Agent in Distress Ch. 05

He'd interrupted her in the rudest way possible, with a firm, long squeeze of her nipple. She wasn't going to let him defeat her, and she focused her mind, trying to ignore his hands, and focus on the hand that intended to spank her. Yet in response, he pinched a nipple, while at the same time, flicking his wrist and landing a hard spank on her bare ass. Lana cried out in surprise and pain. His arm was so fast that she couldn't give him even a second of control.

"You forget to address me as Master, slave," scolded the warrior. "You only add to your punishment with your forgetfulness."

Lana was too annoyed to play his game, instead she concentrated, trying to immobilize his hand. "Ohh!" she gasped as her breast was squeezed. Then she felt the intense slap on her sore bottom. "Oh god" she cried, "stop that!" She was rewarded with another tweak of her engorged, tender nipple, followed a moment later by a loud slap and a searing pain in the flesh of her ass. Her mind pulled on his hand as she increased her concentration, sensing victory as they fought for control, he with his powerful forearm, she with her mind.

Suddenly she felt a tendril of delicious fire rake gently across the damp panties that covered her womanhood. The sensation made her mouth fall open, and then she was gasping for air as his finger retraced it's slow movement down the slight crease at the center of her panties. "Oh my god!" she moaned, as the finger started moving in gentle leisurely circles on her panties. She'd never felt anything so pleasurable, and she was transfixed by the sensation; it must have been the fruit, it's effects now in full force since she'd been unable to apply the salve. In her trembling, gasping daze, she'd forgotten about his right hand, until it struck her bottom again. The pain was getting worse with each strike, such that even the pain was keeping her from focusing. She looked at upraised hand, and she tried to focus her mind, only to find to her horror that the warrior's other hand continued to torment the dampening triangle of her flesh.

"It is as I suspected, my little warrior," Warrick was saying softly. "To use your powers requires concentration, and like any other nubile young female, you find concentration difficult while subject to a man's commanding touch."

He spanked her again, she seemingly unable to even slow the movement of his arm. He was right, when he was touching her so intimately, she found herself completely unable to focus her mind sufficiently to use her powers. It was frightening and intimidating, and Lana realized that due to the fruit's effects, and Warrick's skill, she was losing the battle of wills. The pain strangely mixed with and intensified the exquisite pleasure his other hand was giving her, such that her mind was struggling to retain its sanity. "S-stop!" she cried, meekly, trying yet again to use her telepathy, but she was rewarded with an even harder smack to her trembling bottom. Lana cried out in pain, tears trickling down her cheeks now, as the humiliating pain mixed with the crippling need of her arousal.

"From now on, each time you try to use your powers, you will be punished," said the warrior, matter-of-factly.

"You cannot!" wailed Lana, crying out when she was rewarded with another stinging crack on her now red and burning bottom. The pain was so intense that the anticipation of the next strike was terrifying.

"Please . . . stop!" she cried, her voice no longer tinged with anger and resentment. "Please, Master, p-please stop!" His hand paused in the air, but his finger continued to gently draw circles on her now soaked panties, making her squirm and gasp in her bindings. Then his arm whipped down to strike her again.

"Ahh, no!" she screamed, her ass on fire. "I—I didn't try to use my power!"

"Yes, I know, because you are unable to," said the warrior. "But it seems necessary to remind you that your Master may punish you whenever he pleases, however he pleases." As if to illustrate his point, he struck her again, causing her to scream, no longer able to handle the pain. The pain in her bottom was now so intense that it barely subsided between strikes. But far worse was the shame that the man she found so attractive was spanking her bare bottom.

"P-please Warrick! Please it hurts!" she begged, arching toward him in her binding, pleading with her eyes as well as her voice. He struck her again, no doubt for the use of his name. "I'm sorry, I mean Master!" she cried. When he only gazed at her impassively, she pleaded more. "I—I'll stop trying to use my abilities, I p-promise!"

Warrick smiled down at her. "There's no need for promises now, Lana, for I know now how to render you as helpless as any normal female. But I am pleased that you finally understand what I'm trying to teach you."

"And what is that?" said Lana, her voice hoarse and her cheeks damp with tears.

