I could have published this 20K word story as a short book, but instead am sharing it with my followers in six posts. I will be posting a new chapter approximately each week. In Chapter Two, Spacer Bob’s Fantasy Tours visits a drudge race on Centauri Alpha Six.
WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2026 by The Technician.
Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.
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Chapter Two - Spacer Bob’s
When I returned to Spacer Bob’s Fantasy Tours a little before midnight, there was a short line waiting to get in and more people standing around. The barker was talking softly to them. His microphone and speakers were turned off.
“If you want to see the exotic wonders of the galaxy,” he was saying using his hands as if unrolling a large banner, “this is the show for you. If you take this tour, I guarantee that you will see things that you only imagined existed. And if you have already taken any of our regular tours you know that it is always as if you are actually there. This is your chance to experience what you previously only dreamed of in the privacy of your lonely rooms.”
I watched as several young women and a couple of young men stepped forward and bought tickets. When I got to the front of the line, I asked, “Is it worth it?”
The barker laughed and said, “It just might be your dream come true.”
I bought a ticket and entered into a dimly lit, circular area with rows of flat bench seats climbing up into the darkness. I thought to myself, “This explains the saucer shape. It’s just a covered amphitheater.”
By midnight, rows three through seven were filled all the way around. Spacer Bob walked out into the middle of the arena and called out, “Ladies and Gentlemen and other beings from throughout the galaxy. We are about to begin a holographic tour of exotic places throughout time and space.” He paused to slowly rotate a full circle as he looked at the audience and then said, “Our special holographic projectors can cause you to feel slightly dizzy or even make it feel like you are moving, but I assure you that there is no danger and you will get used to the sensations almost immediately.”
He was smiling– almost laughing– as he said this and I knew that he was covering for something. I just didn’t know what it was.
Bob looked around at the crowd and said, “Since almost everyone here is humanoid, we will begin at Centauri Alpha Six. Alpha Six was founded by those Centaurians who wanted to break away from the Puritanical Morality of Centauri Prime.”
The center of the arena began to shimmer and I had the feeling that I was slowing rotating. Then we were suddenly superimposed over a different exhibition. Now it was as if we were the holograms and the bluish-green people in the bleachers watching the show were real. Several members of our crowd moved slightly one way or the other so that they were not superimposed over someone. I noticed that Spacer Bob had taken a seat in the front row which was clear of other people or furnishings both in reality and in the hologram.
A rather muscular man in tight black pants and no shirt stood on a white sand floor in the center of a large circular area marked out by a small blue and red wall about fifty centimeters tall. His chest was very large and very muscular. Although he was very humanoid in shape and appearance, his skin was almost pure blue. He began to speak in an unknown tongue and suddenly a voice blared inside my head speaking in Terran Standard. Spacer Bob evidently has some sort of universal translator in his equipment that linked telepathically to his audience.
“Welcome to Uncle Jethario’s House of Pain and Pleasure,” the blue man said as he beckoned to the crowd– the real crowd on the bleachers... or were we the real crowd? This holographic projection was definitely confusing. It was, as promised, as if we were actually there.
The man spread his arms wide and said proudly, “Tonight we have a special show for you that will please your most hedonistic passions.”
A loud horn of some sort blew something that reminded me of the call to post used for horse racing on Terra Seven Sigma, and six very muscular, very naked, very green men shuffled into the arena dragging what appeared to be wooden sledges behind them. From the way they moved, the sledges were either very heavy or very hard to drag across the sandy surface of the arena.
Each man was connected to the sledge by several heavy ropes which attached to a leather belt and to wide leather straps that were a part of the belt but went over the green slave’s shoulders. A blue-green man in tight black shorts was standing on each sledge. In his left hand, he was holding a set of reins which went up to the green slave’s mouth bit. In his right hand he held a long black whip. With short slaps of the whip, tugs on the reins, and called commands, the blue-green drivers guided the green slaves through an opening in the wall and then slowly around the circle to where the Master of Ceremonies was standing.
“This is a drudge race,” boomed the MC. He looked exactly like the image of Uncle Jethario on the banner which hung on one wall of the tent, so it was probably him. He continued, “The winner of this race is the one who completes the most laps before time is called.” He paused and then added, “... or the one who is in the lead when all of the other drudge sledges finally come to a stop.”
