Chimamire Namida

Chimamire Namida Ch. 8 - "Botoku Suru ano Mujaki"
By Shawna

Ayumi tentatively raised the glass of sake before her and sniffed it delicately. Seto smirked, looking sideways at her, and, blushing a bit, Ayumi took a long drink from the glass. The taste was slightly sweet at first, and then dreadfully bitas ias it went down her throat. Her eyes widened a bit and her nose wrinkled. She swallowed hard.
Seto leaned in close, pressing his lips to her ear. "Drink more," he whispered. "You'll like how you start to feel."
Obedient as always, Ayumi took another long drink, and then another. Before she really knew how much she had had, the glass stood empty on the table. A waiter promptly came and refilled it, and Seto raised his glass a bit and toasted nothing at all, merely urging Ayumi to drink more, and so she did.
The first half of the dinner had been quite boring. Seto had shown her off like the trinket she was to him, introducing her as his kon'yakusha. Everyone had been so pleasant, addressing her as Katana-jo, and Seto as Kaiba-sama, but she thought that sometimes she caught touches of malice and jealousy in people's eyes when they looked at her and Seto was looking the other way. Some of the men looked at her with obvious lust, and the other young women glared at her in envy, likely wishing it was them on Kaiba-sama's arm, if only because of his money. Obviously, though Seto was incredibly successful, he was not remarkably popular. This did not surprise Ayumi at all, of course; Seto was not known for his kindness or people skills.
She had sat through a volley of boring speeches and talks, one n byn by Seto himself, her mind far away. She had been thinking about Katsuya most of the time, wondering what he was doing during those times. Now, however, the talking was finished, and the food had been brought out. Eating had been far more enjoyable, as the food was the most exquisite Ayumi had ever tasted. But now even the food had been cleared and all that remained was the alcohol. A band was playing slow, relaxing music, and a few of the couples who were farther into their sake than others were out dancing. Ayumi watched them, wanting to dance herself, sipping at her fourth glass of sake.
Seto seemed to have read her mind or at least had enough alcohol to lower his inhibitions. "Let's dance," he said softly, rising, taking her hand and bringing her with him as he went towards the dance floor. Ayumi followed him with alacrity, smiling, feeling happy for the first time in what seemed forever.
Then Seto had taken her into his arms and pressed her against him. She would have been too short to dance with him were she barefoot, but her high heels made her a good 3 inches taller, and so she could place her chin just barely on Seto's shoulder. She reveled in the feel of his warmth against her, his broad shoulders, the way he smelled: like ginger, sandalwood, and musk. This moment was the closest to perfect as it could be, as any moment had been in her life.
"Ayumi," Seto said softly, his lips tickling her ear.
"Hmm?"
"Do you think I'm a bad person?"
The image of perfection cracked like glass, this question jolting Ayumi back to reality. All of the things Seto had done, all the things he had said, flashed through her mind like a movie on fastforward. For a moment, she did not answer.
"No," she said at length. "You're not the best person I know, but you're not all bad."
"I'm this way for a reason," he said, his voice flat and cryptic, as if theordsords were difficult for him to form, like they had been buried and not said for a very long time. "Some terrible things have happened to me."
Ayumi drew her head off of his shoulder, looking up into his eyes. "What do you mean, Seto? What sort of things?"
Seto would not meet her curious gaze. He swallowed, his face set into hard lines, his eyes shiny but somehow lifeless, like glass eyes. "I can't tell you here. Why don't we leave? I have to talk to you... to someone..."
Without waiting for an answer, Seto latched his hand around her upper arm and drug her off the floor, through the tables, toward the exit. Several people turned to watch them go, but none seemed surprised by the way he treated her. A few of the men grinned lasciviously and snickered as Seto went by them. Ayumi was scared, just a bit, at how suddenly gruff Seto had become, but there was obviously something burning inside him, something he felt he had to tell her right that instant and so she tried to be cooperative and keep up with Seto's quick pace.
They were outside and in the limo quickly, the driver asking no questions, closing the window between the passenger and driver cabin as they pulled away. It was a short drive back to Seto's home.
Seto pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and did not speak for several minutes. "Ayumi," he said at length. "I don't know why I think I can tell you this, but I have to. I... I'm angry all the time because of it. I... I have to cause pain."
Ayumi did not know what to say. Unconsciously, she pressed herself against the seat opposite from Seto, scared at the rage and violence that burned in him now.
"It's about my 'father'," Seto said slowly, through gritted teeth. "Kaiba-san."
