Vesta - Painworld by Jennifer Jane Pope Page A

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.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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