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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
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.

The monotony of another day in what was otherwise a fine luxury hotel began to kill me. I was becoming bored stiff!
Mother seemed content to lay about, though and I had come to realize that she was far more used to her gilded cage than I was.
It was something she did often at home because she had few reasons to leave bed, aside from the days that her bad back and hips kept her bedridden. The longer she stayed in bed, the less she might happen upon my father. She was not bored, however. She had an endless library of torrid romance books in her room, as well as her television with its ridiculous telenovelas.
I could barely stomach such a thing, but she was a woman after all. I much preferred to read history books on obscure, morbid topics and the more lurid, the better. I was well-versed on the history of Vlad the Impaler, Elizabeth Bathory, the Marquis de Sade, and of course my personal hero—Tomás de Torquemada—hero of the great Spanish Inquisition, although I fancied myself much more of a libertine like de Sade.
Mother was very disgusted in my choices of literature but, I did not care.
Now I had little to do but stare at the television or the ceiling, hardly moving from the dent I had made lying in bed all day; and soon I found myself staring at a familiar figure, however.
I watched my mother as I lie on the bed one day, tracing the curves of her shapely figure with my eyes, and I noticed the soft curve of her waist, and then the gentle sway of her hips as she moved about the room, and before I knew it, my heart began to pound, my stomach churned and my pants became unbearably tight. I sucked in air between my teeth sharply, biting my lip and squeezing my eyes shut, hoping for the feeling to subside. I opened them again to my horror to see a bulging erection. It pulsed and throbbed in pain and I tried to stay quiet, trying not to draw attention to myself.
My mother sat at a vanity, doing her hair and makeup and I lay on my side on the bed, fortunately with my back to her. Being male, this was certainly not the first time I had to deal with it and it was a usual morning occurrence but this time, it was different. I knew strength and the pain like this only happened when I was turned on by someone. Of course due to the circumstances, I realized there was only one person it could be that gave me such a reaction. My mind whirled and my ears burned and the first thing I thought to do was to reach down and relieve my ache, but of course I knew I could not let her see, so doing it was out of the question. Carefully I pulled the blankets over me, hoping to cover such an inconspicuous bulge.
“Are you sleepy, my darling?” asked mother, staring at me from the Vanity mirror as she powdered her face. I dared not to move as I replied,
“Yes,” she only smiled at me.
I felt the nausea well up in my stomach and I chastised myself mentally, trying to understand how this could have happened.
It's simple, I thought to myself. She's female, you're male. Man, woman, man, woman, man,m-my, my woman. Mine. Mine, mine!
My thoughts whirled like this until I thought I had it rationalized enough. Of course if she were really mine, I would have done as I did to all women I claimed and thrown her on the bed or pinned her against the wall and taken her. No remorse, no guilt, no mercy—but she was so pure and innocent. How could I do such a thing?
I loved her more than anything in my life, more than anyone. She was my best friend, my confidant, and most of the time, though we tried to seem like other mother and sons, we were more like best friends. I always had an attraction to her in some form, all of my life. I knew as I grew up that a lot of it was physical, and just as much emotional, but it never seemed strange to me, and since she never said anything, it must not have been strange to her either. She always told me that God condoned love, and that love could never be a sin, no matter what it was. Except now, to show such an attraction to her in such a way, in front of her, it was unthinkable. If she found out, it could destroy her. Then again, if she had always known, what harm was it in a base male response? My mind was reeling from the possibilities and I knew this was not a time for philosophy.
Slowly, I sat up on the bed and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, the blanket still covering my lap. Carefully, I removed it and moved as quietly as I could passed my mother, who was putting on her makeup, and into the bathroom. I shut the door and locked it, throwing up the toilet seat and undoing my pants, and pushing down my underwear. I knew I could not be quiet and so I bit down onto my left hand, balled into a fist. Each stroke felt ever so good and so painful, the tears came to my eyes. The blood rushed in my ears and I felt my heart pound as my breath quickened more and more. I watched my precious seed spilling into the water, my body shuddering after a few moments into what would have been ecstasy was it not for the horrific pain as my teeth cut into my hand. I began to taste the blood as it seeped into my mouth; I tasted the warm, thick tang of iron as it slid down my throat. I could feel an almost strange sense of comfort growing inside me, so very strange, and yet it was so familiar.
I looked at the blood on my hand and I saw that once more I was becoming aroused (though not as strongly as before); my body craved this sensation again. I licked the blood from the bite marks on my hand, relishing one last taste.
Spent, I sighed and collapsed against the wall standing there with my pants still down, straddling the toilet. I fought to control myself as my jaw clenched, my chest tightened and my hands balled into fists. It was all I could do not to put them through the wall.
