Slave Immigrant Ch. 07

After receiving a cloned body I 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 become an Unskilled Labourer or a Sex Slave. I guess Human Recourses had me figured out all right. 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.

Something very much unexplained and very much unexpected happened. While the Protected Planet Earth was considered to be a very primitive planet inhabited by violent primitive humans; the Bonded Sex Slaves from Earth made a great impact and sensation. I wasn't the only Earthman who made an impact by introducing singing; all the others were making impressions of their own. While normal society considered being a bonded sex slave was a disgrace as a whole we wanted to do it. I guess our previous lives of repression were the reason. The entire lot of all twenty-seven bonded sex slaves had to be re-examined to see how we may be best used for maximum profit.

I had to endure a severe punishment, which was spread across my entire body but not drawing blood. Because of the audience factor the right to bugger me was auctioned off to the highest bidder. Whoever he was wasn't that well hung, in fact it was enjoyable. I managed to maintain the composure of a Gigolo, calm no matter what, and headed back into the Boom-Boom Room's Director's Grand Office. The Director Marcy Augusta McDermott met me once the door to the landing pad met me.

"So," I asked her, "how did I do?"

"Passable," she smiled as she looked at her computer, "if I wanted to; the punishment could have been delivered harder and make you a quivering mess. Now bend over," she ordered and pushed that butt plug with the large space diamond on the base was pushed into place. "Put your suit on," she told me. I slipped into the fine suit she bought me; obviously I was going to be her personal toy no matter how I scored in all these tests.

Normally the Director's Grand Office was all show, long and intimidating. There was a long series of desk/computer stations where other Earth Bonded Sex Slaves sat wearing fashionable business cloths and very busy with their work. Their ever vigilant room android stood nearby their ever vigilant camera eyes watching. At one end of the room/hall was a bar with a robot-bartender. Mandy nudged me to go to an empty desk.

"This is an Administration test," explained Mandy, "on Earth you did some administrative work, you owned a computer and Microsoft Office which means you have some knowledge of office work. This computer has our version of a complete office suit that has far more functions than you can imagine. It seems some of you Earthmen have in the past month been able to show either previous experience or better intelligence than expected. We need a more comprehensive evaluation of your abilities. Answer each question as honestly as possible. You understand?"

"Yes mistress," I answered quickly figuring Marcy was talking to me.

"I'm an Android you idiot," it snapped and gave me a swift swat on my already sore ass. "Now sit down at that desk like a proper Administrator, or I'll have you dressed as a Sex-a-terry."

I knew enough about Free Skyes society from watching TV to know what was going on. A Sex-a-terry was a low level office pool personnel who was better at putting out than actually doing office work. Rather than lift a skirt or lower a pair of trousers to play hide the salami with they went naked from the waist down. However other shows showed that even Sex-a-terries had a ranking system which well went from Heredshe dresses with no underwear to naked except for a chastity belt. The office chair was comfortable enough so I sat down and read the exam over.

"What are you doing," asked Mandy.

"Reading the exam over," I explained.

"Why are you doing that?"

"Well," I explained, "with all due respect, I want to know a number of things. First I want to make sure I have enough time to answer all the questions here. If I don't, I want to prioritize and make sure I answer all the questions I can answer."

"Very intelligent," this time I knew Marcey was speaking. "Where did you learn this?"

"As far back as I can remember," I said sitting back. "Grade 6, was the first time, then once in High School, and lots of time when I was in University."

"Good," a hand gave me smack on the back of the head. "Now get to work."

The time was unlimited; the robot-bar served food as well as non-alcoholic drinks. You could take a bathroom break, which meant squatting over a bucket and getting ten with a belt where everybody could see you. The followed by having a diaper put on to be worn under your clothes. As much as I tried to hold it off, I had to go and endure the embarrassment as well.

Four hours later I was looking at the last question. There was about a dozen of us and judging by the way people were walking to the bar soiled diapers all round. As much as I wanted to get out of those damp soiled diapers a question was nagging me. Why was I not feeling the itching pain of a diaper rash taking place? The outer layer of the diapers had some sort of counter order agent because all I could smell was the leather of the furniture and vanilla sent of the wood polish. My butt-plug sat on the desk like some obscene paper-weight as if telling me to get the diapers off and it back in me. I put the mild discomfort aside and concentrated on the question.

