"Hello friends, how's it going? It feels like it's been a really long time since we last spoke, doesn't it? Now that we've entered the new year and had our holiday break, we're going to be continuing at full throttle.
So, let's touch a bit on what kind of story awaits you now. In this story, we're going to descend into the world of women; not just descend, we are literally going to dive in. I read a story similar to this on a platform called Literotica. Of course, the folks sharing there didn't use such a fantastic style, but I wanted to push that threshold a bit. My inspiration point was a series there—I can't even remember its name now.
Anyway, here's the premise of our story: The council member organizing the tournament in the lead role gathers women together in a massive fighting organization to give them a chance to fix their 'WHAT IFs.' There are entities from every walk of life among the fighters; meaning, whoever comes to mind might appear before you here. The only thing I can say is that the probability of encountering a character who seems familiar to you from somewhere is high, my friends, haha!
The events will again take place on the Palace of Pleasure platform. You might want to read the previous Palace of Pleasure story, but this Palace of Pleasure is a structure that existed in much older dates of the Academy; there is quite a bit of time between it and the period the previous story took place.
Alright, since I've given the general information, let's move on to the warning section... Please pay attention: This story contains extreme sexual elements and descriptions. It has a direct Lesbian content flow, so those uncomfortable with this situation will have to wait for the next story. Elements of fighting and violence are present; I won't need to repeat the previous warning for those who are uncomfortable.
Okay then; if you are ready, please hold onto certain organs and start scrolling down. See you later..."
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The Y.G.K—Supreme Galactic Council—was not merely a governing body, but an academy that kept the existential pulse of all known and unknown races and patched the fabric of reality. The Council members were beings beyond time and space; each supervised or questioned a different "law" of the universe.
Council Member Aetius was at the head of the "Interaction and Resonance" chair. Unlike other members, Aetius was interested less in the birth of stars or the appetite of black holes, and more in the most fundamental, raw interactions beings had with one another: Desire, fear, dominance, and most of all, pleasure.
His "laboratory" did not resemble the Council's sterile observation rooms. Aetius had created the "Palace of Pleasure."
This was a sub-dimension woven from pure potential, where the laws of the physical universe were suspended, and the perception of ground was lost. In this place where simulation and reality were indistinguishable, towers hundreds of meters long—so high that consciousness could not comprehend them—rose not towards the sky, but towards the depths of Aetius's desire. Each tower was dedicated to a different experiment, a different fantasy.
And now, Aetius was on the verge of his most ambitious project: "The Crimson Communion."
In the obsidian room at the center of the Palace, drafts of holographic invitations hovered, rotating slowly in the air. Each one was to be sent to a different world, a different race, and to some of the most dangerous, powerful females in the universe. The promise was simple: Absolute competition, and for the winner... an existential reward satisfying even in the physical universe.
The door opened not with a physical creak, but with the bending of space. Entering was Council Member Lyra. The head of the "Order and Structure" chair. Aetius's exact opposite.
Lyra frowned, her thin, almost invisible eyebrows knitting together as she scanned the room.
"Aetius. You are expanding your 'playground' again. These towers look even more... audacious with every visit. But this latest project... 'The Crimson Communion.' I saw the invitation drafts. Only females. Only the most predatory ones. This is not an 'interaction' experiment. This is sowing the seeds of chaos."
Aetius answered in a soft, almost murmuring voice, without taking his eyes off the invitations: "Chaos? Lyra, my dear peer, you only see the structure. I, however, examine why the structure exists. Why does the universe expand? Why does an amoeba divide? Why does an insect seek a mate even knowing it will die? Why do even the most advanced star empires wage wars for the sake of a single kiss? The answer is 'sex'. Or in its purer form: Desire. I just want to observe the nature of the strongest desire, that is, female competition."
"You simplify it by calling it 'sex'. It is a necessity, Aetius. A biological mandate. A tool for the continuity of species. You, however, are turning it into a weapon, an arena. Do you seriously think these beings—queens, warriors, goddesses—will accept coming to your... Palace of Pleasure? Their pride outweighs the 'satisfying reward' you offer."
He laughed lightly and turned to Lyra. His eyes shone with the light of thousands of stars. "They will accept. Because I offer them more than a 'biological mandate'. I offer them dominance. Pride is the strongest aphrodisiac, Lyra. Besides, is what you call 'sex' merely a tool? From two pulsars dancing in the void of space to the nameless worm at the bottom of the ocean... Sex is the universe's way of experiencing itself. Not a grace, but a law."
"A law... And what about 'His'—The Beginning, The First Creator's—purpose when laying down this law? Do you think it was this? These erotic gladiator fights you designed? Yours is not an experiment, Aetius. This is the distortion of the most primal instincts with the highest technology. It is not moral."
"Morality... What a boring word. Morality is the rule of cowards. And as for 'His' way... Do you not think the Creator would take pleasure in seeing the peak potential of what He created? I am merely setting the stage, Lyra. They will determine the show. Now, please sit. This is not the main issue we need to discuss. The main issue is: Is the reward 'real' enough?"
