Vesta - Painworld (32 page)

She did not demur as her ankles were taken in turn, lifted and buckled into the wide straps at each of the rear support legs. Did not resist as her master pressed her upper body down, passing the even broader strap over the small of her back and buckling it until she could scarcely breathe, had become one with the leather top of the horse, her full feminine buttocks pushed upwards by her position, the brief skirt riding high, revealing the pink nakedness beneath.

The master stepped away, reaching down for the first instrument, presenting it to her willing lips for worship and consummation, the soft kiss full submission to the fiery pleasure it would bring her in this wonderful painworld.

And as the first stroke fell, as the first scarlet welt sprung up across the quivering girl flesh, Pauline bucked, rose and fell upon the unforgiving dildo and shrieked her total abandonment into a world of virtual unreality that was, at this very moment, only too marvellously real...

 

For the first time since childhood, for the first time she could really remember, Christina Fredrickson knew what it was to feel afraid. Not the knife-edged fear that came complete with the thrill of anticipation when taking on some new challenge, but the sort that brings with it a dull ache in the stomach and a weakening of the knees, the fear that comes with knowing what it really means to be helpless.

And as she stared at her new reflection in the long mirrored wall, Christina saw helplessness personified staring back at her from the impersonalised rubber mask which now enclosed her entire head, hiding away even the new face VESTA had given her after the judgement had been handed down.

The ritual had taken place inside the painworld itself, for Christina, after the ill-fated contest with Clarissa, had not been permitted to return to the outside world. Instead, she recalled only a period of stasis - how long it lasted she had no way of telling - during which she seemed to be floating in a peculiarly coloured world that was at once gaseous and liquid, shapeless forms floating by her distorted field of vision, her ears filled with a mixture of meaningless noises.

And then she had found herself in the courtroom, standing in a dock, facing a high bench upon which sat not only Nadia, but all her friends and associates, including - and Christina had ground her teeth at the time - the little blonde bitch she had earlier turned into such a wonderful pony girl.

There were nearly a dozen of them in all, each figure dressed in simple black, catsuits of latex or leather, many of them hiding their features behind matching hoods and masks. But not the Muirhead woman, nor the blonde bitch and her friend. The former stared down at her impassively, the latter pair made no attempt to hide the triumph in their expressions.

It was a complete parody, but the outcome was no surprise, for Christina had not expected, nor hoped for mercy and the fact that her ‘trial' had been conducted inside VESTA was a powerful clue as to what was intended by way of retribution.

‘Take the prisoner down,' Nadia had intoned, finally. At either side of her powerfully built male warders moved in and Christina whirled around, prepared to go down fighting.

Except...

 

She came round again standing naked in the centre of a pool of lights, the areas beyond swathed in gloom. Looking down, Christina saw that heavy steel cuffs were locked about her ankles, the short chain that connected them locked in turn to a heavy ring set in the bare stone floor. She looked up again, blinking, trying to discern the movements from the shadows, but as she did so another movement caught her eye.

Reaching up she grasped at the pale red tresses in disbelief, running the thin strands through her fingers and drawing them down over her bare breasts, astonished at the length of them. For not since the age of fifteen had she had long hair, and then it had been the same white blonde as the stubble she had maintained ever since.

Then there were her breasts themselves, if breasts was an appropriate term for the twin swellings with their pert pink nipples, a bosom that was hardly fit for a grown woman, the sort of thing one would expect to find on a schoolgirl who had only just acquired her first brassiere.

And the rest of her body appeared to be in keeping with that image, although in truth the slim legs would not have disgraced an eighteen year old, while the sparse triangle of wan auburn hair...

‘Hiya, toots!'

Christina did not have to look up to identify the speaker, but she did nevertheless, and was barely able to suppress a gasp of astonishment at what she saw. Lianne was barely recognisable as the girl Christina had abused so badly, both a year ago and again so recently.

She appeared somehow much taller, much more powerfully built, the deep gold of her latex catsuit apparently stretched to its limits to contain shoulders, bosom and hips, the fabric rippling over fabulously developed thigh muscles as she strode forward in knee high platform boots, crop swinging from one gloved hand.

‘Like the new bod?' Lianne asked, grinning briefly. ‘We all had quite a discussion before we decided what would be best. Ellen fancied having you look like a racing whippet, but then she always has had peculiar ideas. In the end we decided to make you into a sweet little five foot two teenager - the proverbial nine stone weakling, except that you're about a stone lighter than that, at least.'

She stepped forward again and Christina could see that, even without the heels, she would have topped her by several inches; with them she had a height advantage of nearly a foot.