BONUS MARKS: Design a product/service to be used by the Boom-boom Room to enhance the customer's experience. If your product/service is used by the Boom-boom Room and/or its affiliated companies you will be rewarded with a portion of the profits.

Considering how much the Company has screwed me so far I felt the business card that Lawyer gave me. I smiled and got to work. A few moments later I went over to the bar.

"The energy drink that is given to Sex Slaves," I asked the bartender, "is there a copyright on it?"

"The Slave Energy© Drink is property of the Boom-boom Room."

"Can you give me an ingredients marker and copyright transcript?"

After it gave me a disposable memory stick; I went back to my desk with the new information and checked with my new Personal Lawyer. After receiving some advise I rushed back to the bartender. This time I had a new order for it.

"Can you make me a Slave Energy© but add 10cc of organic sweetener and carbonate the whole lot?" The robot preformed the operation and I gave it a taste. We dickered a bit with the amount of sweetener and carbonation process. Once satisfied I ordered six plain bottles of the new drink and took them back to my desk.

Half an hour later I got up to leave my desk and eight other candidates still working on their projects. On the desk I left the six bottles of Pontiac's Slave Beer™ each bottle with a label I made from the desktop publisher with a picture of me in my sailor suit holding a mug of dark amber beer. It wasn't real beer but included all the ingredients of Slave Energy© but with more sugar and carbonation that made the whole thing taste like a Root Beer with a hard-on. My lawyer registered the trademark and with the promise of a commission of my commission for sales through the Boom-boom Room Enterprises I figured I could receive at bet point zero five percentage profit off the sale of each bottle. Feeling rather smug I headed for the elevator.

"Come into my office," Marcy ordered me.

"Are you into pain or something," she asked me after Mandy closed the door.

"No Mistress," I told her honestly, "I'm still sore from all the whippings I received today."

"You're wearing soiled diapers," she accused me, "and you probably have a severe diaper rash."

"No Mistress," I said to her as I quickly took off my suit jacket and pants. I pulled my shirt up to my waist and laid back on her desk lifting my legs wide and in the air. "I assure you for some reason I don't have a rash. See for yourself."

She unsnapped the diaper and before she could open it all the way the smell got to her. She gagged and ordered Mandy to clean my butt. Once the room's air-cleaners made things better she examined me. My ass cheeks were swollen, bruised and still sore. But the area of skin up the crack of my ass, around my butt-hole an balls were white and without blemish. She put the butt-plug back into me, handed me a pair of panties and ordered me to get dressed.

"Have you worn soiled diapers before," she asked me point blank.

"Yes," I admitted with eyes down. "Mike did it as a test, the rash went from my ass to my balls, on three occasions. However," I stopped to think, "it wasn't so bad the last time, especially around my butt-hole."

"Order all slaves on the test floor to have their diapers and asses check," Marcy ordered through her desk. "There is something that smacks of magic here," she cursed as she fiddled with her computer.

"Smacks of Magic," I echoed, "sounds like something out of a Mystery Movie I never get to finish.

"Just go to your room before I have Mandy put you into some public bondage booth," she snapped as she continued her work.

"I wouldn't be much of a companion if I couldn't help you," I argued. "Even a personal boy-toy has a brain."

"Fine," said Marcy turning towards me, "go to your room, strip naked and work at your computer desk. If you don't find me some significant information on why you don't have a diaper rash in three hours, you'll be on public display in the Navy Mess."

"And if it is good information," I asked as Mandy lead me out.

"I'll think of something," smiled Marcy. "Mandy!" A swift swat hit me on my already sore behind lifting me off the floor and towards the elevator.

"Smart mouth," Mandy snapped at me.

Once naked, except for the butt-plug, I had some sandwiches and pop as I looked over my computer. Free Skyes version of Google was well defined and connected to data-bases from the entire Coalition. What I had to do was to get out of the sexual content and into some good general information. Once there I looked for diaper-rash free babies and got a hit. It seemed that children from the planet called Vacation Plant Two Twenty-eight had such a phenomenon.

