Alien Games by Claudia Rose Page A

his head. His huge limbs rode higher and higher until
finally his enormous body was stretched towards the ceiling and he was
balancing on the balls of his feet.
    For some reason this position still didn’t satisfy Jenna.
Looking around she located some more chains and manacles. She clipped a manacle
around each of Mort’s massive ankles, and connected these to chains that she in
turn connected to smaller winches down at floor level. By tightening these she
gradually pulled Mort’s legs apart until he was spread-eagled vertically, with
the tips of his toes barely touching the floor.
    “How’s that King Kong? Uncomfortable enough for you?”
    “Oh, Mistress,” panted Mort. “It feels exquisite—you are an
artiste.”
    “OH FUCK!” shouted Jenna. “Can’t you get it through your
thick skull that this isn’t supposed to be fun? Do I have to make things worse
for you?”
    “Oh please yes Mistress. Much worse if you would care to.”
    The possibilities of what she could do to this huge slab of
a man ran quickly through her mind. In a little corner of Jenna’s brain a
shocked voice—her “normal” voice—kept saying What on earth are you doing? But the seething desire she had to dominate Mort drowned that voice out. It was
an amazing feeling to have such a powerful and beautiful creature at her mercy.
    Idly, Jenna wandered around the straining figure of Mort
swinging her little whip. His great chest heaved as if a huge pair of bellows
was working overtime. She ran the claws of her glove down one massive pectoral.
Mort squirmed, and she noted with pleasure that the little spikes made goose
bumps appear on the smooth surface of his gleaming flesh. With her thumb and forefinger
she pinched one of his large nipples. He gave a rumbling moan.
    “Like that do you, slave?”
    “Yes Mistress.”
    She pinched harder and twisted the sensitive point. Mort
moaned happily and Jenna admired the way his thick ropes of muscle strained
helplessly against the metal bonds that held him stretched tight and at her
mercy. When he jerked from her punishment his chains strained and rattled, as
if to emphasize his helplessness.
    Casually Jenna walked around behind him. Her claws raked a
path down his back.
    “Uunngghh! Oh thank you Mistress!”
    “Shut up, Slave!”
    The leather strap between her legs, that had been so
irritating just a few minutes before, was now creating a delicious pressure on
her increasingly moist pussy. She rubbed it delicately with the flat of one
gloved finger, enjoying the sensation of the tight band sliding between the
damp folds of her most sensitive place.
    Seen from behind, Mort’s body was a straining mass of
rippling muscle. She couldn’t get over the sheer physical size of him. He had the
proportions and presence of one of those champion stud bulls that always look
capable of leveling everything in its path. She reveled in the fact that she
was mistress of something so magnificent.
    Down at the level of her groin, Mort’s huge, solid buttocks
were strained into heavily knotted mounds due to the tension of the chains
holding him.
    “Nice gluts, you’ve got, slave,” Jenna remarked. She gave
them a few experimental flicks with her whip, enjoying seeing them clench and
unclench. “You look good enough to ride!”
    This gave her an idea.
    “But I don’t ride anything that doesn’t have a tail!” As she
said this she gripped her little flogger by the business end and in one swift,
powerful motion forced its knobbly handle between Mort’s arse-cheeks and up his
back passage until all that dangled out were a few leather tassels. Mort’s
cries of pleasure were educational. From them Jenna learned that a Gort has a
much greater vocal range than one might have expected.
    With the whip firmly lodged, Jenna pressed the length of her
body hard against Mort’s straining back. She wrapped her arms around his torso
and grabbed onto his chest with the claws of her gloves to hold herself in
place. The