Slave Immigrant Ch. 25

The next four days went like clockwork as we all followed our schedules. Rota hated her job changing my diaper, and I just counted the days till I would get out of Diaper Bondage. Come Thursday I was one hour later as I took my language test. Since Uncle Paul paid for my training I had no idea what my rating in Free Skyes Common was. I got to the studio where Dianna was in a horny rage, but had enough sense to insist the set and I would speak in Free Skyes Common permanently. It felt nice to have mastered three languages, on Earth I had a B in English at the University level.

Friday was a very nervous day for me. Dianna laid out my suit for the day, no staying home in a diaper; I had to be at work for 7AM and a staff meeting at 7:30. My grey suit was almost identical to Master Charles's suit except with a Heredshe style skirt instead of trousers. Likewise, black stocking, garter belt, panties, (or should I say Manties with the day of the week on the seat,) over the garters so that my bottom can be quickly bared. Shoes, four inch heels now without locks. I would have to be careful about kicking them off. I stuffed my lap-top into my shoulder bag/brief case and headed out.

"You ready for this," Master Charles asked me as he adjusted my tie before the LRT stopped at the Ringo Building.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I told him.

"Let's go," he smiled and led the way.

My second trip to the General Offices of Action Network was more relaxed than the first. Once past reception and identification we came to the general office. There were four empty desks with computer terminal and no dividers. These four spots were used by the General Purpose Sex-a-terries. And that means if nobody has given you an assignment, you are there for whoever has more authority to order you to work. Interns hung around the water cooler, and waited to be assigned anyplace, and would steal a GP's desk. All except for the number one spot which the lowest ranking Sex-a-terry sat at.

"Your desk," Charles told me, and I sat on the hard seat. My bottom was still a little sore from Dianna's sex cravings of last night. I kept trying to tell myself the compression was good for me. I moved the mouse pad to my left handed style. "Hey don't get too comfortable;" he told me, "you have work to do."

"Yes sir," I said turning on the computer, "what do you want me to do?"

"Lowest Sex-a-terry has to set-up the boardroom for the morning meeting," he told me. "Come on," he led me down the hall, past the cooler/coffee/snack area. "Don't forget your presentations," he told me. I ran back and got my case.

The Conference Room was not as big as I expected room for about a dozen people. Catering brought over boxes of doughnuts and drinks. My job was to make a display of the confections, unpack the drinks, Slave Beer was often used as an energy drink. Coffee, tea, Uncle Paul preferred an old style of tea, so his cup and kettle were made ready. I also noticed that the chairs at the conference table went from no padded seat to some very plush seats for Charles and Uncle Paul. As the men and women of the morning conference filtered in Charles pointed to the seat at the very end as mine.

Uncle Paul finally came in and the meeting was called to order. First was what I guess would be called prayer, or better still the Action Network mission statement. "Get it First, Get it Right, and get paid for every minute of it." A nice gesture; where everybody had a sip of their drinks before sitting down and getting down to business. Uncle Paul made a polite nod to me as the new idea boy, GP Sex-a-terry and Heredshe Consultant. The two other sex-a-terries who were older than me, looked me nervously, they didn't have such titles.

"One other point of business for young Mister Jones here," added Uncle Paul, "his language rating is educated native, highest score possible. No need to cane him and send him back. By the way Al, I have you slated to take classes at 9AM for Heredshe Common, I want you following our Heredshe programming in two weeks. Congratulations, now back to business."

Business with television was quite simple, who's got the better rating and how do we out do them. If we are on top, make sure we stay there because a fall means somebody better explain fast of go look for work someplace else. After the business was almost done Uncle Paul then looked up.

"By the way Idea Boy," he spoke to me, "I hope you have some good suggestions for better programming other than cartoons?"

"Yes Uncle Paul I do," I said standing up. "I have a presentation right here," I added taking out my lap-top.

"That's not a company lap-top," blurted the weasel-looking sex-a-terry to my left.

