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1When Malkavia's Train [Private, Invite Only] Empty When Malkavia's Train [Private, Invite Only] on Wed Jun 28, 2017 12:35 pm



The bed was an absolute mess: the sheets tangled between the female’s black legging covered legs, the comforter hanging off the bed – more so on the floor than on the bed itself at this point. Pillows were scattered around in disarray save for the one the green tank top wearing female had her arms wrapped around and her head resting on as she laid on her right side: sleeping quietly for the moment. The bed was fairly large, but that hardly mattered at the moment considering Demi’s legs were hanging a bit off the edge from the most recent turn over she had done in her sleep.

She had gone to bed utterly exhausted the night before: so much so that she had barely made it into bed in the first place. Only with the help of her love, the fact that he had carried her, had she even made it home to begin with. While she normally slept in the nude for pure comfort purposes last night she had passed out before even managing to get her leggings or tank top off, let alone the rest of her clothing. It wouldn’t have been possible on a normal night, but last night had been anything but. The amount of training she had been put through, the grueling pace, had caused her to reach a level of exhaustion she had never thought possible: one she didn’t look forward to experiencing again – but she knew she was going to. For now though, that was the last thing on her mind as with a soft whimper escaping the slumbering females lips her dream progressed; “Seize her!”, the command was issued from a deep, throaty voice that had Demi turning around and glancing behind her. The man giving the commands was masked and cloaked, much like those with him: five in total. In a wolf pack formation they moved in to follow the command they had been given, their leader bringing up the rear. Demi didn’t remain still, though. She had no idea what they wanted with her but she wasn’t about to find out that easily. Knowing that the crowded market she was in would only slow her down she jumped onto a barrel, from there onto an awning, and then finally after a final jump onto the roof of a two story building. She took off like a bullet fired from a gun after that, running across the tops of different roofs, leaping and jumping over the gaps between the buildings, and scaling walls when she needed to move higher. Those chasing after her never slowed.

Demi was fast, but they were faster… and there were so many.

She had made it roughly six blocks when she was seized from behind and found herself unable to move: not just out of physical restraint, but because of a technique her captor had immediately put into play to keep her from fighting him off. She found that at most she could move her eyes and open her mouth – which she used quite vulgarly the moment the leader of this little group stepped up in front of her, flanked by the others. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Release me this instant!”

Her language gained her a response she hadn’t been expecting; a back hand to her face that was hard enough to have her ears ringing and her momentarily seeing stars. Unfortunately for her captors her warped mind immediately turned pain into pleasure, causing her to shake off the feeling with a relative quickness others would have not been so lucky to have. “I said get your fucking hands off of ---” Her throat was seized in a vice like grip next, the hand holding it squeezing just enough to play keep away with her oxygen.

Leaning in to her face so that she could smell his rancid breath as he opened his mouth the leader of the group spoke, “Shut up and listen to me or I’ll kill you where you stand. You have been captured because there is a warrant for your arrest: you’ve been charged with the murders of twenty seven orphans in the fire you set last night. We are going to take you to prison where you will be held until our orders come in on how we’re to deal with you. If, on the way there you get mouthy, or try and escape? I’ll cut you down where you stand right then and there. Now, do you understand me?”

Demi was red in the face from the lack of oxygen, and her head was spinning, by the time her captor finally released his hold on her throat. She gasped, drawing in much needed oxygen into her lungs and panting in the process. As soon as she could respond she did, “I understand, but I did not murder any children...”. Really, what chance she did have? The technique that had been used on her was keeping her from being unable to move, and considering her captors were all wearing masks it wasn’t like she could try mind fucking the whole lot of them into releasing her. No, if she wanted to survive whatever was about to happen to her then she was going to have to play along… and hope she came out the winner.

“I care not for the lies you speak, deviant. The proof is more than sufficient against you. Your lies will get you nowhere...” A black, thick hood was pulled over Demi’s face before she could respond, a cord around the bottom tightened against her throat and tied until she couldn’t peak. The hood not only made it impossible to see out of, thus keeping her from seeing where it was she was being led, but it also effectively made it hard for her to breath which meant she couldn’t keep arguing her side if she wanted to keep conscious.

Her captors were fast as they moved her, and even though Demi tried to mentally map the directions they were going it proved difficult. Several times she was sure they doubled back, or went in a complete circle or figure eight just to keep the confusion up. In fact, with how long it took despite the fast pace at which they were moving Demi found herself nearing unconsciousness from the lack of air under the hood: her face soaked in sweat which was beading down her face and drenching the neckline of the hood, several drips tickling the bridge of her nose as they hung them swaying from the movement until they too dripped down and drenched the thick cloth.

After what seemed like hours, but which was only twenty five minutes or so, her captors came to a stop with her and she heard the sound of steel slapping. Following this came a dank smell and a cold draft. There was a pause and then Demi was dragged blindly forward several yards before the sound of steel slamming came once more, this time from behind her. Another steel door was opened in front of her followed by more dragging, and twists and turns as her captors led her down confusing hallways meant to further confuse and disorientate.

Finally just as unconsciousness started to claim her she found herself being thrown forward, where she landed sprawled – hands going out in front of her to break her fall as her body slapped into what was clearly concrete. Disorientated and confused she found herself unable to move as the hood was quickly untied and yanked forcefully off of her head, leaving a burning sensation on her ears as it was harshly tugged over them. Another slapping of steel came from near her feet and she finally turned herself over, blinking as her eyes adjusted from the darkness of the hood to the dim light around her.

Objects came into focus and she found herself staring at a very crude cell: a metal rectangle was bolted into the walls, clearly meant to be a bed due to the lumpy uncomfortable looking mattress upon it. A toilet, likewise made out of metal, was hidden behind a half wall for privacy with a sink on the other side. Her cell door was a very thick sheet of nothing but steel with a tiny three by three square hole which had a piece of metal slid in front of it from the outside of the door so that she couldn’t see out of it. From the ceiling hung a single bulb on a thick wire, though there seemed to be no string for her to turn it on or off: clearly she didn’t control the lighting, they did.

