Interlude: Sergeant Major Tashigi [pt. II]

The harbor gave Tashigi no time to dwell on the shower. Smoker meant to sail as soon as the transfer was complete, which sent her back and forth between the pursuit ship, the harbor stores, the detention block, the armory yard, and the provost's office until Loguetown seemed built entirely out of places that needed her signature. She checked powder, water, medical supplies, rigging, prisoners, crew assignments, patrol schedules, cipher changes, and the procedure for requesting reinforcements. Whenever one task appeared finished, somebody found a missing crate or an unsigned line and sent her running in the opposite direction.

Her chosen outfit drew eyes as it always did but she paid them no mind. Her Marine coat remained open over completely bare breasts. The white fundoshi crossed her pussy, pulled tight between her legs, and vanished between the cheeks of her ass. Boots, sword belt, glasses, and the rank displayed on her coat supplied the rest.

At a fast walk, her breasts rolled beneath the edges of the coat. Running made them bounce high, fall, and knock together before the next stride threw them up again. The constant movement tugged at her chest and kept her nipples hard in the salt wind. Behind her, the tails of the coat flew apart while her bare ass bounced freely around the narrow strip buried between its cheeks. She knew anyone watching her hurry down a pier received alternating views of jiggling tits and a fundoshi wedged up her round, pumping ass.

Tashigi had work to do and saw no reason to slow down for spectators. She ran up the gangplank with one hand steadying Shigure, crossed the deck at a pace that made her tits clap, and bent over a stack of provision crates to inspect their seals. Her breasts hung toward the boards while her ass rose behind her, bare except for the white cloth cutting between it. When she straightened, a pair of deckhands abruptly became fascinated by the knots they had already tied.

The quartermaster lost count of the flour sacks while trying not to look at her tits. Tashigi made him begin again. A clerk at the provost's office stared at her bouncing chest until he walked into the open door he was holding for her. On the steps outside the detention block, two prisoners pressed their faces to the bars for a better view as she hurried past. She ignored it all. Loguetown had long since learned that its Marine Sergeant Major worked with her tits out and a fundoshi up her ass.

Yesterday had changed the way people stared. Dockhands nudged one another as she passed. Civilians turned to follow the swing of her ass while whispering about Roger's scaffold. Marines looked from her glasses to her naked breasts, then down toward the strip of white cloth between her thighs as if matching each part of her to some detail supplied by the men who had guarded the square. Only Straw Hat's near-execution and the lightning had kept Tashigi's King's Run from becoming the largest story in town.

Smoker crossed the piers twice during her inspections. Both times, his cigars arrived before another demand for a departure estimate. Straw Hat had gained a full night while Loguetown recovered from the storm and Buggy's attack. Smoker intended to give him nothing more.

He continued toward the base without breaking stride. Tashigi turned back toward the stores and ran, breasts bouncing hard enough to brush the open sides of her coat.

Near the water casks, a laborer leaned toward the man beside him and began whispering, "That's the one Iron Cock..."

The nickname brought back the weight of Tsujo's enormous shaft across her palm. She remembered the heat of it, the girth that had kept her fingers from meeting, and the swollen head rising far beyond her grip. Tashigi's hand closed around her left breast before she knew it had moved.

The laborer stared at the incriminating grip and lost the rest of his sentence.

"The aft casks are short by three," Tashigi told him, still squeezing herself. "Find them before I return."

"Yes, Sergeant Major."

She marched away before releasing her breast.

The thought should have left with the laborer. Instead, awareness followed Tashigi through the harbor. Every grown man she passed had a cock hidden in his trousers. This had always been true, but after seeing twenty naked Marines in the shower, clothing no longer kept the fact out of her mind.