Suddenly Ayumi knew what she was about to be told, and she closed her eyes as her head filled with visions of the pain, the anger, humiliation, violence and fear; the young Seto crying while the world ignored what it knew was going on but did not want to try to stop for fear that they would become targets. All of that fear, all of that violence; the blood that trailed down the backs of bruised legs, the tears that coursed down reddened cheeks, the slashes across the milky pale back of a young boy whose beauty was his curse; all of it struck Ayumi like a tidal wave and she nearly collapsed to the floor of the car, tears pouring from her eyes. She did not want to hear about it; she knew what had happened and she did not want to hear about it.
"Please don't tell me Seto," she said, fighting her sobs. "Don't tell me any of that. So much fear... so much blood." She wrapped her arms around herself, began to rock slowly.
Seto watched her, seeing that she was breaking down. I shouldn’t have put this on her, flashed through his mind, but then a harder, angrier voice. She doesn’t even know what’s wrong yet. She’s drowning herself in her own problems, she doesn’t care about you, she cares about Katsuya, her world revolves around Katsuya and why? Why? What has he ever done for her? Fuck, she’s stupid. She’s naïve, young, foolish, so fucking stupid.
The urge to strike her came to him, strong and clear, had he had to use all his will power to not do anything violent to her. Instead, he leaned back against the seat and watched her cry. When they pulled up in front of his house, he again grabbed her arm and dragged her, still sobbing, out of the limo and into the house. She was recovering now, her hands fumbled with the clasp of her necklace at the back of her neck. It came loose, fell down the front of her body, hitting the third stair as Seto dragged her up to the second floor. er her had filled him, his mind was in a cloud of rage and pain and a need to hurt her.
It was not until he had thrown her into his bedroom that she seemed to get a full understanding of what was going on. She looked around, suddenly alarmed.
"Wh-what are you doing?" She turned to him. "Seto, I just want to go home now, I... I don't want..."
He cut her off by throwing her angrily against the wall, crushing himself against her, bearing down on her.
“Why won't you listen to me? Too busy feeling sorry for yourself to do anything for anyone else?” Seto demanded, his voice harsh, his sake-tinted breath on her face. “Why are you so selfish?”
“Because,” she cried, pushing against him. “I don’t care what happened to you!”
Seto looked as if he had just been physically struck. A look of pain, of fear, fleeted across his face, and then was gone, replaced by hard anger. His hand moved up, wrapped around her neck, and squeezed. Ayumi’s hands flew up, around his hand and arm, pulling, trying to break him away. His grip tightened, she could not breathe, yellow spots began to flash before her vision.
“You only care about Katsuya,” Seto said quietly. “You care about him and he wants to fuck you. He doesn’t care about you, Ayumi, he just wants to fuck you.”
“No,” she managed to choke, but instantly realized her mistake in speaking. All of her air was gone, a few more seconds and she would pass out.
Seto released her neck and before she could recover, swept her into his arms and crossed the room, to the bed. He threw her down on it and began to unbutton his shirt. Ayumi took deep, gasping breaths. When she had recovered sufficiently, she noticed what Seto was doing and instantly flipped over, crawling away from him, trying to get off the bed. Seto caught her ankles before she made it very far.
“No,” she said, still out of breath. “Let me go.”
He dragged her back to the center of the bed, flipping her over onto her back again, and coming down on her hard. His shirt was still on, but fully unbuttoned, and his chest was bare against her. It did not feel right to Ayumi; Seto’s weight was greater than Katsuya’s, his arms and legs longer, his breath different.
She raised her hands, pushing against Seto, and he grabbed her wrists, wrenched them down, and pinned them against the bed. She writhed, growling in frustration. He was stronger than Katsuya, too; she could feel the force with which he held her wrists to the mattress. He transferred both of her wrists to one of his hands then and pulled them up, holding her arms above her head. Ayumi continuedstrustruggle.
“Stop,” she pleaded, frantic, afraid. “Owaru! Seto, owaru!”
He ignored her and used his free hand to pull down her dress; it ripped as it went down her hips, still zipped in the back, and fell open, torn in half, by the time it reached her legs. He did not bother with her garters or garter belt, or even her bustier. She kept struggling, kicking him, kneeing him, anything she could do but he was unfazed. He undid his fly, but did not even take his pants down at all. She glanced down, could not help herself, and fear struck her like ice water. This was going to hurt, he was so big, so much larger than her, it was so big, she felt so tiny beneath him, so afraid...
“Owaru!” She screamed a final time, tears welling in her eyes as he continued to ignore her pleas. He hooked his elbow under her knee, lifting her leg, opening her to him. Keeping his elbow under her knee, he reached and pulled her panties aside, and, while she continued to struggle, buried himself fully in her with one quick, hard thrust.
She screamed in pain, unready to take him as he filled her totally, feeling something inside of her seem to break; her eyes went wide. Seto squeezed his eyes shut, not looking down at her, as he pulled back and thrust into her again, roughly, violently. She cried out, tears streaking down her face. Something warm and thick trickled down her inner thigh, and numbly, she realized it was blood.
