“A lovely job,” the maid compliments her newfound pincushion with an earned sincerity. “I do believe I'll be needing to thank that mind-reader.”
“I can...” The oni hesitates, voice shaking from the still-embedded knife, and from an uncharacteristic uncertainty. “I can still come with you to the mansion, right? Since I did well?” The needy sheen in her eyes when she glances upon Sakuya is just delightful, legitimate concern that more of this might not come showing plainly.
A pause to soak in the shrinking confidence that a 'yes' is coming is warranted; moreover, it's blissful, to see Yuugi await a verdict like a heaping helping of jiggling jello as Sakuya recomports herself into a mask of thought. Still, Sakuya wants this as much as the oni, and she does not let the moment hang overlong before nodding slowly. “Yes, yes you may.”
The oni's first and immediate reaction to the news, as unsurprising as it is, is prostration; she casts herself upon the ground to offer thanks. Her second is to let out a not inconsiderable scream when this aggravates the knife left within. Through her wincing, however, in her pained voice, she speaks, “Thank you. Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it. I'm yours. Please, use me.” Beyond the strain from pain, however, there's one more note to the oni's voice. Along with the way her muscled legs roll together, it's not difficult at all to place.
“You will, you are, and I will.” Sakuya answers each statement in turn as she approaches once more. “Lift yourself again.” Yuugi does so unquestioningly, and does not vocalize how close she is to her own climax, perhaps out of some sense of subservience. It's actually rather cute to watch. But she's so close, it would be a shame to not get her the rest of the way. “Taste yourself,” comes the next order, knife finally leaving its new home. It drips blood steadily, little droplets splashing upon the ground as it waits within tongue's reach of the oni. That tongue traces along the flat, cleaning it of the coating life force and assailing the oni's taste buds. The heavily metallic flavor is not terribly appealing, but an order is an order, and she's loath to disobey. When the blade has not a hint of red upon it, Yuugi holds her mouth open to show that every last drop still resides there, being tasted as ordered. Thereafter, she swallows, letting it trail down her throat to rest in her stomach before opening wide once more to display its consumption. “Very good, my toy. Now, taste yourself again.” The words are still registering when the feeling of edge cutting through tongue meets Yuugi's senses, imparting an even more potent taste of steel for a moment before that unappetizing flavor comes from the very thing processing it.
The new incision, inch long, upon her tongue gets the organ at once to begin broadcasting its distress through pain receptors. Yuugi falls low to the ground and reflexively her leg begins to thump loudly upon the ground, kicking against it in protest as she lets out a singular, extended screech, muffled somewhat by her mouth shooting closed and the gurgling from it slowly filling. The oni's writhing that rings out with every slam of her toes against ground is not wholly borne of the pain from this cut, of course; the final surprise attack has done plenty enough to send her crashing over the edge. Entwined with the shaky reaction are an arched back and a disparately low moan, not audible until the oni swallows and clears her mouth of that ill flavor. Sakuya watches in appreciative amusement as the feelings occurring at her feet shift gradually. The contortion of agony upon the oni's face gives way slowly fully to a checked out expression of lust; the kicking lets up to be replaced in full with all the twisting declarations of peaked arousal; the sharp stinging eventually falls to merely a dull throb, and its gradual recline is in tune with the slowly lessening orgasm. When all is said and done, the oni rests upon the ground panting, dribbling a mix of spit and blood down her chin to the ground below. Clearing her mouth by drinking another load of her own crimson liquor, Yuugi can finally speak with a voice weak and queer, “Thank you, mistress, it was delicious.” While untrue, it seems the thing to say in the moment. The truth would be ungrateful.
“You may stand properly now,” the maid offers, and her new servant is quick to obey, scrambling up with little mewls when the carving upon one palm shoves against the ground. When she's up on two feet, the oni's looking rather woozy, to say nothing of how red the majority of her has been dyed. “Are you ready for what comes next?” Sakuya knows what she means – but in her authoritative tone she obfuscates it.
“Of course. Please. As you will.” Though she cannot muster the energy to throw enthusiasm into her voice, the oni's response is as prompt as could be hoped for, and complete with bowed head.