A naked slave– who was surprisingly a rather pinkish white female with flowing red hair and a flaming red crotch– ran out and positioned a large red flag in a hole in the small wall. Meanwhile, two other naked, bluish-green male slaves used long wooden poles to push the open section of the wall back into place and thus close up the opening through which the drudge sledges had entered the arena.
The drivers standing on the six sledges immediately used their whips to tap the asses of the green slaves and slowly lined them up with the flag. MC Jethario stepped up onto a small circular stage in the very center of the arena. It looked like he was standing on a large, upended wooden washtub that had been painted blue with yellow stars all around it. He tapped his thigh with his whip and glared angrily into the darkness.
Immediately twelve naked bluish-green female slaves ran out into the arena. These women had no hair on their heads or anywhere else on their bodies. They quickly divided into pairs and then ran to just outside the arena wall where each pair picked up what appeared to be thick, rectangular pieces of metal with smooth handles on each end. They hurried to place a single weight on the very rear of each sledge and scampered back into the darkness. As they were leaving, it was apparent that one of the twelve was not naturally bluish-green. Instead, her skin was almost black and had been painted or dyed to match the other girls’ skin. Her sweat from carrying the heavy plates had washed off some of the dye creating black rivulets down her body.
As soon as the slaves had disappeared, Uncle Jethario yelled out. “Drivers, ready.” He paused a moment and then yelled even louder, “Drivers, set.” He slowly turned almost completely around as he looked up into the crowd making eye contact with many of the women who were present. Then he screamed very loudly, “Drivers, GO!”
After an introduction like that, I expected the sledges to come careening out past the starting line. Instead, they slid forward at only slightly more than a walk. The first lap took almost three minutes. As each sledge crossed the starting line, a pair of naked female slaves ran out onto the track and deposited another metal weight on the very back of the sledge.
The weights clanged loudly as the naked slave girls dropped them into place. The drudges pulling the sledges rocked forward and back as they accustomed themselves to the heavier load, but then they trudged, or should that be drudged their way around the inside of the arena.
Uncle Jethario said firmly, “Remember the slave who stops first will be punished.”
Midway through the second lap, one of the drudges popped a woody. His stiff prick bobbed up and down as he struggled to drag the heavy sledge. At the start of lap three a second drudge became erect. I wasn’t sure if it was from internal sexual excitement or perhaps the increased blood pressure from pulling such a heavy load, but by the end of lap three all six drudges were sporting rather impressive hardons.
Something about one of the pricks caught my eye. It wasn’t purely green. It looked as if a green dye or paint had been sprayed over a flaccid prick, but when it became erect a true rather pinkish-white skin tone showed through. Also, the glans on this particular drudge was a brownish-red rather than a dark green.
It took five laps for the first sledge to come to a stop. In the sixth lap three more stopped moving forward. Lap seven was the tie breaker. There were only two sledges still “racing.” and one of them– the drudge with the pink prick– moved only a few inches after the new weight was added. The sixth sledge was the winner, but there must be a special prize for finishing a lap because the driver was screaming and continuously slashing with his whip all of the way around the final lap. As soon as his drudge’s feet were over the finish line the driver stopped the screaming and slashing and the green drudge collapsed down onto his knees. Only the ropes which tied him to the sledge kept him from falling forward on his face in the sand.
“Well raced, Brother Josiah,” Uncle Jethario yelled out. “You won fifty monues for finishing first and another fifty for completing that sixth lap and setting a new arena record.”
The naked female slaves came running out into the arena to retrieve the weights which they had deposited during the race. They were practically staggering back as they carried two weights into the darkness on each trip. While they were laboring, two naked male slaves pushed the barrier back to create an opening out of the arena.
After all of the naked slaves had finally disappeared back into the darkness, Uncle Jethario again spoke. “Brother Josiah,” he gushed, “your excellent show today also entitles you to *********** one of the slaves for your pleasure tonight. Whom do you choose?”
Josiah laughed and replied, “I already chose before I started the race. That’s why I was able to set a new record. I choose the flag bearer.”
Jethario stepped down from his stage and yelled into the darkness, “Send out the Terran Girl.”
The pinkish-white girl who had set the starting flag in place walked timidly into the light.
“Slave TG,” Jethario said firmly, “are you willing to go with Brother Josiah?”
She nodded her head slowly up and down. I could see that the fiery thatch covering her cunt was now glistening. Evidently she was getting sexual pleasure out of this forced sexual slavery.
