Pleasure Planet

by Beverly Havlir

  Instead of the delicate clinking of little gold hammers on glass, which would have signaled the bids from various species without the necessity of language, the Elders instead turned away from the young woman, nodding amongst themselves, not needing spoken words to convey whatever they might be saying to one another. Her dismissal was evident in their actions.

  The spell was broken and Aria lifted her head, looking toward Ronan for direction. She was completely soaked in sweat under the lovely gown and now began to feel cold as it evaporated from her skin. She felt confused, let down somehow. She realized she had been expecting, if not a standing ovation, at least some acknowledgment of her performance by the viewers.

  Ronan shook his head at her, very slightly, as if indicating she should remain silent. He stood, pocketing the little flute and leaned down to help Aria to her feet. Together they left the Meeting House, walking in silence the short way back to his home.

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  Later, sipping a hot, sweet drink from delicately pattern cups, Ronan and Aria nestled in the large canopy bed. Ronan was talking, answering questions both asked and only thought. To him they were the same.

  Aria was aware that Ronan was uncomfortable with some of her questions. And yet, he seemed to be trying to answer them honestly. “What you need to understand,”

  he said, when she questioned how indifferent, almost cold the Elders had seemed to her performance, “is that while our industry is primarily based on our recreational spas, sex spas as you call them, there is a certain, uh, disapproval, at high levels.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, our culture still holds vestiges of, what would I call it, prudery. Yes, that’s the word. Erosians themselves aren’t sexual, and indeed actually frown on an

  ‘overabundance’ of sexual activity or desire.”

  “Sounds like our culture, hundreds of years ago. Lots of illicit sex, but the overall cultural attitude among many communities was that was sex was ‘dirty’ or ‘sinful’. It was tied to ancient religious beliefs that were created to keep the masses under control. Happily, we’ve abandoned all that nonsense.” She blushed a little, suddenly realizing how that must have sounded to Ronan. She was basically condemning what was still very real and prevalent in his own culture.

  He laughed a little, of course reading her discomfort. “Please, don’t even think to apologize. Though, I should clarify. Unlike your ancient culture, here there is an absence of desire. It isn’t that it’s hidden and then hypocritically condemned. It doesn’t even exist.”

  Aria absorbed this for a moment. Then she said, “But Ronan, isn’t it ironic that you make a whole industry out of something, sexual pleasure and hedonism, that your people basically find, if not repugnant, at least distasteful?”

  “It is ironic, and yet it makes sense in a way. Because we are so emotionally removed from it, perhaps that is why we are so good at it. We don’t succumb to the charms of those we are titillating over the course of the well paid for week. We don’t share the same libidinous desires and predilections, and so, when time’s up, we say goodbye to the customer and move on to the next job. We are impervious to their requests or demands that the week continue. We know the risks—we’ve seen them all too often.”

  Aria’s eyes had filled with tears at his callous reminder that she was “just a job”. She turned away, trying to hide her feelings, but of course, Ronan could sense them. With a finger, he turned her face back toward his. His expression was gentle.

  “Darling girl,” he whispered. “Why do you think I share this? I am not like the others. Playing this role, of becoming the sexual fantasy for whoever has the currency to procure me—I find it increasingly difficult. I can’t stay neutral, it seems. I think I must have human blood. Because the only time I am truly happy is when I take your human form, and experience your human physical and emotional states of being.” He continued, his voice growing excited, “You have no idea the depth of your experience!

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  The range of your emotions, the delicate nuance of your thoughts! Humans are so complex and highly sexual. We Erosians are so different. We are, quite literally, worlds apart.”

  Clinging to his offering, that he was different, and by inference, that she wasn’t merely a customer, Aria urged him to continue. The Erosian culture was generally a secretive one, and she hadn’t known much about it, she realized, other than about their famous sex resorts.

  “Our people have little use for sex per se. We appreciate the artistic value of a nude form, but there is little sexual interest beyond procreation. Our very sexual organs have changed over the millennia, and now we no longer even have the physical sensation of pleasure to drive us to procreate. It is strictly through our minds and the desire that the species continue, that we have what you would call sex.

  “I know for some of us, the chance to assume other forms, and experience their sexual pleasure, makes up for our own rather dry experience. It is exciting and novel to become a Nonian, for example, known for their sexual prowess and six-day orgasms, or to assume the human shape, and the wild and complex emotions that go along with it. I feel so alive when I am human!

  “Perhaps that is the key,” he said, his voice suddenly softer, as if sharing in his own revelation. “I don’t assume a human form, somehow I actually become human! The scowls you may have noticed at the Meeting House tonight were not for you, my love, but for me. They could read my feelings, of course, and realize I was all too human for good taste or appropriate behavior! I’ve been reprimanded before, you know. Many times. I’ve been called before the Elders because I have behaved in too ‘human’ a fashion for their tastes. I guess I like what I do too much and that grates on them.”

