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Origins of the Spanish Ninja:Tastes Like Red Wine	By : lilwitch Category: +S through Z > Street Fighter Views: 3420 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: WARNING: Graphic violence and abuse depicted in this story. Read at your own discretion! I do not own Street Fighter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Author's Disclaimer: This story contains content of a highly disturbing psychological nature that may be offensive to some readers: including but not limited to abuse, rape, and torture/violence. Please DO NOT read if you are likely to be offended! STREET FIGHTER and characters such as Vega are owned by CAPCOM. I make no profit in this work of fiction. For entertainment only.
There was not much to do around there, especially during the day. Mother and I spent our siestas wandering in his garden. Louie XIV himself could not have had one more lush; with its winding gray stone pathways that spiraled around elegant topiary in Labyrinthine fashion, and fields of flowers growing everywhere in between, there could be no greater paradise. It was like our own Eden, free from any worries or fear.
The beautifully clement spring weather of Lyons seemed to make my mother blossom, like a rose budding in the sun, finally free from the cold reality of my father's presence. I began to think however, it was more than the weather that made her bloom; never-so was she more radiant than when she was with Marc Antoní. I wondered why she suddenly felt so free around him, and yet with me, I could only make her smile—a ray of sunlight in the darkness against the radiant beacon of the sun...
We lie sprawled upon his great lawn, sipping cool lemonade in the afternoon sun, my head in her lap. A light breeze blew, carrying the fragrant scent of flowers all around us. Petals of every color rained upon us like a heavenly snow. I strummed on a guitar, not really playing anything in particular.
Learning Spanish guitar was a skill I started learning very young. My parents always said it was good to know how to play at least one instrument. I was happy to learn the style of my country.
“Play something, el meu amor. You play so beautifully.” she cooed in Catalan. The gentle lilt of our native language was heaven to my ears.
“Any requests?”
“Oh, anything.” she sighed, stroking my hair. “It's heaven here! I could stay forever.”
I stopped playing and sat up. “Forever? How can we stay? Can't we go home, back to Barcelona?”
“Ay, no. You know we can't, Vega. It's too dangerous. Besides, Marc Antoni has been so nice! As long as he wants us here, we will stay.” I sighed.
“I don't trust him, Mother. How does he even know us?” Mother shifted and looked away and then looked at me again with a smile. I could see she was uneasy, though I did not understand why. Did she know something about this sleazy man that I did not? I made the choice to be at his home for my own purposes, and aside from him seducing my mother, I did not see him as a danger. But perhaps there was something more...
“We're aristocrats, Vega. Everyone in society knows us, one way or another.”
“I doubt the King will be inviting us to the palace anytime soon.” I muttered and she chuckled.
“Marc Antoni is an aristocrat, like us. Those in society help those in need.”
“I didn't know we accepted charity, Mother.”
“Vega!” she exclaimed, lightly hitting my arm. “It isn't charity when you're wealthy! Now, why don't you like him?” she stroked my hair behind my ear. “Did he say something, do...something...to you?” and she leaned over, looking into my eyes.
“N-no, Mama. It's nothing like that...” I stammered, looking down. “It's just, I don't like the way he looks at you.” Mother fell back onto the grass with a laugh.
“Oh my, Narcis!” and she pulled me down beside her with a sigh. “Such a nice day.”
I studied her face for a moment. She really did seem so much more happier and carefree here. I did not want this moment to end but I knew if I had to be around him for much longer, it would be unbearable.
“I think it's getting far too hot in the sun! Let's go for a walk.” she said, standing up and then pulling me up beside her.
We were quiet while we walked down the path in the shade of some trees, hand in hand—another day in Eden. She swung our arms back and forth, like when I was a child and she giggled.
“You know that I love you. He can't take my heart.” she said, looking at me seriously. I held my breath; my heart pounded and it felt like it would burst from my chest. I exhaled when I saw her smile at me.
“I know.” I muttered, looking down, although I was not completely convinced it was true. She lifted my chin to look into her eyes. Warm and concerned, as always
“Mama...”
“T'estimo més que la meva vida...” she whispered.
Just as I thought she was going to say something more, I saw Marc Antoni approaching us with his usual smugness.
