D/s Naruto

Chapter 37 (Sunday 17 Sunday 2007, pre-dawn)

Gaara never could sleep much, and falling in love, he discovered, actually made him less sleepy. Or, maybe it was simply he couldn’t stop thinking of what had happened and what he wanted to happen. The fantasies Shika had told him in the bathroom were inspiring him, and he wanted his slave to wake up to something that would blow his mind. So he crept softly from his bed and prepared everything he needed. It all was ready long before he wanted to even take it into the bedroom. His slave would need a good night’s sleep, most definitely.

So he went out back, turned on the bright lights, and cleaned up the garden. He rehung the shower chain, liking that every time they would use the shower and tug that chain, they would remember this as Shika’s first collar, remember the first time Gaara fucked Shika, the first time Shika begged Gaara to fuck him.

He stared at the rock that had cost so much, once more enjoying its shape. He rose up and stood by it, caressing its strange curves and twists. It was a huge chunk of serpentine that was in its original matrix, pillow basalt. They were the rocks of the ocean crust that lay at the bottom of the world’s seas and that only time, unimaginable amounts of time, could bring up to the surface of the earth. Once, so long ago the very land he stood on had not existed in any form at all, this rock had been under thousands of feet of water, perhaps, as Gaara liked to think, beneath a sea teeming with sharks and fish and other marine sea creatures now long extinct. The ocean’s water’s slow seeping into fissures in the stone had turned the plain rock of the upper ocean crust into serpentine. Serpentine is a mineral, sometimes a marble and more rarely a semi-precious gem whose green-black surface echoes all the beauties of the ocean depths it had been born in.

This bit of ancient ocean floor should have long ago been swallowed up in the great cycles of the deep oceans—the spreading floor of the bottommost abyss emerging up from the great ocean trenches, ripping itself apart in the massive undersea rift valleys, then sinking back down in the molten core of this planet that spun endlessly in space. But in some great geological event, the giant mass this rock was part of had been flung up on the crust of a continent, rising up from the depths to the sky, soaring towards the clouds, sea floor become mountain top. Worn down by exposure, this one pillar of serpentine and basalt had weathered and been shaped, then polished by both time and man till it had ended up here beneath his hand.

Ah, many a night he had pondered the journey of this rock, but tonight, tonight his mind had no room for wondering over the vast, slow dance of continents across this globe, but instead was centered on the slender body sleeping deeply in his bed. And restless, he wandered back into the house. Today, instead of enjoying the slow spill of the dawn into his garden, he watched Shikamaru sleep. He cleaned and straightened till there seemed nothing else to do, returning outside to work his way through one of the karate kata that were his form of exercise. He preferred the kata stressing circular motion, liking the fitness of practicing circular fighting moves in his garden with its circular islands.

Then at last, having showered again, he began to bind Shikamaru in the bed. He fastened the collar around his neck, regretting he wasn’t awake to feel this last moment when his neck was bare. His wrists were put into cuffs and linked to a bar above his head. His ankles likewise were cuffed, spread apart by a metal spreading rod with a ring at the center. A small leather-covered bar or bit gag was pushed into Shikamaru’s mouth and fastened around his head. He stirred and began to wake, but it was too late. The bar that protruded from Shika’s mouth had rings on the end. He fastened a chain to each of them that ran to Shikamaru’s nipples. The chain that went to his right nipple was attached to his gold nipple ring. The one on the left went to a clamp he placed on that unpierced nipple after sucking and licking it to make it stiff with blood. He carefully pulled down his slave’s testicles, wrapping a long leather strap around the sac, forcing the balls away from his body. One end of the leather went down and was tied to the center of the spreader bar holding Shika’s legs wide apart. The other end of the strap he slid up between his slave’s asscheeks, running it up along his spine to fasten to the collar.

By this time Shika was restless, but the drugs still working their way out of his system kept him sleeping. Gaara now sucked his slave’s cock to an erection, then fastened a leather strap just under the flaring of his cockhead. A chain was hooked from the ring on the strap and ran up to the ring at the front of Shika’s collar. Gaara stood and admired his slave. His cock was pulled tightly up, forced up towards his neck. His nipples were likewise tugged up to the bit in his mouth. His arms and legs were secured, both spread wide. And his balls under the thick wrapping of the leather looked so vulnerable, tugged down, pulled towards the bar between his ankles.

Gaara was transfixed by the sight of his helpless slave, and it took him a while to get the motivation to move and add the final touches. He unlocked the wheels on the bed and fastened two chains to the bar holding Shika’s arms above his head. When the time was right, he would pull on the ends of the chains and force Shika upright, rolling away the bed, leaving his slave suspended, helpless, and at his mercy. But for now, he just stood there looking down on Shika, waiting for his slave to awaken fully, stroking his cock. But the sight, the sight was too much, and Gaara grew more and more excited until he could hold back no more and cried out, spraying his cum on Shika’s face and chest.

And so Shika came awake to the sight, sound, smell, and taste of Gaara coming on him, splattering him. He cried out around the bit in his mouth, finding himself spread wide, helpless. And worse yet, each movement of his body tormented him. If he moved his head or mouth, his nipples and cock were tugged painfully. When the pain in his nipples and cock made him bend his head forward to try to relieve it, the leather strap tightened the tug on his balls until he could take it no more and he had to push his head back, starting the whole pain cycle again. The gag pressing back on his lips, holding his jaws apart, adding to his feeling of hopeless degradation. It didn’t prevent him from speaking, although it was the sort of speech that could barely be understood. Shika’s cries, however, were not difficult to understand. Tears soon joined the cries, and Gaara watched as his slave’s body jerked and twitched, shaking with a mix of pleasure and pain. The redhead’s own pleasure grew, for he knew that he was sending his slave just where he wanted to go. The brown eyes filled with tears, pleading with him. And Gaara leaned down and caressed his slave’s face, rubbing his cum into it. Then he massaged his cum into Shika’s chest, enjoying the look of agony and the piteous cries when his hands hit the chains running to his slave’s nipples and cock.

