Finally. The Long Awaited Promise.

I left the square in an excellent mood.

The morning had produced everything I wanted from it and several things I had not known to want until they happened. I had gotten a tour of Loguetown, fucked a Marine across a cafe table, planted another new tradition, and finished by making Tashigi scream her lungs out on the same platform where the Pirate King had died. People were still pointing toward the scaffold and repeating pieces of her declarations. I heard one man imitate the way she had shouted that she was full, and his friends nearly fell over laughing.

I wandered into one of the streets leading away from the square with no particular destination. The crowds had already absorbed what happened and returned to buying breakfast, carrying parcels, and arguing with merchants. A few people recognized me from the platform. They pointed me out to their friends, whispered, or gave me approving nods, but nobody stopped me.

I wondered what everyone else was doing. Buggy’s crew had spread through Loguetown looking for Luffy and the other Straw Hats. Alvida was probably hunting for him personally, although she could easily become distracted by shopping, eating, or admiring herself in windows. Buggy might have found Luffy already.

If he had, the fight was probably finished. Buggy and Alvida were both Devil Fruit users, and they had an entire pirate crew behind them. The Straw Hats were five youths with only one Devil Fruit user among them. For all I knew, Luffy was already tied up while Buggy and Alvida argued over who had really captured him.

That made me wonder whether everyone would leave without me.

My aura made almost anything involving me feel normal. Maybe it could make my absence seem just as ordinary. Buggy might load his prisoner aboard the Big Top, order the sails raised, and never question why his newest officer had failed to return. The rest of the crew could accept that I simply was not there and sail away while I continued wandering around Loguetown.

I doubted Alvida would allow that. She liked me, and she was far too possessive to misplace her first mate and lover. If she returned to the ship and found me missing, Buggy would not be going anywhere until she recovered me. She had become accustomed to having me beside her and having my cock whenever she wanted it. My aura might make my absence seem ordinary, but it wouldn’t make her enjoy it.

I passed beneath a row of shaded balconies and watched the women moving between the shops. That reminded me that I had spent half the damn tour getting Tashigi out of her panties, only to let her put them back on. After all that work, I should have kept a souvenir.

The next attractive woman I passed stood before a jeweler’s window in a cream skirt. I stepped behind her, lifted the hem, and hooked my fingers into the waistband of her pale blue panties. I enjoyed the sight of her soft buttcheeks as she glanced back while I drew them down her thighs, but the earrings kept the intrusion from becoming a problem. She shifted her handbag, lifted each foot in turn, and let me pull the panties over her shoes before returning her attention to the necklaces.

I crumpled the warm cloth into my fist and put it in my trouser pocket.

That had been easy, and one pair did not take up much room. When a dark-haired woman emerged from a dressmaker carrying two hatboxes, I stopped her with a hand on her breast and relieved her of a pair of black lace panties (and caught sight of a completely shaved bare pussy!). She paused beside the doorway and balanced the boxes against the wall long enough to step out of them. I balled those up and stuffed them beside the first pair.

The third woman was waiting beneath an awning with a folded newspaper tucked beneath one arm. Her fitted burgundy skirt concealed practical white underwear stretched across wide hips. She raised one eyebrow when I reached beneath the skirt, but she still allowed me to pull the panties down and briefly expose her bush to the street. Once she’d stepped free, she smoothed her skirt, reopened her newspaper, and continued reading without asking for them back.

I crumpled them and added it to my pocket.

Their reactions brought my thoughts back to the earrings. All three women had noticed what I was doing. They had simply accepted that a stranger wanted their underwear and cooperated while I took it. None had shouted, slapped me, or demanded an explanation.

I touched the earring responsible for that.

I could remove it occasionally while keeping the other one. Then women would react to me without that constant blanket of acceptance. I could see the shock when I reached beneath a skirt, grabbed a breast, or pulled out my cock. If the reaction became inconvenient, the other earring would still let me make whatever I wanted normal with a sentence.

That sounded like fun. I could enjoy the honest reaction first and change the situation afterward instead of having everyone accept me from the beginning.

On the other hand, Tashigi had been pretty great with both earrings in place. The aura had not stopped her from understanding that my cock was huge and awesome or from becoming mortified whenever I found another use for her.

