The Downfall by AnubisX

The Downfall by AnubisX

Author’s Note:

The global rise of J-pop and the idol phenomenon has captivated fans far beyond Japan. With internet fueling their fame, a few Japanese women have become icons of beauty and talent. Social media platforms are flooded with photos showing their sexy looks while, in the forums, men debate who is the hottest and make lists about their bust size. But beneath the polished image and public adoration lies a deeper, unspoken fantasy: what if, away from the limelight, these stunning idols settled their differences as women—raw, real and without the restraint of their public personas.

A J-POP Idol Drama 

Chapter 1
Triple Spark

When the last chorus of the hit Kaze no Yakusoku arrived, the crowd went wild in the Fukuoka Dome. Not even the intense heat of that mid-July night dampened the fervor of the fans, who jumped, danced and sang as, on stage, Triple Spark commanded the spotlight with their electrifying presence. The trio was dressed in daring black coordinated outfits, with tight-fitting tops that accentuated their firm, shapely breasts and exposed their flat bellies, and short, constricted skirts that put the accent on their strong buttocks. They all wore knee-length boots and elbow-length gloves, and a layer of sweat that, glistening under the vibrant stage lights, already seemed to be part of the seductive, on-point make-up.

As the music reached its final crescendo, the stage erupted in a series of blinding flashes of light and firework displays, the sky above the dome lighting up for the whole city. The voices of Emiko, Izumi and Kaori accompanied the climax with symphonic vocal harmonies and a captivatingly sexy choreography. When suddenly it was all over, there was a moment of silence, and then a burst of applause and shouting. Triple Spark’s return to Fukuoka a year later had been quite a spectacle but, from the look on the girls’ faces as soon as they turned their backs to the public, it hadn’t been the success it appeared to be.

The first time that the idol group had been in Fukuoka had been just three months after its formation under the Ongaku Records label, almost seven years earlier. After a tough casting, Kaori Ishii, Emiko Wada and Izumi Aoki had been chosen for the band that would revolutionize the J-pop genre—a massive accomplishment that they achieved at the time, at only 14 years of age. After the chart-breaking release of its first album Maboroshi no Kisu, Triple Spark had strung together multi-sale record after multi-sale record, but it wasn’t until the girls reached the adult age that, with the record company’s decision to attract a more adult audience through sexualizing the trio, the success spread to the rest of Asia, America and part of Europe.

However, although the idols’ undeniable appeal crossed borders, filling covers of men’s magazines and internet forums, the musical formula soon began to show signs of fatigue, especially with the pressure of newer and younger female J-pop bands. Incredibly, at just 19 years old—20 in just two months—Izumi, Kaori and Emiko were already old to the industry and some of their audience.

The downfall that seemed to haunt Triple Spark wasn’t just a product of a changing world, though, but had been a long, long time in the making, dating back to the very casting that founded the group. Although from the outside it all looked wonderful, with the girls being great friends who posed smiling together, held hands, and kissed and hugged each other continuously in front of the camera, the reality was that they had been carrying on badly ever since they met. Over time, the demanding life of non-stop workouts and choreographies and media pressure had turned the initial lack of connection into contempt, and when they had become women, the contempt had turned to a fervent combination of jealousy and hatred.

That the best product of the Japanese music industry in years had an expiration date from day one was a reality that everyone in the band’s staff had known for some time. Certainly, during the first years the three girls had been able to hide their true feelings from everyone around them, but time had finally brought out the true personality of each one of them. All of them were arrogant and spoiled, and abusive to the staff. It was usual for them to complain about the food, pick on people’s physiques and throw objects at those they were shouting at—also with their bandmates although, aware that a bruise or scratch could destroy their careers, they had never come to blows. The only people they didn’t punish with their bad temper were the hot guys, for whom Emiko, Izumi and Kaori always lost their heads. Repressed since adolescence with the rules of the studio about not having relationships with boys, they had ended up developing a perverse bond with sex based on physical dominance, sadism and masochism that had nothing to do with the public persona they portrayed.

It wasn’t the only area where what they appeared to be and who they really were differed drastically. In interviews, they often gave the impression of being well-educated girls, but that was only because the questions were carefully planned and prepared in advance. None of them were particularly intelligent, but when it came to manipulation and cunning to get their way, they were unmatched. Moreover, though they obsessively cared and worried about their make-up sets, their clothes and their musical instruments, they were untidy about everything else, so it was normal to find their backstage and hotel rooms messy, with mirrors with insults to their bandmates written in lipstick, things scattered on the floor and sheets soaked with the traces of a night of passion. The staff had lost count of the number of times they had had to pay—and hide from the press—for everything the beautiful young women had destroyed in a fit of anger or out of simple boredom.

The whole complex personal and group situation placed the girls at a crossroads, where while privately they were viciously critical of any female J-pop group that threatened Triple Spark’s reign, at the same time they were planning to abandon the sinking ship to ‘graduate’ and begin their solo careers. The enemy was at home, since all three know that their bandmates would gladly sabotage one another, both to gain an edge in their solo ambitions and simply out of spite. With each member conspiring, not only for their own success, but for the disgrace of the others, Triple Spark had been looking more like a ticking time bomb than an all-girl band for many years.

The final detonation seemed to have accelerated in the last three weeks, and all because of an innocent article in ViVi magazine, where a journalist had analyzed several bikini photos of Izumi, Kaori and Emiko to conclude that, from the neck down, they had practically twin bodies. Although the text was clearly written in a humorous tone and was very complimentary to the girls, each of them took it in the worst way. The obvious physical parity had always been one of the main reasons for resentment between them, especially when their bodies had blossomed without any of them clearly surpassing the others in curves. All of them were slim and petite, standing 1.62 meters tall and weighing 46 kilos, with firm B-cup breasts, and incredibly well toned butts and legs from years of gym and dancing, so the comparisons weren’t recent, but the latter had generated enough discussion on 5chan, Reddit and Twitter to get the three young beauties to pull out their nails and be especially bitchy about the outfits they wore.

The members of Triple Spark could at least take solace in the fact that, although all three shared ideal beauty features such as porcelain skin, a refined nose and full lips, their faces, hair and make-up clearly differentiated them from each other. Emiko Wada, who played the role of the elegant and mysterious woman in the band, had straight black mid-back hair and dark brown eyes framed by dark-toned cosmetics, while Izumi Aoki, with her natural brunette hair now dyed a vibrant red, falling just to her shoulder, and her light brown eyes outlined with reddish colors, embodied the strong-willed female, fierce and untamable. Kaori Ishii, the third pillar of the group, was the cute girl, the kawaii one, with long blonde hair slightly wavy to her waist, inheritance from her American father, and green-brown eyes enhanced with pink or gold tones.

That night, however, there was no consolation at all. It didn’t matter that each of them thought they looked more beautiful and stunning than their bandmates, nor that the audience had rocked out to a spectacular performance that recalled the best days of Triple Spark—the dynamics created by the constant switch between the more instrument-driven songs, where they played guitar, bass, and keyboard, and the tracks where the backup musicians took over the music, allowing the girls to focus entirely on their choreography, had been perfect. Still, the only thing the girls had on their minds were the noticeable gaps in the audience in the Dome. Out of the maximum capacity of 47,500 people, they had sold just over 20,000 tickets—a year earlier, it had been a full house.

On the way to the dressing room, the three idols screamed and shoved staff members who dared to approach. Kaori threw the coffee someone offered her in the face, Emiko pushed her make-up artist over some boxes, and Izumi spat at one of the sound technicians. Those who had been with them for years moved out of their way, knowing that no one would be able to talk to them, with any luck, until tomorrow.

“I want my keyboard cleaned and packed properly, or I’ll have you fired!” Kaori growled at a man.

“What matters is my bass!” Emiko interrupted. “If anything happens to it, you’ll regret it!”

“To hell with all that!” Izumi required. “You’d better take care of my guitar, or you’ll wish you’d never met me!”

The three idols crossed the dressing room door, but the shouting continued even before they slammed the door shut behind them—that time, however, the heated words were aimed squarely at each other. The staff members exchanged uneasy glances, fully aware that the escalating situation between the girls would eventually make its way into the press, and it was only a matter of time before that happened.

“What the hell was that out there?!” Emiko roared, her dark hair waving in the air as she turned to her bandmates. “You two sounded out of tune half the fucking set!”.

“Fuck you, Emiko!” Izumi replied while pointing her finger at the other two idols. “You and Kaori are the ones who were off key—your voices and your instruments!”

“Shut up, both of you!” Kaori groaned as the three idols formed a circle full of animosity. “You’ve never known how to sing, but today you even seem to have forgotten how to play an instrument! And you better not get me started on how you dance!”

“Oh, please, Kaori! Like you’re one to talk!” Izumi placed both hands on her hips and shook her red hair arrogantly. “No wonder we’re losing fans if you and Emiko move like fucking zombies! It’s embarrassing to watch you!”

“Don’t you dare put me on the same level as Kaori!” Emiko retorted. “Not even the two of you together have half my talent and energy, and you’ve always known it!”

“You’re both so fucking jealous that it stopped being funny a long time ago!” Kaori exclaimed as she looked at the one and the other, her long golden hair swaying. “All your tough-girl stuff is getting old, Izumi! And Emiko, your whole ‘mysterious beauty’ routine is a joke!”

“Oh, my, the little princess has spoken!” Emiko’s eyes blazed. “You’ll still think that sweet performance of yours covers up the fact that you’re as useless as Izumi!”

“Useless? Says the queen of sour faces and lazy bass lines,” Kaori replied sarcastically. “You and Izumi have been living off my hard work for all these years, you dirty parasites!”

“Stop pretending you do anything in this band beyond being a loser!” Izumi accused. “Neither you nor Emiko are anything without me!”

“I hate you both!!” the three idols said in unison, the truth that was obvious but had never been told finally came to the fore.

The silence that immediately took over the room was so heavy and dense that the girls felt unable to move for a moment. Absolutely every muscle in their fit bodies was tense, and every millimeter of soft skin bristled as the echoes of the last statement seemed to hang in the air like a threat. Then, little by little, they began to hyperventilate, their breasts rising and falling faster and faster as the tense silence was broken by their ragged breaths. Their beautiful eyes blazed, moving from one to the other, always locking with an animosity incapable of being contained. Of all their discussions in seven years, and there had been many, that one felt different.

Slowly, in wordless agreement, the idols began to remove their long black gloves as if it somehow symbolized the line that they hadn’t allowed themselves to cross since they had known each other—the first step in a ritual that none of them had dared to initiate before, but that deep down they all knew it would happen eventually. The soft fabric slipped from their hands, the young bandmates dropping them in the center of the circle they formed, one on top of the other, in what was undeniably a challenge to settle pending issues once and for all.

It was as if the spinning of the Earth was pushing them against each other—something inevitable, unstoppable. The three beauties lunged forward with a cry of frustration, and collided body versus body versus body with a raw, primal energy. Fingers immediately grabbed hair and pulled, each hand in a different mane, and feet began to kick legs without precision or care. The place filled with howls and grunts as the bandmates struggled, fueled by nothing but instinct and hatred, their curves bumping together, their fingers plucking at delicate dark, golden and red trophies, their nails scratching the delicate scalps. Before they could react, they lost their balance and, like a wrecking ball of sexy humans, they staggered and crashed together against the walls and furniture of the dressing room, over and over again.

At times, one of the idols would find herself tumbling onto a nearby table or desk, or getting cornered against the wall, giving the other two the perfect opportunity to unleash their aversion and inflict as much damage as possible before inevitably turning on each other. The young woman at a disadvantage would seize the chance to push her adversaries off and break free, only for the trio to immediately return to their chaotic entanglement, their hot bodies never truly separating from one another.

The first casualty of their pent-up resentment was a large mirror, which shattered with a loud crash when the idols collided against it, sending shards flying across the room—a perfect analogy of the relationship in ruins between the girls. Bouncing from the blow, the three women fell violently onto a nearby dressing table, sending jars of make-up, perfume and powder flying as they struggled and screamed, their bodies tangling each other before they fell to the floor together.

“I know perfectly well why you both hate me, you whores!” Kaori screamed, getting on top of the other women to scratch Izumi’s cheek and pull a few dark strands from Emiko’s head. “You’re fucking frustrated because you’ve always wanted to be as hot as me, and you don’t even come close!”

“You can’t possibly believe your own words, blondie!” Izumi yelled as she managed to grab Kaori’s neck to pull her down to the side, while with her free hand she dragged Emiko by the hair with them. “It’s you two who are upset because I have the best body, the best face in the band!” she roared, taking the top position. “It’s always been like that, you sluts!”

“What a pair of deluded bitches!” Emiko replied with her own angry shriek, her nails clawing at Kaori’s belly as she stole Izumi’s upper position with a painful tug on her reddish hair. “It’s my curves that fans keep coming back for! All know I’ve got the best face and body, hands down!”

With their legs intertwined, the young women didn’t relent in their attempt to pull out as much hair as possible and scratch all the skin at their mercy, fighting for a position that was impossible to maintain against two as they rolled on the floor. Then someone opened the ban by biting a nude shoulder, and soon the idols ensured that they were sinking their teeth into the flesh within their reach—shoulders, necks, arms. Howls of pain echoed off the walls, but no one stopped.

“You’re going to pay for this!” Emiko spat as Izumi bit her neck and Kaori chewed her right shoulder. She pushed her bandmates away from her, but it took her a couple of seconds to realize that she had done so by resting her palms on their boobs.

“Don’t touch me!” the redhead roared as the three girls threw her hands over the other breasts to grab them. “You and this blonde cunt have been stuffing bras for years!”

“I don’t need cheap tricks like you two!” Kaori growled, slapping hands to prevent anyone from cupping her bosoms but trying to lock her fingers in her enemies’ busts. “I fill out my tops without any effort, so grow up!”

“Give me a break, you two! You’re both flat!” Emiko retorted, capturing Izumi’s wrist just in time to prevent her from groping her glands, but she couldn’t stop her golden-haired foe from grabbing her other breast. “Shit!”

“Fuck!” Izumi and Kaori yelped at the same time when Emiko reached out and took their boobs at the same time.

In an instant, each had a sensitive B-cup gland of each bandmate between her fingers, and the screams of agony could only be silenced by all of them biting another woman’s neck. It was then when, suddenly, the door burst open noisily, and several staff members rushed in. Seconds later, the girls felt strong arms tugging at them, dragging them away from their rivals. With their faces flushed with exhaustion and anger, with their sweaty bodies marked by their own bandmates with nails and teeth, they threw insults and threats to each other, and kicked the air, the thirst for blood possessing them. Even when they took them each to a different room, the screams didn’t die down…

Triple Spark’s downfall had been years in the making, but that was the first real leap into the abyss—and it wouldn’t be the only one in the weeks that followed.

Chapter 2
A Bite at the Cherry

Emiko Wada felt that she couldn’t scream anymore. An hour had passed since the catfight, since they had pulled their hands and teeth apart from those whores she shared a band with, and she still felt her heart beating like a thousand drums. She had continued to shout obscenities as she was taken to another changing room in the Dome, and hadn’t stopped when she was put into a tinted-window car to get her out of there. Only the earnest rebuke of one of the executives over the phone quieted her protests, but her mood soured again when she learned that instead of spending the night at the luxurious Ritz-Carlton in Fukuoka, as planned, Ongaku Records had decided to look for something out of the city, away from fans and press: the modest Grantia Wakamiya, in the nearby town of Miyawaka.

Emiko shifted uncomfortably in the back seat of the car, trying to find a position that didn’t make her body ache from the scratches and bites. She groaned as she tried to massage her still burning scalp, so she didn’t even try to touch her throbbing breasts, where she still felt the claws of the other idols. Gritting her teeth, she directed the full intensity of her homicidal thoughts towards Kaori and Izumi. Because of their envious attitude, she wouldn’t be spending the night where it belonged for someone of her status—as daughter of successful shipbuilding entrepreneurs, she had lived in the lap of luxury even before she became a millionaire with Triple Spark. Her thick lips curled in disdain while telling herself that she deserved better, much better.

When the car stopped, Emiko opened the door and got out, still dressed in her black concert outfit. The night was pitch black, with only the lights of the hotel glowing in the darkness, and warm despite the coolness coming from the surrounding forest.

“Welcome, Miss Wada.” Almost out of the shadows, a tall, shaven-headed man appeared walking from the hotel. Emiko knew he worked for Ongaku Records, but she couldn’t remember—nor did she care—his name. In the dark, the brunette caught some more movement, and soon identified several security guards. “We have your room ready. Please follow me, before…” He was silenced by the sudden appearance of lights down the road. “It can’t be. I told them not all at once!”

Two cars with tinted windows pulled up next to the first one despite the man’s protests. Emiko’s breath hitched as soon as she saw Kaori emerge from one, her familiar golden waves catching the lights, and Izumi from the other, her fiery red hair unmistakable even in the gloom. Then everything exploded precipitously, wildly. The three bandmates threw themselves at each other, their voices raising loudly in the middle of the night and hurling a barrage of threats and insults. Several men rushed at the girls, grabbing and dragging them away from each other.

“Let me go! I’m not done with either of you!” Emiko thrashed violently, barely contained by the security guards holding her back.

“This is not over, you both hear me!” Kaori retaliated just as furiously, straining against the men pulling her toward the hotel entrance with an almost incontrollable strength. “I dare you to come at me again!”

“I’m ready to finish this right now! You cowards!” Izumi spat out as she struggled and pushed to the limit all the strong muscular arms that restrained her.

“You both better not sleep too deeply tonight!” Emiko jerked forward, her dark brown eyes blazing, her black hair flinging violently. “Who knows what might happen if I sneak into one of your rooms!”

“Maybe I’ll sneak into one of yours first!” Kaori’s voice flowed with malice while trying to escape from the men. “Neither of you is safe tonight, so keep your doors locked!”

“You think I won’t be waiting for any of you? I’ll be sure to keep the lights on so you can find me if you have the guts!” Izumi’s red hair danced in the air as she twisted in the grip of the security guards. “Or maybe I’ll come looking for you first!”

Emiko shook her body, almost freeing herself from men who were twice her weight, but she couldn’t stop avoid being carried into the hotel. Dragged amidst screams of her own and others, she barely registered the details of the hotel as she was taken up the stairs to the second floor. The walls of the corridor blurred as she threatened her bandmates, while redhead and blonde returned each challenge with their own.

“I’ll break you both myself!” the brunette yelled just before she was shoved into a room and the door slammed shut behind her. On the other side, she heard the shouts of the other idols and doors closing noisily—though she couldn’t tell which room each was in, she knew they were close together.

Emiko didn’t have time to think about what to do. The bald man entered her room seconds later, sweating and with a serious look on his face.

“This has to stop, Miss Wada. You don’t want a second call from the executives, I assure you,” he said, his voice cold as he closed the door behind him. “You’re not just playing with Triple Spark’s future, but with your own. No one will want to work with you even if you split up, because you’ll be blacklisted in the industry.”

Emiko opened her mouth to protest, but held her tongue. Few things could stop her aggressive toxic attitude, but ruining her solo career was one of them—few things she wanted more than to fulfill her recurring dream of succeeding as a soloist while Izumi and Kaori failed miserably. 

“It was all their fault.” That was all she managed to mumble in a desperate attempt to blame her bandmates.

“No excuses,” the man replied. “We’ll be keeping an eye on the doors, so no one goes out tonight, understood?”

With her chest heaving with frustration, Emiko nodded. Then, without another word, the man left, leaving her alone with her bruises and her anger. Looking around, she twisted her gesture in disappointment, as the room was too stark for what she was used to: a single bed, a closet, a table, a long mirror on the wall, and a carpeted floor—she didn’t even want to peek into the bathroom or the balcony. Emiko began to take off her dark clothes, folding them carefully on the table as she mumbled to herself that the company had neglected to provide a change of attire.

Finally in her underwear, the brunette approached the mirror. The reflection showed the aftermath of the fight, with reddened bite marks and scratches across her skin. Her long dark hair, usually perfectly coiffed, was a wild tangle of locks. Emiko found comfort and a certain malevolent satisfaction in the thought that her bandmates were probably just as battered, if not worse. It was undeniable that many calls were currently being made to conceal the incident, and that the tour would be postponed until the marks of the altercation had faded.

Seeing herself in a black bra and panties, Emiko found more reasons to rise above all that was going on. Her young body looked more amazing than ever, fit from exercise and with delicious curves in bust, hips and butt. Standing in profile, she admired the shape of her silhouette, with her nice firm boobs and perky ass stealing all the attention. She couldn’t believe that her two rivals in the group seriously alleged they were hotter than her, as if being the same height and wearing the same sizes meant something.

Finally feeling the weight of exhaustion, Emiko walked over to the bed and plopped down on it. Reaching over, she turned off the light switch, and closed her eyes in the darkness. However, sleep was elusive for the next hour, and the next, and maybe one more. She couldn’t stop thinking about the catfight, replaying it in her head over and over again, the wish that it had been longer and final haunting her until, tired of tossing and turning, she got up. Her barefoot steps took her to the small balcony of the room, where a breeze from the forest greeted her. All was darkness around…

With one exception. As Emiko leaned against the balcony railing, her eyes noticed light to the right. Turning her face, she saw another balcony, very close to her own, leading into a room whose curtains couldn’t hide the light inside. For a moment, she wondered who had the lights on at that ungodly hour of the night, but suddenly Izumi’s defiant words echoed in her mind.

“I’ll be sure to keep the lights on so you can find me if you have the guts,” she repeated in a whisper to herself.

Emiko didn’t hesitate for a second. With an arrogant, resolute smile on her face, the dark-haired idol grabbed the railing and carefully stepped over to the other balcony. The moment felt unreal, almost like one of her dreams, as she pushed aside the curtain and her bare feet stepped on the carpeted floor of someone else’s room. The place was identical to her own, but Emiko’s attention wasted only a millisecond on it, for right there, lying on the bed, was Izumi. The other idol was staring at the ceiling, obviously having the same sleep problems as the brunette. Her flame hair was cascading down the pillow, and a red lingerie was all that covered her body.

“Took you long enough,” Izumi said sarcastically, her voice barely a whisper as she turnedher face slightly to bore her eyes into Emiko’s. “I was wondering which of my bandmates would be the one to dare to come here, both of you being such cowards,” she added, slowly sitting up to sit on the bed.

“I was just on the other side,” Emiko replied, her tone full of derision. She spoke as softly as Izumi, aware that a louder voice would give them away to the men on the other side of the door. “Maybe the coward is the one who didn’t have the guts to take the first step.”

“I’d rather that one of you got up the courage to come and look for me.” The red-haired girl stood up with deliberately slow movements. “After years of not daring to confront me, you need a little incentive. If I had snuck into your room, you would have been so frightened that you would have called for help.”

Izumi stood up and, for a moment, Emiko couldn’t answer her arrogance. Of course, she had seen the other woman in her underwear before, either in dressing rooms or tour buses, but there was something different that night, in the privacy of the hotel room. The air was much thicker, and somehow Izumi’s bra and panties looked smaller than ever, and her curves, more prominent. Emiko didn’t remember Izumi looking so hot, even with her skin full of scratches and bites, and her hair disheveled—or, perhaps, it was precisely because of that wild, red-maned lioness look.

Maybe two minutes passed, or four, Emiko didn’t know, but both were silent as their brown eyes were lost in each other’s nearly naked bodies, comparing each other with a perseverance and contempt greater than ever before. Emiko hated to see that Izumi seemed to match her curve for curve, whether she was studying her boobs, waist or hips, but at least she had the consolation of seeing the same feeling of resentment in her rival’s gaze.

“Admiring the competition?” Emiko taunted, trying to take the initiative. Crossing her arms under her chest, she cocked her head to the side. “You must be feeling very intimidated right now.”

“You’re delusional if you think you have something that I don’t have better.” Izumi strengthened her posture by spreading her legs and resting her fists on her hips. “That hasn’t changed in years, and now that I see you like this, even less so.”

“Why don’t you try it here and now if you are so sure?” the dark-haired idol challenged. “Maybe if I scratch and bite that body so exposed now, I can see if it’s as good as you think it is.”

“Do you want to continue what we started in the Dome?” Izumi murmured back. “I wouldn’t mind tasting a bit more of your body now that I have it all to myself. But don’t worry, I’ll tell you where it’s flabby and weak so you’ll be aware of how inferior it is to mine.”

Emiko exhaled a soft grunt, dropping her arms and clenching her fists as he took a couple of steps towards her enemy. Izumi did the same, and the two beautiful young women stood just a couple of steps away from each other.

“When I humiliate your body, you’ll stop talking shit, ginger,” Emiko spat out.

“Whatever you say, bitch,” Izumi replied dismissively. “Let’s just not make the same mistake as before. No noise, no interruptions. I don’t want my reputation with the company to be ruined any further because of two jealous cunts like you.”

“Fine for me,” Emiko said, casting a disgusted look at the redhead’s breasts. “I want my future after I get rid of the band, and two flat-chested whores like you aren’t going to spoil it.”

“We’ll see who’s flat when this is over,” Izumi groaned, returning the disdainful gaze to Emiko’s bust.

“Just shut up and let’s do this, you tramp,” the brunette hissed. “Slowly and quietly.”