The story was over five hundred years old, but a doctor from the planet Halls of Knowledge made a study of tribal life. He discovered that at times their parents would be busy in one way or another and that their children would develop resistance to diaper rashes very quickly. It seems that those whose bloodlines from Vacation Planet 228 and Nobles of the Middle Kingdom had similar DNA. That seemed promising but what was the connection?

I did some more research, what about the Company itself, they did develop some method of making Humans from Earth acceptable to Coalition Society. In general we humans live to the ripe old age of seventy-five before a wide range of diseases kill us off. What is the gape to today where an Earth Human can live to be two hundred?

There was one last reference that attached clones, and the people of Vacation Planet 228. A leaked memo three years ago of a military nature; in it personnel from Vacation Planet 228 were asked to donate genetic material for experimental purposes. There was a suggestion that somebody wanted to clone more personnel from Vacation Planet 228 since there was always a shortage of Talented People in Star Force. This seemed interesting since three out of thirty people in our own group were discovered to have Talent.

I filed the report of what I found and nervously watched TV waiting for whatever punishment Marcy would give me. An hour later Mandy sat down beside me and without warning pulled me across its lap. Instead of spanking me it massaged my swollen bottom and I felt some lotion being applied. It then stroked my cock till I was very hard, and very aroused to the point of an orgasm.

"Get up and get dressed," it ordered pointing to the closet. "I noticed you purchased yourself a few more suits. Put one on, and tell Mandy what you like to wear when not in public. Don't keep me waiting too long."

I like the feel of sports briefs, so I put a pair on, socks and a dark blue suit, with matching tie and shirt. I put some sweats and a change of underwear aside for it to pack as well. Mandy put on the usual Boom-boom Room coveralls, handed me the Gigolo ring and nodded towards the door.

It took me towards a different elevator and I noticed the Prince was entertaining a couple of Merchant Marine Spacemen. He kept silent and so did I. I'm not sure why, maybe we were brothers in some way. The elevator opened and I noticed it was fitted with chairs.

"Welcome to the turbo lift," said a pleasant voice, "please be seated and for your own safety strap yourself in."

Mandy reached up above her shoulders and pulled down a couple harness buckles which fitted to a pair of waist buckles that folded in from the sides. I followed suit and once secure the turbo elevator took off: sideways. It was very odd, I felt about a 2G push as we went sideways for about thirty seconds before it stopped with a slight jar. Then the harness gear released itself.

"Can I ask where are we," I asked Mandy quietly.

"Just act natural and walk out," it whispered back.

We stepped out on to the public transit rotunda. I was like stepping into an airport rotunda except the Boom-boom Room added decor of palm trees and gaudy advertisements hawking Sex Slaves, taverns, dance floors, sex floors, and beer advertisements. Marcy McDermott was there too with her usual entourage of administrative flacks and newsmen.

"There you are Pontiac," she called to me. Then to a flak, "look Charlie Nazareth is in charge for the next few days, I'm on my usual time off."

"Ms McDermott," called a reporter robot with a face on it, "isn't this rather unusual for you to take time off. All this business with the Earthmen shouldn't you be at the helm?"

"What problems," laughed Marcy as she toyed with my tie, "these sex slaves are the best lot we ever had in large numbers. They like being here. Don't you Pontiac."

"What can I say," I laughed at the cameras. "There is no Free Zone on Earth it's all underground. And we're very fat and lazy too. My last Mistress was thirty pound overweight. I love it here."

"He's on drugs," commented a reporter.

"I demand we take a sample of his blood," called another.

"All of which is on file," explained Marcy, "now if you don't mind I'm going home to play with my Class Eight boy-toy here," she added and pulled my by the necktie/leash towards a hover-limo.

The new conference broke up as Marcy pushed me into the limo and quickly followed. Mandy slowly closed the door allowing reporters to get a good look of her kissing me on the mouth. Mandy rode in the front with Marcy's personal Android and we rode off about the city.

