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Youmu Konpaku had a broad education. She’d taken studies at the Konpaku School of Swordsmanship, been to lady Saigyouji’s Cookery Seminary, and was now a postgraduate at the Hakugyokurou Academy of Gardening. The count of things her swords, Roukanken and Hakurouken, youkai-forged, couldn’t cut was only forerun by those which hadn’t passed under her kitchen knives. There was not a fern or flower in the dead-realm she mightn’t name, none she couldn’t nurture into blooming. She was a warrior-servant, the best Konpaku loins had ever produced.

And she was fighting a losing battle with her own face when lady Yuyuko swished into the room. The vague widening of her lavender eyes might have been a trick of the dim lighting, or it might’ve been surprise at the two half-phantoms awaiting her at the table, one in the other’s lap. She moved on, graceful as the Sun-warm winds of the dead-realm, until seated opposite from her fantastic attendants. There was a soft, dignified cough and a faint, endearing smile.

“… Well?” lady Yuyuko said in her silvern voice. “Was there something requiring my attention?”

The older, wiser of the half-phantoms spoke first, his jolly, middle-aged voice rumbling behind and above Youmu’s left ear. “Certainly, certainly, ma’am,” he confirmed. “Yes, indeed. Yet before we rejoice you with these jubilant news… Youmu?

In his lap, the young Youmu Konpaku jolted to attention. She brought forth an obedient smile and plastered it to the front of her face with all the self-possession she could muster, which was not a great deal. The core of the warrior-servant understood the idea; the extremities of her body had their own. The busy, pantiless one underneath her skirt most of all.

Master Youki granted his student a moment’s mercy before prompting, “… Youmu?”

And Youmu, still a trifle jittery, complied, “Yes. Yes, um… thank you, lady Yuyuko, for all your tender care and patronage until now. This Youmu Konpaku is indebted. W—We do, however, have an announcement in regard to my tutelage. Master Youki?”

The old half-phantom grunted his approval. “Yes. Well done,” he praised.

As he did, his manly, Samurai’s hands wrapped around Youmu’s slight hips and drew her, very slowly, farther up his lap.

Youmu Konpaku strove to maintain and a grave and composed front as her great-uncle’s manhood was buried fully in her slick vagina. A pleased throb could be felt inside her belly once his tip came to an inexorable rest on the mouth of her womb. Under her grass-green dress, Youmu’s adolescent thighs trembled from the penetration. Without a shade of overt difficulty, her great-uncle had ground his stiffness against spots inside of her which, had it not been for her rigorous training, would’ve made Youmu moan her weakness out loud. She still wanted to; the sensation of her femininity being stretched and filled out from top to bottom was something she’d come secretly to pine for in the course of her schooling.

She still didn’t. She didn’t, because she was strong now, and because lady Yuyuko was watching her in faint wonder from across the table.

“… An announcement?” was her dignified prod. Inquisitiveness tweaked the point of her dainty nose.

Master Youki overtook whatever squeaked response might have passed Youmu’s rigid lips. “Yes. Yes, indeed. An announcement. As doubtless you will know, my lady Yuyuko, our Youmu has been hard, hard at work for these last, what, thirty—”

“Twenty, dear Youki,” corrected lady Yuyuko.

The older half-phantom harrumphed. “Yes. Twenty, it must be,” he conceded. “Twenty. How the time…”

“You aren’t that old, Youki. The announcement?”

“Ah. Apologies, my lady Yuyuko—” he bowed his top-knotted head, “—you know how the mind wanders. Our Youmu, yes, she has studied the myriad such arts as the Saigyouji have ever required of us, the Konpaku: from combat to matters of court, from ceremony through scullery work. I have bestowed upon her, for better or for worse, the most secret of techniques: the Ghost Sword, the Hungry King Sword, the Hell God Sword, even the rites of the Heaven God Sword, which I do so dread…”

Youmu squeezed her eyes shut, not listening. These were household names, known close by heart; so close, in fact, each caused a tremor of muscle memory beneath her pale skin. They were her own, once the blades were out and the steel sang.

