Long story short: I wrote this for another, Touhou focused site. While they may be able to speak of writing quality, the important thing is whether the story is hot if you're into girls stabbing other girls. I have no idea if it is. And so I cross-post here, where I can more likely garner such opinions. I'm not wholly sure it isn't a little tame for the site on average, but, it's the first place to come to mind for something bloody. So, enjoy, hopefully.
With a crack, the red-skinned oni's face snaps backwards as a massive, muscled arm smashes a fist into it; the rest of his body soon follows, hurtling through the air and tumbling along the ground several dozen yards to crash against the wall of a nearby building, leaving cracks upon it as he lays there unconscious. A girl of silver, braided hair, clad in maid uniform, stoops to observe the unconscious oni suddenly blocking her path. Yuugi, meanwhile, sighs and dusts off her knuckles as the ring of spectators cheer and an energetic male voice nearby calls out, “And that's twenty nine in a row! Even three on one, the Oni of Oni cannot be stopped! Will anyone even come forth to challenge her after that one?!”
Yuugi takes the large gourd of sake in her other hand and upends it, pouring copious amounts of alcohol straight down her throat. She mutters to herself, “Goddamn weaklings. Shit's fuckin' boring.” She hasn't had a good scrap in who knows how long, and this little fight club doesn't help. Looking around the crowd, it seemed the announcer was right; no one else wanted to step forward this evening, they'd gotten their fun. There was, however, the maid clinically examining the guy who'd been knocked unconscious upon her path. That silver, it was familiar... ah, yes, wasn't that the head maid of that vampire mansion? Actually, hold on. She was supposed to be lightning quick. Maybe if Yuugi actually had to work to punch someone... As Sakuya stands up, no longer enamored by the effects of Yuugi's blow upon the man, the large oni calls out, “Oi! Dog of the Scarlet Devil, was it?”
Sakuya hardly has the time to take a single stride before freezing once more, turning to regard Yuugi through the gap in the audience. “Do you require something from me?” she asks, rather coldly. “I'm on important business for the Mistress, so if it's nothing urgent-”
“Come into the ring,” Yuugi all but demands, polishing off her drink. “You're damn fast, right? I need someone I can't hit so easy. Why don't we go for a while? You can even use your knives, I don't care. Probably can't even cut me.” It's a very dismissive tone she takes in calling out the chief maid, all but outright stating the only thing Sakuya's good for is scrambling for her life.
The maid's face remains still and unreadable save a hint of disdain before she sighs exasperatedly. “I'll decline. I'm not interested in-”
“Getting your ass handed to you?” The oni interrupts her mid-dismissal with a cocky grin, as the crowd breaks out into roaring laughter, joining in jeering at Sakuya.
The maid's eyes give a piercing glare before she continues where she left off, “-participating in your meaningless little brawls. I've got-”
“No spine! No backbone! Couldn't rise to the challenge if I tied both hands behind my back!” Yuugi even does so, clasping her arms behind herself as though not to use them. “C'mon! You're only human, so it's only fair I gotta handicap myself I guess.”
Sakuya grits her teeth as the noise of the crowd gets ever louder in calling out insults at random, helping their champion to goad. She tries, again, to finish her refusal at its last stopping point, voice straining to keep level, “-important matters to attend to, and needn't waste-”
“Your breath, I guess! I get it, you're just a fuckin' coward. Not surprising, I'd end you in one shot too.” The oni doesn't even look at Sakuya as she calls out to stymie her statements once more, arrogance growing by the second.
Try as she might, Sakuya can't still the shaking overtaking her, ever more incensed by this taunting. Giving up on actually trying to parley, she just turns to leave before she can get drawn into this. “Enough of this nonsense,” she declares as she does. Before she can resolve to stop time and just disappear however, Yuugi gets in one final call.
“The position of whipped bitch suits you! But have fun wearing your precious Mistress' collar tonight! Arf, arf! Maybe if you tell her some mean oni bullied you, she'll come solve your-” It's Yuugi's turn to be interrupted, as Sakuya is in front of her in a flash, knives in hand and ready for a fight. There's a second of genuine surprise before the oni grins. “Ohoho, the puppy does have fangs, does it?”
