text: The two monks nestled on either side of Momoe fell soon into a deep sleep. Carefully as a mouse, Momoe crept out from between their snoring forms. There seemed to be much movement in the depths of the temple, and she glided as silently as she could on her bare feet from one dark corner to another.
  
  The knife which pressed against her neck came as a complete surprise. She froze, not daring to breath as her body was explored quietly and impersonally.
  
  "Who are you, sneaking about the temple at this hour?" a female voice, somewhat familiar, asked in a whisper.
  
  "Momoe, that is I, ..."
  
  "What are you doing here?" there was a quiet, confident menace in the voice. "Do not make a sound to alert the guards ..."
  
  Momoe decided the voice was to be obeyed, and anyone working against the temple monks ..." My name is Momoe, of Gion," she hurriedly explained. "The monks were holding my man prisoner ..."
  
  Her head was tilted suddenly back and studied in the faint light.
  
  "Yes, tell me more."
  
  Momoe gave a censored version of her recent adventures, concentrating on her arrival and incarceration in the temple.
  
  "Where are the craftsmen kept? Lead me to them."
  
  Notwithstanding her fear, Momoe obediently led the way. The other followed behind her like a shadow, slipping noiselessly from one pool of darkness to another. Momoe pointed to the door leading to the cellar. Five monks stood guard there, and this time they were very alert indeed.
  
  "I must get in to see what they are doing," the voice whispered in her ear. "Is there any other way?"
  
  "Not that I know," Momoe said.
  
  "We must find a way to distract them," the shadow said. "Wait for five minutes then make a noise ..."
  
  "Only some of them would follow you," Momoe objected. She thought a moment, then gathering her courage said, "I think there is another way. Go and hide at a point where you can enter quickly."
  
  The five monks were alert, their eyes constantly searching the dark corners of the hall before them. Other monks had returned to their cells or were busy beating the bushes around the temple in search of the fugitive. One of them saw a glimmer of white. He rose to investigate, and his surprised cry brought the others.
  
  Momoe was leaning against a pillar. Her hair and clothes were disarranged. She giggled shyly as she guards approached. Her robe fell open displaying a pink-tipped plump breast. She was crooking her fingers at the first guard as the others came up.
  
  "Hello dearie," she said. "Such a pretty ... hic ... bald head you've got ..." She staggered forward and her robe flipped back, exposing a length of golden thigh.
  
  One of the monks looked at her and muttered, "She's drunk."
  
  She overheard him. "Only a wee drinkie. Do you have something to offer me, little bonze of mine?" She staggered forward and fell into the nearest monk's arms. He dropped his pole arm and reached for her. Somehow her robe dropped from her shoulders to her waist, exposing both high full breasts.
  
  "Kiss my nipples?" she whispered in his ear, nibbling the lobe.
  
  The monk looked back at his companions then lowered her to the floor, raising his knee-length skirt.
  
  "No," Momoe pouted. "One of you beautiful fellows is not enough. Bet I can take on all of you at once."
  
  "We'll just do you one at a time sweetie," the oldest of the monks said.
  
  "Just for that I won't give you my mouth. You'll have to make do with my hand. Here, you're younger and probably much more fun." She motioned to a scar-faced monk and he grinned foolishly. The monks crowded around her. The oldest among them cast one look back at the door they were guarding. It was about twenty feet away. If anyone tried to leave he would be sure to hear it. Even in the arms of this delightfully randy drunk night wanderer.
  
  The others were crouched around Momoe, lust in their eyes. She was undoing them one after another, exposing erect and semi-erect cocks out of their loincloths. She examined each cock with care. Scarface had a short, very thick member gnarled with prominent veins. The old man the others called Uncle had a thin rod which, notwithstanding her previous strictures, she knew she was going to put to her mouth. Jibei and Hachio were heavy-set fellows and their cocks seemed almost perfectly alike. The last was nicknamed Gaptooth. One of his canines had been knocked out and his face was lopsided from some ancient wound. His cock rose like a bent bow before him, jerking eagerly.
  
