D/s Naruto

Chapter 35 (Saturday 16 June 2007 to Sunday 17 June 2007)

“Yes, Master,” said Shino, and his entire body shook—he could feel a shudder right down his spine, and every muscle in his ass, stomach, and thighs clenched. His body fell forward just a little towards Kankurou’s, and his hands trembled just enough to make the cuffs clink. Kankurou pulled him into an embrace, and his mouth descended, making Shino forget some of the terror of those words of submission. The man could kiss.

It was so strange being held by such a big guy, the sort of guy who probably never in his life felt physically incompetent, physically weak. His body was proportional, and he was just one of those guys that probably came out at 9 or 10 pounds from the womb and looked like a grownup by fifteen. He was built, hah-hah, like a linebacker. `He probably has been eating up thin, nerdy geeks like me all his life,’ thought Shino, forgetting his new muscles. Because those muscles were new—the product of Shino’s personal four-year grieving process. He had taken all his rage, all his confusion, all his sorrow, and all the free time from the loss of his dog and channeled it into lifting weights and swimming. And he’d had a lot of free time—he had no non-work friends but Kiba and Akamaru, no family within a thousand miles, no religion, and no hobbies outside of the D/s world. And those hobbies had been, for the most part, too painful to continue with.

But he’d found physical pain--the physical pain of straining to lift more and hold it longer or to swim just one more lap when his body was screaming he could swim no more—helped him forget his emotional pain. And his body, finding pain welcome, seemed to crave more tattoos. He’d always had a bunch, but in the last four years he’d added and added until what was once one chain of bugs had become many. Now suddenly held captured and cuffed against this big stocky body, Shino was wondering if he had transformed like a caterpillar to a butterfly. For Kankurou made him feel beautiful, exotic, even bizarrely powerful—something that needed to be cuffed, controlled, too powerful to let loose. And he made him feel aflame with desires, desires that Shino was letting sweep him away.

The old Shino would never risk like he was risking—not wanting to be put into the sort of headspace he’d spent his childhood in. Whether it had been racism or just childhood cruelty, he’d always been the outsider, the creepy one, the one people had ignored, avoided, or mocked. Being a dom had made him feel safe and in control, made him feel good.

But being out of control now made him feel alive, feel excited, feel passionate, like he hadn’t in such a long, long time. And what pain could Kankurou put him through that would rival the loss of the love of his life? Nothing! The only thing he truly feared now was the death of the few people in this world that were precious to him.

But the habits of a lifetime are hard to break, and he’d run and struggled. But how could he call anyone Master who couldn’t capture him? But this man--this man with that voice that seemed to reach into his brain and trigger the neurons that made his muscles move, follow, obey—this man he could call Master. And this Master of his was not a mere Master, but a Maestro of making out. His tongue—fuck! Shino’s mind filled alternately with chanted wishes—please, please, please thrust that tongue into my mouth like that again, no, no, don’t tease like that, deeper, farther, more, please more. And then that tongue would come in and claim him until he could only think—no more, no more, I can’t take it, I can’t breathe, I can’t, oh god, no, no. And then it would be gone again, leaving him craving, wanting, mad for it to come back inside him. And that was just his tongue.

The hands, the hands—they found places on his body that he hadn’t ever thought were sensitive. They had him squirming, flinching, shaking, rubbing, trying to push his skin into those hands, those fingers. And they never touched his cock, never touched his anus, never touched his nipples—the places he couldn’t help but want touched. And he tried to shift, to move, to twist, to trick those hands into touching him on the flesh that was so alive, so aware, so aching, so needing. And then a finger just lightly passed over his contracting asshole, and he pushed back and cried out. But it was gone, leaving behind even more desire, moving elsewhere to tease and torment, ghosting over one nipple, moving through his pubic hair, barely brushing a testicle—damn it, damn it, more, he needed more, more tongue, more hands, more skin on skin, more of this pounding excitement that was something he thought he’d never feel again—

