Hitori Ch. 1

Hitori was elated to be called in to her master's chambers. She was not highest amongst his escorts, and she often incurred more discipline than others. Of course, knowing his tastes and their flavors, that may have been a greater compliment than any single word. Still, she felt no closeness to him, only a desire to please him and to be subject to his whims. Perhaps today was her day to shine for him, the new bright star in his vast firmament. She adjusted her skirt, really nothing more than two flaps of green silk, one to the front and one to the rear, conjoined by a cord around her shapely hips. She adjusted her small breasts within the confines of the top, another slim sheet of silk, simply attached in the rear by hooks and eyes. She examined herself in the mirror, a custom designed to be certain that they were most presentable to their Master. She swept up her black hair in a quick but precise braid, checked her teeth and her exposed skin, and smiled. She was as fine as she could be. It was time to fulfill her duties. Hitori wriggled into her small green slippers and made her way to the Master's chambers.

Hitori strode down the halls of the great house and passed by the woman standing at submissive attention near the door to his chambers: Her head down, her left foot bound with red ribbon to present it en pointe. The woman made no reaction to Hitori's passing, dedicated as she was. Hitori swung the double doors wide and entered the chambers. They were permitted to enter unannounced, but her presentation could not be denied. She advanced to her master, sitting on a pile of pillows and cloths that still had his eyes above hers even as he reclined, and she kneeled before him, her forehead touching the floor. He moved slightly, his black silken robes rustling like a breeze through the cherry blossoms in his great orchard.

"Hitori," he spoke, his voice a smooth baritone that issued no emotion other than his deep pleasure to see him prostrate before her.

"Yes, Master," she breathed in response.

"We are having a dinner party tonight. Many guests will be attending and they will be ravenous. We are sending you to acquire the goods we shall need."

"Yes, Master," Hitori replied again. Her Master lived alone, preferring to share his power only with his escorts, but he used the royal We. On occasion, a girl would be audacious enough to correct him and her punishment was meted out in private before being turned away to the world. The fate of these unfortunate girls and their mysterious punishments were always a source of gossip and legendary wonder among veterans and fresh faces alike. Hitori did not correct him on this or any other day.

"Ni will give you money and a list with which to go into town. Do not fail me."

"No, Sir, I shall return as you have commanded."

"Very good. Rise and be on your way."

"Yes, Sir." She caught the briefest glimpse of him, as much as she dared before backing and bowing out of the room, the doors closing between them. The look in his eyes and the thin smile on his lips told her everything that she had dreamed to hear. He was proud of her, perhaps more of his control over her rather than the person herself, but that was enough. He was pleased with her trim figure, the gentle slope of her bosom, the delicate curves of her hips and rear. He was entranced by the coltish nature of her legs and her skin that flowed like new cream. He was also satisfied by her proper use of Master and Sir to his specifications, upon which he drilled relentlessly and punished often for transgressions. He was pleased, which meant Hitori was elated. A blush crept to her face and a flush rose through her body, excited by his preference for her in this task and his confidence in her. His beauty and power were no less intoxicating and she felt herself thinking of him as she progressed to the kitchen.

What reward will be in store for me upon completion?

And directly behind that...

What wrath and punishment would I face should I fail?

The darkest part of her begged to fail, to be punished, to be disciplined and made better, broken down in the process, used, tortured and demeaned in the Master's unique and powerful ways. She could put off the task and be punished, to receive sweet redemption at the hands of her beloved warden, or worse, be punished by others while he watched and railed upon her, hurling invectives that no soldier or sailor had uttered or even feared to think. What supreme torment would be settled upon her if she cast off her responsibilities? How close was she to the Abyss and how much of the Devil was in him?

No. She turned away her darkest thoughts. No empty rebellion. She would please him today, and everyday. This would bring her to him, the only thing she really wanted. Some of his other escorts traded their dedication for simple, vulgar punishment, but it wasn't the path to true discipline. Or even love? No, perhaps not love, but admiration, even respect. Even without those things, discipline lasted forever, and that was more than enough for a simple girl who would have died on the streets, without purpose, fearing for everything and living for naught. After her parents' deaths after her 19th birthday, she had nowhere to go, and only the Master's pity gave her hope. This was her opportunity to show him what he had taught her, to repay him for his lavish preparation. Beaming in spite of the humble face she was supposed to present, Hitori strode into the kitchen and tapped the brawny cook on the shoulder.

