Alien Games (9 page)

Finally it was over, and she lay panting in the embrace of
the chair. It was with a sad sense of ennui that Jenna considered what had
happened. While the climax had been powerful, the experience had left her
feeling hollow. Nothing had stimulated her mind, only her body. No living
creature had touched her, she hadn’t even touched herself—what had happened had
been precise, mechanical and clinical. It wasn’t something she’d care to try
again. Even when things had been arguably worse, when she’d been stuck to the
wall with bits of alien plastic violating her, she’d at least felt a degree of
intimacy having Bruce there responding to her arousal with impressive evidence
of his own sexual excitement.

As if sensing her mood, the chair released her from its
grip, and Jenna climbed shakily to her feet. The others had finished too. Mmerr
had climbed down from the machine and was proprietarily stroking it with her
tail. She looked so pleased with herself that Jenna half expected her to sit
down and begin washing with one delicate paw. Zhorta was struggling out of her
jumpsuit, all the while giggling as if something hilarious had just occurred.
Ranisha, too, was free from the cylinder. She was standing looking relaxed, as
if nothing untoward had happened.

“How was that, Jenna?” she inquired.

“Good while it lasted, but overall unsatisfying. I don’t
think something as purely mechanical as that is my thing.”

“Ah, good. I had imagined that is what you would have felt,
and am pleased to have my suspicions confirmed. We both require more than
mechanical stimulation, our mind is our most potent sensory organ and we crave
sexual contact with another. Some become addicted to machines like this,” she
gave Mmerr a small sideways glance. “But for most of us they are ultimately
unsatisfying.”

“True,” agreed Zhorta. “But they can also be very funny.”

“Attention subjects,” intruded the Reven voice. “The next
rotation will begin in ten minutes, move one place to your left and prepare to
use the device.”

Jenna sighed. “I really don’t think I’m ready for another
round.”

“You will be,” Ranisha assured her. “Go to your place and
compose your mind.”

Jenna’s place this time was the lewd machine that Mmerr had
so enjoyed. Having seen Mmerr use it she wasn’t too taken aback, but she did
find the evidence of Mmerr’s pleasure disturbing. She looked around, wondering
whether she dare complain. But all the others were engaged in preparing
themselves. Zhorta had sunk into the chair Jenna had vacated. Ranisha was now
wearing the black jumpsuit, although it had mysteriously sprouted an extra pair
of arms. And Mmerr was waiting impatiently inside the body sheath for things to
get underway.

Jenna looked again at the phallus, still gleaming with the
slipperiness of Mmerr’s orgasm. She had always been a fastidious person, she
took her personal hygiene very seriously, and the thought of mounting a device
covered in the juice of someone else’s pleasure left her feeling a little ill.
But at the same time, she wasn’t sure that complaining wouldn’t just activate
the controller chip, nor did she want to cause offense to any of the others.

So, taking a deep breath and holding it, she moved closer to
the glistening phallus, pondering the best way to mount. But she couldn’t hold
her breath forever, and finally she had to suck in air with a gasp. Mmerr’s
scent on the chair was surprisingly pleasant. It reminded Jenna of a sweet,
heavy musk, and that in turn reminded her of how erotic she’d found the sight
of Mmerr’s private places. Feeling more cheerful, and already a little aroused,
Jenna climbed on board.

She slid down the shaft just as Mmerr had, feeling it adjust
in width and length so that it filled her comfortably. She wriggled a little to
settle herself, and gripped the body of the machine experimentally with her
legs, as if she were riding a horse. When the powerful tendons of her inner
thighs squeezed, the phallus responded with a delicious pulse that focused her
attention on the pleasure spots between her legs. Growing in confidence, Jenna
allowed gravity to press her down harder, so that the smaller protrusions
pressed against her clit and between her buttocks.

“You look marvelous up there,” commented Zhorta, who had
been watching the proceedings with interest from the embrace of the chair. “No
wonder Mort thought you were magnificent.”

