text: Jiro awoke with the sensation of a threat. He oriented himself in the dark, opening his eyes to mere slits. Closer to the window he could make out the massive snoring bulk that was his host. Another, slightly higher sound intruded on his senses. Slowly and silently he drew the short sword that rested beneath his pillow. A mat frame creaked. A figure loomed over him. Twisting to one side, he threw his quilt over the assailant and rolled away. His foot struck a wooden pillar, and he rolled toward the attacker. The figure gave a muffled cry and fell back, crashing over the wrestler's massive form.
  
  The snoring stopped abruptly. Another muffled scream and a figure seemed to launch itself in the air, over Tatsunoyama's recumbent bulk, to the area where Jiro had been before. There was a resounding slap, and the leaping figure crashed to the ground. There was the sound of continuing struggle for a short while from Tatsunoyama's bedding, then silence. Jiro, his senses alert, probed for any more attackers. Tatsunoyama lay sensibly still, one of the bundles beside him inert, the other struggling feebly. Jiro's acute senses, trained by Okiku, who had been a professional assassin, told him of no other threat. Leisurely he lit a lamp.
  
  "Let us examine your prizes, Tatsunoyama-zeki." He had a feeling that he knew who the prizes were.
  
  Lady One was lying at full length on the matting. There was a growing purple bruise on one temple. She was dressed in tight-fitting black clothes, black turban, and a black gauze mask. Beside her outstretched hand lay a long stiletto-like pin. Its tip glittered stickily. Jiro moved it carefully aside. He did not know the type, but the sticky substance on the blade seemed to indicate poison. He examined the girl with caution. She seemed stunned, not dead.
  
  "Well, not too badly damaged, I imagine," Jiro said conversationally while he bound her with his sword cord, released from the scabbard.
  
  "Let's look at the other one," Tatsunoyama said with the same tone of indifference. "I suppose they were for you? I can't imagine them as supporters of mine on a surprise visit."
  
  "I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience. They were indeed aiming at me." He explained the circumstances while they removed Lady Two's weapon—a straight-edged dagger—and uncovered her. She glared at Jiro and made a move to leap at him with bared teeth.
  
  "Stop that!" Tatsunoyama ordered, shaking her. Her teeth rattled in her head as her neck snapped back and forth with the power of his movement. She looked at his face and seemed to recognize him for the first time.
  
  "You're the wrestler. We deeply apologize for this intrusion. It is a matter of revenge, you see. You must let us go."
  
  The fat man laughed. "What do I care for your revenges? You disturbed my sleep! I hate that!" He emphasized each statement with a shake. Her head shook back and forth like a puppet's. "You must never do that again! Do you understand?"
  
  She nodded in agreement. Her twin moaned and stirred.
  
  "Besides, you disturbed my guest. That is not done. If you want to challenge him, do it outside!" She nodded again, and he released her. She shot forward like a striking snake, snatching for the dagger that Jiro held negligently before him.
  
  Fast as she was, the fat man was faster. There was a meaty slap, and his massive palm smacked into her back. His other hand swept her legs from under her, and he pinned her to the ground.
  
  Impassively he said, "You apparently were not listening. I said not to do that!" This time he emphasized each word with a slap on her squirming buttocks. She cried out but continued to struggle. His impassivity did not change, nor did the tempo of his hand coming down on her roughly clothed bum.
  
  "Stop that!" Lady One had recovered from her blow and was writhing in her bonds. "Leave my sister alone!"
  
  "When she learns to obey me," Tatsunoyama said imperturbably.
  
  "Never! I'll kill him!" came the muffled retort. Lady One increased her struggles, but Jiro knew his knots too well. He looked on with interest as she tried to extricate herself.
  
  Tatsunoyama hauled himself to a sitting position. He groped behind him and found a small raku-ware sake container, which he drained. His other hand kept Lady Two pinned on the floor. She still struggled furiously. "Might as well be comfortable," said the wrestler. He hauled Lady Two onto his crossed knees. "You will do what I say. You will refrain from misbehaving. Until then I will punish you." He raised his meaty hand again and brought it down on the girl's inflamed buttocks. She struggled furiously for a while as his blows rained down steadily.
  
