Slave Immigrant

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, even as a slave I never realized how serious some crimes were.

For example; catching a virus or cold, can become a major crime. Disease is almost eliminated on this high tech planet which makes any small disease by Earth Standards a major sickness. Sick days are almost non-existent instead we have depression days. "On my lover left me; I need time by myself." Surprisingly it's a major day off, and public funded therapy.

Even as a Sex Slave I spent an afternoon under therapy when Charles and Dianna left me. I could have requested more time, but I could handle the change. Meanwhile being owned by Colin and Jeff was not as hectic as I expected. Colin did have minor mood swings while Jeff, well, was just plain horny.

After spending a day at the Ringo Building in meetings, office time or recording Colin and Jeff would head out to review a show or two and I was expected to head home and be waiting for them. As always a company security guard followed me and would need an "

eyes only

" tablet from Uncle Paul on my daily work performance for them to read. Since my android kept the apartment clean and cooked dinners I was expected to change out of work clothing, put on a house dress with nothing else underneath and I may do my homework while waiting for them. Normally once naked Manfred, the android, would bath me, remove my mini-robot butt-plug and flush out my anal tract making anal sex cleaner. An alarm would signal when my owners took the private elevator to our apartment. At this time I was expected to be bent over the sofa in plain view of the entrance. The

eyes only

tablet on a stand near the door.

I would get very nervous waiting for them. Colin and Jeff were very jealous of their possessions. My cock and balls were kept in chastity meaning even I couldn't masturbate. The mini-robot butt-plug was a relatively extreme measure. It had what looked like a jewelled head but it was a combination thumb/DNA reader. Only Colin, Jeff and Uncle Paul could take it out. Anybody else and the darn thing would widen uncomfortably. It could read my own hands and would send a message I needed a good spanking. I could vibrate, throb, and even reach deep into me rub my rectal clitoris and make me cum in my panties. Talk about embarrassing. It would also open a vent allowing me to fart, as well as perfuming the methane gas. More than that it wiggled and moved reminding me that I was owned.

Colin normally came home first and would require me to be dressed in a fashion not unlike what I wore in The Boom-Boom Room. I would strip off my office clothing, change into a house-dress; the bend over the sofa and wait. I was given a two minute warning, so that I could do some take-home office reading. I didn't have to cook supper they enjoyed Mandy/Manfred's cooking and I was fed like a pet during dinner. So I waited.

My Master was quiet when he would enter the apartment. He would stroke my leg while lifting my skirt examining the seams on my stockings, garters, and panties. If my bottom was red or any cane marks from Uncle Paul and I can expect a few hard slaps. It was so arousing as he would lower the panties, feel the butt-plug, feel my balls and cock. He could make me moan with pleasure right then and there.

Depending on his moods, the butt-plug would be removed and he would fuck me. Or stroke me off and make me cum in his hand, or as a topping in a drink. Of course having a sore ass means an interrogation, hard spanks, the belt, and maybe if he is really pissed off will have Jeff punish me. So I tried real hard to keep everybody happy.

On other occasions Colin would be in a submissive mood. He would take the butt-plug out, remove my cock chastity if it is on, and French-kiss my anus. This meant he wanted to be on the receiving end of a good spanking followed by a good ass-pounding fuck. I would use my own cock, if he wanted something bigger he would then dominate my fucking by having me wear a cock harness.

A cock harness was rather embarrassing; and I was always locked into one. This would have a fake cock much larger than mine was attached to the harness just above my own cock and made fucking rather easy. Just to remind me of my position a plug would be added firmly up my ass. Some were designer cocks including balls with rather irritable hair or stubble rubbing or bouncing between my ass cheeks. Worse still Jeff would want a good fucking done to himself and would have a robotic cock plug up my ass. The darn thing would throb and rub against my inner body parts rising me toward almost cuming but withholding. On the other hand I could feel it spurting while Jeff was cumming signalling is must stop or face punishment at Manfred's mechanical hands. This would have me hanging by my wrist in the bathroom with while having a mildly sore bottom and very aroused cock with no release.