And they were but a half of it. The other were her master’s firm hands, furtively nudging her hips back and forth. An inch at a time, he pulled his stiff manhood out of Youmu’s diligent vagina, only to before long reverse the motion and sheathe its whole length again in her slippery depths. His fat glans would no sooner kiss the entrance of her barely matured baby-room than Youmu’s great-uncle would steadily repeat the thrust: scraping her soft creases on the way out and rubbing up against her vulnerable spots on the return.

Unbeknownst to lady Yuyuko, who forbore Youki’s rambling explication with a smile, Youmu’s training continued beneath her clothes. Her innocent labia slid up and down her great-uncle’s shaft without the slightest resistance, yet she joined the battle elsewhere: by breathing in rhythm with his movements and tightening the muscles of her stomach on each insertion. Youki’s meandering voice belied his self-control; yet Youmu felt his rugged penis tense and twitch from the effort of prying her clenched walls. A small victory for his pupil and grand-niece, he had to postpone the next stroke – his manhood throbbing and smearing Youmu’s insides with proof of his waning endurance. A small victory for the master, her own juices had been flowing long before.

So long, their score wasn’t close to even to this day.

It wasn’t very respectful at all to keep a score against one’s master; Youmu, too, kept hers secreted and only for the reason she had scored the first point. She may remember it like yesterday: an evening, all the same some years distant, spent bathing away the day’s dust and grime with her great-uncle in Hakugyokurou’s hot springs. Questioning the old half-phantom on the long, protruding thingy in his lower quarters. And then being asked, in return for an explanation, to give it a fast massage with her hands. It’d be the first time in her life Youmu would see a man come, and the sight of his white stuff splattered all over her budding breasts would revisit itself on her dreams more times in the following days than she had fingers and toes altogether. Nor would it be the only; for Youmu’s great-uncle would go on to show his pupil that she, too, had likewise, if deeper hidden, weak spots in her body. And, also, how easily they could be reached by his long thingy.

It’d been the first joint of that leg of her training; and she and her great-uncle had since taken many and more opportunities to hone the resilience of Youmu’s human half. There’d be occasions the old half-phantom would ambush his grand-niece on the toilet and put his fingers inside her while she peed; there’d be instances he would catch her in the middle of an errand and shove a questing hand down her undies. There’d be times he’d interrupt their spars in the yard to drag the stupefied Youmu behind a tree, hike up her skirt, pull down her bloomers – and test the preparedness of what he dotingly referred to as her “kitty” with his invariably ready manhood.

And then there’d been those nights when Youmu’s great-uncle would summon her to his chambers where – sprawled nude on his futon – he’d let her to mount his erection by herself and shake her hips at her own pace until either of them came. Youmu had enjoyed those the most because, eight times out of ten, she’d get to hear the old half-phantom confess his defeat as his penis pumped her womb full of hot, sticky evidence. The clean-up had been worth every point to her tally.

He’d tied her up, too. She’d been trussed hand and foot – and made to endure climax after climax until able to suppress her voice.

The upsetting thing, and she wouldn’t say why it upset her, was that she wasn’t master Youki’s exclusive pupil. Not once and not ten times had she been woken after midnight by the sounds of exercise from adjacent chambers. A case of an unclosed door in one of those precedents would allow her the disclosure of lady Yuyuko going through similar training: riding buck-naked atop the old half-phantom, her matronly breasts pinched and toyed with by the Samurai’s rough hands. To Youmu’s startled envy, her master would seem to blow his load inside the ghost lady in record time. To her quiet conceit, lady Yuyuko had been nowhere, nowhere as adept as Youmu at masking her moans and orgasms.

She’d demonstrated as much the ensuing morning by padding into her great-uncle Youki’s rooms, stripping his hakama, licking his manhood (which smacked still of their ghost mistress) until it stood upright and then rubbing her kitty’s sensitive places on its familiar length. All without ever rousing her unfaithful master… or, indeed, the beautiful lady Yuyuko slumbering in the nude beside him. And then, for the remainder of the day, she’d not fall more than a step behind her great-uncle – wasting not one excuse to take him aside and service him with her mouth or to pester him to train her kitty behind the mansion. All the while the idle lady Yuyuko had gone none the wiser about her day – never suspecting that, once she’d served their supper, Youmu had done so with her belly already full of her master’s thick seed.