Making me seem normal did not make everything I did boring. It merely kept the reactions from becoming dangerous.
I left both earrings where they were and continued wandering, one hand occasionally pressing against the growing collection in my pocket.

At the next intersection, I noticed an attractive woman in tall boots crossing ahead of me and turned to follow the movement of her legs. I never saw the person racing from the opposite direction until they slammed into me hard enough to spin me around and knock me flat on my ass.

The bell above the door drew Ipponmatsu’s attention from his workbench as Tashigi walked in.

“What now?” he asked. “If you damaged Shigure already, I’m charging double.”

“I did not damage her.” Tashigi placed Tsujo’s cutlass on the counter. “Good afternoon, Ipponume.”

Ipponume emerged from the back of the shop and greeted her pleasantly. Her dark curls had begun escaping the pins holding them away from her round face. “Twice in one day. Would you like some tea?”

“Thank you, but I should return to duty soon.”

Her appearance did little to support that claim. The flowered blouse sat crooked beneath her Marine coat, one swollen breast pressed higher than the other inside her twisted bra, and her trousers clung to her damp thighs. Tsujo’s thick cum continued leaking into her soaked panties.

Ipponmatsu gave the poorly arranged cleavage a lingering glance before drawing several inches of the cutlass. “Common dockside make. Probably stamped out by the hundred. Crap.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Tashigi demanded. “There is salt around the guard, the blade is beginning to rust, and someone allowed dirt into the scabbard. A sword does not require a famous name before it deserves proper care.”

“There she goes,” Ipponmatsu muttered. “Crazy about every piece of sharpened iron she sees.”

“Someone must be.”

“It’s swords that matter.” He examined the cutlass again, gave a reluctant grunt, and set it beside his tools. Tashigi paid for the work without instructing him further.

“A young man will collect it tomorrow,” she said as she placed his fee on the counter.

Ipponmatsu glanced from the neglected sword to her disordered clothing. His eyes paused upon the wet trousers molded to her thighs. “Must be quite a young man.”

She adjusted her glasses and pretended not to understand Ipponmatsu’s comment.

The remark was annoyingly accurate. When Tashigi had first seen the wanted poster, the photograph of Tsujo’s very large flaccid cock had made IRON COCK TSUJO seem less like an epithet than a crude caption.

After the cafe and scaffold, even that photograph felt inadequate. His erection had been absolutely massive. His enormous balls had filled her with more cum than she had imagined one man could hold, and his seemingly limitless stamina had made the sex the most intense experience of her life. Tsujo was a perfectly normal pirate who happened to surpass every lover she had known so completely that their soft, hurried fumblings now seemed barely like sex.

The comparison stirred another, more embarrassing question. If cocks differed as greatly as swords, might they also fall into grades, with rare examples worth finding, studying, and recording? Tashigi rejected the thought before it could develop further.

Tashigi shifted Shigure into a more comfortable position, which only made the rest of her outfit feel worse. The bra bound her breasts. Her trousers resisted the movement of her hips and thighs. Warm cum squished through her panties and smeared higher into her pubic hair.

All those clothes felt increasingly improper while Shigure rested against her body.

Fragments of old lessons had been returning to her during the walk. She remembered instructors arguing over martial schools that rejected restrictive clothing. One side called the practice austere discipline, while the other dismissed it as exhibitionism. Tashigi could not remember the names of the instructors or precisely when she had heard the arguments, but the principle itself felt completely familiar.

“I need a clean length of the plain white sword-wrapping cotton,” Tashigi suddenly said. “Long enough to make a fundoshi.”

Ipponmatsu stared at her. The vague image of bare-chested swordsmen in fundoshi sharpened into old stories of sword ascetics who pursued the blade with such intensity that comfort, modesty, and ordinary clothing became worldly distractions. They were rare even among masters, fanatics whom respectable schools regarded with an uneasy mixture of admiration and embarrassment.

“You’re saying you follow the Unencumbered Blade?”

The name settled into place between them with the weight of an old and tiresome argument.

“Of course.”

“That is men’s sword attire. Half-naked old lunatics training under waterfalls.”

