Waking BloodbyJames Cody©
*Lady Ioshi and Satoru, the beginning
The stallion pushed forward with a fury as it heard the screams and howls that came from the flaming compound. Ioshi rode the beast as it lunged forward, her weight a breath upon the horse's back as the steed hurried towards the mayhem. Her kimono floated around her lithe form like a misty halo, her pale skin and pert, red nipples glistening against the moonlight.
Having fed a few hours ago upon a sorry way-man who thought her a mild courtisan, her senses were flushed with the crackling energy of the night. Her nostrils filled with the acrid smell of spilt blood mingling with moist moss and soil. The cracking of bones and the rendering of flesh and the screams of pain and terror echoed among the snapping of wood girders and crashing of walls.
She slowly guided her dark steed to a halt near the edge of the forest and she cast her ethereal gaze over the devastated compound. Bodies were strewn all over -- swords shone in the fires while held tight in the hands of valiant samurai. Ioshi closed her eyes and listened for the sounds of their killers -- a group of them moved towards the south of the compound, opposite where she waited with her horse.
Ioshi drifted down from her steed, soundlessly landing on the soft ground. Her loose fitting kimono draped her delicately and its color shifted to match the shadows she moved in. The sounds of the slaughter were moving southward as the feeders progressed away from the central compound of the Shogun's manor. She overlooked the charred remains of the old majestic rooftops, plumes of dark smoke hiding the stars even from her devilish eyesight. She was about to steal away on her horse when she was suddenly captivated by a whimper emanating from the rubble.
Like an owl sizing its prey, Ioshi focused of a pile of splintered wood -- it stood away from the fires and she recognized the shape of a broken shed. She caught the faintest reflection of firelight in the white of wild, terrified eyes. Drawn by the faint cries, Ioshi broke from the safety of the forest and slid down the steep hillside, barely disturbing the loose ground and protruding roots. Once on even ground , her kimono changed to a silver and red print that she tightened lest she frighten whoever was buried even more with her ferocious nakedness. She then prudently neared the broken shed, ears ever listening for approaching feeders but her eyes and mind focused on who lied beneath.
Ioshi stood a few moments before the pile of rubble, aware the survivor held breath in anxious expectation. She could hear the rushing blood filled with terror and the speeding heart rate -- it was a child. With a sly smile, she hooked her delicate fingers beneath the heaviest girder and with ease beguiling her slender stature, she heaved and threw the rubble carelessly as a child would kick aside a snapped twig. The shambles crashed loudly some ways away and in its place was the shivering figure of a young boy. His blood smelled sweet.
The boy pulled his eyes away from behind his hands and realized he was exposed. His tunic was torn and blood and dirt filled the various cuts and bruises that covered his arms and legs. Ioshi watched intently as he unfurled his lanky frame -- all the while her ears were alert for any sign that feeders might come back. Though he was bruised and bleeding, he stared at her unflinchingly, his fierce dark eyes full of terror and temper. There was also an air of nobility to him as he stood his ground -- he was of samurai stock, she realized.
"You will kill me?" he asked with a cracking voice. He walked up to Ioshi and stared her boldly in the eyes, though his body obliviously shook. She guessed him to be around 11 years old.
"Not unless you try to kill me, child," she said sweetly. "Now, what is your name?"
"I am Satoru. If you will not kill me I will do it myself..." he said as he started to look around till he finally spotted a loose sword. The blade was splattered with blood turned dark crimson -- its hilt was embroidered with lavish silver detailing showing intertwined dragons that sparkled.
He suddenly ran for it but Ioshi had already blurred past him and held the blade lovingly in her deft hand. She used the other to hold the boy at bay.
"It is a lovely blade," she admired as Satoru pushed vainly against her outstretched arm. "A fine Muramasa ."
"Give it to me!" the boy howled with anger and desperation. "Please! Give it to me..." his voice faltered.
"But you would kill yourself," Ioshi admonished. "Such a precious life as yours should not be wasted."
"Precious?" he whimpered as he fell to his bloodied knees, gripping the hem of her kimono and exposing her toned, slender leg. "I wanted to save him, my brother. Shingen. But they dragged him away and I couldn't pick up his sword. I couldn't save him. I dishonored myself and I dishonored him."
Ioshi offered the boy her hand. Satoru took it and she helped him to his feet while he wiped his runny nose across his forearm. He then looked at her hand in wonder when he realized how cold she was.
