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 became 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 was a citizen but as a sex slave forfeited that right.
The first part of my life was a great adventure with all sorts of people to have sex with; including some aliens. However after six months things got drab and I realized that I was subject to others whims and fancies. I had to dress in a fashion as prescribed by others and culture. Herdshe fashion; where men wore skirts, stocking and heels to make their genitals more presentable to their owners was what I now normally wore. Comfortable cotton underwear and jeans was but a distant memory.
Spankings that were a great foreplay from a male or female companion were now a punishment. I submitted to the punishments, and didn't need to be tied down as I suffered horrible beatings at the hands of my owners. The majority of the time I was in cock-chastity. Forcing my cock into plastic, or metal cages displaying me but not letting me enjoy sexual contact. Even what I was told to fuck somebody a strap-on was tied with a butt-plug up my asshole to remind me that I was owned.
It was not all 24/7 fucking for me, even though I was owned by a corporation with over a hundred employees who could; with a simple memo, have me ready for sex when and when they please. I had a job at that same corporation where part of my wages paid off my fines. The day to day grind of playing office politics, sexual submission and wondering when it will all end grounded to my very soul. I often wondered; if Jane would still want me after all of this was over.
I still would dream about her and what little sex we had. Our past experiences were foolish and child-like. A perfect dinner, entrainment, (with all these high electronics live acoustic performances were preferred,) and that special coupling. Would she caress my aching bottom? Unleash my cock and let me cum for the sheer pleasure and not as a seasoning on her meal.
Humans from Earth are born in a salt water environment. We have salt in our system to spare. Master Colin would take great delight in having a steak served at his favourite restaurant and then have me jerk off on his steak. It was a place where actors, reviewers, and people in the know were there to see and be seen. Rich industrialist and their trophy women, women and their pets would pause and give a long look.
"You're taking too long," snickered Colin who fiddled with his hand held computer. "Do I need to adjust your butt-plug to vibrated deeper and longer?" It was clear for me to see the graphics on his computer, the butt-plug went long and slender curving up my anal tract and rubbing my internal G-spot. I came immediately and nearly fainted while I tried to spray on his steak.
"You sprayed a drop on the table cloth," he snapped. "I'll have the waiter beat your bottom good before he serves my favourite ice-cream desert on your hot bottom. Now sit down and eat your Earth Cal-I-Fornication special."
His favourite desert was a version of a banana split served on my well spanked ass. The latest Earth Dish; the Cal-I-Fornication special was a version of the California Salad plate but with aphrodisiacs added. This would within a half hour make me as stiff as a flag-pole. If I was as well hung as a porno star, it would not be too bad of an idea but it was not. I had, what I hope was a normal size cock back on earth that was six inches long when hard. Out here normal seemed ten inches barely made it. Everybody could go to a Medi-Centre claim they felt inferior and get their cock made longer. Worse still my body was also modified with Heredshe glands which when aroused secret natural fats into my rectal cavity eliminating the need to lube my ass for fucking. Deeper into me sexual G-spot, similar to a woman's clitoris was inside my rectal tract where a ten inch man could make me experience multiple orgasms. I would often dream of Jane wearing a long deep strap-on, but would wake up with either Colin's or Jeff's cock up my ass.
Even work became dull and boring as I ran through script after script of the same dull nonsense of the petty squabbling of family/business members. I even ran up a suggestion of a new show based on the life of Colin being a Heredshe refugee. I thought I might be able to get away from the office as Colin, Jeff, Cupcake and I became the stars of six pilot episodes of "Our New Family."
With very little scripting Cupcake and I show up as the displaced children of Colin a male refugee living in Central City. While a gay couple like Colin and Jeff are no new idea for such a modern city but a Heredshe Man who's children stole-ways on a star-liner claim refugee status and wish to be with their birth parent. Jeff a gorilla, became the comedy top banana and the show just flowed. Cupcake and I were even entered in Naught High School where we took classes and just "blended in," as the show unfolded. Then it all fell apart.
The network big boys wanted more identifiable stars and not to use slaves. As creators we stood to make a good cut of the profits as the show went on for a number of years. Cupcake pouted and wanted to rant and rave but her Master said no. Colin and Jeff were happy to go back to being just a couple movie critics, and me, well back to work.
As the anniversary date of my first year as a slave drew near news agencies were working on updates of Slave's status. Interestingly enough everybody was earning well and will probably be out of slavery on that anniversary date; myself included. It was time to make plans.
*
"Hi Jane," I smiled at the phone. I did a little checking out and with considerable ease I was able to make contact with her. I was nervous as hell. The screen blankly looked back at me. Okay I was nervous. The phone rang and flashed a picture of Jane Speedwell. I gulped and turned on the phone.
"Hey Pontiac," she smiled at me, she was naked in front of the phone, oh that hurt. I was still in cock chastity with an annoying butt-plug up my ass. "Thought I would give you a preview of what happens when you are free."
"Don't," I gasped back. "Jeff and Colin are my new owners, and they keep me in cock-chastity. This is hurting," I was sweating like mad. "Look they are going to come home soon, I'm going to have to take a cold shower, I don't want to be punished for being all sweaty and....aroused." I went to turn off the phone.
Well you would think that on the last day at work there would be a party of something. I was sure half the staff would want to do parting swats, goodbye fucks, or something. I just gave instructions to my assistant to take over my job before heading into Uncle Paul's office.
