24 comments/ 78608 views/ 31 favorites Naga Massage Review By: manyeyedhydra What a dump, Abraham Russell thought as he glanced around the reception area. It was how he'd expected it, to be honest—naff in a cheap kind of way. They'd made an attempt to make it look sensual and erotic, but overall the effect was more Blackpool than burlesque. Stylish photos of scantily-clad models from the sixties and seventies were placed on the walls. The girls were all on the chubby side. It was a reminder of how hideous the average English woman had been until the advent of silicone implants. The layout was similar to the other places he'd visited—receptionist counter right in front of him, waiting area with a couple of sofas, coffee table complete with complementary bowl of mints, and a TV to his right. A chavette with long blonde hair sat on one of the sofas and watched the TV with a bored expression. She wasn't wearing much—a gauzy white dressing gown over plain white underwear. Face okay, body not bad. Obviously rough as fuck and probably with a gob on her to make a sailor blush, but fake-tan Pamela would be acceptable. She at least had the sense to turn and give Abraham a smile. He knew her name was Pamela because he'd picked her out in the gallery of portraits on the wall behind her. It was a common feature shared by most of the upmarket—relative, of course!—massage parlours up North. Their rosters were displayed in the waiting area to help the punter make his choice. The same pictures were displayed online if the parlour had a web page, but with the faces blurred out. Supposedly to protect the girls' privacy. Abraham reckoned it was because they didn't want to frighten the punters away. "Hello, dear," the receptionist said. She was fat and wore too much makeup. "Welcome to Arabella's. I haven't seen you around before. First time?" "Yes," Abraham said. "That's fine," the receptionist said. "Our girls are very good. They'll put you at ease in no time at all." "I meant first time here," Abraham said. "I'm extremely familiar with massage parlours." "Oh," the receptionist said. "Then I hope you'll find us to be one of the better ones." "Maybe," Abraham said. Doubtful, he thought. He doubted some Northern slapper would have the same willingness to please as an Oriental honey, and he knew for sure they wouldn't be as jaw-droppingly beautiful as the Russian blondes down in London. "I have very high standards," he stated. "Then we'll have to do our utmost to please them," the receptionist said. "What brings you to Arabella's, Mister...?" "Russell," Abraham filled in. "Abraham Russell." If the receptionist recognised his name, she didn't show it. "I'm doing a tour of all the massage parlours in the city," Abraham said. "Lucky you," the receptionist said. "I wasn't supposed to visit here until next Tuesday, actually," Abraham said. "The girl I'd booked at Sandy's Lounge was off sick and the others were...unappealing. You're close by, so I decided to visit and see what's available." "Who's been the best so far?" the receptionist asked. "I like to know what the competition is up to," she added with a wink. "Asian Angels," Abraham replied. The receptionist frowned. "Asian Angels? I thought the police shut that place down ages ago. You want to steer clear of there. The girls aren't always working there out of choice, if you know what I mean." Abraham shrugged. "So what was it, a win on the lottery or the horses?" the receptionist asked. Abraham's face creased up in puzzlement. Then he realised what she meant. "Oh no, no," he said. "This is my job. I review massage parlours." The receptionist paused. Here comes the ass-kissing, Abraham thought. She looked him straight in the eye. "Bullshit," she said. Abraham was taken aback. It was not the response he'd expected. The receptionist chuckled. "Oh don't look so surprised," she said. "Plenty of blokes come in here and run that line. They think it'll motivate the girls to give better service. You've nothing to worry about in that department. We're not one of those city centre rip-off saunas. We have good girls here. They'll do their best to make sure you're fully satisfied." She looked at Abraham with a knowing twinkle in her eyes. "'Sides, I can tell you're not a proper reviewer. A proper reviewer wouldn't tell you up front they're a reviewer. They'd want the experience to be authentic, like it would be for any average bloke walking in off the street, and they wouldn't get that if they tipped the girls off beforehand." "I am a proper massage parlour reviewer," Abraham protested. "I'm the massage parlour reviewer. I'm Abraham Russell. I write for GentlemanPunter.com. I wrote the Massage Parlour Review guide last year." "Really?" the receptionist said, her face briefly freezing up in an expression of bovine