With the same idea in mind, the two idols dropped to their knees, aware that the carpeted floor would muffle much of the noise of the duel. Emiko felt her heart race as she watched Izumi lick her full lips, no doubt her bandmate eager to sink her teeth into her unprotected flesh. The own bite marks on Emiko’s body throbbed with the memory, and she found herself licking her own thick lips in response.

“This is just between us,” the redhead insisted. “So we’d better not get caught tomorrow for having left marks on our faces or other visible parts.”

“Something like this, then?” With no more patience, Emiko lunged at Izumi, her hands unexpectedly grabbing the other girl’s breasts. With a grunt, her foe fell to the carpet, with the brunette on top of her. “Let’s see how you handle me one on one…”

“You bitch!” Izumi hissed in a low but angry voice, raising her hands to immediately cup Emiko’s bosoms. “I’m going to break you.”

Both idols clenched their teeth to keep from screaming as they felt the other firm glands between their fingers. Unlike the chaotic brawl after the concert, Emiko could really focus on Izumi’s virtues, and could only admit that the redhead’s boobs felt incredibly impressive, seductively soft but proudly solid at the same time. Izumi’s own hands squeezed her breasts in response, and Emiko found herself wishing that her bandmate really hated and envied what she was feeling.

Izumi soon used her legs to roll them up and take the top position, but that didn’t stop either of them from pressing and clawing the virtues they’ve been boasting about since they became women. Emiko soon found herself gasping in pain, her sensitive boobs barely protected by a bra, lacerated beyond what she liked when she asked a hot guy to spank them. Above her, Izumi moaned in her own agony, so Emiko fed on the suffering to drag her nails even harder over the beautiful, bra-covered contours of the redhead just before thrusting with her pelvis and mounting her enemy again.

“Mine were always better than yours,” Emiko growled, grabbing Izumi’s sexy pair by the sides to make them squash together.

“It’s not what I’m feeling between my fingers right now,” Izumi countered, her assault setting the brunette’s boobs on fire.

Triple Spark’s bassist and guitarist battled in a tense silence broken only by their groans and the muffled thumps of bodies falling to the carpet as they traded positions and crushed titflesh for a while, until Izumi raised the stakes. Before Emiko could react, her bandmate leaned over her, and bit her neck right where she had already bitten her in the catfight.

“Shit!” The brunette had to chew her lower lip to keep from howling. “You said no marks on visible parts!”

“I’ve already left my teeth mark right here in the Dome, so no one will notice,” Izumi mocked as she mounted Emiko and chomped on her neck.

“Two can play the same game,” Emiko snarled, grabbing the reddish hair to expose the other neck. Choosing a bite mark, she lunged at it with her teeth, not caring if it had been Kaori or her who had left it there.

The two beauties fell sideways to the floor, squeezing breasts, pulling hair and biting necks without rest or mercy, both of them locked in an awkward back-breaking position as their legs trying to wrap around each other’s back. Despite the pain, Emiko felt on cloud nine, as she couldn’t believe that what she had been wishing for years was finally happening: she was giving one of her bandmates what she deserved, away from cameras, away from fans—just the two of them and their rivalry. As she sank her teeth into Izumi’s flesh, the brunette excitedly told himself that Kaori would be next.

Dropping her weight to the side, Emiko finally managed to push Izumi underneath her. The blow caused them both to release their bites, leaving reddened, drool-filled marks on the other neck, but they still managed to grab hold of the other breasts.

“How pathetic, always thinking you’re the idol with the best tits, and look at you now,” Emiko growled under her breath as she mounted Izumi. “They feel so small and weak…”

“You have always been the type to project your own insecurities onto others, Emiko,” Izumi replied while still lacerating the brunette’s set of bosoms from below. “Everyone knows that I clearly beat you if we compare tits.”

“Liar!” the brunette roared, slowly, deeply dragging her nails from top to bottom across her opponent’s bra-covered bust. Izumi threw back her head and opened her mouth in a silent scream, but Emiko immediately felt her painful retort as the guitarist pulled out her fingernails to claw and twist them into her sensitive breast flesh. It was now Emiko’s turn to look up at the ceiling and howl voicelessly, just before she felt Izumi’s pelvis slam into hers to knock her to the carpet.

The rivals rolled away from each other, but only just enough to gain momentum from their knees and collide together chest to chest. The impact sounded more than Emiko would like, but luckily nothing seemed to happen on the other side of the door as she locked fingers with Izumi. Both girls’ breathing was already heavy, and Emiko wasn’t surprised to see some tears of pain flashing in Izumi’s eyes—the same ones she felt sliding down her own cheeks. Aware that if she insisted on attacking the redhead’s boobs she could make her submit, she broke Izumi’s grip on her fingers to squeeze them again, but the other idol was quicker. Her hands caught Emiko’s firm breasts with impetus, forcing the brunette onto her back.

With Izumi now sitting on top of her, Emiko threw her claws onto her chest, and the two young performers returned to tearing at each other’s sensitive flesh mercilessly. Izumi’s pelvis rubbed against her own in domination, red panties against black panties, and the brunette unexpectedly found herself gasping in more than just pain. She felt her own nipples harden under the redhead’s cruel fingers, and was surprised to find the same double stiffness under Izumi’s bra.

“What’s up, Emiko?” her bandmate groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re a fucking dyke.”

“The bitch with hard nips spoke!” she hissed. “You like rubbing up against me like the whore in the closet that you are, huh?”

“I’m not into women, especially not you,” Izumi denied.

“Same here, bitch,” Emiko replied.

Despite what they both claimed, the two idols found themselves moving their crotches more and more insistently against each other, while their hands were busy with bruised breasts. With her body getting hotter and hotter, Emiko seriously wondered if all that unexpected ecstasy had something to do with her twisted relationship with sex. She wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t like women—in fact, she had always seen them as natural enemies—but the way her body reacted in the middle of the painful catfight went in another direction.

Angry at herself for indulging in the carnal, Emiko took advantage of the fact that her rival seemed more and more committed to the pelvic contact to strike sharply upwards with her crotch, knocking her to the carpeted floor. Throwing herself on top of Izumi, Emiko slowly wrestled with her for position, muscles trained for years put to the test, until unexpectedly the bassist found herself with the redhead’s left breast almost in her face. As if it were the cherry on the cake, Izumi’s thick nipple was pushing against the red fabric tantalizingly, but somehow also defiantly.

Emiko bit the temptation. Izumi’s entire body tensed against hers, and the brunette could feel an agonized scream run through her bandmate’s body until, miraculously, she managed to reduce it to a long hiss. Accepting the risk that Izumi would end up screaming, with all that that implied, Emiko pushed her to the floor while keeping chewing on the nipple and all the breast flesh around it. Feeling one of the two women she hated most in her life trembling in distress under her was delicious and addictive, so Emiko let herself go and sunk her teeth into the bare breast flesh bulging out of her bra. Izumi grabbed her head from both sides as Emiko feasted on her, both girls moaning incessantly—one from the pleasure of dominating, the other from the pain of being dominated.

“I hope you are enjoying this,” the redhead gasped with a hint in her voice that Emiko found unexpectedly hot. “That’s what real tits taste like!”

With the toxic taste of Izumi’s intimate flesh on her lips, Emiko lifted her head to show off, and immediately realized her mistake. Izumi took the opportunity to push her aside, and before the brunette could react, the guitarist already had her teeth in her left breast. Emiko couldn’t remember ever having her nipples so hard, so her rival’s bite felt shattering. Gritting her teeth, she stifled her own aggrieved scream. But she didn’t give in to suffering: she had tasted the boobs she hated so much, and now she wanted more.

Between gasps and barely controlled moans, the two young beauties engaged in a mutual duel of breast nibbling and sucking, their mouths searching for the other nipples through the bra fabric, their teeth tearing at the sweaty naked skin. Emiko couldn’t remember anything so painful and exciting at the same time, so when she felt her crotch throbbing intensely, she was only surprised that it was happening with a whore like Izumi.

It was all over suddenly. As Emiko caught Izumi’s right nipple between her fangs, the redhead trembled in a different way. Her whole body began to convulse, and a long sexual moan of defeat escaped from her cruel lips. It took Emiko a couple of seconds to get it, but Izumi was having an orgasm… and she was the cause.

That revelation made Emiko’s body burn on the brink of its own climax, so she wrapped her arms around her trembling foe, her gasps joining Izumi’s, until the carnal earthquake stopped in the redhead’s body. Suddenly, the room was silent again, with only the soft synchronized breaths of the bandmates echoing softly off the walls.

“After years of thinking you were sexier than me, you now know how wrong you were,” Emiko whispered in Izumi’s ear. Her words came instinctively from her lips, the bassist making sense of it as she spoke. “From now on, the band will do as I say, and you will keep quiet if you don’t want me to spread the rumor around about how easy it’s to tame your pathetic body.”

“You bitch,” Izumi murmured back, almost breathless. “This isn’t over, not even close.”

Emiko parted her wet skin from Izumi’s, the look in both of their brown eyes talking about issues that were yet to be resolved. The brunette smirked before turning and, swaggering proudly, walking out onto the balcony. Barely a minute later, she was coming in her own bedroom, fingering herself with the memory of what had just happened assaulting her mind hotly.

“That was close,” she confessed to herself before dropping onto the bed, in a night she would never forget.

Chapter 3
The Fan Meeting

Kaori Ishii kept glancing from side to side, her brow furrowed in frustration at not knowing. She was sitting in the center of a long table in the main hall of the Okayama Performing Arts Theatre for a meet-and-greet with fans, and their bandmates were seated several meters away—Emiko to her right, Izumi to her left. Ongaku Records had decided that they would wear identical low-cut, knee-length summer dresses, but in different—and predictable—colors: yellow for Kaori, red for Izumi and black for Emiko. It was the first time she saw them for almost a month, since the incident in Fukuoka and the cancellation of the tour under the pretext of a sudden illness of the three girls. Kaori still remembered that night at the hotel, where she had tried more than once to leave her room to settle accounts with the brunette and the redhead, but in vain.

However, something had to have happened between the other two, or so she thought—that night, or at some later time. The staff had made sure that none of the three were near each other, bringing them at different times in separate cars from different hotels, and keeping them apart even now that they were sitting at the same table, but Kaori had only needed one single glance at them to suspect. Emiko acted more haughty than usual, behaving as if she were the undisputed leader of the group, while Izumi looked quieter and more short-tempered than ever—not that the blonde treated her staff well, but the redhead that day had come close to crossing more than one line with the new make-up artist, whom she had left in tears and with less hair on her head. Izumi was frustrated and affected by something, and Kaori was sure that it had to do with Emiko.

There were also the rumors, of course. Kaori had read in the tabloids and on 5chan that there were some witnesses talking about violence inside Triple Spark. Many of them were obviously lying, giving details of fights that hadn’t occurred—as much as she wished, she had never been pulling each other’s hair out with Izumi in a public bathroom—but there were some suspicions that were close to the reality of the post-concert in Fukuoka. There seemed to be no news about the threats shouted between them at the hotel in Miyawaka, but the blonde felt that the press and the public were getting dangerously close to the truth.

But, even despite the delicate nature of the situation, Kaori couldn’t shake her own rising frustration. She wanted blood, and had wanted it for weeks. She was listening to the fans and signing their photos absently while her mind shuffled through different scenarios where she could be alone with her bandmates and work things out. She didn’t know the theater, but she was sure there would be dressing rooms somewhere, or restrooms. Probably also some storage room, hopefully something out of the way.

“You’re my role model, Kaori-chan.” The voice brought the blonde out of her reverie. A young girl of 15 or 16 was standing in front of her, wearing a T-shirt with Kaori’s face on it. “I’ve always felt close to you because my father is not Japanese either.”

Kaori needed no more to understand the fan. She knew that sometimes it wasn’t easy being half-Japanese in that country, and her bandmates had been the most insistent in making her feel uncomfortable in that regard—Izumi and Emiko sometimes called her hāfu with contempt, or konketsuji, mixed-blood child, just as easily as they called her a whore. It always bothered her, because it brought back the memory of her mother raising her alone, and a father who had run away before she was born. To hide it a bit, she had adopted her mother’s Japanese surname. The only thing she had to be thankful for in that drama was her beautiful blonde hair.

“Never let anyone bully you for that,” she said to the girl. Leaning forward over the table, she lowered her voice a little, and smiled. “If someone says something nasty to you about it, tear their hair out.”

That fan was surely the first one outside Kaori’s circle to see the kawaii idol’s dark side, but the blonde didn’t have to regret that, as the girl smiled back at her. After signing a couple of pictures for her, Kaori bid her farewell before looking back at her bandmates. Whatever it took, she would be sure to follow her own advice. And she wasn’t going to wait any longer to do so.

Standing up, she gestured to the event organizer to indicate that she was going to the restroom. The woman tried to stop her, as there were still many fans to attend to, but she didn’t care. Licking her lips, she looked at the brunette and redhead she hated so much, and made a decision. With determined steps, she approached Emiko, and leaned over her ear.

“You’re looking pretty cocky today, girl,” she whispered, before giving a fake smile to the approaching fans. “Find an excuse and look for me in the back hallways. If you dare, I’ll put you in your fucking place once and for all.”

Kaori stood upright again as Emiko turned her face toward her. The look between the two sexy idols was electric, and Kaori needed no more to know that her challenge had been accepted. Turning around, the blonde headed for a back door while, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Izumi watching her intently.

“Your turn will soon come, ginger,” Kaori mumbled to herself as she walked out of the central hall.

Kaori walked through the corridors in the bowels of the Okayama Performing Arts Theater, always moving away from the noise of the fan meeting. Her heart pounded with nervousness and excitement as she searched for a hidden spot where she could finally face Emiko without fear of interruption. The good thing was that the place seemed empty, so Kaori could explore without anyone asking her what she was doing there. But every second was important, because she knew that the absence of two-thirds of Triple Spark, even if it was only for a few minutes, would mean that staff members would go looking for them, and the last thing the keyboardist wanted was to be separated from the brunette before she did everything she wished to do to her arrogant bandmate.

Kaori finally stopped next to a half-open door. Peeking out, she saw that it was a cleaning closet. It was a narrow place, almost claustrophobic because of the space occupied by the shelf at the back, where cleaning products were stacked and from the sides of which brooms and mops hung. A light bulb hung from the ceiling, with a pull switch to turn it on. Kaori knew she couldn’t let the confrontation turn into a reckless catfight again, as it had in the Dome, so that closet seemed to be the restrictive solution to that. Inside there was no room to brawl all out, forcing every move by her and Emiko to be deliberately close and controlled. If they both kept more or less silent, they wouldn’t draw attention to themselves.

Her heartbeat quickened as soon as she heard footsteps approaching. Kaori didn’t have time to fear that it was someone from the staff looking for her or a theater worker, as Emiko immediately appeared from the back of the hallway. Their gazes met immediately, green-brown eyes against dark brown eyes, charged with defiance. Emiko’s arrogant smile was answered by an equally cocky one from Kaori as the brunette approached unhurriedly, the bassist’s straight black mid-back hair swaying in the air with each step. The blonde shook her own waist-length, wavy mane in a gesture of pure, raw combative femininity that only another woman could read. When Emiko was a few steps away from her, she noticed the nice cleavage that her bandmate’s black summer dress made, so she gave a subtle tug on her own yellow dress to show a little more of her B-cup chest.

“Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up.” Kaori’s eyes narrowed as Emiko’s body finally stopped mere centimeters away from hers, both rivals’ postures tense and defiant. The air between the two beautiful idols crackled with a hostility that had been running rampant since the last concert. “Guess you needed time to work up the nerve…”

“That little fight in Fukuoka didn’t teach you anything, did it?” Emiko replied. “I don’t need to work up my nerve because I have been wanting to crush you both for years, while the two of you were avoiding me.”

“Your self-satisfaction is pathetic,” the blonde grunted. “If I haven’t put you and Izumi in your place before, it’s just because you’re cowards. Barking bitches seldom bites.”

Kaori was caught off guard when Emiko let out a laugh— a sound that was almost too loud for an encounter that was meant to be secret. There was something mocking in it, something that hinted at an inside joke that Kaori couldn’t understand.

“You poor ignorant…” the brunette said, taking a step forward and closing the distance between them.

“What’s so funny?” Kaori demanded as she pushed her nose against Emiko’s.

“Oh, nothing,” Emiko purred. “It’s just that it’s quite ironic. You say we don’t bite, yet I know for a fact Izumi would disagree… to their disgrace.”

“So you have fought?” Kaori’s heart skipped a beat.

“Yes,” Emiko hissed with pride. “I humiliated her at the hotel, that night of the concert.”

“And you beat her,” the keyboardist guessed, suddenly understanding the opposing attitudes of Emiko and Izumi.

“Easily,” the brunette murmured, although the blonde didn’t believe it would have been a one-sided fight. “While you were hiding in your room, it was getting dirty between me and her, but she couldn’t stand the heat in the end…”

“I wasn’t hidden,” Kaori complained. “And don’t think you intimidate me, because I know how to fight much dirtier than you two.”

“Oh, really? Let me doubt it, Kaori,” the bassist spat out, her thick lips almost brushing the keyboardist’s mouth. “Do you want to know how I beat her? I made Izumi come against me. Did you hear that? Is that dirty enough for you?”

Emiko’s words hung in the air, and Kaori was momentarily struck silent by the unexpected revelation. She had always been aware that the rivalry between the three bandmates carried a certain sexual edge, but not in that sense. They had fought to be the hottest, to outshine the others in terms of beauty and fuckability, to be the only focus of men’s desire, but they had never directed those seductive energies toward other women, and much less toward their hated bandmates. But what Emiko implied was something far more intimate, more twisted than just cunt blocking the other by stealing a love conquest one night. The longing for domination had transcended and, from the overwhelming confidence that shone in her rival’s eyes, Kaori knew that Emiko was toxically proud of what she had achieved.

“What’s the matter, are you lesbians now?” Kaori accused. “So, is that what you want to do to me next, Emiko? Having sex with this perfect body of mine?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Emiko said as she slowly raised and sunk her hands into Kaori’s blonde hair. “This isn’t going to be that consensual lesbian fantasy you’ve been dreaming about for years. This is a fight, one on one, until your body can’t handle mine. Only then can you come like the loser you always were.”

“After so many years together, do you really think you can make me come?” Kaori brought her own fingers to Emiko’s dark hair. “You’re even more stupid than I thought. First, I’m going to tear you apart where no one can see the marks, and when you can’t go on, then I’ll force you to come against me. Then you will know.”

The blonde could hardly believe her own words, but somehow it all fit together. She had certainly been wanting things to escalate between them for a long, long time, but now that Emiko had confessed how things had ended between her and Izumi, a simple scratch-and-bite catfight felt insufficient. She needed to experience that same jubilant feeling of superiority that Emiko was exuding at that instant, and to do so she had to humiliate her in the same way the brunette had humiliated the redhead. If that implied doing the unthinkable, it was worth it.

“So that’s where you wanted to settle things?” Emiko said in a low, mocking voice, glancing at the half-open door beside them. “A cleaning closet? How fitting for a hāfu like you.”

“Do you really think you can get under my skin with that, Emiko?” Kaori retorted as she pushed her face forward. Further down, she noticed the bustline of her dress brushing against the brunette’s.

“You tell me,” Emiko countered. “Aren’t you ashamed to know that your father didn’t even look back when he left, that he didn’t give a shit about you?”

“And your parents?” the blonde gritted her teeth to keep the weight of the past off her. “Successful in business, but a marriage that’s nothing more than a facade. Everyone knows they cheat on each other. There’s never been any love there, not for you either.”

“Just shut up, you half-breed bitch,” Emiko groaned.

“You shut up, posh cunt,” Kaori spat out.

Sick of it all, the blonde idol grabbed Emiko’s forearms, digging her fingers in as her enemy mirrored the hold. Both beauties pushed their bodies together, chest to chest, and started to drag each other into the closet. The tension between them crackled, and Kaori felt her pulse hammering as Emiko’s breasts, firm under the black dress, pressed against her youthful pair. Although none of the band members could boast of having big boobs, Kaori had always seen herself as the bustiest of the three, but now she couldn’t deny that Emiko’s feminine forms seemed to match her own in size and density.

Reaching the closet, Kaori’s shoulder bumped against the door frame as she tugged the brunette to get her inside. The two beauties raised their right hands at the same time to pull the pull switch and turn the light bulb on, and a second later they both stumbled into the closet, with Emiko slamming the door behind them to lock them together in that improvised battlefield.

“Ready to see what you’ve gotten yourself into?” Kaori muttered, pressing her body forward. The smell of bleach and detergent filled her sense of smell, but above it all hovered Emiko’s perfume.

“Show it to me, you kawaii pussy,” the brunette replied while matching the blonde’s strength.

Fingers plunged into the other hair, and the rivals began to tug hard. The confined space forced Kaori to lock her physique against Emiko’s from head to toe, giving her no choice but to hold her ground, with no room to twist or pull away—not that she wanted to do so either. The pressure between their B-cup bosoms increased so much that the keyboardist’s hot gasps mingled with Emiko’s, but now flat stomachs and strong legs were also rubbing against their counterparts in duel. Years and years of almost daily dancing had toned their young bodies amazingly, and at that moment that female power was being put to the test muscle to muscle, flesh to flesh.

For two, three minutes, Kaori and Emiko kept pulling each other’s hair with slow, cruel and controlled jerks, growling and panting in the other face while their bodies engaged in a silent, furious dialogue. The yellow and black fabric of the dresses whispered in the closet, the blonde idol feeling the silky and delicate material sliding against each other. The underlying warmth of the titflesh behind the cloth was unmistakable, especially when the continuous rubbing began to push the necklines lower and lower, leaving more of the upper part of the breasts uncovered. Soon, Kaori started to feel that the heat of the effort between them was increasingly blurring the line between force and friction, turning each tense muscle pressure into carnal bursts that made her skin crawl.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to show you how much better I am than you,” Kaori gasped, trying to keep her voice neutral in spite of the crushing sensations.

“That’s the same mistake Izumi made,” Emiko taunted. “And look how it ended…”

“Don’t compare me to her. I’m much better than that ginger,” the blonde said.

As the rivals continued to fight closely, their thighs gradually began to cling to each other like prey dogs until, suddenly, with a final shift, Kaori felt the press of Emiko’s pelvis against hers—the only part of their bodies that hadn’t yet touched. The blonde’s senses were already on edge from the persistent, growing pressure from the brunette’s chest, but it paled in comparison to the shockwave of the electrifying commotion when their crotches finally aligned. The heated air inside the cleaning closet almost burst into flames from the spark produced by the contact, with both beauties moaning at the same time as their sexy lips brushed together.

“Fucking dirty whore,” Emiko mumbled, pulling Kaori’s golden hair to bring their gorgeous faces closer together. “This isn’t going to help you at all.”

“Is this how you fought with Izumi?” Kaori asked. “Rubbing each other like dyke whores against the corner of a table?”

“That’s what she would have wanted,” the bassist replied. “All I did was grope and bite. I didn’t need any more.”

“Well, with me you’ll need that and much more…” Kaori challenged.

Eager to prove that she could play as dirty as her nemesis, she bared her teeth. Kaori didn’t know where Emiko had bitten Izumi, but trapped in that closet, she had only one choice. She sunk her teeth into the bassist’s thick lower lip, forcing a long moan from her.

“You ugly konketsuji,” Emiko spat out just before biting Kaori’s fleshy upper lip in retaliation.

Kaori’s body stiffened, for the first time in her 19 years of life feeling the mouth of a woman against her own. The feel of her rival’s lips was unfamiliar, very different from a man’s, for it was delicate and smooth, and its taste succulent and maddening—to her misfortune. For a second or two, she closed her eyes as she choked back an excessively revealing gasp in her throat. Kaori had never been attracted to women, nor had she ever had any fantasies about it—she had even felt a little disgusted at the thought of it—so she felt deeply annoyed by how her body was reacting, especially since the person she was holding against her body was one of the two girls she hated the most in the world. But Kaori remembered what threats they had hurled at each other, how she had to end that fight, and knew that she would have to take those unexpectedly hot sensations, extract the ardor from them and use the fire back against Emiko.

Kaori’s thoughts took shape, and she found herself immersed in a lewd exchange of bites with the brunette. Her teeth lacerated Emiko’s generous lips as the other idol made the blonde’s delicious mouth throb with cruel bites, the breaths of both young women mingling, hot and ragged. Kaori’s fingers instinctively tightened around Emiko’s hair as her rival pulled her closer, and the two beauties tilted their heads a bit. Kaori’s heart pounded wildly, aware that the two could end up kissing for real.

Then, their pelvises picked up the pace. Kaori and Emiko rubbed crotches so intensely that the blonde felt her spine electrify, and soon found that she was unable to stifle her hot gasps between bites. Thankfully, Emiko was breathing as heavily as she was, clearly affected by the battle of teeth and hips.

“You were so sure of yourself today because you humiliated Izumi,” the blonde hissed, squeezing Emiko’s hair firmly and making sure to tighten her own firm buttocks to deliver more effective crotch rubs. “And look at you now. You’ll be begging me not to stop when you come like a bitch.”

“You’re all talk, hāfu,” Emiko moaned defiantly, and Kaori immediately felt the bassist thrusting her boobs and crotch against her with dangerous resolve. “We both know how this ends: with me making you scream so loud in orgasm that you’ll never forget who’s in charge at Triple Spark.”

