The petite, silver-haired Taoshi manacled to the wall squirms, legs shaking beneath her stuck-out ass. The disciplining chamber stinks of sex. Gnashing my teeth, I drive my hips forward, closer – ever closer – to that round, pearly bottom. The Taoshi’s thighs tremble, their insides runny with slick arousal.

“Nn—aaay,” she whines down the collar of her loosened outer cloak. “Nay so deeeep… hnn!”

Her pleas fall on large yet deaf ears. There is no halting the punishment. I push on, each jaw-setting moment seeing more and more of my rigid shaft vanish among the creases and folds of the Tao woman’s obedient pussy. Instincts – primal, youkai instincts to terrorise and dominate – vie in my head with the senses of loyalty and duty to my Acharya saviour. The horny, female moaning lends itself to but one of these. I continue the slow insertion even so. Until the root. Until my bare, engorged glans presses up against the mouth of the Taoshi’s virgin womb.

Only then, I give in to the masculine feeling of conquest. With my penis threatening to get her with child should she but disobey, I raise a palm… and then clap it solidly on the Tao woman’s defenceless behind.

A throaty, feminine cry rattles the disciplining room’s window shutters. Another chases it out under the barred, basement doors once I spank the other hemisphere of the Taoshi’s splendid ass. They are everything but repentant.

“… Will you now apologise, Scourge?” I try, not believing it overmuch myself.

The Scourge, Toyosatomimi’s hound, Mononobe Futo, screws up enough of her faculties to smirk back at my one-eyed face over her shoulder. “… Wood Boddhist,” she mocks, despite her insides wringing wetly around me. “Thinkest thou this enow? To me with yon long, hardy cock of thine sentence? Thou shalt woeful twice… nay, thrice thy seed in me plant afore I thine of might orts acknowledge!”

“Won’t be too difficult,” I grunt in reply.

Civilities gratified, I set about re-educating the haughty Taoshi in earnest. I pull my “hardy cock,” coated now from tip to base in proof of Futo’s defiance, out of her lovesome, clinging depths. Then coerce it back in. Now it’s been properly ministered to, her snug petals slide even easier down my rigid, vein-streaked shaft. I give to Futo’s captive womb a brief, menacing kiss before reversing the stroke to fill her up again. And again. And again.

Sooner than either one of us may think differently, I am fucking the shackled arsonist Taoshi from behind, much to her candid, vocal delight.

Seven days ago, we were perfect strangers.

A hitotsume-nyuudou such as myself could never have been anything else to a beacon of humanity the like of the youthful Taoshi. The Acharya Hijiri had herself remarked on my supplication that mine was a kind maligned by humans and youkai of Gensokyo both. That we, one-eyed giants of yore, unable to adjust or be weaned of our bloody ways, have brought only storm-clouds above the peace of her Myourenji. And yet, in her mercy, the wise Acharya offered me this: not perhaps a full induction, but a station within the temple all the same. I was to be her chastener. The apprehended one to keep the apprehensive in line. Hijiri’s whip and rack.

… Was what I’d, in my bloody ways, imagined. The truth proved milder than Hijiri’s tone and black robes had had me in mind. The chamber I was led to had no whips or racks, no iron maidens or breaking wheels. In their place, washing boards, heavy bricks, sacks of rock salt, a padded pillory and birches were to be my tools of craft and deterrence. Corporal punishment, I would later hear trickled from the rumour mill, was one of those concepts our Acharya had staunchly carried over from her era. I would not complain. Others did, though. Which, the Acharya said, was the point.

A week ago, when they threw into my basement a trussed-up bundle of silver hair and curses, I was near to flipping that arrangement. As I hoisted the screaming prisoner onto my table, I found out by the handful what it was. A woman. Very definitely. Not a lot of her, but enough in volume to hurt my ears. Once, however, I’d introduced as well myself as my lowly function within Myourenji, she ceased kicking. And afterwards, miracle of miracles, we talked. Something about my existence, never you mind the station, must’ve vindicated a long-held view inside that ponytailed head of hers. A water-toeing comment to the address of our Acharya’s old-modish notion of discipline, and I pretty well became the enemy of Futo’s enemy.

