Vesta - Painworld

by Jennifer Jane Pope

  Carla Wayne and Hazel O’Dee did not look at all out of place in their skimpy rubber outfits; it was, after all, fairly normal daily attire for the pair of them, both in and out of role, though it was the first time Lianne had ever seen them so helpless. Normally they played the dominant roles and it was others who found themselves chained and bound by their expert hands.

  Likewise with Gavin Cross, whose facial expression betrayed both his anger and his frustration at finding himself in the role of slave. And Simon Prescott, who never ventured out from behind his cameras, was clearly both embarrassed and terrified at being exposed almost naked to so many prying eyes. The fact that most of those eyes had to be nothing more than computer generated images did not seem to have registered with his confused brain.

  Next to Simon stood Marlon, looking almost completely blank, his rounded eyes hardly seeming to notice what was going on around him.

  But the figure strapped to the final post was far more animated and only the gag in her mouth was preventing her from voicing her disquiet as she struggled fruitlessly against the thick straps that held her.

  Except, Lianne realised with a sudden start, it wasn’t a ‘her’ at all. True the body, complete with exposed breasts and heavily ringed nipples, shaven sex and shapely legs was female, as were the heavily made-up features at first glance. But VESTA - whether deliberately or otherwise Lianne could only guess - had made very few modifications to the face structure, apart from a slight raising of the cheekbones and softening of the jaw line, and there was no doubting the true identity of the man with whom she’d been sharing her bed for more than a year.

  She saw Paul turn his head in her direction, but if he recognised her at all, he did not show it. But, as he continued to stare at her in the goggle-eyed fashion peculiar to all who were forced to wear a ball gag, Lianne knew he’d guessed and she lowered her gaze, hating for him to have to see her like this.

  Ready to enjoy the show, horsy girl?

  Go fuck yourself, Lianne thought.

  Not while there are others to fuck instead. But I haven’t got time to bandy words with a slave slut, especially not one with a horse face and hooves.

  I’d rather have this face than yours.

  Of course you would. Now, shut up and listen. You may hear something to your liking.

  Like you’ve contracted terminal guilt complex?

  I hardly think so. One needs a conscience for that and I long since decided I couldn’t afford such a luxury. However, you may just get to get out of here.

  Oh?

  Yes, but I’m afraid your fate is not in your hands. It’s going to be up to Marlon’s dear sister, who’s issued me with a personal challenge. If she wins I have agreed to free you all from VESTA. The stupid bitch thinks I meant you’d be free altogether, but we both know that couldn’t happen.

  However, at least your continuing misery could take place in the real world, with the limitations that would impose upon my ingenuity.

  Such generosity seems a bit out of character, blondie, if you’ll pardon my bluntness.

  From your tone I assume you believe things couldn’t get any worse for you? Don’t count on it. I’ve got plans for you to spend a while on a racing stud farm - very realistic, complete with stallions to cover you and get you into foal.

  You’re sick!

  And you’re in no position to do anything about it, so I would advise you to keep your clever comments to yourself.

  You’re not going to release me anyway, not even from this bloody awful world, so what’s the difference?

  Oh, I’ll let you out of VESTA if the girl wins, I give you my word on it, whether you think my word is worth anything or not.

  Assuming it might be, that makes me think she isn’t going to win. It’d take a Sumo wrestler to knock you off your feet.

  Under normal circumstances, maybe. But these circumstances are far from normal, aren’t they? Just take a look straight ahead across the arena. See that pair of small gates beneath the lower seating level? Keep your eyes fixed on them. Any minute now...

  ‘Makes me feel like a Roman emperor,’ Naylor said smugly, settling back into the ornately padded seat. Beside him, Jurgen Koenig sat in a similar chair, the two of them surrounded by a collection of very beautiful and scantily clad young women, whose sole purpose, apart from being decorative, appeared to be to waft the air above them with large fans made from palm leaves. The box in which they were preparing to view the coming contest sat apart from the main terracing, offering the perfect view.