"Hello, Number 2. The Master has sent me to pick up food for the party tonight." The cook paused to hand her a pouch with the instructions and tender inside. He lowered his gaze to the little woman's face.

"Hitori, please be careful. It is not safe in the market for a girl such as yourself. Perhaps I should go with you."

"It is not necessary, Ni. I will be fine. Besides, our Master told me alone to go. Anything else would be inappropriate."

The cook turned back to his bubbling pots.

"You are right, Hito. Good luck."

Hitori went to a rack near the door and pulled a dress of sackcloth from the peg. She through it over her head and shoulders and tucked the envelope into an inside pocket. She kicked off her slippers and slipped her trim feet into a pair of worn brown boots. Only in the Master's presence were they to be finely presented and in public, the reverse. Hitori covered her shining hair with a white kerchief, grabbed a satchel and opened the door, stepping out of the house and off the grounds as if she were just another peasant.

The walk to the market was a short one and soon she was amongst the fishmongers and grocers, admiring and sampling their wares and carefully narrowing down her list of tasks. She happily trade coin for fine fish at one stall, and bright vegetables at another. She stopped briefly to admire ribbons and swatches at one stall, thinking about getting some to dress up her appearance for Master, but reigned herself in knowing she only had Master's money to spend. Despite the jests of the shopkeeper, she moved on, emptying her pouch of money and filling her satchel with delicious and tantalizing goods.

The day was cool and crisp, and soon her little nipples were taut against the silken fabric. No one could see them but she reveled in the little pleasure, her firm buds rubbing against the soft but confining material. She smiled as she rubbed her arm against her chest, reaching for an apple, and stealing a simple pleasure in the process.

All the time she shopped and sampled, a dark robed figure watched her from the shadows, his eyes keenly aware of the delicate form beneath her simple garb. He moved from shade to shade to keep her in sight, all the time desiring her. She turned the corner down an alley and he strode to keep up, being careful not to be seen if she doubled back.

She had stopped at an old woman's stall, where she was sorting a myriad beautiful and fragrant flowers. Hitori marveled at the array of colors and shapes, blooming in quiet glory before her. She leaned forward to sniff a bouquet of purple flowers, and felt the shocking interruption of a hand upon her tiny rear.

"Well, look at this, a bee in the flowers," rasp a hoary voice from behind her. "Old woman, you should be more careful with your wares."

"Yeah," cried another, too gleefully for Hitori's taste, "maybe we should pluck it out for you!"

With that, the hand on her rear became two at her waist and she was lifted off her feet and dragged across the alley to a pile of old crates and bags of discarded produce. The man threw her down upon the pile and Hitori saw her assailants for the first time. It was an older man, but still vital in his twisted way, and what was no doubt his son, oafish and leering, their faces transfixed with wicked and stupid grins: Their familial bond was undeniable.

"The only way to deal with a bee," said the old man, "is to tear off its wings." He reached down, holding the struggling Hitori with one hand and tore at the sackcloth dress with the other. The material tore away like tissue and soon her trim legs and belly were revealed, then her small breasts, all quivering beneath the thin layer of silk.

"A bee with two sets of wings, Father."

"A rare find, one that should be collected and savored."

Hitori screamed as the old man fondled her chest and fingered at her fine raiments. There was a crash from behind the men as a rain of wooden slats fell from the son's shoulders, and with his eyes rolling back into his head, he tumbled to the ground.