  Jiro looked down at her. She glared back. "Do you enjoy being beaten?" he asked. "I know a woman who does," he added for Tatsunoyama's benefit. "She gets excited that way." He refrained from describing Rosamund's other talents and attributes.
  
  "Is that so?" wondered Tatsunoyama, surprised for once. "I find that very odd. Pain is not after all pleasant—though sometimes it is necessary." His hand did not pause for a moment.
  
  "No, I don't!"
  
  "You don't what?" Tatsunoyama inquired.
  
  "Enjoy being beaten. Stop, please—oh stop, please!"
  
  Tatsunoyama stayed his hand. "You will obey? Stop fighting?"
  
  "Yes, yes, of course, I will have to kill him another time."
  
  He released his hand, but again she tried to lunge forward at Jiro. Tatsunoyama's hands clamped on her body.
  
  "You are forcing me to exercise when I should be asleep. Now I must relax again. I assure you, you will obey me in the end. I was an apprentice for many years before I fought my way through the curtain into the ranks of the champions. I have trained as an apprentice, and that is hard, and as a champion, and that is harder. I assure you I can train you. But first I must relax. I do not like to be annoyed." His moon face was suffused with a frown.
  
  He pulled at the rough fabric of her blue-dyed workman's pants. There was a ripping sound, and the fabric parted. Her buttocks glowed rose with the force of his blows. She shivered involuntarily as the cold night air met her overheated sensitive skin. Holding her down with one hand, Tatsunoyama shrugged out of his light sleeping yukata robe. The enormous dome of his belly overshadowed the stout, fat prick that banged against the overhang. His balls hung down from a forest of curls between his legs, though the insides of his thighs were rubbed bald from the rough hemp loincloth he wore while fighting. He slapped apart her legs after ripping the leggings down, and knelt between them. She looked behind her fearfully.
  
  "Have no fear. I will not let my weight down on you—unless you struggle and provided you say, 'I will obey,' by the time I am ready to finish with you."
  
  She squirmed around fearfully, but he held her down by neck and hip. He squatted down between her thighs and lowered himself. Jiro marvelled at the man's flexibility. His joints, notwithstanding their massiveness, were as flexible as a baby's. The tip of the cock massaged the back of the girl's ass for a moment. He pushed forward slowly. She felt the mass of his belly on her overheated buns and shied away. He probed remorselessly, and the tip of his pole found the tiny button of her ass. Not knowing the size of his tool but knowing that his entry was inevitable, she raised her buttocks to facilitate entry into her cunt.
  
  Her heated mounds touched the arch of his belly, and she quivered again. Fear of being smothered under the mound of flesh and muscle, rather than of the coming act, made her frame tremble. He eased forward again, saying, "You will obey me! Do not try to escape." She nodded wordlessly as the tip of his machine probed the outer fringes of her cunt. To his surprise, he found it moist. Enjoying and using the slickness, he eased forward, parting the fat lips of her sex. They both let out their breaths in an audible sigh as he slid his length up her slick channel.
  
  To her surprise the pressure of his belly on her ass was not unbearable. The skin still stung, but she was not crushed. She elevated her buttocks to facilitate his entry, and he moved obligingly back and down. Then he pulled out of her entirely. She aided his movement by a bucking motion of her hips, and again he drove forward. He released her nape, but she made no move to escape as his cock shuttled in and out of her.
  
  Jiro observed with delight and amazement as Tatsunoyama's massive frame hovered over the girl's slight body with the lightness of thistledown. With amazing agility the fat man moved his hips in wide circles and plunged himself deeply into the woman before him. She responded with a dreamy smile and an occasional grunt, more of pleasure than from the feel of Tatsunoyama's weight.
  
  Their climax approached. Tatsunoyama moved faster, and the girl moved with him. She rose to her elbows now. One of her hands molded her dangling breasts. With the other she reached beneath her and lightly supported Tatsunoyama's dangling scrotum. Fearful for his friend, Jiro readied the dagger to stop any suspicious move, but the girl seemed sincerely intent on protecting the man's jewels.
  
