by Claudia Rose
“What the hell am I wearing?”
“It is your uniform Mistress, I believe it suits you well.”
“I look like a bloody dominatrix! And if you call me Mistress one more time, I’m going to knock your teeth out!”
The “uniform” wasn’t something Jenna would ever have considered wearing, not even to a masked party of the cast of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. She was clad in gleaming black boots that went halfway up her thighs. Affixed to the bottom of each boot were some of the most lethal looking stiletto heels she’d ever seen. She was literally balancing on spikes. The rest of the outfit consisted of an elaborate assemblage of skimpy leather straps that somehow contrived to cover her nipples and her pussy—just. Like her thighs, her arms were encased in gleaming leather gloves, the fingers of which finished in small metal claws. A little whip, like a tiny cat-o-nine-tails, dangled from the belt around her waist.
She looked around at the Gort, who seemed to be cowering—she couldn’t think of another word for it—behind her. His cringing was getting on her nerves, so she decided to ignore him and see if she couldn’t find a way out of this ridiculous room.
But when Jenna tried walking she almost tripped. Six-inch heels weren’t something she raced triathlon in. And worse, the tight leather covering her crotch rubbed irritatingly between the lips of her pussy at the slightest movement.
“Are you all right Mistress?”
“God damn it Mort! I told you what would happen if you called me that again. Do you want me to give you a hiding?”
“Oh yes please Mistress, that would be most pleasant. I have been very bad. I am sure I deserve it.”
“Oh Christ, Mort!” she exclaimed in disgust. “I can’t believe you’re a bloody masochist! Don’t you think a big huge piece of alien beefsteak like you could do a bit better than being a mommy’s boy?”
“I am sorry Mistress. Mort is pathetic. And I have made you angry. I didn’t mean to make you angry Mistress. I deserve to be disciplined.”
“You’re damn right you do King Kong! If no one else is going to make a man out of you, then I’d better do you the favor!”
Jenna was almost livid with rage by this time. All the irritation she’d been experiencing was suddenly focused on the huge Gortsoitrevnian who was cringing so abjectly in front of her. Quickly she looked around to see what she could find that would serve her purposes. The first things she discovered were a pair of extremely strong manacles joined by a three-foot length of heavy chain.
“Stop sniveling, pick those up, and clamp them on your wrists. And hop to it!”
Mort obeyed with alacrity. In seconds he had locked the heavy bands to his wrists and stood passively waiting for his next instruction.
His passivity irritated Jenna even more. Her fingers twitched over the little whip that hung at her side. Experimentally she unhooked it and swung it through the air, it made a high pitched swish.
“Come and stand here, and move quickly or I’ll tickle you up with this!” Jenna commanded.
She pointed at a heavy hook that was attached to a chain. The chain ran through an overhead pulley and down to a winch. When Mort stood before her, she attached the hook to the chain joining his wrist manacles together. Then she walked over to the winch and started turning it. Gradually the chain tightened and began to pull Mort’s great arms upwards. Soon his hands were being winched above his head. His huge limbs rode higher and higher until finally his enormous body was stretched towards the ceiling and he was balancing on the balls of his feet.
For some reason this position still didn’t satisfy Jenna. Looking around she located some more chains and manacles. She clipped a manacle around each of Mort’s massive ankles, and connected these to chains that she in turn connected to smaller winches down at floor level. By tightening these she gradually pulled Mort’s legs apart until he was spread-eagled vertically, with the tips of his toes barely touching the floor.
“How’s that King Kong? Uncomfortable enough for you?”
“Oh, Mistress,” panted Mort. “It feels exquisite—you are an artiste.”
“OH FUCK!” shouted Jenna. “Can’t you get it through your thick skull that this isn’t supposed to be fun? Do I have to make things worse for you?”
“Oh please yes Mistress. Much worse if you would care to.”
