Agent in Distress Ch. 15

Suddenly there was the sound of female laughter, and all three men turned their eyes to the cell. The prisoner was awake, looking at them. "I gave them the order," said the prisoner, her smile almost angelic in its beauty. "I found the gag to chafe my skin, and I was not in the mood to have sex with your pitiful guards. They were going to remove the chastity belt and my chains," she added, sounding annoyed. "But they informed me you two idiots held the keys to those."

Henri and Varga stared at the grinning woman, then looked at each other. "You bitch!" announced Henri finally. "But the buzzer is still in your ass . . . how did you use your abilities?"

The woman just shrugged, "I turned it off, obviously," she responded, grinning at the men. Henri growled audibly and turned to the guard. "Did you prepare the buckets of well water?"

"Yes sir," said the guard, pointing behind them.

"Open the cell door! And get some of your helpers in here!" barked Henri, as Varga was moving to one of the buckets. With the door open, Varga walked into the room with the bucket, and immediately froze in place, his muscles suddenly trembling.

"Damn bitch is doing it again!" barked Henri. He pulled out a device from his pocket and pressed a button. The woman tied to the bed suddenly frowned as they heard the audible buzz of the anal device. Varga was still straining to move the bucket, frozen in place by the woman's mind, and Henri cursed again, pressing something on his device.

A sharp sound came from the woman's throat, and her pretty faced contorted in pain and concentration, together with a louder buzz coming from the prisoner. After a few seconds, she gasped suddenly, and then Varga began moving again, immediately tossing the contents of the water bucket onto his naked, chained target. The prisoner screamed as the icy cold water showered her body and soaked the bed. Suddenly her body started shaking and her teeth began chattering, as the cold water and the buzzer inside her ass shook her to the core. Henri approached the trembling woman, her face now a mask of anger and pain.

"That's what you get, you bitch, if you try to use your powers again," he said, standing before the naked woman. He reached out to her thigh, and then yelped in shock, pulling his hand back from the shock. "Damn, that thing has a lot of juice!" The woman was shaking wildly now, her eyes wide and starting to lose focus.

"Uh, maybe you should turn that thing off," said Varga, putting down the bucket. "Don't want to kill her."

"Oh, yeah," said Henri suddenly, as he stopped staring at the woman and clicked the device. "Back to 1 shock every 30 seconds, just to keep you honest," he said to the woman, who was now lying there panting, her eyes dazed and not really seeing. Three men entered the cell then, dressed as slave camp helpers. They looked to Henri for guidance, and he gestured at the softly gasping woman. "Get her vertical and prepped."

Without a word, the three men moved to the woman, removing her chains carefully, two of the powerful men grasping her by the upper arms as the manacles were undone. Yet the woman showed no signs of resistance, or even comprehension. She still seemed dazed and was trembling slightly. The helpers moved her away from the dripping bed to the middle of the cell, then attached two chains and leather manacles to her wrists, before using a hand crank to raise her arms above her head. Then they grabbed her legs, one at a time, and fastened more chains to keep her legs spread apart and anchored to the floor.

"Damn," breathed Varga. "Have you ever seen a body like that?"

Henri shook his head. "And when she's not speaking, or mocking us, she has the angelic face of an innocent girl."

"Yeah, almost too perfect," said Varga. "But she doesn't look augmented . . you know, cosmetically. Very odd."

"Well, whatever she is, we're going to teach her some manners," said Henri. "Let's get started."

"Uh, what are we doing to her?" said Varga, hesitating.

"Nikolai has something special planned for her," said Henri, cryptically. "Her telepathic abilities are her greatest strength, and perhaps also a weakness. He wants to turn this beauty into a very special slave, the prize of his collection!"

"Hmmph," said Varga. "Doesn't he have enough slave girls already?"

Henri gave him a dirty look. "You know him, he tires of tormenting meak Dellune girls, he wants to dominate a powerful woman, one who is his equal. And you know he's been looking for a way to get back at the Institute for what they did to him. He thinks he may have it with this prisoner."

Varga groaned. "He needs to let it go. I'm happy to get out of that place. All the rules and traditions, and instructors with egos the size of a small planet . . . I don't miss it."