‘Not so much to say for yourself now?' Lianne taunted, prodding at her with the end of the crop. ‘Well, maybe it's about time you learned a few lessons, starting with what it feels like to be at the mercy of someone bigger and stronger than you. Actually,' she continued, walking slowly around her prisoner, ‘there's a sort of poetic justice in what's going to happen now.

‘No doubt you'll remember spending several sessions with your German friend, apparently some months ago, detailing for him all the various devious and nasty ideas you had for mistreating your unfortunate victims. Well he had, according to our Marlon, used all of that to create a programme he was originally hoping to incorporate in his own version of VESTA.

‘Of course, when he arrived here he discovered that all his hard work had virtually been rendered obsolete by what Marlon had done. However, that programme was very interesting anyway, and is a sort of archive of all your little twists and turns, so Ellen thought it would be a good idea to let you be the first to test drive it, as it were.'

‘Don't get too clever,' Christina said, but the intended threat was largely nullified by the curiously girlish sound her voice seemed to have taken on. Fighting to try to make herself sound more authoritative, she nevertheless struggled gamely on.

‘You won't be able to keep me here forever,' she said, ‘and I have a long memory.'

‘As I've already found out,' Lianne reminded her. ‘And maybe we won't keep you here forever,' she conceded. ‘After all, we're not all as fucking evil as you, bitch.' She thrust the crop under Christina's chin and forced her head back. ‘Don't think I don't know what you had in mind for me over the next few years, either,' she snarled. ‘That's all in Koenig's little programme too, don't forget.

‘But don't worry, we've cut some of the more repulsive stuff. There's plenty to occupy your time without that. Now, shall we get you ready?'

There were helpers - enough to have overpowered Christina even if she had retained her original size and power - and she struggled to no avail for only a few minutes before conceding to the inevitable. Apart from Lianne they all hid their identities behind full masks, but Christina recognised one or two voices and was in no doubt that all her tormentors were linked to real people and not just VESTA generated characters.

It took them an hour...

 

‘Up on the horse, you know what to do!' Lianne's barked command was accompanied by the sharp overhead crack from the long bullwhip wielded by her companion. Miserably, the petite figure that was now Christina tottered on ballet-toed boots towards the huge black creature that waited, tethered to the post at the side of the field.

Beside the creature stood a simple wooden mounting block, built to resemble two steps, for there were no stirrups attached to the saddle that awaited her, just a huge phallus rearing from its centre, a shaft upon which she was expected to impale herself under pain of a further whipping if she even hesitated.

With a grunt Christina swung her right leg up and over, settling first behind the glistening member and then, using her arms as leverage, lifting herself up and forward. With a deep sigh she sank onto the shaft, letting it enter her through the cut-out in the pale green rubber catsuit and sat passively, hands crossed behind her back.

Lianne stepped quickly forward, snapping steel bracelets about her wrists and then passing securing straps from the sides of the saddle over Christina's now slim thighs, drawing them tight and buckling them securely to prevent her falling off. The beaten Dane ground her teeth into the gag that filled her mouth inside the rubber face that had been glued over her own, closing her eyes to blot out the sight of the twin ginger pigtails that hung forward over her shoulders.

‘Will you look at that?' the faceless companion laughed and Christina did not need to see her features to know who she was. ‘Anne of fucking Green Gables, in the flesh - well, rubber, anyway.'

Lianne laughed. ‘Hardly Children's Hour,' she said. ‘Mind you, it'll do her good, I reckon. Are you sitting comfortably, Chrissie dear?'

Unable to speak anyway, Christina maintained a rigid pose, staring straight ahead through the eye slits. She heard Lianne sigh, extravagantly.

‘Oh well, suit yourself. A couple of hours on Black Beauty here and then a good thrashing will do for this afternoon. Then maybe the evening as a mermaid, or maybe as a pony girl? I seem to remember you have a liking for pony girls.'

‘D'you know,' Ellen said, from behind her mask, ‘I get the feeling our Chrissie here is going right off horses, full stop. I mean, I've heard of aversion therapy, but this is taking it to the limits.'

‘The limits?' Lianne echoed, raising her eyebrows and smiling. ‘I haven't even started with her properly yet. By the time I've finished with this bitch she won't even be able to open a racing paper without having an orgasm, and that's a racing certainty.'

She stepped forward and unhitched the rope that held the black stallion to the post. Then coiling her whip, brought it sharply down across the magnificent beast's flank. With a snort it half reared and then, in a blur of mane and hooves, it was off, cantering strongly across the meadow, its hapless rider bobbing up and down in the saddle. Satisfied, Lianne watched until horse and rider had disappeared into the trees at the far end of the field and then turned to her friend.

‘Everything's set to keep her occupied for the next three hours,' she said, ‘so time we were out of here. Unless I'm much mistaken, the Grand National is on telly in about half an hour.'