"What's with all that fertilizer about you liking it here," she asked me.

"Mistress Marcy," I said with all the honesty I could muster, "I could easily fall in love with you as my Mistress, forever."

"And when you are free of your bond," she asked me.

"I guess I'll go into debt paying you to keep me."

"What if I want you to do something else?"

"What do you mean?"

"Operative four of Company Androids," she said sitting back, "no Android in this company may strike a Senior Corporate Executive."

"Good policy," I said not sure what that meant, "don't want them going rogue on you."

"On occasion I want to give up that position of authority, to give it away and feel like I was trained to do, once upon a time."

"You need a spanking too, right?" I moved to pull her over my lap but she stopped me.

"Not here, wait till we get home."

Marcy McDermott's home was not exactly what you would expect. The Free Zone has its own version of upper class homes, but still having to deal with high density living. The house was a rambling collection of condo's on the side of a hill overlooking a picturesque river. The limo lowered itself to a private carport and moved into the garage. She signalled me to wait till the garage door closed.

"Good," she sighed, "alone at last." Then to the Androids, "company communications blackout. No incoming calls or outgoing unless it is a Company Red Emergency."

"Understood," repeated both Androids.

"What happens in my home stays here," she told me. She then got out of the limo and opened a workshop cabinet and took out a leather collar and offered it to me. "If you want," she smiled, "you can collar me. I'm yours for the next three days. These two will not spank me, but they will allow you to punish me to a point. And I've been a naughty girl."

BONG! That's all that went through my head, just bong. I had the world's greatest hard-on and at that moment I could finally do something about it. So I decided to go with it.

"Well," I smiled taking the collar from her. "Who says you've earned the right to wear this?"

"Sorry Master," she mumbled and looked down at the cement floor of the garage.

"And you don't have the right to wear cloths either," I snapped looking at the male android, "strip her, and yourselves." The android complied. I looked at Mandy, "you," I snapped. "Loose twenty pound, I like my women thin."

"I can't change my mass," said Mandy checking the garage and finding an empty container. It stripped and squatted over the bucket and took a,..... Rather liquidly dump. The android's skin visibly shrunk as the body condensed to a thin sexy woman. "Will this do Master," it asked.

"Now that's what I call a cleansing dump," I smiled. The male android cocked its head at me and looked down at its large penis.

"Do you require me to be," it paused, "smaller than you Master?"

"No," I said, "I like you just as you are. If I fail in being a proper Master I'm sure you'll remind me what that is for." I looked back at a rather nervous Marcy as her smart business suit and stylish underclothing lay in a pool about her feet. Her pubis was a stylish landing strip which I haven't seen in a long time. "Well that looks better," I commented, "okay show me the house."

The garage leads to the "mud room," a place where one should take off their muddy shoes. There was even an electric shoe shiner, bench to sit on, clothing cleaner, and hooks to hang coats on. She pushed an obvious red button as a secret door opened to an old fashioned bathroom.

"This is the slave bathing area Master," Marcy explained. "Shower, toilet, bidet, enema materials, and security cameras wired into the household security system. Visiting slaves and patrons are at times instructed to bath here."

"Do you need to be bathed," I asked her.

"No," she leaned against an examining table, "but if you wish you may examine me."

"Show me," I said.

She climbed on the table and placed her feet into the stirrups exposing herself. Mandy opened a cabinet and took out an odd penis shaped examining tool which clipped on to the table and could be inserted into her pubis or rectum. A wall mounted TV screen lit up and I was able see what the head of the penis would see.

"I can't insert it," explained Mandy, "it will cause discomfort."

Marcy moaned as I pushed the metal cock into her moist vagina. Under the instruction of the Android I was able to adjust the various lights and scanners. I could search for seamen, and other fluids not suppose to be there. As well if I wished the tool could also be just in conjunction with cleansing agents that could, besides cleaning add to taste and smell.

"The subject's vagina or rectum should then be closed with an appropriate plug for fifteen minutes," explained the Male Android, "for the cleaning to take maximum effect. There is an appropriate waist receptacle over there," it pointed to a clear toilet bowl with three bootie cameras watching the target zone.