D/s Naruto

Chapter 50 (Sunday 17 June 2007, afternoon)

Shikamaru was starting to feel like he had made a really bad decision. He had acted on impulse, which was not something he normally did. His mind was now calculating the potential impact of his decision, not liking all the most likely results it was coming up with. He pulled Gaara’s cellphone out of his pocket and looked to see whose numbers were programmed in it. There were shockingly few numbers—just six: Sasori, Kankurou, Temari, Gparents (presumably his grandparents), Uchiha’s, and Kakashi’s dojo. Shikamaru dialed Kankurou.

“Yo, bro, what’s up?” came Kankurou’s voice over the phone.

“Ah, it’s Shikamaru. I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could tell me what Gaara’s favorite foods are,” said Shika, wondering if he should mention he was Gaara’s new slave.

“What? You interrupted me in the middle of sex for this? Dammit, don’t use Gaara’s cellphone. He only calls when it’s an emergency, so I always answer. Why the fuck can’t you ask him?”

“Ah, sorry, I’m very sorry, never mind. Ah, bye.”

“Don’t you fucking dare hang up! Where is Gaara? Put him on, now.”

“He’s home sleeping,” said Shikamaru.

“What! Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not lying. He fell asleep, so please don’t call him and wake him up. I can ask him to call you when I get home,” said Shikamaru.

“Where the hell are you? And why do you have Gaara’s phone? Shit, I thought you didn’t even have your bike. Are you out walking the streets?”

“I’m buying food. I took Gaara’s Bandit and went food shopping. I was just hoping to get him something he liked. Look, I’m sorry, please just forget I called,” said Shikamaru. There was silence on the cellphone for a while.

“He likes tomato juice with Tabasco in it, a dreadful thing he invented called Bitter Crimson,” said Kankurou. “He also likes spicy food, stuff like wasabi, curry, chili. Oh, and bacon. And plain vanilla ice cream—he really likes that. Never get him ice cream with nuts in it; he won’t eat it. He’d rather have beef than chicken. He’s not big on fish, but likes sushi. That enough?”

“Yes, thank you so much, Kankurou,” said Shikamaru, truly grateful.

“Alright then, but remember never call me on this phone unless it is an emergency.”

“Yes, sir,” said Shikamaru, but it was unlike Kankurou had heard, for he had hung up. Shikamaru put up the cellphone and headed for the freezer aisle to pick up some vanilla ice cream.


The phone rung waking up Gaara. He sat up abruptly, confused. He waited to see if Shikamaru would pick up the phone. But he didn’t and the answering machine turned on. Gaara’s answering machine message was simply, “Gaara.” He figured if people didn’t know what to do, they didn’t want to talk to him badly enough.

“Yo, bro, are you seriously sleeping in the middle of the day? Was that call from your slave a joke or did you really fall asleep, and your slave run out on you and—“

Gaara grabbed the phone and barked into it, “What call?”

“Well, well, hi there, bro. I just got a call from Shikamaru asking what foods you liked. He said you were sleeping, and he’d taken your Bandit out to go food shopping. Sweet Jesus, if that’s true that’s fucking hysterical; he’s got balls of brass, eh?”

Gaara said nothing, feeling a bit stunned.

“Hey, Gaara, you still there?”

“Yes.”

“Well, anyway, if he comes home, don’t rough him up too much. Hey, can you bring him over tomorrow and play some pool volleyball with Shino and me? We got our asses kicked by Kiba and Akamaru and clearly need some serious practice. You two are taking off tomorrow right?”

“Yes.”

“To which one?”

“Both.”

“Cool, Bro, see you tomorrow—after 9 and call before you leave, so we’re ok for guests.”

“Yes.”

“Later,” said Kankurou hanging up without waiting for Gaara to say anything since he knew that Gaara almost never said good-bye.

Gaara had been pacing through the house with the phone in hand while talking to Kankurou. He’d confirmed Shikamaru, his cellphone and keys, and Shikamaru’s helmet were missing. He also was upset to see on the kitchen counter the ankle cuffs he put on Shikamaru. Well, he’d likely put on his boots to ride the bike, and they wouldn’t fit over the cuffs. But god, what if he had awakened and just come in the kitchen and found them and no Shikamaru? He would have gone mad. There was no note at all. Slaves didn’t fucking do this. Gaara went back in the bedroom and pulled on some shorts and then dug out the spare garage door opener, the one not on his key ring, and went outside to his detached one car garage. He opened the garage door, and sure enough, his motorcycle was gone.

