9th of June, 502nd of NDE. Cassadetur, Southern Eoran.

  “Hn Mnmlnhf tntf - nht hghnn!” Sedecannis roused with her back pushed firmly against warmed softness. From the front and round further down her body, an avid cinching sensation dug into her body through the yers of sleek, opulent clothing befit a sultry secretary. Or in her case, a sultry spy disguised as a secretary inviting the gazes of her superiors. The ménge of this adhesive pain, the dizziness induced by the funny scent still lingering in her nostril and mouth, and the soft, tender embrace of her arcane-woven linen-silk blend dress shirt – boldly hued in the shade of blueberry – stirred her to her odd situation.

  "Nht hghnn. Mhlmmrn fhll gncg mn hff." Another muffled whimper parted from Sedecannis’s cherry red coated lips, sealed by the pure inky bck strip strewn across her warm mango toned skin possessing a mild hydrous gloss, crinkling the lustrous strip. As she sighed her warm, fruity scented breath breezed through the little crevice between her naturally pouting, plump and wide lips and her small nostrils fring up as the tender air cascaded down, it calmed her sufficiently to slowly make out things in the office belonging to Ramiriira – her target.

  She was gd, whoever her captors were left her alive – for now – and didn’t wrap the tape round her head. Though her preference swung towards not being tied and gagged, overall Sedecannis preferred a single strip for its minimalism and for not pulling her silken smooth strands from their bed. The stinging was enough of an agony in itself.

  Upon her mind clearing, Sedecannis looked down, noticing the entwining, long strips of bck tape melding into the onyx bck Naede Leather jacket – slim and tailored into an elegant suit with golden trimming, broad and notched pels slightly disturbed and the waist which cinched a little even by itself. The bck strips seemingly melded into the velvety leather, including the long skirt made from the same vish arcane-woven leather whilst on her legs she lifted up slowly to not bump them into the long, broad ebony table were a bit more visible as they encircled the silken stocking hugging her legs.

  Then as the dizziness faded completely, muting the queer noise in her ears, she heard another soft cacophony filling the room. The melody of passion as the moans, tender whispers of a man and woman mingled into one. In the darkness, she slowly made out the figure of the two on the couch opened out into a bed, one towering over the other, framed by the shapely, slender legs with the feet, soles staring up at the ceiling whilst trembling, rhythmically jointed with the moans. A soft mumble came from her as her cheeks gained the reddish shade a few mangos possessed.

  First, she believed the man in the dominating position cloaked himself in the shadows, in bck light of the night, though squinting Sedecannis noticed the silken strands sprawling, cascading onto his form, broad shoulders moist either from sweat or from the natural blessing of their kin. His long, silvery white hair contrasted his oily complexion, bck as the midnight stretching over the fiment beyond the window. It was Lycuidor, head of Raminiira’s personal guard.

  A handsome dark elf, he was whom Sedecannis wanted to put in the same situation she was in, bound and helpless, though instead of a bck sealing tape, she imagined a contrasting silver strewn across his gaunt visage, just above the thin line of white beard stretching across his defined jawline as she was a kind mistress herself. She wanted to stare into Lycuidor’s bold, crimson eyes in an almond frame, enjoy the mixture of calm pleading, listen to his raspy voice moan beneath the gleaming silver tape. And as this stream of thought went through her head, Sedecannis’s breathing grew heavier, the inky bck tape and her jacket creaked in tandem as she subconsciously tried reaching into her own panties.

  In that moment memory and desirous imagination mixed into one, as she mistook the taut grip of the sealing tape for his firm, muscur hands wrapping about her waist, the cold and unrelenting tching of the inky bck strip of sealing tape for the damp silken cloth Lycuidor cmped over her face deftly, covering her lips beneath her narrow and low bridged, small nose. Its scent funny in a pleasant way, lulling her to sleep.

  The name of the sedative evaded her, but recognized it as a favored incapacitating poison used by the assassins, spies and the scum of Arghyria’s underworld. The moans grew rapid along with the creaks of the wooden frame, the sultry lulbies of the silken bnket and pillows, all mingling into the stirring sounds which distracted Sedecannis, drawn her attention towards Lycuidor and his partner whom he railed relentlessly. Looking at them, and the corpse not far away, she pondered – how much distress was she in currently. And whether there were rivals of hers or of Raminiira and the cartels.

  If it was one of the rivals of the cartels, death came closer with each passion filled breath, each moan of the two. Scamming the files, documents given to her by Arvindel, she was well aware that the mafias of Arghyria tended to not leave behind eye witnesses and often executed the lovers fearing they may have been spies of the covens. Her exact situation which made her unease a bit. Death was not alien or wholly unwelcome in her business, and a certain part of her remained curious towards witnessing Myelia’s realm but, if possible, she wanted to experience the full joy of a mortal life.