stupidity. Yes, really, you stupid fat cow, Abraham wanted to say. "Well that's a bit daft, isn't it," the receptionist said. "How are you going to be able to write about a typical experience now you've tipped us off?" Abraham couldn't give two shits about the 'typical' experience. He gave her an unctuous smile. "I have very high standards," he explained. "I think it's only fair to let the girls know this in advance so they can try their best to earn a good review." And give Abraham an experience that at least approached tolerability. "I see," the receptionist said. She didn't seem convinced. "Well, we also cater to more specialised needs. We have a number of extra facilities, including a fully stocked BDSM dungeon." Abraham shook his head and smiled. "Thanks, but no thanks," he said. "A proper BDSM session should be carried out in a proper BDSM dungeon with a proper, trained dominatrix." "Oh," the receptionist said. Her lips, liberally smeared with greasy red lipstick, formed an 'o'. "A massage with the usual extras will be quite sufficient," Abraham said. "Okay then," the receptionist said. "That will be twenty plus whatever you agree with the girl in the room." Abraham smiled, showing a perfect set of pearly white teeth. "You know," he said. "Most of the establishments I visit choose to waive the fee or offer a substantive discount." The receptionist chuckled. "That's the other thing they try to pull—those blokes claiming to be massage parlour reviewers. The cheeky ones," she said. "Doesn't get them anywhere, mind you." "That's most disappointing," Abraham said. "I don't suppose you could connect me with one of your superiors. Someone with more authority, maybe even the owner. Someone who'll better understand the business benefits a positive endorsement from me will bring." He smiled again, showing his teeth. "Sure," the receptionist said. She turned around as if she was going to call for someone hidden away in one of the back rooms, but instead turned back around to face Abraham without saying a word. "Hello. Arabella Colman, owner of Arabella's. How do you do," she said. Awk. Ward. "I'm sorry, but we don't offer freebies or discounts. I'm sure—as a professional reviewer—this will not colour your opinion of our establishment in any way or form. After all, it's how the girl performs in the room that's important," the receptionist said. "Of course," Abraham said. That's two stars gone for starters, he thought. Better hope you have a real beauty available if you don't want this dump to drop into minus ratings. He slapped two fifties down on the counter. "I presume this will be sufficient," he said. "I know you," the receptionist said, thoughtful. "Yes, Abraham Russell. I've heard that name before." At last. Finally. Took the stupid cow long enough. Abraham waited for the inevitable grovelling. "You're the one been going around all the parlours asking for freebies and trying to wheedle extras out of the girls. Threatening them with bad reviews if they don't. Yes, I've read the warnings about you." Abraham's expression soured. "Lies," he said. "Spread by establishments after I rightly castigated them for their shoddy standards of service." He reached for his money. "I take it my patronage is not welcome here," he said. The receptionist looked in two minds, but was still fast enough to snatch the notes from the counter before his slowly descending hand reached them. "Your money's as good as anyone else's," she said. Abraham smiled. Nothing greedier than a greedy whore. "That's a better attitude," he said. "So what charming ladies do you have available for my entertainment on this lovely afternoon?" He held up a wagging finger. "Don't forget. Thousands of punters read my blog every day." "In that case, we should make sure you get our best girl. I'll see if Amanda is free." This was more like it. Some fucking respect, finally. He looked at the rows of portraits on the walls. None of them had the name Amanda. "Which one's Amanda?" he asked. "She's not up there," Arabella replied. "She's our special girl." "Special?" Sounded like bullshit to Abraham. Maybe they'd all pooled their cash and she was the one who got the good boob job. "Very," Arabella said. "I guarantee you won't have had a service from a girl like her before." "Okay, you've piqued my interest," Abraham said. Only as prelude to the eventual disappointment, he thought. "Wait here," Arabella said. "I'll go and see if she's available." She squeezed out from behind the counter and waddled off down the corridor. Abraham was left standing in front of the reception counter. He turned and noticed the blonde chavette was staring at him with Bambi eyes. He gave her a leering grin and she hurriedly looked away. He didn't have long to wait before Arabella's corpulent form reappeared. "She's free," she