“You’ll break first, you posh whore, I promise. And when you do, you’ll cry out for everyone to know that I own you,” Kaori growled, matching her throbbing breasts with the brunette’s mass to mass. “I’m going to make you sing the right notes for the first time in your career.”

“You’re fucking delusional,” Emiko retorted, her tone dripping with venom.

The two bandmates returned to the lip-biting duel with more anxiety than before and, only when Kaori noticed the salty taste on Emiko’s mouth, was she then aware of how much they were both sweating. All around them, the stifling air in the cramped closet felt heavier and heavier from the combined heat that the tensely battling female bodies exuded. The keyboardist could feel the perspiration gathering on her temples and cheeks, snaking downward until it was lost in her cleavage, on the four flattened breasts of the girls. On her back, belly and legs the wetness spread with slow trickles of sweat that split and reunited like small rivers. Her nemesis’ sweat was mirrored her own, the sheen of her bandmate’s silky skin glistening under the light of the bulb as both dresses clung to the burning skin of the girls, which caused Kaori to become more conscious of the contact between her curves and Emiko’s.

As soon as Kaori noticed her foe let go of her hair to hug her torso, she herself wrapped her own arms around the brunette’s upper body, forcing the two of them to lock in an agonizing clinch of young bodies—Kaori made sure that not a millimeter of Emiko’s figure was unchallenged. She longed to overcome the bassist’s mouth, bosoms, belly and thighs with her own attractive assets, but above all she wanted to beat Emiko’s black cloth-covered sex with her crotch. However, the increasingly insistent pelvic contact was making breathing harder, hastier in the oxygen-starved environment. Kaori’s chest was rising and falling erratically, rubbing against Emiko’s pair in a way that she couldn’t control.

“Getting tired already?” Emiko rasped arrogantly. Kaori could read the shortness of breath in her voice, but also that the biting and the battle of bodies was taking its toll on her carnally.

“Not a chance.” Kaori’s response came out of her mouth weaker than she intended. “But you’re already at your limit.”

Crotch against crotch, the friction intensified with every thrust and every twist of the hips. Kaori felt the burning in her muscles, but she didn’t stop, for the burning she felt growing in Emiko’s pelvis was much more tantalizing. She herself could no longer ignore the wet throbbing in her own sex, each relentless and dominant thrust of her rival’s crotch making her moan louder and louder. It was impossible for the golden-haired idol to know how many minutes she had been in there engaged with Emiko’s body, but it was obvious that the final stage of their obscene duel was just ahead of her.

Then, in a moment too confusing for Kaori to register who had started it, her mouth found itself engaged in a passionate kiss with Emiko’s. In the wet, hot cavern sealed between fleshy lips, the tongues of the girls touched, and the electrifying moment ended up betraying one of the bodies. Kaori thought that the suffocating heat, the lack of air but most of all the overwhelming sensation of being in body-to-body sexual battle with one of her mortal antagonists was going to force her into a degrading carnal surrender, but in that instant what she felt was Emiko stiffening in her arms. The bassist’s body then jerked violently while a deep moan escaped her lips, deliciously letting Kaori know that, despite the brunette’s threats, it had been she who had forced an orgasm on her rival.

Aware that she too was close to climax, Kaori broke the kiss and let Emiko fall to the floor. Unable to take another breath in that suffocating atmosphere, she opened the door abruptly, stepping outside. The air in the theater hallway felt incredibly cool at that moment against her hot, sweaty skin.

“Now you know, Emiko,” Kaori gasped, staring at the slumped figure on her knees in the closet. “I’m hotter than you, as I’ve made clear beyond a shadow of a doubt. You came, and I didn’t. So from this moment on abstain from thinking you’re the leader of the group. Triple Spark will do what I say.”

“Fucking dirty pussy,” Emiko gasped. “I don’t care what you think. I plan to get revenge for this.”

“Good luck with that,” the keyboardist replied arrogantly, before starting to walk down the hallway, leaving Emiko behind.

However, she couldn’t get very far before she felt the compelling urge to slip into one of the rooms where, in the dark, she lifted up her dress and began to masturbate. It didn’t take her long to come.

“Fuck, she almost had me,” she reluctantly admitted. However, the victorious feeling that flooded her sweaty skin made her burst out laughing. She would never forget how she had beaten Emiko at her own game.

Chapter 4
Soundproof Session

Izumi Aoki was playing her Fender Stratocaster so aggressively that the sound engineer had to turn down the volume of the guitar channel on his mixing console. There, in a renowned recording studio on the outskirts of Tokyo, Triple Spark and part of the staff had met two weeks after the event with fans to record the company’s brand-new composition for them: Fushichou no Uta, The Song of the Phoenix. Izumi wasn’t too focused on the task, however, and was taking longer than usual to record her parts. Her mind kept disassociating from the music, her thoughts crossing the studio walls to the waiting rooms where her bandmates waited their turn. The company still kept them completely separate from each other, although Izumi knew that at some point the staff wouldn’t be able to prevent the three idols from meeting alone.

Izumi’s slightly trembling fingers almost failed to make a slide with the pick at the sudden reminder that there were only a few days left until A Spark of Three—if it was celebrated at the end. As chance would have it, all three idols had birthdays in mid-September within a few days of each other, a rare coincidence of fate that the company had turned since the foundation of the band into a lucrative tradition. Every year, the girls got together to do a live online event from a luxurious penthouse, a country house, or even from aboard a yacht, where they chatted with fans and introduced some special exclusive. Over time, A Spark of Three had grown into a multi-camera event with live performances, generous giveaways and product launches—a cornerstone of the Triple Spark brand.

Izumi certainly didn’t have good memories of those events, as it forced her to spend hours locked up somewhere with the women she hated while pretending that everything was fine. She still wondered how it was possible that they had not come to blows on some of those birthdays, at least when the cameras were turned off. However, precisely what she had detested all these years, that time seemed to be an advantage: being alone with her bandmates was exactly what she most wanted, since she had a score to settle with Kaori, but above all with Emiko. The only thing that she feared was that at that point the event hadn’t been announced, meaning that the company didn’t want to risk a scandal. She really hoped that the pressure of the fans in the social networks in that regard could help her nasty, furious interests.

Izumi closed her eyes as she reached the last chorus of the song at the same time that the humiliating loss to Emiko burned in her memory. After years of wanting to put the cocky brunette in her place, she had missed the opportunity by letting Emiko beat her. But what really haunted her, what sent a shiver down her spine even now, was the way she had been defeated. Her fingers moved aggressively between chords as she felt the recall of them gripping Emiko’s firm boobs again, and her own breasts started to throb hotly as she remembered the assault of the bassist’s cruel hands over her own young glands. Izumi threw back her head, with the taste of Emiko’s sweaty titflesh in her mouth, and the ache in her bosoms from the brunette’s bites.

Then, Izumi evoked their clashing crotches, the unstoppable heat, and the betrayal of her own body with a sudden, dirty orgasm she had never thought possible. She had never understood women who were interested in other women when they could feel a strong man inside them, so she felt unable to understand why Emiko’s touch had affected her so deeply. For a moment, she seriously thought about whether she had some kind of weakness or curse because of her mother, who shortly after Triple Spark began, had abandoned her father and her for another woman. For the next several years, Izumi hadn’t responded to her mother’s attempts to try to heal their relationship, and over time she had found herself developing a certain resentment towards lesbians. Gritting her teeth as she strummed the guitar strings, Izumi found a new reason to hate Emiko even more.

Those thoughts filled with hatred and doubt spurred Izumi’s fingers, but it was nothing compared to when, seconds later, her mind get suddenly flooded with a chaotic mix of sexual memories where Emiko, a few men and the new 22-centimeter dildo that she wildly shoved into herself last night. As she finally finished the last chords of the song, she cursed that her sexuality was really screwed up. From the other side of the recording booth, the sound engineer made a gesture, indicating to the redhead with a broad smile that the take had been perfect. Izumi didn’t return the smile, but a look full of frustration.

“The studio thinks it’s going to save the ship with this shitty song,” she whispered to herself as she unstrapped her guitar and unplugged it. She still couldn’t believe that the company’s reaction to the band’s delicate situation was a dull, uninspired song about rising from the ashes. Not only did it send a message of admission that Triple Spark was going through a bad moment of popularity and sales, but it was also the worst thing they had written for the girls in years. “The fucking phoenix has been dead for so long that it’s not coming back. All I want is not to sink along with my slutty bandmates.”

Without saying goodbye to the sound engineer, the redhead pushed the door to leave the recording room and, to her surprise, she almost bumped into the woman who at that moment was making her whole body shake. Emiko was just there, waiting to enter to record her vocals. Izumi’s light brown eyes met the brunette’s dark brown eyes, and the redhead’s heart skipped a beat as she wondered who on the staff had screwed up to let two of them meet alone. For almost half a minute, the two rival bandmates stood still facing each other, their gazes sometimes averting for only a couple of seconds to scrutinize each other’s bodies under shirts—Izumi’s red versus Emiko’s black—and shorts. With some frustration, Izumi remembered how good the other idol’s body had looked in her underwear, but at least she could console herself with a certain glint of envy in the brunette’s eyes as she glanced back at her.

“Careful,” Emiko said, her pupils dilating slightly.

They hadn’t spoken a single word to each other in a month and a half, since that fateful night in Miyawaka. The only open communication between them having been the glances they had exchanged at the fan meeting, so Izumi found herself for half a second overtaken by a single word in her bandmate’s arrogant voice. But as soon as her mind went back for the umpteenth time to the events in the hotel room between them, she found herself sticking out her chest. Her hands opened, fingernails at the ready, but then she saw one of Triple Spark’s PR people rounding the corner at the back of the hallway, talking absentmindedly on his cell phone. Now wasn’t the time.

“I’m looking forward to celebrating our birthdays together, honey,” Izumi hissed, just before bumping shoulders with Emiko. Stepping away from the bassist, she threw a defiant look over her shoulder. Emiko’s fleshy lips twitched into a smile laden with self-satisfaction, but to Izumi’s surprise, there was also a gleam of uncertainty in the brunette’s eyes.

The redhead ignored the PR and headed for the nearest restroom. She closed the door behind her with a strange feeling throbbing in her chest. That flicker of doubt in Emiko’s gaze had taken her by surprise, especially when the brunette had everything in her favor to be cocky with her. Then, approaching the mirror in the room, Izumi recalled something that had struck her at the fan event: the moment when Emiko and Kaori had been absent. While signing some records, she had seen the blonde approach the brunette and say something in her ear, before the keyboardist left the main hall. Emiko had waited a minute or two, and then had walked out the same door as Kaori.

“Oh, shit. How could you not notice it then?” Izumi said to her reflection, suddenly understanding everything. She had been so obsessed with her own orgasmic defeat against Emiko that she had been fully blind to the obvious. “Those two bitches fought!”

Now it made sense that, when both girls had returned, the energy of both had altered drastically. Kaori had looked radiant, with a subtle smirk playing on her fleshy mouth, while Emiko could barely contain a tense anger behind fiery eyes and tight lips. In the mirror, Izumi saw her nipples hardening under her red shirt as she became aware that Kaori had surely beaten Emiko. She might even have done it the same way Emiko had bested her: with an unwanted, humiliating sexual climax. The thought thrilled Izumi, but it also puzzled her. She loved knowing that the arrogant bassist had been somehow tamed but, at the same time, that placed Kaori in a position of superiority over the two of them—and she detested the mere idea of Kaori succeeding where she had failed. Suddenly she wasn’t sure which of the two women she hated the most. Turning on the sink faucet, Izumi splashed water on her beautiful face. She decided she wasn’t going to wait for the company to hold A Spark of Three. One way or another, today she was going to solve her problems with either Emiko or Kaori, or if she was lucky, with both at the same time.

Fate, or something very much like it, seemed determined to give her a helping hand. A couple of minutes later, when she was refreshed and determined, and about to leave the restroom, the door opened.

“I don’t need a babysitter, you fucking asshole.” Kaori was holding the door, dressed similarly to her, in shorts and a light-yellow T-shirt. She was looking to her right and cursing whoever was in the hallway. “If it’s lunchtime, then all of you go to lunch and leave me alone in the studio. I’ll record my voices when you get back from eating each other’s tiny cocks.”

A man complained in the distance, but Kaori ignored him by entering the restroom and slamming the door shut. Izumi crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin arrogantly, and it was just then that the blonde became aware of Izumi’s presence.

For two women who had kicked off the storm of their rivalry in the Dome weeks earlier after years of simmering hatred, it was practically a miracle that they didn’t start tearing at each other’s hair and clawing at each other’s faces right there and now. But the redhead felt that somehow there was a noticeable change in the air that flowed between them. The continued promise of violence that had surrounded Triple Spark since the founding was still present, but now the electrified tension felt different—just as charged, but heavier and deeper. Izumi was aware that her fight with Emiko had altered everything, opening a new path to domination within the band—one that was at once dirty but clean, as the marks it left were inner. From what she saw in Kaori’s eyes, she wasn’t the only one who had encountered that dark, odd but necessary shortcut.

“You fucked Emiko at the fan meeting,” Izumi said directly, with no ambiguity.

“And Emiko fucked you at the hotel,” Kaori replied as both idols came to the same conclusions. “You don’t have to be very smart to know what it means, right?”

“I hope you’re not implying that because you fucked Emiko that means you can fuck me,” the guitarist grunted. “She caught me by surprise, and that’s not going to happen with you.”

“Oh, you mean we’re going to fuck, ginger?” the blonde teased. “I always suspected you were a bit of a nasty dyke, just like your mother, but I didn’t imagine you wanted this so much.”

“Shut up, little hāfu. Your father abandoned you because he knew you would be a little lesbian,” Izumi accused. “It’s pretty obvious how much you would love it if you and I had a good sex session right now, but what we’re going to do here won’t be nice.” She took a breath. “It’s going to be a fuck fight.”

Izumi’s last words floated so thick in the air that the two rivals could barely move for a moment. The redhead couldn’t believe that the term fuck fight—a term that she had never thought of before—had slipped out of her mouth just like that. It echoed in her mind like a truth accidentally exposed, but it was in the real world where it had materialized, just between Kaori and her, raw and unfiltered. Izumi half-opened her lips, but she didn’t even know if it was to retract or to confirm what she had just said, so in the end she didn’t utter a single sound. Instead, a surge of heat rose to her cheeks.

Izumi slowly licked her full lips, the instinctive gesture betraying the mix of embarrassment and exhilaration surging through her. As much as she hated to admit it, ‘fuck fight’ was the perfect way to describe what had happened with Emiko and, more unsettlingly, what she now intended to do with Kaori. What was going on between the young idols had never been an ordinary rivalry, but a primal battle for dominance where their physical looks and ability to seduce had been key elements. The competition of attractive bodies, arrogant wills and dirty desires had been intensifying year after year, until it reached its climax in the Fukuoka Dome. After that catharsis, simple violence had somehow become obsolete. Izumi had discovered in that hotel room with Emiko, in the worst possible way, that sex was the perfect weapon of humiliation when she had to deal with her hated bandmates. So, while the term ‘fuck fight’ might have been spat out impulsively, it now felt inevitable.

“A fuck fight, huh?” Kaori finally said in a somewhat hoarse voice. “That’s an interesting choice of words, Izumi. I always knew you were twisted, but this? This takes it to a whole new level.”

“What’s wrong, Kaori? Are you afraid?” Izumi countered. “Isn’t that exactly what you did with Emiko? Or was yours softer, sweeter, more romantic, with kisses and everything?”

“I would never kiss any of you,” the keyboardist groaned in defiance, though something in her gaze told Izumi that she was hiding something. “What I will do is make you come like a whore. Or isn’t that what this fuck fight is all about?”

“You really think you can make me come just because you beat that dark-haired bitch?” Izumi said. “You’ll be the one who comes hard here.”

At that moment, a heavy door could be heard closing, and then only silence. The girls stopped their discussion, suddenly aware that everyone had gone to lunch but them. Izumi felt her heart racing with excitement, especially when she noticed the lines of Kaori’s hardened nipples against her yellow shirt.

“They’ll be gone for half an hour, at least,” the blonde hissed. “So there will be no interruptions. Just you and me. We’ll see which of the two of us makes good on her threat.”

“Perfect,” Izumi replied, her voice low and dangerous. “Let’s see if your body is up to it. Do you want to do it here or…?”

“The recording room,” Kaori interrupted her. “It’s soundproofed, so no neighbor will call the police when you shout my name.”

“Lead the way, you cunt,” Izumi grunted.

The two idols left the restroom and headed for the recording room, their footsteps echoing in the silence of the place. Kaori opened the door to the recording room, but instead of entering, she stood in the frame, standing on one side.

“After you,” the blonde said in a voice filled with sarcasm.

There was actually room for Izumi to walk by without the beauty’s B-cup bosoms touching, but the guitarist responded to Kaori’s challenge by making sure to rub her nipple-hardened breasts against the nice volume of firm flesh under her rival’s shirt. Kaori replied with a little scrub, her stiff nipples almost colliding with Izumi’s just before the redhead entered the room. As Kaori closed the door, Izumi felt her bust throb from the dirty contact.

Now that no one was there, the light in the recording room was softer. The room wasn’t particularly large, but it was sufficient for what was about to happen. There was a pair of microphones on their stands, some amps in one corner, and Triple Spark’s instruments in their cases, leaning against one of the walls. The place was littered with cables, and the walls were soundproofed, creating an intimate space, perfect for music sessions… and fuck fights.

“Well, how are we going to do it?” Kaori asked while the two enemies positioned themselves several paces away from each other. “How do you want me to subdue you?”

The blonde placed her hands on her hips in a challenging pose, drawing Izumi’s eyes to her crotch. Under the shorts, at the end of the slight curve of the thighs, was the prey after which the redhead went.

“First of all, why don’t you take off those pants?” Izumi asked. “Or are you worried you’ll need all that fabric to protect yourself from me?”

“It will be my pleasure, as long as you do the same,” Kaori demanded back. “Being the so-called badass of the band, I figured you wouldn’t need extra armor, right?”

Without taking their eyes off each other, they both unfastened the button of their shorts at the same time. Their fingers brushed the zipper and pulled it down with deliberate slowness, the fabric slowly opening to reveal sexy black lace panties—Izumi felt her chest throb as she revealed her lingerie to a bandmate again. The idols had to push the tight shorts a bit to get them past their thighs, until they fell to the floor.

Izumi parted her lips slightly and flicked her tongue inside her mouth as she stared at her rival’s panties, checking how close-fitting and small the fabric was. She herself was also wearing panties that were too narrow and revealing that day, so it was easy for both women to notice the sexual contours beyond the black lace. After her duel against Emiko, Izumi had begun to wear flashier, tighter lingerie at the prospect of her having to expose herself again, and no doubt Kaori had come to a similar conclusion after the events in Okayama. Now they were always ready.

Neither said a single word as they kicked their shorts aside and stood arrogantly straight, with Izumi defiantly pushing her crotch a little forward and Kaori copying her gesture a second later. By some miracle of nature, Izumi managed to look away for just a moment, and then she saw that one of the microphones was within reach of her hand. Immediately, a dirty thought crossed her mind, the memory of the dildo that she enjoyed so much last night assaulting her.

“You know, honey,” the guitarist said as she took the microphone out of the clip holder and turned it slowly in her hand, looking at it with interest. “Maybe with this I can finally teach you how to sing properly. But not the way you think.”

“As long as you don’t use it to torture me with your singing, I’ll be fine,” Kaori replied as she took a step to the other stand and got her own microphone. “Although now that you mention it, maybe I can help you with this to finally hit those high notes you never get to.”

“I’m glad you’re not afraid of a little creativity.” Izumi smiled haughtily as both girls took a quick glance at the other panties. It was obvious that Kaori had picked up on her intention right away, and was ready to play. “If you think about it, it’s fitting that, after torturing so many mics with your voice, it’s now your turn to be on the receiving end.”

“What’s a shame is that we have a time limit here and can’t record every moan of yours,” Kaori spat out while pointing her microphone directly at Izumi. “It would be a good souvenir, a full track with you begging me to stop.”

“Oh, we’ll see who moans more and who begs.” Izumi took a couple of determined steps forward, and Kaori went to meet her.

In unison, the idols pushed their microphones against each other’s black panties, pressing the rounded head against the silky, snug fabric. Izumi gasped as she felt the cool surface pushed firmly against her covered crotch, and an electric pulse burst there before coursing all over the skin of her body. In front of the redhead, Kaori’s breath hitched as she cruelly forced her weapon against the blonde’s panty-clad sex, everything that her adversary was giving being returned immediately and mercilessly.

From the very first second, the battle was fast and insistent, both young beauties eager to degrade the other bandmate, the pants and moans from the guitarist and keyboardist drowned out by the soundproof walls while the heat in the room was rising dramatically. Izumi cursed with a growl at Kaori’s ability to crush and grind her most private parts with the microphone, and regretted her choice of such thin panties that hardly acted as a protective barrier, the soft fabric stretching and yielding to the pressure and transmitting each movement directly to the tender, sensitive flesh beneath. To her dismay, the consuming mixture of pain and pleasure immediately caused her crotch to start throbbing wetly. She had barely had the microphone pushed into her cunt for a minute and a half, two minutes at most, but already noticing that excitement between her legs made certain doubts assail her mind, along with the memory of what had happened in her fight with Emiko. However, Izumi found some sense of vindication at the increasing ease with which her own microphone was sliding down Kaori’s black panties—the friction was decreasing, and the only explanation was that the blonde was also getting wetter and wetter. Instigated by the toxic feeling of knowing she was raping her bandmate, Izumi clenched her knuckles and accelerated her dirty assaults.

“I’ve already got you soaked and humiliated,” Kaori bragged, anticipating Izumi’s accusation. “In less than a minute, I’ll make you come right here, like the weak little bitch you are.”

“You’re the one with the soaked pussy, you nasty tramp,” Izumi replied. “You’re going to beg me to stop, but I won’t until you come hard against this mic.”

The two beauties continued to masturbate each other, the microphones now saturated with sweat and something else, until their hastened movements brought their heated bodies together. Izumi felt Kaori’s breasts squeezing against her pair through the T-shirts, their hardened nipples digging into firm flesh, but that barely distracted them from the other crotch. In some unconscious way, they both spread their legs a little wider, as if their bodies were accepting the pleasure that the rivals wanted to deny, and even the hips began to move to the rhythm of the offensive of the microphones. Izumi soon found herself moaning aloud, in unison with Kaori’s sexual moans.

Fed up with her own weakness and the refusal of her blonde-haired nemesis to give up, Izumi exhaled a short shout before pushing Kaori against the wall. The blow made both of them squeal as their breasts collided, but the advantage was on the guitarist’s side, who turned the microphone around to plunge her most phallic part into the other woman’s panties. The blonde threw her head back, breathing out a long, pained lament of pleasure. Izumi smiled as she felt her weapon jammed slightly between what must be Kaori’s labia, but she didn’t have time to celebrate the moment of triumph because the blonde immediately took revenge by plunging the other end of her mic into her pussy. Now it was Izumi’s turn to moan in carnal weakness, just before Kaori pushed her aside, slamming her against the wall and trapping her against it chest to chest.

None of them realized that the red recording light turned on at that instant. Whimpering and panting, Izumi and Kaori grabbed each other’s hair with their free hand and exchanged positions against the soundproof wall for the next two, three minutes, their increasingly wet microphones pushed again and again against each other’s sex. The duel was degenerating rapidly, and Izumi couldn’t believe how close she was to orgasm already. Trying to take Kaori’s microphone in her own pussy as best she could, she began to move her own weapon in circles against the keyboardist’s soaked panties, reveling in her foe’s excited breathing.

Then, taking a step back, Izumi stumbled over her own guitar amp, throwing her off balance. The redhead dragged the blonde by the hair with her, and the girls crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, with Kaori landing on top of Izumi, knocking the air from her lungs and pinning her. But some air wasn’t the only thing Izumi lost in the fall, but her own microphone, which slipped out of her hand and rolled away from her.

“I got you, bitch!” Kaori celebrated above her as the guitarist again felt the insistent pressure of the microphone against her excited cunt.

“Never!” Izumi moaned, her breath ragged. She felt it again: the humiliating climax that Emiko had already taken out of her was about to explode again, but that time at Kaori’s hands. But her exalted pride made her keep it at bay, at least for now, for she couldn’t afford a second defeat against one of her bandmates.

“Just let it go, you little hussy!” the blonde insisted.

“You’ll come first, hāfu!” the redhead cried out.

Izumi watched with contempt as her rival opened her mouth again to continue bragging, but then her instincts took over. The redhead suddenly raised her head and bit Kaori’s lips, at the same time she thrust her right hand between their warring bodies and, pushing two of her fingers against Kaori’s panties, pressed the right point.

Then it happened. Kaori’s body tensed, and a groan of defeat came from the depths of her throat. Against her fingers, Izumi felt the shuddering orgasm in Kaori’s wet panties, just before the keyboardist fell off her and onto the floor, with manifest incredulity. Feeling that just by watching her enemy having such an intense orgasm she would do it too, Izumi rolled in the opposite direction, kneeling away from Kaori.

“I told you, you kawaii whore,” she gasped softly, her voice dripping with smugness. “Now you know I’m a better, hotter woman than you, so from now on you’re going to shut up and let me lead the band.” She stood up, although her knees were trembling a little from the need to release the orgasm that beset her. “Don’t forget what happened here.”

