Vesta - Painworld (17 page)

‘An excellent filly,' he murmured. ‘Good muscle tone, long legs and a fine chest - racing and show material, that's for certain. Now, let's get you shod and see to your ornamentations.'

Despite herself, Lianne felt a thrill course through her body at the way he looked at her, and the heat rising between her thighs meant only one thing. One brief look from the youth and he would see the first signs of the wetness that would surely only get worse, for the inner Lianne was loose again and the familiar sensations that always stemmed from being so helpless would not, nor could not be denied.

 

Standing well to one side of the door, Marlon peered out through the heavy security glass, beyond his sister, to where Naylor and the Danish woman still stood on the grass, a good eighty yards away from the house. Of the heavy, Frank, there was no sign, but the smaller windows to either side of the rear entrance afforded a clear view in both directions, so there was little chance of him sneaking up when Marlon opened up to bring Clarissa inside.

Besides, Marlon reflected grimly, his hand pressing against the bulge inside his jacket before moving inside to grasp the heavy butt, the old .38 calibre was a little less sophisticated than some modern weapons, but it was capable of blowing a big hole in anything it was fired at. Not that Marlon was a violent man, nor at all conversant with firearms in the normal course of events. But these events were about as far removed from the norm as he could conceive, and where Clarissa's well being and safety were concerned, he knew he would be capable of almost anything.

With one final look to either side, he reached out with his free hand and turned the heavy security lock. The door swung open and, gun now brandished in full view, Marlon stepped forward, grabbed Clarissa and unceremoniously hauled her inside the house, having to almost carry her as she overbalanced on those ridiculous heels. Gasping from the effort he steadied himself and kicked the door shut, the locking mechanism engaging automatically with a satisfying clunk.

‘Oh jeez!' he wheezed, letting the .38 clatter to the floor and wrapping his arms protectively around the tottering Clarissa. ‘Oh jeez, what have they done to you? Are you all right? Can you use your hands? Have they chained you?'

He stepped back, holding her at arm length and stared at her, worried, disturbed by her silence. Perhaps it was something to do with the shock, he thought fleetingly, but the sudden volley of grunts and squeaks and the way in which she was trying to curl back her lips to show him left no doubt as to the real reason.

Desperately, Marlon tried to prise Clarissa's lips apart, seeking to remove whatever it was that was preventing her from speaking, but she seemed determined to stop him, drawing back, shaking her head furiously and letting loose with another burst of what could only be construed as protests.

‘Clarissa!' he cried. ‘It's me, Marlon! You're safe now. I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to get that thing, whatever it is, out of your mouth, don't you understand?'

She nodded, blinking rapidly and, encouraged, Marlon moved in to try again, but once more she tried to retreat. Again he paused, showing her open palms in a gesture of pacifism. But this time when he drew close to her again he heard a gentle ‘plop' sound, slightly muffled, and by the time he smelled the small cloud of gas that mushroomed up from Clarissa's cleavage, it was too late.

 

The smithy proved to be a ramshackle building that was halfway between a cottage and a barn, open at one end to reveal an antique-looking forge, various workbenches and racks and an assortment of unworked metal bars and rods stacked against one wall. In the midst of it all stood the blacksmith himself, and immense fellow of at least six and a half feet in height and weighing probably three hundred pounds, none of which was fat nor flab.

‘Good morning, William,' he hailed the lad as they approached, his face lighting up at the sight of the new pony girl trailing helplessly behind him. ‘Got yourself the new filly, I see?'

‘Indeed I have, Master Gregor,' William laughed. ‘And you shall now have the pleasure of shoeing and ringing her.'

‘And the other pleasure?' the smith smirked. The stable lad shrugged.

‘No one's said any different, so I suppose it'll be okay,' he said. Gregor's mouth twisted into a grin.

‘Ye've not tupped her yerself, then?'

William shook his head. ‘Never tup ‘em till they're shod and ringed,' he said, knowingly. ‘Gives ‘em the wrong ideas, sometimes. Besides, she ain't even got her tail yet and y'can't tup a tail-less filly, t'wouldn't be right, would it?'

‘As y'say, lad… as y'say,' the smith nodded. ‘Now, let's have the filly over to the frame.' He nodded towards a curious assemblage of iron piping that stood in the centre of the space, and William indicated with a slight tug for Lianne to move forward. Still unsure of her footing in the towering hooves, she stumbled on the uneven surface and, unable to use her arms to regain her balance, pitched headlong, just managing to twist herself sideways as she fell, avoiding striking her face, but nevertheless jarring her left arm and elbow painfully.

Neither man made any effort, either to break her fall or help her to her feet again. Instead, they just stood to either side of Lianne, grinning at her plight and guffawing as she struggled to regain an upright stance. Only when she had finally done so did William once again pull her towards the frame.

The pipe work comprised two tall uprights, embedded immovably into the ground about four feet apart and standing perhaps eight feet high, supporting a cross-member of the same ironwork, from which dangled a pair of widespread manacles, plus a length of finer chain which hung from the centre point and reached down to a little below the average person's head.

There were two further crossbeams, one at ankle height, to which were rigidly attached a series of fetters that would enable the victims legs to be held in various positions of splay, and another at waist level, the height of this adjustable by means of clamps and the centre of which was bent back into a small semicircle. A further hinged semicircular piece stood open, but as soon as Lianne had been positioned with the small of her back against the rigid half and her arm sleeves released out of the way, the second was swung closed and she found her waist held within the thus completed circle.

Kneeling down, William grasped her left ankle and forced it outwards, locking it into the penultimate fetter on that side, and repeated the process on the other ankle, so that Lianne's feet were approximately three feet apart, an uncomfortable position given the height of her heels within the hooves.