The possibilities of what she could do to this huge slab of a man ran quickly through her mind. In a little corner of Jenna’s brain a shocked voice—her “normal” voice—kept saying What on earth are you doing? But the seething desire she had to dominate Mort drowned that voice out. It was an amazing feeling to have such a powerful and beautiful creature at her mercy.
Idly, Jenna wandered around the straining figure of Mort swinging her little whip. His great chest heaved as if a huge pair of bellows was working overtime. She ran the claws of her glove down one massive pectoral. Mort squirmed, and she noted with pleasure that the little spikes made goose bumps appear on the smooth surface of his gleaming flesh. With her thumb and forefinger she pinched one of his large nipples. He gave a rumbling moan.
“Like that do you, slave?”
“Yes Mistress.”
She pinched harder and twisted the sensitive point. Mort moaned happily and Jenna admired the way his thick ropes of muscle strained helplessly against the metal bonds that held him stretched tight and at her mercy. When he jerked from her punishment his chains strained and rattled, as if to emphasize his helplessness.
Casually Jenna walked around behind him. Her claws raked a path down his back.
“Uunngghh! Oh thank you Mistress!”
“Shut up, Slave!”
The leather strap between her legs, that had been so irritating just a few minutes before, was now creating a delicious pressure on her increasingly moist pussy. She rubbed it delicately with the flat of one gloved finger, enjoying the sensation of the tight band sliding between the damp folds of her most sensitive place.
Seen from behind, Mort’s body was a straining mass of rippling muscle. She couldn’t get over the sheer physical size of him. He had the proportions and presence of one of those champion stud bulls that always look capable of leveling everything in its path. She reveled in the fact that she was mistress of something so magnificent.
Down at the level of her groin, Mort’s huge, solid buttocks were strained into heavily knotted mounds due to the tension of the chains holding him.
“Nice gluts, you’ve got, slave,” Jenna remarked. She gave them a few experimental flicks with her whip, enjoying seeing them clench and unclench. “You look good enough to ride!”
This gave her an idea.
“But I don’t ride anything that doesn’t have a tail!” As she said this she gripped her little flogger by the business end and in one swift, powerful motion forced its knobbly handle between Mort’s arse-cheeks and up his back passage until all that dangled out were a few leather tassels. Mort’s cries of pleasure were educational. From them Jenna learned that a Gort has a much greater vocal range than one might have expected.
With the whip firmly lodged, Jenna pressed the length of her body hard against Mort’s straining back. She wrapped her arms around his torso and grabbed onto his chest with the claws of her gloves to hold herself in place. The points embedding themselves in his skin caused Mort to buck and moan. Jenna could feel the muscles of his back massaging her breasts, while his undulating buttocks, and the tassels of the whip, pressed deliciously against her pussy. For a few pleasurable minutes she held herself there, pressing her sensitive breasts and pubic mound against him, and clawing him afresh every time his muscles ceased to spasm.
Finally she released her hold, and pondered the next round of discipline.
Mort, who had been dangling limply in his chains, jerked back into life when, without warning, Jenna reached between his legs from behind and grabbed his massive scrotum with one clawed glove.
“These aren’t nuts, slave, they’re coconuts,” she remarked crudely. “You’re a little t
oo proud of having such big balls, aren’t you Morty boy?”
“Yes Mistress, I am sorry mistress.”
“Sorry’s not good enough, Slave!”
Jenna searched around and found another manacle, this time one with a length of chain and a heavy steel ball attached to it. For a moment that “normal” voice in her mind asked her what the hell she thought she was doing, but her “other self” was too deeply immersed in the Reven experiment to be able to halt it.
“Yes, this should do,” she remarked.
It took a bit of effort, but with one hand she managed to clip the manacle around the base of Mort’s scrotum, while holding the heavy weight in the other. The manacle clenched tightly, and Mort’s balls strained heavily below the metal collar, shiny and swollen.
“That should make your eyes water, Slave.”
“Oh, yes Mistress,” gasped Mort.