Christ! It hurt. Even knowing it was to buy him food, it hurt. It still felt like Shikamaru had left him, abandoned him. Wasn’t there any food in the house? Gaara went back into the kitchen and examined his cupboards and refrigerator. Ok, there wasn’t much. But he could have made pancakes or oatmeal or canned ravioli or canned soup or instant ramen. And there was still some pasta, even if there wasn’t any more sauce. Damn. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to go buy food, but he should have woken me up! He should have asked permission! He could have been injured, and I wouldn’t know where he was! What if he got in an accident? What if he doesn’t know how to handle my bike? Damn, I let him fuck me, and he leaves me. No, no, no—he can’t do this! My god, he’s probably out smoking! He could be out doing anything! He could have lied to Kankurou! Where the hell is my whip? He needs to be punished. I can’t let him do such things! It’s not safe!

His mind swirling with emotions, Gaara thought about how to punish Shikamaru.


Shikamaru pulled into Gaara’s street and right away noticed the little knot of people blocking the bottom of Gaara’s driveway where the cracked pavement crossed it. There were three young kids with skateboards, an older one on a bicycle, and a mother with a stroller. He stopped the Bandit in the street behind them and shivered with both dread and excitement. Gaara was in the garage in only a pair of shorts whipping a punching bag, his whip cracking and flying. Shikamaru thought quickly and pulled off his helmet, saying, “Hi, there neighbors, I’m Gaara’s new partner in his show. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get some groceries in the house.

“Hey, Mister, what kind of show do you do?”

“Where do they have a whip show?”

“Do you have a whip too?”

The questions burst out of the younger kids’ mouths. Shikamaru smiled, pushing the bike past them saying, “Oh, Vegas is full of weird shows. And no, I don’t have a whip; I’m the guy that screams. So if you hear me, just ignore it.” The mother looked horrified, but the little kids were still impressed and curious.

“Cool!”

“Can we see the whole show?”

“Does it hurt?”

“Hey, I’ve got some ice cream melting here, got to go, sorry,” said Shikamaru, walking the bike the short distance to the garage. Gaara was staring over at him with a look of pure menace, and none of the kids followed him, although they didn’t move from the foot of the driveway either.

“Hi, I’m back with the groceries,” said Shikamaru loudly as Gaara gave the dangling bag two more precise lashes before coiling the whip around his arm gracefully. Shikamaru’s backpack was crammed with his purchases, and the bike’s saddlebags were as well. Shika opened one of them and pulled out the grocery bag inside. Gaara without a word did the same for the other. They moved out of the garage, Gaara letting Shikamaru go first. He heard Gaara closing the garage door behind him and moved to the front door his heart beating fast.

He unlocked the door with the key he had carefully identified before leaving. He couldn’t believe he’d thought this was a good idea. Once inside he immediately knelt and bowed his head.

“Get up and put up the groceries,” said Gaara as he shut the door.

“Yes, Master,” said Shikamaru, “I’m sorry for acting so stupidly, Master. I’m--”

“Quiet,” said Gaara.

Shikamaru went quietly into the kitchen, setting his helmet on the kitchen table, and unpacked the groceries, conscious of Gaara watching him. He finished putting up the things from his backpack and shopping bag and then quickly emptied the bag that Gaara had set on the table. He had completely cleaned up the mess from breakfast and fixed the footprints in the garden before leaving, thank god. He just hadn’t made any lunch as ordered. And there were his ankle cuffs on the counter. Shit! He’d left the collar and wrist cuffs on, although only the collar had showed under the thin jacket he’d put on. The last grocery put away, Shikamaru quickly bent and pulled off his boots, grabbing the cuffs and putting them on. He then stripped off the rest of his clothes, conscious of his erection, and carefully put them on the washer with Gaara’s cellphone and keys next to them. He knelt down and crawled over to Gaara, leaning down to kiss one of his feet.

Gaara kicked him in the face, sending him flying back. Shikamaru's lips began to swell and bleed as he pulled himself up and knelt again in front of Gaara, just not quite so close, and lowered his head to the floor in front of Gaara’s feet.

“Right here, right here, you said you wouldn’t leave me,” said Gaara. “I wake up, and you’re gone, no note, nothing. Gone. The bike gone. Ankle cuffs just left on the counter. Your backpack gone. The house empty. No lunch. Your wallet gone. Nothing to indicate you would ever come back. Nothing.”

