Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Ai No Corrida (Empire of the Senses) ❯ Chapter 2

Title: Ai No Corrida (Empire of the Senses)

Author: purkle dragon goddess

Rating: NC-17

Original Characters: You are kidding right? Okay a few secondary people who have to be there but no one important.

Type: yaoi

Status: Multi-part

Spoilers: Yeah right, don't think so.

Disclaimer: Don't own Yugioh, the movie this is more or less based on, the computer I'm using to write this, or just about anything else really

Summary: A young slave is seduced by his new master, but what happens when the slave turns the tables on the master?

This is based on a 1976 Japanese film by the same name; okay so I actually took a few liberties with the story...but the movie was based on a true happening from the 1930's. A young servant girl was found walking the streets of Tokyo in the nude, dazed and confused.

**Okay, I know where all adults here right? Right? If not please move along! Now I am posting a small warning here simply because I think this may need it...WARNING sadistic use of shoes in this chapter (okay so actually it's only one...and it's a boot not a shoe but you get the idea)**

In the master's room, the white haired slave was thrown to the floor. The door was closed then locked, not that there was fear of him running away.

"I think you like it up here my dear child," the master told him. "You always seem to be getting in trouble...do you like being punished?" He took a belt down from his wall, wrapping it around his hand a time or two.

The slave's brown eyes widened in fear, "No master, please... I didn't mean to." He crawled on the floor to the wall trying to get away.

"So maybe it the making up afterwards, no? Come here, Bakura." He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the slave to crawl towards him.

He crept slowly to his master, afraid of what was to happen, more afraid of what would happen if he failed to come. He laid his head down on his master knee, keeping his face down turned. His body started to shake when a hand came down into his hair. Softly it stroked the long white locks, gently caressing him into a lull. He rolled his head back, falling into the touch, raising his eyes up to look at his master face.

The hand in his hair held tight, grasping and twisting it between the fingers, pulling his head back. The master's other hand came up, backhanding him throwing him again to the floor.

"Who told you to look at me?" He picked up the belt again from the bed where he had laid it. Lashing out, he caught the fair-skinned boy several times, covering his body with red welts criss-crossing in many places. The boy's screams of pain just bringing on more hits, each coming harder than the one before.

After several minutes the only sounds in the room were the slave's sobs and the snap of the belt still coming down on him; finally, there was just his crying. A hand came down again, into his hair, pulling him up form the floor. He was tossed face first on the bed, and held there by his master's strong hands.

Realizing there was no need to hold the boy down he released him. A very wicked idea had just crossed his mind.

"My wife recently bought me a present during her travels, Bakura. Did I show them to you?" He got up walking over to this wardrobe. Opening it, he looked for a moment for a particular box. "What do you think of them? She says they're the highest of fashion now." He held a pair of very outlandish boots with impossible heels in front of the slave's eyes. "How do you think I'd look in them?"

Somehow, between jagged breathes, Bakura looked up at the boots to answer, "I'm sure they'll look wonderful on you master, like anything you wear."

"And that is the difference between us my dear. That is why I am the master and you are the slave. These things are hideous! I would never wear these...but you will always be in your place beneath my heels"

He jumped on the bed, holding down the white haired boy with a knee on his back. Grabbing a bottle o foil form the bedside table, he took one hand to open it using his other to force the slave's legs apart. Placing his other leg between the boys, freed up his hands to coat the slender boot heel with the oil. He took the heel slamming it into the tight hidden hole of the boy.

A harsh strangled cry escaped from his lips as the long heel pounded deep into him. It seemed to go on forever, the forcing in and out of the heel, working over the sensitive hole. A moment of reprieve came and went as the boot was removed only to be replaced by his master's well-oiled manhood, pushing harder into him with no relief or pleasure of his own. He lay there unable to move other than from the force of movement within him.

He was getting the greatest pleasure from the torture of the slave, holding out as long as possible within the tight pliant body. A wave of uncontrollable shaking overtook the boy causing his body to tighten even more forcing his final release.

He kicked the boy off the bed and took no more notice of him other than to call for another slave to get him out of the room. Until they came, he walked over the heap on the floor, replacing the boots, box and all to the wardrobe.

'Looks like I'll need a new personal slave for awhile.'