That same, oblivious lady Yuyuko listened now, kind of face and magnanimous, how master Youki lauded his grand-niece’s achievements – blissfully unaware that, below the skirts of her dress, Youmu’s vagina was being scoured, slowly, from end to end, by her great-uncle’s unrelenting penis. It wouldn’t have been half the issue if he hadn’t been stubbornly hitting her best spots or pressing the slimy head of his manhood up against the entrance of her baby-room whenever her butt was squished into his waist. It wouldn’t have been that much if her kitty hadn’t spent the half-hour awaiting lady Yuyuko trapped around and gently caressed by her great-uncle’s erection. It’d been enough of a shock, seeing him whip it out while they’d been expecting their ghostly mistress to appear; it’d hardly matched the turn of being subsequently commanded to tuck down her bloomers and straddle his lap.

A veritable blow to Youmu’s coolness, she’d been sopping wet by the third minute of grinding her kitty on his shaft – and begging him to put it in by the tenth. She’d managed to come once before lady Yuyuko had deigned to join them in the common room – yet it hadn’t done a thing to diminish her great-uncle’s skilled ministrations now. Her callow kitty was as open before his “sword” as her guard was to his wooden one when they sparred.

Youmu, who’d opened her eyes to peek at lady Yuyuko’s expression for marks of surmise – and found none – nimbly dropped them back shut. She couldn’t bear to look her noble mistress in the eye with master Youki’s penis massaging her wet insides. The small mercy so attained was proving fast to be a double-edged sword; without sight, Youmu’s petite, well-attuned body focused inward on its sensations. The tips of her tiny breasts were as hard as buttons, raspy on the linen of her undershirt; her left ear tickled from her great-uncle’s warm breath, and her hips were beginning to ache after half an hour of slow, continuous sex in the awkward position. Her glazed labia smoothed the way for her master’s manhood each time he slid it out, hugging the rugged shaft on the upstroke – until wrapped tight around its thickest part when he bottomed out. Her thighs were tingly, and her thin lips desperately craved something to suck on.

Youmu’s hard-wrought cool was slipping. Her great-uncle’s penis knew her soft spots like its own underside, and the old half-phantom made its every incursion up her sensitive kitty spark orgasmic fireworks in her groin. She was blushing. Master Youki was still talking, now about why the Hell God Sword rite was so concerning (it wasn’t, Youmu didn’t think), but it’d be the work of minutes for their long-suffering mistress to begin to bore. And then, once she looked closer…

Youmu rallied her crumbling discipline. Her kitty may have given in to her great-uncle’s stiff penis and its expert technique, but to come from it in front of lady Yuyuko was a disgrace she didn’t even want to imagine. She had to do something. She’d submit to whatever punishment master Youki would devise for her later and give him as many points as he would take. Now, shameful discovery hinged on her training.


( ) Endured!
( ) Tried to make her great-uncle come first.
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(x) Tried to make her great-uncle come first.

This dork already seems incapable of resisting for much longer. The best defense here is a good offense.
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[x] Tried to make her great-uncle come first.
Kegel training: more valuable than the most closely guarded of sword katas.
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(X) Tried to make her great-uncle come first.

Youmu would not be had. The Konpaku name was weighed in the balance, and the youngest of it would ill humble her master by foundering in the presence of their noble mistress.

