The Traveling Pussy

Chapter 11: Ibiki’s Shower

When I finished my lists, I decided to pack up my sex toys and papers first, then worry about cleaning and packing. I went into the bedroom to check on Ibiki and to drag out the duffle bags that functioned as suitcases for me. A kunoichi didn’t need suitcases like a lady would. Ibiki sort of woke up when I went and stood by the bed, saying, “What?”

I just leaned over and kissed his on the forehead, whispering, “Nothing, love, just sleep.” He rolled over on his side and promptly fell back asleep. I didn’t blame him. The guy had sent me to the stratosphere several times today and had been working when I slept and recovered. I don’t know what he thought he was going to do after getting his massage, but hey, even masters need to get their rest.

I quietly removed the duffle bags from the bottom of my closet, and then set about trying to remember where everything embarrassing was. I decided to just start with the stuff in the living room and work my way back. As I packed things into the duffle, I made a mental list of the thing I wanted to get from my bedroom and bathroom. When I was done with everything in the living room and kitchen, I set about reheating the tea and drank another cup. I decided to take a cup into Ibiki in case he woke up when I went to pack the things from the bedroom.

When I went in and stood by the bed, once again Ibiki just sort of woke up a little bit and asked, “What?” I put the tea down on the nightstand and bent down to kiss his forehead again. “Just putting some tea here for you, darling, nothing to worry about. I’m going to pack a few things, ok?”

“Ok,” he said and fell back asleep.

I felt pretty damn good at having worn out Ibiki this much and at relaxing him enough to let himself just trust me to have his back. It occurred to me that likely some other ANBU ninjas also had his back, but I still knew that there was no way he would be sleeping like that if he didn’t trust me. But then, I started to doubt a little. As I packed away some embarrassing clothing and some sentimental trinkets from my childhood that I didn’t want an ANBU nin pawing through, I wondered if his was a real sleep. Had he taken a sleeping pill or was this a clever test to see if I was trustworthy?

When I’d finished packing the embarrassing things and the papers, I set about washing up and putting up my dishes. I didn’t want them going dirty into storage or being left uncleaned to sit here in a sealed apartment. For some reason, I felt weird washing dishes naked, so I snuck in and grabbed a t-shirt and some gym shorts. I never used so much stealth in going into my own bedroom as I did then. When I got back to the kitchen and dressed myself, I felt ready to tackle the kitchen.

As I was putting the last of the washed dishes away, I heard the shower go on. I quickly heated a cup of tea for Ibiki and took it in to him. When I got to the door to the bathroom, however, I felt a little nervous. I slowly poked my head around the door, unsure suddenly if taking him a cup of tea in the shower would seem too obtrusive.

The sound of him softly chuckling in the shower brought my courage back at once. “Yo, you want this tea now or should I just leave it on the sink?” I asked. The shower curtain flew back, and a naked Ibiki reached out for the cup and drank it. I watch transfixed as he drank the tea.

His back and arms were still a bit slick with the massage oil. The marks of torture covered him like bizarre tattoos, but they didn’t make him look weak or beaten down. He looked huge, menacing, fierce, and magnificent. His scars seemed to defy the world—go ahead, what can you do to me that rivals what’s already been done? They seemed to be shouting at me,”Why would I fear death when dying would have been easier than living?” He seemed so much more alive than me. He was someone with such a fierce will and such a vibrant sense of life that I wondered if the death god had feared he would bring his life with him into the world of the dead and refused to touch him.

When he drained the cup and turned to give it to me, our eyes met. An odd look flashed across his face as if he didn’t really believe what he was seeing for a minute. I stepped into the shower and pulled his mouth down to mine and kissed him. An Ibiki showing a moment of doubt was even harder to resist than an Ibiki of iron will. But there was no doubt in his kiss, and he pulled me into the shower and pulled the curtain shut behind us.

