Training the Traditional Way

Hello, it's The Draigg here with a Street Fighter 6 one-shot story! Fun fact, I was hit by a sudden inspiration to write this short story after seeing Marisa talk about how Pankration was traditionally performed naked, and how she wouldn't mind doing that herself. A concept like that practically writes itself. So thank you, World Tour mode, for giving me the drive to do this. Now, without further delay, let's get to it!

XXX

There was something about the air rolling onto the shores of Sicily that Marisa always enjoyed, even if she was not too sure what was so special about it.

It honestly could have been quite a few things. Perhaps it was how the crisp sea breeze of the Mediterranean felt against her skin, or how it flowed into her whenever she took a deep breath. Another possibility was that it was due to the nature of Sicily itself. After all, it was home to both Greek and Roman colonists in ancient times, and surely the blood of both proud and storied cultures felt a yearning for a place that was drenched in so much culture over the centuries. Or it could have just been that she knew a few good spots to take a load off and be free from worldly restrictions for a while.

Whatever the case was, Marisa allowed herself to take in that nice sea air as she watched the sun dip more and more below the horizon. It was nice to get away from Rome for a bit. Traveling to Sicily a few times out of the year was a bit of an indulgence for her, but one that was very well worth it. Between fulfilling all her jewelry orders and participating in the fighting scene whenever she could, the time in Marisa's schedule that would allow for traveling away from Lazio was fairly limited. And as much as she enjoyed her lifestyle otherwise, the occasional break from it all to release some of the pressure was certainly appreciated.

"Hrggh… fwaahhh…" Marisa groaned as she stretched her back, sitting on a rock looking out over the sea. The vibe of Sicily truly was something else. She could feel it permeate her entire body as she grew more and more relaxed.

Of course, with the way she could feel her back muscles ripple up against the smooth silk of her shirt under her blazer, the lingering thought that she could be even more relaxed came to the forefront of her mind. But that was yet another reason why Marisa enjoyed taking trips to Sicily.

The truth was, Sicily provided a more secluded getaway for Marisa's favorite pastime. After all, Pankration was historically practiced naked, and Marisa would be damned if she did not follow in her ancestors' footsteps. Unfortunately, there were simply too many ways to get in trouble for training in the traditional way in Rome. Too many cameras, too many people saying stuff like "It's indecent!" or "Pervert!". Truly, the people who said such things lacked the blood of true warriors within them. People in the modern age simply had no respect for the world's oldest martial art.

So, Marisa tried training her Pankration moves where people were less likely to complain. And while the countryside of Lazio was more or less satisfactory to get the wind on her skin while training, it lacked the spark of when she tried it on a whim on a Caltanissettan beach on a trip to Sicily two years prior. That experience still rang in her mind clearly. On that day, it was as if new life was breathed into her. It was one the purest experiences Marisa had ever felt, her skin bathed in nothing but air as she worked her muscles in the glow of the Sicilian evening.

With practiced hands, Marisa undid the buttons of her shirt and shrugged it off along with her blazer. Then, after kicking off her shoes, she also slipped off her creased pants, which left her clothed in nothing but her pride. The evening breeze put goosebumps on her skin as soon as she felt it brush up against her, and she allowed it to wash over her as she neatly folded up her clothes and left them on the rock she sat on. For a moment, Marisa truly let herself take it all in, her bronzed skin breathing freer than ever. With that taken care of, the now completely nude Marisa then wandered away from her resting spot, ready to embrace the traditions of Pankration.

The soil gave way to sand underneath Marisa's feet as she walked onto the beach. Fortunately for her, there was not a soul in sight on the beach that evening. As much as she cared little that anyone would see her finely honed warrior's body, it would not do to have anyone call the police on her while she was trying to get into her element. Marisa had already learned that lesson the harder way back in Rome. That was an annoying, somewhat embarrassing, and narrowly avoided brush with legal trouble that she would rather not repeat.

Spreading her arms wide open, Marisa embraced the air and warmth of the setting sun coming right onto the shore. She could feel the warmth of the setting sun pool in her stomach and send jolts of energy right through her body. It was the true spirit of Pankration she was feeling.

Taking a deep breath, Marisa then exhaled and bared an excited grin to herself. "Now… let's begin!"

