Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Envy My Pain ❯ Falling For You ( Chapter 3 )

Emerald jaded hues blinked uncomfortably to the irritating glare of the setting sun, it was now peeking in through the open drapery of the windows, when had they been opened? Awkwardly and irritably she slid her exhausted small framed form to rest up against the thick etched oak backboard of a canopied king sized bed; the thick dark gothic appealing black curtains had been pulled back, and tied neatly around for four posted corners of the lavishing bed, pulled back all that rested in between was see-through vial of violet colored material, as it hang lazily around all four sides of the canopy bed. The black silk sheets were twisted all about her nude form, which was still slick once again with a thin coat of sweat. Was she suffering from a fever again? She felt her body shivering as she reached for the comfort of the thick lavishing feathered downed comforter, it two was soft to the touch, almost like an exotic silk she couldn't remember a name to. She purred into it as it soaked her with sudden warmth, as her feverish chills seemed to die down. Was everything so dark and black? She glanced around the room more intently as she began to analyze things into her free-spaced memory. She glanced to her side looking into the etching of the backboard of the bed.

 

The dark rich oak wood was hand carved, and her thin frail soft touching fingers skimmed over the artwork. It confused her because she had never seen anything like this, nothing she could relate to that was. She took in a deep breath; as she realized she was alone for the first time she could remember. What was going on? What was this role play of `pet' and why did that blond man insist on always referring the other man, Itachi…to being out of character with her. Why did he emphasize that he was not acting like he did with, previous pets? Was she going to be a tool, for these two men? What was a tools primary use again? Was it like what that Itachi man had done to her? She hopped not, she was so sore---and her body ached very awkwardly because of what he had done. Was it pain, or was it pleasure? It all seemed to hurt, distantly like this wasn't supposed to be like this. Her purpose in life, what was it? Did she have one before this tie of events?

 

Her hands shot up to her head as she began to message at the throbbing temples. It hurt to think this hard, it was so pointless to try to pine away into the depths of ones mind, when it was so bitterly empty. She felt like crying but she couldn't remember how. She felt a lump choke in her throat as she felt her fingers clamp down on the cool fluffy comforter that surrounded her shivering form. She felt tears crumbling down her cheeks, and she felt this throb of pain entering into the soul depth of her heart. She felt like she was braking, was this…was this crying? Was she crying? Why did her soul feel so bitterly empty---why did her mind feel so distant. Wasn't there a inner part of her trying to brake free of this unnoticeable bondage? Was there something inside her fighting away the evils of this emptiness? She wanted to remember, but what was she trying to remember? Did she have a good happy enjoyable life, or did she even have a life before this?

 

A door creaked open, and the jaded emerald hues shot distinctively to the door. She noticed a very meek, and timid women entering. Her hands full of linen, her head bowed and eyed glued fearfully to the ground. As if she was afraid of her, Sakura---that was her name wasn't it? Was she a pet? Sakura's fingers slid lightly over the see-through vial pulling it neatly to the side before she slid from the bed. Sheets clung to her body, for some reason Sakura felt modesty. Like it was somehow inappropriate to allow others to see the naked flesh of her skin. She stood in front of the cowering girl who began to place the neatly folded, and most temptingly appeasing smell seemed to emerge from them. She gazed at the young girl, who she could tell was older then herself. Hmm…how old was she anyways? She knew that looking at the thin lines that seemed to crinkle on the outer sides of her eyes, and the corner of the women's lips. She was at least a few years older then herself, from what she could conclude as common sense.

 

“W-who are you?”

 

Sakura's voice was scarcely above a whisper as she shyly inspected the first none threatening person to enter into her world. The women seemed to shiver slightly with some unknowable fear as she ducked her head more intensively into chores, she was not acknowledging her. Apart of her seemed to fill with an emotional dread, she felt like crying again---her hand grasped gently at the servants' shoulder. She allowed the smallest of its weight to rest their softly, as if there was no weight in her hand mimicking the weight of a feather.

 

“Please, I---I won't hurt you.”

 

The women seemed to shiver, and as if more fearful she rushed the rest of her chores, brushing of Sakura's hand she fled outside the door in some rushed manor. Then tears began to sting agonizingly at the corner of her eyes again. Why wasn't anyone acknowledging her? It stung deep into the core of her soul, she felt abandoned as she felt fear hammering into her heart. The door! She moved towards it slowly at first, and then she paused there. The sheets were more firmer, more closer to her as she clenched them in fear. Why should she fear leaving this room? Was there something outside this door that could hurt her? Was there immediate danger that lurked for her escape? Was she even escaping? The curiosity that filled her made the tears dry away, and her fingers twined around the brass sway of the over decretive door knob. She took in a deep breath as she pushed it open---or attempted to, it was locked.

