Hurt Me

A/N: I have wanted for a very long time to write a fic like this - Itachi and Kisame engaging in BDSM play in order to alleviate Itachi's inner suffering because of his guilt - but I never gathered the courage to do so for various reasons. I started such fics several times and deleted them after a few paragraphs, never pleased with the way they came out. Finally. I gathered the courage and finished one. I hope you like it.

Warnings: Heavy BDSM. Don't read if that bothers you.

HURT ME

Long, callused fingers ran lovingly over the tools he had prepared earlier that day in anticipation for the event tonight. He had kept a small part of his collection, lovingly packed and sealed in a scroll, even after he had been forced to flee Kirigakure eight years ago. Still, for all this time, Kisame hadn’t had any opportunity to actually use it and the scroll had remained carefully hidden at the bottom of the chest he put his clothes in when he returned to their quarters in Amegakure – an event that was rare enough on its own. For all this time, the scroll had been gathering dust, unused, untouched.

He simply hadn’t had time for it, really. All these years he spent constantly on the road, chasing the legendary beasts, tagging along after a brat of a Ninja who outranked him, despite being so much younger at first. It had rankled him at first, he admitted as much to himself, back when Itachi had been still an amazingly gifted teenager with a bloody past and unreadable eyes. Some of his indignation dissipated when he realized just how GOOD Itachi was at what he did and that had cultivated some grudging respect in the Mist Nin, which in time developed into a honest friendship.

His bluish fingers slid over the coiled whip and he fingered the split ends lovingly, taking several deep, calming breaths. This particular toy was too harsh for Itachi, too cruel, and as much as the thought of marking permanently that perfect porcelain skin appealed to his blood-thirsty nature, he knew that now wasn’t the time for it. Perhaps once Itachi felt more comfortable with him, he could introduce the idea to him. Maybe.

He eyed the other flogging tools, all in different shapes and sizes, all of them well-worn and so painfully familiar. He had had so much fun with those back home, using them to discipline wayward students and subordinates. Zabuza had been a favourite of his, since the younger man enjoyed receiving pain as much as he liked giving it to others.

After the whip he eyed the canes and paddles, carefully inspecting them for any defects and finding none, which pleased him greatly. It had been so long since he could indulge his baser, darker needs, and now a golden opportunity had presented itself in the form of his beautiful, trusting partner. Carefully, he rolled the leather case where all of his tools were tucked in their individual pockets and tied the string around it. There. It looked perfectly innocent now, perfectly harmless.

Itachi was waiting for him, he knew, in the basement of one of the many abandoned buildings in the outskirts of Amegakure. Best to head that way now, he had teased himself enough.

As he made his way over the rooftops of the soaked village, he thought about how things had progressed to this level. He hadn’t expected it really, for Itachi to come to him with his problem, with his need, despite the trust that had developed between them. After all, this was such a sensitive matter. On the other hand, who else could the young man go to? He had no one outside of Akatsuki and his relationship with the other members was strained at best. Pein, perhaps, but Kisame had the distinct suspicion that their dear Leader was more interested in receiving pain, if his appearance was any indication, that dishing it out. At least under such circumstances, anyway.

No, Kisame had been Itachi’s only friend, older than him, someone who had been at his side ever since he had joined Akatsuki six years ago. There had simply been no one else to turn to, no one else to ask for such a thing.

‘I cannot focus anymore, Kisame…’ He had said, shaking in his arms after yet another horrible nightmare. ‘They haunt me, when I sleep and when I am awake, they haunt me, always on the edge of my vision. I don’t know what to do anymore, how to silence their voices.’

And he had turned those dark, shimmering with unshed tears eyes to him and he had asked:

‘Help me.’

And Kisame had agreed. Naturally. How could he not?

The Mist Nin wondered if Itachi knew of his pastime back in Kirigakure, if he knew of his fantasies and urges and desires, all of which he had ignored for so long, trying to quiet them by engaging in battle after battle, drowning them in the fountains of blood that his Samehada produced as he ripped with it through the hides of his targets.

For Kisame, tonight would be as much of a release as it would be for Itachi. He just hoped that he would be able to hold onto his control and not violate the trust Itachi placed on him. It had occurred to him, somewhere between the day his partner begged for his help and this morning, when he decided on how he would help him, that he didn’t want to fail Itachi. It was an interesting, if worrying epiphany, but he decided that he would ponder on it in a later moment.