“I won’t, because I plan to make you pay for this, cunt,” Kaori said, lying on the floor while she tried to recover. “Watch your back, Izumi.”

The redhead simply smiled arrogantly. She headed for the exit, though she paused for a moment, as it seemed to her that the door of the small room where the sound engineer recorded had just been closed by someone. Shaking her head, Izumi told herself that it was her imagination, so she left the recording room to go straight to the bathroom. She had a toxic orgasm to release from her body.

“A little more, and she would have taken it out of me,” she came clean. Even so, Izumi let out a laugh of joy, for that day she had lifted a weight off her shoulders.

Chapter 5
A Spark of Three

The sun was shining on the shore of Okushiri Island, its light reflecting off the pale sand and gentle waves. The temperature was still hot for mid-September, so the workers who were finishing setting up the stage by the sea were shirtless, although protected with hats and sunscreen. The gazes of the men, all young and well-built, were continually wandered toward the beach house nestled a few meters from the shoreline. They knew who was inside: the trio of idols whose sex appeal felt real because that time it didn’t transcend through a cell phone screen, but was almost touchable. The very idea of knowing that Emiko Wada, Izumi Aoki and Kaori Ishii were just behind the ochre walls of the house aroused in them a mixture of carnal desire and dangerous curiosity. The prohibition to make contact with the girls, signed by contract, made their fantasies even more tempting.

What the men couldn’t see was the scene unfolding behind the sheer curtains of the beach house. From separate rooms, the Triple Spark beauties avidly and secretly watched the tempting men, their breaths coming in shallow gasps and their eyes tracking the rippling muscles. There were very few things the three girls liked better than sex with men like those, although their relationship with the carnal had felt different for weeks. In a hotel room, in a cleaning closet, in a recording room, the young women had tasted a different kind of fire that was born not of desire or flirtation, but of hatred and rivalry. Although unthinkable beforehand, they had fucked with their bandmates, and now they couldn’t deny that there was something intoxicating about proving superiority, not just in talent or charisma, but in the most intimate, primal way imaginable.

But that thrill came at a high price, for the memory of victory mingled with the bitter taste of defeat. Emiko had beaten Izumi, Izumi had beaten Kaori, Kaori had beaten Emiko—a perfect lustful circle that none of them could escape, where the proof of physical supremacy and the dirty betrayal of their own bodies had occurred within a few weeks of each other. That contradictory toxic seduction lingered in their minds, poisoning the sexual needs that they felt now that they were watching those eye-catching men. The idols longed to fuck all of them, but somehow not as much as they wanted to fuck their bandmates, especially the one who had humiliated them weeks earlier.

Even so, the three young women were keeping such nasty aspirations at bay. They were there for the annual A Spark of Three event, so there had been an unspoken decision to bury the hatchet until the day was over—it was undeniable for all of them that tomorrow the truce would be water under the bridge. At that special birthday celebration—Emiko had turned 20 last Monday, Izumi the same age on Wednesday and Kaori had caught up with them on Friday—they wanted to save the band, even if it was only out of personal interest. The truth is that they had never hated each other as much as they did at that moment but, after all, a failing group meant no solo careers to fight over. The cold but somewhat cordial attitude among the girls had surprised the staff when the band had arrived at the beach house, so there was some hope that perhaps a miracle would happen and that during the hours they were alone they wouldn’t end up pulling each other’s hair and scratching each other.

A Spark of Three would start in less than an hour, with a short concert of only four songs broadcasted live with camera drones from the beach stage. As the idols had demanded, the audience would only consist of hot guys—“no slutty whores”, had been Izumi’s literal words. Afterwards, the women would return to the beach house, where they would have half an hour to change clothes before attending to fans from around the world in an online connection. There were cameras in several rooms of the house to watch the girls move around the house Big Brother style during the two-hour live show where there would be Q&A, giveaways and some surprises. Only the bedrooms and bathrooms were free of cameras for privacy reasons, even though during the preparatory meetings for the event that had been an element of concern for some of the music company’s management, especially given the violent outbursts of the girls. No one could be sure that the unusual cooperation between them would not break down at some point.

As thousands of people started to connect to the live countdown signal from mobiles, tablets and computers with vibrant anticipation, the three beautiful idols prepared themselves for the concert. In their rooms, blonde, redhead and brunette peeled off their casual clothes and bared the same bodies that had fought so nastily against one another in recent weeks. They were all surprised to notice their B-cup breasts slightly plumper, fuller than usual, with a touch of extra wobbling, and couldn’t help but think that recent events had something to do with that unexpected change. Each beauty took her bikini top—one black cup and the other white—and covered her glands, readjusting the fabric to make sure she displayed the most seductive cleavage possible. Their toned bellies remained bare as the young stars protected their crotches with black bikini panties, then hid it by wrapping their hips in a vaporous sarong of various colors. That was the whole battle ensemble that the girls were going to bring to the show that could put them back at the top of the J-pop food chain, and both they and Ongaku Records were confident that it was the perfect choice for the purpose.

The three girls finally emerged from the bedrooms, and they found each other in the main living room of the house. The looks between them almost destroyed their peaceful and tactful intentions to get along that critical day. The place was bathed in warm ambient light, and was really spacious—there were a few sofas and bookshelves, and a table with everything the idols needed for make-up, but with a large carpet in the center of the room—so it was perfect for a hot catfight. It would be so easy, since the cameras weren’t rolling, and the world wasn’t watching. They could wrestle, roll and press against each other with nothing but the soft rug beneath them, their bodies locked in an intimate struggle. And if they kept it strictly sexual, without any bruises to betray them, no one would ever know except them. But they held back, even if the mere sight of their rivals in sexy bikinis was too much for them and challenged them to abandon their fragile truce.

“We need to look perfect before the cameras turn on,” Izumi broke the silence. With a look that couldn’t hide her contempt for her bandmates, she walked over to the table with the make-up and picked up a brush. “I say we help each other… for the good of the band.” Her voice was smooth, almost lazy, but there was no mistaking the weight behind her words—she wasn’t thinking about the good of the band, but how to use it to her advantage.

“How noble of you, Izumi,” Emiko replied with sarcasm in her voice, but with her gaze sharp. “Wanting that we all look flawless. It almost sounds like you care.”

“Careful, girls,” Kaori said in a playful tone. “If both of you start sounding too sweet, someone might actually believe you.”

Despite the verbal darts that they instinctively threw at each other after years of hatred, jealousy and rivalry, the idols knew that the idea of putting make-up on each other was perfect, for no one had analyzed the other women’s faces more than themselves in their persistent and relentless comparisons. There was no make-up artist in the world who knew better what kind of cosmetics would enhance the beautiful but detested facial features of the bandmates than those present in that room, so the three girls immediately set to work without another word.

Standing at the table, each beauty instinctively began to make up the bandmate who had defeated her in the sexual contest, in a kind of exorcism. Emiko held Kaori’s face in her hand, tilting her chin with fingers pressing just enough to let the blonde know that she hadn’t forgotten what had happened in their last encounter one-on-one. Kaori didn’t flinch, her gaze steady and her breathing measured as the brush in her dark-haired rival’s hand grazed her cheeks. Her gorgeous eyes burned with a certain smugness, as if to remind Emiko who had won when their bodies had fought closely together.

Kaori wasn’t only attentive to the woman she had humiliated, but also to the woman who had humiliated her. Her own brush traced the contours of Izumi’s features with precision, applying powders over the soft skin as blonde and redhead let their minds recall in detail the heated battle of dildos-like microphones from weeks before. Their narrowed eyes constantly met, Izumi’s hatred bewitched with vanity and pride at how the conflict had ended compared to the more spiteful hatred that flashed in Kaori’s irises.

For her part, Izumi was in charge of Emiko’s make-up. Her brush stroked gently around the brunette’s chin as Emiko looked at her with some defiance, their pulses quickened as both of them recalled the guitarist’s unexpected orgasm at the hotel in Miyawaka. How the fight between Emiko and Izumi had degenerated had been the foundations of that succession of sexual encounters inside Triple Spark, giving a new form to a seven-year rivalry. What had begun as a single crack in the ice had quickly become an avalanche that unstoppably had ended up engulfing the three idols in its descent.

For a few minutes, the idols made each other up with skill and true honesty, making their enemies’ faces look amazing in an action that felt contradictory. Kaori’s green-brown eyes looked elegant under gold eyeshadow and eyeliner, while Izumi’s light brown eyes glowed intense with reddish tones surrounding them, and Emiko’s dark brown eyes had a piercing effect with black make-up. The faces of the 20-year-old women looked immaculate, well contoured and with lightly blushed cheeks, so they all knew that in the official concert photos, they would be showing off the other girl bands that were trying to snatch the J-pop throne that belonged to them in their own right.

As a final key touch, the three music stars chose bright deep red to cover their bandmates’ full, kissable lips. Izumi, Emiko and Kaori had always been very proud of the compliments they received from lovers and fans about their fleshy mouths, and had even had a heated argument between them when a year and a half earlier there had been an intense debate on Babepedia about which of Triple Spark’s idols had the hottest lips. Of course, each of them thought they were at an advantage in that department as well, just as they thought they were if they talked about hair, eyes, boobs, belly, hips, butts or legs.

The electric friction over who had the mouth supremacy mouth almost had some release when Emiko and Izumi almost kissed each other in their sexual duel, but who the bassist had ended up kissing had been Kaori when the keyboardist had brought her to climax in the cleaning closet. With that memory in mind, the brunette beauty brought the lipstick against the seductive, humiliation-giving blonde’s lips, pressing it perhaps with a little more force than necessary.

“Don’t tremble,” she warned. “You wouldn’t want me to stain you, would you?”

“I never tremble,” Kaori whispered back while painting Izumi’s lips, refusing to give Emiko the satisfaction of a reaction. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Maybe I can say something about that, Kaori,” Izumi interrupted as she covered Emiko’s plump mouth with red.

“Or maybe I’m the one who should speak up, Izumi,” Emiko grunted.

The tense moment didn’t go any further because they all finished with the other woman’s mouth. Each girl rubbed her own lips together slightly, testing the sensation. It felt perfect. Spectacularly dressed and made up, they were more than ready for the most important public appearance in years.

“It’s time for us to give our all,” Izumi said. Aware of all that was at stake, she tried to dilute the growing hatred.

“No mistakes,” Emiko took the floor. “No false step in the dance, no note out of place.”

“This is it, now or never,” Kaori almost gasped. “We’re going to give the best concert in the history of Triple Spark!”

The three beauties stepped out onto the beach with an energy they hadn’t felt in a long time, but everything went off the rails over the next half hour. As soon as they got on stage, they saw that almost the entire crowd was female. Despite their demands, Ongaku Records had decided that they had to give an image of a band by and for women. This put the trio in a bad mood, which got worse when they realized in the first chords of the hit Akai Yakusoku that their instruments were tuned half a tone lower than they should have been. That forced them to sing uncomfortably, and the lack of concentration ended up causing them to fail in a couple of moments of dance. The girls didn’t even stay on stage for the pre-recorded outro of the last song, Yoru ni Tokeru Ai, storming off quickly and angrily back to the house while a few boos could be heard on the beach.

That a catfight didn’t break out between them just after they slammed the door behind them was a miracle. But the worst was yet to come because suddenly everything that had been wrong became obvious. The beach house now looked smaller and less glamorous, with the wooden floor in some corners splintery and poorly finished, with the bathroom lights activated with pull chains as if they were in a prison, or in a cheap country house. Overwhelmed by the lousy live performance they had just given, the idols ran to their bedrooms to see what was being said on social media, only to find that the power outlets weren’t working properly and their cell phones had not been charged, leaving them dead. Even the hot tub, which could have been a saving grace, was useless because it didn’t heat the water properly. The problem with the temperature control extended to the showers, where the water, on the other hand, came out excessively hot, making it impossible for the increasingly furious girls to wash themselves.

Just twelve minutes before the live broadcast began, there was a hot, stifling atmosphere of frustration inside the beach house—everything seemed electrified, even the oxygen in the air. When the three idols arrived at the main hall where the special online meeting with fans from all over the world was to take place, the whole weight of the event fell on them. The latest negative surprise had been that the elegant and expensive Prada’s gala dresses that the company had sent had arrived stained. The three bandmates had had to settle for wearing tight white shirts and denim shorts, making them feel dirty for wearing such simple, casual clothing, proper of sluts with no money and no taste for fashion. They were barefoot, their hair badly combed and still with the same makeup from the disastrous concert. The angry attitude of the girls had mingled with their usual laziness, and problems with the house had completed the mess.

“Fantastic,” Izumi said sarcastically. “You’re not even dressed properly.”

“The pot calling the kettle black, that’s funny,” Emiko grunted back.

“Great job, girls,” Kaori spat out. “After fucking up the concert before, now you come to spoil this too.”

Instinctively, the three idols began to circle each other in a slow-stepping dance of unconcealed, deep hatred. A beep sounded in the house, warning that the live show was starting in ten minutes, but none of them paid any attention.

“Don’t act like you had nothing to do with it, you hāfu.” Emiko crossed her arms. “It was you who was out of tune for the entire final song.”

“You were out of tune the whole concert,” Kaori counterattacked. “And apparently our favorite ginger doesn’t know how to play a fucking guitar anymore.”

“Just shut up!” Izumi ordered. “Usually you two have zero talent, but today you have surpassed yourselves for the worse.”

“First learn to sing, Izumi!” Emiko teased her, just before suddenly a cruel gleam flashed in her dark brown eyes. “And to fuck!”

“Look who’s talking!” the blonde cried out against the brunette.

“You better shut up about it!” the redhead shouted at the blonde.

The mere mention of their sexual grudges blew up the weak truce between them like dynamite at the base of a building about to collapse. The three young women went at each other, colliding in the center of the room as they grabbed each other’s hair and arms in aggressive discussion. Without letting each other speak, they all launched what they had been holding inside for weeks at the same time, the taunts and threats mingling in the hot air between them.

“The only time I’ve heard you sing well in seven years was when I made you cum against me!”

“Next time I’ll take revenge and give you the hot dirty fuck that a lesbian loser like you deserves!”

“You were fucking lucky I didn’t end up with you right there making you cum like a sow!”

“There’s not a night that goes by that I don’t finger myself thinking about how you cum against me!”

“If I hadn’t held back, I would have fucked you like you’ve never been fucked in your life but I’m not a dyke unlike you!”

“Don’t you remember how you cum against me like the bitch in heat that you are?”

The spiteful and cruel promises sealed the fate of the crucial return to glory event at that exact moment—they felt that they had tolerated each other’s heated existence for as long as humanly possible. No more hypocrisy while their hot bodies still remembered the way they had humiliated and been humiliated sexually against each other. It was time for the ultimate storm, and no camera had the right to capture it.

“Let’s settle this now!” Triple Spark’s idols menaced in unison. They all knew what needed to happen. It wasn’t a choice anymore—it was an inevitability.

With rough, unspoken agreement, the rivals grabbed at each other, pushing, struggling, their hands gripping fabric and flesh as their curves pressed each other, colliding as they maneuvered their way away from the living room down the narrow hallway that led to the bedrooms, where cameras were absent.

“You’re going to get what you deserve, nasty whores!” the guitarist grunted.

“You won’t be able to walk for days when I’m done with you, cheap cunts!” the keyboardist howled.

“I’m going to finish you and your shitty bodies, you filthy bitches!” the bassist spat out.

The first door they encountered was the one to Kaori’s room, so the three girls crashed through it to open it. Pulling each other’s hair angrily as they tried to kick each other, they continued to insult and gasp until, stumbling against one of the walls, the desperate beauties broke apart. Between gasps, with their chests heaving and hearts slamming against their ribs, the women looked at each other with hunger, barely aware of the room around them—with the exception of the bed in the corner, which seemed to call out to them like the siren who wanted to crash Triple Spark’s ship against the sharp rocks. Their bodies trembled—not with fear, not even with nervousness, but with sick, dangerous anticipation. Without cameras, and without interruptions at least for a long time, they were finally ready to settle everything in the way they had learned from each other.

It was difficult to know who moved first, but the three rivals acted practically at the same time, pushed by the others. Slowly and deliberately, the idols reached for the hem of their shirts, their eyes on fire locked onto their hated bandmates in a tacit defiance. Their fingers curled around the fabric and, with a slow, steady motion, they pulled it over their heads, letting the tops drop to the floor. Without wasting time, the girls grabbed the back clasp of their lace bras and deftly unfastened it before the lingerie fell over the shirts. The heated air hit her skin as, for the first time in seven years, they could contemplate the breasts they had envied so much fully exposed.

The six most desired boobs by J-pop fans weren’t especially large, although certainly heavier than people might think, and tremendously firm, round and high, untouched by time or imperfection. Their pinkish nipples were thick and long, but well compensated with respect to chest size. To the anger of the young enemies, it was uncanny how similar their breasts looked in the nude, and it didn’t appear that either had an advantage in size or density—even the pale and smooth flawless skin of the B-cup bosoms was identical in tone. But admitting that equality between the proud assets they had been boasting about for years wasn’t something that belonged to the arrogant idols, especially after having called rival boobs small, saggy and ugly countless times. Their gazes burned as they scrutinized each other, eyes roaming each other’s chests with a mixture of rage and denial, each girl convinced to the core of her breast superiority, that her feminine glands were most desirable and attractive. They wouldn’t recognize a damn thing.

“Your little tits are even more pathetic than I imagined,” Emiko sneered, lifting her chin as she deliberately arched her back to push her bosoms forward. “So much time listening to you bragging about them, and look at them now,” she said as she gestured toward Kaori and Izumi with a flick of her fingers, as if dismissing their busts as trivial and unworthy of comparison. “Just turned 20 and they’re already sagging. It must be fucking embarrassing for both of you.”

“Are you blind, Emiko, or just desperate?” Kaori let out a lonely laugh, but there was no humor in it, only contempt. She mimicked the brunette’s smug posture. “Yours and Izumi’s look like soft pears. You can’t possibly have the guts to compare them with my pair now that you see mine in all their splendor.”

“Please, Kaori, you’re more stupid than you look, which is a lot,” Izumi grumbled before she shook her red hair in the air and stuck out her chest. “You and Emiko are just jealous. All the fans know I have the best tits in the band, and now you bitches do too. Mine are bigger and firmer, period.”

“You’re both delusional, you slow-class sluts,” Emiko snapped. “I have felt your weak tits against mine in our fights, and you both know that I clearly beat you when it comes to that.”

“If you believe that, you fucking posh cunt, why don’t you bring yours here and I’ll give you the lesson you’ve been asking for for years?” Kaori spat out. “We’ll see who beats who in that department.”

“Oh, if that is what you want, I’m in, you little tramps,” Izumi grunted. “I have no problem showing both of you how to beat another woman there.”

“I have no problem crushing you both at the same time, Izumi,” Kaori spoke again.

“I’ll be the only one who crushes your soft things,” Emiko said. “But I won’t settle for that. We’ve come to solve everything, so let’s do this all the way through,” she growled, hooking her fingers into the band of her denim shorts.

“I agree,” Izumi declared, her beautiful eyes gleaming like a predator who had just scented blood “Take off your shorts, bitches.”

“It’s your funeral,” Kaori just shrugged her shoulders arrogantly.

The breathing of the idols quickened—subtle at first, but swiftly transforming into sharp, shallow intakes of air. Their hearts pounded like war drums, each beat resonating through their naked chests with a relentless rhythm as they slowly, almost torturously, tugged their shorts downward. The rough fabric scraped against their soft skin, until the denim pooled around their ankles. The rivals kicked their pants aside as they stood up and looked at the last line of defense: the black lace panties that still covered the definitive armament of each female.

It was still not enough. Their impatient fingers curled around the lingerie, and then, with a final, synchronized breath, the girls pulled. The lace slid down, the soft fabric whispering against the skin like a final warning. Long before the panties hit the floor, the eyes of the bandmates were already obsessed with each other’s intimate nudity. The pussies of the beauties looked delicate but tight, with thick labia and strong pubic mounds with neatly trimmed hair— no surprise, the carpet matched the drapes. In the atmosphere of the room, they could all smell each other’s wet arousal, but even without that sexual aroma there was no doubt that Triple Spark’s stars were at that point of hatred-drive stimulation at the sight of the clitorises emerging from their skin hoods, prepared in length and hardness for the duel.

Just at that vital moment of absolute exposure, the house cameras were activated, and the live online broadcast began. Fans and onlookers around the world held their breath, waiting to see the seductive, charismatic idols appear on one of the screens even though the concert on the beach had been a huge letdown. However, there was no sign of any of them in the main room, the kitchen, the terrace or the main entrance. Many wondered if it was a hype tactic, with the sudden appearance of idols in one or two minutes, while a wave of nervousness began to be felt heavily at Ongaku Records headquarters.

What none of them were able to imagine was that, just at that very instant, the naked bodies of Izumi, Emiko and Kaori were clashing together in the center of the kawaii blonde’s bedroom. With a long moan, the bandmates pushed and twisted their naked breasts against each other, pressing and rubbing the right gland against the left of one opponent, the left boob against the right of the other challenger—Kaori versus Izumi and Emiko, Emiko versus Kaori and Izumi, Izumi versus Emiko and Kaori. In that hateful triangle of jealousy and flesh, one hand gripped the hair of the woman on the right while the other clutched at the waist of the woman on the left, nails lacerating soft scalp and sensitive skin mercilessly.

To the surprise of the idols themselves, the battle of bodies began with slow movements, and without their usual huge overconfidence taking control of their mouths. Silently, they assaulted each other in a 3-way titfight where there were no barriers and no distractions, only the raw sensation of flesh against flesh in hot aggressive intimacy. The firm, gravity-defying boobs immediately began to throb from the fervent and harsh friction, the skin-to-skin contact sending electrical jolts through women, but that didn’t stop any of them—raw hatred, mixed in explosive cocktail with jealousy and arrogance, wouldn’t allow it until two of them ended up on the floor exhausted, broken, covered with their own wet femininity, in the ultimate defeat.

The rival bandmates gasped as they pressed their bosoms a little tougher against their sexy counterparts. The girls mentally cursed the firmness of the other’s flesh, but they were sure that their own breasts, guided by their hard nipples, would penetrate the other’s defenses sooner rather than later. Still, neither of them could deny the vulnerability that their enemies’ glands and nipples were arousing in their exposed weapons. They hated the way the skin slid, the way the flesh deformed against each other’s without forcing it to yield. They swore that they could feel every pulse, every twitch, every unconscious shift of the other boobs as if the bodies of the three women had fused together.

Minutes passed, countless for the Japanese sexual warriors, but only three or four in the real world where everyone was wondering where Triple Spark was. The contest of sheer dominance continued as the six firm bosoms met in electrifying rubbing, malleability against malleability, heat melting into heat, with no idol backing down. Their tough nipples dragged against the opposing flesh, always seeking each other out in fencing grapples. Soon sweat began to soak the aroused bodies, and breaths came in ragged gasps, the beauties exhaling soft moans and choked gasps over and over again. The pleasure was already undeniable, thick and devouring, but even more intense was the viciousness that was motivating the girls to keep going.

“You two don’t stand a chance,” Kaori finally gasped, her voice slightly cracked. “My tits are superior. My nipples are superior.”

“You’re both already losing,” Izumi replied with arrogance and a touch of emotional exhaustion. “You never stood a chance against tits and nipples like mine.”

“I can feel your pathetic tits squashing and your nipples bending,” Emiko grunted, a hint of frustration flashing in her overconfident tone. “You’re both going to lose this.”

The tension in the bedroom swelled like an unstoppable tide, like an unbearable crescendo of exasperation and hatred, of resentfulness and conceit. The past came in the form of trauma, and Kaori suddenly found herself tasting on the tip of her tongue the bitterness of defeat against Izumi, while Izumi felt the lingering ghost of Emiko’s domination, while Emiko recalled her unbearable and humiliating collapse facing Kaori.

It wasn’t enough to crush the other breasts, so, without thinking, the hands of the music stars began to move. Keeping the left hands plunged wrist-deep in the other silky, lush hair, the right hands slid down the body of the woman who humiliated them orgasmically until they reached the exposed, helpless sex—Kaori’s fingers reached Izumi’s pussy, Izumi’s hand reached Emiko’s snatch and Emiko’s claws reached Kaori’s cunt. A sharp jolt coursed through the excited flesh of the warring bodies, and a long, guttural triple gasp echoed off the walls of the room.

“I’m going to fuck you!” Triple Spark’s singing voices roared in unison in a harmony that had never been heard before in any stadium. Without mercy, they immediately started to finger the deepest parts of each other’s sexual pride, as their fiery-eyed gazes turned to the woman they wanted to humiliate, but also to the one they had humiliated.

“You’re going to cum like the horny whore you’ve always been,” Emiko threatened Kaori before turning her face towards Izumi. “And I’ll make sure you cum against me again like last time, you nasty cow.”

“You’ll never make me cum again, but I’ll make you cum like a sow,” Izumi counterattacked the brunette before turning her attention to the blonde. “And you already know what it’s like to cum against my hand, don’t you, ugly bitch?”

“This time you’ll be the one to cum, you ginger slut, and you’ll do it hard,” Kaori challenged Izumi before looking at Emiko. “And you don’t worry, little tramp, because I won’t forget to fuck your pussy even better than in that cleaning closet.”