“Enough of your talk,” Sakuya states flatly, holding her composure much better now resolved to deal with Yuugi. The crowd is clearly pleased, as their din nearly tries to drown the maid out when she continues, “Defend yourself, brute.” And the assault commences.
“And the match is on! We've got ourselves one hell of an underdog challenger, I'd say! Why, that's just a human! We're due for thirty straight here, folks, don't go putting any money on the long odds!” Contrary to how the announcer hypes up how one sided things are to be, Sakuya holds out. No kick of Yuugi's will connect. Even if she's a hair's breadth from inverting Sakuya's face, the maid disappears and Yuugi finds cold steel bouncing off her unnaturally tough skin. By the time she whirls around to kick again, Sakuya's gone, and again failing to so much as scratch.
“Not bad, little doggie!” Yuugi grins madly as she pursues the maid darting around her, actually presenting a challenge to catch. Expending real, genuine effort trying to batter her is a welcome and refreshing change of pace, even despite the armless handicap in play. Of course, tracking the maid long enough to see how each useless jab is delivered with a new, sharper knife is quite difficult. And the difference can't be told by touch, as each point feels as dull as the last for the oni. The crowd leans in with anticipation, cheering on as Yuugi throws more power into each blow, coming around faster, throwing out strikes that would be abominably destructive if only they could land; and it's only a matter of time before one does, those gathered to watch are sure.
“How long can she keep it up?!” The announcer belts with energy, bringing excitement to a fight lacking in any visceral blow. “Can this knife-wielding girl find a weak point on Yuugi before those angry feet stomp her to dust?! Or will one, single blow spell her demise?! The tension! The drama! The-” The announcer's hyping is cut off by a very distinct sound: not that of a bone-shattering kick finally landing, but of a sharpened blade sinking into flesh. Red runs from a newly made gash in Yuugi's stomach, staining the white shirt clinging to her muscles. The audience quiets and the shouts of the MC are quelled in a moment none saw coming. Yuugi stands stock still, a wave of multiple emotions passing over her face in rapid succession, too quick to call out each individual one.
“Are you satisfied yet?” Sakuya asks coolly, as she shakes the blood off her knife. “I've wounded you, despite your claims to the contrary. I'd call this my win.” There's something a touch off with how Sakuya smiles at Yuugi, staring into those eyes in which moist little droplets begin to form and trickle down. Wait, tears? Yes, indeed. The face of the Oni of Oni, after one small wound from a knife – it's frankly a scratch compared to her size – is that of someone about to turn into a blubbering mess. And she does, breaking down into uncanny sobbing, stampeding her way through the crowd and off the scene. Bodies go flying and the ground shakes as Yuugi rushes away. Sakuya's stunned into silence, the crowd is deeply confused, and the hype man has absolutely no comment to offer, not even of the underdog's victory. Slowly and awkwardly, everyone disperses, and Sakuya's left to wonder how she managed to get that reaction as she heads off for that errand she was on, face still locked to that strange smile.
Meanwhile, the footfalls of a fleeing oni eventually fade, when Yuugi finds herself back home, and finally away from prying eyes. The first thing she requires is an entire gourd of sake, uncorked and finished in the same motion as she tries to calm herself, dwelling on the moment of that stab wound, clutching at it with her other hand. Going over what she felt as the blade sank in. Shock, that was the start. She'd never actually taken a wound before today, seemingly impervious as she was. But did shock make her cry? No, it was not that. Pain, that came right after. The feeling of the blade parting her flesh, the small jolts coursing from that even smaller wound. But did pain make her cry? No, nor was it that. What came third... that was... hard to admit to herself. She did not want to believe it, and it was what made her cry. But there was no doubting it. What came third, after shock, when pain had materialized for the first time in her life, it was arousal. She could still feel it down there beneath her skirt, from lips dripping with feminine juices much as her newfound cut dripped blood.
