Vesta - Painworld (6 page)

‘And it's getting even better,' she replied. ‘According to Marlon, every little extra titbit of data that VESTA consumes is adding to its ability to create a world that's totally indistinguishable from the real one.'

‘I thought you said it could do that already?'

Lianne looked thoughtful. ‘In a way, it can,' she agreed, ‘but there are little odd things that let it down. Too many instant scene shifts, for example, and characters appearing out of thin air. One minute you're on your own, the next there are people all over you with whips and dildos and everything. I did point that flaw out to Marlon and he said he can sort it in a little while.

‘Apparently he still needs to run in some background material, but he's working on it day and night. And he's also got this new programme he's about to add. I didn't understand a word of the technicalities, but he reckons it's got some sort of artificial intelligence. Throw in enough basic data and it'll merrily write all the other stuff in all on its own, updating and improving all the time.'

‘Sounds impressive,' Paul yawned. Lianne shrugged.

‘Sounds too bloody complicated,' she said. ‘And I've been starting to wonder if it's really such a good idea, putting ourselves at the mercy of a load of wires and valves.'

‘Hardly valves these days,' Paul pointed out. ‘Though I do take your point. But I shouldn't worry. I've spoken to Marlon at some length and it's all quite safe. There's a safety shutdown feature, so if anything should go wrong, VESTA switches herself off after a few hours.'

‘Having first fried our brains?'

‘No, don't be silly. We'd just be stuck in VESTA's little world for a bit longer than intended, that's all. And don't forget, everything that happens there is just an illusion. No real harm can come to any of us.'

 

Marlon adjusted the throat microphone, studied the twin screens immediately in front of him, and addressed the occupants of the twelve perspex-domed cubicles that stretched away from VESTA in two rows of six.

In her cubicle, Lianne lay flat on her back, trying to calm her thoughts, but already warm and clammy inside the black latex bodysuit and helmet. It had been Marlon's idea that they should all ‘go under' in character, but it had provided him with a lot of extra work, cutting tiny slits in the helmets of those who wore them in order to secure the sticky little electrodes. Lianne gazed along her body, at her wrists shackled to the rings on either side of her corset and at the heavy hobble chain dangling between her ankles, and wondered if that had been totally necessary.

Marlon's voice boomed out of the tiny speaker above her head. ‘What I'm going to do is allow VESTA to take an almost random decision as to who'll be going in as passive and who'll be active, apart from the three of you who I think would prefer to play your usual submissive roles.

‘The original idea was to have separate active and passive stations, but a few simple alterations have enabled me to construct units that will do either. That saves us having units left empty when we're top heavy on demand for one type or the other. You'll go in at different times and you'll be involved in separate scenarios, at least to start with. It may even be that you don't see all the others while you're there, but don't worry.

‘The main thing to remember is that whatever happens, it ain't real, but don't hold on to that thought too firmly, else you won't enjoy yourselves half as much. Okay then, here we go.
Bon voyage
, everybody.'

Bon
frigging
voyage
to you too, Lianne thought.

And then everything went black.

 

She was in a field and it was sunny, but the day could not have been too warm, for Lianne felt quite comfortable, even though she was still encased in her latex bodysuit. The helmet mask still covered her head and face, though the wires to the electrodes seemed to have disappeared, as if by magic.

She was in a field.

And she was on a horse. A grey thoroughbred. With a saddle. A saddle with a difference and the difference was the massive phallus fixed to it that was currently stretching her vaginal muscles to their capacity.

The horse was trotting in a slow circle, a long rein attached to a post keeping it to its same path. Peering down, Lianne could just see her booted feet, strapped into the specially adapted stirrups, and the straps that secured her upper thighs to either side of the saddle. Secured her, but did not hold her rigidly enough to prevent her bouncing up and down in time to the grey's staccato progress, so that the dildo was reaming her with every step the horse took.

She could feel that she was already very wet, and she could also feel the now familiar heat beginning to build deep inside her. She looked around to see who was controlling the horse, but there was no one; the creature simply continued round and around, oblivious to its jockey, or to what was happening to her.

Biting hard into the ball gag that had somehow appeared between her teeth, Lianne fought desperately to keep herself under control, determined to take proper stock of her new surroundings before the sensual stimulation made coherent thought impossible. She seemed to be wearing the same outfit as when she had been strapped into the VESTA capsule, except that now she was gagged and her arms were secured tightly together behind her back by means of a laced single sleeve. And she could feel a butt plug moving inside her, which definitely hadn't been there earlier.

All very clever stuff, she thought, but there was something missing, something wrong with this simulation. Almost immediately she put her finger on it. There had been no build up, no ritual, no slow gathering of the senses as she was rendered progressively more helpless by the strict bondage. It was that, as much as anything else, which she found so alluring; the gradual heightening of tension, the growing awareness of committing herself into the control of another and the knowledge that her actions were no longer hers to decide.

Still, she reasoned, that could probably be sorted out, once she'd had a chance to speak to Marlon about it. During the experimental runs and when she and Ellen had been scanned for input data, all Marlon had been interested in was establishing the basis for as many options as possible and recording the reactions in their brainwaves. Quite how it all worked was beyond Lianne, but work it certainly did, and now needed nothing more than a few refining touches here and there.

The two men appeared out of nowhere, which was very disconcerting. One minute the field was empty, apart from Lianne on her phallic mount, and then they were there, both blond giants, both wearing tight leather breeches and cutaway leather tops, and both wearing Dick Turpin style leather masks. They could have been twins and, when Lianne peered closer, she saw that that was, in effect, what they were. Marlon's database was still relatively restricted and Lianne guessed that he had simply used the same set of peripherals for both men.

