Agent in Distress Ch. 10

Then she saw two of the men at the station lifting a wooden pole, about six feet long and maybe an inch in diameter. The wooden pole wasn't straight, it was actually curved, and along the middle of the pole, she could see small rounded bumps sticking up about the length and girth of her thumb. It was all an intricate carving, she realized. Then she gasped softly when she saw the two men put one end of the pole down between the widespread legs of the two girls, maneuvering it through so the other man could grab the other end. With the curve of the wood, each end held by one of the men was higher, and the pole was lower in the middle where it was now below the crotches of the two women. The blond was now trembling in anxiety as she realized what was going on, and the pretty brunette was struggling, angry sounds coming from her gag. The men then raised the pole until it touched the two girls, raising it further as the girls went up as high as they could on their toes in a futile attempt to escape. Then they slowly began to move the pole back and forth in long slow strokes.

Lana watched breathlessly as the wooden thumbs each slowly pushed their way into the wet folds of each girl's pussy before slipping out and passing beneath them. Each time the thumb would pass under the girl facing Lana, the slave would jump as the thumb moved briefly against her anus.

"The men prepared them well before starting, so the wood will be quickly slickened with the juices. To avoid causing them excessive pain, you see," he added. "We are not unkind to our slaves."

Lana shivered, for she didn't think that was quite the definition of kindness. Then again, she realized the girls seemed to be shuddering with pleasure, their fear replaced with a kind of dazed arousal. The girl facing Lana already seemed to be on her way to an orgasm, for her mouth was open and her breathing ragged through the gag.

"Now slaves," warned the magistrate. "Do not be so eager to find satisfaction, for whoever cums first will be soundly punished by 10 lashes of the whip." Suddenly the demeanor of the two girls changed drastically. Pleasure was again replaced by fear, and the girl facing Lana shook her head pleading into her gag. Shorter than her friend, she was straining to get higher to escape the wooden thumbs that continued their slow passage between her thighs. Each passing thumb continued to make the girl shudder and moan into her gag, yet her lustful expression was now tinged with anxiety. Lana herself was feeling lightheaded, and she turned to the magistrate to voice her protest.

"You must stop this! This is . . . you can't . . ." her voice trailed off as the absurdity of her statement struck her. They were slaves, like she was, and anything could be done to them.

"Does this distress you, my new slave?" said the magistrate, looking at Lana. "It is good that you feel compassion for your sisters in bondage. That is important for a slave."

Lana blushed at his backward compliment, but she shook her head, "It's so cruel! The poor things . . ."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes, the pretty blond there, Aniya, she's a sweetheart isn't she? Would you like to take her place, is that it?" The blonde's eyes perked up, and she had the most pitiful look of hope in her eyes. Lana however was mortified, as she imagined herself subjected to the endless processing of wooden thumbs. Her thighs clenched of their own accord, with a slight sound of wetness that she hoped the magistrate hadn't heard. "Ah, you are filled with indecision," said the magistrate with a nod. "Your body yearns to be tormented as these slaves are, but you fear the whip, should you be unable to hold out." He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Do not be fearful, my slave. The salve will give you an unfair advantage. You will avoid the whip, I am sure of it. Go on, indulge yourself. I can tell you want to just by looking at you," he added, his voice a soft, seductive whisper in her ear.

Lana groaned, shaking her head. "Y-you're mad! There is no indecision! W-what . . . possible purpose could this be serving?"

The magistrate looked at her as if she'd asked a foolish question. "Well," he explained, "the wooden arc lets us train or discipline two slaves at once, and it gives our overworked helpers a rest. It can be tiring you know, training female slaves for 8 or 10 hours a day, and, to be honest, a bit monotonous. These games keep the men interested. It's also fun to see which girl will hold out the longest. My money is on the brunette, of course."

Lana shuddered, thinking about how many captive women must pass through their training camp. She wondered what stage these two girls were in, how many days of training would Lana endure before her trainers became bored and subjected her to similar games. A soft sound escaped her throat, drawing the attention of the magistrate.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he said, reaching up a hand to caress her bare back below her bound wrists. He smiled at the way his touch made Lana shiver. "Watching this must be driving you mad with desire."