"You're too young to worry about honor, child," she whispered as she kneeled and used the cuff of her sleeve to wipe the tears from his cheeks. Satoru watched her nervously though she touched him most gently. "Don't worry -- children are not part of my diet, though their's can be the sweetest blood." She ran her tongue across a growing fang.
He stared at her boldly, his defiance at odds with the fear racking his limbs -- he watched as Ioshi's fangs receded and her lips stretched into a hauntingly warm smile and she then wiped the sweat from his brow with her cuff. "Do not fear me, dear Satoru. Monsters are not always evil, and some of them are even people. I am neither -- I am Lady Ioshi. Come with me and you will taste your revenge against the monsters and understand the meaning of blood."
"You will teach me to be samurai?" he pleaded.
"No. You cannot defeat monsters if you fight like a samurai -- bushido is too noble. I will teach you to be a monster."
Satoru looked across the wreck of the Shogun's compound: the fires were dying down and the splintered ribcages and torn limbs and broken swords were a dark scape. He simply nodded before the wisdom of her words.
Ioshi picked the boy up and held him to her breast -- despite the cold of her flesh, he stopped shivering and released his fear and he allowed her to take him back to her mount. He slept as the horse dived into the forest and away from the darkness of the feeders and the slaughter of the boy's kin.
*Lady Ioshi and Satoru, the End
Satoru stood quietly off to the side as his mistress caressed the jet black hair of the young woman prostrate before her throne. Lady Ioshi had a leg raised and her knee pressed to her shoulder, granting the young Satoru a clear view of the young woman as she kissed and licked the inside of the Lady's thigh. Lady Ioshi had made a small incision to her alabaster skin and the young woman -- Satoru remembered her name to be Yumiko -- lapped at the dribbling blood. Her face was covered in the chalk white make-up favored by the concubines of the nobility, and in turn her face was covered in a coat of crimson ichor.
Lady Ioshi threw her head back and moaned as Yumiko found her precious nub and caressed it roughly with a wicked tongue. Yumiko slipped a slender finger in to the Lady and she bit her lip till she bled as waves of pleasure pulled color towards the surface of her skin.
Satoru watched as his mentor succumbed to passion and sex. He recalled the ten years spent by Lady Ioshi's side. The sword had become an extension of his own limbs and he matched her, blow for blow. She had taught him the hierarchy of the blood feeders. Some died by sunlight; others by fire or drowning. The surest way was to remove the head and the heart and set them a light.
But he remembered that the Lady had once been human, warm and sensual. Ioshi showed him this sensuality -- she had moved with Yumiko to the dark wood floor and they had entwined their legs together. Satoru watched in wonder as their little fluffy triangles of jet black hair mingled and he saw bits of their pussies sprout from between their thighs: Yumiko, deep red and Ioshi, pale and pink. He felt the stirring that has haunted his loins for the past few years, the one weakness he fought the most to overcome -- it was dragging him down as he watched Lady Ioshi and Yumiko strip completely from their kimonos and frolic on the cool floor.
Lady Ioshi slid down Yumiko's slender belly and found the young woman's musky pussy and gingerly spread her warm petals and slid her snaking tongue inside. Satoru neared the couple and watched intently as Yumiko's face contorted while the pleasure the Lady's tongue delivered pulsed through her lithe form. Satoru felt his cock grow beyond propriety and peek out from the thin robes the Lady demanded her wear -- the flimsy material caressed his toned, muscular shape and highlighted his broad shoulders and chest.
"Ooohhh," Yumiko moaned when she noticed his hard member saluting them. Lady Ioshi held Yumiko's clit against her alabaster teeth with her tongue and rolled it there, causing Yumiko's legs to thrash.
"Ah! Yes! There!!" Yumiko gasped when the Lady slipped a wriggly finger deep into her pussy -- the Lady motioned to Satoru to disrobe and to come near. As he removed the robe, Yumiko's eyes grew wide in greedy desperation to be taken my this magnificent ward of the Lady -- her juices suddenly burst from her pussy and sprayed the Lady with all its musky power.