A dockworker bent to secure a hawser, trousers tightening across his hips. Tashigi pictured the cock and balls hanging inside his work clothes and discovered that her fingers had closed around the underside of her breast. She let go, adjusted her glasses, and kept walking. A courier ran past in tight pants that made the modest bulge of his genitals discernible. Her right hand cupped her other breast and lifted it before she caught herself. When a shipwright shoved one hand into his trousers to adjust his balls, both of Tashigi's hands settled on her tits and gave them a slow, unconscious knead.

She stopped beside a rack of coiled rope with a breast filling each palm.

The shipwright noticed. So did the sailors behind him.

Tashigi dropped her hands. "Why are you standing idle?"

They scattered at once. Their obedience did nothing to answer why she had been fondling herself in the middle of the harbor.

The worst part was that her hands often recognized a sexual thought before she did. A squeeze of her breast would make her examine whatever had just crossed her mind, only to find another man's cock waiting there. Most of those hidden cocks were probably as ordinary as the ones she had seen that morning, but she could not know until the trousers came off. For the first time in her life, she found herself wondering what individual men carried between their legs as she went about her day rather than more sensually appropriate times.

That was no way for a Marine to think. The men in the shower were disciplined subordinates who had behaved properly. Their cocks had no bearing upon their courage, judgment, or worth. Tashigi repeated those facts to herself while cutting through the armory yard with a cipher case under one arm and the detention inventory in her other hand.

Rows of Marines were loading rifles, cutlasses, and ammunition for the pursuit. Every visible weapon seemed to direct her attention toward the second one each man carried under his belt. Those hidden weapons rested in different shapes and sizes, with a pair of balls behind them producing the seed they could put inside a woman.

The thought developed in crude pieces as she walked. A woman's womb could nurture a life, but only one pregnancy at a time. A man could spill his seed, recover, and do it again. Given the women, the strength, and the appetite, he could continue spreading it without any similar limit. How much power lay behind that possibility depended upon the cock, the body driving it, and the will of the man who owned both.

Tashigi's mind supplied Tsujo as proof. His huge balls had flooded her twice and still looked heavy afterward. His cock had stayed hard enough to fuck her again when either of her old lovers would have been soft and finished. It had reached places inside her no ordinary man could touch and forced her into the Big Dickgasm that still made her sore when she ran.

Her mind kept trying to turn those facts into a measure of the man himself. How could a cock like that be carried timidly? How could balls capable of producing so much seed belong to a man who waited meekly for permission? Tsujo had groped, insisted, and fucked with the same outrageous certainty his body seemed to demand.

Both of Tashigi's hands closed around her breasts.

She stopped in the middle of the armory yard, reports trapped beneath one elbow while her palms pressed her tits together. Several Marines paused with crates in their arms.

"This is absurd," she said aloud.

The chief armorer looked down at his inventory. "Which figure, Sergeant Major?"

"None of them. Continue loading."

Tashigi removed her hands from her breasts and hurried on. Her correction was simple. Men were responsible for what they did. A pirate's cock did not excuse piracy, and a Marine's ordinary penis did not lessen his service. Tsujo's behavior would have earned any other man a broken wrist before his hand reached her second breast.

That only opened the question again. Why had Tsujo felt different? Why had his hands, his demands, and his enormous cock fitted together so naturally that resisting him had become harder with every hour? The answer that kept trying to form was both simple and appalling: perhaps a woman was supposed to react differently when the cock truly was extraordinary.

She nearly grabbed her breasts again and forced both hands around the document case instead.

Loguetown's provost, Lieutenant Commander Rusk, received the town between interruptions. Tashigi delivered the patrol schedules, cipher changes, detention inventory, gate assignments, and authority to approve emergency repairs. Leaning across his desk to mark routes on the town map left her breasts hanging over the paper, close enough that one nipple brushed its edge when she reached for the western gate. Rusk kept his eyes on the map with admirable determination.

Tashigi appreciated the discipline. Then she became aware that he, too, had a cock and balls beneath his uniform.

Her left hand started toward her chest. She slapped it flat on the map instead. "Repeat the flare sequence."