Oh, fuck, let me feel that again—that was a sharp pinch on a nipple—oh god, and the hands were moving now in a pattern he could recognize. His big captor was tracing his tattooed chains of bugs, his hands caressing and exploring Shino’s skin. It felt so good, but what was making Shino quiver was remembering what Kankurou had said he would do next after tracing his tattoos with his hands: he was going to use his lips and tongue on them, and, yes, oh yes, he’d said he would suck his fingers and toes, nipples, balls, and cock. Christ! Shino was going to die before Kankurou got around to his cock; this was torment. He didn’t like to think of himself as the sort of guy who jerked another guy off, who begged for anything, who called anyone master, but he had not had sex in forever, and he really, really needed to come. He could put his cuffed hands down and jerk on his own cock, but he had a feeling this big man, this man who’d dared to cuff him and had almost raped him after chasing him down like an animal, wouldn’t like that, wouldn’t like that at all . . .

But he’d liked when Shino had touched him in the pool—so Shino wiggled and moved and squirmed till his hands could seized that cock and stroke it, squeeze it as best he could. And that mouth kept claiming his, distracting him, making him quiver and need while the big hands slid over his skin reminding him of the biting sting of the tattoo needle. And his efforts to caress that thick, massively wide cock made those big hands tighten, and the mouth slid from his and bit his ear, his neck, his shoulders, sucking, marking, even drawing a little blood, which made Shino moan and want to the point that he couldn’t hold back the words any more.

“Ah! God, yes, bite me, bite me hard, Master! Touch me, please, please, oh god, yes, Master!” And once he’d started talking, it was addictive—“So big, so strong, oh, god almighty, yes!” For a hand had finally found his balls and was playing with them. He moaned. And then there was a loud clicking, and the steady background hiss of the sprinklers stopped. Suddenly it seemed too quiet. The sound of the stream running down over the rocks into the pool was softer, distant, lost beneath pants, groans, heartbeats. Then Kankurou swore and tugged him deeper into the house, through an elegant room dimly lit from the brightness of the outdoor lighting. He tugged the two of them into a kitchen, already softly lit by recessed lights in the ceiling. They paused by a counter for Kankurou to grab a ceramic bottle with a stainless-steel spout and drench them with olive oil. He spilled it down Shino’s chest, his cock, his own chest and cock, Shino’s ass. The smell of it filled the room while the feeling of it dripping down his legs on skin sensitized to every touch, make Shino reach out with his mouth to try to find Kankurou’s own. But the mouth he wanted to taste eluded him, and Shino started licking, kissing, softly biting whatever bit of skin he could access.

“Yea, that’s it, bugboy,” growled Kankurou, “show me your passion, tell me what you need.”

And Shino cried out, his hands pushing up between them, sliding up and over Kankurou’s head to try to pull him closer. Once his cuffed hands slid over that orangey-red head, Kankurou grasped his ass and pulled Shino’s body tight against his own the way he hadn’t been able to feel him since outside the club: chest to chest, cock to cock, thigh to thigh. Shino almost wept with intensity of the feeling in his cock, now tight between their bodies. Kankurou reached down and grasped his legs, however, pulling them up, picking up Shino easily. But he didn’t go far—just to a wooden chair by the heavy thick kitchen table, sitting down on it with Shino on his lap.

And then he was lifting and positioning Shino, putting that way too wide cock at his anus. And Shino panicked, squirming, and crying out, “No! No! It’s too big, too wide! No, please, no, Master!” But Kankurou’s spell had him trapped, and for all his protesting words, his wiggling, he wasn’t really trying to get away. And those big, strong hands pushed down on his hips—and he felt the sharp pain of the tight ring of his anus stretching wide, too wide, too fast. He screamed, but it was not really a scream of protest. It was painful, but a pain that aroused him so much that he stopped pulling up and pushed down. He kept screaming, but now it was more a scream like you made when throwing your strongest punch or jerking up more weight that you might be able to lift.