  ‘The entire place is modelled on a coliseum,’ Koenig confirmed. ‘And yes, this is exactly where and how the likes of Nero and Julius Caesar would have viewed the games.’

  ‘The idea has great possibilities,’ Naylor said, craning his neck to look back and up at the sea of faces. ‘Given enough portals, I guess we could recreate this crowd using real people. I assume this lot are just put together by the computer?’ he added, turning back to the German.

  Koenig nodded and smiled. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Mind you, I’ve dulled down the smells just a little. All that leather and rubber crowded together in the sunshine would be a bit overpowering otherwise.’

  ‘Very thorough, as ever,’ Naylor said, straight-faced. ‘So, how long before the so-called action starts?’

  ‘Any moment now,’ Koenig replied. He produced a small pair of binoculars from his pocket, almost as though he had plucked them from thin air. ‘Use yours,’ he said, nodding downwards, and when Naylor followed the direction indicated he saw to his surprise that an identical pair was now resting in his own lap.

  ‘As I said,’ he muttered, raising the lenses to his eyes, ‘very thorough. Why not just create us here with telescopic vision built in.’

  ‘It’s a thought,’ the German smiled. ‘I’ll do some work on that, once our Danish friend has finished giving me her lists of tasks she wants me to do. Ah yes, look down there, on the far side.’

  ‘Where? What am I looking for?’

  ‘The pony cart. See? Unless I’m much mistaken that’s the blonde girl, Lianne. Christina asked for certain modifications, but this is the first opportunity I’ve had to see the results. Curious, but most impressive.’

  ‘Most bloody bizarre, you mean,’ Naylor rasped, swinging his binoculars around until he found the desired target. ‘Oh, fucking hell, that’s a bit much, even by Christina’s standards. Only she could think up something like that!’

  ‘Not if we are to judge from some of the data VESTA has been drawing in from the Internet,’ Koenig said. ‘But I wonder just how the girl feels, standing there more horse than human. Of course, she knows it’s only an illusion, but Christina has made it very plain to her that this is the only reality she will ever experience from now on. It must have a very dispiriting effect, I should imagine.’

  ‘Serve the snotty little bitch right,’ Naylor snapped. ‘It couldn’t happen to a nicer girl. Talking of which, who’s the bimbo on the end post down there? I recognise all the others, but - ye gods! It can’t be!’

  ‘I believe it can,’ Koenig chuckled. ‘I’ve never met the chap in real life, of course, but apparently he has a certain penchant for wearing female costumes. When I first tapped into VESTA he was all set for a pleasant little outing as a ‘real’ woman, so I just made a few alterations. I’m not so sure he’s found the experience quite as pleasant as he might originally have hoped.’

  ‘Another one with ideas above his station,’ Naylor growled. ‘I think we’ll keep him like that and maybe put him to a few nice rough studs.’

  ‘Christina was ahead of you on that one, I’m afraid,’ Koenig said. ‘Ah, wait - do I detect something starting to happen down below?’

  ‘What the hell have they got strapped to them?’ Naylor gasped. ‘Christ, those claws look bloody lethal.’

  ‘In the real world, they would be,’ Koenig agreed. ‘He
re, well... let’s just say they can’t inflict a mortal injury, but they can certainly cause quite a degree of damage, as can the whips, if you study them closely.’

  ‘But why the damned strap-on cocks?’

  ‘Again, our blonde friend’s idea. The aim of the contest is for each contestant to try to penetrate her opponent. Full penetration triggers a pre-programmed response which instantly disables the penetratee; her circuit will immediately lock up and she will be unable to move at all, let alone continue to fight.’

  ‘Except that knowing Christina if the Aussie girl should, by any chance, manage to do it to her first, it just won’t work like that?’

  ‘Quite so, but our fearsome amazon assures me that is only a precaution. Despite surrendering physical advantage she seems very confident she cannot lose. I almost feel sorry for the other girl. She might be better off facing a wild animal.’