It felt wrong. It was wrong. She was an oni – fuck, she was the oni. Strength, pride, victory: that's what should make her heart, her nethers, soar. And yet those infinite streams of victory felt hollow. Clobbering others with but a single mighty blow while holding herself back, that meant nothing to her. And she could never place the why, understand how that could be. Was it because of this? Was what she really wanted... to lose? No! NO! That was fucking bullshit! Goddamnit, they did not call her the Oni of Oni for nothing! She refused wholly to accept this notion! She wouldn't! To prove it, she'd- her tirade of thoughts is interrupted by the nail of a finger on the hand clutching at her wound sinking in, prying it open more. The following pain is immediate, drawing out a gasp and, more importantly, a moan, as her slit begins to leak once more like a finger had instead been inserted there. Lust nearly compels her to do just that as the pain rings out, and she even ponders on using that little cut to masturbate too. If she just- no, not happening. She snaps back to herself at the out there thought. This is not her, and it can't be her; considering that it might be is horrifying. No, she'll do what any good oni would do, and confront this problem head on. She's going to get herself a rematch.
It was over a week later before Sakuya answered any challenge or call. For Yuugi, that time was hell on her nerves. The incident couldn't be contained – she, of all oni, had broken down crying at one scratch. She'd hardly been seen since that day, too afraid and ashamed to show her face. Yet now all of Former Hell stood on this street, awaiting with bated breath the arrival of the one she'd challenged. The gathered crowd was massive, sitting atop roofs, congregating in alleyways; people craned over one another to catch a glimpse of what was to come. And then from nowhere, Sakuya appears, standing across from the oni who issued the challenge. With their roles reversed it was her turn to rouse the opposition to anger, “Are you quite sure about this? I only nicked you before, but your reaction really was something. Perhaps you're... spineless, didn't you say? Without backbone?”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Yuugi roars her response, still not over the feelings that last knife brought. The outburst is actually loud enough to startle some of those gathered to watch. “You cheated somehow! Used... poison, I don't know!” The followup declaration, however, is depressingly petulant sounding, almost desperate.
“Poison? Me? Nonsense. Poison taints the blood. Have you forgotten who I work for? 'Dog of the Scarlet Devil' you said, last time: a vampire. No, let's face facts: the high and mighty oni finally got hurt and realized what it was like, learning she wasn't as big and nasty as she thought. A scared little girl, aren't you? Amusingly ironic, given your size.” Sakuya laughs, laughs at Yuugi's weakness.
“NO! DON'T YOU LAUGH!” Another shout that resounds in the underground, almost painful to be in the vicinity of. “It was just that- I was...” Yuugi grasps for words, for an excuse as to why it happened. But the truth looms large in her mind, overwhelms her ability to conjure such a thing, leaving her instead to trail off.
“You were a wimp all along and couldn't handle realizing it. Perhaps the position of 'whipped bitch' suits you more, hm? Though the dog house would get rather cramped, wouldn't i-”
“ENOUGH!” This particular cry is accompanied by the sound of the ground cracking and deforming, as a small crater appears where Yuugi's feet just were. The burst of speed she puts on shoving herself that hard is impressive, and Sakuya's eyes have just enough time to go wide in shock before she's gone – as the fist impacts the ground, a massive hole is smashed into it, easily a dozen yards wide and several deep, with further cracks continuing on far longer yet. The shock wave and chunks of once-road batter onlookers, knocking them off of houses and flat on their asses; all the buildings nearby shake at the tremor passing through the ground. Yuugi seethes in the new hole she's dug in just one blow. There's not a trace of Sakuya left in it. Maybe she went too far. Maybe she shouldn't have lashed out like that. But in the heat of the moment, she couldn't help it. As she's coming down from that moment of raw FUCK EVERYTHING, that's when she feels it. 'It' is several dozen knives, each sharper and sinking deeper than the last into her back. She's rendered looking like a massive, muscled hedgehog, sheer size and supernatural toughness keeping her quite alive and conscious despite the frankly concerning exsanguination staining her and her clothes.
That first cut had taught Yuugi what pain is – this multitude of impalements teaches her what pain can be. The high, wailing shriek that passes through the lips of the one once called 'Oni of Oni' invalidates such a title, conveying a misery and agony never before thought possible to deliver upon someone who was, scarcely two weeks prior, invulnerable. Thankfully, perhaps, that shriek is also deafening when paired with Yuugi's lungs; none can hear the low, erotic moans that follow the primal expression of pain. That would be far too much to bear. As it stands, though, the pain has Yuugi incapacitated, laying on the ground sobbing, a disgrace she also can't bear. But she can't even pick herself up right now through the hell shooting its way through her from all the multitude of holes on her back, can't flee to escape everyone seeing what she's been reduced to. Which gives Sakuya ample time to recover from the disorienting scream and compose herself.
