation.

It reminded him of a little girl, the sound of a child's laughter riding the strong gusts of the Northern Mountains wind. It reminded him of silken strands of obsidian hair flying around her lithe form like the dark wings of a fallen angel, much like his own black tresses resting on his weary shoulders.

For no wind, even the strong wind of the Northern Mountains, could reach him here.

Clearing his mind of the disturbing snippets of memories by shaking his head, the lean inu youkai appraised his newest more-or-less willing victim.

The young girl, barely a century and a half old in appearance, was gagged and blinded, her ankles and wrists bonded with iron manacles to the damp and cold wall, her naked body forced in a very vulnerable and uncomfortable position.

He approached the whimpering girl slowly, reveling in the terror he could read in her features and scent. As his mouth reached the shell of her pointed ear, he splayed his fingers on her flat stomach, the warmth of his palm heating her damp and cold skin.

“You seem to be quite the adequate payment, little bitch. Did you know what fate awaited you while coming here? Did your dear sister tell you what I was going to do to you?” he murmured, his breath tickling her neck.

When she didn't move or answer, his claws began to dig into the tender flesh of her abdomen. A thin trail of blood marred her fair skin, small drops of crimson liquid falling to the filthy floor.

A muffled whine escaped her and a tear rolled down her cheek. She shook her head, eyes wide behind the blinding scarf.

“Good, little bitch. I am your master until next dawn, and perhaps, if you are a very good bitch, you may see the sun again.”

She screamed in fright, her body shaking uncontrollably, her erratic movements causing his sharp talons to cut deeper into her. He chuckled, the joyless sound filling the poor young girl with dread.

He started to cause her superficial injuries, hitting her and scraping her with his claws until she bled from numerous cuts. He kissed her forcefully, nibbling at her lips none too gently and biting her when she wouldn't kiss back or turned her head.

And then he went to his knees, opening her womanly folds with rough fingers to taste her most secret essence. She whimpered again, her own body betraying her. His sick amusement vibrated into her as his long tongue entered her forcefully, his fingers playing with the small bundle of nerves hidden within her pubic curls.

And as she started experiencing pleasure, he bit her, hard. She howled in pain as blood trickled from her most sensitive parts, her body shaking from the shock.

He collected her life fluids with his fingers and thrust into her tight channel, eliciting another shriek as his claws cut into the fragile skin inside of her.

“What better than blood to lubricate such a tight bitch,” he seethed from between her trembling legs, and after a while he stood, untying his hakama only enough to free his turgid member.

Without a warning, he entered her to the hilt, stretching her walls violently, and started to pump into her small body, grunting with pleasure.

“Hot. Tight. Bitch. I'll fuck you till you bleed from your ears, you whore. I'll rape you till your heart stops and you die!” he sputtered between grunts, rutting her body like there was no tomorrow.

His claws pierced the muscles of her shoulders as he forced her down his shaft, her own shackled feet slipping onto the puddle of mixed life fluids and semen under her.

At one point, she was aware that he had freed her limbs to put her on the floor, on her knees and elbows, and had penetrated her again forcefully from behind, growling madly and clawing at her back.

It was when he entered her small and unprepared puckered hole that her arms gave way, his thick rod impaling her soft flesh and making her beg him to stop.

He rutted her relentlessly, like a beast, claiming her body as if she didn't have any will of her own. He spilled himself into her countless times, making her feel as if she was skinless from the friction. She was very weak from the blood loss, but still he would ram into her and take her against her will.

It would never end, her mind thought as her body went limp with exhaustion. Even when she would die and go to Hell, he would wait for her and rape her until the end of times.

If she hadn't been a youkai, she would already be dead.

And as the mad old dog fucked her again and again, his only conscious thought was of the metallic smell of blood drifting through the strong winds of the Northern Mountains.

Â§Â§Â§Â§Â§& #194;§

A shrill scream echoed through the dark chambers of the Western Lord. Being who he was, the inu youkai was promptly on his feet, searching for the threat that had dared to interrupt his nightly rest.

What he found made his golden orbs widen slightly.

The small miko with whom he had shared his bed that evening was thrashing and whimpering under the covers, eyes wide open.

He could have surmised she was having a very bad dream... if her usually dark blue irises weren't currently bright pink, crackling with barely contained purifying powers.

“Miko,” he called, wishing she would wake up. It didn't work.

But when tears began to flow down her face and soul searing sobs escaped her clenched jaws, he threw caution to the wind and began to come closer to her, fighting the urge to behead the threat she represented.

He knelt by her side slowly, ready to bolt at any sign of aggression, her Miko energies licking his youki like fire trying to melt ice, burning him to the core.

He put a hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently to raise her from her dream, or whatever it was that was making her suffer as such.

“Kagome,” he called her again, louder this time.

“Help me!” she shrieked under her breath, her voice barely recognizable. Her arms flailed wildly above her body, as if she was searching for an anchor to steady her.

And then she found it.

Grasping the hand of the Daiyoukai by her side, she squeezed it with all her might, holding it like a life line.

“Stop him!” she croaked, her eyes trying to focus on his form but still unable to see.

“Who? What is he doing?” he asked, curiosity and logic gaining the upper hand over worry.

