Vesta - Painworld (11 page)

There were also three very fine diamond rings, each valued conservatively at around twenty-five thousand pounds. But seventy-five thousand pounds' worth of pressurised carbon and a quarter of a million pounds in cash represented only half of what Paul had managed to squirrel away from his royalties and salary, courtesy of Nadia. Thanks to her nous, he had also invested nearly two hundred thousand pounds over the years, a sum that had all but trebled in the interim.

With two bank accounts and a further account with a very large building society, Paul himself was fast approaching millionaire status. He no longer owned any property; it had seemed stupid keeping on the little mews cottage when he spent virtually all his time here now, and there was always Nadia's two Spanish villas, or the house in Nassau if any of them fancied a break. But he had lately begun to consider the possibilities of buying a new place, for he had every intention of proposing to Lianne in the very near future, and every confidence she would accept.

Life with Nadia was tremendous whirlwind fun, it was true, but the pages of the calendar never went backwards, and there would have to come a time...

The hateful plastic bondage outfit had finally been removed, but what Christina had selected to replace it was, if anything, even worse, and Clarissa's initial attempts to resist the dominatrix had met with a beating so severe that she no longer had any fight left in her. Not that there were any marks left showing; Christina was far too expert for that. But every muscle and nerve in Clarissa's body now seemed to be on fire.

Glaring resentfully, her eyes still tearstained, there was nothing the redheaded artist could do but submit, for the great Dane outweighed her by at least five stone, outreached her by several inches, and carried more muscle than a trained light heavyweight boxer.

First came the rubber helmet, a close fitting latex hood that left only the eyes and mouth showing, two brass ringed apertures permitting air to enter and exit the nostrils. It laced tightly to hug every contour of Clarissa's skull, a high tubular opening at the crown allowing her flaming hair to emerge in a gloriously cascading ponytail that was emphasised starkly against the black rubber and even dwarfed the two long, high-pointed pony ears that were attached at either side.

The body suit was next, more close-fitting rubber in black, brown and white, giving a dappled effect that was not lost on Clarissa, who also noted that, in addition to the strategically placed rear opening, the suit was cut away at the front to leave her shaven sex mound clearly on display, the added pressure from the stretchy fabric forcing her lower lips to protrude and bulge quite grotesquely. Even worse, there were two round openings through which her nipples now stuck out, the pressure around their bases causing them to distend horribly, so that the nipple rings hung on them like hoops on a fairground stall.

It required a certain amount of patience and the application of generous dustings of talcum powder to fit the garment, for it was intended to hug the body like a new skin. Especially over the hands, for the ends of the arms were shaped into rounded mittens, forcing the fingers into clenched fists and rendering them incapable of any dextrous task whatsoever.

‘Yes, you'll make a splendid little horsy,' Christina announced, giving Clarissa's generously rounded buttocks a hard slap. ‘Nice muscle tone and a good generous rump. We'll have to find you a nice stallion to mate with eventually.' She ran a gloved hand down over Clarissa's latex-covered belly. ‘Have to get this filled up with some pretty new foals, I think,' she smirked.

Clarissa recoiled from her touch, but the big blonde just found this amusing.

‘Oh yes, my little slut pony, we're going to have such fun with you.' She turned and picked up a complex assembly of leather straps, the centrepiece of which was a broad, corset-like girth piece. This she wrapped about Clarissa's middle, fastening it at the front with a series of five smaller straps and buckles, cinching each until the unfortunate girl felt breathless. However, the adjustments were far from complete, for the two halves of the girth were joined by stout cross lacing in the rear and there remained a gap between them of some three inches, which the powerful blonde now began to reduce in stages, tugging and hauling and seemingly impervious to Clarissa's squeals of protest.

By the time the gap had been eliminated completely, Clarissa felt as though she were being held in a vice, for this was even tighter than the perspex corset had been and every bit as unyielding, for the polished leather was a good quarter of an inch thick. She stood unsteadily, gulping and gasping, trapped and useless fingers scrabbling helplessly in a futile attempt to release the front buckles.

