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Author’s note:
Intergalactic Porn Star is a work of gay male fiction, set in the distant future, about an organisation that provides hard core porn to the colonies.
In this episode, Ash is given an ultimatum. Hand over control of his orgasms completely to Ryan, or lose a large chunk of his income.
* * *
The next morning, we were woken early by a staffer.
“Come on, Harvey’s only got fifteen, and then we’ve got a general assembly.”
The staffer marched us into Harvey’s office and ordered us to sit. We waited as Harvey made himself a coffee and took it back to his desk, where he settled back in his seat with a sigh.
“Boys, boys, boys,” he said. “Ashley. Any idea why we’re here?”
Ash sat there in confusion for a few seconds, then threw his head back and let out a strangled moan.
“Oh, fuck.”
“Yes, oh fuck,” said Harvey.
“But you can edit it out, you don’t have to—”
Harvey raised a hand. “No, Ashley, not this time.”
“Motherfu—”
Harvey gave him a hard look, and Ash shut his mouth.
“What’s going on?” I asked Harvey.
“Ashley here’s lost his OD bonus.”
Oh fuck. He’d been on orgasm denial. I’d completely forgotten. We’d gotten away with the fuck in the garden, but apparently him spraying me with cum last night hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Edit it,” Ash said, sullenly.
“Not,” Harvey said, “After yesterday’s little performance.” He turned his gaze to me. “After you took matters into your own hands in the food hall, Ash’s watch ratings went through the roof. You’ll be pleased to know you’ve picked up ninety-three sponsors yourself.”
That was good, wasn’t it?
“But the sponsors demanded the money shot,” Harvey went on. “Watch numbers peaked at over nine million users accessing the hopstream of you two ‘making up’. We couldn’t deny them. However, perhaps you should have denied Ashley.”
Ash slumped down in his chair. “How much did I lose?”
“If you’d made it to two months, two hundred thousand credits, with an IGPN top-up of an additional thirty-thousand.”
Ash closed his eyes for a moment. “How many sponsors did I lose?”
Harvey lifted his cup to his lips and took a sip coffee.
“Well, the good news is, you didn’t lose any sponsors. You gained another seventy.”
Ash sighed. “And the bad news?”
Harvey chuckled. “The bad news is, now you have to start again.”
Ash shook his head. “Fuck my life.”
He was back to looking as miserable as he had in his cell the night before.
“Oooor,” said Harvey, dragging the word out, clearly enjoying lording this over Ash, “There is one other option on the board that’s gaining traction.”
Ash straightened up. “What?”
“You won’t like it.”
“Tell me!”
“Settle down.”
“Just tell him,” I said, irritated.
Harvey smirked. “At the top of option leader board is a scenario where you let Ryan choose when you’re next allowed release. If you agree, he’ll be given the bid information on duration instead of you from that point forwards and will then be in charge of dictating when and how you get to… ‘blow your load’, as you boys like to say.”
Ash looked at me nervously. He looked back at Harvey.
“What else?” he asked. “There’s always another option. The one no one ever takes. What’s that one?”
Harvey’s smile widened. I could see him counting dollar signs in his head.
“You allow yourself to be caged.”
Ash cringed. I could see this was something he truly dreaded.
He shook his head. “No way. Anything but that.”
“No, I didn’t think you’d agree to that. You never have before. Have a think about it and let me know. If you fancy earning your losses back.”
Harvey slapped his hands against his desk.
“Righto, boys, we’re having a gathering this morning before breakfast. Best get a move on.”
*
The main auditorium was packed out when we arrived, and we squeezed into the middle of the crowd, curious to see what was going on.
On stage, the main staff stood side by side in a line. They were all wearing tight black t-shirts printed with the purple IGPN logo, and skin-tight black jeans. There were also a couple of weebs up there dressed in black singlets and briefs, also bearing the IGPN logo.
One of the staffers shut the doors, and a moment later Harvey walked out to the centre of the stage. The murmurs died down as he gazed out at the crowd.
“Good morning, everyone,” he said, gesturing with an air of theatre. I was guessing this was a live feed. “The reason we’re here today is because you spoke, and we listened.”
Seemed unlikely, but alright.
“You told us you sometimes feel as if you don’t have anything of your own. That you struggle to separate work from your private lives.
“In response, what you see here is a line of sanctioned clothing that you can purchase from our newly opened commissary, that you may wear in your downtime.”
Had he said, ‘purchase’?