Narrowed eyes glance over the destruction wrought in a singular strike, before Sakuya speaks lowly, “It seems you forgot what the spellcard rules are for. Thankfully for you, I did not. That many knives at your size shouldn't be lethal.” With a light splash, Sakuya lands within the crimson pool beneath Yuugi's twitching form, knives still embedded. Rather than reclaim them with time stopped, she recovers them one by one in real time. Slowly she drags each out, unsheathing them from the giant with deliberate imperfection, and slicing her just that little more to draw out further whimpering cries from the once-proud oni. It's a needlessly cruel process that gets more and more difficult to watch for the crowd. Those arrayed gradually disperse, as before, almost in batches blade by dripping blade. The whole while, Sakuya's face grows ever more concerning, smile widening in ways it should not with each new twinge and high note brought about.
What she and everyone else are missing, hidden beneath the clear droplets trailing down from eyes reddened not by blood but by intense sobs, are the bubbly moans when Yuugi's head falls back to the ground after shooting up to scream. Subdued by the liquid as they are, at least, this little secret remains unknown; the iron scent wafting from all around her obfuscates the waterfall of discharge lubricating her cunt, concealing an ever building and furious lust. In equal measure, however, is a self-loathing borne out of every pleasurable second that follows a knife's retraction. Her strength is slowly returning, but her will to run is weak. She's lost count of how many are pulled out, but it feels like it must be almost all of them at this point.
Her estimation is not off, as Sakuya grips the handle of the final knife. This last one, instead of slowly, is wrenched out viciously, the maid's eyes nearly glazing over as a spray of blood arcs from what's now the largest cut of them all and the oni below her looks to convulse at the spike of pain brought by that, even after the resounding scream quiets. Yuugi's face is buried into the soaked ground as she clutches at the back of her head, perhaps in reflex, or perhaps... perhaps there's something more to these convulsions than pain. The orgasm rocking her, however, goes unnoticed, as Sakuya shakes the last of her implements free of youkai blood; in truth, her own arousal is difficult to keep hidden, that eerie smile the only hint allowed to slip through, her voice kept level as she speaks, though her tone is demeaning, “Is this sufficient to show you, then? Or will you require further demonstration? There are plenty of places left I've yet to-”
Yuugi's shaking dies down mid-taunt, and finally, she can move her body beyond involuntary shakes and spasms. She's up and moving fast despite her wounds and the trail of red left in her wake when she scrambles for one side of the crater, throwing herself out more than climbing. Once more her retreat brings quakes as she runs, cowed, for a home she may never leave after this most thorough and public shaming. Even if most of the crowd has dispersed by now, it hardly matters; the full account will spread like wildfire, and she may never be able to show her face anywhere in Gensokyo again. Of those left in the crowd, however, there is one with purple hair who approaches Sakuya upon her exit from the hole. Satori calls out to keep her here for just a moment longer, “A moment please, if you would, Miss Maid.” As Sakuya turns her gaze to Satori, the mind-reader continues without letting her speak up, “No, don't give me that. I only need you for a few seconds, and you'll like what I have to say.” A retort is cut off as the purple-haired girl leans in close to whisper, “Yes, yes, you've important places to be. Now listen. About Yuugi...” And rather than disappear, Sakuya obliges to listen. It's hard for that unnatural, sadistic smile to become more off-putting, and yet it does as the truth of what's just unfolded is explained to her. Pulling back with a much sweeter smile, Satori waves the maid off. “Yes, I'm glad you agree. Hopefully you two can work this out. It seems it will be for the best. Run along, now.” And just like that, Sakuya's gone.