‘Better remove temptation,' Christina rasped, and seized Clarissa's right wrist, buckling a wide studded strap about it and securing it to a ring at the hip of her girth by means of a strong snap link. Moments later, the left wrist had been similarly dealt with and, if there had ever been any chance that the hapless girl might have released those straps, there was certainly none now.

‘Hooves next, I think,' Christina announced, holding up a pair of curiously shaped knee length boots. Wide-eyed inside her horse's head mask, Clarissa saw they were designed with extremely high heels and a thick platform sole, but that heels and soul had been moulded together and the shape flared out into the profile of a hoof, on the underside of which was a glittering steel horseshoe.

The hoof boots looked heavy, as indeed they were, as Clarissa discovered when Christina had finished lacing her into them. Experimentally, she tried to shift her stance and the weight dragged even out of proportion to what she had expected.

‘There are lead inserts in the soles and heels,' Christina smirked. ‘I call these training boots, as they help to build up the leg muscles. Very handy if I decide to race you.'

‘Race me?' Clarissa echoed, horrified. The blonde's leering grin grew even wider.

‘Oh yes,' she said. ‘There are plenty of clubs and organisations interested in pony girls, I assure you, and races most weekends. A good thoroughbred can win several thousand pounds if she comes out as overall winner at a meeting.'

‘You're a bloody barbarian!' Clarissa shrieked, and immediately wished she'd kept her mouth shut, for the roundhouse kick that landed in her kidneys would have done serious damage, but for the protection the girth corset now afforded them. Even so, the impact sent her sprawling sideways to collapse in an ungainly heap, and it was several seconds before she managed to haul herself unsteadily to her feet again.

‘I think we'll definitely have that tongue out of your head before too much longer,' Christina snarled. She moved in on Clarissa and seized the two straps that dangled down from the front of the corset girth, throwing them over Clarissa's shoulders, crossing them at the back and buckling them tightly to the upper edges of the broader band.

A secondary strap hung down from each at about the level of the bottom of the shoulder blade and these she drew around Clarissa's upper arms, cinching tightly so that her shoulders were forced painfully back and holding her in an artificially erect posture, a pose which was further accentuated by the addition of a wide leather collar, the upper front edge of which rose to a sharp point, preventing Clarissa from lowering her chin without a great deal of discomfort.

‘And now for your tail,' Christina said, taking up the article in question, a flowing cascade of black and white hairs, real or artificial it was impossible for Clarissa to say. What was most certainly real was the device to which they were attached, and by means of which the tail was intended to be affixed to her, for the long slender dildo was designed for one orifice only.

Without ceremony Christina forced her victim to bend forward, at least as far as her new harness assembly would permit, kicking her booted ankles as far apart as was possible without losing her balance completely. Clarissa tensed her rectal muscles, but there was to be no respite.

‘If you fight it,' Christina warned, ‘it'll hurt for sure. Just relax and it'll slide in easily. One way or the other, it's going in, even if I have to hammer it home.' With a great effort, Clarissa willed herself to relax, but even so the initial entry was far from pleasant. However, as she stood up again and her captor buckled in place the intricate crotch strap assembly that would prevent her from ejecting the invader, her body was already beginning to acclimatise itself and the discomfort rapidly began to give way to sensations of a different sort; sensations Clarissa was determined not to acknowledge.

Although she could not bend her neck to see down between her legs, Clarissa's other senses were now on full alert and she could tell that the harness, as Christina finished adjusting the final buckle, was designed so that the two front straps divided and passed upwards in a V-shape, so that her sex, distorted and made more prominent by the cloying rubber of her bodysuit, was framed by it and not obscured from view in the slightest. She felt more naked now than if she had truly been so, and could not understand the little shivery fingers that seemed to be dancing up and down her spine.

‘Yes, a pretty filly indeed,' Christina murmured. Her eyes were gleaming now, but she did not allow herself more than a few seconds to admire the effect so far, for there was still more to come in Clarissa's humiliating ordeal. There was absolutely nothing the younger girl could do to resist as the heavy bridle assembly was lowered over her head.