Henri shrugged. "I know what you mean, but he's an obsessive man, and he holds grudges like no one I know. In any case, he wants his telepathic puppet, and we're going to try to give it to him." Then he smiled. "And I thought of something, a little . . . side trip we can make. Nikolai doesn't need to know about it."

"Now you've got my attention," said Varga with a grin.

"Did you ever hear when we were back at the Institute about a prostitute service, where the woman was a telepath. No? Then do you remember Corvus, who was a senior at the time? He used her service, and he said it was mindblowing! The woman used her abilities to broadcast into his mind during sex. He said it was like getting a mental blow job at the same time she was giving him a real one."

Varga frowned at Henri's far-off expression. "Yeah, so what? Why you thinking of this now?"

Henri looked at him and sighed. "Hello? If this camp can turn ordinary women into eager sex slaves, maybe we can create our own telepathic sex slave?" He gestured at the beautiful captive. "Imagine this goddess giving you a mental blow job?"

Varga's eyes widened suddenly as the idea clicked. "Oh, yeah. Wow, I like that idea. But how?"

Henri grinned. "I've been practicing my mental projections on the slave girls they send to my chamber. Time to try it on a real telepath." He looked at Varga. "I'll need your help."

"You got it," said Varga, his expression morphing into a grin as he looked at the still trembling prisoner.

****

Lana slept fitfully. It had been three days since the magistrate Luthor had rescued her from Lamar, who'd been taking her on horseback as a gift to get in the good graces of Lord Nikos, or Nikolai, as she'd known him from the Institute. At first Lana had been worried that Lamar had told someone about her true nature as a spy from the Institute, but that didn't seem likely, since no one had come for her. Dell was a primitive planet, so communication was done by courier or letter. Lamar likely had trusted no one but himself.

As Lana had suspected, the magistrate had grown fond of her, so the last 2 days of training had involved less harsh treatment. Yet Lana wasn't sure it was an improvement. Each day in the slaver's camp, she felt more and more like a pleasure slave. The constant training on how to be submissive before her masters, how to serve men, and women, anyone of higher status than she, a lowly pleasure slave in training. Worst of all was the constant stimuli. She was regularly touched, teased, tormented. Sometimes she was bound, other times she was not, but was expected to endure to overwhelming pleasure.

Yet satisfaction was rarely given, and had to be earned, usually in the most humiliating ways. Even when she was allowed to cum, it was by the hand of a trainer. She hadn't been broached since she'd been with the three warriors, and Lana found herself strangely craving to be filled. Most confusing of all was that she wasn't sure she wanted Warrick or Luthor to be the one to take her fully. The magistrate seemed to understand her desire, and was amused by it, which drove Lana mad.

Despite heavy doses of training, she hadn't made much progress in learning to deal with the shame and humiliation they subjected her to, much to the amusement of her trainers. Nor had she learned to control her own body's needs. She continued to be easily aroused, and struggled to resist their touches, such that when her need grew too great, she was unable to stop herself from begging her trainers to let her cum. When they'd still refuse, she'd want to die of shame, yet the next time the need became too great, she found herself begging again.

Lana had hoped her body's heightened sensitivity, a result of the copious amount of Somarian fruit she'd eaten, would subside with time, but so far there was no sign of that. The slave salve she'd also mistakenly used on herself, way more times than even her trainers knew of, continued to make orgasms illusive. This pleased her trainers, for they were able to coerce greater obedience from her by denying that blessed relief from her explosive sexual needs. It seemed the men never tired of seeing her beg to be touched or taken.

Lana had resisted that ultimate shame as long as she could, but their clever and cruel methods eventually overcame her will power. She told herself that no one here would ever see her again, once her mission was complete. She'd obey to survive the slaver camp with her sanity intact, and move on with the mission, never to see her trainers again.

It had been over a day since Lana had been able to cum, which explained her troubled sleep. Touching herself without being instructed to do so was strictly forbidden, and truthfully, the slave salve would make that difficult were she to discretely try to make herself cum. On the plus side, her telepathic abilities were slowly returning, and she went to bed that night with a strong premonition that tomorrow, she might be strong enough to . . . what? Warrick hadn't resurfaced, and she didn't think she could continue the mission on her own. He was probably recovering from his deep wounds, resting before the final push to Nikolai's fortress. She just wished he would hurry.