  “Well, can’t you just tell them to go to hell? Start your own resort or something?”

  Ronan looked startled, as if such an idea had never occurred to him. “No, no, I could never do that. That would thwart the entire Erosian way. We hold our Elders in the utmost esteem. To break away would be considered the highest treason.”

  Aria looked at her week-long lover, taking in his lovely features which had been manufactured for her. He looked troubled, even sad. She didn’t understand his allegiance to a people from whom he clearly felt alienated, but she knew enough to know that she didn’t have to understand something for it to be valid to another.

  “Am I just a job?” she whispered, biting her lip as she awaited his answer. Even if it was a lie, she wanted him to say she was more than that.

  “Aria,” he whispered, “have you heard nothing I’ve said? How can you ask?” His kiss was the rest of his answer as he claimed her with his mouth. 34

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  Chapter Seven

  Aria was suspended, face up, a few meters above the bed. Ronan had used the force field to lift her into the air. Her legs were spread at a lewd angle, revealing the little labia and flower bud of her hooded clit. Her arms were spread cruciform and her long silver hair streamed below her.

  Aria’s eyes were covered again with the red sash. Ronan stood alongside the bed, attaching something to her sex. “I’m going to stimulate you with this device, my love slave, and you are going to control yourself. You are not to orgasm, no matter what I do to you. If you do, I’ll punish you. Do you understand?”

  The suspended woman nodded. Even though she knew this was just a game, she felt the arousal of being bound in midair, helpless and at this strong man’s mercy. Whatever he was pressing against her pussy suddenly jerked into life, emitting a strong current that created a vibration against her clit.

  It felt wonderful, and a warm buttery sensation filled Aria’s sex, emanating out through her limbs. She knew it wouldn’t be long before she came. She remembered his admonition that she mustn’t orgasm and said, “Ronan. I’m going to come if you do that!

  I can’t help it! It’s a physiological reaction. I can’t control it.”

  Ronan lightly slapped Aria’s cheek,
making her gasp. “Of course you can control it. You simply have no discipline. You are so used to getting whatever you want, whenever you want it, that you have never even tried to control your orgasm. I’m going to teach you. We begin,” he paused, and Aria felt the current increase against her sex,

  “now.”

  A moan was wrenched from her lips. She writhed in the air, weightless but held still and spread, unable to close her legs or lower her arms. The pressure against her sex felt like a perfect cock, gliding against her. Her body began to buck and sweat prickled under her arms. “Oh,” she gasped. “Please! I can’t help it! Please!”

  She slipped over the edge of orgasm, squealing with pleasure and release. The buzzing against her sex stopped, and she waited, her heart pounding, knowing she had disobeyed her “master”, but feeling too wonderful at the moment to care. She realized she was waiting for Ronan to speak. Perhaps to remove the blindfold and release the force field. All was silent around her. “Ronan?” she ventured uncertainly. “Are you there? Let me down.”

  “You have no discipline. You will be punished.” His voice was hard. Even though it must be a game, it didn’t feel like one just then. She felt him pull away the masturbatory device, but still he didn’t let her down.

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  Aria’s heart clutched as she demanded, “Stop it now. This was fun, but now it’s not. Let me down.”

  She felt her head pulled back by her hair. “Who do you think you’re talking to, little girl?” Ronan’s voice was low and quiet in her ear. Aria gasped as he pulled her hair harder, wrenching her head back. “I told you I would punish you.”

  She felt herself being flipped over. It was an odd sensation, to be held on pillows of air, yet be unable to move. Now she was face down, still blindfolded, her arms and legs still spread wide. “This is a tool we find quite effective with Erosians who misbehave. It doesn’t happen often as we are an obedient people. But every now and again, someone gets out of hand, and they are punished in the public square, using this cane. If wielded effectively, it doesn’t cut the skin, but a novice can do real damage.”

  As he spoke, Ronan removed the blindfold. Aria turned her head, her eyes widening as she took in the long thin cane of some kind of supple material. She recalled the spanking, almost feeling his strong palm smacking her poor bottom. That had been kind of sexy really, but a cane was something else again!

  “Surely you’re joking!” she insisted, beseeching Ronan with her eyes. “You set an impossible task for me and now you’re going to punish me for it! Please, put it down!

  This is crazy!”

  Ronan grinned at her. “You forget, my love. I can see past your words, into your thoughts. I can see past your weak protestations to the deep arousal this cane is causing you. Yes, I see the fear, too. I sense the very real terror you are experiencing. But I also sense the intense arousal—the actual desire to feel the cut of this rod against your tender flesh. You don’t want it, but you do want it. You can hide nothing from me.”

  “No!” Aria yelled, as the cane landed against the soft flesh just where the thigh meets the buttocks. She screamed, and Ronan responded by hitting the same spot on the other side. Two long white lines arose, changing rapidly to dark pink as the blood suffused the area just below the skin.