If you had asked me yesterday if I found taking a shower in my shorts and t-shirt erotic, I’d have looked at you like you were insane and probably called you a number of very unflattering things. Now, I was finding the way the fabric clung to me and felt heavy on me exciting. Ibiki’s hands cupped my breasts, feeling my aroused nipples. “Hmmm,” he said, “this water’s pretty warm for your nipples to be this hard. And gosh, I don’t even have any handcuffs or barbeque sauce with me, how could this be?”

I winced. Oh no! How the hell had he found out about that damn shower with Chouji? “I swear to you on everything I hold sacred,” I said, “I will never willingly initiate anything involving both a shower and barbeque sauce again in my life. And Ibiki-sama, you don’t need handcuffs to get me to do exactly what you want.”

“Hmmm,” he said, pulling me in for another deep kiss. I tried to convey in the kiss how much I want to please him. When he picked me up and set my back against the wall, pulling my legs around his waist, I had the feeling I was succeeding. When he rubbed his hand on his ass to get it oily from the residue of the clove massage oil, I had a good feeling about what was coming next. Then his hand reached down and pulled aside my shorts, so he could slide himself into me, and I knew I was pleasing at least part of him.

The feeling of being held up against a wall with a rock-hard cock inside you is just designed to make you feel weak, petite, feminine, and helpless. Unfortunately it puts a huge strain on most men, who don’t have the strength to both hold an adult woman and keep an erection, let alone a good pace. Balance and comfort can also cause problems. It’s not as easy as it sounds to have good sex against a wall. Then of course, add water hitting you, a slippery floor, and knowledge of a limited amount of hot water being available, and it’s no wonder that I found that most shower sex ended up being both short and not likely to lead to an orgasm.

Ibiki, however, was making me rethink my low expectations for showers. He made me feel as if my weight were nothing to him, and the force of his thrusts made me feel no doubts or worries about him being distracted by the strain of holding me up. His tongue thrust into my mouth, making it hard to focus on anything but kissing him. Yet, at the same time, each movement of his hips would drive his penis into me, making my back thud against the tile and forcing me to focus on the way my body felt pinned there by his.

“You need me to give you orders, Baka-chan," he said pulling his mouth up from my lips. He pulled back, paused, and then pushed forward hard. I cried out in pleasure, and he put his mouth to my ear and said, “I didn’t think a chuunin would need to be told you don’t wear clothes in the shower.”

“I’m sorry, Master Ibiki,” I said as he moved back to almost slide out of me, “Please don’t stop. I promise to take off my clothes next time.” I tightened my pussy around the tip of his cock that was still inside me and tried to pull him back into me. “Please, please, give it to me, Master,” I begged.

He thrust forward and slamming deep into me and again pushing me roughly back so that my head hit the tile wall. I moaned in pleasure. “Oh, yes, thank you, thank you, Master,” I cried out.

“Silence,” he said and then for a while he just drove into me rapidly. It was hard not to cry out, but I shut my eyes and bit my lip and tried to keep from making noise. Then a finger found my ass and penetrated me there. I couldn’t help but cry out, feeling so completely helpless, so totally filled in front and back, so close to an orgasm.

The finger pulled out of me, and I cried out again at its loss. But then Ibiki was grabbing my tube of toothpaste and pushing it up inside my ass. I started to shriek out some incoherent protests, both fascinated and disgusted at what he was doing. “Be quiet or something else will go up there, and I’ll make you keep it in you all night,” he said.

I immediately went silent and let him force the rest of tube inside me, fighting myself to make no noise. As he slowly forced it into me, he said, “You are being punished for not obeying. I had Shino promise Mrs. Nagatomi we wouldn’t make any more noise. Now be a good ninja and keep mission silence.“ Then he was kissing me, pinching my nipples, pressing his cock into me, all while my ass was stretched around the cold tube of toothpaste obscenely pushed into me. It was too much: there was no escape from the feeling of being penetrated, of being helpless, of being dominated. I began to cum violently, each contraction of my pussy making the tube in my ass seem more a violation, a horror, and sending me into even stronger contractions. I thrashed about, tears spilling from me, ashamed of the intense pleasure shaking my body against my will.