Slowly getting herself up and off of the floor Demi checked to ensure she was uninjured: there was nothing wrong with her, outside of being disheveled from rough handling, and bruises up around her arms where she had been physically held. With a sigh she looked around before backing up and over to the make shift bed, her knees giving out the moment they made contact with the metal. She placed her elbows on her knees, dropping her head into her hands. “How the fuck do I get myself out of this?”, Demi would mutter beneath her breath, utterly stumped as to how she got herself into this situation. She hadn’t burned down an orphanage, and she certainly hadn’t murdered all of those children. Yet, her captor had said he had proof? Someone was framing her, and apparently they were doing a damn good job at it.

Rubbing her face and thinking that sulking over her situation was going to get her nowhere her years of training went into effect. She got back to her feet and for the next several hours paced her cell, memorizing every inch of it, checking every single inch of it for anything that was loose or that could give away. There was nothing. No bolts to be unscrewed, no metal to be honed into a weapon. No secret hole she could try and squeeze herself through. She was thoroughly and completely stuck in that cell.

For the next few following days Demi kept searching though, kept looking for some way out. She tried figuring out the schedule of which the meals were brought, but there was no pattern – or perhaps the lack of a pattern was a pattern in and of itself.

The only thing that kept her sane was the thought of Daremo: the need to escape for him. She couldn’t leave him… she couldn’t do that to him. The very thought of it sickened her, but it also gave her motivation to continue – to keep looking. To keep trying for a way out: if not for herself then for him.

Outside of meals which were slid through a tray slot in the door she hadn’t noticed right away Demi never got an actual visitor; no contact at all with the outside world beyond her cell. Therefore Demi was quite surprised when during the ‘lights out’ period of time one evening her cell door was thrown open and a hood was quickly thrown over her face. Before she could struggle or attempt to escape the same technique used on her when she had first been captured was used once again and she found herself utterly paralyzed and incapable of movement. Demi was then dragged out of her cell, noting it seemed to be only one person with the position in which she was being dragged, instead of a guard of them.

She wasn’t taken far before she blindly found herself in another room, her hands being surrounded with rope tied in an intricate knot. Her arms were then hoisted up over her head, so high that she was forced to stand on the very tips of her toes least she be dangling in mid air. Her shoulders would have been screaming in protest if it weren’t for the fact that her mind once more turned pain into pleasure: leaving only a pleasurable sensation as if she had just gotten a massage instead.

“So, it seems you’ve finally been sentenced… you’re going to die tomorrow night at sundown. Public too… But I wanted to have some fun first. No point in letting your death spoil my good fun, eh?” As the man spoke Demi was aware that he was moving around the room, as well as the sound of a bolt being slid into place: had he just locked them in together? She could hear some items being shifted nearby, but couldn’t pin point from the noise what they were. Just as she was trying to figure out what her captor was doing she suddenly felt his hands roaming down her hooded face, trailing along her neck, and then roughly squeezing at her left breast.

Instead of pleasure at the rough handling she felt only disgust: the idea of another man besides Daremo putting their hands on her sent her into a rage. Without considering what she was doing she attempted to kick out in front of her blindly only to receive a painful crack to the back of her head which caused lights out for the crazed female.

Demi had no idea how long she was unconscious, all she was aware of however as she came to was that she felt a cold breeze on her body. As she focused on this sensation, attempting to remain as still as possible in case her captor was nearby, she realized quickly it was so cold in the room because she didn’t have a single scrap of clothing on.

“I know you’re awake...”, came her captors voice in her ear, causing her to jump, startled, as foreign feeling arms snaked around from behind her naked form. She felt her captors body press against hers, that fact that he was naked and very ready to take her causing her to recoil in disgust; though her captors arms kept her from going anywhere. “Now now… behave.. you’ll notice after your last stunt I’ve chained your legs too… “, more words whispered in her ears as the man’s disgusting hands began to run over her body, pinching and groping as they went. Still with her head covered by the black hood she could only rely on her sense of touch to orientate herself to what was going on. So she felt, rather than saw, as his left hand went up to her left breast, fingertips pinching at her nipple. Meanwhile as if her sense of disgust wasn’t enough at that, his right hand traveled down to the junction between her legs, forcing fingers through even though she clamped her legs closed as tightly as possible to avoid his touch. His fingers wormed their way roughly through however, stroking at her womanhood. With his left hand he abandoned his nipple pinching in favor of reaching down and roughly taking hold of her left leg, yanking it up and out of the way, effectively exposing what Demi was trying so hard to keep from him. Despite the struggle Demi began to put up foreign fingers probed inside of her as the man chuckled and pressed his manhood tightly up against the crack of her ass. “Keep fighting… I like it. I’m going to enjoy taking you...Mmm… I can’t wait anymore...”

Fingers left her sex with the same sort of urgency and roughness in which they had entered as her other leg was wrenched up, leaving her suspended in the air on nothing but the ropes which still held her at her wrists. From behind she felt her captor begin to position himself, clearly intending on following through with his perversion, when a loud bang marked the door behind her she hadn’t known was there being thrown wide open. “What that fuck!!---”, her captors words were cut off as the sound of a thick and heavy chain could be heard. Before she was aware of what exactly was going on her captor’s hold on her was suddenly released as the whip chain that had just been used on him restrained him from head to toe; the whip binding the man in such ways that any kind of technique her captor might have known could no longer be used.

