I have never felt so alive, so sexually satisfied as I have been in the past five years. Five years, where has the time gone, it's amazing. My butt is still tingling from last night, I wish the Doctor's wouldn't give me fast-heal drugs, but they say the discomfort is too distracting. So let's go back to where it all started.
I was born on a protected planet called Earth, in a system one hundred and twenty-seven light years away from here. For the most part the planet is disorganized with rival governments, pockets of good technology and some pretty bad. What I can tell you is that we did have the internet, a connected worldwide system of computers where we played about with little idea of the consequences of our actions.
Now that's not to say I committed any crime. But some people could watch and track the blogs you read, the pictures you down-load, the fetish stores to stop and look at, time after time. So even though I was just a harmless lurker, somebody made a calculated guess as to my fetishes, and wishes. So be careful next time you innocently take an on-line test as to how kinky you are. Or, talk to people of an on-line forum, and reminisce about your past lovers. Curse or a lucky chance, you decide.
I lived in North America, quiet comfortable life. And yes, some experiments, secret fun on the computer, and I died. Nothing special, caught a bad cold, turned out to be pneumonia, and I died of repertory distress in my sleep. For me it was just going to sleep and then a very odd dream.
"Mister Jones," called a voice in the dark, "Mister Jones would you like to be a sex slave?"
"Wow," I groaned in my sleep, "that would be nice." But there is a reality here, "I'm eighty-two, and my wife would not approve. Who'd want to be with an old guy like me?"
"Mister Jones," the voice answered evenly, "your brain is still alive. We can transfer your mind into a newly cloned body based on your DNA, you will be better than ever young, handsome, and sexually attractive to others."
I had to laugh, "why would anybody find me attractive," I asked.
"Let's just say," said the voice with a bit of humour, "we have some good plastic surgeons on staff."
"Oh that's expensive," I told him, "how can I pay that off?"
"Let's just say," concluded the voice, "we're recruiters for a very special contract. On your world a good prostitute get's paid a hundred dollars an hour, more if he or she allows themselves to be spanked before they have sex. Would you like to get paid to have you ass spanked three times a day? That's an easy three thousand dollars a day."
I did that once, I was a slave to a couple one weekend, and it was great. At least once a day for the rest of my life I thought about that weekend. It was a wonderful memory I kept in my heart for the longest time, and still do. I wanted it.
"Okay," I said to the dark, "I'll do it."
"Good," concluded the voice, "begin preparations, when you wake up your court appointed counsellor will talk to you."
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I woke up after a nice comfortable sleep and had a king size woody. Okay I didn't have one of those foot long dicks that you hear in all those sexy stories. I'm sorry to say even when I was young and six feet tall, I only had a six inch dick, but it was all natural and mine. Now normally I'd be dreaming about, well, sex in order to be so aroused. I got out of waking up with morning wood by the time I turned fifty. This was interesting.
So I reached down started stroking, thinking about maybe humping a pillow when I noticed the bed I was in didn't have a pillow. After opening my eyes and looking about, I was in a hospital bed of some sort. Worse still I was naked, in a bed of some sorts white sheet under me, but the blanket was more quilt than sheet. I looked down and well there was my circumcised penis still ready to go, but the rest of me, wow!
Where did I get this buff body? Flat belly, buff chest, thin waist, legs, even my toes were,....nice. True I was in some ways still me, covered in black body hair, not too thick, except for my testicles. More than anything I wanted to see my face, when a voice interrupted me.
"Good morning Mister Jones," said a voice with a mechanical lithe.
I looked into a dark corner and came face to face with my first robot. I mean I assume it was a robot, maybe an android, but it was mechanical. Humanoid in shape, head, two arms, two legs, synthetic skin covering of some sort, and dead camera eyes instead of real eyes.
"What are you," I asked it.
"I am the room's medical android," said the android, "Unit 01-00-375-44, however many of you Earthmen call me Nurse Ratchet. Or Nurse. I am a part of this room, number 01-00-375-44, here to meet your needs till you are released from this room. Now, do you need, food, clothing, to go to the bathroom, or a good spanking?"
"Well," I said as I tried to cover my erection. I was hungry, but part of me wanted sexual satisfaction.
"I should remind you," said the Android as it moved closer to me, "you agreed to become a sex slave. Sex slaves are not allowed to play with themselves."
"No wait a minute," I said, but it was too late. I tried punching, kicking, and every close combat move I knew, it just didn't work. I was over that robot's mechanical knee so fast and got my first spanking.
