Intergalactic Porn Star Pt. 03

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Bdsm

Author’s note:

Intergalactic Porn Star is a work of gay male science fiction. Set in the distant future, it follows the adventures of a man who’s recruited by an organisation that provides hard core gay porn to Earth’s interstellar colonies.

In this part, BDSM switch Ash takes designated top Ryan to Arcadia, and introduces him to the pleasures of moss-sex under Luyton B’s red dwarf star.

* * *

The next day was Saturday, which Ash told me we were encouraged to use as ‘bonding time’ between scene partners. When I raised my eyebrows, he clarified ‘no, not bondage time.’

Since I hadn’t been allocated a partner, he offered to take me on a tour of the place after breakfast, in better spirits now his punishment was over.

In the food hall, I spotted Greg, and headed for his table. Ash hung back, but with some urging, reluctantly took a seat beside me. He seemed shy of the other guys, and hunched down into himself, his eyes on his food, flinching every time someone reached across the table.

I figured after a week of punishment he was feeling shy of the ‘designated’ tops and couldn’t really blame him. I figured the kindest thing to do was to not draw attention to it and didn’t try to pull him into the conversation.

My new friends had their scene partners with them, and unlike the last couple of days, the atmosphere in the food hall was very relaxed. There was touching and affectionate fondling, but it seemed on Saturdays no one was thinking about work or bonuses.

I caught Sam’s eye, and he gave me a slight smile that told me he knew I was into him, and the feeling was mutual. I sipped my drink while I imagined him pinned against the wall, moaning my name, his muscular thighs spread as I parted the perfect curves of his ass to get his hole wet and ready with my tongue.

Unlike Ash, Josh seemed more confident now he was off the clock. I could tell the other guys were fond of him. Every now and then he put his hand on Sam’s shoulder as he told some story that involved them both, and I idly wondered if he’d mind if I put him in restraints and gagged him while I fucked Sam.

“Ryan?” Greg prompted me. “Does that sound good to you?”

No idea.

“Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.”

I did my best to tune in to what Greg was saying, but I could feel Sam watching me with an amused smile.

The second breakfast finished, Ash was at the doors, waiting impatiently for me to join him. I clasped Greg’s hand and told him I’d catch up later, then joined Ash for the grand tour.

“You really like those guys?” he asked, as we left the hall.

“Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged in that irritable way teenagers do when they don’t want to talk about something. I didn’t push it.

“First thing to know, when you’re finding your way around, is where you are,” Ash said, as he led me down the corridor. “The network has cutesy names for each of the buildings, but they’re so dumb.”

“Where are we now?”

“They call this main block ‘Lights, Action!’. We call it ‘fuck palace’.”

I chuckled.

“I think you’ve seen everything in the palace,” he went on. “The studios, training rooms, showers, the food hall, and the starters’ cells. I mean, ‘rooms’.”

“Where are the private rooms they show on the recruitment video?”

He waved me off. “They’re not that great. That video was shot years ago.”

“But where are they?”

“Out the back of the rec.”

“Can I take a look?”

I was keen to see where I’d be sleeping once my training was over.

“On our way back,” he said. “It’s a bit of a detour.”

I let this go too, but made a mental note to have him show me the habitation area before we headed back to the main building.

We exited the block through automatic doors that led into a glass corridor, flanked by black jungle plants. A small amount of weak red light filtered through the foliage, but even bolstered by pelmet lighting near the ceiling, it was like being in an aquarium full of blood.

At the end of each of the tunnel was another set of automatic doors, labelled with the building’s name, ‘Rest and Recreate’.

“Sign’s missing a hyphen,” Ash said, as the doors hissed open.

“Huh?”

“Should say ‘Rest and Re-create’. It’s like a fucking instruction. Have a rest, then fuck some more, so we can sell your private lives.”

We walked past the room where Greg and our group had edged Josh the night before, and Ash showed me through a dozen or more private areas we could access on Friday nights to wind down. In addition to these, there was an auditorium he told me was used for official IGPN events.

The next block over from ‘the rec’, as Ash called it, was signposted ‘Play and Compete’, aka ‘Perv’s Paradise’. This was the sports and fitness block, housing a gym, an indoor pool, several sports courts, and a wrestling studio that smelled of sweaty jocks and feet. It was one of the few places we were encouraged to wear clothes.

The last building on our tour consisted of three stories of hydroponics farms and meat grow-labs, titled ‘Arcadia’ by the casino oyna network. Ash said everyone just called it ‘the garden’.

