Vesta - Painworld (18 page)

‘On the other hand,' she went on, at last, ‘there is no reason why you should not be added to your VESTA's company, perhaps as a dog boy, or maybe as a little piggy slave?'

 

Naylor thumbed the microphone key and spoke directly into it.

‘Everything's secure here,' he said curtly. ‘What's the machine status?'

‘All normal.' The German's guttural tones echoed around the small control room. ‘I should have reported anything to the contrary immediately.'

‘Then it's time for you to make your way here,' Naylor said, ignoring the implied rebuke. ‘The chopper has already started back for you, so I'll expect you before dusk.'

‘You sound impatient, Herr Naylor,' Koenig chuckled. ‘But there is no need. Our lady friend has complete instructions, plus a small disc which will take care of everything until I arrive, so you can play quite happily and safely in the meantime. Just don't try anything that is outside of those instructions.'

‘Are you sure it's safe, though?'

‘Perfectly, so long as you stick to what I told Christina. I'd have preferred for you all to wait, but the lady was most persistent. It appears there is someone there with whom she is most anxious to renew old acquaintances.'

Lianne hung limply in the frame, tears of pain anger and frustration running down her equine cheeks, blurring her vision and her view of the new rings that now adorned her distended nipples, from where tongues of fire speared through her very nervous system.

Unlike the pretty gold rings that had decorated her own much smaller teats in real life, these were made of steel nearly half an inch thick, with an overall diameter of at least three inches, their weight dragging down on the ends of Lianne's inflated mammaries. And this time, instead of piercing the flesh with a needle the vicious Dane had used a heated rod, pushing it slowly through the tissue.

‘Of course, normally such an ordeal would cause you to pass out,' Christina sneered, when she had finished brazing the second ring immovably into position, ‘but I instructed Jurgen to incorporate an automatic threshold cut out, just short of that level. Thus,' she added, stepping back, ‘you will suffer the utmost agony short of losing consciousness. I should so hate you to miss even a single second of your new life.'

The rod came out of the furnace a third time, its tip once again a yellowish white. And this time it seared through Lianne's septum with ease, throwing her into a vortex of purple and green explosions, yet, as Christina had promised, no black velvet curtain descended to ease the torture.

On the contrary, with unnatural speed the worst of the agony receded immediately the rod was removed, and even the tears in her eyes miraculously dried, so that she was afforded a clear view of the heavy nose ring Christina eased through the freshly cauterised wound.

‘Horses don't usually wear rings through their noses, I know,' the Dane laughed, picking up the brazing rod to seal the two ends of the ring, ‘but I want you to remember just what a little cow you really are underneath everything.' She finished the task and gave the ring an experimental tug, jerking Lianne's head forward in helpless compliance.

‘Very pretty, I don't think,' she said, tossing aside the still glowing rod. ‘And now for some rings for your cunt, though I think they'll have to be smaller, or else they'll just get in the way.'

Ten minutes and much shrill protesting later, she was as good as her word. Although Lianne could not bend forward to view the finished effect, she was only too well aware of the five rings, two each in her outer labial lips and the fifth piercing that most tender bud, which was now held stiffly and proudly outside its usual dark hiding place.

‘Splendid,' Christina enthused, clapping her gloved hands together. ‘And of course, thanks to VESTA we can always do this over again, should I feel bored. Yes, I can have you returned to your normal state and then fit all your rings anew. Would you like that, horsy-whore?'

Dismally, Lianne shook her head, though she knew that what she wanted or liked would count for nothing with this demented witch. There was little doubt in her mind that the amazon blonde would indeed repeat the scenario and at frequent intervals and, at this sudden realisation of her true helplessness, Lianne began to weep silently. This seemed to please her torturess greatly.

‘Blub-blub!' Christina teased mercilessly. ‘That's the way I like you, I think. Where's the haughty little cow gone now, heh? Surely she can't really be this useless big-titted filly with rings in her nose, tits and cunt?' She laughed uproariously, slapping her thighs with unconstrained glee.

‘But what shall we call our little dobbin?' she sniggered, eventually regaining some sort of composure. ‘Let's see, what would be an appropriate name for a horse-faced, big-titted, whore slave?' She paced up and down for a few moments, apparently considering various choices.

‘Ah, I have it,' she suddenly cried. ‘Amber! Excellent choice, for so many things are preserved in amber. It's very fitting that the toity little bitch you once were should be preserved inside Amber the filly. And you shall have a proper name brass.' Whether Christina had intended the name all along, or whether it was just another display of VESTA at work, a brief visit to the nearest bench produced the brass; five ornate letters about two inches high and cleverly welded into one oval whole, with small hooks at either end that fitted into small rings set into Lianne's bridle, so the nameplate sat neatly across her forehead strap.

‘And now we must shoe you, Amber,' Christina said smugly. ‘You'll be pleased to know that, unfortunately from my point of view, there is no pain associated with the operation. Your hooves, like those of a real horse, have almost no sensitivity.

She released each of Lianne's ankles in turn and, though the hammering in of the nails produced a mild sensation underfoot, there was indeed no actual pain. However, if walking in the hooves had been a problem before, the weight of the iron footwear would, Lianne immediately realised, make it an even greater effort from now on.

‘And just so you don't try to repeat your kicking efforts of the last time,' Christina said, refastening the second ankle, ‘I have a little present for you.' Again to the bench, this time returning with a short metal bar, at the end of each was fixed a steel cuff, fashioned to encircle the lower thigh just above the level of each knee. Locked in place it served two purposes, Lianne realised. One, she would no longer be able to close her legs completely together and two, it would prevent any forward kicking movement.

And when Christina finally released her from the frame, secured her sleeved arms to the corset girth and pushed her towards the doorway, walking was a matter of a curious shuffling progress, if progress could indeed be used to describe Lianne's shambling efforts.

