text: Across the neighborhoods of Miyako, in a grander setting, another woman was being interviewed for a position as maid.
  
  Ito looked at the young girl in front of him and stroked his chin thoughtfully. He was intrigued by her appearance. She claimed to be, and wore the clothes of, a seamstress. She had come to Haruko asking for work, and Haruko had immediately noted her unusual qualities. The girl had lustrous brown hair which she wore in a rough bun on top of her head. There was something elegant about the turn of her neck and her poise that made Ito suspect she might be the by-blow of some kuge aristocrat from the imperial enclosure.
  
  She sat passively, eyes lowered, work-roughened hands in her lap. Ito licked his lips. He wondered if she would put up any resistance?
  
  "Have you worked in any mansion before?" he asked severely. A bit of respect was instilled in the lower classes by assuming hardness from the start.
  
  She lowered her head. "No sir," she whispered.
  
  "You realize this is not like working outside?" he asked sharply. She bowed wordlessly. "In a samurai household, discipline and self-sacrifice are the rule, not the exception."
  
  "I will do all that is necessary, master," she answered with bowed head. Ito longed to seize the nape of her neck and drag her to his crotch to assuage the sudden bulge in his hakama trousers.
  
  "Not all that is necessary only." He said. "All that is required or asked of you ..."
  
  "Yes," she agreed.
  
  "There is no going back!" he warned her.
  
  "I understand," she said. "I will serve you and your lady loyally."
  
  Ito turned and stared at Haruko, who was kneeling in a corner of the room. His face was flushed and tiny beads of sweat had popped out at the base of his nose. She knew the symptoms, and nodded.
  
  Breathing rapidly and swallowing convulsively, Ito laid one hand on Midori's head, forcing her to bow closer to the floor. The touch of the unusually soft hair sent tremors through his frame.
  
  "You will be part of the Ito House," he said formally. "You will be obedient and hardworking."
  
  She nodded, her forehead knocking against the floor.
  
  Ito raised her, holding her chin with a trembling hand. "Do you accept?" he asked hoarsely.
  
  "Yes Master," she said.
  
  "You will be Mistress Haruko's maid, but just now I have greater need of you. I will borrow you from time to time." He lunged forward, overcome by his own lust, and pulled her to him. She started to resist then, remembering her oath, sank softly and nestled into his arms. Her passivity excited him to a frenzy. He tore off his clothes, making a mental note while he still could that she be supplied with better. He spread her on the tatami and knelt, his knees by her ears. "Undo me!" he commanded with a trembling lust-filled voice. She hastened awkwardly to obey. He stood up and his brocade silver-threaded hakama fell to the floor and covered her head. He moved swiftly to one side and placed a victorious foot on her breasts, kneading them strongly with his almost prehensile toes, clutching at the soft, defeated flesh. She cried properly and moved the fabric of his garment aside, then peered up fearfully at his full bollocks and hugely erect pole. He was staring off into the distance, left hand on the dagger in his sash, right fist on his hip. Slowly his face bent down to glare at his captive. He gripped his dagger tightly, almost withdrawing it.
  
  "Surrender!" he whispered hoarsely.
  
  Cowering away from him, the captive spread her legs unwillingly.
  
  He moved deliberately, with a heavy tread that shook the matting, and stood between her splayed legs. He raised a foot and a toe dug deeply into the wound between the captive's legs. Ito laughed in delight at the pleasure of victory and the evidence of his powerful blows. He dropped to his knees and rolled the body over. The captive flopped helplessly, ready for him to consummate his lust. His sword pointed at the target and he lunged forward, burying himself to the hilt.
  
  Midori felt the brief tearing sensation of his invasion of her rear end. She had been expecting it and consoled herself that no harm was done, though, in her professional capacity, she regretted not being able to prepare herself better for his pleasure. She smiled inwardly. Ito's little charade seemed perfectly harmless to her. Since she had joined Osatsuki as junior partner she had participated in several such playlets. And the conclusion was always the same. Modelling herself after her Elder Sister, she displayed outward passivity and surrender while urging the man on with subtle motions of her hips and movements of her hidden muscles. His thumb joined his cock, exploring and tugging urgently at her cunt hole and she responded to the stimulation eagerly.
  
  Ito Haruko watched her husband fall on the helpless new girl with amusement. His quirk was so familiar and so repetitive by now that she knew all the permutations by heart. She watched her husband's fingers dig into Midori's ass with approval. The girl barely moved, tolerating the moderate and controlled violence with fortitude. Haruko smiled to herself. The new girl would keep him busy while she would be able to attend to her own affairs without bother. In the meantime, she might as well enjoy her own pleasures. She rose and approached the couple, opening her robe as she did so. She lay down before Midori and beckoned. Midori lowered her head, smiled in acknowledgement, and started licking at the proffered cunt with a dexterous and knowledgeable tongue. As she did so she began squeezing Ito's cock with her anal muscles, encouraging and timing her customers' reactions so that they would both climax in her willing body at the same time, but so subtly that they would not realize she was guiding them.
  
  Ito, lost in fantasy, saw the fields around him filled with corpses. The captive was dying beneath him as he stabbed and stabbed again at the soft flesh. Another body, legs sprawled, also fallen to his sword, lay before the first. His sperm rose in a rush of violent spurts that flooded Midori's anal canal just as her tongue extracted the flood of dew that Haruko let down. They collapsed together in a heap, Midori smiling in happiness at having performed the difficult feat without her mentor, Osatsuki.