D/s Naruto

Chapter 34 (Saturday 16 June 2007 to Sunday 17 June 2007)

Danzou hung up the phone, smiling. He’d expected that Sai wouldn’t be a waiter for long when he’d sent him to Uchiha’s. But on day two—so that was how things were done there. Slip-shod! Careless! Well, what was to be expected from a club named for two pampered millionaires that just played at the lifestyle? He’d been a leatherman before either of them was born! And for that upstart club of theirs to be the one getting all the press, the one declared, “Southern California’s Best D/s Club”—it was outrageous!

He’d sent Sai to find out all he could. With what Sai found out, he’d either ruin Uchiha’s or he’d make Roots the top club again. Either way, he won. And Sai was perfect for the mission. Sai was his—not a formal slave—but his. He’d pulled the guttersnipe off the streets as a pathetic runaway of thirteen with the worse ID he’d ever seen. His story was that old sob story—foster care, separated from his brother, trying to find him. Well, he’d trained the boy to perfection, even given him a new name—Ruiz, a secret little play on words as Anglos sometimes mispronounced the Hispanic name as “Rue-its,” which was close enough to Roots to amuse him.

At any rate, Sai was the perfect sub—he followed every order, gave you exactly what you wanted, and never let emotion get in the way of submission. He was actually a pretty good switch—he could dom as long as you told him exactly what to do. Without different orders, he did the exact same thing as a dom every time. And he never was sick, didn’t have any social life outside the club, never cried or gossiped, never caused any trouble at all—all you had to do was give him enough money for paints and paper and pencils, all that art crap, and a small room, and he was happy. Sai was perfect.

Neji blinked when Hidan pointed out Sai to him. He had been so upset when he’d talked to Itachi he hadn’t noticed the boy on the leash. And during Kakashi’s show, who was looking at a waiter? But this vision in aqua ruffles and white leather, slender and pretty with those bow lips that looked like they were constantly puckered up for a kiss—the word that seemed to rise up in Neji’s mind was perfect. He loved pretty people, and this boy was prettier that Sasuke—who was always sulking and frowning. But he wasn’t too pretty—he was clearly male. Unlike with Haku or Deidara, no one would think this one was a girl. His hair and skin were as stunning as both of the Itachi brothers. But his face—unlike either of theirs, it didn’t show a drop of pride, discontent, scorn, or aggression. It was passive, peaceful, like a painting. His stomach had no six-pack but seemed the stomach of a young teen, and his navel—oh, it was meant to be licked. It was like a schoolboy’s stomach—Sai even looked a little like a schoolboy who had snuck out overdressed with an illegal ID. Schoolboy, hmmm. Perfect! He was in the mood to play disciplinarian teacher to a bad little schoolboy.

Sai watched Neji approach, feeling very curious. Kisame had said Neji would want a sub, but he’d had him sign a switch’s contract, which meant Sai might sub or dom. In addition, there was the matter of that scene he and Kisame had watched last night down in the monitor room. Itachi had given him the tour of club, and when they’d got to the monitor room, he gotten a call. He’d stood there by Kisame, who hadn’t said a word to him. They’d watched the man whom he now knew was Neji play out a scene with his sub. The sub was dressed in stockings, heels, a French maid’s dress, and a cockring. The sub was giving his master a blowjob, which didn’t seem to be doing that much for either dom or sub, but then the “maid” had tried to finger Master’s ass. Actually the sub had succeeded and given a rather rough finger-fucking to his Master. The reaction on the face of Neji had been amazing to watch, and thought the long-haired dom had pulled the maid’s mouth off his cock, he’d not dislodged the fingers and, moreover, had dramatically come all over his disobedient sub.

The spanking that followed was boring, and Sai had been glad when Itachi had returned. But the sight of Neji’s face as those fingers went into him—his pride and aggression replaced with a mix of shock, pain, shame, and incredible pleasure—well, that was something Sai had gone back to his hotel room and sketched again and again, trying to capture on paper. He still wasn’t satisfied. But now he was going to do a session with Neji. It had seemed clear to him that Neji had been much more aroused by being mastered by his “maid” than mastering “her.” So what was he really looking for—a dom or a sub? Even if Neji just wanted a sub, Sai wanted to see that face again.