However dominating Colin is not without it's dangers:

"Hey," snapped Jeff as he barged into the room. "Who said you can dominate my lover?"

"I, er," I stammered.

"You think you two can play without my permission," he asked. Colin was so much into submissive mode he kept quiet.

"But," I gasped as my cock rapidly deflated.

"Bend over across that sofa beside my lover," he snapped as he took his belt off. "And the two of you get properly naked." I didn't have much on, but I got naked quick and joined Colin bent over the sofa back. After a dozen slaps of the belt across my naked bottom Jeff paused to caress and examine his sore bottom before deciding just how much more punishment Colin needed. He would leave Colin whimpering before he would then turn on me.

My body being part ancient had me heal faster than a normal human and because of that I got spanked more often. But first there was the examination. Jeff took his time as I could feel his strong fingers trace the curve of my bottom. Feel the depth of bruises, welts, and eventually spread my ass-cheeks and examine my anus. He always took a careful look, I could feel his breath on that part of my bottom. It made me so aroused and I could feel my glands producing lubricant.

A few hands slap latter before his cock would penetrate me and my cock was hard and dripping. Worse still both Colin and Jeff were both cruel to me often leaving me frustrated and unable to masturbate. Come to think of it, this is the big difference between being a slave and free. No matter how much I yearned for sexual pleasure it was at somebody else's decision when I could have it. To say the least these two can be tough masters.

Meanwhile I had to keep quiet my comments about Naught High School. The 24/7 network show became a rollercoaster of rating. Desperate for any kind of rating, the new network of independent stations started paying for even more actors, and want-a-be A grade actors in on the show. Within a week many were calling their "parents" (agents,) and begging to be taken home. The latest suggestion was to have Slave Immigrants as a part of the show.

"So the proposal is," Uncle Paul said to the Network Board conference, "we contract the planetary brothels and purchase the best of the Slave Immigrants from across the planet to serve as extras on the Naughty High School Network. Any objections?"

We were using the large conference room, in the Ringo Building. Action Network, had six seats, I was there too because I was involved in three successful show. Four other station were part of the conference, while others were represented my television monitors. I stood up to talk, then realizing what the past was like, bent over the desk while another exec sighed and lifted my skirt as I was in the punishment position.

"Cut out the Dramatics," bellowed a voice from a monitor. "I have a Slave Immigrant on my board who's doing the same thing."

"Same here," said a female voice from another. "Your slave has made the most objections and suggestion we haven't listened to so let's hear it."

CRACK! The cane landed anyway.

"Alright what is it," sighed Uncle Paul.

"The classes are not real," I stated simply.

"We know that," said Uncle Paul as my panties were pulled down. "It's a TV show so what's the problem?"

"Even during those fake classes," I explained, "the Immigrants, myself included would be opening our Lap-Tops (only Earth English word to describe the hand held computers,) and studying immigration classes to gain citizenship."

"There is a Citizenship class," stated a board member in the room. The cane landed on my naked ass.

"To which the actors get bored with and start acting up," I gasped through the pain, "those classes are interrupted. Somebody or bodies get punished then they are all told to read their books while the teacher heads off to masturbate. I think the audience is getting bored of watching people secretly masturbate."

"Well we've discussed courses," stated the female monitor, "but none of our actors are qualified to teach anything above basics."

"And I don't thing a Sex Ed is what should go on," stated another. "Besides Action Network is producing the best Sex Ed class around," she added. There was some general laughter.

"Why can't we have courses that mirror what other high schools offer," I asked fearing another stroke of the cane. "The Central City Free Zone High School offers a wide range of skills training."

"How much research have you done," asked Uncle Paul as his cane tapped on my naked bottom.

"I am confined to a limited area," I said truthfully, "however the local Free Zone High has a website to which I have done some research. I could do more if I was allowed to do some leg-work."

