Hermesia's face reddened as Heinrich's hands placed them near his hips. She shivered at the touch, as if merely placing her hands on him had delivered an electric shock through her body.<br/><br/><span style="color: #00b3b3">"I...I..."</span>she stammered, her earlier attitude vanished like smoke. To touch an elf in such a way was deeply unusual in her experience, save for those Paracelsi kept as personal house slaves.<span style="color: #00b3b3">"I will attempt to do all I can, my lord."</span>She tried to keep her head bowed, but his eyes continued to call hers up to meet them.<span style="color: #00b3b3">"I will ensure the mission succeeds at all costs, and of course I shall bring back the finest gifts I can."</span><br/><br/>She was a Paracelsi, hardly in a position to ignore even the most facetious of demands. It was her place not only to serve but to give exemplary service in all things.<br/><br/>She had difficulty focusing as her hands remained on his, her body excited by the close proximity, enough that it was all she could do to keep the paraslime from seeping out of the pores in her hands. Even so, the thick fluid began pooling at the bag of her mouth and, she realized as her legs nervously rubbed together, it was no doubt beginning to soak through her underwear as well.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>