  She surveyed the forest of members critically. Rough hands reached for her and she giggled, falling back on her robe as they removed her loose sash. Scarface and Jibei possessed themselves of her breasts. In their eagerness they knocked their shaved pates together. Momoe and the others laughed and she consoled both monks by rubbing their stubbles tenderly. Uncle, perhaps to expiate his former doubts, attached himself like a leech to her inviting pussy. He fought off all attempts by Gaptooth to insert his curved cock in the desirable little hole. Momoe laughed at their fighting and consoled the loser by stroking his peculiar member, an attention he received eagerly. Her own lust began rising and Momoe no longer had to dissemble her desire. Uncle's lips and tongue were drawing her juices and she hugged him with her thighs, urging him on. Two of the monks presented their cocks for her inspection and she seized them eagerly, kissing first one and then the other, licking and sucking at the presented members. Someone unseen by her started rubbing his cock against her breasts. At the juncture of her legs Uncle was a driving fire that possessed all of her. Gaptooth, frustrated in his attempt to reach her cunt, was rubbing his curved cock against the arch of one foot while he nibbled and sucked at the toes of other.
  
  Momoe shivered as the sensations of their lust coursed through her. She pulled at the nearest monk and at her unspoken bidding he lay on the floor. She crouched over him, her dangling breasts tweaked and squeezed by several hands. A perverse notion occurred to her and she reversed herself so as to present him with a sight of her glorious smooth buns. She parted the moons with her hands and the erect cock nuzzled at the ring of her anus. Slowly she let herself down. She could feel the wide flanges of the cock head parting her muscles, and then the easing as the shaft sank slowly into her depths. The monk breathed heavily but none of the men made any move. Momoe adjusted her position, leaning back onto the monk's broad chest. She parted the hairs in her cunt. Uncle could see the sweet pink hole. Below the length of the slit he could see the thick male member protruding between the two moons of the buttocks. The stretched ring of muscle was almost invisible. She motioned to Scarface. He knelt between her legs presenting the head of his knobbed cock to her entrance. He pushed in, applying counter pressure to Hachio whose cock was distending Momoe's rectum. The two monks' balls met against the soft mat of Momoe's dark moss. She pulled Uncle to her. His long thin cock was guided to her lips. Delighted, he knelt on her breasts before Scarface's eyes and inserted his cock deeply into the waiting mouth. Momoe's tongue flicked against the sensitive spot at the bottom surface of his member and the elderly monk shivered with delight. Momoe reached for Jibei and directed him to her armpit. He knelt by her side and his cock ground into her flesh while he competed with other rough hands for possession of her breasts, her thighs, her cheeks and neck. They moved together, Momoe delighting in the pricks that were doing her bidding, raising her to delights she had experienced separately before, but never together and never at her command.
  
  Okiku watched from the shadows as the weaver girl she had recognized from Gion attracted the randy monks to her. A line from a poem flitted through her head as she quickly slipped to the door. "A bonze fucks as he drinks/too much/and without care for the fragility of the vessel." She watched the tangle of five men and a woman as she rapidly raised the two horizontal bars and slipped through the door. It was the work of a moment to return the bars to their place using the tool and thread she had prepared.
  
  She slipped carefully down the stairs, attendant to possible traps. The underground part of the temple was divided into several areas by partitions. Okiku prowled around the identified various work areas: carpenters, metalworkers, and finally, gilders. None of the raw material was to be found and Okiku wondered where it was stored. She examined the benches, which looked perfectly normal. And yet, Okiku thought, there was something peculiar. Then it struck her. With all the activity going on, there had to be another way to get materials and finished products in and out of the workshop area. She directed her eyes upwards and soon found what she was looking for: a faintly delineated rectangle in the ceiling. It was the work of a moment to put on the bear-claw climbing hooks, walk up a pillar and along a beam to where she could examine the bottom of the trapdoor.
  
