Vesta - Painworld by Jennifer Jane Pope Page B

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.
    Â 
    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.
    The masks had a sort of wig attached to them; black hair scraped up into a chignon, the rubber cheeks coloured bright pink, the rubber lips unmoving, unspeaking lines of bright carmine. Only the eyes were animated, where they peered through apertures that clung to the features so closely that only a close inspection revealed that the girls were masked at all.
    â€˜Ah, I see my little swans are ready for me!’ The man had appeared as if by magic, standing in front and slightly to the left of the line, dressed in flesh-coloured rubber tights and a bright green rubber leotard of sorts, and clutching a long switch in his right hand. Ellen guessed he was in his late twenties and her keen eye did not miss the well muscled legs and the light way in which he moved about on the balls of his feet.
    Well, she thought, VESTA couldn’t have chosen better, for the blond