“… Still got to punish you somehow,” I warned her at the tail of our strange little conversation.

The Taoshi, arms tied behind her back, laughed the idea up and down. “Aah, witest nay thou?” she dared me. “To a shikaisen lasting harm do an exercise in futility is. Whyfore weenest thou I unto thy mannish hands delivered was?”

I regarded the roughed-up-and-uncaring girl, feeling snubbed. “Well…”

“Howbeit—” marked Futo, grey eyes suddenly afire. “Yon hands of thine truly mannish were… and there e’er a Way to punish a woman is.”

“… That so?”

“Yea, indeed,” cooed the Taoshi, smiling catlike in her binds. “A sore peccant Way. Heed ye.”

Somewise, I heeded. Somewise, come the next hour, I was fluently hitting Futo’s sweet spots with my middle and ring fingers while stuffing them up to their roots in her tight, soaked pussy. Come the next still, I was grinding my erect dick on her swollen outer labia. All throughout, the bound Taoshi begged me in stark, unblushing terms to put it in. To her “like a man take.” I didn’t. After all, a punishment was underway. I spilled a massive, pent-up load all over her gorgeous thighs, cut her ties and then booted her, filthy and violated, out of my basement.

“Iffen I see your ass again, lassie,” I tossed in by way of goodbyes, “I’ll send you scurrying back to your owner with a child in your belly.”

Futo, picking herself up from the dirt, eyed me combatively. “Thou wilt not,” she promised and fled.

Seven dawns since, and I am staring at her ass again.

Wrists in cuffs, skirt and fundoshi skinned to the ankles, the hound of Toyosatomimi has been demoted to a mere bitch. The love-handles that are her plump buttocks jiggle in the wake of each of my full-length thrusts. This time, I hadn’t even to bother fingering her first; from the moment the naughty Taoshi was caught and rolled under my basement’s door, she must have been remembering how our previous encounter had gone. Her outmoded underwear was a thorough mess by my clapping her in the manacles; showering me in expletives or no, she was completely ready to fuck. Could be the memories were just that good… or, my instincts supply, being dragged into a monster’s lair to get impregnated against their will is exactly the type of fantasy powerful women like Futo flick their clits to when everyone else is asleep.

All I know is that I mean to deliver on the threat. Futo’s young body conspiring with me to the effect is purely icing on the cake. Granted, it is a lot of icing. A not insignificant size though I am, I haven’t the slightest trouble reaching the dainty Taoshi’s womb; even when I haul my cock all the way out to shake her overflowing juices from my sack, Futo’s pussy lips need but a nudge from my tip to wrap around it and start swallowing my shaft again. Hot and velvety, her honeyed walls glide past the exposed ridge of my glans, harshly scraping away my endurance. I do not pretend to hold back; I grab a hold of Futo’s amazing ass and hilt my pulsing cock inside her baby-maker.

Growling against my best behaviour, I give the Taoshi’s womb a gushing sample of my virility. Only precum for now… but I’ll spare the cute thing nothing if it means she’ll be likelier to conceive.

Sensing me withdraw my still-hard penis, Futo mewls into her collar as though frustrated this was not the shot which would’ve made her a mother. Truth to tell, I sympathise every inch with her disappointment. I give those back to her: slowly, harshly, with especial attention to the secret place she was fool enough to show me a week before. The Taoshi’s drenched pussy hugs and squeezes all around my pumping cock… but denies me the pleasure of seeing her cream herself first.

“… Notcher, guh, first rodeo, eh, lassie?” I taunt, sheathing myself balls-deep to pour more precum into her baby-room. “You’re looser’n the fuckin’ sailor-girl, I swear… and I fucked that one on our maiden session.”

