Slave to Her Passions

Part 1: The Best Laid Plans

Bleach; Ichihime AU

Word count: 3479

Warning: none

Disclaimer: all characters herein are the property of Kubo Tite.

~o0o~

Heat rose from the swirling white sands in hypnotic waves, dancing and swaying across the barren land. The sun beat down from a clear sky, blinding, burning, and deadly. The desert was no place for the weak. Only the strong survived its inhospitable nature.

There was nothing here. Shifting dunes, scorching sun, and brittle trees dominated the harsh scenery. Rocky crags jutted from the ground at odd intervals, providing some semblance of shade and shelter in the unforgiving landscape, and a perfect place to spy on the unsuspecting.

He sat back in the saddle and relaxed when he noticed, there in the distance, a roiling cloud of dust rising along the horizon.

Just what he was looking for.

His sharp teeth gleamed white in the unrelenting sun as he lowered his spyglass. The man's blue eyes crinkled at the corners in delightful expectation. "There they are."

"Are you certain he is among them?"

He brushed his uncommon blue hair out of his eyes and scanned the winding paths below, once more. "Yeah, there's no mistaking that hair anywhere." He said confidently and he returned his glass to the pouch under his woven robes.

"Good. You may proceed, General."

The blue haired general felt a bolt of raw adrenaline surge through him. His maniacal grin grew as his fingers clasped and unclasped the hilt of his sword. Finally, it was time to give that rude bastard back some of his own. Ready to surge forward and let the carnage begin, a firm hand on his forearm roughly hauled him back.

"Remember, Grimmjow, I want him alive."

General Jaegerjaquez watched the haughty man release his arm and turn his horse aside in one easy motion, and he curled his lips in contempt before acquiescing. "Yes, my lord."

His boss and companion left him to proceed with his brutal work and Grimmjow returned to watching the slow progress of carts and wagons traveling through the winding paths below a second longer. His heart raced. His prey waited. It was time.

He pulled the gleaming scimitar from the braided belt at his waist and raised it in the air before bringing it down in a slashing motion.

His signal sent his band of fierce raiders thundering down into the valley towards the unsuspecting caravan.

~o0o~

"My lady, get up!"

A busty blonde-haired woman hurried into the dimly lit room, gesturing wildly for her young mistress to put her book down and move. She plucked the tome from the princess's fingers when she didn't move fast enough for her tastes and further chided her protégé in a singsong voice. "Get up, lord Aizen is home."

Rangiku Matsumoto watched the bright, cheerful smile melt off the redheaded princess' face as her words penetrated whatever pleasant daydream her book had inspired. The corners of her lush, mobile mouth tightened as she glanced at the cover and her underdeveloped sense of remorse kicked in. Fairytales. Only her fanciful charge still believed that somewhere out there in this hard, cruel world a handsome prince on a snow white horse was waiting to sweep her off her dainty little feet.

But she knew better. There were no kind-hearted princes. Dreams were a luxury the princess could ill afford in a world where men sought power by any means possible. The only options a woman had to survive were to align herself with a strong, powerful man, which Rangiku had done, without once looking back.

A second companion rose from her chair and narrowed her indigo eyes at the priceless book the blonde woman negligently tossed to the carpeted floor. Rukia Kuchiki, the adopted sister of a noble, she was reserved in manner and watched the world through shrewd eyes. Eyes that had seen too much of the world before Byakuya Kuchiki had generously taken her into his household.

"You wouldn't by chance be eager to see your man again, now would you, Matsumoto."

"Well, there is that, I've missed Gin terribly." Rangiku said unrepentantly as she tugged Princess Orihime to her feet, "but I also heard that the lord has brought home a special gift for our young lady." She playfully pinched Orihime's soft ivory cheek.

Rukia paused with her hand hovering over the discarded book as an apprehensive chill raced down her spine. She glanced up at the confused face of the redheaded princess and bit back her unfavorable reply before muttering under breath. "That surely can't be good."

Rangiku danced around the still figure of the princess, holding up one colored tunic after another and ignored the other woman's comment. "Maybe he is finally going to make you his bride, my lady."

"You can't be serious, can you?" Rukia said, arching a disbelieving brow at the busty, blonde-haired woman.

She silently fumed and placed her armload of books back in the iron bound chest beside the wall. Rangiku's lackadaisical attitude and lax morals often had Rukia grinding her teeth in aggravation. However, the way she deliberately encouraged Orihime to align herself with Aizen was almost more than she could stand.