  "Will you obey me?" Tatsunoyama asked in his hoarse voice.
  
  As if in a faraway dream, Lady Two answered, "Yes. Yes, I will."
  
  "You'll do what I say," emphasized Tatsunoyama. "You will leave Master Jiro alone!"
  
  "Yes, yes, of course," she answered dreamily. Then she turned her face to him and made a bowing motion to the floor. Tatsunoyama surged up behind her. He pulled her to him and ground her buttocks into the hollow under his belly. His buttock muscles pumped, and she squealed as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her. His massive ass muscles pumped his own liquid into her at the same time, spraying her insides and overflowing onto the sleeping pad. Lady One looked on from her bonds, her eyes glaring fearfully.
  
  Tatsunoyama released Lady Two and let her gently down onto the mat.
  
  "And you?" he asked Lady One conversationally. His dripping prick seemed to threaten her from under its protecting ledge. It had lost much of its stiffness but appeared still serviceable.
  
  "Sister! Do what he says!" Lady Two hissed from the floor.
  
  "But our master!" agonized the other.
  
  "We are masterless now, don't you see? How can two strolling players have a master? No one can expect us to be masterless for long..."
  
  "I will bring you under my wing," croaked Tatsunoyama. "After all," he smiled, "in some ways we are alike. We both display to the crowds as a living. In years to come sumo will become more of a spectacle, now that the old masters are gone and we rarely kill in the ring. And this thing that you do, these performances, no doubt they, too will become popular as entertainment even in the cities. What do you call this acting without masks?"
  
  "I don't know," answered Lady One while licking her lips. "It has no name, but it is more popular than the No plays or the sarugaku..."
  
  "Sister... !" pleaded the other twin.
  
  "Very well. We will do your will." She smiled at him. "I rather liked you from the moment I saw you. But you have to prove yourself to me," she added fiercely. "The master could." She rolled over on her back and spread her legs.
  
  Jiro, excluded from the conversation by the twin's enmity, bit his lips. He remembered that he had deflowered both twins almost simultaneously when he was a captive of their deceased lord. His balls ached from the desire to stab himself again into that sweet cleft he knew was hidden under the rough fabric.
  
  "No," Tatsunoyama smiled in his turn. "That is not the way I care to do it. You will do it my way." He laid himself comfortably on his back. "Release her!" he ordered Lady Two.
  
  She divested herself of the remains of her pants and moved to obey. She squatted with her back to him, and Jiro could see the length of the crack between her rosy buns and the tangled, spermy end of the beard hanging below. He would have liked to step forward and introduce himself into the inviting opening, but a warning glance from Tatsunoyama restrained him. His massive fists clenched painfully. Lady Two untied her sister and rubbed her limbs briskly to restore circulation. With several swift motions she removed her sister's clothing as well. The two were perfect twins, differing now only in that one was slightly wetter and rosier than the other. They rose and stood side by side for a moment.
  
  Tatsunoyama admired their stance and composure, then motioned to his prick, hidden from his eyes by the mound of his belly. Lady Two knelt swiftly by his side. Her pink tongue slipped out and licked the semi-hard rod with a quick flip. Another followed, and another, until she was laving the length of the rod with her tongue. She sucked and nibbled at the member until it stiffened anew. Holding it with her fist, she turned to her sister. The slim figure of Lady One straddled the mound of muscle. She poised there for a moment, like a child riding a tortoise, then slid down until her open crack hovered over the waiting impaler. Lady Two bent behind her, and her tongue licked out. The hairy crack was moistened rapidly, and Lady One stuck herself gradually onto the waiting tool. Tatsunoyama looked on approvingly as she began rapidly bobbing up and down his stiff pole. The slick coated length appeared and disappeared, now hidden by her bush, now pulling at the lips that let it go reluctantly.
  
  Jiro eased himself out of the room into the dimly lit corridor. It was obvious he was not invited to the party. The only thing to do, he decided, was to take a bath. He would have the bathhouse to himself, and the heat would at least soothe his tension. He walked through the silent corridors and down to the steaming room. Stripping off his yukata, he could not help but think of the scene he had abandoned above. His massive cock reared its head futilely for the second time that night. He tried to ignore the pressure and marched determinedly to the pool's edge, pausing while he decided whether to be polite and wash or whether to simply plunge in.
  
