<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/TZhtBzO.jpg)</div><br/>Erillia crashed into the forest, the silken stockings and slippers tearing on briars and offering little protection.  But then to her amazement the cloth re-knit back together before her very eyes, leaving the scratches below and staunching the small abrasions.  Amazingly as much as the outfit was designed to shame her, it did actually seem to be protecting her somewhat.  She had no sense of direction, and forged ahead through thick overgrown vegetation, seeking only to flee.  Each yard she covered in distance caused that leather strap to slide along her slit, between now aroused labia, along a swollen clit, moving freely now that it was lubricated with her own shameful arousal.  She may not want to be aroused, but either this place or this outfit was doing it to her regardless.  Even as she held her breasts for support, she could feel how sensitive and tender they were, how erect and electric her nipples felt.<br/><br/>So distracted was she that she didn't see the man until he stepped from the tree only a dozen feet ahead of her.  His posture was relaxed and he looked half elven, though with strange tattoos across his nearly naked body.  Only a leather skirt wrapped about his waist, with a dagger sheathed at his hip, covered his nudity.  He held out one hand in a sign of caution and said,<strong>"Hold. Ye appear to be new to this world.  I would know thine name, and why thee blunder forwards in directions of the dangerous pitcher plants.  For if thee know not the dangers of the jungle, thee might find thine life forfeit, and I hath sworn to offer assistance to those in mine small corner of this domain."</strong><br/><br/>