"How is it that you are unable to see just what kind of man lord Aizen is? Let alone see that your own man is cut from the same cloth."

Rangiku brushed off the petite woman's cutting remark before replying. "Oh, I know Gin does things a little …unorthodoxly. But he is his own man, unlike yours, Rukia."

"B-but you …Renji …" Rukia stammered, feeling irritated and put on the spot by the blonde woman's snide comment. She pulled in a steadying breath before trying to explain the differences in their situations. "There are certain circumstances that you don't know about, Rangiku."

"Regardless of these mysterious circumstances," Rangiku airily waved her hand through the air as a superior smirk curled her lips, "Renji will always be a dog in the service of a stronger master, if not lord Aizen, then to your brother."

"Take that back." Rukia's indigo eyes flashing dangerously as she advanced on the rudely dismissive woman.

"Please, don't argue."

A gentle voice stopped their argument in its tracks. Rukia shared a guilty look with her blonde companion before glancing at the young woman standing near a high arched window. She silently scolded herself for letting Rangiku rile her -yet again- especially when her friend was anxious over their imminent guest. They were supposed to be dressing their charge, not bickering.

Princess Orihime lightly touched the delicate flowered pins in her hair and a warm smile spread across her face as she turned to face her wonderful friends and mentors. "Both the men in your lives have their good qualities. Ichimaru is extremely loyal to his lord, and Renji is both strong and kind."

"Thank you, my lady." Rukia dropped her eyes. The princess always managed to find some good in everyone and everything.

Rukia knelt to tie the bottoms of Orihime's billowing blue silk pants and then fastened jeweled bangles around her trim ankles before standing to look over the princess' outfit with a critical eye.

The lord of the house preferred his pet to be dressed in costly fabrics and jewels when he visited. Not that he actually referred to Orihime as his pet, it was just the feeling she got from watching them. Aizen liked to play with the princess. Not games per say, but with her young impressionable mind. The lord enjoyed taunting and teasing Orihime, praising her with one hand while punishing her with the other, leaving her scared, confused, and defenseless.

The topmost closure on the princess' heavily embroidered brocade vest didn't want to cooperate and refused to fasten. Rukia struggled to bring the two straining halves together over Orihime's impressive breasts before finally securing the gold button. She then barely managed to avoid losing an eye as Orihime flailed her hands in apology.

Rukia assured her friend she didn't have to apologize for every little thing. She twisted her lips in consternation and brushed trailing black bangs out of her eyes. The princess' vest barely contained the young woman's breasts and left her gently rounded stomach bare. Orihime had a figure men coveted and desired. Someday soon, someone would lay claim to that innocent body, probably the lord of the house.

And no matter how much she despised lord Aizen, there was nothing she could do about it.

She frowned darkly at the thought, hating the feeling of being helpless and stepped back as Rangiku slipped a sheer topaz colored silk caftan over the princess' head. She silently admired how stunning Orihime looked in the selected shades of blue and honey gold, all the while wishing to dress her in unflattering clothing, like sackcloth or rough homespun, or maybe, even an all-encompassing djellaba. Anything to keep men's eyes from lingering on the sweetly naïve girl.

Rukia accepted a gold filigree girdle from Rangiku before belting it around the princess' narrow waist. The cloying smell of jasmine and orange blossoms filled the air as she uncapped the cut glass flagon of perfume handed to her. She gave Orihime a reassuring smile and dabbed scent behind her small ears and at her wrists while ignoring the pulse pounding beneath her fingers.

Orihime was scared. Of course, she was. No one ever knew what to expect when the lord was in residence.

She pushed those thoughts from her mind and concentrated on preparing the princess, regardless of her personal feelings. A veil was laid over the princess' long russet hair and her blue jewel clips shaped like flower secured the delicate fabric near her temples.

Rukia wished -not for the first time- she could have mentored this gentle girl under different circumstances. Someone as sweet and loving as the princess deserved more than to be kept as a virtual prisoner in her own home by a counterfeit lord.

A sharp knock at the door had them lifting their heads in surprise. Rangiku cheerily called for them to enter as the women's bodyguard poked his head around the opening.

To say that he was their bodyguard was actually a lie. In truth, he was Rukia's personal guard and a rarity in the women's quarters. Her brother sent Renji Abarai, his trusted lieutenant, to watch over her while she was in this household, and by default, he took over the duties of protecting the princess and her guardian, Rangiku.