  "Saaa... !"
  
  The drawn-out sound startled him out of his contemplation. He turned his head. Six pairs of eyes looked him over thoughtfully. In his confusion, he fell more than slid into the bath, almost babbling apologies before he remembered his rank and status. The six women pilgrims he had seen before resumed a low-voiced conversation. He tried to relax and ignore them. In the heat, his painful erection would not go away. Neither would the women. He could not masturbate, considering the circumstances. He examined them out of the corner of his eyes. They were not young, but not, he noticed, particularly old either. Two of them were out of the tub, and their chunky, muscular bodies gleamed with water and health. A farmwife pilgrim association, he surmised. The government had inveighed against the pilgrimage practice, because it took time away from the serious business of work, but it was the people's sole relaxation sometimes, and many indulged in it when they could. Times were peaceful now that the Age of Wars was over, and people tried to relax more.
  
  One of the women got out of the tub and passed behind Jiro. She splashed herself with cold water from a barrel near the wall, then dipped the bucket again. This time the bucket slipped, and Jiro felt the splash of cold water send currents down his back.
  
  "Oh, I'm terribly sorry! I really wasn't careful... Allow me to apologize." The female voice was very near.
  
  Jiro turned his head. She was standing near him, bending over solicitously. Her breasts, with a pair of tiny nipples, swung suggestively before his face. She had a pleasant, flat face, and there was a hint of mischief in her tone.
  
  "Are you all right, mister?"
  
  He nodded, and she took that as an invitation to sit beside him on the tub rim. She was quite unself-conscious, and he noticed that her legs were spread comfortably. Tiny outer lips barely covered long inner folds in her cunt, he saw.
  
  "We're from Nara and on our way to visit the sites near Mount Koya", she said. "Are you a pilgrim too?"
  
  "No," he answered, struggling to maintain his composure. "I am looking for someone, a friend." He described Satsuki.
  
  "We haven't seen anyone of that description," she cooed. "Girls, this gentleman is looking for a friend." She repeated Jiro's story. There was a general agreement to her denial, and some sentences Jiro could not hear clearly. One thing he thought he did hear was, "She's a lucky girl, though, if that's the way he's looking for her!" The words were drowned in a burst of laughter. Jiro did not know how to react. He was about to rise and stalk off, when the woman beside him leaned forward again.
  
  "You must be very sore from your journey," she said solicitously. "Please let me rub it for you." She rubbed the muscles in his neck slowly. While doing so she had to lean forward, and Jiro was conscious of two tiny glowing spots that dragged along the skin of his back. She rubbed harder, and his shoulders relaxed, though the relaxation was not apparent underwater.
  
  Suddenly he was conscious of another figure near him. A voice sounded by his left ear. "I see you need help, Mitsuko." A pair of plump, work-strengthened hands was added to the first. Another figure splashed to join them. He opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by expectant females' faces. Before he could recover, they seemed to have reached a decision, based on nothing more than a brief exchange of glances. Two firm hands dived underneath and grasped his prick.
  
  "It's lovely!"
  
  "Such a big one!"
  
  Six pairs of hands hauled him gently to his feet and laid him on a nearby wooden bench. His cock stood erect along his belly, ready for action. The pilgrims admired their catch for a moment. Jiro's cock was indeed impressive, and they relished the sight.
  
  "Looks like there's enough for all," Mitsuko breathed. "Now don't disappoint us, lovey. There's six of us, you know!" She swung a strong leg over him and settled herself on top of his erection. She posed there for a moment, then let herself down with a deep breath of satisfaction.
  
  "Good, in't?" asked one of the others. Mitsuko's only answer was a beatific smile as she began bouncing up and down the length of the magnificent maleness lodged in her juicy hole.
  
  Jiro supported her with his hands, enjoying the sensation he knew would lead to his release. He was not worried about the other five. He needed release now, and he intended to get it. He arched his back and plunged up to meet her downthrust. He was barely conscious of a whispered conversation beside them. Only a fragment reached his ears: "... but men don't do that!... well, I've never tried it. My old man won't do it to me."
  
