5 comments/ 55738 views/ 3 favorites Razor By: Mr James Amber closed her eyes and lay back on the towels covering the bed. As she relaxed, Andrew pressed gently on the insides of her thighs and eased her legs apart, until she was spread, naked, across the bed. On a cart next to the bed he had arranged cloths and towels, with a bowl of water, expensive scented soap, and a can of shaving foam. A razor with a fresh blade rested next to the foam. On the lower shelf of the cart was a second bowl of warm water. Moistening a cloth, Andrew gently soaped amber's thighs, stroking the warm water over her skin and gently massaging her. As his hand moved higher on her thigh, Amber relaxed even more and opened her legs a little wider, so that he could stroke the warm cloth over her pussy. Amber sighed deeply as the warm cloth caressed the lips of her pussy and the hard nub of her clit, as it peeked out from between them. Andrew stroked a little more firmly, rubbing Amber's clit with the roughness of the washcloth. Andrew looked down at amber's pussy, the curls damp from his washing of her. He put the cloth back on the cart and squirted a little of the thick, creamy foam onto his fingertips. Gently but firmly, he massaged the rich lather into the tight bushy curls that covered her sweet pussy. Amber felt the cool slipperiness of the foam against her skin and arched her back a little to press herself against his gentle fingertips. She still had her eyes closed as she abandoned herself to the pleasure of his caress. Andrew took his hand away and looked at amber's pussy, all covered with creamy foam. Wiping his hands, he picked up the razor and in a single sweep of the blade, swept away a wide swathe of the curls hiding the lips of her pussy. The gentle scrape of the blade and the coolness of the are against her bare skin made Amber gasp and she almost protested but Andrew had swept the blade over her pussy again. It took only three strokes to shave the hair from her mound and then he settled down to the delicate business of removing the hair right up to her swollen lips. Amber was almost trembling as he worked, desperately trying to lie still and quiet. She could feel the delicate scraping of the blade against her tender skin and the coolness of the air in the room seemed to make her pussy tighten. It seemed to take an age for Andrew to shave all of her pussy hair, to his satisfaction but, at last, he laid the razor aside and took a washcloth dipped in fresh water and wiped her bald pussy clean of the last traces of foam. Amber reached down and spread her fingers over the bare skin of her pussy. She hadn't been bald like this for years and the bare skin was incredibly sensitive. She could feel her pussy moisten as she touched herself, her pussy brimming with her sweet juices. Smiling, Andrew pushed the cart away from the bed and then returned, leaning over her to kiss the bare skin of her pussy. the touch of his lips was like electricity to Amber and she felt her pussy gush over the tops of her thighs and the juice seeping between her buttocks. Andrew mover his mouth a little lower and began to run the tip of his tongue along the tender lips of her pussy. Amber groaned and arched her back, reaching down to guide Andrew's kisses so that they caressed her clit. She could feel her breasts tightening and the points of her nipples growing harder and aching for him to touch and suck on them. Andrew lifted his mouth from her bare pussy and laid down beside her, resting the tips of his fingers lightly on her bare mound. Slowly he kissed her mouth and eased his tongue between her lips. His fingers stroked her sensitive skin for a moment and then he eased his finger slowly into her wet pussy. He could feel her hot, tight, passage gripping his finger as he slid it slowly into the bubbling wetness and Amber whimpered into his mouth as he thrust his tongue deep. Andrew broke their kiss, leaving amber panting as he took the hard point of her nipple between his lips and flicked his tongue across the tip. He was rewarded with another gush of her nectar, making the length of his finger slippery. Slowly he slipped his finger out of her pussy and moved his mouth to her ear. "Amber, darling, turn over and lie on your tummy for me." Andrew coaxed. Amber turned slowly, and as she settled herself, Andrew slipped a firm pillow beneath her hips, lifting her buttocks. As she spread her legs again, her bare pussy and her tight ass were lifted for him to caress more easily. Andrew eased his finger back into her pussy, sliding it slowly in and out, spreading her juices along the cleft of her ass and stroking the tight puckered rosebud. Amber wriggled a little and as his fingertip brushed against the tight ring of her asshole she tensed. "Relax, darling, this will be wonderful." Andrew murmured, as he brushed the tip of his finger against her asshole, "You said you wanted to take a cock in your ass, well tonight is your big night." As he coaxed her, Andrew pressed the tip of his finger against the centre of her asshole and eased the tip inside. The feeling of being gently stretched was entirely new to her and Amber felt a sudden surge in her pussy. Her juices had made his finger very slick and slippery, so Andrew was able to push the whole of the first joint of his forefinger into her ass. Amber's fingers clenched into fists, bunching the sheet in her hands, as Andrew slowly worked his fingertip in and out of her asshole. She could feel her pussy getting wetter and tightening in waves as Andrew teased the tight ring of her anus. Gently, he kissed the back of her neck, the contact of his lips sending a shudder through her body. Amber arched her back, pushing against the finger Andrew had inside her ass. It slipped deeper inside her and her eyes widened as she felt the knuckle stretching her even further, making her whimper. Andrew slid his finger out of her anus and reached over to the bedside cabinet. Opening the drawer he took a large bottle of unscented body lotion and squeezed a generous amount into her back passage. Amber moaned softly as the cool liquid soothed her tender passage. Andrew put the bottle next to them on the bed and pressed his finger into her cool slippery asshole. The first joint slid easily inside her and she felt his finger piercing her as he pushed a little more firmly. She felt the cool slippery liquid easing his entry and turned her face towards him. "Oh Andrew, I can feel you fingering my tiny asshole." Amber whispered. Andrew just smiled and used the fingers of his other hand to spread her cheeks a little wider, so that he could press a second finger alongside the first. He watched as Amber's eyes widened to great round circles in response to the sensation of two fingers opening her back passage. "Oh God," Amber moaned, "What are you doing to me?" "I'm stretching your ass, darling," Andrew replied, "ready for me to fuck it. Do you want me to stop?" "Yes! I mean no!" Amber whimpered, nervously "I'm not big enough for your cock." Andrew kissed the back of her neck again and pressed his fingers quickly into her ass. Amber felt a flash of pain and then an incredible feeling of fullness. Andrew spread his fingers a little and then closed them again. Amber could feel him stretching the opening of her ass, gently, rhythmically. She felt almost helpless as Andrew held her still with one hand, in the small of her back, and used his fingers to open and explore her ass. She could feel waves of pleasure beginning to ripple through her nerves and starting a slow tightening in her pussy. "Andrew, darling, fuck me." Amber