As Neji came closer and smiled at Sai, he decided he was going to give Neji a finger-fucking tonight no matter what. It wasn’t like this was real job; his real job was at Roots. Danzou could send somebody else to spy on Uchiha’s. But he might never have the chance to see that face again. Neji had looked very, very interested in Kimimaro. Besides, so what if he was blackballed as an unreliable sub in this town? He would always be welcome at Roots, and he had his “regulars” there. In fact, they probably wouldn’t believe Sai had attacked a dom; the one complaint about Sai tended to be his submission was too perfect, too emotionless. And Neji, this pretty Neji, he looked way too proud to bring in the cops while last night he’d looked way too excited at a finger fucking—oh! Sai’s mind completely derailed when Neji finally was right in front of him. He didn’t hear what Neji said to him; all he could think of was that he’d never, never met anyone with more interesting eyes in his life.

“I’ve never seen eyes like yours before,” said Sai, interrupting Neji, for he hadn’t even heard him speaking. “They are such a pale grey, such a beautiful grey, or are they silver? I spent last night drawing you, but now I have to redo all the sketches—I have the eyes wrong. I’ve wanted to pant you since yesterday, but now I have to paint you. I’m going to paint your eyes tonight in my hotel room.”

Those silvery, grey eyes widened for a second, then narrowed and looked cold.

“You aren’t a sub; you’ve ignored and interrupted me and now are presumptuous. Is this your first effort at submission?” asked Neji scornfully. “I’ll have to tell Itachi he’s made a mistake in thinking you can do more than wait tables.”

Sai never was submissive until a session started. But the look of superiority and disgust on Neji’s face made Sai feel like Neji was slipping away from him, and he went for his “triumph card”—his cock. The white leather jeans that Deidara had insisted he put on were modeled after sailor pants. They had two rows of snaps down the front that could be opened so the front of the pants would just flop down. Sai’s thumbs hooked in the waistband of the leather pants and jerked down, tugging the flap down and exposing his entire crotch to Neji—and his erect cock. He had a cock that brought men to their knees. He’d never seen a bigger one in the flesh although from porn he knew that there were bigger ones. His was thick, long, and straight, and the first sight of it always brought a reaction. It was too bad he couldn’t see Neji’s, but the guy wanted submission now, and eye contact could blow it.

Sai dropped to his knees, pushing forward his groin, saying, “Master Neji, Master Neji, please forgive me. You’re so beautiful, you make me so hard, so full of desire, I forgot my place. Please teach me my place, Master Neji.” Oh, yea, that was the sort of crap doms loved to hear, that got them all drooling and glowing.

From the silence and the lack of movement in Neji’s feet, Sai was pretty sure he’d hooked his catch. He let his hands move to play with himself—he stroked his cock and fondled his balls, moaning just the way Danzou had taught him. His solo masturbation act at Roots was a favorite, and Sai had practiced the sounds and expressions of a slave lost in his own desires until he was perfect at them. He didn’t need all that to get off, but he gave Danzou what he wanted, when he wanted it. Not that he ever masturbated anyway unless ordered to; his body got rid of enough sperm in his work that he didn’t need to release any on his own time.

“Hands behind your back, boy!”

“Yes, Master Neji! Thank-you for agreeing to teach this lowly submissive his place,” said Sai, satisfied that now that Neji’s pride would make him continue the session.

“Tell me your limits, boy, what you won’t do and what you crave,” ordered Neji.

“I do everything Master desires; I desire nothing but to please Master,” said Sai.

“Very nicely said, boy, but you signed a house contract tonight I hear, did you not?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And you read that long list of types of submission, did you not?”

“Yes, Master.”

“So what on that list won’t you do and what on that list do you long for?”

“I do everything on the list, Master. I have been trained in all of them. I have no longings, Master.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, Master.”

“You will allow me to scar you?” demanded Neji, incredulity clear in his voice.

