Slave Immigrant

After receiving a cloned body I immigrated 127 Light Years from Earth to Free Skys. Unfortunately I had to work and pay for that cloned body and I had very few skills a high tech society could use. So it was either I become an Unskilled Labourer or a Sex Slave. I guess Human Recourses had my profile figured out. All those years in BDSM chat-rooms and websites were tracked alright, but not by Homeland Security. I was a 24/7 Bonded Sex Slave with a 5 million credit debt to pay off. Worse still I didn't have any say on how or what I would be doing, I wasn't a citizen. After taking a Citizenship Test all that changed.

After what I think was some pretty intense testing it looked like I was going to get a three day weekend off. I mean not everybody has the Director of the Boom-boom Room have you for a sexy three day sleep-over. Better still she wanted to be a slave and me the Dom. I was looking forward to sitting back, watching TV and having my cock sucked whenever I wanted. Boy was I wrong.

What was supposed to be a relaxing three day weekend turned into a combination of hell and tension? I make a wrong move and BAM! Her Android Bruno the high and mighty Mark Twelve sex android is beating the hell out of my ass. I kept forgetting I'm Marcy McDermott's Boy-Toy there for her pleasure. I never considered being a Dom was such hard work. The worst was when I was taken into her condo's garden bent over a man-size saw-horse made of logs, tied down, flogged, and then left in the morning sun for any passer-by to see. All I saw was the grass on the ground. Later on I had a mild tan on one side.

You see the Freedom Zone is under a protective dome. One quarter of the city, is made up of this zone which is all adult play 24/7 and well out of site of the Family Friendly zones. So adults have total sexual freedom, you can go to work nude if you want while sporting a fox-tailed butt-plug and welt marks. Your boss might decide to spank or fuck you than chew you out for a little mistake if the two of you feel that will make you a better employee. I later learned that the hovercar assembly plant in Central City Free Zone has the highest production rate on the planet. And yes they still have people working there if you need a low skilled job.

As for me, I think I got the hang of things by late Saturday afternoon. Marcy claimed she couldn't cook and cuddled against me after a satisfying four-way to which both our androids were involved. Meanwhile Mandy, my upgraded Mark Nine Android cleaned the house while Bruno, Marcy's Mark Twelve Android cooked a gourmet dinner. I was watching a good movie on the giant TV, drinking an ice cold coke. (I'm always on duty so no alcohol for me.) That was when Marcy's lap-top went hay-wire with a condition red message.

We both sighed as she got up and went to her small computer station. She pushed aside the punishment sex-a-terry chair with its menacing dildo seat and sat in a regular chair. For some reason I felt that dildo was laughing at me and I'll be on the receiving end of trouble.

"That fucking idiot," she screamed at the lap-top. She stamped her foot and pushed herself away from the desk. "Can't take a fucking simple set of instructions." She stormed about the room and selected a rattan cane from the rack.

"Honey," I said getting up and trying to calm her, "it can't be all that bad."

"Shut up," she snapped at me. "Drop that robe, and bend over the couch."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the two androids standing in the doorway. I dropped the heavy velveteen robe and bent over the couch, ass in the air knowing I've then gone from Dom to whipping boy. The cane hit a couch pillow near my face with such force it raised a puff of dust.

"That stupid Charlie," she cursed, "all these months of being the loyal Administrator and all the while he was just waiting for the chance to take it all away from me." The cane hit the couch again raising more dust in such a sanitary place.

"And my father," she added, "I can see his hand behind all this too." The cane was landing on both sides of me and I knew full well my ass was next. "You and your new boy-friend are invited to my party," she smirked. "Just when I meet somebody interesting," she leaned against my naked body and began crying. I fell into the sofa and felt her tears against my penis.

"Well whoever this guy is," I said, "I'm sure he'd be supportive."

"Oh you ass," she grabbed my nuts and squeezed, "it's YOU I'm talking about."

"Mistress please," I sobbed, "now I'm confused, am I your boy-toy, companion, courtesan, product, or what?"

"You are whatever I want you to be," she snapped at me. She released my nuts and cried into her hands.

"Okay," I said sitting back, "let's try to reason through this. Start at the beginning. Did you miss an orange alert or something?"