  "He'll do it. He's ours."
  
  "I've got to..."
  
  "Nonsense, no man would!"
  
  The dim light in the bathroom was suddenly blotted out. Jiro, lost in his approaching pleasure, was barely conscious of it when a warm, moist, earth-smelling cushion fringed with hair enveloped his face. Instinctively, recognizing the smell and textures, he sent his tongue out and into the proffered hole. There was a faintly heard squeal of delight. "Sweet Jizo! He's doing it, he's doing it! How wonderful!" The redolent cunt was mashed against his lips as he continued tonguing it, running his tongue the length of the slit, nipping delicately at the prominent clitoris. The pressure in his balls grew and grew, and he shoved up with all his strength.
  
  A fountain of creamy sperm shot out from his balls just as the two women on top of him forced themselves down in a last frantic attempt to move before they also came. The three thrashed on the bench like a tangle of eels, the woman on Jiro's face almost falling off in the intensity of her pleasure. At length Mitsuko and her partner rose from his recumbent form.
  
  "Oh, no," said one disappointed woman, a plump figure with full breasts and a pleasantly curved belly. "He's done for. Look at him, Mitsuko. You've milked him dry."
  
  "Milked him, but not dry. Look at his lovely tool."
  
  The object in question was as stiff as ever, though coated thickly with a frothy residue.
  
  "Its my turn now!" announced one woman unceremoniously. She threw a leg over Jiro's hips and drew him into her. He thrust up deeply, intent on her pleasure as well as his own.
  
  "I'll follow Omurasaki!" announced the plump one. Before Jiro could react, he found himself imprisoned between two plump thighs. Full, clean cunt with fat lips pressed against his mouth. He moved his head in meek protest, but the movement of his nose brought on pleasurable squealings, and he renewed his tongue work again. He raised his hands to feel her plump buttocks, but apparently others had a different idea. He found his hands seized and straddled. The callused sides of his palms were rubbed roughly against hungry lips, readying them and pacifying them until the real thing were to arrive.
  
  The juice in his balls rose again. This time, before he could explode he found a soft yet firm hand squeezing hard at the base of his cock. He tried to protest, but the force of two bodies on his hand and one on his face limited his opposition. The slick sensation on his prick continued. He was conscious of a clenching and rocking as his rider finished, and a new, slightly tighter cunt was on him, and a lighter body was riding him. His tongue tired, but not before his rider rocked to completion. His face was wiped with a cool towel, and a new rider replaced the one on his face.
  
  Several times he almost reached a climax, only to be frustrated by the firm grip at the base of his cock. At last, barely conscious, dipping into a dream of sensation, he felt himself elevated beyond the caress of flesh. He was a tower of strength, set to serve the demanding mouths about him. His power bore him through cavern after cavern until he felt a blaze explode within him. He knew this time that the holding hand would not suffice, and the hand knew it as well. Massive grunting sounds emerged from his mouth and translated themselves into sawing motions of his tongue, which could no longer feel the weariness of the hour. The power grew and grew. He was vaguely conscious of his hips arching high, of a body riding his, their only connecting point the strength of his maleness and the complimentary female cavern.
  
  The explosion came. It rushed from the base of his spine, gathering power as it swept everything before it. He poised at the top of his arch, his body supported by shoulders and heels alone, his cock high in the air. Soft, irresistible, wet pressure pounded on him from above as his juices spurted from him in an unending jet, forced out by his internal power, all visible muscles motionless.
  
  He collapsed back on the bench.
  
  Coming to, he found himself alone in the bathroom. The candles had guttered down. His head was pillowed on a towel. Folded neatly in it were six amulets. He shook himself and rinsed off slowly in the hot water, then in cold, then in the pool again. Wearily he headed back to Tatsunoyama's suite. The wrestler was on his back again, snoring. On each side of him snuggled a smaller bundle. One of the twins opened an eye. She saw Jiro's face by the light of the candle, ignored him, and snuggled up again to her massive lover. Ignoring her in turn, Jiro fell into an exhausted sleep.