2 comments/ 31433 views/ 6 favorites 48 Hours By: SkinsPet I'm in a fantastic mood. Work is over for another week. I'm free for two whole days. I begin planning activities for the weekend as I negotiate the evening traffic. When I arrive home I notice only the entry light is on. You must be running late. I fumble with the key in the dark, unlock the door and step inside. I close the front door and turn to walk down the hallway but you're there standing in front of me blocking my path, dressed only your bath robe. I jump with surprise. You grin that cheeky, but slightly evil grin and put your hands on my shoulders and push me to my knees. You fasten my collar around my neck and hand me a pair of hand cuffs, ordering me to cuff my hands behind my back. I do as you command. You will address me as Sir at all times" You begin abruptly. "You must ask permission to speak." "You must ask permission to stand." I open my mouth to begin asking permission to stand but you continue. "You must ask permission to sit, sleep, eat, wash." "You must ask permission to do anything at all." "Most importantly you must ask permission to cum." "I own you until Sunday 6pm and for the next 48 hours you will obey my every command." "Open your mouth!" I grin, knowing that this weekend will be one filled with my fantasies coming true. "Open your mouth now!" you bark grabbing a fist full of my hair and yank my head backwards. It hurts. It feels good. I open my mouth and with your free hand you shove three fingers inside, poking around roughly, inspecting the first of my orifices that you will violate over the next 48 hours. You take them out and very quickly replace them with your cock. Gently for a few moments, I wrap my lips around it and flick my tough across the tip. But that doesn't last long. You grab my head with both hands pulling it towards you as you thrust your hips forward. Your cock is slammed against the back of my throat. I gag and try to pull away but you hold tighter. After a few seconds you release your grip and pull back, withdrawing from my mouth. I gasp for air. "I was under the impression you wanted to suck me?" You enquire with a disappointed tone. "I do Sir" "Well enjoy it!" You command as you thrust back into my mouth, this time pumping your cock right down my throat. I am choking on your cock and loving every second of it. My eyes begin to water and my face turns red. You release my head once more and saliva pours out of my mouth and down the front of my shirt. I look up at you and smile. "Thank you Sir. May I suck you some more please Sir?" You spit in my face "Sure thing, slut" you reply as you slap my face with your saliva coated cock and then ram it back down my throat. Pumping in and out, occasionally you pause with your cock resting on my tongue to give me an opportunity to breath before assaulting my throat again. This cycle continues for what seems like an eternity. Eventually my face is drenched with saliva; my eye makeup has been destroyed by my tears, leaving black streaks down my face. My shirt is wet and transparent. I am breathless and exhausted. The only reason I am still upright is because you are holding me up by the hair. You pump your cock into my throat one last time before you pull out and cum all over my face. "I love you, my dirty little whore" you whisper as you catch your breath, still holding me up by the hair, and wiping your cock roughly across my cheek. "Thank you Sir. I love you too Sir" I pant in reply. "Now get those clothes off. You need to be punished!" You command as you drop me to the floor and walk away. I lay there for a moment catching my breath. "And don't wipe my seed from your face. I want you to enjoy wearing it for a while. I like the way it looks." "Yes Sir" I smile to myself and struggle to my feet, trying to work out how to get undressed with my hands still cuffed behind my back. This weekend will be nothing like I planned but it is certainly going to be one to remember. To be continued... 48 Hours As Her Plaything Ch. 01 Chapter 1. You walk into the house and it's quiet. You check downstairs and I'm not in the dining room or the sitting room; in fact, the lights aren't even on. You heard to the stairs, and here there are signs of life. There is a flicker of light coming from the bedroom, and you can hear music. As 48 Hours As Her Plaything Ch. 01 behind my back, they are held there by a pair of cuffs, the black leather shining in the candlelight. You can make out the small padlocks securing the cuffs, and a quick release clasp linking them together. Either side of my wrists are my ankles, held there by a long black scarf, wrapped around one ankle, then threaded between the cuffs before being wrapped around my second ankle. Looking toward my head you see a second scarf. It's been tied around my eyes, completely blocking any sight, then looped around my head again to pull between my lips and gag me, then tucked under the previous turn and stretched back to my wrists and ankles. You've no idea how long I've been like this, but you can see the tension in my body. You can see the muscles quivering under my skin, from my thighs, up through the dimples in my buttocks, along my back and into my neck and shoulders. My shoulders are lifted from the bed and my head is drawn sharply back toward the soles of my feet. The scarf from my head to my feet is pulled tight, holding my body tight and drawing back harshly in my mouth. My lips are stretched back, and my jaw is forced open. You've never seen me so helpless. There's a cream envelope balanced on my back, with your initials written in ink on the front. I twitch as I feel the envelope move; I hadn't heard you enter the room. You slit open the envelope and see several folded sheets inside; you decide to read them somewhere else. There's a bottle of wine downstairs and you feel it's a good time to enjoy a glass. Before you go you reach forward and run your fingers gently down the soles of my feet, watching the shivers run through my body. The idea of just walking away to enjoy your wine and read the letter, whilst I remain absolutely helpless gives you an ache deep inside. You walk to the door and turn back to look at me. I can't see it, but a smile crosses your lips. You walk back to the nearest candle, pick it up, and balance it carefully on the middle of my back. Sooner or later that will start dripping onto my flesh. Another gentle touch and then you leave the room.... You sit downstairs in an armchair, a glass of wine beside you. You pull out the folded sheets from the envelope and recognise my handwriting. Up until now, you had no idea how this had all started. The letter is simple. For the next 48 hours, through until Sunday evening, I don't exist as anything more than your possession. For the next 48 hours I am yours to play with. You allow the paper to fall to the floor, lean back and sip some wine. Ideas start to flick through your mind; there is so much you can do in two days. You make the first decision, and walk to the phone. You know you'll only get an answer phone at my workplace, but you leave a message that I won't be in on Monday, due to a family emergency. Now you know that I'll have 36 hours to recover from whatever you do to me, you can really let yourself have free rein. There'll be no need for you to give me any respite at all. You walk upstairs, quietly passing the bedroom and going into your dressing room. Now, what to wear, you wonder. You strip off your clothes and walk into the shower. You take your time, relaxing in the stream of hot water and washing away the day. You step out of the shower and dry off, before soothing your skin with a cream, gently rubbing it into every inch of your body. You leave the towel on the floor, knowing that I will be the one taking care of the tidying this weekend. Back in your dressing room you spray on some perfume before picking out a few things to wear. I can't see anything, so you'll have to stimulate my other senses. You attach a garter belt at your waist, letting the six straps dangle to your thighs. From a drawer you take a new pair of fishnet stockings and slowly roll them over your calves and up your legs. Once they are pulled tight and straight, you attach the garter straps, one at the front of each thigh, one at the outside of your thigh, and the last two across each gorgeous curve of your arse. You head to the wardrobe and pull out your favourite pair of shoes. They are black strappy sandals, with a small platform under the toe and a four inch stiletto heel. You bend to wrap the straps over the top of your foot, behind your ankle and then up your leg. The straps buckle tight at the top of your calf, crisscrossing all the way up. You add a little make up, knowing it makes you feel feminine, and then pull your hair up into a ponytail high on the back of your head, knowing that makes you feel like a bitch. Now to accessorise! You take out the black driving gloves you barely use, the soft leather fits snugly over your hand, and then you go to our toy chest. You look inside, promising yourself that at some point this weekend, you will use everything that's there. For now you just take a few things. The candle has continued to burn, leaving a trail of wax running down my back. You reach forward and remove the candle, then flick away the wax. You see deep red marks on my skin where the wax has cooled. I wriggle at the contact and moan. It's obvious I'm uncomfortable. It's nearly an hour since you came home, and I had already been tied before that. It's a strict tie for that length of time, and you can see the aches in my body. You smile again, knowing that there is far worse to come. To demonstrate this you bring your riding crop down hard across the soles of both me feet. It's only one strike, but the agony shoots through my entire body, wracking my muscles with more pain. You climb onto the bed, and stand with a foot either side of my hips, before slowly lowering yourself to your knees, straddling my back, facing toward my head. You realise that the scarf stretched between my head and my hands is gently tickling your lips and clit. You lower yourself until you're sitting on my back, feeling the scarf pull harder between your legs. I can feel the rough friction from your fishnets against my skin. I moan at the same time and you see how much you've tightened my hogtie by pulling this scarf out of line. God that turns you on even more. You grind yourself forward and back on the scarf, enjoying the dual sensations of the pleasure to your clit and the pain to your slave. You lean forward and knead your hands into the tortured muscles of my shoulders. You keep rocking, getting closer to coming, and working my aching back with your gloved hands. You need more friction and grab the scarf behind my head and pull sharply upward, wrapping the scarf further between your lips and pulling harder on your clit. I squirm as much as I can, which is barely at all, and scream protest through the scarf in my mouth. My frantic movements feel so good underneath you and you pick up the crop again to encourage me. You reach back and start whipping my thighs, like a jockey at a horse's flanks. You're still pulling at the scarf like reins to my head and start digging your heels into my flesh. I struggle more, bucking at the pain and finally you come, whipping even harder as you spasm again and again. As you calm down, you drop the crop and lean forward along my back. You've let go of the scarf and though you're still sat on it, the extra slack feels so good, releasing some of the pain in my neck and shoulders. I can feel your naked breasts against my back, and my god they feel good. You grab my hair in your gloved fingers and hold my head tight. I feel your breath on my ear, and then your teeth bite into the top of my ear, and warm blood is slowly running down to my neck. You whisper in my ear, four separate words, "You are absolutely fucked!" You let go of my head, sigh and relax, just lying contented on my bound body. 48 Hours in Glasgow Author's note: reaction to my first story for Literotica (Kelly's Gift) was mostly encouraging, so I have written another one - actually this idea was one which I nearly went with for my debut. As before it is a mixture of fact and fantasy, although with more of the latter this time, and I welcome constructive comments - I hope you enjoy it. Finally, compared to Kelly's Gift I have deliberated tried to build the tension more slowly in this one, so if you are looking for passionate sex in the first paragraph, you are going to be disappointed -- but I promise it is there in due course! * I have a pretty set routine in airports when I am travelling for work. My day has started early -- 5.15am typically -- and the lack of traffic and my relative proximity to the nearest airport means that I am parking by 6.30am. Straight through security -- well as straight through as you can when ahead of you in the queue are anarchic stag and hen parties, families with toddlers, buggies and endless bottles of milk to be tested, and elderly couples who have apparently never heard of the no liquids over 100ml, only one bag, no nail scissors and other sharp items rules -- pick up a double espresso macchiato, croissant and juice, get to a quiet area, open up the netbook and tackle the 30 emails that somehow have arrived in the 12 hours since leaving work the day before. I keep any interaction with other human beings to a minimum and head for the gate knowing that at least I have achieved something in this dead time before the plane takes off. I was therefore in defensive mode one Monday morning last summer when I was reading said emails at the airport and a voice said "These chairs are so uncomfortable, aren't they?" Normally I would have made some non-verbal utterance in reply and barely looked up, but something about the tone of this particular voice meant that I made a little more effort, turning away from the screen and towards its source. I was glad I had when I saw gazing back at me an attractive young woman with dark hair pulled back from her face, and from my initial rapid appraisal (come on guys, you know we all do it) a good figure encased in a well-fitting, smart and appealingly short dress. So instead of a Neanderthal grunt I said "They are, aren't they, I don't think they really want us to settle down here." Not exactly Shakespeare, I know, but it seemed to be enough for my new brunette friend to decide that I was neither a potential axe murderer nor stupefyingly boring, and that I might even be worth talking to. And no, I don't flatter myself that it was my stunning good looks either - I am always smartly dressed, presentable and no ogre, but I reckoned that Miss Dark Stranger was approximately half my age and more likely to see me as a father figure than a potential lover. She smiled and said "Where are you heading to today?" "Glasgow", I replied, "how about you?" She gave me a slightly odd look and said "But so am I, are you on Ryanair at 7.45am?" "Yes, that's the one" I said, "I can hardly wait for that fun queuing experience." Now at this point things could have gone either way. She could easily have decided that the last thing she wanted was to be stuck with this old guy for the walk to the gate, or worse still the whole journey, and gone for the polite goodbye, making her excuses and leaving, as the saying goes. And so, I suppose, could I, but I was already half smitten (I put it down to the lack of sleep and excess caffeine) and keen to build on this unexpected opportunity. Luckily for me my new acquaintance chose the other option, and seemed to want to prolong our encounter. We exchanged comments about people's behaviour in budget airline queues, the futility of trying to get to the front (everyone is going to take off at the same time after all) and other remarks clearly designed to demonstrate our credentials as frequent flyers, but not, at this point, our names. As an aside it is worth saying for American readers that we Brits are very bad at this particular nicety in social intercourse. I have American cousins and friends and have observed with a mixture of envy and amusement the ease with which they introduce themselves to strangers -- firm handshake, name immediately offered "Hi, I'm Larry, pleased to meet you" and therefore a name almost always returned, avoiding any awkwardness later in the conversation. In contrast, I have often chatted to strangers, male and female, in bars, hotels, on planes and trains and it can be an hour or more into a conversation and often at the point where the chat is about to end before the reserved British psyche allows us to say something along the lines of "I'm Alex, by the way, it's been good talking to you" in the hope, sometimes forlorn, that you might elicit a name in response. Almost simultaneously the as yet unnamed girl and I looked at our watches and realised we needed to head to the gate, so we picked up our bags and walked there together. When we reached our destination I decided it was time to turn the conversation on to slightly more personal ground, and said "I'm Alex, by the way, and what's taking you to Glasgow of all places?" This was another pivotal moment, especially as I accompanied my words with putting my hand out towards her, but without hesitation she replied "I'm Emily, and I'm going for work, I'll explain on the plane, what about you?" taking my hand and shaking it firmly, and, I thought, holding on to it for a fleeting moment longer than one would normally expect, as well as making strong eye contact. "I'm going for an incredibly dull conference, which I have to be at but which I am hoping to escape from tomorrow." "How long are you there?" "Two nights, back Wednesday evening, and you?" "Not sure yet, depends how long my visits take, I'm fairly flexible at the moment." We were boarding the plane by now, and headed for the back which was empty. I chivalrously offered Emily a window seat and sat down by the aisle, leaving the middle seat free, both in the hope that no-one else would join us, and also not to look too forward. Soon we were airborne and after a couple of minutes Emily said "Here, sit next to me, it'll be easier to talk." I gladly moved into the next seat and said "So what line of work are you in?" "Eggs," she said, "Eggs, and also chickens, turkeys, ducks -- poultry generally." I resisted all the chicken and egg jokes and just looked bemused, so she went on: "I'm a food scientist, I visit farms, factories and distributors and check that they are meeting requirements and regulations, and do quality inspections." It transpired that Emily worked for one of Britain's biggest supermarket chains, and she explained that she had studied food technology and dietetics at University, before going into retail rather than become a dietician or clinician. "Very different from my line of work", I said, "I run a large charitable trust and I am going to talk about European funding rules, capacity building for the voluntary sector and cross-Government relations -- thrilling, eh?" Emily tried valiantly to look interested and to be fair made a good job of asking intelligent questions for the next few minutes whilst I explained a bit more about my work, but then she asked "And what about family, are you married, kids, anything like that?" I had been wondering when we might move on to personal stuff, and replied truthfully enough "I was married, divorced seven years ago, and I have a 15-year-old daughter whom I see every weekend, she's called Amy and we're still very close despite everything." "Why did you divorce her mother?" "I had an affair, and although it ended, the marriage was falling apart anyway, so we separated and found it worked better for Amy like that; we had been arguing a lot and it was pretty unpleasant." Now protocol would usually have demanded that at this point I ask Emily about her life, but I was wary as I didn't want to look either pushy or creepy, given that I had worked out from what she had said about her career that she was 26 or 27 at the most, and I had recently turned 50 -- so my estimate of being double her age was not far out. Instead I told her a little more about Amy and then paused, to see if she offered any insights into her life. She looked at me and said "So, aren't you going to ask about my life, or isn't it of any interest to a high-powered man of the world like you?" "Whoa, flattery will get you everywhere...of course I'm interested, I just didn't want to pry. Anyway, I'm sure you must have scores of handsome and debonair men falling over themselves to be with you..." "Actually no, I had a long relationship with someone I met at Uni, but we split up a few months ago and I've been single since; I've been really busy with work, did a bit of travelling too and I just wasn't ready for another serious boyfriend." Whilst inwardly wincing at the word 'boyfriend' -- not a term you'd use of a 50-year old man, I thought - I was simultaneously rejoicing at Emily being single. "I'm sorry to hear about your break-up, hope it wasn't too ghastly." "No, not really, more sad than anything else, we had been together six years and either had to get married or split up, and I just knew that he wasn't 'the one'." "So we're both footloose and fancy-free?" I ventured hopefully. "Well, I've had the odd fling since then but nothing serious, so I suppose you could say that I am -- but you said you've been divorced seven years, I can't believe you've been on your own all that time." "No, I haven't, but nothing has lasted and I suppose you could say I am between relationships at the moment -- at least I hope I am, not that I'm finished for good!" I was shamelessly fishing here to see how Emily might react, and I was more than gratified, not to say a little surprised, when she took one of my hands in hers, looked me straight in the eyes again and said "I don't think you need worry about that, I'm sure you've got plenty of life and fun left in you yet." "I'm glad you think so, I certainly feel like I have." Just as this conversation was getting interesting, the tannoy sprang into life to tell us we were about to land, and I realised that if I wanted to have any chance of seeing Emily again, now was the time to act. "Did you say you were in Glasgow for a couple of days?" I asked. "Yes", she replied, "but exactly how long depends on how my visits go, I'm booked into the hotel for tonight at least but can extend it if necessary. I'm in the Holiday Inn, where are you staying?" "The Malmaison, I save money on the flights so that I can stay somewhere decent and it's a really nice hotel, do you know it?" "I've heard of it," Emily said, "but I've not been there." 'It's now or never, Alex' I thought to myself as the plane had just touched down, so I said "Well, are you free this evening, 'cos if you are, you could come over for a drink in the bar there, it's a really interesting building and worth seeing?" Pause, during which my heart skipped several beats, then jumped when Emily gave me a big smile and said "Actually I am free, I was just going to catch up with some work this evening, but that sounds a much better offer, what time would suit you?" "How about 6.30pm, is that too early?" "No, that's fine," Emily replied, "that gives me enough time to get back to the hotel and 'freshen up', which I promise you after a day at the egg factories is in everyone's interests!" We were getting off the plane by now so I took my final bold step and offered her my mobile number in case of any delays. She took it, and gave me hers as well, with another winning smile as she did so. Emily had released my hand fairly quickly after holding it but I used the fact of some previous physical contact as an excuse to touch her arm gently as we went down the steps and headed into the terminal. I had managed a proper look at her when we had been walking to the flight and had been even more impressed than I was from my initial rapid glance. Emily was not tall, probably around 5ft 4, but had very good shapely legs, which were revealed by her short black dress, whose tight fit also showed off her full breasts and flat tummy. It was a warm day and all she had on over the dress was a light jacket which she had taken off on the plane; the dress had short sleeves and her arms, like her legs, were shapely and quite tanned. I have mentioned her smile already, and it was one which truly lit up her face; in repose, her facial expressions were placid but as soon as she smiled you could see a mischievous personality emerging. All in all she was a highly attractive young woman, and whatever else might occur, I was very much enjoying my time in her company. "Where are you going from here?" I asked her. "I'm being picked up by one of my suppliers and we're going out to a farm north of here." I was getting the bus into the city and I guessed that Emily would probably rather go it alone from this point, so I said " You go ahead, I'm just getting the bus and need to pick up a couple of things first, so don't let me hold you up, but I'll see you at the Malmaison this evening." "Definitely, I'll look forward to it, the thought of that drink will keep me going through all the checks on chicken welfare!" "And me through the tedious conference sessions." What to do now -- did I dare try to kiss her, or just shake hands, or a lame wave, or what? Luckily Emily took the initiative, taking my arm and pulling me towards her, kissing me warmly on both cheeks. "See you later, Alligator" she said cheerfully, and with one last flash of her lovely smile she walked off towards the airport exit. . . . The conference proved to be as boring as I had feared, not helped by the fact that my concentration levels were unusually poor, my mind full of possibilities and fantasies sparked by my unexpectedly interesting journey to Glasgow. Luckily I was not presenting a paper at this event, merely participating as a delegate and, on the last day, taking part in a panel discussion for which little preparation was required. I did manage to meet the key people from my sector and made sure that my presence had been noticed by the Government speakers, rousing from my dream-like state for long enough during the afternoon sessions to ask a couple of (I thought) hard-hitting questions on current policy issues. The final session inevitably seemed to drag as all I wanted to do was to get back to the hotel (I had checked in earlier and had been very pleased to find that as a regular Malmaison customer I had been given a free upgrade to a large 'executive room' with kingsize bed and a walk-in shower), have a quick shower and get ready to meet Emily, as long as she turned up. By 5pm my mind was anywhere but on what I was supposed to be listening to, and I nearly jumped when the applause started for the last speaker. I quickly said goodbye to the people I needed to and headed back to the hotel. In the shower I allowed myself to imagine Emily in it with me, and very soon had a raging hard-on, but I didn't do anything about it, instead quickly rinsing off, avoiding too much contact with my sensitive cock. Not having anticipated much in the way of social activity other than at the conference, I had not brought any casual clothes with me, so I settled for the suit trousers, an open-necked shirt and no jacket. I was about to head down to the bar, ridiculously early, when my phone's message tone beeped. Immediately I thought it was Emily, cancelling, and opened the message with trepidation. Instead I was thrilled to read "Running early, hope that's o.k., will be in bar by 6.15pm". It was already 6.10pm so I quickly grabbed the key card and headed down to the bar. The Glasgow Malmaison is built into a refurbished and extended Victorian church, and the bar is in what would have been the main part of the original building, the Nave of the church. It is below street level and when you are in it you cannot see people coming into Reception, so I wasn't sure whether to wait at Reception or the bar, but decided on the latter, not wanting to look over eager, and had just sat down when I saw someone I thought was Emily coming down the short flight of stairs towards me. I say 'thought was Emily' because this young woman looked very different from the one I had flown with that morning. Her hair was loose, hanging prettily down to just below her shoulders, and instead of a smart black dress she was wearing very revealing skin-tight black leggings set off by low-heeled ankle boots. The only common ground with her work outfit was the same light jacket, covering what looked like a t-shirt with an appetising amount of cleavage on show. I jumped up and waved, and she came over. Determined to take the lead this time I put my hand on Emily's shoulder and pulled her gently towards me so we could kiss. My attempts to take charge were floored though when Emily moved her head slightly as I leant in towards her, deliberately ensuring that our lips met instead of my kissing her on the cheek. We ended up kissing each other firmly on the mouth but with no hint of tongue contact -- but it still felt good to me. "Hello, it's great to see you, you look..." I began, almost babbling in my excitement and relief at seeing her. "Different?" Emily interrupted, trying to finish my sentence for me. "No, well yes, you do, but actually I was going to say 'amazing'." I replied, and went on "and it's not often I'm sitting in a bar waiting for such a gorgeous young woman as you." I know I was laying it on a bit thick here, but I was feeling surprisingly nervous for someone of my age (Emily had called me a 'man of the world' that morning but I was feeling more like a gauche teenager) and I also wanted her to know that I genuinely did think she looked great. "You really are sweet, and you don't look so bad yourself." "Thanks, sorry I'm still in work stuff, I hadn't counted on having much of a social life on this trip. How was your day -- factories all up to scratch?" "Not too bad, no real disasters, and the best thing was that I got more visits in than I expected so my time is a bit more flexible now than I thought it was going to be." Emily said, In all the excitement of seeing and greeting her, I realised that I had failed to do what was expected in a bar -- offer her a drink. I quickly remedied this and got a wine list, noticing as I was walking back that Emily seemed to be taking the chance to look me up and down appraisingly. "What do you fancy?" I said, "the Merlot sounds good if you want red, full-bodied, vibrant and enticing, according to this." And yes, I had deliberately chosen a wine description which echoed what I was thinking about Emily herself (apart from the 'red' that is). I wasn't sure whether she had picked up the hint, but she agreed with the recommendation and I ordered a bottle. The next half an hour or so passed very agreeably as we chatted about our days, and each gradually gave away a little more about our lives and personalities. I was feeling a lot more relaxed, a combination of the wine and Emily's easy company, and she seemed to be enjoying herself. There were also encouraging hints of physical intimacy, Emily taking my hand a couple of times when talking about something personal, and deliberately touching my shoulder as she went to the bar to get us a packet of crisps (that's 'chips' for our American readers). I returned the contact by stroking her forearm at one point when she was telling me a bit more about the break-up of her relationship, and she appeared happy for me to do so. I was still not sure where all this was taking us, and whether Emily was interested in something more than a quiet drink and a pleasant chat. My young companion had obviously decided that I was too chivalrous to take the lead, however, and that she