If I were religious, I would beg God to rid me of this affliction, this need, this desire that I could not have, but I was not. God suffered me as I suffered Him and that's how it was. I did His Will and He suffered my sins.
“Are you alright, Vega?” called Mother from beyond the door after a while.
“Yes!” I answered back, trying to suppress my panting and speak in the clearest voice I could.
Damn! I cursed.
Clearing my throat, I pulled up my pants and underwear, flushed the toilet and washed my hands.

I walked as casually as I could passed my mother as she sat at the vanity and then sat on the edge of the bed, my hands clasped together in thought. She rose from her chair and began to walk towards me. There was a small hitch in her step as she stopped a few feet away from me.
“Are you sure you're okay, darling?” she asked, her hand reflexively extended in mid air to touch me. I swallowed down any residual emotion I had and tried to give her a reassuring smile.
“I'm fine!” I forced out, perhaps a little louder than I should. No sooner had I said it when I felt the bed sink as she climbed onto it and moved behind me, throwing her arms around my neck. I could feel her soft breath against my neck and the warmth of her body now pressing up against me. She rubbed my chest and I closed my eyes. I could feel it tightening again. Her mouth was close to my ear, her lips brushed my earlobe and I tried to ignore a shiver in my body. Suddenly, I shot up quickly as if she had bitten me, and I stepped away.
“Vega! What on earth?” she exclaimed.
I rubbed the back of my head and stared away from her.
“I'm sorry. I--” I stammered, unable to explain my reaction. Immediately, she bounded off the bed and took my hand. I turned her away, as if we were doing some kind of dance.
“Vega!” she cried again. “What?!--Stop!”
I gave a heavy sigh and turned away from her to look out the window. I felt her wrap her arms around my chest, holding me tight as I strained already from the growing tightness in my loins. I did not remove her arms this time.
“Tell me, what's wrong? You know we have no secrets. You've been pacing like a caged tiger for days!” she said. Her voice was low and serious, though still seemed as gentle as it always was.
I could think of nothing but the truth to tell her, because at that moment, nothing else would come out.
“N-nothing. I love you.” I replied. I heard her soft chuckle as she laid her head against my back.
“I love you, too. I know you're restless, Vega. I know. We're cooped up here for weeks, nothing to do. It must be so hard to be a boy your age, unable to go out and have fun...” and she moved before me, staring up at me with her warm blue eyes. I swallowed hard, trying not to give myself away.
“Come, then. Come, come, my darling.” she said, taking my hand and leading me to the center of the room. There was a rather grand stereo on the shelf next to the vanity and she turned the dial until she found some classical music.
“I don't really feel like it--” I muttered, dragging my feet.
“Waltz with me, my Narcís.” I looked at her nervously, afraid that as she looked at me, she might know my secret.

“Mother, I—”
“You are such a wonderful dancer,” Mother replied and I could hear the joy in her voice. “I taught you well, didn't I?” and she smiled up at me, her eyes blazing.
“Yes, Mother,” I replied obediently and she laid her head against my chest with a sigh. I smelled the faint smell of her floral perfume and I inhaled deeply. Such magical sweetness it held for me, now becoming so stale. I tried to remember when I was a child how she would sometimes spritz my pillows so I could sleep at night. I tried to think of anything that let me remember this smell the way it was before...
Our slow waltz became a fast two-step as we picked up our pace, and she laughed giddily. Clearly, she was enjoying this more than I. On and on we danced, till the room was a blur.
“Oh, really Vega! You are so tense!” she exclaimed as she playfully smacked me on the arm. I felt so rigid, that I felt like I couldn't move. She smiled at me, trying desperately to get me to smile, but I could barely stand her touch; the air between us suddenly became thick and musty, and I couldn't breathe. My heart pounded in my chest, the blood rushed in my head, and my hands tingled. The ground felt like it nearly came out from underneath me, spinning around and around. Oh how I wished this was like the other happier times; when it felt like it was only her and I in the room, but now it was my head spinning.
“I can't do this! I can't-I can't--” I exclaimed, pushing her away. “I need out! I need air!”
Mother recovered from her giddiness and sauntered towards me again, laying her hands on my chest and peering up at me innocently. Quickly, I removed her hands and her smile faded.
“Darling, are you okay? You look so flushed! Here now, sit down, my Narcís. Now, you know better! You know you can't just go out. If they find us...” she said, leading me to the sofa. I looked down.