I watched– and recorded everything– as slave TG got onto the sledge behind Brother Josiah. His drudge staggered to his feet and very slowly pulled the drudge sledge out of the arena. Four other sledges followed behind him. The sixth sledge, the loser, remained in the arena.
“Brother Tobias,” Uncle Jethario asked softly, but firmly, “do you wish to punish your drudge yourself?”
“Of course,” answered Brother Tobias with a laugh and a smile.
“The punishment for losing the drudge race,” Jethario bellowed out, “is pain and pleasure.” He laughed heartily and said, “Of course that means the drudge’s pain and its owner’s pleasure.”
A strange platform was dragged out into the center of the arena by several naked men. Their skin was bluish-green, or should that be greenish-blue since they were closer to the color of the drudge than his driver. In any case, they dragged the platform to the center of the arena and placed it as directed by Uncle Jethario. On the platform were two large logs that had been stripped of their bark. One was laying on the platform itself. The other was supported by two thinner, upright logs so that it was about a meter in the air.
The losing drudge was released from his harness and a half-dozen naked female slaves struggled to pull the empty sledge out of the arena and into the darkness. “You know where to go,” Jethario said menacingly, and the drudge stepped up onto the platform, knelt on the lower log, and draped himself over the upper log. That position put his ass in the perfect position for punishment... or pleasure. Two rather muscular bluish-green men, probably slaves because they were naked, walked out carrying some heavy leather restraint straps and cuffs. It took them only a minute to strap the drudge in place.
A naked slave girl ran out into the arena holding a large silver tray. On the tray were a paddle, a tawse, a cane, and a whip. “Your choice, my Master,” she said meekly. “You may use one or all four. I will remain here with the tray.”
Uncle Jethario’s voice explained loudly. “Your drudge stopped on lap five Brother Tobias. Brother Josiah completed lap seven meaning that he was starting lap eight. That is a three-lap loss so the punishment is thirty strokes with the paddle or tawse, or fifteen strokes with the cane or whip.”
“Or,” Brother Tobias said, holding up one hand with his ring finger extended, “I could do ten with the paddle, ten with the tawse, three with the cane, and two with the whip.”
Jethario stood with his head shaking slightly as if he were absorbing what Tobias had said or possibly just counting up the total strokes. Then he shouted out, “So be it!”
“Paddle first,” Tobias yelled to the crowd and positioned himself behind and slightly to the left of the bound drudge. He swung the paddle through the air several times and then turned to the crowd and said with a smile, “If you would be so kind to count for this poor drudge so I don’t accidentally go over the permitted count.”
As he turned back toward the drudge he swung the paddle through the air. It landed with a loud “thwack!” across both of the drudge’s asscheeks. There was a loud grunt, but no scream. The crowd in the arena stands– and some of the people sitting in Spacer Bob’s Fantasy Tours– yelled out an enthusiastic, “One!”
Tobias knew how to handle a paddle. His second stroke was at the top of the ass just below the back. The drudge grunted softly and the crowds yelled out “Two!” The third stroke was at the very bottom of the ass, just where the ass blends into the back of the leg.
Brother Tobias continued alternating between hitting high and hitting low, but each stroke was moving slightly toward the center of the drudge’s ass. By the time the tenth stroke was applied, the drudge was grunting very loudly and its ass was swollen and much darker green than the rest of its body.
“Now for the tawse,” Brother Tobias said jubilantly. He was smiling broadly as the young slave held the tray close so he could put the black leather paddle back in place and *********** the tawse. The tawse was a dark brown leather, but it was not shiny. It didn’t even look smooth. Instead, it looked more like the leather used in the harnesses of the work animals on various planets.
Tobias pulled the long tawse slowly through his hand and then addressed the crowd. “The beauty of a tawse,” he began, “is that it is not truly a paddle or a whip. It is more like a crop that you can bring to tremendous speed if you use it properly.” He lifted the very tip of the tawse and said, “When you use a tawse, you can use it like a paddle. In that case the split snake’s-tongue tip will hurt much more than a regular paddle.” He held up his hand like an orator and continued. “But if you swing so that only the very tip of the tawse strikes flesh, then it will strike with much more power than you could ever get with even a long-handled crop.” He smiled and finished with, “Again, please count.”
Tobias took several minutes to properly position himself. He took three very low speed practice swings to make sure that he was at the exact distance to the side of the drudge. Then he swung very forcefully in an arc. There was a loud, crisp, “snap!” and the drudge howled in pain. A dark green V-shaped welt appeared on the slave’s ass, but it wasn’t on the main meat of the asscheek. Instead that painful welt was well into the drudge’s ass crack.
