Kokoro no Hana

~An ItaSaku Story~

A/N: The English title of this fic is "Flower of the Heart." Read the whole thing before you review. (Waits for some idiot to flame about my supposed "miscategorization" after reading only the first paragraph xD). Read the footnotes if you want more info about the time period, but it's not necessary to understand the story. Also, there's a bit of an age difference between Itachi and Sakura in this story, and Sakura acts and thinks a bit differently because of her horrible past.

Warning: This is a lot different from my previous fics. It contains sexual content (including noncon), child abuse, and descriptions of poverty and sex trafficking. Please do not read if you are not prepared for something moderately dark/disturbing or if you are under 17. I do not want to be responsible for scarring you for life.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, and poor Kishimoto-sensei would probably have a heart attack if he stumbled upon this fic. Let's hope he never finds it, ne?

Chapter One

~The Gift~

London, somewhere in Cheapside. November 1774.

Heavy black smoke drifted eastward across the Thames, mixing with the sewage that overflowed the gutters. Unwashed bodies bumped and jostled each other on the crowded streets as otherwise grim, hardened women took sadistic pleasure in throwing buckets of human waste out their second story windows, heedless of the passerby below. The few people of means who visited this area held expensive smelling salts under their noses in a futile effort to ameliorate the foul stench.

Twelve-year-old Sarah Haring coughed harshly as the smoke burned her wide, green eyes and the evil smell assaulted her nostrils. She tried to stop and rest for a moment, but Kakuzu yanked the end of the chain that bound her hands together, forcing her to stumble down the street after him. Kakuzu was a slave trader. My new owner, Sarah reminded herself.

Sarah hadn't always been a slave. Half a year ago, she'd lived in a rat-infested corner of Cheapside with her parents, Jim and Sally Haring. She hadn't exactly been happy, but at least she'd been free. That is, until the night when everything changed…

OOOOOOO

"Find work today?"

Jim Haring grunted a negative. He was in one of his moods. His temper was directly dependent on how much food he'd recently consumed, and he hadn't been full for almost a week.

He was a patient man, but hunger turns even angels black.

Sarah whimpered in pain and fear as Jim lunged at her and grabbed a handful of her strawberry-colored hair.

"What's she doing here?"

Sally stared at him fearfully. "She's your daughter…"

Jim spit on the ground at Sarah's feet.

"Your daughter, not mine. She has your eyes. How'd she get the hair? You fuck an elf or fairy?"

The first time her father had claimed she wasn't his daughter, Sarah had been hurt and confused. She knew that most children looked a bit like their parents, while she barely resembled her mother and looked nothing like her father. However, she had never gone the next step and questioned whether she was actually their child. Her mother had reassured her.

"You are your father's daughter. He puts too much stock in looks."

Now, she fixed her husband with a look of her own.

"You need to leave."

She handed him her last twopenny bit and said,

"Come back once you've had something to eat."

He was back two hours later, and it was evident that he had spent the money on liquor rather than on food. However, he was in high spirits as he plunked a bag full of copper coins down on the dirt floor of their house.

"We dine on steak tonight!" he announced.

Sarah clapped her hands together happily.

Sally blanched. "Where did you get all this money?"

"We'll talk about it later," Jim said, not meeting her eyes. "Where's my lovely daughter?"

Sarah threw her arms around him.

"You see?" Sally murmured in his ear. "I don't know how her hair came pink, but it doesn't mean she isn't yours."

"It doesn't matter now," Jim said quietly.

The door was thrown open before she had time to ponder his strange reply. Two tough-looking men entered, while a third waited outside. A streetlight illuminated half of his body, while the other half was hidden in shadow.

"Is this the girl?" one of the men asked.

"Yes."

The other man tore Sarah from her father and clamped shackles around her wrists. Sarah was too surprised to resist.

Sally Haring stared at her husband in horror.

"You sold our daughter?"

The man was pulling Sarah toward the door now, but she really didn't want to leave. She struggled and screamed and hissed and bit, but his arm was like iron and he wouldn't let go.

"Sarah!" Sally yelled.

She grabbed the man's arm and said, "Please don't take my daughter! She's all I have left! We'll give you back the money, so please—"

He shook her off.

