Day 13: Zakuro's Harem
So...*shifty eyes* A while ago I kind of blended a couple anon kink meme requests together and came up with Zakuro, king of the harem, kidnaps Sanzo as his latest catamite and Sanzo has sex with everyone else in the harem while Zakuro watches, and Sanzo goes from dubcon to full-on pornstar. (AU obviously...)
Ahem.
I give to you the first few pages of Zakuro's Harem! I am exhausted from Sanzo's struggling, and thus have no awesome title to go with this awesomely cracktastic premise. I may have posted a few sentences of this before, but I've fleshed out the concept some since then.
Rated R for the following key concepts: vast quantities of the F word, dubcon, Zakuro's fondle-y fingers, slight kidnapping and other law-breaking stretching of belief, (decorative) bondage, and...gold sequins. I've done my usual slipshod editing, so it makes some sense, I hope. (But really this whole story is an excuse to write some raunchy Sanzo. I've been vaguely worried that my pornographic skills are getting rusty.)
=====
Zakuro had piles and piles of money. This generally bought him anything he wanted. If he wanted eight hundred cases of pomegranate juice, then eight hundred cases of pomegranate juice was what he got.
And when he'd seen the beautiful woman checking into that miserable little motel, by herself, he'd decided it was the perfect opportunity to express his undying-but-still-love-at-first-sight feelings. So he bought the services of people who wouldn't balk at a little kidnapping, wouldn't have a problem with breaking and entering and generally making it look like the woman had never stayed at that motel to begin with.
Too bad he found out, upon getting what he wanted, was that what he'd wanted was a man. Ah well. Zakuro had shrugged and rolled with it. He was flexible. No matter that his blonde beauty was a man! He'd have him begging by the time he was done. All hail the mighty bisexual Zakuro. This Sanzo person didn't have a prayer.
Sanzo went to bed in a two star fleabag motel with a cracked window casing and no screen to keep out the bugs, just a torn and dirty netting over the bed. He woke up in chains on a bed in a room that looked like it had escaped from a cinematic nightmare version of scherezad and the thousand and one nights. Silk drapings, smoking braziers, upholstered walls, huge piles of embroidered and tasseled cushions heaped on the floor. Incenses, strong and heavy, fogged the air and mixed around, uncomplimentary, until he thought he was going to be sick. He had one fuck of a headache already, and everything he saw made it throb worse, setting a course straight for an aneurysm.
"Welcome, my sweet!"
The man had dirty blond hair, though mostly Sanzo couldn't see it for the huge, rhinestone-and-feather-covered turban on his head. Sanzo closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again. Ugh. The man was still there, hovering over him like a demented, sparkling genie. The toes of his shoes curled and ended in beaded tassels. And he was leering at Sanzo.
What. The Fuck.
"Who the fuck are you?" said Sanzo.
"I? I am the Mighty Pomegranate, Sultan of All You Lay Eyes Upon, Zakuro!"
Zakuro waved his arms in the air and struck a pose worthy of the gayest disco dancer ever: his hips thrust, his arms snapped straight, and his legs held at what had to be an uncomfortable angle. Sanzo thought Zakuro looked really fucking white to be a sultan or whatever the fuck he thought he was. Not that he was bad-looking (and didn't Sanzo kick himself for that change in direction) but he wasn't anything like what Sanzo imagined a middle-eastern sultan would look like. Were sultans even from that area of the world? And hadn't his motel been in India? Did India have sultans? The throbbing behind his eyes intensified.
Whatever the case, Sanzo was not impressed. He rattled the chains around his wrists thoughtfully. They were bright, gold toned, and thin enough for him to snap if he tried.
"There was, shall we say, a slight mix-up in our acquisition of you," said Zakuro. "But fear not! You are now suitably garbed as a member of my harem."
Sanzo looked down and saw what he had been dressed in. Someone had fucking painted his nipples. Gold. And his nails. Gold gauze swathed him from waist to ankles. Seriously see-through gold gauze, and there were gold sequins winking up at him from his crotch. Some jackass had pasted a gem in his navel, also gold. And, out of the corner of one eye, he saw that someone had pasted fake gold eyelashes to his eyelids. No wonder his eyes felt so damn heavy. He was beginning to see a theme, here, and it pissed him off. He felt his face flush with rage.
Sanzo looked at the chains around his wrists again. He would happily use the chains to strangle this delusional idiot Zakuro. He sat up, and noticed his ankles had been shackled, too, the same delicate chains attached to thick, disgustingly gaudy cuffs.