“Nnnay so,” whines Futo, smushing her wickedly flushed ass into my waist. “Nay… so. In my… my beforetime life,” she explains, “I a beldam, a mother was. Of five. Afterwise my shikai, however, alack… hnn.” The small Taoshi’s thoughts dislodge as I resume sliding her pussy off and back onto my cock. “… Afffterwise,” she manages to say a dozen mating strokes in, “in these new habilimentsss, in the land Gensokyo hight… this my first sex is. My, ahn, second maidenhead.”

“Then I’m sorry,” I tell her, speeding my pace, all but drowned out by the slap-slap-slap of my hips crashing into her jiggly butt, “that it had to be me who done stole it.”

Almost, and I’d have stolen Futo’s reply as well. “F—Fie,” she gasps in between my ruthless, womb-deep insertions, “I naught regret…”

Something in the reply stirs up the youkai inside me to no end. And by and large, my loyalties to Myourenji and its Acharya mist over. I can no more remind the Taoshi hussy that this is a punishment – not a lovers’ first fuck – than I can stop myself lusting after her plump behind. Unlike her, of course, I’ll have no need to explain to my master a half-breed baby in my belly; and the picture of Futo leaving here today with her womb chock-full of my sticky seed – I can’t lie my way out of this – stiffens me even harder inside her. If Futo’s lewd moans are telling then she, too, wants nothing short of a brazen walk of shame.

So, I continue screwing the pervert Taoshi shackled to the wall. I keep torturing both her and myself with the pretend-rape, slamming my wood-stiff cock to the swollen balls inside her subdued pussy, palming and spreading her ass-cheeks to spit on and thumb her pristine butthole. Futo’s obscene voice hitches once I get the first knuckle past the pink ring of her anus… then cracks outright when I cram in the whole rest of the thumb. The Taoshi peers back at me through dishevelled hair with pleading in her fiery eyes.

Not the pleading to stop. The pleading to get her pregnant already, so we may reserve the next load for her other cock receptacle.

Too bad for Futo, my cock today belongs wholly in her twice-deflowered pussy.

Our orgasms sync. It is the damnedest thing, but not one more minute later of grinding my shaft and glans on her sensitive spots, the small Taoshi yanks the chains, seizing from neck to toes and throughout the busy middle. Her hitherto soft, docile walls vise me in the worst possible moment, scrubbing my exposed cockhead, throwing me instantly over the edge I’ve manfully polished since Futo’s virginal confession. The moans boil together into a blissed-out cry in the Taoshi’s chest as I press my quaking hips hard against her springy butt. Twinging end to end, my overstimulated cock looses the first, potent jet of my seed straight into Futo’s womb. Squirt splashes the stone basement floor as her own climax mounts, but I haven’t a care for it soiling my sandals. I hold Futo’s baby-room hostage to my throbbing glans, the beast in me hunching me forward to sniff the base of her neck while I get her mercilessly, irresponsibly with child.

She smells of woman and rut. I breathe in deeply, committing it to memory.

I do not pull out. I finish filling up her womb and wait till my cock grows firm once more. Then, with my cum as fresh lube, I start fucking Futo all over again.

…

She doesn’t as much as flinch when, hours later, I smack her ass over my basement’s doorstep. The sexed-out, pregnant Taoshi shoots me a heated look, but it doesn’t take a pair of eyes to see she enjoys her body’s soreness.

“… Say, Boddhist,” twits Futo, glancing under my arm at the place where she was made to endure no fewer than five thigh-clenching orgasms. “Weenest thou, perchance, these cruel gyves mayeth a ghost as good as a shikaisen hold?”

This, I needn’t speculate. “Yeah. Cursed iron, see? Our Acharya’s own make.”

Futo gives me a sly smile. A broad, cunning smile which makes me loath to have to let her go. And she recognises as much, smiling even wider.

“… Heyday,” the smug Taoshi says at length. “Then I a surprise for thee for next time have.”

Acharya forgive me. I may be beginning to like this wench.