Sensually Saikotic Ch. 01

Saiko, known in her homeland as the Hitokiri--the Man-Slayer--had traveled to another land after leaving her homeland of Wakoku on a self-imposed exile. Of course, she had always planned on going back one day. The abundant peace that had begun to spread in the decades after the end of the nearly one-hundred-year long Himura Rebellion had left her bored. Spilling the blood of young soldiers who'd never seen combat was not as satisfying as she would have thought.

So she left, stowing away on a merchant vessel bound for a western country of the name Gallia. A country, she had heard, was embroiled with a war with a neighboring kingdom. A land brimming with warriors she'd never seen before. Fighting styles she had never encountered. Weapons and armor that she had known of only from a training manual she couldn't read. It was the first time in many years that the Man-Slayer's blood began to stir.

Until the day the fires of war once again spread across her homeland, Saiko would keep herself busy in this new land as the reaper of souls on the battlefield. Spreading her name within its borders, driving all who heard its whispers to the brinks of despair. Naturally, it was only a matter of time before the people of this land had begun using an epitaph for her: the Bloody Ogre, from what little she knew of their language. A monster that travels the roads and battle sites, slaughtering those who cross her, letting live only those she knew would spread word of her havoc.

Somehow, however, the rumors had mistaken her for a man. She found this somewhat troublingly amusing.

But this is not just her story. This is also the story of Remy-Adel de Rochefort. A virtuous, if not pitiable young man. As fair and as beautiful as any maiden, if not more so.

Remy was a young blond man of eighteen--no, boy was much more fitting, and even then there were many who (justifiably) had their doubts--and a member of the once great Rochefort House, though these days it had fallen out of the king's grace. Remy himself, had abandoned his right as head of the house to his eldest sister. Though small and weak, Remy had dreams of becoming a great hero. A man who commanded respect and admiration and the love of his people.

Sadly, such deeds were not as easy to come by as he believed in his childhood.

It had been three years since he had left his home in search of honor and glory, only to find himself working as a bounty hunter to survive. Granted, he had become something of a local hero in small villages and hamlets whose problems seldom exceeded an out of control giant rat infestation or a small tribe of poorly-equipped goblins demanding tributes.

It had been only three years, granted years of endless training and working--not that his eternally soft skin and lithe body demonstrated this, oh no--but only three years. Yet Remy was just about ready to give in and return home, back to his sister who had warned him of this.

It led him to his current situation. Sitting pitifully at a tavern a glass of warm milk sat in front of him. He had desperately tried to convince the plump, middle-aged barmaid that he was, in fact, old enough, yet she did not believe him.

"Whatever you say, hun," she would reply. "Should I get you anything to eat with that? You know boys like girls with a little meat on them."

"I'm serious...!" he whined as she sauntered off.

"Did you hear?" came a low whisper Remy could only barely hear, his forehead making close friends with the bar. "It's the Bloody Ogre. He's here."

"What a load of crock. Don't you think we would have seen him by now?" retorted one man. "Isn't he supposed to be seven-feet-tall and accompanied by the stench of sulfur?"

"Moron, he doesn't present himself so openly," said the man. "They say he can assume the form of any creature, almost like a changeling of sorts. Some say he even presents himself as a nubile maiden from the East."

The man's partner scoffed. "Bah, off with ye, you old fool."

The Bloody Ogre... a demon from the East, supposedly. One that intruded upon battles between his home of Gallia and the northern Germanian Empire. He had heard of the name many times in his travels, though he was never able to find much more beyond rumors. Even at the aftermaths of his rampages, stories of his appearance changed, though many claimed him to be of over seven-feet tall, with black, fiery horns sprouting from his head. Others claimed he was a disarmingly handsome man, with wild, cherry-color hair. And others still, like the man before, claimed he could assume multiple different forms.

But never had he been so close. Still, it struck Remy as odd. If this Bloody Ogre was here, then surely there would be carnage to follow him?

Remy leapt from his seat and stood before the two much older men, who leered him up and down with lust-filled eyes. He was used to it by now--and even played into it sometimes for the sake of extracting information--but was nevertheless creeped out by their gazes.

"Excuse me, good sirs, but can you tell me where you saw him? The Bloody Ogre?"

