‘But nothing,’ she said, placing a silencing finger against his lips. ‘And I’m only ever going to say this to you the once, so listen and take note.’ She stepped back, but retained her grip on his organ, which was now swollen fit to burst.
‘I’ve been involved here for some time now and I’ve done just about everything there is to be done. I’ve also enjoyed it totally and I’d be a liar if I tried to deny it. Some of us are just made that way. Me, Lianne, Hazel, all of us. But there’s one difference between Lianne and me and I’ve only just figured it out.’
‘There is?’ Marlon could barely get the words out.
Again Ellen nodded. ‘Yup,’ she replied, massaging his shaft slowly. ‘I’ve got a real brain. Don’t get me wrong, I love Lianne to death and she’s no dummy, but she also... well, it’s hard to explain, but she was in a job that required brains, so she obviously isn’t stupid, yet she arrived here - my fault - and seems to have parked her IQ in neutral. I’d done the same, I suppose, but now I understand.
‘Which is why I fancy you, I guess. You’re the smartest sod I’ve ever met and that really turns me on, for some reason. Maybe a little part of me thinks you could fuck some intelligence into me,’ she added, unable to suppress a giggle.
‘I don’t think you do yourself justice,’ Marlon protested, but Ellen was not in the mood for any further delays. She stepped forward again, raised herself up and guided his rampant phallus inside herself with practised ease. Marlon let out a strangled gasp and she had to grab his waist to prevent him from buckling at the knees.
‘This,’ she breathed, ‘is reality, Marlon.’ She raised and lowered herself once and he gasped out loud again. ‘And it’s also both your reward and your penance. From now on, professor, this cock belongs to me, both inside and outside of VESTA.
Marlon’s reply was completely incoherent and his reaction was both sudden and expected. Ellen didn’t mind at all, for she suddenly understood that she now had all the time in the world at her disposal. Somewhere inside VESTA there was now an electronic version of Ellen who would do all the routine chores, if routine were the correct word.
Meanwhile, out here in the real world, she was once more in full charge of things - including the thing that was convulsing so helplessly inside her.
Abandoning herself to her own orgasm, she idly reflected that it was going to be a long life from now on...
Pauline stood in the centre of the high vaulted chamber, the circle of spotlights reflecting off the tight thin rubber that adorned her voluptuous body, the changing colours highlighting her full red lips and the matching nipples that were bursting out of the tight cut-outs in the bodice of the brief latex dress.
A few feet from her stood her new master, a towering figure dressed in dull black leather; mask, cape, high boots and studded belt, swathed in a matching cape that gaped open to hide nothing of the impossible erection that awaited her. She closed her eyes briefly, opening them again to stare at her fate, painfully aware of the damp warmth that seeped onto the few inches of naked thigh above the rubber stockings.
‘Kneel, Pauline,’ the master commanded.
Perched on the high boots, her arms caught up behind her back in the tight rubber pouch, Pauline obeyed with some difficulty. She knelt, head bowed, her long blonde ringlets cascading about her face, partially obscuring her vision. The master stepped forward.
‘Worship me, whore,’ he ordered. Head still inclined downwards, Pauline extended her neck, parting her lips about the purple head of her master’s organ. Gently she sucked the monster into her mouth, her tongue massaging its under surface.
‘Deeper, my little slut slave,’ the master said. Pauline obeyed, marvelling that the massive shaft did not cause her to choke.
‘Enough!’ The master stepped back, his burgeoning rod coming out of her mouth with an audible plop. Pauline remained kneeling in submission. The master gave a low chuckle.
‘First we warm up that sexy little rump,’ he said. ‘And I have just the thing for you, my little whore. Look!’
Slowly, Pauline raised her eyes, gazing past her master to where the means of her re-education stood waiting, and sighed as she understood.
‘Come,’ said the master, extending a gloved hand, raising Pauline to a standing position with surprising ease. ‘Come mount my new horse and let’s prepare your saddle.’
Tottering unsteadily on the towering heels, Pauline allowed herself to be led forward without protest, stepping up onto the black velvet draped box and easing her right leg up over the pommel, feeling the thick phallus pressing against her dripping sex, shivering as the stubby head penetrated her, lowering herself until its length had sunk fully inside her and sighing loudly as she settled her weight upon it.
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 b
eyond 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...
Also Available
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.
Vesta - Painworld Page 24