"Fuck you," said Sanzo. "And let me out of here before I kill you."
So maybe running at Zakuro and strangling him wasn't an option. If he could get close enough, though, he'd take his chances. God. Where the fuck was he? He looked around at the room, but didn't see a door anywhere.
"Temper, temper," said Zakuro.
He approached, hand outstretched, presumably going to touch Sanzo, and Sanzo snarled. He cocked a fist at Zakuro and swung. Much to his dismay, Zakuro was fast, and he caught Sanzo by the hand. He seemed undisturbed by Sanzo's small rebellion.
"We thought you were a woman, of most delicate auspices, to be sure, and imagine our surprise to find a supple young man instead!" Said Zakuro. "Of course, there are some benefits to this change in our plans."
Zakuro snapped Sanzo's arms up by the chains with one hand, and the other drifted perilously close to those goddamn sequins below Sanzo's navel. Sanzo squirmed out of the way, but one long finger grazed along the gold sequins. Could he buy himself a little time if he played along? Damn, but he wished he were a better actor at this moment.
"What am I doing here?" said Sanzo.
He ground his teeth saying it, but at least those fingers left him alone as Zakuro answered.
"Your new position?" Said Zakuro. "Why, you are now the crown jewel of my harem! A most loved and revered catamite!"
"Harem?" said Sanzo.
Oh, shit. The whole setup made a sick kind of sense now.
He felt terribly faint as the blood roared in his ears. Zakuro's fingers crept back between his legs and gave the sequins there a gentle stroke. Sanzo thought he was going to puke, right in Zakuro's face. Fortunately, Zakuro quit molesting him and, instead, carefully drew him off the bed.
"And you shall obey my every whim, oh Golden Lotus of Great Auspiciousness, for my word is law in my kingdom, and you are of my kingdom now," said Zakuro.
It seemed then, that Zakuro had a brain cell or two after all, because he frowned at Sanzo's expression.
"Is something wrong?" he said.
"Of fucking course something's wrong," Sanzo said. "You kidnapped me, you whackjob!"
What Sanzo didn't add to that was that Zakuro was a psycho freak who was going to rape and, in all likelihood, kill and dismember his body. Instead, he watched the wheels turn in Zakuro's eyes.
"Ah," said Zakuro. "I see the problem now!"
Sanzo held his breath and sent a wordless prayer up.
"You are a virgin, oh decadent delight!"
For fuck's sake.
Sanzo was sure he was having a stroke. He whipped the chains up and over Zakuro's shoulders. Zakuro, apparently seeing this as some sort of positive move on Sanzo's part, held him in a tight, but tender, embrace, and poof, there went Sanzo's leverage. Out of spite, he slapped the chains against Zakuro. The bastard didn't even blink an eye.
"A virgin in my harem need not fear rough treatment," said Zakuro, solicitous in Sanzo's ear. "You will find I am a kind master who will tend your every need, including this."
Zakuro clapped his hands, and two scantily clad redheads, one smiling, one stern, came through a doorway disguised behind an upholstered panel on the far wall.
"Choose," said Zakuro. "You may choose one with which to start your carnal journey."
Sanzo felt himself goggling. The red-head on the left gave him a wink.
"Just play along," said the redhead out of the corner of his mouth. "He's nuts, but he pays good."
Sanzo was affronted that anyone might think he was doing this to be paid.
"I'm not a whore," he said.
The redhead gave the tiniest frown.
"You're not?" he said. "But…"
"No, I'm not," said Sanzo.
"If you are hesitant to choose, I assure you there is no wrong choice," said Zakuro. "Each member of my harem is a delight and a joy to behold, and each would be eminently suitable for your deflowering."
Sanzo's brain stumbled over the concept of deflowering.
"Kougaiji and Gojyo-" and here Zakuro motioned to Sanzo's right and left- "are merely two who might whet your appetites. You will meet the others later."
Sanzo swore, then and there, that he was never going to leave home again, not for business and certainly not under a misguided sense of curiosity about the world. No more backpacking, no first class plane rides, no hotels or motels. Nothing. He swatted at Zakuro's hands, which had been inching toward those fucking sequins again.
"I'm not a virgin, either," said Sanzo. "And what makes him think I'm going to have sex with any of you?"
Since he was having no luck getting through to Zakuro, he directed his comments at Gojyo.
