Jun was pulled from his
misery by the sound of footsteps on the engawa. “You came back.”
He ran out into the hall to greet his lover, only to find the entry
filled with soldiers. “How dare you break into a lady's home,” he
hissed. “Leave at once.”
“We are here to collect
Murakami-san's belongings. Step aside or we will have to restrain
you,” the leader of the group explained.
The soldiers filled the
space, pawing through chests to create a messy pile of male clothing.
“Stop that,” Jun shrieked, throwing himself against the nearest
samurai in an attempt to snatch back the garments clenched in his
fist.
“You would be smart not
to fight us,” the leader of the squad insisted. “We would prefer
not to restrain you.”
“Take your hands off
Hiroshi's things. He'll punish you for this insolence.”
“Murakami-san will not
be returning.” The commander's grip on Jun tightened. “His father
will no longer tolerate this assignation. Hiroshi is being sent to
live with Yakushi-sama. It is past time for him to be trained in the
way of budo. Do yourself a favor and forget you ever met, for it is
certain you will never meet again.”
“Hiroshi would never
abandon me,” Jun sobbed. “We are eternal lovers. We swore never
to be parted.”
“That is not a promise
he was free to make to a woman like you. The daimyo's heir needs a
match worthy of his family name. No street whore, no matter how
lovely, could ever hope to win his hand.”
“I am no whore.” Jun
rose to his full height, glaring imperiously at the men surrounding
him.
“You aren't a woman,
either,” the guard realized. “Hey, this girl is a man.” The
atmosphere in the room turned dark. The samurai amused themselves by
shoving Jun back and forth between them, stripping off layers with
each pass. Finally he was naked except for remnant face paint smeared
across his cheek and a single kanzashi caught in the tangle of his
hair.
“You'll pay for this.”
Jun found himself pressed onto the tatami, rough hands leaving
bruises on soft flesh. His protests faded under the onslaught, all
his energy focused on weathering the storm.
One by one the soldiers
took their turn, filling Jun's mouth or ass. He gagged as semen
blocked his throat, thrashing and coughing. His lips were turning
blue when he finally vomited up the contents of his stomach on the
man currently using him. The punch to the head that followed rendered
him unconscious, not that his abusers cared.
When the last of them had
taken his pleasure they gathered Hiroshi's things and left. The
battered man on the tatami would never again be thought beautiful.
And deep in his ocean lair, Susanoo smiled.
Oh, poor Jun... This was terrible and awful, and perfectly written all at once. :( I do so love how abusers can claim to hate men who love men because that's 'gross', 'immoral', 'disgusting', whatever... and yet, think nothing about taking pleasure with one - the only difference is the violence with which they do it, that rape and the ultimate sense of control which comes with it, is the driving force behind their arousal, rather than sexual attraction. But they're still engaging in the same physical actions... *shakes her head*
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