Author's note:
Intergalactic Porn Star is a work of gay male fiction, set in the distant future, about an organisation that provides hardcore porn to the colonies.
This episode contains bloodplay/edgeplay and emotional sadism, as well as themes of non-consent, set inside a controlled environment.
Please note, if you haven't been exposed to the world of BDSM/edgeplay, or R.A.C.K (risk-aware consensual kink), and are disturbed by the content of this story, be aware that there are individuals who enjoy this kind of play, and who derive a great deal of pleasure from receiving it. The character in this story is one such individual.
* * *
I woke with what felt like a hangover—which was impossible, since they didn't let us drink enough to get drunk, never mind regret it the next day.
I sat up and looked around the cell. Ash watched me from his bunk. He'd taken to pulling his mattress back up onto his bunk in the mornings "to keep the cell tidy". It seemed to me that the routine of him putting his mattress back on the floor to sleep each night was a kind of comfort ritual for him. It reminded him that someone else was in control of his life, and that let him close his eyes.
Seeing me awake, he got on his knees beside the bed and waited for me to give him instructions.
"Not today."
With a sour look, he got up and sat back on his bunk, while I swung my legs over the edge of mine.
"Oh Christ."
I put a hand to my head, which was throbbing like I'd been struck with a baseball bat.
"Are you okay?" Ash asked, but before I could answer him, the room slid sideways.
*
I woke in the infirmary and blinked away the gaussian blur to see Greaves and the on-duty medic standing at the end of the bed. They turned their attention to me as I started coughing. The coughing tasted bad, as if something was in my lungs.
"What happened?" I rasped.
"You're fine," said Greaves. "Just a little reaction to some of the local microorganisms. Our air filtration system is very efficient, but every now and then the odd bacterium hitches a lift via dust from the hothouses. It's nothing fatal, but you'll need to stay here until the antibiotics run their course, so you don't transfer the infection."
He handed me a paper cup of water, which I drank down in three gulps, and he refilled it and set it on a nightstand by the bed.
"You're not in danger?" I asked him. Christ, talking felt like swallowing sandpaper.
"As your handler, I've been pre-emptively dosed so that I can check on you."
"What about Ash?"
"He's also been dosed, although it's entirely possible you picked this up from him. He is known for his... sallies, into the garden, and has some immunity. It's one reason we try to keep you all in the safety of the complex. Now, get some rest, so you can recover."
He left, and the medic dimmed the lights. I was in a private room—not quite quarantine—but there was nothing to do except watch the screen at the end of the bed.
I found a movie channel and let it play while I drifted in and out of sleep. I lost track of time. Maybe it was three hours, maybe it was five. The lighting didn't change, so there was no way of knowing, but at some point, I heard a commotion in the corridor outside.
"Let me through!" Ash's voice.
"No, you're on shift, get back to work." Greaves, I was guessing.
"I don't want to work with Vinnie! He's a fucking asshole—"
There was a choking sound, followed by the thump of someone hitting the ground. Maybe two people. Greaves tackling Ash?
"No! Don't put that—"
The words choked off. Christ, what was going on out there? I hauled myself out of bed and dragged myself through medical to the open doorway that lead into the hall.
Ash was on his knees, struggling against Greaves, who had his arms in a lock and a knee against his back. I recognised the smooth rubber collar around Ash's neck, and knew it was unlikely to be set to 'pleasure' mode.
"Ryan, go back to bed," Greaves snapped.
Ash looked up, hope in his eyes. "Ryan! You know Vinnie wants to hurt me. Please tell them!"
Greaves sighed. He let go of Ash, who immediately put his hands to the collar. Greaves rolled his eyes as he activated the collar, watching dispassionately as Ash spasmed against the floor.
"Ryan, go back to bed. I'll handle this."
I frowned as Greaves didn't let up on the button. "Hey, that's enough."
Greaves raised an eyebrow as he took his finger off the remote. "He has work to do. Right now, Vinnie has dead air. No one earns a cent when there's dead air."
I crouched, since I couldn't stand any longer, and Ash got up on his hands and knees and crawled over to me. His long hair was tangled around his face, damp with drool and tears.
"He hates me!" he said desperately, "you know he hates me."
Everyone hates you,
I thought, but I could understand why he wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of someone like Vinnie.
"Is there no one else?" I asked Greaves. Speaking made me break into another fit of coughing, which resulted in a gob of pale pink lung-snot landing in my hand. "God, that's disgusting."
"Yes, you should be in bed, not risking infecting the rest of the facility," said Greaves.
He grabbed the back of Ash's collar and dragged him to his feet, then shook him hard. Ash didn't fight back, but his eyes pleaded with me.
"What about letting him top Henri?" I suggested. My head was swimming, and I leaned back against the wall. "Something different. I'm sure the sponsors will love it."
Ash's face lit up, but Greaves was having none of it. "This isn't up to you, Ryan, I suggest you don't put ideas in the boy's head."
"Ryan, please!" Ash pleaded.
I was getting a cold butt as my exposed ass pressed against the wall. This was going to happen, whether I liked it or not.
"Sorry Ash, I tried."
"Get moving," Greaves said, pushing Ash ahead of him. "And you, go back to bed. I don't want to see you on your feet again until you have medical clearance."
*