"I don't need your money, lady. Zetsu pays well."

"Mother!" Sarah screamed. "Momma!"

"Sarah!"

The man hit her on the back of the head, and the world spun.

The last thing she saw was her father's face. His eyes glistened with unshed tears.

OOOOOOO

She had spent the next couple of months in the company of Zetsu and the two thugs. She hadn't liked the way they'd touched her, but at least Zetsu wouldn't let them take off her clothes. He stopped them not out of concern for her, but because she wouldn't fetch as much if she were defiled.

A few days ago, Zetsu had sold her to another slave trader named Kakuzu. She'd been grateful to escape the filthy, grabby hands of the two thugs, whose names she'd already managed to strike from her memory. Earlier that day, Kakuzu had bought another girl. Her name was Emma. She had long, silky, strawberry blonde hair, sharp brown eyes, and a slim, wavy form. She was a few years older than Sarah, and much more experienced.

"You've never been with a man before?"

Sarah shook her head.

"Right, well, there's a few things you should know. Men don't have the same parts we do. Theirs is long and thin, like a… um…"

"Like a sausage?" Sarah supplied.

"Sure," Emma said sarcastically. "Anyway, they'll stick their er- sausage, inside of you, and it'll hurt like hell. Some of them will beat you as they take their pleasure. Don't resist; they'll only hit harder. Understand?"

Sarah nodded solemnly.

"Most importantly, you must never, never let yourself be sold to a fat man, no matter how rich."

"K-Kakuzu told me I should try to get bought by a rich man who could take care of me…"

"Kakuzu's a slimy git. He don't give a damn about you. Money's all he cares about innit?" Emma said. She shot him a contemptuous glare as he haggled with another trader over the price of two girls. The other trader had hired a thug to watch over Kakuzu's "property," but the fellow paid them no heed. It wasn't as though they could go anywhere, not after that their feet had been bound same as their hands.

"Listen to Emma now."

The older girl leaned closer to Sarah and lowered her voice.

"I knew a girl, a couple years back, who was sold to the Viscount of Denby. A larger man you never did see. His rolls of fat had fat on them; all the while his people starved. Damn pigs," Emma paused to spit on the ground, indicating her opinion of the nobility. "Anyway, he took her to his bed and had his way with her. After a few thrusts, he was so tired he collapsed on top of her and fell asleep. The next day, she was dead. Suffocated, you know."

Sarah stared at Emma in shock and horror. She was almost glad when Kakuzu returned and distracted her from her fears of what was to come with the brutal present. Emma was sold less than a day later, but her story stayed with Sarah for weeks. She awoke, shivering, from nightmares of being buried alive under mounds of stinking flesh. She resolved that she would not be sold to a fat man no matter what Kakuzu said. Unfortunately, her potential buyers' lust seemed matched only by their gluttony.

So she scowled,

And she glared,

And she puffed out her stomach,

And she rubbed dirt on her face,

And she bit her thumb,

And it worked.

Unfortunately, it worked a bit too well. It was only a matter of time before Kakuzu caught on. When he did, he got very, very angry. He backhanded her so hard she fell to the ground, and he continued to beat her until she could barely walk.

He didn't give her anything to eat for three days.

A week later, he introduced her to another customer by the name of Gatou. Gatou was old and fat and ugly.

Her arms and legs were covered with that sickly yellowish green tint that you get when a bruise starts to heal, but she washed her face,

And she sucked in her stomach,

And she folded her hands neatly in her lap,

And she smiled.

She didn't care if he took off her clothes.

She didn't care if he called her a whore.

She didn't care if he stuck his thing inside of her and split her wide open.

She didn't even care if he suffocated her afterwards, because she thought perhaps dying would be less painful than living.

"Three hundred," said Kakuzu.

"For that sickly thing? She isn't worth more than fifty."

"She is pure."

"So you say…"

No sooner were these words out of Gatou's mouth than Kakuzu lifted Sarah onto the donkey, hiked her skirt up above her hips, and spread her thighs apart. She squirmed in protest against this indignity, but Kakuzu held fast. Her lack of undergarments allowed Gatou to easily examine the unbroken skin covering her entrance (1).

Gatou whistled. "So she is. I'll give you one fifty."

"Deal."