 

She jingled it a bit more firmly then before, to test if it was a trick door of some kind. Nothing, she sighed out a frustrating irritated noise that made a tongue click in the corner. Her eyes darted up to the small noise and she felt her fist tighten up to the sheets. It wasn't Itachi---it was that blond haired fellow that Itachi had seemed firm with last night. Was he going to hurt her, for stealing away his lover? Did he want her, or did he want Itachi? She backed up to the door as she looked frantically about, for an escape or some `secretive passage way' he'd used to gain entrance to the room. How had he gotten into there, she was so sure that when she awoke that it had only been her.

 

“A servant knows there place among the ranks. They know that there not permitted to converse with their lower counterparts. They are only here to feed and cloth you, pet---yeah.”

 

Within a strum of a few heartbeats he was there, caressing her form to the door. He's knee was automatically in-between her legs which instinctively tried to close before he'd outwitted her inner thoughts.

 

`Who does this Jerk think he is, to try to steal his way into our room---and then touch us like Itachi?'

 

[Whoa, who the heck are you!?]

 

`Me? Funny you should ask, I don't really know myself---but I guess you could refer to me as the inner you.'

 

Before she could even understand the small voice in the back of her head she felt lips, soft lips stroke on top of her own. She felt her eyes intuitively close upon there own accord. She felt his hands gliding down her body soothing away the worry---the pain, and the emptiness. He was so much soft, with his motions then Itachi that she was stolen away with the difference of soft, and hard. She pushed her body closer to his for the seeping comfort that he so kindly offered her. He pushed her gently back into the wood frame of the door, as if declining her acceptance offer. She watched the corner of his lips twist into a smirk as he once again claimed her lips---his tongue darting around the outer edges, and his teeth tugging playfully at the full lower swell of her lip. She purred softly into a small muted moan, as his tongue darted into the depths of her wet warm mouth. It tasted so temptingly sweet, like honey slick dew that you'd only find in only the finest quality of sweetness.

 

He related her to the honey dew flower; you'd nibble and suck on as a curious child, in the discoveries of something new. He took advantage of the rare flower before him. He sucked attentively on her tongue and rode his knee up more, rubbing the core of her heated womanly flesh between the sheets. She felt her head smash back into the boarding of the door and she felt her body arch into his. He took advantage of the swan sway of her throat as he began to nibble there at the flesh, a trail of goose bumps falling neatly into place.

 

 

“You're a rarity, which one only finds once in a life time---Sakura-Chan, yeah.”

 

“Please…”

 

“Please what, Sakura-Chan.”

 

Oh that deep, rich, and evil voice only belonged to one person. Her eyes darted open with the shimmer of some distant recall of fear. The man before her seemed to show no real notice to the man behind him, as if he knew he had been there the entire time. Had he? She shivered as she felt the swell of her breast being caressed between the silk black sheets that she still fearfully held. Her neck was being licked, nibbled, and bitten and her knees were so weak that all that supported her was the knee that was lodged in between her thighs. She felt her features twitch with worry, as her brows twisted with panic as the man drew closer to the two.

 

“I hate repeating myself little pet.”

 

“I, I don't know.”

 

“Oh?” He seemed slightly amused.

 

Within a few seconds she felt the coldness of the floor, cyan hues glowered down upon the broken flesh before him. She was wilting again, and she watched as Itachi approach his side. His hands darting out from the shadows of sun set. Had the curtains been shut? It seemed darker, and her eyes watched as his hands darted from the shadows of nightfall to surround the blond mans waist. He pulled him into the comfort of his strong an powerful arms as his lips descended to the curve of his neck. The cyan colored eyed man seemed to enjoy the pleasures, and he pushed the swaying jagged curves of his body into the man before him. He grinned at the little flower who gazed at them with confusion, curiosity, and yet they both read her muted voice of need. They had already started to tempt the flesh of her body and to watch them couple---would make her want them all the more.

 

“Let me taste her Itachi.”

 

“Maybe, a little…”

 

He pushed the blond man forward towards the girl, and he watched as he kneeled down before her---stroking her hair and kissing her once again. She was gripped from behind, his strong hands pulling at her lower back; arching her body rhythmically with his as he pulled her from the ground.

 

“Why?”

 

“Why what, yeah?”

 

“Why…why are you doing this to me? Why did you say I'm different…from the other pets? What's my purpose---Did I have one before this, why won't anyone acknowledge me? Please…Please tell me why!”