Lana shook her head, and she swallowed heavily, for her throat felt terribly dry. She couldn't let him think she wanted this! Then she heard the blond girl crying out into her gag, she looked close to cumming, and her eyes were wide with fear. The other girl was craning her head again, and Lana saw a look of determination in the other girl's pretty green eyes. Suddenly the brunette was moving her own hips, grinding herself into the wooden pole.

"What is she doing?" said Lana, looking back and forth between the magistrate and the brunette's frenzied humping of the slowly passing pole. The man only smiled at her and kept watching.

The blond girl seemed to realize what her friend was doing, and she shook her head, mewling into her gag, but her friend ignored her, moving her hips to hump the wooden thumbs with an aggressive but skilled motion. Lana gasped as she saw the girl's body start to stiffen, her movements getting even more frenzied, and then suddenly, she arched her back, a long garbled moan coming from her lips before she went slack, hanging by her arms, spent. The blond was shaking her head, looking at the magistrate, her eyes pleading for mercy for her friend.

"Ah, we have a winner, and a loser," announced the magistrate, clapping his hands. "The loyal Jenifer sacrifices herself for her friend Aniya, how touching," he mocked, as several of the men chuckled. The two men holding the pole lowered it and removed it from between the girls' legs, then one of them used a towel to wipe their juices off the wood with surprising thoroughness. They were likely going to use it again, Lana realized with a shiver.

"10 lashes for our lovely Jenifer. And Aniya, for shame, letting your friend suffer such a cruel fate. Take her to the slave pit."

The blonde's eyes went wide, and she was shaking her head, tears beginning to stream down her face as she mewled pitifully into her gag. The men had to lift her then, for she collapsed, her legs buckling under her.

"What is the slave pit?" whispered Lana, fearful of the answer but her curiosity overcame her fear.

"Do not worry about that," said the magistrate, placing a hand on Lana's shoulder. "You are destined for far greater things."

"But what is it?" demanded Lana, not wanting to push, but she had to know.

"Such curiosity!" said the magistrate, patting her on the cheek affectionately. "It will serve you well in here." When her inquisitive look didn't fade, he sighed. "The pit is where the male slaves mingle when not working. Little Aniya will be dropped off there, to serve as recreation for whatever male slaves happened to be there. It's typically five or six, but at certain times of the day, it could be a dozen men. All of them quite backed up with seed of course - our male slaves don't get many chances to relieve themselves, you see."

Lana was gaping at him open mouthed. She tried to speak but nothing came out. It was unimaginable, and she searched his eyes, to see if he was telling the truth. Lana wished she had her powers back, but she had to rely on her ability to read men the old fashioned way. She decided he was probably telling the truth, and that made her feel faint, her legs buckling slightly.

The magistrate saw her condition and he reached over to squeeze Lana's ass, then gently tugged on the white string that went between her cheeks. Lana gasped as the string dug into her aching pussy. "Do not worry, my lovely," purred the magistrate, squeezing her firm butt cheek again. "We would never send you to the pit. But we have other punishments for the high-end girls like you, and they can be much worse."

"W-what could be worse than being used by a dozen men??" croaked Lana, looking at him. Then her eyes widened. "No! I don't want to know! Don't show me, please!"

The magistrate chuckled. "Well, I see that was educational for you. I think you are beginning to comprehend the futility of fighting your fate. That is good. Let's go see what else we can show you." The helpers took her by the arms again, walking Lana further into the courtyard. Her legs felt wobbly and her face flushed, and Lana couldn't stop thinking of what she'd just seen, and heard. How soon would they start doing such things to her, she wondered, and then she gasped as the little gush of liquid she felt between her legs. She tried to force the imagery from her head, but with each step, she felt the wetness rubbing between her thighs. She hoped they didn't really punish the girl for protecting her friend, that was just too cruel. As for poor Aniya . . . Lana tried to tell herself it was untrue, that they wouldn't really give her to a dozen male slaves.