The two men exchanged glances, then at the sword on Remy's hip, and then erupted into laughter.

"Sorry little girl, I don't think the Bloody Ogre is someone you can seduce into a dungeon."

Remy, red in the face, balled his fists up at his side, bending forward slightly with his cute little rear jutting out slightly. The resulting pose made him look even more like a girl.

"I'm not going to seduce him! I'm going to defeat him and--!"

"BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" they laughed, even harder than before, loud enough for the others to hear.

Remy chewed his plush lips, the boiling humiliation in his belly driving him to clutch his sword's handle.

"Careful, Pierre!" one of the men jeered. "The Ogre Slayer has her sights on you now!"

The other man, Pierre, kept laughing, reaching over and grabbing Remy's soft ass. The boy squeaked and spun out of the man's grip. Of course, with his butt facing the Pierre, the older man used his other hand to smack the feminine boy's cute little rear. The loud smack echoed throughout the tavern.

Now everyone was laughing. Chanting over and over again. "Ogre Slayer! Ogre Slayer! Ogre Slayer!"

Not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction of humiliating him further, Remy ran out of the tavern, intent on keeping his eyes dry and his ego steeled. He had no idea where he was going to go. It was the only place for lodgings in town. And it was late. Much too late to travel to the nearest town nearly three hours away by horse.

Eventually, however, Remy's sprint through town came to a sudden, soft, stop. He had collided with something. Someone. A woman, judging from the soft bosom he found his face buried within. The boy flushed bright red, pushing himself away from the woman.

"Please forgive me!" he apologized, bowing at the waist. When he looked up, he was surprised to not have been able to see her face. So he craned his neck up further, and further still and...

The woman before him was... well, she was tall. Almost freakishly so. He'd only ever seen men that big, and even then they were usually outliers. She must have been well over six-feet tall. And her clothes were so strange. A long, flowing black Eastern robe adorned with red, exotic patterns. There was a long slit running down the leg, exposing a generous portion of her thick, toned thigh. The valley between her chest was also similarly exposed. Remy would have been appalled by her lack of modesty...

...had he not been so terrified.

She looked down at him, her golden eyes glistened ominously in the darkness of the night. Her face was impassive and unreadable. A long scare trailed down from one of her eyes. Her face was framed by her short, but wild hair.

Remy stood there in fear, frozen as he tried to find the strength to... speak? Scream?

'Some say he even presents himself as a nubile maiden from the East.'

This was, without a doubt, him. Her. The Bloody Ogre.

>>>|<<<

Saiko stared down at the young boy? Girl? Warrior? No, most definitely not. Despite the sword on their hip, it seemed almost too big for them. They stood there, frozen in fear. Saiko recognized this as one of two things. Either terrified by her appearance, or they knew who she was. Amazing, considering these people's confusion as to her sex.

Saiko saw no reason to bother with them either way, brushing past the shivering wreck as she made her way down an alley.

It was not an uncommon reaction. She was a great deal taller than most that dwelled in this country. Even in her homeland, she was considered to be a giantess to some. Many just assumed her to be a traveler, the idea that the Bloody Ogre could be a woman was just too infeasible to this lot. Though her pride was admittedly wounded at first, she found it was excellent for getting through places relatively unhindered. She was sure they would eventually open their eyes to the truth, so she decided to take it in stride for now. Every now and again, one brave soul would piece together the truth and challenge her.

'Challenge.' The thought made her laugh!

She was sure that wouldn't be the case this time.

Or... maybe not?

She could hear it. The pitter patter of feet behind her. Soft, silent, but nothing escaped Saiko's senses. The Man Slayer, the Bloody Ogre, she could not call herself these things were she to be so easily taken off guard.

She wondered... was it the fair-looking blonde from before? She was seldom ever 'challenged' by warriors as cute as they. It would almost be a shame if she had to kill them.

Well, she knew just the place...

>>>|<<<

Remy's feet carried him without thought. Nothing but ambition and instinct driving each step as he followed after the one who could not be anyone other than the Bloody Ogre. It was him. Most definitely him.

Yet despite tha, Remy could not help but allow his gaze to drift low, towards his--her???--wide, generous hips as they swayed side to side. The hot flashes returned to Remy, his ears and cheek burning as he tore his eyes away from the demon's curves.