There would be no escape from what was coming to Demi’s captor, but as Daremo entered into the room, having used a weapon borrowed before his journey, he had eyes only for her and thus it was to her he went, even as his anger boiled and made him want to torture the bastard who had had his hands on what was /his/. Demi became aware of gentle hands undoing the type of the black hood before the neckline was loosened so that it could carefully and gently be pulled off of her head. The moment her eyes were free she found Daremo standing in front of her. “Daremo---” her words were cut off by a hard and fierce, the male’s hands snaking around her body, pulling it into his and holding her with a kind of possessiveness that screamed MINE in big and bold lettering. The kiss she returned with the same kind of passion lasted several long seconds, during which Demi became aware of one hand leaving her body as the ropes holding her wrists was loosened. As soon as her arms were free she brought them down, ignoring the sensation of numbness in both of them, as she brought them around Daremo’s shoulders, pulling him toward her with the same force he was holding her with.

After a moment Daremo broke the kiss, looking over her dampened hair from the sweat caused by the hood, and her red face. His mouth traveled across her cheek, lips pressing smaller kisses along her jawline, the bottom lobe of her ear, and then down her neck as his hands gave her bottom a tight squeeze. “Did he take you?”, the voice was throaty in her ear, spoken between kisses placed on her neck, but it held a kind of danger in it that would have had even the most insane of individuals fleeing in terror from hearing.

“No..” Demi would respond, breathless from the kissing and the touching: despite their current location her body was responding to Daremo’s touch as if he and he alone controlled her body’s responses: a flush having already come across her cheeks and chest, and a dampness forming between her legs.

“Touch you…?”, spoken in the same voice, one hand remaining on her ass, pinning her against him, while the other began to travel up her back.

“Yes...”, Demi responded, equally breathless as before.

“Here…?”, at this question he finally moved, not so much releasing his hold on her as shifting his hands to her breasts while his gaze moved to hers. His thumbs would run across her nipples which would harden beneath the touch. Her mind reeling in pleasure Demi simply nodded, momentarily incapable of a verbal one. Slowly, like a predator taking their time claiming their prey, his mouth would trail from along her neck, down to her chest, taking and suckling first her left nipple, and then the right; nibbling lightly enough to cause the smallest bit of pain without over doing it before he released her again: the wetness between Demi’s legs only increasing.

With a sudden abruptness Daremo moved away from Demi’s body and to her captor, his anger surging at the idea of the man’s hands on Demi’s chest. With a kind of quickness that the chained man had no way of avoiding he found his feet on fire, the flames slowly but methodically spreading with every single second that Daremo kept the technique up. With vengeance burning in his eyes he watched as the flames slowly worked their way up his body, burning flesh and leaving an awful smell in their wake. Only when it neared his manhood and ass did the flames suddenly disappear, leaving behind a trail of scorched flesh that Demi’s captor continued to scream in agony over.

Ignoring this Daremo made his way back to Demi, who had remained exactly where she was, though her gaze had followed Daremo and had watched what he had done the entire time. Daremo moved like a predator once more toward her, arms reaching out and snatching her toward him the moment she was within range. He pressed his body against hers once more, allowing her to feel just how much he wanted to take her – but he wouldn’t now, there would be plenty of time for that later, however.

He lifted her chin, planting another claiming kiss on her lips as his hands trailed along her body once more; up and down her sides, down her breasts, and then pausing at her waist. He waited until he broke the kiss before, with his right hand, he trailed his fingertips downward, Demi’s legs opening and spreading automatically for the touch she knew was coming. Sure enough Daremo stroked at her womanhood, taking his time to thoroughly explore her, playing with the bulb at her slit, before slowly working their way back and toward her luscious core. Despite her dampness he took her time probing her. “Did he touch you here?...”, he asked once more in that lethal voice, his fingers working her core while his thumb rubbed over the bulb of her sex.

Demi gasped in response to the touch, her breathlessness from the suddenly pleasure making her once more unable to respond with more than a head nod. The response caused a growl from Daremo, his fingers increasing their rthym and pressure until, without warning, Demi let out a cry and orgasmed, her body going limp in his arms.

Daremo caught her of course, keeping her from hitting the ground. Scooping her up in his arms he carried her bridal style over to the platform bed that clearly the scum who had touched Demi had had ever intention of making use of. He laid her out gently, fingers stroking along her soft flesh once more.

He tore himself away before he took her, the urge too high to ignore for much longer: he needed to claim what was his with a kind of thoroughness that would take hours, and they simply didn’t have that kind of time here. So, with a lethal focus he attention turned once more to the man who so nearly violated what was /his/. The man had stopped screaming at some point while he had been servicing Demi with his skilled fingers, and had simply taken to whimpering. With a kind of savageness Daremo lifted the mans head up by his hair, forcing him to look him in the face. “You violated what is MINE. For that I’m going to kill you, slowly… “ Once more flames would appear, starting again as they had done so at his feet and working their way up his legs. Daremo kept the flames coming, the mans shrill screams as the captors manhood was burned clear off music to his ears, and a perfect repayment for what he had done to /his/ Demi. The flames traveled up further from there, consuming his stomach, chest, and arms… organs melting and failing in the process. A slow and agonizing death, which would only occur nearly ten minutes after the torture had started.

Daremo turned then back towards Demi, closing the distance with a kind of predatory grace, knowing full well the only reason the man wasn’t going to spend hours being tortured was because he could barely hold himself back from Demi any longer. As he reached her he would remove his robe, using it to wrap around her gently and thoroughly, ensuring that not an inch of flesh from her neck down to her ankles was left showing: the gods knew how many had viewed her, and he wasn’t about to give anyone else the chance. He picked her up bridal style once more, making his way back the way he came; stepping over a pile of corpses as he went.

Sighing softly in her sleep the female turned over, thankfully away from the edge of the bed. She dragged the pillow she was still hugging with her, legs becoming even more tangled in the sheets: it was definitely a good thing she was still asleep at this point, because if she woke up and tried to stand abruptly she was going to fall. “Daremo...”, she muttered in her sleep, though her love had already left for the day: getting an early start on the work he had to accomplish before their next training session could ensue. So there was no one at home to hear her next little whimper as sleep continued to claim her and her dream continued on without pause.