 

The tears were forming again, and she watched as the man before her gazed at her with a confused glare. He didn't expect this---he wanted her to purr his name and wilt into his arms with pleas and moans---but not this, and before he realized his actions he was backing away from her.

 

“I, I need to know.”

 

“Who you are, does not matter, Sakura. Your purpose is to serve your masters as our pet. As for you not being acknowledged---the simple fact is, you can acknowledge something that has no worth, no value, no purpose but the purpose we give you. I have kindly offered you the value of a name. Yet instead of being satisfied with what we have given you…you want more, no you demand from us as if you have any rights?”

 

Cyan eyes closed as his hands twined about her wrists pulling her into his firm, hard, and well worked chest. His hands began to travel in though the silk of her knotted hair, and he smelt the bitter smell of her fever that once clung to her skin. He cringed and he glanced at Itachi.

 

“She is of need of a bath, yeah?”

 

“Why should I show her generously, and then bask her in the generosity of wealth when she had yet to prove her deem of worthy to me.”

 

“She's not really enjoyable…in this state.”

 

She felt scared and she pulled at her wrist for him to let her go she pushed at his chest and she began to feel the tears burning down her flesh again. Why did his words hurt so much? Why was it hurting that he would say such hateful things to her when she had no clue why her words…seemed to be that rude? Had she over steeped some invisible line, she thought she had the right to know. Was that wrong? Or where they wrong?

 

“I bath her, and I'll lather her flesh with the aroma of sweet smelling herbs. I'll take on the role of lover, and master once again. But, I warn you Deidara I grow tiresome of your demands, however diminutive they may be.”

 

“Deidaraso that's Itachi's lackeys name. Interesting…”

 

“It seems you are intentionally, doing unkind things to make it seem that way Itachi. If you wanted her for yourself, all you had to do was say it.”

 

With that Deidara tossed his hands up in frustration, he knew no matter the elements of wanting her---if Itachi wanted the dominating standpoint on her, he would get her. There was no use in fighting ones subordinate on such a trivial issue. There were plenty of rare flowers out in the world, this one it would seem he would have to surrender for the time being. Until her value is cut short from his oh fearless leader, that is.

 

Itachi grunted in irritation as he watched a very irritated Deidara storm off from the room---stealing away at the locked door; that wasn't right? The door was locked why did it open to him? Was it really some trick door, some voodoo trick of some kind. She fumed that she was trapped in this room of darkness. Her heated glare of some unnamable feeling looked up to hit into the coal depths of his.

 

“Detest me all you want Sakura-Chan. Hate me, like you are right now. I relish in the realization that I can inflict such a emotion on the weak and frail minds of those beneath me. Your a lot like my brother---maybe I can make a avenger out of you yet.”

 

He chuckled darkly as he tossed the heavy material of his cloak away. It slumped down neatly on a decretive chair. Her eyes shot to the mesh netting of his shirt---he looked appealing, and she remembered all that the two had done with one another; and she felt her face flush and warm at the ideas that now flooded her mind.

 

“What are you doing, didn't this guy just tell you how worthless you are---and your blushing at his body! Trader!”

 

[I can't control how I feel!]

 

“Why such the sudden change of feeling…is it my body you wish to adorn your affections upon? Or do you remember the feel of what it can give you?”

 

“Please…stop it.”

 

“GET UP!”

 

She cringed on how loud his voice had been, or the fact at how demanding they had indicated to her. He was commanding her, and she felt fear sliver into her mind as she shivered momentarily paused. The sheets to her body, and the sun long ago gone and faded away, and she realized she had crumbled to the floor again? How? Wasn't she standing? She was feeling sick, and she held the sheets firmer.”

 

A hand darted out latching at her hair pulling her from the floor to his vice like grip upon her hair. He snarled at the feel of Grease and knotting, her silk like hair was tainted and dirty and the smell that arose from her was most unappealing. He had to agree with is counterpart on this…she was undesirable in this state. He tossed her into a room, one she had never been in before, but as she entered it she took in the rich dark marble flooring, the white porcelain double sinks on the counter top, and then the huge white porcelain tub that was underground---it was like a large lavishing hot tub, and the golden knobs that were fixed all over the place made her eyes open with wonder. He was a wealthy man…or his group was for the most part. She was so preoccupied with studying the room she never noticed that he had already turned on the tub, and laid out a towel---and what was that smell…it smelt so good. She watched him flicker scents into the tub herbs…he had said something like that before with Deidara. She noticed how he began to peel away his clothing---dipping into the hot steam water which was foamed at the top with some rich smell of…what was that smell. Whatever it was it was so wonderful, and she felt like this would feel good. She couldn't remember the feel of bath water or being clean---but it looked so good. She watched him now, light some wick on wax. They were what was that word…hmm candles. Yeah, but why was he lighting them? The water was waist deep on him, and it was still filling up. He took a sharp glance at her and she took that as a note to drop the sheets. And she did, she blushed and drew clear to the edge of the tub, afraid of entering his domain without his permission. He glanced at her after he lit the last of his candles, and within a second his finger skimmed over some switch and the room was enveloped into darkness. The faint glow of the candles was erotic and new, and it made him seem kinder then what he was. He drew to the edge, where she stood the matchbook laid down beside her.