“If Master wishes to add to my scars, I submit,” said Sai. “Does Master wish me to point out my scars?”

There was silence for a while; then Neji said, “Yes.”

Sai unbuttoned the aqua silk blouse and let it fall to the floor. He moved his hands to the bumpy two inch scar on his right chest, then to the longer, but fainter lines on his shoulders, then to the long one on his upper left arm—“Stop,” ordered Neji. Sai put his arms back behind him again.

“Tell me what you like,” ordered Neji.

“I have no preferences, Master,” said Sai honestly.

“Tell me what you have begged for,” ordered Neji.

“Nothing, unless Master orders me to beg for it,” said Sai.

“Name one thing you have begged for and were not ordered to,” commanded Neji.

“In session, nothing,” said Sai.

“Out of session then, boy,” insisted Neji.

“Paints, brushes, paper,” said Sai.

“Nothing else?”

`My brother,’ thought Sai. But he wouldn’t talk of him. It didn’t matter: his brother was dead, and all the begging in the world would not bring him back. “No,” he said.

“What makes you hard, makes you come?” asked Neji.

“I try to stay hard for the entirety of every sub session,” said Sai, “and I come when Master orders.”

“And what do you think of to get you hard, when you come?” said Neji.

“That I am submitting, obeying orders,” said Sai.

“Dammit, boy, don’t evade my questions. What do you think of when you masturbate outside of sessions?” asked Neji, frustration and anger coloring his voice now.

“Master, I’m telling you the truth. I have never masturbated unless ordered until tonight,” said Sai. He didn’t need to—he came enough in working at Roots as a sub or for Danzou, and if he went too long, it just happened at night when he slept--although he hadn’t had a wet dream for a number of years now.

“Why did you do that just now? What were you thinking of?” asked Neji, satisfaction in his voice.

“Master, I was thinking that I wanted to draw you, to paint you, and I wanted to watch you tonight as your sub. You seemed unhappy, ready to leave, so I thought if I masturbated you would give me an order, want to control me, want to experience my submission.”

Laughter exploded from those in a circle around Neji and Sai in the bar—which was everyone there except for Hidan, stuck behind the bar.

“Come for me,” ordered Neji.

Sai’s body responded as it was trained to, and sperm shot up out of his cock into the air. After a few seconds, Sai thought of the picture of his brother’s corpse, and the flow of sperm slowed, then stopped with him still partially hard. He focused and let himself grow hard again. He’d perfected this method over the years, earning many of his scars as he had. Danzou now would order him to empty his balls completely, to spill out as much cum as he could, just so he could punish him for not being erect afterwards. But no one alive knew Sai like Danzou.

And he owed Danzou, for he had found his brother, given him closure. He’d listened to his story and contacted old contacts, old buddies from his Vietnam days, old subs who still remembered him and would do him favors. He’d taken his brother’s tooth, the one Sai had kept as the proof he had a brother, promising him its DNA would help find him. And it had—in some vials, some refrigerators in Houston, a John Doe, one of four victims of a serial killer. The case files had come to him, the clippings, the accounts of the execution of the killer. He’d even got a letter from the head investigator on the case, telling him of his sympathy, thanking him for giving the boy a name, a history, as his face had haunted him. Yes, the photo of his dead brother’s face would haunt anyone.

So he did what Danzou wanted, what he asked, what the masters he was given to asked for. Why not? He had no brother, no family, no needs, no desires. But, well, to be honest, he did have this one desire now, this desire to see that face of Neji’s again, so he could paint it. Once he’d captured it, though, life would go back to being the same thing—something you did until you died.

“What did you think of just now?” asked Neji.

`My dead brother,’ thought Sai, but that wasn’t something you said in session. “Painting your face, Master,” said Sai.

“Get up and follow me,” ordered Neji.

Sai stood up, leaving the shirt on the floor, his pants undone, the cum dripping from his cock. He rose with his hands behind his back, a graceful show of balance, and waited for Neji’s feet to move, so he could follow. They did, leading to the front desk, to the keys for the rooms upstairs. And Sai could tell others were following them although he kept his eyes on Neji’s legs in front of him.