“Hello, my friends!”
“Marc Antoni, I thought you had a meeting.”
“I won't be going to anymore meetings, Victoria. I am now free for lunches, so I thought I would join you. I am not interrupting your siesta, I hope.”
“Oh, no, no. Vega and I have just finished.” I glared at her. “We're just enjoying a walk around your wonderful garden.”
“I see! I'm happy to see others enjoying it as much as I do. Shall we?” he said and my mother suddenly let go of my hand, running a few steps ahead to take his extended arm.
I walked slowly behind them, watching. The sight of those two walking around the garden, laughing, talking, and giggling like children was a sickening sight, indeed. I lamented how barren my precious Eden had become, my mother being stolen away by some obnoxious libertine right before my eyes.
I began to go into sort of a daze as I walked behind them, meditating on my bitter thoughts. I could no longer hear their chatter, lost in my own world. Mother ran up to me, taking my hand, pulling me out of them. She stood in front of me, her eyes gleaming, and she grinned like an excited teenager.
“Marc Antoni said he'd take me to the symphony! Isn't it wonderful?”
“Wonderful.” I muttered.
“Oh but of course, you're invited, too. You know I can't go anywhere without you.” she squeezed my hand and laced her fingers through mine, snuggling up against me as if she had been at my side the whole time. I could see she was completely oblivious now to my lack of enthusiasm.
We walked hand-in-hand again with our host taking a leisurely stride beside us, pointing out all the wonders of his beautiful garden. I felt as though she was not even there, like walking with a ghost. Her warmth and beauty had no meaning at that moment. It was from then on that I decided to take my afternoon siesta indoors, languishing until evening fell.
I coasted through dinner later that night, watching my mother and our host happily chatting at the table. My mother was dressed in a black evening dress; it had one long sleeve, accented by a shoulder pad and the other side was sleeveless, cut in a deep V neck down the front; the skirt fell just above her knees; she also wore black stockings and matching high heels; I had never seen my mother wear much of this color outside of funerals, and the odd cut of the dress reminded me more of one of those avant garde paintings that were so popular then.
I was slouched in my chair; she stretched her leg out, slipping out of her shoe and rubbing a toe against Señor Gauldera's leg. I sat up and cleared my throat. It was mostly in an attempt to distract myself from the sudden nausea at seeing such a sight. They scarcely noticed.
I could do almost nothing but watch as everything I loved was destroyed; the pretense of a happy relationship with my mother was all that I had. The only thing that made me feel alive at that place was my nightly sparring with Marc Antoni, where I could take out my hatred of him and train at the same time—
“Ay!”
“Are you okay, Vega?” asked my mother, stopping in mid sentence to look at me.
And pain. It was nothing, only the fork I twisted into my hand from shear boredom. I eagerly licked away the blood as they continued to talk. Such solace it contained; I was fortunate in that I did not stab deeply enough to cause scarring on my precious hand, no. Just enough to prick the skin.
My actions did not go unnoticed, however. I saw that a young maid watched me and I saw the silent horror creep upon her face as I lapped up the blood. Her blue eyes widened, her hand covered her mouth, causing her to drop a bottle of wine. The sudden clatter caused Marc Antoni and my mother to look over. Marc Antoni scolded the girl.
“I've got it.” I said, leering at the maid as I bent down to pick up the shattered pieces.
“Vega, you shouldn't do that. It's her job.” interjected Mother.
“No no, it's fine, Mother.” She gave me a scornful look and then resumed talking.
I could hear the maid's breath quicken, and I was certain that if I were close enough, I could hear her heart pound. “Mademoiselle. ” I whispered with a grin.
“Non, non, mon Seignior. Si vous plait!” she cried.
I scooped up some of the broken pieces of glass and laid them on the table. I watched her continue to pick up the glass, and waited eagerly to see if she would cut herself.
I admired her body while she was bent down beside me; in her cute black and white maid's uniform; the short skirt and white apron over it. The uniform seemed to caress every curve of her body. Her breasts poking impossibly against the fabric. My heart pounded and I could feel my hunger growing.
While Marc Antoni regarded the girl and her clumsiness with disdain, I watched in amusement. I took a sip of red wine and licked my lips.
