Alien Games (7 page)

Chapter Eight: Mistress Jenna

Bruce was the first to wake. He felt extremely rested and
guessed that he’d slept for at least eight hours. The only thing bothering him
in the immediate moment was that Jenna was still sleeping with her head on his
arm, and his hand had gone completely numb.
We can’t have moved the whole
time we were asleep
he thought. He decided to lie as quietly as possible,
and let Jenna sleep for a while longer.
The woman I love is here in my bed,
asleep in my arms, I can put up with more than a bit of discomfort for that!

But within two minutes Jenna was starting to stir also.
Seconds later she was pushing herself up on one arm, trying to get her
bearings. The effect of this was to cause her ample breasts to swing forward
deliciously and brush Bruce’s face. It was too good an opportunity to pass by,
and he stroked the closest nipple with his tongue.

“Mmmm,” Jenna sighed sleepily. “That’s a nice way to start
the day.” She bent down and kissed Bruce softly on the lips. He responded with
greater pressure and for quite some time nothing broke the contact.

Finally, however, Jenna pulled away and sat up.

“Uh-uh, I’m not going there. Too much frustration before
breakfast is bad for my appetite.”

She swung out of bed and slipped into a fresh outfit. Bruce
followed, pulling on a pair of bike shorts, but leaving his torso bare.

Together the two walked into the main room, where they found
some of the others involved in eating. Most were wearing some sort of clothing,
although from the outfits on show it appeared that other humanoids didn’t wear
a lot more than Bruce and Jenna were currently wearing themselves.

Acting as if they’d been doing this all their life, they
strolled to the two alcoves, helped themselves to food, then settled down
together to eat.

“What are you dining on today, good sir?”

“Methinks the finest Scottish oatmeal with brown sugar and
fresh cream, followed by bacon and eggs-over-easy, topped off with some
excellent Colombian coffee. And for the Lady?”

“Fresh picked papaya I think, newly squeezed orange juice,
strawberries in light yogurt, and toast fingers with English marmalade.”

“I say, very exotic!” aped Bruce in an upper class British
drawl.

For a while they ate in silence, taking pleasure in the
sensations their palates were enjoying.

“I wonder what happens today,” Jenna finally remarked.

“I guess we find out. It would be nice to think the Vedi
have it wrong, but they seem know more than we do. Hey, Ghanjihi!” Bruce called
to the blue man, who seemed to be meditating. “What’s the program for today, do
we sit and twiddle our thumbs until we all pass out from boredom?”

Ghanjihi made no response, but Fritti answered from the other
side of the room.

“You won’t get any answer from him, Terran. Nothing that
isn’t life-threatening disturbs a Vedi when they’re communicating with the
two-armed ancestor within,” he chuckled maliciously. “But I can at least assure
you that you don’t have to be bored. Come and look over here.”

He rose fluidly to his feet, and crossed to a door behind
Bruce and Jenna.

“The Reven don’t want us jaded, miserable or lazy. It’s in
the interest of their experiment to keep us occupied—those of us who aren’t in
the lab of course,” he added with a lascivious grin. “So in this room they
offer us a range of diversions. Each of these five buttons gives us a new
activity to enjoy.”

He pointed to a line of buttons beside the door.

“The top button is for exercise, the second is for
water-sports, the third is for zero gravity, the fourth is for intellectual
stimulation, and the fifth is for sensory stimulation.”

Fritti pressed the first button, and the door slid back to
reveal what appeared to be a gymnasium, although with some of the most unusual
exercise equipment Bruce and Jenna had ever seen. One thing they did recognize,
however, was that Zhorta, the female Gort, was in there pumping weights. She
occupied the center of the room, stripped naked, sweat streaming down her
stupendous body, as she did biceps curls with a massive set of barbells. She
grinned when she saw who was at the door, but went on pumping the iron, her
muscles rippling beneath her obsidian skin like a nest of giant pythons.

“My God,” breathed an awed Jenna. “That must be what the
Amazons were really like. It makes Xena look pretty puny.”

“I do not know this Xena,” replied Fritti. He pressed the
second button down. The door closed on Zhorta, and opened again to reveal a
series of water-filled pools. One was clearly a type of hot tub, another could
have been a plunge pool, and then there was a long slim pool, in which Ranisha
was swimming with an amazing four-armed stroke. She seemed to leap through the
water, and it occurred to Bruce that he’d have a hard time keeping up with her
even if he were running while she was swimming.