Back home, with the worst of her bleeding finally stopped, and an extra large receptacle of sake in each hand, Yuugi is having a mental breakdown. She came from being stabbed. She came from being stabbed. She came from being stabbed. The moment replays itself in her head, that glorious- no, that horrific, feeling of sheer pleasure- no, sheer agony, Yuugi. Her fraying mind cannot cope right now with just how aroused she was, being at Sakuya's mercy. How right it felt, despite being so much larger, so much stronger, than the maid. If only she could get her hands on her, she'd have won with ease. Instead, she was covered in all these new holes. Setting aside the first empty gourd and feeling up her back to try and count just how many times she was stabbed brings a fresh wave of misery, each count another spike that emanates, and each spike another quiver down below. She feels insatiable, despite the previous climax, and her snatch beckons for attention; her free hand is halfway down there, about to pull up her skirt, before rage at what she's becoming overwhelms her and she picks up the emptied drinking vessel, hurling it to smash against the wall, right as the sliding door to her house opens. Sakuya doesn't even blink at the sudden shattering that greets her ears, letting herself in as Yuugi desperately backs away, crawling to escape from the reappearance of her new worst nightmare.
“You do not seem to be taking your loss very well,” Sakuya muses, closing in on Yuugi faster than she can scramble away. “You needn't be so scared, you know. I have not come to stab you more... yet.” That final word is left to linger in the air for a few poignant moments, as Yuugi's back ends up against a wall. Sakuya is having fun with this, far too much fun, getting closer and closer as what was once a titan practically cowers, curling herself up in the knowledge that she's outmatched. Sakuya drinks in those violent shakes and whimpers, how Yuugi's back being involuntarily knocked against the wall repeatedly lights up new fires of suffering, before finally continuing with actual words, “No, I've come here to treat instead. I've had the situation explained to me by that purple haired mind-reader. I now fully understand what you're going through. A masochistic little sow, aren't you?”
“M-m-maso...” Yuugi can't even finish the word; she certainly doesn't want to. A half-formed protest on principle is near up her throat, before it strikes her that Sakuya said she was told this by Satori. She can't even deny it if that's the case. The giant made fearful keeps her eyes cast down in silence. A shortness of blood is the only reason her cheeks are not aflush with red embarrassment at the darkest of secrets revealed. She is left to stew like this for many moments, discomfort and terror growing, before she can find a voice, far too weak to be her own, to speak up and inquire, “What is it you want? Why did Satori tell you that?”
In all honesty, Sakuya's face right now is probably more answer than is necessary, no reservation being employed, no hint of duplicity trying to hide exactly how much she enjoys this. Of course, Yuugi's question is still being addressed to the ground, and she can't see Sakuya's face. So it falls on the maid to explain, lust in her voice rising as she goes, “Well, because you and I, we're compatible. Very much so. You see, my pain-pleasured pervert, I am a sadist. And I am... in the market, as it were, for someone who appreciates my knives as much as I do.” It's quite a time more of staring down that's needed before the oni can raise her face up, exposing her eyes threatening to break like a dam and finally catching a glimpse of just the look she's getting from the maid; a look that conveys in no uncertain terms a complete and undeniable victory, a control of the situation – of Yuugi herself – that cannot be overturned. She gulps.
“Sadist?” She repeats the word meekly: is that squeak really what she sounds like right now? Regardless of all the missing bravado, that singular word doesn't nearly answer what Sakuya's just proposed. She continues on, pretty much muttering to herself, “You mean you're a... And you want me to... And we'd...” Unbidden, scenes of prostration play through her head: laying upon the ground to act as nothing more than an object for Sakuya to impale, counting up stab wound after stab wound, racked up all in pursuit of a singular goal, to please the maid glowering at her with cold eyes from a position above her. Above. None had ever stood above her. She was always larger, always on top. And yet, to not be recontextualizes the shaking she cannot put to rest; the fear is fading to be overtaken by a feeling that makes her heart wrench: arousal. It is this that brings her to shake now, not a fear of what Sakuya may do to her, but instead an anticipation of those same actions. The difference, slight though it may be, is visible to the maid now that she has the full picture.
“That's right. I'm sure you're picturing it now, aren't you?” Sakuya can't – doesn't even work to – suppress a shudder as she speaks ever more fervently, “Day in, day out; tied up or tied down. Hardly a person, but instead a plaything: my plaything. Anything I wanted to do to you, anywhere I wanted to stab you, you'd let me. No demand too degrading to acquiesce to, no punishment too agonizing to endure. Acting at my beck and call, giving up your own whims and supplanting them with my own! Being handed over to anyone else I felt like and being forced to listen to them too, below almost everyone in rank and station! No longer a proud, mighty oni, but no longer needing to live up to that title! Controlled! And yet... freed.” By the time she reaches the crescendo, she hits such fervor it's hard to imagine she mightn't come just from the declaration itself. But not quite, as she gazes upon the one to whom she proffers this with desire-filled eyes and states, less a suggestion and more an order, “Your reputation is ruined, regardless. Give yourself to me and come to the mansion.”