said. "Follow me." She led him down a corridor and to a set of stairs leading down to a cellar or basement. The walls were covered in hideous stripy pink wallpaper and pictures of yet more overweight models. Abraham shook his head. No clue at all, he thought. He followed her down and she directed him through a door to his left. He entered the room, looked around, shook his head and sighed. Of course it would be. What else would be down in the cellar. He turned back to the door. "Hey!" he called out. "I said I wasn't interested in a BDSM session in a third-rate dungeon with an amateur dominatrix." The door closed. Something thick and muscular wound around his calves. Before he could react, it slithered up around his body and pinned his arms to his sides. It felt like some kind of giant tentacle had coiled around him. It was strong. His weight came off his feet as the muscular coil bunched up and lifted him up off the floor until only his toes remained in contact. "Amateur dominatrix, hmpth." Abraham found himself looking at a gorgeous girl with rich olive skin, bright green eyes and jet-black hair cut in a Cleopatra bob. She was strikingly beautiful. Hollywood beautiful, even. Way more beautiful than Abraham would have expected to find in a shitty massage parlour up in the arse-end of the north. Nice bod too, Abraham thought as he glanced down to where the full curves of her tits were barely contained within a kinky black leather bra. "Does this look third rate to you?" she said, placing a hand on a slender hip. No, it didn't. Not at all. Above the waist was one of the most attractive upper bodies Abraham had ever seen, and he'd seen a lot. Below the waist... Dear God, below the waist... It wasn't a tentacle coiled around Abraham but the body of an enormous snake, and the snake was the girl in front of him. His eyes tried to unravel the special effect. It had to be some kind of trick, although he couldn't see how it was done. It looked real. The girl's dusky olive flesh gave way to glittering green and bronze scales, and instead of legs, her hips flowed together into a long serpentine body, a significant portion of which was currently coiled around his body and lifting him up off the floor. This was fucked up. Abraham prided himself on possessing a pragmatic, well-grounded nature. There were two explanations. Either this was a dream or hallucination, or reality was a lot fucking weirder than he'd previously thought. Closing his eyes and muttering, 'it's all a dream', over and over would do fuck all if it turned out to be the latter. Until he woke up, if he woke up, he had to go with what his senses told him, no matter how fucked up. Girls with the lower bodies of snakes exist. Yeah, shocker. Now that crazy little nugget has been processed, let's proceed. "Amanda?" he asked. The girl nodded. "You're a lamia," he said. Dusty memories of old classics courses were dredged up to the surface. "Naga actually," Amanda said. "Nagin," Abraham corrected. "Unless you've got some extra bits down there I don't know about." Amanda raised a pencil-thin black eyebrow. She looked like a Bollywood princess. A pissed off Bollywood princess with the lower half of a giant snake. "I've heard of you, or rather of things like you," Abraham said as a lightbulb pinged in his mind. He'd received a series of emails about some kind of monster—a girl with the lower body of a giant spider—working in an unnamed massage parlour. At the time he'd dismissed them as either an elaborate practical joke or the drug-fuelled ravings of a complete nutjob. Now—with his own boundaries of reality widened, so to speak—those same emails started to look a little more credulous. "People have sent me reports of strange creatures hiding out in massage parlours," he added. "People also say they see Elvis buying milk at their local supermarket," Amanda said. "They're nuts," Abraham said. "I'm not." He looked around. The dungeon was surprisingly well equipped. Not a patch on the specialist places in Birmingham or London, but better than he'd have expected for a crappy little parlour Oop North. "Makes sense," he said. "Most men don't exactly tell their wives, girlfriends or mothers where they're going before they visit a massage parlour." "True," Amanda said. Her coils started to tighten ominously around Abraham's chest. "Na ha ha," Abraham blurted out. "I said most men. Not me. This is my job. I have a full itinerary. My secretary has my full itinerary. One never knows when one will come across some East European fuckwad gang in this business." Her body stopped squeezing him. "Rest assured. If I go missing the authorities will know exactly where to start looking," he panted. The pressure on Abraham's chest relaxed. A forked tongue flickered between Amanda's full lips as she regarded