With their chests still jostling for position futilely, bassist, guitarist and keyboardist raped each other with hands strengthened by years of playing instruments. Their fingers tightened, sliding in and out of each other’s sex hole with speed and skill—they knew what they liked when they masturbated, and they were lewd enough to know that the same would work with their rival. They all felt the growing, involuntary contractions in their pussies, the cruel assault forcing them to bite their lips as their hearts pounded so violently that they threatened to explode before their orgasms did. None of them could still believe that the women they hated could push them so close to climax in such a short time, when the men needed so much more, but they knew that the humiliation would cease to matter if they forced their bandmates first.

There wasn’t long to wait. At the same time that the phones in the Ongaku Records offices were ringing almost as if they had impatience of their own and the different communication agencies were asking for explanations for Triple Spark’s absence from the band’s big event, Emiko, Kaori and Izumi finally broke each other. An angry, hot triple moan echoed in the electrified air as the brunette took revenge on the blonde, the blonde on the redhead and the redhead on the brunette forcing a sudden, abrupt orgasm that, instead of stopping the sex war, it turned it violent.

“You bitch!” each young beauty howled at her subduer as they fell together onto the bed. The idols tangled together, their slippery nude bodies, still trembling under the waves of the degrading climaxes, squeezing against one another in a chaos of limbs.

“You loser!” Izumi shoved forward, forcing Emiko onto her back, her hands gripping the bassist’s shoulders as she tried to bury her into the mattress.

“You weakling!” Kaori charged from her knees, grabbing the redhead’s waist to twist her around and knock her onto her back.

“You’re pathetic!” Emiko lunged from the side, throwing her weight against both of them.

The girls rolled around in a jumble of sweat and tangled arms and legs, gasping and grunting. The bed frame thudded against the wall as the sexual fight was fought equally, chaotically on every centimeter of the mattress, a constant rotation of bodies taking control, only to lose it a moment later. It was impossible to tell who was winning.

 “Let’s fuck for real!” Izumi challenged as somehow the three cunts finally collided together with force. The girls howled with pleasure, feeling for the first time not just one pussy of another woman, but two, against their own. Pulling each other’s hair, clawing at each other’s breasts and pinching hard nipples, the rivals immediately began to move their hips forward and backward, up and down, their sweaty legs awkwardly locked together like an octopus coiled around itself. The bodies tensed as they felt the power of the other two clitorises over and over again, every woman surprised at the hardness and thickness of the other weapons of mass destruction, but also of hers. The room was heavy with the scent of sex and the tension of the competition while the battle escalated beyond all expectations—one thing was to threaten, and another was to fuck cunt to cunt for real. 

“I’ll make both of you submit first this time!” Kaori groaned through clenched teeth, her voice sharp and filled with the heat of the battle. Her hands grabbed a leg that she didn’t know if it was Emiko’s or Izumi’s, pulling it toward her to force even more intimate sexual contact. “You’re so fucking close, I can feel it!”

“Come on, cum both of you already!” Emiko grunted, tilting her head back to concentrate on her wet labia to make it bite any clitoris within reach. “You girls are pathetic at fucking!”

“I’m going to fuck you both so hard that they will find you lying on this bed, unable to move!” Izumi promised before lacerating the opposing boobs with their fingernails. “You’ll need a whole month to recover from this!”

The pace of the sexual intercourse accelerated and harmonized between the bandmates, the sound of intimate flesh sounding wet shock after shock, friction after friction. The bed creaked under the relentless struggle as every inch of the bodies burned with the effort of the struggle, as every little movement sent them closer to the edge.

The growing sexual tension of the last few weeks ended up increasing the carnal pressure to such an extent that it was impossible for the idols to hold back any longer. As soon as the clitorises touched and bent once more, it all ended. It was a simultaneous release, again, but that time with a sense of absolute demolition such as they had never felt before in their lives. The three beauties shouted at the top of their lungs, orgasming hard against the seductive pussies of their archrivals, in total surrender. Neither was able to articulate a word while a climax chained with another one until, a couple of minutes later, Izumi, Kaori and Emiko collapsed.

The last gasps, moans and screams had been picked up by the cameras in the other rooms, so the signal of the live online broadcast was immediately cut off—but it was too late. Several members of security rushed to the beach house, with orders to stop whatever was happening inside—but it was too late for that too.

When two minutes later the head of Ongaku Records got the call about what had been found in the bedroom, he didn’t understand exactly what had happened. He had expected them to be found tearing each other apart, like in Fukuoka Dome, not completely naked, in what looked like the aftermath of a wild lesbian sex session. However, he did know that it would take the biggest diversion campaign in the history of the music world to cover up a scandal of such magnitude. For a moment, however, he really wondered if Triple Spark was worth saving.

Chapter 6
Lens of Hatred

Izumi Aoki stood in front of the camera, rolling one hip outward as she took a breath to puff out her chest proudly. The lighting of the photo studio in Kamakuza was perfect for highlighting the idol’s beautiful shoulder-length red hair and light brown eyes, but that day nothing stole more attention than her young body. The guitarist wasn’t sure why, but since a month and a half ago she had been involved in a crazy, competitive sex session with both of her bandmates, her curves seemed to be a little juicier, and constantly electrified. At that precise moment, her breasts filled more than usual the red lace bralette she was posing with, with the touch of the soft fabric bristling her sensitive titflesh. Further down, under her knee-length crimson skirt, Izumi still felt the throbbing in a crotch that no amount of masturbation seemed to calm.

There hadn’t been a day or night that Izumi hadn’t obsessively thought about what had happened in the last moments of the A Spark of Three event. Surprisingly, and despite the initial confusion, she had ended up accepting the state of things between her and her colleagues, with sex and orgasms as a bargaining chip in their increasingly corrupt rivalry. But that didn’t change the fact that she felt really frustrated by her own inability to carnally subdue Kaori and Emiko when the toxic relations between the three idols had been definitively broken by the mutual threat and challenge to rape each other. Izumi had been very confident that she would tame her bandmates in that beach house—she had already subdued Kaori before, and despite the precedent of Emiko taking her by surprise and beating her in the first private meeting between them, she felt that the bassist was no match for her sex appeal—but things hadn’t turned out as she had hoped. The two sexual climaxes she had yielded to her enemies still bothered her, and Izumi couldn’t stop cursing for the interruption that had prevented her from taking revenge for that. The final draw in points and orgasms was really unsatisfactory.

But a hyper-sensitized body and an anxious frustration weren’t the only issue gnawing at Izumi’s heart. The bad concert that Triple Spark had given at the event and the mysterious disappearance of the girls during the subsequent live broadcast had triggered rumors around the band. Ongaku Records had come out against all of them, especially those that theorized about the grunts, gasps and moans that some cameras in the house seemed to have picked up. However, there were only a few people who had believed the official announcement that Izumi, Emiko and Kaori had fallen ill. There were comments on Facebook and Twitter that there had been a catfight between the young idols, which would explain their absence from all media and social networks due to “illness” for a month and a half. However, on 5chan and Reddit the theories were more perverted. Some fans claimed that the women had been having sex, and that the company was hiding it so as not to admit that its idols were lesbians to avoid disturbing in certain countries where streaming and record sales could be negatively affected. When Izumi read such comments, she couldn’t help but let out a wry laugh, as some fantasizing fans were very close to the truth—in form, but not in substance.

“Beautiful, Aoki-san,” the photographer said behind the lens. The man, a handsome specimen with tousled blond hair and green eyes, dropped to one knee. “Can you show off a little more of those nice breasts of yours? Your bosses have asked me to make the photos as hot as possible, and have paid generously to guarantee it.”

Izumi knew what men liked, so she used her elbows to squeeze her boobs together in generous display. She smiled, her red-painted lips and black-lined eyes captivating the camera, captivating at that attractive photographer she was planning to fuck later, but her mind remained elsewhere. Of course, Ongaku Records was making sure that those photo shoots were perfect, as they were desperate to save the reputation of Triple Spark. Izumi still couldn’t believe that the three of them hadn’t been fired after being discovered naked and panting in the same bedroom, but there was no band that the company had ever invested more money in, and no band that had given them more profit. The executives weren’t about to lose that gold mine, even when it seemed to be about to be depleted, so it didn’t come as a surprise to the guitarist when it all came down to a vociferous scolding in the office of Ongaku Records’ top dog and an order to keep them apart for a while, as if they were volatile chemicals. Concerts had been postponed and all kinds of events canceled—until today.

Another pose, and another series of clicks from the camera. Izumi turned her back to the lens and looked over her shoulder while showing off her hard ass. She remembered how hard she had worked her gluteal muscles in the final three-way tribadism between idols, and how Emiko and Kaori had matched her frenetic pace of thrusting and rubbing. She would never in her life have imagined impaling her thick clitoris against another woman’s, let alone against the weapons of her two rivals within the band. But the truth was that she was eager to have another opportunity to lock clitoris against clitoris against them so that she could finally claim the supremacy that rightfully belonged to her.

“Let’s try something more intimate,” the photographer said softly. “Slide one of the bra straps off one shoulder. Let’s tempt them a little more.”

Izumi obeyed, but she didn’t do it for the camera or the audience, but for Kaori and Emiko. She was convinced that she was by far the sexiest girl at Triple Spark, and she was going to prove it at every opportunity she got—although some opportunities had to be forced.

“Did the photo shoots with my bandmates go well?” the redhead asked with feigned innocence, not wanting to show that she was trying to get information. She suggestively grabbed one of her breasts from underneath while posing. “Did you get any good photos?”

“Kaori-san looked great, as always,” the man replied. “She was here just an hour ago, giving it her all. That girl has passion.”

“Well, that’s one opinion,” Izumi almost growled as she recalled how she had humiliated the blonde with a microphone in her sweet victory in the recording studio. “And Emiko?”

“She has her photo shoot in about half an hour,” he explained. “Your company told me that it was important that none of you three were here at the same time because you have a busy day and they don’t want you to waste time chatting, so I’ll let you go in five minutes so you can get changed in the dressing room and leave on time.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Izumi commented. “And, by any chance, after Emiko, do you have any more work to do here?”

“Nothing,” the man said. “Studio is closed for the day. There’s a Carp–Giants game on in an hour, and I’m not missing it this time.”

Izumi smiled broadly, even though she felt her heart racing. There was her chance. The blonde had gotten away for now, but the brunette with whom she had unfinished business could be hers in a little while. She simply needed to set up a private moment with Emiko without the photographer or her company knowing. And she had an idea in mind of how to achieve it…

As the man had promised, Izumi was soon on her way to the dressing room. However, the guitarist walked past it and, still dressed in the sexy bralette and skirt ensemble, headed for a space of the studio that had caught her eye when she arrived: a large room behind double doors where the photographer stored everything that didn’t fit neatly on the main set. There was a bit of everything there, with racks of glittering costumes, piles of colorful curtains, some sci-fiction cardboard backdrops, a few ropes hanging lazily from the ceiling, and big boxes filled with who knows what. It was controlled chaos, but meticulously clean. Izumi knew that a storage room was the kind of place the photographer wouldn’t check when he finished Emiko’s photo shoot—especially if he was in a hurry to watch the baseball game.

It was time to wait, so Izumi left one of the doors slightly ajar so she could keep an eye on when Emiko arrived, and sat on a stool half-hidden behind part of a set that imitated the surface of the Moon. She took out her phone and checked what people were saying about Triple Spark on social media. The debate about what had happened at the band’s last event continued to feature in nine out of ten publications, but there was still room for a series of typical polls comparing the physical appearance of the three idols. Izumi was pleased to see that she was considered the sexiest in some of them, but she had to admit that Kaori and Emiko won their own share of surveys. To her surprise, just half an hour earlier someone had started a poll on Reddit about which of the bandmates seemed to be the best at sex, and at that moment the girls were tied with 261 votes each.

“If only you knew,” Izumi whispered to herself, just before voting herself into first place.

The guitarist was so engrossed in the online debates and discussions about them that she jumped when she heard the front door open. She leaned forward slightly to look behind the set, and through the crack in the half-open door she saw Emiko enter and greet the photographer—from her silly smile, Izumi knew that the brunette had also been dazzled by the man’s charm. Pushing a strand of red hair behind her ear, she listened intently.

“You look as spectacular as I imagined, Emiko-san,” the man flattered. “I’ve prepared an outfit for you similar to your colleagues’. It’s ready in the dressing room—it’s the second door down. Take your time while I set up the lighting on the photo set.” The photographer walked away, but added something as he did so. “Oh, by the way: they’ve done your make-up very well, but if you need to touch something up, there are some products there too.”

Izumi didn’t miss the opportunity and slipped towards the double doors, opening them quietly just as Emiko began to move down the hallway to the next room. Almost as if the brunette could smell her, she turned around and faced her, the bassist’s beautiful face halfway between surprise and eagerness. Izumi took advantage of the moment to take a look at Emiko’s face and outfit. The bassist’s make-up was on point, with dark red lipstick and the usual obscure shades for her dark brown eyes. Her clothes—snug black jeans and a sleeveless, low-cut top in deep grey—were charmingly effective, but from the look on the girl’s face, Izumi knew that she had the upper hand over Emiko because of her skimpier ensemble.

“I should’ve known you’d try to find me first.” Emiko’s lips curled in disdain. “You had to pay me back for visiting you in your hotel room. You know, the night I fucked you.”

“You arrogant bitch,” Izumi grunted under her breath. She had hoped that the ambush would make Emiko nervous, but instead of caution, the other idol had immediately gone on the attack, reminding her of the bitter defeat she had inflicted on her months earlier. “You keep pretending that night means something after everything that’s happened since then.” She took a step forward, closing the distance between herself and her bandmate. “Or have you forgotten how I whipped your tits and pussy at the beach house?”

“I was the one who ruined you and Kaori at the same time,” the brunette protested, before glancing quickly over her shoulder and lowering her voice a little more. “I flattened your tits easily, and made you climax against me… twice.”

“It was me who made the useless hāfu and you come against me, twice each,” the redhead replied. “Don’t forget it.”

“You’ll have to put that smug self-confidence of yours to the test, Izumi,” Emiko said. “And since you’ve ambushed me here, you must have some kind of pathetic plan so that we can both resolve our issues today…”

“Don’t worry,” Izumi replied coldly. “I have the right place, the right time, and the right woman.”

“Meaning?” Emiko tilted her head, skeptical.

“Meaning you’ll finish your session. You’ll smile at the man, say you’re done for the day and you’re in a hurry,” the redhead explained. “So just pretend you’re going to change, but come to this storage room instead.” She gave her bandmate’s body a disgusted look from head to toe. “Come find me wearing the same outfit you wore to the session.”

“So what you want is for us to hide until the photographer leaves and we have this place to ourselves,” the bassist almost hissed.

“Exactly,” the guitarist nodded. “And when I’m done with your cunt, I’ll call the building’s doorman. With my charm, it won’t be difficult to get him to open the door for us.”

“Well, not bad for an idiot like you,” Emiko admitted. Without further ado, she turned and began to sway towards the next room. “See you soon, it seems. Get your stinky pussy ready for what’s coming…”

The next half hour felt like an eternity for Izumi. Hiding again in the room, she heard the voices of Emiko and the photographer in the background while his body gradually began to boil. Her nipples slowly but surely hardened, and she could feel her clitoris timidly emerging from its hood. By the time she finally heard her black-haired bandmate say goodbye to the photographer, the temperature around her had risen several degrees.

One of the storage room doors slid silently open as Emiko entered. The brunette’s outfit mirrored hers in terms of cut and texture—lace bralette and knee-length skirt—but with a dark color palette instead of red tones. Izumi could imagine that the photographer had chosen similar clothes for Kaori, but in pink, or maybe yellow. Emiko put a finger to her generous mouth to demand silence as she closed the door behind her, Izumi reacted by slowly licking her thick lips and beginning to circle her opponent.

“As soon as he’s gone,” she murmured while watching Emiko carefully keep her distance with slow steps, “I’m going to finish you. You won’t be saved by a group climax this time.”

“I won’t need to be saved,” Emiko replied. Her voice was low, but every syllable sliced through the quiet. “You failed in your attempt to fuck me at the hotel, and you’ll fail again now.”

“I only lost because it was supposed to be a catfight, and you turned it into fucking,” the redhead accused as her eyes narrowed. “This time, I know exactly what I’m going to do with you.”

Emiko opened her mouth, but her fiery comeback was interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside. Then both idols heard the photographer’s voice, next to the door of the dressing room.

“Emiko-san?” he asked. “Hmm, she must’ve left fast.”

Seconds later, the metallic jingle of keys was heard, followed by the click of a lock. The man’s footsteps faded into the distance… and the gaze of the two locked-up beauties met with a different sparkle.

“Take off your skirt and panties,” Izumi grunted, without wasting a second in challenging and imposing the rules. For a moment, she could hear only her own measured, sharp, and increasingly shallow breath reflecting the rhythm of Emiko’s pants.

Without breaking eye contact, the girls grabbed the hems of their skirts, their breasts rising and falling with restrained urgency. The fabric slid down their toned hips and thighs, and soon their white lace panties followed. The air between Izumi and her enemy grew thicker with the promise of domination as soon as their naked sexes were exposed. Izumi hungrily observed Emiko’s strong, delicately trimmed pussy, and noticed the brunette’s clitoris peeking timidly from its skin shelter. She was aware that her own cunt had the same thick labia and burly mound, but from the throbbing she felt in her own clit, she knew where the key to their carnal and private duel lay.

“Let’s fuck,” the brunette challenged her.

“Come and get me,” the redhead replied.

Izumi and Emiko closed the small space that remained between their bodies, and when their boobs met in soft, lace-shielded contact, both idols exhaled. The warm curves molded together, and the redhead immediately felt the two pairs of nipples harden against each other. Somehow Emiko’s points of tension and even her glands felt a little bigger than last time, which almost provoked Izumi to resume the inconclusive breast duel from a month and a half ago. But the second their lower bodies truly aligned, and Izumi felt the brunette’s bare pussy touch hers, all thoughts of the battle of bosoms were burned away in a single white-hot rush of toxic lust.

“This will be quick,” Emiko gasped. “And it will end the same way as the first time in the hotel, with you coming all over me, you lesbian’s daughter.”

“I’m going to make you come like you never dreamed possible,” Izumi challenged. “What I did to you at the beach house will be nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you here and now.”

“You didn’t win at the beach house, even with bitch Kaori help,” the brunette growled back. “One on one, you don’t stand a chance against me, and you know it.”

“When I’m done with you, you can go back to your parents crying, if their fake relationship hasn’t finally broken down!” Izumi confronted.

“Just shut up!” Emiko grunted. “You little cunt!”

Izumi responded with a skillful, well-aimed movement of her pelvis. The assault caused the tips of the semi-erect clits to rub together, forcing the contending idols to moan loudly. Before she could stop herself, the redhead found herself grinding her nude cunt against Emiko’s with hunger, with both beauties falling into a heated rhythm of pressure, friction and defiance. Feeling the bassist’s hot sex competing against hers, Izumi opened her legs a little wider as she hugged her opponent around the hips. Emiko responded by wrapping her arms around Izumi’s lower torso while also parting her thighs to bring their pussies closer together.

Izumi noticed how Emiko’s clitoris hardened completely after just a few seconds of brushing, but she was relieved to feel hers toughening just as quickly. The powerful shafts collided again and again, causing the women to gasp in unison, but there was no hesitation in the raw and rebellious honesty of that duel of soft flesh against soft flesh, heat against heat. Izumi remembered how it had ended last time, when the three bandmates had finally brought their erect clits together in desperate battle. It had been just one or two frantic minutes, but it had been enough for the girls to climax at the same time with such intensity that they were momentarily exhausted and helpless. For Izumi, who had always boasted that she could endure a whole night of fucking men if necessary, it had been embarrassing how quickly her clitoris had betrayed her. The exquisite pleasure of humiliating Emiko’s and Kaori’s clits brought her some liberation, but it was insufficient. Now, she had the opportunity to redeem herself, showing one of her rivals that challenging her formidable sexual weapon had consequences.

“Is your weak clit planning to last more than a minute this time, you tramp?” Izumi grunted, shaping her frenzied thoughts aloud.

“Your pathetic thing didn’t last long then, and it won’t last now,” Emiko replied.

“I’m going to make sure I destroy what’s left of that little arrogant clit of yours,” the guitarist said just before quickening her pace of her pelvis.

“You bitch.” The brunette’s hips snapped forward with urgency.

The bellies of the rivals slid slickly together, more and more sweaty, as both women now rubbed against each other with intent, each thrust of their clits seeking to finish off the other. Izumi’s gaze remained unflinching as she met each of Emiko’s thrust with an even stronger one, forcing growl after growl from both throats.

Three minutes passed like that, or maybe six, until Izumi found herself locking thighs with Emiko. A small pool of sweat had formed on the floor around the idols, who didn’t stop the swaying of hips and the reckless scrubbing of cunts and clits. That was a fight of pure physical and erotic endurance, and Izumi was determined to be the one who would hold out until the end, even with her clit throbbing and aching from the raw assault of the bassist’s percussive sexual weapon. There was no elegance now, only determination, the guitarist looking into Emiko’s eyes to see herself reflected—burning, sweating and, above all else, needing so badly to prove the other wrong after years of hatred.

Suddenly, the reckless, uncompromising race to force the challenger’s orgasm came to a resolution. A long moan escaped in unison from both bandmates’ throats, but it was only one of their clits that yielded to the other. Izumi felt it first—not in herself, but in Emiko—so she simply pressed harder. A violent twitch ran through the brunette’s frame, followed by a chocked, incredulous gasp. And, half a second later, the shattering, raw, undeniable climax erupted. Izumi let out a long laugh of pleasure as Emiko’s cry filled the room—half surrender, half fury, all carnal defeat.

“I knew you were lucky the first time, you weak tramp!” Izumi gasped excitedly. “I’ve always been the alpha bitch of this band!” She secured her victory by rubbing her triumphant clit a couple more times against Emiko’s before starting to push herself away from her, conscious of the proximity of her own orgasm.

“No!” Emiko hissed, her breath ragging. To Izumi’s surprise, her rival grabbed her hair furiously. “We’re not done yet, you little whore!”

Izumi’s moment of conquest came to an abrupt end when Emiko threw herself at her like a maniac. The redhead found herself on the defensive as the brunette tugged at her reddish hair and, out of the blue, sank her teeth into her right shoulder.

“Fuck! You animal!” Izumi screamed, going immediately on the counterattack. Her fingers tangled in Emiko’s long dark hair, and her mouth sought immediate revenge on the neck of her fellow bandmate with an angry bite.

All of a sudden, the situation turned into the catfight that had always seemed about to break out between them. The two beauties screamed, kicked, and pulled hair, and soon fell to the floor, biting and clawing each other nonstop. Izumi felt the anger that had been building up for seven years explode as she tangled her bare thighs with Emiko’s, the two women rolling around as they tried to pin each other down. Desperately, the redhead released one of her hands from her rival’s dark hair to grab and squeeze Emiko’s sensitive left boob, but immediately received a bitter counter-offensive with a painful pinch to her right nipple through the thin fabric of her red bralette. Emiko then pushed her to the ground, digging her nails into her sides and thighs as flashes of hatred gleamed in her eyes. Izumi writhed in revenge, her own claws leaving long reddish marks along the bassist’s flat belly and lower chest. The moment Izumi sensed a flicker of weakness in Emiko, she shoved her aside and went straight for her breasts to tear into them with her sharp teeth, only to find the brunette already biting into hers.

The female-to-female battle heated up, with Izumi giving it her all with tooth and nail and Emiko matching her fury and appetite for destruction. But even in that outburst of resentment, Izumi could see that none of them were hitting or biting randomly. Both kept the other’s magazine-cover-worthy face out of reach, assaulting and bruising only parts that clothing could hide—with the only sacrifice of not wearing low-cut tops or shorts that were too revealing for a season. They weren’t ready for the truth to be exposed in the universal language of scratches and bruises—not yet—and even in the only moments when they lost some control and lacerated each other’s exposed necks, a little post-fight make-up would still keep the secret between them.

Suddenly, Emiko made an unexpected move that turned the conflict into a truly dangerous contest. Raising one of her hands, she grabbed one of the ropes hanging from the ceiling and pulled it down. Before Izumi had time to react, the bassist pushed her right knee against her chest to immobilize her while trying to tie her hands.

“Just stay still for a moment and it will all be over,” Emiko hissed with a glint of madness in her eyes, but Izumi managed to kick it away from her.

Both idols leap to their feet at the same time, but Izumi was quick enough to grab a stool and throw it at Emiko. The brunette dodged it at the last moment, while the redhead took advantage of the situation to grab her own rope. 

“Two can play this game!” Izumi roared.

Colliding body to body in the center of the room, the bandmates clumsily try to restrain and tie up the other. The adrenaline rush of knowing that one of them could be at the mercy of the other without being able to defend herself in a matter of seconds almost triggered the orgasm that was still throbbing in Izumi’s cunt, but all the J-pop stars achieved after an intense struggle was that the ropes tangled them together, shoulder to shoulder, breast to breast, pelvis to pelvis.

Seconds later, the double doors burst open with a loud thud as Emiko shoved Izumi backwards. The guitarist’s back hit the floor first, and the breath was briefly knocked from her lungs. But as she instinctively yanked on the rope to keep it from slipping away, a shared moan escaped from both rival beauties. Only then did Izumi realize that in their tangled state, the ropes had become wedged between their most intimate parts—pressed tightly along the line of their bare anatomy, from the mons pubis, through the labia, and down across the cleft of the buttocks. Izumi’s light brown eyes opened slightly as she felt the pressure of the fiber almost forcing her to cum.