Rusk did. She made him repeat the procedure for requesting reinforcements as well, then questioned him about prisoner capacity and the night patrol until she trusted him to hold the town without her. By the time he signed the transfer, the duty clerk had arrived with another message from the pursuit ship.

Tashigi ran back to the harbor. Her breasts bounced, her ass jiggled around the fundoshi, and the coat tails flapped uselessly behind her. People continued pointing. Men continued whispering about the naked Marine on Roger's scaffold. She kept her hands on the roster and told herself she had no interest in whatever any of them carried inside their trousers.

At three minutes past three, the pursuit ship sat low against the pier under the weight of powder, water, provisions, and a full crew. Tashigi checked the aft casks herself, delivered the final duty roster to Rusk, watched his signature dry, and headed for Smoker's office. Cigar smoke reached her halfway down the corridor, bitter enough to taste. His command to enter came before her second knock.

Behind the desk sat the man she had followed through storms, insubordination hearings, and more arguments with Headquarters than she could count. Two cigars smoldered between his teeth. His Marine coat hung from his shoulders, framing a broad bare chest and stomach marked by old violence. Beneath the desk he wore trousers like any other officer, though a thin ruffle of pale blue lace peeped over the waistband.

The sight always appealed to her in spite of itself. Leaving his chest bare gave Smoker the same unrestricted power she valued in the Unencumbered Blade, even if his weapon was a jitte and his legs remained sensibly covered. Tiny women's thongs might also free the hips. The bows and lace weakened that defense, as did his habit of describing the erection inside them. Sometimes a pervert simply found a tradition that excused him.

Yet this was also Smoker, whose trust mattered more to her than Headquarters' praise. He gave her real command, expected her to survive the responsibility, and had never asked her to bend her justice to make a superior comfortable. The same man groped her breasts during briefings and announced what they did to his cock. Somehow those truths had always occupied different rooms in her mind.

Tashigi saluted. "Sergeant Major Tashigi reporting. Rusk has local command. Crew and wounded are aboard, stores are secured, and harbor control can release us immediately."

Questions came around the cigars in quick succession. Rigging? Passed twice. Rudder? Signed off by the shipwright. Navigator? Waiting on the quarterdeck while Petty Officer Dagle checked the route to Reverse Mountain. Smoker glanced at the clock only after the last answer.

"Good. Full sail once we're past the breakwater." His hand came down on the report lying before him. "We cast off when you leave this office. First, fix this."

Tashigi adjusted her glasses. "The casualty figures match the infirmary ledger, and I verified every prisoner transfer myself."

"Those parts are fine." Smoke rolled from Smoker's nostrils as he found the paragraph and read it in a dry imitation of her voice. "I maintained contact with Tsujo under the pretext of providing a tour and obtained information concerning his captain. Contact became intimate." The page slapped back onto the desk. "Three clean words for half a day of filth."

Heat began under her coat. "His statements concerning Alvida are in section four. Anything I could not corroborate is marked as such."

"Half the base already told me what happened on the scaffold." His stare held her through the drifting smoke. "The Marines assigned to the square watched you run there naked, kneel where Roger died, and let a wanted pirate fuck you in front of the town. They heard everything you screamed about his cock. Then my officer let him walk away afterward."

The anger in his voice was real. Tashigi felt it land where it should. Her Marine rank had been on public display while she ran naked through Loguetown, knelt for Tsujo, spread herself on the execution platform, and failed to arrest him at the end of it. She lowered her chin. "I allowed the contact to go far beyond any legitimate purpose. I should have taken him into custody before the tour continued."

"You also hid the conduct that let him keep control of you. That makes the report dishonest as well as incomplete."

“Yes, Captain. I’ll rewrite it aboard ship.”

Through the official reprimand, Smoker’s eyes kept returning to her breasts. The fabric over his lap had tightened around a hard diagonal bulge, and his interest became cruder with every detail he had heard secondhand. As her commander, he was furious that she had disgraced her rank with a pirate. As a pervert, he was furious that guards, cooks, dockworkers, and half the town knew the nasty particulars before he did.

