After receiving a cloned body I was immigrated 127 Light Years from Earth to Free Skyes. 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. In the end I guess Human Recourses had figured me out correctly. 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. I had choices and options, by remaining a slave/citizen I paid about 2 million back through earned commissions as a prostitute and sales of Slave Beer. But my own Earth style of living got the better of me, I caught a cold and instead of calling EMS, I went along and kept working. Bad move, I got fined and am now back to owing 5 million again. At least I have nice owners.
My owner Dianna Chase instructed me to dominate her that evening. She wanted to stay wet and horny in order to keep in character for tomorrow. So I gave her a dose of humiliation, fed her and tied her to a chair while I made love to her husband. I left the two of them in their master bed in chastity, and in an exhausted sleep. For some reason I couldn't sleep just yet. I went to the bathroom to wash my face, looked up and saw myself.
For some reason I thought I would see myself in my 30's looking back at me. What a shock; it was me at sixteen looking back at me. Full head of hair, not even the slightest of a receding hair line, and a buff physic. There was a set of six-pack abs looking at me. I never had a six-pack of abs, beer gut from time to time, but not a six-pack.
"What happened to you," I said to my reflection.
"You're growing into your part Ancient body," reminded Mandy my training android.
"You knew this was going to happen," I asked it.
"Only projections," responded the machine built in a humanoid forum. Soft cyber-skin body that had an almost human feel and a limited range of facial expressions characteristic of most androids but still a beautiful body. Mandy was programmed by a master android programmer and its main function was to make sure I was kept in very good health. "It would take time for you to develop into your proper potential," it explained, "most Ancients only need between four to six hours of sleep. This is why you kind is often recruited to serve in the Military."
"I've done soldiering before," I told it. "It was a fun adventure, but too boring and too many incompetents running it."
"The Coalition is not controlled by incompetents," Mandy snapped. "I'm sorry," it apologised, "a programmed response. Can I explain?"
"Go ahead," this was interesting.
"The big difference between the Coalition and your planets is that we have Talents," it explained. "Our world leaders have more than a think tank of scientist, religious morality, and businessmen behind them. We have people who are Clairvoyant, and Telepathy. A Clairvoyant can see into the future, where a Telepath can feel the thoughts and emotions of the population. As much as we try, there are no easy solutions, and we learn from our mistakes."
"I know," I sighed feeling the peeling healing tape on my ass. They had a strict rule that when you feel sick call an EMS immediately. On Earth we go to work with head colds all the time because if we lose work we lose money. I ended up in isolation for two weeks, was fined the costs of all expenses and then publically caned till I was bloody to remind me.
"Why did they recruit me," I asked, "why not just die in the hospital?"
"The only answer I was programmed with was that there is a personnel shortage," explained the android. "We're at war and people from, dare I say; primitive cultures. Make the best recruits."
"What if I don't want to be a soldier," I had to ask.
"You can run a successful business," said the android with a smile and a shrug, "pay taxes to feed the war. Who cannot say you are not already helping us?"
"Great," I sighed and headed into my bedroom. At first I considered it to be a kid's room and I guess it suited me. Old style computer built into a computer desk moulded together. Bunk beds, the lower was wider than the top. A poster of Jane Speedwell almost naked sporting guns, ammo belts, and knives on the wall; she was definitely hot. "And she wants to marry me," I sighed.
"No," corrected Mandy, "she will marry you. Which means you do have a choice, just that you will probably want to marry her some day?"
"Now that is serious," I said to it. "Marriage out here means a very solid commitment. Dianna and Charles want to get married, but they still don't have approval. What am I to them?"
"A
fuck-buddy
," said Mandy blankly. "Us androids are seen and yet unseen. The two speak freely in front of me. They see themselves as mentors, friends, and fuck-buddies. They even half dread that Uncle Paul will probably want to keep you as a sex slave for a while. And don't forget, as property of the company he can pass you about like some hospitality slave to fuck and please the clients."
"Really," I asked feeling slightly aroused.
"The problem is," said Mandy as it towered over me, "you'd probably enjoy it." It fell on top of me in a sudden rush. My hands were shackled in front of me and to my neck. Legs shackled wide apart, I was naked on the bed facing up.
"Why did you do that?"
"To keep you from masturbating all night."
"Well what if I have to go pee?"
"Don't!"
"And if I have an accident?"
"I will take the bandages off your ass," Mandy explained as it moved against the wall. "Then turn you over to Master Charles and tell him you deliberately wet the bed because you want to be in Diaper Bondage again."
"You stink," I cursed as I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep.
*
For the next two weeks life went back to normal. Daylight hours working at the station handling one emergency after another. Show's had to be edited, longer, shorter, don't put a Pepsi Commercial next to a Coke Commercial. Send a memo to Master Control to keep the machinery maintained, if a commercial closed two seconds too fast the client will demand free time. Meanwhile the papers went through for a live Real Time channel, the Naughty School channel will go through. Over a dozen small stations catering to various Free Zones invested in the channel, I was nervous.
At least Uncle Paul liked my idea about hiring Amanda and Mike as teachers. But I knew that a 24/7 reality channel will have its problems. I kept quiet. Over a dozen independent stations across the planet who had their own Free Zone channels had invested into the project. Then Uncle Paul sent me down to Master Control and see how the real work was done.
Deep in the basement of the Ringo Building was Master Control. We stepped out of the elevator into the subterranean world of the Master Control. The air had an artificial tang to it as if heavy air fresheners were used to cover some odd smell. The staffs were very casual, nudity, and bondage was everywhere. Uncle Paul was in his usual business suit, while I was still in my mind cross-dressing by wearing the upper half of a man's suit. Lower half, stilettos, stockings held by a garter belt lace panties and mini-skirt that matched my suit jacket.
"We don't let the sponsors down here," Uncle Paul explained. "Or it they insist we give them a half hour to clean up. You familiar with this kind of equipment?"
"Well looks like triple redundant broadcast units," I answered nodding to a group of old style computers. "How do you store the shows, RAM-Sticks?"
"Very good," smiled Uncle Paul. "These little sticks work best, we could go smaller but they become hard to find. Even with RAM-Sticks they can still get lost." He pointed to another room where a couple techs worked various monitors. "This is our live camera colour balance room. Say as you want with computers, the human eye is best at this job. The rest of the live news shows are directed in the news control room."
"Just like back home," I noted, then looked through the window to the Control Room. Both staff members were naked except for bulky white diapers and plastic pants. "Let me guess," I asked, "no bathroom breaks?"
"It helps them stay focused," he added with a pat on my bottom.
"Oh," I groaned.
"Sorry but you spent your vacation time in Medical Prison," said Uncle Paul sternly. "I'd said I would punish you for all this. Both you and Cupcake have been taking liberties so both of you are going to spend the next two weeks right here."
"Yes sir," I sighed.
"We have sleeping cots," continued Uncle Paul, "a well stocked kitchen, and Mandy will be here making your meals too. Also as company slaves, you will both be allotted time work as Courtesans to the staff. Meet their sexual needs, and keep up their moral."
"Do they usually have Courtesans here," I had to ask.
"Nope," smiled Uncle Paul as he reached under my skirt and gave my bottom a familiar squeeze. "This is a first out here. You seem to forget you're a company sex slave."
"What about Cupcake?"
"That's private," he snapped with a hard slap and I dropped the subject. He showed me a room that might have been a photocopier room at one time but was now a B&D punishment room. Two women were tormenting a tough-looking guy. "Hi'a Holly," Paul smiled. "Just showing your new temp around."