Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Chained World: The Fall of the House of Kuno ❯ Awakening from the Dream ( Chapter 39 )

This was originally published by me under the name Anduril at Anime Addventures, with the only changes being a few corrections in spelling, punctuation and the occasional word choice. If you like the beginning of my story but think I've gone off the rails, or have your own ideas for a great branch-off, or think I'm taking too long to update and want to continue the story yourself, come to Anime Addventures and join in the fun!

I claim no ownership rights to any of the works of Rumiko Takahashi, or anyone else's published work.

Warning: high citrus content!

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“It's not fair! I finally get you to try this out, and already you're beating me,” a pouting Usagi complained as the fighter she'd been controlling on the flatscreen built into the wall smashed into a pillar and collapsed to the brick-covered ground, the English letters “K.O.” flashing onto the screen. (The fact that the fighter was a short, busty, redheaded girl was just a coincidence, really.)

Ranma shrugged. “That's `cause ya just scream an' charge,” she responded nonchalantly. “Besides, it's fightin', and I know fightin'. Sure, the number a' moves are limited and these guys are pathetic weaklings, but I gotta admit that it does force ya ta compete on an even playing field that ya almost never get in real life, and tactical thinkin' still works. This is actually pretty cool.” Glancing sidelong at her body servant and friend, she added, “But I gotta say I'm surprised — ya aren't the kinda person I'd expect ta be playin' games like this, an' ya haven't before.”

It was Usagi's turn to shrug. “I used to play them with Makoto, before she was freed,” she said with a slight hitch in her voice.

Ranma's gaze sharpened, and she reached up to lay a hand on the other girl's shoulder. “Ya miss her, don't ya?”

“Yes, I do,” Usagi replied softly. “I'm sure she's happier now that she's free — she never complained and had nothing but good to say about how Kuno-dono treated her, especially in bed, but she ... she was my age and from home, and we could —” The blonde girl broke off as the two heard the door to the suite open, and they hastily put down their controllers and rose to hasten into the next room.

There they found their master, standing in the open doorway, face drawn. He looked over at the two slaves and his eyes brightened, but not enough to banish the ghosts of the day's horror hiding in them. The girls exchanged glances, and as one hurried over to him, Usagi bowing as Ranma took him by the arm. “Welcome home, Master,” the redhead said softly. “It's done?”

“Yes,” he replied shortly with a jerky nod. “All the executions are over, the heads cut off and up on their spikes, and the bodies in storage waiting to be returned to any families we can locate or come in on their own. I do not expect many to be thus claimed before the week is up and we dispose of the remainder in a shared unmarked grave.”

Ranma closed her eyes, sucking in a half satisfied, half horrified breath, then asked, “This is probably a stupid question, but have ya eaten?”

“No ... no, I have not,” he replied, sounding surprised.

“Okay, here's what we're gonna do,” Ranma said firmly. “Usagi, get the Master a full supper that can be eaten while in the furo, then bring it inta the bathroom when it arrives.” Usagi nodded and hurried off toward the communications panel to call the kitchen. “While she's waitin',” Ranma continued, turning to Tatewaki, “you are gonna get yerself inta the bathroom and strip, and just this once I'll scrub ya down instead a' Usagi. Then we're gonna get in the furo and you're gonna eat while we soak, an' then ... we go ta bed and forget the day.”

“As my Mistress commands,” Tatewaki intoned with a slight grin, and Ranma released his arm to gently punch him on the shoulder.

“I'm yer slave, not yer mistress, and don't ya forget it,” she growled, but this time the growl lacked some of the heat similar comments had held before and Tatewaki's grin broadened.

“Of course you are,” he murmured.

/oOo\

In the dim light of Tatewaki's bedroom, Ranma's body lay stretched along her master's torso, naked except for her slave chain once again clasped around her neck, her oversized breasts pressed against his firm stomach. Her head bobbed, his engorged manhood sliding in an out between her lips from where the back of his cockhead bumped against the inside of her lips to where the tip bumped against the back of her mouth, her hand surrounding the lower stretch unable to fit between her lips and pumping in time with her head's bobbing.

The redhead's hips were raised up, her knees on either side of her master's chest, giving Tatewaki a close-up view of her red-furred mound and reddened, engorged, dripping folds — at least, as much of the view as wasn't blocked by his hand. The moan around his cock forced out of her by the sensations caused by his fingers plunging into her sheath as deep as they could reach caused the lord of Nerima to groan, shivering.

The shivering stopped as the tall lord tensed and tried to shove his cock up into its warm, wet home only to have Ranma lift her head enough to make sure that she wouldn't choke as she hastily swallowed to make room for spurt after spurt of her master's seed filling her mouth. As the flood ceased, the slave ran her tongue around the softening cock as she raised her head, licking it clean, then lifted herself upright. She paused for a moment, eyes falling closed, to luxuriate in the pleasure of the fingers still plunging into her depths, then swung a leg across above Tatewaki's head and over the edge of the bed, causing the fingers coated with her juices to pop free.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Ranma picked up the glass of lemon-flavored water sitting on the stand a few feet away (carefully not against the bed's edge to avoid having it knocked over in their “play”), and quickly drank half the glass, swished a few mouthfuls around her mouth, then drank the rest. She carefully suppressed a sigh of relief at having that taste cleaned off her tongue's tastebuds, and wished yet again that she had someone else she could talk to about sex. Her first few blowjobs had convinced her that as little as she cared for the taste that came with her master coming in her mouth, she cared even less for having his seed sprayed across her face and chest and getting in her hair. She just wondered if other girls actually liked the flavor, or if they were just all very good at faking it like she did. She really wanted to know before she got her curse unlocked and returned to Akane. (If that ever happens, a voice whispered in the back of her mind, but she again pushed the thought away.)