sobbed. Andrew slowly pushed even deeper into her ass and pressed harder on her spine to hold her still as he spread his fingers as far apart as he could. Amber whimpered, this time in frustration as she felt another wave of pleasure ripping through her nerves. "Where shall I fuck you?" Andrew asked, teasing her. "Anywhere you want, fuck me, please." Amber sobbed in response. Andrew eased his fingers out of Amber's ass and watched as it clenched tight as the cooler air struck her tender flesh. Reaching for the lotion again, he smeared it generously over the head of his stiff cock. The head was swollen and purple and the skin was shiny and tight. As he spread the slippery liquid over his cock, easing the tight foreskin back from the head, he felt himself hardening further and becoming even more swollen. Amber felt the bed give a little as Andrew knelt behind her and spread her thighs wider. Gently, he spread the asshole a little with the thumb and forefinger of one hand, as he took hold of his cock and guided the tip between her buttocks, so that it was pressed firmly into the opening. "Bear down and pant, it will make it easier for you." Andrew ordered. Amber pushed and breathed deeper and more quickly. She began to feel a little giddy as Andrew pressed his cock more firmly into her. .As Amber pushed back against Andrew, she could feel the head of his swollen cock stretching her anus. He gently rocked his hips, pushing the head of his cock against her asshole and backing away, so that she could feel the cool air against her ass. She felt a dull heat in her ass as the head of his cock rubbed against the tight walls of her anus. Andrew looked down to see the head of his cock nestled snugly in amber's asshole, almost past the ring of her anus. He could see the skin stretched tightly as he pushed a little harder, forcing the head further in. Amber was panting now, with little grunts as Andrew pushed his cock further inside her. He took a deep breath and gripped her hips tightly, then jerked forward, just enough to force the head of his cock past the resistance of her anus. Amber screamed quietly as she felt the head of Andrew's cock pop into her virgin hole. Andrew stayed motionless as Amber tried to relax her anus. "God! Andrew, you're hurting me. Take it out please." Amber begged, not realising that he was past the barrier of her ring. Andrew started to ease back, the rim of his cock head pulling back against the tight ring. Amber felt the pain swelling again and cried out. "Stop! That hurts too!" Amber sobbed "That's because I'm just inside your ass and I'm still hard. " Andrew replied, "I had better fuck you until I cum in your ass, then my cock will soften and slip out easily." Amber whimpered and nodded her head. Andrew pushed forward, sliding his cock deeper. Amber gasped as her ass closed behind the head of his cock, gripping the shaft. The pain had suddenly lessened to a dull heat and she could feel the sensation of being totally filled by her lover's cock. She groaned, this time in pleasure, as she felt the blunt head impaling her. Andrew smiled, he had known that breaking her in would be uncomfortable for her, even painful, but once he had her over the initial pain, she would adore the feeling of being totally filled. Amber sighed as she surrendered herself to his will. She the pain was ebbing away, leaving this incredible feeling of fullness as Andrew slid his cock into her ass. She could feel him gently stretching her rectum as he sank further into her until, at last, she had taken the whole length of his cock and he was pressed tightly against her ass. She sighed as she felt his hairy sac pressed tightly against her ass. Andrew eased back a little and listened to Amber as she groaned in pleasure as she felt his cock moving inside her. Slowly he pressed back into her until her ass was filled with his cock. Gradually he made the strokes longer until the head of his cock was just inside her asshole, before he slid it back into her warm tight ass. The sensation of being slowly fucked in her ass was driving amber crazy and her pussy leaked sweet nectar onto the pillow until it was sodden and sticky with her cum. She wriggled a little and the stickiness against her bare pussy reminded her that she hadn't emptied her bowel before Andrew had begun making love to her. She turned and looked at him. Seeing her expression, Andrew paused, his cock right in her ass. "What's wrong?" Andrew said. Amber blushed furiously ashamed at hat she was about to confess. "A-a-andrew," she stammered, " I hadn't been to the bathroom before we started." I mean, I didn't empty my bowel." Andrew eased back out of her and looked at the shaft of his cock, disappearing into her tight ass. He could see that she was right, because there were streaks of brown on his cock mingled with the creamy lotion. "You're right, " he said, "you're a very dirty girl but you're still going to be ass-fucked and then you'll be even dirtier." Amber closed her eyes as he thrust his cock back into her ass. She could feel him sliding in and out as he began to ride her, pounding his cock deep inside her. She rocked back and arched herself so that she could take him deeper and deeper. Every time he thrust into her, his balls would slap against her thighs and pussy, and she would grunt as his cock impaled her delicate ass. She gripped the sheets in her fists, clinging to the bed as Andrew took her ass. "Yess, "she whispered, "fuck my ass, fuck your dirty little girl in her ass." Andrew rammed hard and then stopped, remaining totally motionless, except for his cock, which swelled and began to jerk in her ass, pumping thick slimy cum into her asshole. She could feel the jets splashing against her tender passage, stinging with the force as he pumped the sperm from his balls into her ass. Amber could feel his cock slowly softening as the cum filled her. Slowly he edged back, easing his cock out of her bottom until only the head was left inside her. Then he rocked back onto his heels slipping the tip of his cock out of her ass. It was still big enough to hurt as it slipped out of her ring, but this time, instead of the agony she had felt earlier, there was a flash that seemed to settle at the base of her clit, making her cum again. Andrew looked down to watch Amber's asshole slowly close, leaking the contents of her ass slowly between her buttocks. The delicate tissues looked to be swollen and bruised where he had brutally fucked her, but she seemed to be calm and contented enough now. He lay down on the bed next to her, his softened cock lying wetly on his thigh. Amber rolled onto her side and then leaned over, kissing him deeply, her eyes shining as she wormed her tongue into his mouth. Then she had an urge that surprised both of them. Slowly she began to kiss her way down his chest over his tummy until her mouth was hovering over Andrew's cock. Then she parted her lips and slowly slid him into her mouth, his cock still smeared with filth from her ass mixed with his cum. Amber could taste his sweet cum mixed with a bitter taste that she assumed was from her ass. She gagged a little at first, but the dirtiness of it excited her and she began to bob her head up and down on Andrew's cock, feeling it grow and harden in her mouth. Andrew reached down to guide her head, but amber slapped his hands away and pressed his hips into the bed so that he could not thrust. This time he would surrender to her and she was going to torment him with her mouth until his balls ached and he would do anything to cum. She sealed her lips to his shaft, just behind