Lyra reluctantly sat in a crystal chair floating in the air. Her posture was rigid. "'Real'? What is 'real' in this sub-dimensional palace of yours? Everything is a simulation bent by your will. A dream. What can you promise them? Gold? Planets? What meaning do these have in your laboratory?"
"You are right. The material holds no value here. The Palace of Pleasure is where desire is tested, not bought. No, the reward will not be given here. The reward will be given in the physical universe, in a place even the Y.G.K dares not touch."
Lyra leaned forward, truly interested for the first time. "Are you speaking of a power above the Council? That... is impossible. We are the guardians of the universe."
"We are guardians, Lyra, not creators. We protect the laws. But the reward concerns something older than the law itself. The winner, the champion of 'The Crimson Communion'... will earn the right to demand a 'moment' in the physical universe. A single moment lived in the past."
Lyra froze. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Manipulating time? Aetius, have you lost your mind? This is direct interference in the Creator's domain! This is contrary to the Council's reason for being! A moment... what does a moment mean? A moment to destroy a planet? A moment to start a war?"
"Deeper. Something much more personal. The winner will gain the chance to fix... that singular moment in her own past that corrupted the fabric of her existence, that made her the predator she is today. The right to erase a regret. The power to destroy a 'What if...'."
Lyra closed her eyes, trying to weigh the magnitude of this blasphemy. "You... You are offering time to them as a bribe. An existential correction. This... this is the pinnacle of immorality. You are taking their deepest pains and making them a tournament prize. This is even more perverted than your philosophy of 'sex'."
"Perverted? Let me ask you, my dear peer: What is heavier than a queen's crown? What is stronger than a goddess's faith? What is sharper than an assassin's vow of revenge? Let me tell you: The phrase 'What if...'. 'If I hadn't left that day.' 'If I had said those words.' 'If I could have saved him.' This is the strongest, most corrosive force in the universe. And I want to see how this force motivates the strongest females. Do you think they wouldn't come for this prize?"
Lyra laughed, short and bitterly. "They will come. Of course they will come. For nothing. Because you cannot change that 'moment', Aetius. The fabric of Creation is fixed. If you pull a thread, the entire cosmic tapestry unravels. You know this too. You are lying to them."
"No. I offer them possibility. Yes, the fabric might unravel. Or... it might be rewoven. With a more interesting pattern. Do you never think the Creator gets bored? Always the same pattern, for billions of years... Perhaps 'He' created experimenters like us for exactly this reason. To stretch the rules a bit."
"Your arrogance is higher than the towers in your Palace, Aetius. Now I understand. These 'erotic' fights are just a distracting veneer. This is not the real experiment. The real experiment is gambling with existence itself. But why... why 'females'? Why is 'sex' the key to this experiment?"
Aetius stood up and walked among the holographic invitations in the room. "Because 'male' desire is simple. It is a straight line. To conquer, to possess, to spread. It is predictable. But 'female' desire... Ah, Lyra... It is a labyrinth. It dances on that fine line between creating and destroying, nurturing and poisoning, self-sacrifice and establishing absolute dominance. The male takes power. The female transforms power."
"We return to your insect analogy again. The continuity of species. The female chooses, the male fights. Are you giving a biology lesson, Council Member?"
"Look beyond biology! Yes, a black widow spider eats her mate after mating. It is the same on a cosmic level. A Galactic Empress sacrifices the man she loves for political gain. A goddess watches her believers being sacrificed while accepting their prayers. This is not a 'tool'. This is the purest, most ruthless transfer of energy. Sex and death. Creation and destruction. Two sides of the same coin. And females walk on the edge of this coin, on that sharp place."
"What about 'choice'? Consciousness? Reason? Beings like us—and those queens, those scientists you invited—have they not risen above these primal instincts? An insect acts on instinct. An empress makes a choice. Did we not evolve to overcome these instincts?"
Aetius stopped and gave Lyra a long, piercing look. "Did we? Do you think your unwavering insistence on the 'Order and Structure' chair, this instinctive reaction to my 'Interaction' chair... Is this your supreme 'choice', or your existence's most basic 'program', Lyra? Your desire to control everything, to put everything into boxes? Is that not your 'sex'?"
Lyra stiffened. Her voice was like a sheet of ice. "Personalization. This is your weakness, Aetius. You are distorting the argument. The subject is not me. The subject is your project to turn the universe into a brothel."
Aetius laughed, the sound echoing in the room. "A brothel? No, my dear peer. A temple. Sex, Lyra, is not just reproduction. It is two beings becoming one. For a moment. Or one being establishing absolute dominance over the other. It is conquering. This is our attempt to mimic that moment of 'singularity' before the Creator's 'Big Bang', that state of being the great 'One'."
"Why does a star explode? Because it can no longer hold its energy inside! A cosmic orgasm! Why does a black hole swallow everything? An insatiable hunger! We are merely versions of this that are conscious of it, adorning it with words like 'morality' or 'love'. I am just removing the decorations."