But as Jenna was standing back admiring her handiwork, something amazing began to happen. The lips of the small slit, where Mort would have had a penis had he been a Terran, began to part slowly, and a large black knob pushed outwards from his body.
“What are you doing Slave?” demanded Jenna, in startled tones, even though she realized that the mystery of Gortsoitrevnian sexual anatomy had just been solved for her.
“I am sorry Mistress, I cannot help it, you are making me very excited,” gasped Mort, who certainly sounded as if he was experiencing much more pleasure than pain.
“But I haven’t given you permission, Slave! For that you will be severely punished.” As she said this, Jenna dropped the heavy metal ball that she’d been holding. It fell quickly, until the chain attached to the manacle encircling Mort’s scrotum jerked it to a halt. The effect was dramatic. Mort’s whole frame convulsed, and a full eight inches of his huge penis slid out of the sheath. Jenna was amazed, the organ was perfectly smooth, gleaming black, and thicker than a baseball bat.
“God, Slave! You look like you’re trying to launch an intercontinental ballistic missile out of its silo. But you realize this is very naughty, Morty. You are persisting in disobeying my direct instructions, and for that I will have to increase your punishment.”
“Yes Mistress. Thank you Mistress. I would like that very much.”
Earlier, Jenna had noticed that on one wall was a rack of lethal looking implements. From its selection of whips, canes and floggers, she selected a long springy riding crop with a firm grip, and a leather tongue at one end.
With this in hand she began circling the huge figure of the Gort. Periodically, her eye would fasten on a piece of flesh that might be particularly sensitive. Then without warning the crop would strike out at its target. The lethal swish it made, as it flicked through the air was nothing to the sharp crack, like the report of a rifle, that sounded when it came into contact with Mort’s flesh. And with each strike of the crop, Mort’s great rod would spasm and creep out even further. Only when Jenna had delivered five final cracks to his scrotum without causing his penis to extend another inch, was she certain that she’d stimulated him to his full length.
“Impressive Slave, although I am disappointed that you’ve only just exceeded the two-foot mark.”
“I am sorry, Mistress. Mort is pathetic,” moaned the giant alien, who was in a state of painful excitation. “Please continue to punish me.”
“I’m not here to cater to your pitiful needs, I have my own pleasure to think of. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back in a second!” To emphasize her order, she delivered a final vicious thwack to the tip of Mort’s massive member. The echoes of his yelp had hardly died down before she was back with a large wooden chair, which she placed facing him, and then sat down on, to determine whether it served her purposes.
“Perfect!” she exclaimed happily. The chair was the right height for Mort’s gigantic cock to rest on and remain level. But Jenna had placed it so that only the tip was supported by the chair, the rest of the rubbery trunk bridged the gap between his body and the chair with nothing but empty space below it. When Jenna sat on the chair, the tip of Mort’s cock nestled firmly against her pussy. Experimentally she clenched her thighs together and rubbed her feminine softness against the giant knob.
“Mmmm, that should do.” Satisfied with this set-up, Jenna unbuckled the strap that ran between her legs, then wriggled forward and stood up so that she straddled Mort’s unsupported shaft. In the high boots, her head almost came up to his shoulders, and her exposed pussy was able to clear his penis with only the lightest of contact. She remained in this position, facing him, for some time, poised over his huge cock, lightly rubbing herself backwards and forwards along its erect length, enjoying the feel of his tumescent phallus between her thighs.
“You do have a purpose after all, Mort,” she noted. “I am not displeased to find that I might be able to make some constructive use of you. I was concerned that you might be an uncomfortable fit. But there is more than one way to experience pleasure, isn’t there?”
“Yes Mistress, so I believe.”
“So tell me what you think of this way.”
Jenna rubbed her exposed pussy back and forth along Mort’s enormous cock, reveling in its hot smoothness. She found that her own moisture was making his length more than a little slippery, and with the aid of this lubrication she was able to slide back and forth ever more comfortably. It was immensely erotic. Mort also seemed to be enjoying it, if the increasing rigidity of his prick was any indication, and Jenna felt no compunction about amusing herself in this way for some time.