"Or something is right, Charlie, my replacement, listed a board meeting as a code blue; very low level. The board is concerned that out of the thirty-five hundred Earth Humans we rescued, three hundred and sixty-two of them have talent. By not being there: they half blamed this mess on me. They didn't even give me a chance to defend myself. My father claimed it was his fault and is taking over running the Boom-boom Room Central City with Charlie responsible for day-to-day operations."

"Can you appeal," I asked.

"Only if there is a reduction in pay," she explained, "section 22-oh-7 standard contract procedure. The Board of Directors has final say; in fact I just got a pay increase. I'm in charge of Wholesale."

"What you have a Bargain Basement store of something?"

"Oh if there wasn't a hold on you I could whip you good," she threatened.

"A couple hours over the garden sawhorse would have good effect on him," suggested Bruno.

Thanks Bruno, I said to myself.

"Oh fuck off," she cursed at the Android. Then to me, "Wholesale is our code for the selling off of excess staff. You are staff, you are now for private sale. All but three Earth Females and one male from your group are being sold."

"Holy shit," I sighed.

"That's an Earth term," said Bruno, "I could wash his mouth out with soap."

"Later," said Marcy, then to me, "you did break a rule. So our weekend is cut short, Admiral Jane Speedwell is stepping down and her fleet is throwing her a party. Guess what; she wants: you and price is no object. They waved fifteen thousand credits at the Company she is going to play with you for a long time tomorrow night."

Now just for a little background, for those of you who don't know it, Jane Speedwell is the Coalition's version of Angelina Jolie twenty-five years ago. I mean this woman in a very short period of time set the Movie industry on fire. Besides that she is an Ancient. Ancients come from Vacation Planet 228; a very old race of humanoids; Homo Speriorous is the technical term. To put it simply above average in everything, height, strength, intelligence, dexterity, and all have talent. These people are the Supermen Adolf Hitler was always talking about. And by the way I have all of her movies on file, including the XXX game version where, well, guess.

Ancients usually prefer sex with a person with zero talent and no signs of body trauma. Many of them own androids so that t hey can avoid human emotions and thoughts so that they can enjoy themselves. We checked the file, this gal was wacky. She collected every video and media item on me. She even had security monitor videos, (which are supposed to be classified,) of me.

"Is she going to buy me," I had to ask.

"That would be impossible," said Marcy, "Admirals get lots of perks, but horrible pay. She's still a civil servant. However the Planetary Governor is a distant cousin and good friend of hers. He could buy you outright, even pay for your bond and transfer to her for a slight fee."

"Slight fee?"

"One credit, that's all it takes. So you get to be her toy for however long she wants. I can't see it going longer than a week. She's stepping out of commanding fleets and will soon be taking over a battalion of Space Commandos. The Space Commandos are very short of Talented Officers. She is going to be busy."

"Okay forget her, what else is wrong?"

"Dad set your bond at one million credits."

"One million that's not bad, don't I get paid off sooner?"

"Very true, in five years you could become a free man. Bad in the fact that no company will pay that much for you. Not even a music company."

"I thought I failed the music test."

"I'm not sure why he failed you, music companies, and competing brothels want to buy you to work for them. In any commercial enterprise you have potential. Your Boom-boom Root Beer™, the alternative title for non-free-zone sales will make you a projected two million inside of one quarter. You have ideas, in a commercial setting you excel."

"So who's going to buy me?"

"Private, kinky individuals."

"Ouch," I said trying to make my butt smaller.

"Ouch indeed, I'm going to have to make arrangements for these people to meet and spend some time with you."

"Do I have to be nice to them?"

"You want to become an unskilled labourer on some moon?"

"No Mistress," I said looking down.

"I'll work through them later," she sighed, "now let's worry about Dad. He's throwing a party at the house."

"You make it so ominous,

The House

so he has a nice place somewhere."

"I live in one of the guest houses to the estate..."

"You mean all that," I pointed to the other condos out the window, "is part of his house?"

"Yes."

"Was he one of the people looking over the hedge when I was punished?"

"Probably."

If my dick could shrink any smaller my balls would have been gone too. Most parents would, well get out the shotgun and have a wedding. What was Marcy McDermott's father doing?

"So," I signed, "what does he want?"

"He sent a written invitation to you and me, to come to the Company's Celebration of the outrageous profits we have made this quarter. To Pontiac Jones," she laughed, "Class Eight Courtesan and my daughter's boy friend."