"Ah, here we are," said the magistrate, approaching a large tent. At the entrance to the tent was a small table, and another man sat there next to some coins and a small scale. "We charge for people to watch our special events," explained the magistrate. "But of course, you will get in free of charge. But I'm afraid I must put your gag back in. We don't want to break the rules." Lana was too weary to fight, and she let the helpers put the gag back in her mouth, and tie it behind her head. Despite the feeling of helplessness in her gut, the gag seemed to make it even worse. Wearing the gag meant she would be unable to voice her thoughts, until they deigned to remove it at a later time. Until then she was truly helpless.

Then the magistrate guided her inside, the seated man nodding as they passed through the doorway. There was a raised wooden platform, on which several small stations were placed, like the courtyard itself, only condensed to fit inside the tent. The stations were some of the same contraptions she'd seen outside in the courtyard. She saw a pommel horse, a pillory, and other stations that were beyond her comprehension, as well as several racks of implements like the previous room had contained. It was a room for sexual torture, she realized with a shudder. There were wooden benches on three sides of the platform, for spectators, she assumed. However, there were only a few seated there, all of them well-dress men, several accompanied by women in fancy dress. Lana suddenly felt her belly tighten in fear, but the magistrate did not bring her onto the platform, he instead brought her to the side of it, where she saw a row of women, kneeling on soft mats and facing the platform. All of them were nearly naked, and each had their wrists bound behind their backs like Lana.

"You are very lucky, Miss Torina," began the magistrate, turning to face her. "Today we have two special guests visiting us from the capital. These men are Lord Nikos' personal guards, two of his trusted inner circle. They have come to our humble facility to interrogate a captured foreign spy deemed too dangerous to bring before Lord Nikos, at least until we break her."

Lana felt her stomach drop, and she instinctively tried to back away, but the strong arms of the helpers kept her in place. She stared at the magistrate, her eyes now wide in fear. She searched his eyes for double meaning . . . could he be talking about her? Did they know what she was? She glanced back at the torture stations, and it all took on a new terrible significance. Were they going to torture her here, in front of spectators? Lana suddenly felt lightheaded, and she began to collapse, caught by the arm of the magistrate, who was looking at her strangely. Just then, an opening at the back of the tent fluttered, and two men strode in.

"Ah, here they come now," said the magistrate, looking at the two men. Lana's eyes narrowed, for both men looked strangely familiar. Then she made a muffled sound of panic. Lana shook her head, no! It wasn't possible! She watched in horror as the two men walked to the center of the stage and began to address the growing audience.

"Welcome, guests," said the handsome blond man dressed in battle leathers which looked distinctly modern in manufacture, too compact and thin to be hand-made by primitive tools. "My name is Henri, and this is my associate Varga," he added, pointing to the large, black-haired young man standing next to him. Varga's eyes were scanning the audience with disinterest until his eyes reached the kneeling slave girls. His eyes took in each one until finally he's eyes lifted to Lana, and then they stopped, causing Lana to nearly faint. Henri continued talking, but Lana didn't hear the words, she simply stood there, unable to breathe, her eyes on Varga. She wanted to look away, in hopes he might not recognize her, but she was unable to -- she had to know. Varga's eyes weren't on hers however, they were traveling up and down her naked, slightly trembling figure, and then finally he smiled and continued scanning the audience. Henri also caught notice of her naked form, but his eyes lingered only a short while as he continued speaking.

Lana finally took in a deep breath, shuddering as her fear subsided slightly. They hadn't recognized her. No doubt she looked quite different, for the last time they'd seen her she'd worn a white martial arts uniform and a ponytail. Now she wore nothing but a gag and that absurd string bikini bottom. It seemed unlikely then that she was the captured spy the magistrate had spoken of, but if she was their target, would they recognize her after spending more time with her? Lana panted, fear driving her lungs to make short, gasping breaths. How in the universe could these two be here, on Dellune, and so close to her? Of course, she thought. When the two boys were expelled from the Institute, Nikolai must have recruited them and brought them here to Dellune. They'd have been serving him ever since.