The pain in Gaara’s voice as he said those last words ripped into Shikamaru, and he lost his erection and felt flooded with sorrow and guilt. He had not realized the depths of Gaara’s insecurity, his need. It was so hard to reconcile the image of Gaara with his whip with the raw hurt in his voice. He just kept his head down on the floor, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes.

The whip landed on his shoulder and pain ripped through Shikamaru, but he felt he deserved it, deserved more, “Thank you, Master. Please give me a second chance—ahhhhh!”

The second blow was on the other shoulder, and it took him longer to recover enough to talk, but then the words came pouring out, “Please don’t doubt me, Master. I won’t leave you. I love you. I’m stupid and insensitive. I welcome the punishment I deserve for causing you pain. It didn’t occur to me that you might think I had left you. Please, please, let me make you some lunch, Master, before you finish punishing me. You shouldn’t suffer a moment longer for my carelessness. Master—“

“Get up and bend over the table,” ordered Gaara.

Shikamaru did, his eyes down, not seeing Gaara noticing his tears, his bleeding lips, his flaccid cock. He positioned himself, closed his eyes, and waited. He was thinking of Gaara, the Gaara that had begged him not leave, the Gaara that blushed and confessed his virginity, the Gaara whose voice was full of pain and hurt. The pain in his shoulder was nothing compared to the pain of feeling he had hurt the one he most wanted to please, the one who had given him some of the happiest moments in his life. He was furious with himself, sick at his failure to read Gaara correctly.

When he felt Gaara slide a lubed finger in him, he was shocked and hardened instantly. “Master, Master, I don’t deserve this,” he said. “Thank you, Master. Oh, god, it feels good.”

Gaara worked in three fingers fairly quickly, adding more lube. Then Shikamaru felt something pushing at him that was wide, too wide.

“Push down,” ordered Gaara. Shikamaru did and cried out a little what felt like the tip of huge dildo was forced in him. It was excruciating and exciting to be spread so wide, to feel his anus stretched so painfully. He waited for a little narrowing of whatever it was, but it didn’t. Gaara kept working it in him, adding more lube around his anus, but shoving that huge thing deeper. Once, a long, long time ago, he’d been fisted. Was that what this was leading to? This dildo being shoved inside him was so large. He was being spread apart, split, and was conscious of all the fucking he taken in the last twenty-four hours. It burned, it hurt, but he was so hard and excited he was close to coming.

“Master, Master, please, it’s hard not to come, please, I don’t want to displease you, please, am I permitted to come?”

“No.”

“Please, please, a cockring, Master. It’s so big, it hurts so, it makes me so excited. Oh, god, Master, I’m close, please,” begged Shikamaru.

Gaara stopped pushing in the huge thing and left the room. Shikamaru didn’t dare look or reach back to see what it was inside him and focused on not pushing it out, on holding still. He needed to prove himself to his master.

Then Gaara was back, and Shikamaru felt the tightness of a leather band snapping around the base of his cock and then another around the base of his balls. He could feel a metal ring against his balls that was attached to the leather. He was trying to hold still. Then he felt a painful tugging on the ring at the base of his balls. He felt something on his ankle cuffs and realized that Gaara was linking the ring on the cockring to his ankle cuffs. He heard the clink of chain between his legs. He wasn’t sure, but he had the feeling his ankles were likely attached by a length of chain. But then the pushing in his ass began again. Oh, god, it made his legs strain and that pulled on the cockring painfully. Gaara kicked his legs apart a bit more, and the pain intensified. If he wasn’t ringed, he’d have come at once. Gaara went back to forcing the huge dildo inside him—for that was what it was Shikamaru was suddenly convinced.

It was finally in, and Gaara fixed it in place with leather straps. “Stand up and turn around,” he ordered. Shikamaru raised his upper body off of the table slowly. The huge dildo inside him made it painful to move. He looked down and could see it was two chains running from his cockring to his ankles and a chain between his two ankle cuffs. Shikamaru cried out, and his body shook. How long would he have to endure this? Then Gaara was snapping the leather ring from this morning under the tip of his cockhead and once more running that chain to the ring in the front of his collar. Every movement of his body would be an erotic agony. The tears ran down Shikamaru’s face, but he said, “Thank you, Master. Please tell me how I can please you, Master.”

Gaara ran a chain from his nipple ring to the collar ring and clamped the other nipple, stretching that chain up as well. Shikamaru tried to focus and tolerate this new addition to his torment. “Put up the helmet, and your boots and clothing. Then make lunch,” ordered Gaara.