“Most of us blue contracts do a couple of hours a day either in the kitchens, cleaning, or working in the garden,” he explained.

“When will I have to start that?”

He snorted. “Never. Red contracts don’t include that shit.”

On the one hand I was glad, on the other hand, it didn’t seem fair. Mostly though, I was just glad.

As we entered Arcadia, we were stopped at a reception area by a guard in an official IGPN Security uniform. He had smooth, coffee-coloured skin, and was built from solid muscle. Packed into a pair of tight black trousers, his work shirt stretched across a massive chest, I wondered if he was ever on the menu.

“Hey Ash,” he said. “You know you’re not allowed in here unless you’re working.”

“Come ooon, the new boy hasn’t had the tour.”

“New, eh?” Dennis gave me a once-over, then said to Ash, “He fucked you yet, bro?”

Ash rolled his eyes.

Dennis laughed. “Let me guess—you want to be the first one who fucks him under a blood-red sky?”

He had an accent I couldn’t place. Possibly from one of those outlying islands near Australia.

Ash mimicked his accent. “Don’t be a dick, Dennis.”

The big Polynesian laughed. “Fuuuk. Okay, you can go in, but stay out of the growing rooms.” He shook his head. “Jesus, I wish they’d give you guys clothes.”

“They do,” said Ash. “But then they ask us to rip them off again.”

He started past Dennis, but the big man put out a hand and stopped him.

“Hold up, hold up.” His eyes focused on a point in the air in front of him, and I guessed he was checking his headware.

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Okay, it’s ten-fifteen. You got twenty minutes, then I want your naked asses back here. Okay?”

Ash looked up at the ceiling.

“Bro? Okay?”

Ash pointed to his naked body. “How am I supposed to know when time’s up?”

He looked so innocent. No one was buying it.

Dennis folded his arms and gave him a long-suffering look. “Ashley, I know your headware tells you the time, even if you can’t connect to the L-net. Don’t be a bitch.”

“Thirty minutes. Come on.”

He wasn’t being obvious about it, but the tilt of Ash’s head, and the look in his eyes, said he knew Dennis wanted to fuck him, and he was going to trade on that as long as he could.

“Come on, Den, I need some air.” He half-turned back to me. “And so does Ryan.”

Dennis sighed in defeat. “Thirty minutes.”

Ash clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Dennis.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Come on.” Ash led me past him, while Dennis gave me a look that said, you have no idea what you’re in for.

We walked past rooms filled with growing fruit and vegetables to a set of reinforced double doors, and Ash pressed a button to open them. A whine sounded, followed by a steady grumble of machinery, and a light started to flash above the door.

“This is the only part of the campus that’s open to the air,” he said. “We just have to wait a few seconds for the generators to kick in.”

A short time later the doors hissed open and we stepped into a walled courtyard.

It was a garden of sorts, an open rectangle bordered by prehistoric-looking purple and blue succulents. Pressed up against the walls, as if the jungle was trying to take back the space notched into it, towering black-skinned trees stood silhouetted against the red sky. Their branches ended in massive, fleshy clusters of spiked leaves that curled downwards like claws.

The surface of the courtyard was carpeted with a hard-packed, pale-pink moss that felt gritty under my bare feet. It had some give in it, but not much, its growth pattern just uneven enough to distinguish it as organic.

“Behold,” said Ash, waving a hand towards the orange glowing ball in the sky. “The magnificence of Luyton’s Star.”

The star was larger in the sky than Sol was in Earth’s, but didn’t seem as bright. Or maybe that was just because the light it gave off was red, rather than white.

“What time of day is it?”

Ash shielded his eyes against the glare. “Right now, at a guess, it’s equivalent to late afternoon on Earth. But since this planet rotates roughly twice on its axis for every time it orbits its star, one day here’s about nine Earth days long. So, hard to say.”

He sounded as if he’d given this speech before. I wondered how many guys had fucked him out here under the rusty light.

“That’s one long afternoon.” I said. “What’s with the plants? Why the weird colours?”

“Something to do with their pigments being based on the light spectrum available. I don’t know, I fuck for a living, I’m not a biologist.”

Apparently not a botanist either.

I stroked one of the succulent’s leaves, and slid the fat, purple spike between my fingers. I was about to snap it off to look inside, but Ash stopped me.

“Don’t pick anything. The plants here are full of something-hydrogen monoxide.”