needed to move things on, because she suddenly said: "So, I've seen the lovely bar here at the Malmaison, but what are the bedrooms like?" 48 Hours in Glasgow I had my wits about me enough to recognise a cue when I heard one, and I stumblingly replied: "Would you like to see one then, I'd be more than happy to show you?" "I certainly would," Emily said, "lead on, Alex." She hadn't used my name much in our conversations and somehow it made it even more exciting. I had to be careful getting up as my cock was already half erect and I didn't want it to be too obvious, but I managed, put my arm around Emily's shoulders and led her from the bar. My room was on the third floor so we went in the lift, which was small enough that we were forced to stand close to each other. I kept my arm loosely around her shoulders and as the lift doors shut Emily moved nearer to me and leant against me, putting her arm round my waist as she did so. In one respect I would have been happy for this lift journey to go on for ever, so wonderful did it feel to have this attractive young woman's body pressed against the side of mine and her hand lightly touching me through my cotton shirt, but at the same time I was now hopeful of much more ahead, and as soon as the lift doors opened on the right floor I said "This way, it's number 369, along to the left." Emily laughed out loud, and said "Did you say you are in room 'three sixty-nine'? You have to be making that up!" "Well actually I said 'three, six, nine'" I replied, ever the pedant, "but yes, it comes to the same thing..." "It's my favourite number, you know" she said alluringly. "What, 'three, six, nine'?" I replied, mock innocently. "You know exactly what I mean!" Emily said, laughing again. She had a lovely soft laugh, very much like her smile, sunny and redolent of warm exuberant times, We were at my room now, and trying not to fumble in my excitement, I opened the door with the card, relieved when the light on the lock went green first time. I let Emily go in ahead of me, then inserted the card into the slot to work the lights. "Wow, nice room" she said, "loads of space, and what a great bed -- and a sofa too!" "Thanks, they upgraded me because I'm in some sort of loyalty scheme and I don't think they're that busy." "Well, I'm glad they did, it certainly beats my poky room at the Holiday Inn. Is there any water, the wine and crisps have made me thirsty?" I quickly poured us both glasses of mineral water. Emily had a good look round, including in the bathroom ("A walk-in shower!" I heard her exclaim "I just love those!") and settled herself down on the sofa when she said "Come and sit with me Alex, there's something I want to say to you." She was looking a bit serious so I steeled myself for what I thought might be a polite but firm brush-off, although I was a little confused as it had been her idea to come to the bedroom in the first place, and all the signals she had been giving, had, I thought, been positive ones. "I just want you to know something,." she said when I sat down next to her. "I'm not the sort of girl who usually ends up in the bedroom of a man she met for the first time that morning, and I don't want you thinking that I am -- I'm very careful about who I sleep with and why, and even since breaking up with Chris" (her ex) "I haven't had any one-night stands, nothing like that. But there's something different about you. Not just that you're older," I must have looked a bit crestfallen at this point, because she quickly said "in a good way, you twit, I really like older men, they're always better in bed, and you're just lovely, anyway, but when I first saw you at the airport this morning I had this really odd feeling, it was as if we were meant to meet. That's why I looked so surprised when you said you were going to Glasgow as well, not because of the coincidence, but because it seemed to be confirming my premonition." I smiled at her, as much in relief as anything else, and said "You must be psychic then." "Maybe, but the point is I want you know that I'm not a slut, it's just that it seemed like fate when you weren't just going to the same place as me, but staying over too, and then we hit it off so well when we talked..." She tailed off at this point, and instead of replying I took her in my arms and we kissed properly for the first time. It was a luxurious, unhurried and deep kiss, one which clearly felt like the start of something rather than an end in itself. Emily had full, soft lips and used them to good effect, working her mouth on mine and exploring insistently but gently with her tongue. I let her press her tongue into my mouth for a while then responded vigorously in kind, and we continued with this interplay for a few delicious minutes. Emily was still wearing her light jacket but now when we paused for breath she pulled away from me slightly and started to take it off. I quickly helped her and was thrilled to see that what I thought was a t-shirt underneath was in fact my favourite type of sexy vest top (that's a tank top in the US), the fitted sort which woman with firm breasts can wear without a bra -- as indeed Emily was. We kissed again, our hands starting to explore each other's bodies now as any remaining inhibitions or nerves either of us might have been feeling ebbed away. I ran my hands underneath Emily's top at the back, thrilling to the feel of her warm flesh and noticing that she shivered slightly, hopefully with pleasure, as I did so. Emily had unbuttoned a couple of extra buttons on my shirt, and was tangling her fingers deliberately in my chest hairs. "Mmm, lovely," she murmured into my ear, "I really like a hairy chest, can't understand why some men wax theirs." "Glad to hear that," I replied, and helped her get better access by undoing the remaining buttons. Emily pulled the shirt from my trousers and eased it off my shoulders, then slowly along my arms, stripping me quite deliberately and seductively. I pulled her closer again and kissed her neck and shoulders; she responded by throwing her head back so that I could kiss her more easily. I worked my way down to her chest, and then, through the tight cotton of her top, her breasts. Emily's breasts were full and firm, not huge but, for someone with a generally slight build, more than generously in proportion. Her nipples were visibly hard through the top and I sucked the left one first, feeling it grow even harder and then taking it gently between my teeth through the soft material. Emily dug her fingers into my hair as I did so, and I shifted my attentions to her equally delectable right breast. At the same time I started to ease the vest top from her leggings, and ran my fingers along her stomach underneath the fabric. Emily took my hands in hers and for a moment I worried that I was going too fast, but instead she helped me to pull the top slowly over her breasts and up and off over her head. Her breasts, fully revealed now, were even better than I had imagined, with large pinky-brown nipples which were pertly pointing towards me. I took both nipples between my fingers and thumbs, and tweaked and pulled them gently, then sucked them, licking around the aureolas as well. Emily seemed to decide that it was her turn to take the lead for a bit, and, pushing me back on the sofa, straddled me, her nipples pressing into my chest as we kissed again, with more urgency than before, the feeling intensified by our naked torsos rubbing together. She moved her weight off me slightly so she could reach down to my belt and trouser buttons, which she undid competently and quickly. My cock had, of course, been erect ever since we had started kissing -- in fact it was already pretty hard when we had first entered the bedroom -- and now Emily reached into my open trousers and stroked it through my briefs. I gasped at her touch, and she increased the pressure, saying in a very seductive voice "You seem a bit excited, am I having a good effect on you?" "What do you think?" I replied, "Can't you tell?" "Oh yes, I can tell all right" she said, stroking more firmly and then moving her fingers under the waistband of my briefs to touch my cock properly for the first time. "You're so hard and hot" she breathed into my ear as she did so, and her words turned me on even more. I eased myself off the sofa a little to help Emily as she pulled down my trousers, whilst I kicked off my shoes; she left my briefs on, even though the head of my cock was poking out where she had pulled them down, almost seeming to want to delay the moment of first seeing me completely nude. I decided I had some catching up to do and pulled Emily back towards me, kissing her deeply and then starting to pull her leggings down. Emily lifted herself up so that I could do so more quickly, and then eased out of her boots, reaching down to pull her socks off at the same time, saying "Wouldn't be very sexy for you to see me in my socks, would it?" We were equal now, both in our last remaining item of clothing, a lacy black thong in Emily's case and a pair of small blue briefs in mine. I suppose that even up to this point we could have called a halt to proceedings, although it was becoming increasingly unlikely, but now we were both intensely aroused, and the course of events was inevitable. Emily was already proving a girl of delightful surprises, however, because rather than simply expecting me to fuck her immediately, after we had kissed again she pulled my briefs off, moved down from the sofa to kneel on the floor between my legs and without a moment's hesitation began to lick and suck my cock. She clearly had plenty of experience of oral action, alternating between full deep-throating and tantalising licking of my shaft and balls, and despite the fact that often nowadays it can take me quite some time to be ready to come, no matter how good the sex (I know, it's my advancing years -- but I'd rather have it that way around than the other), the combination of Emily's skills and the incredibly erotic day and evening we were having meant that in a few minutes I knew I was very near to a huge climax. "I'm going to come soon if you don't stop, Emily" I said as best I could, speech getting more and more difficult as her mouth moved up and down my cock. "Good, I want you to" she said from somewhere around my scrotum, "give me all that you have, I want it in my mouth now." That was enough for me, and after another couple of seconds, with Emily's lips just over the engorged head of my cock and her fingers around its base I groaned loudly and managed to say "God yes, I'm coming, yes, yes" before I felt a powerful spasm as the first cum shot into Emily's mouth. She swallowed it down and more spasms followed, each amazingly powerful until I had, as requested, emptied all that I had into her. She licked my cock up and down one last time, causing almost painful pleasure as she did so, then got up and straddled me once more. "That was so, so hot, I love doing that and I really wanted you to come in my mouth for your first time with me." "You are amazing," I said, "I can hardly believe you're real." "Oh, I'm real all right" Emily murmured, and she kissed me, the taste of my cum very apparent as she did so. I was determined that Emily's first orgasm with me should be as memorable as mine had been, and I pulled her above me on the sofa, so that her pussy, still in its lacy black covering but clearly sopping wet underneath, was level with my mouth. She put her hands on the top of the chair to steady herself and I pulled down her thong. I gently stroked her neatly-trimmed black pubes, and took my time before moving my fingers down to the top of her pussy, deliberately avoiding her clit and then more firmly feeling her labia, which were damp with her juices. I knew just how horny she must be getting, but I wanted her to build slowly, so I didn't put a finger inside her then, instead starting to lick around the edges of her pussy and on her inner thighs. Emily was breathing more and more heavily, and I began to lick her pussy lips, slowly and teasingly, tasting her juices as I did so. She gasped as I inserted my right middle finger into her and at the same time began to suck and lick her clit, and I was thrilled to feel how wet she was inside. She tasted great too and I increased the pace of my licking, biting her clit gently as well and getting another finger inside her at the same time. I found what must have been her G-spot with my fingers and Emily responded with "Fuck Alex, that's so good, I'm going to come, lick me harder, fuck yes, yes, yes, Oh God, yes, yes, yesssss!" I felt her pussy contract and contract around my fingers, and was aware of her juices increasing as I licked and sucked her through several waves of her orgasm. Eventually she pulled herself away from me a little and said "Stop now, I can't take any more, I might faint..." Emily half fell down on to me, not really fainting but unable fully to support her weight for a moment, and I took her in my arms, kissing her softly on the mouth and then on her neck, and whispering "I fantasised about doing that to you all day, I'm so glad it's come true." "Me too," she said, "and the reality is even better than the fantasy." It was dark outside now, and I asked Emily if she was hungry at all. "I am," she said, "but I don't want to go out, I want to stay in here with you." "That's o.k.," I answered, "that's what room service is for." We looked at the menu and decided that the occasion called for some red meat, so chose two steak sandwiches, some fries and another bottle of the Merlot, and I rang down to Reception to order. With the food on its way Emily went into the bathroom where she had spotted the bathrobes the hotel helpfully provided; she brought them back and we wrapped ourselves in them, kissing each other gently as we did so. I was relieved at how relaxed she seemed, it augured well for our possibly spending more time together over the next two days. Before too long there was a knock on the door and I opened it for the room service waiter to bring in a large trolley. He showed exemplary discretion in not even raising an eyebrow at the couple who had very obviously just been having sex - I suppose they must see this sort of thing all the time -- and I gave him a generous tip in return. The steak was perfectly cooked, not overdone and very juicy, and we had great fun feeding each other particularly succulent pieces. Soon the eating was becoming more and more sexual, our robes open now as we kissed between mouthfuls of food. Emily took a large gulp of wine then pulled me towards her, the liquid still in her mouth, pressing her lips on to mine and letting me drink the wine from her as she did so. I returned the favour and we kissed more and more passionately, our hands all over each other's bodies as we did so, shrugging the robes off at the same time. The food was forgotten now, and Emily pulled me on top of her as she lay full-length on the sofa. "Fuck me, Alex, I need you inside me now" she said, taking my rock-hard cock in her hand and positioning it at the entrance to her pussy. I thrust into her firmly and she responded in kind, pushing upwards so that I entered her in one swift move. Emily felt amazing once I was fully inside her: it was many years since I had fucked someone of her age and I thrilled to the feel of her tight but yielding pussy. We found our mutual rhythm quickly, instinctively picking up on each other's desires for faster or slower thrusts and luxuriating in our first fuck. Emily, not to my surprise, was skilful as well as passionate, and her technique included the ability to squeeze my cock deliciously when it was fully inside her pussy. The fact that we had made each other come so powerfully earlier meant both that we could keep going for a decent length of time, but also that we were already somehow attuned to each other's needs, and we gradually built towards a climax. I thought I might get there first as I knew that I couldn't hold off coming much longer, but suddenly Emily started moaning more loudly (she had already been pretty vocal) and then groaned in my ear "I'm coming Alex, faster, fuck me harder, yes, like that, yes, oh God yes...!" Emily's orgasm and exclamations triggered mine, and as she continued to come I felt the first spasms erupt. My cum spurted into her still pulsating pussy and I yelled "Fuck, fuck, you're so sexy Emily, yes, yes, ahhhhh...!" Finally we both subsided and I pulled out of her and rolled off, lying next to Emily and taking her in my arms again so that we could kiss. I suddenly realised that we had never discussed contraception and felt somewhat guilty, so said "God, Emily, I never asked if it was o.k. to come inside you." "It's fine, Alex, I'm still on the pill, and I'm not worried about anything else." "Good, and sorry not to have asked before." "Don't be silly, it's my responsibility, not yours, and I wanted your cum in me more than anything in the world just then." It was late in the evening by now, and I said to Emily "You weren't thinking of going back to your hotel, were you?" "You don't want me to, do you?" she replied, and I quickly said "No, of course not, I want you here all night, I just still can't really believe this is happening." "Come on silly, come to bed with me" Emily laughed, and grabbing my hand, pulled me up off the sofa and on to the large bed for the first time. We didn't get into it, instead lying on top of the quilt in each other's arms and talking softly about what we had done already that amazing evening. "I told you I felt something special about our connection," Emily said at one point, "but I never imagined it would be as good as this. I've never come like that the first time I've fucked someone, it's usually disappointing at best and a disaster at worst." "I know exactly what you mean, it's really rare, and you're right, even when we first kissed I knew this would be special somehow. And to come together like that the first time we fucked, well, just amazing, really incredible." Emily was lying on her side looking at me with a winning combination of lust and affection in her lovely brown eyes, her fingers playing tantalisingly with my pubes as my cock was starting to show signs of some more life. "What are you doing tomorrow?" she asked, "Do you have to go to your conference all day?" "No, not at all, in fact I can skip almost all of it, there's an early evening reception I should probably look in on, but otherwise I can keep the whole day clear -- but what about you, don't you have more visits to do?" "I think I said that I had had a good day today -- though nothing like as good as the evening," Emily began, smiling happily at me "and that means that I've left myself with only one visit to do, which is near the centre of Glasgow and can wait till Wednesday morning. I'm pretty much my own boss, you see, so as long as I email the office tomorrow morning and say that I'm going to be up here till the end of Wednesday I can do what I like. When did you say you're going back to London?" "I'm here till Wednesday evening, I'm on a panel at the conference that afternoon, and booked on the 7.20pm flight back. Could you really stay that long, we could spend all day tomorrow together if so, not to mention tomorrow night -- if you want to, of course." I finished lamely, worrying again that I was getting ahead of myself. "Oh Alex, when are you going to realise that this is what I want too, it's like the best possible dream. I'd love to spend as much of the next two days as I can with you, we could explore a bit too -- do you know Glasgow well?" "Quite well, I've been here lots for work and a friend of mine used to run the main concert hall here so I used to come up and see her too." "Was she a lover, Alex? I don't want to meet her if she was." Emily looked a bit stern, but I guessed she was probably joking. 48 Hours in Glasgow "No, far from it, Lucy is one of my few genuinely platonic close female friends, I used to work with her before she moved up here but I never fancied her at all -- anyway, much as I would love to introduce you to her, she's in Amsterdam now." All the time we had been talking Emily had been playing with my pubic hair and then starting to stroke and pull at my growing cock, and I was finding it more and more difficult to concentrate on our conversation. "You've got a pretty good recovery rate for a man of your age, Alex" she said in a tone of mock admiration, looking down at my by now almost full erection. "Am I to take it from that that you've had loads of older lovers then, Emily?" I replied teasingly and she gave my cock an extra hard, almost painful tug in response. "No, I told you, I'm not a slut, in fact if you really want to know the only time I ever slept with someone a lot older than me was the summer I was 19. I had a lovely fling with a tutor on a summer camp I was helping at, he was about 40, but really fun and great in bed -- in fact, although you don't look anything like him, somehow you remind me of him now, and I suppose that's who I was thinking about when I said that older men made better lovers." We stopped talking now to concentrate on other matters, Emily continuing to pay attention to my cock whilst I twisted her hard nipples between my fingers. I moved one hand down her tummy, marvelling anew at the softness of her skin, and then inserted a finger in her pussy, which was wet again. I explored inside her, feeling the warmth of her juices and then pulling my finger out and placing it on Emily's lips, leaving her to decide if she wanted to suck it. Emily pulled me towards her so that we could kiss at the same time as she took my wet finger into her mouth, tasting her own juices from it and making sure I did too. "That's so sexy" she said, and increased the pace of her pulling at my cock. The aroma of her pussy juice from her finger made me want to taste her properly again, so I gently removed Emily's hand and turned around so that I could move down to lick her. I deliberately placed myself so that she could suck me too if she wanted, remembering her joke about 69 being her favourite number, and she didn't miss the hint, saying "You lie on your back, it works better that way." Emily moved her fabulous arse and pussy over my mouth as I stretched out on the bed, and she took my cock in her mouth, with the same enthusiasm she had displayed at the very start of our session. We sucked, licked, bit and fingered each other for a while, gradually increasing pace and intensity, and soon her faster breathing rate and gasps of pleasure told me that Emily was near to coming. I knew that I would take a bit longer, three times in one session being unusual for me nowadays, so I concentrated on getting Emily over the brink. I had one hand on her arse and stroked her crack with a finger now, pausing at her rectum and circling the entrance with the tip of my finger to see if she objected. She seemed more than happy with what I was doing, taking her mouth from my cock and saying "Yes, God yes Alex, more, more, lick me harder!" and I inserted my finger into her anus, at the same time increasing the pressure of my tongue on her clit, and pushing against it a little with my teeth as well. "God, yes, yes, oh God yessssssss!" she shrieked as she came, and I felt her contracting around my finger as spasms raced through her groin and into her anus. I kept on licking, with my finger still inside her until she pulled away from my mouth and I gently eased my finger out. Emily turned round and lay with her head on my chest for a bit without saying anything, both of us with our heads pointing towards the foot of the bed. "You didn't come," she said suddenly, "that's not fair." "It's o.k., I might not, three times in one session is quite a bit at my age." "I love a challenge" Emily said with a wicked gleam in her eye, and began stroking my cock again. It had hardly subsided at all despite our short break, and as she recommenced her efforts at turning me on I realised that I was still very horny and perhaps might come after all. Emily went down on me again, but this time seemingly just to make sure I was both rock hard and well lubricated, for instead of continuing to suck me she straddled me, facing away from me and towards the bed head, taking my cock in her hand and pointing it up almost vertically as she eased her pussy on to it, pushing down quickly as she had when we first fucked so that the wonderful sensation of our first joining together was intensified. Emily began to ride me, holding on to the bed head for extra leverage, and saying "Come on Alex, push up, push with me, fuck me harder" as she did so. I willingly obliged, and knew now that I could come, in fact that I was not that far off at all. Emily was almost bouncing up and down on me, my only regret being that I couldn't see what effect this must be having on her lovely tits, but the view of her arse thrusting up and down on my cock was just as good. She moved faster and faster and I gasped as she pressed harder with her pussy on every downward thrust. "Yes, yes, I'm going to come, Emily, that's so good, yes, God, yes!" I yelled and she said, "Give me your cum, I want it now, come for me baby, now, now, now." I felt my climax coming from what seemed like the base of my spine, and then the tension released with an almost painfully intense spurt and two more quick spasms. The orgasm was unsurprisingly brief but no less satisfying, but having been so intense I had to lift Emily off me quickly as any more pressure on my well-worked cock was too much to take. We moved the right way around on the bed now, and I pulled the quilt down so that we could get underneath it. Emily kissed me and said "You're so lovely, and God you make me come hard, just fantastic, thank you for a wonderful evening Alex, even my best fantasies weren't as good as the reality." "You said it" I replied, "thank you for getting us talking at the airport this morning, it's like we're in another life now." Emily said that she had to use the bathroom before going to sleep, and she took a toothbrush out of her bag on her way. Once she had finished I followed her example and, both tasting of my freshmint toothpaste, we kissed once more as we cuddled together under the soft cotton quilt. "Sleep well, my lovely man." Emily whispered and we both fell asleep quickly. . . . I slept deeply for a few hours, but then entered a lighter sleeping pattern, during which I surfaced enough to register Emily's presence, and rejoice anew at it. Emily was spooned into me, and I found that my cock was again nearly fully erect, pressing eagerly almost of its own volition between her buttocks. Emily appeared to be fast asleep and I tried not to wake her as I moved down slightly so that my cock was between the back of her thighs. I wasn't quite sure what I had in mind, and lay still for a little with one arm draped over Emily's naked body, my hand gently stroking her stomach just above her pubes. This went on for a minute or two and then Emily stirred very slightly. I genuinely wanted her to sleep, or so I told myself, so I froze again and tried not to wake her. I was just starting to think about going back to sleep myself when Emily moved away from me a little, reached one hand behind her and very deliberately took hold of my still firm cock. She stroked it softly, without saying a word or even indicating that she was properly awake, and then shifted herself so that she could reverse on to it with her pussy. I thrust into her slowly, not wanting to spoil the dream-like atmosphere which was highly erotic, and we moved together, gradually increasing our pace. We continued like that for a few minutes and then Emily pulled away from me and, still without a sound, pulled the quilt off us and got on all fours on the bed, sticking her arse up and making it quite clear that she wanted me to fuck her doggy-style. I was more than happy to oblige and moved to kneel on the bed behind her, then entered her quickly, her pussy deliciously wet but tight around my throbbing cock. Emily pushed back to meet each of my more and more urgent thrusts and we quickly headed towards orgasm. "Faster, Alex, faster, fuck me faster" were the first words Emily had spoken since waking up, and I obliged, thrusting into her hard, my balls slapping against her arse on each forward movement. This time I came first, and groaned "God yes, I'm coming, yes, ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" as I did so. Emily was not far behind and as my cock shot cum deep into her I felt her pussy clenching and spasming with her orgasm. She let herself fall forward with me still inside her, and I lay on top of her for a few moments before pulling my softening cock out and lying next to her. I kissed the top of her head and she turned on her side so that we could kiss properly. Emily looked up and glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table, then giggled, saying "It's four a.m. Alex, you madman, couldn't you wait?!" "No, I couldn't" I replied, "you're just irresistible, but I'm sorry, I didn't realise it was quite so early." "That's o.k., there's no better way to wake up then a really good shag, but I think we should get some more sleep or we'll not have any energy left for tomorrow, no, I mean later today..." I agreed and with one more deep kiss we settled back to try to sleep, Emily lying next to me with her head resting on my chest. I soon felt her fully relax and listened to her breathing become soft and even, but it took me longer this time to settle, my mind still full of all that we had done, replaying the incredible events of what was now nearly 24 hours since we had first chatted, seemingly innocently, at the airport terminal. . . . I finally did sleep very soundly for what felt like a long time, and only started to come round again when I realised that Emily was stroking my morning hard-on. I kept my eyes closed and pretended to be asleep to see how this developed, then sneaked a glance when I felt her move down the bed. Through a half-open eye I saw Emily's sleek and shiny hair as she went down on me, taking my cock fully into her mouth and sucking for a few moments, then moving off a little so that she could lick the head, the soft touch of her tongue on the sensitive skin of my glans sending thrilling signals to my waking brain. I gave up any pretence of being asleep at that point, caressing Emily's head, running my fingers through her hair and moving my hips up slightly so that my cock pressed urgently into her willing mouth. Emily turned and smiled up at me, then returned to her task, licking up and down the length of my shaft and then moving down to my scrotum, and almost reaching my arse crack as she licked right underneath my groin. Emily's pussy pressed against my leg so I moved my knee up between her thighs, working into her pussy as she took my cock fully in her mouth again. Between us we were getting very turned on and I really wanted to be inside her again, so I pulled her up to me, kissing her deeply and saying "I really want to fuck you, will you get on top of me?" "Love to" she said and quickly moved into position to ride me, facing me this time so that I could enjoy the sight of her heavenly breasts bouncing up and down as she started to move more and more quickly. I took them in my hands and tweaked her nipples firmly and she gasped with pleasure Amazingly, despite already having come four times in not much more than 12 hours, I could feel another orgasm building. Emily was getting close too, and I moved one hand down to finger her clit as best I could given how fast she was now moving. As her pace increased still further I thrust up to meet her when she pressed downwards, and she arched her back, exclaiming: "Yes, yes, I'm