“You bitch! Even when I’m kicking your ass, you have to make everything between us sexual,” Izumi complained, pulling on the rope again just for the pleasure of seeing Emiko gasp, even though the action was self-sabotage. “Still sensitive from losing a few minutes ago?”

“I’m going to rape you with these ropes until you shut up!” the brunette provoked. “Then we’ll know who’s the best woman.”

The tension in the ropes tightened once more as both girls instinctively pulled in opposite directions. Izumi joined Emiko’s long howl of pleasure as the ropes dragged across heated, hypersensitive flesh. In that intense and odd test of mutual sexual endurance, Izumi gave in first, unable to delay the inevitable for more than another minute. A devastating climax coursed through her body, making her buck under Emiko’s weight.

Izumi didn’t give up, however, as she wasn’t going to allow her initial victory to be lost at the last moment. Still trembling from the seismic waves of orgasm, she grabbed the two ropes with both hands and, clenching her knuckles, pulled with all the strength that her hatred for Emiko gave her. On top of her, the brunette raised her head and howled like a wounded wolf—and she came for the second and last time that day. The bandmates’ warm feminine juices mixed together, soaking the ropes, until the two exhausted bodies of the idols separated when Izumi managed to push the bassist aside.

The redhead rose to her knees, sweaty and tired. Next to her, Emiko was panting breathlessly, her eyes closed, obviously unable to continue fighting. Izumi smiled, aware that she had finally achieved the revenge she had longed for since mid-July, three and a half months ago, on the arrogant brunette.

“Now we both know that when you beat me in the hotel, it was just a fluke,” she said. “This is the real you, humiliated and fucked by a superior woman. Never forget it, you dark-haired whore.”

“This is far from over, you filthy bitch,” Emiko gasped. “You have no idea what I have in store for Kaori and you.”

“Whatever.” Getting up, Izumi headed for the dressing room to find her clothes. “By the way, I hope you tidy everything up around here, or else you’ll have to explain to the photographer what I did to you when we were alone.” She let out a smug laugh. “And you don’t want that, do you?”

Izumi entered the next room, licking her lips with pleasure, unaware that Emiko’s threat was much more real than she imagined…

Chapter 7
Viral Echoes

Emiko Wada licked her lips in the back seat of the limousine, her finger hovering over the send button on her phone, but not out of hesitation. She was finally ready to unleash the trap that she had kept hidden, waiting for just the right moment, and she intended to savor every second of it. The beautiful brunette felt her heart beating faster, but above all, she felt the insistent throb between her thighs, beneath her short black dress. Then, recalling the humiliating fuck her bandmate Izumi had dealt her a week earlier, she tapped the screen.

It was like tossing a lit match into a dry field. A single audio file, only 47 seconds long, quickly spread across the world wide web, going viral on 5chan, Reddit, Twitter, Weibo, and through countless LINE and Instagram communities. It couldn’t be otherwise, because although the audio had been uploaded without a description or tag, its content was highly incendiary. The moans, gasps, and primal grunts of two women that might have been lifted straight from an adult film were controversial enough, but it was the venom-laced words of lust and hatred they spat at each other which really turned it into a scandalous manifestation.

Emiko, of course, knew perfectly well who the voices belonged to. After all, that audio was part of the recording that she had secretly made of Kaori and Izumi’s sexual war in the recording studio in Tokyo, and she was sure that with the precedent of the still-fresh conspiracy theories about what had happened during the beach event in people’s imaginations, many fans would recognize the voices of her bandmates. The trap was perfect, and by publishing it under a meaningless pseudonym—witch892291—she would be free of any blame, and all the controversy would fall on the other idols. But she wasn’t naive, as she knew that her enemies within the band would suspect her involvement. They would sense her behind it.

That was part of the pleasure. The bassist was counting on it as the limousine took her to a presentation for the Shiseido makeup brand, where the company was taking a risk by bringing two members of Triple Spark together. While Izumi was attending a fan event on the other side of town, Kaori would be waiting for Emiko at a luxurious new store that had opened in the center of Utsunomiya, and she couldn’t wait to see the arrogant blonde’s face drained of color, trembling with rage after hearing her own cries of defeat on the internet. She was already thinking about where in the store or in her surroundings Kaori would take her to resolve that affront. Emiko was ready for the fight, having left her bra and panties at home, despite possible complaints from her record company.

Emiko didn’t have to wait too long for that, as a few minutes later the limousine turned left just a couple of blocks before finally taking her to her destination. The brunette raised an eyebrow and sat up straight in her seat, and then the car stopped. Through the tinted window, Emiko saw an alleyway under the midday sun, and some closed warehouses—except for one.

“This is not the place,” she said. A sleek black partition between the front and back seats reflected her own narrowed eyes while she now turned to the driver, although only she could see a faint silhouette beyond the glass. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

In the absence of answers, Emiko reached for the door handle herself. The mere fact that no one opened it for her made her frown, having been accustomed to it since she was very young, already as heiress to her parents’ naval business empire. As she stepped out of the limousine, as soon as her black heels hit the hot asphalt, Emiko knew it was a trap, but not from some perverted man, but from someone closer and more expected.

Kaori was there, wearing a short dress similar to Emiko’s, but in pink. She was handing a stack of bills to the driver. The man didn’t dare look at Emiko, and wasted no time in speeding off with a generous bonus payment. It didn’t matter, because the dark-haired beauty’s attention was already fixed on her scheming bandmate.

“I hope you didn’t think you were the only one who knew how to pull the strings,” Kaori exclaimed coldly, but with a hint of anger in her soft voice. She raised her left hand, showing the screen of her cell phone. “Fifteen minutes, and the audio from a certain witch892291 already has over 50,000 plays. And that’s just on 5chan.” The blonde’s sexy lips curled into a defiant smirk. “Did you really think I was going to let that slide?”

“Are you accusing me of something?” Emiko feigned innocence with a forced expression. “Could it be because I leaked an edited audio recording of how Izumi fucked you?” She showed her own phone, almost as if she were confessing to a crime. “That would be a scandal, no doubt about it.”

“No names are mentioned in the audio,” Kaori intervened, “so no one will think that I…”

“They’re already talking about you and Izumi on the internet,” Emiko interrupted. “That’s what happens when your voices are famous all over the world, even if it’s for how badly you sing.”

“They can fantasize all they want, there is no evidence.” The beautiful keyboardist took a step forward. “It’s your word against mine and Izumi’s. And if you talk too much, I’ll have things to say too. Like how I felt you cum against my body at the last fan meeting.”

“You have no proof of that. No one would believe you,” Emiko growled, angry at the reminder. “I bet even you can’t believe it yourself.”

“That’s why we’re here, bitch,” Kaori said. “I’m going to fuck you again, this time harder than before, and then you’ll post with that fake nickname that you made the audio with AI.”

“No,” Emiko hissed like a snake about to bite. “This time I’ll give you the fuck you deserve, a good, hard fuck fight, as Izumi said before fucking you with that microphone.” She was the one who took a step forward now. “And then I’ll show up at the Shiseido event alone, while you’ll be the one who mysteriously vanished after the controversial audio recording, making it look like you couldn’t handle the pressure.”

“Only one of us is showing up at the store today,” the blonde spat out. “And it won’t be you.”

The young bombshells looked at each other with hatred and desire in the middle of the alley under the November sun. Emiko felt in the unusually warm air for that time of year that her move with the audio had raised the stakes, the danger, and the emotional voltage within Triple Spark like never before. Everything felt much more personal now, as she saw in the green-brown eyes of her rival.

“Well, you dirty konketsuji,” Emiko finally broke the silence. “You bribed the driver so I could fuck you here, in full view of anyone passing by on the street, or…”

“Or this!” Kaori lunged at the brunette. The two girls grabbed each other’s hair, digging their manicured fingers deep into each other’s tresses as their phones fell to the floor—their screens immediately smashed by the heels of both bandmates. They stumbled back and forth in the alley, growling and panting, until Emiko managed to elicit Kaori’s first moan of pain of the duel by sinking one of her hands into the blonde’s soft boobs and squeezing it under her dress—she felt that her foe wasn’t wearing a bra either. Kaori immediately retaliated by grabbing Emiko’s opposite breast and, before the bassist could react, the kawaii beauty’s teeth sank into one of her shoulders, nearly tearing the ultra-thin strap. Emiko retaliated by biting her enemy’s forearm, just before both bodies thudded hard against a large garbage container. The last of the heels on the women’s feet flew through the air, leaving Emiko and Kaori barefoot.

“Get in there already!” the blonde yelled, pushing the brunette hard.

Emiko found herself stumbling backwards—she suddenly noticed the change in the texture of the ground beneath her nude feet, from asphalt to floor tiles. She was now inside the only store open on the alley and, seeing Kaori follow her in without hesitation, Emiko knew that that was part of the blonde’s plan.

“You low-class whore,” the bassist grunted while Kaori slammed a button fixed to the wall. A mechanical hum erupted, and the large steel gate began to descend with a slow, ominous groan. “You like getting fucked in shitty places like this, huh?” Risking a quick glance around, she saw tall stacks of boxes labeled with logos of brands that she knew well: Shiseido, SUQQU, Sulwhasoo, Dior, Estée Lauder, Natura Bissé, Charlotte Tilbury—it was a warehouse for women’s beauty products. “Oh, at least I’ll be able to look presentable after giving you what you deserve and arrive at the event wearing the brand’s own makeup.”

“Just shut up and take off your dress,” Kaori challenged her directly, grabbing the straps of her pink one while, behind her, the alleyway sunlight was gradually narrowed to a fading slit until the heavy door reached its final clunking stop. The interior fell into a quiet gloom, broken only by the streaks of sun pouring in through a row of high, horizontal windows set near the top of the wall.

There was no patience or seduction on the part of either bandmate as they undressed, both removing their dresses like two females in heat who hadn’t had sex in years. Emiko had already expected her opponent’s bosoms to be braless, but she was surprised to see that the other girl matched her by not wearing panties either. Their young, beautiful, fit bodies stood completely naked in front of each other just two or three minutes after the idols had met.

“I can’t believe anyone would desire your pathetic half-foreign body,” Emiko insulted, looking at Kaori’s well-contoured curves.

“It’s much better than your spoiled rich girl body,” Kaori replied, looking up and down Emiko’s seductive figure with impudence and contempt. “Not even all your family’s money could fix it.”

“You’re a bitch, and everyone knows it,” the brunette exclaimed. “Bring your weak body here and you’ll see how wrong you are.”

The two contenders walked toward each other with quick steps, colliding chest to chest. Remembering how a heated kiss with Kaori made her succumb in her first sexual encounter, Emiko immediately sought redemption by pressing her full lips against the keyboardist’s delicious pair. Kaori seemed to be waiting for her, and the girls found themselves locking tongues and exchanging saliva while their hands gripped each other’s strong dancer’s buttocks. As in the fan event two and a half months ago, Emiko and Kaori began rubbing their bodies together, breasts against breasts, belly against belly, crotch against crotch, only that time there was no fabric between them. Of course, Emiko had already fucked naked with Kaori before, but for the bassist, that moment felt more like a continuation of that first time—and first defeat—since Izumi wasn’t there to complicate things and turn that rivalry into a threesome.

Emiko only needed a couple of body grinds for her entire body to start sweating and stiffen up. Her pink nipples hardened against their stiff counterparts on Kaori’s breasts, their thick weapons locking together in piercing dueling while the vulnerable titflesh tried to crush each other. Descending beyond their flat bellies, the blonde idol’s pelvis rotated to push her pussy against Emiko’s, the two contending private anatomies comparing volume and sensitivity in an increasingly soggy contest. The brunette already knew the burning sensations that Kaori’s sex conveyed from the sexual battle at the beach house, but somehow everything felt hotter in that warehouse. Her own clitoris soon found its twin in pleasure, and both hard nubs forced a long, double moan from the young beauties as they slid side by side.

“I wish I were recording this so I could upload another audio clip where everyone can hear how a cheap slut screams when a superior woman breaks her clit,” Emiko gasped, panting between feral licks that devoured Kaori’s mouth.

“You mean when I break yours with mine, right?” Kaori replied after biting Emiko’s lower lip. “One way or another, I’ll make sure your defeated voice is online because of what you did, bitch.”

“You and Izumi are finished,” the bassist boasted, leaving a harsh bite at the corner of the blonde’s mouth. “It doesn’t matter if Triple Spark has days or months left, because from today onwards, I’ll be the sole leader of the band.”

“Not when I’ve fucked you and the red-haired whore,” the keyboardist snorted as their lips rubbed together, tongue on tongue. “Yes, you heard right, a week ago I gave Izumi the good fuck she deserved, and today it’s your turn to get a second one!”

“I don’t care what you pervert lesbians do!” Emiko almost shouted. “Your body is mine today!”

The dirty argument intensified the fight. With long, provocative circular movements of their hips, Emiko and Kaori pressed their cunts and clits together with the passion of the hatred, and the brunette had to curse that her sweat-soaked skin was already bristling in what she knew well was the prelude to an orgasm. But she wasn’t alone in that threat, because Kaori was moaning with her mouth half open, her breathing growing increasingly shallow and erratic—an unmistakable sign she might be nearing the edge too. Perhaps that time it wouldn’t be her, but her nemesis, who would give in first.

“No!” Kaori groaned and, without warning, she slammed her forearm across Emiko’s collarbone and drove into her with full force. With a startled scream, the brunette stumbled backward under the impact, Kaori pressing in close as their bodies collided with a towering pile of boxes. Glass shattered, compacts burst open, and beauty products clattered and rolled across the concrete floor in every direction. But none of it mattered to Emiko as she lunged out from the chaos and seized Kaori’s neck with one hand, yanking her head back and driving her body backward with animal fury.

“Bitch!” she spat out, ramming her rival’s back against the cold concrete wall with a resounding thud.

“Cunt!” Kaori hissed through her teeth, her eyes blazing as she locked her fingers around Emiko’s neck in return.

With their fingers tightening around throats and breaths coming in ragged gasps, both idols used their free fists to deliver short, instinctive, untrained punches to each other’s ribs, driven more by fury than skill. Rolling down the wall and exchanging positions, blows, and chokeholds, the bandmates soon left each other breathless but with a mutual murderous rage that seemed impossible to extinguish. Amid the chaos and pain, Emiko then had a flash of recognition, for that raw violence and blind desperation weren’t new: it was the same darkness that had erupted in her sexual struggle with Izumi just a week earlier. Something was changing between the girls… for the worse.

Finally, the dark-haired beauty managed to pin Kaori body against body against the wall for more than a few seconds. Following her instinct, a mixture of her desire to suffocate and her thirst for revenge for a certain devastating kiss, Emiko roughly, hastily pressed her full lips and long tongue against Kaori’s again. The effect was immediate, and the blonde idol began to convulse and, just a few seconds later, to cum intensely.

“Yes!” Emiko felt exultant, aware that she had raped Kaori faster than she had expected—perhaps the audio had really affected her on every level. The brunette bit her rival’s lips as she felt the blonde’s hot juices soak her own pussy. “You were never a match for me, neither in fighting nor in fucking, and here’s the proof!”

Kaori responded, but not with words. Still trembling from the humiliating climax, Kaori dug her nails cruelly into Emiko’s bare buttocks to let her fury speak through her. The brunette gasped in sharp pain as the blonde let out a savage growl against her mouth and pushed forward. Barely having time to curse, Emiko was shoved backward and crashed onto a pile of boxes, the blonde straddling her with brutal intent.

“You think that was enough to end me?” the keyboardist hissed between clenched teeth as she forced Emiko down onto the crushed cardboard. “I can take ten sluts like you!”

The heat in the closed warehouse continued to rise as the sweat-slicked skin of the girls made intimate contact again, from head to toe. Emiko moaned as she felt Kaori’s weight pinning her down, the mass of the blonde’s firm bust and the heat of her crotch pressing the brunette against the floor. Emiko had assumed that her foe’s sexuality would be weakened after her climax, but instead, Kaori’s clit was like a battering ram, colliding with hers again and again with brutal, focused pressure. Biting her lower lip, Emiko focused on grinding her hips upward, meeting the other idol’s relentless assault with equal hatred.

“You bitch,” Emiko groaned as her lips hovered mere centimeters apart from Kaori’s, so close that inevitably both girls began to bite each other, savoring the saltiness of sweat and the heat of labored breathing. The brunette clawed at the blonde’s waist, pulling and twisting as she sought leverage, and forced her tongue as deep as she could into her rival’s saliva-filled mouth, but nothing could slow Kaori’s fierce determination. Emiko soon found herself desperately trying to stifle the orgasmic spasms that were beginning to spiral out of control deep inside her vagina.

It was a futile effort, though. The rapid, relentless pounding quickly drove Emiko past her limits, and within a couple of minutes, she was howling her climactic surrender as Kaori stole a filthy orgasm from her, raw cunt grinding against raw cunt. Trembling beneath the blonde, she waited to hear words of arrogance from her rival, but instead, she realized that Kaori wasn’t only seeking orgasmic retribution, but also absolute humiliation. As she tried to push the kawaii beauty off her with momentarily weakened strength, she saw Kaori grab a deep red lipstick from the floor. The blonde uncapped it with her teeth and, with deliberate contempt, spat the plastic top onto Emiko’s sweaty chest.

“Fucking your pussy is even more pleasurable than I remembered, you posh girl,” Kaori said just before she began to write directly across Emiko’s left breast with the lipstick. “There you go. Now even your skin admits what you are.”

Emiko looked down and froze. Scrawled in thick, mocking letters across the soft slope of her right breast was the word SLUT, smeared in deep, glossy crimson. For a second, her post-orgasmic haze held her motionless, but then the humiliation sank in—and she snapped. With a furious roar, she bucked violently, hurling Kaori sideways. The beauties started to roll across the warehouse floor in an outburst of violence that they both welcomed, their young bodies slamming into boxes as the battle turned savage. Firm breasts slammed together, nails tore at silky skin and tangled hair, and teeth found lips, shoulders, even chins. Emiko knew that they were slipping into the same madness that had overtaken her with Izumi a week earlier, but she wasn’t going to stop what she had been wanting for years—she only restrained herself from touching Kaori’s face, and the blonde seemed to accept the unspoken deal.

Soon all of Emiko’s flesh from her neck to her thighs was burning with pain and stimulation, and in desperation she reacted by clenching her right fist to punch her bandmate’s flat stomach. Kaori grunted, her body slumping for a second, and the brunette took advantage of the moment of weakness to mount her. Straddling her nemesis as she let out a soft growl of joy, Emiko snatched a purple lipstick rolling nearby, and uncapped it with a flick of her thumb.

“You like writing names?” she snarled through clenched teeth, leaning her sweaty torso over Kaori. “Well, let’s see how much you like it when I’m the one doing it to you, little cunt.” With cruel precision, Emiko quickly scrawled the word WHORE in purple on the keyboardist’s sweaty left boob. But before the other woman could react, the brunette dishonored the other breast with another insult: TOY. “It’s a pity that your ugly titties won’t be wearing these truths forever.”

“Just shut up, nasty tramp,” Kaori spat out, looking down at her marked bosoms with hatred in her eyes. “You stink!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Emiko saw her rival reach for something: a bottle of perfume. Half a second later, Kaori sprayed it in the bassist’s face, who could only close her eyes and groan at the sudden, suffocating cloud of alcohol and floral poison.

“Agh! Cheating hāfu!” Emiko fell on her butt, coughing and rubbing her face. Kaori lunged forward, yanked the purple lipstick from her fingers and shoved her flat onto the floor. A heartbeat later, the bassist’s breath hitched as the blonde pinning her down and writing something that would surely be rancorous across her other exposed gland.

“There. Now we match, bitch.” Emiko felt Kaori giving her bosoms a light slap. “Mine says ‘toy’. Yours says ‘trash’.” The keyboardist let out a cruel laugh. “What could I put on your forehead now?”

“Don’t you dare!” Emiko roared, blinking to regain sight. Desperate, she groped blindly at her sides, and her fingers unexpectedly closed around a can of women’s shaving foam. Kaori was so absorbed in smugly deciding how best to humiliate her that she didn’t notice Emiko’s fingers curling around the sleek cylinder, or the soft click as she popped off the cap.

“I’ve decided,” the blonde said. “I’m going to write ‘mine’ right—” Her words were cut short as Emiko suddenly sprayed a thick cloud of foam directly into her face. Kaori let out a startled gasp, her eyes blinking furiously while the brunette seized the moment, lunging forward with wild fury.

The two bandmates tumbled to the floor in a sadistic tangle where neither could see their opponent clearly, even though they didn’t need to. Like blindfolded beasts, they attacked on instinct, with teeth digging into sexy boobs, nails clawing at buttocks and legs coiling in a frenzied knot of jealousy. Emiko and Kaori howled in distress, and cursed through the blur of foam and tears, their bodies slipping and grinding across the floor, neither girl willing to concede.

That sensual violence couldn’t last too long. Emiko soon noticed that her body was reaching its physical and carnal limits, with Kaori’s dirty tricks bringing her closer and closer to her second climax. She responded by biting and licking the keyboardist’s hard, long nipples, enjoying Kaori’s moans of ravaged pleasure. But it was clear that wasn’t enough—she had to go for her wet cunt.

Then, through her still tearful gaze, Emiko saw a metallic object gleaming under the sun streaming through the windows. She recognized the potential of that golden facial roller, and pushed Kaori so that they both rolled toward it. Grabbing the sleek and cold device with her right hand, the dark-haired bassist suddenly inserted the long roller into Kaori’s cunt like a dildo. It wasn’t the biggest thing the kawaii idol had ever had inside her, but as soon as the metal touched her clitoris, all the overstimulation from the close and nude war with Emiko was enough to push her over the edge into a devastating orgasm. The brunette let out a victorious laugh as she felt her rival’s hot cum splashing on her hand, and insisted on moving the roller inside Kaori’s cunt until, with a kick, the blonde forced her to move away.

It didn’t matter, because as Emiko stood up, sweaty, sore, and exhausted, she could see that Kaori wasn’t going to be able to continue with that passionate duel. At last, she had her revenge for what the blonde had done to her at the fan event.

“You should have seen this coming, weakling,” Emiko hissed, placing her hands proudly on her hips. “A low-class, half-foreign slut like you was never a match for me.”

“I don’t care what you think, Emiko,” Kaori replied between gasps as she wiped more foam from her sweaty face. “I fucked you once, and I’ll do it again. This doesn’t change anything. If you hadn’t used that thing…”

“You started with the lipstick and the perfume, so screw you,” Emiko said back. “And screw you too with the audio I uploaded. You’re finished, just like Izumi.”

“I’ll get revenge for that too, bitch,” Kaori growled.

Seeing her bandmate on the floor, sweaty and naked, with lipstick marking her soft bosoms with insults, with her skin covered in scratches and bites, with her pussy soaked with feminine juices, Emiko had a cruel idea. Casting an arrogant glance at her beaten foe, she retrieved her dress. Covering her flushed body, she approached the exit and pressed the button to open the door. Behind her, she heard the blonde gasping and crawling, obviously trying to hide from anyone passing through the alley.

“Don’t worry, honey, I won’t be long,” Emiko teased.

Narrowing her eyes against the sudden glare of the sun, the brunette stepped outside, her body still buzzing with the aftershocks of triumph. She was determined to retrieve her cell phone and immortalize Kaori’s humiliating defeat with a merciless photo shoot, but a quick glance at the alley made her heart sank. Her personal device was gone, and so was Kaori’s. Someone had taken them. With so many compromising photos and reckless videos buried in her gallery, the weight of what could happen hit her like a punch to the gut. Emiko was in deep, undeniable trouble.

Chapter 8
The Elevator

Kaori Ishii stepped out of the black company car and, the moment her low heels touched the pavement outside the towering Ongaku Records building in the Tokyo district of Shinjuku, a blinding volley of camera flashes greeted her like a slap to the face. Dressed in a pristine white dress that clung to her slender frame, she instantly became the centerpiece of the media madness. A flock of paparazzi and reporters clustered like vultures at the foot of the stairs, braying questions, shoving microphones, screaming her name like bloodthirsty fans at a concert.

“Ishii-san! Did you really call Wada-san a ‘two-faced cum sponge’?!”

“Are the photos of you topless with several guys on a yacht in Ibiza real?”

“Did you sleep with Kaze-san just to, and I quote, ‘cunt-block that bitch Izumi’?”

“Fuck off!” Kaori snapped under her breath, not slowing her pace. “Fuck off!” she repeated, that time aloud. “Fuck you all, you fucking scumbags!”

Mere moments earlier, Izumi and Emiko had stepped out of their cars into the same blinding media frenzy, just to throw themselves at each other with claws and insults. Security barely managed to pull them apart after a brief but vicious hair-pulling scuffle, broadcast live on national and international television. The masks were now off, and the pristine image of Triple Spark’s sweet, iconic idols shattered in real time. Now, the truth about the cocky, foul-mouthed brats behind the glitter was out, and it was anything but pretty.