Jenna blushed a little at the memory, but she also recalled
the fun she’d had with Mort’s great piston. She was still thinking of the last
experiment when the machine started. The combination of rocking and vibration
set her clitoris tingling almost immediately, while the phallus pulsed up and
down its length with a sensation of oil-filled beads being drawn in and out of
her hole. Determined to relax and go with the experience, Jenna tried out a
range of positions and sensations. For a while she closed her eyes and advanced
the process by massaging her own breasts, but she found it more exciting to
watch the others. Mmerr was wriggling sinuously within the rainbow body sheath,
yowling with pleasure, her tail, which was also encased, circling in an aerial
ballet. Ranisha had contorted herself into a complex shape in the jump-suit,
her upper pair of arms were holding her legs apart at greater than a ninety
degree angle, the lower pair were massaging her own buttocks, and most amazing
of all, she had her helmet covered face pressed into her own crotch. Over in
the chair, Zhorta wasn’t capable of much movement. But she was clearly enjoying
herself, and Jenna noticed with awe that her ample breasts seem to be expanding
and contracting in time with her moans of pleasure.

The sights and sounds were increasingly erotic, and within
minutes Jenna was having another climax.

When she had finished, she felt the phallus retract to allow
her to dismount, which she was able to do with comfort. Again she decided that,
while the experience had been pleasurable, she wouldn’t want to do it again.

The next round passed as mechanically. She was aroused, the
body sheath brought her to another wonderful climax, and she enjoyed watching
the others on the machines, particularly Zhorta this time, for whom the phallus
had assumed the dimensions of a traffic cone. But as quickly as it was over it
was forgotten, and Jenna was left with very little desire to repeat the
experience.

Thank goodness
, she thought as the sheath released
her.
One more to go and I’m out of here
.

She wasted no time donning the black jump-suit and the
full-face helmet. While the material looked like latex, it slid on easily and
was supremely comfortably. The helmet, too, was comfortable, and although she
couldn’t see anything, she felt in no way claustrophobic or disoriented. From a
distance she could hear Ranisha’s voice, almost as if it were speaking in her
mind,
Just relax, Jenna, this is the device you will enjoy the most. It will
discover your deepest desire or most taboo fantasy and you will find yourself
living it as if it were really happening
.

Then Ranisha’s voice faded, and with it almost all awareness
that she was taking part in an experiment. Instead the machine transported her
to another world, a world of her imagination, but one so real that she never,
for a second, doubted its authenticity.

Jenna was running along an idyllic golden-sand beach, loping
in long easy strides, wearing only a white thong bikini. The day was warm, the
water clear and glassy, and a gentle tropical breeze was blowing in her face.
The beach was totally deserted, the only evidence of human activity the even
row of footprints stretching behind her.

To complement her idyllic surroundings, she felt as well and
happy as she could remember feeling in her life. She was a winner, one of the
greatest woman athletes of all time, she was rich, she was beautiful, and the
world loved her.

Yet a shadow hovered in the back of her mind, like a small
cloud. As good as things were, shouldn’t they be better? Why was she running
along this beach alone? Shouldn’t someone be here beside her? She wanted to
share her happiness, to be loved, and have a lover.

Her eye was suddenly caught by a small figure that had
jogged down onto the beach a few hundred yards ahead of her. Perhaps this was
her lover—after all it was her fantasy. She increased her speed across the firm
sand, splashing joyously from time to time through the inch or two of clear
water that the gently lapping tide pushed up the beach.

Gradually she closed the gap between her and the other
runner. It was a man, a tall, upright man. He had a chiseled back, and broad
shoulders. He was naked but for a small g-string, and she could see the
powerful rounds of his buttocks pumping above his well-muscled legs. He was a
beautiful man— big, powerful, perfectly formed—her ideal lover.

When she was within a few strides, she called to him.

“Wait!”

Slowly he jogged to a halt and turned to face her.

Of course! It was Bruce. In her heart of hearts she had
known it would be him—despite her past rebuffs, he was her soul mate. She’d
been wrong to treat him as she had. He was the person with whom she could share
her happiness. He, above all people, would understand her needs, her fears, her
triumphs, and her desires.

“Bruce!” she said, panting lightly. “I’m so glad it’s you!”

But instead of coming to meet her, Bruce remained
motionless, his face blank.

“Hello, Jenna,” he replied coldly.

