Even though I'd raced across the campus, I was late for the college judo club. I was tempted to skip it, but that would have made a poor attendance record worse. Jason Burwell, our sensei, already thought I was a useless waste of space, and he wanted me out. But he couldn't touch me as long as I kept up my gym membership up to date.
Jason was watching the other guys warm up when I arrived. He scowled at me and left the room for about five minutes, so the lesson started late. Once we got going, I was, as usual, the klutz of the group. I didn't much care since I was only there for the exercise.
A girl strolled in like she owned the place just as we were getting ready for the last part of the lesson, freestyle sparring. Heads turned. She was Asian, slim, petite, and wearing a form-fitting gi with a perfectly tied black belt. She bowed slightly to sensei, who returned her bow with a deeper one, and that raised a few eyebrows.
'Listen up, guys!' he said. 'This young beauty is Sasaki Atsuko. Sasaki is her family name, so you will address her as "Miss Sasaki".' She'd bristled at "young beauty". We all bowed to her, and I made sure mine was at least as deep as Jason's. When I straightened up, she was staring right at me.
'Atsuko is an exchange student in the faculty of medicine.' She'd clenched her jaw when he used her given name. 'She's also an assistant coach with the varsity men's judo team and will be representing Japan in the next Olympic Games. You are lucky. Since there are only nine of you, she has kindly agreed to even things up. Let's get started. ΓCuinn, you're with Miss Sasaki. The rest of you pair off.'
I was doomed. Buggerballs' smirk and Atsuko's stone-cold stare said she was ready to dish out one hell of a beating. It wouldn't be my first, but it was bound to be the most one-sided beatdown in the history of intergender judo since sometime in the 1890's when KanΕ JigorΕ's wife made him regret teaching her judo. No, the beating wasn't going to bother me. A girl with a black belt vs a rusty guy in an old orange belt has only one possible outcome. The humiliation I dreaded would not come from within, but from the mockery and cruel jokes of my peers.
I forced myself to think, to try to find a way to keep a shred of dignity. Atsuko looked like she weighed between 45 and 50 kilos, between 100 and 110 pounds, and I was about 70 kilos, roughly 155. I was also half a head taller, had a longer reach, and more muscle mass.
All that jazz and a couple of dollars got me a cup of coffee. Her black belt said that Atsuko had years of intense training to thank for her superior skill and muscle memory. She'd be in top shape, have perfect balance, awesome flexibility, outstanding reflexes, blinding speed, amazing coordination, and precise timing. Her slender but undoubtedly toned muscles could probably beat the crap out of any of us duffers in any test of strength from arm wrestling to deadlifting. It wouldn't have surprised me if Atsuko could hoist me onto her shoulders and carry me a few dozen laps around the dojo at a run without breaking a sweat. The thought made my cock twitch.
My best hope, in fact, my only hope, was to minimize the damage by staying out of her reach, maybe by using my longer arms to keep her at bay.
My plan failed. We'd barely started when Atsuko came at me in a blur, sent me flying over her shoulder, slammed me to the mat and finished up with a kneeling arm-bar. She had my wrist trapped under her armpit and had my elbow jammed tight against her thigh. She only had to lean a little to one side to bend it in a direction that elbows were never meant to bend. The pain was excruciating. I tapped, but that was just the beginning.
Less than five seconds later, she took me down with a leg sweep. I landed on my side, and Atsuko took control with a wrist-lock. A sharp twist forced me onto my stomach, and she put a knee on my shoulder joint and pulled my upright arm across my back. I tapped out again.
In under a minute, she'd thrown and submitted me twice. There was still over ten minutes to go, and all I had to show for it was a rapidly hardening cock. Lucky me.
I was no sooner on my feet than Atsuko came at me with blistering speed. Suddenly we were standing side by side and hip to hip, she with her arm across my back, gripping my belt and lifting me onto her hip. With one smooth move, she swivelled into me and threw me backwards.
I was on my feet before she could get up close and personal with me on the mat, but Atsuko was just setting me up. With another lightning move, she got in close, jammed her butt into my crotch, lifted me off my feet, and hip-tossed me. I wasn't fast enough. She took me from behind with her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. I could feel her powerful thighs crushing my ribs and her warm, heavy, and very sexy breath on my neck. I almost missed the grip she had on my jacketβshe was choking me out with my own gi. I tapped.
Atsuko let me get to my feet before she attacked me again. I tried to fend her off, but she brushed my defences aside. Then grabbed my arm above the elbow, pushed up, ducked under, rammed her shoulder into my side, hooked her free arm around my leg, and straightened up with me slung across her shoulders. There was a split-second pause, and then there was upward push on my arm and leg as she lifted me an inch or two off her body. She held me in the air for a few more seconds and then threw me off to the side to finish her expert, if unique take on the shoulder wheel throw. Landing on my back hurt like the dickens, but my erection didn't care. It craved more abuse, but I thanked the Goddess of Judo for trousers loose enough to protect my dignity.
I was barely back on my feet when Atsuko glided in, as elusive as a ghost, grabbed my jacket, and threw herself backwards, pulling me with her. As we fell, she thrust her foot onto my upper thigh and lifted me off my feet, and sent me flying head over heels over her. It was a thing of beauty in its timing and execution.
Some of the guys were already sniggering, and sensei was looking smug. All I could do to save face was to bounce right back from her every throw and takedown and to resist tapping out of her submission holds and pins as long as humanly possible.
Over the next several minutes, Atsuko threw me around like a leaf in the autumn wind. The downside, and, truth be told, the upside as well, was that the more she wiped the floor with me, the hornier I got. My erection raged, and my cock grew longer, fatter, and firmer every time she threw me. I loved every bone-jarring second, and especially her pins, choke holds and joint locks. Public humiliation be damned.
She used a dazzling variety of leg sweeps, foot, hand, thigh, hip, shoulder, and sacrifice throws. She put me in several standing holds, either arm or wrist locks, and then she'd either apply enough pressure to leverage me down to my knees or kick my feet out from under me. As if all that wasn't enough, Atsuko made taking me down with a few spectacular flying arm-bars look easy.
Despite her more powerful throws hurting like hell, my arousal burned ever hotter. My involuntary lust for punishment at her hands blocked out all other sensations. My underpants were soaked with precum.
Atsuko had me locked down in a cross-body pin when Jason clapped his hands precisely on time. Everything stopped. She got off me and held out a hand. I took it, and she helped me up. 'Listen up,' Jason said. 'We started a bit late tonight, so I'm extending your sparring time by five minutes. I'm leaving Miss Sasaki in charge. Keep going.' With no further ceremony, he left the dojo.
'Kokku satsuka!' Atsuko kept her voice low, but the venom was clear.
'I beg your pardon?'
She looked up at me. 'It's Japanese.'
'What does it mean?
She chuckled and blushed. 'Do you think you would like me to be your kokku satsuka?'