“—mightn’t be Konpaku-original,” maundered on her great-uncle, “yet, I warrant you, my lady Yuyuko, on my pride, decades of contemplation have fathomed deeper into its nuances than—”

He’d underscored how deeply his insights went by poking Youmu’s womb. Itchy, oozing their combined arousal, Youmu steeled herself as her great-uncle hauled her leaky kitty inchmeal off his rigid manhood. And then, just as she’d felt his glans begin to spread out her labia—

“—but for our Youmu, who has transcended and severed the Karmic Win—nguhh.

then, Youmu thrust back with her butt: enfolding master Youki’s whole erection in one stroke, her tightened walls scrubbing it harshly from the bare tip to the throbbing hilt. A vicious twinge shuddered up his length to squirt more warm pre-ejaculate straight into Youmu’s baby-room. Striking while the iron was hot, she gingerly mashed her denuded rear into her great-uncle’s lap – cuddling his weakened and overstimulated penis inside her vagina. His breath erupted all over her nape this time.

Yes. Youmu’s kitty may as good be her great-uncle’s plaything, yet she, too, had learned bit by bit of his own, infrequent faults. The old half-phantom might earn three points for every one of Youmu’s merely through his impervious stamina, but she’d sat on, swallowed and withstood enough bullying from his manhood to recognise where it fell, as it were, short. And that was in fending off sudden counterblows. The same manoeuvre that’d let Youmu to crack her shinai on his forehead was the key to making her great-uncle spew his white surrender up her precocious womb. Lady Yuyuko, Youmu rather fancied, must’ve been privy to this as well – except she had way more hip to slam into master Youki’s crotch.

“… Youki, dear?” cued their ghost mistress now. “Is something the matter?”

On the edge of her focus, Youmu read the amused tinge in her voice – as if she’d welcomed and pitied the interruption all at once. Master Youki, ever strategizing and seldom wrong-footed, coughed over the disturbance, smartly fettering Youmu’s hips to head off further ripostes. Inside her, his manhood flexed and throbbed still – corroborating plenty to Youmu that she’d done a decent number on her great-uncle’s staying power… as well, also, that a half-hour of teasing his grand-niece’s tight, submissive kitty had been too much to stand, even for him. His penis did stand on, however, and no mistake – its head flirting with Youmu’s deepest parts and its meaty trunk – girdled lovingly by her pubescent labia.

He cleared his throat with ostentation. “A—A bit of a hack, my lady Yuyuko,” was his emergency dodge. “Nothing lethal yet, let me warrant. Growing old is no picnic, I’ll tell you.”

“Ye-es,” drawled lady Yuyuko. “Only, my dear Youki… you claimed for the Heaven God Sword to furnish you with a source of concern – and yet, for the last, oh, five minutes, you have been warning me against the Hell God’s instead. Could they both hold tantamount perils? Hmm?”

Youmu sensed her great-uncle’s grip slacken as the mistake dawned. Within that heartbeat opening, she stole a glance at lady Yuyuko, whom she found in a complacent study of the old half-phantom’s face. So insured, Youmu pushed forward with her modest hips – until fully two-thirds of master Youki’s strained length had been deprived of her intimate embrace. His callused fingers clutched the band of her skirt, readying to drag his unruly grand-niece back in and onto himself again. Youmu resisted, digging her toes in, waiting her master to answer to their mistress—

“… Certainly, yes, ma’am,” he managed to at last, “from a practitioner’s standpoint, the two may differ but in the name before such a time when the rites are perfor—rrghh.

—at which verbal mark, Youmu once more drove her butt hard into his waist. Her pursed, narrowly fitting vagina ate up her great-uncle’s manhood in an instant: engulfing it from tip to root in its cramped, slippery goodness and torturing the head with another smooch from her unprotected baby-room. Master Youki’s lap quaked below her, his penis stiffening rock-hard inside her belly. He hadn’t come, though. He hadn’t but, Youmu much suspected, only since he’d girded his loins beforehand. She’d simply presented too obvious a tell – even if her pouncing kitty had stripped his manhood of its final defences. Youmu could feel it: rearing to shoot her great-uncle’s seed into her pregnable womb. She could sense it dribbling over her insides in apish impatience. It beggared belief lady Yuyuko hadn’t yet scented the sordid aromas of incestuous sex wafting from under her younger retainer’s dress.

Then again, it could be lady Yuyuko’s nose was maladjusted to things that weren’t, by definition, food.