Warrick sighed, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Lana, I know you are embarrassed, and your poor bottom stings, and you don't know why I'm doing this to you. Let me explain. When you are alone with Gorum slavers, without me there to protect you, they will threaten you with pain to try to control you. I know how stubborn you are, you'll choose punishment to avoid giving in, so I had to teach you the futility of being stubborn with ruthless men. I wanted it to be me that did this to you, so you'll know better when you're before a real slaver. Your bottom will recover soon, but the slavers might really hurt you if you defy them. I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt. Do you understand?"

It all suddenly made sense, and Lana nodded with a sniffle. He seemed to really care about her, and even if she didn't agree with his methods, his motives were pure it seemed. She gave him a half-hearted smile and nodded.

"Good!" said Warrick, leaning forward to give her a kiss on her damp cheek. "Now I think there will be no more need for punishments. But I have a concern."

He gestured over the table. "See that glass jar there? Try to lift it with your mind." His hand had left her flesh, yet she still burned with desire, so much that she had trouble keeping her hips from moving on their own. Her breasts felt impossibly swollen and ripe, and a glance down at herself showed her nipples to be engorged to the point of bursting. "Come now, Lana," he said, his hand still on her shoulder. "Try to lift the glass jar; show me your powers remain strong," said Warrick.

Lana looked at him suspiciously, guessing that the second she tried to use her powers, he would touch her intimately again. Warrick seemed to read her mind, adding, "No, I won't even touch you, just try to move the jar." To prove his point, he raised his hands and stepped away from her. Satisfied that his hands were out of reach, Lana gave him one more glance, but he seemed sincere, so she turned her attention to the jar. She squirmed at the constant throbbing emanating from her overheated sex. Despite the fact that Warrick no longer touched her flesh, she still felt an overwhelming need, unlike anything she'd ever experienced. She'd desired men before, but this was a mind-crippling physical need; she needed to be touched, to be taken, fulfilled, relieved of her need. She thought of asking the warrior, and immediately rejected it as impossible. Did she have no shame?

"The jar, Lana?" teased the warrior, his arms crossed and looking down at her with that handsome smug look of his. Suddenly, he looked about the room. "Is it warm in here?" he asked no one. Then he began to undo the straps of his tunic. Lana watched in fascination as he quickly removed his leather tunic, exposing that broad, hairless chest and powerful, rippling muscles she'd admired while he slept. But this was entirely different, for he was awake, and she was burning with desire inside and out. Lana's mouth fell open without her realizing it; she'd never seen a man with such well-defined muscles, as if they'd been drawn on the canvas of his body by a talented artist. Her body reacted as well, her need causing a ripple of pleasure through her belly that made her shiver, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Her body wanted the attention of this man, needed it.

If Warrick noticed her reaction he didn't show it, as he leisurely stretched his now bare arms and seemingly enjoyed the feeling of being rid of his leather tunic. But Lana wasn't enjoying it in the same way, her body was preparing itself to be used by the impossibly handsome man who was before her, and she felt over ripened and wet.

"Very well, did you move the jar yet?" said Warrick, now looking impatient. "Or shall I call off the mission? Without your powers, you'll just end up another slave girl in Nikos' palace." That last part was enough to motivate Lana, and with a frown, she turned her attention back to the jar.

Many seconds passed, and she suddenly realized she'd been straining in her bonds, her brow wrinkled with concentration. Only she couldn't seem to control what images filled her mind. Every time she glanced over to the warrior, he seemed to be flexing and admiring his own muscles, refilling her mind with images of his broad, handsome chest. She was reminded of her vulnerability, her wrists bound high over her head, her topless body helplessly dangling before the warrior like a ripe hanging fruit. He'd shown he could do just about anything to her, and she'd be helpless to stop him. That inevitably triggered a gush of heat between her thighs. The more she tried not to think about her body's crippling need, the more she thought about it.

"I cannot move it!" she exclaimed finally, giving up in exasperation. "I can't even budge it. You did this to me!"

"Try harder," he commanded, his muscular arms crossed over his impressive chest and staring at her.

Lana stared at him for a second, then stopped herself. She concentrated on the jar again, straining, but her mind seemed stuck in a fog of desire, and the jar refused to budge. "Warrick!" she exclaimed. "I truly cannot move it!"