“Very good. The hand I cut – offer it to me once more.” Expectantly is an arm extended, awaiting its much larger gift. Hers to do with as she pleases.
“Yes, if you want it.” The shaking appendage is held outstretched, quickly falling into the grasp of its true owner. Expecting its further mutilation in some way, Yuugi averts her eyes and awaits the sting of pain. After doing so, the feeling of it being held disappears for but the briefest period, and right thereafter Sakuya's desires are made clear, a soft cloth wrapping tightly around the huge hand. Blinking in confusion, the oni's gaze comes upon her new owner applying gauze and bandage to the bleeding palm.
Said owner smiles up at her when met with the bemused face of one who's unsure as to how or why something so seemingly contrary could be going on right now. “You were expecting further pain, weren't you?” Rather than speak, Yuugi simply nods. “Don't be absurd. Look at you.”
It's only with the order that Yuugi really focuses on how exactly she's doing. With the inspection of leaking holes and stained clothes comes the full brunt of the effects she was ignoring, stumbling back down from the sudden weakness as she calms and her body need no longer fight so hard. It's then it dawns exactly how much has been drained from her. “What is... why am I...” That weakness is certainly a new experience for Yuugi, lowly muttering her confusion.
“That's called blood loss,” Sakuya answers in deadpan. “You may not be used to it, but it's a very real problem. And potentially lethal. Now, just wait there. I'm not here to kill you. I'll get you all patched up so that we may have more fun later.” And with that, Yuugi falls silent, allowing the maid to place patches upon most all the wounds she dealt, ensuring alongside a vigorous constitution that no undue bleeding out occurs. Only when a convincing amount of resources have been expended in getting the giant's form bound does Sakuya once more speak. “I believe you of all people should be able to stand in some form still, yes?” However seemingly impotent Yuugi's rise may be, the fact remains that at Sakuya's behest she's upon her own two feet. She even takes a tentative step and manages not to send herself crashing to the ground. Greatly weakened though she may be from copious loss, the old title she's casting aside was, regardless, not for naught. “Very good. We shall depart, then, for your new home.” And Sakuya leads on for the mansion of the lady of the night.
It is a week and a half later before Yuugi has fully recovered from that rather potent picquering. In the interim between then and now, in pursuit of refining the now malleable oni – to turn her from the fiercest and most raucous oni of the underground into the perfect model of submission and subservience – she has been instructed in the functions and expectations of a maid. To clean, to cook, to curtsy, a host of knowledge is imparted upon Yuugi for her new life within the manor. Neither are the newfound mannerisms or skills quickly picked up, nor does her drawn out submission seem to manifest easily in dealing with others that aren't Sakuya. Of course, that was a problem that could and would be fixed with time. More importantly, while it gave Yuugi something to do as she recovered, that was merely one facet of the life she was expected to lead here. The true reason she'd been brought here, as much as having another maid that was more competent than a fairy would be nice, was of course for the purposes of Sakuya's pleasure, happening to nicely align with Yuugi's own.
It is this reason that finds Yuugi hanging from the ceiling of a room in the manor, held aloft by exceptionally thick and sturdy ropes that keep her arms and legs splayed. The room itself is nondescript and out of the way, furnished with the bare minimum to be a room within the expansive manor. The freshly made bed, the solid armoire, the lantern that burns bright with magic, and the desk upon which rests a vase full of flowers, all of these items are quite plain in this room that clearly sees little use. The only things to mark this as anything but the most out of the way guest room are Yuugi herself, and the large basin that resides below her, empty for the moment, but the imagination requires little to conjure what it may be for and what this means for the oni. Her nakedness is only further evidence. Though much rope has been used to keep Yuugi somewhat still, she nonetheless manages to shake in anticipation. The movement gets her breasts, vast and pendulous as they are, to sway back and forth in the air, occasionally jiggling as they slap against one another. Her body, muscle all around, stands bare were any here to appreciate its thick arms and legs, the abs that seem to ripple upon the imposingly large torso. No small number of the stabs she received before have scarred, their sunken lines marking all those locales from which she bled prior. Long strands of hair, as though having failed to completely shave away a truly wild bush, sit on occasion in isolation around the puffy, large vagina on display, one clearly not new to sexual encounters; and one already warming and wetting on pondering the session to come.