That mechanical hand with its artificial skin covering was better than any cyber-skin I ever felt. The inside must have been pure steel, and well I didn't count, but sure enough I lost any interest in my erection. For some reason the programming in that robot was pretty good, I was in complete submission but still had enough control not to break down and cry.
"Since you've been a bad slave," concluded the Android, "you may only wear this." It handed me a white cotton brief of some sort. There was no elastic band, but strings so that I would have to tie the sides up to hold on to my hips. I looked up and saw a full length mirror of myself in the briefs. I looked more like a boy-toy than my old self. More than that, I looked no more than eighteen, and needed a shave.
"Stop admiring yourself and eat some breakfast," the Android told me. It pointed to a small side-table with a bowl of soup of some sort and glass of clear liquid. "Any more misbehaving and I'll have you wearing nappies and denied bathroom privileges."
I quickly sat down on the contoured chair which reminded me of the spanking I just received. How did they know that I toyed with Diaper Domination, but never went through with it? The soup was more like porridge with a slight mingling of sweetness just enough to make it interesting. The glass of clear liquid was just water, but it was cold and a robotic arm kept filling the glass.
"Drink the water," the Android told me.
"I've had three glasses," I told it. "It keeps filling the glass."
"You will drink six glasses of water," the Android told me, "anything less and I'll lock a chastity diaper on you. Do you want to empty your bowels in a toilet or in a diaper?"
I kept drinking the water and wondering why I ever even considered diaper bondage. After six glassed of water the arm stopped re-filling and I finished the breakfast. I felt better with the slight hunger gone.
"Your court appointed counsellor will be here in half an hour," the Android told me. "You should use the bathroom before he sees you."
"Okay," I agreed, "where is it?" Secretly I hope it would not tell me to do it in my pants.
"In there," the Android pointed to a dark room behind a door that opened. "Let me explain," it continued, "this is an extremely high tech medical bathroom. Most homes have one. You are not going to just take a piss and a dump. The room will have non-evasive catheters go into your body remove the waist products, give you a medical examination, and bath you all at once. If you are good special goggles will let you watch a short movie, even masturbate; if you earned that reward. Medication will also be applied to that red bum of yours in case you need another spanking. So just relax and step in."
So I stepped inside and sure enough I watched a movie about what was going on. I even got to see up my own colon as I was give a non-evasive enema so that if somebody wanted to fuck me up the ass I would not have an accident and shit the bed. To say the least the bathing was a nice experience.
I came out of the bathroom and found my court appointed counsellor sitting at a chair opposite the side-table. Nurse Ratchet was standing in the corner not moving. The Counsellor looked no more than thirty or so, wore a white suit or uniform and had a rather sturdy brief-case. He had almost pinkish skin, and a heavy nose, he was the first Alien I ever met.
"Turn around and bend over," he told me, "did Nurse Ratchet spank you into submission?"
"Well not too much," I said turning and bending over bed. "Wait a minute," I asked standing up. "Aren't you my court appointed counsellor?"
"Sure," he said not getting up from his chair, "but I wanted to make sure I'm talking to Mister Alfred Pontiac Jones and not a slave who would do anything to get his next sexual fix."
"Oh," now that made sense, "no, I would have to say I don't feel like I'm under any pressure."
"Okay we'll skip that line of questioning," he concluded as he jotted some notes on his lap-top. "I want to explain your legal options and obligations here. The Company, whose long list of corporations and individuals has through a loop-hole in the immigration laws taken you from your home planet of birth and brought you here. Now you are obligated to pay them back for transportation and you cloned body which is based on your DNA but with all the bad genes taken out. So no worries about Cancer, Alzheimer's disease, or quite a few other diseases your science hasn't found yet. With proper diet and exercise you will live to the grand old age of two hundred. How does that sound like an immigration incentive?"
"Cool," I laughed. This place was great.
"Not so cool," said the Counsellor, "this whole procedure cost five million, two hundred and fifty thousand credits. You are obligated to pay that fee."
"Yea but a good prostitute who gets spanked can earn up to three thousand dollars a night," I shot back.
"Ten American Dollars has the buying power of one Galactic Credit," laughed the Counsellor. "The average untrained labourer earns about fifteen thousand six hundred credits a year; it would take you over three hundred years to pay back you debt."
"What are you getting at, I thought this was all sex and good times. Isn't prostitution legal out here?"