 

She was sitting on the ledge, her feet dangling into the hot water. It was a slight bit to hot for comfort and she flinched outwardly but he was there to explain her confusion. As he effortlessly pulled her in, his body making no contact with her own as he pushed her body deep into the depths of the water. She coughed, and she gagged because she couldn't breathe under the liquid---she began to fight but soon found him pulling her up---she grasped for air as it began to fill her lungs.

 

“Your stench was to fowl, I had to eliminate it.”

 

He had her in his arms and he was looking at her with a distance in his eyes. He pushed her to the edge of the tub as he took out a bottle from behind her. He frowned at her with distaste as he opened the palm of his hand pouring in a thick creamy substance---she looked at him with sudden fear as she pulled back unsure of what it was.

 

“It's something you'll learn to do by yourself, for now I will teach.”

 

He pulled her to his chest---they were standing and the water tickled at her upper abdomen, where it automatically shut off. She glanced at him with mild curiosity as his hands began to lavish her head with sweet smelling soaps. She smiled at the tingling clean feeling she felt, and she watched his intent gaze grow a little easier and a little lesser on the edge. He was letting his defenses down, as she smiled up at him.

 

“Itachi-Kun…how old am I?”

 

“I doesn't matter, and do not refer to me by that name.”

 

“I know it doesn't matter, but I would like to know. Please?”

 

He grunted, “17.”

 

“And you, how old are you?”

 

“Older.”

 

He pushed her back a little and he pulled up a shell, her eyes glanced at it and her face questioned his before he grunted again. He pulled it to the water as he shoveled it up, and then he glanced at her with irritation.

 

“Close your eyes.”

 

She did, and she felt water cascading down her body---she was blushing because she felt his lean sharp body dip closer to hers, and before she could open her eyes, he had dumped more water into her hair, the soap washing away---and then his lips were on hers and her body was arched into the back of the porcelain tub. Surprisingly she kissed him back, and her arms wrapped around his neck tugging him close. She didn't feel so alone now; she liked this part of him. Maybe she would have to be clean more often…before she could try to dip her tongue into his mouth he pulled back and he grinned, his hands around a second bottle as he pushed her away again, his fingers dancing into her hair combing out the tangles of the shampoo. He was grinning because although he had not meant to kiss her, her reaction to his nearness and his close proximity made her want to kiss him. His `pet' was already being well groomed into knowing her place. Although her questions were less then appeasing, and he knew she would ask more.

 

“This is conditioning---it's in the lighter colored bottle, this will take away the knotting.”

 

“What's the third bottle used for, Itachi-Kun.”

 

“Stop being so impatient, you'll find out. And once again, do not refer to me with that name.”

 

“Then what would you like me to call you.”

 

He didn't reply as he once again took the shell under water, and as a reaction she closed her eyes as she felt the water washing away the grim of the two day event, and the knots of the shampoo. She could smell that sweet smell again---it smelt like him, but he was always spicy smelling, this was laced with more of a famine perfume.

 

“Lavender.”

 

“Lavender?”

 

“The smell, it's the sent of Lavender.”

 

“Oh…”

 

Did he just read our thoughts, is that even humanly possible?

 

[I don't know, is it?]

 

She was drawn out of her thoughts as she watched him take a small sponge---at hand, and the third bottle was squeezed out onto it. He drew it up to her cheek and he frowned at her as he took note to the dirt of tear stains on her cheek, he dipped the sponge there at her cheek and he was brushing her skin lightly, almost affectionately.”

 

“You may call he Itachi-Kun, when we are like this…only me and you. When I am pleased with you, but when we are with company, or when I am irritated with you---you will call me…Master.”

 

“Master…”

 

“What?”

 

“Why did Deidara-kun, say that, that's never been done with any of the previous?”

 

“Don't concern yourself with trivial issues that do not concern your immediate welfare.”

 

“Doesn't it though?”

 

He began to sponge at her throat and her eyes darted up onto his as he pressed his body closer to hers, his hands trained to her lips and he placed a finger there to silence her. He shot her a death glare.

 

“I just…I don't…I want…”

 

“You'll want what I permit you to want.”