“More than a bit of a hack, is it, Youki?”

Youmu had to suppress a triumphant smile when their mistress’s query passed without response. This’d happened before, it struck her. Yes, it had. Not in these same, precise circumstances but near enough to shake down Youmu’s memory. It’d been the dead of winter in the dead-realm then, and Youmu had crawled and fallen asleep under the kotatsu table she and her great-uncle towed out of the storeroom for cold seasons. She would come to a time later to sounds of hushed conversation… and two pairs of legs crammed together with her inside her favourite nap-space. The first of these had been master Youki’s: hairy and spread-eagled as they were wont to be whenever her great-uncle laid his guard too low.

The other legs had belonged to lady Yuyuko, and they’d stretched, pale and smooth, all the way to master Youki’s end of the table… where her flawless, nude feet had been sandwiching his brazen erection.

Youmu, mired in sleep and more than a little intrigued, had therefore watched on, quiet, not daring to move while their ghost mistress had serviced the old half-phantom between her heels, soles and under her toes. And once the young Konpaku had marshalled the courage to twist her head around, she would see the noble lady Yuyuko, for lack of other entertainments, comforting her bushy privates with the aid of her fingers. Almost, and Youmu would’ve purposed to emulate her mistress; only, her great-uncle must have stumbled on some conversational hurdle, because Youmu had heard their ghost mistress gripe and seen her perfect feet retract in an air of pique. She hadn’t quite quit toying with herself – but had left the old half-phantom’s manhood quivering and destitute.

And Youmu, who’d been turned on since waking up from her less than decent dreams, would use of this chance to wiggle between her master’s outspread legs. She’d touch his fleecy inner thigh: a secret indication she’d been there… and then take his neglected, needy penis into her mouth. For unremarked minutes, Youmu had fellated her great-uncle under the table; she’d polished his shaft from base to tip with her small tongue; she’d tugged his foreskin back and sucked on the bare glans; she’d slipped her lips up and down his fluttering length until pre-come-rich saliva had been trickling down her chin. And once her master, who’d throughout this held a faltering talk with their noble lady up above, had succumbed to her skills at last, Youmu would wrap her mouth around his pulsing girth – and gulp down spurt after spurt of her great-uncle’s clingy, pent-up seed.

She’d recover from her horny daze minutes later: shallow of breath and sticky of throat… with lady Yuyuko now gone and master Youki’s wobbly hand petting her overworked head.

“My lady Yuyuko!”

The adults straightened as one at Youmu’s exclamation, who’d snapped her eyes open to see her mistress’s glide over to her from her master. The young Konpaku bounced to attention, up and down on her great-uncle’s lap… extracting first then plunging his defenceless manhood back inside her tight, drenched kitty. His tip thumped into her cervix, startling Youmu half to death, all but causing all her poise to escape in a feeble squeak.

And yet, he didn’t come. His stiff, tumid erection night on jumped under her bellybutton, yet its Samurai owner refused to give his grand-niece her win. Indignant, caution shunted aside, Youmu feigned a discomfort in her seat and repeated the motion twice in swift succession. Smack and smack – a fierce, double stroke to finish off her great-uncle’s thick, tenacious manhood.

There was a wheezed grunt. A judder of her master’s thighs. A powerful throb inside her belly.

And then, Youmu Konpaku felt the first, long, vigorous squirt of his seed gush into her baby-room.

“M—My lady Yuyuko,” she spoke over the sensation, “I beg you to pardon my scatter-brained master. What he meant to say was—”

Underneath her skirt, Youmu’s kitty squeezed down on her great-uncle’s swollen, twitching penis as though to egg it on. Surrender, once given, came on in copious spurts. Overcome by the frailty of his own manhood, the old half-phantom nevertheless held her hips firmly in place – keen to ensure, at least, that the entirety of his load would end up in his grand-niece’s young womb.

“—it was,” Youmu resumed, her lower body aquiver with excitement, “that, in three days’ time, my lady Yuyuko, I shall be put to my final tests in magick duelling, officially to become your, my lady, envoy in matters offff… of policing. Yes.”