"Get a hold of yourself Remy!" he chided himself.

He followed the Bloody Ogre down a winding path of alleyways, keeping his distance from the demon. It was thanks to Remy's small body and lack of heavy armor that he was able to remain undetected for so long. It was his ability to sneak that guaranteed his survival in many of his missions. Of course, it did nothing to garner him any fame, sadly. Even when he joined a group of bounty hunters to rescue an important trading port from pirates, he had been too short for the painter to properly depict him on the mural the governor had commissioned in their honor.

But this was going to be different. Remy was going to defeat the Bloody Ogre and claim his reward. Even if the demon was tough, he just had to stay hidden and wait for his opportunity to strike! So far, she had not seemed to notice him, which meant he was safe for now.

When they finally stopped, they stood in the middle of a wide lot, surrounded by windowless buildings. The Bloody Ogre stood completely still before finally turning to face Remy's direction. The boy ducked beneath a stack of barrels, his heart pounding beneath his smooth chest.

"It's no use hiding. Get out here," came the voice. It was deep and raspy, with an accent Remy figured was that of the Easterlings.

The boy's heart skipped a beat, but he remained frozen, unable to move despite the warm blood rushing through his veins so quickly he could hear the torrent in his ears.

"If you don't show yourself, you will die. Painfully." Remy heard steel slicing through the air. He could feel the reverberation in his bones. Again, his joints locked. "I will count. Ten. Nine. Eight--"

Remy did not dream of letting the Ogre count down another second before he dived from behind the barrels and charged with his sword drawn. His shrill, girlish cry howled into the night. He did not know what to expect when he made it to her. Just that he would win. No matter what. He had to win!

The singing clash as his blade locked against hers quickly snuffed out that dream, however. With one arm she held a wicked, curved blade with a circular guard. With one arm, she stopped his swing as though he were a toddler. Remy looked up at her with wide eyes filled with fright. She looked down at him with a soulless stare, save for the small, barely visible smirk on her lips.

"On'na?" the Ogre said to herself. Then she cackled. "I was wondering if it was you, girl!"

>>>|<<<

"Girl?!" the girl snapped. Or maybe this wasn't a girl. Looking at them, anyone would make the assumption. Their features were soft, their skin like fine porcelain. Their lips were plump, as though made for servicing a man's cock. Long, flowing blond hair cascaded down their back. Even their clothes looked more at home on a woman than a man. The trousers worn here had always seemed more form fitting compared to home, but these even more so, from how they clung to the blond's hips and thighs, with boots that traveled up to the middle of his thighs. He even wore what she discovered to be a corset around his white shirt.

"You mean to tell me you aren't a woman?" Saiko cackled once more. "That's a shame. The men of my homeland would pay good coin for you if you were. Actually, I think there are plenty more than willing to overlook whatever may dangle between your legs."

The boy flushed, his eyes filled with indignation, like a child being picked on by an older sibling.

"It's rare for someone to discover who I am, though. Pray, did you come to exact some sort of vengeance? Did you belong to one of the men I've killed? Sorry in advance if I don't remember their name."

"I belong to no one, Ogress--your bounty is mine, and mine only!" he shouted as he leapt back, holding his sword before him in his trembling hands. His stance was all wrong, even if it was a style she had not studied formally in, she had come to learn this style was called the Albert School of Swordsmanship. A popular form in this country. One she had come to respect in some form or another.

She chuckled, tapping the blunt edge of her katana against her shoulder. "I haven't laughed this hard in ages, boy. You ARE a boy, aren't you?"

"Of course I am!" he growled--well, he TRIED to growl--as he charged her again. He stabbed, but Saiko stepped to the side, grabbing his wrist and spinning him around. She let go and he stumbled forward, falling onto the ground.

"Woah there, boy!" she laughed still. "Watch your stance! Your footwork is a mess!"

He ran at her again, this time hacking away with a wild overhead swing. Again, Saiko dodged. Stepping to the side, she swatted the beautiful boy's round ass with the flat part of her blade. He yelped, one of his hands flying behind his ass.

He glared back at her, his face red and his eyes glistening, as though on the verge of tears.

Saiko merely smirked back at him.

"Don't be so embarrassed. It's not like you ever stood a chance to begin with." She sighed, sheathing her katana. "Here, I'll only use my hands. That should make things easier, yeah?"