him. "That's better," Abraham said, although his arms were still pinned to his sides. "Is this normally how you treat your paying customers?" "Actually, it's normally what they pay for," Amanda said. Figures, Abraham thought, freaks paying a freak to service them. Abraham wasn't interested. At least he thought he wasn't interested. He was about to order her to let him go so he could leave this freakshow behind, and then he looked at her upper body again. She was kind of hot. Really hot. His curiosity had been inflamed also. He'd visited a lot of parlours and enjoyed the services of a lot of different girls, but he'd never encountered anyone like this. Plus he'd already paid. "Not me," he said. "You can drop the dominatrix crap. I'm not one of those sad pervs who gets his jollies from being beaten up. I want a massage and the usual extras. So how about you get rid of the Princess Xena-wear so I can get a good look at those titties, luv." A little glint of anger flashed in her green eyes. "You're very cocky for someone talking to a being who can apply the same amount of pressure to your chest as being crushed under the wheel of a medium-sized minivan," Amanda said. She still unhooked her bra and threw it aside. As Abraham suspected, they were indeed an extremely nice pair of tits—large, but firm rather than sagging. Perky nipples emerged from the centre of her chocolate-coloured areolae. Superb. "That's because you can't do shit to me," he said with a wink. "That's how the world is nowadays, luv. The sharp-tongued have taken it from the strong. The pen—or the keyboard—is mightier than the sword. So, you'd better treat me sweet unless you want your existence splashed all over the internet." Amanda's tail flickered in front of his face. A rattle without a rattle. She regarded him with cool detachment. "Interesting. So you intend telling everyone you ran into a woman with the lower body of a snake." She smiled. "Good luck with that." "No. I'm not stupid," Abraham retorted. "I know no one would believe me." His face turned crafty. "I'll tell the authorities this place deals in trafficked girls. I have contacts. I imagine the extra police attention will prove quite uncomfortable for you." Abraham grinned. Amanda frowned. Her coils loosened a little more, enough for Abraham to feel his feet back on the ground. "Good, I'm glad we understand each other," Abraham said. "Now, let's get down to business. I warn you. I expect the absolute very highest in service." Amanda placed a hand on her chin and looked at Abraham with a thoughtful expression. "You talk too much," she said after a pause. "I think I'll take away your breathing privileges for a while." "What!" Abraham managed a squawk as her coils suddenly tightened hard around his chest. The pressure increase was gradual and unrelenting. Abraham exhaled stale air from his lungs only for her coils to contract with his rib cage. They formed a barrier preventing his chest from expanding. There was less space to draw air into. "You can't do this," he wheezed. She squeezed him remorselessly. His next breath was shallower, the one after that shallower still, and the one after that barely a breath at all. Abraham's eyes bulged. There was no air in his lungs and no space to draw any in. He was suffocating. Amanda loomed over him. Her face was emotionless as her muscular body slowly squeezed the life out of him. Abraham's lungs burned. His vision turned to black and he lost consciousness. * * * * He awoke to find Amanda administering a truly spectacular blowjob. Was that her tongue? It felt like it was wrapped all around his cock, right from the glans to the root. She teased and stimulated his whole length with rhythmic squeezes. "So you finally saw sense," he said. Amanda's long tongue unravelled from his penis and slithered back up into her mouth. She looked up at him with a smile on her sensual lips and mischief in her emerald eyes. "Of course," she said. "You nearly killed me," Abraham said. "Pshaw. That was only to teach you to treat me with some respect," Amanda said. "I usually perform as a dominatrix, remember." Abraham wasn't too impressed with her lesson. His ribs felt tender. He suspected they were going to be very sore when he woke up tomorrow morning. "I don't like that," Abraham said. "I like to be the one in control," he said. "Very well," Amanda said. "I'll be putty in your hands." She slithered up his body, her soft breasts running up his stomach and then over his aching ribs. Her soft lips, pressed against his, made him forget all about the pain. She broke off the kiss long enough to whisper down at him. "Extra soft putty." Her green eyes sparkled. Her lips came back down on his and her flexible tongue slipped through to playfully joust with his. Abraham responded, moving his mouth against