As Kaori was escorted into the nineteen-story glass-and-steel tower, the blonde silently cursed the whirlwind of events from the past seventy-two hours that had led her here. The sexual recording scandal involving Izumi and her still was still exploding across the media when a new wave of commotion hit: an anonymous person began leaking sensitive content allegedly taken from Emiko’s and Kaori’s private phones—those that were stolen after their orgasmic fight in a warehouse in Utsunomiya. Within minutes, the internet was ablaze with private chats filled with venomous insults, drunken confessions, and cruel jabs at fans, journalists, and rival J-pop groups from the blonde and brunette stars. Even more damaging were the intimate photos and provocative videos of the girls in skimpy lingerie, caught in compromising and suggestive poses. According to several media reports, the anonymous leaker had warned that far more explicit content remained, and that whether it surfaced would depend entirely on what happened next with Triple Spark.

It wasn’t just a scandal—it was a nuclear detonation. And to Kaori’s growing fury, it was one that ultimately benefited Izumi. The sheer magnitude of the leak had eclipsed the earlier recording controversy, allowing the guitarist to slip out from under that disgrace almost untouched, her image somehow cleaner now that the spotlight had shifted. That was what made it painfully, infuriatingly obvious to the blonde that Izumi had to be behind it all. On the other hand, her own name had been dragged through the mud in both reputation-crushing revelations. Kaori regretted that she might never get the chance to strike back at any of her backstabbing bandmates—especially now, with Triple Spark seemingly just minutes away from vanishing forever.

Finally leaving the cameras and shouting behind, Kaori entered the building… only to find more cameras and shouting. The polished marble of the lobby echoed with chaos, at the center of which stood Izumi in a red dress and Emiko in black. The women were screaming insults, recording everything with their phones in a frantic bid to weaponize the footage against each other while the security guards kept them apart and tried to put them in different elevators. 

“I know it was you, you snake!” Emiko shrieked, her voice raw with rage. “You stole my phone, I don’t know how, but it was you!”

“Fuck you! If I really did leak it, then maybe you should worry about what’s next!” Izumi replied viciously. “You on all fours, panting like a bitch, with a certain second-rate actor. Ring any bells? Didn’t know you had a daddy kink!”

“Shut up, you little whore!” the bassist spat out. “I’m going to tell the whole press that night that some random waiter fucked you hard in that dirty alley in Saitama! I know his friend recorded you, and I’m going to get the video!”

“Do it and I’ll kill you with my own hands!” the redhead growled. “You started all this with that shitty audio, and now you’re paying the consequences!”

“You’re fucking dead, ginger!” Emiko roared.

The guards finally managed to get Izumi into an elevator, quickly pressing the button to send her up, but they couldn’t contain the furious brunette. Kaori saw her chance. She crossed the lobby with quick steps, her heels echoing against the marble, and just as the doors began to slide shut around Izumi, Kaori slipped through the narrowing gap and into the elevator. Then, with a quick slap, the keyboardist knocked the redhead’s cell phone to the floor.

“You and I have a lot to settle, you dirty tramp!” Kaori hissed before without warning grabbing a fistful of Izumi’s bright red hair and yanked hard.

“Oh, I was hoping you’d be stupid enough to try this!” Izumi answered in kind, seizing Kaori’s golden mane.

The elevator began to rise slowly. Inside the box, Kaori and Izumi didn’t waste a second before starting to wrestle for dominance, their legs tangling and their nails scraping across each other’s scalps. With a cry of rage, Kaori slammed Izumi against the mirrored panel behind the redhead, and dragged her head along the cold, reflective surface, until Izumi countered twisting her hips and driving a sharp knee into the blonde’s thigh. Before Kaori could react, her rival slap her with a wild backhand that cracked across her cheek, the sharp smack echoing through the elevator like a gunshot.

“Bitch!” Kaori growled, retreating and bumping into the elevator doors. The idols had tried over the last few months to avoid targeting each other’s faces to keep their rivalry under wraps, but Izumi had just made it clear that the unspoken rule no longer applied now that everything had come to light. The kawaii keyboardist lunged forward and slapped Izumi’s beautiful face hard, but that didn’t stop the other girl from charging at her, throwing both enemies against a wall.

“You foreign cunt!” Izumi spat, slamming her weight forward to pin Kaori against the corner. A second later, the idols were pressing their forearms against each other’s throats, their free hands pulling hair again, the blonde trying to prevent the redhead from forcing her back.

Matched in strength and will, the women held the deadlock, eyes locked with seething hatred, breaths clashing in hot pulses, until their noses pressed together, neither of them willing to yield a single centimeter. The elevator passed the fifth floor, crossing another line in a countdown that Kaori and Izumi seemed to ignore.

“You remember our private fight in the recording studio, right?” the guitarist whispered cruelly, her lips almost touching Kaori’s. “It’s been the talk for days, but it’s a shame that the leaked audio didn’t catch the part where you were howling through your orgasm like a fucked schoolgirl.”

“We’ll see who fucks who now, you little whore,” Kaori hissed. “And don’t worry,” she added in a whisper full of venom, deliberately lowering her gaze to the floor so that Izumi would follow it to the guitarist’s cell phone, “because when I’m done with you, I’ll make sure the whole world sees what your pathetic body looks like when it loses. And I’ll use your own precious toy to do it.”

“For that, you’ll have to beat me, which you’ve never done,” Izumi refuted. “And since you like leaks so much, you don’t have to worry either. As soon as I fuck you again, I’ll release all the videos of your threesome with those handsome black guys.” She gave Kaori a hard tug on the hair, causing the blonde to take a step back. “Yes, I know, I just admitted that I was the one who took your phones. Not much of a plot twist, uh?”

In response to the threat, Kaori snarled and seized Izumi’s choking forearm, twisting it and exposing the flesh just enough to sink her teeth into it, hard enough to leave a mark. Izumi let out a cry of pain and shoved her back with a burst of fury, but soon the two stars crashed together again, body to body, adrenaline to adrenaline. The whole elevator groaned under the strain of the wild catfight, its metallic structure echoing with every thud as the girls exchanged a flurry of chaotic slaps and frantic kicks, but the action was too messy, too desperate, for any blow to be decisive. The seductive dresses were now soaked with sweat, sticking to the young curves of their heaving chests and thighs as the stifling heat inside the box grew unbearable. The air felt thick, and the fluorescent light above flickered, adding a feverish haze to the violent spectacle without spectators.

Just after shoving Izumi away with a clumsy elbow, Kaori staggered back panting heavily and caught a glimpse of the glowing panel above the elevator doors. The number ‘11’ flickered for a second before shifting to ‘12’, and her heart skipped a beat. There were only two floors left to the top floor, where their boss and the entire board of directors were waiting for them. Acting on instinct, she lunged at the buttons, but unfortunately her left heel stepped on Izumi’s cell phone. A sharp crack tore through the air as part of the screen shattered. The blonde staggered slightly, which Izumi took advantage of to tackle her and slam her against the mirrored wall. With a hiss, the redhead took her revenge, burying her teeth into Kaori’s bare shoulder hard enough to draw a scream from her. Seizing her rival’s silky but drenched hair with both hands, the keyboardist abruptly pulled Izumi’s cruel mouth away from her bruised flesh. She surprised herself when, without thinking, she drove her forehead violently into Izumi’s, the sickening crack of bone against bone ringing through the elevator. Pain exploded in Kaori’s skull, but the shock staggered Izumi just enough to give the blonde the edge. She pushed her aside, then quickly pressed the stop button, halting the elevator midway between the 13th and 14th floors.

For a moment, everything stopped. Both women collapsed, their backs sliding down the walls until they were sitting in opposite corners of that suffocating and small battlefield. Somehow, Kaori had lost one of her heels, now lying next to the door, and one of the straps of Izumi’s wet red dress had broken, exposing her beautiful right breast under a white lace bra. Panting and moaning, the two beauties locked eyes in a silent conversation that spoke volumes about what was about the toxic feelings that had bound them together for years.

They both knew that there was only one way to end that brutal contest of hatred before someone came looking for them. Slowly, deliberately, their fingers began to fumble with the fabric that still covered the sexy flesh, peeling it away from the wet skin. Kaori bit her lower lip as she watched Izumi lick hers, and responded by spreading her legs slightly. The dresses fell from their shoulders, revealing nearly identical bras over boobs that were practically twins in size and firmness. Then, the blonde and the redhead slipped their dresses off over their heads, revealing their curves clad only in delicate lingerie.

“Well, now that I’ve softened you up,” Kaori whispered, breaking the silence, “it’s time you get what you deserve. Without a microphone in your hand, I want to see how you handle my body.”

“I already handled your body easily with nothing in my hands when I fucked you and that slut Emiko at our birthday party,” Izumi replied. “I doubt you have forgotten it.”

“I remember how your weak clit bent against mine the whole time, and how I made you cum twice,” Kaori said, leaning forward slightly to unhook her bra. “You don’t know how much I enjoyed putting you and that brunette slut in your place with my pussy.”

“Still as cocky and delusional as ever, you little hāfu,” Izumi murmured, unfastening her own bra. “I should set my phone to record so I can send you the video of me fucking your brains in this elevator.”

“Please, do it,” the blonde asked as they both exposed their seductive bosoms, Izumi’s pink nipples as stiff as hers. “It will be a great pleasure to see me fucking you against the floor as many times as I want for the rest of my life.”

“Whoever fucks the other one gets my cell phone and all the secrets it holds,” the guitarist purred, grabbing her panties and sliding them down her thighs. “That’s how sure I am that it will be my body whipping yours.”

“You’re going to regret making that bet, bitch,” the keyboardist muttered, baring her sex without taking her eyes off her nemesis. “You’re going to enjoy the hard fuck my body is going to give yours as much as your dyke mother does every night in those loser spinsters’ apartments that she likes to frequent after leaving your whiny father.”

“Shut up, you fucking tramp!” Izumi revealed that Kaori had gotten under her skin. “Better think about how your father abandoned your mother while I give you the fuck of your life!”

Both idols threw their panties aside before lunging at each other on their knees, their sexy bare bodies fueled by old traumas. Kaori’s mouth collided in a savage crash of saliva and teeth against Izumi’s, and the breath between them hitched with every graze of incisors against tender lips. The blonde met every bite from the redhead’s teeth with her own, all while her tongue pushed forward to penetrate and suffocate, but Izumi’s met it head-on, clashing in long, wet strokes that refused to give ground.

Without either young woman managing to claim control over the other’s mouth, they toppled to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Kaori gasped with angry pleasure as Izumi’s fingers dug firmly into her buttocks, and in return she possessively seized the redhead’s firm ass. Both used the leverage to force their bodies closer together, sweaty skin sliding on sweaty skin with urgency while their nicely shaped boobs and stiff nipples smacked against each other. Trying to mount Izumi, Kaori tangled her thighs with the redhead’s in a frenzied knot, forcing their hips together until the moist, swollen cunts that would decide everything between them finally met in a searing press of flesh. The blonde immediately began to grind, making both beauties moan loudly, but somehow it was Izumi who capitalized on the moment of mutual weakness, rolling Kaori over before pinning her beneath her. The keyboardist hissed through her teeth as her back hit the floor, but she didn’t stop rubbing her genitals against Izumi’s.

“I’ve got you!” the guitarist snarled, arching her torso just enough for Kaori to notice that her foe was gaining momentum in the battle of cunts. Refusing to yield, she thrust her hips upward to defiantly meet every wet press of flesh, pushing both idols into a maddening and hard grinding.

“You’re mine!” Kaori growled back as she felt the swollen head of her thick clit dragging and catching against Izumi’s long, throbbing weapon in repeated strokes. She didn’t remember the redhead’s clitoris being that big, but her own sexual shaft felt massive and invincible. “Your clit will beg for mercy before I’m done with it!”

“That pathetic little thing you call a clit is no match for mine!” Izumi replied before suddenly reaching out to the side. Kaori turned her face just in time to see her opponent pick up her phone and, as promised, press the broken screen with her thumb to start recording. “Now, smile for the fans. When I upload this, they’ll finally know who the real loser bitch of the group is.”

The sight of herself on Izumi’s phone screen, dominated by one of the two people she hated most in the world, ignited a wild fire in every fiber of Kaori’s body, the kind of fury that only the wounded pride of an arrogant woman like her could unleash. With a growl that rose from her throat, she pressed her trembling palms against the floor and bucked forward like a cornered animal. Izumi’s eyes widened just as her balance gave way and, with a violent jerk of hips and thighs, Kaori forced the redhead onto her back, flipping their positions in a single breathless movement and taking now the best position in the scissor lock.

“Oh, let me, bitch.” Kaori grabbed the phone, but the redhead refused to release it, and they wrestled for control even as their hips kept grinding. “From up here, I’ll get the best angles, so everyone can see just how pathetic your fucking skills really are.”

“I fucked you before, and I’ll do it again now,” Izumi gasped, then turned to the camera with a wicked smile. “Yeah, dear fans, here’s your exclusive: I’ve already subdued this hāfu’s stinky pussy once. And yes, that moaning you heard online? Totally real. It’s me giving this ugly slut what she always asked for.”

“Shut up!” Kaori squeezed Izumi’s hand, causing the phone to fall to the floor. The camera recorded the blonde’s sweaty, reddened face from below as she intensified the sexual pounding, her teeth clenched, and her green-brown eyes burning with obsession.

It didn’t take long—just under a minute of cunt-versus cunt action. Kaori’s clitoris mercilessly slammed into Izumi’s until the gorgeous guitarist screamed, and the blonde had the hard-won privilege of feeling her rival’s hot cum explode against her victorious sex. The delightful sensation made her raise her head and close her eyes in ecstasy, while Izumi muttered something incoherent and full of hatred under her.

“That’s right, bitch!” Kaori howled, her voice trembling with a rush of satisfaction. “Where’s your cocky attitude now that I’ve fucked you?” She quickly reached down to pick up the phone from the floor, raising it to capture the image of a panting, sweat-drenched Izumi. “Say hi to our fans, my dear loser. I can’t wait to post this all over your social media so they know exactly who owns you.”

Kaori saw humiliation take over Izumi’s face. Enveloped in that aura of arrogant victory, the blonde didn’t see the redhead’s move coming. A sharp, merciless slap exploded across her cheek, the crack echoing in the elevator while the phone slipped from Kaori’s hand and clattered to the floor again. Then, Izumi’ hands grabbed her nude ass and, in one furious motion, the guitarist drove the kawaii idol down onto her back.

“Oh, you smug little slut,” Izumi spat, riding Kaori and starting to move her hips with punishing, relentless pussy thrusts. “You have no idea what it takes to beat me. You’re going to pay the price for making me cum.”

Izumi’s brutal rhythm momentarily left Kaori helpless, her gasps becoming heavy and deep, her nails desperately scratching thighs as her bandmate’s heated cunt pounded hers, long clit to long clit. The excitement of her previous triumph quickly turned against Kaori, and it took only a few seconds for her to arch her body, let out a cry of pleasurable anguish and detonate in her own earth-shattering orgasm.

“Easy as fuck,” Izumi gasped, her voice dripping with arrogance, but also broken with the exhaustion from the effort and the lack of air. She pressed her victorious sex against Kaori’s a few more times, grinding in slow bursts before breaking eye contact. Kaori instantly understood—Izumi was scanning for the phone. Her own gaze darted around until she spotted it, lying on the floor, just a few centimeters out of reach for either of them. A jolt of urgency washed over the blonde, aware that if Izumi got to it first, she could record her in that embarrassing position, just as she herself had done moments earlier with the redhead. Even though whoever would keep that dangerous trophy after the fight could edit and cut out whatever they wanted from the video, Kaori had no intention of allowing any evidence of her humiliation to remain, especially after experiencing firsthand the danger of leaks.

Izumi finally reached out an arm, shifting and easing the weight on Kaori’s lower body for a moment to retrieve the phone. It was all the opening that the keyboardist needed: she bucked upward, knocking her rival off balance and rolling toward the fallen prize. Both young beauties lunged at once, clawing at each other while their hands scrabbled for the phone. For a few seconds, it was all frantic grunts and tangled fingers, until the device slipped from their grasp entirely. But, as if fate itself wanted to be part of their female war, the phone bounced across the floor before coming to rest on its side against the elevator wall. The camera lens pointed miraculously toward the center of the small box, with the red recording light glaring like a challenge.

Kaori saw the chance instantly, and she had no doubt that Izumi did too. What happened in the following minutes would be captured in a perfectly focused, raw footage, the final stage of their primitive duel preserved for whoever ended up on top. The exhausted post-orgasm haze vanished in a heartbeat and, with matching cries, Kaori and Izumi launched themselves back into each other, rolling and grappling before the camera.

“You’re done, slut! The world’s going to see the truth!” Kaori hissed, driving an open palm into Izumi’s jaw while pulling her reddish hair with the other hand.

“That I’m the hottest between us!” Izumi shot back, raking her nails across Kaori’s ribs hard enough to leave angry red trails.

The catfight devolved into pure chaos as both started to grab and squeeze each other’s sensitive boobs while leaving a couple of wild bites on the other lips. The girls brawled over pools of sweat, and their grunts and gasps began to sound muffled in an oxygen-depleted atmosphere. That had to end soon, or both of them would pass out, so they immediately locked their strong legs in a vicious scissor in search of resolution.

Neither of the idols could utter a word as an agonizing tribadism duel was passionately performed in front of the incriminating cell phone. The grinding grew faster and more desperate despite her growing exhaustion, the elevator filling with the obscene sound of wet flesh colliding in rapid bursts. Kaori felt her cum-soaked clitoris repeatedly bumping against Izumi’s hard, wet sexual spear, but without the benefit of a superior position held by either of the women, the two stiff weapons failed to bend the other. In a couple of tense, excruciating moments, one set of labia managed to trap and bite the other clitoris, crushing it for several agonizing seconds before it slipped free, but somehow, against all odds, none of the idols came.

After two or three minutes of prolonged torture, in the tightest of margins, Kaori finally felt Izumi falter. The redhead’s clit bumped against the blonde’s erect shaft with less vigor, and then Izumi moan in distress. Seizing the moment, Kaori ground forward with what little sexual energy she had left, and her pussy totally crushed her counterpart with hardly any opposition. For the second time in that heated elevator, she felt Izumi’s seductive sex burst into a sordid orgasm, one that made her opponent scream so loudly that the whole box seemed to shake.

“Fuck you, bitch!” Kaori howled, pushing back the convulsing figure of the guitarist to mount her proudly on camera. “I’m the hottest chick in whatever’s left of this band, and you’re nothing but a pathetic, weak cunt!”

“Damn cheap whore, this isn’t over yet!” Izumi gasped, her body completely drained. “I will find you and finish you off, even if it’s the last thing I do!”

“Just shut up!” Kaori slapped Izumi’s face before posing proudly for the camera. “I hope you liked this, guys. Don’t forget to share it with your friends.”

“No…” the redhead groaned, her voice barely more than a rasp.

Looking down on her rival, Kaori picked up her white dress from the floor to cover her scratched, reddened, and sweat-covered skin, and then she put on her heels. Then she took the phone and stopped the recording with a weary smile from ear to ear.

“I think we’re late for a very important meeting,” the blonde said, pressing the button to get the elevator moving again. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Izumi opening her eyes in fear before throwing herself over her own red dress to cover her nakedness. The doors slid open on the 14th floor seconds later, and Kaori stepped out—but not before snapping a few photos of Izumi’s wrecked, half-naked state. “Whenever you want, we can do this again.”

With tired but steady steps, the idol crossed the short hallway, passing a couple of Ongaku Records employees who were in shock to see her tousled hair, reddened skin, and the faint marks of slaps on her face. Kaori ignored them as she posted the latest photos from the phone on Izumi’s social media with the caption: “I finally got what I deserved.” She saved the video for later.

Kaori finally walked into the meeting room with her head high, eyes immediately finding Emiko with a contemptuous stare. The gorgeous brunette who had fucked her in that warehouse just days before was standing at a table with the company’s CEO and the rest of the board of directors.

“What’s the delay, and what happened to you?” the boss asked sharply. “And Aoki-san?”

“The answer’s online,” Kaori replied with a smirk. “It seems there are new leaks, but I suppose that doesn’t change why you’ve called us here, right? We all know Triple Spark is finished.”

“That’s only partially true,” the man said, taking the two women by surprise. “We have unanimously decided to fire all three of you given the recent scandals, but just half an hour ago we received an offer we can’t refuse, one that will at least make all this indignity you’ve brought upon us very profitable.” The CEO stood up, resting both hands on the table as he leaned forward. “In a week, Triple Spark will give their farewell concert in Los Angeles. After that, it’s over.”

Chapter 9
Last Spark Standing

On that Saturday in late November, the night over Los Angeles seemed to hold a certain magic. The glow of the vast city’s lights drowned out the horizon, but even that blanket of civilization couldn’t silence the skies. A full moon, majestic and almost blue, floated surrounded by numerous stars like patient, privileged witnesses who seemed to have conspired together to attend what had already been described as the most infamous spectacle in the history of modern music.

Down below, in the earthly world, Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum was overflowing. Reports spoke of nearly 80,000 official tickets sold, a true sellout, but the reality was much more chaotic as many people had snuck in, bribing their way through the gates or climbing over fences, so no one really knew the actual number of attendees crammed into that enormous enclosure of concrete and steel—far beyond its legal capacity, that was for sure. There were undoubtedly legions of loyal fans: young Americans from all over the country, Latin Americans waving flags from Mexico, Argentina, Brazil, and Chile, and Asians who had spent much of their savings to fly across the Pacific from Japan and South Korea to see Triple Spark in what was to be their monumental, dramatic swan song.

However, beyond nostalgia and fanaticism, beyond sweet memories of the first band of adolescence and T-shirts with the faces of idols, the dark truth was that there were more people attracted by scandal than by music. The group’s implosion over the last few days had become a toxic and violent spectacle that was very hard to watch for the most sensitive people. The war between Kaori, Emiko, and Izumi had been open and cruel, crossing lines that went beyond what even they themselves could have imagined. They had all ensured their mutual destruction by publishing uncensored sexual photos and videos of their bandmates, obtained through hacking, theft, and bribery.

The journalists didn’t even have to dig up dirt, as the three women laid it all out for them in interviews where they spoke with disarming honesty that bordered on madness. They revealed all the secrets that had been brewing since the band’s inception, confessing grudges, humiliations, and rivalries that, if known earlier, would have destroyed Triple Spark instantly. Many of the people who had worked with them dared to confirm the poor treatment they had received and the poisonous arrogance of the idols in private. But the biggest surprise for the whole world, which set the media ablaze, was that none of the girls shied away from talking about the most scandalous topic of all: the intimate battles that had consumed them offstage. The three beauties spoke openly about encounters so physical, so raw, that the line between feud and desire collapsed entirely, with catfights turning into some kind of competitive sex. That had been going on for the past few months, since the concert at Fukuoka Dome in mid-June. None of them had any qualms about boasting about all the times they had fucked their bandmates to orgasm, while downplaying their defeats. Suddenly, the events at the girls’ birthday party made sense, as did their absences from events and concert cancellations.

With the hunger for scandal and confrontation more present in the hearts of those who filled the Coliseum massively than any real love for the art of music, the concert felt like an overly agitated explosive cocktail. The event organizer, the eccentric, controversial billionaire Alexander Simmons, had already tripled his profits after a generous payment to Ongaku Records, but he was already savoring the profits that he would make from streaming the concert, now live and in years to come. Alexander had never really believed that the girls would accept his offer, even though their company had. Neither did most of the people who had witnessed the pure hatred and poisonous jealousy they had shown each other in recent days. But the reality was much more pragmatic, for although the girls had certainly refused outright, Ongaku Records had brought up a clause in their contracts to force them to comply. Cornered and stripped of power, they had accepted with gritted teeth. The only consolation left to them was that that last, desperate exhibition might allow them to save some dignity against all odds, perhaps pulling from the rubble an opportunity for a solo career in the future. Curiously, Alexander had been considering for a couple of days getting seriously involved in Triple Spark, planning to sign the most marketable of the three—in his eyes, the hottest one of them all—and exploit a brief, controversial, yet highly profitable career for her. If only they had known…

After an interminable wait and a fifteen-minute delay, Triple Spark finally took the stage walking in high Dior heels, and the entire Coliseum roared with a mixture of devotion and voyeurism. The three stars wore stunning white evening gowns specially designed for the occasion by Dolce & Gabbana, that shimmered with elegance and sensuality under the lights, accentuating every soft curve of the young ladies. Their makeup had been applied with surgical precision, the expensive eyeliner and lipstick donated by Maybelline highlighting their beautiful porcelain faces. All the major brands had fought hard to be present at that moment, eager to take advantage of the controversy of the century for their own benefit.

However, from the very beginning, something about the stage presence of Izumi, Kaori and Emiko seemed disturbingly off—the sidelong glances, the uneasy steps, the lip-biting. The backup band began playing behind them, starting the two-hour set with the melodic Kagayaku Toki, but just when it was time to sing the first line of the verse together, the three idols dropped the microphones on the floor and hurled themselves at one another. More than 80,000 mouths screamed in unison in a deafening howl as the women collided with each other, pulling hair, slapping, and kicking. The sound of fabric tearing under fingernails was heard on radios around the world, and thousands of cell phones immortalized the pandemonium. A dozen security guards rushed onto the stage to grab and separate them, but even as they were dragged in opposite directions, the girls continued to scratch, pull and throw themselves at each other, their immaculate white dresses torn to shreds and their makeup smeared into angry masks. Alexander put his hands to his head, knowing how much money he was going to lose.

