Agent in Distress Ch. 12

As Lana walked the halls, she told herself it was time to make that stand. She didn't know what they had in mind for her on her second day, but she was going to draw a line, and stick to it. They'd caught her off guard yesterday, but as she adjusted to their training, she saw that going along, being a good girl, accomplished nothing, so that needed to stop.

The magistrate paused at a door as if making sure it was the right one, before opening it and gently pushing her inside. It was a large training room, and it seemed familiar. Then she recognized the trainer that she had kicked earlier, and her insides tightened up with fear. The cruel-faced man was speaking to four kneeling slave girls, and all of them looked up when the two of them entered. Lana noticed that this group of girls wasn't bound like the others, and she imagined it was a more advanced class, if that was the proper term for it. The trainer was smiling as he walked toward them. He was on the heavy side, wearing brown, well-worn leather, and carrying a black whip on his belt, as well as bundles of thin rope, probably for binding the wrists of slaves.

"Ah, my good Luthor, you've brought me an old friend for dessert, how thoughtful," said the trainer, speaking to the magistrate but looking Lana up and down. Without thinking she brought her hands up to cover what the tiny white string skirt did not, which was basically everything.

"Hands at your sides," commanded the magistrate, nudging Lana with his elbow. She paused, thinking about her vow to fight, but decided she would pick her battles. She moved her hands away, blushing at her nakedness. "Yes, Augorus," he continued. "She's learned a great deal yesterday, so I think she's ready to atone for her earlier behavior, where she kicked you in the . . . " he made a gesture toward the slaver's crotch.

"Yes, indeed," said the trainer with annoyance. Then his expression improved. "I can see already her attitude has improved. Did she perhaps witness some stages in the courtyard? We can recreate those right here in my training area, you know?"

"Yes, she did," said the magistrate, nodding. "And she was lucky enough to see a demonstration by Nikos' personal bodyguards visiting from the capital."

The trainer made a face. "Hmm, I don't trust those two and their witchcraft. I've heard it said they screen all of Lord Nikos' visitors, even the slave girls, using their minds or something."

Lana suddenly looked as if she were stricken in the back with something sharp. Luckily neither of the men noticed, and she quickly recovered. If it were true that Henri and Varga would screen the slave girls telepathically . . . she'd be discovered for sure! Her mind quickly was thinking of possible solutions. Then she reminded herself she had more pressing problems . . .

"Well, I'll leave you in Augorus' capable hands, my dear," said the magistrate, patting Lana on the ass and turning to leave. Lana watched him go with a sense of regret. Somehow she'd grown accustomed to the magistrate named Luthor. He was devious, but in a strange way she felt that he actually cared for her. The man standing before her looked at her like she was a piece of meat, in need of tenderizing.

"Alright, new repentant slave," he said, all humor gone from his voice. "Go and show us what you've learned. Take a seat facing the four young ladies."

With a nervous swallow, Lana quickly moved to the mat in front of the kneeling slaves, and went down on her knees, taking up the standard posture with her legs spread and her hands palm down on her thighs. She pushed out her chest and kept her back straight. Seated, she was struck how young the female slaves looked, and how beautiful. Dellune seemed to have a never-ending supply of lovely young women, and she marveled at their flawless skin, and attractive figures. She also noticed the girls were looking at her strangely, in a rather unfriendly manner. She wondered what might have inspired that.

The trainer was approaching, his eyes looking over her posture. "Eyes down," he barked at Lana, who had been looking about the room. She swallowed her annoyance and complied, only steeling a glance when the trainer squatted down next to her. He held a long slender rod which looked like the one the magistrate had used to whip her on the ass the previous day. The trainer used it to push on the insides of Lana's thighs. "Spread your legs wider like the eager little slut you are. Every man must think you are inviting him to ravage you however he pleases."

Lana's eyes narrowed in anger at his crude words, and she struggled to contain her indignation as she widened her legs. Let him play his little games.

"She's shorn, look at her pussy!" said one of the slave girls suddenly, a petite redhead who was pointing at Lana's widespread thighs. Lana noticed the none of the other girls were shaved, and as she looked from one to the next, she almost thought they looked jealous.

The trainer was leaning down, looking at her. "Hmm, I doubt she's earned that privilege." he said. "I'm going to guess she's naturally hairless, is that right, new slave?"

