The Principle of Evil Made Flesh

The musty smoke of smoldering myrrh watered her eyes as it floated down across the still water around her marked skin. Her master’s love of smoldering incense spoke volumes about his egotistic god-complex and made the drifting priestess somehow feel even more of slave to his limitless evil. Kagome slowly washed her limber body, easily navigating the peaks and valleys for her metallic subjugation with a wadded up piece of dark silk.

Her master had lately brought her a strange lump of a musky, exotic substance – a waxy, reddish thing that she was pretty sure was raw ambergris. The embedded razor sharp squid beak had been a good clue and Kagome was uneasy around such a rare gift from someone who wanted nothing less then her complete destruction. Small bits of the unguent she rubbed into her long, wild hair for her master’s pleasure and the surrounding haze of scent that was borne up on her close body-heat made the miko feel like a rare sacrifice to dark and bloody gods.

Trailing her fingers languidly through the dark, thick water, Kagome’s wry smile surfaced like a small ripple in a still pond and was just as quickly gone. Her little observation wasn’t far enough from the truth to be any comfort at all. Submerging to rinse the black sand from her thin body, the priestess spun alone within her slow thoughts like the slow axis of worlds around a very dark Sun.

Naraku lay on his mutilated back with his clawed hands behind his magnificent head of slowly twisting black serpents; he wondered what he was really accomplishing here, in this black, slimy womb. What would find its birth here – would it be his transformation or hers? He would use her to become Death, the destroyer of worlds – but what thing would she use him to become? The priestess’s nearly bottomless well of spiritual power was becoming a living darkness within her and as he drank from her tight body, he also drank from the well of her soul. It nearly frightened him, if he could even admit that to himself; that no matter the depravity visited upon the little bitch, she always rose up and met him in equal strength, equal passion upon their bloody battlefield. No matter the taint she unknowingly invested in the Shikon no Tama, which the Spider had deduced was simply the concentrated essence of their souls made flesh, the dark hanyou couldn’t find the boundary that once crossed, would shatter the priestess’s connection with the darkly flashing, nearly-whole orb he absently played with as he slowly meditated on his plans.

Once her claim on his soul was broken and her divine conduit extinguished, her reiki would puff away into smoke, naught but sound and fury, signifying nothing. Killing her would be Naraku’s last, delicious tryst with the strangely evolving onna – one he was deciding he would engrave deep into the granite of his cold heart. The Dark One was certain he’d never find her like again – and the slightest slip in his evil heart at that realization made him snarl thickly at the indifferent, eternal darkness of the deep earth.

Naraku could hear the slight splashing of her absolutions as the priestess bathed, sluicing the blood and whispered memories of pain and sex from her perfect body. His own dried mantle of blood was something Naraku didn’t feel the need to remove; he loved all carnage; even his own. Cloaked in gore made him even more look that much more beautiful and deadly and he knew it. Closing his nightmare eyes, the Spider slowly concentrated on his slave’s quiet breathing and matched his own to her slow billowed rhythm. Giving in to the lurid temptation to peep into her whirling thoughts, Kagome’s dark master scratched an errant blood-crusted itch along his pale chest and helped himself to the show.

Kagome was slowly floating back and forth in the buoyant waters of her primal prison, trying to puzzle out what she had become. She tried to look at her strange captivity and servitude in an objective way – her absolute antithesis, her darkest enemy had taken her prison and systematically twisted her mind and her heart better than any cult leader or fascist dictator. She had taken willing part in acts she knew she should despise and be ashamed of and just how quickly Naraku had chained her body’s dark desires and now – how she hated herself for this! - now he had chained her heart to his dread command was mind-numbingly shocking. She must have always had a hidden core of darkness, one that called in siren-song to the Beast currently lounging above somewhere in the darkness. Kagome couldn’t look at, couldn’t even think about her wicked, insatiable Master without making her heart hammer, her hungry sex and her twisted mind begging hard for his brutal fuck! Even now, she could feel his powerful mind stroking the edges of her own – it felt just like his long, pale fingers down a very raw wound and the cool water had nothing to do with her sudden shivering!

She knew he’d kill her as soon as he had made the jewel complete. Blind tears pooled in her wide eyes and fell, tracing salty tracks down her slick form until they flung themselves into the oblivion of the pool in which she stood, still as marble. Kagome felt a strange black fire invade her mind at that thought and an anger that was not her own brushed up against her mind for a split-second before evaporating against her slow current of self examination.

The sad thing was, once Naraku had achieved his ultimate goal of the completion of the damned Shikon no Tama, the sure fact that he would then quickly kill her wasn’t what bothered Kagome the most. What bothered her and made her heart clench in cold spasm was that she would no longer serve him – because he would no longer need her.

The lost miko finally faced the calm fact that she couldn’t escape such a fate – so she gave up the faded, anemic hope that had hidden within her, carefully banking the coals of her moral resistance to her master’s cruel intentions for her soul.

That soul’s power, her reiki, flamed out in unseen slow abundance, once pure and holy pink – now turned the color of blackest, most beautiful midnight velvet that Naraku had ever seen. Glancing from his precious despoiled mistress to the nearly-full Shikon fragment in his hand, the sudden flicker of its eerie purple glow darkening into midnight indigo made Naraku scream in internal triumph and sudden excruciating desire.
Arching his hard, pale body into the phantom hands of his tormented and exquisite little whore, the dark hanyou’s surging, ragged rush of hot, poisonous breath snapped his brooding captive from her desolate thoughts. Looking up to where she knew Naraku had settled himself, Kagome’s misty breath caught in her collared throat at the blistering image of her dread Master, his gorgeous and forbidden form writhing in completely exposed ecstasy. She hoped he was thinking of her.

He felt the girl’s exploding lust in the same moment he heard her shocked hitch of breath as it was sucked from her tight, white throat. Rolling in serpentine ease upon his hands and knees, Naraku knelt up; his spare torso curving in tight seduction as his clawed hand slowly ran down his long body to slowly stroke his excruciatingly full cock. His other hand he shot out at Kagome in her cowering, hungry and lust-shrouded prison and curled a finger in silent compulsion – a command the panting, flushed girl knew she’s never hope to escape. She never would escape because she had finally admitted to herself that she didn’t want to.

“Come to me, priestess…” a thick, rasping baritone voice hissed within her burning mind.

“I am coming, my Master.” she whispered back and rose from the water into the waiting arms of black, orgasmic oblivion.