Marisa took off at a sprint towards the waters of the Mediterranean Sea before her. She ran until the water reached halfway up her toned legs, before diving in and taking a swim. She had her fill of bathing in air, now she wanted to bathe in the sea that the Roman legions had to sail across on their conquests of the ancient world. There was a true strength in that sea, a power that Marisa both respected and craved.

"Maybe I can recommend a nice swim to that one Metro City fighter the next time we meet," Marisa thought to herself as she surfaced above the salty sea waters. They were a promising fighter, that much as for sure. Maybe it would not be a bad idea to invite them along for some traditional training in Sicily sometime? It was not a bad idea, but she filed that thought away for later. There was no need for any distractions during her special training time.

Continuing her swim, Marisa moved up and down the shore for a few laps. Swimming was a full body workout, so it was a natural fit for a martial art such as Pankration that required strength across the entire body. There was also the nice additional benefit that it just plain felt nice to skinny dip in the Mediterranean. The waters were a nice balm to soothe the cording and unwinding muscles in her arms and legs, and she could feel her body becoming one with the sea as her body temperature adjusted to the water around her.

However, Marisa could not allow herself to be taken in completely by the Mediterranean's charms, she still had more exercises she wanted to do. She swam her way to the shore, coming out of the water sopping wet and with her once-styled hair now naturally cascading down her head to tickle near her collar bones. Marisa could not help but smile as she imagined how beautiful she would look to anyone who would see her. She was like Venus rising from the sea, if Venus was also capable of bench-pressing an adult male lion. Or maybe like a bronze statue of antiquity, her Mediterranean-tanned skin coloring a masterwork of body sculpting.

By then, the sun had nearly completely dipped below the horizon. Stars were becoming more and more visible, but Marisa was not done yet. She waded up to the beach, feeling her skin cool in the steadily cooling air. It was not a bad feeling, not at all. But it would not let Marisa dry off as fast as she would like from her swim. That was where the next step of her exercise would come in.

The balls of Marisa's feet dug into the sand of the beach before taking off in a run down the shoreline. Her legs pumped up and down as she picked up to a steady pace, all while she could feel the wind breeze up against her more and more. It was doing a fine job of drying off the salty sea water, even if it was also making Marisa feel a bit cold. There was no denying the feeling of her nipples stiffening in response to the coolness as her breasts swung freely while running. It was absolutely refreshing to not have to bother with the sports bra that modern society obliged her to wear whenever she fought. The freedom felt just like the warmth in her stomach making its way up to her heart, making it flutter in excitement.

Marisa felt her thoughts drift again as she continued her sprint down the beach. "Would Manon like doing this? She certainly has the legs for it. Her body is pretty toned too…"

In Marisa's mind, there was no doubt that some sparks flew between her and Manon when they sparred before. They were not all that different at their cores, after all. They both basically wanted the same thing: to continue to push themselves to greater and greater heights, all while seeking to find the answers that lie in the heart of battle. Self-improvement was an everlasting journey, whether the answers were found in tradition or in modern experiences.

It also helped that Manon certainly was easy on the eyes, but that was as expected of a world-class model. The cuts in her judoka outfit did more than a good job showing off her smooth and powerful hips. And that wasn't even getting into some of the racier modeling footage of Manon's that Marisa looked up after their first encounter. FooTube sent her down a rabbit hole of looking at video after video of Manon's natural elegance. She could make any outfit look amazing, even if it was made of some conveniently-placed feather boas, strings, and beads. The only things that would make those examples of haute couture better is if Manon wore some of Marisa's hand-crafted jewelry along with them. Or better yet, if she only wore that jewelry.

Marisa could picture it in her mind clearly. Manon was waiting for someone, perhaps Marisa herself, on a pure-white sofa draped in soft throw blankets. Her ivory skin nearly blended in with the couch while she reclined, stretching her lithe and toned body while she waited. Manon's bright pink hair fell loosely over her breasts, the two long stands nearly camouflaging the soft pink color of her nipples as they poked through the cascades. And what stood out the most was the gold chain hanging from around Manon's neck, with a large spearhead-shaped medallion with a sapphire inlaid in the center hanging off the end. It was resting right in the center of the unblemished softness of her chest. It was a design that was undoubtedly Marisa's, a fact that fueled Marisa's pride in her imagination.