coming, that's so good, oh God, yes, ohhhhhhhh!" Emily literally shook with pleasure as another huge orgasm overwhelmed her. Watching her distracted me from my own climax for a few seconds, and I didn't quite go over the edge of the precipice, so Emily eased herself off me and went down on me again, sucking vigorously and circling my cock with her thumb and forefinger to wank my shaft at the same time. "Come for me Alex, come on my tits" she said, now rubbing my aching cock into her breasts, "I want your cum all over me" she urged, and that was enough to take me there, spurting a few gobbets of cum on to her breasts as I gasped with relief. Emily rubbed the thick fluid into her nipples, then licked her fingers and kissed me. "Good morning, lover," she said, "sleep well?" "It was an amazing night in every way," I replied. "What's the time now?" "Just after eight, and judging from the sun coming through the curtains, it's a lovely day to explore." "Good", I replied, "but do you want any breakfast first or shall we just head out?" "As long as you make us some coffee with that swanky equipment they provide" (the hotel's executive rooms included Italian ground coffee, an espresso machine and fresh milk) "then let's just have a shower and go out, it's such a gorgeous day and I want to be out in it with you." (Emily was peeking around the curtain as she said this, just avoiding giving the passers-by three floors below a flash of her lovely body). I quickly obliged on the coffee, as I was desperate for one too, and got the machine going whilst Emily headed for the bathroom. "It will be ready by the time we've finished" I told her as I joined her by the walk-in shower which she had admired what seemed half a lifetime ago, and taking my hand she pulled me into it with her. We stood together under the large shower-head and got the water going, too hot at first so that we both had to jump backwards, but then settling into a soothing warmth. The powerful jets soon soaked us and I squeezed some shower gel into my hands so that I could soap Emily's body. Her nipples were quickly hard again as I massaged her breasts, shoulders and stomach, and she moved closer so that we could kiss. At various times in the evening and night we had both ended up pretty sweaty, not to mention covered in each other's bodily fluids, so the water and soap felt good as we washed each other thoroughly. Emily shampooed her own hair, not letting me undertake that particular task (I knew enough about women and their hair not to have attempted it without asking) and then I started to massage the gel into her pussy and all the way between her legs, soaping her bum and pressing my fingers into her crack, then using the lubrication of the shower gel to help me to insert one finger a little way into her rectum. With my other hand I continued to rub her pussy, and then pushed a finger in there as well. Despite the number of times she had come already since we had moved up from the bar to the bedroom the previous evening Emily was soon showing signs of being close to orgasm again, her neck and chest flushing with pleasure as I inserted a second finger into her pussy. We kissed vigorously as I stroked her clit with my thumb and then she broke off the kiss to moan loudly in my ear "Yes, Alex, yes, make me come again, I can't believe what you do to me, fuck me with your fingers, God yes, yes, yes, ohhhhhhh God....!" I rode her orgasm with my fingers inside her arse and pussy, feeling the familiar clenching and spasms as she came and came, then she pulled away and said "Enough, enough, stop now, I can't take any more." I gently eased my fingers from both orifices and kissed her again, saying: "Emily, you are truly insatiable, how many times do you need to come in a day?" "Honestly Alex, I'm not usually like this, two or three times in a night is the most I've ever come before, but you just make me feel so sexy and horny. I truly didn't know sex could be like this, it's just amazing. Anyway, you can hardly talk, look at you now," she went on, pointing down at my cock, which was once more hard and pointing up at her in return. "Well, it's hardly surprising, is it, given how incredibly sexy you are, but one thing I am sure about is that I'm not going to come again -- anyway, I've got to save something for later, don't want to disappoint you this evening or tonight." "O.k., but I'm going to wash you all the same, it's only fair," Emily replied, squeezing some shower gel into her hands. She lathered my cock lovingly, then tugged and stroked it as if starting a hand job, at the same time using her other hand to soap my scrotum and down to my arse crack. The tugging and massaging was incredibly pleasurable but I knew that another orgasm was beyond me, and after a minute or two Emily accepted this too. We washed each other all over and Emily washed my hair for me, then we dried each other with the big fluffy white towels which are one of the best things about good hotels. The coffee was brewed and I was pleased to find that Emily liked hers the same way I like mine -- strong, with just a little milk to take the edge off. We got dressed, Emily having discreetly returned to the bathroom for some private time, and I told her that the first thing we needed to do was to find a shop where I could buy some more comfortable clothes for our day together exploring the city. It was already unusually warm for this Northern city as we left the hotel, Emily dressed in her leggings and vest top, looking stunning and getting admiring glances from several men in reception as we walked through. Next door was a coffee shop, and we went in and I bought us pastries and fruit juice to keep us going. Luckily I knew that a little further along the same road was a branch of one of our most popular menswear chains, so we headed in there to find something for me to wear that wasn't half a suit and a work shirt. Emily had great fun suggesting more and more outrageous outfits for me, from brightly coloured shirts to very tight shorts, but I prevailed and bought some pale chinos and a dark blue polo shirt, along with some comfortable canvas shoes. We quickly returned to the hotel and I ran back up to the bedroom and changed. When I got back to Reception no more than five minutes later I had a moment's panic as Emily wasn't there, but then I spotted her outside, soaking up some sun. "You look really nice, Alex," she said, "and I have to admit that you were probably right, that pink and purple shirt wouldn't have suited you so well. Now, where are we going?" "That's up to you," I replied, "but I wondered if you fancied the Gallery of Modern Art, and then a walk in a park, or even maybe a cycle ride?" "Where are we going to find bikes from -- have you got a couple hidden round the back?" "No, but I know someone who has, so just leave that with me -- do you like the idea?" "Yes, and I've seen the Gallery from the outside before but never been in, so let's go there first." We walked hand in hand in the summer sunshine down towards the Merchant City area of Glasgow, which is full of interesting buildings and always lively and buzzing. Emily, as I had expected, proved to be a lovely companion, easy-going, fun and very witty too, her quick sense of humour bringing more light to the already bright day. The Gallery was just opening as we got there, and we went in, virtually the first visitors so nearly having the place to ourselves. As it happened the temporary exhibition could not have been more appropriate, exploring contemporary Scottish artists' response to the theme of Glasgow life and love. Whilst much of the work was crazily abstract ("What's that meant to be," Emily said of one particularly peculiar 'installation', "octopuses fucking??!") some of it was very moving, and a few pieces were genuinely erotic, not least a modern take on Rodin's 'The Kiss' which we enjoyed emulating for a few minutes before we noticed that we were getting some disapproving stares. 48 Hours in Glasgow Half an hour inside on such a beautiful day seemed to both of us to be enough, so we soon headed back outside, blinking in the bright sunlight. I had a sudden thought and asked Emily whether she needed to go to her hotel to check out or pick up anything, but she said that she had already taken care of it -- she had phoned while I was changing. "And I sent my email to work too, so apart from picking up my bag later I'm free, all yours in fact." she went on. "That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a while," I said, "well, along with you telling me how hard I make you come." "It's true, you do." Emily breathed seductively into my ear as she pulled me towards her and we kissed deeply, oblivious to the passers-by on the busy Glasgow street. We broke off after a little and walked up to the Central Railway Station, where I bought us two return tickets to the wonderfully-named Pollokshaws West Station. "As it's such a lovely day, do you fancy a picnic?" I asked Emily, and she agreed enthusiastically. We went into a café on the station concourse and bought sandwiches, chocolate, biscuits, fruit ("I'm a trained dietician, remember," Emily said, "we can't just eat junk for lunch.") and bottles of water and juice. I then spotted that the next train to our destination was leaving almost immediately so grabbing Emily's hand we ran to the right platform, diving on to the train just before the doors closed and giggling like children as we fell on to seats in the last carriage. I had chosen Pollokshaws West for several good reasons, not least that it is only a ten-minute ride out of the centre of the city, but I kept the others to myself for the time being. When we arrived Emily looked a little sceptical, as the station itself is rather run down and in an area which when you look in one direction in particular looks very bleak. "I trust you completely, Alex," she said "but tell me you've got a good reason for bringing us here?" "Nope, just thought the name sounded interesting." I fibbed, and she hit me playfully on the arm in response. We went down the graffiti-strewn stairs and out of what passes for the main entrance. Emily was looking at me as if I was mad when I knocked on what looked like a locked door in the old station building, which from the outside looked like it had been closed for years. To my relief, and Emily's evident surprise, the door was opened immediately and a large, cheery lady greeted us warmly, grabbing me and kissing me on both cheeks, saying "Alex, great to see you, come in, bring your friend, and I've got what you asked for ready." I decided it was only fair to explain what was going on to a very bemused Emily, so said "Emily, this is Maggie, she runs 'South West Community Cycles'; my organisation has funded them for years, and helped them move into this building last month. Maggie has sorted out a couple of bikes for us for the rest of the day, and though you might not believe it, one of Glasgow's nicest and biggest parks is just the other side of the railway line." "So it is, Alex, so it is," Maggie said, "and it's good to meet you, Emily, any friend of Alex's is a friend of ours, he's been so supportive of our wee business. Now, let's see what we've got for you, come through here" and she led us into the depths of the old station office, where some of SWCC's bikes for hire were stored. "He described you well, Emily" Maggie said to her, "and I think this will be just right for a wee lassie like you." I am honestly not exaggerating Maggie's use of the Scots vernacular, and she also has the broadest Glaswegian accent, but Emily was charmed, as I knew she would be, and happily tried out the bike which Maggie had got ready for her. "Perfect," she said, "but what I want to know, Alex, is when you arranged this, I can't remember you making a phone call?" "I texted Maggie this morning while you were 'otherwise engaged'" I replied, "and she texted back so that I knew things would be ready when we got here." Maggie set us up with the two bikes, pointed us to the underpass which leads to the park, and said "Just make sure you're back before five, my lovelies, and have a great afternoon." We cycled off, gingerly at first as Emily admitted she hadn't been on a bike since university and it was even longer than that for me, but we soon became more confident, proving the truth of the old adage about never forgetting how to ride one. We explored the park, riding further and further from the perimeter and towards a more wooded and secluded area. It was even hotter now, and catching up with Emily, who had cycled ahead, I shouted across "I need a drink, do you want to stop for lunch?" "Yes, good idea, let's head over there, it's nice and shady" Emily yelled back, and sped off towards a gap in the trees that she had spotted. She led us into a clearing in the woods, well away from the main part of the park, which in any case on this weekday lunchtime was not that busy. We dismounted and I took Emily in my arms. "Was this an o.k. plan, are you having a good time?" "Oh Alex, it's just great, such an unexpected treat, I really didn't have a clue what you were planning, it's a lovely surprise. And it was nice to meet someone who's known you for a while, Maggie really likes you, doesn't she?" "We've given them a lot of money and other support over the years, but she's become a friend too, I always make sure I see her when I'm up here, though I didn't really imagine I'd be hiring two bikes from her on this trip -- nor for such a lovely companion either." We kissed then, very deeply and passionately, and Emily rubbed my swelling cock through my trousers. I slipped my hand under the material of her top and caressed her breasts in return, and we would probably have started stripping each other's clothes off there and then had it not been for a noise in the trees, followed quickly by an excitable dog running into the clearing and bounding up to us. Emily broke off our embrace and squatted down to say hello to the dog, which was a young Labrador. It was a good thing we hadn't taken any clothes off yet because the dog was followed a few seconds later by its owner, an affable young woman who said "Sorry, hope he's not been bothering you, he's a bit over-friendly sometimes." "No, it's fine, he's a sweetheart" Emily replied, "don't worry at all." The woman, who happened also to be rather pretty and wearing shorts, put the dog back on his lead and led him away, saying goodbye cheerfully to us as she did so. "Stop ogling her Alex, you bastard!" Emily said quietly as I looked in the woman's general direction. "I'm not," I said, mainly truthfully, "I'm just waiting for her to be out of sight so that I can ravish you again..." "Smoothie.." Emily began, but to stop any more teasing I kissed her again. Aware that we were still in a rather exposed position in the middle of the clearing, I kept the kiss brief and then suggested we move the bikes, picnic and ourselves the other side of some thick bushes at the side of the clearing. Once we had shifted everything we kissed again, and Emily pulled me down on to the ground so that we could embrace more fully. We were well hidden from view now, and were in any case a long way from the busiest part of the park, dogs and their owners excepted, so we both felt any inhibitions disappearing rapidly. Emily stroked my cock, now fully erect, through my trousers and then undid them, not pulling them down fully but opening them wide enough for her to be able to reach in and pull my briefs down over my straining shaft. She took it in her hand and gripped it firmly, saying "I love feeling you so hard, it's really sexy" as she did so. Emily moved so that she could get her mouth nearer to my groin, and licked my cock with her magical tongue. She ran her lips over its full length and sucked vigorously, then began moving up and down, deep-throating me as I turned slightly to one side so that I could thrust into her willing mouth. The fresh air and break since the morning's action had clearly revitalised me and before long I was near coming, warning her by gasping "Yes, yes Emily, yes, I'm going to come." She eased off slightly, wanting to prolong my ecstasy, just keeping my straining cock in her mouth and stopping me from thrusting by holding my hips firmly. Opening her mouth wider so that she could talk, she said wickedly "I want you to wait Alex, don't come yet, make it last." This was nearly having the opposite effect, but I used all my willpower, curious to see what she had in mind. Emily moved back slightly, and pulled off her leggings, knickers, boots and socks in one swift movement. "I want you to come inside me, I need to feel you there, I'm so horny." She lay down and pulled me on top of her, then raised her legs high, showing the suppleness of her young body by placing them on my shoulders as I thrust into her. "Fuck me, Alex, fuck me, that's so good, fuck me more" she moaned, and I obliged, driving my cock into her willing pussy faster and faster. The short break after I had nearly come in her mouth meant that my orgasm had subsided a little, and I was able to keep going for a few minutes, but soon I knew that I couldn't hold off any longer. Emily was blushing red on her neck and chest, which I knew meant she was nearly there too, so with a final few strong thrusts I said "Now, Emily, now, come with me, I'm can't hold it any more, God, yesssssssssssssssss!" "Fuck yes, Alex, aaaaaaahhhhhhh" was her reply and her legs jerked either side of my head as we both came, before she let them ease down under me. I supported my weight on my elbows to avoid squashing her, but didn't withdraw, enjoying the feeling of my cock gradually softening inside her still throbbing and wet pussy. Emily held me so that she could look into my eyes, and said "That was just incredible, I love having sex outdoors, haven't done it for ages, and even though I know this is going to go straight to your head, it's even better with you, that was right up there with the best shags I have ever, ever had, and no-one has ever made me come so hard as you do, every time, I just can't believe it." "I know I'm a fair bit older than you, Emily" I replied, "but the same is true for me. Since I got divorced I've had sex with quite a few women, but no-one has even come close to giving me what you do, you are just the sexiest woman I have ever met." "Thank you Alex, that's a lovely thing to say. I think I better get some clothes on, another dog walker might arrive any minute." Emily eased back off my now flaccid cock and quickly pulled on her knickers and leggings, leaving her boots and socks off so that she could enjoy the feel of the grass under her bare feet. We were both hungry and thirsty now, and set to our picnic with gusto. We fed each other pieces of fruit and sandwiches, sucked chocolate from each other's mouths and generally made the lunch as erotic an experience as possible. When we had finished eating we discussed our schedule for the rest of the day. I reminded Emily that I needed to look in on the conference for the early evening reception, and tentatively suggested that she might like to join me, especially as it was at the old City Halls, an interesting place in its own right and opposite my favourite place to eat in Glasgow, Café Gandolfi. Emily suggested in turn that we spend a bit more time in the park, return the bikes and head back to the city centre, then she would go back to her hotel to pick up her stuff, I would go and change and we could meet for the reception. This sounded like a good plan to me, so after one more long kiss we got our stuff together and remounted the bikes. We rode around in the hot sun, enjoying the park and racing each other along the straight paths, until I said that we had better head back to the station. As we arrived Maggie was just showing a customer out, and she greeted us with renewed warmth. "Did you have a good time, my lovelies, on this gorgeous day?" "We certainly did, Maggie, thanks to your super bikes and a great picnic" said Emily, smiling knowingly at me. Maggie knows me well enough to be able to tell when I have been up to something and she gave me an equally knowing look. "Glad you had fun, and Alex, you make sure you look after this lassie properly, she's just what you need, if you ask me." "I will, Maggie, I will, don't you worry about that, and thank you for making this such a special day for us." We said our goodbyes and headed up to the railway platform. A train came quickly and we boarded a nearly empty carriage towards the back, enabling us to spend the short journey kissing and cuddling without causing too many raised eyebrows. Once we arrived back at Glasgow Central we parted, Emily heading to the Holiday Inn to pick up her bag, me to the Malmaison to change and set off to the conference reception. I had arranged to meet Emily outside City Halls just before 7pm when the reception started, and true to form she was there in good time, carrying her bag, which we left at the cloakroom as we went in, and wearing the short black dress she had been in the first time I had set eyes on her at the airport the previous day. She looked stunning, having clearly had time to have a shower, put her hair up and achieve a suitably smart but very sexy look in the process. The reception was held in the Old Fruitmarket, which has been converted into a concert hall and meeting space, and it was, inevitably, full of people I knew, many of whom gave me somewhat quizzical looks (and in some of the men's case, openly jealous) at the presence of a gorgeous young woman on my arm. I introduced Emily as an old friend to a few colleagues from other funding bodies, none of whom knew me particularly well and probably decided she was a friend's daughter, not believing that she could possibly be my lover. The only awkward moment came when we met Mary, an ex-colleague who is one of the nosiest people I know, and wouldn't accept my 'old friend' introduction of Emily as adequate. "How exactly do you know Alex, Emily?" Mary pried and I was about to intervene to try to spare Emily any embarrassment, when to my surprise, and inner delight, she replied: "Actually, 'old friend' is a bit of an exaggeration, we only met yesterday morning, but we spent last night and all of today together and I think I'm getting to know Alex pretty well, thanks!" Mary was stopped in her tracks, unable to think of any more questions to ask given Emily's bold approach, and I used the opportunity to move us on. Emily was perfectly happy to come with me so we picked up her bag and headed out into the fresh air, crossing the road in the evening sunshine to Café Gandolfi where I had booked a table for dinner. We were both ravenous by now from the exercise, fresh air and plentiful sex, but agreed that we didn't want a prolonged three-course meal, keen to get back to the hotel and tear each other's clothes off. I was tempted by the black pudding, a peculiar Northern British delicacy involving animal blood, but Emily said "I'm not sitting opposite you whilst you eat that, it's disgusting!" so I chose fish instead. She went for a grilled chicken breast with pesto and sautéed potatoes and we shared a bottle of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. Whilst we ate Emily kicked off her shoes and started to caress my leg with her bare feet. I am a bit of a foot fetishist and the feel of Emily's toes stroking my leg was remarkably erotic. At one point I deliberately dropped my napkin under the table and whilst reaching down to get it took the opportunity to fondle Emily's bare feet and legs, right up to her thighs. When I sat up again Emily leant over to me, pulling me close enough across the table to whisper in my ear: "By God I want you so much, Alex, if it wasn't for the fact we'd be arrested, I'd fuck you on top of this table right now!" This was exactly how I was feeling and I told her so, adding that perhaps we should skip coffee and have it back at the hotel. Emily agreed and we got the bill, which she tried to pay but in my old-fashioned way I insisted on settling. We left and walked quickly back to the Malmaison, enjoying the warm evening and only stopping every so often for a short but intense kiss. Throughout the meal and as we walked back we chatted easily and I was again struck by how well we got on socially as well as sexually, despite the age gap of virtually a whole generation. I was trying not to think about what would happen once our trip to Glasgow was over, but I couldn't stop myself wondering whether this amazing relationship might be able to be sustained beyond what was turning into an extraordinary two-day fling. I didn't bring the subject up, not wanting to spoil the moment, but I was wondering whether Emily might be thinking about this at all. We reached the hotel and headed straight to my room. In the lift we kissed again and I put my hand up between Emily's legs, stroking her pussy firmly through her knickers. The material felt damp and I knew that she was already incredibly horny -- as was I, my cock straining upwards within my own underwear. As soon as we were in the bedroom, we began undressing each other frantically, dropping clothes on the floor as we made our way towards the bed. Emily pushed me down on to it, pulling my trousers and briefs off and going down on me immediately. My cock was rock hard already from the kissing and groping in the lift and the erotic excitement of the evening as a whole, and she licked and sucked it enthusiastically, pausing occasionally to make admiring comments about its state. I wondered whether she was intending to take me the whole way, and I was certainly getting close, when she stopped licking, straddled me (having removed the last of her clothes as well) and fucked me vigorously, her arms stretched behind her so she could hold on to my legs as she did so. Before long we were both near coming, and Emily adjusted her position slightly so that she could move one hand nearer her pussy, fingering her clit as she did so. I love seeing a woman touch herself, especially like this, and this extra visual stimulation plus Emily's gasping "Now, Alex, now, come with me, I'm so horny" was enough to bring on a massive orgasm, so that I could feel my cum pumping up into Emily's pussy. She thrust down on me to increase the pressure on her clit along with the touch of her finger and screamed and moaned as she came too. Emily moved gingerly off me and lay next to me on the bed, both of us too spent to talk for a few minutes, instead just holding each other and kissing gently as we recovered. We lay still and I marvelled inwardly once again at what we had found together. Soon Emily stirred me from my reverie by poking me sharply in the ribs and saying "What happened to that coffee you promised me in the restaurant? I don't think much of the room service here!" "You weren't complaining about the service a few minutes ago..." I replied and she smiled, but pushed me firmly towards the edge of the bed so I had no choice but to get up before I fell off altogether. I made us both strong cups of coffee, knowing that we would want to be awake a while longer, and brought them back to bed. "This is just heaven, Alex, I can't think of a better way to spend the evening -- free drinks reception, lovely meal with a lovely man, fantastic sex and then great coffee in bed -- how could you possibly improve on that?" "Only with more great sex later, if we're up to it." "Sure we will be, but there's no need to rush, the night is young, particularly with coffee this strong..." We chatted for a while, sipping our coffee and casually stroking each other as we lay on the bed. After a bit our talk turned back towards our favourite subject, sex and what we particularly enjoyed doing together. We were both starting to get turned on again by this, and Emily began to pull gently on my swelling cock. "You know what I would really like you to do?" she said, as she massaged me to another firm erection. 