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The Jewel Of Four Souls	By : BlackMaiden Category: InuYasha > General Views: 2456 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, nor make any money from this story

Chapter List
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- 3
Hello,
This is the very overdue, new, chapter that I have promised. As I have mentioned before, I haven't written in many years, and have decided to come back and revise this story. I can not make any promises to timeline, but I will finish this story as planned. I would suggest everyone re-reading the story, to be abreast any changes made to the original story. Im still rusty, with writing, please keep this in mind.
I look forward to reading reviews from my old readers, and to my new readers. I must warn, as I always do, my stories are usually graphic and/or dark, discression is adviced. I cannot stress this sentiment enough, especially in all fairness to the readers. Check out my other stories (many under revision) and check back often.
I also have a short story written in Harry Potter, which is a new outlet in my works. Hopefully, this trend will stick around. My email is tanya.goodwin.1987.tg@gmail.com -BM
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Part One
Chapter Two
The corridors on this side of the manor were drafty, Yona noted as she wrapped the hoari around her shoulders a bit tighter, making her way to her mate’s summons. Stone underfoot, the young woman shifted unsteadily in her gait. Her belly, round with child, hindered her pace, but the Daimyo would not take lightly her lack of punctuality, if she dallied too long. Ryotenshi was not a man accustomed to having to wait for anything. She could not deny such a summons either, fear of pain kept her moving, despite the awkwardness in step.
The gruff yoaki guard, with leering eyes and suggestive nuances in growl, careened the lady’s already frail nerves. Her lord’s guard were forward, perhaps salacious, in their manners towards her. If she wasn’t sure of the Daimyo’s jealous streak, she would fear them trying to take her against her will. Sometimes, when the lord was in a more sadistic mood, she feared that he would allow his men to have her. She would not put it past him. The men and their liege shared a common ideal, she was something pure and good that must be tainted and used.
Coming to the heavily detailed wood screens guarding the entrance to the lord’s private study, Yona’s resolve was slipping. Though she would escape the look’s of the guards, she would still be in the presence of her volatile spouse. She was only called to her lord for specific reasons - she either displeased him and he would punish her or he required her in his bed. Neither option would bode well. The young lady of the house wringed her hands in her obi, as the daimyo’s deep register bade her to enter.
He was stark still, large form swelling up the open doorway to the gardens, his back turned to her. Though his form was still, the pressure of his yoaki filling the room and the sharp, shocks of pain to her mating mark, said otherwise. He was furious. Around her, the staff were dodgy, keeping their heads low as they bustled around, sealing scrolls and writing out previously given mandates; she declined a tea service offered from a young girl, radiating fear.
Breathing through her mouth, Yona tried to calm herself. Her husband was dangerous on most days, not including his temper, and she was afraid. Their tumultuous relationship was testament to her rising fear. Ryotenshi was wrathful and ready to expend this fury on someone else. She knew he had bade her to him, in response to her actions with Inutaisho. She was in trouble, and her husband wasn’t above physically punishing her. She could only brace herself for his ire.
“Leave us.” said demon spoke quietly but firmly.
The uttered demand was followed quickly, the squire and retainer jolting for the mass exodus from the Daimyo’s short fused temper. Everyone was afraid of the often homicidal Taiyoaki, their tight, drawn faces giving them away. They bustled about, efficiently clearing the study. Suddenly, without much more fanfare, the lord and lady were alone. The silence was deafening, and Yona was sure that her frantic heart was loud enough to drown all other background noise.
There were certain protocols expected of the lady of the house, one of which, that she knew he expected her to kneel to him. She also knew that he would not need to utter the command for her to follow; the reminder of the taste of blood in her mouth spoke that sentiment clearly. She also knew not to speak until he instructed. He hadn’t spoken or moved and Yona knew she was in trouble if it was taking this long to compose himself enough to speak to her.
Lowering herself to a large sitting cushion on the floor, near a low slung desk littered with parchment, ink well and writing brushes. Her belly, still with sleeping pups expanded across her thighs as she worked to smooth her kimono, a nervous habit. Peeking to her lord, her heart sped up momentarily as she surveyed the rigid lines of his jaw, the point in his yoaki ear and midnight hair spilling down his back. Looking him over, she realized his attired had changed. This new regalia was more simple with less layering; layering that hugged his large, hard body. The young woman’s breathing grew erratic at the implication in his form.
He shifted, raising his chin and relaxing his arms and turning to her. Walking a full turn around her, he circled her kneeling form like prey, his slow gait not making a sound on the floor. The only noises available to her ears were the gentle shift in his clothing and the colossal sound of her heart pounding. The mental strain caused by such an act was terrifying but effective. She dropped her head instinctively, fidgeting under his scrutiny. The lady of the house hid her trembling, braving a look up to the blank mask of the daimyo. She had meant to try favoring his more gentle side as she reached out her hand to touch him. A black look crossed his eyes and it was then, without warning, the enraged daimyo backhanded the young lady of the west.