And Kankurou’s voice poured over him, in between kisses, licks, and bites, “So fucking hot! That’s it, yea, you wild man! Eat up my cock in your hungry ass, and grind down on me, yea bite me, pull my hair, just push that fucking tight ass down on me, you sexy beast! Jesus fucking Christ you’ve got the tightest, sweetest ass! Fuck yea, ride me, squeeze my cock in that vice of yours till I pop, bugboy! Move those fucking—“

AAAAHHHHH! And with that long cry, Shino suddenly understood why the prostate was called the cum button, the pleasure spot, why the men he’d fucked had gone wild and begged and sometimes came without a touch on their cocks when Shino hit it just right—AAAAHHHHHH!

Holy Mother of all Mothers! The more you hit it, the better it got—and Shino put all his muscles to work now, forcing himself down on Kankurou, and despite the cuffs, no longer needing his seme’s hands to lift him up and push down at his hips. He set the pace and held the bigger man down, riding him eagerly, willingly, until the Suna reached between them, pumping Shino’s cock, saying fiercely, “Damn it, I can't hold off, come with me, damn it, spray me as I fill your ass! Fuck! Yes!”

Jesus—you could come with your ass and your cock, you could have two orgasms at once together. And the feel of a man shooting his load deep inside you, filling you with cum, truly making you his bitch—oh this was worth all the humiliation, worth the submission, worth the pain. This was better than runner’s high, better than tattoos, better than jerking off, better than fucking.

“Thank me,” demanded Kankurou.

And Shino leaned in and licked Kankurou’s ear and whispered into it, “Master, thank you, thank you very much.”

“No,” said Kankurou, “Not good enough. Say it loudly, say how much you liked that, how much you want to do it again soon.”

Shino squeezed tight around Kankurou, who although he had softened and shrunk was now as wide as most cocks only got when erect. The sensation that rippled through Shino when he squeezed down confirmed that Kankurou was right. So in that soft but pentrating voice that could fill a classroom to the back row, Shino said, “Master, thank you for fucking my ass with your cock. I loved it. I want you to fuck me again in the other two positions you described, please. And if there’s anything I can do to make that happen faster, Master, please, please tell me.”

“You want me hard again already? You’re a demanding little uke, aren’t you? Well, maybe the sight of your greedy, slutty ass being smacked with a paddle will make me hard again. What do you have to say to that?”

“Master, please tell me where I should fetch the paddle from,” said Shino.


The paddle stung and burned, but that too felt good in a way. He needed the pain, needed it to burn away the last bits of pride, the last bit of fear. And he felt guilty, sinful, worthy of punishment because he desperately, desperately wanted Kankurou’s cock in him again, wanted to be fucked, and because, most despicably of all, sex with a stranger shouldn’t make all the sex you had with the man you’d loved seem tame, seem less, seem like something that you no longer wanted anymore. The pain made it harder to think about the past, to even remember the past, any past beyond tonight. And Shino shoved his ass up for the blows, begging for them with his body, thanking Kankurou for them, until his master threw aside the paddle and shoved his fingers into Shino’s ass.

That was when Shino started begging for more, for Master’s cock.

Instead he got a cockring, nipple clamps, and a tiny vibrating buttplug that drove him mad—too small to hit his prostate, too thin to feel as good as Kankurou had. And he got a cock to suck—which made him struggle, protest, and that at least brought the pleasure of more blows of the paddle. Oh, god, to feel the kiss of the paddle with a vibrating plug to clench around—oh, god, he knew without the cockring, he would have come, come all over this bench, come with his ass in the air, being punished. But the paddling went on, on past the point of pleasurable pain, into just pain. And finally, he could take it no more and began to cry, now begging for Kankurou to stop.