"Then you are truly helpless," said the warrior, eyeing her intensely. "We will need to train you to focus, to ignore your body's desires. You must be able to use your powers when the times comes, and you find yourself before Nikos."

Lana was suddenly reminded of the ultimate goal of her mission. She'd be called on to subdue or even kill a man, with her mind, and she might be in chains, or worse. She frowned at the warrior. "It is not a fair test, you have been . . . touching me . . . distracting me! I . . . I wouldn't have this reaction to a bastard like Nikos, or some slaver! When I am taken before Nikos, I will be ready, I will knock him unconscious immediately, before he can touch me." She gestured to his right. The warrior turned his head, and then visibly jumped, for there hanging in midair, pointing at him, was a dagger. Lana had taken it off the wall.

Warrick looked at the girl, confident in her own abilities, but he shook his head. "You recover quickly, that is good, but it still alarms me that you lose your abilities when you are touched." Then he smiled a wicked smile. "Let us practice some more."

"Practice?" gulped Lana. Warrick was moving toward her, his intentions clear in his eyes. Lana tensed nervously as he approached, and she gasped when his hands came to her sides to slide slowly and sensuously around her hips. Then with a firm jerk, he pulled her hips tight against his leather-bound crotch, drawing a surprised yelp from the girl, followed by a moan at the friction of his leather-covered crotch against her thinly covered womanhood. Being pressed against his hardness was even more arousing than his touches, and she moaned as she felt a rising tide of pleasure deep inside her. Lana tried to hold her hips still, but his hands had other ideas, gently moving around to grasp the cheeks of her bare ass, squeezing and moving her softly against him. Lana's eyes closed with a moan, her back arching against him. The dagger slipped from her mind's grasp and clattered on the stone floor.

"What are you doing?" she breathed between soft gasps. She'd thought she knew what he meant by practice, but she'd been wrong.. Then to her shock, she saw that he was lowering his head toward her chest. He leaned in, moving his lips to her breast . . . "Ohh, gaa—" choked the girl, as she felt his lips take possession of her quickly swelling nipple. When his teeth gently nipped her sensitive bud, her hips jerked in his hands, her thighs clenching reflexively. She'd never felt such pleasure, and she had no idea how to resist it. His head left her breast, moved across to her other nipple, and took it into his mouth, his tongue caressing her turgid nub. Lana moaned helplessly, her body stiffening with the intense pleasure that rippled through her. Her thighs clenched, trying to close to ward off the explosion of pleasure, but his hips and his hands on her ass kept her spread wide and straddled against him. Her pulled her wet, heated center against his crotch again, and she nearly fainted at the surge of heat between her thighs. With his head so close, his male scent filled her senses, making her dizzy. A small part of her tried to fight it, but was shouted down by her body's overpowering need. The warrior however seemed in no hurry at all, moving from one breast to the other and back. When she'd tense up from the rising tide, he'd stopped moving her hips and go back to nibbling on her breasts, skillfully bringing her close to the edge and keeping her there. Over the next few minutes, Lana learned the true meaning of helplessness, and by the time the warrior came up for air, she was a squirming, moaning wreck. She was ready, for whatever he wanted to give her . . .

"Tell me, slave," said the warrior, his hand drawing lazy circles on her heaving breast. "Are you still a virgin?"

Lana gasped in shock. "W-why does that matter?" Her heart sank. Would he not want her if he found out she was not a virgin?

Warrick shrugged as if it was a matter of little importance. "To the slavers it affects your value. Some buyers will only be happy with a virgin slave. I do not see the appeal, myself. The female's receptiveness and sensitivity are more important. She will not remain a virgin after their first session in any case."

Lana felt an enormous relief to hear Warrick's lack of preference. Then she paled when she saw the warrior watching her carefully. She feared her ever-expressive face might have given her away.

"So you are not a virgin?" said Warrick, looking at her carefully.

"I--well . . . no," said Lana, the fear of telling him assuaged now that she knew he had no preference.

Warrick grinned. "You must tell me the story."

Lana's eyes went wide. "W-what? No, I will not!"

