Agent in Distress Ch. 04

"Oh, that is not the reason I bound you," said Lamare. "I simply believe all young, pretty females belong in chains."

"You are a bastard," said Lana with disgust. "I imagine that is a key requirement for being a slaver."

"Perhaps," said Lamare, chuckling. "But there are other requirements," he added. Then his free hand moved to the soft white top that covered her breasts.

"What are you doing?" said Lana in alarm, as his hand began to trace slow circles on the material stretched over her firm breast. Lana gasped, for despite the covering, the tingling touches rifled through her like wildfire. Thanks to the fruit, her nipples were already swollen and sensitive, such that his fingers easily found their firmness poking through the cotton. When they found their target, she let out a soft gasp as his fingers squeezed softly.

"Ah, you like that?" whispered Lamare, his fingers pulling lightly on the tender nipple, causing the girl to shudder.

"No!!" she protested, squirming as his fingers sent rivulets of fire through her body. "Stop, y-you're hurting me!"

"Oh dear," replied Lamare, as he stopped pulling on her tender nipple and resumed his soft caresses of her breast, "I didn't realize those adorable little noises you were making were from pain."

Lana burned in shame, for she realized this man knew more about a woman's body than she did. She'd had no idea her body would react this way to Lamare, a man she despised. It was one thing when the charming, attractive Warrick touched her, but this man disgusted her. It must have been the fruit. She was so hot and bothered at this point, her body didn't seem to care who was touching her. Suddenly she felt panic rising to the surface. Without her abilities, she couldn't hope to escape her bindings. She struggled, but the chain effectively held her wrists tight to her sides, and her waist tight to the pommel. It was frightening, for she'd never felt so helpless. "Lamare," she protested, "I-I'm an Arbiter, and I represent the Alliance . . . you will release me at once!"

As he spoke to her, Lamare's hand never ceased its caresses - moving from one breast to the other, though he made no move again for her nipples, to her relief.

"You may be an Arbiter, little bird," he said, his breath so close that it tickled her ear. "But you are also a female. And like all females, you are a slave to your body's desires. You need only a skilled master to show you this truth."

"Please spare me your barbaric nonsense!" said Lana with disgust. Yet despite her harsh words, she found it terribly disconcerting that his hands were free to move about her body, while she could do nothing but mouth protests. She tentatively opened her mind to try to stop him, and was rewarded with a searing pain.

"Ahh, I see you are trying unsuccessfully to use your abilities to stop me," said Lamare with amusement. "With your abilities having left you, perhaps it is a good time to show you what it is like to be a female on Dellune? Our females learn to respect and fear their masters, for we know the secrets your body's contain," Lamare said, his other hand now wandering along her sensitive midsection below her white top.

Lana knew he was goading her, but it worked. "That's absurd," she scoffed, "they fear you because you are cruel bastards! Men have used that nonsense to justify—hey!" His hand had slid up beneath her soft top and was caressing the sensitive underside of her breasts. Lana shivered slightly, drawing a sound of amusement from the man. His hands were moving to the top of her stomach. Softly he caressed her bare skin below her breasts, his fingers grazing the round flesh just beneath her white top. Lana jumped at the sensation, much more alarming than she had expected. It seemed her whole body was suffering heightened sensitivity, but then she wasn't used to being touched by strange men, so it was hard to say for sure. "Stop this now!" she cried, anger fighting down her arousal. "You think because we are out here in the forest, you can do as you please? I will inform Warrick of your transgressions, what do you think he will do?"

Lamare chuckled. "We all agreed I should give you an introduction to slavery. That is what I am doing."

"An introduction?" spat Lana. "This is educational, is that it?"

"Yes! I'm glad you understand," said Lamare. She wasn't sure if he'd intentionally ignored her sarcasm, or he was that delusional. "You seem very sensitive," observed Lamare. "The Somarian fruit is meant to be taken in small portions." Lana stiffened at the reminder that he knew of her condition. "Oh yes, I know you are feeling it. It is in the interest of fairness that I have not touched you more deeply."

"If you're expecting me to be grateful, you can think again," said Lana, not hiding her dislike for his manners.

"Tell me, Miss Torina, do you find me attractive? Do you wish to take me to your bedroom chambers?"

"You must be out of your mind," said Lana. "Not if you were the last man on Dellune!"

"I thought as much," he answered. "Then tell me, girl, if you despise me, why does your body respond so eagerly to my touch?" As if to make his point, he brought both hands to her front, then slid them up her skin, under her white top, to cup her bare breasts.