And he did, presenting his cock again. And Shino struggled to fit his mouth around Kankurou’s cock. It hurt his jaw to stretch this wide, and he gagged and his teeth scraped Kankurou, who jerked his head off his cock by the hair. And Shino cried harder; he flung himself down at Kankurou’s feet, begging to be forgiven. The carpet on his ringed cock felt so good that he stayed down, licking and kissing Kankurou’s feet, trying to hide that he was rubbing his cock into the carpet. But that was too was torture, for with the stimulation, the pain of not being able to release increased. And when Kankurou said that Shino’s humbling himself and his acceptance of the paddle had pleased him and that he would consider a request, Shino begged now just to be able to come, no matter what Master wanted—to beat him, to fuck him, to restrain him, whatever, just please let him come again.

He was ordered to the bed, to lay on his back. His cuffed hands were pulled above his head and fastened to a chain there. And when his ass hit the blankets, he arched up, trying to hold it off them, and Kankurou pushed him back down, climbing above him. But he didn’t take off the cockring, the clamps that were humiliating and increasingly painful, nor pull out the little vibrator. He began licking Shino’s tattoos, tracing them all over his chest and arms. Then he went to Shino’s feet, sucking his toes, his tongue tickling his feet, then stroking over his ankles, licking up the tattoos on his legs, licking his balls, and finally, cruelly (since he could find no release) sucking his cock. Sucking Shino’s cock, moreover, with a talent and skill that made Shino feel his own incompetence, torturing his mind along with the body, the need to come now something he could hardly bear. Then the nipple clamps were jerked off, making Shino scream, thinking he couldn’t suffer anything worse.

But Kankurou’s tongue descended, and Shino found his nipples were now so sensitive that his tongue, his sucking, the lightest of touches was worse, far worse than he thought possible. He was beyond begging now, almost beyond crying, lost—he wasn’t Shino anymore, he was just Master’s toy, Master’s slave, Master’s anything.

And then Master pulled out that buttplug, pulled up his legs, raising his aching ass off the rough blankets, and thrust in. And the pleasure of it, the pleasure of it, even though he couldn’t come, made him cry out his thanks. And Master demanded more, more words, words he gave, knowing that he was at the state were he had no pride, no self left.

“Who does this ass belong to?”

“You, Master.” Oh, Master, Master, you have made my ass feel the best and worse it’s ever felt, he thought.

“And whose cock is this?”

“Yours, Master.” Oh, god, yes, it responds to you, it’s never been so hard, so needy, so desperate. It longs for your hand and mouth again even if you won’t let it come, even if you keep it in this state of agony.

“Whose nipples are these?”

“Yours, Master, yours,” he moaned. His nipples had never been so owned, so sensitive, so punished, something he couldn’t forget, couldn’t stop feeling.

“Whose balls are these?”

“Yours, Master! Oh, Master, Master, be merciful, be merciful, please, please!” he begged, sobbing. And in his mind all he could think was, `Will you clamp them like my nipples, abuse them, hurt them? Oh, god, please not now! If you do, I won’t be able to endure.’

“Who controls your body?”

“You, Master. You control me; you give me pain or pleasure as you wish. You let me come or not as you wish, Master. I can do nothing, nothing but feel, Master. Oh, Master, Master, please, please.”

“And if I wish to give your body more pain tonight?”

“I will experience more pain, Master. You own me; I’m yours to use, Master.” Oh, god, it feels so good when you thrust in like that, so good, so good I can almost forget the pain in my cock that needs to come, the agony in my nipples.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, Master. I want to please you, Master, I want to make you come, Master. Oh, god, oh, god, Master,” and Shino—and then Kankurou’s hand reached down and took off the cockring, and Shino began to come immediately, screaming with the intensity of it, screaming with the pleasure of it, screaming his thanks.