It is a very long time the exposed oni gets to swing in the air like this. Hours on end is she made to wait in never-ending silence, nary a footstep passing her by. At any point of this could she break free of the binding upon her – a singular great pull would bring the ceiling of the room down with her bindings and let her shed them. Such an escape attempt, however, goes untried. Squirm though she may, she's careful to ensure she remains where she's desired to remain. Needy though she may feel, she keeps herself from tearing free to attack at the home of her growing desire. No, she has been told to await the maid's arrival, and await that arrival is what she's going to do. The patience required to do so is at odds with the impulsive nature that Yuugi has so long kept up in imitation of what seems proper for an oni, but the true desires, the obedience long dormant and unknown, can hold the impulse in check. Not forever, of course, but long enough that rebellious thoughts do not begin to form before a sound greets the ears of the dangling oni. Finally, at last, footsteps. And shortly thereafter, the click of a lock. The handle turns, and in comes the maid. As the door is shut and locked once more, the one in charge turns to Yuugi, letting her mask of elegance fall to that dark look of one ready to revel in others' suffering. “Ahhh, right where I left you,” the maid lets out a sigh on her slow approach. “I do hope you're ready, my little slab of meat; now that you're fresh once more, I have much more leeway.”
A hasty nod greets the statement. She's quite ready. Just Sakuya's arrival has further inflamed her lower body's passions. “Please. I've been hanging here so long. Please.” The desperation and desire in that voice is nigh on palpable, delicious impatient trembles rocking through Yuugi.
“Good, yes, very good,” Sakuya coos as she trails a hand along one of Yuugi's breasts. “You'd like me to start, would you? Right now? Just get to it?”
“Yeeeeesss,” the answer is moaned as Sakuya grabs a nipple and gives a very convincing yank that stretches it.
“Then you don't think we need all this foreplay?” A rough grip has Sakuya's nails trying to bring about little punctures within the supple flesh, to no avail. But that's fine. She just needs to do something to the chest to distract Yuugi.
“No, please, just do it. Don't tease me like this. You haven't let me do anything the whole time I've been here.” Her head turns to Sakuya to look up pitifully, eyes shining with an all too intense want.
“Oh, it's hardly been more than a week. Surely you can manage to hold out longer.” Sakuya lets out a rising laugh as she leans in close to Yuugi. “Especially if I tell you that you're wrong and we do need this, right?” Sakuya grins, hand moving along to cup at the far edge of the breast as she keeps up the charade. Watching Yuugi's expression become defiant for only a moment before it falls to passive servility is too delightful to pass up.
Whatever protests may have come, they're silenced as a good little pleasure slave would. With a piteous whine, Yuugi nods. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes to focus on what is wanted of her, rather than what she wants. “Yes, of course. I understand, Mistress SakuyAAAAAAAAAAGH!” That moment of distraction is precisely when Yuugi gets exactly what she wants, Sakuya bracing the orb within her grasp with one hand and stabbing into it with the other. The first of much liquid to come begins to trickle out from around the sharp blade, droplets collecting around the tit before falling into the container below, as if lactating. The initial and most potent sting hasn't even faded yet when a second knife is produced, and the other mound finds itself similarly impaled. Yuugi's cry, hardly even beginning to taper, is redoubled at the fresh wave of agony. But, of course, the oni's snatch tells the truth, dripping in equal measure to the fresh holes upon her bust.
“Now, what do you say?” Whatever answer Sakuya would like, it is further put off as each embedded knife is jerked downwards, one after the other, carving larger holes no longer properly stoppered by the knives remaining in place. The flow of ichor increases in intensity, multiple trails of crimson rushing downwards in a constant, thin stream pattering below; in turn, Yuugi's keening increases in pitch, rising up to the point where their seeming isolation must be quite useful to keep anyone else from hearing it. “Come, now,” Sakuya insists, turning the oni's head to face her own and smiling a smile tinged with malice. “I asked you a question. What do you say to me for stabbing you?”