"Oh Yumiko," the lady declared. Her tongue suddenly stretched out from between her crimson lips as long as Satoru's arm and lapped up every last drop of Yumiko's orgasm. The tongue swirled across the Lady's face like a writhing snake before turning its moist attention to Yumiko body -- it moved leisurely across her belly and thighs before caressing her large bosom, a contrast to the Lady's more diminutive assets. Yumiko's rosy nipples sought attention and she greedily pinched them when the Lady's mystical tongue found her mouth and plunged inside, pulsating as it seemed to inch deeper into the young woman's gullet. Despite her apparent choking, Yumiko rubbed her nub violently and gushed her pleasure for a second time. The Lady retreated her tongue and looked placidly at her young lover.
"Yumiko, do you want Satoru to fuck you?" the lady asked as crawled up Yumiko's writhing body -- the Lady's hair seemed to slowly come alive as her lips were inches away from Yumiko's.
"Yes, Lady," Yumiko answered as she tried to kiss her mistress. "Ever since I first saw him. I want him."
"Do you want her, Satoru?"
Satoru glanced from his stone-like member to the fair Yumiko and then to Lady Ioshi and nodded. The Lady pondered him for a moment while strands of her ever lively mane entwined and formed rope-like appendages. She caressed Yumiko's cheek before shrieking like a mad thing.
Satoru fought the urge to step back in revulsion as the Lady's hair wrapped itself around Yumiko's arms and legs, pinning the struggling woman to the floor. Yumiko stared in horror as the Lady's mouth filled with rows of sword-sharp teeth and her eyes grew as black as the depth of night. Yumiko screamed when some of the Lady's hairs, wound tight like fingers, pried her resistant jaw open.
"Satoru!"the Lady ordered as she screamed into Yumiko's mouth. Satoru stood still before the Lady's fury, sweating though the air in the room had chilled. "Mark her!"
Satoru set his square jaw and ran his fingers through his short, black hair before stepping over Yumiko. She stared in renewed horror as he grabbed his manhood in his hands and began to slowly, yet reluctantly, pump his shaft. Satoru felt the Lady's eyes glare at his and he accelerated his pace. He kept his eyes opened and locked onto the Lady's as his knees begin to buckle as the pleasure grew, pooling from his limbs and flowing towards his cock. As he ceaselessly pump his manhood and kept his eyes ever on Ioshi, he leaned his member toward the crying Yumiko felt his mind grow numb. The Lady was there, behind his eyes, prodding him with the promise of a bliss unknown to him.
Satoru's hand moved savagely across his sensitive shaft -- the pleasure he felt was burning his skin and felt the blood in his shaft almost boil. As he felt his orgasm grow near, the Lady unleashed her unnatural tongue and it snaked its way to Satoru's ass and pressed into his asshole. His knees gave way and Satoru fell to his knees, his cock landing in Yumiko's gaping mouth. She gagged and choked as he unleashed a torrent of come that flooded her throat and overflowed from her lips, splashing her chin, cheeks and chest. Yumiko tried to spit out the warm liquid, but the Lady's hair-fingers forced her to swallow his come.
Satoru fell back, his come-covered, flaccid cock slipping from Yumiko's coughing mouth and dragging across her face. He witnessed Lady Ioshi snarl before sinking her teeth into Yumiko's throat, splattering them with a warm rain of gushing blood while Yumiko gargled and spit her crimson life away. Yumiko's eyes grew blank as the room filled with the sound of splintering bone as the Lady tore her limbs asunder and fed.
Satoru drew his katana and pressed its cool steel to his thick chest. Lady Ioshi stood before him, draped in the same shimmering kimono she wore when she saved him from the fate that had claimed his brother when a band of feeders attacked the Shogun's compound. Whenever they sparred, she wore that kimono and he wore the torn and shredded tunic Lady Ioshi found him in.
"Why did I kill her?" Lady Ioshi asked as she lept into the air, her kimono opening like mesmerizing wings and her blade held high above her head, ready to cleave him from head to groin. Satoru launched into the air with a powerful thrust of hips and amazingly reached almost the same height as the Lady. Their blades clanged and sparks flew as his momentum was thwarted by her undead strength.
But in classic fashion, Satoru bent beneath her powerful blow, letting her momentum carry her over his head while he aided her with a swift kick to her midsection. When he crashed to the floor satoru had tightened his stomach to prevent being winded -- he already knew the Lady had pivoted in mid air and landed on her fragile looking feet. Hoping she might be drawn to commit a killing blow, he fanned his blade over his head and across the floor. He missed her ankles by a hair's breadth. The Lady floated off the floor and watched as Satoru scrambled to his feet. and faced her. His sword was at mid guard level, the hilt at the height of his belly-button and the blade angled towards the lady.