“We know that some of you miss the comforts of home, and that campus life can be very intense, when you’re working as hard as you boys do.”
He casino şirketleri smiled benevolently at us.
“Those of you on DT contracts have the option to purchase our new t-shirt and jeans—” he waved a hand towards the staffers. “And our precious wild boys will have access to the tanks and briefs you see here.”
He gave one of the weebs a sharp glance, and the kid turned in a circle, showing off the IGPN logo emblazoned across his ass.
“In addition to the clothing, we’re adding other luxury items that you can purchase with your bonuses.”
Luxury items. Like… clothes? That kind of luxury? What next, I wondered—IGPN brand cum-flavoured noodles?
The image behind Harvey flickered and changed to show a dozen squares, each containing the new ‘luxury’ items we could purchase with our bonuses.
“Now, as you boys know, it costs a lot to import goods through the hopgates from Earth. However, we’ve sourced a limited stock of popular Earth brand-named products, chosen just for you boys, and packaged specially for us here at this campus. In addition to being able to purchase these products we will also allow a limited number of you to purchase travel passes to Luyton’s tourist centre each month.”
Ash let out a gasp. “Look, look!” He grabbed my arm. “Scentcans!” He looked up at me, his face lit up with excitement.
“Air fresheners?” I said, looking at the picture dubiously. It was air freshener packaged into a can a quarter of the usual size, for no doubt ten times the usual price. “But this place has the cleanest recycled air I’ve ever breathed.”
“But… the smell of home,” he said, resting his head against my shoulder, while he gazed up longingly at the screen.
Christ, Harvey certainly knew his audience. I could see by the excitement on the faces around me that what seemed like basic-bitch crap to me, were treasures to half the guys here.
“Now,” said Harvey, his voice through the mic booming over the swell of noise from the crowd, “we’ll base stock on the number of orders we get each month, so after your shifts, make sure you check out the commissary.” He raised his fist in the air. “Right boys, let’s go out there and breed for bread!”
I hadn’t heard that phrase before, but figured it meant ‘fuck for cash’. It seemed this was some kind of battle cry, as a happy roar went up from the crowd, while beside me Ash raised his fist and shouted into the noise, “FUCK IGPN!” with a crazed smile on his face.
As the doors opened and the models started to file out, there was a moment when Harvey’s gaze came to rest on Ash. It was hard to tell if he’d heard his cry, but as Ash turned towards the doors, Harvey’s eyes met mine. He wasn’t happy.
*
Ash was buzzing with excitement as we headed back to Fuck Palace to shower and get ready for our shifts.
“I wonder if they’ll have Ocean Breeze?” he asked, as we started washing up.
“You’re seriously going to spend your bonus credits on a can of air freshener?”
“Yeah.” He tossed me the soap, then spread shampoo through his hair. “The one my mom used to buy.”
“Like, for the toilet? We’re talking about the same thing here?”
He grinned, foam and water running down his face. “Yeah.”
He finished rinsing off, then towelled himself dry in front of the mirrors that ran the length of the shower block, then paused to examine the marks I’d given him the night before.
“Wow, these bites are deep.” He sounded extremely proud of the fact.
I wrapped my towel around my waist and took a look at the bites and bruises on his chest and shoulders.
“How long will these take to heal?”
He smoothed his hand over the indentations. “Ten minutes of nanite treatment before my shift starts. They’ll put me in the tank today since I have so many of them. Feel this.”
He grabbed my hand and rested it against his shoulder. Christ, the dents penetrated all the way into the muscle. He glanced sideways at me, a little smile on his face.
“Hey, Ash, Harvey’s looking for you!” I didn’t recognise the blonde who skidded into the showers and tossed his towel over the dividing wall.
“Fuck, I’m going to miss breakfast,” said Ash.
The blonde ran water through his hair. “Twenty to shift-start, no time for breakfast.”
“I’d better go,” said Ash.
“What are you going to tell Harvey?” I asked.
He ran a finger across his bite wounds and met my gaze in the mirror as he put a hand to his genitals.
“That this belongs to you.”
He tossed his towel into the basket by the door and left, leaving me confused. When the hell had he decided that?
I finished drying off, then headed to Greaves for my next lesson.
*
“Ryan,” Greaves greeted me. “We’re going to start something different today.”
I looked past him and saw a nervous-looking model waiting in the training room.
“Many of the skills we’ve worked on so far have been generalised, but since you’re now paired with Ashley, much of your work together will be decided by his sponsors. And, eventually yours, if you gain enough traction.”