“Dihydrogen monoxide?” canlı casino He had to be kidding.

“Probably. Still not a biologist,” he said dismissively. His attention was on the sky.

The air was still, the trees motionless, and there were no sounds from the forest. Just the rumble of nearby machinery, and a constant hiss that appeared to be coming from the perimeter fence.

“Why do I not feel as if I’m actually outside?” I asked.

Ash held out his hand, examining it as if the coloured sun still fascinated him.

“There’s an air curtain blasting around and over us which keeps out most of the allergens and contaminants from the jungle. Some of the plants’ spores are toxic to humans. It also evens out the oxygen and nitrogen content in the air. There’s too much hydrogen otherwise. Speaking of which, if it starts to rain, we need to get the fuck back inside.”

“Why?”

“The rain here’s purple. I don’t know what’s in it, but that can’t be good.”

He closed his eyes and turned his face up to sky. “I wish there was a breeze. Or real sunlight.”

“I guess you’ll get that when you get to Gliese. How long’s left on your contract?”

He opened his eyes again. They looked glossy and grey in the red light.

“I signed up for the cost of hopping to Gliese like everyone else. And then, after two years, I realised I wanted to go home. Gliese isn’t Earth. I miss Earth.”

He sounded wistful.

“So, I asked for my ticket to be changed from a hop to Gliese, to a hop home. They said fine. Did you know, the hop back to Earth costs almost twice what it costs to hop from Earth to Gliese?”

“What?” I said. “That’s insane! It’s twice the distance. Why?”

His head took on a sarcastic tilt. “Because IGPN owns the transit company that runs the hopgates.”

He let that sink in.

“But they must make that run all the time. Six million credits? Really?”

He nodded. “So, if I want to go home with anything left in my account, after fucking on camera eight hours a day, three hundred days a year for two years, I need to do at least another two years here.”

Christ. That was just malevolent.

“So, that’s why you did that punishment scene,” I said.

“That’s why I did that punishment scene.”

“Fuck.”

I couldn’t imagine being homesick enough to trade a future at the edge of the galaxy for years of taking punishment, just to get back to where I started. But hearing how much he wanted it made me pissed with IGPN. They could let him go home on any supply run, and it wouldn’t cost them a dime.

And then I remembered how careful Greaves had been to make sure I knew what I was signing up for. Legally, they weren’t doing anything wrong. They were happy to hold to the original terms of Ash’s contract, happy to let him break it. I was sure the figure they’d given him was the going price for a hop from Luyton B to Earth. A price set, of course, by IGPN’s transport arm.

I remembered what Greaves had told me the day I arrived. “Chester said you’re one of the top earners here.”

Ash grinned. “He did? Guess who doesn’t get that information. But if he’s counting bonuses, there are a couple of conditions on those that, I’m guessing, you didn’t read in your contract.”

“Such as?”

“Sure, let me take you through it,” he said. “Why would you bother to read the document that controls your life?”

“Okay, don’t,” I said. “Whatever, I’ll look at it later.”

He stared at me for a moment, then sighed. “Fuck it.”

He took a seat on the moss, stretching his legs out in front of him, and I joined him.

“Bonuses, huh?”

“Yeah. The only way I’m getting off here,” he said. He shook his head, as if just thinking about it made him angry.

“Okay, there are three types. First is sponsor bonuses. You earn those if you achieve whatever goal’s set. The network and/or the sponsors make suggestions, and then the sponsors bid on those to set a dollar value, and vote for what they want to see us do.”

“Sometimes you know the goal and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you know what it’s worth, sometimes you don’t. Your sponsors can vote on all those things too.

“But whatever, you don’t get all that money. The Luyton tax office takes half, and IGPN takes twenty percent of what’s left. So, you get thirty percent. Half the idiots here can’t do maths, and think they’re getting paid a lot more than they are.”

I thought of all those grinning faces in the recruitment video and wondered what they’d gone home with.

“What are the other two types?” I asked him.

“We get paid on ‘extra’ content outside of our scenes, but on that, IGPN pays us a credit per thousand views. Of which, the Luyton tax office takes half. Now, given we get billions of views, that should be a fortune, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, but we only get paid on that content while we’re under IGPN’s employ. And where is most of that content viewed?”

“Deep space transit.”

“And what can’t you do from a deep space transit?”

I sighed. “Report viewing stats on adult entertainment.”