Those others, the ones following, they’d be putting in their requests for a session with Sai. That happened—everybody wanted a couple sessions with him. But eventually they got to the point Neji seemed to be at already—frustrated, angry that nothing, nothing really was what Sai wanted, nothing touched him inside, nothing made him beg for real. If he died in a session, he might just meet his brother if all the religions were telling the truth. But Sai doubted it. This world with its evil and pain was not wrought by a god, at least not by the kind of god the believers tried to tell him would save him. No one had saved his brother.

The others, the voices, stayed behind, not permitted up the stairs. He followed Neji to one of the rooms. Inside, he knelt on the carpet, listening to the door lock behind them.

“We will play a scene, boy,” said Neji. “You are a high school student, and you have been sent to the disciplinary officer, to me, Mr. Hyuuga. What name do you wish to use for the scene?”

“Sai Ruiz, Master,”

“Very well, Sai Ruiz the student has been a bad boy. Snap up your pants, boy. Now, move that table over there out and place the chair behind it. That will be my office. Put that stool over there on the other side of the table. When we start, you are to behave as a bad schoolboy would, not as a sub. Understood?”

“Yes, Master,” said Sai, quickly adjusting his pants, moving the table, the dom’s chair, and the stool into place. Neji had gotten from the cabinet some paper on a clipboard, a black marker, a wooden ruler, and a pen. The marker was usually used to write degrading things on a sub’s body and the other things were there for just such fantasies as this one.

He went and sat in the chair and gestured for Sai to sit on the stool, saying, “We begin.” Sai brought his eyes up immediately and stared at Neji. He was sitting back in the chair, his hands rolling the black marker in his fingers.

“Mr. Ruiz, do you know why you are here?” he asked.

“No, sir,” said Sai, trying to memorize the line of Neji’s jaw.

“I think you do, Ruiz! You’d better remember! I want you to take this paper and pen and write down everything you’ve done that has been against school rules in the last week. I’ll give you a few minutes, and if I don’t see what I should see, you’ll regret it, Ruiz!” Neji threw down the marker, smacked the table, and slid the paper towards him. He got up and went over to the cabinet and began to pull out some paddles and crops.

Sai took the paper, and immediately, unable to resist, he started trying to draw Neji, as he had looked last night as he had been finger-fucked. And suddenly he knew what he should write on the top of the paper. In large capitals he wrote, “I want to rape Mr. Hyuuga.” He added some childish stars on either side of that statement and five exclamation points before going back to his sketch. Instead of a spiky-haired man in a maid’s dress sucking off and fingering Neji, he drew himself, naked, pushing apart Neji’s legs. He heard Neji move over to one of the spanking benches and adjust it to his liking. He worked quickly, drawing as best he could with the plain black ballpoint. It wasn’t finished, but it was enough by the time Neji sat down again and barked out, “Ruiz! What the hell are you doing? Give me that!”

He handed the paper to Neji, saying, “Here, Mr. Hyuuga. I hope this is what you want.” Oh, god, that was lovely to watch—how shock shivered into desire and then slid past it into anger on Neji’s face. Oh, those silvery grey eyes could look fierce!

“Ruiz! How dare you draw this piece of pornographic nonsense! This is outrageous!” And Neji leaped picked up the ruler and reached out to smack it down on Sai’s hand. Sai had planned to wait until Neji had stripped, ready to fuck him, before making his move. That way Neji’s pants would be already off. But if he took a beating on his hand, he might not be able to draw, so grabbed the ruler and snapped it in two and flung himself over the table, throwing Neji to the floor, pinning his legs, holding down his upper body with one hand and ripping his pants open with the other. He ignored Neji’s struggles till he swung a punch at him. He dodged it and then punched back, his fist connecting with Neji’s upper arm. He eyes stared hard into Neji’s shocked ones, seeing the pain and confusion as the blow impacted and that arm dropped to the floor, just long enough for Sai to get Neji’s cock out of his pants. He dropped his body down on Neji, kissing him hard, biting his lip when he wouldn’t open his mouth, and thrusting in his tongue when those lips opened.

