Slave Immigrant Ch. 20

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 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 4.5 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 was not the property of the Action Network. Uncle Paul owned and operated the Action Network and he made it very clear I had to do more than just be a play-toy but a working employee. I was purchased primarily for Mistress Dianna to own and play with. But her husband liked young men as well so he stayed loyal to her by sharing me. Uncle Paul, well I don't know what his sexual desires were about me. My ass was a bloody mess and it was only 9AM. I was ordered to take a nap on a rest bed/bathroom hidden behind my Master's office.

"Get dressed," Charles told me waking me up. "We're going to have lunch with Dianna on the set. Now move it."

I buttoned on my shirt while squatting over the fresher. Charles watched me in the door-way trying to contain his laugher. The washer cleaned the chastity belt, and then the blow dryer went into action as I did my tie.

"You often multi-task," Charles finally asked me.

"I don't want another spanking," I mumbled, "my ass is finally starting to heal."

"You heal four times faster than any human," noted Charles as he turned me around and examined my butt. "Think you can take my cock."

"As you wish Master," I told him honestly.

"What do you mean by that," he asked me.

"I'm your slave," I shrugged, "it may hurt like hell, but I'll take the pain to please you Master. I must add," I pointed out, "I haven't had an enema since, well early last night. There might be an accident."

"That is very considerate of you slave," said Charles. "I enjoy prepping a slave's ass. Giving you an enema has its own enjoyment."

"Oh," I groaned, the chastity belt was so tight. "Please don't arouse me in this thing."

"Bend over," he ordered and locked the back plate on.

"No butt-plug," I asked.

"No," said Charles, "put your skirt on. Like it or not we still have clients from outside the Free Zone who come into these offices. And no flirting either."

We walked through the offices and it did hit me. The public face of the office was a normal working offices to a Television Station. Everybody was clean cut normal, it could have been another episode of Mad Men except the furniture was very modern.

"So what do I do here," I asked him.

"On Thursdays and some Fridays you will report as Dianna's personal assistant," he told me plainly. "If she's angry and needs to hit somebody it will be you and not the staff."

"I'm not a punching bag," I said.

"Clients quiet," he said taking me into an elevator. We were alone. "You keep opening your big mouth and I'll shove something nasty into it."

"Yes Master," I mumbled looking down.

The studio occupied several levels of the Ringo Building and we stepped into a much different atmosphere. House of the Thunders was an interesting set as actors, and extras were often naked on camera. Mistress Dianna was in her Maid Costume, and since she was punished a few hours ago, still had her skirt and petticoats pinned to her shoulders and ran up to me.

"Here he is," she laughed as she kissed me on the lips and dragged me to her little crowd of friends. There was her make-up artist, costumer, hair-dresser, dresser, and script girl. They threw a dozen questions at me mostly about other clients.

"We make it a policy not to talk about other clients," I told them.

"Including Jane Speedwell," said the script girl. "Rumour is you are going to marry her."

"She still paid for me and is thus a customer," I countered.

"We could torture you," said the hair-dresser.

"I'm sure you would if I left him alone with you," said Dianna taking me by the hand and leading me to her dressing room. Once the door was closed her personality changed again.

"Darn you Charles," she cursed as she flailed at the locks on my chastity belt. "Did you have to lock him up so much?"

"I didn't want people buggering him," he confessed as he picked food off a table loaded with food in her room. "Can't have that area damaged for his session at the clinic."

"When is that," she asked as he got me aroused, pushed me on to a cold metal chair and mounted my cock.

"At three," he said checking his hand computer. "He also has a language session at the clinic next to that one at one."

"Are you taking him there," she asked as Charles amused himself by feeding Dianna and me with tidbits of food while we both fucked.

"Certainly not, I'm busy. Uncle Paul's new intern can do that. Be a good lesson for her." There was a knock at the door, "come in," said Charles.

"I'm supposed to take your toy to the mall," the intern said as she went in.

"Give me sec," gasped Dianna and she got more violent on me. "Almost there."

"Master," I had to gasp, "do I need permission from either of you?"

"Hold it till I tell you," said Charles as Dianna gasped and came. "Get off him hon." He then started jacking me off. "You may cum," he told me. I relaxed and came only once in his hand.