  ‘She might at that,’ Naylor agreed, but his reply was lost amidst the renewed cheering of the crowd.

  It required all her powers of self-discipline for Ellen to keep her eyes closed and remain immobile once she knew she had emerged from VESTA, but Nadia had been very firm on this point...

  ‘I’ll move first,’ she had said, ‘and if the coast is clear I’ll let you know. If I get caught, then you’re the reserve, okay?’

  ‘But what am I supposed to do against two bloody muscle men?’ Ellen protested. Somehow, although the cats head mask remained in place, the gag had disappeared the moment Nadia had appeared through the trees ahead of her.

  ‘Try and get to my bedroom,’ Nadia replied. ‘The mirror above my dressing table hides a small safe. The combination is zero-nine, one-three, seven-four, right, left and right, in that order. Then thirteen left for luck,’ she added with a grin. Ellen looked at her in amazement.

  ‘That first bit is my date of birth!’ she exclaimed.

  Nadia nodded. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a terrible memory for numbers, but I have all your birthdays on your personnel files. It would be too obvious if I used my own birthday, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Ellen agreed. ‘So, let’s see.’ She repeated the combination, complete with left and right directions. Nadia nodded.

  ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now, inside the safe are three handguns. Go careful; the one with the pearl inlay handle is a real gun. Only use it if you really have to. The others fire fast acting tranquilliser darts. You’ll find a small tin box with six spare darts as well, but careful how you load them. Prick yourself and you’ll get enough of the drug to make you feel very dizzy, even if you don’t pass out.’

  ‘How do I go about reloading?’

  ‘You’ll find it easy enough,’ Nadia assured her. ‘It’s pretty much obvious. Each dart comes complete with a charge of compressed gas that propels it when you pull the trigger. But you need to be within about thirty metres at most, just to be safe. I don’t know how accurate those things are over a greater distance than that.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘hopefully I’ll be okay, so I can show you myself.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ Ellen said. ‘So what happens now?’

  ‘We just sit here and wait. Shouldn’t be long now.’

  ‘I bloody hope not. This pussy cat outfit is starting to make me feel claustrophobic.’

  ‘Okay, you can open your eyes now.’ Ellen sighed, her eyelids flickering open against the light. Nadia was standing over her, already detaching the web of sensor connections.

  ‘Nobody about?’ Ellen asked, easing herself into a sitting position. To either side of her the line of coffin-like pods stood, a human form just about visible over the top of all except the one Nadia had so recently vacated. Ellen nodded towards the five on her right.

  ‘Can’t we release our crowd now?’ she asked. Nadia pulled away the last connector and began fumbling with the chinstrap that held the curious looking helmet over Ellen’s head.

  ‘No, not yet,’ she said. ‘If we do that Jimmy Naylor and his buddies will know instantly that something is up. And from what Marlon told me they still have control to bring themselves straight out of VESTA. I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy facing that one empty-handed.’ She jerked a thumb to Ellen’s left, to where the imposing leather clad form of Christina reposed, apparently slumbering.

  ‘I take your point,’ Ellen conceded. ‘But we can’t just go off and leave them. God alone knows what they’re going through in there.’

  ‘We have to,’ Nadia urged her. ‘We have to take care of the two guards and also make sure there aren’t any more of them arrived since Marlon was put under. Besides, my little revolver and the two tranquilliser guns will cut madam over there down to size if she does wake up suddenly.’

  ‘It’s about the only thing that would,’ Ellen retorted, lifting her legs over the side of her pod and levering herself upright. Nadia smiled as she turned to lead the way out.

  ‘Not according to Marlon,’ she replied.

  Christina managed to sway away from Clarissa’s first two passes with the whip, but when she tried to counterattack after the second she misjudged and the younger girl’s third attempt caught her exposed left nipple, despite her desperate backward twist. Despite herself the blonde woman let out a small yelp, but was immediately back on her balance, her own weapon flicking out against a follow-up attack.

  ‘Got blood on your tit, blondie!’ Clarissa taunted, circling slowly, keeping just out of range. ‘Hope it bloody well hurts.’