OOOOOOO

Sarah stepped out of the coach and into a different world.

Is this still London?

The air was cleaner here on the West side, and people rode in horse-drawn carriages and dressed in fancy clothes. The few ladies who strolled along the street hid their pretty faces beneath embroidered parasols. At first, Sarah thought they meant to protect themselves from flying excrement, but no, the maids were too proper to empty chamber pots out the windows. There was no place for the common or the vulgar here.

The houses were as large and grand as the people, perhaps even more so. Each building was four or five stories high and three or four carriage lengths long, and bore the name of a single wealthy family. Grand glass windows let lots of light inside the airy dwellings, and small but well-tended gardens lined the walkways. If not for the heavy chains that still bound her wrists, Sarah would've thought she'd died and gone to heaven.

"Get moving," the man called Zabuza growled, shoving Sarah forward as Kakuzu would've done. Zabuza had ridden in the carriage with her on the way to Gatou's house, and Gatou had introduced him as one of his bodyguards. Tall, shirtless, and covered in battle scars, Zabuza looked every bit as tough as a seasoned warrior should.

However, Gatou's other bodyguard was a brown-haired, brown-eyed girl scarcely older than Sarah herself. Sarah didn't understand how she could deter anyone who wished to harm her employer, and she'd unthinkingly said as much. She'd expected the girl to hit her afterwards, but Haku had merely replied, "I'm more dangerous than I look."

After her brief conversation with Haku, Sarah had spent the rest of the carriage ride dreading what would happen once they reached Gatou's house. She'd hated the way he'd looked at her when Kakuzu had granted him a peek between her legs. He'd actually salivated over her half-naked body in his lust. Now that he owned her, he'd be able to touch her in private places and make her do dirty things. He wouldn't hesitate to shame her. Why should he? He saw her not as a person, but as an object he could use however he desired.

Sarah wasn't surprised when Gatou called her to his bedroom as soon as they reached his house, but she was surprised when he informed her that he did not intend to keep her. She was to be a gift for his business partner, Itachi Uchiha. Sarah told herself not to hope, that this Itachi would probably be as unpleasant as Gatou himself.

After he finished speaking to her, Gatou took Sarah to a room down the hall and locked her in. The room was tiny and dull, with no furniture but a bed and table and no light but a candle. Sarah closed her eyes and dreamed she was a proper lady, with a wardrobe full of jewelry and ball gowns. She had servants to satisfy her every whim, and there were no dirty old men to hurt or shame her. She was awoken a few hours later by the sound of the key turning in the lock.

Haku entered and placed a bowl of soup on the table. Sarah supposed she was told to leave after delivering the food, but she lingered for a while to offer Sarah some companionship while she ate. Haku didn't say anything, but Sarah suspected the older girl somehow knew she was feeling lonely. Finally, Sarah asked if Gatou was certain he was going to give her away.

"I'm afraid so. Don't you want to go?"

"I don't want to leave you," Sarah answered honestly. "You're such a nice girl."

"…I'm a boy."

Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Haku skeptically. She may be a poor, ignorant girl from Cheapside, but she did know how to tell the difference between a girl and a boy!

"If you're a boy, why are you wearing a dress?"

"It's not a dress, it's a yukata," Haku explained. "It's worn by both men and women."

"Oh. Sorry."

Sarah's cheeks burned.

He wasn't laughing at her, but his big brown eyes danced with poorly concealed amusement.

"It's fine. Even Gatou thinks I'm a girl." (2)

"Does Zabuza know?"

"Yes, but we've been together a long time."

His expression turned serious as he said,

"You should get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow."

Sarah climbed onto the bed and closed her eyes.

"Good night, Haku."

Haku hesitated for a second before he tucked her in and gently kissed her forehead.

"Good night, Sarah."

OOOOOOO

Sarah was shaken awake at dawn the next morning and given a bowl of porridge to gulp down before she was fully alert. She yelped as a maid stripped off her filthy clothes and shoved her in a large basin full of freezing water. The woman mercilessly attacked the accumulated layers of dirt and grime, rubbing Sarah's skin raw. Sarah wished that Haku was the one helping her bathe, since Haku had always been gentle with her. Then she blushed, remembering that Haku was actually a boy.