"Leave her alone, you filthy brutes," demanded the old flower merchant, holding the remains of the shattered crate over her head. The old man released Hitori long enough to turn and smack the old woman with the back of his hand, sending her sprawling to the dirty cobbled floor. Hitori took the opportunity to jump to her feet and run, but the man turned back in time to grab her arm. She screamed again. People passed by the alley but none came to help, and then his dry withered hand was over her mouth, silencing her. He dragged her back to the pile of debris and threw her down face first, holding her neck with one hand and working at the rope about his decrepit trousers with the other. When he had loosed himself, he pulled back at the silken flap to her rear with a trembling hand to reveal her soft, tight posterior, quaking in fear. He reached down, fondling her cheeks with a clumsy hand, caressing her in mock comfort.

"Shhh now, my sweet bee. Soon it will be over for both of us." His hand slid lower, seeking out her shining gate and marveled at her slickness, pressing his hammy digits into her most private place. Hitori shrieked frantically into his other hand, the garbage beneath pressing uncomfortably into her chest and belly, but he continued on, ignoring her muffled pleas.

He removed his fingers from her and Hitori took a breath in relief. Still, she knew what was to come and tensed as he pressed his ancient manhood against her fair young lips. The old bugger sighed as he pressed against her, stretching her lips painfully from his lack of lubrication. Hitori pinched her eyes shut, screaming and making almost no sound as he forced his way inside, tearing at her painfully , trying to gain greater entrance by pulling her cheeks apart and kicking her quivering legs wider. He moaned a great sigh as he slipped deeper, nearly to his whole length, relishing her soft tightness. He began stroking in earnest, breathing little filthy snippets as he took her.

"You are very fine, girl. Like the daughter I wished I had. I will take you home with me," he wheezed "and you will cook us a fine dinner with what's in your bag," another thin breath followed by a racking cough, "and then you will take my son and I into your mouth and drink our seed for your supper. "

Hitori tried to ignore his horrible plans and resist the sensation of his invading member, and some little ray of sunlight entered her unfortunate world when she thought of her Master, how he would care for her when this was all over, how everything would be back to normal once she was back in the safe confines of his sprawling estate. One thing was for certain, she would never request or accept duty outside the grounds again.

From the shadows, a figure lurked, taking in the entire foul scene. When he had seen all that he cared to, he stepped out of the darkness and into the alley.

The old man, drooling and groaning, stroked her deeply, pressing her down with his weight and fumbling for her little breasts underneath. Hitori was too exhausted to scream now, the air being pressed from her lungs from above. She just moaned beneath, tired and in pain, and wanting nothing more but for it to end.

Hitori felt the old bugger pull back, almost out, with the intention of driving his length deep into the girl's gripping cunny, but he never got the chance. The dark stranger stepped up to them, just out of arm's reach and there was a whisper of sound, a flash of light, and the man popped out, falling back onto the cobbles. A bright angry slash was on his chest and rivulets of blood began to run down the alley. The old man gasped in surprise and terror, clutching his chest, trying to crawl away, but stumbled, face first into the muddy alley. Another flash from the stranger and the old man was still.

Hitori tried to turn over, absently pulling at her shifted silks to try and cover herself. She could see her kerchief, torn off during the struggle, lying wet and muddied on the cobbles and before the black boots of her apparent savior. She could not see his face and could not read his mood, but she felt safe, at least for the moment.

There was a groan from behind her, now as the younger man came to his senses, rubbing his scalp groggily. He saw the form of his father lying dead in the street and turned angrily to the standing shadow before him.

"You murderer, I'll avenge my father," the young letch slurred as he picked up a crate slat with which to unloose his fury. There was that whisper of sound again, and Hitori saw the man unsheathe a slim shining sword that wickered through the air between the two men and came to rest a hair's breadth from the young man's nose. He tried to focus on the blade as it hovered before him, riveting him in place.

"Your father's death is a testament of the penalty afforded to men who abuse women in the streets," boomed the voice from the dark figure. "Tell others of your ilk that such treatment will not be tolerated in this city." The young man glanced over at his father, his lifeblood draining far away down the tiny aqueducts of the cobblestones. The man jumped to his feet, and leaving his patron to cool in the street, turned tail and ran from the alley, not looking back to peer at the hooded visage that had nearly taken his life.

With a fluid swipe the sword was gone, once more ensheathed and the figure strode to the flower merchant, blearily trying to make out the scene.