“'If they find us'...” I snickered.“We're in the middle of Monaco, Mother. Everyone in Europe recognizes me and no one—no one knows Father is dead!” Of course in the back of my mind, I knew it wasn't entirely true; after all, there was his whore of a mistress, and any of the Help who saw the body. No doubt the woman had called the police; it's what any logical person would do but...perhaps she didn't. She was, after all, a courtesan and prostitution was not exactly legal... There was nothing I could do, being so far away so I did my best to push the thought away.
“I'm leaving.” I declared as I turned to go out the door, but Mother caught my hand.
“You're not! You're staying here!” she cried and I smiled to myself. She was back in her Motherly mode, hoping maybe I'd listen to her.
“I can't stay here another minute! I can't stay here in this room with you!” I exclaimed, with my back to her still. I felt her gently let go of my hand and I knew she was upset. I rubbed under my nose and turned back to her, as I saw her familiar sad face. She was pouting! There were no lengths she would stray from to keep me feeling guilty.
“Mother, please. You have to understand! I know you want out too, so let's go!” I said, putting my hands on her arms. Honestly, I wanted to be alone at that moment but if it got her to stop pouting, I didn't care what I said.
“No, I won't go out there again. Please, stay. Just stay. Stay with me.” she pleaded taking my hands and squeezing them. Her blue eyes shined precariously. I sighed and rubbed my head, admitting defeat—for now.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and I had never been so relieved in my life! Mother went to the door.
“Señor Gauldera!” she cried and I went to her side cautiously.
“Lovely to see you again, Señora.” he replied warmly. “Vega, my friend!” he exclaimed, beaming at me.
“Please, come in.” said my mother.
“Thank you,” he replied, taking a seat on our sofa. “I hope I haven't interrupted anything...”
Mother took a seat on an adjacent chair and smoothed out her dress self-consciously. She looked at him nervously and cleared her throat.
“No. No, not at all.” I hovered behind her chair, resting my hands on the back of it.
“What brings you here, Señor Gauldera?” she asked and I knew she was being polite and quite suspicious.
“Oh, I heard you were in the area.” he said, and Mother cast a steely gaze in my direction.
“Don't be upset, Señora de Cerna. After all, he is quite famous.” replied Senor Gauldera quickly, noticing her tense look on her face. “Word does travel fast among high society.” He casually crossed his legs. He was handsomely dressed in a black sports jacket, white silk shirt with a high turned up collar, black slacks and fine black Italian leather loafers; his blue eyes sparkled with his charming smile as he held his hands folded in his lap. For a man close to the same age as my mother, he was quite handsome. Not as handsome as I of course! I could see why women wanted him, which was obvious to me. I just couldn't see why he wanted my mother—not that she was not a beautiful woman; she was the most beautiful woman in all the world—but she was my mother, after all.
He ran his hand through his long chin-length brunette hair and then broke the growing tense silence.
“I've come to invite you both to stay with me at my villa in Lyons!”
Mother nervously tugged at her skirt and smoothed it again.
“Señor, I appreciate the invitation, but I don't think we can go.” she said and I laid a hand on her shoulder and whispered in her ear.
“Mama! We have to go! We can't stay here anymore and you know it. Besides, if they are looking for us, they won't think to look for us at someone else's house!”
“Vega, we-we hardly know this man...”
“He seems to know you!” I replied bitterly.
“Vega!” she hissed at me and I rolled my eyes.
“Uh, Señor Gauldera, we would love to go!” I interjected to him.
“Good! Now Señora, your son seems eager to go, are you sure you won't reconsider? I'm having a wonderful ball as well and I'd love you to come! My affairs are not to be missed!”
Oh God...another one? I thought.
She gasped and then swallowed, smiling uneasily. I watched her shift her legs and fidget with the hem of her skirt again. I could have sworn she was behaving, well—like a teenage girl! I was no expert in such behavior but, being around fawning, swooning girls all the time, I learned to observe. It made me more sickened by the moment to see her act that way.
“Well, I...suppose...” she said with a faint chuckle.
“Then, it's settled! I will call up my chauffeur and he will bring your luggage to the car. If you'll excuse me.” he said as he stood and opened the door. With a quick wink to me, he disappeared.
Mother stood and held her hands over her face, I could see her cheeks flushed red.
“Mother, you're blushing! Are you okay?”
“No! No...I mean, yes! It's just that...Oh, I can't believe we're doing this!” she exclaimed with a giddy giggle.
I laughed and wrapped my arms around her shoulders.
“You'll see. We'll be fine, I promise.”
Mother's eyes sparkled as she laughed.
“I know--Vega, he thinks we have luggage!”
TO BE CONTINUED...
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Origins of the Spanish Ninja:Tastes Like Red Wine