The house loomed over him, a decrepit thing with peeling paint and broken windows, all the furniture long looted, the roof leaking and soaking the long ruined floorboards. He made his way in and slowly descended the stairs to the basement. The air was quite stale, the stone walls damp and glistening, but the privacy this place provided more than made up for its flaws.

Finally he reached the heavy wooden door and pushed it open, revealing the basement itself – a dungeon-like room with stone-covered walls, lit by a single burning torch tucked in a metal stand. The only other furniture was a simple wooden table with shackles bolted in appropriate places and a large, surprisingly ornate chair.

Itachi was sitting on the table, dressed in plain dark pants and shirt, his long hair gathered in its usual loose ponytail, the Akatsuki cloak nowhere in sight.

When Kisame entered, the Uchiha got to his feet and looked at him, expression curious, his hands relaxed at his sides.

“I wasn’t sure if you would come.” The young man admitted.

“Of course I came.” Kisame said with a small smile, walking up to the table and setting the rolled leather case on it. Itachi stared at it as if it was a very interesting bug under a magnifying glass then turned to his partner again, looking awkward and uncertain.

“Now what?” he asked softly.

“Now, I will ask you once again if you want to do this.”

Itachi looked at the case.

“Yes. I am certain.”

“Good. In that case, you will pick a safeword.” He informed him as he began to untie the string.

“Safeword?”

“In case that I went too far and you want me to stop.”

“I wouldn’t want you to stop, Kisame.” Itachi’s awkwardness seemed to have dissipated, eagerness coming in his place.

“Well, unless you pick a safeword and promise to use it, we won’t proceed.” Kisame informed him casually, letting go of the string. “You are not my prisoner, Itachi. Whatever happens here today, it will happen with your full consent. Do you understand?”

Finally, the Uchiha nodded.

“Okay.” He pondered on it for a while then finally said “Persimmon.”

“Like, the fruit?”

Itachi nodded.

Kisame wondered behind the motives for that word, but chose not to press Itachi for information. If and when the Uchiha was ready, he would tell him.

“Very well then.”

He finally untied the string and rolled out the leather, revealing its contents. Itachi’s eyes widened at the sight of the tools and his fingers dug into the wooden table. He licked his lips and slowly turned to look at Kisame.

“Kitten.” The Mist nin said thoughtfully. “This is how I will call you while we’re here. At least, I will call you that when you’re being good.”

Itachi’s lips twisted in a sardonic little smile.

“And how do I call you? Master?”

“I believe it’s a bit too early for that, don’t you think?” Kisame answered with the same kind of smile. “Kisame-sama or Sir is fine for now.”

Itachi simply nodded, eyes still fixed on the tools.

“Shall we begin?” Kisame asked him quietly. The dark eyes finally focused on him.

“Yes.”

Kisame carefully took off his Akatsuki cloak, folded it then slung it over the high back of the ornate chair. When he was done, he sat down, relaxing his body, looking patiently at the young man standing awkwardly in the center of the room.

“Take your clothes off, fold them and place them in the corner, Kitten.” He ordered mildly.

Itachi quickly complied and reached for the hem of his shirt. Kisame noticed that his fingers trembled slightly as he did so, even if his expression was a mask of utter calm. Next were his shoes and pants, followed by his underwear. Finally, he stood there, naked as he was born, obviously struggling not to fidget and wondering what to do with his hands.

“Undo your hair.” Was the next quiet order and Itachi complied again, struggling a little as the elastic tangled with the long black tresses. Finally, the hair was free of its confines and it fell freely in gentle waves around his doll-like face, all the way down to his waist. Kisame repressed the urge to get up and run his fingers through the luxurious locks, instead focusing on Itachi’s face.

“Good.” He said, feeling that he needed to indulge his… what was Itachi, exactly? Lover? Sub? Friend? Partner? He settled on partner for now. “You can clasp your hands behind your back.” After Itachi did so, he continued. “Now, kneel.”

The young man heeded again, doing so with practiced ease, having sat in the traditional pose through way too many meetings. His balance was a bit off because of the hands behind his back, rather than being on his knees, but he still held his head high and his back ramrod straight.