"Yes," said Lana sullenly, returning the jealous looks of the other slave girls with a glare.

Suddenly the trainer whipped his hand, and the small leather tongue on the end of his whip struck her bare breast, making her cry out in pain and surprise. She looked at the trainer with fire in her eyes, struggling to keep her posture. With her hands free, the temptation to teach him a lesson was strong. The trainer returned her glare, then spoke to the four slave girls who were watching with a mixture of amusement and apprehension. "Girls, what did our new slave forget to do?"

"Address you as 'master'," came the quick response from several girls at once.

"Yes, Master," said Lana after a moment's hesitation.

"I hear more resentment than obedience in your voice, slave," said the trainer. "Tell us what you are, girl."

Lana looked at him, unsure what he wanted her to say. "Tell me what I am . . . Master," she replied, trying to keep the acid out of her tone.

"Girls?" said the trainer. "Tell me what you are."

"Yes, Master. I am a pleasure slave. My only purpose, and my sole desire is to serve my master, and all those who stand above me." It was like a chorus, all of them looking at Lana as if she were the class dunce.

Lana thought of making her own version, but decided against it, repeating the phrases the girls had said. The trainer listened to her parrot the words of her fellow slaves, and finally shook his head. He reached down between her legs with the tip of his whip, touching the leather tongue to her exposed slit, right where the white string passed between her nether lips. Lana jumped, her eyes narrowing at the crude intrusion.

"You think you're better than these girls, don't you, girl," said the trainer. "You think they're the sluts and you're some little princess." Lana glared at him but kept silent. "Well, princess . . . look how you jump when I touch you, I bet you're nothing but a little bitch in heat, ready to spread your legs for any man who walks by." To prove his point, he pressed the leather tongue into her folds. Lana blushed as she heard a wet sound, and several of the watching slave girls giggled. Her thighs closed part of the way, and the trainer responded by smacking her on the top of the thigh. "Keep them spread, slut!" he barked. Lana widened her thighs again, and then she yelped when he whipped her breast again, leaving a red mark on her soft round flesh.

"Yes, Master," hissed Lana, her voice sounding anything but obedient. Somehow she found this man so repulsive that she struggled to follow the magistrate's instructions.

"I do not like your tone, slave," barked the trainer. "Present your ass for inspection."

Lana frowned. "I . . . don't know that one," she said. "Master," she added after a pause.

"Girls? Present your asses for inspections," barked the trainer. Lana watched in amazement as the four girls shouted "yes, master," then spun around, went down to their knees, and pressed their foreheads to the mat. That position forced their asses upwards, and she saw four pretty little anuses pointing obscenely at her. "Well done," said the trainer, using the leather tongue to rub against the exposed puckered anus of the nearest slave, who gasped slightly, her bottom quivering. "Resume your positions. Now you, new girl, present your ass for inspection."

Lana hesitated. They'd put her through a lot, but this . . . it was just crude and highly offensive. And somehow following the orders of the charming and handsome magistrate had come easier for her. She loathed to obey this cruel man.

Smack! The man smacked the leather tongue on her thigh, causing her to wince in pain at the sting in her flesh. With a glare of hatred, Lana reluctantly got to her knees and turned around, presenting her ass as she'd seen the slave girls do. The trainer grinned, placing the palm of his hand on her bare ass cheek and squeezing.

"Ah, that's better, slut!" he announced, moving his finger around until it was able to circle her anus, causing her to jump and pucker up at the intrusion. "Do you like to take men in your little ass, slut?" he asked, pushing his finger gently into her tightly clenched hole. "I'll bet you do, little wanton bitch that you are."

Whether it was his crude words, or his even cruder touches, Lana wasn't sure, but something made her snap. She instantly got to her feet and turned to look down at the trainer who was still on his knees. "You touch me again it'll be the last thing you do, you sick bastard," she hissed, her hands on her hips and her eyes burning into the man. She gestured at the slave girls. "You may have enslaved these poor girls, and I can't change that, but I'm not going to let you talk to us like that, you . . . fat toad!"

The trainer's eyes were wide in shock, and then suddenly he smiled, getting to his feet. His smile said he got what he wanted, he'd provoked the new slave girl, and now he was going to enjoy punishing her. "Well, well," said the man, in his lewd, suggestive tone, "the new girl isn't as far along as she appeared. You just made my day, I'm going to enjoy disciplining you. Now get on your knees and beg forgiveness, little slut, and maybe I'll be lenient on you."