hers. His arms slipped around her and he held her close in an embrace. Thinking of soft... Abraham slid his hands under her armpits and then down the sides of her breasts, getting a good feel of the soft mounds of flesh squashed against his chest. Real. One hundred percent real. They yielded like great soft marshmallows and had none of the hard plastic feeling of fake titties. Naga Massage Review Amanda pulled away from him, leaving his hands to grope blindly at her retreating breasts. She lay back on a bench or other similar piece of furniture and parted the lips of her pussy to reveal a glistening pink interior. "You want to be in control," she said. "Now get over here and fuck me." Abraham was surprised at how little incentive he needed. She wasn't exactly human after all. As juicy as her pussy looked—and it looked very juicy indeed—it was easy to see there were no legs beneath it. Instead, what should have been legs merged together into a long, scale-covered, serpentine body. A really long body, Abraham thought as he realised the bed he thought he'd been lying on was in actuality her coiled up lower half. It lay curled up on the floor all around him—a wide greenish-bronze ribbon he couldn't trace to the end. Whatever. The freakish whore had finally worked out who was supposed to be in charge here and Abraham intended to take full advantage. He grunted and plunged his cock right into her tight, well-lubricated vagina. Fuck. This was some pussy. Almost as tight as the Filipino girls he'd fucked down in London, but attached to the voluptuous curves of an all-star American cheerleader. He buried his hands in those curves as he thrust his cock into her luscious depths. She undulated beneath him, moving her body against him like a wave and Abraham felt like he'd been plunged into an ocean of sensual pleasure as his dick slipped back and forth into the sucking clasp of her pussy. "You're really wet down there," Abraham commented. That was an understatement. She was soaking. His pubes were already drenched and plastered back against his skin. Her juices bubbled out and ran down his balls in tickling little dribbles. "I bet you've been waiting for this for some time," Abraham said. "It's so much better being fucked by a real man than playing the cruel bitch for sad, pathetic losers." Amanda closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure. Her body writhed beneath him. Abraham's hands left the malleable pillows of her breasts and slid down her sides. He paused when he reached her hips and her soft skin changed to smooth scales. Fuck it. Her cunt was fucking incredible—moist, flexible, luscious. His hands slipped around behind her and cupped the perfect swell of her ass. Better. Now he could put more effort in. He grasped her buttocks and held her tight as he pistoned his cock back and forth into that tasty snatch. "Women say they really want the nice guy," Abraham said, slightly breathless from his exertions. "Bullshit. In the end it's always the complete bastard who rocks their world." Amanda didn't disagree. Her cheeks flushed red as she moaned underneath him. Her ripe breasts swayed back and forth with each of his powerful thrusts. She was so wet inside. Gushing. Abraham wondered if he should be charging her instead for making her come like this. Speaking of coming, Abraham felt a tension in his balls that indicated he was close. He gave a loud grunt and one final mighty thrust. His balls bubbled over and he spurted his cum deep inside her. Fuck. What was that? She seemed to sense his moment of climax and clenched her soft pussy all around him. There was more. There was something in there. He felt soft ridges brush up and down his shaft. Fuck. Abraham grunted as his cock and balls spasmed in orgasm. It felt like she'd yanked that one out of him. His spurt felt more like a jet as those tickling flanges in her vaginal walls stroked him to higher peaks of pleasure. Her eyes opened and for a moment they glowed with a strange purple glow. The same light etched eldritch diamonds down the length of her serpentine body. Weird, Abraham thought. Then he closed his eyes and groaned as he spurted more cum inside her pulsing vagina. On and on until it felt like his balls had emptied out. "Fuck, that was intense," he said. Sweat beaded his brow and his legs quivered like jelly. "I think this establishment will definitely be getting full marks in my review." Minus two stars for not giving him a discount. Oh, and another two stars for the bruising to his chest. Oh well. One star was better than none. Amanda regarded him with her cold green eyes. Her forked tongue flickered between her lips. Her tail looped over his shoulder and slithered around his body in a tight series of coils. "Hey," Abraham said. She'd wrapped him all up again. "Men like