Preface
High above the Middle East in a stationary orbit floated the hedonistic paradise known as Venus Ascending. It catered to any and every perversion the super-rich desired. Gambling, drugs, sex, exhibitionism, masochism or any other human ism could be had here. Being in space put them out of the reach of any legal entanglements, and there were no rules.
However, there were a few restrictions. For example, no one younger than eighteen was allowed on the space station, so there was currently not any pedophilia. Likewise, cutting, hurting or damaging other guests was forbidden, but you could do whatever you wanted to yourself. Currently, damaging the staff is frowned on, but not forbidden, and that could change. The ruling Council was made up of representatives from all the major casinos back on earth, and that meant the crime bosses ran the whole space station.
Gambling was very close to gambling back on earth. While there were some unique designer drugs available on Venus most of the drugs were likewise similar to the drugs on earth. The nudity, sex and BDSM were several of the few things that separated Venus from other entertainment destinations. Sexuality was where the Council put much of its resources.
The Council kept a close eye on every aspect of life on Venus Ascending. They included the use of enforcers, as well as auditors to make sure the guests had fun. Currently a study was in progress to determine the future entertainment packages on Venus. The distinguished, gray-haired gentleman in the back of one of the many entertainment rooms was the lead auditor. He was casually or dispassionately surveying the entertaining action on stage.
On stage, a gorgeous, svelte blonde Amazon leapt into the arms of a hulking, muscular Adonis. The minute she was in his arms he growled and ripped open her bodice, releasing her bountiful, mouth-watering breasts. She wrapped her legs around his waist and moaned erotically as his mouth voraciously attacked her nipples. The large lump barely contained in his tights and protruding between his thighs was rubbing the cleft between the blonde’s thighs. The auditor turned and watched for the audience’s reaction before turning back to the show.
There was very little reaction from the audience. They had seen the act before and to be honest they were bored by it. He scanned the room and only one couple was watching the show. Everyone else was drinking, smoking something or engaging in public sex. He shook his head and turned back to the show.
By this time the blonde Amazon’s clothes were torn asunder having been reduced to mere scraps. The blonde’s clothes had been completely ripped off leaving her almost naked, with only a collar remaining. In the low gravity, the hulking Adonis mauled the Amazon as if she weighed nothing and had lifted the blonde’s cleft to his mouth. Her legs wrapped around his head and he was driving her crazy as he hungrily gobbled between her legs.
The distinguished gentleman in the back of the room had seen this show countless times. To his trained eye the actors lacked any kind of real chemistry or passion, and weren’t selling the impassioned lovers’ act. The actors were violently passionate, but to him it all looked staged, and he wasn’t buying their performance. By now all the Adonis’s clothes were ripped off as well and both actors were gloriously naked. The actors were now in a vertical 69. Her legs were wrapped around his head with his mouth loudly slurping her pussy. Similarly, his cock was buried in her mouth, and she was noisily slobbering as she gulped his large member.
Both of the actors moaned exuberantly, trying to sell their passionate coupling. The gentleman in the back shook his head again and was about to leave when the muscular hulk flipped the blonde right-side up. The blonde-haired woman screamed in a mixture of passion and pain as she was impaled on the actor’s large cock. For the first time in their performance the auditor saw the crowd turn and watch. However, as her screams died down the watching mob turned away.
He made some notes in a little notebook and turned to survey the audience. The crowd continued to seem just as bored by their act as he did. Most of the gathering was talking within their small groups, having drinks, taking bets, smoking drugs and doing anything except watching the show. The only time the crowd seemed to pay attention was during the animalistic ripping of the performer’s clothes. The woman’s scream of impalement gathered the audience’s attention as well.
The auditor knew the space station Venus Ascending provided every decadent, immoral or depraved act that humans wanted to indulge in. In the beginning, a sex show had been enough, but the audiences were demanding more. They demanded more debauchery, but especially more realism. The actors on stage were just going through the motions, and the woman’s faked screams of pleasure were obvious to everyone.
The gray-haired gentleman slapped his notebook closed and walked out of the club unnoticed. He wandered down the corridor, deep in thought, to another club called the Medieval room. Once again, he stood at the back of the room and observed the act on stage. An almost identical svelte blonde Amazon was strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross with her front facing the audience. Venus’s dungeon master was using a bull whip to strip the clothes from the bound blonde. Every strike of the whip was perfect, meticulously cutting the blonde-haired women’s clothes off.
Back on earth the Dungeon Master had been a well renowned BDSM master. He specialized in all manner of torture and was well known for his ice-cold brutality. Over a year ago he had killed a woman because she would not break or submit to him. The longer she refused him the angrier he became until he finally lost control and tortured her to death. He escaped to Venus Ascending to avoid a media frenzied trial and forgone death sentence.
In Venus he could practice his trade craft, with no repercussions. It had taken him a while to adjust to the low gravity and sharpen his skills to the new environment.His whip work was good on earth, but the low gravity gave him more control. After a few months he was perfect with his whip on Venus and was promoted to Dungeon Master.
In this case, the audience was mesmerized watching the precision he used to strip his bound model. The car wreck people in the audience were also waiting for never really appeared. They were waiting for him to miss and to hear the painfully impassioned screams of his victim. While the whip never missed, he still provided the audience with the genuine screams of pain they desired. He knew this model and would occasionally flick one of her sensitive spots with the tip of the whip. The Dungeon Master was also the consummate showman, and he knew what his audience wanted.
