Chapter 2: Panties Off, Public Tease, and Risky Piss

Kira’s body was a live wire, buzzing from the ecstasy coursing through her veins like molten cum, every nerve ending screaming for more—more touches, more exposure, more degradation. The rave’s heart throbbed around her, a chaotic sea of writhing bodies under strobing lights that flashed like lightning strikes on her painted skin. Her perky tits heaved with each breath, nipples rock-hard peaks scraping against the thin illusion of her “halter top,” the paint already smudged from the security guard’s rough fingering at the gate. Her shaved pussy lips were slick, parted slightly from the squirt she’d unleashed earlier, the cool air kissing her clit like a teasing tongue. Long dark hair whipped around her face as she danced, ass cheeks jiggling bare under the “micro-skirt” paint, her green eyes wild with that deranged hunger that made her beg to be broken.

Jax circled her like a predator, phone in hand, capturing every slutty sway, every accidental flash of her holes as the crowd pressed in. “Time to amp it up, you filthy rave cunt,” he growled into her ear, his free hand slapping her ass hard enough to leave a stinging welt that blended with the neon pinks. The smack echoed over the bass, drawing eyes—guys leering, girls whispering, one bold fucker reaching out to grope her tit, pinching her nipple till she moaned like a whore in heat. Kira ground back against Jax’s crotch, feeling his hard cock through his pants, her pussy clenching empty, dripping a fresh trail down her thigh. The ecstasy made it all electric— the humiliation, the risk, the promise of being used like a public fucktoy.

Deeper into the frenzy they pushed, past the main stage where the DJ dropped beats that vibrated her clit like a relentless vibrator. Booths lined the edges—merch stalls hawking glow sticks, drugs, and cheap rave gear, food trucks belching smoke that mixed with the stench of sweat and weed. Kira’s “outfit” was failing already; sweat beaded on her skin, streaking the paint, revealing patches of her pale flesh underneath. From afar, she still looked clothed, but up close? She was a naked slut parading her holes, pussy lips glistening under the lights, ass flexing with every step. Strangers noticed, hands darting out— a finger brushing her mound, another slapping her cheek, leaving red marks that burned deliciously.