The Mist Nin got up from his chair and slowly made his way to Itachi, then circled around him once, taking in the sight of him at all angles, finally stopping right behind him, reaching and putting his large hand on his shoulder. Unused to physical touches, the younger man jumped in surprise but did not flinch. Slowly, gently, the large hand slid to the back of his neck and stayed there for a moment, then turned and gathered all the silken hair in his fist. He could feel Itachi tensing, expecting to have his hair pulled, but he did nothing of the sort, instead just pushing it over his shoulder, revealing the smooth, lightly muscled back. Itachi appeared to have lost weight recently and the ridges of his spine were quite visible under the almost translucent alabaster skin. Greedily, he traced each all the way down to his tail bone, but made no attempt to fondle his ass. Slowly, the young man began to relax under his touch.

“What are you doing?” he began “I thought you were going to hurt…”

“Unless you wish to say your safeword, you will speak only when spoken to, Kitten.” Kisame told him with deceptively mild tone. Itachi shut his mouth immediately.

Kisame offered no praise this time and instead continued to trace the lines of his back. Under other circumstances he would have punished such an infraction, but he wanted to keep the Uchiha on his toes, and punishment was exactly what he was expecting.

Slowly, he circled around him again and stood before him, this time his fingers tracing the form of his face, rubbing against the soft, full lips, sliding down and wrapping around the pale, elegant throat. He just held his hands there for a moment, not squeezing at all – the point of this was to show that he had control, not to hurt or even frighten. Surprisingly, Itachi did not appear to be frightened to be in such an incredibly vulnerable position. Instead, he looked up, his dark eyes focusing on Kisame’s. He said nothing, remembering the rule about speaking, but his expression betrayed his trust.

Even though he didn’t allow it to show on his face, Kisame felt humbled. He let go of his neck and caressed a smooth cheek instead before taking a small step back.

“Get up.” He ordered. “Go to the table. Face it, then bend down until your face touches the surface.”

Itachi complied, moving towards the table and bending over, hands raised above his head, fingers touching the metal shackles bolted onto the surface. As Kisame moved to the unfolded case, he heard the man’s rapid breathing, saw the quickly rising and falling back, his shoulder blades jutting out. He had to make the Uchiha eat more. Hopefully, today’s session would help towards this end.

He unzipped a pocket and took out four velvet scarves, deep, burgundy red in colour, their smooth plush surface tickling his fingers. He rarely used those back in Kirigakure, because most of his partners would consider it a show of weakness on both their parts, but he couldn’t imagine not doing it for Itachi.

He carefully wrapped each scarf around a thin, seemingly fragile wrist, providing sufficient insulation to prevent any chafing, then pulled Itachi’s hands further up and secured the shackles around them, then bent over and did the same with his ankles – wrapped them in the scarves and secured them to the feet of the table.

When he was done, he took a step back and admired his handywork. Itachi was safely shackled to the wooden table, spread-eagled and bent over, completely helpless and vulnerable, muscles straining a little in the unusual position, long hair spread on one side of his head over the smooth surface of the table. Perfect.

He released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and reached to caress the exposed back again, this time his hand sliding down to the smooth, round globes of Itachi’s ass. The shackled man let out a shy little whine but made no attempt to flinch, even if Kisame could see the flush that bloomed on his face.

“Has anyone touched you like this before, Kitten?” he asked him quietly, eagerly waiting for his response.

“No, Sir.” Itachi answered in a small voice, dark eyes closing in embarrassment.

“It’s okay.” Kisame said soothingly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

In fact, that little revelation went straight to his already hardening cock, even if it put a little dampener on his plans for tonight. Itachi was untouched, a shy, inexperienced virgin, on top of everything else. It appealed to his primal, animalistic senses of possession and he sent a quiet thanks to whatever deities still cared about him, despite his many nefarious deeds.

He reached for the case again and rummaged through its pockets, pleased with himself that he had thought to buy fresh products during the day, and took out a small flask of oil. He uncorked it and the smell of pine needles filled the room. After he poured a generous amount on his fingers he rubbed them together to warm them and carefully reached to spread the tempting flesh to reveal the hidden rosy opening. Itachi’s hands fisted above his head and he bit his lip even before Kisame even touched him, apparently apprehensive about what was about to follow.