He kept thrusting into me, ignoring my orgasm, and finally the tremors became less overwhelming and weaker, and yet he still was pushing into me, his hands still at my breasts, the tube still in my ass. “Thank me for your orgasm, Slave,” he said. At the word “Slave,” I immediately began to cum again, contracting. “I don’t hear, you,” he said pinching my nipples so hard that I cried out in pain despite the fact that I was still shaking in pleasure around his cock. At my cry he added a twist to the pinch, taking the pain to another level. I sobbed out, “Please Master, please Master, forgive me, forgive me, I’m a new slave, I don’t know any better.” The pain in my breasts was truly horrible, but it was also truly thrilling. “I love you, Master, I love you,” I cried out, “Thank you for fucking me, thank you for punishing me, thank you for making me cum.”

He suddenly let go of my nipples and with a growl just pounded into me and began to cum inside of me. It set me off again, and I just clung to him, helpless in my orgasm. He leaned again me, breathing hard, still holding me. “So did you like that, little slave?” he said at last.

Now that I was feeling more pleasure than pain, it was easy to say, “Yes, Master, oh yes, Master, I love how you punish your slave.” And saying that, I felt myself start to quiver again, but not quite cum. The very word slave terrified me and yet aroused me. I was beginning to fear what I had got myself into with Ibiki, which perversely made me want him even more.

“You let Shino see you naked today, Slave, you still need to be punished for that. You can scrub me down till all the oil’s gone from me, but you have to keep that tube inside you. If it falls out, you’ll be going to Gaara’s party with a vibrator in your ass.”

This threat shocked me, and that little bit of fear was all it took to send me into another orgasm. “You little slut,” Ibiki said as he felt me start to cum. But he clearly liked seeing me in orgasm because he reached around to push the tube deeper into me, which made me shake even more. Just as I was going to be bad again and cry out because I was feeling so much that I couldn’t even control my mouth any more, he stopped any sounds with another crushing kiss. Once again, I was having an orgasm such as no man but Ibiki had ever been able to give me. It wasn’t until Ibiki lifted me off of himself and set me down on the floor of the shower that I started to be able to think again.

I just sat on the floor of the shower in a stupor until Ibiki turned off the water and knelt down next to me. “Hey, there, you ok?”

I felt embarrassed and flustered. It wasn’t very cool to orgasm to the point that you sat on the floor of the shower like a half-dead zombie. But then again, I’d never sat in my shower in a t-shirt and shorts with cum spilling out of my vagina and a tube of toothpaste in my butt. “I can talk now?” I asked.

Ibiki must really have been worried because he started making hand seals again. This time I wasn’t surprised when we met in that strange blue world of his secret genjutsu. We were standing in that pulsing blue world again. “Tell me,” he said or thought at me—I couldn’t tell which it was.

Once more I felt that need to just tell the truth, and I said, “I’m just having trouble focusing. I’m scared and excited and feeling pain and pleasure. I don’t know if this is real or a dream. I don’t think I can please you. I don’t think I can stand yet, and you want me to do something, what was I supposed to be doing? I think I am supposed to be washing you, and I can’t stand up.”

“You please me,” he said, “you please me. This is a world in which everything we say must be true in a way.”

“In a way?” I asked.

“Yes, even here, there can be lies--but they are lies that are half truths, or lies that are not lies, but are both true and not true,” he said.

“Ah, those kind of lies,” I said understanding him then--although now I can’t really understand why it seemed so clear at the time.

“I want everything from you,” he said. “I want complete surrender of your body, your mind, your heart, your spirit to me. I want you scared of me, but I want you to want me, to love me. I want to make you feel pleasure, but a part of me wants to hurt you. I don’t want any other man to look at you, to touch you, to see you, but I want to show you off to other men as mine, mine to display, mine to strip, mine to expose, mine to give away if I want. I want to kill Gaara because you want him, but I also want him to want you, to lust for you, to crave you, and to know that the only way he can ever have you is if I order you, my slave, to service him with your body. And a part of me wants to watch him fuck you, and a part of me insists that no one will ever fuck you again but me.”