By rights, Yuugi's listening to the rambling words of a madwoman. Every last statement should bring further concern, disturb her that she's presently at the mercy of this maniac. Instead, the more the maid speaks, growing exceedingly animate, her own reaction is to match that outburst in how calm she gets. Everything feels a little light right about now, too, as the words sink in; her loins are plenty warm at the thought. All of this can be hers. Everything the maid just said, all of that could happen to her. All she has to do, the only act needed on her part to make it happen, is to say one little word, “Yes.”
With that word, the contract is sealed, but one formality remaining as Sakuya's uniform disappears in the blink of an eye, reappearing in a corner where it can no longer obscure anything. Her lean and supple body is laid nigh bare: her thin, lithe arms, with knife grasped in hand; her modest bust, with little stiffened nipples just inviting one to suck; her taut, flat stomach, a barren plain of white skin; and her lush, womanly thighs, between which hides the last unexplored vistas of her body. The last article of clothing remaining on the maid is a pair of silken, lacy panties of intricate design. They are seeped through with lustful discharge that confirms how much enjoyment Sakuya has had in stabbing the oni. Her empty arm extends out to the one curled upon the ground, tone getting only more commanding now that her victim has acquiesced. “Give me one of your arms. And while you do that, you're to finish getting me off using only your mouth.”
With some trepidation, but unable to stop herself, Yuugi proffers one of her large arms, held in Sakuya's comparatively dainty hand. She can guess what's about to happen to it. It's arduous to steel herself for it, even with her arousal at the prospect. But steel herself the oni does as she gets to her knees properly and leans down, clipping her teeth around the fabric of Sakuya's undergarment. She may be new to submitting herself to people, but Yuugi's no stranger to sex, and she's making a fine show of dragging those panties down with her jaw – until the feeling of cold steel upon her palm gets her clenching. Sakuya hasn't even cut yet, merely running the flat of the blade across skin. “Did I give you permission to stop? If you're not actually what I'm after, I could simply leave.” The cold threat of not being chopped up gets the work to continue, and quicker, exposing to the air that sopping mess of a vagina that commands attention. What also commands attention is the shallow cut appearing upon her hand as Sakuya slowly drags just more than the tip of the blade through palm flesh in a deliberate, measured cut from end to end. The pain follows naturally, drawing out muted little squeals as a small trail of crimson begins to leak out. And yet the pain is not nearly so incapacitatingly great like before that the oni cannot fight through it to plunge herself into Sakuya's cunt.
The invader within those depths is both large and skilled, licking along all the most sensitive areas while bringing a pleasing feeling of fullness. Sakuya must keep her shivers of delight from manifesting as the knife drags onward, though finally her cheeks are allowed to flush and she affords herself a throaty moan. The oni as well vocalizes her own pleasure, from the latest intrusion of a knife and from her complete subservience. On occasion her tongue darts back out from the new wet cavern housing it, allowing a chance to suck at and play with the clit just above. Sweet, sweet natural lubrication coats the tongue at every point, informing the submissive giant of how well she's doing. So well, in fact, that between all the previous pain inflicted, the tongue's work, and the present stifled shrieks, Sakuya's limits have just about been reached. With a jubilant cry, the knife removes itself from carving up the palm, its work done. Now it's jabbed deep into a bulging bicep, drawing a fresh and proper screech from the oni as readily as it draws a fine splash of crimson. And that's the last stimulus that the maid needs, letting the knife sit half-buried within its new sheath while her lust crests and a potent orgasm overtakes her. With weak little whimpers Yuugi keeps up her work down below until such a time as her mistress has given her the go-ahead to not. Failure to, after that earlier threat, might mean remaining here instead of departing for the mansion, not a fate she wants. Like that she finds herself buried deep within the maid, privy to every contraction around her tongue as time seems to stretch on, looking up above upon the spasms and sounds brought by throes of ecstasy. Eventually, however, even this lengthy climax must fade, and so it does as Sakuya steps back.
“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.