“Okay.” No pressure, then.
“As you know, casino firmaları we don’t allow performers free access to the L-Net here on campus. However, we do grant limited access to things such as your contracts, your sponsor information, your finances, and other key information.”
He waved a hand in the air, and a red square appeared in front of my eyes. I swiped at the air to activate it, and a bunch of squares appeared in mid-air. I saw that, in addition to the things he’d reeled off, there was also a bright purple square labelled ‘Merch’.
“Take a look at the keysquare titled ‘Sponsors’ please, Ryan.”
I swiped the air, and a bunch of graphs and stats appeared.
“This is Ashley’s goal feed. As of this morning, Ash no longer has access to this. All the data from it will be piped to you instead. You’ll be able to see the goals his sponsors have suggested and are currently voting on, the price tag attached to each, and a summary of his earnings to date.”
“He agreed to that?”
Greaves swiped me another document. It was all there. A list of the things Ash had handed over to me, with his signature at the bottom.
I closed it out and went back to the graphics. The goal list was divided into three panels: Current Goals, Discarded Goals and Suggested Goals. The Current Goals list flickered as I watched, and the item at the top dropped a couple of slots.
“What you’re seeing in these three feeds are goals Ash has moved into his ‘current’ list, meaning he’s considering them, goals he’s discarded as things he flatly refuses to do, and fresh suggestions made by sponsors that don’t have sufficient votes at this time to be worth moving into the top ten. Once you choose a goal for him, or several if you like, select them to lock them in. From that moment, those goals will become active, and he’ll receive any income attached to them once he achieves them.”
The top ten all looked as if they had the potential to be big earners. Some were crazy—like denying Ash an orgasm during punishment week, or hanging him from his wrists and leaving him suspended in bondage overnight. One that made me wince was ‘double-penetration’. They weren’t things that I could agree to on his behalf, even though I suspected he’d have agreed to all of them if it were up to him. After all, that was why Harvey had suggested I be put in charge of this shit in the first place.
“Why do his fans want to see him tortured?” I asked.
“They don’t. They want to see his face contort in an agony of helplessness, they want to see him powerless and consumed with need. They love his tears, the way he becomes so vulnerable when he’s overwhelmed. They want to imagine he’s in their possession, at their mercy. This is the only way they can own him, Ryan.”
It still sounded as if they just wanted to torture him to me.
Harvey put an arm around my shoulders. “Last night you sank your teeth into the boy because you knew he needed the pain in order to let go of the things that troubled him. These suggestions may seem extreme to you, but you know very well the pleasure they give him. And the income they’ll earn him.”
The message was clear. Denying his sponsors would only deny Ash what he needed, physically and financially. So—why put his fate in the hands of someone who was squeamish about seeing him hurt?
Harvey’s fingers stroked against my shoulder, his touch gentle. Sensitive as my skin was these days, I leaned into it, enjoying it.
“Imagine he were back on Earth right now. How long do you think it would be before he put himself in the hands of a predator? Someone who’d lock him away and play with his mind until he was utterly dependant on them?”
Begrudgingly, I had to admit he was probably right.
“You’ll do what’s best for him, I know you will. Oh, and I forgot to mention, do you see the red tab at the side of the screen?”
Now that he mentioned it, I did.
“That’s your cut.”
“My… cut?”
I waved a hand to open it, and watched the numbers fluctuate as different items reached the top of the bidding list.
“Twenty percent of his bonus earnings will be channelled to you as his handler.”
“I can’t—”
“It’s not taken from his end, it’s taken from ours. IGPN’s prepared to lose some of the profit on his bonuses to keep him with us a while longer. As I say, Ryan, this arrangement will benefit us all.”
Fuck.
The numbers were extreme. I could see my own sponsor count below Ash’s, and the goals were already starting to populate. There were multiple discussion threads running, all of them going into exacting detail about the things my new sponsors wanted me to do to Ash. It seemed all of my sponsors; or, at least the vocal ones, were obsessed with Ash, and saw me as a tool to get what they wanted from him.
And then a private message came through that made my junk twitch.
“Fuck Sam, and I’ll pledge ten thousand credits.”
It was signed ‘y6sadwuq’; which, as far as I could tell, was just a bunch of random characters. When I checked, they had no post history.
“All make sense?” Harvey asked.
“Yep.”
“Good. It’s time to güvenilir casino get to work.”
I shut down the tabs, but I couldn’t get the message out of my head. Fuck Sam.