They were physically based loosely upon Gavin, who generally played the role of brutal master in their ‘real life' scenes, but there was also a hint of something else, for their features were sharper and more threatening than Gavin's. The first twin stepped forward, seized the horse's bridle and brought it to a halt. He looked up at Lianne and bared his teeth in a wolverine grimace.

‘Nothing like a nice brisk trot in the open air to prepare a slave for proper use,' he said, and his companion laughed, mirthlessly. The first man raised his right hand and inserted his fingers roughly between the saddle and Lianne's cleft, nodding knowingly. ‘Just about simmering, I should say,' he sneered. ‘Well, let's have the little slut down and bring her to the boil properly.'

The high timber frame also seemed to have materialised out of thin air. It most certainly had not been in the field when Lianne first arrived, but it was definitely there now, two sturdy uprights supporting a horizontal beam about ten feet from the ground. A thick rope had been thrown over the upright, its two ends dangling ready for use, and there were further ropes knotted about the base of each support post.

The powerful men hoisted Lianne clear of her saddle with effortless ease and half dragged, half carried her under the beam. Working in perfect unison, each grasped one of her ankles, dragging her legs wide apart and securing them with the lower ropes. Satisfied that she was correctly straddled, they then knotted one end of the hanging rope to the steel ring at the end of her arm sleeve and pulled on the other, so that Lianne's arms were dragged cruelly up and away from her body, forcing her head forward and down, until she was held with her spine parallel to the ground.

Both men now had long canes in their hands, taking up positions behind and to either side of their helpless victim, and she tensed, knowing exactly what was coming. During the earlier runs she had been astonished at how realistic VESTA's artificial world could be and, although she knew the imminent beating could not harm her real body, it was definitely going to hurt whatever she was in now.

The first stroke swished in from her right and she screeched into the gag as it landed squarely across her buttocks. Hardly had the searing pain registered, when the second stroke came in from the opposite side. Lianne swayed forward, her full weight falling on her contorted arms, and she felt her bladder lose control in the same instant. The thin hot stream of liquid hissed onto the muddy grass, bring a raucous shout from her two torturers.

‘Filthy little whore!' the one to the left exclaimed. ‘Look at her piss, man; look at her go.' Deeply ashamed, Lianne fought desperately to halt the cascade, but two more rapid cuts destroyed all attempts at disciplined concentration. Only when her bladder had finally emptied itself did the torrent become a trickle and the trickle a few final, humiliating drips.

The beating continued, a beating more ferocious than anything Lianne had ever known before, and she felt sure she must pass out. Through the red haze that now enveloped her, she could hear her stifled sobs and squeals, even these growing less as the pain diminished her every sense.

At last they threw aside the canes, but they were far from finished with her yet. A hand was once again cupping her sex, fingers exploring, working in and out of her sodden love tunnel, other fingers working at the base of her butt plug. From the front, more hands cupped her hanging breasts, kneading her swollen teats through the thin rubber, moulding her firm globes with a rough carelessness.

Lianne groaned, but this time it was not from the pain, for the heat from her ravaged buttocks was slowly beginning to give way to another, fiercer and far more intense heat that was building from inside. And, when the ball gag was suddenly pulled from between her lips, she gratefully sucked in the rampant penis offered in its stead. Scarcely had she drawn it deep into her throat than its twin was thrusting into her from behind.

She gasped, her saliva trickling down over the first twin's heavy testicles, her love juices soaking those of his fellow, and she knew the moment of release was close. Sure enough, seconds later her head exploded in a massive spasm of gratification and, as it did, twin jets of semen filled her throat and her womb in perfect, salty unison.

And, once again, her world went black.

 

Ellen found herself in a predicament as far removed from Lianne's as she could have conceived, had she known Lianne's situation, which she did not. Not that she currently could have given much time to considering anyone but herself and her immediate environs, for this scenario had been quite deliberately designed to hold one hundred percent of her attention.

The long boots that were laced up her legs, virtually to her naked and shaven crotch, were fashioned in such a way that they forced Ellen to walk on the very tips of her toes,
en pointe
as the world of ballet would have described it. And unlike a similar pair of boots she had worn before, out in the ‘real' world, there were no heels upon which to distribute any of her weight.

Around the ankles the boots seemed to have been reinforced with either metal, or with some sort of rigid and extremely strong synthetic, for try as she would, there was no way Ellen could lower herself into a normal standing position. In any case, such a move would have been rendered near impossible by the way in which she had been positioned in this bizarre
corps de ballet
.

The far wall of the long room was one huge mirror, and in this she could see not only her own reflection, but also the reflections of the four other fetishistic ballerinas, of whom Ellen was the centre one. All five were identically dressed and presented a very erotic spectacle indeed.

In addition to the boots, each girl wore what could just about be described as a tutu, although it was really a very stringent corset of leather - white to match the boots - with a series of stiff net skirts sticking out at right angles and with the tiny quarter cups designed to lift and support the breasts. But not to cover them in any way, so that the firm high mounds were presented on open display, huge gold nipple rings and bells dangling grotesquely from them and jangling at the slightest movement.

The girls' arms - each entwined through that of its neighbour and the wrist secured to the hip of the corset tutu by means of a cuff and single link - were encased to the shoulder in tightly laced leather gloves. A high posture collar forced the dancer to hold her head stiffly erect, also covering the lower edge of the thin rubber mask that had been pulled over each set of features, presenting a bland, identical face upon each and every girl and holding some sort of padded gag within her mouth.