48 Hours in Glasgow "What's that?" I replied. "I want you to wank yourself whilst I watch, I've always wanted to see a man do that but never had the courage to ask, but I know you won't mind me asking, at least." "You're right, I don't, and what's more, I don't mind doing it either -- but if I'm going to fulfil one of your fantasises, will you fulfil one of mine too?" "Of course, as long as it's not too weird or creepy." "Well, I hope it isn't, I just love your feet (as well as the rest of you, of course) and it was so sexy when you were rubbing my leg with your toes at the restaurant, so would you make me come with them?" "Love too, that's not at all weird, and actually I have done that before, a couple of times. Anyway, that's enough talk, get going, you!" Emily said, pushing me back on the bed and placing my hand on my still hard cock. I didn't feel at all self-conscious even with Emily sitting as close as she could and watching intently as I played with myself in some of my favourite ways: thumb and forefinger circling my cock and pulling it firmly, thumb underneath the glans and two fingers rubbing quickly on top, and cupping my balls with one hand whilst squeezing the shaft with the other. Emily resisted any temptation to join in, but did comment as she watched, saying things like "That looks good, I'll remember you like that" and "God, this is even sexier than I thought it would be". I took my time, which wasn't difficult given the number of times I had already come over the last two days, but after a while I started to rub myself harder, and then said "Have you seen enough, because I'm getting close, and I want you to keep your promise now?" "It's so sexy, I'd really like to see you make yourself come, but a deal is a deal -- move that way, I need a bit more room" and so saying, she moved herself so that she could stretch her legs out and place her feet either side of my twitching member. Emily seemed to know what she was doing despite her relatively limited experience of footjobs, and she kept one foot below my cock, with the soft sole turned upwards, whilst rubbing it with the other. She stretched out her toes so that she could get the tip of my glans between them, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my groin. Seeing the look on my face as she glanced up at me she said "Feels good, does it?" and increased the pace of her rubbing. "God yes, I'm getting really close, can I come on your feet, do you mind?" "I want you to, I want your cum all over them, give me it Alex, do it on my feet, give me your cum, now, I want that hot cum on my toes now!" Emily knew me well enough by now to know that I love that kind of talk too, and sure enough it was the final spur towards my orgasm; I came with a massive groan, spurting as she had asked on to her toes and her feet. "That was just so hot," Emily said as she wiped the cum off with a tissue, "I nearly came myself just seeing you do that, Alex, you can come on my feet any time you want." "I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that," I replied, "but what about you, you only 'nearly' came, how do you want me to get you there -- short of fucking you, that is, I don't think I can oblige with that." "No, for once I don't think you could" Emily said, looking at my by now flaccid cock. "Actually, what I would really like you to do is to suck my nipples hard, I find that really sexy, and I reckon you could pretty much make me come like that, without even touching my pussy -- I'm so horny already." "Of course, I'd love to, I just adore your tits" I said, and happily set to my given task. I started with her left breast as that happened to be the one nearest to me, licking it gently at first, then pulling at it with my lips and fingers, whilst massaging her right breast at the same time. I sucked her left nipple harder and harder, glancing up at Emily from time to time to check I wasn't hurting her, but seeing instead that she was really turned on, flushing with pleasure and starting to breathe very heavily. I moved my attentions across to the other breast, and began gently biting as well as sucking on the nipple. Emily was gasping now, and said "Yes, Alex, that's it, keep going like that, I really am going to come soon, keep going..." I obliged, sucking hard now on her right nipple and opening my mouth a bit wider so I could take more of the breast into it. Emily had her hands on my head to control the pressure and was pushing me firmly on to her nipple, so I sucked harder and tweaked her other nipple firmly between my fingers. This was enough to push her over the edge, and she came in a sudden rush, shrieking "Yes, now, yes, yes, yes, yes!!!" as she did so. I relaxed both the sucking and tweaking but licked her gently instead to ease her through the orgasm, and she stroked my hair as I did so, before finally pulling away from me saying "No more, that's all I can take, that was incredible." It was late now, and we lay together on the bed, kissing gently and holding each other as we drifted towards sleep. Just before we fell asleep, Emily whispered to me "I just love being with you, Alex, thank you for everything." "You're more than welcome, Emily," I replied, "and the feeling is mutual." . . . Light was flooding through the gap at the top of the curtains by the time we woke in the morning. I stirred first, aware of my erect cock pressing into Emily's buttocks, and then, feeling me move slightly, Emily woke too, turning to face me and kissing me hard on the mouth. We didn't speak, instead, both well aware that this was out last chance to take advantage of the king-size bed in the hotel, we began our love-making anew. Emily went down on me, sucking my cock and licking it and my scrotum, then turning into a sixty-nine position so that I could lick her pussy too. She was taking the lead and I was perfectly happy to follow, and with me still lying under her she changed position again, straddling me in the reverse cowgirl position and guiding my cock into her sopping pussy. She rode me vigorously for a short time, but seemingly wanting to try every position in one session, eased off and turned to face me, this time taking my cock in her right hand and using the tip of it to stimulate her clitoris, almost as if I were a human dildo. The intensity of feeling this generated was soon nearly unbearable and I manoeuvred myself so that I could thrust up fully into her pussy, Emily gasping as I did so and then saying her first words since we had woken: "Push harder into me, Alex, make me come, I'm so close now!" I did as I was told, pushing up with my hips as she pressed down, rubbing her clit herself now as she neared orgasm. Emily came with a prolonged moan, then as she subsided she lifted off me again and lay next to me. "Fuck me more, Alex, I want you to come inside me, get on top of me, I need more from you, I'm sure I could come again..." I moved on top of her and she pulled me into position so that I could thrust into her pussy, which was still throbbing as I did so. "Oh God, that's good, fuck me Alex, fuck me," Emily said. I was still some way from coming, and took my time, enjoying the sensation of Emily's wet but still tight pussy around my cock. Gradually I increased the pace, and Emily started to thrust up with my more insistent rhythm. "I'm going to come soon, Emily, can you come again, I want you to come for me?" "Yes, yes, I will, fuck me more, faster, like that, yes, yes," she yelled as I thrust more and more quickly, and then I gave one final thrust down and came hard into Emily's pussy. "Oh God, yes, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh yesssssssssssssssss!" Emily said as she came again, catching the last spasms of my cock with her throbbing pussy. I withdrew gently and lay next to her; we held each other for a while without talking and then Emily said "Come on, we'd better get up, I've got chickens to see and no doubt you've got to go and look important somewhere!" "O.k.", I replied, "but I can't get up without another kiss first..." Emily obliged and our tongues explored each other's mouths, with the taste of sex very apparent as we did so. I got out of bed and pulled Emily up with me, keeping her hand in mine as we headed into the shower. We showered together with an intimacy and familiarity that struck me as remarkable given the relatively short time we had known each other, totally comfortable in each other's company and conscious of each other's needs. And knowing those needs of Emily, I wondered whether she might have one more orgasm in her before we had to leave. As I soaped her breasts we kissed, and I felt her nipples harden under my touch. I moved my hand down her stomach, then put two fingers between her legs, inserting them into her slippery pussy. It was hard to tell whether she was wet from desire, my cum or simply the shower, but she didn't indicate that she wanted me to stop or that it was too much for her, so I kept going, being careful not to overdo it knowing her pussy must be very sensitive after all the activity of the last two days. Emily started to writhe under my touch, and push herself down on to my fingers, so I knew she wanted to come again, even if it might be painful to do so. She moaned incoherently and I bent down to suck her nipples and move her nearer her climax. Suddenly Emily gasped loudly and said "Fuck yes, now Alex, now, now, now!" I pressed hard on her clit with my thumb and squeezed inside her pussy with my fingers, and felt it clench around them as she came. After a few seconds Emily pulled away from my hand, saying "God, that hurt but in a really good way, it was nearly too much for me..." "Sorry my love, I really didn't want to hurt you but I knew you could come" I replied. "No, it's fine, I would have stopped you if I had wanted to, think I am just being a bit greedy now and that was probably one come too far..." We finished showering, dried each other and then got dressed, sipping some strong coffee as we did so. We agreed on a schedule for the day, Emily going to her visit, me to the conference and then Emily joining me in time for the afternoon session where I was on the panel as a speaker, before we set off back to the airport for our flight, Emily having booked herself on to the same plane as me for the short trip back to London. Before we left the room, Emily kissed me once more, then gave me one of her serious looks, saying: "Whatever happens in the rest of my sex life, I can promise you that I will never, ever, forget Room 369 of the Glasgow Malmaison and what we have done together here." "Me neither, and thank you for making this the best conference trip I have ever had." "You are more than welcome, the feeling is entirely mutual." . . . The rest of the day passed very slowly compared to the glorious time I had spent with Emily, and the afternoon only improved when, as promised, she arrived just before the panel discussion was due to start. With no hesitation whatsoever, Emily came up to me in the foyer of the conference venue and kissed me full on the lips, rather to the surprise of the people who I was with. "This is Emily", I said lamely, and she shook hands warmly with a couple of my fellow delegates. I made it on to stage just in time for the debate to start, and at first tried not to catch Emily's eye too often as her presence was proving quite distracting. It was also inspiring, and I decided to try to slip some coded messages to her in my contributions to the discussion. I enjoy public speaking and was proud to have my new lover there in the audience, and I hoped that Emily would pick up on what I was trying to do. My first opportunity came when we were asked about our views on Glasgow and its recent regeneration. I answered, truthfully, that I was very impressed with the changes I had seen in the city over the last twenty years, and then added, purely for Emily's benefit, that I was particularly taken with the way in which Glasgow's parks now lent themselves to such a wide range of activities. I looked at her as I finished saying this and she smiled, making it clear that she knew what I was up to. (Those readers interested in the soccer World Cup may remember the England squad doing something similar to this in press conferences, slipping song and film titles into their answers in order to relieve the pre-tournament boredom...). Next chance was the inevitable question about the involvement of young people in initiatives, giving me the golden opportunity to wax lyrical about the importance of building proper relationships with younger people, how fulfilling this can be and how much both parties can benefit from it. Emily was enjoying this, and I could tell that she was laughing quietly to herself as I spoke. Finally we moved on to our aspirations for the voluntary sector over the next five years, and what we hoped would be the outcome of this particular conference. This gave me the chance to try to get across to Emily something of what I had been thinking about during the day, so I finished my answer, having made sure I had caught her eye first, by saying: "Above all, I hope that some of the new relationships which have been forged during this conference endure, flourish and grow, because I think wonderful things could result if they do." This seemed to go down well with the audience, but I was more concerned about the reaction of one individual within it. I couldn't find out immediately what Emily had made of my comment, and indeed whether she had picked up what I meant by it, because I had to speak to some people who wanted to ask detailed and lengthy questions about the grants my organisation offered, and then say my goodbyes to the organisers and various colleagues before we could politely leave. It was therefore not until Emily and I were outside and heading towards the stop for the airport bus in the bright late afternoon sunshine when I could ask her if she had enjoyed the debate. "I loved hearing you speak, I was so proud of you and it gave me a whole new view of the sort of person you are, it was lovely." "Great, I'm really pleased you could be there, and you did realise that some of my answers were especially for you, didn't you?" I replied. "Of course, it was so exciting when I worked out that was what you were doing, and really funny too." I was in suspense now, knowing that she must have picked up on what I had said at the end, but not wanting to bring it up for fear of seeming pushy. For much of our 48 hours in Glasgow I had been hoping that this was not just going to be a kind of amazing conference fling or holiday romance, but might turn into a longer-term relationship, but I had not wanted to spoil the intimacy and atmosphere of our time together by talking about 'the future'. I had decided to risk my (very obvious) hint as a way of giving Emily the chance to respond if she wanted to, but also to ignore the comment altogether without any embarrassment if she didn't, and I was starting to fear that she was going to choose the latter route. We were at the bus stop now, and put our bags down while we waited. For once I was quiet, letting Emily decide whether she wanted to say anything, and after a minute or so she looked at me seriously, increasing my concern that this was not going to go well. "I heard your last message too... I was really moved by it. I hoped you might say something like that if you had the chance. I guessed you would have been thinking about what happens next while you were on your own today -- I know I was." "And what were you thinking?" I blurted out, not meaning to interrupt but desperate to know Emily's conclusion. "I've thought a lot about this since our first night together. I knew then that we had something special, something I'd never come across before -- not just the sex, although the sex is incredible, but the way we connected so well and so quickly. By yesterday morning I felt like I'd known you for years, not hours. I've never got to know someone so fast, and felt so comfortable in someone's company after such a short time. I know you've been thinking about it too, and I know as well that you're worried about the age gap" - I must have looked surprised at this point, because it was as if Emily could read my mind, and she went on - "It's obvious that you'd be thinking about that, and I have too, but I honestly can't see why it should matter. You don't look your age, not that I would mind if you did, and I don't care if people think it's a big gap, it's none of their business." "What about your friends, family, other people...?" I asked. Emily hadn't told me much about her family but I had gathered she was close to both her parents, who were divorced, and I had also worked out that they were not much older than me. "They'll just have to get used to it, if they have a problem with it it's their problem, not ours. My Mum just wants me to be happy, she knew it wasn't right for me with Chris and I think she'll just be relieved I've found someone so lovely; Dad might be a bit more tricky but I think it will be fine once he meets you." "Emily, are you really saying what I think you're saying -- that you want to give this a go, that it wasn't just a fling, some fun to have away from your normal life?" "Of course I am Alex, isn't that what you want too?" "Yes, of course, more than anything in the world, I'm just finding it hard to believe, I'd sort of geared myself up for you telling me that you didn't want to see me again once we got back to London. I know that was pessimistic but I didn't want you to think I was being pushy -- that's why I said what I did at the conference, so that if you wanted you could just ignore it and we could part on good terms." The bus had come by now and we climbed aboard. It was nearly empty and we headed like naughty kids to the back seats. Emily sat with her lovely legs draped across mine, took my hands in hers and said: "Did you really think I could give up on what we have started? I really, really meant what I said, I've had the most amazing two days in every way, the sex, the fun we've had together, just sleeping with you, and I mean the actual sleeping, was lovely, showers, meals, drinks, everything -- how could I not want that to continue?" "I can't tell you how relieved I am," I replied, "You must know by now that that is exactly how I feel, and it is amazing to hear you say that as well." We kissed then, deeply and passionately, the kiss of lovers and the kiss of two people at the start of a new journey -- and not just the bus ride to Glasgow airport! As the bus made its way in the evening sun along the M8 motorway Emily and I sat together quietly, not needing to talk now as we had come to such a happy understanding. Our sexual instincts were still operating fully, and Emily took the chance of our being almost alone on the bus to stroke my cock through my trousers, her hand hidden under her legs which were still across my lap. The journey ended rather too soon for my liking, and we reluctantly untangled ourselves, with me moving somewhat gingerly at first to cope with my raging hard-on. We made our way up to the departure lounge, and then after some coffee and cake, on to the plane. Like the bus it was not at all full, most business people presumably having headed back on an earlier flight and it being late for tourists and families as well, and Emily and I found ourselves places towards the rear, with rows of empty seats in front of and behind us, and on the other side of the aisle as well. Once the stewardess had finished the safety demonstration and we were airborne, and after we had turned down the chance to buy over-priced drinks and lottery scratch cards, I decided I should return the favour from the bus to Emily, with interest. Draping her jacket across our laps, not that we were overlooked anyway, I whispered to Emily to pull her dress up as high as she could underneath the cover of the jacket. We kissed and then I moved my hand under the jacket and between her legs, feeling her bare thighs and then working up to press my fingers on to her pussy. Her knickers were already damp to the touch, and I teased her for a while, lightly brushing her labia and clitoris through the material but not moving my fingers inside. 48 Hours in Glasgow After a few minutes of this Emily lent closer to me and whispered in my ear "Come on Alex, you bastard, I'm desperate and we'll be landing soon. Make me come for fuck's sake, you know that's what I want!" I wasn't going to risk upsetting my new lover, so I obliged, pulling the flimsy material aside and, still under the cover of Emily's jacket, putting two fingers inside her pussy whilst I massaged her engorged clit with my thumb. It didn't take long for Emily to approach her orgasm, and just as the announcement came over the tannoy to tell the cabin crew that we were ten minutes from landing, I saw that Emily's face was starting to flush with the now familiar pre-orgasmic glow. As I brought her nearer to her climax she moved as close as she could and whispered orders to me: "That's it, that's it, oh yes, fuck me with your fingers, squeeze my clit, God yes, yes, like that, keep pressing, move your fingers faster, faster, now, yes, yes, yes, yes!" I felt her pussy contract and kept the pressure on her clit and with my fingers inside her as wave upon wave of orgasm pulsed through her. Finally I pulled my fingers out and wiped them on her thigh before slowly moving my hand down her leg and out from under her jacket. Emily smiled at me in a slightly glazed way before kissing me and saying "Great in-flight service, thank you..." We landed a few minutes later and we gathered up our bags and headed for the steps. Entering the terminal, hand in hand, I marvelled at the change in our circumstances since we had set off for Glasgow just two days previously. I glanced at Emily to see if I could read her thoughts, and as I did so she said "Can you believe what's happened to us since we left here?" "That's exactly what I was thinking!" I exclaimed. "I told you we had a connection, I sensed it on Monday morning and I know it's true now. Maybe you were right and I am psychic!" Neither of us had checked in any bags so we were free to exit, but had also reached the point where we had to decide on our next move -- which we had not, as yet, discussed. "I have to go home tonight," Emily began, "and that's north London, and then I have to set off fairly early tomorrow morning to head office. I haven't got my car here though, I got the train - what about you, what are your plans?" "I'm pretty near where you are, and I have got my car, so how about I give you a lift, and if we could stop off and pick up a few things from my flat, perhaps I could stay over at yours tonight -- unless you are hiding a body-builder lover there, of course?" "Very funny...and I would love you to come and stay, as long as you don't mind it being a bit of a mess, it was a very early start on Monday and it might not be all that tidy." "Emily, I don't care what your flat looks like as long as it has a good bed for us and you have some glasses for the bottle of wine I'm going to pick up on the way." "We can test the bed properly later and yes, plenty of wine glasses..." And so saying we headed out of the terminal and on to the bus to the car park. I could tell you about the night that followed, and the ones after that, and where we are now -- but that would be another whole story. All I can say is that it turned out that our 48 hours in Glasgow weren't an end in themselves, but definitely the start of something....amazing. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 01 Welcome to my first Literotica story! If noncon is not your thing, please look elsewhere. For example, I would not click on an incest story. I believe many men and women have dark dreams and fantasies about being 'taken'. Please don't confuse fantasy with realty. To enjoy the best continuity, follow each woman separately. Part 1 sets the scene for the capture and auction. Lisa, Pt 2, is the first to enter her new life. Autumn, in Pts 4 and 6, has a different experience. Julie, written by coauthor J Spe, is in Pts 3, 5, and 7 so far. This series will explore the fantasy (my fantasy) of imposing, strong-willed men. You will not find torture or extremes here. Enjoy. Carole99 * The evening was pleasant. A warm Caribbean breeze cooled the deck, and dinner was served to the six couples aboard the yacht. Light chatter and laughter reached the four men in the smaller boat anchored 100 yards off the starboard bow, unseen in the dark. The leader, Albert, noted that there were only three crew members aboard, one a woman. Albert and his men thought of themselves as pirates, but they were slavers. As the dinner drew to a close with dessert and wine, the couples drifted off to their cabins. The crew cleaned up, and the two men made their way to the bridge. Over the next hour, the cabin lights went out one by one, and the Captain remained alone on the bridge. Albert noticed a very slight movement of the yacht. He thought, "Some of them are having sex! Excellent! I wonder if I'll be able to tell once they are lined up in front of me." He opened the cabin door and said, "Get some sleep. We move just before dawn." Hours later, they silently picked up their weapons and climbed the stairs. One went back to switch on the trolling motors. The boat slowly started moving toward its prey. No one spoke in the 40 minutes it took to approach the rear of the yacht. In gold letters, the name 'Blue Bayou' arched across the stern. Each man knew his role. Albert boarded and started toward the bridge. The others carefully and silently stationed themselves around the ship. The Captain noticed the bridge door opening a little too late. He saw the barrel of a gun pointed right at him. Instinctively, he started to reach for a button on the panel in front of him. "Don't even think about it!" Albert said in a hoarse whisper. "Come toward me. Now!" As the Captain approached, Albert twirled his finger, indicating that he should turn around. In a moment, the Captain was cuffed. "Captain," Albert continued in a whisper, "Wouldn't you agree that it is hard to swim in handcuffs?" The Captain nodded. "Good. Now you are going to help me round up the passengers and crew on deck, understood?" Again, a nod. "You are going to go on the intercom and announce in a calm voice that there is a situation on the ship that requires everyone to assemble on the rear deck in 10 minutes. I have six armed men already on board, so sounding any alarm would only cause you and your crew harm. Gather your wits and make the announcement." As the passengers made their way to the deck, they saw the Captain with his back to the starboard rail, a strained smile on his face. Beside him, a man they had not seen before. The Captain nodded, indicating that all were present. Albert drew his pistol. Three men emerged from the shadows, pistols in hand. The Captain, at Albert's nod, said in a loud voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, these men have taken over the ship. Please do exactly as they say and we will not be harmed." Taking advantage of the expected moment of stunned silence, the pirates began herding the men to the starboard rail and the women to the port side. While one man stayed with the women, the two others, waving their pistols, produced handcuffs and fastened each man to the rail with the Captain. Albert and his men now took several moments to look over their captives. The passengers were all roughly in their twenties, all well groomed and in good physical shape. This was not a surprise, as Albert had been scouting this and a few other boats for three days. Some were in bathrobes, the rest had slipped on jeans or shorts. Some women were softly crying, others were starting to ask questions. The men were all glaring at Albert, silently admitting their handcuffed impotence. "Silence!" My men will now pass among you and collect everything in your pockets. Cell phones, wallets, and any jewelry you are wearing." The first two women handed over cell phones, a ring and a necklace. The man threw the phones overboard and pocketed the jewelry. The first man reluctantly gave up his wallet. The pirate rifled through it, taking credit cards, ID, and cash. He tossed the wallet into the water. At this, the fourth woman in the line began loudly demanding that they be set free and for the pirates to leave the ship or face "the law". Albert pointed at the lady and said, "Bring her!" Two of the bandits walked over to her and seized her by the upper arms, dragging her to the center of the deck. At a nod from Albert, one of the men moved to hold her arms behind her. The other man quickly pulled her shorts down to her knees. Then they bent her over at the waist, each holding her down with one arm. They began harshly smacking her panty-clad behind with their free hands. Screams became sobs and then frantic pleas to stop. At length, they straightened her up to face Albert, who looked directly at the other women and said, "From this point on you will all address me as 'Sir', and you will not speak unless you are asked a question. Is that clear to all?" A few meek and tearful "Yes Sirs" were heard. Albert turned to directly face the spanked woman. "Do you have anything else to say?" Her eyes cast down in defeat, tears running down her face, she sobbed, "N-no---Sir." Albert said, "Return to your group. Leave your shorts where they are." She shuffled back to the rail. Albert said, "Now we will continue." The men resumed collecting items from the captives, who were much more cooperative. After all but valuable items had been tossed into the ocean, Albert turned again to the women and said, "Now, two at a time, my men will take you to your cabins. You are to show them everything you have in the room. Every piece of clothing, everything. They will want to see any grooming or toiletry items you have. Some of you have left your phones and wallets in your room. Show my men everything. Is that clear, ladies?" "Yes Sir." As the men took the first two women by the arm, Albert held up his hand. "Stop. First, all the women, remove your shoes and throw them over the side. You won't need them." Slowly at first, each shoe or sandal came off and made a splash. As the last one went over, Albert said, "Thank you, ladies. I find that barefoot women are just a bit less defiant. Wouldn't you agree? You don't need to answer that." In the first cabin, the captor spoke for the first time. "What is your name?" "Lisa, Sir." "Alright Lisa. You will quickly hold up each item you have in this cabin, one at a time, and then toss it in that corner unless I say otherwise. Do you understand?" "Yes Sir." Lisa began holding up her clothing. A dress, underwear, shorts, t-shirts and shoes. All were thrown in a pile. She then went through her male companion's belongings. "Go into your bathroom and show me what is there." Lisa brought out toothpaste, a few cosmetics and a razor. "Is there shaving cream in there?" "Yes Sir." "Leave only the razor, the shaving cream, and soap and towel. Throw everything else away. When Lisa returned, the man glanced in the bathroom. He turned toward the frightened woman. "Lisa, I will give you your privacy. Enter the bathroom. Do not lock the door. You are to shave yourself all over, including your pussy. Shower. Clean yourself thoroughly in all places. Do you understand what I mean by that?" Stricken and tearful, Lisa choked out, "Yes Sir." "You have twenty-five minutes to finish. If you take too long I will come in and help you. When you are finished, you are to wrap yourself in only the towel. Go!" As Lisa scampered into the bathroom, the man smiled, sat on the bed, and lit a cigarette. In the next room, the second captive entered her cabin and backed up against a wall, expecting to be raped. "What is name?" "Ummm, K-Katherine! S-Sir." A fleeting thought about trying to relate to a kidnapper entered her mind. "What is your name?" He just glared at her. She remembered the instruction to show her things. She reached toward a suitcase on the dresser. "No!" he pointed toward the bathroom. Trembling, Katherine entered the small bathroom with the nameless pirate right behind. He looked around. He picked up a bar of soap and handed it to her. Then he held up a razor. "You bath! You shave!" He pointed to his armpits, and his crotch before patting his legs. He made a waving motion from his neck to his calf. "Understand?" She reddened in embarrassment. "Y-yes s-s-Sir", she replied through tears. He turned and walked out, leaving the door open. Katherine had been shaving her privates for a couple of years, leaving the usual "landing strip", but it had been several days. She decided to shave that off in the shower. She began to undo the robe belt, but the open door was too much. She stepped in the shower, closed the curtain, and slipped out of her robe, bra, and panties. The first cold blast from the shower head made her jump back, but in a moment she began soaping up and shaving her legs and underarms. Her dark triangle headed for the drain last. The man began to go through the suitcase and a closet, dumping everything on the floor. He heard the shower stop, and took a step to stand in the doorway. Katherine was just emerging from the shower, knowing she would have to sit down to finish. "Oh, please!", she pleaded. The man twirled his finger in a 'hurry up' motion, then folded his arms. Trembling and sobbing, she sat on the toilet and picked up the shaving cream. She turned to hide herself , but quickly saw that it wouldn't work. She placed a bare foot on the counter and spread her legs as she applied a thin layer of cream. As he watched, she had to feel for stubble with her fingers before reaching down with the razor. Soon she wiped herself with the towel. She was well aware of his stare as she bent her head and moved her lower lips around, looking for any missed hairs. She stood up and faced him. In an instant, he grabbed her arm and neck, turned her around, and bent her face down to the toilet seat. She screamed, again expecting to be raped. Instead, he bent his head down and spread her ass cheeks. He grunted and reached for her hands. He placed one on each cheek and motioned for her to hold them open. He picked up the razor and scraped a few stray hairs off. He let go and as she straightened up, he was handing her the towel. Her face couldn't have been redder as she wrapped it around her body. Two hours later, six towel-clad women were lined up at the rail. Most were still a little wet, and their hair was matted. He said, "Thank you, ladies for your cooperation. Your obedience will be tested further now." He pointed to the female crew member, who was still dressed. "You will go to each one, have her face the rail, and dry her hair and body with her towel. She can then put her towel back on. If anyone is uncooperative, just stand back and we will take care of it. Ladies, this will be the first step of your interview. Do you understand?" Two or three emitted very meek, "Yes Sir". "I said, do you understand?" A much stronger "Yes Sir!" rang out. As the sailor began her task, each woman, blushing and tearful, dutifully turned, perhaps grateful for this small grant of modesty. The men, including the ignored captives, were mesmerized. As the fifth woman's backside was revealed, Albert said, "Stop! Ladies, I want you to walk over to your man and notice that he is very interested in your predicament. You have 30 seconds. Move!" Each of the six women found her mate and quickly