“Men do not possess exclusive rights to the sword.” Tashigi’s irritation briefly overcame her embarrassment. “Anyone who dedicates herself completely to swordsmanship follows the same tradition. I have always worn a fundoshi.”

Ipponume’s brows drew together. She had seen plenty of swordsmen come through the shop. Not one had ever pranced around half-naked like that.

“You have always...” Ipponmatsu began. His eyes moved down Tashigi’s body, taking in the crooked blouse, tight trousers, and badly arranged coat. The outfit seemed less natural the longer he studied it. Memories gathered around a very different Tashigi, one who regularly stood before his counter with her Marine coat open over bare tits and a narrow fundoshi pulled between her legs.

“You usually come in wearing your fundoshi, boots, sword belt, and Marine coat,” he said. His gaze settled upon the breasts hidden beneath her blouse as though the cloth had become transparent. “Open over bare tits.”

Tashigi nodded firmly. “That is how the Unencumbered Blade is worn. The draw is faster when tits, shoulders, and arms move together.”

More memories settled behind Ipponmatsu’s eyes. Tashigi leaning over the counter to inspect a blade while her heavy breasts hung inside the open coat. Her nipples hardening in the cool shop air. Her round, firm ass shifting beneath a narrow white strip whenever she turned toward the display cases.

The end of his broad nose reddened.

Ipponume noticed his expression and followed his gaze to Tashigi’s chest.

“So why were you dressed like this when you came in this morning?” she asked pointedly.

“My clean fundoshi are still at the laundry, and Captain Smoker retained my spare for uniform inspection. I had to make do with conventional clothing.”

Ipponume’s mouth tightened. Loguetown knew two things about Captain Smoker: he could break a pirate crew by himself, and rank had never kept his hands out of a female subordinate’s uniform.

“Uniform inspection,” she repeated. “Of course. The strongest Marine in the East Blue still needs to examine a young woman’s underwear personally.”

“Captain Smoker is thorough.” Tashigi’s face warmed as she defended him. One of the reasons she could officially wear her modified uniform was his willingness to overlook regulations in favor of practical results. His personal interest in the arrangement was less professional. “His inspections are sometimes intrusive, but he maintains high standards.”

“He maintains excuses,” Ipponume replied. “One strip of underwear does not require two hands and an overnight inspection.”

The irritation in her voice felt familiar. Ipponume had always greeted Tashigi pleasantly, then turned cold once Ipponmatsu began discussing Shigure or the fit of her fundoshi. Tashigi had never understood the connection. She assumed Ipponume disliked the Unencumbered Blade or resented the discounts her husband gave serious swordsmen.

Ipponume understood the connection perfectly now.

She remembered months of Tashigi visiting in her open coat and fundoshi, smiling at Ipponmatsu while her bare breasts hung over the counter and pretending not to notice him watching her ass whenever she turned. He kept his best oil aside for Shigure, handled her maintenance personally, waived rush fees, and sold her supplies close to cost. Once, he had repaired her sword belt without charging because he claimed the poor fit interfered with her draw. Ipponume remembered him spending most of that fitting on his knees beside Tashigi’s bare thighs, repeatedly adjusting a strap that had been perfectly functional.

Meanwhile, Ipponume stood behind the counter in a high-necked dress and shapeless work apron, her own softer body hidden beneath sensible layers while stubborn curls frizzed around her face. Tashigi could walk in with a young body, big round bare breasts, a narrow waist, and a firm ass almost entirely exposed, then receive better treatment while acting as though her husband’s attention concerned nothing except swords.

Whether the young Marine was genuinely oblivious or merely playing the bimbo hardly mattered. She was still a big-titted little slut who drew Ipponmatsu’s eyes every time she entered the shop.

Ipponmatsu selected a roll of white cotton and began measuring a length. “You should have come back for this before walking around dressed like a clerk. Those trousers make you look ridiculous.”

“They were the only practical option available.”

“Bare skin is the practical option. That is the entire point of the discipline.” He cut the cloth and folded it over his arm. “You still use too much width at the back, though. I told you that when you bought Shigure.”

“You wanted me to narrow the rear strip until it barely covered anything.”

“It only needs to keep the front in place.”