Abashed by the slip, the younger half-phantom surveyed her ghostly mistress’s face for signs of wariness. On the opposite, however, lady Yuyuko wasn’t wary. Not in the least.

She appeared… bored, somehow.

“Oh,” she said. “… Is that everything? Youki? Yooouki?”

Youmu felt panic bubble up in her chest. Her great-uncle’s penis was far from spent: still bucking inside her, still pumping its sticky yield into her exultant kitty. Only fools and children, nonetheless, dared brush off lady Yuyuko; though master Youki endeavoured to answer the call, all the same.

“Afraid—” was his grunted attempt, “Afraid hngyes, my lady—”

“Youki!” cut in their ghostly mistress, seeming discontent. “Youki, Youki, Youki. This is unseemly! Hoisted by your own mighty petard? You cannot be serious.”

“Apologies. Apologies, my lady,” sniffed the old half-phantom…

… and then jogged his grand-niece back and forth in his lap. He winced from the sensory overload, but stealthily. And Youmu, who’d scarcely followed the exchange – or, truthfully, not at all – now had to contend with her great-uncle’s seed being rubbed and kneaded into her kitty’s folds. It was… galling. Victory might be its own sugar, but Youmu had taken strongly to the thrill of keeping her great-uncle sheathed all the way inside her when he came. There’d ever been something fantastically right – and delightfully wrong – in having her womb receive the fruits of her hipwork. Oral service was fun, it was varied – but a poor distraction beside the mysterious joy of being come inside. A drop not in her baby-room, Youmu frustrated behind her stolid expression, felt a drop wasted.

Across the table, lady Yuyuko, who’d had no way to know all this – right…? – slapped her palms on the tabletop like two porcelain gavels. “Well!” she said. “Meseems then, my dear Youki, that you shan’t be going to… get to know Yukari’s new shikigami after all. We had an agreement, no? Hadn’t we an agreement, Youki?”

Master Youki mustered his pride. “C—Certainly, my lady.”

“And have you, Youki,” drilled lady Yuyuko, “failed in delivering on your part?”

“… Ye—Yes, my lady.”

A chill, crescent slice of a smile frosted over their ghost mistress’s lips. “Then I conclude,” she announced, “that our deal is off. Good day.”

Coolly as she’d arrived, lady Yuyuko arose from the table and span away to leave her two retainers, one of whom, if one were to go by her words, had misused grossly of her attention. At the doorstep, which the mistress of the dead-realm, being a ghost, was ill like to bother opening anyway, she cast a parting glance over her shoulder at the respectfully attendant, younger of the Konpaku. Something caught in one of her lavender eyes, causing it to blink. And then, true to her means, lady Yuyuko thoroughly ignored the door – and quit the room.

Outside the purview of their mistress, though buried inside her still, Youmu’s great-uncle leaned in, exhaled and planted a kiss behind her left ear. Youmu schooled her face.

“… Gone and done it now, you rascal girl,” was his groaned rebuke. “You haven’t the first what I had ridin’ on this.”

“No,” agreed Youmu, shaking her silver locks left and right despite the retribution promised by his tone. “No, master, I haven’t.”

And she didn’t. Youmu Konpaku hadn’t “the first” of many things. The goings-on of Hakugyokurou fell outside the scope of her understanding, as did most all of lady Yuyuko’s politic whimsies, and that was fine. The Konpaku weren’t advisors; they were a sword… or, well, a spade and a paring knife also when it came down to brass tacks… but a sword above all else. Swords needn’t comprehend; they needed edge, purpose and pride in their wielder. And these, Youmu Konpaku carried in her soul.

Among swords, however… Yes. Among swords, competition had a place. And this was the reason Youmu Konpaku smiled a catlike smile. She couldn’t guess at what’d just passed between her great-uncle and their mistress, but she knew this at least:

It had been worth two points and no discussion.

✱✱✱ HERE ENDS Konpaku Youmu Helps (Un)Make a Trade ✱✱✱
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This was pretty hot, and I hate exhibitionism
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