Slave Immigrant Ch. 05

"Good afternoon Citizen Jones," it chirped, "it is a pleasure to have a noted Singer Courtesan such as you visiting the Hot-buns Cafe. Here are your pastries and vanilla coffee. The Manager is very busy out back, but asked me if you could autograph your CD." It placed a CD on the table in front of me. Inside behind the protective cover was a picture of me with the girls taken when we were singing for a beer. Behind us was an entire chorus line of dancers dressed in the same uniforms and above us a bright title, Pontiac Jones: Singing for Beer.

I was about as stunned as a Boy Scout getting a good look at a Girl Scout who just dropped her towel to reveal her naked body and asked you to fuck her. I looked at Mandy who smiled and offered me a pen. Sighing I took it, was about to sign when I remembered when I met a really famous person and decided to copy his actions.

"Hey I just can't sign this," I paused, "what's the Manager's name, we have to make this personal."

"Betty Herbgrakough," the robot said.

"To Betty," I said as I wrote, then stopped. "You better tell me how to spell Herbgrakough," I smiled back at the robot knowing full well Betty is probably in a very busy kitchen half watching the security monitors. "My Android here promised to spank me good if I spell it wrong. Don't want to eat this lovely snack standing up."

The robot laughed a recorded laugh followed by some harsh coughing. I guess Betty was trying to give verbal instructions to the robot and was caught up with the humour. Mandy remained motionless, I guess it was communicating with the control room of the Boom-boom Room. It remained silent as I enjoyed my snacks and watched the people walk by.

Later as we headed towards a tailor shop I spotted Free Skyes version of a HMV shop. There in one corner amongst all the various pop posters of various music talents, including Jimmy Hendrix, was myself and the other Earth Bonded Slaves singing. I stopped in front of my own poster, and remained calm.

"Explain," I said through the side of my mouth to Mandy.

"What can I say," said the voice of my Overseerer, "you were a hit. When internet hits of you and the Bonded Slaves from Earth hit the million mark management decided to capitalize on it. You took the lead position, but everybody who sang and danced with you is "profiting" from this venture. It's barely worth calling a CD so we added individual biographies of you and almost all of the slaves. You were not the only one is very embarrassing positions. You are definitely on your way to gaining your freedom from being a Bonded Sex Slave."

"What kind of money are we talking?"

"Well the Company get an obscene cut out of all of this, and it is very legal. You were not a citizen at the time, so if you sing or do enough for another CD you will be able to negotiate how much goes to you and how much goes to The Company."

"Fine," I sighed. "I should have a butt plug up my ass to remind me of just how much the company is screwing me."

"That can be arranged," chucked the Overseerer, "but not necessary. If you look in that box of stuff you were given you would have found your CD in it. Also I saw how you handled your first autograph. I'm impressed, I passed it along to management. They just might train you as a legitimate entertainer, no more sex with Heredshe women, hello groupies."

"I don't know; you make one little mistake or run out of ideas and you become another Bobby Bloom."

"Who is Bobby Bloom?"

"He came and went so fast nobody remembers. Besides let's not make any plans I'll trust Management's decision. Why box yourself in?"

We managed to make it past the music store and went into Civilized Tailors to another surprise. It seemed the local manager there liked the song we did and a look of the a'ways kept ringing through the place. After signing a poster, and three CD's we finally got to having some clothing made. This lead to some more problems because I wasn't interested in the so called latest fashions on other planets.

"But I was sure you would want the latest in Heredshe fashion," crooned the metro-sexual manager. "You look so fetching in Heredshe house clothes."

"Well," I sighed, "I'm still an Earthman at heart. So I'll describe what I want and let's see if your computer can match my specifications. I would like to wear what we in Canada call "Sweats". It is a variation of sweating but in the plural." I kept my head about me knowing Mandy would paddle the hell out of me for using Earth words.

"Sweats by Mister Jones," crooned the Manager wondering about a business exclusive.

"Joint partnership with the Company," chirped in Mandy. "He's still our property."

"Sixty forty."

"Seventy thirty," said Mandy, "standard company rates."

"Look guys," I said to them. "This is just stuff I like to wear on my days off, just lounging around. I don't think anybody would be interested in them."

"Outside of what we make for you," explained the Manager, "all it will be is a computer image on a monitor for people to see. And I love to see you swing your cute behind about. Now what kind of underwear you like to wear?"

Well I guess the guy wanted to wear the same underwear I was wearing; who was I to complain. After getting a few pairs of boxer-briefs and T-shirts made, designing sweat pants, hoodie, and sneakers was easy. I just wanted solid colours, eighty percent cotton, and easy pockets. The material had a nice feel to it, and was warm. I had a grey, navy blue, and black suits all for the low price of one hundred credits. Only problem was, no change rooms.