"Lamare!" she exclaimed, gasping at the shock of his rough palms on her over-sensitized nipples. His hands paused, hovering just above her heaving flesh.

"Why do you think that is?" he continued. Lana hesitated, confused. His casual touch had ignited a fire in her far worse than what she'd felt before.

"Y-you are mistaken," said Lana carefully. "I want nothing from you, least of all your touches."

"Am I?" said Lamare. Then his hands stopped hovering and cupped her breasts, his fingers encircling and caressing her nipples. "Oh!" cried Lana, the shock rippling through her breasts, straight down to the growing heat in her belly. "Do not touch me!" she cried. He ignored her of course, his fingers alternating between soft swirls and hard tweaks of her now swollen little buds, each squeeze drawing a gasp of shock from Lana. Squirming in the saddle, she found the juncture of her thighs bumping up against the base of the pommel. She tried to hold still, to avoid the torment of friction between her legs, but Lamare's teasing fingers and her over sensitized state made that impossible. Nor could she stop the humiliating sounds of pleasure that escaped her lips.

"Lamare, if you don't stop this, I will . . .," she choked, desperately. What would she do, kill him? Even with her abilities she still needed him alive. "You will pay for this," she said. He only ignored her, which made the panic rise inside her. She needed the salve, her body was flaming higher with each touch of his hands. "Lamare, stop . . . I need to relieve myself," she said, still squirming under his touch.

"What sort of relief do you need, girl?" he said, giving her full breasts a suggestive jiggle.

Lana shook her head. "No! I need to . . . to use the bushes . . . let me down, you miserable man, then you can do what you want, just let me go relieve myself!"

His fingers had left her breasts and were tracing slowly up and down her bare back. Lana shivered at the new sensations. Lamare leaned forward to whisper in her ear, his breath tickling her. "Just escape from these chains, and I will let you go relieve yourself."

Lana groaned at his cruelty, and at the hands exploring her body, which seemed to be sensitive everywhere he chose to touch.

"Very well, you'll just have to endure it then," said Lamare.

"No wait!" she protested. "I . . . I cannot escape the chains, you know that! Take them off!"

Lamare shook his head. "I don't like your tone, little bird. You must ask me in a respectful manner. Until you do, I shall amuse myself with your delicious curves." His fingers then stopped wandering over her back and returned to her breasts, squeezing and rolling her tender nubs as she cried out in tormented pleasured, her thighs clenching helplessly and her hips bucked in the saddle.

Lana couldn't take any more, she needed to apply more salve, or risk losing her mind. "Stop this nonsense, Lamare! Oh, alright, I'll say it . . . would you please remove my chains, so I . . . may go . . . relieve myself?"

"You seem very eager to do this . . . I wonder . . ." said Lamare. "Have you been applying some ointment to yourself, when the heat from the fruit gets too high to bear?"

Lana stiffened in the saddle. "W-what?" she replied, after too long a pause. "I—I don't understand?" She silently cursed herself for being so transparent.

Lamare chuckled. "I thought so. When did you last apply it to yourself?"

"I don't know what you mean," protested Lana, feigning innocence.

"You're a terrible liar, Miss Torina." His hands were moving down her sides to her hips, then to her horror, they moved in, sliding under her skirt, along the valleys at the juncture of her thighs.

"Shall I see where else you are sensitive?" he said quietly in her ear. Lana shook her head rapidly, trembling at the proximity of his hands to her overheated center. She was terrified of what he might find, should he examine her there.

"No, anything but that! It's true, I used it!" she confessed, the words spilling out before he might decide to examine her.

"And where did you apply it?" he demanded, his fingers inching closer to the white panties that protected her sex, making maddening little circles on her inner thighs.

"My nipples!" she confessed, desperate to arrest the movement of his fingers.

"Anywhere else?" he asked, suggestively. His fingers moved against the outside of her thin white panties.

"No, don't! Alright, yes . . . down there . . ." she added, the shame making her blush a bright crimson color.

"Down where?" asked Lamare innocently.

Lana groaned. "You know where!" she accused.

"There is more than one place 'down there' that we can apply the salve," said Lamare, pointedly.

Lana paused for a second, then she gasped. Did he mean?

Lamare chuckled. "Yes, you have a lot to learn about your own body, Miss Torina."

"Why would you do that?" she cried, horrified. Then she shook her head, "No, I don't want to know. I didn't apply it there, only to my, umm . . ."

