D/s Naruto

Additional Warnings: This contains a very upsetting flashback featuring rape, child abuse, incest, and violence.


Chapter 40 (Sunday 17 June 2007, morning)

Kisame’s punishment was indeed terrible. Itachi couldn’t come for an entire week. He’d come on Kisame’s couch on Sunday morning, 8:47 a.m., and until the following week at 8:47 a.m., he wasn’t permitted to come. He had a cockring put on him, and even with that, he was going to simply have to practice self-control, take cold showers, and maybe even periodically ice his cock. Itachi has been having orgasms on average two times a day since he was fourteen. He’d missed days of course, but binges kept the average up. Never in the past ten years at least had he gone longer than two days without coming.

A week.

A week in which he just might be asked to stick his cock up a certain blonde’s ass along with his brother’s.

And if he did, he wouldn’t be able to come. And since fucking involving Sasuke and Naruto was pretty much guaranteed to make you come, he’d have to wear a cockring, making it obvious he wasn’t permitted to come.

How could he be the host of a D/s club and a slave?

He humbly asked Master this question.

He was told that if he wasn’t being punished, he would be permitted to only be a slave on this floor. On this floor, he would always be a slave from now on, so he’d have to limit who he allowed up here to those he was willing to have witness his servitude and submission. Sundays and Mondays, the days that the club only offered limited services and did the least amount of business, were Kisame’s entirely. The rest of the week, once he left the penthouse floor until he returned to it, he was no longer a slave.

But he wasn’t permitted to remove the collar ever. It was a gift from Kisame would be the story, a sign of their partnership. As for the physical evidence of his face and back, they needed to have Ibiki come over anyway to arrange for him to vet Sasuke and Naruto. Everyone knew that Ibiki had been dom to Itachi’s sub before. Everyone would assume he had done it. He’d have to be told of course of Itachi’s slavehood. He’d know anyway. He always knew the family secrets, sometimes before most of the family.

Itachi had gone and called Ibiki. He’d known something had happened from Itachi’s voice, but when Itachi evaded his first question, he’d simply said he’d arrange things and be on a plane in an hour. He’d be there by 1:30 or 2.

Then came the other part of his punishment. He had to tell Kisame “The Story.” “The Story” was the story of why his family had almost beaten Sasuke to death, why Itachi felt it was his fault, why the family let Itachi and Sasuke live far from the family compound and run their embarrassing club.

It started when Itachi was in high school, and he’d fallen in love with the captain of the high school basketball team. He was tall, dark, and handsome. Kisame had asked, fascinated, how dark and was a little surprised to discover that Itachi’s first “great” love had also been black. He’d also been a dom and introduced Itachi to the joys of submission. That too, had been a surprise to Kisame. Itachi had initially been a sub? What the hell had happened?

It was a sordid, sordid story. Itachi’s lover had strung him along, immersing him in submission, until Itachi would have done anything for him. Anything but give him his little brother that is.

Sasuke, little Sasuke, had adored Itachi. He was always following him around, trying to get him to spend time with him, tagging after him and his friends. And Itachi’s boyfriend wanted a taste. He’d done it in a way he’d thought would insure that Itachi would cooperate. He didn’t understand or know Itachi, really. But it had been diabolical. One night he plugged Itachi’s ears, then blindfolded and gagged him and tightly secured his naked body. He’d left Itachi alone. In another room he’d let in Sasuke, got him drunk, and showed him gay D/s porn. He told him his brother wanted him to pleasure his body just like he’d seen on the film. Then he’d made his own film, recording young Sasuke as he had licked and kissed his brother’s body, sucked him, and brought him to orgasm. And then he had Sasuke start all over, but this time, he had him fuck Itachi. And Sasuke, who had never experienced sex and didn’t understand it, understood one thing—he liked it.

At first Itachi had cooperated in this sordid incestuous scene, thinking it was his lover touching him; then he’d begun to suspect it was one of his lover’s friends—upsetting, but still acceptable. But when he’d finally held the cock of the one who was licking and sucking on him, he’d been horrified and started struggling, resisting. Unfortunately it was hard to tell that on the tape, and in fact, it looked like the discovery had been more arousing to Itachi. And there was that orgasm that had happened near the end of the tape that Itachi was so ashamed of. He’d put his head down and sobbed after admitting he’d come from his little brother’s fucking.

The part of the story that Itachi had most enjoyed telling Kisame was about when his sadistic lover had set him free. Instead of the happy or at least resigned sub he was expecting, he’d found himself facing an Itachi that was frightening—frozen, deadly, determined. He’d been beaten by this cold, unmoving Itachi, beaten savagely, his arms and legs broken in such a way he would never walk again without a limp.

It was hushed up. The tape was shocking evidence, but the family money was even more persuasive. But Sasuke, no one knew what to do with Sasuke.

Sasuke loved his brother and kept sneaking into his room, waking him with kisses and licks, sucking him off. And Itachi hadn’t been able to bring himself to drive him away, to let him know it had been all a lie, and he’d done something horrible, something wrong. Sasuke had loved his brother despite all his coldness and neglect over the years, and he wanted nothing more than to be close to him. So he was thrilled to find he now had power over his brilliant older brother who everyone admired, everyone loved. Sasuke only had to come close, to start touching him, and Itachi would drag them off somewhere private, begging him to stop, to not do that, to forget it. But Sasuke wouldn’t agree to behave in public until Itachi conceded some sexual favor.

Itachi begged his parents to send him away to camp for the entire summer. They’d agreed, assuming he wanted to get away from the memories of what was delicately called his “sexual assault” and “temporary insanity.” But he was trying to escape from Sasuke.

And then, the night before he was to leave for camp, Sasuke did what he thought Itachi wanted. He managed to cuff Itachi before he realized what was happening and tied him down to his own bed. And then he’d proceeded to fuck him. Itachi had fought hard, and the sound had brought his mother to the room. Her screams had brought their father. And tied down and helpless, Itachi had watched his brother beaten senseless, raced from the room near death, and dragged up to where Grandmother Tsunade lay dying among enough medical equipment to qualify the room as a clinic. Fortunately she was also under the careful eye of a live-in doctor and nurse.

They’d left Itachi there, naked, his brother’s cum in his ass. He lay there, bound, thinking his brother was dying, dying thinking he was unloved, dying all because he had loved an asshole. He’d sworn never to be so helpless again. He finally succeeded in smashing the bed apart and made his way upstairs. His brother, looking more dead that alive, was clinging to life. And they sent him off to camp for an entire summer the next morning still not knowing if Sasuke would live or die.

Sasuke, of course, had recovered although the one lung was occasionally still a problem. And he’d lost the memories of, not only that night, but an entire month before that. He remembered none of it. Later, years later, Itachi had discovered he’d initially had not even remembered how to speak. He had the finest therapy money could buy to help him recover, so he wouldn’t have permanent brain damage beyond the partial amnesia. But no one, no one would tell him why he’d almost been beaten to death by his own family, and it had warped him.

But at this point in the story, Kisame told him his punishment was over. He could share more, but it was his choice. And then he let Itachi go to his own penthouse to deal with his wounds, both physical and emotion, both new and old. He’d been surprised and very happy when an hour later, Itachi had come back, knelt down by the side of the bed on which Kisame had been sitting up, trying to process the whole horrible story he’d heard. He’d asked Master if he could sleep with him in the bed, and Kisame had taken him in his arms, held him, till they fell into a fitful sleep together.