Fuck Sam.
*
OD training. Boy was I glad I was on the giving end. The guy I was working with was a few years younger than me and looked younger still, like most of the weebs, but this one was still in training, and hadn’t been assigned a scene partner yet.
The training room had a bed with a white sheet stretched over the mattress, and anchor points at all four corners. In addition, there were strops hanging from the ceiling with cuffs attached, and a basic cross at the head of the bed which had anchor points. I had a feeling it was going to be a long day for my training partner.
“Young Henri here wants to get his exes and ohs,” Greaves informed me, by way of introduction.
I gave him a look of confusion, and Greaves pointed to a chart on the training room wall that listed the skill levels the weebs were expected to work towards. Level five was ‘prolonged restraint’, which was represented by an ‘x’, and level six was ‘chastity/orgasm denial’, which was represented by an ‘o’ with a slash through it.
It seemed Henri had already achieved level four, which meant he could perform on camera for most basic BDSM scenes, but he was keen to hit the higher levels where he could get the attention of a few wealthy sponsors… and earn some cold hard bonus cash.
“Now, before we start, I’d like you two to get acquainted. I’ll give you a few minutes and then come back and check on you.”
This was new. In our other training sessions, Greaves had presented me with a trussed-up sub and had gotten straight into demonstrating the tools.
Greaves left, and Henri sat on the bed. “Do you want to…?” He looked down at his thickening erection. “I’m really nervous. It’d help to have a distraction.”
I sat next to him on the bed, and he took my hand and placed it on his cock.
“How long have you been here?” he asked as I slowly stroked him.
“About a week? It’s hard to keep track of time.”
He leaned into me and I put an arm around him, lifting his leg across mine so I had better access to him.
“That’s nice,” he said with a sigh. He was starting to harden up nicely.
“Did you sign up for a ticket to Gliese, like everyone else?” I asked.
He shook his head ‘no’, then changed his mind. “Well, yes, but not for me. My sister wants to move to Gliese. We didn’t have the best time growing up. She’ll be happier off-world.”
“What’ll happen to you at the end of your contract?”
“I figured I’d go hard on the bonuses and earn a ticket back to Earth.”
“On the hop transit?”
He shook his head. “Too expensive.”
“That’s kinda selfless. Doing all this for your sister.” At least he’d actually read his contract and understood there was no quick way home.
His lips were soft and full, his eyes wide under arched eyebrows. I tried to figure out what colour they were, and decided they were hazel—a deep olive green. He leaned in to kiss me, his lips parting to give me his tongue. He was an experienced kisser, his kiss firm, the kiss leisurely, sensual. Other than Ash, I hadn’t really kissed anyone on campus. We were fucking for cash, not making out, and this felt weirdly intimate.
I pulled back and he rested his head against my chest.
“Can I tell you something?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“I asked if I could train with you.”
“Why?”
He lifted his head, looking up at me from under his long lashes. “The guys talk. Let’s just say, not every top here has a good reputation.”
Greaves came back into the room and Henri untangled himself and sat beside me, swinging his feet.
Greaves glanced at Henri’s hard cock. “Not working with a cage today then?”
“I can control it,” Henri said, with a surprising amount of enthusiasm for someone who was about to not have an orgasm for the next few days, if not weeks.
“Good to hear,” said Greaves. “Right, let’s start by getting you tied down.”
I hopped off the bed, and Henri lay down on his back. Greaves had me secure his wrists and ankles to the bed using leather restraints, then ran a hand down the length of the kid’s body.
Henri lifted his hips off the bed in response to that touch, his nipples hardening, while he let out a little gasp.
“So, you can control it, can you?” Greaves asked, resting his hand against Henri’s thigh.
“Yes, Sir,” Henri said, with a shudder of pleasure. It was clear that just tying him down was doing it for him.
Greaves ran a hand lightly up Henri’s now-solid six-inch shaft, then gently squeezed the tip as he spoke to me.
“When working with a bottom who’s on orgasm denial, the two of you must work as a team. Regardless of how confident young Henri is of his abilities, I’m certain you could force him to achieve orgasm.”
Henri started to protest, but Greaves patted his leg and went on.
“It’s important, Ryan, to learn how to read your partner’s body. To know when he’s close, to know when to reduce stimulation. If you reduce it too soon, your audience won’t be satisfied. They want to see him squirm and moan and beg. But if you let him climax, he’ll lose his bonus. Learning where this line is will be key to achieving your goals. Right. Let’s begin.”
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