the head of his cock and began to work her tongue over the tip of his cock, caressing it as she cleaned it. Then she began to slide her mouth up and down on his stiffening shaft, blowing gently over the damp skin, then closing her hot mouth around it to suck him a little more. Andrew growled I the back of his throat and tried to thrust into her mouth but Amber just leaned a little harder and swirled her tongue around his shaft. Amber plunged her mouth to the base of his cock, swallowing as the tip touched the roof of her mouth and taking it into the back of her throat. This was too much for Andrew and, before she realised that she had miscalculated, Amber felt his hot sperm splashing down her throat again. This time his cum was not as thick but, as she lifted her head and let it fill her mouth, she could taste the sweetness of it. Andrew groaned deeply as she drained his balls for the second time, his cock ached from the hard use they had put it to, but he too was calm and contented. "The next time will be even better darling." Andrew whispered in Amber's ear. "And do you want me to be a dirty girl then?" She asked, making her eyes wide and innocent. "Of course." He replied, drawing her closer into his arms. Razor Whip Pt. 01 I woke up in a better mood than I had in years. I was already looking forward to the evening, my first day at my new job. Sure, it actually did pay a little less than my previous gig, but I was a roadie for my favorite band of all time, and I could not have cared less. Razor Whip played exactly my kind of music, kicked ass in a truly unbelievable manner at every show, and it didn't hurt that all five members were female and downright gorgeous. Erika von Wolfe had been my main reason for learning the guitar, and I had the calluses to prove it, the sight of my fingertips coaxing out a little smile as I stretched before getting out of bed. It was fairly unusual for me to be this enthusiastic about service-oriented work- in fact, I had been fired from at least one restaurant job for what one could charitably call friction with the management. That said, for this group, I would work to hell and back with a smile on my face. For the love of metal, and, sure, some reasons that were a touch more hormonal than musical, I was more than able to live with it. The first show of the tour was scheduled for the coming evening, so I had to be at the venue fairly early. Even so, I had more than enough time for a meal that was a bit more lunch than it was breakfast, grinning like an idiot every time I remembered what I was doing that night. Naturally, I played nothing but Whip for the entire 40-minute drive to the concert hall, most likely destroying my eardrums in the process. I caught myself playing air guitar at at least one red light, slightly rolling my eyes but in far too much of a good mood to mind the silliness. Stepping out of the car, I took a long breath. The first time with anything was always a slight cause for anxiety, and I knew my heart was beating faster than it really should. I hunched and released my shoulders, doing my best to keep my excitement positive. Cocking my head to one side for a moment, I started walking, peripherally aware that I was more or less constantly fiddling with my new ID card, which was functionally an all-access backstage pass: the highlight of the job. I was excited enough that the next half hour or so passed in a blur, checking in with the perpetually sunglasses-wearing man who had hired me, an oddly commanding presence despite his small stature and lack of any particular mass. Then again, I had little time to dwell on the man's appearance, since there was plenty of work to do and things to carry. Losing track of time in the constant activity was very easy to do. Some amount of time later, I was finally able to catch a breath. This work was a lot more, well, work than I had necessarily expected, but physical labor always seemed to be a certain sort of satisfying after it was done, and this was no exception. There would be more to come, but I had some time to sit on an empty monitor case, and even wound up having a fairly good conversation with a few of my coworkers, and a guy who turned out to be the bassist for one of the support groups. After a bit of talking, I was more than convinced that I had a fun job. However, in the satisfaction of the moment, I had somehow lost immediate awareness of the main reason I was there. Unsurprisingly, seeing one of those reasons up close and in person was a very convincing jolt back to reality. In terms of sheer physical attraction, Ariel Steele, Razor Whip's lead singer, was probably the standout. Her walking around a corner about five paces away from me both cemented that opinion and left me utterly speechless. I had seen the group live several times, but there was a difference between seeing her on stage and this more real setting. The band were known for genuinely unsubtle costumes, and this one was no exception. The practicality of giving an active performance in heels like hers was just an afterthought. Matching knee boots and elbow gloves with rows of small spikes around the wrists and ankles created an effect more like a bracelet than anything else, and a similar choker completed the impression. With the addition of an aggressively laced corset and gratuitously tight pants, the all-black ensemble was nothing if not overkill. Regardless, I would be lying if I said that that thought so much as crossed my mind in the moment. The woman simply radiated power. I had simply never seen this kind of confidence before- if the wall had opened up to allow her to get to her destination faster, I would barely have been surprised. She stopped, took a sip from a mostly full bottle of water, and looked straight at me. "You. New boy. Water bottle. Now." She must have seen me hesitate in confusion at the fact that she was clearly taken care of on that matter, judging by the near-lethal sneer that she leveled at me. That was more than enough to send me straight to the nearest cooler to retrieve a fresh bottle as quickly as I possibly could, if not a little more so. I hadn't really expected a heartfelt thanks, and I was right. "Good." There was an unmistakable note of contempt in her one-syllable response, but it somehow felt valuable anyway. Yes, I was a bit offended, but in the context, I was busier marveling at the fact that I had, even though it was for a split second and through a glove, made physical contact with the person whom I considered, with no qualifiers, to be the most attractive woman on the planet. Moderately annoyed with myself as I was for not being angrier, I shrugged, mentally noted that I still had a faint smile on my face, and responded to another, less memorable call to some sort of action. Busy as I was for the rest of the night, her voice never entirely left my mind. Speaking, she had an entirely different energy than the vocal weapon she usually fired through the microphone, just as powerful, but with a great deal of refinement and subtlety. It was familiar, in a way, from her more elegant pure singing, but still, more intimate, simply because it was spoken and intended for me, positively or not. By the time the last encore had ended, I was thoroughly tired. I breathed out hard when I was assigned to go attend to the band in the dressing room, grimacing a little as my instincts prodded me with the likelihood that Steele would be even more demanding after the night's business had been concluded. I swallowed a bit as I opened the door, openly sighing with relief when I saw that she was elsewhere. The