Eventually Jenna’s arousal was such that she felt ready for the final part of her plan. Standing up she slithered back along Mort’s shaft until she was sitting on the seat with the colossal tip once more lodged between her thighs. She paused for a moment to make sure she was comfortable, then she addressed the excited Mort.
“Right, Slave. This is where you do your bit, and you’d better do it properly. I want noise, and plenty of it!”
She reached down beneath Mort and, at full stretch, grabbed hold of the chain swinging from the manacle attached to his scrotum. The steel ball was quite a burden, but with a little effort Jenna was able return to sitting upright in the chair firmly grasping the weight. Using the manacle as an anchor, Jenna pulled hard on the chain in an effort to force Mort’s huge knob as far as she could inside her moist slit. His excited moans as her pulling throttled his throbbing ball-bag, increased her own excitation and provided an added incentive to pull harder.
When Mort’s cock-head was lodged firmly inside the entrance to her pussy, Jenna leaned back in the chair and lifted her legs until her feet were level with his chest. She pressed the spiked heels firmly against the muscles on his heaving chest, and was rewarded by another moan of pleasure. This was her ideal position—she had a firm footing on Mort’s chest, she had his shaft butting into the entrance of her pussy, and she had a nice thick chain around his nuts to hold onto.
Throwing delicacy to the wind, Jenna then set about discovering just how much of Mort’s dick she could take in one sitting. She gripped hard to the chain and began wriggling her pussy against his cock-head. The harder she pulled, the louder Mort yelled with pleasure, and the louder he yelled the wetter she became. She found that she could slip the first three or four inches in with relative comfort, and that was quite enough to serve her purposes. Now firmly lodged, she held onto the chain, pressed her heels more firmly against Mort’s chest, and began rocking vigorously on his huge erection.
In seconds Jenna was enjoying a massive climax, the pleasure of which was accentuated by the fact that as she came she wedged ever more deeply onto the delicious hardness within her.
Finally, she sat back, spent and gasping for breath. Mort’s eyes were clamped shut, and his brow was furrowed in what could have been pleasure, or could have been pain. As Jenna looked at him, the steel ball she was holding slipped through her exhausted fingers, and its frightening weight crashed towards the floor.
Once more the heavy metal object w
as brought short by Mort’s scrotum, which was again pinched and stretched beyond belief by the iron manacle encircling the flesh above his balls. It was this final act that tipped the balance. Mort let forth with an ecstatic bellow, and the huge hose between Jenna’s slippery thighs began to buck with muscular spasms.
It took Jenna only a second to realize that he was coming, and coming big time. Catching a mouthful of cum from Bruce was one thing, she had no intention of sitting around to be drenched by a penis with Mort’s evident capacity.
With no time to spare she dived clear, narrowly avoiding the huge gush of fluid that sprayed the place where she had been sitting. As she watched in awe, a bellowing Mort writhed and heaved in the throes of his pleasure. With each massive ejaculation of fluid the chain around his scrotum jumped and jangled, until with one final spasm the manacle burst its hinge and fell with a clatter to the floor.
In the silence that followed, Jenna asked in a small, stunned voice—her normal voice, not the voice of the dominatrix—”Now who is going to clean that up?”
Chapter Nine: Toys Not Boys
If Reven had been able to show emotion, Alpha19 and Psi276 would have been positively gloating. The results of the first experiment had been beamed to the Homeworld, and the Council had replied almost immediately with extreme approval. Jenna’s dominance genes had turned out to be easily the most optimum configuration—suitably spontaneous without any tendency to take such activities to damaging excess. With the Trrivv in particular, too many submissives had been carried out of such experiments in body bags.
In the light of these findings, the decision of the Reven Council was to test her against the other female humanoids for characteristics that had up till now been determined to be acceptable. The intention was to discover whether Jenna could produce results that improved on the findings from experiments dealing with carefully programmed modes of mechanical stimulation.