Neji’s hands clawed at him, ripped at his hair, and Sai rose up on his knees and jerked down Neji’s pants, thrusting one finger in him without lube. And Neji screamed, his back arched, and his face contorted in that look he had wanted to see. Sai thrust that finger in and out of him, and Neji’s nails dug into his shoulders, his back, but he wasn’t fighting as hard anymore. Then Sai tried for another finger, and Neji shouted, “Stop it, you’re tearing me! Dammit, you’re hurting me, you crazy bastard!”

Sai jerked his finger out and rose up on his feet above Neji, who just fell back on the floor. Whether he would have bolted for the door or not if Sai had had to go all the way to the cupboard for lube, he would never know, for once on his feet he could see a tube and a condom that had fallen out of Neji’s ripped pants. He threw himself back down on Neji, grabbing the tube with one hand, squeezing it so hard it popped and lube just oozed out onto his hand. Then he buried his finger in Neji again, then two, thrusting, watching that face. Neji slapped him, twisted his ear, scratched at his shoulders—but he didn’t go for his eyes, didn’t try to squirm away to the panic button, didn’t even scream for help. And that face—oh, god, it was even more compelling than last night. He couldn’t even tell what emotions were causing those expressions rippling over Neji’s face, making his mouth and cheeks and eyes move like that—just that here was emotion, emotion like he’d never felt and hardly ever seen.

And then his fingers found Neji’s prostate, and the long-haired dom cried out and his body arched up, thrusting his erection into his attacker. Sai forced another finger in as Neji’s face contorted even more, and tears started to spill from his eyes. “Why? Why?” he cried out in a voice that seemed tormented.

And Sai, for the first time in a long time, felt something inside. “I want to see your face, I want to see you feel,” he gasped, pulling his hand out of Neji, unsnapping his pants. “I want to see what you look like when I fuck you.”

“No! You’re too big! You won’t fit in me! You’ll tear me up!” cried out Neji, and suddenly fear filled his face and he cried out, “No! No! No! Please No! No Uncle!”

Uncle?

Sai rose up on his knees again, but now Neji was crying, reliving something that wasn’t happening. And Sai flashed back to his own childhood, remembering the beatings from their foster dad, those beatings that had been his first lessons in pain. He remembered how he’d been tied up, unable to help his brother, to stop the fists, the belt, and that cock from torturing him, the one he loved. But now, now, there was nothing to stop him, and he pulled Neji into his arms. Gently, Sai picked him up, carrying the crying, shaking body to the bed. He sat on it with Neji in his arms, kissing his head, stroking his hair, his back, saying, “Brother, brother, it’s ok, it’s ok, you’re safe, you’re safe. I won’t let him hurt you. He’s gone, Uncle is gone. They’re all gone, it’s just me, just me, and I’ll protect you.”

Neji clung to him, sobbing and shaking. And Sai did what he hadn’t been able to do as a child—he held, he whispered words of comfort, and he made the promises he couldn’t have made then, but now, oh god, now if he could but hold his brother again, he’d keep those promises forever: “No one will hurt you, no one will touch you, no one will take you away from my protection, from my arms. I’ll die before I let you be taken from me, hurt again, beaten again, raped again. I’ll die with their blood in on my hands, in my mouth, and their screams in my ears. I’m so sorry I couldn’t kill him then, I couldn’t stop him then, but I was too weak, too small. But he’s dead now. Oh, brother, brother, the one that killed you was already dead when I found you again, already dead—“

His brother’s face, his beloved brother—oh, god, the pain exploded in him. He was crying, crying like he had never been able to cry since he’d been separated from his brother—silently, not a sound, not a shake in his body, but the tears, the tears streamed down his face into the soft, silky hair against his lips, his chin, his chest.

And then, then, lips on his chest, his cheek, and the body in his arms moving, rising over him, dark hair spilling over him, and a voice ordering, “Open your eyes and look at me.” And then those silvery grey eyes staring into his, a hand on his cock, and Neji pushing down, forcing the tip of his cock into his ass. He was too big, and Neji’s faced filled with pain, and Sai, reached out, tugging at the drawer in the nightstand by the bed—surely, surely there was lube in it. And then the dark hair swept across his face as Neji bent over and pulled a small plastic snap-top bottle from the drawer.