woman was an idol in my mind, and seeing her again would obviously have been a very welcome development, tired as I was, but this was on occasion on which ease was just as welcome. Instead, I found myself making direct eye contact with Erika von Wolfe, the inspiration behind five years of attempted guitar self-education. "You're the one Thompson sent in?" She was surprisingly mild, contemplatively leaning forward and sitting on a battered minifridge, head tilted up to point an icy pair of eyes straight at me. She was a strong presence, in a less imposing way than her bandmate, as if she had no need to make a show of herself. Her words were soft, and she seemed very grounded. The overall effect was very reassuring, and I felt myself relax a bit. "Yes, that's me. What did you need?" "What's your name?" "Louis. Louis Westen. And, while I'm at it, it really is a huge honor to be working for Whip. You're the reason I learned the guitar- I, that is- thank you. Seriously." I grimaced for a second, feeling the numerous stumbles that, really, were inevitable with my sheer level of excitement. She still seemed very distant, but raised an eyebrow in a nonthreatening way, and I might have seen the suggestion of a smile too. "Hmm. Not the first time I've heard that, but thank you. You've been playing for a long time, then?" Her interest was obviously not huge, but I appreciated the effort. I opened my mouth to respond, but another voice beat me to the punch. "You. About time." Turning around would have been superfluous. I knew who it was. I thought I might have detected a tiny measure of amusement on von Wolfe's face as I winced, looking back and seeing Steele, uncomfortably intense green eyes staring at me from underneath graceful but intimidating eyebrows. "Much better. Lazy shits... well, you're here now, might as well make the best of it." Her upper lip curled in a manner that made me want to look away, melt into the floor, or maybe even both. "Sorry. I came as quickly as I could, I promise. What did you need?" "For fuck's sake, manners. Call me Miss, or Miss Steele. No Ma'am, either, I'm no old woman." "Alright- I'm sorry, Miss. What can I do for you?" She shrugged a little, sneered a little more, and arranged herself in a fairly large chair that was clearly there on her orders. "I don't really feel like taking off my own boots tonight. No need for me to do that kind of work when I have willing hands around anyway... right?" Her arched eyebrow made it glaringly obvious that she wanted a very specific answer. Breathing carefully and looking back at her, I took a tiny moment to make sure I had the right response. "Of course not, Miss. So, you want me to do that?" If not for the contrastingly pleasant encounter with von Wolfe, I would be questioning whether the job was worth the trouble after all, but I was more or less willing to tolerate it, things being what they were. The words felt less than ideal coming out, but any work had its downsides. She seemed, if not satisfied, less actively displeased than she had been, and wordlessly extended a leg. This, of course, was not just any leg. Like the rest of her, distractingly beautiful, and perfectly dressed. It would be wrong to think that at any point in her presence I had not been aware of just how exciting it was to be this close. She was absolutely, beyond any shade of doubt, gorgeous, and that fact was amplified spectacularly by the fact that she was, in my mind, one of the most impressive musicians to be found anywhere. In that context, her arrogance seemed almost reasonable, even if keeping up was difficult. Trying to ignore my apprehension and even feeling more or less comfortable as I digested the situation, I broke eye contact and gingerly started undoing the laces, gradually becoming content enough to start vibrating with energy all over again, realizing that I was, in fact, touching the leg of Ariel Steele. I was not having such a bad night after all. She was more or less silent for a little while, seeming to focus her energies on lazily adjusting her gloves. It occurred to me that von Wolfe had already changed into casual clothes, an interesting contrast with the labor-intensive process that, presumably, was left to me. "New guy. You put a lot of time into exercise, don't you?" Her offhand comment was unexpected, but not enough to disrupt my concentration on the seemingly endless eyelets of her boot. Like many repetitive but non-demanding tasks, it was oddly easy to become pleasantly absorbed in the process. "Well, yes, Miss. I certainly do enjoy the gym. Fairly often while listening to your music, too." This was largely true. I lacked the funds to have access to either the nutrition or the gym time required to achieve anything truly spectacular, but I did the best I could, and I was usually pleased with the results. I found myself grinning more than a little that she had noticed. "Hmm. I've seen worse, anyway. Maybe. Take your shirt off, this will be slightly less tedious with a bit of a view, even if it isn't much." I suppressed a cough, both disappointed and a little insulted, but increasingly aware of the humor to be found in the situation. Instead of some mythical figure, she was, at heart, simply a genuine prima donna. "I meant now. Something wrong?" This was the first trace of energy I had heard since she sat down, a light barb of annoyance in place of the previous distant laziness. I stopped my hands, suddenly aware that my knees had become sore from spending time pressed against the tile floor, and straightened up a bit. I pulled my shirt over my head in the same motion that I and legions of other men did daily without a second thought, but every tiny movement felt clunky under what I knew was her appraising glance. When the cloth had passed over my eyes, the first thing I saw was her lips pressed contemplatively together, followed by what looked like a light shrug. "Not bad, anyway. For your sort. Now, what are you waiting for? These boots aren't coming off by themselves." I needed no further encouragement, and finished off both sets of laces at a much quicker pace, carefully pulling the boots off and setting them on the floor. I shifted my hips to stand up and relieve my joints, but the pressure of her foot on my shoulder informed me that she had other plans. "I like you just fine down there. Stay put." I was far from tempted to respond anyway, but her standing up made it even less likely. The motion put my face in alarmingly close proximity to her hips, and I hoped with everything I had that my body wasn't planning to broadcast what I was feeling as a result. The corset-laced crotch, fittingly below a matching, well, corset, was a moving sight in a number of ways. "If you get any clever ideas, you're dead meat, fucker." She had gripped my hair, hard, and roughly tilted my head up to look at her. I was not expecting her expression, a chilling sneer that was a great deal closer to a smile than anything else I had seen from her to that point. "I know exactly what you're thinking, and I can see the proof." My face instantly burned. She was completely right. She had a certain aura to her that was far more compelling than any woman had any business being, and at close range, it was practically a weapon. "You'd better be very, very good at control, because this outfit is very, very tight, I'm very, very beautiful, and you're taking the whole thing off for me. If you're a proper gentleman about it, I'll even give you a few minutes of down time to go take care of yourself in the bathroom." This, as far as I could tell, was her