“Mm, delicioso.” I said, looking back at the girl. She gasped and whimpered. I chuckled, taking another sip and pretended to listen to their idle conversation. Every so often, I would glance back at her and watch her squirm. Marc Antoni finally ordered her from the room, and so I excused myself.
I followed the maid down the hallway, sneaking up behind her and clamping my hand over her mouth.
“Don't scream,” I said in her ear. I kept one hand over mouth, finding a deserted corner of the corridor where we could not easily be seen.
“I saw you watching me. Did you like it?” I whispered and I heard her muffled cries from behind my hand. “It's all right. They all enjoy me and you will, too.” I lifted up her dress and pulled down her precious white panties. It surprised me to see there were long cuts across her back and bottom, the kind that a whip would make.
I removed my hand from her mouth, and pressed her against the wall, her hands pinned up beside her head. I spread her legs, pushing some fingers inside of her, and I knew she was ready.
I ground my hips into her, smashing her against the wall again and again and I could hear her cries. I felt such bliss hearing them, knowing she was enjoying it as much as I. The only thing that would have made it better was to see her face of ecstasy at that moment.
“You're so beautiful,” I panted in her ear, “you didn't have to hide, you know. Girls are kind of cute when they are clumsy—and besides, I already knew I wanted you.” I bit her earlobe, the salty taste of her flesh in my mouth, the softness between my teeth. I wanted more of her, so much more. I turned her so that her back was against the wall, her wrists pinned above her head with one hand, my other hand supporting me against the wall. I beheld her tear-soaked face, a ghastly river of black. I smiled and licked the salty bitterness of her tears from her cheeks. I was consumed by her heat, the softness of her body and how it felt so much like silk and velvet—the scent of her feminine aroma—so intoxicating.
“P-please! Please let me go. I promise I won't tell.” she cried.
“Of course you won't.” I smiled at her, seeing the terror shining in her eyes. It made her all the more irresistible to me.
As she strained I admired the muscles of her neck and noticed how the soft blue veins began to show. I nuzzled her neck, smelling her skin, imaging the blood pulsating beneath.
A pure woman's blood tastes as sweet as honey and it is as divine as ambrosia. Only in ecstasy is it sweeter.
This was my chance; I was getting so close now and I could no longer hold back. Pressing my mouth to hers, I bit down, sucking the sweet blood from her lips. I could hear her muffled screaming as the thick, warm, blood seeped into my mouth.
“You-you taste so good,” I drawled, the blood dripping from my mouth, feeling high from the pleasure. Her eyes were still wide but then I watched as they rolled back into her head. It was all too much for me, my senses overwhelmed. I came inside of her and then collapsed over her body a moment, catching my breath. The girl moaned beneath me and when I let go of her, she fell into a heap in the corner.
“Vega!” I froze as I heard my name being called.
“Shh,” I whispered, and then with a smile, I bent down and kissed her bloodied lips.
I peered around the corner to see Mother coming out of the dining room.
“Vega, I'm going to bed.” she called, coming into the corridor.
I wiped my mouth and then I tucked myself in, glancing back down at the girl, who looked up at me through her eyelids. I smirked, feeling quite satisfied. I crept out of the corridor, and ran straight into Mother as she walked towards the staircase.
“Oh, there you are, darling. I'm going to bed now.” she said, kissing my cheeks.
“Alright, Mama. I'm not tired yet.”
“Aren't you? It's been such a long day. I'm so very tired.” she said and feigned a yawn. “Aren't you coming?”
I smiled and shrugged with my hands in my pockets. She stood there, quietly, waiting for my answer.
“Goodnight,” I said, leaning forward and kissing her cheek. She sighed and I watched her continue up the stairs. I then smoothed my hair back from my face and checked to see my clothing was not out of place. I was perfection again.
I arrived later that night in the dungeon, finding Marc Antoni talking on the phone. He wore the usual attire of a savateur; he was shirtless, wearing black trousers and shoes. He informed me that in typical competition, some wore whole savate suits for this purpose. Marc Antoni did not seem the sort to do anything typical.
I managed to hear the last few words before he hung up.
