The Traveling Pussy

Chapter 10: Ibiki’s Massage

Ibiki walked past the bed and into the little buttercream-colored bathroom. He set me down on my feet, but I wasn’t yet able to stand and collapsed in an awkward heap on the floor at his feet. I looked up to see him wipe himself with one of my pretty cream towels with yellow fringe and embroidery and toss the towel on the floor. Tucking himself in his shorts, he moved back into the bedroom and started pulling on his pants.

“I’ve got to go do some work. Clean up and get ready to wash me down and give me a massage with that clove massage oil. If you don’t want it getting on the sheets, put something down on them for me to lay on. You’ve got about four minutes,” he added before walking out and shutting the bedroom door behind him.

My mouth dropped open in shock. I was going to give him a massage. I was the one with the sore ass! I was the one with the aching nipples! This being a bottom sucked! Then I thought of how his one nipple had been removed and decided that I didn’t really have it bad. I thought about my sheets and remembered I had a large plastic and felt kitchen tablecloth. I’d put that on the bed, plastic side down, and then cover that with an old sheet that I didn’t care if it got stains on it.

When I had cleaned myself up and taken some pain pills to try to help the parts of me still aching, I went into the kitchen to find the tablecloth. I was rooting through a stack of tablecloths and placemats when I heard the living room door open.

“. . . ask Danzou if he can cover for me for a few days. Here, come in, let me give you a note for Tsunade,” Ibiki was saying. I froze, unsure of what to do. “We’ll be moving over to my place later tonight,” Ibiki continued after a pause, “I want you to come back and personally pack up all the relevant papers, uh, embarrassing sex toys, and anything else you think my little spy will be needing for the next few days. Just drop the boxes off in my entrance hall. Oh, and there’s a broken teapot in the kitchen that I want you to pack up as well. Just put the pieces in my gold lotus bowl in the living room. Then depending on what happens with the landlord, you can just seal this place or have the rest of the stuff moved to storage.”

I felt myself start to hyperventilate. Shino or some other ANBU nin was going to be boxing up my sex toys, my life. My apartment was being sealed or emptied. I was moving in with Ibiki?? This was too much, too fast. I wasn’t going to be able to handle this.

“Of course I know she’s listening,” snapped Ibiki, “One minute, fourteen seconds!” shouted Ibiki directly to me. I grabbed the plastic tablecloth from the pile of linens and raced back into the bedroom. I didn’t bother to glance over to see who Ibiki was talking to. I didn’t care that I was naked, either. He hadn’t made any rules about not exposing myself to anyone, just rules about me not looking at or touching other men.

I quickly straightened my bed and covered it with the tablecloth and old sheet. I went in the bathroom and ran some warm water into the sink to make sure I was ready to wipe down Ibiki’s body with wet cloths that would feel good on his skin, not too cold, not too hot. Too soon, Ibiki reentered the bedroom and started removing his clothes. When he was naked, he laid down on his back. I hastily wrung out the wet cloths and moved over to the bed. I started with his head. He shut his eyes and sighed with pleasure. I wiped down his head and face carefully, tenderly. Then I folded the little cloth and placed it on his forehead.

I picked up the other cloth I’d set on the bedside and started wiping his neck, his mutilated chest, his shoulders, biceps, and arms. When I wiped around his belly button I smiled, remembering licking there. Then I started on his now flaccid penis, carefully cleaning it and making sure everything around it was clean as well. I stood up and went to rinse the cloth again and start washing him some more with another clean one.

I carefully rewashed his crotch, lifting him and his balls, wiping him more than was necessary before moving to his legs. He didn’t get aroused, however, and his breathing was getting slower and more relaxed. When I got to his feet and wiped them down, I heard him sigh again with pleasure. I took special care with each foot. I knew that my feet were always sore and in need of attention, and despite the oddly scarless state of his feet, I was sure he had some aches there.

As I reluctantly stopped wiping down his feet, Ibiki pulled the cloth off his forehead and tossed it at me. Then he rolled over on his stomach presenting me with a view I hadn’t seen before. I raced over to the bathroom and began rinsing and rewarming the cloths in the sink. I was shaking and trying not to scream at what his back had looked like. It had felt pretty horrible, but I hadn’t for some reason expected the weird colors on his skin where it had been burned and branded with some strange rough-edged, mostly diamond-shaped brand. His pink-tan skin wasn’t supposed to have black, brown, blue, orange, and red scars in such bizarre and horrific patterns from his shoulders to the backs of his knees.

I’d looked at my ass in the mirror when I washed up, and it had some dark angry red and paler pink splotches on it from my spanking. I felt ridiculous for having rubbed pain-reducing lotion on it and taken pain pills, in light of the sort of thing that Ibiki had endured. I felt a little dizzy and light-headed. I went back in and started again with Ibiki’s head. I moved carefully down his back almost as if some of the healed wounds might still hurt. As I wiped his ass, I thought about how I’d said I wanted to mark his ass. I meant with a little love bite or slap, but I realized neither would show on his ass with all the scars and discoloration there.