Lana just glared at him. "Why don't you make me, if you're man enough. Or do you need the helpers to do your duty for you?" Lana had noticed several helpers were now watching her, but they seemed to be waiting for a command from the trainer. The command didn't come, for instead he smiled, licking his lips as he advanced toward Lana. The man was clearly not accustomed to female warriors, for he left himself wide open. Lana took the opportunity, whipping her right leg and striking the inside of his right knee. There was a sickening crunch, and the trainer howled in pain, somehow still standing despite his damaged knee. In a blur, Lana stepped inside his stance and hit him in the nose with an elbow strike. Without wearing pads, she'd never hit another human being with such a blow, and she was surprised how much it hurt her elbow, but the trainer took the brunt of it, his eyes rolling up as he toppled to the ground, blood beginning to seep from his broken nose. Several of the slave girls screamed, looking at Lana as if she were some sort of alien.

Lana stood there rubbing her elbow as three trainers rushed forward, looking in shock at the downed trainer, and the nearly naked slave girl who'd somehow bested him. They seemed to hesitate, also used to dealing with helpless females, leading to a strange standoff, which was broken by the stern voice of the magistrate. He'd no doubt been watching from a discrete hiding place, for he appeared and approached her.

"Miss Torina!" he bellowed, looking at her sternly. "I see . . . I cannot leave you unattended without you causing trouble."

She turned to look at him. Rather than anger or horror, he actually seemed amused, and Lana frowned in confusion. "I . . . did not like the things he said to us," she said, feeling embarrassed suddenly, as if she'd broken some unwritten rules of etiquette. Had she overreacted?

"No explanation necessary, my dear," said the magistrate, smiling. "That is why I left you with him, to see if we had broken you. I think we have our answer." Then he stopped smiling, and gave her an apologetic look. "Now, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to get to your knees and place your hands behind your back." When Lana didn't react, he continued. "Miss Torina, after such an outburst, we can't very well let you run around unbound, now can we? Please, do as I ask."

Lana looked at him finally, and she nodded. She'd never intended this as an escape attempt, and she regretted hurting the trainer, she'd just lost her control. Though she had to admit, he deserved it. Lana got to her knees then, putting her hands behind her back. With a gesture from the magistrate, the trainers quickly went to her, binding her arms behind her, each wrist bound to the opposing forearm. Then they got her to her feet, and brought her over to stand in front of the magistrate. Lana suddenly wondered what he was going to do to her? Surely she would need to be punished. Her trainers at the Institute would have been horrified by what she'd done, for she'd not only set herself up for more discipline, she'd revealed too much of her own strengths, which would make escape that much harder in the future. And yet, when she thought of what the trainer had done to provoke her, she came to the same conclusion each time -- he had deserved a comeuppance. Hopefully he'd be out of action for a while, otherwise he'd probably take it out on the other slave trainees.

The magistrate was looking at her with his arms crossed. "What are we to do with you, young lady?" he said, shaking his head. "I was right about you . . . there's something . . . special about you. I've never seen a female take down a man like poor Augorus, and with so little difficulty. I imagine he'll be limping for . . . the rest of his life."

Lana paled. "I . . . didn't mean to do permanent damage . . ." She suddenly realized that such an injury on a primitive planet would last him a lifetime.

"Of course you did, my dear," corrected the magistrate. "He had it coming. He's lucky he's alive. But what to do about you, that's the question? I think I know just the thing. I've yet to see a slave persist in her obstinance after being subjected to this particular training."

Lana swallowed heavily, wondering what that could possibly entail. Then the magistrate seemed as if he'd remembered something.

"Oh you know, I just remembered we need you for something, so your punishment will have to wait. I'd forget my head if it wasn't stuck to my shoulders. Come, we must hurry!"

The magistrate turned then, and the helpers took Lana by the arms and guided her as they followed the magistrate through the complex. Lana quickly gave up trying to keep track of where they were going, but when they reached their destination, she noticed a sign over the door. Slave Auction. She blanched.