"Sit down Pontiac," he smiled and pointed to a chair. "This evening I have to take you over to the Slave Administration Building where your neck collar will be taken off."
"Okay," I said feeling the collar under my shirt collar. "The thing has been on so long I keep forgetting it's there."
"Here is something else too," he said fumbling with a control on his desk and I felt my chastity units unlock. "You can take those off."
"You don't want to take them off me," I smiled as I reached under my skirt and fumbled with my panties, "one last fuck?"
"The secret to self enjoyment," chuckled Uncle Paul, "is; every time you fuck, fuck like it is the last time you fuck that person. So no I'm not going to fuck you, I've fucked you over enough." He sighed and sat back. "Tomorrow if you want to you can get a job at any Media Organization on the Planet or system. Because I own you your mail comes through my office first. I've placed the job offers in this file." He handed me a ram-stick. "The Office of the Planetary Governor told me to ignore this since it's just a distraction. Hell boy, you name it, you can have it."
"Interesting," I said, "give me a week to think it over."
"Okay," he sighed as he checked information on his desk. "I'm looking over new slaves up for sale from the Boom-Boom Room anyways. Humans from Earth have trickled down low. Many are 100% clones of their former selves. Yuck," he gasped looking at one photo of a naked woman. "This one needs major cosmetic surgery."
I took a look at the monitor; she was slightly pudgy, flat stringy hair, bad teeth and wore corrective lenses on her eyes. On a modern system people are monitored straight from conception. This poor girl had problems; but then again didn't have a part non-human DNA in her.
"What's her profile," I had to ask.
"She tops from the bottom," smiled Uncle Paul, "especially if she is not being punished hard enough. And has a wild and creative imagination that keeps clients on their toes. No genius IQ but she has potential."
"Well that's your problem," I sighed thinking of one hundred and one things that could be done to her.
"I don't know if I can trust her or not," sighed Uncle Paul as he sank into his chair. "We can now clone viable humans but to tell you the truth; none are as smart or superior than the first batch we had using Ancient enhancements."
"Then all you can do," I told him, "is to make sure you have good binding contracts. That should keep them as slaves for a very long time."
"I'm afraid so," he nodded as he shuffled through various electronic note-pads. "But your debt is paid, you even have dividends, you can live like a nobleman if you want to. But," he paused and looked away and out the window.
"What are you hiding back," I had to ask.
"You know what conspiracy theories are," he said.
"Sure," I laughed, "we have plenty of them back on Earth. Let me guess, you suspect I have "the Talent"."
Having a
Talent
was like having ESP, the Force or Magical Ability. Harry Potter technically had a talent. All he did was use words, symbols, gestures, and a stick as a wand as his powers were drawn from within. Out here there was an exact science to study those powers and even a precise organization of such. Some claim that the slave collars create a dampening field that prevent Talents from reaching out or coming in. Prince Johnass Fracisco von Studdlebock was a prime example of the worst of them. He made Darth Vader look like an amateur.
"That's right," snapped Uncle Paul as he turned and glared at me. "You and I have had too many hits, jackpots of money through your ideas. And I'm a little scared that you may have a dark streak to get some sort of revenge on me."
"Revenge," I had to echo. He was angry and scared of me; I could see it in him. I let out a long sigh and hoped it would calm him too. "No, you treated me alright. You wouldn't give me a hard spanking if I didn't need it," the paused, "or wanted it."
"I suppose you want one now," he smiled as the fear went away.
"Little foreplay before a good ass fucking," I smiled.
"Drop'em and bend over the sofa arm," he told me.
*
A few hours later I was in a hover-taxi heading back to the Slave Administration Building. My owners allowed me to pack my belongings and them with my android were locked in a storage unit not far from the space-port. I choose to wear and Earth style suit. A black Armani, (well close enough to the real thing,) black T-shirt, black cotton boxer-briefs and socks all or my choosing. My shoes were synthetic with comfort soles that felt great. My slave collar was clearly visible.
Uncle Paul played the gracious and confident owner as he lead me through the crowd or Media and their questions. I guess in a sense he was a little nervous too because we both didn't know what to expect. As we showed our identification to the planetary police guards we entered into a private world. It was all business, uniformed guards and military personnel. I spotted a few other owners and their slaves.
"This way please," said a uniformed Police Officer as he lead us to an elevator.
The elevator was shielded and went off in an unknown direction. The Police Officer was a lieutenant, who was all business. He presented a clipboard with real paper on it.
"This is your official bill or sale," he told Uncle Paul. "You have full-filled your contract, the prisoner is now ours."
"Prisoner," echoed Uncle Paul.
"A formality of the occasion," he noted seriously, "Mister Jones here was a person of non-worth owing the state funds which had to be paid. So in a sense he was a prisoner."
"So what happens now," asked Uncle Paul.
"You get off," he nodded, and the door opens.
"What now," asked Uncle Paul as he stepped into a hallway.
"If the prisoner wants to contact you," concluded the Police Lieutenant, "he will." He closed the door and we moved on. He looked at me. "What do you know about anomaly lifts?"
"A force of energy," I told him, "which surrounds the car so that we feel no movement; we are in a hole in space."
"I was screened to do this job," he told me. "I'm a Zero Talent, Talents can't read or do anything to my mind. But if you are a talent, you might see an aura about my body. The talent is called