‘Bitch,' Ellen said simply, and they both laughed as the world about them began to fade to black...

 

 

 

Enjoy more from Jennifer Jane Pope's world of fetish erotica in Net Asset, the first of Lianne's rubber-bound adventures, Assignment for Alison and Chain Reaction, and Bridled Lust, all also published by us at Chimera:

 

Net Asset

 

As they turned her about and positioned her over the seat and the waiting dildo, she tried to cry out for them to stop and made a feeble attempt at resistance, but the bonds on her arms and wrists rendered her completely helpless. She turned her head wildly from side to side, finally identifying her two captors as Gavin and Carla. Each had a hand under her lower thigh and another gripping her upper arm so that she was being supported in the sitting position and, as they began to lower her, Hazel stepped between her splayed thighs and stooped to guide her onto the long, thick shaft.

  

Jobless Lianne Connolly takes in model Ellen Sanderson as a lodger. Ellen talks her into standing in for a colleague who has fallen ill - but this is no ordinary photo shoot.

Lianne meets Nadia Muirhead, the driving force behind a team dedicated to creating the world's most erotic comic strip, with Lianne and Ellen as the rubber clad heroines-in-distress. But events take a disastrous turn when Lianne is kidnapped, and finds herself having to recreate her role for the mastermind behind a scheme to bring the comic strip to the Internet.

However, this time there are two essential differences - no salary and no choices. This time it is for real!

 

Assignment for Alison

 

She felt a hand on her buttocks, the fingers forcing their way between the taut rubber of her thong, pulling it down and to one side, and then another pressure against her bottom hole, cold and slippery. For a second her muscles tensed, resisting, but Alison realised it was a futile gesture. She forced herself to relax and grunted into the gag as the oiled dildo was pushed up inside her and the crotch of the panties snapped back into place over it.

‘We'll leave your cunt,' Kristin said, turning her around to face her again. ‘The Master will want to attend to that himself.' She reached out and tweaked Alison's nipples and Alison felt them hardening once again. Kristin laughed her reedy laugh. ‘Oh yes, you really are a dirty little whore, aren't you?' she taunted. ‘I wonder how randy you'll be when Master Ralph's through with you.'

 

Journalist Alison Katt has a reputation for being prepared to do anything to get her story. But when editor Mike Hallett tells her the details of her latest assignment, even the intrepid Alley Katt is shocked.

However, driven forward by a mixture of ambition, salary bonus and her own insatiable curiosity, Alison accepts the challenge to investigate a shadowy fetish club, first undergoing a crash course in the scene at the hands of professional dominatrix Marcia, where she assumes the identity and character of the submissive Mitzi.

Despite initial misgivings, Alison finds herself drawn deep into a bizarre world she would never have imagined existing, and then deep into danger, as the rubber and leather games become real and the penalty for failure a life of unending servitude at the hands of a sadistic master!

 

Chain Reaction

 

‘You seem a little confused, pony girl,' Hancock said. ‘Hardly surprising, I suppose. This isn't quite what you had in mind, is it?' he reached out, seized Alison's left nipple roughly between finger and thumb and squeezed it brutally. Alison chewed deeply into the bit and tried not to make any sound, but it was a challenge she only just met. Her breasts rose and fell in heavy unison, but Hancock maintained his grip and simply allowed his hand to move with the inflamed teat.

‘Let me guess,' he continued, speaking quietly, almost lazily. ‘You thought you'd get in here and have a look around, see if you could find the Jewish bitch, is that it?' Alison froze, even the pain in her nipple suddenly gone. Hancock threw back his head and roared with laughter...

 

She's back! Gorgeous undercover reporter Alison ‘Alley' Katt decides to put her new found love of fetish wear and bondage to practical use, researching a feature on the BDSM clubs of Europe, little realising that the monstrous Ralph Hancock, whose ‘slave farm' blackmail organisation she helped smash, is also back - and hell bent on revenge.

Fabulously rich and bordering on insanity, Hancock is planning a fate for Alley that is truly worse than death - a life of anonymous slavery as a rubber-bound whore and pony girl, available to any of his clients.

Editor Mike Hallett, aging dominatrix Marcia Davenport and the delectable, latex loving Honey, race to save Alley before she is ultimately reduced to a mindless submissive. But Hancock's retribution is aimed at more than just the hapless journalist, and very soon there is a real danger that the would-be rescuers will, themselves, be in need of a saviour.

 

 

And as mentioned in the intro pages of this book, if you're a published author of erotic fiction and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to
hear from you
.

 

Or if you would like to write erotic fiction and submit it to us please check out our
Author Guidelines
.

 

Connect with us online:

Twitter