Word Count: 4,145


Ninjutsu: C | Bukijutsu (Bojutsu | Onojutsu): C | Medical: C | Fuuinjutsu: C
Futon: S | Katon: B

The King | Hosokawa | Locker | Jutsu | Tracker

It is not the critic who counts. Nor the man who judges how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, Guest...



With another whimper the female turned over once more in her sleep; blue and pink strands of hair laying over her face and tickling her nose until she finally, in her sleep, released her hold in the pillow she was hugging to her chest and brushed them away – never actually waking up enough to stop the dream as it continued on. Little whimpers, and the word “Daremo” leaving her lips several more times as her grip returned on the pillow and she shifted her sheet tangled legs around on the bed until her left foot was hanging off and her right leg was bent: a fairly common and comfortable position for the little Malkavia female. Meanwhile Demi’s dream continued on, undisturbed from where it had left off: Demi didn’t remember much of the trip home, having passed out at some point between the room which she had so nearly been raped in and the entrance to the prison. All she could remember as eyelids fluttered open was a whole lot of death: death and blood everywhere. It had mingled in the air with the stench of burning flesh so thoroughly it was like some kind of macabre perfume. However, as her gaze focused she realized quite quickly that she was no longer in the prison; in fact the bedroom around her was quite familiar and comforting. Just like the light stroke of familiar fingers working their way up her side.

She was still naked – she preferred sleeping like that so it was nothing new – but she was vaguely aware of the fact that she had been cleaned: her skin felt soft and fresh, and her hair was lightly damp but letting off a fragrance of her favorite shampoo. Just as she began to tilt her head sideways she felt lips along her left cheek, a gentle kiss being planted there before Daremo’s familiar voice whispered in her ear, “I cleaned you up… I couldn’t stand the smell of that place on you and I wanted to make sure they hadn’t harmed you. Are you hungry?” His fingers never stopped trailing along her side as he spoke, clearly avoiding her breasts for now as he waited to see what she needed: he had every intention of making sure all of her needs were met before his own urge to take her was sated.

Demi thought over the question for a moment before whispering a soft “..No… thirsty though.” As her eyelids closed once more, a kind of tiredness currently over taking her, she felt the bed shift as Daremo moved to grab what was clearly a pitcher of water off of the bedside table: he had been more than prepared for what she might need. A glass was poured and then Demi found herself being sat up, the lip of the glass placed gently against her mouth so that she could drink freely as she needed. She took but a few sips before turning her head away with a soft sigh: keeping her eyes shut and simply reveling in the relaxed feeling that came with freedom and Daremo being beside her. Absently she heard the sound of the glass being put down before suddenly the feeling of lips moved over her; starting at her earlobe: nibbling gently before leaving a trail of kisses down her chin. From there is mouth moved lower, down her shoulder, and onto her breasts. A soft sigh escaped Demi as she felt Daremo’s tongue slip out, running in a circle several times around her left nipple before his mouth claimed it; his hand absently stroking her right so that it too hardened. With a soft groan Demi arched her back, craving more of his touch while her legs spread open in invitation, causing a chuckle from Daremo. “Impatient are we?”, he asked teasingly, using his free hand to trail down her side and over onto her stomach. He allowed his hand to get near the junction between her legs, sinking almost to the sweet spot of the bulb at the top of her slit, Demi’s body responding by arching up in a clear hunger for his touch, but just before he would have given her exactly what she wanted his hand trailed back up. Demi let out a neglected whimper, causing Daremo to chuckle once more as he removed his mouth from the nipple he had been suckling and replaced it with his hand, leaving one on each breast; twisting and pinching her nipples to give her the mixture of pain and pleasure he knew she wanted and needed.

Meanwhile, his mouth traveled lower with a kind of skill and precision that had Demi arching her back. Light kisses led the way down, pausing at her belly button to lick teasingly around it – a hint of what was to come – before his kisses brought him even lower. He stopped at her sex, teasingly snaking out his tongue to poke and lick seductively at the bulb of her sex causing Demi’s hands to grasp at the sheets beneath her as her legs spread even further and her back arched again. “Yeeeeesss….”, the word leaving her mouth on a hiss was followed by a very feminine and satisfied moan.

With more urgency Daremo snaked his tongue out, the sound of Demi’s pleasure driving him on: he wanted to hear those noises more, and he was damn well going to get what he wanted. His tongue flicked at her bulb with a kind of urgency before, without warning, he suckled her into his mouth, her hands automatically going to her hips as sure enough Demi began to writhe underneath of him from the overload of pleasure, her fingers snacking into his hair and locking in place. “Don’t stop… please don’t stop...”, she begged, tilting her head back as she attempted to move her hips. Her sex was soaking wet but that was nothing compared to the orgasm that rippled through her as Daremo replaced his lips with teeth; nibbling at her bulb in such a way to cause a mixture of pain and pleasure that had Demi going over the edge, her body jerking slightly from the force of the orgasm as it ripped through her.

Daremo had no intentions of stopping there though and as soon as Demi stilled from her orgasm he began kissing his way up from her sex, over her stomach, and onto her breasts. He suckled her right breast while lightly biting at her nipple as two fingers greedily dipped into her sex, his thumb teasing her bulb while he moved his fingers rhythmically within her. With a demanding growl of a voice he spoke, “Cum for me again… cum now...” It was a demand he wasn’t about to let her ignore, and sure enough as the demand came his fingers worked her sex all that much faster and harder. A second within speaking his demand he bit her nipple hard – though not hard enough to leave a physical mark – which caused Demi to arch her back once more, her body overloaded from the combination of the pleasure at her core and the painful pleasure at her breast. Another orgasm ripped through her leaving her panting, with a light sweat breaking out across her forehead and brow, and her legs feeling like jello.