I couldn’t help but stop to kiss him gently there, my kisses a silent way of asking for forgiveness. I never wanted him to feel another second of pain. I finished cleaning his legs and took the damp cloths back into the bathroom. I returned with the bottle of clove-scented massage oil that had been sitting in the warm water of the sink to heat up a bit. “Do you want me to start the massage with your head or your feet, Master Ibiki?” I timidly asked.

“Start with my neck and shoulders,” he said. I moved to kneel by his side on the bed and began to massage him. Each time I felt him relax more or make a tiny sound of pleasure, I felt a thrill of pride and a rush of energy. I worked on his upper body until finally he said in a voice slurred from relaxation, “Doooze mys legs now.” His inability to enunciate his words seemed to me a tribute to how good I was making him feel, and I eagerly moved to start working on his legs although my arms and hands were feeling tired from having rubbed his back, neck, and arms for so long.

I knelt between his legs and let each arm work a leg. I, of course, didn’t neglect those tortured buttocks either.

I loved the smell of clove. I loved naked men. I loved scars. I loved Ibiki. I was in heaven despite my tiring arms, and I let my fingers circle and knead and move up and down from his waist to his ankles, applying pressure. The sight of his ass was making me think naughty thoughts about sliding a finger inside of him or working a vibrator into him. I wondered if I would ever get to put on my strap on and fuck him. I licked my lips and shook a little at the thought. If just mentioning putting a finger in him had got me a spanking, what sort of punishment would fucking him bring?

My hands tightened and stilled on his ass, and I tried to pull myself together and keep on massaging Ibiki. I was supposed to be massaging Ibiki, not just squeezing his ass with my oily hands.

“Get up and get us something to drink,” said Ibiki suddenly.

I slid back off the bed to put my feet down and, embarrassingly, for the second time tonight just went down in an awkward pile of limbs on the floor. Ibiki rolled over on to his back. I just went for the kitchen, not wanting to meet his eyes. When I got the bedroom door, however, I couldn’t open the door. My oily fingers just slipped on the door handle. I bent my head down so my hair spilled over the doorknob. I grasped the knob over my hair, and the friction of my hair let me pull open the door. I went into the kitchen and washed my hands, thinking about what I should take in for us to drink. It was about twenty minutes before midnight.

I usually made a big pot of hot tea at this point when I was working at the gate. There was always a flurry of activity just before midnight at the gate as if there was some big punishment awaiting every citizen that didn’t get somewhere or get some last activity done before the bells started tolling in the new day.

As I filled the kettle, I noticed the teapot shards were gone. I smiled, what had Ibiki said for the nin to do with them? Put them in some bowl or something? I hoped I’d get to keep the fragments, but it didn’t really matter. I had so many new memories of Ibiki; my feeling thrilled over his breaking the teapot seemed sort of less important now. I frowned as I watched the pot and waited for the water to boil. Had it only been a few hours ago that I was cuffed to the cupboard watching Ibiki’s face as the kettle slowly heated up? I shook my head in disbelief. This was so weird. But there were our breakfast/dinner dishes in the sink with bits of fish, rice, and sauce still clinging to the dishes. I found the ugly green and brown back-up teapot and began to wash it out.

When I finally took the tea in, Ibiki was sound asleep on his back, snoring a little. It’s hard for a tall, strong, scarred ninja like Ibiki to look vulnerable, but he did look in need of love and care as he slept on his back in my pink bedroom. I went to the closet and got an extra blanket out and spread it over him. I switched the light off and listened to make sure he was still sleeping. When I was certain he was, I went back into the kitchen to sit at the table, drink my tea, and plan the rest of my night. I had no intention of having Shino or any other ANBU nin pack up my collection of notes, sex toys, or necessities for moving into Ibiki’s apartment.

I grabbed the notepad and pen I kept on the kitchen counter and started making a list. I was used to working at night, and it looked like Ibiki was on a day schedule. Our sleeping schedules would be out of whack for a few days, which was a shame since I didn’t think we’d be able to have more than a few days to spend screwing around in his apartment. Was it an apartment? I didn’t even know.

Oh well, as a chuunin I was trained to deal with the unexpected and to lead missions where the information was spotty at best. I’d never had a man move me into his apartment less than twelve hours after he’d started sleeping with me before, but I didn’t mind. Ibiki was not an ordinary man, and I wasn’t objecting to being moved. Although a part of me was sad at the thought of not seeing Mrs. Nagatomi and Ibiki have a confrontation over the noises coming from my apartment. I started to giggle, then returned to focusing on my lists. I had a lot of work to do before Ibiki woke up.

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