And then when he’d collapsed, his throat aching from the tears and the screaming, and his body exhausted, drained, unable to move, Kankurou undid the cuffs and picked him up. He carried him out, and Shino thought he was going to throw him in the pool, ordering him to bring up the clothing and shoes from the bottom. But he went past the pool to the spa, pushing something that sent the squared, automated cover back that was visible under the inch or so of water that constantly flowed down from the artificial stream on the hill, over the spa, into the pool. Under the cover, the water was pulsing with jets, and Kankurou lowered them in, cradling Shino in his arms. The water felt warm, soothing on his skin. Master held him, kissed him, caressed him, praised him. Finally when he was starting to slide into sleep, Master carried him to the bathroom and held him as he peed, then gently set him on a bench in the shower. He washed him from head to toe, struggling to shampoo Shino’s thick wild hair, struggling to comb it. But he did, drying him, setting him on the toilet. He gave him a drink and some Tylenol, even brushed his teeth with a vibrating, motorized toothbrush as if he was a dental hygienist.

Then Master carried him back to the bed and tucked him into it like a child, their bodies breaking contact for the first time since they’d come together on this bed. “Please, Master, please don’t go,” Shino begged.

“Shhhh, I’ll be back, be patient, pet,” said Kankurou.

“Thank you, Master,” said Shino, the words seeming natural, normal, right now.

After a while, half-asleep, he felt Master’s fingers buckling a collar around his neck, hooking it to the chain that his handcuffs hand been attached to. “Thank-you, Master,” he whispered again, wanting to beg Master to sleep with him, to hold him though the rest of the night, but also wanting to be patient, to obey that order to “shhhh.”

He heard Master showering, moving around, and then finally, finally, he was once more in his arms. Master rolled him on his side, curling behind him, holding him, and saying, “Goodnight, my precious pet.” And Shino let it all go, let himself sink into sleep.


And he dreamed he was a giant butterfly, flying over the desert chased by a mighty desert warrior in flowing black robes, his face painted fiercely. He flew and was chased until he reached a giant lake with a huge waterfall spilling into it, surrounded by flowers with the sweetest of nectors. And he drank from the waterfall and the flowers and hid himself among the blossoms and watched the warrior strip naked and swim in the lake, his orange hair bright under the sun. And from his bush, he longed to be captured and held by that mighty figure. And when the warrior at last rose from the water and dressed, mounted his steed, and turned back into the desert, he rose as well and followed, chasing after him into a desert night, never quite able to catch up to the flying figure galloping in front of him.


He woke in the morning, confused, aching all over, smelling coffee, and hearing people speaking loudly, too loudly in Spanish. He tried to open his eyes and moaned at the painful light. There was laughter, more incomprehensible Spanish, then a voice, a familiar voice, coaxing, “Here, pet, drink this.” His head was tilted up, and “this” turned out to be something foul tasting. He tried to move away, but he was held down and forced to drink it all. By the time, the last drop was gone, all his memories of the night had come back.

Oh.

But who else was here? Shino forced opened one eye in time to see an older Hispanic woman coming in with a huge breakfast tray. And Kankurou was pulling the covers off of him, shocking Shino so profoundly that he just froze. His hands went to cover his crotch, and the woman said something in Spanish and giggled. It was humiliating to find yourself stared at naked, chained in another man’s bed, but for some reason, he felt himself starting to harden even though his head was still unhappy with how much he’d drunk last night. Finally, the woman set the tray with its legs down over him, concealing his crotch. He couldn’t say anything, hanging his head, shutting his eyes. And even if he found his voice, what should he say?

He thought about it, groaning, refusing to open his eyes. And then he had the sense things got darker and peeked out under his lashes. “Here, pet,” said Kankurou, “Take some painkillers with this water.” Oh, he’d closed all the drapes and was speaking softly, kindly, in that voice that made him want to obey it.

“Thank you, Master,” said Shino, swallowing the pill with the water, drinking a bit, and handing the glass back to Kankurou. The orange-haired man was staring at him with a look of concern, and Shino suddenly felt himself blushing as memories from last night started to bombard him. He was glad the tray with the food was over his lap because he could feel the tip of his cock now rubbing on the underside of it.