"So he approves of me being here?"

"Only if I can steal some ideas out of you for company profit." Her private cell phone rang. "It's my mother," she said looking at the phone. "Assume the position, face in the pillow."

"Why, she can't see me."

"It's a warning of a video phone call," she explained, "she knows I see men, now bend over or I'll have Bruno put you outside with a mouth full of soap."

I assumed the position and couldn't stop myself from such a hard-on. Marcy picked up my robe and put it on as another phone chirped to life. The lights came on and I could hear an older woman speaking to her.

"Mister Jones," said Marcy's Mother, "so sit down, I know it's you over there. That desk chair look uncomfortable, Bruno be a darling and grease it for Mister Jones."

"That's not necessary Mother," said Marcy putting her hand on my back and keeping me in position.

"Don't be foolish darling," he mother laughed, "for fifty credits I could have a car pick him up and he would be over my lap in ten minutes."

"He's mine," said Marcy. And just to spite her mother she pushed me into a sitting position on the sofa and then sat on my lap. And I do mean sat. She grabbed my stiff cock lifter her robe and took me up her ass as she wiggled on me.

I still have a hard time figuring myself out then. My cock was up her warm inviting ass. He mother was on the big screen TV; half dressed, sitting at a table of some sort watching us. Marcy's ass was still very hot from last night's spanking/sex play and still lubricated. I couldn't help myself I came right then and there.

"Is that little dick of his comfortable," he mother asked.

"Yes," said Marcy in a naughty fashion and wiggled her bum, "he's coming too."

"Well we could talk dirty for a long while or like adults, what do you want to do."

"I want to run my own Free Zone Hotel."

"So why aren't you?"

"I got bushwhacked."

"Well he is very pretty. Look you Father loves you, and me too, but he will not let either of us to have our own lives, we have to fight for it."

"Is that why you left him?"

"In a way I left him when he started working five hours a day while you were just a baby. That's when I took correspondence courses while changing your diapers. The day after you left and went to the Middle Kingdom and he tried to move heaven and earth to get you back, I left him too."

"I didn't know that mother. I hear your business is doing very well."

"Well enough maybe I can help you with my business."

"Look if you two are going to have a mother daughter chat I believe Bruno needs to punish me," I butted in.

"Nonsense Mister Jones," snapped Marcy's Mother, "you're a victim of my former Husband's greed too. Why doesn't he have any welts on his bottom," she asked her daughter, "I hear you usually keep your men on a short leash."

"You still don't know me Mother," she said lifting herself off my cock and showing her well punished bottom to her. "Sometimes I like to give up responsibilities and cry like a little girl."

"How nice," smiled Marcy's mother, then to me she looked cross. "Well don't just sit there eat that cream you left on my daughter's ass." Without thinking I moved around and opened my mouth to lick out her ass.

"Fool," laughed Marcy and her mother.

"What kind of a mother do you think I am," laughed Marcy's Mother, "now sit down like a good boy and don't cover your crotch."

"She's kidding right," I asked Marcy.

"You got pretty balls," laughed Marcy. "They can't blame me for all this, can they?"

"You have plenty of First Class Courtesans you can play with, why this one?"

"Because he's smart, and I think enjoys it."

"Do you enjoy being a boy-toy Mister Jones."

"Yes Ma'am," I said reluctantly, "my friends call me Al."

"I like Pontiac," chuckled Marcy's Mother, "you can call me Whitney. What's your take on all this?"

"The Company changed me in ways I can't understand. My last memories were of me worrying that I had Alzheimer's disease when I was seventy-two. I died or came here some six years later. I know I was on drugs to arrest the disease, but I think they did something to my brain too. I can remember things very very fast. I don't have to study so to say, I remember what is written down, just have to work on applying what I know. I'm stronger, faster, taste, smell, hearing, and," oh how I hated to admit it, "I don't get diaper rash either."

"Well that's a nice thing," laughed Whitney, "so outside of saving on diapers what's wrong with that?"

"I think they fused Ancient DNA into mine, and all the other immigrants from Earth."

"Then how come you don't have any talent?"

"Besides a talent for getting into trouble," added Marcy as she hid her face behind her hand computer.

"I don't know," I sighed, "and I guess I need the occasional spanking."

