The Redwood Kodokan

Author's Note: This story was inspired by a friend with a particular interest in Clothed-Male-Naked-Female erotica and a 3rd degree blackbelt in Judo. She likes dominating her husband and others using her martial arts skills and it gives her sexual pleasure to do so. She asked me to write a story for her and what follows is the first of many. If this is well received, I may publish the others.

Chapter One: Introductions.

My name is Nadia Stefanik and I've been encouraged to write what happened that night by my students. They want to ensure the Dojo's legacy contains accurate information in the record. I can respect that, so here I am. I guess I should start with me.

I was born in Yekaterinburg, Russia which is located in the Ural Mountains. It's a big city with a million and a half people and the home of many colleges and universities. It also leads the country in retail trade and this is how we ended up moving to the Pacific Northwest. My parents were both executives in a company doing quite a bit of business with Amazon which made them an offer to work in the states. They jumped at the opportunity. I was 2 and my younger sister had just been born. We've been here, in Redwood, ever since.

I love Redwood because it's got a lot to offer people my age (I just turned 30). It's got a vibrant night life... a sense of community and... did I mention people my age? What more could I have asked for? I came back after university in Seattle and my time in Japan which made my mom happy because my sister lives on the other side of the country. Redwood sits on the Puget Sound just north of the big city and is close enough to work in, and visit, Seattle and far enough away to remember why I love not living in the city. I guess we've got about 25,000 people here. It's a really nice place.

When I was ten years old there was a kidnapping in town. My parents were concerned and wanted to be sure that my sister and I could protect ourselves so we went to this community self defense demonstration. The woman demonstrating was a Judo teacher and I thought it was pretty amazing to watch what she was doing to those guys. So that was it. Judo. My sister and I started taking classes at her dojo and I stayed with it even after my sister decided karate was more her thing. Three hours a day for three to four days a week through high school and university; it wasn't hard to drive back from Seattle for class. By the time I'd graduated with a business degree, I had earned my third degree blackbelt. With my Sensei's encouragement and support, I applied and was accepted to the Uchi-Deshi program (live in student) at the home of Judo, The Kodokan Judo Institute in Japan. I spent the next four years training forty hours a week with the best teachers and judoka in the world and returned to Redwood with my fourth degree blackbelt, an official teacher (sensei) designation, and a desire to teach Judo for the rest of my life.

I borrowed some money from my dad and tossed in my savings and put my business degree to work. I opened The Redwood Kodokan in a really cool, renovated warehouse on the wharf (we have huge windows that give a view of the water and make the space really bright during the day). A whole group of fitness and health related businesses moved in, too. There is a yoga studio, indoor cycling studio and boxing club all within a stones throw. I began advertising judo and self defense classes throughout Redwood and the surrounding areas, including Seattle. My Sensei waited for my return before she retired and I inherited all her students (she is really proud of me). I'm not getting rich but I make a decent income and I have some really great students. I can't believe I get paid to teach Judo and that four years has gone by. While I really enjoy training all my students, I have developed a special following based on something I discovered about myself in Japan.

Chapter Two: Japan.

Tokyo was a big adjustment and more than the language. While my Japanese was rudimentary, as gaijin (foreigner) and a woman, I really had to prove myself. Japan is a patriarchal society and while there has been significant advancements in the inclusion of women in the martial arts, the old school ways are still prevalent in the home of Budo. To top if off, I'm 5'9" and 118 lbs with shoulder length brown hair and hazel eyes. I stood out.

The routine was the same each day. We'd rise with the sun. Clean the dojo, eat breakfast and then the first lessons of the day would begin. Until noon, the class was a mix of beginners and blackbelts and every rank in between. Lunch was eaten in silence and then afternoon class was by rank. I was the only woman and foreigner in the uchi-deshi program; the only woman with a blackbelt. I kept to myself mostly and exchanged pleasantries through eye contact and smiles while I worked hard to understand the language. In time, my Japanese improved and I believe that my skills on the tatami helped win over my fellow students. They experienced the full extent of my abilities during randori as I was all business. The living quarters were on the "campus" and a short walk from the main dojo. They were what you would have expected... sparse. A futon, small closet for kimonos and clothes that I never wore, and a few drawers for my gis and personal effects. After a while, I couldn't remember when I last wore real clothing and anything but a pair of bamboo zōri.