With a horribly strained voice, tears flowing freely, Yuugi speaks, “T-thank you... m-mistress.” She gets out the words the maid wants to hear. Her reward is a third knife sinking into a calf and rendering her incapable of speech again as she shrieks, the maid disappearing from sight as quickly as she forced the oni's sight upon her.
“That's good. Yes, you're welcome. So you can have more.” Gripping the recently embedded blade, Sakuya digs it back out in haste. The freshly punctured flesh, no longer corked, obliges to add its own rush of internal fluids to the slowly growing collection below; and as it does, the knife replaces itself not far off, slicing open another entryway to that reservoir. And as that one is allowed as well to leak, knife again dredged back out into the air, yet another jab inserts it a third time. On and down Sakuya travels, small holes appearing one by one and each furthering the growing gush as the abused area spasms for the hail of skewerings. Every stab gets the most delightful little squeal from the oversized oni; every squeal is music to the maid's ears. The knife is wholly coated by the time its job of opening gaps in muscle is complete, between sprays on each entry and splashing the discharge moving down the leg. Unobserved beneath the quickly staining uniform that's gone unremoved, wholly coated also aptly describes Sakuya's undergarment, a locus of her own, much less vital juices; but in her somewhat laborious breath and a spreading warmth through her body, any number of tell-tale signs of arousal present themselves. Of course, Yuugi's a bit preoccupied with screwing her eyes shut as she takes on this overload of a sensation she's hardly experienced to notice this. She's almost too distracted to even notice her own symptoms. Does the heart race from fear borne of pain or from that euphoric rush that follows it; does it matter when the two are so intertwined and either hastens the pumping of blood to treacherous locales that get it expelled?
And more such locales are coming, for while Yuugi may presently be losing what would be a profuse amount of her life force for someone else, she is quite the large target, and has plenty more blood to bleed. With an excited shiver, Sakuya drags the edge of her bloodied blade along Yuugi's ass, painting a smear of the stuff on it. There is plenty of ass there for her purposes, and with a solid slap, it offers a nice little shake; the blow may not phase the oni, but it helps reinforce what she could already guess. And just as she's sure of it, the dragging blade finds itself upended, point resting squarely on that rounded rump as it gets a shove. While it sinks, it does so slowly, Sakuya savoring each centimeter of penetration, even though it's not quite where one would usually be sticking something around there. It is no less enjoyable, however, to coax those cheeks to spread via keen implement than it would be to spread an asshole, tight or pliant, for far more usual sexual relief. And Yuugi's lengthy moan, half of suffering and half of pleasure, is much as if breaking in an anal virgin for the first time. In a way, Sakuya is, as centimeters of progress give way to inches, getting ever closer to the hilt, displacing yet more of the oni to continue its intrusion. Even that which bubbles up around the metallic invader, coloring the cheek an even deeper red than if it had been mercilessly and repeatedly beaten, would not be a strange sight to see in being vigorous too soon down there. There is little fanfare in the thrust itself as Sakuya, far more literally than usual, hilts within Yuugi, out of anything else to stick deeper; there is, however, every bit of fanfare as the maid's whole body offers heavy convulsions and she gives a grunt of the most sheer, animalistic pleasure, her unsteady hand further slicing up that rear. The violently shaking knife draws a particularly hefty crescendo from the moan Yuugi's been letting out this whole time, in shrill protest of the mutilation. And yet for all her body may wish to object, she doesn't; she remains strung up, letting Sakuya do as she pleases, getting further soaked in more ways than one. And then the knife is removed.
It is, perhaps, not quite so sensual as its entry when Sakuya removes that extension of her being from within the oni. In an instant is the invader gone, a fine jet conjured in the withdrawal, splattering upon the maid's face. With a finger she swabs off a portion of the crimson coating, a dangerous smile overtaking her as she moves in front of Yuugi. “Suckle,” is her command, holding out that finger to the still shaking oni. Obediently she takes it into her mouth, tongue sliding along the digit she's sucking at, cleansing it; when the finger is cleaned and removed, she swallows, neck tensing as the slight, ill drink slides down it. And watching the neck work, oh, does it entice Sakuya. The maid leans in close, and she whispers into Yuugi's ear, “Now, I'm going to need you to be very still for me, okay?” Though she gets a nod in response, it takes a while to still the incessant twinges. Stilled they are, however. And then Sakuya closes in upon that neck, knife approaching with the most deliberate slowness.