"Lord Aizen, has requested an audience with the princess, if it so pleases her."

Rukia met her childhood friend's eyes. Renji's gaze was always pained when pressed to deliver these messages. They both knew that the lord's pretty request was nothing more than a thinly veiled demand. There was no question of the princess denying him. Aizen tolerated disobedience from no one within these marble walls.

~o0o~

Swift footsteps moved across the shining tiles. Flashes of color from the extensive gardens appeared through the arched doorways on either side of the long hallway as the two men strode confidently towards their destination. They stepped through a wide arch into the house's covered central courtyard lavishly decorated with ornate walls and ceilings held up by thick stone columns.

"I do hope she likes my surprise." Aizen, lord of Inoue House, said and his silver haired companion chuckled.

"You picked it out especially for her. What's there for her not to like." Gin Ichimaru said as he followed his lord through another set of doors. Dressed as befitting his station in a wide sleeved tawny robe trimmed in burgundy thread, and a gleaming sword belted at his waist. He was a tall and slender man with a crafty disposition and an unsettling smile who had long been in his lord's service. Gin was loyal to his lord, and no one else.

The corner of Aizen's mouth lifted in amusement. He was certain Orihime wouldn't like many things about his gift, and he was anticipating her reaction. He brushed an errant lock of brown hair off his forehead as Gin directed a guard at the end of the hall to open the doors to the mabeyin.

They stepped through without pause into a circular room lined with many doors. A single bench stood against the wall and a domed ceiling decorated with a blue and white tiled mosaic loomed high overhead. Other than a rarely used exception, it was the only way in and out of the harem.

His robe of fine white silk flowed about him as Aizen strode forward. The princess stood outside a pair of richly carved doors on the opposite side of the room. Her two mentors silently flanked her, under the watchful gaze of their scarlet haired guard.

Normally, there were no men allowed inside the women's quarters except for a select few, and those were always eunuchs. However, Renji was a special exception. His unswerving loyalty to his lord, along with his slavish adoration of his lord's petite sister, granted him the privilege of keeping his manhood intact. As long as he had only eyes for the black haired stubborn shrew with the cutting tongue, Aizen would bend tradition and permit him access to the seraglio.

Besides, after today, Aizen intended to refashion tradition to fit his purposes, even further.

His beautiful ward stepped forward to greet him. A vision in rich silks and jewels, Orihime was always a pleasant sight to return home to, other than the fact that her full mouth was set in a straight line, unsmiling.

"Welcome home, my lord."

"Tsk, why such a long face?" Aizen asked smoothly as his long fingers slipped under the edge of her veil to play with a lock of her silky hair. He leaned near, letting his breath brush over her cheek. "You should smile more often, my little bird. Overcast skies blot out the sun and that always brings people's spirits down."

No reaction. It wasn't as if he was expecting one anyway. The princess could very well be fashioned out of ice, instead of the sun he likened her to, for all the life she exhibited. No matter. Aizen wanted the power and riches that came with her name. She would be the perfect wife, of noble birth, powerful family ties to the sultanate, and utterly submissive. There was just one final plan he wanted to bring to fruition.

"It was recently brought to my attention that there are some gaps in your education."

Orihime blinked at him in silence and ran the tip of her pink tongue over her bottom lip, giving herself a moment to gather her courage, "In what way am I lacking, my lord?"

"I would never think to criticize your late brother, but your old mentor, Hinamori, was remiss in not teaching you how to best please your future husband. Women your age are normally already married or under the protection of another." His dark eyes moved pointedly from Rukia's tightly disapproving face to the gleefully smirking face of her blonde companion.

The corners of his mouth lifted in a parody of a smile as he turned back to face Orihime. "I wouldn't want you to feel in any way inferior or self-conscious when you go to your husband, so I have made arrangements to resolve this matter." Aizen said, his eyes never leaving hers as he called for his general to enter.

Grimmjow swaggered into the room with a victorious grin, prodding a hooded figure forward with the sheathed end of his sword. He stopped a few feet from his lord and kicked his prisoner in the back of the knees, sending him crashing to the floor before he roughly pulled the white linen sack from his captive's head with a flourish.