One night about 8 months into the program I was awoken by the shoji to my room sliding open. In the dark, I heard breathing and then the sounds of someone heavy crawling across the floor towards my futon. It was warm in Japan and I took to sleeping without clothes for comfort (and, to be honest, I liked being naked). I felt the large, strong hand under the sheet first on my right ankle. As he pulled me over, he was on top of me in a fast second. Funny thing though, I wasn't scared. In fact, my adrenaline was instantly flowing and I was dizzy with excitement. I don't think he expected me to move as fast as I did. I locked my legs around his waist and instinctively found his collar. "He's clothed?" I thought and got more excited. I was about to prove to myself that my years of training were effective as I settled into Gyaku Juji Jime and felt him struggle... and then quiet from the lack of oxygen. I tingled. As I was on my back, I quickly transitioned to Sankaku Jime giving him time to catch his breath before I brought him back to the edge. I was beginning to catch forms in the moonlight... he was struggling and breathing hard... and I was wet. Sopping wet. He tapped out.

I drew him across my heated vagina as I pushed him off and stood to wrap myself in the bed sheet. I paused. I felt powerful standing naked over this clothed menace. I was vibrating and she was engorged and sensitive as I squeezed my thighs together... what was happening? He began to stir and eventually sat up as I watched kneeling from the corner... my mind racing to make sense of it all. My Japanese was about as good as his English and I slowly recognized him from morning classes as a brown belt student from Nakagawa in the Fukuoka Prefecture (I was learning Japanese history and found value in knowing where all the Japanese uchi-deshi were from).

"What are you doing!?" I said. "I could have seriously hurt you!"

"Please forgive, Sempai," he replied and bowed. "I had to experience you." I didn't know what he was talking about. "There few of us who find you beautiful and attracted to your martial skills. We discuss often and I had to know."

"Well, do you now know??" I said in a tone somewhere between turned on, intrigued and pissed off. And, no one was more surprised than me at this moment.

"Yes, Sempai," he uttered from another bow.

"Now go," I commanded. The feeling of arousal and power flowed through my instructions. "We will continue this conversation at another time." It took me an hour to fall back to sleep and only after replaying the attack, finding a rhythm with my fingers and releasing my hotspot into an incredible set of undulating orgasms. "What just happened?" I whispered aloud to myself as I drifted off.

The next morning during dojo cleaning and breakfast, I said nothing and he made no indication as to what happened. I found him later that evening after yuushoku (dinner) in the small dojo attached to our sleeping hall. "I need to speak with you," I said as I slid the shoji open, slipped out of my zōri, bowed and stepped barefoot on to the mat. He stood there in his gi, brown belt and tabi (socks). Silent.

"Speak. What was that last night!?" I demanded.

"There many like me," he parsed in broken English. "Many who want be at your mercy and want experience you... your... doh-ma-nawnce, I think called." Many like him, I thought?

"Continue," I instructed.

"If agree, there others who want see you... to... to visit you," he said sheepishly.

I couldn't stop thinking about how I felt in the dark... hearing the threat approaching... hair on my body electrified... sexual energy building... then the unleash of raw power through technique and skill that led to my successful defense and domination of the menace. I confirmed that my years of training have made me a weapon of considerable skill. I was wet, again, just thinking about it. I was learning something about myself that I didn't know existed. Now it was my turn to explore.

I let my kimono slip from my shoulders and it landed in a pile around my ankles. I stood before him naked, dripping. He stared, fixated on my perfect d-cup breasts. "Hajime!" I ordered. He immediately rushed me and almost slow by my perception, I timed his arrival perfectly, hooked and ensnared his arm under mine while slinging my other arm over his head. I barely noticed him moving over my shoulder but the feeling of throwing his heavier body over my own filled me with a primal sense of hunger and lust. This is what I felt last night with him locked between my legs. For the next several minutes, I transitioned him from one intimate throw to the next. I needed him tight to my naked form. Ashi Guruma to Tsuri Goshi to Kosoto Gake. He would hit the ground and be back for more in an instant. His stamina was driving me forward into more and more ecstasy. I was dripping in every way. "Hite!" and I executed Uchi Makikomi following him to the ground where I transitioned into Kesa Gatame... then to Yoko Shiho Gatame... I could feel his erection under my arm. I cared little for his desires and more about satisfying my own. He was mine to do with as I pleased and he could do nothing to stop me. I had to release what was building inside.