He ordered Tashigi beside the desk and made her bounce while she gave him the complete account. Her first few attempts were stiff and awkward, but impatient gestures from Smoker soon had her rising higher and landing hard enough to send her bare tits jumping, colliding, and swinging apart. She tried to begin with the language of an official report. Smoker refused to let her hide behind words such as contact and intimate. He wanted to hear where Tsujo’s hands had gone, what his cock had done, and why she had allowed any of it.

Forced to speak plainly, Tashigi began with the moment she had taken hold of Tsujo’s enormous soft cock and used it to pull him through Loguetown. She described its warm weight in her hand while he followed behind her, constantly stopping to make out with her, grope her breasts and ass, or ask humiliating questions about her previous lovers and what she enjoyed in bed. Each landing shook her chest and loosened another detail. Before long she was admitting how often she had kissed him back, how her hands had remained wrapped around his cock even when holding it was no longer necessary, and how quickly the excuse of gathering information had stopped explaining her behavior.

From there she confessed what happened at the cafe. Tsujo had exposed her on the table and fucked her while the perverted couple assisted him, handling her body and taking turns sucking her swollen tits. Smoker made her describe which mouths had closed around which nipples, how Tsujo’s cock had stretched her, and how much pirate cum he had pumped inside before sending her running naked across the square. Tashigi’s formal cadence steadily broke beneath the combined strain of the confession and her bouncing breasts.

She told him about reaching Roger’s scaffold with Tsujo’s semen streaming down her thighs, climbing while the crowd watched her bare ass shake, and kneeling to suck the pirate’s cock in front of the town. She admitted taking the King’s Run position, spreading herself on the execution platform, and letting Tsujo fuck her from behind until she screamed every filthy thought forced out by her orgasms. She even repeated the humiliating declarations about loving his sword and being unable to stop cumming around it.

Smoker listened with his cigars clamped between his teeth, punctuating the account with low, dirty giggles and obscene comments about what Tsujo had done to her pussy. The behavior bore little resemblance to his usual grim severity, but these moods had always brought out a shameless, leering side of him. Tashigi therefore continued without questioning why her commanding officer was enjoying the confession so openly. Whenever she softened a detail, he made her state it more crudely. Whenever embarrassment weakened her bouncing, one look from him made her jump higher.

By the time she finished, Tashigi was breathing hard. Her naked breasts were flushed from the repeated impacts, her nipples stood stiff, and the heavy flesh continued swaying after she stopped. The thick bulge behind Smoker’s fly twitched visibly inside his tiny Marine panties drawing her eyes.

Her pussy throbbed beneath the damp fundoshi. Repeating every filthy detail while Smoker watched her breasts had left her badly aroused, and seeing how hard the account had made him only tightened the ache. Fresh wetness spread into cloth already soaked with the remains of Tsujo’s cum. Her thighs shifted slightly apart before she noticed.

Smoker had groped her, made crude comments, and ordered her to display herself many times before. They had always stopped short of actual sex. The silence between them made Tashigi aware that both of them expected that boundary to break now. She could have stepped away, restored the proper distance between officer and commander, and left to prepare the ship.

She remained where she was.

For reasons she could not explain, Tashigi wanted him to stand. She wanted his hands back on her, wanted to feel the erection straining behind his fly, and wanted to discover what would happen once his usual shameless touching became fucking. The hunger in Smoker’s stare matched the pressure building between her legs. Crossing the line felt reckless, but she wanted it just as badly as he did.

Embarrassment sent Tashigi’s hand toward one bouncing breast. Smoker was already rising. He crossed the space between them, caught the flesh before she could, and filled his palm with its warm weight. His thumb rolled over her wet nipple, pinching just hard enough to pull a breath from her.