  Still, as she looked at the two – the reds of her cheeks amplifying – this idea seemed distant from a possibility. Whilst the mafia liked binding their victims, the victim often was found in a trunk or down in a river with a cinder or ice block around their feet. The lovers themselves id on their paramours, in a grizzly mockery of sleeping lover. As of now, she sat mostly still, making only little sounds like the squeaking of the tape and her naede leather jacket, or the hushes of the silk as it scraped against the inner lining. So far, so good. She felt relieved.

  So, they were either working for the Arghyrian Government or were sicarios of some cartel who noticed Raminiira’s veiled cut from their “legitimate” business. Or the least likely, two people who suffered because of the cartels and enacted their long-spanning revenge like in some novel. A few times she read about cases like that, but her bet remained on the two being rivals of her own. Two who had a shorter assignment compared to her who still had Myelia knows how long till the end. At least before Raminiira ended up as a corpse on his expensive carpet, staring with bloodshot eyes and urine tarnished luxurious pant up onto the gilded, vishly ornated chandelier with a distinct Southern Heleionian design and avian motifs.

  Blue, violet, crimson and crooked veins – each with a hint of amber – converged towards the center of his face, frozen into a grimace reflecting the agonies he experienced in his st hours. His tongue rolled out and blotted with indigo and violet, uncanny the longer Sedecannis stared at it whilst puffing her cheeks out and rotating her lips in a vein effort to loosen the adhesive dark fabric over it. His voluminous charcoal bck hair, well-groomed beard all disheveled in his st twitches whilst held down evident from the ruffled cuffs and the faint marks of fingers forcefully wrapping around his wrists peeking out from them.

  Amidst her inspection of the corpse, a loud moan scared her she lifted up the chair as her body reflexively tried to leap, only to be reminded by the unrelenting tape it was fixed in pce. “Seems our burner of the midnight oil awakened.” A melodious, deep feminine voice spoke up first, and Sedecannis exhaled, preparing herself for the worst, burying her taped cheeks betwixt her blunt blueberry colrs gleaming as the moon graced them with its light for a second. Well, it was a good run all things considered.

  In the dimness, she made out a naked, slender figure and following the snap, the chandelier’s candles all lit up at once. Their warm glow lit through the gloom, revealing the wiry frame blessed with oily abdomen with defined packs – from the sweat and from the makeup altering its odor into a sweet scent – of a light olive tanned complexion. Round eyes in tender cavities curtained in soft shadows, in the white pond, bold jades shone into her soul, bewitching her as the sealing tape snuffed out her mental protections. The more she stared at them, Sedecannis noticed the hints of azure swirling in the mesmerizing pearls, then her gaze moved down to the mirthfully smiling plump and narrow lips pouting as naturally as hers, covered only in a lipstick enhancing their inviting luster. She wanted to taste them, feel them pushing onto hers.

  “Well, well, well. aren’t we eager, hungry.” Though her breasts were smaller than Sedecannis’s, their shapeliness invited further down her gaze as she inclined onto the table. And with one, quick sweep bereaved it of the typewriter, the golputer’s screen, the stacks of documents, pens and magical ink. Her equally plump lower cheeks fttened upon its surface as she hoisted her long, muscled yet slim legs across. In a second or two, the sultry woman loomed over her mesmerizing oval face lit by feral delight. Her tongue peeked through her lips, moistened them before she drawn it across the center of the tape like some hungry beast tasting its prey. A soft whimper tried escaping her taped lips.

  Sedecannis trembled as a tiny wave rippled through her body, feeling the warm, wet tongue traverse the bck, gleaming tape where her lips drawn a dark, bulging outline. Her breath mingled with a faintly fruity smell, not dissimir to that of an apricot, which itself further mingled with orange and marmade, a quite exotic, tropical combination Sedecannis concluded whilst her captor, mistress buttoned down her shirt to give a bit more freedom to her breasts.

  “My dear, that shall be enough.” Lycuidor broke the spell of the moment, and whilst she yearned the lips upon her neck, the tongue to be twisted upon hers, Sedecannis looked at the dark elf approaching equally as naked, his spear still proudly erected with its forked tip – like bck dragons, but with softer angles.

  Sedecannis gulped loudly, her eyes almost bulging at the revetion of the shaft’s extraordinaire length, which the other assassin found amusing, stirring as the wheels of her imagination started whirring whilst sitting in the taped p.

  “The least we can do is leave her on the cusp of joys, whilst she awaits rescue, don’t you think dear?” She asked, almost childishly whilst leaning close to her neck, her sultry breath stoking the fmes within the feyfolk. Her cheeks pushed onto Sedecannis’s tape covered prompting a short whimper from the captured agent.

  The touch of her skin proved as soft and pleasant as her dress shirts, and whilst her mind wished to push away, resist the advances, her body acted against it. “We either have time for this or a second round.” Meager, dainty rustles broke the silence following Lycuidor’s ultimatum to his partner, as the assassin gave one st, dainty kiss upon her neck.