version of happy. She showed even more teeth, and I was sure I saw her lick her lips as she released my head, meaningfully gesturing to the laced front of her pants. I tightened my jaw, willing myself to focus as I undid the knot, doing my level best to ignore the persistent pressure between my legs. By then, the increasingly strained relationship between my knees and the floor was the least of my concerns. I was genuinely relieved to have gotten past the lacing without incident. Then again, that meant that I was confronted with the reality that, presumably, the pants actually had to come off, and that I would be the one to make that happen. "Waiting for an invitation? Get over yourself and pull down the damn pants, that's what you're paid to do." The more uncomfortable I got, the more in her realm she appeared to be. Taking the latest in what was rapidly becoming an extended series of deep breaths, I set my hands on the waistband and firmly pulled down, doing my best to keep the gesture smooth, even if I did allow myself a moment of levity in speculating as to what sort of panties lay beneath. An instant later, the humor was gone. I had expected all sorts of elaborate, revealing, and downright minimalist, but a total absence was not something for which I had prepared. I shut my mouth hard as soon as I realized that at was open, cursing fate as I felt my heart pound and realizing that I was nowhere near done. My molars were pressed together with full force as I slid the cloth the rest of the way down her legs, giving myself an up-close tour of her unsettlingly perfect body in the process, feeling the heat radiate from her skin and watching every graceful curve work its way down to the ankles. Pressing her advantage, she moved towards me as she stepped out of the legs, putting her genuinely breathtaking vulva a hand's breadth from my eyes. I felt something between a groan and a whimper reverberate low in my throat, wishing that I had been assigned any other job than the one I had fantasized about having, in more stable times. A moment after the fact, I realized that the sound that had sent an assertive shiver down my spine had most likely been her laugh, low and menacing as it was. "Hard enough that it hurts yet? No? Well, we'll get you there in no time. On your feet." Besides the comfort in my knees, I was much more comfortable being able to put a bit of distance between us. It was abundantly clear that she enjoyed seeing how thoroughly she could tantalize me, and even a little respite was enough to clear my head a little. "Don't even think about it. Corset next. The laces are on the back- and you'll be getting them from the front. How does that sound to you?" I closed my eyes for a second, digesting the maneuver I was going to have to make, and just how close that would put our bodies. There were two major problems with this: firstly, this put our hips at a distance that was nearly touching. In my present condition, that could readily prove disastrous. Secondly, I was sure that she had a bra on to match her nonexistent panties, which would make the situation further below even more difficult than it already was. Grimacing again and trying to hide it, I stepped forward, but she stopped me with her gloved palm on my chest, the warmth making the heart beneath it beat even harder. "I said, how does that sound?" She was deathly serious, and it did not take long to realize what she wanted. "It... sounds good, Miss." "Better. Now get moving, this thing is tight and I want it off. Besides, you're looking forward to the view, I can tell." I did my best to keep my hips tilted back, wishing that I could will my penis into retreat, and feeling the presence of her body inches from mine. Every time I pulled a length of lace out of its eyelet, I was aware that I was that much closer to making my torment a great deal worse. Inevitably, I finished. I was spared the extra task of removing it, as it simply fell away once its support was gone. Of course, her breasts were flawless. For the first time, direct eye contact was a much more preferable option than anything else, and I hurriedly looked up to her face, greeted by a smile that bordered on disturbing. She licked her lips again with a tongue that seemed a bit longer than it really should, staring back at me and lazily draping her arms over my shoulders. Thanks to the gloves, I still had yet to actually feel her skin, but the move was flirtatious to an absolutely ridiculous degree, and I involuntarily squirmed a little, simply unable to keep my composure. By now, she was wearing nothing but gloves and a choker. My crotch ached like nobody's ever should. The high-powered drum machine that had ostensibly replaced my heart was making a legitimate effort to break out of the confines of my chest. My throat was dry, and I had every confidence that I was making a thoroughly unimpressive face under the sheer force of her eyes. Just when I thought that my spine, legs, or both were about to give in, she took a step back, grinning in a way that, for a moment, made me seriously question my odds of surviving the night. It was obvious that she was working to make as much of a display as possible, and it was just as clear that her ability to do so was pushing the bounds of what any mortal being could tolerate. "Now- ready for the big reveal?" I was a little quizzical, seeing as she was already functionally nude and making sure I could not possibly forget that fact, but I luckily remembered the proper response. "I am, Miss." That felt a little silly, but under the circumstances, I was more than willing to bear with it. She raised her eyebrows, and her tongue, still seeming unnaturally long and flexible, made another brief appearance. Razor Whip Pt. 01 "Just what I wanted to hear. Mm... brace yourself." She had a solid grasp on what would have an impact, and I was both curious and nervous to see what on earth could be that much of a powerful effect from removing gloves and a necklace. She commanded my full and complete attention, taking off the long black gloves to reveal unsurprisingly shapely hands, long fingers set off by menacingly sharp nails. So far, so good. That state of mind was to last for a few more seconds as she reached for the buckle of her choker. The black leather strip, as I was about to discover, had been the last thing standing between me and the true cause for Razor Whip's cultlike following. Her eyes flashed as the buckle clanked open, and in an instant, I was staring at a different being entirely. The figure before me, especially in the face, was easily recognizable as the same, but the changes were tremendous and unsubtle. Her skin was a dull blood red, nails even sharper, finger-length nubs of horn on each temple, canine teeth elongated into dangerous-looking points, lips and nipples a midnight black, and a slight point to her ears. It was at that moment that I remembered that I had signed a very binding contract for the full three-month tour. "What- what- what the fuck?" I was far beyond being able to contain it. I had just watched the lead singer of my favorite band transform into something Dante might have had in a picture at the back of his underwear drawer. My outburst was as much a thing of confusion as it was a legitimate plea for an explanation. "I knew you were going to have a fun reaction for me. Just for that, you get to ride in the bus with the band. Nights included. Sounds like fun, right?" I had no time for a response, which was good, because I had also had no response. "There are a lot of details to go into later, but yeah. we're here