"Are you alright, girl?" said the magistrate softly in her ear. "You look like you've seen a ghost." Lana turned to him, shaking her head and making soft sounds into her gag. "Oh," he said, suddenly. "You are worried the torturers are here for you?" He chuckled, reaching up a hand to caress her trembling cheek. "You're not a spy, are you, pretty little one?" Lana shook her head, her eyes pleading for his understanding. The magistrate just chuckled and then guided her to kneel to the right of the row of slave girls, and he sat down next to her, taking the last empty mat. Lana sat nervously, hoping that now she would blend in, as just another slave girl. She looked to her left, and marveled at the beauty of the kneeling slaves. Some were younger and a few older than she, but all were pretty and nicely curved. She was the only dark-haired slave, she realized. I'm not a slave! she reminded herself, suddenly. She cursed herself for falling into that thinking.

Henri's voice drew her attention back. "Now, let's introduce you to our special guest, a lovely but extremely dangerous young lady who was captured two days ago by our own skilled soldiers." Lana's stomach dropped, and she made a noise of panic in her throat. She looked up at Henri, but he wasn't looking at her, instead he was facing the rear opening that he and Varga had pass through moments ago, gesturing with his hands. Lana sighed, relief flowing through her like a warm flood of water. It wasn't her, just a strange coincidence. Perhaps Nikolai was so paranoid, he was capturing 'spies' on a regular basis.

The opening rustled then as two very large soldiers entered, their thick arms holding a slender naked young woman between them. She seemed to be unconscious, and the soldiers carried her light frame with two hands under her arms. Lana gasped in her gag, for even unconscious the girl was stunningly beautiful, with dark auburn hair in a thoroughly modern bob haircut that nearly touched her shoulders. Lana took in the captured woman's physique, marveling at her toned muscles and athletic body, even more impressive than her own. She was clearly some sort of fighter, her body harder and more muscular than Lana's, but her alabaster skin was almost inhumanly pure and white, and smooth. Not pale like a girl unused to sun, but almost possessing an internal light. Lana had never seen anyone who looked quite like her, and she felt a twinge of jealousy, mixed with awe.

The woman's ankles were encased in iron manacles kept together by a very short chain, and her wrists were bound before her in the same manner. The manacles were of the beefy sort meant to hold a male warrior, not a slender female. A short chain went from her wrists to a chain that tightly encircled her narrow waist. Her collar was thick iron instead of thin ornamental bronze like the one on Lana's neck, and a thick chain ran from the collar to the manacles that held her wrists imprisoned at her waist. A wooden ball gag was in her mouth, its leather straps tied off behind her head. They led her to the center of the stage, where two chains dangled a rectangular section of wood, containing two holes. The guard carefully took the wooden stock and opened it, pulling on the chains until it was able to reach the woman's waist. He then fastened the wooden stock around her wrists, and locked it, before carefully removing her manacles one at a time, clearly unsure she was really unconscious. A third guard then hoisted the chain, lifting the stock up above the girl's head until she was stretched tight. The two guards then spread her legs, locking each ankle into a heavy wooden block on the floor. When they were done, the girl was spread wide, the arms stretched tight above her head, and her legs far apart and taut. The position lifted up the prisoner's modest but perfectly shaped breasts, showing off her tiny pink nipples. Lana finally tore her eyes from the woman's beautiful curves to notice that Henri and Varga were standing there, eyeing the captured woman with great interest.

"Magnificent specimen, isn't she?" said Henri to the audience. "She may look harmless now, but we have lost more than a few men in the last two days, learning just how dangerous she is. Fortunately, we've also learned how to bring out some docility in this hostile and lethal beauty."

The audience was murmuring disbelief, and a few were chuckling, as if the two men were joking about the prisoner. Clearly they did not believe the story, for the girl looked harmless, strung up like a slave and stripped naked. Lana however was not so sure. She'd never seen a woman built quite like this one, and something about the prisoner set off her alarm bells. Henri noted their skepticism as is he expected it, and he gestured to Varga. Lana watched curious as Varga went and fetched a wooden bucket, filled with water, and placed it behind the sleeping prisoner. He filled two more buckets of water and placed them next to the first. Then Henri reached up and removed the sleeping female's gag.

Henri gestured to one of the guards lounging around the courtyard. "You there, come here." The guard looked around, making sure Henri was referring to him, and then he cautiously came over and stood at attention before Henri. "What is your name?" said Henri, to the man who looked older than he.