Triple Spark was no more, its successful seven-year career undone on the same kind of stage where they had forged their rise to fame. In the changing rooms, Alexander received them with shouts, threatening to sue them for violating the terms of their contract while the girls were humiliatingly stripped of their clothes. The furious idols hurled back cruel insults, scratching some of the men in the eyes. The billionaire, known for not caring about women’s dignity, didn’t hesitate for a second to order his security guards to throw them out the back door just as they were, in their underwear and barefoot. Emiko, Izumi, and Kaori fought back with bites and slaps, but resistance was useless. A moment later the backstage door clanged shut behind them, leaving the three outside the Coliseum. Shivering in the night air, clad only in matching black bras and panties, they felt their heated skin prickle against the cold. Around them were enormous containers full of trash ready to be collected in the next few hours, whose stench sealed the humiliation of the fallen idols.

There were no words, not even battle cries, but the final fight between the young beauties began immediately. For the first time in years, their nails were unleashed against what had always been untouchable faces—they had waited so long to be able to do that, free from contractual and social ties, that none of them held back, and cheeks and chins were lacerated with long and harsh scratches. The Japanese rivals screamed in pain, frustration and hatred, truly hurt by the women they hated as they staggered over each other in a triangle of uncontrollable fury. There was no tactic, just assault, with each of them using one hand for each nemesis.

Unable to endure any more for now, the former members who had once reshaped the world of J-Pop ended up seizing one another’s hair and locking into a savage embrace, their wounded faces pressed together—forehead to forehead to forehead. The process of tearing down the good looks they had envied for years was far from complete, though, as their mouths immediately sought out the raw marks of the freshly carved lacerations and bit into them. The appetite for destruction continued as the girls seized the other’s firm breasts, forcing their hands between the sweat-slicked press of torsos to maul and claw at them beneath the bras. The shouts of pain were muffled by the savage bites on the flesh, the own agony fading away in the torment inflicted.

Somehow, without realizing it, the rivals had stumbled away from the containers and into the middle of a deserted street, most of the neighborhood still caught inside the stadium, unaware of the spectacle taking place just outside. But none of them were aware of or interested in the outside world. Kaori broke the deadlock first, slamming her fist into Emiko’s side. The mouths of the three angry contenders ripped apart with a snarl as they erupted into a wild violence of clumsy punches, hammering ribs, pounding aching breasts and smashing at bruised faces. In their frenzy, they even swung at the each other’s groins, although their thighs painfully deflected the dangerous knuckles. Then, Izumi managed to knock Kaori to the asphalt with a quick, powerful kick, the impact rattling the blonde’s hips. Emiko seized the moment, driving an unexpectedly accurate uppercut into the redhead’s chin that sent her sprawling onto the blonde with a heavy thud of bodies. The brunette barely had time to react before Kaori lashed out with a desperate kick to Emiko’s exposed stomach, forcing her backward onto her butt with a breathless grunt. While Emiko clutched her midsection, her two former bandmates fought on the ground, struggled for top positio. A sharp slap from Kaori sent Izumi rolling away, the sound of the blow echoing across the empty street while the blonde knelt, her muscles tensing to jump on the guitarist. She didn’t have time as Emiko recovered just in time to knock her down with a powerful tackle. On the floor, the dark-haired bassist drove a vengeful punch into Kaori’s flat belly, but before she could strike again, Izumi kicked her in the back of the head, throwing her off the keyboardist. At a disadvantage, Kaori swept with her right leg, managing to trip the redhead to the ground.

The blonde, the brunette and the redhead gasped for breath on the asphalt, badly bruised after the punishing exchange of blows. And yet, it took no more than a few seconds for them to get down on all fours, then on their knees, facing each other, their mutual hatred keeping their bodies primed to continue. Their beautiful figures were dirty from the grime of the street and covered in red contusions. But it was nothing compared to the punishment on their attractive faces, which had graced magazine covers countless times and were now covered in scratches and finger marks, their makeup ruined by sweat and the first tears. Miraculously, there seemed to be no blood yet, and they all cursed themselves internally for not having let their nails grow sharp in the last few days, but that only drove them to go deeper and disfigure those hateful faces.

Then the girls heard the distant murmur of the crowd spilling out of the Coliseum, and the threat of the real world crept back in, knocking at the doors of their rivalry. Aware of where they were, the former idols looked around with some trepidation until they saw some huge construction work, perhaps for a shopping mall, just across the street.

“If you both want to finish this, really finish it, that’s the place. Out there, no witnesses, no cameras… just us,” Izumi spat out the first words between them since the catfight began.

“You should have been satisfied with me just fucking you, dirty losers, because what I’m going to do to you in there is going to be much, much worse,” Emiko grunted.

“Let’s settle this properly,” Kaori growled. “I’m going to make you bleed, and when we’re fucking done, no one will recognize either of you.”

The three of them paused for barely a heartbeat, the air between them charged with raw anticipation. Finally, they stood up at the same time, adjusting their underwear before heading toward the imposing reinforced concrete skeleton across the street, keeping a close eye on each other, ready to continue the war where no one could interfere.

The adversaries slipped inside through a gap in the chain-link fence, the metal scraping faintly against their skin as they ducked through. Their bare feet immediately sank into the soil beneath them, wet from the humidity of the night, and brushed against small patches of plants that had sprung up here and there. The area was cluttered with construction pallets, and the beauties moved cautiously among them in the shadows while, outside, the distant murmur of the crowd leaving the Coliseum reached their ears. Emiko was the first to spot an entrance to the unfinished building, softly lit by scattered security lights, though a chain and padlock barred access.

“This is as good a place as any to beat each other up,” the brunette muttered. With the outer fence and the stacks of pallets around them, they were completely hidden, even under the dim glow of the lights.

“Well, let’s not waste any more time,” Kaori added.

“Fucking bitches,” Izumi said. “Let’s do it.”

The artists formed a circle, staring intently at each other. From somewhere deep within the shadows swirling behind the redhead came the whisper of a small stream of water, but none of them paid attention. Once again, the women lunged forward, clashing in the center of that improvised combat arena with punches and kicks that flew clumsily but viciously, driven more by hatred than skill. Facing two opponents at once, there was no time to plan, only to react to pain, so the sloppy blows soon gave way to desperate scratches and savage bites. Kaori knocked Emiko to the ground in a burst of mud, her teeth sunk into the sensitive flesh of the bassist’s right breast, her erect nipple throbbing in agony beneath her bra, just before Izumi fell on top of them, squeezing the blonde’s mammary glands with both hands from behind. The redhead bit Kaori’s neck like a bloodthirsty vampiress, and Emiko saw her chance to squeeze the kawaii beauty between her strong thighs from below, her claws scratching Kaori’s cheeks at the same time. Cornered on two fronts, the keyboardist swung her elbow backward, hitting Izumi in the nose. The redhead brought her hands to her face and fell to the soil with a deep howl of pain, leaving Kaori and Emiko assaulting the other face with methodical lashes of their nails.

“You were always jealous of my beauty, daddy’s girl,” the blonde hissed, running her fingers up and down Emiko’s features, leaving a reddish trail on her silky skin.

“You were always the ugly one in the band, you foreign tramp,” the brunette replied, going for her rival’s eyes. Kaori groaned and turned her face away, but she couldn’t stop Emiko from pushing her down and pinning her to the ground.

“You talk a lot and fight little, you pathetic bitches.” Izumi’s voice took Emiko by surprise, and she felt the other girl pulling her dark hair with both hands. The pain in the brunette’s scalp was shocking, causing her to scream into the night as she fell backward, her enemy dragging her into the darkness.

The brunette kicked her legs in vain until suddenly Kaori grabbed Emiko’s legs and pulled toward her. The trapped girl screamed again as she felt her body being stretched in opposite directions.

“She’s mine, lesbian ginger!” Kaori roared. “I’m not done with her yet!”

“I’m not done with her or with you!” Izumi gasped back.

With a double grunt of exertion, both women dropped the brunette on the floor, the mud splattering all over them. Kaori leaned over her first, dropping to her knees and burying her head between Emiko’s thighs. On the other side, Izumi crouched down and ripped the straps of the bassist’s dirty bra, pulling it aside to bare her chest. A second later, Emiko was screaming again, with the redhead viciously pinching her fat nipples, and the blonde chewing her crotch through her thin panties like a rabid animal.

“You’re lucky you can buy yourself new tits with your family’s money,” Izumi sneered, twisting one of the nipples until it almost bled. “You’ll need them when I’m done having fun with these weaklings.”

Kaori said nothing, but used her tongue to push Emiko’s panties aside so she could bite her labia directly. However, the brunette managed to turn her body, hitting Kaori in the temple with her knee and sending her rolling across the soil. Izumi didn’t have time to react as Emiko raised both hands and grabbed her by the neck. Bringing her former bandmate’s face close to hers, the bassist caught the other girl’s full lips in an upside-down bite. Then, twisting her head sadistically to one side, she dragged the rubbery, supple flesh into a long, agonizing stretch. Izumi whimpered as Emiko tasted blood, until a desperate slap from the guitarist forced the brunette to let her go.

Izumi stood up unsteadily, but before she had time to recover, Kaori grabbed her from behind, wrapping her left arm around her neck while her right hand clutched one of her breasts so tightly that the cup of her bra slipped down. However, after just a few vicious squeezes on the exposed, sensitive flesh that drew long moans from her opponent, Kaori changed her mind and brought her claws to the redhead’s face. Izumi howled in agony as she felt the cruel scratches along her cheeks and forehead. She thrashed, slamming her hands and feet backward in a frantic attempt to shake Kaori off, but she couldn’t do it before she felt someone grab her right leg. Izumi looked down and through Kaori’s aggressive fingers she could see Emiko kneeling in front of her, the brunette’s left arm clamped tight around her thigh while she raised her right fist. With cold precision, Emiko drove her knuckles mercilessly into Izumi’s groin. A surge of extreme pain erupted in the guitarist’s body, leaving her paralyzed by the shock.

“It seems like you have the same weak pussy as your lesbian mother,” Emiko mocked, pulling back her fist to assault her genitals again, that time from below. Izumi clenched her lips shut, fighting the scream, but a ragged hiss still tore through her teeth.

“This slut’s pussy is mine,” Kaori complained, leaving her ex-bandmate’s face to lower her hand to her crotch. Slipping her fingers under Izumi’s stained panties, she squeezed the delicate sexual anatomy, forcing more moans from the other girl. “I claimed it by fucking it a week ago.”

“I’ve fucked both of you, so shut up!” At last, Izumi reacted, lashing out at her two rivals at once with fury. Pulling Emiko’s dark hair upward with a strength fueled by visceral hatred, she forced her to her feet, while her other hand slid between her body and Kaori’s. Taking revenge, she scratched through the keyboardist’s thin panties at her most vulnerable spot. The brunette and blonde screamed in unison, yet struck back at once, hugging the redhead from both front and rear. Entangled, the three young beauties writhed together in a storm of hairpulling and raking scratches across boobs, backs and faces. The guitarist’s sweaty body managed to slip out of the double embrace, but that didn’t stop the wild scuffle. Izumi’s and Kaori’s bras ended up falling to the floor near Emiko’s discarded one, completely torn apart by fingernails, and the women’s sore bare breasts collided with each other in a competition of firmness and endurance in which neither prevailed.

Suddenly, a simple step backward by Emiko into the darkness as she tried to avoid Izumi’s claws in her eyes changed everything. Clutching fistfuls of her enemies’ torn, soaked hair, she heard the steady rush of running water again—now closer. Half a second later, her heart skipped a beat and her stomach lurched as she felt an unexpected emptiness beneath her feet. Losing her balance, Emiko fell into the void, just like in those recurring dreams she used to have, dragging Kaori and Izumi along with her. Three meters below, the bodies of the discredited idols hit the water with a resounding splash, breaking the entanglement between them as they momentarily sank into the cold, dark stream.

The young women broke the surface panting, with their hair plastered across their faces. For a moment none of them understood where they were. Their eyes followed the single beam of silvery light filtering down from above, illuminating their wet, topless bodies covered in scratches and bruises. Framed by a circle of concrete, they could see the moon high in the sky, farther away than ever, and only then the realization struck: they had fallen through an uncovered manhole of the construction site. Unable to believe it, someone’s reckless negligence had thrown the three of them from their world of cameras, red carpets and luxury into that subterranean nightmare. The irony bit deep, as they had arrived in Los Angeles as controversial but still world-renowned stars, and now they found themselves waist-deep in stinking sewage, where the dirty water stung like acid against every open wound.

For a full minute, the rivals were silent and in shock. There was a rusty ladder ready to get them out of there, outside where they could finish their catfight, and yet none of them moved. Under the moonlight, the bare boobs of the girls rose and fell rapidly, their pink nipples taut from the cold and the excitement of the savage competition, while their panty-clad pussies throbbed underwater as the clits hardened, not aroused by the anticipation of a good fuck, but by the perverse thrill of seeing their arrogant, narcissistic rivals brought so low. But even that delightful malice couldn’t appease the humiliation they all felt, the greatest of their lives. For an instant, each of them pictured herself far away from that filth, convinced that if she had never crossed paths with the other girls, if she had never had to deal with their insane jealousy and dirty sabotage, she—and she alone—would have risen to become the greatest female artist in the world. Never before had they hated each other as much as much as they did in that very moment.

“Look at this mess!” Emiko spat out. “If it weren’t for you two and your unjustified fucking arrogance, we wouldn’t be stuck in sewage right now!”

“Don’t talk rubbish!” Kaori snapped back. “It was you who stumbled around like a clumsy asshole and dragged us all down into this hole! Not surprising, given your terrible dancing!”

“You’re going to pay me both for getting me into all this shit!” Izumi grunted. “This is all your fault, and all because you refuse to accept that I’m better than both of you put together, singing, playing, dancing and fucking.”

“We’ll see who leaves here fucked for good,” Kaori hissed, “but not in the way you’d like, you filthy lesbians.”

The three rivals circled each other with their claws raised like predators, trying to anticipate the other’s movements while the water swirled around their waists. The unpleasant stench of sewage flooded their nostrils as a cruel mockery of the expensive perfumes they were used to, and none of them could hold back their thirst for revenge any longer. The women charged at the same time, crashing together under the moonlight, and attacked all the wet flesh within their reach with nails and teeth before falling together into the sewage. 

Screaming and gasping, they tried to drown each other in the subaquatic darkness, their bodies twisting and sliding against each other in violent rolls that sent waves lapping against the concrete walls. In an endless storm of rage, the hands of the controversial celebrities pulled hair and clawed at necks, and their hard-nippled boobs became targets for savage gnawing when the firm glands dared to float on the surface, the gasping mouths leaving marks on sensitive flesh in exchange for losing precious breaths of air. The three-way brutality reduced the girls to cornered animals, stripped of reason and reduced to pure savage instinct—scratching like wildcats, biting like wolves, striking like apes, and hissing like snakes. Soon, their tongues tasted blood—their own and their enemies’, indistinguishably blended in the heat of the fight—and the dark stream of water surrounding them carried away faint traces of red, evidence of the countless cuts, bites and abrasions they were inflicting on each other. Fortunately, none of the wounds were deep or serious enough to cause real bleeding, but it was undeniable that the young beauties were tearing their perfect silky white Asian skin so methodically that none of them would be able to appear in public for many weeks.

The sewer had become a nightmare of thrashing limbs, splashing water, and echoing screams that some people thought they heard in the streets of the city. For the women, it became impossible to distinguish whose breast they were squeezing, whose shoulder they were biting, who was scratching their cheeks or kicking their thighs—even telling up from down. Every shove, hair pull and clawing grab seemed to come from all directions at once, but none of them were ever lacking in female flesh to lacerate. The hair clung to their faces, so tangled and mucky that even in the moonlight no one of them could recognize its color, for now everything was filth and shadow.

The catfight got worse when the filthy water started to flow into their mouths, choking the girls mid-breath, stifling the words of hatred they longed to shout out. The maelstrom of competition, suffocation and sheer desperation escalated into something truly perilous when the three angry enemies they lost their footing and sank together under sewage. Almost out of breath, and with their exhausted muscles reaching the limit of their strength, they were swept away by the current into the depths of the sewer. And yet Kaori, Izumi and Emiko kept scratching, grabbing and punching.

Just as the former idols were on the verge of drowning, a sudden, welcome gasp of air filled their lungs. Out of the blue, they all found themselves out of the water, their defeated bodies lying against a huge metal grate that let the sewage cascade down into a dark pit. The whole place was covered in sticky, disgusting sludge. The girls leaned to one side and coughed up water, but even that didn’t make them grant each other any truce.

Now in complete darkness, Kaori, Izumi and Emiko collapsed against each other, their bodies rolling and twisting through the mud and sewage in an exhausted tangle that resembled a slow-motion wrestling match where they still couldn’t see each other. The wet, slippery skin was impossible to grasp, and there wasn’t a shred of energy left beyond the very last reserves of aversion. Their vocal cords no longer responded, except to let out faint grunts, and within a minute or less, their legs and arms became too heavy to move with sufficient vitality. At that agonizing moment, it seemed inconceivable that any one of them could prevail in that final battle, as the three girls had completely drained each other through effort and pain from the Coliseum to the sewers.

But hatred always found its way. Somehow, their gasping mouths found themselves pressed together in an involuntary contact, and immediately the young contenders sought to achieve what the water had almost accomplished. After exchanging a few slow, painful bites, the tongues attempted to suffocate once and for all, probing the space between the thick lips and intruding deep until they nearly reached the other’s uvula. None of them were surprised that their cunts became wet from the rushes of tormenting lust, but the erotic thrill of the struggle was merely a reaction that time, not an end—although they would undoubtedly mock any of their rivals who came in that nasty place, the sole objective was complete destruction, and nothing else.

Battling wearily on the grate, muddy skin against muddy skin, the girls stole each other’s gasps with desperate kisses, until they began to feel dizzy. Almost fainting, they raised their hands and clawed cheeks and chins as they exchanged long, fatigued licks. Even after all the damage done to the other beautiful faces, that impulsive dragging of nails made them close their eyes in tears and moan aloud like never before, but no degree of devastation seemed capable of stopping them.

“I… fucking… hate… you… both… to… death…” they gasped at unison, their voices cracked and hoarse, their words breaking between bites.

Something shifted in the nasty skirmish, with the perfect balance of the fight breaking against one of them. Izumi stopped biting and scratching when she felt Kaori’s tongue beating hers inside her mouth, and Emiko’s teeth sinking ruthlessly into her cheek, just beneath her eye. Seconds later, her aching body fell onto the grate, mud splattering into the air while her two rivals fell exhausted upon her like hyenas to finish her off. Izumi could barely take any more, and when she felt Emiko’s and Kaori’s fingers squeezing her bruised breasts, she thought it was all over for her—of the three, she was the weak link.

“Never!” Izumi muttered croakily, so softly that it couldn’t be heard over the sound of the water pouring.

The vicious nature of the cruel rivalry between the three beauties gave her an opportunity, however, as she noticed how Kaori and Emiko left her boobs alone to fight each other over her. Blinking a couple of times to let her eyes adjust to the darkness, Izumi grabbed large clumps of mud and dirt in her hands, and seized the moment to throw them at the faces of the other girls. With a double muffled groan of disgust, the brunette and the blonde landed on their backs on the metal, momentarily blinded. Izumi gathered her last ounce of strength to force her body to throw itself on top of them, but her slippery skin caused her to slide clumsily over their shoulders.

However, that gave her the opportunity that she needed. From behind, her arms wrapped around both necks at once, and the guitarist immobilized Kaori and Emiko by pushing her forearms against their jaws. Groaning from overexertion, with her muscles trembling, Izumi arched her back against the grate while, on top of her, her former bandmates gasped, scratched her arms and convulsed. The redhead knew she could barely hold them in that desperate stranglehold for a few seconds, but every frantic kick, every hand waved by their opponents in suffocating anguish gave her the strength to carry on a little longer.

It was an agonizing struggle, almost a matter of life and death for forty-nine interminable seconds, but Izumi finally managed to knock Emiko and Kaori to the brink of unconsciousness, their once furious resistance dissolving into weak spasms as they ceased to fight back. Crumbling definitively beneath the limp, filth-covered bodies of her defeated rivals, Izumi could hear nothing but a deafening silence. Every breath burned her lungs, heaving her battered chest up and down, and her mouth tasted of blood, but all that suffering felt so delicious that her whole body stiffened with carnal pleasure under a dark ecstasy. After seven years of enduring envy and arrogance, she had finally proven that she was the best woman of them all.

Nearly fifteen minutes passed before she could move again. Every nerve screamed as she forced herself to her knees, every scratch and every bruise throbbing with pain. Her eyes, now adjusted to the darkness, roamed over the wreckage of her victory, with the two former idols with whom she had shared the stage until that very night lying helpless in the sludge, their once-proud bodies reduced to mere shells. The simple fact of knowing that it was she who had left them in that deplorable state of mud, wounds and collapse excited Izumi like never before in her life. Her bloodied lips curled into a smile as she reached down with trembling fingers, knotting together Kaori’s and Emiko’s filthy, sweat-soaked hair to bind them in a degrading tangle they couldn’t escape.

Izumi staggered to her feet to admire her handiwork, and couldn’t help but laugh cruelly, triumphantly. Then, with a savage growl, she practically ripped off her ragged panties and began to masturbate. In just a few seconds, she came, spilling her sticky bliss over both girls.

At last, it was over. The descent into hell that had been Triple Spark finally came to an end, with Izumi Aoki the only one to emerge from the depths of hatred still standing on her own two feet. That didn’t save her from a final mortification, though, as she was forced to endure the parade of shame when, soaked and muddy, with her body covered in wounds and her lingerie in tatters, she staggered into the hotel where she was staying. She ignored the contemptuous and surprised looks and climbed the stairs like a ghost.

Emiko and Kaori went through a worse ordeal when they were discovered at dawn emerging from that sewer on the construction site, bruised and filthy, arguing with each other as they tried to tear their tangled hair apart strand by strand. Until the police intervened, no one could separate them, and both were arrested and charged with causing a public disturbance.

Later, legal storms would descend for breaching her contracts on that last, fateful night, but that story—of battles fought both in the courtroom and in the shadows between her arrogant, hot female lawyers—belongs elsewhere.

Epilogue
The Insatiable Machine

Three years had passed since the dramatic downfall of Triple Spark. Izumi Aoki sank into the worn leather sofa, holding the television remote in one hand, and a half-finished glass of red wine in the other. She distractedly turned on the television, as her eyes were drawn to the wide panorama window. Beyond it, Tokyo’s first evening lights flickered against the deep blue of the Lake Okutama. That sanctuary, on the outskirts of the metropolis, far away from everything, had been her last investment after a series of disastrous personal and financial decisions that had almost led her to monetary and spiritual bankruptcy. Her attempt to rebuild her musical career had met with nothing but closed doors, and now the once-celebrated guitarist had been forced to stoop to selling sex videos as AV idol to survive. Since the internet was already flooded with leaked photos and clips of the former idol naked and fucking on camera, she had to reinvent herself, adopting a new identity that concealed who she really was—she dyed her hair blue, wore a bunny mask, and adopted a fake name so that her new content would still have any interest.

Taking a long sip of wine, Izumi found herself thinking about Kaori and Emiko again. The night she had defeated them had been the greatest triumph of her life, and she had celebrated finally getting rid of those jealous harpies with weeks of wild indulgence in groups of horny men. Yet, to her own surprise and frustration, every orgasm she had forced from them had felt worthless, and every climax she had given in to had been nothing more than a weak explosion, hollow and powerless. Izumi had eventually experimented with women as well, but the encounters were just as disappointing. Without being fueled by hatred, the sensation was never the same. To her disbelief, she realized she had become addicted to her former bandmates, and to the toxic bond of animosity that had once united them, but even so, she never wanted to hear from them again—even with rumors circulating that her former bandmates were also secretly involved in the porn industry now, she refused to look them up online to check. In fact, whenever Izumi happened to bump into one of them on the crowded streets of Tokyo, something that fortunately only happened once or twice a year, she looked away, and Kaori or Emiko did the same. Without a doubt, they had all had enough of each other for the rest of their lives.

Just then, something caught her attention on the television. The news was introducing the new phenomenon that was taking the world, a novel J-pop band called Crystal Dawn. Izumi straightened on the sofa as they announced a live broadcast of the group’s press conference. Onstage, three young women were sitting on tall stools, dressed in pastel schoolgirl uniforms while smiling broadly at the camera. Everything seemed perfect, idyllic. But Izumi could see beyond the masks of professionalism, and she didn’t miss a single detail of the way the idols kept an eye on each other with surreptitious sideways glances. She knew exactly what was happening, because all the feelings she had felt ten years ago when she met her bandmates on the first day of Triple Spark came flooding back. She remembered how her teenage dreams were instantly shattered by distrust, instant animosity and that strange toxic chemistry that brought them together in the worst possible way. Izumi’s sexy lips curved into a slow, bitter smile, fully aware that, just as had happened to them, those three girls on TV couldn’t coexist.

The cycle was repeating. Rivalry, jealousy, betrayal—it was eternal. No matter how many bands rose and fell, no matter how many idols were chewed up by the insatiable machine, because the same story would play out over and over again, until the sun that warmed the world finally went dark, and silence swallowed it all.

The End

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