“Take off the sword belt. Boots too.” Smoker squeezed the breast in his hand until soft flesh bulged between his fingers. “Then get back here and show me what that pirate left inside my officer.”

Tashigi managed a breathless “Yes, Captain,” carried Shigure to the side table well clear of the ashtray, and left her boots beneath it. The rug felt coarse under her bare feet when she returned. Smoke clung to Smoker’s skin and coat.

His hand went straight between her legs. Thick knuckles pressed the damp fundoshi into her swollen pussy, grinding the cloth against her until she flinched.

“Still leaking him?”

“I washed twice, but he put so much inside me that I couldn’t…”

A dirty little giggle escaped around Smoker’s cigars.

“You washed twice and still reported to me with a pirate’s cum soaking your uniform.” His knuckles pressed harder. “Filthy. Spread your legs.”

Her thighs opened immediately.

“Wider. Let me see what Iron Cock did to you.”

Tashigi obeyed until the fundoshi pulled tight between her spread legs. Smoker hooked the wet cloth aside. Cool office air touched her pussy, revealing swollen lips, irritated red flesh, and a cloudy gleam still gathering around the entrance.

“Look at that,” he said. “He left you stretched open and dripping.”

“Captain…”

“Hold still. I’m going to scrape that bastard out of you.”

His thumb spread her pussy wide. Two thick fingers pushed inside without warning, forcing their way through the soreness until a sharp inhale caught in her throat.

Smoker drove them deeper.

“Don’t close your legs. You took that freak’s cock. You can take two Marine fingers.”

He inspected her roughly, crooking his fingers and scraping along the tender walls as if the remains of Tsujo’s load were contraband he meant to seize. Each slow pull dragged cloudy slick toward her entrance before he shoved it back inside and searched deeper.

The pressure hurt at first. Then his fingertips crossed a raw, sensitive place and the pain melted into a heavy pulse of pleasure. Tashigi’s knees softened. Smoker caught one breast in his free hand and used the fistful of warm flesh to hold her upright.

Her pussy tightened helplessly around his fingers.

Another ugly little giggle rumbled in his chest. “Still squeezing. Pirate cock, your captain’s fingers, your slutty pussy doesn’t care what’s inside as long as something strong is using it.”

His fingers curled hard against the sensitive place again. Tashigi gasped and sagged into the hand gripping her breast while Smoker continued digging the pirate’s cum out of her.

His fingers came out with a wet sucking sound. Cloudy slick coated them almost to the knuckle, shining white in the creases and stringing back toward her pussy before it broke. Smoker held the evidence between their faces.

“You brought a pirate’s load into my office,” he said. “Clean it off.”

Humiliation tightened Tashigi’s throat. The wet fingertips touched her lower lip, leaving a thick white smear there, and she opened. Smoker pushed them onto her tongue.

Tsujo’s cum was much thicker than she expected, a dense cream that coated her tongue and clung inside the creases of Smoker’s fingers. Her memories of her previous lovers were vague, but their semen had been thinner and more watery when it leaked from her afterward. She had never tasted it. Tsujo’s seed sat heavily in her mouth, rich and bitter, forcing her to work it loose and swallow. Some unwanted part of her wondered whether the thickness of a man’s cum was another quality by which he might be judged.

She sucked because Smoker expected it, lips sealing around his fingers as he turned his hand. Her tongue cleaned the broad pads, traced the sides, and slipped between them when he spread them apart. Every pull hollowed her cheeks. Every wet movement of her mouth made the erection in his trousers press harder against her stomach.

All the while, his free hand worked her breast. Rough fingertips dragged over the nipple. The weight of her flesh shifted in his palm as he squeezed, making it impossible to forget how thoroughly he controlled both ends of her body.

"Missed some," Smoker said.

He withdrew to the fingertips, showing her a pale thread caught beside one nail. Tashigi leaned forward before he had to repeat himself and licked it away. The small grunt this earned from him sent a shameful warmth through her. She sucked the finger clean to the knuckle, swallowed, and looked up through lenses already beginning to fog.