"Your pussy?" said Lamare. Lana blushed, then nodded.

"Good," said Lamare, pleased at her confessions, "now we are getting somewhere. You see? If you are honest with me, it will go much easier for you." Lana shook her head silently, for she didn't believe him. "Now answer my question, girl, when did you last apply it?"

Lana hesitated, then she gasped when his fingers pulled her panties away from her flesh. She could feel the cool air rushing in on her heated center, and she panicked. "Ok, stop! I'll tell you!" Mercifully his fingers let her covering fall back, though they hovered nearby, as if a casual threat. "I applied the salve at the inn, before changing clothes."

"I see," said Lamare, nodding. "So, it has been several hours, and the heat is upon you again." It wasn't really a question, he was clearly familiar with what she was using. "And you intend to relieve yourself by applying more of this salve?"

Lana hesitated again, and was quickly punished by his teasing hands. "Yes!" she gasped. "Please . . . let me apply some more, I can't stand it!"

Lamare chuckled. "I'll tell you what, I won't let you down, but I'll apply if for you . . . if you ask me nicely."

"W-what?" she exclaimed. He was so cruel, and Lana groaned in misery. She couldn't ask him that, and yet, if she didn't apply more soon . . .

"Let me refresh your memory a bit," said Lamare. His hands left her hips, and slid under her white top to her breasts, which he cupped in his hands, his fingers caressing her nipples. "I will tease you without mercy until you beg me to apply the salve like a good little slave."

"You'll be waiting a long time for that!" Lana hissed through gritted teeth.

Lamare chuckled. "It's a long ride. I can do this for hours. I love those little cries of pleasure you make."

Then his hands and fingers went to work on her. Lana bit her lip, then choked back a gasp when he tugged on her nipples. They felt big and swollen and more sensitive than she thought possible, due to the fruit no doubt. After only seconds of torment, she was having trouble holding still. She strained and squirmed in the leather bindings that bound her wrists to her sides, but he was merciless. He didn't stop, continuing to squeeze and pinch, caress and flick her engorged buds until she cried out and bucked against him. Lana began to fear she might orgasm from his teasings, but strangely her body seemed content to keep her at a heightened state of arousal. When she didn't give in after a few minutes, he changed tactic, and left her breasts to explore her bare sides, her tight belly, and her tightly clenched thighs. He carefully avoided her panties, content to slide his fingers along her inner thighs, and the sensitive valleys at the juncture of her hips. His constant nearness to her wet center was driving her mad. Despite him not touching her intimately, that seemed to be where she was feeling it.

They continued the slow ride through the forest, and Lamare's hands continued their work, gently exploring her body, moving from her thighs up to her hips, teasing her belly and sides, and caressing and squeezing her breasts before moving down again. It went on for minutes, then more minutes, and Lana thought she might go mad. How could he be so patient, while she was desperately squirming and twitching, her breathing strained and her lips clenched tightly to try to silence her sounds of pleasure. When he continued to be silent, and the touches threatened to force her to give in, Lana spoke.

"Do y-you . . . really mean to . . . do this for an hour?" she said, her voice strained and cracked.

"Of course," said Lamare.

"Why?" said Lana. "What do you hope to . . . accomplish?"

"Perhaps I simply enjoy touching you," he said. "Your body is quite interesting -- you have the lovely soft flesh of a pleasure slave, but underneath I feel toned muscle. Unusual in a female, but I think it adds to your appeal."

Lana gasped in shock. "I have not been training hours every day for your personal entertainment!" she exclaimed, indignant. He was describing her as if she were a fine wine.

"Yes, I know," said Lamare. "You've been locked up in your convent, your body collecting cobwebs like an old forgotten book in the library. I am liberating you, to let you experience what it means to be a female."

"What?" cried Lana. "I . . . you . . . why I will . . ." she sputtered, unable to form a coherent thought.

"To learn to be a pleasure slave, you must first learn pleasure," said Lamare. "The weak men of your world have failed to teach you, so if falls upon me to do so."

"It does not!" cried Lana. "Lamare, I insist you stop this at once!"

"Then ask me to apply the salve to your body," he responded, reasonably.

"Damn you," murmured Lana. "H-how much further is it?"

"It will take some time," replied Lamare. "Then it will fall upon Warrick to teach you, I'm afraid. I hope he is man enough for the task."

"He is far more man than you!" spat Lana. Then she cried out when an annoyed Lamare pinched her tender nipples. At least she'd gotten through his thick armor, she thought. Being compared to Warrick seemed to be a sore point for the man.