Seto’s eyes opened then, and he stared down at her. He looked afraid, startled, as if shocked by his own actions. He released her wrists, and she instantly threw her hands up, raking her nails down his chest. The pain did not deter him, though; if anything, it snapped him back into his previous state and drove him on and he reached down, putting his hand on the back of her other knee, drawing up that leg, too, and thrusting into her again.
Ayumi screamed and snarled, her fingernails drawing blood on Seto’s neck and chest. Dimly, in the back of her mind, she noticed how deeply Seto penetrated her, deep almost to the point of pain, and how fully, how perfectly. It felt incredible, despite the pain, different than anything she had expected from Katsuya, judging by what she had seen on him, and in spite of herself, she wanted more of it.
Seto continued, setting up a slow, deep rhythm. She cried out, but this time it sounded less painful, more like the sounds she made when she was with Katsuya the first time he had brought her to climax. Her hands were no longer scratching Seto; they were up, around his back, her fingernails merely dug in and holding him. Without thinking about it, she pulled him down, pressing him against her, burying his face in her neck. His teeth sunk into her skin, at the spot where her neck met her shoulder, drawing blood, and she moaned from the mix of pleasure and pain.
He rose up again, her nails scratching his arms as she clung to him. His hands moved down to her ankles, pulling her legs up, spreading them wide, hurting her because she was not flexible enough to fully accommodate the position. His teeth were gritted, he looked so angry that Ayumi was jolted back into her previous state of fear and outrage. Seto quickened his pace, taking her hard and fast. Pain raged through her body and she began to beat her fists against Seto’s chest, screaming at him.
Ayumi’s vision began to dim. She felt dizzy, lightheaded with pain and pleasure, fear and lust. Seto’s eyes were closed now, his mouth slackly open, his grip on her ankles so tight that now it was his fingernails digging in to flesh. Her arms went limp, slipping back to the bed. She found herself unable to resist him anymore, and she merely lay there with her eyes half closed. Each of his thrusts made her eyes and mouth open, eliciting soft gasps from her, but little else. The pain seemed very far away, and though her mind still knew what was going on, she was no longer able to fight him with the tenacity she originally had possessed.
Her sense of time was lost. It could have lasted a few seconds, minutes, or longer; she would never remember. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. All she would remember was the feeling, the way Seto was clenching his teeth, and how his face kept wavering in and out of focus. Tears continued to form slowly in the corners of her eyes.
All at once, everything went back to its normal pace; Seto was above her, she closed her eyes, he was fully inside her, he was gasping, she felt the warmth inside her, it was over. For a moment, neither of them moved, as if frozen, suddenly caught by realizations of what had just happened. Ayumi did not open her eyes, not wanting to see Seto, to acknowledge what he had done. She felt him draw back from her, holding her knees to keep her legs open. Her eyes opened against her volition. Seto was sitting back on his knees, staring between her legs. He looked so afraid, so vulnerable that she almost felt sorry for him, until she glanced down and saw the blood streaked on her inner thighs. She closed her eyes again, feeling sick. The sheets rustled as Seto shifted, and a second later she felt his fingers trace lightly along her inner thigh. For a moment, she gritted her teeth, not sure what he was going to do, but then she felt his tongue; warm, soft, somehow soothing as it traced along her thigh, undoubtedly colleg thg the blood. Seto did not stop lapping gently until all the blood was gone, and then he moved to her other thigh. Despite everything that had happened, Seto’s tongue trailing smoothly, slowly over her skin felt good, and she allowed herself to enjoy it. A soft moan escaped her lips when he finished and instead of pulling away, moved his tongue inward. Her eyes slipped open as Seto moved his tongue slowly but firmly against her, making her breathe heavily, and moan very lightly. He did not stop, even after she began to gasp in slight pain, until he had brought her to a release, a climax that made her sob with pain.
After a moment, Seto rose, moved up, leveling his face with hers. Their eyes met, Ayumi's red from crying, Seto’s full of torment. He reached out his hand, traced a finger lightly down the drying path of her tears. Abruptly, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her into an embrace. She gasped, beginning to sob, but then she felt a wetness on her back and froze. Realization dawned over her slowly, for she was unwilling to accept it at first. Seto was crying.
“Ayumi,” he whispered, his voice full of sadness and guilt. “Ayumi…”
He began to sob again, and started rocking her gently in his arms. Ayumi found that she could not say anything, could think of nothing that seemed appropriate. The sake she had drank ran heavy through her unaccustomed system, making her eyelids feel weighted, and the soft warmth of Seto’s body, the way he rocked her, even his quiet sobs were all relaxing, making her all the more drowsy. Her eyes fell closed, and despite her attempts, sheftedfted to sleep in Seto’s arms while he cried.

**To Be Continued...*