"You are not removing the decorations. You are poisoning them. You are taking the most dangerous beings in the universe—proud, traumatized, narcissistic, powerful—and telling them 'erase your greatest regret'. And in return, 'make love and fight'. This is playing with their pain, their traumas. You are victimizing them all over again."
"Pain... Pain is the greatest motivation. And so is pleasure. My Palace gives them the chance to experience both in their purest, most unfiltered forms. They do not come here as 'victims', Lyra. They come here as 'hunters'. They are all hunters. Only, until there is a single hunter left in the arena..."
"And what about the Creator's way? If this is 'His' purpose, then why did He implant those 'coward's rules' we call 'morality' inside us? Why do we possess emotions like regret, shame, honor, love? If the only goal is for primal instincts to 'shine', are these complex emotions errors in the system?"
Aetius snapped his fingers, and a complex fractal appeared in the air. "Not errors! They are... spice. Flavor. Without them, the experience would be bland. Shame increases the potential of secret pleasure. Honor raises the price of dominance. Love feeds the tragedy of sacrifice. The Creator is a painter, Lyra. He used not only bright colors but also shadows. I like playing with these shadows. Without them, the light has no meaning."
"But you are not just playing. You are feeding the shadows. These invitations... The list. Those 150 names. On what basis were they chosen? According to which 'Supreme Galactic Council' criteria?"
Aetius smiled, the list opening holographically before him. Names shone: Wonder Woman, Hela, Daenerys, Maleficent, Harley Quinn, Mother Teresa... "The criterion was simple: Those with the biggest 'What if...' in their hearts. A broken queen. A warrior who could not fully take her revenge. A goddess for whom love is impossible. An activist unaware of her potential. A saint whose faith... or lack thereof... has been tested. All of them... they all belong here. They all have a 'moment' they want to erase."
Lyra looked at the list, her horror growing. "Mother Teresa? Aetius... this is blasphemy! You will put her in the same arena as a demon queen?"
"Why not? Do you think the 'female' inside that 'Saint', that moment of 'doubt', that fear of 'What if my faith is in vain?'... is less powerful than the pure rage of a demon? Both feed on the same basic desire: The desire to be proven right. One with her faith, the other with her power. Watching these two forms of 'eroticism' collide in the Palace... that is art, Lyra."
"And they will all destroy each other. For your 'art'. In this simulation-reality field... What are the rules? Is there death?"
"Physical death is boring. And not permanent. No. There is no 'death' here. There is only 'defeat'. And defeat, in the Palace of Pleasure, is a much more... intimate experience than physical death. A much more erotic surrender."
Lyra swallowed. "Explain."
"When you are defeated, when you 'die'... your consciousness does not vanish. Only your 'will' breaks. And the winner does not just take your power or your title. The winner takes your deepest 'What if...'. That regret. That memory. That shame. She takes that piece of your existence, tastes it, and makes it a part of herself. The defeated loses the chance to erase that pain forever. The winner becomes even stronger with another's pain."
Lyra sprang to her feet, her voice trembling with anger. "This... This is spiritual cannibalism! Spiritual rape... Aetius, you are a monster. You should have been the head of the 'Torture' chair, not 'Interaction'!"
"I am a scientist. What you call a 'soul' is the most complex, emotional series of data points. I am merely examining the data transfer. And most importantly... they will have consent. Everything will be written clearly on the invitation. Everyone who presses the 'Join' button will know the price."
"And you think you can make them accept this terrible price with the allure of that 'What if' prize. You are exploiting their desperation, their regrets."
"I am not 'exploiting', Lyra. I am offering 'opportunity'. Either they will carry that 'What if' inside them as a poison forever, or they will fight to erase it. Which do you think is more moral, my dear guardian of 'Order'? Leaving them alone with their pain, or offering them a chance at salvation, a way out, no matter how 'erotic' and 'savage' it may be?"
"The way out you offer serves your own dark fantasies. This is not an experiment, Aetius. This is a show. Your personal theater. When the Council learns of this..."
"What will the Council do, Lyra? We are the Council. We are the most powerful, most bored beings in the universe. Most of them will line up to watch this 'Crimson Communion'. Maybe they will even place bets. Including you."
"Never. I... I will do everything in my power not to allow this. That is a threat."
"Not a threat. An invitation. When the banquet starts, I will be waiting for you in my front-row box. Perhaps then, you too will understand that 'Order' is actually the most beautiful mask of the greatest 'Chaos'. Now if you'll excuse me... I have 150 invitations to send."
Lyra looked at him one last time; there was icy anger in her eyes, and perhaps a small spark of what Aetius desired most: Curiosity. "You are playing with the fabric of Creation, Aetius. Remember," she whispered, "the fabric always pushes back."
She vanished with the bending of space, just as she had arrived.
Aetius remained alone in the room. "Let it push back," he murmured to himself. "If there is no friction, how can pleasure be created?"