From Tate Shiho Gatame, I found my purchase on his erection and then brought my knees to the sides of his head, dropping onto his face. In an instant, his tongue was inside me and I had to catch my breath. YES! "Please..." I thought. In... out... in... out... around... pressure... the movements of his tongue changing so seamlessly that I could only feel the building release having lost any sense of detail... his hands found my midriff and thighs, grabbing at me. I came... hard. After I stopped twitching, I rose onto my knees and allowed him to catch this breath. Rolling to the side, I flipped his body over and scissored his head between my thighs... and I squeezed. I needed to squeeze... my orgasm wasn't done. "Uhhhhh...," I moaned uncontrollably. Looking at me, his cheeks were flush and he was writhing as he clasped onto my thighs.

"You know what I need from you right now, don't you?" I said looking into his eyes. He nodded his head in affirmation as best he could. "Good. Hajime!" and he promptly brought me to paradise again. When he finished, I pulled off his brown belt and tied his hands together while I released the knot that held his pants to his waist. I loosened them for unrestricted access to what I wanted... what I needed. He slid into me effortlessly and I ordered him not to cum until I said so. He didn't have to speak English to understand and he stayed hard while I came again and again. Then I gave him the permission he longed for.

In the months and years that followed, I discovered that he wasn't the only man I trained with who wanted to experience my naked martial arts skills. This was more common than I realized and I discovered that I, too, had needs requiring satisfaction. It was a perfect match. In addition, more female uchi-deshi arrived in time and I discovered that I was an effective teacher of more than just Judo. By the time I left the program and returned stateside, I had created a cadre of female martial art sadists who would return to communities all over the world with an appetite. Their trials and tribulations are for another story.

Chapter Three: (Un)Fortunate Events.

"Sensei! Come quick!", Maria yelled into the practice area. It was late in the evening and I was straightening the room after class. Most of the students had left, but not all. Maria was the most senior amongst them and typically very calm and unexcitable so her tone caught my attention. She was the best I'd trained and her skills had developed surgical precision. Her joint locks felt like razor blades and her throws fast and devastating. A guy got too grabby once in a bar and didn't expect the 120 lbs blonde in heels to toss him upside down.

I ran towards the entrance, managing to slide into my sandals along the way. I was still wearing my gi with blackbelt fashioned about my waist. The moon was full and, along with the large halogen lights suspended high on the building, the parking lot between my building and the next was well lit. Standing across the way was a large man hovering over someone on the ground... no, wait... a woman... between two parked cars. I was trying to make sense of what was before me as I walk-ran across the lot. My female students in tow.

"You stupid bitch!" the man screamed at the woman staring up from the ground. "When I tell you to do something, you do it!" She was sobbing uncontrollably and I could see blood under her nose.

"What's going on, here!?" I yelled loud enough to get his attention.

He turned with rage in his eyes. "Mind your own fucking business," he shot back at me with venom, turning again to the woman. He raised his foot to kick her and I jumped between them. "Get the fuck out of my way," he glared at me looking like an animal - a predator - and I was becoming his next prey (and aroused). "Or I'm going to knock you out of your pajamas," he said.

"I don't think you want to do this," I replied calmly as I stared directly up into his eyes. I could feel it again... my excitement rising and "she" was getting warm and moist. I've been here before and had been impatiently waiting for the opportunity to return. "Sweetheart, go with my friends here and they will clean you up," I said to the woman as I nodded towards the girls. "Yes, Sensei," Maria said as she helped the young woman to her feet and walked her slowly with the others back to the dojo.