The maid dried her off and dressed her in a pretty red dress and a matching hair ribbon. It had taken so long to untangle Sarah's disheveled pink hair, Gatou was almost ready to leave by the time they were done. The maid frowned at Sarah and admonished her not to get dirt on her new dress as she sent her out to meet Zabuza and Gatou.

Sarah was disappointed that Haku was not there to see her off, but at least Gatou finally removed her chains. He wanted her to look presentable for Itachi, and he realized that she wasn't going to try to escape with Zabuza nearby.

They arrived at Itachi's residence shortly before noon. It wasn't any larger than the homes on either side, but it was more tastefully decorated. Itachi seemed to prefer simple functionality over ostentatious displays of wealth. A maid met them at the door and showed Gatou to Itachi's sitting room, while Sarah waited in the hall. Zabuza stayed with Sarah to ensure she didn't run off. He seemed less than happy at having to perform a duty he clearly saw as beneath him. Fortunately for Sarah, Gatou's instructions not to damage her unless it was necessary prevented Zabuza from venting his displeasure on her.

Sarah and Zabuza were invited into the kitchen to eat with Itachi's servants after Gatou and Itachi finished their midday meal, and that's where the maid found them twenty minutes later as Itachi and Gatou concluded their business.

She glanced at Zabuza fearfully, as if afraid he was going to cleave her in half with his large sword, and said, "Sir, your employer would like you to bring him the slave girl."

Zabuza grabbed Sarah by the arm and dragged her down the hall, Sarah walking as fast as she could to keep up. As they approached the sitting room, Sarah could hear voices coming from inside.

"…should bring you considerable pleasure. She has yet to feel a man's touch."

That was Gatou speaking. They were talking about her, Sarah realized.

"Not even yours?" a calm, quiet voice returned.

Gatou chuckled nervously. "I would never give you used goods. Only the best for my esteemed business partner."

"Hn," Itachi said. It was impossible to tell from that one short syllable what he thought of Gatou's gift.

Zabuza knocked and Gatou said,

"Ah, that must be Zabuza with the girl. Come in, come in."

Zabuza opened the door and waited for Sarah to walk inside, but her feet were frozen with fear. She stumbled a little as Zabuza pushed her roughly forward. After she'd caught her balance, she looked up at her new master and bit back a gasp. Itachi was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. He was young, although not as young as Sarah herself… most likely in his early to mid twenties. His body was tall and lithe, yet somehow gave an impression of carefully controlled power. He seemed to flow smoothly from one motion into another, like a tributary stream as it fed into a lake or ocean.

His face was clean-shaven, framed by long, silky greyblack hair that was fastened securely at the nape of his neck. He had an elegant jaw, high cheekbones, and calm, emotionless eyes of such a dark grey as to be almost black. His handsome features were marred only by two deep facial lines, which cut across his pale cheeks and gave him an aged, worldweary air.

He wore a simple, tasteful shirt with a modest ruffle at the sleeve, tan breeches, white silk stockings, and leather shoes. His custom-tailored silk waistcoat was partially covered by a maroon cutaway coat that complemented his dark eyes. Warm, patent leather gloves covered large, graceful hands that rested casually at his side. (3)

Sarah glanced quickly at Gatou for reassurance before giving Itachi a tentative smile.

Itachi glanced at Sarah and took in her small, undeveloped body and clean red dress. A red hair ribbon was tied into a bow at the top of her head, pulling her pink bangs away from her rather large forehead. Itachi supposed her outfit was intended to emphasize her youth and innocence, but the effect was juvenile.

A woman? Hardly. She's only a child.

Gatou was still looking at him, gauging his reaction.

"Thank you for providing such a thoughtful gift," Itachi murmured. He looked over at Zabuza and said,

"Would you take the girl to my bedroom while we conclude our business here? It's up the staircase, first door on the right."

Zabuza bowed to Itachi and left, Sarah in tow.

OOOOOOO

Zabuza brought her to a large, sparsely furnished room with a bed, a desk, a nightstand, and a few small paintings hung here and there. He threw her inside and locked the door, the bolt sliding shut with a terrible finality. For a minute, she could hear his footsteps retreating down the hallway. Then, there was silence.