Putting down the glass, she smiled as she glanced down at the contented face of her still-reclining master. Reaching over to his groin without bothering to look, she grasped his manhood and, as expected, found it already regaining its usual length and hardness when aroused. “As eager as ever,” she observed cheerfully. “Feeling better?”

“How could I feel anything but pleasure at the sight of my smiling flower?” he replied solemnly, then returned her smile.

“Oh, flower, now, is it?” the red-haired slave said, her smile broadening into a grin. “Then let me introduce your stamen to my petals.” (Yes, she had been doing a little research to try to come up with a few lines to match his over-the-top flowery eloquence, and at last she'd had the chance to slip one of them in!) Sliding along the bed, she swung a leg over his legs to kneel over his groin, still smiling down at him, eyes fixed on his. Using a hand to position his cockhead at her entrance while the other hand clutched at a breast, she slowly lowered her body down, sighing as his cock sank into the hot wetness of her depths. When she bottomed out, her damp, trimmed pubic hair pressed against his own pubic curls, she paused for a moment and shivered before lifting her now free hand to grasp her other breast. Her thumbs rubbed across her crinkled-tight nipples as she began to bounce on the pole filling her sheath. (She had learned that if she used this position without supporting her generous mounds in some way, they would be sore later.) Tatewaki reached down to grip the sides of her hips to help add impetus to the rhythm even as his hips began to thrust upward to meet hers dropping down, and she threw her head back with a low moan between her first gasps.

As she continued to lift and drop, her mind fuzzing out from the now-familiar rising tide of pleasure the exercise brought, Ranma found herself distracted — there was something off, something wrong. Puzzled, she tried to focus, examining what they were doing, what she was feeling. There was nothing unusual in tonight's routine, they had mutually decided without saying a word to each other to skip the experimentation for a night and stick to the tried and true basic moves he had taught her the first few times they'd had sex. Nor was there anything new in the sensations bouncing through her body and exploding in her mind with each drop-and-thrust. But something was off....

And then she knew, and she froze in mid-bounce as her eyes flew open to stare unseeing at the ceiling: it wasn't that something had been added, but that something was missing — the mental wall that had sealed off her natural appetites, that allowed her to enjoy her time in bed with her master, it was gone! Unmoving, her attention seemed to race from one corner of her mind to the other desperately seeking the Barrier she had had to reinforce so desperately that first night and after, and the disgust and revulsion that had hammered against it, and found ... nothing. Not so much as a hint of either her true feelings or the barrier that had protected her from them remained.

“My love, what is wrong? What disturbs you at such a time?” her master asked, concern in his voice, and Ranma force a smiled as she looked down at the worried expression on his face.

“Nothing,” she replied softly, hoping it would disguise the shock she was certain must fill her voice. “Just hit by a sudden thought, that's all.” Releasing her hold on her breasts, she lowered herself to press their hardened nipples against his sweat-coated chest even as her hips again began to rise and fall. Tatewaki's hands shifted from her hips to cup her muscled buttocks, again adding their own effort to her bounces, and she slipped her arms under his as she buried her face in his shoulder. One of his hands released its grip to probe at her ass, and her stunned mind idly wondered how many more nights it would be before something rather larger than his finger sought out that opening. The lack of disgust at the thought terrified her.

All too soon and not soon enough, she felt the sword pistoning into her depths harden against the walls of the sheath that gripped it, filling her burning core with his own fluids. She shuddered as her soul simultaneously demanded and rejected the need to seek her own release, and her hands lifted from the bed to grip her master's firm shoulders, pulling herself against him.

Apparently taking Ranma's actions for signs of her own orgasm, Tatewaki sighed contentedly and his hands shifted from her butt to roam upward and gently stroke his slave's sweaty back as his chest lifted her slightly with each deep, rhythmic breath. Finally, his breathing eased and he murmured in her ear, “Truly, sun of my life, this has been a glorious end to a hideous day, you have been a gift beyond price. But as dreadful as this day may have been, it does not absolve me of the duty to attend to my responsibilities tomorrow.”

Slowly, Ranma forced her hands to unclench muscle by muscle. “Yeah, you're right,” she murmured, and slid to the side, his softened manhood slipping out of her. Turning onto her side with her back toward him, she felt him lift to turn off the light, leaving the room dark except for the barely present floor light that marked the door to the bathroom. He dropped back down to join her, spooning against her body, pulled the sheets and blanket up and over their bodies, and her own body shook with a slight shudder for the first time in weeks as one of his arms draped across her waist and its hand lightly gripped a breast.

Ranma screwed her eyes shut, forced herself to relax, and slowed her breathing even as she listened to her master's breath as it eased into its own sleeping rhythm. She waited until the hand holding her breast slowly eased its grip, then waited some more until it slipped loose, then waited even longer until she was certain beyond a doubt that her absence wouldn't wake him up.

Only then did she cautiously shift his arm from around her waist and slip out of the bed. Without scrubbing herself clean first or even bothering to grab a robe, she silently eased her way out of the bedroom and headed for the short corridor leading to the mini-dojo and Usagi's room.

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Normally I prefer not to say what I'm planning for the future, but considering in this case I'll make an exception:

RANMA IS NOT “GOING GIRL.” She's just found herself in the same position as convicts in prison now and sailors on long journeys in previous centuries, with weeks, months or years without seeing a woman they have a real chance at. The Adjustment simply held her ingrained disgust at the idea at bay until she acclimatized to the pleasure her body could receive even from a male one, then faded away as the need for it vanished. But of course, Ranma doesn't know this yet and is freaking out.