"Only your hands--? You jerk, don't get--!"

The young boy wasn't even able to finish his sentence before he was cut off by his own gasp, his eyes widening like coins as Saiko appeared before him in what might as well have been the blink of an eye. The displaced air blew the blonde's hair back, fully revealing their stunned expression.

"Let's see here..." Saiko said, her lips mere inches from the boy's own as she leaned over him. Her hand reached low. Between the boy's legs. And squeezed.

"A-ah~!" the boy squeaked. Saiko was pleased, smirking wildly as she fondled the thing between his legs. Beneath the tight, but tough material, she could tell it was by far the most masculine thing about him. Definitely not the biggest she's felt, but it was unmistakably his cock.

"Mmm," Saiko hummed, giving him another squeeze. "Sorry, I needed to check to be sure. This was such a poor demonstration, I had to confirm it for myself. You understand, don't you, kid?"

That shocked, mortified look on his eyes suddenly steeled in frustration at Saiko's mockery. She could see the rage making the boy's hands shake as he held his sword, so he threw it off to the side, even in the face of Saiko herself, and launched his hands forth to take hold of the Man-Slayer.

"Stop toying with me!"

It was like a younger sibling trying to get their much older sibling to stop bullying them--only, the blonde in this case was far more frustrated then some fed up kid. So much so it seems that, even though there was such a power differential between him and Saiko, he didn't give a single thought to the 'advantage' that the criminal had given him. Throwing a fist up towards Saiko's jaw and her other slinging for her neck, the blond lunged up, no longer caring for the danger that was right before him. Did he have a death wish? Or was he just that stubborn?

Either way, Saiko found it very amusing as she dodged swing after swing, each laborious punch lifting the boy off of his feet as he tried to land at least one on her face. She kept it up, leading him around the lot until she finally found herself pressed against the wall. It was only then that she let his punch finally land. Of course, he was so tuckered out that his knuckles only barely brushed against her chin. He slumped forward onto Saiko as she leaned against the wall, his cheek pressed up against her large, soft bosom.

She looked down at him as he panted and wheezed against her chest, his pretty face flushed bright pink and slick with sweat. His soft, angelic-looking hair was a mess as well. She could have devoured him right there, if she was being honest with herself. A good fight always did leave her in the mood for an equal-quality fucking.

Not that this could even be considered a FIGHT, but still.

"Aww, you all done now?" she cooed, pushing her knee against his belly, letting him slide down her body onto his knees. Her blade glistened in the moonlight as she drew it once more from her scabbard. "Well then, I guess it's my turn, right?"

The boy managed to look up at her--or rather, her sword as she raised it higher--his fear palpable despite his doubtless exhaustion. She could see the little teardrops already welling up in the corner of his eyes. No doubt he was having second thoughts about this. Most of them did. The ones that never begged would always have a place in her memories. Prey. But courageous. True warriors.

But this boy? He was just that. A boy. He didn't know what he was doing. He probably thought he was going to be some renowned hero or live a life of luxury off of her bounty. She doubted he'd ever so much as swung his sword at another human before. Not that she was human. Not anymore.

He closed his eyes, a single tear sliding down his cheek before Saiko swung.

And stopped mere inches from his head.

The boy slowly cracked open his eyes, his confusion evident.

Saiko sighed laboriously.

"I came here because I grew tired of killing weaklings, boy. And you are most DEFINITELY weak."

The boy shook, his arms wrapping around himself as he stared down at the ground, assumedly ashamed of his own weakness. Saiko sympathized, though she had never known what it was like to be weak. Poor, yes. But never weak.

She gently forced the boy's chin up with the tip of her sword. "Where I'm from, this kind of mercy is considered a great shame. Are you ashamed, boy?"

He nodded, his tears falling freely now.

"Then would you rather I kill you?"

He flinched, eyes wide.

"Then you would rather live with this shame?" Saiko shook her head. "Just a boy..." She sheathed her katana, bending over and pulling the boy up to his feet. "I'm not so cruel as to let someone live with this kind of shame, even if they are a coward. However, I also feel as thought it would be a waste to kill you now." Again, she forced him to look up at her, holding his chin between her thumb and index finger. "So instead, I think I'll keep you as a pet."