"Citizen Jones," said a panting man who ran into the shop with three robot cameras floating after him. "Bernie Makay of Outrageous News here, you are the Pontiac Jones."

"Hey I recognize you," I smiled. Outrageous News was the Free Zones version of Action News on Earth. However their network had triple X versions of TV Drama's and comedy shows. I was hooked on The Warnerve Family, a afternoon soap opera. It seemed like every Thursday the house maid would just get her ass spanked, paddled, caned, and then fucked by the Warnerve Family Matriarch. It was hot; she went from enjoying it to crying in sheer pain.

"Yes sir that's nice," said Bernie condescendingly. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to slip into something comfortable," I smiled then looked at Mandy who I know the Overseerer was enjoying how embarrassed I was becoming. "Can you unzip me," I asked Bernie.

"Oh," gulped Bernie who timidly reached for the zipper up my back. "I'm kind'a spoken for."

"Well this was a gift from a client," I smiled back as I took the dress off. "I think she prefers I wear it only for her." I kept calm as the cameras followed me as I undressed and passed my clothing to Mandy.

"Did you know your Singing for Beer songs were doing so well?"

"Nope," I half laughed, "I thought what happens in the bar, stays in the bar."

"No," chuckled Bernie, "what happens in the Free Zone stays in the Free Zone. So don't worry about that. For the most part, CD's do travel." The thought of me being on the cover of the local Teen Beat Magazine made me blush. "Any thought on that, you seem to be blushing."

"The thought of teenagers defying their parents singing away away with the pipes and drums while they spank their bottoms. Yea, that is embarrassing." I finally took off my panties.

"Oh I see you don't wear any anal jewellery."

"Anal jewellery," I said as my butt-cheeks cringed and my penis slowly got hard.

"Anybody who likes to have their bottom touched as much as you wears anal jewellery," explained the Manager. "Take a look at mine," he said as he turned around, propped his pants and underwear to reveal a green glass cut gemstone between his ruddy butt cheeks. "It's a very comfortable butt plug," he added.

"I guess mine would be a small sign saying Property of the Boom-boom Room," I chuckled as I pulled on my boxer-briefs.

Bernie continued with the usual array of nothing questions. Favourite colours, have I made love to any corporate giants, what do I plan to do with my singing career. I referred to my management contract with the company and thanked my good luck to be where I was. Most important of all I thanked my fans for their support. I waited for Bernie to ask me repeatedly before I gave in and did an impromptu song and dance before I could get out of there.

We walked out of the store as curious onlookers stood and watched me in amazement. Meanwhile Mandy was loaded down with parcels and moved gracefully. I looked up and saw that the electronic billboard suddenly changed. Sweats by Mister Jones blared in bright yellow letters. Then a picture of me doing my song and dance while wearing my Sweats.

Ahh the price of fame; I just shrugged and headed back for the Boom-boom Room. I wanted to talk to my fellow singers but Mandy reminded me I haven't had any supper and had to get back to my room. I was hanging up my new cloths while Mandy put my dress in the cleaner when there was a knock at the door.

"Housekeeping," called a muffled voice. I rushed to the door and was very surprised.

"Hi there," smiled my Overseerer, he held up a small parcel. "I just got off duty when this came by. It's from upstairs so you better read it."

The Overseerer sauntered into my room while half watching me. I quickly undid the ribbons and looked inside a bundle of tissue paper. It was one of those curious jewelled butt-plugs, metal shaft, four inches long, not too big and a gemmed button at the base. The stone was not a large glass fake gem, clear white and a brilliant shine. It also had the same note: wear this when I send for you.

"This thing looks real," I said.

"Let me see," said the Overseerer as he took out a small instrument from the back of his pouches. It made an odd sound as he checked it over. "It's real, space diamond, worth about one thousand credits, quite the item to have between your cheeks. Want to try it on?"

"Ohh," I sighed as I reached for my pants and went to the Ottoman. "Wait a minutes," I paused, "did you ask me a question?"

"Well it is your day off," he shrugged, "I'm on my own time here. I use to have a room like this," he looked out my window. "I got to look at a blank wall," he noted.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was going to give you an uncomfortably large butt plug with a sign saying: Property of the Boom-boom Room on it, but the site manager caught me working on it when I was supposed to be watching you guys. So she made me an Errand Boy." He paused, "oh boy, I might be in shit now."

"Is somebody watching us?"

"Hard to tell, I mean I could whip out my security scanner and check. But that would be too obvious, you are on yellow security. So unless Mandy tells me there is a message for me, or my phone rings I think I'm safe."

