Disclaimer - There's always a moral to any of my stories, if one looks hard enough. Some are fairly easy to discern, while others take a careful bit of consideration. This one is mostly straightforward and, given the topic, be forewarned that there is implied sexual innuendos, not to mention gory details. Just the same, it's a bit removed from my usual fair. Therefore,, in order to properly convey how 'caught' the victim is in this one-shot, and adequately convey his torment, I had to adopt a certain writing style to tell the story..

In either case, I don't own the TMNT's, never have, never will.

When you finish Seduction, head on over to Midnight Heir's site and read her companion piece to this story, Red, White, and Blue; it's awesome!

Thanks, Heir, for gifting me with your wonderful continuation of Seduction! It was brilliant!

As an adendum to the initial uploading of my fic, after I read Midnight Heir's story, I added a few minor prop changes to Seduction for continuity.

Anyway, thanks for reading!




Something was bothering him, something - just didn't seem right, yet he could not pinpoint the problem. What he saw didn't make sense, not after all this time. Even though he had known from the beginning that what he wanted might not end well, he had gone ahead and sought it out anyway.

And he was glad he did, too, where he - and she - had benefitted so much.

In the beginning, his plan had been simple; beguile and conquer. He investigated all the angles, too, every flaw, every advantage, and to this end, a better way to win the war.

He also had a need and it begged for his attention.

After weeks of pursuing his conquest, sending her gifts and letters of affection, after he had gained her trust, he felt he had won. It was then when he confessed his love, how he felt about her…before the fall, before her father was no more.

Curious, she had cautiously agreed to a temporary truce, intrigued with his sincerity. She was - surprised, actually. Then, after subsequent meetings, after his persistent ministrations and expressions, she eventually believed his words and accepted him, even falling in love with him.

Or, so he believed.

Nevertheless, her acceptance of him proved his family wrong about her. Each time he met with her, she reinforced that fact, too.

Then, despite his father and brothers' objections about the tryst, he began to regularly meet with her, she greeting him each evening with open arms, eventually welcoming him to her bed. Gradually and regardless of how hard he tried, he found it impossible to let even one day slip by without committing a part of it to their love. He became addicted to it, to her. For the very first time in his life, he felt alive, fulfilled, and complete. Their passion was a pure expression, giving him an opportunity to experience something wonderful, something that he had never felt before.


With her father permanently gone from her life, now, her mentor's influence had lost its effectiveness. It allowed her to be open to a different point of view, her lover's point of view. Through his patient tutoring and kindness, he nurtured her into the beautiful, giving young woman he knew she could be.

And giving she was, both in deed and in bed!

For the first time in as long as he could remember, his family was safe, unmolested. No more did they do battle or come to blows with hers. A truce, sealed between bed sheets, finally became a reality.

Yet, this night, this one of many such nights when he came to her, there along her smile was something different. It was not as playful as it sometimes was, but was more…seductive, even though it was the same in part. Still, the smile she offered him when he entered her bedchambers seemed different, even forced.

"Tired, my love?" he asked softly, ignoring the warning suspicions playing along the back of his mind, his body heady with inpatient lust. He caressed her face with one hand, as the other wrapped around her tiny waist. He then pressed his body against hers, forehead to forehead, ignoring her hesitation to reply. He allowed his fingers to trail down her neck to her shoulders and then to her bare arms. He tried to kiss her, but she turned aside.

He smiled. This was a game, a game she played each time they came together. First resisting, next teasing him, before gradually relenting, accepting, and finally submitting to him.

"A little," she replied, her breath hitching as he continued to caress her form, his hands gently cupping, playfully squeezing, pinching. She moaned pleasurably.

He breathed into her ear, "Hmm…let's lie together and rest a bit before we…"

"Would you like some tea?" she suddenly interrupted.

"What?" This was odd. "Tea?"

"Yes, to help - relax us." she kissed his snout.

"But, I don't want to relax," he chuckled lustfully, "Hmmm…I only want you." He kissed her nose in return.

She then reached up and massaged his shoulders as he wrapped both arms around her, bringing her hard against him, kneading her back, kissing her neck, his lips following the invisible trail his fingers had just left behind.

"You feel - tense, my love." Her voice interrupted his travels, but only for a moment.

"I know of only one place on my anatomy that is tense and it certainly does not need to relax…but…it does need you," he purred, returning to his starting point to nip at her ear.

"You are right, my love, I need you as well," she agreed seductively, pulling away from his gentle bites. She gazed into his chocolate-hued eyes, "but…I….I have had a rough day."

He smiled, "We can end it on a more pleasant note."

"And tea will help to relax me - and you."

He smiled, "Hmm…I would rather have you a bit too tense than too relaxed."

