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“Irene, hug him tighter,” came the order soon, and I felt Irene’s arms around my torso tight, her tits pressing on my back hard enough to allow me to distinguish the hardness of her nipples, her sorry excuse of a bra not able to contain them. 

Though, as I faced Ida with my axe raised, the amazing presence of her tits wasn’t the only challenge I faced. Ida often leaned down to get a certain angle she was seeking, which had an impressive impact on her chainmail bikini — especially since in her hurry, she failed to fix it properly, making it drop down much more than it might normally do. 

I didn’t bother trying to disguise where my eyes were pointed, especially since Irene was on my back, unable to see where I was looking. Nor that she felt attentive enough to notice that in the first place, not when her attention was stolen by her own priorities. 

“Raise your leg like you’re trying to kick someone,” Ida ordered. I did. “Higher,” came the next command, and I followed it as well, only for my loincloth to miss alignment. “Irene, fix his underpants,” came the following order immediately, making me grin impishly. 

I grinned, because with my leg raised pointlessly tight, the angle was certainly not a good one for a photograph, but it was certainly good to challenge my deficient costume, evidenced by my shaft peeking from the corner. 

To her credit, Ida managed to contain herself to a few hurried glances, once again relying on the great mental strength given to her by her camera, using it as a totem. 

Irene was a different issue. “M-me,” she stammered helplessly. 

“Yes, he can’t do it himself, not with one leg raised and holding that very heavy axe. Do you want him to fall and injure himself?” Ida responded aggressively — one that was even more intense than necessary. Leaving her on the edge certainly didn’t help her already abrasive attitude behind the camera. 

I could have balanced myself on one foot easily even with the axe in my hands, as a significant portion of my training focused on balance, but since I wasn’t a complete moron, I didn’t say anything, letting the sexy, barely dressed redhead to fix my little wardrobe malfunction. 

And if her trembling fingers accidentally brushed against my shaft once or twice — or five times — I was sure it was completely accidental. 

So were her shocked gasps that warmed my back whenever her fingers brushed against my shaft. 

When her hands started climbing up, there was a certain slowness to them, like they didn’t want to go back, but that was soon replaced by enthusiasm when she put her hands on my midsection, busy caressing my abs as if she was trying to map them. 

Ida made no comment to stop Irene’s actions, instead focusing on her own movements. 

Then, her next order came. “Let’s reverse the position. Irene, stand in front of him. Chad, use one hand to keep the axe in front of her, and put your second hand on her belly to pull her close, tender.” 

Irene took a step back like she was burned. “Isn’t it a bit…” she whispered. 

“It’s the exact same pose you two were holding, just reversed. Where’s the harm,” Ida challenged, one that Irene failed to answer. 

Not because there were no answers to be given, but poor redhead lost all her blood to the full-body blush she was displaying to search and answer, leaving her silently obedient as I turned toward her to wrap my arm around her waist. 

I pulled her a touch harder than necessary, playing the role my costume gave to me efficiently. “N-not that hard,” Irene gasped as she found herself in front of me, our bodies still apart by a couple of inches. 

“Why?” I leaned forward, connecting our bodies, my hand on her belly. More importantly, my shaft burying against her cheeks, her cape a poor insulator. “I’m just playing the role of the barbarian warrior,” I said, letting my smirk widen as I dipped my head down, whispering into her ear. “After all, you’re the one that wrote the character, doesn’t it mean you’re one to blame for anything that happens.” 

Irene froze at the sudden reversal. “M-maybe,” she stammered, unable to reject. 

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her reaction. It was hardly the most elaborate and complicated argument even by my standards, but my mostly naked body pressing against hers did most of the convincing. 

Ida’s presence, constantly taking photos, hardly helped. 

“Raise the axe with one hand, and pull her against your body tighter,” she ordered. 

I followed that order immediately, as it was hardly the worst request I had ever received, which buried my shaft into her cheeks even more, making her whimper. “How about it,” I asked. 

“Good, now, drop the axe on the ground and lift her on your shoulders,” Ida ordered. 