from the underworld to give you humans a nice little sample of hell. Some more personally than others. As long as we're clothed, we look like normal humans- never mind. Normal is hopelessly inadequate. Gorgeous humans. Especially me. Glad you agree, by the way." She accented the last sentence with a look to my crotch, the tiny hint of a giggle ringing in my ears for a long while after it ended. "But once we're nude, which you were so kind as to facilitate, it's proper business. In case you were wondering, yes, you're as hard as you are right now because of a little touch of magic, but it wasn't really necessary. Trust me. I can tell." I was far from arguing, demon or not, and fucked up as the situation was, she was undeniably attractive to a degree that could only be described as extreme. "Now, technically, you're only bound by the law to stick with the job, but that changes if I touch you skin to skin. Since I can't actually do that without your consent, in theory, you're free to go. That said, I'd like to see you try to leave in your current condition. Your call: three short little months that you're already going to do, or you wait four hours and realize that I do things that are a fuck of a lot stronger than Viagra. Just one little touch." Whoever had initially come up with the concept of a succubus, undersexed monk or not, had not been far from the mark. The part of my brain that dealt with resistance might as well have been melting. Mouth movements were an impossibility, let alone speech, but the tiny nod that broke past my reeling sense of judgment was apparently all she needed. With an elaborate motion, she extended a finger and pressed it into my sternum. The effect was instant and nearly overwhelming. My body was flooded with warmth, and my entire mind seemed to go numb for a moment. An unsubtle groan leaked out from my lips, and she kept going, putting an arm over my shoulder and moving close. Every point of contact was a well of warmth and desire. My pants became an unspeakably cruel sentence as she took a firm grip on my butt with the other hand, pressing my hips hard against hers and somehow making my pulse accelerate even further. I would have done absolutely anything for release. In the closest thing to a gesture of mercy that I had seen from her thus far, she brought the encounter to its rational conclusion, planting a kiss on my lips that, for a moment, burned away the memories of all before it up to that point. This was no gentle touch, or even lover's desire. This was a pure show of force, explaining her power to me in more detail and certainty than mere words ever could. Both arms aggressively held me in place, and her tongue invaded my mouth, with more heat than any human's mouth should have had. I was almost instantly shivering with the sheer intensity of her lips' touch, and, to my shock, felt the beginnings of a sensation that usually took far more than just a kiss. My eyes closed as, to my disbelief, my relentless hardness was finally relieved. A deep ripple of pleasure pulsed through my body several times, leaving me to heave breaths when she finally broke the kiss, my mind slowly phasing back into reality as she dropped her arms and walked a few steps away, enjoying the sight of her handiwork. "I would not expect more where that came from if I were you. Consider it a signing bonus, and yourself lucky. Clean up, and be on the bus in five minutes. Remember: this is just the beginning." Razor Whip Pt. 02 Waking up on the bus confirmed my suspicions: last night, I had indeed seen the truth behind Ariel Steele's inhuman sex appeal. The secret was apparently, for lack of a better term, inhumanity. Clothes were the only thing that kept her actual form in check. Presumably, the same went for the rest of the band, although I had only really encountered her and Erika von Wolfe, who was, by contrast, a fairly decent sort as well as a guitar prodigy. The space was fairly dark when I opened my eyes, lit only by the first bits of sun poking in through tinted windows. I was pretty sure that the bus was still moving, which made sense, it was a long way to the second venue. No figures were immediately obvious, which made me more relieved than anything else. I breathed in, took my bearings, and stretched a little. This was a new day, perhaps better than the one before. "Oh, so that's where she put you." The voice from behind me was a new one. Rolling to my side to allow myself to turn my head and look, I was still half-asleep. For that reason among others, Larissa Volkov, the group's bassist, looking curiously at me in a tank top and a rather unsexy pair of pajama bottoms was somewhat surprising. Cautiously, but still comfortably, I sat up and turned myself to face her. "Er... good morning," I managed to present. She looked more or less unthreatening, but I was in no condition to be taking chances. She stood up, yawning a little. Her hair, straight and a coppery reddish tone, was in a fairly mundane ponytail, a rather pleasant contrast with the flawlessly maintained appearance I had seen last night. She sat down next to me on the padded bench where I had fallen asleep, long enough to allow me to easily lay down at full length. "Didn't expect to end up as her plaything, did you? Been a while since she had one, though, I can understand the thinking. But there's one thing you need to understand." Her speech was totally different from either of the other two. None of the assured clarity I had seen in von Wolfe, and none of the haughtily composed perfection like Steele. For what it was worth, she seemed to have a certain sort of non-premeditated authenticity. In a very abrupt change of pace, she shot out a hand to my throat, pinning me to the bench and leaning close, her relatively slender body exerting an alarming amount of force. She was smaller than me, but I was utterly pinned, and even struggling a little to breathe. Her eyes, a deep blue very unlike von Wolfe's pale iciness, were aimed straight at mine from point-blank range, teeth bared in a predatory sort of grin. "You're as much mine as you are hers. Bottom of the food chain. You're not going to forget it, either." Subtlety was clearly not her strong suit. Scrunchie and sexless tank top aside, she was clearly out for blood. I could feel excitement radiating from her, already breathing hard and grinning from ear to ear. I got the impression that she had been speaking to herself as much as to me, and was pleased that she had been right. I felt a familiar tightness build in my chest as she moved her hips, grinding herself against my penis, which was paying thorough attention, and pressing her entire body against me, a gesture that would be one of gentle intimacy if not for the iron grip on my throat. I had fallen asleep in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, leaving my chest completely bare to her nails, painted a vibrant red and filed to a very functional set of points. I knew for sure that I had felt her break the skin, a few droplets of blood welling up after she finished. Her smile only broadened, eyes sparkling with what looked like a sense of accomplishment before she aggressively kissed me, more than hard enough to hurt my mouth a little, and with no qualms about liberal use of teeth. Between the grip on my throat, the body pressing against mine, the achingly warm crotch grinding against me, and the all-consuming taste of her lips and tongue, I was utterly at her mercy. This could only be described as a brute force tactic, but it had worked perfectly. I was shocked, and I was awed, already breathing