"You look familiar," I pointed to him. "Weren't you Sergeant Cody's assistant when my computer was installed in my room?"

"I have been working as a Sex-a-terry here for the past six months," the weasel glared down his pug nose. "Tell him Uncle."

"Meet my Nephew," shrugged Uncle Paul, "Amadeus George Paul. Did you tap into the Condo's Security system?"

"Too many protection circuits," said Amadeus, "the place has military grade protection."

"Okay," sighed Uncle Paul moving his chair to one side and sitting down, "show me what you got." I bent over the back credenza to lock my computer into the conference monitor when a hand suddenly pulled my panties into a painful wedgies. "And what is this," yelled Uncle Paul. The entire room burst into laughter.

"My underwear," I told him quickly. "Not diapers underwear, and the day of the week on it." He wrenched my panties off me and waved them in front of my face. They smelled like mine, and had Sunday clearly stitched across the bottom. "Oh excrement cakes," I gasped. I looked and saw Charles looking at me.

"You should check your panties before putting them on," he laughed.

After receiving six of the best, Uncle Paul handed me a flimsy white tong panties to wear. Chuckles aside my skirt felt painfully short as my very sore naked bottom was observed as I prepared the presentation.

"As you all know," I explained in a professional manner, "the Colon and Phil show is the top rated critics show in the Planetary Free Zones. However as you can see by this display the show is very much in the Adult entertainment setting. It is definitely not suitable for sale in seventy-five percent of the System wide new media."

"So what," Amadeus interrupted, "we all know that. We can't afford them."

"If we were a regular network we could easily afford them," I pointed out. "Fellow people," I noted Ice was there too, "the Free Zone is the Ghetto of the media, we need to expand out horizons. Colon and Phil are ready to take a pay cut in this venture to reach out to the entire system. I have a cost projection figures as to other ways we can save on all of this."

I then went on to explain we could easily have Colin and Phil in business suits and not outrageous costumes from the kink outfitters. Also instead of having a line of near naked cheer-leaders who butts are paddled to mark a rating of each film, simple family friendly star graphics is so much cheaper. In the end I was sure I would have the job of producing the show.

"Charles have you looked over these figures," Uncle Paul asked him.

"Yes," said Charles quickly as he speed read through the document, "okay this is a first glance but Al did his homework, these are good. With the right set, costumes, we could do this."

"What about audiences and ratings," Uncle Paul asked me.

"We should be able to keep the same ratings in the Free Zone," I told him, "I could only do so many projections with the facilities I had; but we should keep the number one spot."

"Okay we'll run with this," nodded Uncle Paul. "Charles you'll produce this, and Al, you'll be the Director. Legal let's wrap this show up. Now if there is any further business."

"Ah sir," I added.

"What?"

"I have another proposal," I explained, "it's in the planning phase, but I think this idea will take root. It's a health and educational program."

"Health and education program," asked Charles, as he sipped his coffee.

"Mike and Marcy," I told him. Charles chocked on his coffee.

"What's going on," asked Uncle Paul.

"He had a couple friends over on Sunday," explained Charles, "they gave me a practical lesson."

"This sound interesting," Uncle Paul asked leaning forward.

"Okay," I explained to the audience, "outside of Uncle Paul and Charles here, who knows what a spank spot is?" Everybody put their hands up. "Okay," I smiled, "I need a volunteer." Everybody sat on their hands and looked at the young Sex-a-terry across from Amadeus.

"Well now," I smiled helping the young fellow to his feet. "Your name is," I asked.

"Web Robinson," he stammered. He bent over the desk revealing his Friday Panties and had them lowered. Instead of Uncle Paul's cane I grabbed a yard-stick.

"Now can somebody demonstrate where a spank spot is," I asked.

"Oh anybody can do that," snapped Amadeus who grabbed the oversized ruler and smacked every inch of Web's poor bottom.