“Shhh.” Soothed Kisame and rubbed a single finger over the little, untouched opening, feeling it twitch nervously under his touch. After much massaging and coaxing it, the muscle finally began to relax and he was able to work his finger inside, sliding it in torturously slowly until the first knuckle popped in. Itachi exhaled sharply but relaxed, apparently relieved that it wasn’t as scary as he had imagined it would be. Of course, this was just one finger, even if Kisame did have large hands. If he had to insert his already raging hard on, he would cause a lot of pain, maybe even tearing. Itachi wasn’t ready to be taken like this, not by a long shot. He thrust his finger in and out, slowly, shallowly, until the tight, hot passage allowed it to go all the way in. Itachi whined a little and relaxed further around him and under him and Kisame smiled as he finally found the little spongy protrusion and ran his finger over it. Itachi keened loudly and jerked, toes curling against the cold ground. He pressed his other hand against the small of his back, rubbing soothing circles and the younger man relaxed.

When he deemed Itachi ready, he finally inserted a second finger inside of him, this time meeting less resistance and producing even more mewls of both apprehension and pleasure than before. He took his time loosening the tight muscles, wanting Itachi pleasantly relaxed and slick for what he had in mind for him.

Finally, the warm hole relaxed sufficiently around his fingers and he removed them, instead taking out a small metallic buttplug, egg-shaped and polished to a mirror finish, with a flaring, ridged handle ensuring easy removal. Kisame carefully worked the toy into his Sub, delighting in the soft moans this produced. When he was finally done, it was nestled deep within Itachi, pressing against his sweet spot.

The Uchiha was flushed crimson, his entire body trembling from the stimulation and embarrassment at what was done to him and his own reactions to it. Kisame felt heady with desire for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He needed to stay in control for the next part.

He rummaged through the case and finally found what he was looking for: a flogger of soft, malleable, braided leather which he rarely used back home but which was perfect for a beginner like Itachi. Four braided strings were attached to the thick handle, each finished with a knot attached to a small ball of soft fur.

Kisame reached and ran the ends over the smooth, sensitive back and watched goosebumps appeared as he teased him, letting him feel the soft, ticklish fur, confusing his body further with the unexpected sensation. Itachi gasped and twitched, even giggled a little before snapping his mouth shut again. Good. He was losing control over his reactions. This was exactly what Kisame wanted.
Suddenly he swung and hit him, carefully controlling his strength behind the blow, straight across his back, the fuzzy ends flicking over Itachi’s ribs. The young man jerked more in surprise than in pain and keened, trembling when the next blow fell, crisscrossing over the old marks. Kisame began to work the flogger steadily over his body, covering the entire area from shoulders to the back of his knees, watching with the delight as the alabaster skin reddened delicately, knowing that the flogger was too soft to cause any real pain and just stung and warmed the skin. This was exactly what he was aiming for, to tease the flesh of his Sub to oversensitivity before he proceeded to the next stage where the real play could begin. During the entire time Itachi keened and twitched, breath coming in short, shocked gasps, sweat beading between his shoulders and on his upper lip.

When he was pleased with the result of his actions, Kisame put the flogger away and poured over the contents of his case again, wanting to choose the most appropriate tool, feeling torn between the two canes he possessed – the bamboo one and the rattan one, finally stopping on the rattan one, knowing that it was the more elastic of the two and not capable of breaking the skin – once again provided that Kisame controlled the strength with which he hit him.

He took the cane out and carefully moved it into Itachi’s line of vision, letting him take a good look at the smooth, yellowish length of it. Itachi’s breathing quickened even more and his eyes widened at the sight of it, but if anything, he looked more eager than afraid.

“Do you want this, Kitten?” Kisame cooed gently and the young man nodded.

“Ye…” his voice broke and he swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”

“Why do you want it?”

The full lips trembled and Itachi wetted them with his tongue nervously.

“I don’t… I don’t understand the question, Sir.” He finally said.

“Have you been a bad boy? Do you think you have to be punished?”

A soft sob escaped from the full lips.

“Yes, Sir.”

Kisame nodded and didn’t press him more. He moved behind him again and paused, waiting patiently for Itachi to begin to fidget again, then swung and landed a sound blow right across the smooth ass, watching the two globes of flesh jiggle and tighten around the invading buttplug. Itachi whimpered and pressed his face to the table, his entire body trembling. This stung so badly, the heat of it spreading over his ass and down to his thighs. Kisame pulled away and watched as the reddened welt rose over the rest of the already pinkish skin. He swung again and landed another blow, just at the base of his ass, where the cheeks met his thighs. He was greeted with another loud keen and more shuddering. He continued, landing blow after blow, marking the smooth flesh, the welts crisscrossing over his ass and back and thighs. Itachi was progressively getting louder and louder, his entire body trembling under the assault on his senses, sweat slickening his reddened skin despite the cool air of the basement.