"Sorry it wasn't multiple Master," I said sitting up. "Do you want to bugger me?"

"Later," he smiled and offered his cum filled hand to the intern's face; that licked it up with the greed of a backstreet hoe.

"Interesting," she smiled, "this will make a great entry into my blog."

"You got to be kidding," I gasped.

"He is such a virgin," she laughed. "Do I need to put a leash on him?"

"Don't put me on a leash Mistress, Master," I begged. "I don't want to look like a pet to a girl who should be selling Girl Scout cookies."

"Can we stop by my apartment and I can change into my Girl Scout uniform," she smiled.

"Here," said Charles handing her a dog-collar and leash. "Don't put it on him till you are well away from the Ringo Building. And make sure he is not late for the appointments. Uncle Paul will cane you too."

"Let me register you for unlocking his chastity belt," said Dianna as she held up her lap-top.

"If she can unlock my chastity belt," I asked. "What's to stop her from jumping my bones."

"Oh he is silly," she laughed turning and lifting her skirt up at me. Underneath she also wore a metal chastity belt that went up the crack of her ass. Also note-worthy was that her butt was swollen red and had six distinctive cane welts on them. "Uncle Paul doesn't trust me either."

"Okay," said Charles now both of you get out of here. "Pontiac," he snapped, "you will address her as Mistress," he looked at her not remembering her name.

"Just call me Cupcake," she smiled wickedly. "Uncle Paul calls me that."

"Mistress Cupcake," I blushed and bowelled to her.

"Mistress Cupcake," added Dianna, she waited, "strip him naked for the walk home, just shoes, leash, and chastity belt. And Pontiac, if she spanks you, I'll whip you."

I kept close to my Girl Scout leader and it wasn't till after the second stop on the subway that she ordered me to bend over so that she could put the dog-collar on me. We went to the same mall that I visited months ago. We went up to the third level and into a clinic called "Language Shop."

"Can I help you sir," the pretty receptionist said to me even though I wore a collar.

"This is Pontiac Jones," Mistress Cupcake said in a small girlish voice. "The Action Network is paying and we do have an appointment."

"Yes we do," said the receptionist looking down at her. "Are you a relative?"

"No Ma'am," she smiled, "I'm an employee of the Action Network just delivering our bonded property." She took off my dog collar and showed off the steel collar of bondage under it. "Strip," she ordered. I didn't even shrug, she needed to show who was the boss was to the receptionist so I very quickly took off everything and dropped them in a heap beside me.

"Come with me Pontiac," said the receptionist. Mistress Cupcake followed us. "Why are you coming?"

"My Uncle Paul made it very specific that I'm not supposed to let his property leave my site. Is that okay?"

"Yes," gulped the receptionist who actually believed Mistress Cupcake was his relative.

"And have a robot pick up Pontiac's clothes and have them cleaned, folded and bagged. Just leave his shoes; I hear all sorts of stuff is on the floors of the mall."

"I need to take a blood sample," said the Technician when we got into an examination room.

"Ouch," I complained as she jabbed me with what felt like a square needle. All three of the women rolled their eyes at me. "It hurt," I repeated.

"This," said Mistress Cupcake doubling the leash and threatening me, "will hurt even more."

"Yes Mistress," I mumbled looking down at the floor.

"What the heck is this," said the Technician as her machine made various beeping noises. "He's an Ancient."

"Sixty-two point eight percent DNA," I repeated from memory.

"Yea right," said the Technician ignoring my comment as she fiddled with the machine. "This should do it. Now lie back on the table."

The table had various straps and auto-injectors. A massive helmet with eye covers, ray like things that went into my ears and on my head looked more like a horror film to me. She then put a gage of some sort into my mouth so that I would not bite my tongue.

"Just relax," she said to me.

"Hey we have another appointment to get to," Mistress Cupcake yelled at me.

"Hey I just want to get some sleep," I moaned in Freedom Basic. "What was that," I asked.

"First two hours over," said the Technician as she attached the dog-collar on me and handing the leash to Mistress Cupcake.

I was in a half daze as Mistress Cupcake carried my laundry and dragged me across the hall into a body shop. Again she went through the whole who's the boss routine and carefully pointed out that I was an Ancient. The Technician check his reading and smiled.

"Ancient oi," he laughed.