“Father!” she whined.

Lifting a brow, the youkai was going to ask her again what she meant, but then he started to smell her blood. And suddenly he saw where it was coming from.

She was bleeding profusely from between her legs. Frowning, he put both his hands on her shoulders and shook her more forcefully, wanting her to wake.

“Stop this foolishness at once, woman! Wake up!” he demanded, but she didn't.

Sesshomaru felt something he had rarely felt before. He felt fear, like a swarm of creeping caterpillars crawling up his spine, like cold dread freezing his already cold heart. The emotion was seeping from every pore of her being, clenching her chest and constricting her heart. And he was feeling everything as if he was connected to her, as if he was her.

An epiphany hit him so hard he nearly doubled over.

She was a Miko, a powerful one, and spiritual beings, such as youkai, spirits, and ghosts, were inevitably drawn to her. She was being possessed, and the ghost was making her relive it's death. It looked like a very violent and painful one, and if her spirit was not strong enough, it was going to shatter.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

All powerful that he was, he was no exorcist, nor was he a monk. The nature of his youki could not expel wraiths or spectres, and even if she was indeed a priestess, she was the one being possessed.

He could feel her aura flaring and expanding in protest, but all it was now was a battle of wills, her own will to live against the dead one's suffering. In reality, he was useless, and he found that he didn't like it one bit. No one could hurt what was under his protection and get away with it.

Naraku had learned that the hard way, and so would the dead spirit. He let his energy flow out of him in an overwhelming show of power and growled viciously, his eyes slowly turning crimson, fangs and claws elongating.

“Get. Out. Of. Her,” he ordered, voice flat and menacing.

“I can't,” the ghost whimpered through the Miko's lips.

“What do you want?” he quipped, his patience at its limit.

“To warn you, my Lord. Atrocities perpetrated behind rice paper walls will make your realm tumble and fall. Please, my Lord, I beg you, make them stop!” she moaned as fresh tears rolled down her pale cheeks.

“Who?” he asked, eyes returning to their flaxen colouring.

“Father! Bring him his peace back! Please! It hurts so much!” she cried out, her free hand clutching her lower abdomen as blood still stained the silken sheets.

“Give me a name and I shall do it, just leave the Miko this instant!” he growled, feeling her pulse weakening.

“Please, protect her... Kagome is in grave danger...” The voice seemed to fade as her eyes reclaimed their natural sapphire coloring.

Kagome gasped, inhaling sharply, and then went limp, losing consciousness from the massive blood loss. In a heart beat, the pale youkai had her protectively in his arms as his long strides brought him purposefully to the healers' quarters.

Â§Â§Â§Â§Â§& #194;§Â§

She opened her cerulean eyes to the world again nearly three days later, allowing a certain Daiyoukai's shoulders to relax minutely.

He had stayed by her side all the time, watching her fight for every gulp of air, watching her pale skin and pained expression, watching her lids move as she dreamed. He had feared for her life, he admitted it to himself, after all he was not delusional about his own emotions. He had been worried, and justifiably so.

She could have died. She was mortal, and it was what mortals did, all the time. He didn't like it one bit. Rin and her, they were the same. Fragile, breakable... ephemeral. They were going to die, and he would stay the same, unmovable, unchanging.

Alone.

She sighed and he looked back at her, noticing the slight twitching of her lips that announced she was going to grace him with one of her dazzling smiles. But as the corners of her mouth lifted, those loathed tears began to spill from her already red eyes again. Her sorrow permeated the air around them, and he reached unconsciously towards her hand with one of is own, willing the deep sadness marring her scent to go away.

He didn't know how to comfort her, it was not really in his nature to reassure or to be affectionate, nevertheless he was aware that she must be needing it, if the restlessness in her form was any indication. So, expression still stern and lips pursed into a thin line, he let her arms snake around his waist in a tentative hug. Noticing her head was still attached to her body (thanks the Kami for small miracles), she brought her shivering body closer to his, reveling in his warmth.

Not really knowing what to do but feeling awkward about not returning her embrace, he patted her back gently, his other hand resting on the dark crown of her head. After a while, he finally spoke.

“Kagome, what happened?” he asked, voice commanding but soft.

“I had a terrible dream,” she replied, still sounding shaken. “I was a young youkai, an inu youkai with raven hair. I lived in the mountains, with my dad. And we were attacked... my father was knocked out, and I...” She sobbed quietly, burrowing her face into his now wet chest.

He shifted and held her tighter against him, feeling the curves of her body through the silk of his haori. He slapped himself mentally. It was not the place or time to think about such things.

“Continue,” he prompted her.

“I was raped and killed in a horrible manner. It lasted all night long, and they were many. I was barely a girl.” She whimpered again, this time louder, clutching his clothes in her small fists.

“Hush, Kagome. It is over now. Just calm down and rest,” he murmured, his hand caressing her silken hair absently.

“Sesshomaru?” she asked in a tired voice.

“Yes?”

“Will you stay with me? I'm scared.” She shuddered.

“I am not going anywhere any time soon, Onee-san,” he replied emotionlessly. Her eyes closed again, her lips forming a small smile as she found peace in the Lord of the West's protective embrace.