The blow delivered to her face was jarring; his hand had not been merciful, delivering a staggering amount of strength. Unable to stifle her outcry of pain, Yona made to reach for her mouth which bled crimson, linear puddles of blood on the stone flooring, before realizing the pain. He had knocked her to the floor, effectively. Mouth agape in a silent cry, the lady slowly lifted her broken form back to a kneeling position. The young woman dared not to make a single move away from her position, being that any attempts were lessons in futility. The Daimyo enjoyed chasing her when she ran, exciting a primordial need in the dog demon, which usually led to his vicious mating etiquette. She wouldn’t chance it.
Easing himself down into a chair, the lord made a spectacle of posturing for her. He was deadly and didn’t care for her in the least, this she knew, but his need to possess her and fill her with his children, stayed his hand. Looking into his livid face, Yona squeezed her throat shut, stopping a whimper from rising in her fear.
He was going to kill her one day, this she knew.
“Come here, onna” the lord purred in a low voice. She could still hear the angry edge.
Yona wanted to cry, but lowered her head and did as the master had commanded. He would toy with her now, a sick past time the lord of the house liked to play. She made her arms hold her weight as she rose to crawl the few feet it was from her to the daimyo. He watched her, an intensity in his eyes that she couldn’t decipher, as she made her way to him. Without a word, he pointed to the empty spot on the floor, between his legs. Yona was almost hyperventilating by the time she placed herself in the vulnerable position he expected; neck bared.
He was still again, allowing her to bask in his presence, his yoaki suffocating. Being in such a position was probably much like being lead to slaughter. Yona sure felt much like livestock under the predatory gaze of her mate. Her mating mark was visible and she could feel his eyes on it.
“What have I told you about interfering with the children?” The question was spoken softly, but the threat was real.
“My lord, forgive me but…” She had not time to answer before her head was wrenched back, by the hair, mere inches from the daimyo’s snarling face.
“I care little for what the excuses are, if you ever do as you have tonight, I will thrash you like a pup, and mount you like a well used whore. Do you understand me?” Ryotenshi whispered in the sobbing face of his mate.
“Yes, my lord.” Yona sobbed as she was released, slumping under the pain.
“Perhaps a reminder?” Ryotenshi commenting, almost in passing.
He, however, was already untying his obi, hands methodic, expecting her to pick up where he left off. Slowly reaching out to disrobe her mate, a fresh round of sobs fell from the western lady’s mouth as her center gave a traitorous lurch of desire. His form was wrought tight in anticipation, his eyes on fire, and a very prominent bulge tenting his hakama and demanding her touch. She was apprehensive of his strength, his lack of disregard to her, yet she found her body still craved his touch - its biological need for a strong mate. She swallowed any resistance, her stomach in knots of self hatred, along with the phallus over-filling her hands.
******
There was a roaring in his ears like the den of bees, before the sounds became muted and muffled. After several seconds, the voices could be made out to belonging to servants bustling outside of the room. His eyes wouldn’t open, feeling much like sandbags, leaving Inutaisho disoriented and unable to focus fully on any of his surroundings.
A pain shot up his back in protest to his movement. Remembering in one big flood of information as to why he feels as he does, Inutaisho relaxed his aching form to take stock of what was around him. He was quickly exhausted trying to get his bearings. His mouth was dry and his throat was burning, and as he moved his tongue to displace some of the dryness, the young lord took stock of the empty places in his mouth. Apparently the daimyo had finally knocked some of his teeth out, this go around. In this inspection he soon realized that he had many more broken bones than first thought.
The fight circulated in his mind’s eye, over and over, replaying the devastating loss the young lord had taken. And though he was hurting like a son of a bitch, he couldn’t muster the gumption to regret his actions. Inutaisho was many things, but a coward he was not.
He realized that he was alone in his bed chambers, after mulling over his possibilities. If he was here, where was everyone and how did he get here to begin with. His brain, still muddled with unconsciousness, wasn’t able to fill any gaps missing in his memory. Most of which, were jumbled excuses of a past awareness. Running his hands on the tatami mats below the softness of the futon, he tried to gain stock of an already bleak situation. Realizing that his attempts were futile, the heir of the throne tried to clear the haze of his mind to make better since of things. Sighing in indignation, the lord lied still, having worked himself into an anxious state and exhausted his limited reserve of energy.