noticed that he was painfully aroused. Two of the women slapped her man across the face. Another attempted to kick out, but her knee became tangled in her towel. Another reached out and slapped at a crotch. Each said a few angry words, and turned to walk away. Most were blushing. One towel started to fall off. The woman quickly re-tucked it. Albert continued. "Ladies, while you were busy freshening up, we have prepared your interview room. As you are finished getting dried, you will go one at a time with Peter here. The interview will take approximately thirty minutes. Be prepared to tell us all about yourself. Your profession, your hobbies, the books you have read, your experiences. You will be weighed and measured. You will be assessed. Do you understand?" Several women glanced at each other, helpless at this deepening of their predicament. "Yes Sir." "I will accept your answer, though I doubt if any of you really understand." He turned and walked away. Peter escorted the first lady to the nearest cabin. Albert gestured, "Please sit here. What is your full name?" "Autumn Ellis" Albert looked up from his clipboard. "Uh, Sir." Sitting in the short towel, Autumn had her knees pressed tightly together. "Autumn, what is your profession?" "I'm an accountant, Sir." "Good, that skill could be very useful" Autumn started to question this odd statement, but Albert silenced her with a gesture. "There will be time for your questions later. Take this clipboard and list all your measurements, hobbies and interests." Autumn did so and handed the board back. "That man you just tried to kick, is he your boyfriend?" "Y-yes Sir." "And during the last few months, about how many times a week have you had sex?" Autumn was starting to tremble. "Ummmm, uh, I guess about two or three times." "Do you have something to add, Autumn?" She looked up. "Umm, Sir! Sorry." Albert took a wild guess. He stood up and glared down at her. "Autumn, did you have sex last night?" She looked up at Albert, towering over her. Her mouth gaped open, but no sound escaped. "Autumn, do you remember what happened on deck earlier? I hope you are not losing your respect for me. What are the two rules I gave you?" "Errrr, to call you Sir, and to not speak unless asked a question. Sir." The trembling increased and tears began to flow. "Answer my question!" Autumn, close to despair, whispered, "Yes s-Sir." "Autumn, have you ever given your boyfriend oral sex?" "Uh, yes Sir." "And has he returned the favor?" "No Sir, he said he wouldn't like it." Autumn's face turned bright red. "Why are you asking me these questions?" Albert shot her a stern look, but let the transgression go. "Stand up! Step on this scale!" Startled, Autumn quickly moved onto the scale. "Now, Autumn, we can hardly weigh you accurately while you are wearing a wet towel. You will remove it, fold it carefully, and hand it to me." It took a moment for the command to sink in. Numbly, she unclasped the towel, let it fall into her hand and started to fold it. She broke. Dropping the towel and putting her hands to her face, she started screaming, "I can't do this! Leave us alone! Leave us alone!" At the first scream Peter stepped up and grabbed Autumn by the arms. Albert calmly said, "We will continue your interview after the others. Take her back to the rail and give her a taste of your hand." He quickly put an arm around her waist and dragged the naked, crying woman from the room. In a few minutes, her painful screams resonated through the ship. The next two women, though highly embarrassed and tearful, cooperated with Albert's instructions. Each came out of the cabin blushing and distressed. The fourth was named Julie. As she handed her towel to him, Albert glanced down her body and asked, "Did you shave yourself completely?" Instinctively, she dropped her hands down across herself. Albert stood up and glared right into her eyes. Even though she was still on the scale, Albert towered over her. She bent her neck to look up at him. "Show me! Sit down!" Intimidated, Julie sat in the chair. "Come on!" He moved his hands in an unmistakable way. Julie raised her legs and parted her knees a little. Albert grabbed her ankles and separated them. "Hold still!" He hesitated, looking at her legs. He had always been an admirer of ladies legs and feet. Many women had nice legs, but few had pretty feet. Julie's feet were smooth and small with a graceful arch. "Very nice", he thought, as his attention focused on her crotch. Interestingly, he had always thought of pussies as rather ugly. He thought, "Maybe that's why nature covered them with hair." His customers, though, had almost invariably preferred smoothies. He lightly ran his fingertips over her crotch, pinching here and there. Julie sat frozen. Albert thought, " I got a little response from the last two. Not this one." After a quick inspection he said, "Good shaving job, you may take your towel and go." She quickly jumped up and wrapped herself in the towel. He watched her great calves and her toes flexing as she walked away. He turned to Peter, "I need to pick one of the six. Not that one." Peter chuckled. Lisa was the last, save for Autumn. Having obediently folded her towel and stepped from the scale, Lisa stood before Albert naked. "Lisa, I am behind schedule. You have twice seen what happens to disobedient girls. I am growing impatient. If you do not wish to be dragged from this cabin and whipped, you are going to follow my commands quickly and precisely. Do you understand?" "Y-y-yes Sir" "First, I must check your grooming. Sit in the chair and hold your legs open widely." Terrified, Lisa backed into the chair, grasped her knees and spread her legs. "I said widely!" She opened her legs more, and gasped. "I know you had to shave hastily. I will be checking for thoroughness. I will also assess your responsiveness. The last one fell short." As Albert began to lightly run his fingers over her pussy, a deep blush began spreading over Lisa's chest. Her hips moved involuntarily. "I am impressed with your shaving. It is perfect." Lisa felt a strange sense of pride at the compliment. He pulled at her labia. "It's not easy to quickly shave a place like this. His fingers lightly pinched a deep fold. "Or here." His fingernail traced a line across her cheeks. "Have you shaved before today?" "Uhhhh, yes Sir. But not completely like this." Albert's tender manipulations quickly replaced her fear with a growing arousal. Albert was good. "Ah! I was hoping to see your little pink friend! He is not so little, eh?" Lisa didn't answer. She was lost in sensation. Her eyes were closed. Albert continued his light, but expert massage. He began lightly tugging at her lips. She began a low gasping sound. Albert noticed a pulsing in her pussy. He lightly circled her clit, then moved his finger rapidly. Ahhhhh! Ahhh! Ohh! An orgasm washed over Lisa. She closed her knees and thrashed in the chair. Albert kept one hand between her legs, gently rubbing. Her breathing gradually slowed. Albert sat back in his chair. He allowed Lisa to sit up. She was still in a haze, her upper body still showing a blush. "I suspect that you just had one the best orgasms of your life. Is that right, Lisa?" Through a ragged breath, she said, "Umm, uh, yes uh, Sir." "You are the most intelligent and responsive member of your group, Lisa. If you wish to make the best of your circumstance, I want you to listen carefully. The rest of your friends are going to another country to live a different life than they have known. Nod if you have an inkling of my meaning." Lisa nodded as another tear formed. "But your responses so far have earned you a chance to stay with me as my assistant. I can assure you, it will be a hard life but far less stressful than the life of the others. If you choose to audition for this assignment. You will have two tasks to accomplish to earn this position. Think for a moment. Are you interested?" 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 02: Lisa Part 2 Lisa (Reading Part 1 is a must.) ***** Peter pulled her t-shirt up over her head, trapping her arms. Lisa was still screaming though the shirt muffled the sound somewhat. While Peter held her wrists and waist, the other man unsnapped her jeans and pulled them down. He stepped around and grabbed her legs, pulling the pants and shoes clear off. As she struggled, Peter whispered in her ear, "You should have known this would happen, bitch! Stop screaming or I will gag you and whip you right here! Understand?" Lisa kept wailing, but the volume quickly fell. She was gasping and sobbing. "Last chance! If you understand, you will take your own shirt off and stand at inspection!" Lisa took a moment to consider her choices. None. She nodded compliance. Peter let her wrists go, and she moved to take off her last shred of clothing. She hissed, "Albert, you fucking bastard!" She looked his way, but he was gone. Peter landed a strong swat on her ass. "Inspection!" As her arms came up, Peter announced, "Albert has gone to conclude the business part of this. I will handle this last offering. As you have seen, this one has had little training, but Albert has given her a rating of 'nine' I will override that and give her a 'seven'. Albert asked me to tell you that this one is quite responsive, and that she also has good management skills." At this, Lisa began sobbing and shaking her head in disbelief at this addition to her betrayal, but kept her silence. Peter turned toward Lisa. "Turn slowly." Numbly, she began to turn around. Everyone could see a sheen of sweat forming on her body and a red hand print on her right cheek. As she finished the circle to face the five bidders, Peter snapped his fingers. A moment of confusion showed on Lisa's face. Albert had told her that this meant 'position three', face down. But she quickly knelt, thinking it less humiliating. She glanced up, but Peter wasn't looking. Peter thought for a moment. There was no way to match the pure animal excitement of the first auction. Watching a group of women forced to undress and display themselves gave each man a throbbing erection that had now dissipated. An idea crossed his mind. "You will answer my questions by holding your fingers up. Nod if you understand." Blinking back tears, Lisa nodded. "How many blow jobs did you give yesterday?" Slowly, Lisa put a finger up, like a schoolgirl. "And how many orgasms did you have yesterday?" With a sigh, she held up two fingers. "Gentlemen, the bid starts at 70." All five cards came up at once. In 10 minutes time, Lisa sold for $94,000. Peter spoke to the four 'losers'. "Gentlemen, Albert sends his regrets. There should be another shipment in five to six months. Thank you and keep in touch. You will find food and drink in the dining hall." The remaining man had already walked up to Lisa, who was still kneeling. "Sir, if you will take her hand, I will show you to a room where you can get more acquainted." The man was carrying a bag in one hand. He took Lisa's elbow and guided her up. They were soon alone in a cabin. He spoke for the first time. "Hold your hands out." He seemed to speak in an Egyptian or Arabic accent. He brought a pair of fabric handcuffs from his bag and fastened her wrists together. The cuffs included a belt which he fastened around her waist. "You are an untamed tiger. I don't wish to be attacked or for you to hurt yourself." He ran the back of his hand over her nipples, producing a small shudder. "Now, your name is Raisa. You are to forget your old name. What is your name?" She choked out, "Uh, Raisa s-s-sir?" "And you are to completely forget your old life. Where are you from?" He gave her a stern look. Ummmmmm, uh, "I-I don't know sir!" Tears began again. "Excellent! After an introductory period, I think you will fit in well." Now I will cover you with our traditional dress as it is not permitted for you to show your body in public. He slipped a head-to-toe hooded robe over her. "You will not speak again until you are in my home. Do you understand?" Raisa nodded. As Raisa and her 'gentleman' made their way to the stern, she kept glancing from side to side, looking for Albert. The hood made it more difficult, but Albert was not on the main deck. A boat about half the size of Blue Bayou bobbed along the starboard side. She put a foot on the moving deck. She glanced up at her captor, who saw the problem. "Leave those shoes here. You won't need them." Raisa reached down to remove the heels, then stepped onto the boat. He directed her to the first cabin off the deck. The light was dim, but she saw two other people in the room. One of them was Autumn. As she caught sight of the hooded woman, her head came up and a look of pure disgust distorted her face. Raisa quickly looked at the floor and said nothing. Autumn must have been cautioned not to speak as well, but her stare continued throughout the hour's journey. They felt a bump and heard men talking outside the cabin. Soon the door opened and the two men stood, indicating that the women should follow. As they made their way up to the deck, the thought struck her that as she stepped off the boat, her life was changed forever. She was lost. The small dock led to a gravel path. Raisa could feel the sharp rocks on her bare feet, but Ali held her arm and rushed her toward a black limo. A tall man dressed in white moved to open the rear door. He ushered her in, sliding in beside her. In a moment, the car lurched forward and turned to the road. The windows were heavily tinted. Autumn had no idea where they were or where they could be going. She turned toward Ali, "May I ask a question, Sir?" "No, you may not. You will be enlightened after we land. You will be fed and be able to use a restroom during the flight." He turned away and took out a phone. Shortly the limo turned off the road and stopped beside a small plane, dimly lit by moonlight. Once again he escorted her by the arm. She held back a bit as they reached the steps to the plane. Ali tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her into his face. "You will not like the consequences of your defiance," he hissed. "Your notes did not mention that you had been punished aboard that ship, but they made note of your intelligence. Raisa, do I need to say more about this?" "No s-Sir. I'm sorry." Soon she sat alone, belted in a seat, hands still cuffed. Airborne. There were six seats in the front section of the plane. A woman approached from the rear section, dressed in a long skirt and modest blouse. She reached down to unfasten the seat belt. "Please come with me. I'll take you to the restroom." As they made their way toward the front, Raisa noticed that the woman was also barefooted. As they reached the door, Raisa lifted her hands under the robe. "I'm sorry, I can't take those off. Let me help you lift your chador." Raisa backed up a little, but the woman bent down and snatched the hem up, holding it at Raisa's waist. "Hold this!" She didn't seem to notice or care that Raisa was naked under the black cloth. "Just clear your throat when you are ready and I will help you." Even with the hem in her hands, Raisa had a hard time getting the back of the robe high enough to sit down. Finally, was able to pee. She closed her eyes and put her head down. In a moment the door opened. The woman looked at the pitiful sight. She closed the door on the small space, pulled a tissue off the holder and put it in Raisa's hand. She dabbed her eyes, patted her crotch, and looked up. The woman cautioned, "We only have a minute. My name is Alina. I know you are scared. Do you have a question?" "Where are we going? What is going to happen?" She drew the hood back from Raisa's head. "You are beautiful. You only need your head covered in public. Our Master always chooses well. We are going to Saudi Arabia, where you are to be part of our family. You need to be obedient, and you will not be harmed. Now we must return. I will bring you food." She drew Raisa up to stand as she opened the door. Alina soon brought a steaming dish and a glass of water on a small cart. There were other plates on the cart. "I'm sorry, I still can't take the restraints off. I will be back to feed you." She smiled at Raisa, and headed toward the rear of the plane. In a few minutes she was back. She proceeded to spoon feed her charge. The meal was a delicious stew with rice, vegetables, and lamb. She whispered as she worked, "You will have to accept your situation quickly when we get home. I have heard that there are two other women coming. This means you will have to strive to be more responsive than the other two. Obey quickly, and don't have outbursts. This will be hard. I have been here for four years. I will try to help you as I can, but none of us can show softness during your training period. Now, try to sleep. We will be in the air a long time." Once during the night, Alina took Raisa to the restroom. This time, she had to wipe her ass. "Don't be alarmed. We will be much more intimate than this as time passes. I will be handling part of your training." Raisa came awake as the plane bounced to a landing. Daylight streamed in the windows, but she could not tell the time or location of the airport. Ali emerged from the rear and strode past her without a glance. She watched him exit the plane and heard activity outside. Shortly, he returned, and the plane took off again. It occurred to her that they were traveling across the world, and she had no passport or ID. It was as though she was being born into a new life, naked and without a single possession. Sleep was a temporary escape from the unknown. Day turned to night, a meal and restroom break passed, and night turned back to day. Raisa saw endless desert below. The plane landed on a small strip that actually seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. Before she could begin to think about this, Alina appeared at her seat to escort her off the plane and into a big SUV. Alina whispered, "If the other two are here, we will start training tomorrow. Remember to be obedient. I will ask you to do things that are embarrassing. You must do whatever you are commanded. Each day and each week will be better as you get use to your role. The women here will become your family and your comfort. Please think about this tonight." Alina took her to a room. There was a bathroom and a bed, both of which were a welcome sight. Alina told Raisa to stand still. She drew off the chador and unfastened the belt and cuffs. Involuntarily, she stretched her arms and legs. "Take a nice bath. You will see that we don't have showers here. The bath is meant for relaxation. Everything you need is here. There are robes and other clothing in the closet. I will bring you some food in a a couple hours and again in the morning. I have to lock your door, but I will be close by. Do you understand?" "Yes, Alina. Thank you for everything." Raisa seemed to suddenly realize that she was naked, and moved her hands to cover herself, but Alina was already exiting the door. A bath seemed like the ultimate luxury at this moment, so she headed for the tub. There was no lock on the bathroom door. Soon she immersed herself in a hot bubble bath in a big round tub, massaged by swirling jets. Clouds of steam followed her out of the bathroom. She found a long white nightgown that covered her to the ankles. There was no underwear to be found. She noticed that all the clothing was white. The room had a small bookshelf and a nightstand with a lamp, but little else. Raisa curled up on the bed and fell asleep. The sound of the door opening woke her. Alina stood by the bed with a tray. "I brought you food last night, but you were so soundly sleeping I just left the tray. Here is a nice breakfast. Did you take a bath?" "Yes, Alina, it was wonderful after that flight." "Good. Enjoy your food. Remember that during training, I will be strict and demanding. That is my job. When I am alone with any of the women here, I can be more friendly. I will be back in half an hour to bring you to training. Your gown will be fine." Immediately, Raisa thought of her own brief role as 'trainer' on Blue Bayou. The plate had eggs, fruit, and a small bowl of yogurt. The coffee was dark and very bitter, but she ate and drank everything in sight. Alina walked in without knocking. "Here are some slippers that should fit. Please go and brush your teeth if you haven't." Soon they walked into a large room with a central pool and two smaller pools more akin to large hot tubs. Two other women stood by one of the pools. One was a brunette like Raisa, and the other was a dark blond. Each was rather tall, and had good figures under their night clothes. "Good morning. I have spoken to each of you already, so you know my name. Your names are Raisa, Kiah, and Ishamel. We will meet here each day for training for a few weeks. You will be using the pools, so as you enter, remove your clothing at those chairs near the door. Do so now and return." The women glanced at each other, then moved to comply. As they walked back, they noticed that the blond was not shaved. Each felt the urge to cover herself with her hands, but none did. They stood before Alina, naked. "Please get used to nudity. Your bodies are beautiful, and you must learn to be proud of them. Later in the training, we will learn to dress in beautiful and provocative ways. We have much to learn and much to do. But now it is time for exercise. Here we stay fit by swimming. Enter the pool and do five rapid laps, then stop. I will speak to you before you continue. Go." I her life as Lisa, swimming in the nude had always been exciting. There was something so different about water flowing over the body after shedding a bathing suit. She had been 'skinny dipping' just a few days ago on Blue Bayou. Now she was Raisa, but the feeling, a little naughty, a little arousing, was still there. She was a strong swimmer, and finished her laps first. The blond, Ishamel, was struggling. As she made the last lap, she was out of breath. Alina told them to sit on the edge of the pool to rest. "I want to tell you about our way of life a little at a time. It will be easier to digest that way. First, all the women in this residence are here to serve the Master in some way. I have been here four years. I came here in the same way that you have, and I struggled, and cried, and resisted, as you will. But I quickly learned that getting ahead here is simple: Please our Master." "You will not see much of our Master anytime soon. So, to please him, you must please me. Tomorrow we will do 8 laps, but now we have a task to complete- the bath. You are to go to the small pool over here. First you will all wash each other in every place except your hair. You can wash your hair in your room. Here, the bath is not just for cleanliness. You are to massage each other. Allow your body to be explored. You may also quietly converse, but plotting to rebel or escape is pointless. We are in a large desert. Now begin. I will be watching to see which of you pleases our Master by your obedience." The pool was about three feet deep. At first the women couldn't manage to look at each other. At length, Raisa whispered, "Well, who's first?" Alina interrupted, "No, Each of you pick up soap and start washing each other at the same time. There is no modesty here. Begin." A small blush broke out on all three faces, but Raisa moved to pick up soap bars for each of them. She splashed water on Kiah's back and started soaping. Ishamel maneuvered in front of Kiah, looked into her eyes, and began soaping her shoulders and arms, soon moving to her breasts. Kiah glanced over to Alina and started returning service to Ishamel. Slowly the girls fell into the routine. A giggle or two echoed over the water. Raisa guided Ishamel to the ledge and raised her legs to begin washing her feet. Kiah began washing Raisa's back and bottom. More light giggles. As Raisa made her way to the top of Ishamel's thighs, Alina cleared her throat. Getting the message, Ishamel parted her legs to let her blonde patch be soaped. "Clean her well. You will be shaving her in a few minutes," Alina advised. This brought a shudder and a gasp from Ishamel. The giggles stopped. Soon all three women were scrubbed from face to toes. Alina brought a tray with supplies to the trio. "I see that both of you have done this before, so proceed. I will inspect your work. Ishamel, sit at the side with your heels on the edge." Raisa started with a pair of scissors. Ishamel was trembling. "Please be careful," she whimpered. Kiah asked, "Have you ever shaved before?" "No!" Tears began forming. Kiah climbed out of the pool and urged Ishamel to lay her head against her. As Raisa began using the razor, Kiah reached down with one hand to stretch the skin here and there. Kiah whispered very faintly, "It's OK, we'll get through this together." This had the opposite of the intended comfort, as Ishamel gave out a moan of despair. Raisa understood the delicate nature of her task. After several rinses and manipulations, she looked at Alina. Alina told Ishamel to turn around and lay on her back. As she carefully ran her fingers over the area, she spoke. "This is an old tradition in this part of the world. All the women here must be clean. Even old women maintain this habit." She reached down between Ishamel's cheeks. "Excellent." She turned to the other women. "It has probably been a few days for each of you. Ishamel, you are to inspect the other two and take care of any strays. Ladies, get yourselves into position." After a moment of surprise, the women crawled to the side, and began spreading their legs. Ishamel slipped into the water. The feeling of the water on her bare pussy was a shock, and she instinctively reached down with her hand. Alina cautioned, "Use a new razor each time." Ishamel began running her hand over Raisa's pussy. She found some light stubble, and began her task. As she manipulated her lower lips, Raisa couldn't help but think, "That feels good, but she is no Albert." She wasn't really aroused, but the light tickle felt great. As Ishamel finished and moved to Kiah, Raisa moved into the water to rinse. Alina motioned her over, speaking in a low voice. "Your name is Raisa for a reason. It means 'leader'. I can see why he chose that name, as I see a spark in you. I want you to take Ishamel to the big pool and help her with her swimming skills." In another part of the building, a very aroused Master watched a bank of monitors. The pool was ringed with hidden cameras, and he had watched the morning's training with great interest. The nude swimming was interesting, but the shaving session had put him over the edge. He snapped his fingers and swiveled in his chair. A kneeling woman who had been waiting over an hour for this moment moved up to him, shedding a loose garment. She unfastened his silk pajama pants and pulled them off. Needing no further prodding, she began licking his cock in earnest. Swirling her tongue from base to tip, she then took his length into her mouth. She alternated long strokes with several short ones. At one point, she encircled the base of his scrotum with her thumb and finger, using gentle pressure. This sent him gasping to his climax. As he softened, she looked up. "Do you need to bathe, Master?" "No, Tala, you may go. As always, you please me greatly." Tala smiled. She picked up her garment and threw it over her shoulder. She knew that one of his many quirks was watching a submissive woman walking away from him with her scrap of clothing draped over her back, head down. He saw that as a sign of his mastery over her. She stopped to put her slippers on and left. In the pool, Raisa held her hand under Ishamel's abdomen while she practiced kicking. Kiah knelt at Alina's feet. As they watched, Alina whispered, "You may dry off and dress. As they finish, help them do the same. I will be watching as you walk over to the towels. Walk with pride in your body. You are beautiful." 