"You're going to auction me?" she blurted in alarm. That would be a disaster; she might never reach Nikolai if she got purchased at auction. She might be able to escape once her abilities returned, but getting the mission back on track might turn out to be impossible.

"Ah, I found something that scares you!" replied the magistrate, turning to face her. "You fear you'll never see me again, is that it?" Lana blushed for some reason she couldn't fathom. "No girl, I'm not going to auction you, well, not exactly. Come."

Lana was guided in through the door, and she looked about, half expected to see a large wooden auction block, but instead it looked like another training area. It was empty at the moment. "We have auctions once or twice a week," said the magistrate in explanation. At one end of the large room were several doors, and the magistrate guided her to one labeled "2." He opened the door, and the helpers guided her inside. It was a small room, with a simple two-person bed, a dresser that was partially open, revealing the usual assortment of slave accessories, and above the bed dangled a set of leather manacles. The helpers guided her to get onto the bed, telling her to kneel in the center of it. Then they carefully removed her bindings, and placed her wrists in the manacles above her head. When they were done, they went to a winch and adjusted the height of the chains that held the manacles, raising Lana's arms above her head as she knelt.

"What is this?" said Lana, warily, looking around.

The magistrate looked at her, gesturing for the helpers to leave. They closed the door, and then he spoke. "This is where we rent out pleasure slaves by the hour to wealthy or important customers." He raised his hand when he saw Lana start to protest. "I know, but do not worry, we've arranged a special guest for you, one you're already acquainted with."

Lana stared at him, trying to read him with her eyes, and her mind, the latter causing a mild headache as her mind failed to read him. Her thoughts went to Warrick, but what if it wasn't him? Who else could it be? Lamare? Please don't let it be him! She thought.

"Ah, I thought you'd like that," said the magistrate. Then he looked at her sternly. "Now keep in mind girl, any slave who injures a customer is put to death the same day. So behave yourself, I don't want him ending up like our trainer friend, you understand!"

Lana gulped, nodding. She was starting to feel terribly anxious. If it was Warrick, what was he up to? Surely they'd never let a customer walk out with a prized rental slave. If it wasn't Warrick . . . she shuddered at that possibility, of being at the will of some customer for an hour.

The magistrate leaned in to pat her on the cheek. Then to her surprise, he kissed her gently on the forehead. "Do not worry, little one," he said softly. "In an hour, you'll have a much better understanding of your place as a pleasure slave. I look forward to seeing the change in you. I regret only that our guest will be unable to use you fully. We must maintain your virginal state I'm afraid."

Lana bit her lip in anxiety over his words, and then the magistrate left her alone, giving her a smile as he closed the door. Immediately, Lana got to her feet and tested the manacles, but without a key, she'd have no hope of removing them. She tried to reach the ceiling where they were fastened, but it was above her reach. Nor did she have enough leeway to reach the door, or the cabinet. Sighing with defeat, she sat back down on the bed. It was the first time she'd had a moment to herself, and she paused to think about what had transpired.

As she thought back over the events of the last few days, she felt a burning shame at the things she'd done. And yet, she couldn't deny what her body was feeling. Every part of her flesh felt alive and tingly in a way she'd only ever experienced in her short time with Victor. The salve's cooling effects had long worn off, and she felt a burning need that threatened to overwhelm her mind. She realized her relative inexperience with sex had left her hopelessly overwhelmed by the slavers' techniques and mind games, and she could feel her self control and will slipping away with each new devious training session. More than that, she knew deep in her core that she needed Warrick. She needed him to ravish her, completely. She needed it soon, for she feared her will might break and she would accept her own ravishment by whomever chose to do so. If she was going to give in, she wanted it to be to Warrick. As she waited, her anxiety grew and grew. Please, let it be Warrick, she told herself.

As she knelt with her arms bound over her head, the familiar feeling of helplessness washed over her. Whoever was renting her would be able to do whatever he wished, and the cabinet on the wall was full of devious toys conjured by a perverted mind. Lana gasped at the wet trickle she felt between her thighs, and she looked down at herself in horror. No! she thought. I cannot be aroused by this . . . the thought of being a helpless slave, waiting to be used by whatever man walked through that door. Lana shook her head in denial, but her body burned, her nipples large and stiff, and her poor womanhood wet with dew. Please, please, let it be Warrick, she thought, if it's someone else, I'll die of embarrassment.