Unable to hold back anymore Daremo moved up to her lips again, pressing his own against hers in a fierce kiss. Meanwhile, he positioned his body over top of hers, the tip of his manhood probing at the wet slit between Demi’s legs, causing her to automatically arch her her back again in clear invitation for him to invade her core. In a growl Daremo broke the kiss, arms wrapping around her tightly while he drove deeply and fully into her core, causing her hips to arch forward from the force. Meanwhile he growled out a vicious sounding “Mine” into her ear: she was his, and he would make sure the world knew it. Demi gasped and cried out, and it was all the invitation Daremo needed to continue. With the very thin hold on his control he had exercised up until that point breaking, he withdrew to near the tip of his manhood between driving into her once again. He repeated this action, increasing the tempo of his movements until they were savage at best: and Demi’s cries were far from complaints, and simply drove him on.

With a sudden quickness he would withdraw from her, turning her over with an urgent roughness onto her stomach. Without giving her a chance to protest he would grab her hips, lifting them into the air enough for him to position himself at her core before once more driving himself home home until every inch of him was sheathed within Demi’s sex. Once more Demi cried out, her body tensing as her third orgasm rolled through her.

Keeping his hands on her hips in a hold that would likely leave bruises of his fingertips behind, he drove forward while pulling her back toward him. The sound of skin slapping against skin was heard as the action was repeated over and over again with a kind of force and urgency that spoke of his need to claim her. He showed her no mercy, and Demi asked for none either. Her cries, when they were understandable at all, were filled with “Yes!”, and “More!” and “Don’t stop!”. So loud in fact it was a surprise the neighbors hadn’t come beating on the door yet. It drove Daremo on until finally, with a sudden and violent thrust of his hips he slammed himself home inside of her one last time, holding himself there as his own orgasm ripped through him. Only when he was finished did he withdraw from her sex, satisfied for the moment that he had claimed her once again.

There would be more to come for sure, but for now he moved himself from on top of Demi who rolled over with a very satisfied and sexed out grin on her face. He laid down next to her, pulling her toward him and wrapping his arms around her once more. He had every intention of repeating what had just happened many times over, but for Demi’s sake he knew she needed rest, and therefore he would wait like the patient predator he was…

Demi meanwhile curled back up to his chest, pressing a kiss to him, as her eyelids fluttered shut once more. She was satisfied in so many ways, though slightly surprised this hadn’t gone further. Then again, she had an assumption it had something to do with her own current condition; a feeling that Daremo was simply letting her rest until Round #2 began. Eyelids would flutter shut once more as sleep claimed Demi again, pulling her into an unconscious state, the last thing for her to remember being the feel of Daremo tugging a sheet around her as a means to keep her warm.


With an abrupt start the female jumped, awake, as the alarm clock all but forced her out of the lovely dream world she had been in. Blinking with a scowl she looked around through strands of hair once more covering her face for the intrusive device with the single minded purpose of throwing it against the wall to silence it forever when she found it. She didn’t remember setting the thing, which meant that Daremo must have before he left so that she didn’t end up sleeping all day – and she definitely would have otherwise. She located the alarm clock on the nightstand table, a good three feet from her. Only when she went to move to it, planning to crawl along the bed, did she find that her legs were completely tangled up in the bed sheets. With the BEEP BEEP BEEP still filling the air she grumbled profanities beneath her breath and made quick and rough work on pushing the bed sheets down and off of her legs, freeing her.

Once free from the bed sheet prison she turned over onto her stomach and crawled her way up to the alarm clock, slamming her hand, once, twice, and then a third time on the button to silence it: only not throwing it because it was Daremo’s and she didn’t figure he’d appreciate coming home to it in pieces. With a sigh she rolled back over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling as a yawn escaped her lips. Reaching up she would absently rub at her eyes, frowning once more as her stomach roared and grumbled itself to life: it was rare when she ever felt hungry, but then again, she probably should have expected such with the way Daremo had put her through her paces the day before.

As the thought of more training reached her mind she groaned out loud and contemplated playing dead; knowing all the while it would never work because of Daremo’s medical training. Nope, no amount of playing dead was going to get her out of whatever he had in store for her today. With another sigh she reached up rubbing at her eyes again and getting the ready of the gritty sand out of them, all while knowing she was likely smearing her eyeliner and eye shadow even more down her face; zero fucks to give though, zero fucking fucks to give.

With a groan Demi shifted herself, lifting her head so that she could properly look at the clock now that she could actually see: it was eleven thirty in the afternoon. Groaning once more, and cursing along a string of profanities under her breath the female sat up, knowing she had a limited time to actually do the things she wanted to accomplish before more of Daremo’s grueling training and sparring: get up, peel herself out of the nasty workout clothes she had worn yesterday, take a glorious shower, have some tea, and eat some breakfast – probably a light one so she didn’t end up vomiting everywhere later. Perhaps even try and replicate some portions of her dream with Daremo before they got to the knock out drag out stuff. Yup, good plan… to bad her aching body wanted nothing to do with it. Mentally Demi added ‘have Daremo heal my aches and pains’ to the mental list she had going before she forced herself to stand.

Instead of agony like a normal person would have been expecting though she only moaned softly as the full brunt of the pain hit – or rather, pain that was transformed instantly into pleasure in her mind. Pausing to stretch skyward the female reached toward the ceiling while rising up onto the tips of her toes. She held the pose for a moment, enjoying the delicious pleasurable agony that such an act had caused, before releasing the hold and heading toward the bathroom.

Word Count: 2,490
Total Word Count: 6,635


Ninjutsu: C | Bukijutsu (Bojutsu | Onojutsu): C | Medical: C | Fuuinjutsu: C
Futon: S | Katon: B

The King | Hosokawa | Locker | Jutsu | Tracker

It is not the critic who counts. Nor the man who judges how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, Guest...