The imaginary Manon smirked at Marisa. "You kept me waiting, mon cheri," she said, her tone part-haughty and part-teasing. There was a hunger in the imaginary Manon's eyes that was as clear as day to Marisa. Fortunately, there was more than enough in Marisa to satisfy Manon, more than enough to play Manon's game. Let nobody say that Marisa would turn down a challenge disguised as a taunt.

Just as the imaginary Manon was starting to spread her legs, a large wave rolling into the shore snapped Marisa out of her fantasy. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she refocused on the real world around her. If she was being honest with herself, her fantasy led Marisa a lot longer down the beach than she intended. Not that it was too worrying from a criminality standpoint, since the beach was still empty aside from herself. However, the distance Marisa created meant that she might not be able to get as much done as she wanted before it got too late, since she did not want to exercise when it got too dark out. That was just asking for an easily avoided accident to happen. Unfortunately, she would probably have to abbreviate what she wanted to do for her traditional style of training.

Marisa frowned to herself slightly before turning back around and jogging back towards where she started. Although even if she was annoyed with herself, her heart was still throbbing at the lingering fantasy in the back of her mind. Marisa could tell that the pounding in her chest just was not from just exerting herself, since if anything the exercise was entirely manageable and along the lines of what she normally did to keep herself in shape. Lust or love, whichever one that feeling in her chest was, was certainly a powerful thing.

By the time Marisa made it back to where she started, night was starting to fully set in. It was just as she thought, she allowed herself to get too distracted from her exercises. Oh well, so it went. It was a bit annoying, but fretting over it was just going to distract her even more. Doing weight training with some of the small boulders along the shore was just going to have to wait for a different day.

Instead, Marisa would simply have to settle for doing some stretches. Those were always an important part of a workout, regardless of whether someone practiced Pankration or some other combat style. After all, it was a good way to relax the muscles after they put in some solid effort, loosening them up from how tightly they constricted themselves before. And where would Marisa, Rome's very own premier Pankration fighter, be if she did not take good care of her finely honed form? It would be a shame, after all, if she let a body that looked as if it was sculpted by Michealangelo himself to waste away by not treating her muscles kindly.

Marisa continued to tread the path she had previously taken, letting sand change to well-worn dirt beneath her bare soles. The pebbles along the ground hardly bothered her, as she had already built solid calluses on her feet. The dirt of the Colosseum treated all feet equally, and the coarse sands of it yielded to no one. The pads of Marisa's feet proved that she had conquered their harshness.

Not before long, Marisa had reached the smoothed boulder that she had striped herself bare nearby. Thankfully, her clothes remained where she had last left them, only slightly out of place thanks to the coastal wind. It would have been annoying to lose a €10,000 tailored suit. Although thankfully, Marisa's size would have made it easy to track down where it ended up. The commonality of women with her measurements, let alone her height, was rather nonexistent.

Taking up the bundle of clothes in her hands, Marisa softly put them aside to rest on the cool stone surface. Laying back, Marisa took in the sight of the stars above her. The lights of the night were out brighter that night, or at least it seemed that way. There was much more visible out on the Sicilian beach than what Marisa normally saw during the nights in Rome, thanks to less light pollution. Basking in the glow of ever-distant suns would be the right way to begin her unwinding routine.

Slowly but surely, Marisa began to roll her hips side to side while also hiking her knees up to work on her abs. The taught muscles under her skin rippled back and forth as she got into the groove of her exercise. All the while, the cheeks she rested on got a taste of both warmth and coolness, as they rolled towards and away from the warmth her body was making on the boulder. It just felt right, letting her body rest on something natural.

Right as a light heat was starting to build in her abs, Marisa stopped to let them take a break. They had been exercised well enough, so it was time to focus on something else. At that feeling, Marisa put her hands behind her head and started to raise and lower her legs straight up into the air, letting them tense and relax as she looked up at the canopy of stars.

The serenity of the beach, the sounds of the waves rolling into the shore, and the quiet grace of the night sky combined let Marisa's mind wander as she continued to go through the motions. Up and down her legs stretched and dropped as Marisa let her focus slip out of reality for a moment.