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 02: Lisa "Yes, Ma'am." Kiah self-consciously padded across the room. She tried to keep her head up and walk like a runway model, but it felt ridiculous. As she returned, Alina was smiling. "We will work on it." She turned to the pool. "Girls, it is time to dress." Kiah was ready with towels and the white gowns. "We will all go to Raisa's room where you can do each other's hair and get ready for lunch. We need to learn to walk like ladies, so as I follow you I will be watching. Take a little smaller step, move your hips in small delicate ways. Be subtle. We're not streetwalkers." The walk to the room was a little comical as the girls tried to comply. Alina smiled. They were swinging their arms like marathon runners. Ishamel looked like she was about to throw a hip out of joint. Kiah had the best feminine walk so far. "Ladies, let Kiah lead, and watch her walk. Relax." The procession made it to Raisa's room a few minutes later. "I will be back in 45 minutes to take you to eat. I want you help each other wash your hair and get ready. Your rooms are all connected. Wear skirts and blouses today, with heels. Heels force us to walk with grace. Do you understand?" "Yes Ma'am." As they entered, the sound of the door lock reminded them of their captivity. At almost the same time, each took a deep breath and let out a sigh. Raisa raise her arms to hug Ishamel. Kiah joined in. They clung to each other for a long moment, parting with tears. Raisa spoke, "I guess we're all supposed to get ready in here. Do you want to go get your clothes and come back?" They returned to the sound of water running. "I wish we had a shower to wash hair, but I guess we can do it in the tub." Kiah asked, "Do we have to do everything together?" Ishamel nodded in agreement. Raisa looked at them in sympathy. "Well, first, right now we only have each other. We haven't seen what happens if we say no, and I don't want to find out anytime soon. I think we should try to do what Alina says. She told me she would be harsh, but we haven't seen that yet." In silent agreement, the two girls draped their white clothes on the bed and headed for the bathroom. Nervously, they faced away from each other as their gowns dropped. Safely in the water, Ishamel whispered, "I hate being naked all the time!" Both of the others nodded in sympathy. But Raisa splashed water in the their faces. "So let's get this done." She swirled shampoo over their hair. In a few moments, splashing and giggling replaced fear. For most women, having someone touch their hair was a sensual experience. For ages, women have washed, groomed, braided, and massaged each other's hair. Once again, here in the middle of a large desert, in the forced service of a powerful man, three women cleaned, dried, and brushed one anothers hair, producing a pleasant drowsiness. For that brief time, they could put their troubles to the side. Without saying a word, they realized that they would have to cling to each other. Alina found the women dressed. She nodded her head in approval as she looked them over. "We will be eating with other women today. You must sit together, but you may sit at any table. Food will be brought to you. We eat halal here, a Muslim diet. Most people find it to be quite varied and delicious, and I will expect perfect table manners." You will be sitting with other women who serve our Master. You can expect some signs of jealousy from the others. That is normal. You are new and beautiful, and a threat to their time with the Master. This will fade in time as you earn the right to change from your white clothing. I'm sure you are all hungry, so let us proceed. The women were on display again as they walked in ankle-length skirts to the dining hall. Alina made a few comments, but walking in heels did improve their performance. The hall was beautifully decorated. The round tables each held about six to eight women, dressed in bright oranges, yellows, and reds. Kiah spotted an open table occupied by four others, already eating. No one spoke as steaming plates of chicken and vegetables appeared. "Hello, my name is L- uh, Raisa." Three of the women looked up at her, then cast their eyes back down. The fourth one smirked. "We know who you are. Eat your food and go!" Kiah spoke. "Have we done something wrong?" "You are here. For us that is wrong. You are also pretty. Who do you think cleans your bathroom? Who do you think cooks this food? As soon as you are out of your virgin whites, some of us will be doing those jobs!" "But we didn't ask..." The woman cut her off with a wave. "We didn't either you idiot! Every girl in this room came here against her will!" They finished the meal in silence. Ishamel quietly sobbed. This prompted a few tears from two of the other women. On the way back to the rooms, Raisa spoke up, "Alina, may we ask some questions?" "Yes, it is time for your questions. I could see that the talk at your table was emotional." As they entered Raisa's room, Alina sat in a chair and motioned for the three to sit or kneel around her. Ishamel went first. "Why did they call these 'virgin whites'?" "Our Master thinks of his new girls as virgins. When he first calls you to his bedroom, you will be wearing white. He will expect you to act like a shy, nervous virgin. When you leave his room, you will be wearing bright colors." This produced a slight blush and a moment of silence as the girls reflected on those images. Kiah spoke up."One of those women said they might be cleaning bathrooms because of us!" "There is some truth to that. As the women get older, our Master tires of them, but he always finds useful work for them. They are treated well. You must always keep in mind that you are in a man's world, but Master is the only man you will probably ever see. There are security men outside, but here there are only women. You may have heard old tales of eunuchs guarding the harem, but in today's world that is rare." "What about you, Alina? You were on the plane." "Raisa, I have a privileged position of trust. I still serve our Master's needs sometimes, but I have worked hard to gain his trust. I have earned the position of trainer and overseer, first by complete obedience and deference to him. Later, I found small ways to show him my intelligence. Then I simply asked him to give me a girl called Tala to train. That was one year ago. You are going to meet her soon." "When I came here I quickly learned that refusal and rebellion were not tolerated. My trainer was very harsh, and she carried a small whip." She stood up and lifted the side of her dress to expose a red scar high on her hip. "None of you are going to give me any reason to carry a whip." It wasn't a question. The three women seemed mesmerized by her disclosure. "That is enough for you to think about. You have the rest of the day to rest. The doors between your rooms are open. Use your conversation wisely. I am proud of your progress." Mid morning found them standing naked before Alina once more. The day before, they decided to eat together in Raisa's room whenever they could. The conversation had been a mixture of despondency and curiosity. "Today we will begin learning sexual servitude. Kneel" At once they complied. "Place your knees about 18 inches apart. Our Master usually does not require more." She reached into a bag and produced three dildos shaped like large penises. "A year ago, I had an idea. I proposed making a mold of Master's penis. These are the result, exact replicas. As I give one to you, hold out your hands and gently receive it. You are to treat it as though it was real." "Work up some saliva and begin licking the length of it. At first you are coating it." Three girls began licking. "He likes you to look up to his face occasionally, but mainly look at his penis as though it was gold. Now begin taking the head in your mouth, of course using lips and no teeth. Use a gentle pressure to compress the spongy tip. Spend time just on the head with your tongue." Alina walked down the row. "Raisa, more saliva. Kiah, good. Everyone, use your other hand to lightly scratch his balls. Gently squeeze each one." Alina knew full well that the Master was watching, though she would never tell her students. She had seen the monitors behind a curtain and deduced the purpose. She always positioned the 'action' in front of one of the hidden cameras. Alina knew that right now, the sight of three nude, kneeling women practicing their skills on models of his shaft, was driving him crazy. She wondered if Tala was with him. "At some point, he will grab your head and start pumping himself on you. Be sure to continue using your tongue and a slight suction until he comes. Do not gag or cough. Stay with him even after he removes his hand. Now, begin practicing full strokes." As they began, she said, "Watch his face. Sometimes when he is angry about something, he will squirt on your chest. Just be sure he is not angry at your performance. Usually you will swallow." As the minutes passed, their lips and tongues began to tire. They began glancing at Alina. "Keep going!" "Alright, stop now and begin cleaning his cock. With little laps of your tongue, like a kitten." Three tongues began darting in and out. "One more thing before our morning swim. Lay the penis down and with one finger, reach between your legs. I need to know if you are aroused." This command brought on blushes as they glanced at each other. Almost as one, each dipped the middle finger of the right hand between her legs. "Show me!" Completely embarrassed, each one held up a glistening finger. "Excellent! Our Master is not a patient man. There will be times when he takes you in the first moment. Now, go take what passes here for a cold shower. Eight laps. Go!" The women scampered to the pool and dove in. Alina wanted to look up at the camera and smile, but she knew Master would notice her work without any stunts on her part. Ishamel was still the weakest swimmer. Raisa was swimming beside her with tips and encouragement. Kiah noticed, and soon they were swimming to the finish together. "Good! Now go to the bathing pool. Remember that the bath is to be a refreshing, cleansing massage. Today, take turns as two wash the third. We will do our grooming every third day, though you should always help to check each other, as our Master is very particular about smooth pussies." In the bath, their hard breathing from the swim subsided. Soon Ishamel and Raisa were lathering and rubbing Kiah's legs and feet. They worked up each side very slowly, over her breasts and shoulders. Kiah made little sounds of contentment. Raisa moved a soapy hand down past the navel. Kiah sluggishly opened her legs to allow her mates access. Kiah raised her body further out of the water as Ishamel washed between her cheeks. Each girl took her turn over the span of an hour. Alina thought, "Much better. Yesterday it looked like a game of naked Twister." She walked over and stood by the pool. In a moment, the girls began drying and dressing. "Today at lunch you will sit with Tala and another girl. They will be friendly. Please ask any questions of them. After lunch we will meet in Raisa's room" Tala was a blond in her mid twenties. She smiled as the 'white girls' sat down. Kiah spoke first, "Does everyone hate us here?" "No. some of the older women are a little threatened by your presence. I was in your place a year ago. This will lessen in time. No physical harm will come to you." "My name is Raisa. How long is the training? When do we get regular clothes?" "Probably in a few weeks. Time passes slowly here. What have you done so far? Has she given you the rubber dicks yet?" All three turned a little red, looked down, and nodded. Tala and the other woman tried to suppress a giggle. Then the whole table broke into giggling. The ice was broken. "Wait til you see the original!" Giggles. "Keep practicing!" Back in the room, they again sat at Alina's feet. "It seemed that you had a much more enjoyable meal today." Everyone smiled in agreement. "I am pleased with your progress, and our Master is as well. It seems that one of you may be seeing him sooner than I thought." A nervous twitter ran over the group. "Who?" "No, I don't mean that I know who. You are all doing very well. That will be up to Master, and it won't be this week. We have more work to do." She drew the three dildos from her bag. "I am going to leave these. This afternoon you will do more than just rest. You are to practice more. And these are not just for oral use. Do you understand?" Again, a blush and a downward look. "Yes, I thought you would. Tomorrow, I want to hear of your progress in this matter. As always, help each other. By the way, we are not lesbians. Your mouth belongs to your Master. I will leave you now. Don't disappoint me." She handed a pink phallus to each girl. No one made a move for long minutes. Ishamel got up on her knees and started licking. The others followed, filling the room with light slurping sounds. Each one knew what was expected after the ritual sucking ended. Raisa made the first move. She slipped off her heels and sat on the bed, facing away from the room. Kiah got the hint and started to unzip Raisa's long dress. She stood up and let the dress drop. Ishamel started undoing buttons down the front of Kiah's dress. In a few moments, they were naked on the large bed. Raisa reclined in the middle. The other two sat on either side, massaging and gradually parting Raisa's legs. Ishamel said, "Hmmm, I have tab A, where is slot B!" Nervous giggles. "Wait, I found it," Everyone laughed. Raisa reached up and guided the thing into her. As it came back out it glistened. Ishamel started to change the angle and use upward pressure to make the head pass across Raisa's clit. "Oh, that's good. Ahh. Have uh you ahh done this uhh before?" the only answer was a more rapid movement. Images from the bath were flashing through her mind. The rubbing. The shaving. Thoughts of a first visit to his room. She burst. "Ahhhh, ahhhh, ohhhh ohhh oh oh!" She clamped her legs together and turned on her side. Ishamel and Kiah lay on either side. They pulled a sheet up and dozed off. In half an hour, the scene repeated, with Ishamel on the receiving end. This time Raisa used the dildo and her fingers. It took longer, but moans and gasps soon filled the room. Kiah, still under the sheet, started crying. "I can't do this! I can't just turn it on like that!" She pulled the sheet off and reached for her dress. "I'm going to my room. Maybe they'll just have to whip me!" Watching the scene from another room, Alina frowned. She thought. "My first problem. I hope the other two can intervene before I have to." In the morning, Alina sent them to swim their laps. The looks on the three faces told her that there was still a problem. The three heavily breathing, nude women knelt before her. Each had her 'personal companion' with her. "Raisa, did you help each other with your assignment?" "Yes Ma'am. We practiced what you taught us yesterday. Then we, ummm, used these things to come." "And you, Ishamel?" Ishamel closed her knees a bit. "Yes, Alina, we did what you asked." "Did you have an orgasm?" "Uh, yes Ma'am." "So you went last, Kiah?" Kiah, who had been reddening and fidgeting, fell on her face, crying. Alina motioned the other two toward the bathing pool. She helped Kiah up and took her to a bench near the entrance. Deciding that force was a last resort, she would try the sisterly approach. "Go and put your robe on and sit with me." When she returned, Alina took her hand. "What happened?" Kiah, through tears, whispered, "I've been trying to do what you want, but I just couldn't do that in front of the others. I'm sorry." "Now, I know you have had sex at your age. Have you had regular orgasms?" "Yes, Ma'am, but that's different!" "I know. Have you masturbated?" "Ummm, yes." "Kiah, I have an idea. You look like you didn't sleep much last night. I want you to go back to your room and take little nap. Then take a nice, long bath. I want you to imagine a time when you helped yourself to a big orgasm. Play out your fantasies. Have you ever tried it in the tub?" "I guess so. Yes." "We will pick you up for lunch. I'm hoping for a little wink from you. Hmmm?" Kiah gave a small smile. "Yes, Ma'am." Relief! She stood. "Don't forget your toy, dear girl!" Kiah scampered off. Alina walked over to the other two at the bath. "As you finish, we will practice a little more. When we see Kiah later, we won't talk about what happened. I think she will be ready to move on." Soon the two women, fresh and pink from the bath, knelt. "Alright, I want to see enthusiasm! I want to hear you as well!" At a wave of her hand, the licking began, Raisa gave out a low moan. Ishamel followed, and began a slurping sound. "Yes, he likes that. Good. Now, reach down with one hand and lightly stroke yourself." The women glanced at each other, then at Alina. "Go on, you need to do this for the next step." Slowly, two hands descended and began moving. At first it was difficult to coordinate the movements. They started moving the penis in and out and stroking themselves with the same motion. "Good. You will, practice this evening until you can do it easily. Now, kneel up." She waited. "Put the cock on the floor under you and very slowly lower yourself on it." Ishamel gasped, but started to move. They found that they had to bend forward to be able to hold it on the floor. "Just the tip! Now hold still. As slowly as you can, move up again. Do this four or five times. This is very pleasing for a man." The position was awkward, but the head was again rubbing on Raisa's pink nub. A little gasp. "Now a few long strokes and a few more short ones. Use your other hand on yourself. Master likes to come right after you do." Alina knew from experience that once arousal started, most women could think of little else and the conclusion was inevitable. The head passing over Raisa's clit made a delicious ripple, and soon she was lost in sensation. Without prompting, she began moving faster. Before long, involuntary grunts and groans punctuated her orgasm. Between gasps, she heard Alina. "Keep going! Unless Master has already come, keep going!" Ishamel was not having the same success though the action felt very good. Raisa's noisy orgasm was distracting, and soon she looked pleadingly at Alina. "You can stop. This is just practice. You can continue when you show Kiah later." Ishamel leaned back with a sigh. "Raisa, have you always had easy orgasms?" Still breathing heavily, she responded, "Uh, yes, umm, Ma'am." "You are very lucky. Now, go clean yourselves in the pool and relax for a bit." Later, after another talk about the Master's likes and dislikes, it was time for the mid-day meal. They picked Kiah up, and headed for the dining hall. "Raisa, you will join Tala again. I will sit with you two today." Raisa spotted Tala across the room, and as she approached, Tala rose to give her a warm, tight hug. "Isa, Alina wants you and I to spend the rest of the day together! Come sit by me!" The three others found a table by themselves. Alina made eye contact with Kiah, who gave her a small wink. Alina smiled. "Raisa is going to spend some time with Tala. We will keep training as we have been. Ishamel, I want you to show Kiah what she missed today." Ishamel started a blush. "Kiah, this is just practice, do you understand what I mean?" Kiah nodded. "I hope both of you understand that everything I am teaching you will be helpful as you begin to visit the Master. I am showing you what he likes. Every man has preferences and turn-ons. Of course, women do as well. But we are in a man's world. One man's world, and everything revolves around him. You may object to this, even find it repulsive, but you must accept it. We are here." 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 02: Lisa Kiah interrupted, "Alina, there must be some women who just can't do this. What happens to them?" "Put those thoughts out of your mind! Have you noticed that the bathing pool is sparkling clean each morning? Have you ever seen any dirt on the floors? Have you wondered who cleans your bathroom?" Kiah cast her eyes down. "Some of these women are older, but not all. Kiah, I have been in your situation. I know it is a shock and a disappointment to leave your old life like this." Kiah broke into tears and put her head in her hands. Alina reached across and took her hands. "Look at me. I will help you. We will do this together. Now go to your rooms and talk or cry this out. You have work to do." Tala said, "Let's go to my room!" As they walked, Tala playfully pinched Raisa. "Looks like you won't be wearing these whities much longer!" Raisa turned with a shocked look. "Come on, Isa, I'll tell you what I have heard." Tala took both of her hands as they sat on the bed. "What?" "Alina says Master wants you first! That's why you're here. I'm going to tell you everything you need to know." The shocked look came right back. "Ummm, why? When?" "Alright, calm down. It seems the why is because you like the rubber dick so much! When? Probably in the next few days." Raisa started trembling. "Isa, just sit back and listen for a while." "First, Master is just a man. He will not hurt you. Master loves women! He just likes to play out his little fantasies. Has Alina told you about the virgin thing?" "Yes, a little." "OK, first, he knows you're not a virgin. You just need to act all shy and nervous, like you want him to be your first, but you don't know what to do. He will come up and kiss you. Respond. He will take your hand and walk to the bed. He will slowly undress you. Cover yourself like a blushing bride." "Follow his lead. He will be very gentle. When he enters you at first, give a small cry of pain. Then begin responding to his thrusts. From what I've heard, your body will take over from there." Raisa smiled and blushed at the same time. They dissolved into giggles. Tala drew her into another tight hug. "Enough for now. I love an afternoon nap. Don't you?" Soon, both were dozing, one in bright orange, and the other still in white. In Kiah's room the atmosphere was a bit strained. Neither wanted to talk about what was next. Ishamel went into the bathroom. When she came out, Kiah went in. Finally, the stalling was over. Ishamel had an idea. "You know, we don't have to get naked for this." "Really?" Kiah blurted. "What do we have to do?" "First, the usual." They picked up the ever present penises, and proceeded to lick and slurp. The thought occurred to Ishamel that this was even sexier in a dress than it was naked. "Alright, now lift your dress a bit and put it inside you." "What?" "Come on, like this, just a bit." Ishamel lowered herself. "It's not so bad. Enjoy it!" Kiah took a deep breath, and let out a sigh. She put the penis underneath herself, and let it enter. "Now, up and down, little strokes, long ones. Raisa came all over hers this morning. Give it a try!" Kiah didn't answer, but she kept moving. Her morning activity in the tub flashed into her mind. She looked at Ishamel, who was bouncing with abandon, her left hand moving in small circles. Soon they both rode their tiny horses, oblivious to the other. The short strokes were producing a delicious tickle. Ishamel came first, with great gasps and groans. Kiah started with small sounds, soon turning to low moans. "Mmmmm, mmmm, ahhhh, ahhh" The penis plopped out on the floor. Both women slumped down for a few moments. "Anyone for a nice bubble bath?" Next morning, Kiah and Ishamel reported to Alina. She told them to leave their clothing on. Raisa was not present. "Don't worry about her. She is fine. Today we will train first and then swim. Did you have a successful evening?" "Yes, Ma'm," both women mumbled. "Good! I am pleased. I need to talk about something that is rare, but sometimes the Master is feeling a need to assert his authority. This is often after one of his trips, and I will do my best to warn you about his mood. He will not harm you. He may even go as far as to spank you, but it is really just a show of dominance." Kiah looked up and stammered, "W-w-what?" "You must listen to me. This is just part of his fantasy life. Let me take you through a scene that I have been through myself. Stand up!" Startled, both women rose. "As you enter his door, he may harshly say, 'Strip!' Do so now, quickly!" Kiah opened her robe and let it fall back. Ishamel slipped the straps of her gown off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. "You can judge his mood by the tone of his voice. If he seems angry, go to your knees and then bend down and extend out your hands toward him. Remain this way until he speaks." She waited. In a moment, both naked girls were stretched out. "Come here." Alina moved her bare feet toward the approaching women. "Now, begin licking my feet, like kittens, as we did before." Two tongues began darting in and out, wetting Alina's feet. "Work your way up my ankles and calves. Good, that's it." All three women began to feel the erotic effect of the wet massage. "Ishamel, over my knees, now!" As the command sunk in, she placed herself in an arch over Alina's lap. "You are to act like it hurts more than it does, and you are to become aroused, which won't be a problem." With her right hand, Alina gave her three loud slaps. "Owwww, ahhh!" Alina touched Ishamel's thigh, motioning her to open them. Three more slaps. "Oww, please!" Ishamel felt a hand moving down over her pussy. Lightly. "Mmmmm." Close by, Kiah knelt on her heels and watched, fascinated. After a few rounds of slaps and caresses, Ishamel was on the verge. A little direct movement around her clit brought her to a gasping orgasm. As her breathing slowed, Alina helped her off her lap. "Go to the bath, dear one." As she walked unsteadily away, Alina beckoned to Kiah, "Your turn, get up here." The following days were more relaxed, with more swimming and lounging in the bathing pool, and brief practice sessions. The next week found the three girls back together with Alina. Everyone knew by this time that Raisa would be the first. As they practiced and learned more about the Master's many preferences, they also learned that submission and even embarrassment could be arousing. "There is another scene I must tell you about. There will be times when he wants you to submit yourselves, more like a slave than a mistress. You must never forget that men have dominance here, and have for centuries. Our Master, like all men, is stimulated by the visual. You all have beautiful bodies, and he will want you to display it with grace and pride. The first position is the open kneel." Raisa drew in a quick breath. She remembered Albert's three positions. "Uhh, Ma'am..." Alina cut her off. "He might say, 'show yourself!', or 'present!' You will disrobe and fall to your knees in front of him. Place your hands behind your head and open your legs widely. In this scene you are trying to convince him that you are worthy of his attention. Stand and begin!" In a moment, their clothing fell. They sank to a kneel. "Try again with grace and smoothness!" The third try was better. "Good. Now put your left hand on the floor behind you, and begin to roll on to your left side. As you do, raise your right leg straight up. Put your right hand behind your knee for support." One by one, the women assumed the humiliating position. "Point your toes. The bottoms of people's feet are not pretty." Alina stood and walked around the red-faced trio. "Good, now slowly roll over to the other side, keeping your legs open. Good." "Now bring your knee up toward your chin. With your right hand begin to stroke yourself." Small gasps and sighs of embarrassment followed, but three hands descended. Alina let this go on for a few moments. "He will summon you to his bed at this point, or give you other commands." "You may go to the bath now. I am going to leave for a while. Feel free to help each other finish what you have started." Her tone left no misunderstanding. The girls glanced at each other with an unmistakable look of arousal as they sank into the warm water. Kiah was in the middle, and as she sat, the other two moved to start soaping, this time starting at the top of her parted legs. Soon, shyness and modesty faded, as each one in turn reached a gasping orgasm. A few days later, Alina was sitting with the Master. "Have her readied for tomorrow evening. I am pleased with your work. You seem to understand my needs even better than I do." "Thank you Master. She will be ready in every way. Do you need anything else this evening?" He smiled. "No, I'm saving myself for a fresh young lady." The next afternoon, Alina sat with Raisa and Tala. "Isa, we will help prepare you for your visit. We will bathe and perfume you, and help you choose the perfect clothing. You will be wearing white silk panties and bra as is befitting a young maiden. As we get ready, I want you to go through your fantasies about your evening. When men dream about sex, they think of the actual act. But women tend to soften the image. They may think of a man on a white horse, sweeping them away." "Raisa, are you ready?" "Yes, Alina, I think I'm ready. Thank you for your kindness." Hours later, there was a soft knock on a door. A man's voice responded, "Enter." The door opened, and a beautiful woman, dressed in a long gossamer gown and white slippers, paused and stepped inside. "Welcome, my dear Raisa. I have waited many days to see you again. You are exquisite!" "Please come closer." The End of Part 2 Lisa (See my comments for a way for readers to participate in the next part- "Julie".) 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 03: Julie Written in collaboration with guest author J Spe. The auction is over and Number Two — Julie, the girl who was rated lowest by Slaver Albert — meets her new Owner. He has some nice things to say, but are they real? Julie takes a deep breath (this is one of her coping mechanisms) and enters her new Path of Life: Slavery. Your comments are welcome. * I I am Julie. At least, I was when my date and I boarded Blue Bayou for a two-week cruise. Slavers took over the yacht and I and the other women were stripped, "trained," and auctioned off in just two days. My paralegal mind — when it wasn't frozen in terror — actually thought the whole process ran pretty efficiently. I was bought by a man who seemed nice enough when he took possession of me. He said his name was Martin. He had me put my hands behind my back and handcuffed me, what he called "Transport Mode." He told me that he had bought me to be his "pleasure slave" and that I could have a nice life and, if I satisfied him for the next year or so, he might let me go back to my own life. I had no way to tell whether this was true or just a ruse to get me compliant for our trip to what he called his base in Hong Kong. In the end, with a whipping as an alternative, I opted for "compliant." This seemed to please him. I have no idea what being a "pleasure slave" will be, so I'm simply just going along. Actually, there's nothing else I can do. My gut tells me I'll be finding out more than I might want to know soon enough. Oh, yes. He also said that, if I wasn't satisfactory, he might "sell me on." I am too scared to ask what that means. At my "Hand-off Ceremony," Martin acquires my passport, credit cards, driver's license and car registration. The cards don't quite fill the envelope the slavers provide. That sight is my first intimation of how small I am. I get smaller as I am transferred from Blue Bayou to Martin's yacht. The narrow plank bridge to his yacht makes my stylish heels a hazard and Martin simply orders "Kick your heels off." I enter Martin's domain barefoot and handcuffed. The bridge is retracted and I sail off to a new life. A crewman takes me below decks to a small room, actually a cell. There is no porthole and only a single small lighting fixture recessed into the ceiling. There are two pieces of furniture: a small folding cot bearing a thin mattress and a solid wooden chair. The crewman points and says, "The cot is for you. The chair is not for you. Do you understand?" I'm startled. The chair is not for me? The crewman must have seen my reaction, because he explains, "Slaves don't get to sit on furniture. Do you understand?" Fear makes me afraid to give any answer. Finally, I manage a weak voice. "Please, I don't know anything about how I'm supposed to behave. I won't try anything, but please explain more." He gives a short laugh and sits me on the cot. In a moment, he has uncuffed one hand and moved the cuff to the cot. I look at the tether with not much comprehension. Where could I go on a small yacht in the middle of some ocean? "Look, kid, the cuffs are not only to lock you in. They are to tell you something, something about your new life, new position in society. Can you think of what the cuffs, the cot, the chair are all trying to tell you? It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that this crewman is "instructing" the new kid in school. I don't see any of the whips or canes the slavers carried, so I think this lesson could be less scary than the ones I got from them on Blue Bayou. That lets me think a bit. I take a deep breath. "You're trying to tell me about my new life, aren't you?" His grin tells me I'm on the right track. "OK, then this is like an introduction to slavery, right?" The grin stays friendly. "Keep going, kid, you're on the right track." I think a bit longer. "I'm on a ship in the middle of the ocean. I'm not going to escape to anywhere, so the cuffs are for more than restraints. The chair is not for me, so it must be for my captor, the man who bought me. What you're trying to get me to see is that I'm not at his level, I've been demoted. I'm just a slave." The crewman's eyes soften. "Right on, my dear. Everyone on this ship is higher status than you. You are barely human. You're a slave, what we used to call chattel before that word got old. You have no rights. You have only what we give you. Do you understand?" That question, again! This time, I pick up some deeper vibrations. The Master gives an order and asks the question to make sure the slave understands. I guess that this is the slave's only time to get instructions clarified. If the slave says "Yes," then the Master will assume that the order is perfectly understood and that the slave will carry out the order perfectly. I try this out on the crewman and am rewarded with a "One Attaboy, kid!" Great! Master is going to expect perfection from his slave! But, I'm a paralegal. I know from "immaterial," "inconsequential," and "irrelevant." He really isn't going for perfection? The crewman disabuses me of this flight of fancy. "Look, kid, the Master has standards. You will be trained to those standards. You will meet those standards. I can say this because I've seen his previous slaves. They met his standards. You will, too. "Or," he pauses and the grin vanishes, "you get corrected. You might call them punishments, but we think 'correction' is a nicer word. Whatever, they hurt. Let me tell you that they aren't 'harms.' There's no point in harming you, is there? So, let me comfort you that you will recover from any correction. Of course, once you've recovered from the hurt, your survival will tell you that you can always be hurt again." I tumble from the cot, falling into a kneeling and begging position. "Please, help me escape! I know I won't be able to do this. I'll fail and he'll get tired of me and — " He cuts my plea off with a grab for my hair and a shake of my head. "Stop right there, kid! He's got an investment in you. He's not the kind to settle for failure. But, I'm here to tell you he'll be a good Master for you. Just don't do anything stupid and I'll take bets that you'll be one of his stars. "One last bit of advice. Don't ever ask anyone to help you escape. Whatever your old life, you had better accept that it's gone. This is your life now, kid. Accept that and, I'm sure, you'll get a head start to success here. Do you understand?" That question! I struggle to come to terms with his challenge. He waits, patiently, serenely. He has all the time in the world. He watches as I fight for that "acceptance" he has prescribed. He doesn't have all the time in the world. "Perhaps a few taps from one of our discipline canes would help you see your way better?" His tone is helpful, suggestive. It helps me decide; I don't want to be caned. "Yes. OK. I'll try to accept like you say. Please don't beat me?" He raises an eyebrow. "Were you trying to make a deal with me? No caning for your acceptance? Sorry, kid, but it doesn't work that way. You have no 'leverage.' You don't suggest bargains. Your job is to accept. Period, end of deal. Do you understand?" It is too much! I burst out sobbing and throw myself at his feet. He sidesteps and I am snubbed by the handcuff to the cot. He waits until I have cried myself out. He has not lost his serenity, while I have lost my self. I am a chattel, a slave. At last, I raise myself into a more proper kneeling position, as the slavers trained me aboard Blue Bayou. My head is down, in submission. I manage to whisper, "Yes, Sir, I understand. My job is to accept. I will try." Gently, he lifts my chin and looks into my eyes. There is a hint of a smile in his eyes. "Not quite, my dear. Do you understand?" I take just a moment to think. Then, it is obvious. "Yes, Sir, I understand. My job is to accept. I accept." "Good! Thank you. I know how hard this has been for you. And I'm sure there will be hard work ahead of you. But, and I repeat, I'm willing to bet on you. Now," and here his voice becomes lighter, "you get a little time to lie down and nap. Someone will come when it's time for your next appointment." There is no further question. He turns and leaves. I hear the lock click. Another lesson? Not only the handcuffs but the door lock also? Master is making sure his slave understands. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Two: Dinner I am awakened by the clicking door lock and immediately recognize the need to pee. I slide off the cot to the kneeling position as my Master, Martin, enters. "Good to see you had a bit of rest, my dear." His tone is relaxed and friendly. I respond with a grin. "Thank you, Master." I mean, what can one say to the one who holds them as property? He unlocks the cuff from the cot, twirls a hand around, and says "Transport Mode." I obey, automatically putting my hands behind, ready for the handcuffs. The click is instantaneous but the cuff is not too tight. I may be a newbie, but I'm paying attention to the important stuff first. Master seems to sense that I have a request. I don't know how to initiate this, so I just hold back a bit. "Does my slave have a problem?" His tone is not as relaxed, but he has not raised his voice. "Please, Master, I've got to pee." If a slave has nothing, then I don't need to waste time with euphemisms, do I? Master laughs. "Nice job! A direct way to get to the problem. OK, we'll stop at the head en route." I don't know where we're en route to, but I'm glad he's going to stop. I follow his lead down the corridor and through several passages. He stops at a door, opens it, and waves me in. I pause. With hands in Transport Mode, how do I lower my jeans and panty? The instant is long enough for Master to understand. Another laugh and he opens a snap, lowers a zipper, and pushes material down. My face a bit red with embarrassment, I enter the toilet and get relief from the pressure. There is another pressure as I try to figure out how to rearrange my clothing. Not to worry. Master beckons me out, uses a tissue to pat me dry, and lifts panty and jeans back into place. He turns and our procession resumes. I am guessing we're going to the stern of his yacht when we arrive at a flight of stairs. Climbing to the top, I find I'm right. It seems to be early evening, but the sky is full of stars. Master sees my upward gaze and adds, "The moon won't be up for a few hours. Still, I thought this would be a nice setting for Evening Nourishments." My ears prick up, hearing the capital letters for this "appointment." I turn and face a tableful of crew, both men and women, all inspecting me intently. In an instant, I feel a hot blush ripple from my face to my feet. There is a prompt cheer and a whistle from the crew. I am adrift. One part of me wants to turn away and collapse into a puddle of shame. Another wants to laugh and join them, making myself part of their life. The "acceptance" part of me finally wins and I step forward. Master pets me on the head; I have done something right! "Can we get on with it?" The toque identifies him as Chef. "My food is ready and it's not better when it's cold." Master grins and bows in his direction. He moves easily to the head of the table and sits. For a moment, I look for a seat, but then, I am reminded, a slave doesn't get to use furniture. There is a space at Master's side. I head for it and find a folded blanket. I guess it's a kneeling pad for his slave and assume the position. I'm right. Chef starts bringing out platters with salads and cuts of meat and fish and veggies. They fly around the table but, naturally, do not stop at my place. "My place" doesn't have a plate or cutlery or a glass or anything resembling dinner utensils. I wonder what this lesson is all about when, with the platters settled on the table, Master says a few words of thanks for the food. I notice his plate is full and he tucks into some salad with gusto. By now, his slave — me — has discovered a ravenous appetite. The slavers had fed us fairly gingerly before the auction, not wanting any displays of gastric revolt to upset their patrons, I guess. I am about to "explain" this to Master when a forkful of greens appears before my face. "I hope you'll like Chef's dressing." I sense from his quiet but determined tone that he has picked up how near his slave was to not accepting her slavery. I push that feeling down and get the salad down as fast as I can. The dressing is light and sweetly savory. I'm sure Master has detected the surprise in my "Yes, Master, the dressing is delicious." I see that smile that accompanies his slave's acceptance of something. Another forkful comes every few moments, and then a bite from a warm dinner roll. Chef is good at baking also! Conversation flows around the table. Mostly, I recognize it as standard banter and gossip about the day, the ship, and the crew. There is no mention of Master's slave or the prior evening's auction, or our destination. My mind wonders if this is a "security precaution" or if these topics are too routine and mundane for comment. I am fed at odd intervals, sometime from a fork and sometimes from Master's fingers. From somewhere in the past, I recall reading that handfeeding a slave is a mark of a Master's high estimate of that slave. Two pies appear on the table for dessert, and one of the crew dishes them out. Slaves, it appears, don't qualify for pie. Master holds a glass of water to my lips and I quench my thirst. I am surprised by a small "burp" and quickly look to Master to see if this is a faux pas. His smile is much wider. "I'm going to tell Chef you enjoyed your dinner." I manage a quick "Thank you, Master," and look down, trying to hide my blush. In the next few minutes, the crew begins to abandon the table, each taking his or her plates and cutlery to the galley. One comes back with a tray and collects the glasses and another wipes the table clean, down to a glistening shine. I am reminded of the "high standards" point the crewman described to me. When we are alone, Master turns to me and asks, "Slave, what lessons have you learned from this appointment?" Confusion erupts in my mind. Was I supposed to be taking notes? Is this an exam? Master probably sees the turmoil in my eyes. He leans back and glances toward the stars. I cannot tell if this is a gesture of annoyance or merely to let a bit of time pass. Not much time passes. "Slave, I want you to understand that you are always being tested. Every moment of every day you should be doing me some service or planning some service or thinking about what service I am going to need or want. Do you remember that question my officer asked you so many times when you arrived? The 'Do you understand?' question? Well, that question is designed to make sure we have complete communication, with no chance of mistakes or misunderstanding. I am expecting you to understand my world and be ready to serve my world all the time. Do you understand?" OK, maybe I should have seen this coming. The officer had pushed that question at me enough times I should have realized how important it is. I take a breath, mostly to let Master know that his slave isn't a complete idiot and does have something to report. I hope my paralegal's mind has noticed something that would have some weight with Master. "Please, Master, I haven't gotten everything quite organized yet. Let me go through as the impressions arrived." OK, it isn't Churchillian, but I hope it is good enough to buy me some time to think. It is. Master smiles just a bit and waits. "First, I want to thank you for the stop at the toilet. And for your help with the clothes. I was surprised at the length, the size of this ship. I was amazed at the number of stars I could see. It took me a bit to get used to eating with the crew, but I was thankful for the opportunity. I think it means you have some trust in your slave not to throw a tantrum. The Chef is a real treasure. I've heard about people who can produce a dinner in a big restaurant, but this is the first time I've seen it in person. Finally, thank you for hand feeding your slave." Master appears to think each observation over. After a few moments, his smile disappears and, with it, my abdominal muscles tighten in fear. "Slave," his tone is distinctly cooler, "those are observations. The question was about what lessons you had learned. Take a few moments and think about lessons, not observations." A reprieve! Only, this feels like going back to re-take an exam I had failed at university. My paralegal's mind goes into overdrive. If one sort of report isn't satisfactory, another report would have to be, right? As with the books of a company, the numbers are all there, but the Balance Sheet presents them in a different view compared to the Income Statement, right? I take another deep breath. This is becoming my signature move to gain a bit of time and presence. "Lesson one: your crew has accepted me as part of your world. I think this means they will be helpful in getting me to understand your world and be of service to you. Lesson two: Your hand feeding me taught me that, even though I'm just property, you do feel a responsibility for my well being. Lesson three: slaves don't rate pie." OK, that last one is a bit of a blatant attempt at humor. But, I am curious whether Master has any sense of humor. Since Albert's bad joke about "embarrassing the ladies" before the auction, I had seen no evidence of a sense of humor in anyone. Well, Master does have a sense of humor. His laughter is easy, loud, and rich. It subsides by stages, leaving a wide grin on his face. It is kind of a nice face with that grin. "All right, slave, another Attaboy for the pie story. By the way, of course, you're right. Slaves don't rate pie. Other foods slaves don't rate include ice cream, carbonated drinks, and alcohol of virtually any kind. You've already been told about furniture. You'll find out about the rest of a slave's world as we go along. "The other lessons were correct. You are a part of my world and therefore part of theirs. As a part, I expect all of you to be helpful and generous to each other. At least in my world, there is to be no 'Office Politics' games. I'm glad you picked up on that lesson. "And yes, as your Master I do feel a responsibility for you. The psychology books call this an exchange of power. You have none; your Master has all. The compensation is that your Master has responsibility for your health and welfare. In my world, that means that all my decisions will be for your good, to help you serve in my world. There will be hard jobs for you to do, things you may not like or want to do. Because you are serving in my world, you will do them, and do them well. Over time, there may be occasions to give you corrections, hurts, but it is my responsibility to see that you are not harmed. "My last lesson for tonight is perhaps the most important, my dear. We will be having a very close and intense relationship. It is important that there be complete understanding between us. If a slave could lie or hold back anything from her Master, not only would this be disrespectful but it could also affect how well her Master could provide for her. I suspect you can guess how much hurt you would call down on yourself for forgetting or ignoring this lesson." My mind is a bit staggered by this last. Master had been toting up things up as if they were credits and debits on a Balance Sheet. This last item, however, could be so large as to unbalance the accounts and drag my world down to destruction. There is no way, I decide, I am going to be caught in that debacle. I am so caught up in this consideration I don't recognize the approach of one of the female crew. Finally, Master taps me on the shoulder and presents me. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 03: Julie "This is Anne. She's been with me for years, and has a knack for being in the right place at the right time. You will go with her for the rest of tonight's tasks." Master nods at Anne, who returns a nice salute, and he leaves. Before this new character in my life can get the wrong idea, I make my grand announcement. "Please, Mistress Anne, it is a pleasure to meet you. I will try to work well with you." A bit "over the top?" Well, I don't want to get on the wrong foot with someone Master had so much faith in, do I? Anne's face shows amazement, cooling into concern. "That's a hell of an announcement, kid. Don't you think that's a bit over the top? You don't know me or what I'm going to do with you tonight. "The first thing is a slave never speaks until she is asked a question. Said another way, you don't talk until I ask you to talk. Then, you just answer the question. Straight and without holding anything back. Do you understand, slave?" "Yes, Mistress Anne. Slaves don't speak unless asked. Thank you, Mistress Anne." I am trying to backtrack as fast as possible. "The second thing is that I'm not your Mistress. Your Owner is 'Master' and I've heard you say that. The rest of us on the crew are 'Sir' and 'Ma'am' to you. Do you understand?" "Yes, Ma'am. Sir and Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am." "Third, your 'trying' is a given. What we all expect is your success. Do you understand?" "Yes, Ma'am. Success, Ma'am. Thank you, Ma'am." In just a few exchanges, Anne has put me firmly in my place, that is to say, at the bottom of this society, ready to perform whatever is ordered. I don't even have the right to speak, unless someone has given me a temporary license by asking a question. I'm already sure that my mouth will be the first to earn me what they call "a correction." 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 04: Autumn Immediately after the auction from Part 1: She tearfully held out her panties. The man took them and stepped close to Autumn's face. "Open your mouth." As she complied, he stuffed the pink underwear in, leaving a scrap hanging out. His look told her she should not spit them out. He grabbed her hand and started toward the hall. Autumn struggled to keep up in her heels as every eye in the room followed her. Very aroused, as were all the men on the deck, her buyer walked bent over as he pulled her along. As he spotted their cabin, he threw open the door and pulled her in. "Inspection!" Autumn stood tall and placed her hands behind her neck. She was trembling. He walked around her, grunting as he moved. He felt her backside. She twitched. "Hold still!" he said in a menacing voice. He continued his manual inspection, running his fingers over her breasts and belly. He grazed Autumn's bare mound. "Good. Albert always does exceptional work." He continued, running a finger along her slit. She went up on her toes. A small sound escaped her lips. "Good. Even against your will, you are excited. Nod your head if you are on birth control." As she nodded, he pointed behind her. "Get on the bed, position three! Quickly!" She hesitated for a moment as the command sank in, then moved to a face-down position. She parted her legs. He rapped the back of his hand on her inner thigh. Her legs moved wider. The sound of rustling clothing was followed quickly by the feel of his penis parting her pussy. She screamed into the panties to no avail. The auction had been arousing for all the men. He took command of her and pumped rapidly and fully. Before long, he was grunting his ejaculation into Autumn. "Good. Now get those shoes off and get in the shower. You are sweaty." She gingerly walked into the bathroom. She had just adjusted the water when he stepped in the room and snapped his fingers. Autumn looked up to see if he wanted her to get on the floor, but he twirled his finger, telling her to hurry. He stepped in the tub with her and closed the curtain. He reached up to take the panties from her mouth. "You will learn to serve me. Others will answer your questions. Now, wash me quickly but gently. Do you understand?" Without waiting, he turned away from her. "Uh, yes S-sir." She began soaping his back. He turned to let her wash his face, chest and arms. With a hand on her shoulder, he bid her to kneel. Moving up from his feet, she came face to face with his semi-hard penis. She knew what would happen next. Moments after lightly soaping his privates, he was rock hard again. Autumn looked up at him and opened her mouth. "No. I can't trust you yet. Use your hands." He handed her a shampoo bottle. She had never masturbated a man before, but wrapped her hands around his manhood and started pumping him. Presently, he put his hands on the wall and began moving his hips. "Harder. Faster! Ahhh ahhh mmmm uh uh uh." He kept thrusting for a moment then stood up. "Good. Wash yourself and find something to wear. Regular shoes. Bring those heels. I like them. We will leave shortly." "Yes, Sir." Twenty minutes later, wearing someone else's skirt and blouse, heels dangling from her hand, Autumn found herself aboard a smaller boat, seated in a dark cabin. He put his finger to his lips. In a short while, another couple entered the cabin. The man maneuvered the woman into a chair and walked out. The woman peered out from her hood. It was Lisa! Recognition dawned in both captive women. Autumn thought, "She was sold, too! Serves her right after what she did to us." She wanted to scream at her, but a man standing in the doorway made her hesitate. The most Autumn could muster for the next hour was a scornful stare. Her Owner kept a tight grip on her arm as they left the boat. She could see two black limos in a parking lot. As Autumn was directed toward one, she sensed movement behind her. As Lisa passed on the left, she turned her head and mouthed, "I'm sorry" to Autumn. The man yanked her arm to the side and they moved off to the other limo. Once inside their limo, her Owner pointed. "Kneel here, close to me." She sank to the floor and began to spread her legs. "No, you may relax here in the car. Hold on to my leg." Autumn tucked her legs and lightly put her hands on his calf. "Good." He reached up to flip on a reading light and looked at a sheet of paper. He smiled. "This is your Assessment from the auction. Before I let you read it, I want to caution you: I'm expecting you to live up to every word on it, and much more. You were rather expensive, my dear. I'm a businessman and I expect a superb return on my investment." Autumn looked up at him. She shuddered as she remembered Albert and his men on Blue Bayou. Peter giving her that horrible spanking at the rail. She could still feel it. Lisa inspecting her like a piece of meat and making her come right there. An image of the auction, working her panties down her legs, flashed in her mind. Tears flowed on her cheeks. "Yes, cry. It is the lot of women to cry. Your tears are cleansing, so I will wait." He put his fingers in her hair and pulled her to his knee. The salty tears from two days of shock and humiliation stained his trouser leg. Long moments passed as the car sped along on a bumpy road. Autumn's sobs slowed and then stopped. He waited. "Do you want to read this?" A small hand reached up to take the document. "Answer me!" "Yes, Sir." "Look at me. From this point on, you will address me as 'Master.' Do you have any doubt I am your Master?" He heard a weak, choking voice: "No, M-master." "Good." He handed the sheet to her. She had to hold it over his lap to see in the light. Name: Autumn Ellis, 24 Profession: Accountant; Interests: Photography Nationality: American Hair: Dk blonde; Weight: 123 Height: 5-5; Measure: 34-27-35 Tits: C cup Ass: Excellent. Legs: Excellent. Feet: Good Tattoos, marks: None Response: Strong orgasm under stress Positions: Knows 1, 2, 3 Notes: New to shaving. Recv'd 1 hard hand spanking. Score: 8 of 10 -- Highest in the group. She handed back the paper. She thought, "One line about my career, and the rest about my body." Autumn was mortified. "What kind of men are these people?" Her head slumped to the seat. "This can't be happening." "If you are respectful, I wish to hear your thoughts." "M-master, I-I'm working on a Master's degree! I am an intelligent woman! How can this be about my legs?" He looked at the dark window for a moment. "I may find some use for your skills in my businesses, but I have chosen you to serve me. That will require not only your pretty legs, but every part of your body and mind. You will learn to anticipate my needs. You will learn what a glance or a snap of my fingers means. This will require all of your intelligence. Do you understand?" "Yes, Master." "Look at me and answer in in a way that shows your intelligence." Her eyes found his impassive face. "M-master, I will try to learn to s-service your needs." "Good. Now, I will call to see to your accommodations." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The limo slowed and maneuvered to a halt. As the door opened, He said, "Come, my dear. We are home. Don't forget those heels." She slid across the seat at his hand. The moon was still high in the sky, but bright lights marked a nearby object. As she focused, a gasp escaped her lips. It was a yacht, much larger than Blue Bayou! A man was waiting at the top of the stairs. "Welcome back, Sir. We are ready to depart on your word." "Thank you, Captain. Please escort my companion below and give this to Miriam." A blush formed as Autumn realized that it was her Assessment. "This way, Miss." The Captain inserted a key in a panel on an elevator. As they descended to a lower deck, he smiled "Enjoy your stay. Please tell Miss Miriam if you need anything." A tall woman waited at an open door a short way down the hall. "You may give this to Miriam yourself." His voice had turned from polite to blunt in an instant. He handed the folded paper to her. "Miss Miriam, the Master's friend here will introduce herself. I have pressing duties." "Thank you, Captain. Always a pleasure to see you." She directed Autumn into the room and closed the door. "Welcome aboard. We will not waste time on pleasantries. You will address me as Miss, or Miss Miriam. Can you follow directions?" "Uhhh, yes, Miss." "We shall see. What is on that paper?" "Ummm, these are notes, uhhh, f-from my uhh..." "Your sale? Speak up!" Autumn started to sniffle. "Yes, Miss." "Your first direction is to answer me in sentences whenever possible." She waited. "Y-yes, this paper is from my sale, Miss." "You will tell me what is on your paper in full sentences. But first, let's get you out of those horrible clothes. Hold the paper in your teeth and strip. There is a trash can over there." A few tears rolled down to stain the paper in her mouth as she unbuttoned the blouse and drew off her skirt and sneakers. She stood naked before Miriam and unfolded the sheet. "Proceed. No, wait. Where did you get those shoes?" "He, ahh, Master liked them." She was shivering. "Put them on and properly introduce yourself." The heels added to her embarrassment. "Uhh, my name is Autumn Ellis. I am 24 years old. My profession is Accounting and my interest is Photography. I am an American. My hair is blonde and I weigh 123 pounds. I am 5 foot 5 inches tall." She stopped. Her feet moved into a pigeon-toe. "Are you finished?" "N-no, Miss. This is so hard!" Her voice squeaked. "You will learn to be proud of your body. Take a deep breath and proceed!" After a loud sigh, Autumn started again. "My measurements are 34-27-35. M-m-my tits are a C cup. My ass is — oooh please!" She put her hands up to her face. Miriam stepped closer and waited. "You are abusing my patience!" Autumn brought the paper back down. "M-my ass and legs are excellent. My feet are good." "Wait, what? Your feet? Sit down and show me your feet." Autumn slipped her shoes off and held up her left foot. Miriam briefly took it in her hand. "You're feet are fine. Proceed." She stood back up, now completely naked. "I have no tattoos or marks. Uhh, I-I had, umm, an orgasm under stress." "Explain." "Miss, please!" Miriam waited. "Ummm, a lady was checking me to see if I had shaved. S-she kept rubbing around. I couldn't help it!" Tears began anew. "Very interesting! What else do you have there?" "Uh, I know p-positions 1, 2, and 3..." Miriam cut in. "Show me what you call 1, 2, 3. Put the paper back in your mouth." A look of anguish played over Autumn's face, but she gripped the paper between her teeth and placed her hands behind her head. "Ah, yes, here we would call it 'stand.' Very good. No. 2?" Autumn's body stayed upright as she sank into the kneel position. "Cross your wrists behind you and spread your knees wider. Shaving is like removing a mask from there. You can smile in two places! No. 3?" Autumn bent to face the floor. Tears. Her hips rose. "Widen your knees. Look back at your lover." Miriam knelt behind her. "I'll be checking your shaving, too." Miriam's hand roamed around Autumn's spread crotch. A finger dipped into the slit. "Hmmm, orgasm under stress huh? How about another one?" "Please, Miss! No!" "Well, it's not your choice, dearie." Miriam worked her fingers in and out. She lightly tugged and circled. She could feel a swelling. "Ahh, please, Miss! Uhhhnn." Autumn began panting. "No!" Miriam stopped. "As you wish, dear. Now get up and finish your list." Autumn slowly got to her feet. A blush was spreading from her neck down to her breasts, almost to her rigid nipples. She reached up for the paper. "Wait! What are you going to do about the mess you made on my fingers?" Miss Miriam held her hand inches from Autumn's mouth. She could smell herself on Miriam's hand. Autumn shuffled her feet and looked at the floor. She was still out of breath. "Ummm, I'm going to l-lick them off, Miss?" Miriam waited. Autumn haltingly drew the wet fingers into her mouth, cleaning each one. "Thank you. Proceed." She raced through the final notes. "I'm new to shaving, and I got one hard hand spanking. My score was 8 of 10, the highest" She hung her head in misery. Miriam opened a closet door and took a long silk robe from a hook. "Here. Put this on and I'll take you to your room. I am pleased with you. We will continue tomorrow." Autumn found an array of food in her room. She nibbled on fruit and downed some water, trying to erase the taste in her mouth. She decided to take a shower and brush her teeth. The room was nearly identical to the cabins on Blue Bayou, perhaps a little larger. She found a nightgown in a drawer. She found no underwear, but slipped the gown on and fell into a deep sleep. The sound of a soft bell brought her awake in the morning. Her first foggy thoughts were of a bad dream. As her eyes opened, she looked around the room and felt the motion of the yacht. "Oh my god, this is real!" Two feelings rose to the top: hunger and the need to pee. She padded to the bathroom while her accountant's mind formed a list. "What do I know? I'm a prisoner on a boat. I'll have to have sex with a man called 'Master.' I have to answer to a domineering woman, Miriam. Being naked is normal here." "What don't I know? Is there a possible escape? Where are we going? What..." The sound of the door interrupted her list. She hurried back to the bedroom. A beautiful woman in a kitchen apron stood there holding a tray of food. "Good morning. Here is your breakfast. Miss M will be here in about 30 minutes." "Umm, I'm Autumn. What is your name?" "Rosemary. I can't talk much right now. We will get to know each other as the days pass." "Please, just tell me what I've gotten into! What's going to happen?" "I know this is hard, sweetie. Just do what they tell you. I have to go." "Do you work in the kitchen?" "It's the galley, and I am there this week. We all take turns doing the shit work. Cooking, cleaning, whatever. I will tell you one more thing: We really can't become friends, because we are in a kind of competition with each other. You'll find out soon enough." Rosemary turned to leave. Autumn watched her turn and noticed that Rosemary was wearing blue panties and nothing else under the apron. A feeling of shame came over her as she realized that her first thought was: "Excellent ass." She began eating. Miriam entered without knocking. "When I approach you, you will undress, gracefully kneel and wait for instructions." Autumn put her fork down and pushed the straps off her shoulders. As she stood, the gown slid to the floor. She assumed the familiar position. "Have you bathed this morning?" "No, Miss Miriam, I showered last night." "Starting today, take a quick bath at night if you wish, but always shower in the morning. I want you clean and sweet smelling. Take care of your bathroom needs and then clean well between your legs." "Yes, Miss, I will be clean in the mornings." "Now, put on the robe and follow me. Wait. First, brush your teeth." Miriam took her charge to a cabin door. Inside, Autumn saw a man in a chair, fully dressed. It was the Captain. "Drop your robe and kneel." She slid the robe off and sank to a wide kneel, wrists crossed behind her. "We have to get ready for the poker game. Have you ever given what you crudely call a 'blow job'?" "Yes, Miss." Miriam cleared her throat and waited. "Uhhh, yes, Miss Miriam, I have given blow jobs." "Good. You are to show me your skills with the Captain. Crawl to him and begin. He may have instructions for you." Autumn dropped to her hands and moved to the Captain. She hesitated. "Unfasten his pants and pull them over his knees." Autumn's hands moved to open his belt, unsnap the clasp, and work the zipper. The Captain's dick sprang free, already partly erect. Autumn hesitated again. "Get busy, dearie." Autumn took the head gently in her mouth. She began licking around the top, then along the rapidly increasing length. The Captain swiveled his hips upward and pointed. His balls soon felt a warm tongue bathing and separating them. He was now fully erect and Autumn moved back to the head, beginning a bobbing motion. Her right hand went to his shaft. She remembered masturbating the Master in the shower. She began a lively motion. The Captain starting grunting and soon exploded. He put a hand on the back of her head as a signal to keep going. As he softened, she stopped moving. Miriam said, "Politeness requires that you swallow and then clean him." Autumn could only nod, as her mouth was full of Captain. She began licking along the length of the shaft, cleaning the drops she had lost during Captain's climax. The Captain said, "OK." She moved to pull up his pants, but he was starting to stand, so she knelt upright as he dressed himself. He reached in his pocket and handed her a few poker chips. He turned. "Miriam, she was very good for a newcomer." "Thank you, Captain, for giving us your valuable time! Autumn?" Autumn, red-faced and breathy, sheepishly looked at the man. "Yes, thank you, Captain, for y-your t-time." He turned to go. "All in a day's work, ladies, all in a day's work." "Fetch your robe. It's time to talk." Miriam sat in the chair as Autumn knelt on the floor. "You may relax. You did an excellent job just now. I am very pleased." Miriam carefully watched Autumn's face, looking for little signs of pride at the compliment. She saw a hint of a smile and a brightening of the eyes. She thought, "Good, she is beginning to bond. She will soon see me as her protector, even if I'm punishing her." "How many chips did he give you?" Autumn looked at her hand. "Four, Miss, ummm, he gave me four chips." "My dear! That's the most he has ever given! You really made him happy!" Again, she looked for the signs. Autumn brightened up and sat straighter. Miriam thought, "Humiliation and praise, the magic pair." "Miss, what are they for?" Her voice was squeaky. "My dear, they are your reward for obedience and enthusiasm. You will pay for your meals with them. One meal, one chip. In fact, I need one now, for your breakfast." Autumn opened her hand and offered up the chip with a confused look. She quickly closed her fist on the rest and moved her arm to her back. Miriam smiled at her show of possession. "When you are with the Master or his guests, you will receive chips based on your performance. You will probably not be getting four chips often. You might get two or three. If you are servicing more than one person, you can earn chips from each one." She let this sink in for a moment. "Your face tells me you have a question. Please ask." "Uh, Miss, what if I d-don't have enough chips to eat?" "Dear, as a newcomer, I will always make sure you have something to eat. However, all the girls here are trying to earn enough for extras beside meals. You will want some makeup and perfume. The girls always want to wear panties, which are five chips." Autumn remembered Rosemary and her blue panties. She looked at the floor. "Now, when you are a regular and you are not earning enough chips, it may be time for a session. Don't think about that right now. I need to tell you about the poker game tomorrow." "Every Friday, Master has a poker game with friends and business associates. He has a special table for this. Two girls will be hiding under the table. During the game, each man will give a signal. He may uncross his legs, or clear his throat. We don't use the term 'blow job' here. We simply call it 'head.'" "You must wait for this signal, then quickly move to him and perform as you did a few minutes ago. You will have a damp cloth to help clean him. Pull his pants back up. He will usually take over as you get to his knees. He will drop a few chips on the floor for you. Unless he is unhappy with you — or if he is losing!" Miriam smiled at her look of concern. "Remember, you still have another man to service. Use the cloth to clean your face and get ready for the signal." 