Shikamaru finally lay still, the tears quietly running out of his eyes, as he looked up at his new master, his true master. This, this was submission, the submission he’d longed for. And his master, now erect again straddled him, rubbing against him, making him moan. Then Gaara rose up, kneeling over him, a knee on either side of his body, again stroking his cock, that cock unbound and able to come, that cock that had taken Shikamaru to the greatest orgasm of his life yesterday. And around his gag, Shika began to try to tell his master how much he loved him, how he wanted to please him, wanted his cum on his body, wanted it in his mouth, his ass. But then just as he was growing calm, lost in his own submission, accustomed to his bonds, Gaara got up and began to raise up his body, making him scream as his body bent too far forward, torturing his balls. Then at last the bed was gone, moved towards the closet and bedroom door, and Shika hung down from the bar that was chained up high, balancing on his toes to try to keep himself steady.

It was a humiliating position, but what was even worse was that Shikamaru felt himself wanting more—wanting something in his ass. He deliberately moved so the leather strap would slide over his anus. But it wasn’t enough. Around his gag, he began to beg to be fucked, and if Master wouldn’t fuck him, didn’t want to fuck him, please stuff him, stuff his ass. But Gaara was only too happy to push aside the leather strap and shove his cock into Shikamaru. The pushing aside of the strap, however, tortured his balls and forced his head back, which in turn tormented his nipples and cock. And Gaara’s thrusting only added to the terrible tugging. Soon Shikamaru was screaming, screaming as best as he could around the gag, lost in a place where he was a mass of pleasure and pain, a throbbing, helpless body, a sexual slave being used by his master. When Gaara filled him, he spasmed in pleasure too although no sperm could leave his body, and when the spasms were over, he still wanted, still needed, still ached.

And Gaara went and got himself coffee and muffins, sat on the bed, eating, leaving him hanging there in physical misery and emotional bliss. He’d never felt so enslaved, so completely subjected. Never before left in bondage had he not gotten bored or distracted. He’d calculate the future, think, reflect, and retreat to his mind, forgetting his body, his bonds. But this, this was something that his mind could hardly processes in a rational way. This was his new life, his new place—bound, gagged, fucked, coated and filled with cum, and left to hang there awaiting his master’s desires.

A slave.

Shikamaru sobbed.

At last, at last Master set down his coffee cup and got up. But he picked up a paddle and went and stood by his sobbing slave.

“Slave,” he said, “I’m going to paddle you now. You’ve done nothing wrong, nothing. This isn’t punishment, but discipline. You will be disciplined each morning, so each day you know your place, your lot in life. It will strengthen you, toughen you, so that you can bear for me all that I will ask of you, demand of you, as my beloved slave. It is to teach you that although I love you, you will never be permitted to become lazy, slack, careless. You must always, always strive to please me, to do your best to serve me.”

Master loved him! He had said it, said it aloud! He was Master’s beloved slave! And as the paddle began to mercilessly smack him, Shikamaru slid deeper into subspace until he couldn’t even think in terms of language anymore. As he felt his mind losing control, slipping away, he welcomed it. His senses started to shut down, his vision narrowing, sound muffling, time losing its hold. He was slave, he was Master’s, he was melting, his brain slipping down his face with his tears, dissolving. And what was left after the brain, the thoughts had gone, after Shikamaru was gone, even the slave was gone, was nothing but a sparkling ball of sensations, erotic pleasure and pain that pulsed and possessed. He was no longer solid and liquid, but energy, energy that reached out, found Gaara, and claimed him.

Together, they discovered something they could never talk about, never analyze, never describe in any way that would make sense to anyone who had never experienced it.

But the residue of that shimmering communion would sometimes seem almost tangible to others at odd moments, moments when there seemed but one word that could capture the nature of their relationship.

At those times, theirs was a relationship that was painful to watch, that made each onlooker aware of being alone, a solitary consciousness in a single body.

For the word that seemed to name them was soulmates.


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A/N: Some comments for my reviewers . . .

1) thank you so much, all of you!

2) Cynaga--yes, I chose Hestia, the goddess of the hearth, partially because Aphrodite, Artemis, and Athena were all taken as usernames, but also because she is the circle to Hermes' staff, the cunt to his cock, and always, always her shine was at the center of a home. She is never personified into a statue: her shine, her hearth, her fire represent her. In a way it is like the author, never there, only symbolized by her writings . . .

3) Allys, Allys, my beloved reader! You have written me poetry, literary criticism that is in itself art. Ah, that line: "It's not the kind of story you can wade in, you know. It's more like a strong ocean current that sweeps you away." What an incredible variation on Frances Bacon's saying that some books are to be tasted, others chewed, and some fully savoured (not exact words)! And sicko, that I am, I'm getting really turned on by your brother--and the relationship between you two. I think the ideas your descriptions of you two have put in my head may just turn into characters some day . . . I hope that doesn't creep you out. Serious, you know how people joke about online marriages and being each others seme and uke? I want to capture and drag you away into cyberspace where you can only read my work, my little review slave . . . But, no, you must be free, for what of value is coerced?

4) HumanInfiltrator: Mistress is very pleased with you, very pleased. I'm preparing a treat for you, my pet . . .

5) AnimeCookie!!! OMG!!! Squeal!!! You did a literary analysis of my chapter!!! You discussed the metaphor, examined motivation, touched on theme--the writer in me is so, so happy. Dancing! Giggles!

Ok, I'm getting undignified. But I'm so glad there are those out there enjoying this!