  Both exhaled, Sedecannis more so because of the raging warmness in her nether regions. She craved for continuation, escation. And right before her the two on the table gave her wish like a monkey’s paw. “Have it your way.” She said with a sensuous frown before ying over on the table, knees and elbow digging into the smooth, polished dark surface reflecting her hanging, symmetrical breasts.

  A little, cute hiss escaped the assassin when her partner’s hands grasped her sides, and she bit her lips as the mighty rod forayed into her clitoris. At first with a gentle pace and intent. Crimples appeared on the gleaming and dimpled surface of the inky bck sealing tape stretching far into the vender ends of her hair, just below the golden hair piece. Sedecannis exhaled, matching each breath to the moans of the assassin as the foray turned into battering.

  Each push and pull grew more and more intense, sweat beaded down their foreheads, then Lycuidor drawn his hands down her body before letting them go. Whilst he pulled out, in the seconds that went down, she adroitly leapt onto her back, her whole body became spectral, blurry as her legs passed through him. By the time she materialized, she also gave out a loud moan as his phallus entered right back in as if guided by invisible hands. Sedecannis could not help but let out an incomprehensible excmation whilst looking with wide open eyes, leaning forwards, her dense full bangs of vender snting forwards.

  Though neither heard her, as they focused utterly into each other. She bent her body onto Lycuidor, and small, passionate kisses traversed across his straining shoulders and neck, moans now coming from him too, before their lips locked, their tongues wrapped around each other’s.

  “Nht fhnr.” Sedecannis commented through her gag, leaning back into the chair whilst taking deep breaths to calm her own burning clitoris. She prayed the two climaxes at the same time and rather soon. Either to leave her alone at st or to share their bodily joys with her.

  And it seemed one of the Gods – most probably Myelia – heard her silent whisper as the two climaxed in unison and onto the table. An oily bck – almost like his skin – flown out from Lycuidor, whilst a contrasting white cshed against his, pouring out from her vulva just as he pulled out. The two converged and as if carrying their passion, formed a circle, a small pond which made both smile weakly before sharing one more kiss before her.

  “Chhld nhh ghnf fthp hnd lmhvm?” Sedecannis broke their moment, squirming in her bindings as the pungent scent strengthened the spell pervading her instincts, forming the desires to be cimed by them. The two paid no attention, remained still in the idyllic moment of true lovers, before they slid off the table and started dressing.

  Both snapped at once, a familiar motion and spell Sedecannis felt through the gathering mana in the air. At once their clothes manifested upon their form from the thin air. Lycuidor in lustrous, smooth suit and pants made from arcane-wool, a dullish gray shade matching to the knitted bck turtleneck. A nametag hung at his bosom; its inner tip shrouded by the broad pel. Camelia wore an arcane-woolen suit of a deep bck, matching pants and stilettos simir to the two still on Sedecannis’s feet, beneath the suit a revealing top of a bold citrine yellow made from a wool and velvet blend, whilst around her neck, a wine-red shawl swirled with a loose end cascading down the left pel.

  “Nice trick, isn’t it?” Camelia tilted close, her breath tantalizing. Sedecannis’s soft lids slid over her blueberry eyes, the veins of strong red shade of cherries pulsated through her unblemished skin as she felt Camelia’s own lips press onto the tape as she kissed her. “May we meet again in more preferable circumstances.” Camelia blew her one more kiss whilst approaching Lycuidor waiting for her by the grand bck oaken door decorated with half a dozen protruding cubicles.

  “Hhpm fh!” Sedecannis whimpered lowly. When the door at st shut tight, she waited for a few seconds, counting them to thirty in her mind. Loudly the wheels scraped against the marble, as she kicked herself towards the gargantuan mirror enveloping the whole wall behind her. Another whimper escaped her sealed lips when her back pressed against her numbed, bound hands behind upon impact. Carefully, she turned her back against the sharp, decorative gilded corner of the mirror and with another push, arrived to it.

  Her taped cheeks arose, resembling bck hills, feeling exhausted, breathless for the first time since her first year in the Bck Roses’ Academy in Northern Eoran’s capital. Sweet, iridescent beads flowed down her cheeks, and tickled her a little when they fell from her jaw, onto her bulging breasts somewhat framed by the button line of her shirt. When it at st passed after half an hour or so, Sedecannis took a deep breath and started lifting herself and sitting down, in hopes the tape will give in before the sun arises over the horizon…

  Afterword:

  And another one. Second to st for March, a minor scenario set before the Passion Ride story.

  This was kind of a random idea I had, or random ideas. On one hand wanted a scenario where the damsel is left at a crime scene to be discovered [unless they manage to escape] and a kinkier idea of assassins making love right after eliminating their target.

  Also Naede leather is just Suede leather, just went with a simir etymology, where the napped finished piece comes from Nairenthian, more so a human or maybe dwarven invention.

  And that is all the rambling for now. Thank you all for reading this and take care till next week.

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