She did consider trying to refuse to take the rubber-covered bit into her mouth, but she guessed, correctly, that it would have done her no good. In fact, she was convinced now that any lack of co-operation would bring severe punishment as its reward, not just now, but even worse later. From what Christina had been saying these beasts were capable of just about any extremes, and this was being tempered only by their need to convince Marlon that she would be released to him, safe and unharmed, when he had given them whatever it was they wanted so badly.

Mute now, Clarissa stared stoically straight ahead, only the stiff collar preventing her from bowing her head under this latest burden, for the bit, straps, chains and thick blinkers that were positioned to either side of her eyes combined to make a total weight of several pounds, she guessed. And having ensured that the straps formed a satisfactorily close fit, Christina added even to this, by the addition of several small bells, above her forehead and to either side of the strap that secured the bit itself.

‘Wonderful!' Christina said, finally stepping back to take in the overall effect. ‘I should have done this for that Connolly bitch. But then,' she added, with a malicious grin, ‘if she thinks she's seen the last of me, she's in for a big shock. In fact, I think I'll get her tack ready when we get back from our little trot this afternoon. The two of you would make a very nice racing pair.'

 

James Naylor stood peering over Jurgen Koenig's shoulder, trying to make some sort of sense of what was on the German's VDU screen. Koenig was nodding his head as he scrolled through the seemingly endless displays of figures, tables and diagrams, but as far as Naylor was concerned, the entire thing could have been written in hieroglyphics.

‘What's the verdict?' he demanded, unable to contain his impatience any longer. Koenig scratched his chin before replying.

‘What we are looking at, my friend,' he said finally, ‘is a perfect example of what can be attained if the resources are made available as and when they are needed.'

Naylor snorted angrily. ‘Just stop whining on about money and tell me straight,' he snapped. ‘Has he done it, or hasn't he?'

Koenig sniffed, but did not turn away from the screen. ‘Whether he has, or whether he hasn't,' he said, deliberately, ‘is still a matter for conjecture. What we are looking at is the theory of what friend Vincent has put together, plus engineering drawings of his various hardware developments.'

‘And you can't tell me whether they work or not?' This time Koenig did look round, but only to give Naylor a sideways look that bordered on contempt.

‘My dear chap,' he said, and the tone of his voice was unmistakable, ‘you could point out a car to me and ask me if it works. And I could say yes, it has an engine where an engine should be, it has wheels in all the appropriate places and the drawings show it has brakes, a gear box and so on, but there would be no certain way of knowing that it worked until you placed the key in the ignition, started it up and made it move.'

‘We're not talking about bloody cars here!' Naylor snarled, but Koenig remained unmoved.

‘Of course we're not,' he answered amiably, ‘we're talking about something more complex than a million cars, something far more advanced, even, than the technology they are using to send men into space. You see,' he continued, rising slowly to his feet and turning fully to face Naylor, ‘we are not just talking about the most powerful computer programme yet devised, we are also dealing with a processing system even more powerful than that. We are talking about the human brain here, my friend.'

‘So,' Naylor sighed, trying to keep his temper in check, ‘we're no better off than we were two days ago, is that what you're trying to tell me?'

‘Certainly not!' Koenig looked shocked. ‘Most certainly not,' he repeated. ‘Vincent assured me it does work and I have no reason not to believe him. After all, if he could convince us it did not, why should we want it?'

‘Maybe he could be bluffing,' Naylor suggested. ‘Maybe his machine is a load of old rubbish after all, or maybe it isn't and what he's sending us isn't the genuine article anyway.'

‘Maybe,' Koenig agreed, ‘but I think not. You are, after all, holding his sister as hostage and he would not be naive enough to think you would let her go until we had proof of the value of the goods. I myself have made that clear enough to him.'

‘So we have to try this out ourselves,' Naylor said. ‘How long would it take you to put something together from his data?'

At this, Koenig promptly turned and sat down again, his entire body rocking with laughter. Naylor stared at him in bemusement.

‘What's so fucking funny?' he demanded. It took Koenig a few seconds to compose himself, but when he turned again there were still tears in his eyes and he was unable to keep a completely straight face.

‘Funny?' he said. ‘I'll tell you what's funny Herr Naylor - you are, except it's not a very good joke, is it? You really have not the slightest idea about all this, do you? Let me explain.' He jabbed a finger at the screen.