Shikamaru knelt to kiss Gaara’s feet and thank him, but he ended up crying and out and collapsing in an ungraceful heap, twitching as the various chains tightened and tugged on his body. He pulled himself together, kissed Gaara’s feet and thanked him, then struggled up to put away the clothing and boots. `I deserve this, I deserve this,’ he told himself as he tried to find the least painful way to walk. If he kept his head tilted forward a little, the pain on his cockhead from the ring just under the flare of the head wasn’t so bad, and there was no pain in his pierced nipple and just a little in the clamped one. If he took short steps, the pain from the ring pulling down on his balls was endurable as well. The huge dildo made each step something to fear, but the longer it was in, the more he was adjusting to it. By the time, Shikamaru returned to the kitchen, he knew he could tolerate this for an hour at least.

Shikamaru made Gaara a Bitter Crimson and brought it to him as his mind was lost in thinking of his position, his body, his slavehood: `Oh, Master, Master, how you make me suffer and want you! I feel every part of my body. If you release my cock, I’d come immediately. Just feeling this, feeling you watching me, knowing how I belong to you, how I deserve this and more—oh, god! Owww, bending to get that pot hurts, oh, god, oh, breath, calm, relax, do this for him, for Gaara. Gaara! Master!’

Gaara watched as Shikamaru flinched, shook, and struggled as he made toast and chili for lunch, fixed a small salad, and iced the chocolate cake. He drank the drink he liked so much and felt the hurt slowly draining away as he watched Shikamaru with tears occasionally running down his face, seasoning, stirring, spreading that icing.

“Master, would you like the salad first or with the chili?” he asked.

“Together. Make yourself a plate and come eat on the floor beside me,” said Gaara.

“Thank you, Master, thank you,” said Shikamaru in a voice that sounded so happy, Gaara felt the last knot of anxiety inside him untie.

“Make me another Bitter Crimson before you eat. You are not permitted to use your hands to eat, so put your drink in a bowl,” he ordered.

“Yes, Master,” said Shikamaru in the same happy tone.

Gaara watched him, seeing he had finally begun to reach that sub space where he was lost in the pleasure and pain of submitting, of obeying, of enduring. Oh, his slave was amazing in his submission, his desire to please. He had taken those blows of the whip beautifully. He had been trying to please him, going to get food. Gaara didn’t like food shopping and hadn’t been looking forward to it. He had taken the phone so Gaara could call him. And with Kankurou’s call, he’d known he was safe, coming back. Why, why had it still hurt then?

Maybe it had hurt because he said it; he said those words, those words that Mom and Dad never said to me, the words Dad never said even as he was dying. The words no one in our family says. The words I’ve never heard from anyone before. The words that scare me that they aren’t true. Because I was frightened, frightened that he didn’t really mean it. But now that he’s here, and I can’t believe I doubted him. How could I doubt him after what we shared this morning? Look at him, look at him—he loves me. I love him. Oh, god, look at his cock bound up like that, look how wide his ass is spread around that dildo, how tightly his balls are bound and tugged. This food, this food is so good. Oh god the sight of him, kneeling there, mushing his face into that chili, lapping at that cola in the bowl.

Shikamaru looked up, chili smeared on his face, and asked, “Master, what can I do for you?”

“Eat,” was all Gaara said, but his face showed how he was no longer angry, no longer cold.

“I love you, Master,” said Shikamaru, lowering his head again.

There was nothing but the sound of their eating for the next twenty minutes, but they both were content. When Shika rose up on his knees, finished, Gaara had been done for a while just peacefully watching him. His face was smeared with food.

“Come here, sit on my lap, and let me lick your face clean,” ordered Gaara.

Shikamaru’s soft cry of pleasure made Gaara smile and say, “Quiet, no talking, now.” His slave approached and tried to sit on his lap, both legs to one side.

“No, straddle me; curl your legs back,” ordered Gaara. "That chain between the ankle cuffs isn't coming off until I take it off. No more bike rides without permission." Shikamaru nodded his understanding and sort of awkwardly slid himself on to Gaara's lap, wincing and biting back a cry as the chains from the base of his balls to his ankles tightened. He wiggled a bit until the chains eased a little. He lowered his face, and Gaara began to lick it. Shikamaru moaned, and his cock jumped with each pass of Gaara’s tongue. Then there was nothing left to lick, and Gaara was kissing him. In the kiss, each one could taste the other’s forgiveness, sorrow, regret, and love. And when at last Gaara pulled back Shika’s face from his, they were both in a state of bliss.