"You come from a sexually frustrated planet, we're not going to give you any therapy, you're too useful to the company," explained Whitney. "I think the best course of action is to fight back."

"How?"

"Use your best assets," she continued, "your father probably calculates you will not come to the party but hide in shame. Shoulders back and tits out like the Imperial Courtesan you were trained to be. Mingle with the guest, make contacts, and sell the products. As for you Pontiac," she smiled and fiddled with her computer, "I'm ordering a suit for you. Think of it as an Entertainers Uniform, all the want-a-be stars show up in something like this. Oh and put a chastity belt on him Marcy, they practically have it on all the news channels Admiral Speedwell has ordered your boy-toy on a silver platter. A display belt might be just the ticket."

"Ohh, that's going to be uncomfortable for him," said Marcy.

"He'll be fine," assured Whitney, "the newer models have lenses that reflect light no more continuous spreading the cheeks."

"What's that," I had to ask.

"Stand up darling," Whitney told somebody off camera, "now over here." It seemed Whitney had her own boy-toy. A young man with very pale skin wearing what looked like a glass chastity belt or something. As he turned about you could see his cock was erect against his belly, shaved pink balls and puckering anus. He moved very natural despite the two inch wide belt up the crack of his ass. His naked bottom had some mild belt marks, which well looked erotic to me. Even I wanted to fuck that tight ass. The poor kid blushed as she pulled him across her lap and unlocked the belt. "As you can see," she explained, "I can also insert this clear butt-plug and really show him off."

The poor kid winced as the plug was inserted and the belt locked back on. She turned him and from a certain angle even from the video phone you could see right into his colon which looked very clean. She then stood him up and turned him around showing off his throbbing cock.

"As you can see he and nobody else can touch his ass," she explained. She then held up a small remote control. The poor kid shivered and his eyes fluttered. I knew that look somehow that clear butt-plug was vibrating up his ass. The poor kid came, and nearly collapsed. She held him on her lap and I watched his cock spurt twice before he relaxed and shrivel.

"Let me guess," said Marcy, "the product belongs to one of your clients?"

"Well I do have to test it. I'll have that delivered to you as well with locking instructions. You can set the unit for thumb-print identification. DNA units are a bit larger you can cover a belly-button with it."

"So what do I do at this party," I had to ask.

"Just be your charming self," explained Whitney, "remember you're for sale now. Kiss ass to corporate executives. Talk to the orchestra leader, see if you could sing a song or two. Sell yourself, but don't get your ass spanked, Ancients like their sex toys clean. Once she has you, well, just tell her the truth, you're still a naughty boy. I'm on the guest list too. I just might inspect the goods too."

"Mother!"

"Ahh don't worry, where would I get a million retainer? Now get yourself cleaned up. And Bruno, since Mister Jones is going to be tied up for an hour or three, give him a good cleaning, use the hose, And don't forget to milk him."

"Mistress," I begged Marcy as Bruno grabbed me by the arm. With a curt hand signal I was dismissed. She was busy talking to her mother.

There is no use to arguing with an android, they are after all robots. I was bent over the horse and tied down. Wrist, ankles, and a belt across my back restrained me from escaping the inevitable; punishment and anal inspection. Bruno's programming was sadistic; it stood in front of me and pulled on the head of its male cock. The nub came out attacked to a hose that stretched out like some obscene tentacle while it whistled The North-Atlantic Squadron song. The very thin penis entered my rectum comfortable before it widened into a butt-plug and then started filling me with liquid.

"So," I asked, "I will be able to sit down and expel when you're done right."

"No you will stay in that position," explained Bruno, "I'll be washing you down when finished." His fingers gently stroked my inside thighs and ass. It felt like a small lake was going up my ass and well into me.

"Are you sure enema's can be done this way," I had to ask Bruno. "Should there be pressure against my tummy?"

"Probably not," said Bruno as his fingers tickled my ass, "it will just take longer. Would you like to know how many litres you've received?"

"No," I groaned as the humiliation set in. There was definitely pressure and my cock was rock hard.

"Ding," chirped Bruno is sadistic glee, "you just received two litres Mister Jones. You know I think if I adjust the flow just a smidgen this way..." I felt something warm rush into me and my cock exploded. "Tar she blows," announced Bruno. I could hear several people applauding somewhere. Please let it be some audio system and not for real.