Ipponume took the folded cotton from him. “I will show her where she can change before you volunteer to wrap it for her.”

“I know how to dress myself,” Tashigi said.

“I am sure you do.” Ipponume’s tone made the assurance sound like another criticism. She led Tashigi into the narrow room behind the shop and remained inside after closing the door most of the way.

Tashigi did not question it. Ipponume had never liked leaving her unattended for long, although Tashigi could not imagine that she suspected a Marine officer of stealing from the shop. Changing in front of another woman did not trouble her, so she placed Shigure safely upon the worktable, removed her boots, and shrugged off her coat.

Her blouse and bra followed. Tashigi sighed with relief when her breasts dropped free, released from the tight cups and crooked straps that had compressed them since she hurriedly dressed. Both pale globes settled heavily against her chest, their lower curves still carrying pink marks from gripping fingers. Her nipples remained swollen from the mouths that had sucked them and projected stiffly from their soft flesh.

Ipponume watched the young Marine’s breasts sway and settle. Her gaze continued down across Tashigi’s narrow middle, the gentle flare of her hips, and the trousers fitted around a round ass that still possessed the firm rise of constant training. Ipponume could understand precisely why her husband became useless whenever this bimbo visited. Understanding did not improve her mood.

Tashigi opened her trousers and pushed everything down together. Her soaked panties clung to her swollen pussy before peeling away with a wet pull. A thick strand of white semen stretched from the saturated crotch to her lips, lengthening until it broke across her thigh. Several heavy drops struck the floorboards, followed by another slow rope that worked its way out of her and hung between her legs.

There was a veritable deluge of thick pirate cum still coming out of her pussy.

Ipponume’s hostility vanished.

“Was this Smoker?” She caught Tashigi by the arm and looked sharply into her face. “Did he force you?”

“No. Captain Smoker only retained my fundoshi.” Tashigi’s cheeks burned as another glob of cum descended from her pussy. “This was entirely consensual.”

“Then who filled you like that?”

“A tourist.”

Ipponume released her arm. The concern remained for another moment, then disappeared as she looked from the semen coating Tashigi’s thighs to the bruised lips of her pussy.

“A tourist,” she repeated. “You let some man passing through town fuck you full of cum?”

“I was conducting a tour. Unfortunately, I neglected to establish restrictions before accepting my duties as his guide, which left me obligated to entertain requests I would ordinarily have excluded.”

Ipponume scoffed. “This is Loguetown. You know what a respectable woman says before she begins a tour. No touching the guide, no indecent requests, no nudity, and no leaving the agreed route. It takes one breath, and you give it before pointing out the first landmark. The only women who skip it are whores offering an unrestricted tour.”

“The arrangement began unexpectedly. He made me his guide before I understood that he wanted a tour, so the appropriate moment to state the restrictions had already passed.”

Tashigi looked down at the ruined panties gathered around her ankles. By then, Tsujo’s cock had already been in her hand. Not long afterward, her concern about the rules had been overtaken by a far stronger desire to continue.

“I did not intend for the tour to become sexual,” she said. Honesty required her to add, “However, I eventually wanted everything that happened.”

“That is the part I believe.” commented Ipponume dryly.

Ipponmatsu’s voice carried through the door. “If Tashigi needs practice giving tours properly, I could use a refresher on the weapons district.”

“You have owned a shop in this district for twenty-three years,” Ipponume told him. “You can get back behind your counter.”

Tashigi stepped out of her trousers and crouched to clean the floor. Her panties absorbed the first drops but were already too wet to accomplish much, so she used the flowered blouse instead. She wiped the boards, then folded the fabric and dragged it along her inner thighs. Thick white smears collected upon the flowers. When she pressed the blouse between her legs, it came away heavily coated, and more semen immediately gathered inside the swollen opening.

She had an odd sense of deja vu regarding picking out this shirt and having strong feelings about it. That was strange because shirts in general had little interest to her, mostly she found them bothersome. This one would be in the trash before the day was done. Perhaps she could discover a fundoshi decorated with a floral pattern one day?