"I don't know," added a cautious voice from another monitor, "how much freedom do we give this slave?"

"I can always assign Security Officer with him," added Uncle Paul as the cane landed again.

"Look we know you can intimidate the slave," said the reasonable voice, "we're looking at a considerable cash investment here. We hardly broke even on this venture which you convinced us to invest in Paul. I didn't see your slave as part of the presentation; and he's nervy enough to state an unpopular opinion. So why are you holding him back?"

"Pride I guess," Uncle Paul answered honestly. He shrugged and looked at me. "Alright," he concluded, "permission to do field work granted."

**

"Let me remind you," ordered a stern-looking admistrater, "this is not Recruiting Day, it is a place of learning and not a sex pit."

"Don't I know you from somewhere," I had to ask.

"Yes," she smiled, "I did put a serious bid on owning you."

"I thought you worked outside the zone?"

"I let people believe that," she smiled, "but you have to realize you can't do any teaching when you throw sex into the issue. And yes we do punish people who interrupt classes, but only after class, and for the most part people find themselves being restricted to and individual correspondence course which cost more. This place is not about games it's about education."

"So what about all those class-rooms, uniforms, and paddling's," I concluded.

"For the most part," she smiled then paused and calculator, "about eighty percent fantasy. There are education forums, which do corporal punishment, and chastity. My security unit shows you are kept in chastity, makes you concentrate on the moment right?"

"Humm," was the best I could say feeling my cock and anus throb. She was right and I knew it.

"So what is the other 20%," I had to ask.

"Well," she smiled, "we do have Free Zone star ships for example. Based on rank and qualifications people are sexed, spanked, chastity, humiliated 24/7 as long as the ship efficiently moves it's cargo from one place to another. And yes what you are wearing would fit under a space suit. Talents from our system we out-voted in having such ships as a part of our StarForce. So we are polite about the whole thing. So why are you really here?"

"I'm doing research for the Action Network," I told her honestly.

"Okay," she said after giving me a long inquiring look. "I'll issue you an unlimited visitor's pass. But if you cause any sort of disruption I'll have you and your body-guard thrown off the campus after you both get a severe thrashing."

"Wot's this," the guard perked up.

'You mind your behaviour," she told my guard. "Is that understood." She asked me.

"No problem," I said as I checked the notations she added to my identification unit and headed out of the office.

*

From what I gathered that first morning was that the lower level classes were but extensions of classes that students in the G-Rated world would go to. These young students were working to complete their basic high school education as well as taking entry level College and University level training. I noticed one class where several other students were followed by Security Guards so I naturally followed in to see what was going on.

Since it was the middle of the new years the teacher had forgone writing his name or what the class was all about on the board. My hand held computer did integrate with the desk and things suddenly looked lively. The Class was Advanced Marketing 514; each student had a product and organized an advertizing campaign. It went into various details which if I had the time I could really get a bite into, but I had other things to do. The class was involved with the studies and unlike on the Earth where I grew up bored students simply sat there, while very few took notes. Here it was a teacher's dream, between taking notes every student there had a question or comment to make.

The students themselves were rather interesting to look at. These were not the kids we were using in our 24/7 Reality Show. About a third were wearing casual business-like clothing. Another third wore fetish gear. From transvestites, diapers, leather gear, and a few just naked except for carrying school packs. The third and last group if can call it that wore an odd unisex suits, pastel in colours with contrasting piping. The pants included a large buttoned bottom flap, button crotch and almost blended into matching shoes. The shirts had a button front cut low showing off chest, or breast. Hair was cut short but no uniform style. They were an odd lot.

"Do you have anything to add to the discussion Mister Jones," asked the instructor.

"Good research is the key to meeting your target audience," I stated giving a good text-book answer.

"Elaborate please," he asked. "You may not be a student in this class but all who are here are expected to participate. What product are you developing and promoting?"