Some hours later in the middle of a fitful sleep, Lana saw her, the mysterious telepath she'd witnessed tortured by Henri and Varga. She sensed her, to be more accurate. Instinctively, Lana reached out with her mind, seeking the other powerful mind that was emanating thoughts so strong they'd awoken Lana from a deep sleep.

Her abilities were definitely recovering! Lana sat up in excitement, only to be brought short by the bindings that kept her wrists above her head. Lana blinked, looking about the dark, pleasant scented sleeping quarters. She looked to her right, and saw Gwen sleeping softly, and to her left, blond Cade was snoring in a most adorable manner. Lana blushed, remembering what the girls had done to her a few nights before. But since then the magistrate had warned the girls not to interupt Lana's training by touching her at night, and Lana had found herself strangely disappointed. Their touches, their lips and tongues, had given her such pleasures . . . it was exquisitely appealing in her current needy state.

At that moment, having been denied orgasm for over a day, she couldn't help fantasizing about the girls. Lana's thighs jerked and she bit her lip to quiet the moan. Why did she always fight her traiing, when this place gave her the most incredible experiences, which she'd never have imagined. The urge to give in, to just surrender and enjoy the lustful urges filled her mind, fighting against her sense of duty, and pride.

She was on a strange world, whose people should be allowed to develop their culture in their own way, and not have it forced on them by condescending outsiders with a thousand year head start. This idea had been drilled into her at the Institute, and she believed it strongly. If she had more time on the world, perhaps she could be a voice for change, to convince the women, and the men, that slavery was not in their best interest.

But when Lana imagined preaching such things to the Dellune people, she instantly pictured herself in chains, enslaved and publicly humiliated as a lesson to uppity females. She had learned on Dell, it was best not to paint too big a target on your back.

Lana gasped at the twinge of fire she felt deep inside as she imagined being publicly humiliated and shamed, naked and in chains, on display for hundreds of virile men. She'd be made to beg and cum in public . . . to show the women of Dellune what happened to females who break the rules. What would that be like, she wondered? Lana felt lightheaded, just thinking about it. She'd die of shame. And yet, once she escaped this planet, she'd never see any of these people again, would it be so terrible to give in for a bit, experience what the Dellune females went through. She would better understand them, and she could return to her world and explain what she'd learned. Of course they'd laugh at her back home. The modern world she'd been raised in seemed so rigid, pleasure-less, so . . . unnatural.

Lana shook her head, how could slavery be natural? She couldn't possibly be turned on by such a thing, what was wrong with her? The planet was brainwashing her, or something! She didn't want to be a slave! Still, she wouldn't be a slave, not really. She could stop the experience any time she wanted, use her abilities to escape, and continue the mission . . . and yet what if they gave her daily doses of the fruit? And the salve? Her abilities would never return, and she'd be a slave . . . forever! Lana shook her head, that certainly wasn't appealing. If she wanted to help the people of Dellune, she needed to complete her mission. Nikolai was a threat to every man, woman and child on the planet.

The telepath! Lana suddenly remembered the woman from her dream. She'd been in pain, or anguish, which Lana could still feel like a fading dream state. If only she could help the poor woman. And such a powerful telepath would could be an ally against Nikolai. Then her eyes went wide. Her powers were back -- she'd gotten so used to not having them, that she'd forgotten all the possibilities they offered. Lana reached out with her mind, sensing and probing. She saw the slave girls in her mind, sleeping not far away, and she sensed the magistrate, sleeping in an unfamiliar place. It was the first time she'd sensed his mind, and it gave her a strange, warm glow, and a soft jolt of pleasure in her belly.

The man had at first been a cruel master, forcing her to enter his world of unwanted but undeniable pleasure. Then he had changed, become her savior, her protector. . Why, she wondered? Perhaps the why didn't matter. She'd worried after he rescued her that he'd . . . change. Become like the men she knew back home. Lana had felt a strange pang of regret, at the thought of the magistrate turning . . . gentle. But he had not, only . . . . softened a bit. In fact she hadn't seen as much of him the last three days as she'd have liked.