"I will be!" she promised, bringing her mouth to his and kissing him deeply with a suddenness that aroused him, her tongue exploring his, his mouth eagerly accepting it. Hands furthered their exploration, desperately grasping, probing through her veil-like robe, causing her to gasp in quick, rapid pants.

"Please…" she nearly begged, ceasing her own ministrations, "the tea is…is ready…please, let us have some, my love."

"I would rather have you and you seem…relaxed enough…and more than ready, my sweet," he chuckled.

"Yes, you are correct again, but my - my stomach is a little unsettled. The tea will help sooth it."

Ignoring her contradicting reasons for the beverage, he relented, "Okay, but only one cup, as I have better ways of relaxing than to drink tea."

She smiled demurely, "And I cannot wait, my love," ducking her head as she slipped from his greedy arms.

"And neither can I," he agreed softly and, for a fleeting moment, that same curious quirk returned to her smile.

He ignored it, though, letting her go and watched as she nearly floated around the bed to stand by the small table next to the mattress. Her silken white gown, barely a whisper of material and transparent against her lithe, supple body, billowed away from her form, leaving nothing to the imagination. He smiled hungrily as he took her in and hesitated only slightly before following her, his thirst for her building upon itself, threatening to overwhelm his good manners. Once again, he anticipated having her, two lovers entwined, keeping to perfect rhythm. Even though he was slightly irritated with the delay, he resisted his urgings, taking a cleansing breath to quell his body's impatience. He watched as she slowly poured the tea, first into one blue cup and then into its twin, the pair a gift from him to her only a week before. He wished she would hurry, to dispense with formalities with such drink, but he again took measured breaths to quell his uprising.

Having tea, he thought to himself, seems such a waste of time; I could easily de-stress her, so why is she so insistent on having tea?

A sudden concern then edged his thoughts, but months of experience had taught him to trust herm despite their personal history. She loved him and had given herself freely to him, and in oh so many ways, too. She denied him nothing, not time, not his playful ideas, not - anything. And, yet, something nagged at his subconscious, that little voice that said something was terribly wrong.

Still, the moment she turned and smiled, handing one of the cups to him, his worries melted under the hot anticipation of his desire.

As she took the other cup, "To our love…" she cooed, raising her vessel in toast, before bowing her head slightly in submission.

"May it never end," he murmured lustfully, repeating her gesture and bowing as well. He then brought the cup to his lips and matched her movements, tipping his as she tipped hers, both drinking deeply. When they finished, he slowly wiped his mouth dry with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving hers. As she stared curiously at him, her lips wet from the tea, for a long pregnant moment, he allowed himself to get lost within her beautiful green orbs. She was so exquisite, so perfect, so demure…

So blurred...

He scowled; she seemed...unfocused, now, her edges softening, suddenly doubling.

What's happening? he wondered dully.

First, there were two of her, then one, then two again. Her form suddenly began to bounce and undulate, almost making him feel seasick. Then, his fingers suddenly lost their grip on the cup and it dropped from his hand, crashing to the marble flooring, and breaking into a dozen or more pieces. The noise it made seemed distant to him, though, hallow, as it echoed in the sparsely furnished room. The shards of porcelain scattered in all directinos across the cream-colored stone he stood on, stone that was once rigid, but now seemed in upheaval. He felt as if he was indeed on a boat and in the midst of a growling storm, the waves of nausea replacing his lustful thoughts with those of confused concern.

Suddenly, his world went screwy, his lover's smile widened, and he felt himself falling…falling, plummeting into an abyss, before finding himself pushed back and onto the bed by hands that seemed stronger by ten fold. He looked up at her, seeking answers, an explanation, anything so that he could understand what was happening to him, to her.

Instead, she towered over him, her face contorting from a smiling angel to that of a sneering demon.

"Wha…wha's goin' on?" he mumbled and then his eyes grew wide when his tongue thickened in size, causing his speech to slur.

"My love?" she nearly cackled, one eyebrow raised in mockery, "forever my love?" she hissed, "You - cannot be serious."

At first confused, he looked up at her and wondered what had changed. Then, with horrific realization, he fearfully and belatedly understood what was going on. She had played him, foolishly, he had dropped his guard. Foolishly, he had given sway to his lust, to his trust, and in the end, she had drugged him.

First with her love, now with her tea.

"Wh...why?" he barely managed, nearly choking. It was all he could say, though, as his tongue finally, fully betrayed him, its swollen state filling his mouth so that speaking now became virtually impossible.

"Baka turtle; for revenge, of course," she spat in answer.

He could barely swallow, now, barely think, his voice useless to his outrage, his mind muddled, drugged. He tried to react, to swing out, to strike, but as helpless as his speech was, his arms - and, quickly, the rest of his body - became equally impotent.

Pinning him easily, she slid one leg over his torso, straddling his helpless form, as it lay mute atop her silken bed sheets, defenseless.

