Rustic Servitude

Rustic Servitude - Chapter Three

Notes: Kisame’s age is 34-36, and he outweighs and is taller than Itachi.

AN: This chapter is focused on ItaKisa. I know some of you readers are going to be all ‘EW! KISAME?!’ but…he needs lovin’ too… And, I think no pairing will ever ‘ick’ me as long as it’s written well, so I hope to change some minds about Kisame. I actually think he has a weirdly-sexy voice in the Japanese version.

Warnings: Shoe/foot fetish.

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The slave tagged number twenty-one followed Itachi exactly three steps behind; it took very few steps in the impenetrable darkness, that Itachi seemed to have no trouble seeing through, to arrive at the dark house situated to the left. The front door was unlocked and opened, then Itachi swiftly stepped aside to allow his own Christmas present to himself slip past into the dark foyer of the slave’s new residence. Itachi followed, locked the door, and flipped the light switch to his own living area that strikingly did not resemble his younger brother’s in the least even though they had relatively the same floor plan.

The floors contrasted the color of Sasuke’s as they were a lighter shade of wood, but the walls were bare just as his brother’s for the exception of one singular mounted fourteen point buck hung high between two windows. Oddly enough, there was a light colored wooden bookcase filled with old decaying books as well as newer novels, a reading lamp, and a black leather recliner with matching couch of a different model than Sasuke’s, facing a moderately sized plasma on the opposite wall that was perpendicular to the wall that bore two windows and the long deceased mounted trophy buck that seemed out of place in the otherwise modern decorum of the room. A cast iron coffee table painted black adorned with a Plexiglas top to view the ornate ornamental iron twisted into wondrous shapes that held the glass in place, sat in front of the leather couch; nothing was set atop the surface and the sheer magnificence of the artist whom shaped the piece was revealed to any whose gaze happened upon. Finally, the walls were painted a light shade of avocado that really made the light color of the wood and the black of the leather furniture and coffee table ‘pop’.

While Itachi’s slave took in his new surroundings, he took time to actually view the man whom he had purchased.

He wasn’t overtly handsome, but something was attractive about that all-knowing toothy smirk surrounded by pale almost blue tinted skin with a complementary dark blue hue of hair. He had markings, possibly tattoos, on his face that reminded Itachi of Sasuke’s first choice, but where his little brother’s was loudly defiant, this man had an inner defiance masked by that expression that almost never faltered. The mystery of the slave’s appearance and expression piqued Itachi’s interest to say the least.

Number twenty-one’s profile turned to his owner who still remained standing stiffly by the dead bolted front door, “What would you have me do, Master?”

“Kneel.”

Number twenty-one complied easily enough, kneeling in the form which he was expected to conform at the slave auction, though he did not bow his head in respect and instead looked his Master directly in his cool dark gaze.

Itachi stepped forward and immersed his right hand’s callous fingers in the strangely colored tresses of number twenty-one. Those same fingers after sliding over the slave’s scalp, slid down to a marked cheek to palm the skin there, rubbing softly with the pad of his thumb over a high cheek bone. The slave was easily ten years his senior, but Itachi was not dismayed at this realization, and instead embraced the thought as he stared emotionlessly down at the smirking slave that stared without fear right back up at him.

“How many have you served before?”

“Three.”

“For what purposes?”

“This slave was hardly ever used for sexual purposes, Master, if that is what you want to know.”

Itachi’s hand fell away from his slave’s cheek, “Answer my questions directly.”

“This slave was used for manual labor or as a source to vent one’s frustrations.”

“When were you last owned?”

“As you can tell, I’m no young cock.”

Itachi’s lips thinned as once again his slave avoided answering his question directly. His slave noticed this and quickly corrected himself, his grin faltering just a bit, “Four and a half years.”

Itachi ‘mmm’-ed to himself as his thought process twisted and turned with the information. He looked away from his slave thoughtfully, his hand returning to comb through number twenty-one’s tousled locks.

“Hardly any one slave is actually kept, Master. That pink headed woman has been owned seven times, and the blonde, twelve.”

“That was unnecessary information, slave.”

That same smirk reappeared and widened impossibly, “Please forgive my insolence, Master.”

Itachi gripped the locks passing through his fingers and looked down at his slave once again with that piercing gaze, “To allude to you just what kind of person I am, slave, I’m not one to part so easily with my possessions.”

“This slave is sure he’ll enjoy learning more about your person, Master, for there is ample time to do so.”

“You’re acting fairly presumptuous considering your circumstances.”

“Yet again, Master, please forgive my insolence.”

Number twenty-one was thoroughly enjoying the conversation transpiring between he and his new Master if he did not make it excruciatingly obvious by the amount of pointy teeth that were on display. In fact he enjoyed it so much that his body had reacted under the ministrations of his Master’s hand in his hair, massaging his scalp and passing over each strand; the jeans the slave auction had clothed him with were becoming painfully restricting, and so the slave voiced his discomfort.

“Master, the clothing I was provided with is a bit tight-”

“Disrobe, then reposition yourself to kneel in front of my recliner.”

Itachi was already walking over to said recliner, to recline and watch his slave from a distance. He wondered idly how the slave would react to such a command.

Number twenty-one never faltered as he stood and turned to face his Master, slowly peeling each piece of fabric away, folding it, and placing each piece on top of the last upon the floor next to the front door until nothing remained and he was exposed for his Master’s delight, or at least a slave could hope.