‘Time to prepare you for your tail, bitch filly,' the giant blonde growled, steering Lianne around to the left when they were outside once more. Jerking the lead rein and forcing the flanged bit plate to bite painfully into the roof of Lianne's mouth, she grinned widely, clearly enjoying her prisoner's total helplessness.

‘But first,' she added, ‘we need to warm you up a bit. Ah, I see everything is ready.'

‘Everything' turned out to be a curious pillory-like stand, though one designed for a victim whose hands were already secured otherwise, for there was a single aperture through which the neck could be locked and the upright which held the device was adjustable for height. Forcing Lianne's head down and slamming the upper half of the mechanism into place, Christina lost no time in availing herself of this facility, until Lianne was forced to bend with her back parallel to the ground, her naked rump thrust high into the air by a horizontal bar that swung out on a pivoting extension pole.

It was a humiliating position, as if everything else that had been done to her already were not humiliation enough, and as she peered back along her body Lianne was greeted by the sight of her massive breasts swinging pendulously, their heavy rings adding to the already distorting effect of gravity.

To one side of the pillory stood a barrel, from the top of which protruded the handles of several implements whose purpose was only too clear to the hapless Lianne and, as Christina stepped over to select one of the canes, she closed her eyes and gave out a futile little whinny. This pleased the big woman greatly.

‘Get used to it, horse girl,' she taunted, swishing the long bamboo through the air, close to Lianne's face. ‘From now on I shall see to it that you get a good thrashing at least once every day.' She stepped around to one side, extended the rod and tapped Lianne's buttocks. Lianne jerked at the contact, but she knew far worse was to come.

The long cane hissed like an angry snake, cracking against the unprotected flesh with a report like a gunshot. Lianne tried to scream, but all that came out was a high-pitched neighing sound. Dimly, she heard Christina let out a short exclamation of satisfaction, but then the cane was whistling down again and the second line of fire exploded a mere quarter of an inch from the first.

Lianne bucked and twisted, but her bondage held her firm and all she could do was to stand there, bent over, a perfect target for the sadistic amazon who, unhurriedly now, began to beat her steadily and methodically. She had lost none of her skill, Lianne realised through the pain and tears. Every cut landed on previously unblemished flesh, each stripe, though Lianne could not see for herself, separate from the rest, until her buttocks and upper thighs became one complete red mass.

‘And now you're about ready for your tail, bitch,' Christina growled, dropping the cane back into the barrel. ‘Brown and white, I think.'

From somewhere - Lianne could not see where - she produced the article, a truly splendid confection of long horsehair, pale and dark brown strands blending with brilliant white, the whole bound together where they came to meet the method by which they were to be attached; a slender rod which swelled out into a bulbous tip, the purpose needing no explanation to the sobbing Lianne.

‘In we go, horsy,' Christina smirked, presenting the tip of the rod to Lianne's rear orifice. Lianne tried to clench her buttocks, even though she knew resistance was ultimately a waste of effort. But a sharp smack from Christina's gloved hand across already throbbing flesh was all that was required to make her muscles relax. And before she could recover the thick rubber was inside, sliding home until her sphincter closed about the narrow band at the base of the tail, impossible for her to eject without aid, or at the very least, a great deal of effort and further pain.

‘Excellent, my little Amber,' Christina said, walking around Lianne in a leisurely fashion, nodding as she examined the finished effect. ‘And now, before the boy returns, I think I shall enjoy this thing between my legs.' She reached beneath her skirt and Lianne realised she was grasping the male shaft that hid there in this world.

‘Of course, the boy will only see me as Gregor,' Christina laughed. ‘Not that it'd matter anyway as he's only a hologram, or whatever, and he won't come back till I'm ready for him,' she added, her left hand fumbling at the belt buckle. ‘That's the beauty of this painworld, don't you agree? Those of us in control are truly in control.

‘Now, what do you think of this for a pizzle, horsy cunt?' The skirt fell away, revealing a huge erect phallus, a member larger than Lianne would ever have believed possible to exist. ‘The stuff of dreams, eh? How many men would give there all for even half of this?' Christina threw back her head and laughed outrageously.

‘Well, my little slut whore pony girl, you're going to get all of it. Every last fucking inch, you bitch!' She moved around to stand behind Lianne, slapping her tenderised buttocks as she did so and drawing another series of pained snorts.

‘Feel this, cunt!' she hissed, presenting the bulbous tip to its target. Lianne's stomach jerked convulsively as she felt the hot pressure against her gaping sex lips, felt the throbbing flesh pushing aside, the spreader bar preventing any semblance of resistance, other than that provided by the reluctance of the musculature to yield to such an invasion.

‘Of course,' Christina breathed, steadying herself by grasping Lianne's hips, ‘in the real world one good fucking from a cock this size and you'd be useless for ever more. And just for good measure I've added another little touch.

‘From now on every time anyone fucks you you'll be a virgin at the beginning. Think of that, pony-whore, you get to lose your maidenhead a thousand times a year, at least!' She sniggered and Lianne gasped as the first inch of her gained entry, for what she said was true and already Lianne's hymen was beginning to stretch and tear.

‘Now buck, you bitch!' Christina screamed, slapping hard at both thighs and thrusting her own hips forward. Lianne let out a high pitched squeal and dutifully bucked, for as the hot shaft pressed and tore its way home, the waves of abandoned lust were already washing over the rocks of her natural resistance.

 

The fight did not last very long at all and indeed, Ellen thought wryly as she was turned forcibly onto her stomach, hardly justified the description of a fight at all. For whoever - or whatever - was inside that male catsuit was fit, strong, quick and cunning, even if that combination was only as a result of VESTA's intervention.