Minutes went by, Lamare's touching whittling away at Lana's sense of pride. She was stunned that her body was responding so strongly to a man she despised. He was certainly handsome, but his every word and look were dripping with self-satisfaction and arrogance, such that she wanted to throw him off the horse again. Her body did not seem to care, and faced with a man so skilled in the female body, her arousal was reaching a feverish peak. More time went by, and despite her mind's refusal to give in, she could feel a slow, building wave of what could only be an orgasm building inside her. Lana found herself willing her body to relax, to pull back from the precipice, but his skilled fingers continued to bring her closer and closer to the ultimate humiliation. Despite her tense body, she couldn't stop squirming and shuddering as the pleasure rippled through her very soul. Despite her tightly clenched jaw, the soft cries of pleasure escaped her throat, alerting Lamare to her impending climax.

"Do you feel an orgasm coming, little bird?" he said softly in her ear, his hands never ceasing to work her tender flesh. "Will I be the first to give you such pleasure?"

"No!" gasped Lana, her breathing so ragged that speaking was difficult. Even the thought of him making her cum seemed to enflame her need. "Do not p-presume to know me!"

"Oh but I do know you," said the man, his hands no longer wandering about her body, but now focusing on her breasts, which he perceived as a weak point. "You are a beautifully ripened fruit hanging from the tree, needing only a skilled master to come along and give you a good squeeze, then you'll be overflowing with sweet juices. I would see you cum for me. I enjoy your little gasps and moans, but I want to hear you scream for me."

Lana groaned in misery. It was the last thing she wanted, to let this despicable man bring her to a shuddering climax. She'd die of the shame.

"There is no shame in it," continued Lamare, as if reading her mind. His voice was casual rather than mocking. "And I fear if we continue you might damage your teeth." Lana groaned, not realizing she'd been clenching her jaw. The man saw everything, she realized in dismay. "Let me ease your suffering by making you cum," he said then. "If you are a good girl, I'll give you more than one orgasm. Or if that scares you, I can apply the salve, and ease your suffering that way. Your choice."

"Oh god," moaned Lana as the imagery flooded through her. She wanted to give in -- her body was begging for it in fact, but the humiliation of his touches would pale in comparison to what would happen if she gave in.

Then Lamare leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Say yes now, or I will make you cum over and over, until we reach our destination, and you can tell your warrior all about your ride with me."

Lana blanched. What would the proud Warrick think if she let herself be brought to climax by Lamare. He'd think she was a slut, or worse, he'd lose interest in her!

"No, you cannot! I will do it!" Lana choked out, her fear of losing Warrick's respect finally outweighing her pride.

"Then say it," said Lamare, giving her petite but tightly swollen nipples a hard squeeze.

"Ohh! Ok . . . I . . . please apply the salve on me?" she said, tentatively.

"You shall address me as Master, slave," corrected Lamare, rolling her nipples around in his palms.

"P-please apply the salve to my body, Master!" She hated using that word, especially with a bastard like Lamare, but she couldn't take what he was doing to her.

"To which part of your body, slave?" he asked, innocently, giving her another tweak as emphasis.

"To my breasts . . . damn you!" she croaked.

"And where else?" he said.

"Oh god no!" cried Lana, "don't even think about doing that one!"

"We shall see," said Lamare, "nevertheless, your obedience pleases me. I'll be happy to take care of your breasts for you. Where is the vial?" She told him, and he chuckled.

"Of course, just where a slave girl would hide it," said Lamare. He reached down in front, pulling her panties away from her belly and reaching inside to fish it out, as Lana tensed at his touch so near her womanhood. Lamare removed the top of the vial and said, "I shall ease your suffering, hold still." She found his words more humiliating than even his touches on her helpless body. He stopped the horse and took the vial in both hands, then used one finger to dip into it. Lana tensed, her body aflame, but eager for the relief she knew the salve would soon bring. Lamare lifted her top with one hand, exposing both her breasts to the air, and Lana grimaced in shame, grateful that no one was around to see. Then her mouth fell open with a gasp, as Lamare began to smear the salve on first one nipple and then the other. She moaned helplessly. But unlike what she'd done, he then took a liberal amount and rubbed it all over her breasts. "W-why are you --r-rubbing . . . all over?" she gasped, barely able to breathe. He didn't answer immediately, and she tried to stifle a moan at the intense pleasure of having her breasts massaged slowly and thoroughly.