"Believe me, sweet cheeks," said Gojyo. "You've never done anything like this before."
Gojyo winked salaciously, his eyes flicking down to Sanzo's crotch. Sanzo was appalled to find himself hardening from the animal friction Zakuro was applying to him.
"Besides," said Gojyo. "He'll probably get bored in a couple hours and you'll be able to sneak out."
Sanzo couldn't believe this.
"You're not going to call the police?" said Sanzo. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
He began to panic. Zakuro seemed oblivious to everything but rubbing and touching and murmuring nonsense in Sanzo's so-called virgin ears. It was humiliating to the extreme, and it was all the worse because there were witnesses.
"Fuck no," said Gojyo. "He's my employer. And why would you turn down an afternoon of the best sex you'll ever have, huh? You can't possibly be straight, not the way you're acting."
"His hands are on my dick," said Sanzo. "What am I supposed to do, huh? What if he decides to squeeze?"
Gojyo burst out laughing. Sanzo didn't find anything funny about it. Zakuro's hands were talented, and Sanzo was feeling things he hadn't felt in years and he was damned if he was going to feel anything in the arms of a possible serial killer.
"I'll make the call for you," said Kougaiji. "But it might take a while for help to come. Zakuro's astonishingly well connected, and he doesn't like interruptions when he's playing."
Sanzo thought this was probably pretty accurate. They'd been talking this whole time, and Zakuro hadn't batted an eyelash, even at the mention of the police and the kidnapping and everything else. Was he completely brainless or just selectively deaf? Maybe he just couldn't see beyond his fantasy that he'd created. Not that it was a fucking excuse for kidnapping and…whatever this thing with the harem was supposed to be. That kind of focused oblivion scared the shit out of Sanzo.
At least it was less likely that he was going to be killed, if these two were anything to judge by. They didn't look murdered, and Gojyo claimed to have survived quite a bit…and he seemed eager to share his survival techniques, if the bulge in his gauzy outfit were anything to judge by.
Gojyo cackled when he caught Sanzo looking.
"Ah, I see you have found my dear Gojyo to be to your liking," said Zakuro. "Very well. Kougaiji, you may leave us, for the moment. Later, you shall know the delights of our newest golden treasure."
The other redhead bowed and left. Sanzo only hoped he kept his word. He wanted out of this nightmare, now.
=====
Aaaand if I'm really lucky, I'll write some more of this some time soon... *tempts self*
~later
Ahem.
I give to you the first few pages of Zakuro's Harem! I am exhausted from Sanzo's struggling, and thus have no awesome title to go with this awesomely cracktastic premise. I may have posted a few sentences of this before, but I've fleshed out the concept some since then.
Rated R for the following key concepts: vast quantities of the F word, dubcon, Zakuro's fondle-y fingers, slight kidnapping and other law-breaking stretching of belief, (decorative) bondage, and...gold sequins. I've done my usual slipshod editing, so it makes some sense, I hope. (But really this whole story is an excuse to write some raunchy Sanzo. I've been vaguely worried that my pornographic skills are getting rusty.)
=====
Zakuro had piles and piles of money. This generally bought him anything he wanted. If he wanted eight hundred cases of pomegranate juice, then eight hundred cases of pomegranate juice was what he got.
And when he'd seen the beautiful woman checking into that miserable little motel, by herself, he'd decided it was the perfect opportunity to express his undying-but-still-love-at-first-sight feelings. So he bought the services of people who wouldn't balk at a little kidnapping, wouldn't have a problem with breaking and entering and generally making it look like the woman had never stayed at that motel to begin with.
Too bad he found out, upon getting what he wanted, was that what he'd wanted was a man. Ah well. Zakuro had shrugged and rolled with it. He was flexible. No matter that his blonde beauty was a man! He'd have him begging by the time he was done. All hail the mighty bisexual Zakuro. This Sanzo person didn't have a prayer.
Sanzo went to bed in a two star fleabag motel with a cracked window casing and no screen to keep out the bugs, just a torn and dirty netting over the bed. He woke up in chains on a bed in a room that looked like it had escaped from a cinematic nightmare version of scherezad and the thousand and one nights. Silk drapings, smoking braziers, upholstered walls, huge piles of embroidered and tasseled cushions heaped on the floor. Incenses, strong and heavy, fogged the air and mixed around, uncomplimentary, until he thought he was going to be sick. He had one fuck of a headache already, and everything he saw made it throb worse, setting a course straight for an aneurysm.