Another yawn and she was standing, moving across the floor slowly as she headed straight towards the bathroom. Without care she pulled her sleeping clothes – which was nothing more than a long t-shirt – over her head and off of her body; leaving her in panties only. She dropped the shirt into the dirty clothes basket before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door. The shower was started as she removed her last garment of clothing. She adjusted the temperature so that it would be just a little too hot to be comfortable before she stepped underneath of the spray.

Demi stood there for several minutes, allowing the too hot water to rain down directly into her face and head which was tilted up towards the shower head so it hit directly. Again her toes curled in the pleasure from the slight tingle of pain that the heat gave her; but she didn't let it last as she reached over and grabbed up the shampoo, applying it to her wet pink hair. She scrubbed the scentless soap in so that every strand of her hair would be clean before rinsing it out. When she was sure every last trace of shampoo was gone she stepped out from beneath the spray and conditioned her hair. With the conditioner setting she grabbed the soap and did a quick but thorough lather of her body. After rinsing off her body she rinsed her hair of the conditioner and shut off the water – turning off the cold first so that the scalding hot water hit her for several seconds before it too was shut off.

Stepping out of the shower she grabbed the huge blanket-sized towel and wrapped it around herself. Once it was tucked in so that it wouldn't fall off of her body she headed back into her bedroom with steam billowing out of the bathroom because of how hot she had had the water. She grabbed a smaller towel off of a nearby chair and wrapped her hair up in it before walking over to her dresser. She pulled open a few drawers, pulling from them as she went undergarments as well as actual clothing. Knowing that the days goal was massive amounts of training she made sure she grabbed clothes that she didn't care about ruining, clothing that would have enough give to allow her to move freely without being restricted in any fashion.

Demi dried off her body while keeping the other smaller towel wrapped up in her hair. Once dry she tossed the towel to the side, leaving her naked while standing in front of her dresser: revealing old scars from the numerous times she had had to self harm – scars that the medics had missed fixing and that Demi had had no interest in healing because they didn't bother her. She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment before getting dressed; undergarments put on followed by a plain black v-neck tank top, a pair of black sweat pants with baggy legs, and a pair of close toed shinobi sandals. Once she was fully clothed she removed the towel from her hair and gave it a quick dry before running a brush through it to remove all of the knots – this was done quickly, with little regard to how much if any hair she pulled out in the process. Once she was sure her hair was tangle free she threw it up into a ponytail, swept her bangs to the side and added her goggles to the top of her head. Deodorant was put on after.

Once she was dressed and satisfied with her hair she started on her make-up: black eyeliner on her water line and top and bottom lid followed by black mascara. Black lip liner was then put on around her lips followed by a deep red lipstick that was faded into it. Once she was completely satisfied she headed to the kitchen. She opened up the fridge and frowned at the contents, wondering what it was she actually wanted to make for breakfast. Or, maybe she should skip breakfast? No, she was pretty sure she had invited Dez over for breakfast – that was if Dez wasn't lounging around somewhere already – she had had one too many the night before and was lucky she could remember her own name.

So, breakfast it was then! All manner of bacon, sausage, biscuits, eggs, cheese, and other ingredients were pulled from the fridge with gusto. Pots and pans followed and soon enough the food was started, filling the room with its wonderful smell. In her opinion the smell of food was a better alarm clock then well... an alarm clock. Food was finished, and after taking down two plates she fixed them up, putting them both on the table followed by glasses filled with juice. Breakfast was served!

The heavy snoring should have been obvious; Dez was in the room, curled up on the floor by the heater. Dez was sprawled on her back, arms and legs stuck out at odd angles as she slept. One would possibly believe that Dez was a contortionist while asleep, but this was something rare. This kind of flexibility was something Dez could only achieve after a night of drinking.

As Viviian went about her morning routine, Dez merely rolled over once at the sound of the alarm being silenced. She had an internal clock that she somehow managed to adhere to -- exactly five minutes later, after Demi had stepped into the shower -- Dez snapped awake, and a second later, the hangover kicked in.


Blinding, seering pain flashed through Dez's head, and for a moment, she wondered where the fuck she was. She hated this part about her drinking sometimes-- when she woke up, she always wondered where she was. She was afraid that one day, she would wake up in some stranger's bed, having been taken advantage of while drunk -- or worse, having taken advantage of someone else. It was a minor fear, but since her 'coming out' when he was twelve, the curious had been sniffing around. More so, with the fact that she was now developing chest-wise; what was once flat enough to pass her off as being fully male as Dez had done in her childhood was now growing outward into C-cups, something that it seemed everyone was taking notice of. It didnt help that her hips were rounding out as well.

Sitting up, Dez grabbed her head, rocking slightly. God, this pain was fucking... well, painful. It was hard to concentrate, but somehow, she was able to get up and stumble about blindly. She didnt dare turn on a light; that was just asking for trouble. Hangovers were caused by evil little creatures that hid in a person's head -- light made them go wild. Slowly, she found her way to the sliding glass door that lead to the balcony. Somehow figuring out how to open the, Dez literally crawled out on her hands and knees into the cool air.

The cool air felt good on her skin. If she'd been in her right mind, she would have notice that she was literally nude save for the underwear that hid her nether regions. To anyone looking on, it would have been a strange sight to see; someone with the obvious chest of a woman, but with the strangest tent in thier smallclothes. Speaking of...

As the pain began to subside in her head, it was quickly replaced by one in her abdomen, something that always followed a heavy night of drinking. While her body might have recently started to look more feminine, there were still parts and habits of her that were definately that of the opposite sex. Still not registering where he was save for outside, hands reached down and adjusted seams, allowing herself a bit of freedom. A moment later, a thick stream spilled from the balcony to the ground below, followed by loud sighing. Why did it seem like the first piss of the morning always seemed to last for hours? The numerous beers she guzzled last night certainly didnt help.

As the stream died down, and her head cleared, Dez looked about the area. It looked familiar, but she couldnt quite place it. She rarely drank, but when she did, she was either alone or out with Demi. After adjusting herself, and finally realizing that she wasnt wearing a top, Dez stumbled inside to find her clothes, just in time to see Demi pulling out items for breakfast. Mumbling a quick 'Good morning', she stepped around Demi and set about making coffee.