The Marines in the shower had possessed erections and done nothing with them. Smoker's desire had weight. It smelled of tobacco, pinned her through the breast, filled her mouth, and expected the rest of her to follow. Tashigi's free hand had wrapped around her other breast before she noticed.

"Good." Smoker pulled his hand from her lips. "Now let's discipline the pussy that started all this. Coat and fundoshi off."

Tashigi slipped the coat from her shoulders and laid it beside her boots. The damp fundoshi peeled away from her pussy as she unwound it, drawing a cloudy thread from the cloth before it broke. She dropped the strip on top of the coat and returned to him completely naked except for her glasses.

Smoker opened his trousers. Beneath them, pale blue lace strained around a body it had never been cut to contain. A tiny bow sat crooked below the dark hair of his belly; narrow straps bit into powerful hips, while thick testicles bulged against both leg openings. The absurdly small frilled women's thong made everything male and overgrown about him more aggressive.

He shoved the trousers down, stepped out of them, and shrugged the Marine coat from his broad shoulders. It landed in a white heap beside his trousers. Naked except for the little blue thong, Smoker gave Tashigi the full scale of the body looming over her. Huge pectorals rose from his chest like slabs of rock, hard enough that the movement of his arms barely softened them. Beneath, his stomach descended in deep, ribbed rows. Each block of muscle stood clear beneath the skin, a washboard built across a torso broad enough to hide her behind it. Tsujo had brought an impossible cock on a lean young body. Smoker looked capable of tearing Tsujo bodily in half with his bare hands.

Smoker hooked two fingers into the front of the thong and dragged the lace sharply to one side. The small triangle of cloth twisted beside his genitals, leaving his cock and balls completely exposed. The rear string pulled out of the crack of his ass and stretched diagonally across one big muscular glute. His cock came free with a hard upward spring.

Heat seemed to enter the space before it touched her. Veins stood in dark cords beneath taut skin, gathering into raised ridges that made the shaft look almost muscled rather than smooth. A thick pulsing tube ran along the underside toward a broad, masculine head already dark with blood and wet at the slit. Heavy balls hung behind it, full and warm against his thighs.

Against the nervous handfuls in the shower, Smoker looked formidable. Tsujo still dwarfed him; the pirate's cock had carried nearly twice this length and a base that made Smoker's girth seem merely human. Even under that shadow, Smoker filled her vision with more cock than either old lover had ever brought to bed, more than any of the Marines could have imagined hiding behind a towel.

Of course this was what Smoker's trousers had concealed. He behaved like a man who expected the world to yield, and the thick, hard weapon before her seemed to prove the expectation reasonable. For one suspended breath, the difference felt as obvious as laying a common dirk beside a named broadsword. Grades, something whispered in the part of her mind that catalogued steel.

Smoker caught her chin and turned her face up. "That pirate's got a freak's cock. If I'm going to compete with it, I'll have to go all out."

He made the admission sound like a threat. His thumb pressed against her lower lip while his stare pinned her behind the lenses.

"This is going to be rough," he said. "You can handle it."

The words sent a pulse through the tender pussy he had just searched. Tashigi saw the size of his arms, the rock-hard shelf of his chest, the deep ridges stepping down his stomach, and understood that his warning concerned far more than the cock between them. "Yes, Captain. I can handle it."

His fingers slid from her chin into her hair and closed at the roots. "Then turn around."

The desk edge met her thighs. Guided down by the fist in her hair, Tashigi caught herself on the scattered report. Paper whispered beneath her bare breasts as their weight spread over it. Behind her, with his little thong still twisted beside his genitals, Smoker moved his cockhead through the wet heat between her lips, opening them, gathering her slickness and the last of Tsujo's leakage until each pass made her hips twitch.

"This horny pussy needs discipline," he said. The broad head stopped at her entrance. "I'll scrape the pirate out of it."

"Yes, Cap..."