"Welcome, my sweet!"
The man had dirty blond hair, though mostly Sanzo couldn't see it for the huge, rhinestone-and-feather-covered turban on his head. Sanzo closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again. Ugh. The man was still there, hovering over him like a demented, sparkling genie. The toes of his shoes curled and ended in beaded tassels. And he was leering at Sanzo.
What. The Fuck.
"Who the fuck are you?" said Sanzo.
"I? I am the Mighty Pomegranate, Sultan of All You Lay Eyes Upon, Zakuro!"
Zakuro waved his arms in the air and struck a pose worthy of the gayest disco dancer ever: his hips thrust, his arms snapped straight, and his legs held at what had to be an uncomfortable angle. Sanzo thought Zakuro looked really fucking white to be a sultan or whatever the fuck he thought he was. Not that he was bad-looking (and didn't Sanzo kick himself for that change in direction) but he wasn't anything like what Sanzo imagined a middle-eastern sultan would look like. Were sultans even from that area of the world? And hadn't his motel been in India? Did India have sultans? The throbbing behind his eyes intensified.
Whatever the case, Sanzo was not impressed. He rattled the chains around his wrists thoughtfully. They were bright, gold toned, and thin enough for him to snap if he tried.
"There was, shall we say, a slight mix-up in our acquisition of you," said Zakuro. "But fear not! You are now suitably garbed as a member of my harem."
Sanzo looked down and saw what he had been dressed in. Someone had fucking painted his nipples. Gold. And his nails. Gold gauze swathed him from waist to ankles. Seriously see-through gold gauze, and there were gold sequins winking up at him from his crotch. Some jackass had pasted a gem in his navel, also gold. And, out of the corner of one eye, he saw that someone had pasted fake gold eyelashes to his eyelids. No wonder his eyes felt so damn heavy. He was beginning to see a theme, here, and it pissed him off. He felt his face flush with rage.
Sanzo looked at the chains around his wrists again. He would happily use the chains to strangle this delusional idiot Zakuro. He sat up, and noticed his ankles had been shackled, too, the same delicate chains attached to thick, disgustingly gaudy cuffs.
"Fuck you," said Sanzo. "And let me out of here before I kill you."
So maybe running at Zakuro and strangling him wasn't an option. If he could get close enough, though, he'd take his chances. God. Where the fuck was he? He looked around at the room, but didn't see a door anywhere.
"Temper, temper," said Zakuro.
He approached, hand outstretched, presumably going to touch Sanzo, and Sanzo snarled. He cocked a fist at Zakuro and swung. Much to his dismay, Zakuro was fast, and he caught Sanzo by the hand. He seemed undisturbed by Sanzo's small rebellion.
"We thought you were a woman, of most delicate auspices, to be sure, and imagine our surprise to find a supple young man instead!" Said Zakuro. "Of course, there are some benefits to this change in our plans."
Zakuro snapped Sanzo's arms up by the chains with one hand, and the other drifted perilously close to those goddamn sequins below Sanzo's navel. Sanzo squirmed out of the way, but one long finger grazed along the gold sequins. Could he buy himself a little time if he played along? Damn, but he wished he were a better actor at this moment.
"What am I doing here?" said Sanzo.
He ground his teeth saying it, but at least those fingers left him alone as Zakuro answered.
"Your new position?" Said Zakuro. "Why, you are now the crown jewel of my harem! A most loved and revered catamite!"
"Harem?" said Sanzo.
Oh, shit. The whole setup made a sick kind of sense now.
He felt terribly faint as the blood roared in his ears. Zakuro's fingers crept back between his legs and gave the sequins there a gentle stroke. Sanzo thought he was going to puke, right in Zakuro's face. Fortunately, Zakuro quit molesting him and, instead, carefully drew him off the bed.
"And you shall obey my every whim, oh Golden Lotus of Great Auspiciousness, for my word is law in my kingdom, and you are of my kingdom now," said Zakuro.
It seemed then, that Zakuro had a brain cell or two after all, because he frowned at Sanzo's expression.
"Is something wrong?" he said.
"Of fucking course something's wrong," Sanzo said. "You kidnapped me, you whackjob!"
What Sanzo didn't add to that was that Zakuro was a psycho freak who was going to rape and, in all likelihood, kill and dismember his body. Instead, he watched the wheels turn in Zakuro's eyes.
"Ah," said Zakuro. "I see the problem now!"