"Sensei!?" he retorted. "You gotta be fucking kidding me," he sneered. "I may just have to pick up with you where I left off with her," he menaced towards me.

"I don't think you want to do that and especially with all these security cameras watching. They'll have recorded you beating up two women. You don't want that, do you?" I said with submission and deference. Truth be told, I didn't want what I was going to do to him on camera. "Nah, I don't but I also can't let you get away with embarrassing me in front of my girl," he spit back. "No way she thinks that she was saved by some broad in pajamas."

"I have an idea," I replied. "Why don't you come to my dojo... right over there," as I pointed, "on Friday evening after my last class. We can settle this matter then?"

"You wanna fight me!? You kidding me, you bitch? I'd kill you. You know who I am?" he boasted. Truth be known, I did recognize him. His name is Bruno Scarpetti and he was the owner of the Boxing Place, a gym that I shared the parking lot with. Bruno had been a State welter weight champion famous for the Scarpetti-Collins fight where he ko'd Collins in the first 15 seconds of the first round. He went on to carry more titles but never made it pro. He settled in Redwood with the mother of his kids, a local and the woman I presume we'd helped. I'd heard bits and pieces about him and his unorthodox training (punishment) techniques. There were more than a few rumors that he liked to hit women. Now confirmed.

"I'm willing to take that risk," I said.

"OK, bitch. Your funeral, and don't think I'm going easy on you because you're a broad. I'll see you Friday night and we'll settle this matter," he seethed with an arrogance that made me hotter. He didn't know what I knew, and the anticipation of him finding out was beginning to rev my engines, if you know what I mean.

Chapter Four: The Match.

Bruno closed up his gym on Friday evening as he had done for the last 3 years, and walked to his car where he put his brief case in the trunk and grabbed his workout bag. At 6'2" and 215 lbs, Bruno was imposing. Years of heavy bag training, jumping rope, and speed drills had chiseled his body into the equivalent of a Greek statue. He was very handsome and liked the ladies. His legs and calves were strong and able to drive his turning hips to power his famous left jab/right hook combination punch. The Scarpetti Bomb, as it was known. His forearms were steel and his biceps, shoulders and lats could have been used in medical illustrations. More men had met the floor, in the ring and at the bar, after meeting the business end of one of his punches than he could recall. He'd been boxing (fighting) his whole life and he had a supreme sense of dominance in his world. No one could touch him.

That was about to change.

The lights that illuminated the "Redwood Kodokan" sign this evening were off but the lights in the dojo were on. Typically, he could see into the space through the large, industrial windows but they had been mostly covered by what looked like paper. It allowed light to pass but remained opaque to those looking in. The place was closed but someone was in there, he thought.

"Hello?" he yelled as he peeked through the front door.

"We're back here," I yelled back.

"Where are the changing rooms so we can get this thing going?" Bruno called out. I could see him enter the Dojo's front door through the traditional two panel curtain that separated the lobby from the practice area. He didn't see me.

"Mr. Scarpetti, there is no need to change. We won't be at this very long," I replied knowing it would push his buttons. "In fact, I would prefer you remain fully clothed... including shoes," I called out.

"Whatever, lady," he muttered after figuring out which curtains led to the practice area and which to the changing rooms. Bruno entered the practice area of the Redwood Kodokan dressed in jeans, a black polo shirt, and his favorite pair of Clarks, and wholly unaware and unprepared for what was about to happen to him. Looking back on it, I almost felt badly for him. Almost.

What Bruno saw was like nothing he had ever seen. The large, rectangular mat measured nearly 60 feet on the long ends and 40 feet on the short ends. It was a pearl white that glowed under the intense overheads. Along each of the long sides, at five foot intervals, were the most beautiful women he'd ever seen... each sitting on their knees and naked except for the black or brown belt fastened around their waists. All the black belts on one side, and all the brown belts on the other. They were still. Staring forward. Eyes open in some sort of meditation. Some had their hair in a pony tail, others in a bun. One or two had short hair or shaved heads. Blondes, brunettes, and red heads. At the far left end of the mat he recognized the one who the pajama bitch referred to as Maria. "You're next," he thought.