“Hi Bruce,” she said, moving even closer but suddenly feeling
awkward. “I wondered if I could run with you for a while?”

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “I’ve decided to respect
your wishes and leave you alone from now on.”

He turned to run on.

Jenna was stunned. This couldn’t be happening. She felt ill
to her stomach, and bile flooded bitterly into her mouth.

“Bruce! Wait!” she called in panic. She couldn’t lose this
beautiful man, she couldn’t have him reject her. Just when she’d realized that
he could be her rock in life’s turbulent sea, he was about to give up on her.

Bruce stopped, but he didn’t turn around. Instead he stood
with his shoulders tense, hands on hips, waiting.

“Bruce, wait,” she pleaded again, softly this time, running
with small panicked steps to catch up with him. “I’m so sorry. I was wrong.
Please don’t leave me. Please let me make it up to you.”

The Bruce who turned to face her was a stranger. His face
had hardened into granite lines, and he looked down at her from beneath jutting
eyebrows.

“You’ve had three years to say that Jenna. Three years to
treat me with courtesy, rather than contempt. Why should I suddenly fall at
your feet because you’ve deigned to notice me? I don’t need you, and I’m not
even sure I want you anymore.”

Jenna felt as if her heart had stopped. This wasn’t her
fantasy. A huge band was encircling her chest, making it impossible for her to
breathe. What had she done? How could she have been so stupid? She couldn’t
lose him!

She began sobbing, huge stinging tears pooled in her eyes
and ran in thick lines down past her delicate nose, to drop from her chin onto
the exposed skin of her breasts, which were rising and falling urgently in time
with her gasps of distress.

Bruce was unmoved. Again he made to turn away.

“No, please Bruce! I know I was wrong. I was cruel and
unthinking.”

She grabbed his arm to hold him.

“Give me one more chance. Do anything you want with me, I
deserve it, but please don’t leave me.”

Bruce looked at her quizzically.

“Anything?”

“Yes! Yes! Anything! I don’t care what you do, I deserve to
pay for what I did to you. I’d give anything for one more chance.”

“You humiliated me and caused me pain. Are you prepared to
suffer humiliation and pain for what you’ve done?”

Jenna hesitated for a mere fraction of a second, but it was
enough for Bruce, who turned with a grimace of disgust to run on again.

“Bruce!” she shrieked. “Yes, I am ready! I deserve it. I
want to be hurt and humiliated by you, and I hope that after that you’ll be
able to forgive me and love me. Please let me prove myself. Please!”

The last word came out as a sob.

“All right, but I’m through playing games with you. Balk at
one instruction and it’s all over for good. Understand?”

“Yes,” she affirmed meekly.

This wasn’t enough for Bruce, he reached forward and seized
her left breast roughly, causing her to yelp.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Bruce?” she hazarded desperately, hunching her left
shoulder to try and relieve the pressure on her sensitive flesh.

“Wrong. Try again.”

“Yes, Master?”

“Better,” he released his hold, and instinctively Jenna put
up her hand to rub herself.

“Stop! You won’t move unless I say so.”

She froze her hand in mid-air, and waited for his next
instruction.

“Lace your fingers and stand with your hands behind your
head.”

She did so, aware that this made her breasts jut out.

Bruce fixed her with a dispassionate, almost clinical,
stare.

“So, you’re the great Jenna Walsh. The woman who thinks
she’s better than everyone else in the world. The woman who thinks she’s too
important to treat other people with kindness.”

Jenna said nothing, but her eyes began to pool with tears
again. Bruce continued.

“Do you know what I think, Jenna Walsh? I think you’re a
whore to fame. What are you?”

“I’m a whore to fame,” she whispered.

“Louder!”

“I’m a whore to fame.”

“Louder, let the whole beach hear you!”

“I’m a whore to fame!”

“Exactly. And because you’re a whore to fame, you should
look like a whore. Let me see your tits!”

Bruce hooked his fingers into the cups of Jenna’s bikini top
and contemptuously bared each of her breasts in turn, tucking the flimsy fabric
under the heavy rounds. The halter strained them together and upwards so that
they pointed proudly at him. Bruce regarded the magnificent globes, but seemed
only marginally impressed.