“I think he's about ready. He's learning fast and even for his age, shows a blood thirst unseen. I think the Master would be pleased. Yes, goodbye.”
“Late night meeting, Gauldera?”
“So, there you are.”

“Sí. Estic aquí.”
He gave me a wry smile.
“Vega, I would appreciate it if you didn't molest my maids anymore.”
“What? How did you...?”
Again the man gave me a smirk, his eyes gleaming, but there was something so...foreboding about them. I stood my ground, but now knowing what darkness lay behind those eyes, I listened carefully.
“You aren't hard to figure out, you know. I know your taste for girls...and I watched you leave. I knew you were up to something when you dismissed yourself so suddenly—right after I had dismissed my maid.”
“Why not? That's what they're here for, isn't it?”
“Vega, I am not your father--”
“Thank God for that!” I interjected with a sneer and his green eyes suddenly darkened.
“You cannot abuse them as you please! My servants cost money. I need them in order to run my household efficiently.” he shouted.
I refused to be intimidated by a hypocrite who whipped and beat his maids for every failure. They were beneath me; there was no reason I could not treat them the same way.
“They are servants; they are made to serve, even on their knees.”
He began to walk towards me and I could see his shoulders tense, the veins in his neck raised, and his jaw set. I could not help but to back away; he stopped before me, rubbing his mouth and then clearing his throat. I knew he was trying to control what little of his temper he had left.
“Vega, I admire your...appetite, but if you want girls, I will get you girls. By the score.”
“What makes you think I need you to get me girls? I do just fine getting them on my own.”
Marc Antoni gave a heavy sigh, but it sounded more like a growl.
“That may be so, but I want you to leave the help alone.”
“And I want you to leave my mother alone.”
“Ha! You make it sound as if I'm bothering her!”
“You're bothering me.” I sneered and he laughed. Whatever his rage, it had passed and now his haughty gleam was back in his eyes.
“Do you want me to leave your mother alone? Fine. Stay away from my maids.”
“Fine.” I turned away but he turned me to face him again.
“I'm not done.” his voice was serious again.
I folded my arms, shifting my weight.
“What?” I snickered.
“You're here to fight, to learn, aren't you?”
I lifted my fists, ready to fight, my eyes gleaming and my jaw set in determination. Marc Antoní walked around and checked my stance. He lowered my arms and straightened my shoulders.
“Good, good, Vega. Remember to keep your stance loose; Savate is the art of street fighting and your blows could come at any moment, any time, from any where.” Marc Antoní kicked at my shins, trying to shake my balance and my confidence. It hurt but I was determined not to show it. I did not flinch, I did not look at him.
“Very good!” he said, patting my shoulder. There was a silence and I could not help feeling he was leading into something.“Vega,” he said finally, “whatever my relationship with your mother, I don't want to be your father.” I turned to him but did not drop my stance. “But if you're going to be a guest in my home, and I am your teacher, then I think we should at least be friends.”
“Friends?”
“That means that you will have to trust me.” I ground my teeth.
“Trust you? You already sound like my father!” I exclaimed.
“Teachers are not unlike fathers, right?”
“Can I trust you with my mother?”
“Vega, I would never hurt her. Never. She is an old, dear friend and she needs someone to look after her.”
“I look after her!” I said, pointing to my chest. “Me! She doesn't need anyone else.”
“We'll both look after her, okay? She needs strong men in her life to care for her.”
I sighed reluctantly.
“All right.”
“Friends?” Marc asked, extending his hand.
“Friends.” I replied, shaking his hand.
“Well, Vega, I don't have much to go over tonight. Why don't you go to bed? I have a surprise for you tomorrow.”
I nodded and headed back up to my room. I wondered what surprises lay in store for me now that we had forged this sort of alliance—well, for me, it was more like a truce.
I did not have to wonder long as I entered my bedroom; there sprawled across my bed and giggling were two girls, naked and waiting. I found a note on my bedside table.
VEGA, I THOUGHT YOU WOULD ENJOY THESE...THIS IS NOT YOUR SURPRISE, HOWEVER. HAVE FUN!
YOUR FRIEND,
MARC ANTONÍ
- 11
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- 13
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Origins of the Spanish Ninja:Tastes Like Red Wine