Suddenly her mind felt a tugging, as if the prisoner was calling to her. Reluctant to leave the comforting glow of the magistrate's mind, she went out further, seeking the powerful, anguished mind of the telepath. There! She found her. Because she'd never been there in person, the woman's surroundings were a blur, lacking features, but she thought she could find the place, if only she weren't stuck bound to her bed.

As Lana lay on her back, she couldn't help feeling dejected. This was the problem with being a sex slave, it crimped her style. Then she felt the familiar thrill of power surging through her. The fruit had amplified her abilities, and they seemed stronger than ever, though still not fully recovered. She twisted and sat up on the bed, looking at the leather-lined metal rings that held her wrists captive. When she'd closed them shut, they'd locked, and she could see a keyhole that would unlock them.

Peering into the hole, she could see some kind of simple mechanism. She just needed a piece of metal, or something. Looking around, of course there was nothing. She peered into the keyhole again, visualizing the insides, then she closed her eyes, picturing it with her mind. Concentrating, she began trying to move the insides with her mind. There was a sound, one of the pieces had moved. She tried again, moving whatever she could.

It took a few minutes of trial and error, and then she was rewarded with a metallic click, and the manacle fell off her wrist. Lana opened her eyes and giggled softly. She'd done it! She tried the second manacle, and in half the time, she heard the click and that one fell off her wrist. Elated, Lana leapt off the bed, immediately heading for the door, moving silently so as not to wake up her slave sisters.

Fresh off her success at solving the problem of her bound wrists, Lana turned her attention to the locked door of the barracks. She remembered seeing the helpers lock it with a simple key, and she quickly moved to kneel before the door, peering into the keyhole. It looked more complicated than the lock that held on her wrist manacles, and she tried for several minutes to move the mechanical parts in the right order to unlock the door, with no success. Finally, she sat down on the cool stone floor with a soft groan of annoyance.

If only her Institute training had included using telepathy to pick door locks. But of course that feat was considered near impossible, so no such class existed. Lana stood up, looking about the room. Her amplified abilities opened up new possibilities that she was only beginning to understand. But there was nothing useful for her predicament. She moved to the iron bars of the door's small window and peered out. Something silver in color was on the wall. The key! Lana's heart leapt. Of course, why not hang the key in the most obvious place. It wasn't like the slave girls could reach through the door to get them. Most slave girls couldn't, anyway, she thought with a smile.

Lana closed her eyes, focusing on the key and the metal ring holding it. Then she opened her eyes, smiling as she saw the key floating through the air toward her cell. It floated between the bars, and then Lana let it fall into her outstretched palm with an excited squeal of delight. Lana put the key into the lock and turned. Click! Lana bounced up and down in elation as the metal door slowly swung open. She couldn't believe she'd done these things!

Lana quickly moved out into the hall, before turning back to the wooden door to pull it closed. Then she locked the key and returned it to the hook on the wall. Still smiling at her success, Lana set off looking for the prisoner. Every few steps, she would close her eyes, and let her mind listen and feel. While she could sense the prisoner's mind, and near her, that of another being, perhaps a guard, the telepathy didn't give her good direction sense. Several times she had to reverse course or backtrack in the dark, damp halls of the sleeping slave camp.

As she was moving silently on the balls of her feet, she passed a door to a cell, and she heard soft moaning sounds from inside. Lana glanced through the small, barred window and she drew in a sharp breath at the sight. A petite brunette was naked and alone in the room, making soft moaning sounds, with her eyes closed as if she were half asleep. The girl's arms were tied with soft rope above her head, and her legs were spread wide by the manacles on her ankles. With her arms stretched so tight, she was forced up on the balls of her feet.

While that looked very uncomfortable, Lana realized the true source of her torment was a thin rope that ran from the ceiling down between her legs and back up through a hole in the ceiling, where she could just see it winding through a series of pullies. At times, the rope would move, and the slavers had tied small knots at short intervals in the rope. When these knots would slide between the slave girl's legs, she would shudder and cry out softly in her sleep. At other times, the rope wouldn't move, and after watching for a minute, Lana realized it seemed tied to the wind, which she could hear blowing through one of the windows in the hallway. It was a wind-powered sexual torture device, she realized with a grimace.