But Sai took it from him, set it by his side, and lifted Neji off him, pulling him down to the bed next to him. He covered his hand again; this time doing it right, and gently worked in his fingers, stretching Neji slowly, methodically, thoroughly. And when he had three fingers in him, Neji opened his mouth and said in a shaky voice, “Please.”

And Sai would refuse him nothing. He coated his cock, drenched it, using more lube than needed, moving between Neji’s legs. He pushed in the tip, watching as Neji’s face transformed into a look of pure pleasure, pure passion—a look even more fascinating, more beautiful than anything Sai had seen on his face before. He held still, waiting, until Neji again said, “Please.”

And he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, working in deep. He could never fit in a woman, but the rectum is a wonderfully long organ, able to take all of him. Neji’s mouth fell open, his eyes rolled back, he arched and cried out, and shook. When Sai was half way into him, Neji started to pant and curse. When he was three-quarters of the way in, Neji moaned and thrashed, crying out, “God, god, close, god, oh god—“ And Sai squeezed the base of his cock hard, growling, “Don’t you dare come before I’m even all the way inside you.”

Neji burst into tears and screamed as Sai pushed in those last inches fast and hard. Then Sai began to thrust, and Neji convulsed, screamed, and came hard, clamping around him, squeezing him so tight, looking so amazing, so beautiful that Sai started to come with no command, no order, no thinking. And that felt so amazing, so different, so intense, he couldn’t even keep his eyes open, and a cry of shock burst from his lips, and he fell forward onto Neji, saying, “I came, I came without command. It just came out, I didn’t want to come yet. I don’t understand.”

And then that body under him tightened around him again and shook, making him gasp and shudder.

Neji was laughing at him.

And then he pulled Sai down and kissed him. And Sai felt lost, confused, unsure of what to do until Neji ordered, “I want you to get hard again and fuck me one more time. This time you wait until I say to come.”

Oh. Commands. Yes. He knew where he was, what to do.

“Yes, Master,” he said. And then he shut his eyes and pictured Neji’s face and tried to get his cock to stir.

“Please, Master, give me some time, some time,” he said opening his eyes, finding nothing working, begging without being commanded. He’d spilled everything, and there was nothing left. Nothing, nothing when he wanted so badly to please this beautiful body underneath him, still tight around him.

“One lash,” said Neji.

And Sai’s cock twitched just a little, deep inside Neji’s tightness.

Neji laughed, feeling him move inside him.

“Two lashes,” he said.

And Sai moaned, feelings overwhelming him. “Master! Master! Please!”

“So you can beg, after all, can’t you, boy? You liar!”

“Master! I--, I--, I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t--I never--I want—oh, god, Master,” cried out Sai, feeling his cock thickening now, growing slowly.

“Three lashes,” said Neji.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard in a few minutes, you won’t be able to pick up a whip,” said Sai, pushing forward, making himself harder by the second. “You’re going to scream again, and you’ll be the one begging for mercy, little one,” he whispered fiercely into Neji’s ear, biting it sharply.

“I’ll believe it when it happens, and you’re getting six lashes,” said Neji twisting his head and biting Sai’s shoulder and sucking hard.

But he did scream, scream out and beg, and come again and again.

And in the morning, Sai wouldn’t listen to his protests and carried him down to his car, holding him tight. He threatened to tell the valet all about Neji’s begging unless he behaved and let Sai drive him home.

And Neji just pouted, saying, “Eighteen lashes.” But his hands held tight to Sai all the way down the stairs and while waiting for the car. And he made little sounds of pleasure when Sai kissed him on his head.

`He’ll be begging again when I carry him into his house,’ Sai promised himself, pulling the car out into the morning traffic.

And Neji, peeking out from under his eyelashes, saw a smile form on Sai’s face, the first he’d ever seen there. He turned his head to the window, hiding the smile that formed on his own.