“Bingo. kaçak casino So yes, in the long haul, we could be making IGPN a fortune, but it’s a long game. The content gets loaded, and IGPN gets paid up front based on predictions… but, until that transit reaches its destination and accesses a hop transmitter, that payment stays in stasis as ‘unconfirmed’.”

“They could pay us on the predictions.”

“They could. I mean, you could have negotiated that. If you’d read your contract. Which, you didn’t.”

“Did you?” I asked. “Because it sounds as though you didn’t either.”

“Yes, I read it,” he shot back. “But at the time I didn’t care. I didn’t think I’d make that much that it’d matter, and I wanted off Earth. Fucking recruiters. They can smell desperation a mile away.”

He picked at the moss and took a dusting of grains into his palm, pushing them around with his finger.

“And the third bonus?”

He crumbled the moss as finely as he could, then put it to his nose and inhaled.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He ignored me and inhaled the rest, then rubbed his nose to get rid of the loose powder.

“Whooh! Do not tell anyone you can get high off this stuff, or the ground’ll be bare in a week.”

“I thought the plants were poisonous?” Filled with all that lethal water.

He sniffed again, letting his breath out through his mouth as his eyes watered.

“The moss is okay.”

I shook my head. There was no point arguing with him. Clearly it wouldn’t kill him.

“Bonus number three?” I prompted.

He rubbed his thumb against the side of his nose, then sniffed again. “Bonus number three, punishment bonuses. For doing the nastiest, most humiliating, most painful shit you can think of. Guess how much of that you get?”

I had a hunch. “All of it?”

“All of it. It runs during our normal shifts, but it’s paid at penalty rates. If every hour we work equals six-hundred credits, we get paid an additional six-hundred credits an hour.”

So, one week of punishment had earned him an additional 24,000 credits. It was nice money for a week’s work, but I could see his point. He wasn’t leaving here a millionaire, no matter how many cocks he took. The only one getting rich off Ash’s efforts was IGPN.

“Hey, do you want to be my scene partner?” he asked. He lifted an eyebrow provocatively.

“Do I get a choice?”

“Maybe. I can ask. I’m ninety percent sure that’s why they roomed us together anyway. My last scene partner finished his contract a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, I’m happy to. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

He shifted closer and leaned into me, filling my nose with a smell of soap and the warm scent of his skin. “You won’t be doing anything I don’t want you to.”

He kissed me with soft lips, and I pulled him harder against my mouth with a hand against the back of his head. He tasted faintly like candyfloss, probably from the moss he’d snorted, and the residue left behind made my tongue tingle.

“I don’t know,” I murmured against his mouth, feeling spaced out. “It’s not my thing.”

“You’ll come to like it,” he said softly. “I promise you that.”

His tongue slid back into my mouth, and at the same time he brushed a palm across my nipple.

Oh, fuck. What the hell? It felt amazing.

His mouth smiled against mine. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Like a sexy hug from the inside.”

Now that he’d said it, yeah, it was; a flood of joy through me that made me grin like crazy. Made my pulse race. Made me want to dick him so deep he cried from how full he felt.

I cupped his chin in my palm and gazed into his eyes. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He smiled, clearly pleased with the compliment, and rose onto his knees, bracing himself with a hand on my shoulder.

And he was, so fucking beautiful. His eyes a luminous grey, his hair falling in a jagged part across his eyes, his full lips infused with a rosy glow, or maybe stained from the moss. He looked so young; all those supplements doing their work. But the giveaway was the look in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing.

I stroked my hand under his jaw and pulled him in to kiss him again, crushing my lips against his. I felt like a teenager again, drunk and reckless, that same clench in my stomach, that same spreading warmth I’d felt as an inept, fumbling teenager with my first boyfriend.

I stroked my hands across the smoothness of his back, enjoying the play of muscle under his skin as he shifted position to get more comfortable. He inched in closer, until I was all but hugging him, and I ran my hands down to cup his sexy ass. Nicely rounded, the globes of his cheeks were smooth and firm in my hands, something to grip onto while I got high exploring the inside of his mouth.

I brushed a hand across the moss, then gripped his hair, pulling his head back, and pushed two fingers into his mouth. He gagged for a moment in surprise, then started to suck, his eyelids fluttering as the moss hit him.

I fucked his mouth with my fingers for a while, enjoying the way his handsome face softened, toying with his gag reflex—no nanite cream to numb his throat this time. The glitter in his eyes told me he enjoyed me testing him, enjoyed proving he could take it.

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