you do not 'rock' my world," Amanda said. "Not at all. However, in order to do what I'm about to do, I need your semen and it needed to have been given freely." Abraham's pleasurable post-orgasmic buzz evaporated. "My tongue and tail aren't the only features I share with a snake, luv," Amanda said. "You know how snakes can open their mouths really wide to swallow their prey..." Oh fuck. Abraham struggled against her long, muscular body. She simply squeezed tighter, crushing his arms up against his chest. "It's not exactly my mouth, but...well...you'll get the idea." Amanda lowered her upper body to the floor, almost as though she was squatting. Her face contorted with effort. It wasn't her jaw she unhinged, but the opening to her vagina. Abraham watched as her labia stretched apart and the tight passage of her vagina opened out into a moist pink tunnel. Abraham's eyes widened. Surely she didn't mean to... She did. The weight of her coils toppled him onto his back. They dragged him across the floor until he felt the moist heat of her pussy spilling out over his toes. Then he felt that same moist heat directly against his skin as her vulva opened wider and engulfed his feet. His toes rubbed against a stretchy material lined with a wet, slippery substance. The fleshy walls bunched around his ankles and tugged, jerking him deeper inside the dripping cavity within her body. "You can't do this," Abraham protested. "People know I'm here." "No, they don't," Amanda replied. "You came here on a whim after you found out the girl you wanted to see at Sandy's Lounge was off sick and there were no adequate replacements. Arabella told me." Abraham's eyes boggled. "If it's any consolation, it wouldn't have mattered either way," Amanda said. "It makes it easier, that's all." Abraham sucked in a large breath to scream. Maybe he could attract the attention of someone in the building yard across the road. Whether he could or not was something he'd never find out. Amanda pressed the meat of her body right under his ribs and constricted until the air whooshed out of his lungs. The warm flesh of her vagina was up to his calves. He felt it bunch up around him and tug him deeper with peristaltic contraction. His legs and feet were coated in wet slime and enveloped in what felt like a stretchy bag of tissue. He scratched ineffectively with his toes. The walls were thick and cushioned. He was helpless as another peristaltic gulp pulled him deeper inside her. "You should be happy, Mr Russell," Amanda said. "It's an extremely rare client that receives an experience as intimate as this from me." Her face contorted and she breathed hard as her vagina stretched wider still to take in both his hips and his hands pinned to the side of them. He felt slick membranes slide over his skin, coating him with slippery mucus. She squatted down and slowly drew him deeper into her squishy depths, the whole event unfolding like a birth being watched in reverse. This couldn't be happening. Not to him. Not to Abraham Russell. He couldn't even cry out or beg for mercy. There was barely enough air in his lungs for a whimper as her labia slid up his arms and abdomen. Amanda closed her eyes and groaned in pleasure. The lips of her vagina were stretched taut. She grunted as a powerful series of muscular contractions tugged at Abraham's lower body. Then, with an orgasmic cry of relief, her vagina stretched up over Abraham's shoulders and his upper body slid smoothly inside her. The opening closed up around his neck until only Abraham's head remained outside her body. With the hard work done, Amanda lounged on her side, resting on an elbow. Her serpentine body bulged outwards. Abraham was compressed inside her, folded up within a stretchy bag. He felt the organic machinery of her body throb and pulse around him. He was inside her. Fuck. She'd eaten him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tears welled up in his eyes. He gave her a pleading glance. Amanda's green eyes were tinged with sadness. "I wasn't going to take it this far, but it turned you on." Her cushioned walls pressed all around him. They felt soft enough, but Abraham couldn't tear them or even move all that much. They squeezed him tighter and tighter, rubbing warm wet mucus across his body. "I saw your memories. That girl. You didn't know for sure she'd been trafficked, but the thought she might have been excited you. It turned you on." Abraham knew the girl she meant. That sweet little Chinese thing he'd banged a couple of days ago at Asian Angels. She was just how Abraham liked them—petite, young, subservient, and terrified. He didn't know for sure she was trafficked, but he suspected she was and it turned him on. He liked the feeling of power. She didn't give him any shit and she did exactly what she was told. "You