The tall slave’s impressive length was proudly erect between muscled thighs and bobbed up and down with each pad of bare feet on the bare wooden surface of the floor. Soon enough stood the slave in front of his Master and knelt as he had been expected, but did not lower his head as he should have.

The expanse of pale bluish skin revealed before Itachi’s gaze caused the eyes to wander over every inch, those eyes especially took in the straining veined erection that he now owned. Master lifted his eyes that conveyed no emotion to those of his beady eyed slave, and kicked his right leg out, the slave sat still not betraying his Master as the leg fell to his left shoulder at the ankle, gently.

Immediately understanding what his Master wanted, number twenty-one turned his head with his eyes still trained on his Master, to swipe his tongue in one long stroke from the heel into the curve of the arch to where he knew the bone that connected directly to his Master’s right foot’s big toe would be. The slave then turned to face forward once again.

“We’ll have to work on breaking that habit of presumptuous automatic responses you’ve seemed to have acquired, slave.”

“I only aim to please, Master, for you are far more attractive than any other owner I have ever had the privilege of being owned by.”

Itachi chuckled, which wasn’t the response the slave was expecting, and caused his smirk to falter in confusion, though it did not fully diminish.

“Remove my boots.”

The slave complied with less gusto than he had supplied when licking his Master’s boot, and shifted, lifting the right foot by the ankle then set the tread of the heel of the boot on his bare thigh to work the laces loose enough to pull the same gray boot he had licked from his Master’s foot.

Master’s left foot pressed into number twenty-one’s right thigh just as the right boot was set beside the recliner. The slave set to work on the laces of that boot until they were loose enough to remove, then upon removal, set that shoe next to its opposite to make the pair complete. Just as the rubber sole touched the pale hard wood of the floor, a socked foot found its way to press into the slave’s face. The rough cotton scratched at the slave’s skin as it rubbed over one cheek, then his Master’s big toe straddled the bridge of his nose and that foot pressed down to squish that which was underneath. Number twenty-one strained to keep from knocking the offending, and the furthest thing from sweet smelling, foot away, and stay still while his Master did what he pleased.

The socked foot rubbed up and down the slave’s nose before resting on the bridge, “Have you wiped that disgusting grin off of your face?”

It had not been present for the duration of the humiliation of his Master’s foul foot on his face, but in that instant it returned full force, “Of course not, Master.”

“It will be amusing once I find what will. Take off my socks.”

Number twenty-one’s arms moved to remove the stinky socked foot from his face.

“With your teeth,” Itachi added.

The slave’s arms fell to his sides as Itachi thrust the heel of his right foot in the slave’s face to brush the coarse cotton over slightly parted lips.

Number twenty-one wanted nothing more than to rip the socks to shreds with his teeth, but kindly nipped the fabric at the heel and reared back to slide the cuff over the heel. Cotton sheathed toes were then presented to the slave, which he look took between his teeth and stared up at his Master his wide grin still in place. He freed his Master’s right foot of the sock with one sharp jerk of his head and let it fall to his lap; the fabric graced the slave’s pale erection then slid to the floor between parted thighs.

Itachi lowered his right foot to rest on his slave’s left thigh as he raised the left, the heel jut out to number twenty-one’s mouth just as the right had been. The slave pulled back slower this time once his sharp teeth caught the material at the heel; his eyes never left his Master’s even if his Master’s large foot did obscure some of his vision as the cotton sock was pulled away gently from the ankle. Then, toes were presented just as they had been with the right, that was when number twenty-one open mouth kissed the tip of his Master’s big toe, allowing his lips to wrap around the cotton covered crest. Teeth were accompanied by those parted lips as the shark-like teeth dug into the material, and slowly pulled it from his Master’s left foot.

All the while the slave held his scent from within, and pushed the offending sock out of his mouth, that now hung from his lips, with his tongue to allow it to join the first between spread taut muscular thighs.

Itachi’s eyes followed the sock briefly, and let his left leg fall to his slave’s right thigh. If the slave were to look down if only for a moment, his eyes would catch sight of the bulge present in faded jeans, but Itachi leaned forward to slip out of his hoodless gray jacket. It had become quite warm in the thick atmosphere the slave created within his home.

“I remember you.”

Itachi smiled softly while leaning back into the plush back of the cotton and foam stuffed recliner, “Do you?” His long lashes fluttered only but a second at the memory of what the slave before him spoke of.

“A few months back you were the only one who would hold my gaze. I was positive then you would purchase me, but I suppose I had high hopes. Why?”

“Why did I wait?”

“Yes.”

“It was not the appropriate time.”

There were more questions swimming in the slave’s cranium, but he resigned from being more presumptuous than he already had been. The thought of his Master having been watching him from afar for whatever length of time made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time, but he dismissed the unbidden emotion and instead gazed at his long haired Master his grin widening at the thought of what his owner would have in store for him for later days.

“What are you thinking?”

“This slave was daydreaming of what you will have in store for him in the future.”

That statement seemed to please Itachi, for another small smile graced his features. Number twenty-one decided he liked that expression whenever it was permitted to pass over the normally stoic features that was abnormal for such a young man as his Master. His beady eyes also took in the indentations that marred the otherwise smooth surface of his Master’s young face and idly wondered how they came to be.