Sarah had never felt so afraid. The anticipation made it worse. At Gatou's she had felt somewhat safe, since he had told her he was saving her for Itachi. But now… Itachi might enter the room at any minute, strip her down and hurt her. She supposed that someone young and handsome would at least be better than someone old, fat, and ugly, but she didn't want to give herself toanyoneyet. Not that way.

She missed kind, gentle Haku, talkative Emma, and her warm, loving mother. She even missed her father a little bit. He was a horrible person for selling her into this life, even if he didn't think she was his. Still, the tears she'd seen in his eyes as she'd been dragged away suggested that he regretted what he had done.

Thinking about the family and friends she had lost brought tears to her own eyes, and she rested her head on her knees to hide her shamefully wet cheeks. A while later, she dimly registered the sound of the door sliding open. Itachi would probably take her now, but she felt so drained, she couldn't bring herself to care.

Itachi entered his room and glanced over at the crying child. Gatou obviously knew nothing about his taste in women. He couldn't understand how anyone could be sexually attracted to such a noisy, flat-chested little girl. He looked at her and felt only slight annoyance. Although, assuming Gatou hadn't lied about her virginity, she must have cost him a great deal. Perhaps she would fetch a good price.

"Come here, child," he commanded.

Sarah tried her best to stop sniffling and obediently trotted over to Itachi.

He lifted her chin to examine her face and was startled by her vibrant green eyes. They still held a spark of life and passion, despite the many trials she'd suffered. Itachi began to reconsider his decision to resell her.

"What's your name?"

"S-Sarah."

"Such a plain name," Itachi murmured. "It doesn't suit you."

Sarah didn't say anything. She'd never thought about it one way or the other.

Itachi looked over Sarah's shoulder at the Japanese brush painting of a Sakura tree that Mariko had loved so much. He noticed the girl's hair was the same shade of pink as the Sakura blossoms.

"Your new name will be Sakura."

Sakura blinked, confused. Did this elegant, commanding man have the power to change other people's names? She had never heard of such a thing, but if he said it, it must be true.

"How old are you, Sakura-chan?"

Sakura stared at him blankly for a second before she remembered that he was addressing her.

"Twelve, sir."

"Master," Itachi corrected.

"Twelve, Master."

"Hn."

Itachi couldn't believe anyone could be desperate or cruel enough to condemn a mere twelve-year-old to such a difficult life. How many men had already pawed at her backside and groped her non-existent breasts? Though her expression was guarded, he sensed a cautious optimism behind her lovely eyes, as if she wanted to trust him. She confirmed his suspicions when she leaned her cheek into the palm of his hand, drawing comfort from his simple touch. He allowed her a moment to rest her face against his leather-covered palm before he released her and rang the bell that sat on the right hand corner of the desk.

A few minutes later, a middle-aged woman named Tsunade appeared. She bowed deeply to Itachi and asked how she could be of service.

"Take Sakura-chan to the Blue Room."

"The Blue Room, Uchiha-sama?" Tsunade confirmed, her tone politely incredulous.

The Blue Room was a second bedroom, usually reserved for guests, which also stored Uchiha Mariko's scented bath oils and formal kimonos. Never before had a servant or slave been allowed inside the Blue Room.

"Yes. Bring her to the Blue Room and dress her in a kimono. Teach her how to serve tea and mend clothing. She will work under you as a seamstress until she is older."

There was no need to ask what Sakura would do when she came of age. Tsunade knew as well as Itachi that any slave as pretty and well dressed as Sakura was intended for her Master's sexual pleasure. Tsunade pitied the poor girl, for it was rumored that Itachi was even more difficult to satisfy in bed than he was in daily life.

"As you wish, Master."

OOOOOOO

~Four years later~

Itachi Uchiha lay his head back against the leather upholstery of his desk chair and closed his eyes, willing his headache to dissipate. He had spent the better part of the afternoon and evening tabulating his estate's income and expenses in the small, leather-bound ledger resting in the middle of his desk. Oh how he hated the book.

At least he was well off this year. Several of his overseas investments had made a profit. It didn't look as though he would need to dismiss any of his staff or sell any of his land, despite the wool scare that had struck his holdings in Sussex.