Inutaisho’s hearing, fortunately, were still in perfect working order, though his head still throbbed. His movements had alerted one of the staff, and the lord lied still, trying to make out the conversation spoken outside his room. After giving up on the pursuit, unable to decipher the muted words, the young heir was finally greeted with silence and the presence of a healer. The healer was silent but efficient in his duty to heal his. He could gather that the healer was male, his quick, methodic movement lacking any warmth. He was grateful for the herbs and potions, easing some of the discomfort born. It was in this state, that another entered; His shattered nose giving little away on who the owner was. Soon, the healer left, leaving Inutaisho with his unknown guest.
“Sleep, brother.” a smooth, soft baritone sounded to the left before a warm hand caressed his brow.
“Do you have a death wish, Inutaisho, or perhaps harbor suicidal tendencies?” Rei’s rumbling voice intoned, the silence lingering too long, with humor in his voice.
Inutaisho snorted, rather, trying to sound off a convincing scoff only to choke on blood and wince when the movement carted through the broken bones of his once nose. Eliciting a chortle of laugher from Rei, the yoaki heir settled once more, feeling more clear headed - the lighter tone hurt less.
“Perhaps I do. Or perhaps it’s my never ending patience with our brothers’ antics. I question that judgment, sometimes” The young yoaki spoke around a smirk, despite the battered condition of his face. Smiling, Rei moved in closer, pulling healing potions from his robes and administering them to his older yoaki brother.
“None the less, you should not provoke the Daimyo’s ire.” Concern lacing the voice of the younger of the two as he worked. Inutaisho tried to muster up a better scoff.
The liquids ranged in flavors, none worth writing home to mom about, but needed none the less. Their effects would hopefully be swift, as Inutaisho’s pain level rose with his awareness. His mind rolled his brother’s question around, trying to formulate the best answer. Inutaisho despised his father. His behavior was questionable but with each passing aggression, the bouts of violence grew to staggering intensity. For kami sake, his father disemboweled a boy with little more attention than one would give to a boring task. The impact of such an action, with its cold devastation and willingness to destroy all in its path, was just as eviscerating to those witnessing the depravity. His father, apparently, had no bounds and no emotions left.
Resounding as the epiphany may be, it did little to fix Inutaisho’s current predicament. As it were, his head was full of pressure and fluid, and the searing pains punctuated by a low, throbbing ache - he couldn’t think straight, nor make out the words his brother was saying. The room was growing hot and the young man desperately pulled at his haori, trying to free the suddenly, sticky fabric from his feverish skin. Rei’s voice melted to a drone, leaving Inutaisho in a fitful sleep as his body fought off his ailments.
Rei frowned as he rose to leave Inutaisho to his sleep. He was worried with his elder brother’s determination to challenge the volatile demon they called sire…
******
The parchment was of good quality, the retainer deduced after rolling the scroll in his hands. It didn’t smell off, his much weaker yoaki nose was able to gather. His power didn’t bare the grace of some of the other higher ranking yoaki, but what he possessed was enough. He was, however big the deficit in power, took his responsibilities serious and he eyed the shady package. Furthermore, the mark of a priestess emblazoned the seal.
Suspicious of its contents, the retainer moved quickly to deliver the item to the Daimyo, for inspection.
Entering the study unannounced was forbidden, but the servant entered anyways. Besides, the room was empty, the faint sounds of a feminine cry heard from further within the lord’s apartments. The demon master, apparently, was preoccupied with his pretty, little, human mate. Smirking at the plea he could hear in the mistress’ voice, the retainer relished in the sound. What would it be like to have such a fragile thing under him, he thought, shivering at the implication.
The study was opulent, in a simple way. Across the flagstone, pillows were scattered, marking cushioned seats for guest entering. The gardens peeking through the screen were much the same, all clean lines and touch of life, not much more than baring only a semblance of warmth. The space was effective, rendering the visage comforting marked by efficiency - all for appearance. Its presence, as nostalgic as it was, was an illusion of comfort, yet housing much more sinister fruits. It was this very comfort and cold efficiency, loudly advertised in the staged inventory scattered around the study, that laid witness and collusion to Yona’s current misery.
He could imagine her face, stained with tears and pleading, making him surge with desire. As a demon himself, he could see the allure. The mistress was a small thing, beautiful, and still full of spirit. He could imagine what the lord felt, sinking himself into such a delicate thing. Such a prize, thought the retainer, placing the scroll, marked by priestesses, onto the lacquered desk for further inspection. Basking in that feminine voice a moment longer, the retainer quickly exited the study, not wishing his aroused presence noticed further than necessary.
******
Hopefully you have enjoyed this. From here, this story progresses pretty rapidly and the vagueness found in this chapter will be elaborated in future chapters. Enjoy
Darkest Regards,
BlackMaiden
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The Jewel Of Four Souls