Sanzo held his breath and sent a wordless prayer up.
"You are a virgin, oh decadent delight!"
For fuck's sake.
Sanzo was sure he was having a stroke. He whipped the chains up and over Zakuro's shoulders. Zakuro, apparently seeing this as some sort of positive move on Sanzo's part, held him in a tight, but tender, embrace, and poof, there went Sanzo's leverage. Out of spite, he slapped the chains against Zakuro. The bastard didn't even blink an eye.
"A virgin in my harem need not fear rough treatment," said Zakuro, solicitous in Sanzo's ear. "You will find I am a kind master who will tend your every need, including this."
Zakuro clapped his hands, and two scantily clad redheads, one smiling, one stern, came through a doorway disguised behind an upholstered panel on the far wall.
"Choose," said Zakuro. "You may choose one with which to start your carnal journey."
Sanzo felt himself goggling. The red-head on the left gave him a wink.
"Just play along," said the redhead out of the corner of his mouth. "He's nuts, but he pays good."
Sanzo was affronted that anyone might think he was doing this to be paid.
"I'm not a whore," he said.
The redhead gave the tiniest frown.
"You're not?" he said. "But…"
"No, I'm not," said Sanzo.
"If you are hesitant to choose, I assure you there is no wrong choice," said Zakuro. "Each member of my harem is a delight and a joy to behold, and each would be eminently suitable for your deflowering."
Sanzo's brain stumbled over the concept of deflowering.
"Kougaiji and Gojyo-" and here Zakuro motioned to Sanzo's right and left- "are merely two who might whet your appetites. You will meet the others later."
Sanzo swore, then and there, that he was never going to leave home again, not for business and certainly not under a misguided sense of curiosity about the world. No more backpacking, no first class plane rides, no hotels or motels. Nothing. He swatted at Zakuro's hands, which had been inching toward those fucking sequins again.
"I'm not a virgin, either," said Sanzo. "And what makes him think I'm going to have sex with any of you?"
Since he was having no luck getting through to Zakuro, he directed his comments at Gojyo.
"Believe me, sweet cheeks," said Gojyo. "You've never done anything like this before."
Gojyo winked salaciously, his eyes flicking down to Sanzo's crotch. Sanzo was appalled to find himself hardening from the animal friction Zakuro was applying to him.
"Besides," said Gojyo. "He'll probably get bored in a couple hours and you'll be able to sneak out."
Sanzo couldn't believe this.
"You're not going to call the police?" said Sanzo. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
He began to panic. Zakuro seemed oblivious to everything but rubbing and touching and murmuring nonsense in Sanzo's so-called virgin ears. It was humiliating to the extreme, and it was all the worse because there were witnesses.
"Fuck no," said Gojyo. "He's my employer. And why would you turn down an afternoon of the best sex you'll ever have, huh? You can't possibly be straight, not the way you're acting."
"His hands are on my dick," said Sanzo. "What am I supposed to do, huh? What if he decides to squeeze?"
Gojyo burst out laughing. Sanzo didn't find anything funny about it. Zakuro's hands were talented, and Sanzo was feeling things he hadn't felt in years and he was damned if he was going to feel anything in the arms of a possible serial killer.
"I'll make the call for you," said Kougaiji. "But it might take a while for help to come. Zakuro's astonishingly well connected, and he doesn't like interruptions when he's playing."
Sanzo thought this was probably pretty accurate. They'd been talking this whole time, and Zakuro hadn't batted an eyelash, even at the mention of the police and the kidnapping and everything else. Was he completely brainless or just selectively deaf? Maybe he just couldn't see beyond his fantasy that he'd created. Not that it was a fucking excuse for kidnapping and…whatever this thing with the harem was supposed to be. That kind of focused oblivion scared the shit out of Sanzo.
At least it was less likely that he was going to be killed, if these two were anything to judge by. They didn't look murdered, and Gojyo claimed to have survived quite a bit…and he seemed eager to share his survival techniques, if the bulge in his gauzy outfit were anything to judge by.
Gojyo cackled when he caught Sanzo looking.
"Ah, I see you have found my dear Gojyo to be to your liking," said Zakuro. "Very well. Kougaiji, you may leave us, for the moment. Later, you shall know the delights of our newest golden treasure."
The other redhead bowed and left. Sanzo only hoped he kept his word. He wanted out of this nightmare, now.
=====
Aaaand if I'm really lucky, I'll write some more of this some time soon... *tempts self*
~later