In the fight between fear and arousal that is this entire, sexually gratifying encounter, this new avenue comes much closer to fear for Yuugi, as she instinctively swings her head away. Weakly, meekly, not so much fighting for her life as feeling cornered and cowed, she speaks, “No, please, don't. I don't want to-” But a finger is upon her lips as she speaks, quieting the already quiet giant.
Once more, directly to the oni's ear does Sakuya speak, offering reassurance with the same commanding voice she would demand something of her with, “Shhhhhhhhhh. Shhhhhh. Sh. I told you before, didn't I? I have no interest in killing you. I do not break my toys. I could not replace you if I did. I need you to trust me. It will be uncomfortable. But that's the point. Hold still for me, and you will be fine. I know the body well. I will not cut anything I do not want to.” It is not a short moment of consideration that the oni gives. Indeed, this is the true test of her devotion here, and she realizes this. She has been made somewhat wary of mortality, in learning she can be wounded, and for all that she has lost so far, she understands how quickly a cut to the wrong part of the neck can outpace even that copious draining. And yet, for as scared as she is, the maid's words and her own agreement ring true. A slow nod is offered, and Sakuya draws her weapon close once more.
With the utmost precision of a vampire's butcher, Sakuya works. For all the control arouses her, in this moment, she is a professional. The very tip of the blade is what slides into the oni's neck, a minuscule portion of it all, dangerously close to those jugular veins. Distilled fear is horribly plain on Yuugi's face all the while, but as her mistress bids, she holds still; even her cries, every vocal expression of distress, disappears. She fears that to so much as speak, to even breathe, may move her neck in the wrong ways as that knife trails down oh so slowly, a few short centimeters finding a new opening upon them with the barest little trickle of blood, as a broken hymen. To the other side of that vein the maid moves, Yuugi allowing herself a sharp intake of breath in the short time she has with no threat of something going wrong. And then again the point and scant more sinks into flesh, carves its way slowly through a just longer incision, droplets and little else escaping from the cut. And in the moment of reprieve offered thereafter, a shiver passes its way down the oni's whole body. But the trial is not over. Sideways, this time, is the blade held, as it is placed once more near that crucial passageway of life. For the third time does it make its passage through that neck, moving surgically from one side to the other in a far longer stroke that parts with efficiency a flawlessly straight line from jugular to carotid, coming nerve-wrackingly close to each, and yet, as promised, touching neither; exceedingly shallow is it drawn, regardless, to ensure nothing else necessary finds itself severed, its length the only reason anything at all is excised. And yet this practically superficial wound wracks at the oni most for the duration of its enactment, requiring from her every ounce of restraint and willpower. It seems forever has passed when Sakuya once more pulls away, and this time, does not move to slice again. Yuugi's bated breath is exhaled all at once, every straining tension that has built up releasing as she nearly tears her restraints to shake all over, rope straining against involuntary might. There she rests, however, in the air, not broken free. Every shake Sakuya could not allow herself when moving so precisely, she allows herself now, barely composed for all her excited passions; her breath, when delivered straight to the oni's ear again, burns hot with lust as she offers her praise, “You did well. Very well. You see? Trust. Your pain will be my pleasure for a long time to come, I assure you; and it will be yours as well, won't it? Was that not... thrilling?”
Yuugi nods, the action shaking free several drops of her essence to splash into the filling basin; and what else can she do? Having handed her life so closely to Sakuya and come out the other side, can there really be doubt? With a tremble of breathlessness, a byproduct of sheer mental high and actual lack of breath, Yuugi answers as she should, “Thank you, Mistress Sakuya. Thank you. I will not doubt. No, I will not. It was... oh... it was the most thrilling...” Just to think on it again to answer that inquiry brings shudders of pleasure that reverberate all through her spine.