Kisame himself was more than affected by it, sweating profusely in his clothes which now clung to his body, his erection painfully trapped in his pants, throbbing against the side of his thigh. He desperately clung to his control, knowing that he should have expected it after spending so long without indulging himself.

Without warning, he dropped the cane to the ground and reached for the tools again, this time choosing a simple polished wooden paddle. He struck against Itachi’s already stinging ass, knowing that this final tool would make the abused muscles tighten even more around the invading buttplug, providing additional stimulation to Itachi’s prostate.

Itachi cried out this time, loud and long, but despite this, and despite the shackles on his ankles, raised his hips as much as he could, begging for more. Kisame readily gave it to him, over and over.

Through pounding in his ears, the sound of the paddle hitting flesh over and over and his own passionate gasps, he could hear that Itachi was babbling, his voice choked by tears and pain and need, repeating over and over again:

“I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

The wails reached a fever pitch and finally the slender body seized helplessly and began to shudder and convulse erratically, his arms and legs pulling unconsciously against the shackles, head swinging from side to side as his orgasm ripped through him.

Finally, he was still again, only small tremors running through his exhausted form. Kisame dropped the paddle too and heard it clatter somewhere next to his feet but paid it no heed. His entire attention was focused on the body on the table, its smooth skin marked and reddened all over, the long, sable hair matted with sweat and tears, his ass spanked to a deep cherry colour, twitching around the still inserted buttplug, his own come seeping down his thigh from under him where he had finished.

The Mist Nin reached and removed the buttplug carefully, watching the stretched little hole gape hungrily at him as he did so and wanted nothing more than to bury his cock in, feel the abused muscles tighten reflexively around his organ and milk his orgasm out of him.

Even so, he knew that he couldn’t do that, not now, not today, not after what he had just done to someone who was so inexperienced and so vulnerable already. Perhaps, if it was someone other than Itachi, he wouldn’t have hesitated, but he couldn’t do this to his partner.

Biting his lower lip, he reached for the fly of his pants, lowering it and finally releasing his aching erection. He took the reddened, heated cheeks in his hands and spread them wide again, delighting in the small moan this produced, then nestled his cock between them and began to thrust, rubbing himself against the little hole, feeling it twitch against the slick, velvety surface of his cock.

It didn’t take long, not after so many years of deprivation, not after what he had just done. Soon, he was shuddering against Itachi as well, his sharp teeth shredding through his lower lip and the taste of his own blood adding to the exquisite ecstasy of his orgasm.

He took a few moments to gather his bearings and pulled back, tucking himself back in his pants, feeling sated for the first time in years, but also sticky and sweaty and in need of a shower.

Itachi lay quietly on the table, his sobs finally winding down, his face almost devoid of emotion other than boneless sleepiness. He didn’t appear to be entirely coherent.

Kisame shook himself off and quickly worked to release him from the bindings, then gathered the relaxed, helpless body in his arms and wrapped him in his own cloak. Itachi whimpered softly when it pressed against his sore back, but his small hand came up to fist in Kisame’s shirt as he carried him out of the basement and into the open.

Kisame focused and manipulated his Chakra, making a seal as best as he could saddled with Itachi’s weight as he was then teleported straight into their rooms and headed for the bathroom. The tools he had abandoned in the basement could wait. This was more important.

The Uchiha was still barely responsive as he drew a warm, but not hot, bath and lowered his naked body into it, then joined him after a short hesitation. He washed him carefully with a soft, silken cloth, applying shampoo to his matted hair and rinsing it away. When he was done, he lifted him easily out of the tub and wrapped him in a soft towel, then carried him to bed.

Itachi was almost asleep when Kisame finally tucked him in. When the larger man turned, ready to leave the room, the small hand wrapped around his wrist with surprising strength.

“Stay.”

Kisame looked down and realized that he couldn’t deny him anything.

“Okay, Kitten.” He agreed and moved to slide between the sheets next to him. “I’ll stay.”