"Yes," added Mistress Cupcake, "part of the process for making Earthmen to fit in. Ancient DNA fused to their Earth/Human DNA."

"Okay," the tech smiled and took out a bottle of serum from under his bag of drugs. "This is rarely used, Ancient's only," and put down a single injector and picked up two massive hand injectors with three heads on each. I on the other hand was on a table, my legs as wide as possible apart, chastity belt off.

"Do you know the process Action Network has paid for," he asked Cupcake.

"Some beauty stuff," she shrugged.

"Nope," chuckled the Body Shop Tech, "we're doing a Triple De-Lux Package. We're going to knock him out, and do some rectal work on him. Heredshe male glands, and further up his colon an artificial clitoris. You get it stimulated and he'll cum because of the experience. But only a good size cock will satisfy him, hehe," he chuckled.

"So this is a sex job," concluded Mistress Cupcake.

"Nope," he pointed to a large tank. "We'll sink in into that vat with a snorkel on and fry off his body hair leaving only his head hair, eyebrows, and lashes alone. We will even do the noticeable bits of his nostrils as well. The vat gel will heal and prevent laser burns."

"Lasers," I asked.

"Shush," he ordered and stuffed a gage into my mouth. I was tied to an odd table bent over with my ass in the air. There were six injectors in some sort of machine which had three over each butt cheek hovering over my ass. The slowly lowered into me and I was gone.

*****

Now let me explain, I was not drunk, I was as high as a kite. Instead of adjusting for a person who is sixty-two point eight Ancient I got the full dose. They did their operations, who's embarrassing details definitely educated Mistress Cupcake, a source of shame and delight to me.

They had to drug me because the first process was to laser burn the hair off my body. All I was left was eyebrows and head hair. Beard, ear hair, arms, back, balls, ass, legs even toes was fried down to the roots. If I wanted any body hair it would have to be re-transplanted. Then a cone went up my ass and other operations were done. When I woke up I was on her leash, seemed to be sober, but slowly went in and out of reality.

The building seemed to move and curve. Lots of people were walking about. Some even had gunshots wounds. That's when I saw him; it was Marty. Now I knew Marty as far back as grade school and high school. He was an Army Cadet with the Armoured Cadets, while I was with the Service Battalion. We went on Christian retreats together, he was a good friend. He was shot three times in the back while on patrol and got caught in an ambush.

"Is that you Marty," I asked.

"Al," he called, "Al you can see me."

"Sure I can," I laughed. "Mistress Cupcake this is Marty."

"Who are you talking to Pontiac," she asked me.

"Al what are you doing here," asked Marty.

"Living," I laughed.

"Pontiac are you okay," a frightened Mistress Cupcake asked me.

"Oh I'm fine," I laughed, "what was in those shots I want to take a six-pack home with me."

"Maybe you should get high more often," said Marty. "I've been trying to talk to you for years. You were suppose to die, we can go together."

"I don't want to die," I said.

"Hello EMS," Mistress Cupcake called into her cell phone, "I have an emergency here my slave is seeing things."

"What are you talking about Mistress," I said, "he's right here. You look a mess Marty. Can't you clean yourself up."

"Hey this is how you imagined me when I died on Cypress," he told me. "But this is me, what are we doing over here."

"You came here with me," I asked.

"Sure I did," he laughed, "boy did you take one long trip. And what a ship, better than Star Wars."

"You never saw Star Wars," I accused him.

"I did so," he said, "sat right behind you. Except nobody but the other ghost saw you."

"Who was there," I asked.

"Oh a bunch of Indians," sighed Marty, "and Dennis. He went over when your wife helped cure you of cancer."

"That's nice," I laughed, "you should have went with him."

"Not on your life partner," he said as an EMT ran through him.

"Hey don't walk through my buddy," I tried to push the EMT aside but seemed so weak. I was just gone as they put me on a stretcher and carted me off from one hospital to another.

Well Marty was definitely dead and has been following me out of friendship for quite a few years. He explained that ghost tend to do that, trying to change things. The priest who followed me left me when I attended my first BDSM three-some. All the guys I knew and partly knew when I was in cadets were there. The fat guy and two others who were dual citizens and died in Vietnam. Dennis who drowned in a swimming accident. There was even a few Indians who were offended because I worked as a security guard at a water treatment plant built on their burial ground. Eventually the drugs wore off and I was alone in a very sterile room. The door opened and Anthony and Lady Fantomyia walked in; so what else was new.

