Vesta - Painworld Read Online Free PDF

of the corset. The effect was to hold the arms slightly bent, the elbows pulled back, the strain on the shoulders serving as an ever present reminder to Clarissa, once she regained her senses, that Christina had made her into her helpless slave.
    The boots were truly superb, Christina decided, holding the feet as would a normal - if seven inch heels could be described as normal - pair of high heeled boots. But their bases had been shaped so that sole and heel were as one and shaped to the contours of a horse’s hoof. There was another pair with the outfit, which could be substituted for these at Christina’s discretion, but their rapier thin heels would require practice before Clarissa would be able to balance in them, though at least their rigid construction would prevent any broken ankles. Not that Christina had any great problems with slaves suffering fractures, but only when they were inflicted at her own instigation.
    Next, Christina turned to the makeup box on the small dressing table in the window, applying long false eyelashes over Christina’s own and thickening them with black mascara. Black eyeliner and dark blue eye-shadow followed, as she turned the normally fresh-faced beauty into a parody of a showgirl.
    Deep blusher and vivid carmine lip-gloss emphasised the effect dramatically and, as Christina worked skilfully, the showgirl image became that of an extremely over-the-top whore. When she finally stepped back and scrutinised her efforts, the powerful dominatrix permitted herself a slow smile of satisfaction.
    â€˜Your own mother would disown you, looking like that,’ she addressed the uncaring form. ‘Always supposing she even recognised you.’ She leaned forward again and deftly removed the single gold stud from each of Clarissa’s earlobes, tossing them into the makeup box with disdain.
    The skullcap, which Christina took out next, was moulded to fit perfectly over the upper half of the head, with a locking chinstrap to prevent the wearer from dislodging it. At the crown, a clear tube about nine inches long projected straight up. Taking up a brush, Christina propped her subject up in the bedside chair, legs splayed stiffly before her, and began brushing her wild hair up into a high ponytail.
    Initially fixing it in position with a red band, Christina then twisted it temporarily into a long rope, which she painstakingly fed into the tube, drawing it out the other end and sliding the skullcap helmet carefully onto Clarissa’s head. Locking the chinstrap, she then proceeded to brush the red mane out again, allowing it to cascade down from the top of the tube like a glorious, auburn fountain.
    â€˜My, but aren’t we a pretty sight?’ Christina laughed, mockingly. ‘All locked up tightly, but everything on show. Now then, what’s next?’
    Next, in fact, came the earrings, two huge prisms of the same clear perspex, the helmet having been designed so that there was a small opening over the lower half of each ear, allowing easy access for the supporting studs to be threaded through the piercings in Clarissa’s lobes. There were matching pendants for the girl’s nipples, too, but first there was the matter of how to affix them.
    Generally, Christina liked to pierce her slaves’ nipples, male and female alike, but she wanted this crazy Australian bitch to be wide awake when that time came. Now, as a temporary measure, she took out two specially designed clamps, again in the clear perspex; two flat discs with a hole at the centre, each hole lined with wickedly sharp serrations. The two halves could be opened, the nipple teased into the aperture and then snapped shut again, holding the unfortunate teat in its painful bite until Christina chose to use her key again.
    At the bottom edge of each clamp, a tiny hole had been drilled in the perspex and through each of these Christina now threaded the wires that held the pendants. She stepped back and gave each