"The Real Naughty High School," I said from the hip. "I intend to re-vamp the show catch a wider audience and turn a profit out of a poor copy of a worn out formula."

"Do you intend to keep those kinky uniforms," asked a fetish girl wearing a slutty version of the old school uniform.

"From what I can see here," I laughed, "over half the class here is in one sort of uniform or another."

"We're all individuals," said the girl wearing a diaper, and other small child clothing.

"Yea," said a young man in a business suit. "You're wearing the corporate uniform."

"Believe me," I told them. "If I had my choice I'd be wearing some comfortable clothing more like what I wore on my home planet. The corporate uniform is required, believe me my owners would love having me in something more humiliating to wear. But what of you kids, why a good third of you seem to be wearing the same thing."

"I sir," said a more outspoken fellow in a Unisex suit stood forward, "am wearing the latest in fashion, Conformism."

"Here we go again," groaned the teacher.

"Our parents go on and on how they all want us to be individuals," said the self appointed Conformist Spokesman, "Well some of us want to be normal, not special like everybody else."

"It's like being special is not special," said a Conformist girl who sat next to the spokesman.

"But I like the way I am," said the Baby Girl.

"And we can express our uniqueness with colour," said the Spokesman.

"What's with the big buttons," I had to ask. "Makes your bottoms very inviting."

"Well screw you," snarled the Spokesman. He turned and shoved his butt at me as the flap popped open showing off a very clean and spank-able bum. The flap then rolled back in place as if the suit had a mind of it's own. "You dirty pervert," he continued as his crotch popped open revealing his shaved and well hung genitals. "The suit is part robotic; it only opens to people I want it to open to."

"You all have robotic suits," I had to ask. All the conformist did the same move showing off their naked bottoms, the genitals and naked boobs. It was a well rehearsed chorus line. "And you get these suits where," I had to ask.

"At the Conformist Store," said a corporate type, "you almost have to be a member of the cult to get in."

"We are not a Cult," snapped the Spokesman.

"What if I want to visit your store," I asked.

"No slaves allowed," snapped his girlfriend. "That's the rule," she giggled.

"Like you have a choice what you wear or who you have sex with," the Spokesman added.

"Who owns the Conformist Store," I had to ask.

"We run the Store," snapped the Spokesman.

"I haven't been able to find out who own the store," said the corporate type, "their structure is a maze of email addresses and an odd range of stock owners."

"I think we should have hacked into their system," said a young man dressed in leather.

"Alright we're getting off topic," said the Teacher. "Mister Jones is trying to resurrect a dead draft animal, I'd give you a failing mark of D." He quickly tapped some notes on his hand held computer. "You should go back to your owners for a week of punishments. Maybe you can get the cane again while announcing some new movies." The entire class laughed.

They ignored me, and I ploughed through the morning from one classroom to another. I didn't get any mail or calls from Uncle Paul so I figured I had the rest of the day there. However half way through lunch a couple school cops came to my table and hauled me to the administration office. Before I could say anything I was across a desk, skirt up, panties down. Two strokes of a tasse later I was told why.

"You were told not to make a disturbance," the old lady said to me.

"He didn't do anything," said my Guard, "it was that teacher who started it all."

"Well that's why slaves take correspondence courses," she said, "You slaves have plenty of enemies. Now get out of here."

I didn't say anything; Uncle Paul would take one look at my red bottom and out would come the cane, no matter what. However this did begin a mystery to me. Slaves have plenty of enemies? It's a free society if one wants to be a slave he or she can be, openly. Is Puritanism invading the Free Zone?

Despite the pain in my butt I sat at a public table in an open air mall across from the Public High School. My guard took a station behind me to my right, but made no interference. I checked my hand held and saw no messages so I started taking notes. I counted the students coming and going; making notes at to what they were wearing. Couples met, openly exchanged embraces, spanks, even sex, nobody seemed to care this is the Free Zone and free expression was the code. Then the Conformist arrived.