"It is fast acting, the drug," she explained with a laugh, "It absorbs first under your tongue, the glands there easily accepting the drug…" She paused, then, smiling, before murmuring, "which is why your tongue is now swollen, it quiets your complaints, your call for help." She chuckled and watched as he tried to scowl at her, his lips vainly attempting to form words she would never hear, the immediate realization of betrayal etched across his face. Her laughter taunting him, she continued, "As soon as you fully ingested the drug, when you understood something was wrong, it immobilized your muscles; rendering you - helpless…like now."

She snickered again, throwing her head back in abandoned glee, her riotous, loud, abrasive mirth assaulting him, and he could do nothing but watch, lying there unable to move. She suddenly ceased her exclamation and quickly reached over to slip a hand under her pillow. To tease him, she allowed her ample bosom to brush across his muzzle. As she sat up straight again, she held in her hand a knife, a knife he had gifted her with a month earlier. She then brought the weapon into full view of his inspection.

Once again, his eyes grew wide in response, the only response he could now give her. The previous one, the one he had wanted to give her, no longer mattered, and from the drug now coursing through his body, it had dwarfed its potency considerably.

He tried shaking his head, to beg her to reconsider, but it was of no use. He was as immobile as a statue. Just as she had said, paralysis now gripped his entire being. He could only lay there and watch as she brought the weapon up under his chin, pressing it along the right side of his neck, slowly ever so allowing the tip of the blade to work its way into his thick, leathery skin. He heard the pop of its puncture and felt the searing sharp pain from the cut. That was when panic began to overwhelm him.

Without explanation, she stopped her assault and grinned down at him, that same grin that had greeted him moments earlier. It was then he knew why it had bothered him, before lust overwhelmed his common sense.

Her smile wasn't a smile of acceptance.

It wasn't a smile of love and affection.

It was a smile of the devil herself.

She chuckled, sneering, "It took much resolve to let you - have me - so many times, for so many months." She looked down at him with disgust gracing her features, "Did you know that I bathed after you left, each and every time, to rid myself of your scent, of your fluids - of YOU? Still, lying with you justified my purpose, justified committing…bestiality." She saw the shocked look in his eyes, the betrayal he was feeling, and her lip curled. Nevertheless, she softened her voice and pursed her lips, as she caressed his cheek with one finger, "Oh, you thought I loved you?" Then she sneered, "BAKA!" Once again, she laughed at him, her chortle resonating against the walls of her bedroom, her eyes dancing in merriment, as she mocked his love for her.

And, in that moment, his heart broke, his world collapsed, all his dreams and expectations evaporated into nothingness.

She leaned in very close to him, now, her mouth whispering into his ear, "And just so you know, so you do not worry for me, I took the antidote before you came tonight." As she sat up, she growled, "Now, as I vowed on the day that you destroyed my life, I will AVENGE MY FATHER!"

With determined strength, she pushed the knife further into his throat. He tried to scream, but by then, even his larynx no longer functioned. Why he was still able to breath, why his heart and lungs seemed spared of the paralysis, only meant one thing, she wanted to do the killing. She wanted him to suffer.

With a grunt and a flourish, she ripped the blade across his throat to the opposite side, deepening her thrust as she cut into him. She never flinched as blood sprayed her nightgown and silken sheets, the arterial crimson spurt staining the wall next to her bed. All the while, his eyes stared at her, motionless, drugged to inaction. Only his pupils reacted, the only part of his body still able to, as they dilated with a sharp suddenness from the excruciating pain.

As her knife completed its journey, she removed the weapon and raised it high in triumph, the point of the blade positioned downwards, as droplets of his blood raining down on her - and him, "For you, Father," she vowed. Yet, in that same moment, her voice hitched. She squeezed her eyes shut, as a single tear escaped, nearly betraying her declaration of victory. She then took in a quick desperate breath and opened her eyes, glaring at the inert form beneath her.

However, just before she plunged the blade into his heart, as expiratory blood bubbled and pooled along his ruptured throat, Leonardo realized all too late, all too foolishly, his terrible folly.

His family was right; the more things change, the more they remain the same.

Karai would always, and forever, be their enemy.


'A lusting man is a man easily brought to ruin'


A/N - I apologize to any new readers who did not have the warning of Character Death (CD). Originally, I had labled this fic thus, for the benefit of those who 'complain' of getting heart palpatations whenever they read a CD. However, after a few readers told me the warning ruined the ending, where they now expected 'someone' to die, they suggested that I remove it. Where these reviewers are notable and venerable writers themselves on FF, I decided to follow their advice. If you need to flame, flame them, not me. :0) Despite how long I've been here, I'm still open to learning how to do this thing called writing, so - yeah - call this an experiment - and thank you for reading!