“Master, I am your slave, and I love you,” was all I could say to that.

“You are mine, all mine, only mine,” he said and then kissed me.

Once more, the kiss brought me back to the ordinary world. I was soaking wet, and the shower wasn’t on. I shivered and pulled back from the kiss, saying, “Hey, let’s put the water back on.” It seemed important to pretend that nothing special, nothing weird had just happened.

“Hey, you put the water back on and get to work—I need this oil off me, so I don’t ruin my uniform,” he said.

I stood up and turned the water on and let the warmth of it pour over me. “Ok, I’m ready for slave duty now,” I said, trying to be cool about the whole situation, “but cripes, I hope this job has medical coverage because it is going to be embarrassing if I have to go to Tsunade to ask her to get a toothpaste cap out of my ass.”

Ibiki began to laugh uncontrollably. I loved making him laugh. “You are my one and only sex slave, so of course I’m going to take very, very good care of you. And if you are a good slave, you won’t have to be punished.”

“But what fun would that be, if I was good all time?” I asked, thinking I was going to have the last word, that I was going to survive this shower with not only sanity but savoir faire.

“A very good point, Slave, a very good point,” he said. “But I only let very good sex slaves play the master with me.”

Oh god. Playing master to Ibiki as a reward for being a good slave. My god, he was the master of manipulation. I was speechless. My hands began to shake, and I frankly wasn’t doing a very competent job of Ibiki-washing. I don’t really remember how it happened, but soon Ibiki was stripping me, washing me. I remember him pulling out the tube because it made me shake and quiver and start to fall down. He held me up and washed me like a mother would a little child. Afterwards he dried me off and carried me into the bedroom, setting me down in the soft armchair in the corner.

I wasn’t really functioning. He brought me my oldest and softest pair of sweatpants and helped me into them. Then he put a pair of warm, fluffy socks on my feet, and some soft slippers. He picked out one of my favorite sweaters, a soft fluffy cloud of pink that felt so good against my skin. He brought me exactly what I would have picked myself if I had been capable of dressing myself.

I just sat exactly as he left me in the chair when he finished dressing me. I had somehow hit a limit. I could only seem to observe, not think or act. I watched Ibiki dress. He then left. I don’t know how long he was gone. When he came back, he brought me a pill and a glass of water. I took the pill and drank the water. I didn’t ask what it was for, or what it would do to me. Ibiki had broken me that night, and I wasn’t any more use to him in my current state. I didn’t care if he was giving me poison, a stimulant, or a sleeping pill—it didn’t matter if I cared anyway. I was just a slave. When I felt blackness overtaking me, I welcomed it. I had lived too much today and needed numbness, nothingness, escape from the now.

And lucky me, that’s just what my new lover gave me.


*****
Note to all my wonderful reviewers--thanks!! I actually have to work for the next couple days, so I probably won't be able to add anything new until Thursday night or Friday. So feel free to post suggestions or email me to them. I don't know what I want to do with Ibiki's place--maybe I better rewatch that filler stuff about his brother--I can't remember if they were a big clan that got killed off or a small family. I like the idea of a big empty mansion--like most Sasuke stories--but then an underground apartment in the basement of an ANBU building could be pretty cool too. So I guess what would help to know is
1. Should Ibiki have a house or an apartment?
2. If an apartment, should it be in an ANBU building or somewhere normal?
3. For a potential threesome--ANBU Shino or Gaara?
4. Put in Ino-Chouji and Shikamaru-Temari subplot info or no? (For example, if they go to Gaara's party, should these be the couples to talk about)
5. When I write Gaara's party, who is Naruto with--Sakura or Hinata? (Sai can have whoever Naruto doesn't want since this is a Het. fiction.) OR should Naruto be with Sai??

As you can see there is a lot of work to this plotting stuff. On the other hand, I could just drink some liquid inspiration next weekend and just write out Gaara's party and see what happens . . .

Anyway--the reason I update so much is because I LOVE REVIEWS--and oh, boy, you folks have sure given me some good ones!!! Thanks again, Hestia