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cried out in fear when
she rose from the bed and returned carrying a large, vicious looking
knife. Sora Aoi saw his face, questioning and afraid, and Sora's own expres-
sion hardened slightly. "I am not going to hurt you," he was told.
Then, "Do you have another uniform?" Confused, he nodded. "Good."
Fascinated and unable to stop her, he watched as Sora Aoi straddled him
again, slid the knife under his tunic, and cut it away from his body.
He fought against the bonds Sora Aoi had placed him in, feeling the soft
cord cut into his wrist, but Sora Aoi had done Sora's job well, and the knots
did not give a millimeter. "If you don't stop struggling, you could
get cut. You must stay completely still." He did so, and could feel
the dull edge of the knife brushing against his skin as Sora Aoi cut away
the uniform shirt to expose his chest, rising and falling quickly,
and his slim stomach. "My . . . " Sora Aoi said, and placed the knife on
the bed cushion. "I see you're this beautiful caramel color all
over, Doctor," Sora Aoi whispered. As Sora's eyes devoured him, Sora Aoi placed
her hands on either side of his neck, drawing them down toward his
waist firmly. He felt Sora's touch, and writhed as Sora's nails contacted
the sensitive skin on his sides and near his waist. He could not
hold back a small s
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