Itachi checked his pocket watch. Only 9 pm. He quickly ran through his mental list of things to do for the day and found he had an hour to himself. It was in this state of mind that he remembered Sakura.

I wonder how she's doing… the girl with the bright green eyes.

Itachi rang for a servant.

"Bring Sakura to me."

OOOOOOO

Sakura was in the Blue Room as usual, sitting in a rocking chair by the fire and mending a pair of Itachi's trousers. Most young women her age would find the work tedious, but Sakura liked to sew. It was a task that required quite a lot of concentration if done properly, and it helped take Sakura's mind off more painful things. For at least a few hours each day, her loneliness and depression were as invisible as her stitches.

Sakura jumped when she heard a sharp tap on the door.

"It's Tsunade. Get dressed, the Master wants to see you."

Sakura was so surprised she nearly dropped her needle and thread. Itachi hadn't called for her ever since the first night Gatou had brought her to live with him, over four years ago. And now, out of the blue… Sakura's mind was spinning. She felt as though she were twelve again. Why tonight? What would he do to her? Well, he would take her virginity. That much was clear. But, would he beat her? Would it hurt? Worse, what would happen afterward? What would become of her if she failed to please him? Would he sell her to someone else? Throw her out on the street?

Tsunade pushed the door open impatiently and entered the room.

"For God's sake, girl, hurry up!"

Sakura's sewing was forgotten as Tsunade helped her remove her English-style dress and don a formal kimono. She slipped her feet into zori sandals and shuffled demurely down the hallway toward Itachi's bedroom.

Sakura stood outside the door and took a deep breath before knocking hesitantly. She felt a bit overwhelmed by the task that was set before her. Four years of mending clothing, either alone or with only Tsunade for company, hadn't done much to accustom her to the Master's presence.

"You may enter."

Sakura complied, twisting the gold-plated doorknob and stepping inside the room. Her breath caught at the sight of him. He was every bit as attractive as she remembered, perhaps more so. The moonlight streaming through the open window made him appear both sensual and intimidating. She swept into a low bow, lest he think her rude for staring.

"Come here."

Sakura straightened and walked cautiously toward Itachi. She was unsurprised when he caught her face in his hand as he'd done the last time they'd met. He tilted up her chin and forced her to meet calm eyes that seemed to plumb the depths of her soul. She looked away, afraid of what he might find. He released her without reacting, but she somehow knew she had displeased him.

"Take off the kimono."

Sakura tried to obey, but her nervous fingers slipped ineffectually over the obi. He raised his hand and she stood her ground, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. However, violence wasn't what he had in mind as he undid the decorative sash and began to remove Sakura's kimono. His hands slid skillfully over the soft fabric despite being encumbered by the leather riding gloves he always wore.

Sakura waited apprehensively as Itachi folded the kimono and set it on a small table beside the bed. He might have bid her relax as he took off her juban, but the desperate pounding of her heart drowned out his quiet voice. Finally, she was clad only in a form fitting silk kimono slip. (4) Sakura bit her lip, all too conscious of the scandalous way the revealing garment clung to her body.

Itachi gave the slip a firm tug, watching carefully as the cloth fell away and pooled at Sakura's feet. Her hands instantly moved to cover herself, but he tugged them away so he could fully evaluate her form. Her curves were modest, but her pale skin looked soft and delicate. Her small breasts were round and pointed with pert, pink nipples that were hard from exposure to the cold air. Her humble chest tapered off to a slim stomach and slender thighs, which enclosed a tender mound that was tastefully covered with pale pink hair. He bid her turn around and noted her graceful back and firm, smooth buttocks. She'd filled out nicely in the last four years. He preferred more voluptuous women, but she would do.

Sakura wished she could somehow shield her body from his objectifying gaze. It took all her willpower to keep her hands balled in fists at her side, but she knew he'd be angry if she continued to disobey him. If he was anything like her father had been, his remarkable patience would only serve to make his eventual wrath more terrifying. She felt as though she was being given some sort of test, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to pass or fail.

"You've grown into a fine young woman, Sakura."

Her face flooded with heat at the compliment.

"I would like you to spend the night with me."

Sakura wasn't sure what to say to this or if he wished her to respond at all. She assumed this was the part where she was supposed to seduce him, but she wasn't sure how. Or should she act timid and naïve and let him take control?