  Ronan leaned over, kissing the very welts he had just so brutally raised. “Are you ready to try again, my love?” he whispered into the gasping woman’s ear. Setting down the cane, his fingers slid to her pussy, which was sopping wet, in spite of her tears.

  “Thank me,” he whispered. When she didn’t respond he added, “Perhaps another few strokes will help you find your tongue.”

  “No!” Aria yelled, and then her voice subdued, “Thank you, Sir.” Her face flushed with anger and confusion as she herself recognized her own arousal at being treated like a common slave.

  Ronan laughed softly, his own cock rising in pleasure as he drew the moisture from his captive’s pussy, rubbing up to her clit and down again to her entrance in long, slow motions. Aria moaned as the heat of the welts mingled with the lovely pressure of his fingers.

  Again, she felt herself teetering on the edge of a climax. “Please,” she whispered,

  “please,” unable to articulate the request.

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  Of course, he knew what she was asking. She didn’t need the words, but the human trait to speak was ingrained in her and she continued to beg, now bucking against his skillful fingers, desperate to come.

  “Yes,” he answered, “you may come, my darling girl. You are so beautiful, little slave.” She responded by giving in completely to her pleasure, crying out as her whole body convulsed with an intense orgasm.

  Her heart pounded, then slowly eased, and she found that she could move her limbs. She reached out to Ronan who took her in his arms and gently lowered her to the soft bed. He kissed her forehead, smoothing away the tangled hair, his touch light, but his golden eyes smoldering. The mattress wrapped its form around her, holding her like a babe in its mother’s arms, and she slept.

  Ronan stood beside the sleeping woman for a quite a while, his expression inscrutable, his hands clenched. At last, he turned away.

  Aria awoke to the sound of Ronan’s flute, playing a melancholy, mournful tune. She tested her limbs, no force field. Slowly she climbed out of the bed, stretching languorously, her long silver hair glowing against the soft light from the window. As she caught sight of her reflection in a mirror, Aria smiled, realizing this was the first time in too long to recall that she wasn’t rushing off to meetings all over the galaxy or busily planning her schedule, coordinating with her three assistants on the projects of the day. She felt—she had to pause to consider what it was—happy!

  Ronan, whom she’d only known a few days, had come to completely fill her consciousness. She realized with a sudden jolt that her feelings for him felt dangerously real. And yet she knew that could only lead to broken dreams. This was, after all, Pleasure Planet.

  She recalled the contract she had signed, swearing not to hold the spa liable if she felt feelings other than simple pleasure, once the week was over. She’d signed numerous forms that all basically contained the same message—once your week is up, you leave Eros and that is that. Love certainly didn’t enter their equation! This was a job.

  And as exciting and romantic a lover as Ronan had proved to be thus far, she realized she had better face the fact that he too was just doing his job. The fact that he did it extraordinarily well didn’t give her cause to think this meant anything at all to him.

  Even if his “confessions”, if that’s what they were, about his very real feelings for humans and his pleasure in holding a human form were real, what did it ultimately have to do with her? He had also emphasized what an obedient race the Erosians were and how he dared not offend the authorities.

  Sighing, she shook back her hair and took the silky robe he’d again left for her. It clung prettily to her naked body, accenting her long curves and the round lushness of her breasts. When she entered the living room, she found Ronan perched on a high 37

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  stool, the little silver flute at his lips. He played a few more measures before putting it down and turning slowly toward her.

  “Are you refreshed?” he asked. He was again shirtless, wearing only the loose linen pants he seemed to favor. His bare feet gripped the bar of the stool.

  “Yes, thank you,” she answered. “Your music. It sounded so sad.”

  “I suppose I am sad,” he responded.

  “But why?” Sudden insecurities about her own presence there—perhaps she was taking him from his lover or wife, perhaps this job was tedious. She flushed, angry at herself for such weak thoughts. She was Aria Loran after all!

  Ronan smiled slowly. She flushed even darker as she realized he was reading her thoughts as clearly as if she had shouted them.

  “No lover,” he said. “No wife. We
don’t take permanent mates here. And in fact, your fears, though charming in their vulnerability, have no basis in reality.” He paused, looking out to the crashing sea. “In fact, the opposite is true. You know,” he said, turning toward Aria, “when we met, I told you that you could call me Ronan. But that isn’t my name.”

  “Really! Are Erosian names secret or something? Or not to be shared with the tourists?” She tried to keep her tone light but a trace of bitterness crept in.

  “No, in fact, we don’t have names. We have numbers. The Review Board automatically assigns a number, which has significance if you know how to decipher it. My number is 134256338. If you know how to interpret it, that tells you who my birth parents were, which sector and division I reside in when not working at the spa and certain details about my health record.”