"Okay that's enough," I smiled taking the stick away from Amadeus before he started drawing blood on Web. "Now Web," I told him, "you took that rather well, didn't even cry once. Are you an Alpha Male, strong boy."

"No sir," he gritted, "I was getting close to crying out."

"Okay," I nodded to the audience, "I'm only going to hit you once. Cry if this hurts." I made a simple wrist-snap that cracked against his spank-spot, or to be exact, where his asshole is.

"Yowww!" he screamed, "what da fuck was that?" Uncle Paul chuckled then tried to appear bland.

"Dead centre of your spank spot," I told him. "Do you people need another demonstration?" There were a few smiles, and poor Web cringed.

"I warmed him up," snapped Amadeus, "any sort of hit on his sore ass would make him cry."

"He has a point there," added Uncle Paul. Charles chuckled and a few other department heads nodded in agreement.

"Another volunteer," I asked. The boardroom went silent, everybody froze. "Somebody with low rank," I added.

"Sex-a-Terry Paul," Uncle Paul said to his nephew.

"Sir," whimpered Amadeus.

"Bend over the table," he ordered, "lift your skirt and lower your panties."

It was with a certain satisfaction to the Department Heads as they watched their Boss's Nephew and nemesis for their jobs. He surrendered as he lifted his Heredshe skirt revealing his blue panties with matching garter and stockings to reveal his pink untouched ass. Part of me wanted to drag the situation out, take a long aim a practice swing. I winked at Charles and gave the kid a quick wrist snap on the same spot I hit Web on.

"Yow!" he screamed and jumped up clenching both butt cheeks. "What is that, some Magic Mind Trick? He's cheating Uncle."

"Pull your panties up and go sit down," Uncle Paul ordered. Then more kindly to Web, "you too Web; thank you for your help." Then to me, "okay kid you're directing the all new Colon and Jeff show, how soon can we start shooting, Charles?"

"We should hit fast," said Charles as he looked over my work. "Four weeks, I want a conference in two hours, Director, Set, Lighting, Art Department, and Music."

"Good," smiled Uncle Paul, "Al, you're too young to be a producer, but Directors have lots of power too. How soon could you get your BDSM Education Show going?"

"I'll need the same department heads," I pointed out, "can we tack my show on with the same conference?"

"No problem," nodded Charles.

"Okay I don't have scripts," I pointed out, "but will have them inside a week. So I figure we can start shooting in six weeks."

"Six Weeks!," laughed Uncle Paul.

"Everybody does their job," I shrugged, "no problem."

"Careful folks," Uncle Paul laughed, "he's armed with a yardstick and knows how to use it." It's easy to laugh at Uncle Paul's jokes, even if he is the Boss. "Okay get out of here, Nephew, come into my office."

"Congratulations," Charles shook my hand and led me out towards the general office. "May I show you you're cubical?"

"Cubical," I asked, "I know lots of Directors who have their own office."

"Back on that backwater planet of your," he laughed back at me. He pointed me to a cubical which had an electronic LED plate that read, "Al Jones, Director."

"My own cubical," I chuckled, it was in a corner, had two computer screens, and a wide printer.

The office went quiet as a loud howling noise echoed through the room. There was a pause when there was a distinctive crack and another loud howl. Everybody chuckled and went back to work. I had to ask Charles.

"What was that?"

"Amadeus Paul," Charles told me flatly, "for the past six months he went from Intern to Sex-a-terry and has been bucking for everybody's job just because he's the Boss's Nephew." There was another loud scream, "ahh the pains of a failed spy."

"And that little weasel was spying on me," I had to ask. "You can't tell me he's the best spy you guys have?"

"No," chuckled Charles, "I knew you were working on something but I also knew you would talk to me about it."

"And you didn't tell Uncle Paul," I asked.

"This is going to take you away from Dianna," he changed the subject.

"What's going to happen," I asked him.

"We'll work something out," he told me. "Now get your notes together."