Itachi settled the question for her. He gestured toward the bed and she lay shyly atop the sheets. Her heart pounded against her chest, and her breath became ragged as she worked herself up to a frenzy of nervous excitement. She knew she'd been given to him for sex. She'd known it for years. She thought she'd prepared for the inevitable, yet he'd somehow still managed to catch her unawares.

It's all happening too fast. I'm not ready…

Itachi stared down at her and Sakura shivered. She missed the scant protection her kimono and undergarments had afforded her against the chill November air. Noting her discomfort, Itachi crossed the room and closed the window. The air began to warm, but not quickly enough for the freezing Sakura. She'd nearly made up her mind to risk asking him if she could put her slip back on, when he took off his waistcoat and tossed it over her, covering her from neck to hips. Sakura snuggled gratefully under the soft fabric. Her legs were still exposed, but she knew that he intended to warm her lower body in quite a different manner.

I wish he'd get on with it already. I'm tired and cold and I want to go to sleep.

She felt the mattress dip as he sat on the bed beside her.

"How old are you now?" he asked suddenly.

"Sixteen, sir."

Itachi raised an eyebrow and Sakura blushed yet again.

"Sixteen, Master," she corrected herself.

"Is this your first time?"

"Yes, Master."

"You needn't be nervous. Just follow my lead and it should be a pleasant experience."

Pleasant for whom?

Itachi rested a gloved hand on Sakura's thigh and she spread her legs obediently, fully exposing herself to his casual gaze. She hated playing the whore, but she was afraid he would strike her if she failed to comply with his unspoken cues. She knew she had little control over whether he chose to be rough or gentle, but she wouldn't give him an excuse to cause her unnecessary pain.

Sakura watched as Itachi slowly peeled off his gloves. His hands were large, yet oddly delicate, with long, slender fingers. The veins stood out against his ivory skin.

It's like his body's sculpted out of marble.

Itachi placed the gloves on top of the nightstand next to the bed and began to stroke the inside of Sakura's thighs. Sakura shivered again, this time with pleasure. His hands were warmer and softer than she'd expected. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all…

His right hand moved to the place between her legs and began to play with her full outer lips, occasionally brushing against her entrance. He let each finger dip slightly inside before submerging his index finger all the way to the knuckle. It had been a long time since Itachi had last touched a woman in such an intimate manner, and he had forgotten how greedily they seemed to swallow his fingers in their haste to be pleasured. Judging by the sounds she was making, Sakura was especially eager to accept him.

Sakura moaned as he massaged her insides, thoroughly stretching and relaxing her tight cavity. He added another finger a few minutes later, and she relished the feeling of the pads of his fingers pressing into her warm, wet walls. His touch was deft and experienced, if not tender or loving. Every caress had her burning up in lust. She arched into his hand, trying to drive his fingers deeper inside her.

He ignored her body's protests as he withdrew, his fingers escaping her suction with a wet pop. She was red and swollen, and leaked all over the bed sheets. Itachi was mildly impressed. Even Mariko hadn't been as responsive to his touch.

Sakura whimpered pitifully, but Itachi merely smirked and wiped his hand against his breeches. When she reached down to relieve herself, he caught her wrist and shook his head. He would teach her patience.

Sakura watched as Itachi slowly unbuttoned his shirt and cast it aside. Normally, she would have liked to watch him undress, but in her painfully aroused state, she didn't care about anything else other than finding release. She had to sit on her hands to keep from touching herself. It was all she could do not to cry. She was half-crazy with need, and he was taking his sweet time. She hated him, but she also hated herself. She was supposed to lie there passively as he had his way with her, yet here she was, rubbing her thighs together restlessly, silently pleading with him to fill her. He would think her dirty and wanton, and perhaps she was. Would a normal woman beg for sex from the first attractive man to touch her down there?

Itachi stripped off his breeches and undergarments, reopened her legs, and settled himself atop her. He placed his elbows on the sheets on either side of her head, allowing them to support most of his weight. He looked deep into her eyes as he penetrated her, finally, finally quenching the fire inside. Sakura gave a small sigh of relief, which was almost immediately replaced by a gasp as his hot, hard member opened and stretched her in ways his fingers hadn't.