This time, Manon was not the focus of Marisa's imagination. Instead, it was the mighty Zangief, defender of Russia's skies. In her mind, she was as bare as she was in reality, with the mighty Russian taking her up in his strong arms and pinning her against the ground in a submission hold. Their fight must have been one for the ages, since Zangief's skin was glistening with sweat and his chest hair was tickling her back as his breath heaved out in loud huffs. The hold that Marisa was in was hardly an issue to break out of, but she would be lying if she said she was all that interested in breaking out of it. Being trapped underneath a mountain of a man who could match her strength was not something Marisa would call an unpleasant feeling.

Instead, Marisa made sure to buck up her hips in the imaginary brawl. Her ass immediately pressed up against Zangief's crotch, and she could feel the mighty Russian stiffen his body completely in surprise. Ever since the last time they ran into each other, Marisa could not help but enjoy seeing Zangief be a bit flustered in response to her proposal. The way his nervousness contrasted with his strength was, to put it bluntly, adorable.

Marisa smirked in the illusion. "Is this all you can do? How about you show me what a bear can really do when it meets a lion," she taunted, her face growing redder with excitement.

"I-I am the Red Cyclone! You will know the true strength of my muscles as I suck you in and tear you down!" Marisa's Zangief replied. Credit to the imaginary Zangief, at least he was at least trying to keep up his dignity.

"That's an invitation, not a threat!" Marisa replied inside of the fantasy. It was then that she pictured in her mind that she managed to break and roll out of the pin against the ground, followed by dragging Zangief down to the floor with her. On the ground of the field of combat, warriors were their most equal and their most vulnerable. That was an idea that Marisa eagerly looked forward to exploring some more.

Outside of the world of Marisa's unreality, she had all but completely stopped her stretches, instead just lying on the rock and basking in the vision of her lust. Through the mental haze, one of her muscled arms lowered itself down to her crotch, while another curled up and around her chest. It was at times like this that Marisa was thankful that she had the skilled hands of a jeweler, since her fingers knew exactly how to work their magic on her arousal-slicked entrance and one of her hardened nipples.

How fitting it was that the word "vagina" derived from the Latin word for "sheath," as Marisa herself made sure to handle such equipment as properly as any good gladiator would. Her large fingers worked at an even tempo, curling and relaxing at a rhythmic pace inside of herself. Unlike how rough her fantasies were, Marisa made sure to tease her inner walls with a gentler touch. To her, she could save the actual vigorous sex for when she could manage to rope Manon, Zangief, or both at the same time into taking her for a night. The mere thought of what those two would do to and with her at the same time was enough to start plunging her fingers in deeper, sending waves of heat upwards across her body. Marisa could feel her face flush right before a groan of pleasure escaped her mouth.

Marisa could picture it clearly: she was straddling Manon and guiding her tongue across her naked body, tracing a line between the judoka's breasts and up to her pale collar bone. Manon was mewling in enjoyment and running her hands across Marisa's bare back, leaving light scratches with her immaculately done nails. At the same time, Zangief was slamming his hips right up against Marisa's rear, giving her the full length of his Russian manhood right between her cheeks. To Marisa, it would be an amazing feeling if and when it would happen, feeling the heat of his body inside of her haunches. Zangief would still have to earn that opportunity, but no matter how it happened, Marisa was sure that she would get plenty out of the experience.

In the present reality, Marisa was huffing loudly as the rhythm of her fingers picked up quicker. She let out moan after throaty moan as she gradually lost herself in her pleasure, which was only then silenced by her craning down to lick the nipple on the breast that she was kneading a moment ago. It was as hard as brass against her tongue, but Marisa would not have it any other way. There was something nice about the taste of the sea salt mixed with the sweat she had been building up on her body throughout the evening. It was the taste of a good day's training, combined with a good night's enjoyment. Marisa simply could not have enough of it, suckling on herself like a woman starved.

Her pace quickened, her three fingers she used going deep to the knuckle. Marisa only let up from licking herself to let out louder and throatier moans. By then, she hardly cared if anyone saw her furiously pleasuring herself. Let them see, let them come. She had nothing to hide, it was only people who did not understand the ways of the ancient Romans and Greeks that wanted her to hide away her body. If someone were to stumble on her by chance, it would only enhance the experience. It was what Marisa ultimately wanted, to show off just how far she could push her body in every way possible.