  It was impossible to open from below, she concluded. Encouraged by the find itself, she searched the ceiling and the corner of the room, clinging like a fly to the wooden beams. She came finally upon an inconspicuous panel set flush with the wall in one of the upper corners. Anchoring herself with some more of her hooks, she pried about the panel until it opened with a quiet snick. She smelt the air. Someone had been there recently by the smell of burning wax. $he listened carefully. No sound. Good, the owner was away. She slipped through quietly. Her head brushed a cobweb. Instantly a silk netting studded with hooks fell from the ceiling, entangling her in its folds. Okiku cursed and started to struggle, then realizing it was doing more harm then good, reached for one of the innumerable tools she carried. It was going to be a long job, and she was glad the owner was gone.
  
  A statue, barely visible in the dark, stirred and came to life. It lit a candle with flint and steel. The yellow light disclosed the benevolent plump face of Abbot Saishiden.
  
  The abbot smiled at his captive and produced a large hexagonal-sectioned iron bar. "If you struggle," he said mildly, "I shall have to brain you. Have a good look around. I want to ask you some questions."
  
  Okiku looked at the small low-ceilinged room. It must be hidden by the multi-level structure of the temple she decided. Then she drew a deep breath. Most of the items were of gold. Gold statues, panels, lotus decorations. And several boxes filled with neat rows of paper-wrapped palmsize ovals: boxes of ryo coins.
  
  "Attractive, isn't it?" the abbot inquired. Then he sighed and smiled angelically. "Unfortunately, all fake," he looked sadly at the glittering treasure. "You are not a thief I take it? No, of course not. I rather expect an undercover agent of the magistrate's."
  
  "You don't have a chance," Okiku spoke her first words.
  
  "Ah, a female spy! Of course not. I am fully aware and fearful of the might of the law. No, I shall slip away and start again somewhere. You see, the temple must be built, and the people of our great land must be brought to the right path, the proper worship of the only true Buddha, Yakushi Nyorai." He smiled gently, but there was a hint of steely fanaticism in his voice.
  
  "But we of these blessed isles have always worshipped a multitude of kami and buddhas," Okiku objected, more to keep the conversation going than for any desire to engage in theological debate.
  
  "Wrongly, very wrongly. I learned this from the Spanish friars years ago. Of course they, being benighted barbarians, worship some rude god or other. But at least they realize that only one supreme deity counts, and demands all our adoration. No matter. My monks will fearlessly protect this place until I am well away with some of this stuff. I merely await my porters. You I am afraid, well, ... I shall be leaving you here."
  
  A thought occurred suddenly to Okiku. "Why did you kill Ito Shinichi?"
  
  The abbot stopped in his preparations and smiled quizzically. "You are more perspicacious than I thought, and definitely an agent of the magistrate's. He was becoming a menace, my dear. Just as you are. Is there anything you want? Before you die I mean? My means here are limited. I can offer you some water to drink, a morsel of rice. Some sexual relief perhaps. My needs are few."
  
  "You mean you're going to rape me?" Okiku squealed in pretended distress. At the moment she could do nothing, but in time ...
  
  "Of course not," he said in genuine surprise. "My needs are few, as I've said. But being a woman I imagine coitus is your main concern and I will satisfy your lust if necessary to ease your passage. As for me, I have not engaged in sexual congress for at least forty years."
  
  He said it so simply and forthrightly that Okiku was compelled to believe him. The abbot, she thought, was indeed a holy man, driven by motives that were well beyond those she was familiar with, and doubly dangerous for that.
  
  "I think I would like that," Okiku said, spreading her legs.
  
  "Do you prefer my mouth, my fingers, or my penis?" he inquired. "Please do not be hesitant at stating your preferences. I will do my humble best."
  
  "All three," she said.
  
  He examined her carefully, then bent and removed her pants. His soft delicate fingers applied themselves to her pink slit, tracing each fold methodically and thoroughly, raising her juices in imperceptible degrees.
  
  Above them the monks were nearing exhaustion. Momoe's feet were covered with sperm as the pedophilic Gaptooth spurted again and again against her delicate arches. Her cunt was overflowing with milky sperm, as were her asshole and the valleys between her breasts and her armpits. At last they fell off her, and their heavy panting turned slowly into tired snores. After all, they could see the door they guarded from their resting place. Momoe rose, still naked, and dragging her robe behind her went in search of the washing trough, then slipped into the night.