“You must be close, mustn't you?” It's hardly a question that needs asking; when Sakuya does the laundry later, she may never get her panties clean for how close she's come for so long without that final, climactic push.
But the question was asked, and so it warrants another nod; it warrants another soft declaration, whispered oh so lightly, as though to speak more loudly may be the inopportune action that sends her over the edge just too early, “Yes. So close. May I? Will you? Please?”
The answer comes not in word, but in action, Sakuya's nail tracing down from Yuugi's collarbone, along her spine, to that crack at her ass as she walks at a measured pace to place herself behind the oni. And on down then it continues. Over the oni's asshole it moves, but nor is this where it stops. Along that small strip between the two openings it passes for merely a moment, arriving at its true target. Several circles are traced around the utterly dripping muff of Yuugi's, each rotation dragging her that extra step closer to erupting. But she holds back. She knows. There could be only one reason for Sakuya to be toying with that area, couldn't there? Fingers, cocks, fists, toys: a great many things have visited that entryway and the depths beyond; yet, this will be a first. The oni awaits that moment. She is not to be kept waiting long. To tease, to tantalize, to draw close; much has been done of this on the maid's part. Blessed release need come and come it shall in a singular plunge submerging the knife, as one would a phallus, straight into Yuugi's waiting and very much eager cunt. Well traveled it is, and the insertion is easy; painless is another matter altogether, sensitive areas finding themselves granted new grooves they sorely wish they were without. No one within the mansion, none by the Misty Lake, not a soul in the Youkai forest, neither youkai nor human out as far as even the fringes of the Forest of Magic, fails to hear the scream Yuugi offers, a mix of the sweetest of releases and the sheerest of agonies. As soon as it has violated Yuugi's insides, her body goes wild, muscles tensing and relaxing, demanding blood for their work, everywhere within her and especially that filled cavity requisitioning more as they spasm out of control. From bust, leg, and ass come impressive gouts of the stuff, even the knives left stuck in her are knocked out to clatter into the container below that fails to catch everything; but it all pales to the epicenter of the most intense orgasm Yuugi has known, discharging like mad not that feminine secretion one might expect, yet instead all that precious life-giving liquid. A fitting coincidence, given the canal whence it comes. And as the ceiling bends under Yuugi's exertions, ropes threatening to fray to pieces, Sakuya herself is overcome in much the same manner. To the floor she has collapsed to writhe in utter ecstasy, heedless of the great ringing in her ears that Yuugi has brought with that scream. Fingers twitch, toes curl, obscene shouts are given; lost in her reverie is the maid at that most ferocious expression of torturous existence she heard for fractions of a second before hearing fled her. Like this, both ride out crash after crash, waves of pleasure hitting heights neither knew they could feel, for durations they were unaware it could last. Even these extended throes, however, have their ends, and both are left to pant from it all soon enough; one, however, pants far more weakly than the other.
It is the feeling of a spreading wetness that gets Sakuya to finally lift her head from the stupor that follows. What in Gensokyo- oh. Greeting her sight, that undeniably full basin runs over. Dark brown wooden flooring turns scarlet in all the ensuing spillage. The oni hangs, limp, within the ropes that bind her. Breath comes, shallow, but so too does yet more of that now dwindling resource; it comes forth still from those gashes the maid personally delivered. Oh. Yes, this seems a problem, alright. Time stops. Time resumes. All the many wounds sustained by Yuugi are covered in sutures, bandages, and medicinal rubs; hosts of splintered, bent, and otherwise deformed needles litter the floor. It's done little to actually render strength back into the oni; yet the flow of life outward ceasing may be enough. “Fret not, now. Death shall not claim you. We've the finest medicines from Eientei. Rest and you'll recover.” Sakuya's tone remains level, despite the oni's state. Despite Yuugi failing to offer any response, swaying insensate and unconscious through the air. Even if she were concerned, further words would do nothing. On the ground, in an out of the way, nondescript room of the manor, Sakuya can do nothing but sit, wait, and hope she's right.