"You killed her because we're monsters," Satoru growled in his low, thundering voice.
"Then start fighting like one!" Lady Ioshi howled and flew at him. Her speed was blindingly fast but Satoru had developed almost inhuman reflexes through their sparring that he had already pivoted his hips and had countered the oncoming tip of her blade with the flat side of his. Satoru had managed to reach across his sword arm and grabbed a handful of her beautiful black hair and he yanked back -- the Lady flipped in midair and Satoru fell to one knee, driving the Lady down, crashing the back of her head hard on the dark wood floor.
"Good," the Lady said as he stepped back and allowed her to regain her footing. She touched the back of her head and found it had caved in. "That would have killed me, dear child, if I wasn't already dead." Satoru was breathing hard and was covered in shimmering pearls of sweat that shined in the torchlight.
"Tonight is a night of firsts," the Lady said as she walked around him, her kimono flowing as though struggling to get away from her and exposing to him the distracting image of her blood red nipples and tuft of black pubic hair. Satoru followed her every movement, fighting the desire that drove the blood to his cock. "But you have yet to be the first to draw blood."
Satoru smiled and that halted the Lady -- she could not remember him ever smiling in their years together. She watched him carefully as he planted the sword into the floor and reached into a small pouch he had at his waist and pulled from it two smaller pouches -- he tossed them like shuriken with deadly accuracy towards the hanging torches at each end the training hall. The pouches ruptured and the dust inside doused the flames and plunged the haill into darkness .
Lady Ioshi giggled. "Facing me in darkness?"
Satoru laughed along with the Lady as he pulled his katana from the floor. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness while he knew the Lady saw him perfectly. "Monsters like the dark," he whispered as he pulled another small pouch and threw it to the floor just as the Lady rushed him -- the pouched exploded in a rapture of light and Lady Ioshi screamed as she crashed into a far wall. Blinded by the light, she managed to block the savage slashes and thrusts Satoru delivered with ruthless accuracy despite his own blindness. Each time their swords clashed sparks flew and the Lady realized the meager boy she had groomed into a fierce beast was unleashing all the repressed rage she had felt simmer in his blood -- a sweet blood she had long denied herself.
Fueled by the glory of an obscure victory she unleashed the full force of her power against Satoru and he met her, blow for blow -- undead force versus unyielding will. Yet no blood had been spilt as the two warriors were too evenly matched. When she thrust, he paraded and when he slashed, she blocked and countered. Satoru's sweat splashed Lady Ioshi's face as they danced around each other and when they were close she noticed his eyes were closed . The both tried to hit the other with fists and feet and the result was the same: stalemate.
And then Satoru stumbled and fell to one knee. Driven by the bloodlust of violence, Lady Ioshi fell upon her ward with all the hunger her undead palate demanded. She did not notice Satoru's smile as he dropped a second pouch and a new rapture of light erupted. Despite the pain, the Lady pushed forward till she felt something sharp pierce her sternum while powerful muscles pushed her back against the wall. She spit blood while Satoru pinned her -- his blade was wickedly close to her cold heart. The Lady Ioshi froze as she knew any forward motion would cause his blade to split her heart -- the first step to her final death. She had succeeded.
"First blood is yours," Lady Ioshi whispered as Satoru extracted the sword. Tradition would demand he whip the sword free of blood, but instead he put his free hand on the Lady's throat and squeezed -- she smiled as she gazed into his mysterious brown eyes, as intimidating as hers when the hunger grips her. She watched intently as he claimed his prize -- Satoru pressed his tongue to the flat of the blade and sucked up the Lady's blood.
The Lady's blood overwhelmed him with her quintessence -- Satoru stumbled back as his mind filled with images of a beautiful young woman pulled from her bed, her husband desperately fighting against the beast that claimed her. Satoru felt the soft skin of her neck tear as the Beast's fangs sought the warm blood that flowed in her pulsing artery. His eyes were hers as she stared at the Beast that made her undead.
"Goru," Satoru uttered -- the torches reignited, filling the hall with flickering light. He felt the guiltless guile with which she seduced her husband and mercilessly fed on him as Goru's final crucible, solidifying her loyalty to her master. But even then a seed of dissension festered.
"You were pregnant," Satoru said as he watched the Lady stand. The wound in her chest had healed and she began to disrobe from her kimono. Satoru stood and cast his katana aside