His whip was a practiced instrument, and he could use it to strip his victim without marking the skin underneath. He could also use it as a sharp disciplinary pop or a soft lover’s caress. The audience watched with rapt attention as he methodically took his victim to heights of excruciating pleasure and the depths of unbearable pain. The model’s reactions were real as indicated by her whimpers, screams, harsh breathing and her glistening sheen of panicked perspiration.
The gray-haired gentleman in the back of the room took copious notes on the Dungeon master’s performance, as well as the model’s reactions. He also correlated the model’s reactions with the audience’s response. The more intense the model’s response to the Dungeon master’s whip, the more excited the men in the crowd became. Likewise, the women in the crowd responded more to the model’s emotional catharsis. The whip elicited a variety of emotional responses from the Amazon model and the audience seemed to follow along.
The auditor’s keen eye noted that the louder the model screamed, the more the audience watched and engaged. They could be screams of passion or screams of pain, but as long as they were pure and heartfelt the audience responded. That seemed to be the big difference between just a sex show and the Dungeon master’s show. The model wasn’t acting with the Dungeon Master. Her actions and reactions were not rehearsed. Her white-hot emotions were real, heartfelt and the model’s desire for pain was written on her intensely animated face and glazed eyes. The audience responded enthusiastically to the model’s genuine emotions.
The distinguished gentleman with the gray hair watched as the audience responded. One man ripped open his companion’s top and furiously began to ravage her as he draped her across the table. Another woman screamed as she dropped between her man’s legs, violently fishing for his cock. The crowd was losing control as the authentic pain and pleasure blistered the model’s face and contorted her body. The auditor took copious notes as the watching throng was whipped into frenzy.
He snapped his notebook closed and silently skulked out of the theater. He had one more stop to make, and that was a club called Westworld. It was a club patterned after a movie in the 1970s, in which robots were built strictly to please humans. Some were designed as sex objects, others were to be sacrificed in various duels, and some could even be tortured for the more sadistic patrons. Only here on Venus Ascending the pleasure robots were real, very well-paid human beings. Everything was permissible except death.
As he took his observant spot in the back of the room, he noted that the scantily clad go-go dancers garnered little attention. The waitresses were supposed to be pleasure robots and they were constantly being caressed, pinched, spanked or even fucked by either female or male customers. Once again, he noted that all the dancers and waitresses looked alike. That actually worked in their favor in this particular venue, but he made a note that they needed more diversity in looks and body styles.
In this particular establishment he noted that only the harsh brutal treatment of the waitresses seemed to keep the crowd engaged. That seemed to correspond with his results from the Medieval room. He should have expected those results, because people came to Venus Ascending to do things they could not do back on Earth.
Several waitresses were in the process of servicing both male and female patrons. Bondage also seemed to be prevalent here, with two waitresses bound to tables as customers used them. As he took notes, he recognized that BDSM seemed to be in great demand, both watching and participating. He watched as a waitress was swept off her feet and quickly bound to a table. The ropes were pulled tight, leaving marks on her skin, but this was part of the job and she took it stoically.
For several minutes the husband-and-wife team played with the bound waitress. They teased and tormented the waitress until they each took an orifice. The husband dropped his pants and began cruelly fucking the waitress’s mouth with his cock. Meanwhile, the wife fingered the tightly bound and helpless waitress’s pussy until she finally began fisting her. The waitress’s reactions were wild, unrestrained and unrehearsed as the couple used her any way they pleased.
The distinguished gentleman watched the couple ravish the enthusiastic, greedy and panic-stricken waitress. The waitress’s eyes were wild with blistering lust, while her body was battered under the dual assault. The crowd rapidly devolved into a mass of debauchery as every waitress was taken by decadent customers. The auditor shook his head, made a few more notes, closed his notebook, and left the club. He walked down the space station’s corridors with his mind evaluating what he had seen.
He had been evaluating the Venus entertainment medley for over nine months, and now was the time to present his results. The entertainment seemed to descend from acting shows into raunchy, abusive reality shows. They customers no longer wanted to see naked dancers, feigned passion, simulated orgasms or fake torture. They wanted to see real passion, real orgasms, real torment, and unrehearsed responses.
Likewise, the drug users wanted stronger and more potent drugs. There were still the coffee shop users that only wanted the occasional token, but for the most part everyone wanted more, stronger, wilder and more depraved highs. The demands were getting more demanding and more depraved. The ruling Council would do anything anyone demanded, no matter how wanton or evil … for the right price.
The ruling Council was made up of gangsters in suits and the auditor was afraid of where his report would lead. In his heart he knew the Council would use this as an excuse to further abuse the entertainment staff. He had already witnessed the heartless, inhuman treatment of the entertainment staff. The management treated them as slaves or chattel, and several had died in the process. Now he was scared of how the Council would use this information.
The distinguished auditor stopped off at a piano bar on the edge of a main corridor. He ordered a Buffalo Trace bourbon and stared at the simulated star field on the wall. From the very beginning of this job, he knew where this was going to lead and now, he was down to the wire. The report had already been written and his tour through the clubs was only a confirmation.
He knew he was going to lose sleep over the report, but it was what he had been hired to do. When he was finally looking through the bottom of his low gravity sippy cup, he stood up and began walking toward the Council Chambers.