“Mmm, it will be as soon as I have enough caffeine in my blood stream that my blood to caffeine ratio is equal.” Yup, she needed coffee to function, it was just the way things were. “Hnn... remind me again why we decided to drink last night knowing full well we planned on doing some training this morning?” Not that she didn't get off on a little self torture and all.. but still, looking at that decision now it likely wasn't the best to make. But, whatever, it had been fun – or at least what she could remember of it had been fun.

”Tylenol is in the cupboard above the coffee machine by the way in case you need some; and I made enough food to feed an army.” Fast metabolism: joyous for someone like her who enjoyed food. Demi pulled her own chair out and sat down. Figuring it was going to take a few minutes for the coffee to percolate she decided to start on her own plate of food: the hash browns were eaten first – her favorite breakfast food after all. Her biscuit was cut open and an egg and sausage added before she closed it up making a sandwich which was then devoured next.

She glanced over to the coffee machine when she was done eat, noticing that the pot was now full. She reached up with her left hand and scratched at the area tattooed on her face. She stood then and wandered over, grabbing down two coffee mugs – big ones, not little tiny cups because they just didn't hold enough coffee in them to satisfy her. She also removed the creamer from the fridge and pulled out the sugar from the nearby cupboard along with spoons from the drawer. Yawning she added cream and sugar to her own coffee; a lot of both, and then added the coffee before giving it a good stir. Just as she was about to bring the cup to her lips however a sound went off next door that sounded like a door slamming followed by shouting.

Demi flinched and rolled her head on her shoulders. “My tolerance doesn't exist in the morning... especially not this early.”




Okay, Demi wasn't in the mood to listen to this. She really wasn't. She knew she needed to move but the apartment was cheap, and outside of the noisy neighbors that liked to drink next door it was a rather nice place to live. So, Demi took a sip of her coffee, put the cup down on the kitchen counter, and then walked over and out her front door – snagging a knife out of the cutting block on the way. The neighbors apartment door was right outside of her own; only about three feet down. So, she reached it in just a few strides, raised her fist, and beat on the door loudly three times.


“Open the fucking door before I bust it down and shove it's splintered pieces up your asshole one at a fucking time with only your own blood as lubricant.”, Demi bit out through gritted teeth. There was a quiet pause on the other side of the door in which Demi could imagine her neighbors looking at each other in likely a shell shocked fashion before footsteps could be heard on the floor coming nearer, followed by the door opening.

In the doorway stood a massive man whose knuckles were bruised and broken open: obviously he used them often and likely had done so in the past six or so hours with the way they were looking – or so the medic and all of the training she had gone through told her. The man took in Demi's appearance closely, looking at her in a way that made her skin crawl and gave her the urge to bathe in bleach, but she showed no outward sign of it. Once he realized she was much smaller then him and at least half his weight he grinned.

“Now who is this pretty thing beating on my door like a cop in the wee hours of the morning?” As he spoke his hand reached out, obviously he had every intention of stroking Demi's face but suddenly came up short with his hand hovering mere inches above her angry looking face. “Dez? Who the fuck is Dez? You belong to someone?” As he finished speaking his hand closed the distance, clearly about to make contact with the smooth flesh on her face – aiming to touch the name tattooed beneath her left eye.

Truly this man was about to make a fatal mistake... one that was likely about to cause him a great deal of pain... One did not simply touch Demi and go about unscathed.

“Mmm, it will be as soon as I have enough caffeine in my blood stream that my blood to caffeine ratio is equal.” Dez didnt say a word. It was a miracle that she'd managed to get out the 'Good morning' earlier. Normally, until he had at least two cups of coffee in her system, the best you'd get out of Dez was growls and grunts.

“Hnn... remind me again why we decided to drink last night knowing full well we planned on doing some training this morning?”

Again, no answer save for the light growl and the sound of her forehead dropping against the cabinet doors. Personally, Dez couldnt remember herself who's idea it had been to go out drinking-- that persona needed to be tied up and forgotten about for a few days.

”Tylenol is in the cupboard above the coffee machine by the way in case you need some; and I made enough food to feed an army.”


The cabinet door was snatched open and the bottle of pain medicine was retrieved in an instant; a moment later and roughly six pills were popped into his mouth and chewed on noisily as he quickly made a plate of food after Vivi was done making hers. As soon as she was done, Dez stepped out of Demi's way and sat at the breakfast nook, closing her eyes against the light coming from the kitchen for a moment before inhaling her food.

Pushing his plate aside as Demi fetched coffee mugs and the black gold, Dez lowered his head to the table once more, closing her eyes. With some food in her belly, and the medicine starting to kick in, he was starting to feel better. At least, he was until the yelling started and door slamming started.

“My tolerance doesn't exist in the morning... especially not this early.”

He didnt even hear Dez. His eyes opened, bloodshot and fury spreading across his face like wildfire.




Dez shuddered, fists clenching. Each slammed door set off firewords within his skull, each screamed slur and obscenity echo'd within. He looked up, just in time to see Vivi snatch a knife from the block on the counter. Getting up with another growl, she followed her friend out into the hall, just in time to see her pound on a door just a few feet away.


“Open the fucking door before I bust it down and shove it's splintered pieces up your asshole one at a fucking time with only your own blood as lubricant.” If she'd been in a better mood, Dez would have laughed at the statement. But as it was, she was likely to help Demi go through with it. Coming to rest beside her friend as the door opened, Dez's red eyes seemed to glow as the brute made himself known.

“Now who is this pretty thing beating on my door like a cop in the wee hours of the morning? Dez? Who the fuck is Dez? You belong to someone?" And then the hand drawing back, aiming to smack the tattoo of Dez's name off of Demi's face.