The crowd could barely keep up with the count as Tobias very rapidly slammed four more swats into the drudge’s right asscheek. Then he stopped and walked carefully over to the other side. He took his three low speed practice swings and then nodded to the crowd. This time the loud, crisp, “snap!” seemed even louder. So did the howls of pain from the drudge. The crowd tried to keep up with the count, but it was done so quickly that a count was almost impossible.
“Now for the cane,” Tobias said and the young naked slave girl hurried over with the tray. The cane was thin and whippy and Tobias flicked it through the air in front of himself with such speed that it sounded like a swarm of hornets were loose in the arena. Then without moving, he flicked his wrist toward the drudge and the cane slammed across the drudge’s ass with a loud “pop!” that almost sounded like a small explosion. The crowd went silent. The drudge howled in pain.
Tobias again whipped the cane around to create the hornet sound and when the crowd was leaning forward in expectation he suddenly administered the second stroke. If anything, the “pop!”– and the scream– were louder than before. The drudge was now whimpering. Several people in the crowd seemed to be reacting sexually to the display. One young woman with long blonde hair was seated a little ways away from me in Spacer Bob’s crowd. A soft moan caught my attention and I turned to see her slide her hand down inside the front of her slacks.
Meanwhile in the arena, Tobias smiled as he now moved the cane in intricate patterns in the air creating the hornet sound. Now that sound was somehow higher pitched and seemed... angrier. The third stroke was totally unexpected by both the drudge and the crowd. The drudge again howled. Many in the crowd gasped. The young woman shoved her other hand down her pants and began gasping for air.
“Now to finish with the whip,” Brother Tobias called out and the young naked female slave scurried over to hold the tray up for him. The whip was a dull black, about two meters long, not counting the handle. Tobias snapped the whip over his head toward the crowd. The “crack!” of the whip as the tip finished its very high-speed flip was loud enough to startle any in the crowd who had never seen a bullwhip before.
“I only have two strokes with this,” Tobias said to the crowd. His face was formed into a strange smile that was almost a leer. He stood directly behind the drudge and pulled the whip back over his head. He swung his arm forward and then pulled his wrist back very rapidly. The whip moved through the air like a snake that was curling and uncurling. He was evidently very skilled with the whip and was positioned exactly right. He also moved his arm exactly right. The tip of the whip began its “crack!” just as it entered the drudge’s ass crack. The loud “crack!” was immediately followed by a slightly softer “thwack!” as the leather slammed into the drudge’s rosebud. This time the drudge screamed like a young woman.
I looked to my right. The young blonde woman was now laying back against the bench behind her. Her hands were pumping furiously in her pants.
“My last stroke has to be very well placed,” Brother Tobias said, sounding very serious. “I want to end up with a punished slave, not a eunuch.”
He turned back to face the drudge. This time his face was devoid of any emotion as he concentrated on the whip and on the drudge. He moved his feet back a few centimeters while he swung the whip slowly back and forth in an arc as it dangled from his hand. With a quick intake of breath, he pulled the whip back alongside himself and then shot his arm forward so that the whip uncurled toward the drudge. All at once he snapped his arm back and the tip of the whip shot forward. There was the loud “crack!” as the tip created sonic shock waves. But this time there was no sound of the whip striking flesh. The screams of the drudge, however, proved that the whip had indeed found its target. The drudge continued its high-pitched screams as his prick pumped copious quantities of cum onto the platform. Nearby there was a lower pitched scream as the young blonde woman with her hands down her pants loudly orgasmed.
Spacer Bob walked up the benches to where the young woman was laying back panting. “I have one question, young lady,” he said softly. “Were you imagining yourself swinging those instruments of pain or were you imagining yourself strapped to that log?”
The young woman flushed very red and turned her face away from Spacer Bob. “I thought so,” he said with a deep chuckle. “But this is just our first stop. You might find something even more irresistible as we continue our tour.”
Bob then turned to his crowd and said, “Remember, the holoprojectors can cause some dizziness and a feeling of motion. Our next stop is Terra Eleven Zeta.”
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END OF CHAPTER TWO
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The true rulers of this world, the credit card companies, have made it almost impossible to sell books with true BDSM themes. Erotic publishers will soon be a thing of the past. So I have pulled all of my books from the one publisher that I had left, and have decided to post new ones such as this with my on-line followers.