  ‘You’ll find out for yourself in a few seconds,’ Christina rejoined. She flexed her clawed hand, considering whether to feint with the whip and then go in low for the other woman’s exposed thigh and hip. It would be easy enough to land a lash across the lower legs, but both they and most of each arm were protected by a thick layer of leather, as was the face and most of the vital organs.

  The targets, therefore, had to be the shoulders and upper chest, including the breasts in their leather cages, the hips and upper thighs and, of course, just behind where the rubber dildo thrust up and out, the unprotected sex lips. That, however, was not an easy mark, she decided.

  Without further warning, Christina suddenly darted forward, whip thongs flailing before her like a demented propeller, her claws raking out in a low arc, only to find herself clutching at thin air and then a line of fire exploding across her shoulders. Twisting away she staggered backwards, moving out of range, wondering just how her opponent had been able to move that quickly.

  ‘Surprised, drongo?’ The eyes behind the redhead’s mask gleamed maliciously. ‘I was more dragged up than brought up, mostly with boys who had an idea they could use me as a sort of parking bay for their randy little cocks. It was a case of fuck them before they fucked me.’

  ‘Very impressive,’ Christina conceded. ‘But I spent several years training in various combat techniques. I think you might find me a little more of a challenge than a couple of outback hooligans.’

  ‘Who said anything about being brought up in the outback?’ Clarissa laughed. ‘That would have been a picnic. Most of the fellas out there are more interested in shagging sheep, haven’t you heard the stories?’

  ‘You won’t find it so funny in a few minutes,’ Christina warned, tensing for another attack. Clarissa merely laughed even louder.

  ‘You talk a good fight,’ she said, ‘but so far the only blood is on you, in case you hadn’t - whoa! Nearly!’

  Christina had thrust forward with the whip again, hoping to catch her off guard. But Clarissa seemed to be made of rubber, not just wearing it, and it was as though she had springs in the heels of her long boots, for she pirouetted, leapt and was gone, though not without landing another stinging cut across the top of Christina’s right arm.

  The blonde let out a hiss of pain and annoyance as she staggered to regain her balance yet again, but Clarissa was already moving and twice her whip found unprotecte
d flesh, before she was once more out of range. There were roars of approval and encouragement from the crowd, but neither combatant was hearing them now.

  Christina bounded forward once more, twisting, jumping, her right boot lashing out in a vicious karate style kick, but her opponent was yet again too agile for her and this time her claws opened up four deep gashes in the back of Christina’s airborne thigh.

  ‘Five-nil to me, I think!’ Clarissa kept circling, flicking her whip idly, deliberately trying to goad her former tormentor into lunging again. Breathing hard Christina resisted the temptation, knowing it was precisely what was expected of her.

  ‘You’re pretty good,’ she rasped. ‘Makes it all the more interesting. Maybe I should have kept an inch or two and a couple of pounds advantage.’

  ‘Maybe you should,’ Clarissa agreed. ‘So why don’t you get your computer boffin to - waheyyy!’ She spun away as Christina attacked again, but this time her whip also missed its target and, with a backhanded flick, Christina landed her first scoring contact; two vivid welts across the back of her right shoulder. The Australian girl barely seemed to notice the blow.

  ‘You’re learning,’ she sneered. ‘Maybe you’re not as stupid as you look.’ She backed off a few steps, whip hanging limply. ‘I’ll give you one thing, only being able to use the forearms makes this pretty interesting.’

  For several minutes they circled, feinted, lunged. Christina managed to land another whiplash across Clarissa’s other shoulder and rake the top of her thigh with the tip of one claw. But in return she received another stinging lash, this time across both breasts and her opponent’s claws opened up a deep gash along the top of her left arm. Drops of bright red blood splattered the sand about them and, to Christina’s disgust, she realised that most of it was her own.

  Her breathing was much harder now, as much a result of her frustration as from the efforts she was largely wasting. It was, she decided, time for serious methods.