“Clear the dishes, then bring the ice cream, a serving spoon, and lie down on the table face up. You’re going to be my ice cream dish,” said Gaara. When Shika started to open his mouth, Gaara just put his index finger over his lips, indicating he still wanted silence. Shikamaru kissed the finger and got up to obey.

He was panting and painfully, desperately aroused, and Gaara hadn’t even opened the ice cream container yet. Shikamaru lay on the table, trying not to moan, not shift. Gaara opened the ice cream and spooned out a big ball of it, saying, “Open your mouth.”

Shikamaru did and the ball of ice cream dropped in, cold, delicious, followed by Gaara’s tongue. They kissed around the ice cream, each swallowing a little, Shikamaru moaning and twitching under Gaara. When he pulled up his head, he said, “You don’t need to be quiet anymore.” Then he spooned out another ball and unhooking the chain to Shikamaru’s gold nipple ring, plopped the ice cream right down on the ringed nipple. Shika cried out, his hands gripping the table so they wouldn’t fly up and push the ice cream away or fist in Gaara’s hair. His mouth descended and licked and nibbled at the ice cream. It melted a bit, some sliding down his side. Then Gaara’s mouth was back at his, offering him some ice cream. Shikamaru took it and let it slide down his throat, sweet and cold.

Then Gaara removed the nipple clamp and the other chain. Shikamaru cried out at the pain in his nipple, but the ice cream took away the burn, shockingly cold. At this point he began to babble, thanking and begging Gaara in turn, moaning. Gaara slowly licked and slurped at the ice cream, once more offering him a few mouthfuls. Shikamaru’s pleading and mewling continued after each time he swallowed more of the sweet vanilla ice cream. When Gaara had licked the area around Shikamaru’s abused nipple clean, he unhooked the last chain from his collar, the one to his erection and took off that top ring under the flare of his cockhead. “Put you hands in a circle down here,” ordered Gaara, his fingers rubbing just under Shika’s belly button. The whimpering brunette did, and Gaara spooned several balls of ice cream into the center of his hands. He set the ice cream container down and pushed his slave’s cock into the cold dessert so that Shikamaru was pressing the ice cream into his own erection. Shika’s whimpers became cries, then grew louder, more frantic as Gaara licked and sucked. But even as he pleaded and begged, Gaara’s tongue didn’t speed up its slow stroking and lapping at the melting mass.

“God, Master, please, please, please let me come. Please, it’s unbearable. I’m on fire and freezing, I love you so much. Oh, god, oh god, Master—“ Gaara stopped Shika’s cries by forcing some ice cream from his mouth to Shika’s. It seemed like forever until most of the ice cream on his belly and his cock was gone.

“Roll over,” ordered Gaara. Shikamaru did, his sticky body now pressed to the table. He felt Gaara unfastening the straps holding the dildo in and began to thank him, but then Gaara pulled the dildo out so fast he screamed in shock. To his horror, Gaara then spooned a ball of ice cream right onto his anus. He screamed and thrashed a bit, his movement pulling the chains from his balls to his ankles, making him cry more. Then Gaara’s mouth was on his ass, licking at the ice cream, and he went wild. When he became aware of himself again, Gaara was holding him down, spanking his buttcheeks. He sobbed, stilled, and then Gaara began pushing more ice cream into his ass, making him sob harder and beg incoherently. Then his master’s cock was thrusting in, and Shika thought he was dying, teetering on the edge of passing out at the intensity of feeling that hot cock and the cold ice cream moving in and out of his ass. Then Gaara pulled him back off the edge of the table to drive in deeper, harder, and he screamed again and again until Gaara’s hands were on his balls. He heard Master cry out, “Come for me!” and the sperm came out so fast, so hard, so pleasurable, so painful, he felt he must be dying.

“Shikamaru!” shouted Gaara as he sprayed his cum deep into his slave’s ass, the warm spunk hitting the cold ice cream, making Shika’s scream louder and his ass tighten and contract violently. Gaara then collapsed down on Shika, his weight heavy, pressing Shikamaru into the table. “Was that good for you, Slave?” he demanded roughly.

But Shikamaru could only whimper and let out a broken sob, unable to talk.

Gaara laughed.


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Thanks again for catching the mistakes! I did forget about the ankle chain, and I left out the reason for it anyway, so a little rewriting of that paragraph was in order. Thanks for pointing out the other typos!! I have the best readers!!