The warrior grinned at her. "Oh yes, you will tell me." Then he pulled her hips against him hard. Her mouth flew open in a shocked moan as she felt a hardness pressing against the moist juncture between her thighs. She thought it must be his aroused manhood, or was it just his leather pants? Was he even hard, did he desire her? She was going mad thinking about it. When the warrior moved her hips back slightly, then firmly yanked her against him again, she let out a tortured cry of pleasure.

"A slave must be forthcoming with her master at all times," lectured the warrior, moving her hips in a slow circle against his leather crotch, driving her mad. "Now tell me, little slave, how you came to lose your maidenhood? I wish to know what sort of man was able to tame the wild beast." He leaned in so his ear was close to her lips. "I want all the juicy details."

Lana shook her head, remembering the event. "No, please, it is not . . . a happy story," she said, panting from her body's arousal. "I . . . I fear you will look at me differently if I tell you!"

"Not possible," said the warrior. "Do not worry about such things, just tell me the story. And leave nothing out. I will know, and will punish you for it." Her evasiveness was met by a firm push of his leather-clad manhood against her heated center, making her moan and shudder helplessly. His lips descended on her breasts again, to administer torturous kisses and nips of her engorged flesh. Lana was confused as ever by his actions; did he mean to make love to her? Was this just part of the training, and she was just a means to an end to him? She had to know! Within moments, the words came spilling from her lips.

"Please, Warrick, do not torment me so. Make love to me if you wish, but do not tease me anymore," she cried in his ear. His only response was to firmly squeeze the cheeks of her ass, and she moaned. "Oh god, please, make love to me, Warrick!" It was shameful to ask such a thing, but she had to know how he felt about her. If he refused . . .

The warrior lifted his head, and she saw what might have been a slight grin. "Little slave, this little teasing I am doing is nothing. A pleasure slave must endure far more. And have you forgotten how to address me?"

Lana moaned in frustration, "Master, please make love to me! Do you not want me?" Lana didn't want to force the issue, but the man was so elusive.

The warrior grinned, reaching up a hand to trace a slow circle around one firm, rising breast. "The need does seem to have taken you," he observed, his finger gently rolling and squeezing her nipple, drawing a tortured moan from the girl's throat. Lana squirmed under his touches, her mind struggling to comprehend the words he was saying, so great was her arousal. "But it would not be right; your desire stems from the copious amounts of fruit you have eaten. I could not take advantage of you in this state." Despite his words, he continued to doodle circles on her rapidly heaving breasts.

"It would not be right?" she parroted. "You have me tied up, stripped near naked, and you worry about taking advantage of me?"

Warrick shrugged, continuing to gently caress her soft flesh. "It is all part of the mission, I find no self-satisfaction in this. You need this training to complete your mission. And for the sake of your training, I need you in an eager state. It is much too soon to give you the relief you seek."

It was like a dagger to her heart, and she looked at him with pain in her eyes. "Training? That . . . is all this is to you?"

Warrick shocked her again by smiling at her, a warm but mischievous smile. "My lovely little Lana, did you think you could wiggle those exquisite curves before me, make some attractive noises, and I would be your mate for life?" By her expression, he seemed to get his answer, for he nodded, continuing, "I see you have much to learn about Dellune men." Then he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "If you wish to raise my desire, you must see to my pleasure, not just your own."

His closeness raised the heat in her body, and she responded breathlessly, "Do . . . do you not take pleasure in . . . touching me?" Her heart thudded in her chest, waiting for his answer. She feared a 'no' from him now might split her soul. Then she moaned as gently ran his fingers down her lower back to squeeze and caress with her ass. He lowered his head and pushed aside her hair, planting soft kisses on the curve of her neck, making her shiver at the delicious sensations. Then he moved his head lower, his raspy tongue and warm lips taking in her breast and making her spasm in pleasure, and he continued, moving from one breast to the other, until she was squirming and moaning helplessly. Surely he desired her, why wouldn't he say it, she thought. Finally he lifted his head and gave her his answer.

"Great pleasure, little one," he purred in her ear. "You are exquisite." Lana's heart felt like bursting with relief. She'd been holding her breath for a long time, and she let out a trembling exhale, sucking in the fresh air hungrily. "Nevertheless," he continued, "if you want me to take you, to give you the ultimate pleasure, you will need to see to my needs as well. Surely it is the same on your world?"