Word Count: 160
Warning: It's one of my dark tales, ergo the easily squicked shouldn't read. Read slowly, for it is a bit of a jarring read.
Summary: Naraku contemplates the fate of one of his living dolls.
Even though she's barely of age to read this, I dedicate it to Vex. She's turning out to be a fine writer of addictive fluff, and reading fluff feeds my dark!bunnies. Many thanks go to PaynesGrey for betaing. I do not own the rights to Inuyasha.
She lies there -broken little doll- eyes vacantly staring at the floor. He thinks maybe he will throw her out one of these days -a child's toy long outgrown- but it's too much trouble -she did please him once- and besides; everyone needs a collection. He lifts her -pulls the strings- and recalls the day she was given to him -desire want need lust mine-with fondness. The beautiful wrappings -blood dirt sweat exhaustion contempt- that he so quickly divested her of -penetrate despoil mine mine mine- and his reverential worship of all she represented -dessert of tainted power so sweet. He lovingly wraps a hair -sticky web stained with blood- around her throat and dances her across the room -dance of broken dreams; a macabre geisha with perfect form -those cherry lips- and dead eyes -ocean mist blue-. New plans form -webs of spider's deceit- and he decides to keep her one more day -the dog's guilt is so addictive.