hard into her unrelenting mouth. My arms stayed at my sides, mainly because I simply had no idea what to do with them, and had no desire to provoke her further. She clearly wanted something, and I was content to let her take it. "Stay exactly where you are." She broke the kiss, hurriedly standing up and removing the purple plaid bottoms, revealing a straightforward pair of lightly ornamented white panties, which were themselves quickly removed and tossed aside. The tank top was pulled off with one hand as an afterthought as she returned to her former position straddling my hips, but she seemed content to proceed with her bra where it was, ignoring the remaining garment and roughly pulling my underwear out of the way. I grunted with surprise as she lowered herself back down without the slightest hesitation, still smiling and giving me another, shorter kiss. For some reason, I was not surprised that she neither put me inside her nor displayed any apparent interest in doing so. Instead, she pressed herself down hard against my penis, rubbing herself up and down its length and clearly enjoying herself, breathing harder and taking a painfully firm grip on my shoulder. I felt her nails draw blood again as she rounded her back, bending over me and looking into my eyes again, coming as close as one possibly could to drinking my confusion and uncertainty. Her eyes lit up as I groaned in response to the pain of her grip tightening. "Mm. You bleed well. And you feel very nice too." Excitement echoed in every word, slightly distorted by deep, hard breaths. She straightened up for a moment, reaching with both hands to let her hair down. Without any warning, she moved down quickly for another weaponized kiss, her hair forming a soft, reddish curtain that made for a welcome, softer sensation as she continued her onslaught, relentlessly stimulating me as a byproduct of pleasing herself. This was not a kiss of affection. In fact, it seemed to be almost as self-centered as our contact further down. She was using her mouth purely as an expression of lust and excitement: I was merely a convenient recipient. I suspected that it was at least in part because of whatever aura her demonic aspect granted her, but I felt drawn into the rush of her pleasure, sharing in the hungry glee she felt and driven to let her take more. She groaned hard into my mouth, her voice intensifying as she moved faster. I was getting more than enough stimulation to be painfully erect, but not enough to have any legitimate likelihood of finishing for myself. Regardless, almost without realizing it, I contributed with motion from my own hips as best I could, letting my body power her pleasure. She arched her back, separating our bodies some and increasing the pressure from her hips. At the same time, she dragged both sets of nails down my chest, leaving fresh bloody trails. This provoked a long, low moan of pleasure, which mingled with my own throaty exclamation from the pain. My sense were dulled by the parallel streaks of stinging blood down my chest, which had already begun to drip a little, but her frantically increasing movements drowned out other feelings. She was moving in a frenzy, enough so to bring me notably closer to the edge in the process, low whines peppered between deep, sucking breaths, gorging her clitoris with sensation from both of our moving hips. Somewhere along the line, she had reached an impressive level of wetness, which was responsible for the moist sounds that had joined the soundtrack of her indulgence. The hot, damp feeling was all over my thighs, counterpointing the vermillion rivulets on my torso. As her throaty moans heightened, I could practically feel the fluids leaking from her, another unignorable marker of her arousal. The display, as a whole, was enthralling in every sense. No force on earth or anywhere else could have diverted my attention from her. My body needed her to continue just as much as I wanted her to. Even without any realistic expectation for my own pleasure, giving myself over to hers seemed a beautiful thing. The turning point that she reached seemed almost inevitable, but it was still a stunning experience from beneath. With a far louder cry than any before, her whole body convulsed, sending a fresh angle of sensation through me, and propelling her back down to remind me that her teeth could be just as formidable as her hands, biting down on the fleshy side of my neck and practically screaming into her tight-gripped teeth, near-spasmodic motions overtaking her body and thrusting her against me, both hands digging into my upper arms. This lasted for what seemed like a long time, slowly dying down to a tired rubbing of the hips against my still-hard penis, open mouth resting against the bleeding skin of my neck. She did not seem to have cut very deep, but there seemed to be a lot of blood, judging by the warmth and smell. Everything from my waist to my knees was absolutely soaked, and she was nearly collapsed against me, arms limp, and breathing hard. After a moment, without any words, she pressed herself up with one hand, reaching back with the other as if for the clasp of her bra. This was the first moment since she had started in which I was actually able to rest for a moment, doing my level best to catch my breath and wincing as I gained full awareness of how many places she had made me bleed, letting out a low moan of pain that, for reasons utterly beyond my control, mingled with the still-present waves of sensation from her slowed but persistent movement against my hips. As if only then remembering that I was there, she looked down at me and smiled. "I like your taste. A lot." With that, she undid her bra and let it drop onto my bloodied chest. The effect was nearly instantaneous. That had been her last piece of clothing, and nothing was left to keep her demonic form in check. She was, in some ways, not the same as Ariel. Her slightly greater facial angularity remained, and her skin was a deeper color, almost a reddish purple rather than a genuine dark red. Her eyes, however, were a bright orange-red, no iris or pupil disrupting the color. The nipples and lips were the same black, but her hair was snow white, adding all the more contrast to her much more dramatic horns, curling from her temples to the base of her jawbone. She smiled again at my reaction, showing her off her pointed rows of teeth once again before kissing me once again, gentler than before. It was not a kind gentleness, not entirely. She tasted my lips as if partaking of a fine dessert, slowly taking in every bit of the flesh and lightly working her tongue in between. Brushing her hair out of the way, she licked her lips clean, running a hand over the wounds in my chest. "Don't even try to tell me that felt anything other than wonderful." By sexual brute force, she had already made herself a very powerful presence, and the revelation of her true form only pounded the point further in. I was half out of my mind with desire, and the maddeningly consistent rubbing over my aching shaft made dignity well nigh impossible. I had few options other than to nod and hope for mercy, as I did. "Speechless? I thought that might happen. Go ahead, though. I want to hear your thoughts. In detail." She punctuated the last point with a faster, more generous stroke over me. Enough of those, and I would likely be able to finish. By then, all I really wanted was the simple freedom of orgasm. I heaved in a breath and tried to say something that would give her what she wanted to hear. "Nothing but wonderful. Your lips, your body... more