Adamion steps to set his side near Miaren's left leg, no longer arranged directly behind her, but slightly off to the side.  He looks down for a long while on the clenching details that are spread in the satiny divide below: The florid vale beginning at Miaren's spine and sliding down to her ripe pubis; the grasping rosette of her anus; the spongy bit of perineum; the pink folds below.  As he does, he gestures for an attendant.<br/><br/>All attendants draw closer around; one in particular bears over an open pot of cream - a hexagon of black teak wood, with mounting curs riding their bitches in a flaming pattern of rut featured on every aspect.  Adamion gathers up the cream - a transparent lotion that smells almost odorless, only the faintest hint of cinnamon to it - in one hand while looking down on Miaren.<br/><br/><strong>"Attend her well now, pet." </strong>He cautions, the dark scorch of his eyes seizing Fern with a flash up, before diving back down to the tremulous slice of Miaren's vagina.<br/><br/><strong>"Gentle her well."  </strong>His hand lowers, curtained in the running transparency of oil, great drapes of it spilling to the ground.<br/><br/><strong>"This ... stings."  </strong>He skates his lithe, long fingers down from that most tender, most private socket of Miaren's anus, down over the timid folds of her lips, down to her clitoris' shy bead, hanging under its hood.  The touch is fluid and it is deliciously oily, its wake clinging with heat.  It was powerful, and not unpleasant.<br/><br/>Then, with the suddenness of a swallow, Miaren's coated flesh begins to drink in the oil.  Feeling erupts like a metal flower, opening at the head of every nerve.<br/><br/>And it is not stinging.  Adamion was wrong.  It is sudden, yes, and acute, yes - it is warm; hot, even.  But this soaks in euphoria all that it enflames.  It aggravates, but it gets blood thumping in, circling, promising to soothe.<br/><br/>In that slick instant, the oil impregnates Miaren's vagina with a wild sensitivity - it tethers each nerve to the wilderness, and yanks lust through them.  It does not sting.  Stinging swells flesh for the wrong reasons.<br/><br/>This swells Miaren's flesh with a bone-deep, enthralling reason:  A need to be touched, to be filled, to be used.