Itachi stilled for a moment after he'd gone as deep as he could comfortably go. Sakura shifted under him, grateful for the opportunity to adjust to the added bulk between her legs. It didn't hurt, but it was certainly an uncomfortable feeling.

She didn't have time to fully assess how she felt about the situation before he began rocking his hips in slow, shallow thrusts. Each thrust pressed her firmly into the soft mattress and forced him deeper inside her most private area. The sound of his skin slapping against hers disgusted her.

This isn't at all romantic.

Sakura closed her eyes and tried to forget that she was sleeping with a man who was not her husband, a man she hardly knew and certainly didn't love.

"No."

Sakura's eyelids fluttered open and she stared at him, confused.

"Look into my eyes."

Sakura was reluctant to obey. She didn't want to watch his eyes cloud over with lust, not after she'd finally managed to convince herself that he saw her as a person, rather than as a piece of meat. But he was her Master, and she must do as he said.

Sakura raised her eyes to Itachi's. She found no lechery there. His eyes held the same calm, serious expression as he pounded into her that they held when he drank tea, did his taxes, or discussed the weather.

It wasn't that he respected her enough to disguise his lust in daily life, it was simply that he didn't feel lust for her at all. The thought made Sakura want to scream.

Why did he call for me, if even he's not getting any pleasure from it? Why couldn't he just leave me alone?

Sakura tore her eyes from his. She couldn't watch as he fucked her so calmly, so emotionlessly. It was too disturbing. She expected a rebuke or even a blow, as he hadn't told her she could look away, but Itachi merely continued his thrusting. Perhaps she had already seen what he wanted her to see.

In truth, Itachi hadn't wanted her to see anything. He'd wanted to look into her eyes, to see beyond the soft, yielding body that squirmed uncomfortably under him as he thrust deeper into warmth and wetness. He wanted to recapture that spark of…something… he thought he'd felt when he'd looked deep into her eyes those four years ago.

One final thrust put him over the edge. Itachi gave a low, guttural moan as he felt weeks of accumulated tension leave him in a rush of vital fluids (5). He rested atop her only briefly before he pulled out and rolled onto his side, looking at Sakura dispassionately. The sex had gone as expected, much to his disappointment. Whatever he thought he'd seen in her, he'd apparently been mistaken. She was no different from all the other whores he'd fucked in the eight long years since his wife passed away. Physically, he felt wonderful. Mentally and emotionally, he felt nothing.

Itachi lazily waved her out of his room.

"You're dismissed."

OOOOOOO

Footnotes (ch 1):

(1) An intact hymen was supposedly proof of a girl's virginity. Note that this is NOT true, as the hymen can be broken in other ways besides intercourse (such as horseback riding), but they thought it was true back then, silly people =P.

(2) If Gatou had known Haku was a boy, he would have been afraid of Haku taking Sakura's virginity before he could give her to Itachi xD. She's so young, the thought is disgusting to us, but people had sex real early back then due to shorter lifespans… Oh and sorry for the slight HakuSaku if you're not into that, but I felt I had to include a little cuteness and comedy, since this story is pretty damn depressing.

(3) I believe this to be an essentially accurate description of what a British gentleman would have worn in this time period. Yes, men wore stockings (weird, I know). They also wore wigs and tricorn (sp?) hats, which look stupid imo, which is why Itachi doesn't wear one in this story.

(4) I believe this is an accurate description of the layers under the kimono. A juban is a pretty, kimono-shaped undergarment worn under the kimono, a kimono slip is (I think?) something like one-piece lingerie, and an obi is the decorative belt around the kimono, as implied in the story.

(5) This is what they called ejaculate back then xD.

Also, I have no idea if there was sheep farming in Sussex in the 17th century, although sheep farming was (and still is) a common industry in England, or if the Viscount of Denby was as fat as Emma claimed.

So, shall I continue this, or return to my less disturbing fare? I'm not sure, so review, please, if you want another chapter (although faving and alerting works too)! If I only get 4-5 reviews like usual, I might decide it's not worth all the research and writing time. Even if I do decide to continue, the next chapter probably won't be out for a few months, so keep checking my user profile for updates on the status of this story. I'm also moderately worried that this story will be removed, even though I consider it art rather than porn.