"Hey guy how ya doing," said Anthony looking more concern and not conceded.

"Stupid question from you," snapped Fantomyia, "he looks like he was drinking Ancient Jungle Juice."

"You would not believe the trip I was on," I gasped. "Am I a junkie now?" Then I laughed, "I guess it's off to a spanking for me I said a bad word."

"No," said Fantomyia, "your reference to drug addiction is a good question. Can you trust us."

"Sure Lady Sharp-Teeth," I slurred as I slowly went to earth. "Can I kiss your tail?"

"Would a Sober-Up© work," she asked Anthony.

"Can't see why not," he said taking out what looked like a fountain pen from his pocket. He pressed he metal base on my neck above the metal collar and the stuff washed into me.

"Agg," I screamed and tried to pull my hands to my head. That stuff went right to my brain and suddenly my blood was rushing faster than a nitro pill could ever do to you. I wrestled with the restraints that held me on the hospital bed and broke them.

"Oh shit," cursed Anthony as he tried to hold me down.

"What was the setting," asked Fantomyia as she tried to hold me down.

"Fifty percent."

"That's too little, he shouldn't be like this."

"I'm going to puke," I gasped. Fantomyia brought a bucket to my lap while Anthony held on to me as I puked into it.

"Oh gawd," gasped Anthony. "What have they been feeding you."

"Junk food," I spat. "Where the hell am I, and what time is it?"

"You're in the High Commissioner's private rest area," explained Fantomyia, "Free Zone. The Planetary Governor had to take over the investigation. Can you still see a ghost?"

"No," I sighed, "maybe he left."

"The question is Al Jones," said a new voice entering the room, "can you trust us?" It was the Governor Prince Otto in the flesh.

"Bill believes in you," I said remembering the loyal Starship Engineer. "I think I can too."

"Can you be patient with me," he asked.

"How patient?"

"Patient like waiting for a group of people to walk into your ambush."

"That patient," I said. Only Marty painfully took the time to explain that to me. Very few Wizards can talk to ghost. Was Prince Otto that kind of a Wizard? "Okay," I sighed, "but I was supposed to be home hours ago, I'm in deep shit."

"I'll write you a note," Prince Otto smiled and helped me off the bed.

"Ouch," I gasped as I could feel something up my ass. "Do I have another butt-plug up my ass?"

"Nope," said Anthony who waved a Star Trek salt shaker over my ass. "It's a medical plug. Somebody had some surgery done."

"According to his medical charts," said Fatomyia holding a mini-computer pad, "they did some interesting things to him."

"Really," said Prince Otto taking it from her and reading it over quickly. He started to laugh and handed it to Anthony.

"Oh dear," chuckled Anthony.

"Let me see it," I said taking the pad. The writing was in gibberish but I could make out words like "the" and anal, but nothing more. "What is this?"

"Freedom Basic," laughed Anthony.

"What did they do to me," I had to ask.

"Non-consensual surgery," said Prince Otto as he walked towards the next room. "You waved that right," he added. "You waved that clause figuring they would make you look better and you do."

"What did they do," I asked.

"Well you don't have to shave anymore," added Anthony. I checked about the room and found a mirror. I still had a full head of hair. "Not there," added Anthony.

"Just every place else," added Fantomyia as she put on her leash and acted as a slave pet again to Anthony.

"Everywhere," I asked looking down at the metal plate of my chastity belt.

"You hated shaving your balls every other day," reminded Prince Otto.

"Hey I only told Jane that," I shot back at him.

"She's a distant cousin," he laughed, "and she loves me too." He opened the door that lead into the High Commissioner's Office. "Okay let's sort things out," he called bringing everybody to their attention. "Come on Mister Jones," he waved for me to come into the office. "Will somebody give him something to wear?" Mistress Cupcake gave me my clothes.

"Dianne and Charles," said Prince Otto.

"Here your Excellency," said Charles holding Dianna. She seemed to be crying.

"And Uncle Paul," he added with a smile.

"Look I only loaned them the money," he quickly said.

"Okay here is the short version," said Prince Otto checking his notes. "You three just take care of Mister Jones and forget about it."