Bad Career move. Dez was not about to let this happen. The world would seem to slow down as Dez moved, stepping around Demi and somehow disarming her of the knife with her right hand. Even as this happened, the left hand was already moving, lifting into the air to intercept the incoming strike by grabbing the wrist and slam the man's hand into the wall. The knife was then brough to bear, driven down into the slammed hand, esentialy nailing this man's hand to the fucking door frame.

"Dez? Stands for violence."


Normally, the screaming would have been music to his ears, but it was only serving to piss Dez off more. Almost as if tracing the length of this guy's arm, Dez backhanded the fucker with such power that he almost stumbled backward. Or, he would have, if he wasnt held up by a hand nailed to the door frame.

"It seems to me that you have a fucking problem keeping your hands to yourself. It seems to me that you like touching people, whether they like it or not. It seems to me.. THAT YOU LIKE GETTING PHSYICAL!" "As he spoke, Dez positioned himself, pinning the brute's free hand with her own against the other side of the door frame. Drawing back a foot, Dez launched it forward, kicking this guy straight in the testes. "LETS SEE IF YOU LIKE GETTING TOUCHED!"

Another kick was launched, followed by another, and another, and another. The screaming gave way to whimpers, then quickly reverted to silent screams as a dark red stain appeared on the man's pants. "DO YOU LIKE BIENG TOUCHED?! HUH?! DO YOU LIKE INTERUPTING MY BREAKFAST?! DO YOU LIKE HOW I HANDLE PEOPLE WHO MAKE NOISE WHILE I'M HUNGOVER?! DO YOU LIKE CHOCOLATE MILK?!" Each question was punctuated with another kick, until Dez was pretty sure this man this man would have problems walking properly for the rest of his life, screw having kids.

This mother fucker was going to slap her--- or not. Yeah, that was a definite or not. She felt the knife leave her hand, but it was by no means this giant brute of a man taking it – he wouldn't have been able to get it so easily out of her grip, plus it would seem as if he hadn't even noticed it – or perhaps he had and figured that since she looked so much smaller then him it was a non-issue. No, this was totally Dez disarming her who wasn't obviously about to stand by and watch this man even attempt to slap her – even though if Demi was honest with herself she would have likely enjoyed the pain instead of it bothering her at all. But still, there were certain principals and morals to go by and letting some woman beater put their hands on her? That was a no no. Even if she would enjoy it in the end.

The smell of blood had Demi blinking and snapping out of her current train of thoughts. Her blue colored gaze snapped sideways to the mans hand: he was screaming and his hand had essentially been nailed to the wall by the knife that Dez had taken from her. She didn't care how strong this man was he likely wasn't going to get that out himself – not with the pain that tugging on that was going to cause, plus adding in how deep the knife was in the wall itself. Nope, he would likely be stuck there until Demi or Dez let him go or someone else came along who would.

And then Dez was essentially going off on this guy; yelling at him for his need to 'touch' people. Of course, this apparently came with some violence directed towards the brute's manhood – he definitely wasn't ever going to be able to have children when Dez was done with him. Demi simply stood by and watched, amused: even though it wasn't her dealing out the pain exactly, or causing the blood to flow as it began to, she still was finding that itch for violence and harm scratched. Oh yeah, this was good.

The best part about the whole situation was, of course, that even though it was a bit in the over-kill scenerio it was after all self defense. Demi's blue gaze snapped to the female standing behind the brute a good ten feet back, the woman's hands brought up to her mouth in horror as she watched and listened to what was going on to the man she lived with. Having a civilian scared didn't bother Demi, but the bruises on the innocent woman's face? Yeah, those did. So scratch that: this wasn't just self defense this was defense of an innocent civilian who looked so frail she looked like she couldn't even lift a sack of potatoes on her own.

“You. Fucking. Mother. Fucker.”, Demi bit out each word as if it were its own sentence. Apparently something in her tone of voice caused the man – despite the massive amount of pain he was in (Demi was surprised he was even still conscious considering what was happening to him) – to take pause and look at her and then follow Demi's gaze to the shell shocked woman. The brute opened his mouth, obviously about to bark a commend or tell her off or whatever. However, before he could utter a word Demi had removed the knife from his hand and the wall – something that jerked his attention back to her – and moved past Dez skillfully while grabbing the brute's uninjured hand. Before he could say 'bobs your uncle' she had his hand pinned to the other side of the door post and the knife going through it: nailing it there.

“Fucking hate pigs like you who feel the need to beat on women. Especially when they're five times smaller then you and can't fight back.” All of this was said over a fresh round of screams: she had purposely hit his hand in an area that would essentially – without the best medical care that only a shinobi or a rich member of the village would be lucky to get – render it useless for the rest of his life while keeping it in constant pain.

“Now, listen here fuck face. I'm going to go in my apartment and I'm going to finish my coffee before it gets cold. I don't care if you have to crawl on your face and drag yourself across your apartment with your teeth: you are to go in there, pack your shit and only your shit, and get the hell out. I do not care where you go, I do not care if you survive making it down the steps. You are to leave and not come back. If I see you around here? I will kill you. Slowly and painfully. If you attempt to harm this woman or any other woman again? I will torture you for so long that you'll beg me to kill you and death will not come.” Demi turned, not caring if the man got himself free or if Dez just killed him right then and there – Demi was serious that if she saw him again shit was going to go down and go down hard.

She crossed the few steps that separated her from her apartment, walked inside and over to the kitchen counter, and picked up her giant coffee cup. She sipped at the liquid inside and relaxed a bit: it was still nice and hot. Good, good.

Word Count: 4,065
Total Word Count: 10,700


Ninjutsu: C | Bukijutsu (Bojutsu | Onojutsu): C | Medical: C | Fuuinjutsu: C
Futon: S | Katon: B

The King | Hosokawa | Locker | Jutsu | Tracker

It is not the critic who counts. Nor the man who judges how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, Guest...

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