Ipponume watched without offering assistance. Whatever solidarity she had felt while believing Smoker might have forced Tashigi had ended with the explanation about the tourist. In her view, forgetting the standard introduction did not transform a morning of public sex into an unfortunate professional misunderstanding. It merely proved that Tashigi was as much of a slut as she had always suspected.

Tashigi wiped her dark pubic hair and tender lips as thoroughly as possible, although she could do nothing about the quantity still inside her. Seeing so much of Tsujo’s cum gathered upon the ruined blouse revived the question she had rejected beside the counter. A swordsman could distinguish a common blade from an exceptional one by studying its length, weight, balance, strength, and workmanship. Tsujo’s penis and testicles possessed equally remarkable qualities, yet she had done nothing to record any of them beyond noticing that the wanted poster had understated his size.

She stopped herself before considering how such a record might be organized. A Marine officer had no reason to begin cataloguing unusual cocks.

Tashigi set the stained blouse aside and took the clean cotton from Ipponume. She folded it to the proper width, wound one end securely around her waist, and passed the remaining length between her legs. The cloth pressed against her sore pussy before sliding between her buttocks. She pulled it upward until it sat firmly in the cleft of her ass, passed the end through the waistband, and secured it with a compact knot.

The improvised fundoshi held her sex without obstructing her thighs or hips. A wet warmth spread into the white cotton almost immediately as more semen leaked from her, but the wrap remained secure.

Tashigi put her boots back on, settled Shigure at her hip, and draped the Marine coat over her shoulders. She left it open so her breasts, arms, and torso could move freely. Once she had bundled her filthy clothes beneath one arm, she followed Ipponume into the shop.

Ipponmatsu looked up from Tsujo’s cutlass.

His gaze caught upon Tashigi’s bare breasts first. The open coat framed their full weight without concealing anything. Her swollen nipples pointed into the shop, and the soft flesh jiggled with each step before settling against her ribs. His eyes followed the inward curves beneath them to her narrow waist, then descended across her bare hips and thighs to the fresh white fundoshi.

The cloth covered her pussy, already displaying a small damp patch where Tsujo’s remaining cum had reached it, before disappearing between her legs. Almost all of her ass remained bare behind it.

Ipponmatsu’s nose turned bright red. The front of his trousers began to rise beneath his work apron, forming an unmistakable hard bulge against the counter.

Ipponume saw that too.

“Much better,” he said, adjusting the apron without success. “Now you look like yourself.”

“I still need to test the tension.”

Tashigi turned away from the counter, planted her boots shoulder-width apart, and lowered herself into a deep drawing stance. Her knees spread while her hips sank almost to her heels. Both firm globes of her ass widened with the movement, and the narrow strip of cotton pulled tight before burying itself deeply between them. The cloth vanished into her crack while the lower curves of her cheeks swelled outward on either side.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The movement rolled her ass before Ipponmatsu’s face and drew the fundoshi tighter across her tender pussy.

His erection pressed harder against the inside of his trousers. He leaned over the counter until his stomach met the edge, apparently hoping another few inches would let him see where the white strip disappeared.

Ipponume smacked the back of his head. “Do not pretend that staring into her ass is part of inspecting the wrap.”

“The rear tension matters,” Tashigi said as she rose. “If the cloth shifts during a low draw, it can pull the hips out of alignment.”

“Exactly,” Ipponmatsu said, still rubbing the back of his head.

Ipponume stared at them both. Tashigi could not understand why her perfectly accurate observation seemed to make the woman even more annoyed.

“The wrap is secure,” Tashigi concluded. She adjusted Shigure and nodded toward Tsujo’s cutlass. “The young man will collect his sword tomorrow.”

“It will be ready.”

“I knew I could trust you. Thank you, Ipponmatsu.” Tashigi included his wife with a polite nod. “Good afternoon, Ipponume.”

Ipponume’s farewell was considerably cooler than her welcome had been.

Tashigi stepped back into the weapon district with her coat hanging open around her bare breasts and the white fundoshi fitted tightly between her legs. Shigure rested comfortably against her hip, nothing restricted her stance, and the breeze moved freely over her skin. Even the continuing warmth of Tsujo’s semen soaking into the cloth seemed less troublesome now.

For the first time since leaving the execution square, she felt properly dressed.