Fritti pressed the third button, the door closed and opened,
and there was Mmerr, floating weightless in mid-air. As they watched she pushed
off from a wall, executed an intricate aerial somersault, and rebounded off the
roof.

“Now that’s something I’d like to try,” said Jenna
excitedly. “But I don’t understand how there’s a different room there every
time you push the button.”

“The rooms exist in different dimensions,” explained Fritti
in mildly patronizing tones, as if he couldn’t understand how anyone could fail
to have grasped this. “How else do you think we can all fit into what is, in
this universe, a relatively small vessel? Most of the ship exists in other
dimensions, and the doors that we walk through are inter-dimensional portals.
Each button here opens a portal to a different dimension.”

He scowled at the look of incomprehension on Bruce and
Jenna’s faces.

“I’m sorry, I keep forgetting how backward your species is
in some things. Let me explain. Space is like a book, every dimension is a
page, and they all sit side by side. Our universe exists in this dimension, but
there are very many dimensions where nothing exists at all. It is easy to place
a structure in another dimension, and program your inter-dimensional portal to
always open to its coordinates. So wherever the Reven ship goes in space, its
doors always open to fixed coordinates in other dimensions. It is a technology
that has many applications.”

“Fair enough,” said Bruce, who’d had enough of the Trrivv’s
condescending manner, and was determined to brush him off. “Fancy a swim Jenna?
Jenna…? Jenna, are you all right?”

But Jenna was completely oblivious to him. Just as he had
turned to talk to her, her face had gone blank, her arms had fallen limply to
her sides, and her eyes had taken on an unfocused, glassy look. Without a word
she turned to face the other side of the room and began walking eerily towards
a newly opened door. She was clearly in some sort of trance.

Bruce began to panic. He called after her again, and went to
grab hold of her arm. But Fritti reached out to draw him back.

“You must let her go. If you try to stop her the controller
chip will punish you severely. She is clearly a subject in today’s experiment,
and the Reven will brook no interference.”

“I don’t understand. Why is she a subject today and not me?”

“Either they are using her alone, or else they have another
partner, or partners, in mind. Ah yes, the latter is the case I see. By the
Mother, that will be a tight fit! I hope he doesn’t stretch her too much before
it is my turn.”

Bruce had no idea what the cat-man was talking about, until
he saw that Mort the Gort was also walking across the room like a zombie, and
was about to enter the doorway through which Jenna had just disappeared. That
was more than Bruce could handle. With a cry of fury he raced across the room
to intercept the gigantic creature. But before he had got more than a few
paces, excruciating pain had knocked him to the floor, leaving him screaming in
agony. His eyes were clenched tight with the pain, and so he did not see the
door slide shut behind the Gort’s huge back.

* * * * *

The next thing Jenna knew she was in a dimly lit, cavernous
room. As her eyes gradually adjusted, she realized that what illumination there
was came from lights down at floor level, projecting upwards, and reflecting
dimly off heavy red wall hangings. Around the room was an array of bizarre
structures. At first she thought the things were furniture, until she recognized
some of them as models of medieval torture equipment. There was a rack, and
over there were chains and manacles, and that must be an Iron Maiden, and there
were stocks, for feet, or for hands and heads. She didn’t recognize a lot of
the strange looking metal shapes, but she could hazard a guess at some of their
potentially nasty applications.

“Where the hell am I?” she asked fearfully.

“In the Reven laboratory, Mistress,” boomed a deep voice
from behind her.

Jenna almost jumped out of her skin, adrenaline coursed
through her as she skittered around to face the source of the voice.

“Shit Mort, you scared me!” she yelled, when she realized
who had spoken.

“I am sorry, Mistress, that was not my intention.”

“Well don’t do it again. And don’t call me Mistress!”

A small part of Jenna’s mind knew that she should be more
nervous, after all she was in a strange dungeon, full of machines of torture,
with only a hulking alien for company. But she felt too pissed-off for that.
This whole experience was getting more and more ridiculous. Unusual emotions
were seething in her mind and a devil-may-care anger was taking control of her.
Where were these feelings coming from? She couldn’t explain why, but she really
wanted to make someone pay for the bloody stupid things that kept happening.
That was when she realized that something else was different.

“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.