abused and exploited her fear just so you could fuck her in the ass." He gasped as he felt something suck at his groin. His cock was drawn into a tight orifice. "Feel that?" Amanda murmured. Her eyes glowed purple. Speckles of the same coloured light shimmered down her scaly body in waves. The fleshy cavity pulsed around Abraham's body. He felt weird—wet, warm and horny, so incredibly horny. Each wave of dark light flowed into him and took hold within his flesh, squeezing his terror aside and replacing it with a mindless urge to fuck. His dick was coaxed back to full hardness by slithery wet pulses. What was happening? It felt like he was stewing in pure depraved lust. "In a moment you're going to start coming and you won't be able to stop," Amanda said, her face dispassionate. "I'm going to drain all the cum, then all the life, and finally your soul from your body. I'm going to squeeze it all out of you." The soft cushioned walls pressed tightly all around him. Another set of muscular contractions gripped his body and pulled him deeper. Her labia slid over his jaw, then over his ears as his head was drawn inside her. "My only regret is your end will be an intensely erotic experience." Amanda looked down at him as his head disappeared inside her. "It's more than you deserve." Abraham slid all the way inside her and the channel pinched shut behind him. He moaned into a wet membrane as cushioned flesh pressed up all against his body, the most intimate of embraces. Powerful, rhythmic pulses tugged at his cock. Abraham cried out, the sounds smothered within her body, as he erupted in an unnatural orgasm. It felt like it had been squeezed out of him, like the pressure of her throbbing body around him had squeezed and squeezed until something had broken within him, like water busting through a dam. It wasn't water. It was his life and she drank the flow erupting from his cock with muscular gulps, drinking and drinking until there was nothing left of him at all. * * * * Arabella walked into Amanda's room to find her lounging on the floor. There were bulges in her snakelike body, right below her hips. They were the sort of bulges you'd see on a nature documentary after a python had swallowed its prey, only these were about the size of a man. "Oh," Arabella said, coming to an abrupt stop. "Is that...?" Amanda nodded her head. She lay leisurely on her side, resting on an elbow. "He's not coming out, is he?" Amanda shook her head. Her forked tongue flickered between her lips. Her body made a burbling sound and one of the lumps flattened out. Arabella stood on the spot and chewed her lower lip. "I thought you were only going to teach him a lesson." She looked at the shape, clearly a man, inside Amanda's body. Abraham Russell. Oh god, she could even make out what some of the bumps were. That there was a head. Below it: part of the shoulder. Below that: the bulge of the hips. Arabella felt queasy. "So did I," Amanda said, her face sad. "Then I tasted his soul. He was bad." "He was a prat," Arabella said. "Most men—and women—are at some point in their lives. Doesn't mean they deserve to die for it. What gives us the right to judge?" Amanda closed her eyes and murmured in pleasure as more of the bulges compressed with soft pops. She opened her green eyes and stared at Arabella. "I need not judge at all," she said. The meaning was clear. Arabella looked over the full length of Amanda's body. How long was she—twenty, thirty feet? She was twice as big as the biggest snake Arabella had ever seen at the zoo. "I'm not...comfortable with this," Arabella said after a pause. "The Albanians I understood. They threatened me and the girls with violence. They had no qualms about killing." Amanda's face softened. Her lower body looped behind her and she slid up into it as though it were an easy chair. "It's not always about killing," she said. "Some don't have to kill to cause pain and suffering in other people's lives. They spread misery throughout the world without ever bloodying their hands. He was bad. Really bad. It's a sad truth to acknowledge, but there really are some people the world is better off without." Arabella considered Amanda's words. "I'll get Adam to come over for the car," she said eventually. "By the time he and his boys have finished stripping it down, there'll be nothing left to track. I assume we won't have to worry about anyone finding Mr Russell's remains." "There will be no remains," Amanda said. Her face was serene as she compressed the bulge smaller and smaller until it was barely visible at all. Arabella turned to leave. She paused at the door. "I still don't like this," she said. "That's what makes you a good person," Amanda said. "The world needs good people." Arabella left the room. "...and monsters," Amanda murmured to herself.