While the stable lad completed this task, the smithy took her helplessly sheathed upper limbs, drew them above her head and locked them snugly into the hanging cuffs. Raising her bridled head, Lianne peered up at the manacles and could not suppress a small shudder when she saw how heavy and unyielding they were.

‘Y'may as well get off for some breakfast while I attend her,' Gregor grunted, stepping back as William straightened up. ‘T'whole process from scratch takes a good half-hour, and she ain't goin' nowhere now. Not that I'd ever have any trouble from a dumb nag like this anyway,' he added.

The youth nodded, muttered his thanks, and sauntered out of the forge with only a brief backward glance. Watching him go, the sun glinting on his tanned skin, Lianne shuddered, her eyes drawn hypnotically to where the smith was now pumping a bellows under embers that magically changed from dull red, through orange, to almost white.

And then he was no longer the smith, no longer Gregor.

‘Surprised?'

Lianne gave a little whinny of horror as Christina, hands on hips, white leather thigh boots, brief skirt and halter top, stood before her. The blonde Dane, hair cropped as short as when Lianne had last encountered her, grinned maliciously.

‘Oh, of course,' she smirked, ‘I'd forgotten. Nags like you can't speak, can they, horsy girl?' A crop appeared in her right hand as if by magic and she struck Lianne a vicious cut across her right breast. The loud neighing this elicited rose almost to a human scream.

‘And that's just the start, bitch!' Christina snarled. Lianne tried to draw back - an impossible feat given the heavy frame to which she was secured - expecting a further assault, but for the moment it appeared her tormentor was content merely to gloat.

‘I've waited a long time for this,' she said. She tapped her leg with the crop. ‘Out there in the real world this bloody thing still reminds me of you. That break never quite healed as it should have. Of course in VESTA's world there's no pain - not for me, anyway,' she added, her smile widening.

‘Of course, for you and the likes there is pain aplenty, should I choose, which of course I shall. But first a small explanation, as I should hate for you not to realise exactly what our positions now are.

‘Naturally, we all know this is not the real world we are in, but it is real enough and there is no escaping from it without help from outside, help which will not, I need scarcely add, be forthcoming. Therefore, my poor little helpless filly, to all intents and purposes, this painworld of VESTA's has now become your world for as long as you can possibly imagine.

‘They tell me there is no practical limit to the time a person can remain here, assuming their physical body is fed and attended to in the other world. There may be psychological limits, but of course nobody knows, so you're breaking new ground, as it were.

‘I, meantime, shall enjoy breaking you, and this is simply a beginning.' Christina waved a gloved hand around the smithy and then jabbed a finger towards Lianne's face. ‘All this is my own little idea,' she continued, grinning even more when Lianne recoiled from the gesture.

‘Thanks to Marlon's enforced co-operation, our German friend has had access to VESTA even before we arrived here to take complete control, so I had him devise a programme to my own specifications. This new body of yours, whilst an impossibility in reality - though for how much longer who can say? - represents my idea of genetic engineering at its most fascinating.

‘I thought of actually giving you a completely equine body and may still do so, as a diversion later on, but came up with this compromise. Nice horsy features and mane, lovely long shanks and massive tits for us all to enjoy.' She reached out with the crop and prodded the welt that had appeared on Lianne's stinging right breast.

‘You'll have noticed that your nipple rings and piercings have gone, which is deliberate, as I intend to have the pleasure of ringing you again myself. I also intend a few other pleasures denied me in that other world.'

She reached down, seized the hem of her ridiculously brief leather skirt and lifted it. Lianne gasped, a sort of nasally rattle through her elongated nostrils, for instead of the full sex lips she remembered from before, Christina now boasted a full set of male genitalia and her new organ, though still flaccid, was enormous. The Dane chuckled.

‘Curious feeling,' she said, ‘fucking like a man. I had a little trial run an hour or so ago and I must say it was different, though I had to ask Jurgen to make a few adjustments. The male orgasm is a pale thing in comparison to its female counterpart, but now I shall have the best of both worlds.

‘But enough talk, you whore, we have work to do to make you fit for your new role.' She turned away again and pumped at the bellows once more. Lianne could merely stand and watch her, eyes wide in horror-struck disbelief.

That the woman was mad she already knew, and that she was dangerous. But she surely could not seriously be intending to keep Lianne like this permanently? Except that Lianne knew only too well that that was exactly what she meant and Christina, of all people, was perfectly capable of even greater atrocities.

 

‘You tricked me!' Marlon snarled accusingly. ‘There was no need. Like I said, you'd have had it all. I'd have kept my part of the bargain.' He had regained consciousness several minutes since, waking to find himself strapped securely to a wheeled gurney trolley, naked but for what appeared to be a small and very tight pair of rubber briefs. Above him, looming large to fill his field of vision, the blonde amazon grinned cruelly down.

‘Your problem, my little genius friend,' she replied smoothly, ‘is that you don't live in the real world, even outside of this VESTA of yours. Maybe you would have kept your word. Yes, probably you would, I believe that, but then you would have been out there on the loose and our time here would have been very limited indeed.

‘Moreover,' she added, stooping so that her face was very close to his, ‘you would have taken your sweet little sister with you, and I just couldn't bear the thought of being parted from her, not when she was already shaping up so well as my new pony girl.'

‘Pony girl?' Marlon was confused. ‘You're going to use her as a pony in VESTA?'

Christina chuckled. ‘Well, maybe that too, yes,' she agreed, ‘but I already have a pony girl lined up for that role. The delightful Clarissa, however, will get to play the role for real, though I regret that reality brings with it a few necessary constraints that Koenig assures me are not necessary inside your amazing creation.'

She straightened up again and made as if to turn for the door, but hesitated, apparently considering something.