Blindfolded and with a filthy gag stuffed into his mouth, the prisoner kneeled on the hard tiles, frozen, his only motion was his nose flaring with each breath he took. Grimmjow threaded long fingers through his captive's unbelievable shock of orange hair and tugged the kneeling man's head back, exposing his sweat-streaked throat and heaving chest, his once fine tunic hanging in tatters off his muscled shoulders.

"A gift for you, my little bird," Aizen captured Orihime's eye before dropping his gaze meaningfully to the man bound in front of them, "your own personal slave."

.

.

.

Her wide brown eyes followed Aizen's sweeping hand as he gestured to the man on the floor. "My lord, you're not serious." Orihime said with a choked voice. She was horrified he thought to buy her a slave.

The orange haired man drew her attention as he strained against Grimmjow's hold to turn his head towards her. She felt her heart break over his unfortunate circumstances. She wasn't naïve. Orihime knew that owning slaves was an accepted part of their culture, but it was abhorrent practice to her. She didn't want any part of it.

"I would have expected you to be more grateful, Orihime."

A chill ran down her spine. The fight died out of her as quickly as it had risen at Aizen's use of her given name. It was an unspoken threat, an order, one she was quick to obey.

"I-I am grateful." Orihime submissively dropped her head and stared at the tiles through tear-filled eyes. "Thank you for your generosity." She was afraid to speak further; she knew another word from her mouth would mean this man's death. A horribly painful death, one Aizen would force her to witness.

"Good. I want you to bed him." Aizen stated bluntly before continuing, paying no attention as her eyes bugged out and her face flushed with bright color. "You are to learn what pleases you, and then -in turn- learn how to give pleasure to a man."

What? Her breath stalled painfully in her chest. Bed him? She was numb. Completely numb. Frozen. She heard Rukia gasp in horror while her blonde-haired mentor on her right chuckled, probably well amused by the lord's immoral order.

"You're giving my prey to this woman," Grimmjow said dismissively, his flashing blue eyes raking over her tense figure, "to use as a love slave?" He yanked his captive back further, bowing his restrained body in an uncomfortable arc and muffled shouts could be heard from behind the gag.

"You may leave us, General Jaegerjaquez." Aizen lifted brown eyes to spear his subordinate with a direct gaze, letting him know that he heard his complaint, but chose to ignore them, as always. "I have no further need of your services today."

Grimmjow's hand dropped to the hilt of his sword before he noticed Gin step out from behind his lord, an anticipatory smile spreading across his face. He ground his teeth together and released his grip on his prey. His hard gaze flicked from to the orange haired man at his feet to the pale faced princess before he turned on his heel and stomped from the room.

"As you wish, my lord."

~o0o~

Soft golden light illuminated the hunched figure of a well-built man sitting in a chair. Important papers littered his desk, forgotten and relegated to the far corners of his mind as he stared thoughtfully into the fire. He rolled his glass between big calloused palms, not even looking up at the whisper of sound coming from the doorway.

He drained his drink set it aside without removing his gaze from the flickering flame. "Did you find out where he was taken?"

"Yes, I was able to follow undetected." His visitor carefully unwound the dark linen obscuring her –undeniably- female features. Her dark hair, rich with purple hues, was pulled into a high ponytail with loose tendrils dancing around her expressive face.

Yoruichi Shihōin smiled deviously as she dropped her lithe body into a nearby chair. "Those caravan raiders were more than what they first appeared to be. They weren't your normal desert marauders."

The fire light played over his square jaw and sparse black beard as he curiously turned to face Yoruichi, "In what way?"

"They are working for someone else." A second visitor answered as he too stepped into the circle of light. Kisuke Urahara slowly pulled off the black hood covering his narrow face and ran his fingers through shaggy blonde hair that matched the scuff on his chin.

He returned his gaze to the dancing fire as he turned this new puzzle over in his mind. The room was silent until he glanced between Kisuke and Yoruichi and arched a questioning brow, "Any idea who?"

Yoruichi nodded her head in the affirmative and draped an arm over her upraised knee. "You're not going to like it." She said idly while twirling a small silver dagger from a fingertip.

"I will not abandon my son." His powerful fist came crashing down on the carved arm of his chair. Dark eyes that normally crinkled with amusement narrowed as he stared at his trusted friends. "Tell me."

"Yes, my lord Isshin."

~o0o~

Hope you enjoyed it, and yes, the rating will not stay at a T.

Remember, reviews are like little pieces of candy-coated motivation, kind of like skittles, only better. XD

Until next time, thanks for reading ~Rairakku