“W-wait, what,” she gasped in shock, but it only went halfway before it got terminated as I put the axe on the floor and grabbed her waist, easily lifting her and putting it on my shoulder, still keeping her horizontal. The pressure of her tits against my shoulder was certainly welcome. “Chad, please!” she gasped, but that was followed by an involuntary laughter, loud enough to fill the room. 

“Raise her up even more,” Ida ordered. “Balance her just on your hands and show me your strength,” Ida ordered. 

I wondered whether Ida was aware it was an easy task for me, or she lost herself in her task to consider whether it was a risky task in the first place. 

Either way, it didn’t change the fact that it was too much fun for me to risk ruining the mood by asking that question. Especially since it was trivial in the first place. For me, lifting Irene was simply trivial. 

“N-noo,” Irene gasped, her voice between shock and laughter, but a glance upward showed that she closed her eyes firmly in panic. 

“Good, keep her in place,” Ida said as she walked closer, her camera working overtime. One had on her shoulder, the other on her firm thigh, it was not the most unpleasant chore, especially since gravity worked wonders to move her costume due to its lack of proper support, giving me a glimpse of her beautiful breasts. 

A rather impressive view, I noted, especially when accompanied by her delighted shrieks. “L-let me go, I have a fear of heights,” she stammered, her eyes getting even more firmly closed. 

“Just a minute,” Ida said as she pressed her camera more, walking closer as she did so. In the beginning, I had assumed it was just because she wanted to get a better view. 

Then, Ida showed that I underestimated just how much her courage was boosted by a camera in hand. When she reached in front of me, I certainly didn’t expect her next action to collapse on her knees even as she pushed my loincloth to the side, giving herself an excellent view of my shaft. 

And she didn’t stay as an observer and leaned forward. One hand stayed around her camera, pressing the shutter occasionally, but it was not pointing anywhere, just making some noise to distract. 

I tightened my grip on Irene just in case she opened her eyes to catch a glimpse of the scene, afraid of how she might react if she opened her eyes. Yet, that turned out to be an unnecessary attempt, as Irene kept her eyes shut…

Even as I felt a certain warmth around my girth. 

With that, I couldn’t help but gaze down, seeing Ida’s tiny mouth already around my shaft going back and forth, barely one-fourth to the distance at her apex as she did her best not to make any suspicious sound. 

The location of her free hand was even more interesting. It had long slipped under her skirt, teasing her nakedness. 

I took a deep breath, not knowing what to enjoy more, the comfortable weight of Irene as I felt the weight of her half-naked body — the way her clothing reacted to the unexpected angle of gravity doing its best to remove the qualifier half, but not succeeding — on my palms or the way Ida’s lips were stretching around my girth while the angle gave me an amazing show. 

A tough battle, especially as Ida did her best to push her limits, but the fact that she tried to keep her voice down prevented her from being adventurous enough to challenge her other friends that completed the same challenge. 

Not that it bothered me. After all, we had all night to work on that to make sure she caught up with her friends. 

Ida continued steadily, her finger on the camera getting slower and slower as she got distracted. I didn’t say anything, curious whether she would stop, or Irene would open her eyes first. 

In the end, neither happened. Irene whimpered helplessly instead. “Please, let me go down,” she begged.

For a moment, Ida didn’t react, which gave me the impression that she had no intention of stopping. Yet, she surprised me when she raised her gaze, catching mine before she pulled slowly back, a naughty smirk on her face. 

“Payback,” she mouthed without making any sound, leaving my shaft free. 

“Naughty,” I mouthed back, amused at the fact that she used the opportunity to reverse my little trick, once again using Irene as an excuse. 

Ida stood up and grabbed her camera again, but didn’t bother fixing my loincloth. Well, if she was under the impression that it was a problem for me, she was mistaken. 

“You can lower her,” Ida said, her domineering tone back. I flipped Irene easily and lowered her back to her feet, once again in front of me, unable to see my state of nudity. 

“That was … scary,” Irene gasped, but her breathing was more excited than scared. 

An excellent mood to push forward even more.

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