“Would you like some coffee or orange juice, pet?”

Pet. He was a pet, chained to a bed, naked. Kankurou’s fingers began to trace over a the line of tattoos curling around his thigh, the pattern there sort of starting spiderlike and growing more crablike and alien, the farther down the leg you went.

“Yes, Master,” said Shino, forgetting the question.

“It wasn’t a yes or no question, pet,” said Kankurou, his fingers moving slowly up the line of tattoos.

“I’m sorry, Master,” said Shino, unable to take his eyes off those fingers as they started to disappear under the tray’s edge.

“Maybe you aren’t hungry, yet? Are you hungry, pet?” asked Kankurou, his fingers moving even higher.

Shino whimpered, and Kankurou laughed and his hand suddenly gripped Shino’s erection under the tray. Shino’s head hurt, and he felt sore, but that didn’t seem to matter now, “Master, I’m hungry for you," he said, hanging his head, but pushing up his cock at the same time.

And Kankurou grinned, got up, and moved the tray to the floor. He straddled Shino’s chest, and his erection was suddenly right there in front of his face.

“Lick it, pet, don’t try to suck yet. Look at my face as you do,” said Kankurou, his voice making Shino shiver.

“Yes, Master.” And locking eyes with those dark brown ones, he licked. He could feel himself turning pink and red, feel his nipples under Kankurou’s body filling with blood, tingling, still sore and sensitive. And his own cock was longing to be touched.

“And where does your body feel most hungry, pet? What part of you should I feed?” asked Kankurou.

Shino felt his ass muscles tighten at these words, remember how it felt to explode with pleasure inside his ass and with his cock all at once. “Oh, Master,” he said, his voice filling with longing, “will you please fuck me again?”

And Kankurou’s hand grasped the chain attached to Shino’s collar and jerked, pulling up Shino’s head, his whole body, so he was half sitting up against the headboard. It should have been awful, should have made him want to just get away, recover from his excessive drinking alone. But it was a show of strength that made Shino just moan, “Oh, Master, Master.” Then Kankurou was kissing him, touching him, spreading his legs, and Shino found out that everything felt more intense, more sensitive, more arousing when he was sober than when he was drunk. And whether it was the hangover cure, the pills, the pleasure, or a combination of all three, by the time Kankurou flipped him over, pulling him up on his hands and knees, Shino’s headache was gone.

“My slutty little bitch likes cock, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, yes, Master!”

“Our breakfast is getting cold because you wanted cock, slut. Shall we stop, or will I have to punish you for making us eat a cold breakfast?”

“Please don’t stop, Master, please.”

“Even if your punishment is you can’t leave until the sun sets?”

Leave? Leave? He had to leave? Shino was so lost in his own world he thought Kankurou had said, “your punishment is you have to leave at the sunset.” But I don’t have to teach a class until Tuesday night! And my research, my graduate students, that all can wait. Hell, the students will love it that I’m not at the lab. Fuck, just one more day of this? “Master, please, please, don’t send me away so soon, please! Let me stay until Tuesday morning, please. I don’t want you to stop, but if you let me stay, please, you can punish me how you like, just don’t send me away.”

But Kankurou had stopped as soon as Shino had begun his pleading speech, his cock pushed into Shino, his hands gripping his hips and holding him in place. And if Shino had been able to see the look on his face, he might have realized just how little danger there was of Kankurou sending him away.

“I will punish you how I like, slut, and there isn’t a damn think you can do about it,” Kankurou said, his fingers reaching around and finding Shino’s nipples, still sensitive from the clamps last night and pinching hard. Shino screamed and started to come, spraying all over the pillows, the headboard. Kankurou held still, cursing, still pinching Shino’s nipples, until his pet could come no more and collapsed under him crying.

Then he jerked up Shino’s legs, pushed his pet’s face down into his own cum, and began to fuck him slow and hard, like he planned to keep doing this for a long, long time.