The thought of it pushed Marisa to go even harder, and the path her flushed and sweaty skin made traced downwards, going down from her head and resting below her collar bones. There was no doubt that Marisa, the modern embodiment of Pankration, was greatly enjoying being exposed for all the world to see. And it was hardly just a matter of keeping to the traditions of Pankration, it was also a deeper lust that Marisa happened to have a good justification for. Something that sent a buzz down her spine whenever she thought about it, something that was driving her to shamelessly masturbate on a public beach on Sicily. The inner masochism and drive that Marisa's sport and cravings had in common made her the living ideal of passion. Marisa would always publicly share her love, whether that love was for a lifestyle or for a carnal drive. Everyone was welcome to it, all they would need to do was accept it, just as much as Marisa had wanted to accept it into her. What that "it" was, whether it was Pankration, craftsmanship, the fingers of a woman, or the hard shaft of a man, it was all welcome. The depths of her love and her body were virtually limitless.

Like the force of the waves rolling into the nearby shore, soon enough Marisa's body rippled with a powerful orgasm. Her back arched upwards as she came, and a loud noise, almost like a howl of pleasure, boomed out from deep in Marisa's chest. It was an unintelligible sound that could only mean that whoever let it out hardly cared about anything at that point other than their own gratification. And if one thing was certain, Marisa's orgasm was more than just good. It was great, superb even.

As she came down from her sexual high, Marisa allowed herself to lay slack on the rock and breathe deeply. That was probably the best masturbation session that she had in a while. The afterglow really was something else when it was done outside, with every curve and crevasse of Marisa's body barred for all to see, if anyone was watching. The thrill of everyone seeing a fully-toned warrior's body, flushed and with her damp hair sticking to her body, was one of the most enticing things that Marisa could imagine for herself.

In her relaxed haze, Marisa held the hand that had been teasing and rubbing her quim up to her face and promptly licked her fingers clean. "Hmm, not bad…" she noted to herself.

Whoever said that victory tasted sweet clearly had not tried what Marisa had tasted on her fingers. Instead, the flavor was more salty than anything, no doubt to the ocean water and sweat that had dried on her body earlier. It was not too bad at all, all things considered. It was a well-won victory for Marisa to finally indulge herself in the best way possible. How else was she to reward herself for a well-done training session?

The stars shone brightly against the night's canopy as Marisa basked in that feeling of gratification. Being clad in only sweat, seawater, and moonlight ended up feeling better than wearing any of the finely tailored suits she owned, let alone the gear she normally wore into battle. Lighter and smoother than any silk, and more breathable than mesh. The pankratiasts of old truly were onto something by only bearing their skin to the world. Being able to show her love for her body in every aspect here on Sicily was more than Marisa could ever ask for.

Still though, if there was one thing that Marisa would change, it would be that laying on a rock for a while was hardly comfortable. It was time to pull herself back towards reality, and the reality was that she had a hotel room that she could sleep in comfortably, rather than just fall asleep naked on some beach-side boulder. And as much as Marisa was also content to stay as she was for a while, there was no doubt in her mind that reeking of sweat and of the sea would be problematic the next morning. What she needed now was a shower and a soft bed.

At that, Marisa got off the boulder and flexed her back. "Hrghh… Well, I'm going to have to work more of that into my routine," Marisa wryly commented to herself, grinning. There was no denying it in her mind, she was hooked on the feeling of it all.

Marisa picked up her clothes, but she paused in thought as she took a look at her suit pants. Well, there was no real need to get dressed quite just yet, was there? Nobody was around, and there was no reason to assume that anyone would get a good look at her while driving her car. Maybe nobody would complain at the hotel either, if she was fortunate enough to get away with it. The more Marisa thought about it, the more she was willing to press her luck.

With a bemused chuckle to herself, Marisa slung her clothes over her shoulders and walked away from the beach. She really was an addict to the traditional ways of Pankration, through and through. And for Marisa, she would not have it any other way. As it turned out, training the traditional way always had greater and greater benefits.

XXX

And there we have it! I certainly hope that you enjoyed reading this story as much as I had fun writing it. Also, for a few quick shout-outs at the end here, thanks to the WoolieVersus Street Fighter 6 let's play for also inspiring me to get on writing this (if just through the timing of it lining up)! And also a hearty thank you to my friend Sut-Typhon, and to my lovely partner Rabbit Tzar, for being my beta readers and editors for this! Without their touches, it wouldn't flow as well as it probably does.

Anyways, this has been The Draigg, and I'm signing off on this story!