than I could have possibly expected." Another couple of strokes, and a palm pressed lightly against my neck. She leaned forward, not bothering to push back the hair that fell to border her face. "More." She licked her lips again, rubbing herself with one hand as she rocked her hips tantalizingly back and forth over me. "Feeling you against me was indescribably beautiful. You could tell, I was under your spell. Entirely." She seemed pleased, eyes burning bright and teeth just visible behind parted lips. I was given no signal to continue, but the point was clear. "I could ask for nothing more than to cum for you. That would feel good, right? Feeling you take from me what you did was a lovely gift. Please. I ask little in return." As she brought me closer, the sense of desperation intensified. I was more and more willing to say whatever it took, stoking her ego as much as she liked. She was nothing if not consistent, moving more enjoyably the more I spoke. I let myself go, sidestepping restraint and telling her everything that I thought she wanted to hear, meaning more than a little of it. Force of desire blurred the truth, and I found myself feeling a lot of the cravings for her that I said I did. "Anything if it pleases you. I've given you my body thus far. My blood, my manhood, all for you. Please. All I want is to give you my climax as well. I need to feel that. I need to pay that tribute to your beauty, I long to gratify you to the ultimate level. Knowing that I had provided for yours is an ecstasy that courses through me even now. I wish only to bring your influence, your power, to a glorious ending. Please. Just let me cum." I doubted that she was even listening to the particular words, as she had tossed her head back, eyes half-closed and mouth open, drinking in all that I had to give and once again reaching a fever pitch in her motions. This time, however, she was holding me in one hand, having given up simply toying with her clitoris in favor of using my penis as a sex toy in its own right, a hand wrapped around it from beneath and rubbing it against herself. The stroking I received was more or less incidental, but every move of her hand was still heavenly. Her fingers and my crotch were utterly drenched in her fragrant secretions, and my breath came in hard shudders. Not wanting to give her any reason to stop, I kept talking, bringing out every last word I possibly could in tribute, my mind entirely given over to the desire for release. "All for you. Everything for you. Your beauty, your power, your words, your heat, your skin, your touch- you consume me. Every breath I draw is yours, every beat of my heart. My body moves as you will it. You using me, even as nothing more than a pleasure device, is heavenly." Her breathing sped up again, the process very familiar to what had preceded her last orgasm. I was short of breath, and struggling to keep in touch with higher brain function, but I forced myself to keep speaking. "I adore your every touch. You enthrall me. I beg you, keep using me, take all that I have to give. Don't stop, please. Please. I need you. My body burns with desperation, every part of me longs to feel you. Let me be your tool, your toy. I could deny you nothing. I ask nothing at all, only release. Please yourself along with me. I would want it no other way. Let my pleasure be fuel for yours. I- I..." My voice faded, pushed aside by my own ecstatic groans. Her cries had begun again, rubbing herself with my penis at a breakneck pace as her convulsions began anew, stroking me even more quickly and flooding my body with long-awaited pleasure. I felt myself tumble into orgasm, any other thoughts in my mind instantly crumbling away as I came, serenaded by her seemingly endless moans and hearing my own join them. I had told the truth earlier: my orgasm was entirely hers. In the moment of total oblivion that defines the peak of the sensation, she was the only thought in my mind. My climax seemed like nothing but the result of another kiss, multiplied endless thousands of times over and bound to her touch, pulling me out of any other reality and into hers for the briefest, most radiant of moments. Somewhere along the line, my eyes had closed. My senses slowly returned to normal functionality, deep and long breaths providing a much more tranquil rhythm as I lapsed fully back into myself for the first time since I had seen her, looking back on all of what I had said with a mixture of confusion and, regretful or not, acceptance. All of it had felt very, very good. Her body lay on top of mine, at last relaxed. She was practically limp, clearly satisfied, or at the very least, exhausted. As the moment stretched on, I even felt a semblance of calm. For some reason, it occurred to me to lay a hand on her back, lightly and appreciatively caressing her hot skin as our rising and falling breaths moved her. Even if I had been nothing but an accessory to her pleasure, it had been a fulfilling experience to say the least, and more than a little rewarding. Beautiful as it was, I knew all too well that the moment simply could not last. Sure enough, the first sound of an outside voice was all it took to break the reverie. "You think Ariel is going to like that?" Yuki Kurokawa was as lively in person as she was on stage, curious eyes sweeping over the scene and missing nothing. Her words were no accusation, but rather a legitimate question. If anything, she seemed amused. My quasi-lover was apparently awoken from a trance of her own. She pressed herself closer to me for a short fraction of a second, then pushed herself up, assuming her dangerous persona again, but not quite hiding the slight note of uncertainty in her answer. "She can live with it just fine. Not your problem." "Whatever you say, Rissa. Don't say nobody warned you." Somehow, it did not seem like a threat. Kurokawa left the scene as smoothly and quickly as she had entered, seeming to simply disappear. I would probably have wanted the gentle contact to continue for a while, but Volkov was simply not the same. It was as if she had remembered something, and a certain part of her confidence was gone. The sense of exhilaration, I realized, was the missing piece. There was unmistakable conflict as she stood up, bending down for what might have been intended to be another kiss, but she thought better of whatever it would have been, wearing an expression I simply could not read as she took a step back. The uncertainty was a strong contrast to her true form, and I couldn't help feeling concerned. Even if, objectively speaking, I had been sexually exploited to an alarming degree, for whatever reason, my heart went out to her. "I won't tell her anything." I had no idea what drove me to say that, but it sparked a definite reaction. She grabbed my hand, gently at first, but almost immediately tightened it into a crushing grip that offset the placid look on her face. "You won't. Just... behave. That did feel good. Don't get used to the nice stuff, but I may well decide to take more later." "Does that mean I have to call you Miss too?" Once again, my words had no apparent origin. I definitely felt the idiocy of my question, but her answer still surprised me. "Lara is fine. Not around anyone else, though. I can make you feel good things, but pain is very, very much within my domain. Never forget that." She might have wanted to say something else, but exhaled in a conclusive manner, abruptly let go of my hand, picked up her clothes, and left me where I lay, tired, somewhat confused, and touched in a way that I had yet to entirely figure out.