"Are you alright, old woman?" the man asked reaching out to steady her on her feet. She bowed before the robed man.

"Yes, thank you. I am fine now." He turned away from her and over to Hitori, who was shakily getting to her feet.

"And as for you," his voice wafting over her like calming surf, "did he harm you?"

"I am wounded, indeed, a wound that will not close, but I will be alright, once I'm home again." Hitori was looking down, trying to hide the shame in her eyes, and the dirty tears that had streaked her face.

"Well, that is fine. Perhaps, I can escort you home?"

"No, but thank you. I will just run home. I'm going to be late, and my master will miss me." Hitori thanked him again and picked up her satchel, preparing to go. The dark figure stepped in her path.

"Wait, little one. I have not received my reward for my services."

"I have nothing to offer you, sir, but I am in your debt."

"Indeed. Perhaps I can take my prize from your pleasure."

The dark figure reached down, sliding his leather gloved hand beneath her front flap. She opened her mouth to protest, new terror rising in her mind, but the feel of his caress on her thigh quieted her, as the cool material drifted up her leg, brushed her pelvis and then slid like a chilled serpent between her legs, soothing the red rawness at its junction. His covered fingers caressed her mound and her eyes drifted closed. This was an entirely new sensation! He probed at her lips, begging them apart, and she spread her feet slightly, granting him access. Then her eyes flashed open.

"No, I cannot do this!"

"But you must, you are in my debt."

"I cannot give you that, it is for my Master only."

You must!" He insisted, booming at her and piercing her with his eyes, still the only thing she could see beneath his cowl. There was something in his eyes, something known, but untouchable. She was afraid, but she held her ground."

"I cannot, and I will not betray my Master!" She was crying again, holding herself in her arms and trembling, her taut body jiggling minutely beneath the now grubby silks.

"You are devoted, little one. Very well." He slipped his hand from beneath her flap with the swiftness that he had sheathed his sword, and with his other hand he struck like a viper, snaring the little pouch that held the remainder of her coin. "I shall take this instead, and be on my way. Be careful on your way home." With that he swirled his robes and turned, and the swirling of the dark material blended with the shadows. As the two women blinked the dark figure was gone, as if he had been a figment the whole time. The old woman looked at Hitori, puzzled, but the girl didn't pause. Clutching her satchel to her chest and ignoring the staring eyes who watched her run in her flimsy attire, Hitori speedily made her way back to the Master's House. She cried the whole way, defiled as she was, and still feeling the bulging invasion tearing at her soft slit. The sensation of the soothing counter from the mysterious stranger was also in her, creeping up her spine and warming her in spite of the cold day. Her nipples were still taut and throbbing and she realized that they had been tight during the entire ordeal, secretly rushing blood to pleasure her despite the assault.

Beyond that, she worried about Master's commands. She was returning without all of her clothes, displayed to all, without all the goods required, and with the rest of her money stolen. She had been violated and almost again by her strange savior. What was she to do? She would beg forgiveness and no doubt end up left alone, away from his touch, at least until the time of punishment. And how horrible would it be?

Hitori's mind raced with the combinations of sensations and tortures she would endure as she ran home, her loose hair flowing behind her in a raven sea. She rubbed her taut nipples through her silken top in spite of herself, unable to resist their insistent pressing, and could feel the wetness gathering between her pumping legs, yearning for that which was no longer there. Perhaps she should have let the dark man touch her, to take his fee from her, and let her be pleasured in the process. But, no, she had done the right thing. It was for her Master only, when he chose to invoke it. Only now she was so empty, so ready, and so scared. The combination excited her, even as she ran home, knowing that her punishment was inevitable.

*

Somewhere deep within the walls of the great mansion, Hitori's Master was preparing for the night's feast and party. There was a knock at the door to which he bid entrance. A slender woman with a short shock of blonde hair stepped inside, bowed and addressed him. She looked nervous.

"Master, Hitori has returned from the market."

"Very well, Sasha. Leave me."

"Yes, Sir." The woman backed out and shut the door quietly. The Master adjusted his coats and jewelry, and smiled.