"So what are you doing here?"

"Okay," he signed sitting down, "I don't have many friends in this place, only been here four months." He looked at me, "what, I can't like you?"

"I don't know," I said sitting down on the sofa, "I get spanked every time I talk to my fellow Earthmen, and I think Mandy will not let me now."

"Oh, yea, Class Ten courtesans still have to prove themselves. Your file is under review, but I can talk to you. I'm Michaela Sobbolnoskie, but my friends call me Mike," he offered his hand in a very Earth-like offer.

"Pleased to meet you Mike," I said shaking his hand. He had a good firm handshake for a person with such soft hands. "My friends use to call me Al, short for Alfred."

"Really, well I noticed you cringed when you were given the boy-toy name of Jonesy. And I'm sorry for using your middle name Pontiac as a public name. That is such an unusual name I felt it would be best used. As a Citizen you can have that changed if it makes you uncomfortable."

"No Pontiac is a good public name. Soo, how did you become a Courtesan?"

"Oh," he actually blushed, "the pearls of youth. I was terrible with relationships and instead of joining the military academy I became volunteered to join the Imperial Courtesan Academy."

"You're from the Middle Kingdom?"

"Yea, this is a body sculpting job. Skin tones, eyes, smaller dick, and my patron who was a notorious closet homosexual paid for the gland and double clitoris operation up my ass. I joined the Space Marines just in time for the war. The rectal catheters would at times give me an orgasm while in battle. I envy you."

"Why's that?"

"One of these," he said holding up the jewelled butt-plug, "will not make you cum after half an hour's use. It would just be uncomfortable."

"So do you like being in charge?"

"You sound like a courtesan interviewing a client, and not a friend."

I took a chance, what's the worst that could happen? I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him over my lap. I gave his round but a few quick slaps and waited. He did not try to get off me. I pushed him off me to his knees and shook him.

"What do you want?"

"I need a spanking," he half whispered looking down and avoiding my eyes.

"Then take your clothes off and bend over that ottoman," I snapped getting up and pacing the floor. The ottoman remained an ottoman. "Mandy I've just been asked by a friend to dominate him, now order the rooms computers I am in charge, and get me a light paddle."

"Thank you citizen," said Mike as he rubbed his ass in anticipation of a pleasant spanking.

"That's Master," I told him. "Mandy make that a heavy paddle."

The room obeyed me and the ottoman rose up as a naked Mike bent over it. His arms and legs moved into position but the straps did not tie him down since I did not order it. I looked him over; Mike's body was hairless except for his head hair and genitals. The crack of his ass looked slightly damp. Deciding to be cruel I gave his butt a couple hard slaps to which he jerked, grunted, but held still.

"Why do you keep your body hairless?"

"Because," he struggled with the words, "because being hairless makes me feel sexy."

"Why not your balls?"

"W-well, I half figured I might have to give a student some lessons on oral sex, and hairy balls is always nasty."

"Mandy fetch my shaving kit, somebody is going to have to shave his balls today." I gave him half a dozen more slaps with the paddle as he jumped and cried in pain.

"Some Marine you are crying over a little paddling. You scream any louder and that Prince in the hall-way will hear you."

"Oh no please gage me Master, you have a nice ball gag in the room kit Master."

"Mandy fetch me a penis gage."

"NO! Not a penis. I mean not a penis gage Master."

I took the penis gag from Mandy and gently oiled the tip with the grease that leaked from Mike's asshole. I took a sniff; it actually smelled like cooked bacon. No wonder Mike was such a pig, I laughed to myself. With the greasy tip in from of Mike's face he struggled to hold his place. I crouched down to get a good look at him.

"Is no your safe word," I asked him quietly.

"No Master, only if I say No by the Great Wargod. Only those four words all together quickly Master. You must release me, and send me home. No matter how much I beg to stay or switch, send me home. Can I give warning Master?"

"No," I said to him as I shoved the penis into his mouth and buckled the simulated leather straps behind his head. "You wimp out, you go home."

Well to say the least Mike stayed with me long into the night. I raised welts on his fat behind and he cried as he shaved his balls in front of me. He was also not a bad cook. He accessed the room's computer ordered steak, potatoes, veggies, chocolate cake for me, and actually begged me to do the diaper cream-pie for him to eat. We watched TV and slept together.

He got up early and when I half begged him to stay. He gave me a hard spanking and told me never to stop a client from leaving when they have a schedule to keep. He then put the gemmed plug up my ass and told me to go to sleep. It was difficult, but I did with dreams of some big strong man giving me a hard butt-fucking over and over again.