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 04: Autumn "Autumn, I need you do this tomorrow. I don't want you to freak out under the table." "Yes, Miss Miriam." "Answer in a way which shows you fully understand." "Miss, I will try to do what you want by giving head at a poker game." "All right. I was expecting to spend a couple hours improving your technique, but four chips have earned you some time in your room til lunch. Later, I'll show you the poker table." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Time passed quickly. The poker game was about to start. The two girls crouched on a mat under the large table. Each was wearing a short nightie. It was short enough for Autumn to notice in the dim light that the other girl was wearing white panties. She whispered, "I'm Autumn. Have you done this before?" "Linda. Yes, this happens every week. You're the new one?" "Yes. How do you get underwear around here?" "It's all chips, sweetie and this is a good place to get them. How many do you have?" "Three right now. But I need food. How much does a bra cost?" "You can't get a bra, only panties, and you'll need more than one pair or you'll need to wash them every night." A chair scraped on the floor and a man's legs appeared. Linda gave a 'shh' sign. Soon, four chairs were full. Noises of the game drifted under the table. The girls strained to hear every sound. Fifteen minutes into the game, they heard a small cough. Autumn watched as Linda went into action. She started rubbing the man's legs, working upwards. She reached up to undo his belt and soon had his pants lowered. Autumn heard two light knocks right above her head. "Oh god, I'm up," she thought. She ran her hand over his crotch on the way to his belt. He jumped a little. As his pants descended, a sharp odor hit her nose. It was a familiar male smell, but far stronger than she had ever encountered. Fighting back revulsion, she recalled Miriam's words: "Don't freak out!" She remembered the chips. Trying not to breathe, Autumn set about her task. She started with little laps on the soft head. She took the head in, swirling her tongue. The taste was salty, but not as bad as the smell. As the penis started to swell, she realized that she had to breathe. She took in a breath and exhaled through her mouth, releasing a hot breeze over his rod. He stiffened in his chair, evidently in pleasure. Autumn took this as encouragement and started bobbing in earnest. Remembering the Captain, she gently massaged his sac. His little noises told her he was getting close. She started a rapid movement on the head and added a stroking motion with her hand. His legs soon stiffened, and she heard short grunts as he pumped his load. Autumn was no stranger to 'head,' and she always marveled at how helpless a man seemed during these moments. "One down!" she thought. She reached for the cloth to clean him. She thought, "How can I get the most chips?" This was somewhat like a waitress flirting for a higher tip. No, it was exactly that. She heard Linda working on the third player. She gently picked up the soft penis and wiped it. As an added 'flirt,' she gave him a soft lingering kiss on the head. Autumn felt a nudge from Linda's foot. The last man must be ready! She hurried over to him, not knowing her chip count from 'smelly.' She felt a measure of confidence from her first encounter and soon she was bobbing on his shaft. Thankfully, he was clean. He was already rock hard before she touched him. She thought it might be from the grunts and groans around the table, not to mention the mental image of women under the table. Two chips landed near her knee. It was over. She turned to see Linda pointing at the carpet. There were three chips. The girls gathered at the center and began softly whispering. Linda: "We never touch each other's chips. How many did you get?" "Thank you. Five." "That's good! I got six." Autumn, faintly: "One of those guys smelled so bad I almost barfed!" "Yeah, he has been here before, but he's not a regular." "So it wasn't the Master?" "No! Master is very particular about that." "Oh, that's right. I had to wash him all over before we got here." "Yeah, he loves that! Did you have to suck him off?" "Almost. I used my hand. What do we do now?" "We wait until the game is over unless he calls us out. Then, we'll have to parade around." Autumn's eyes went wide, but following Linda's lead, she curled up on the mat to wait. Twenty minutes later came the dreaded words: "Girls, come out where we can have a look at you." Linda pointed, indicating that they should exit on opposite sides. Autumn headed away from 'smelly man.' As they stood, Autumn followed Linda's lead and placed her hands behind her neck. Across the table, she looked for her pungent player. She caught him looking directly at her with a smile on his face. She looked away. He knew. She knew. "Girls, face away from us for a moment. We want to see even more of you." Linda turned and pulled her nightie up and off. Then she hooked her fingers in the band of her panties and with a wiggle, pushed them to the floor. Autumn remained still. "Oh, I forgot that we have a new girl. Autumn, please remove your top and turn back." As she sheepishly drew the garment off and turned, she saw Linda back in the 'stand' position and followed suit. Their breasts and bare pussies caused a murmur of appreciative comments among the players. "Thank you. You are lovely. Now, we have all heard the expression, 'a chip on the shoulder.' Each of us will put one chip on each of our shoulders. You will go around the table and give each of us a deep kiss. You may then pick up one chip with your mouth. Please begin." Linda moved first, leaning around the first man's neck. She licked around his lips before plunging in. Autumn's first player was the Master. She kissed around his neck, reaching his mouth with a slow, wet caress. She picked up the chip with her lips and moved to the next man. Linda tenderly dragged her nipples across her next man's neck. She nuzzled in his ear and moved around for the kiss. Autumn's next pushed his chair back and pulled her into his lap. He gave her a rough, bruising kiss, then turned his head away. Autumn collected her chip and moved to her third, 'Mr. Smelly.' She tried to smile, but her lip curled and her nose wrinkled as she bent to his face. "Hello, cutie!" His breath washed over her as a blast from a sewer. She bravely made contact and made an effort at a kiss. After a moment that seemed like an hour, she parted with him to pick up her chip. It wasn't there! A small panic gripped her as she stood. Master's voice brought her back to attention. "Autumn! You have one more guest." "Y-yes, M-master." She moved to the last man to try her best, but she was nervous. She finished her kiss in tears. The chip was still there, however, and she gratefully retrieved it. The Master dismissed them with a wave. Linda left her gown on the floor, so Autumn did as well. Apparently, leaving was part of the show. They entered the hallway. Miriam stood there, a frown on her face. "We will speak in the morning. Good night." It was obvious which girl she was addressing. Some distance down the hall, Linda whispered, "You have do everything they want. You can't hold back! But I feel for you, honey. That guy was a pig!" Even before breakfast, Miriam was in Autumn's room. "You know why I'm here. Talk to me!" "Um-mm, Miss, he was filthy. H-he smelled so bad! I'm sorry." "Autumn, do you think you have the right to tell a guest he smells?" She began to sob. "No, Miss Miriam! I tried so hard! I licked him and kissed him!" "The kiss didn't turn out so well, did it? Why do you think he took the chip back?" "Uhhh, his breath hit me and I must have backed off a little. Pleeease believe me!" "Oh, I do believe you, my dear. That is why you and I are going to have our first session." Autumn melted into the bed in tears. "Listen. Because you did so well until that point, I will go easy on you this time. Now, get up and remove your gown." Before that last rotten kiss, Autumn was planning to buy a pair of panties. Now, she stood at attention, naked once more. "Put your hands on the wall right here and don't move." This left her somewhat bent over. "Spread your legs." She inched her bare feet sideways. Miriam produced a bullet-shaped object. "Some people call this a rabbit. Here. Get it wet with your mouth." Autumn took the thing with one hand and began licking it. She noticed a protrusion on the side. "Now, push that button." The thing came to life. "Work that into yourself. I am giving you the rabbit because it will shorten the session for you. You will thank me." "Uhh, Thank you..." She began pushing. "Not now, dear. After. I will swat you with this rod, and I will keep swatting you until you come all over your rabbit. Understand?" "Yes, Miss. Uh, I... Owww! Owww! Please!" The rod made a deep stinging sensation. She couldn't help but reach back to her ass. This earned a swat across her wrist. "Ahhh!" At this point, the rabbit slipped out onto the floor. She bent to retrieve it and received another swat. "Owww!" "You better move that thing!" Miriam waited until the rabbit was home again. Autumn started pumping it and moving her hips. Each swat made her jump, increasing her hip movement. "Owww! Ahhh!" Yet something inside was stirring. "Ow!" The next few swats were lighter and farther apart. Autumn had time to bring the buzz to her clit. "Ow!" She brought both hands to the rabbit. Miriam could always gauge a girl's arousal. Another light swat. "Owww, please!" Autumn was bouncing up and down. The little protrusion was doing its job. Sensing the point of no return, Miriam carefully put the rod up between Autumn's legs, touching the rabbit. The rod vibrated all along its length, sending her over the edge. She gasped and grunted, ending in a scream. "Ahhhh! Ohhhh! God! No-no. Ahhhh!" Autumn dropped the device and grabbed her crotch, stopping the infernal rod. Miriam helped her onto the bed and waited. Autumn's chest was blotched with red spots. Her nipples were hard, almost throbbing. Her breathing slowed. Miriam brought the sheet around her shoulders. "My dear, I will always help you and protect you from injury during a session. Always. Now rest for a while. Are you all right?" Autumn drew a deep breath. "Yes, Miss Miriam. Th-thank you for not umm, injuring me." The stinging on her ass did not fade nearly as fast as the orgasm. "You will use the bathroom, wash the rabbit, and come back to tell me why you forced me into a session." Autumn gingerly moved to the bathroom. When she returned, she handed the rabbit to Miriam. "Oh, and you have to pay for your session. Three chips, please." The unfairness of paying for your own whipping washed over her. She found her stash of chips on the bed and handed three over. Miriam waited. "Miss, I was spanked because I couldn't handle the smell of that man. I'm sorry! I will try my best to not let it happen again." "Autumn, you must always do what is expected of you, and you must not hesitate for any reason. Do you understand?" Through tears, she mumbled, "Yes, Miss." In a lighter voice, Miriam asked, "How many chips do you have?" Autumn looked at the bed. "Eight, Miss Miriam. I have eight." "Besides food, what do you want?" "Panties, Miss. I want a pair of panties." Her voice was sounding like a little girl. "What color?" "Uh, What color? Umm, I liked Linda's white ones." "Sleep now, dear. I'll see you in the morning." She kissed Autumn on the cheek and left. Autumn was already up when the morning bell sounded. She was slightly awakened by the sound and light of the door opening and closing. By the time she sat up, the room was nearly dark again. She noticed a reflection on the table. It was a pair of white panties! She held them up, then pulled them on almost in one motion. As daylight filtered in the window, Miriam opened the door to see Autumn prancing around the room in her nightie. "Oh! Thank you, Miss Miriam!" She ran up to hug and kiss her on her face. Miriam was not fond of this behavior, but she realized it signified that her psychological domination of Autumn was nearly complete. "Show me, dear!" Autumn lifted the gown high and danced around the room on tiptoes, almost unaware that her breasts were bouncing around with each step. "Let me get the chips! I'll go hungry this week." "No, sweetie, they are a gift. I told you I will always take care of you. Now, after you eat, you have three hours to get ready. Take a nice bath. There is makeup in the bathroom. Use it lightly. Find a dress. You are to have lunch with the Master." A look of distress came over Autumn's face. But Miriam's parting comment left her giggling: "Don't forget those panties!" She carefully peeled off her precious panties and laid them out on the counter. She filled the round tub and sank in bubbles up to her neck. The hot water stung her whip marks. "Ahhhh!" Then it caused a stinging sensation on her pussy lips. She thought, "Spit is not a very good lube. I'm going to be sore there, too." In a few minutes, the pain lessened and Autumn lost herself in the steamy bath. Fleeting thoughts entered her mind about her captivity, but faded in the afterglow of her orgasm and happy thoughts about her new undies. She dozed off with hazy memories of Miriam's words: "I will protect you." The noonday found Autumn wrapped in a white flowing dress and her heels from Blue Bayou. Miriam gave a low whistle as she entered the room. With a wink, she said, "Let's see." Autumn smiled and pulled her dress up to her hip, revealing the white undies. "You are beautiful, my dear Autumn. Please sit for a minute." "How are you feeling?" "Miss, I'm a little nervous, but I guess I'm OK." "Good. Now, remember yesterday when I told you what to expect at the card game?" Autumn looked at the floor, remembering that awful man. "Yes, Miss Miriam, I remember." "I will always tell you what may happen that day. I will help you dress and I will try to gauge the Master's mood, and give you the best chance to be pleasing and obedient. Do you understand?" "Yes, Miss. Thank you so much for all you have done!" "Certainly. If Master is pleased with you, he will be pleased with me." Miriam leaned in close. Her voice changed to a conspiratorial whisper: "I will tell you, in confidence, that I am not here on a completely voluntary basis either." Autumn's eyes widened at this revelation. The low whisper continued: "I am working off a contract, foolishly signed in weakness and passion. The day is coming this year when I will leave this boat." Her voice was a mere squeak by now. "I intend to take my favorite girl with me." Autumn opened her mouth, but only a sigh came out. She was awestruck. Miriam took her arm in a hard grip. "If you breathe one word of this to anyone, I'll be leaving alone!" "Yes, yes, Miss! Not a word! Please take me with you!" "Dear, we have several months to get through before that. Let's focus on today. Master likes to dine with his girls occasionally, especially a new one. I think this will just be a meal and talk, but you have to be ready for anything. Answer his questions thoughtfully and demurely. I will be nearby as always." Master waited behind her chair in a small dining room. As she sat down, the whip marks smarted again. "Thank you, Master. It is good to see you again." Autumn managed to sound sincere, though as she spoke, the images of her rape on Blue Bayou flashed though her mind: face down, panties hanging out of her mouth, screaming. She placed her hands in her lap. She wasn't sure if eye contact was proper, but she looked across the table at him. "Is Miriam taking good care of you, dear? Is your cabin to your liking?" Master's voice was warm, cultured. "Thank you for asking, Master. Yes, Miss Miriam is wonderful and my room is great." Eye contact seemed to be working, so she continued. "I have never been on a ship this big! It's a hotel!" "I'm glad you like it. It serves me well as a business tool. For example, when I close a deal I always invite the principals to the poker game." He kept eye contact until Autumn looked away. "Master, um, I'm so sorry! Please forgive me! It w-will never happen again!" "Of course, my dear. Miriam said that you had a long talk with her." Autumn swallowed. He knew. They ate in relative silence. At length, he said, "Thank you. You are lovely. I will see you again in a few days under much better circumstances than we had on that other boat." The images floated by again. "Thank you, Master." Miriam was waiting in the hall. She beamed at Autumn and handed her three chips. "Master does not give out chips himself, other than at the poker game. He wants you to know he is pleased, not just at your demeanor today, but also at your promise to correct your mistakes." Autumn beamed at the chips. Miriam was struck by her transformation from Accountant to submissive in just a few days. It seemed so genuine, unlike some girls, like Rosemary, who faked it to survive. "We're going on a tour of the ship. I want to show you the size of it, and I want you to see the galley and the other places where you will work." Over the next hour, Autumn gazed in awe at an actual ballroom, a brightly lit dining room, game and exercise rooms, a swimming pool, large staterooms, and the high point of the ship, the bridge. "This is amazing, Miss!" "Yes, though you might not be so impressed when you are cleaning it. Let's go below." The galley seemed small to Autumn, but full of equipment. Three or four workers in uniforms busied themselves at a counter and a stove. Then, Autumn noticed the blue panties. Rosemary. She was cutting up something at a table beside another woman in pale pink panties. Their aprons only covered them in front. Miriam noticed Autumn's focus. "Yes, that is your uniform here. Starting tomorrow, you are working here for a week. In the morning, Rosemary will bring your breakfast and then bring you back here." Rosemary brought two trays to the cabin. "We can eat. Then, I'll take you over there." "Thank you, Ma'am." "Don't call me Ma'am! I hate that crap!" "Sorry, Rosemary! I don't know what to call people." "That's OK. Let's eat. I see you have panties already. Good. You'll need them in the galley, but you'll have a hard time keeping those white ones clean." In the galley, Autumn met her partner for the week. It was Linda. "Oh, hi, we met under the table! Come on, I'll show you what to do. Go wash your hands." They were soon at a table, cutting carrots and beets. "Those white drawers won't work well here. They will get sweaty. Go and get a paper towel." Autumn gave her the towel. Linda folded it into a long rectangle. "Tuck this in along the crotch. You can wear them for 2 days this way. Be sure they stay clean, or M will take them away." Just then, the Master and 2 men walked into the room. "Just stand straight and keep working, no matter what they do," Linda whispered. The Master pointed out the equipment and showed the men the big cooler. They walked toward the girls. One planted his hand on Linda's right cheek. Then he pulled on her waistband and put a hand inside. He leaned in and sniffed her hair. "Very nice, young lady." "Thank you, Sir." The other man stepped right up to Autumn, pushing her against the table. He ran his hands under her apron, up her belly and over her breasts. He fondled her nipples. Autumn jumped at the contact, but tried to keep working. In a few minutes, they untangled themselves and moved away. Autumn, blushing, let out a deep breath. "In the kitchen? What?" "Master brings them in sometimes for a little taste. He only lets them touch us from the back. Not because of us, but because of the food. Crazy, huh? But it's better than being under the poker table!" They broke into a giggle at that. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 04: Autumn The next few days passed in a routine way. Autumn delivered meals to the crew in a dining room. Considering the way she was dressed, the sailors were restrained. No one touched her. She heard a few low whistles and comments. It was a different story in the Master's dining room. As she bent to serve trays to his guests, a hand ran up her leg or she got a pinch or a poke. One day, Linda noticed a smudge on her undies. "One of those guys left a stain right here." Linda gave her a playful pinch. "Get that off tonight. Next time get dark panties, OK?" "Thank you, Linda. Rosemary said we couldn't be friends, but you have been so sweet!" They moved in for a hug. "Look, honey, Rose hates this place. She just can't accept being a slave. I can't blame her, but we're here without a ticket. There is no exit I can see. What I do see are red marks on your tush, so I guess you've had a session." "Yes, I had one after the poker game went bad. It still hurts." Autumn looked back at her ass. She had not realized that the marks were showing outside the panties. "Sweetie, I haven't had one in a while, but Rosie had two in the last month. Let's try to help each other here." Another brief hug, and they went back to slicing cucumbers. Miriam came to Autumn after lunch on her last day in the galley. "Come with me. You are off duty as of now." Back in the cabin, Miriam told her that Master wanted to see her that evening. "Let's pick your clothes. I saw a spot on your panties. Do you have chips for another pair?" "Yes, Miss. Could I have a dark pair? They might stay cleaner." "Of course. I'll be back in thirty minutes. While I'm gone, you will bathe. But first, give yourself an enema. The bottle is in there. It's always smart move when you are seeing the Master. Do you understand?" A look of comprehension fell over Autumn's face. "But Miss, I've never done that! I..." "Shhh! It's not as bad as you may think. When I come back, I will bring something that will help. Now, off with you!" She stood in the shower, trembling. Until five minutes ago, she had never even had an enema, let alone anal sex! She soaped and rinsed her rear entrance several times. She heard the sound of the door: Miriam had a bottle and an object in her hand. She motioned Autumn to sit on the bed. "Lay back and relax. I'm going to put this body lotion on you so you will be smooth and sweet for Master." She held up a bullet-shaped rod. "This fits in just the right place, to help you get used to the feeling." She spread something on the tip. "Please, Miss..." But the object was already at the tight entrance. "Spread your legs for me, dear." When the thing was fully in, a vibration started. "Ahhh! No!" Miriam spread the lotion on Autumn's legs and feet. Tummy and breasts, shoulders and arms followed. "I see you have shaved for me. This lotion works there, too." Miriam had much more in mind than soothing razor burn. She wanted Autumn to come with the bullet inside her. Fingers went to work with the lotion. Light massage turned to more intense rubbing. She inserted two fingers while using her thumb on Autumn's hot button. "Ummm, Uhh, What are you, hahhh, doing? Ohh, ohh!" Her hips tilted up and down. Miriam noticed that her contractions were expelling the bullet. She pushed it back. "Ahhh! Oh, oh, ahh!" Autumn was in full orgasm. She put her hands on Miriam's, trying to stop the mad tickle. Her breath came in big huffs. Miriam moved the vibrating cylinder in and out. "Stop! Miss! Please! Ahhh!" "My dear, it's not hurting you, is it? I have learned this little trick over the years. It always helps to come all over a bullet in your virgin peach. Was it so bad? Now, you're ready for anything!" "No, Miss Miriam, it, ahh, wasn't too bad, but please take it out." "Of course. Now, rest for a while. We need to practice your positions. I'll be back later. I'm very pleased with you." When she returned, Miriam held out a pair of red panties. "Try these. You can keep them on for our practice. You might as well put those heels on as well." She stood before her Mistress, nearly nude. "Stand." She moved her hands behind her head and moved her feet apart. "Open your mouth a bit. Your face should show your pride in your body. You are displaying your goods to your Master. Kneel." Autumn sank to a kneel and spread her legs. She remembered to cross her wrists. "You are inviting him in. If he walks closer to you, open your knees further. Hands behind your head. Push your tits out more." As Miriam approached, she complied, until she seemed stretched to the limit, looking straight up. "Very nice. Now, down." Miriam knew that this one was hated by all women, yet she herself had assumed it on command many times. "Miss, will he ask for this one tonight?" It was a plea. "Probably not, dear. I expect him to be gentle the first time, but you must ready for anything. Proceed." With a deep sigh, Autumn rolled over and put her face to the floor. Tears wet the carpet. Miriam snapped her fingers. Autumn raised her hips and moved her knees apart. "Good. Now, as he approaches you, reach back and hold open your cheeks. You are admitting his total mastery of you." "Oh, please!" Fingers snapped again. Autumn struck this most humiliating pose at the command of her protector, Miriam. She was grateful that she at least had her panties. At last, Miriam let her sit. "Sit cross-legged, dear. I want to show you something. Look at yourself. You have a wet spot. Feel it." Autumn found a quarter-size spot and drew her finger over it. "Dear one, I want you to realize that complete obedience and submission can be quite arousing. Did you feel it as you posed?" "Yes, Miss Miriam, I noticed it at the end." "And haven't your orgasms here been hotter than you have ever known?" Autumn looked at the floor. "Y-yes, Miss." Miriam waited until she looked at her. "Uh, I mean, Yes Miss, my orgasms have been really intense." "Look at me. You are in the right place. Fate brought you and me here to this room. When you go tonight to please the Master, I will be nearby, thinking of you. When you leave his room, I will be right there." She held out her hands. Autumn took them and impulsively kissed them. "You have a couple hours to rest. You are a little sweaty, so take another shower, and see if you can clean those white panties. He will like them. I will get you at six o'clock. Use more of that body lotion and be dressed and ready." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Autumn paced the room, too nervous to sit still. There was no clock, so it was hard to gauge the time. Finally, Miriam entered, finding her in a low-cut clingy dress and the ever-present heels. "Wonderful! Your hair is perfect! You are perfect!" In the hall, Miriam had more tips: "You will have dinner with him. Eat and drink lightly and ladylike. Listen and respond to him. He likes to give little hints with his expression or movements. When the meal is finished, excuse yourself to the restroom. There will be mouthwash or mints there. He is a deep kisser." "Here we are, dear one. Just walk in and stand inside the door. You are a fawn and he is a wolf, but he won't eat you." Miriam's eyes twinkled. "At least not in that way." Master walked right up and took her hand. She had to look up at him. "Welcome to my ship and my cabin." He smiled. "First, we eat." At the table, he said, "I prefer to eat a small meal on a busy evening. And you?" "Yes, Master, that is a good idea. The food looks very tasty." She nibbled on a bowl of chicken salad and sipped white wine. "I'm told you have learned a great deal about our customs and life aboard ship. Miriam is quite fond of you." "Thank you, Master. Miss Miriam has been wonderful." The banter went on for about ten minutes. Autumn thought about Miriam's 'wolf' reference. When would he pounce? "My dear, I think we are finished eating. Would you care to freshen up?" He gestured toward a door at the side. When Autumn came out, he was sitting on a couch. As she approached him, he signaled her to sit in his lap, quickly starting a deep kiss. His hands reached around her neck and back, increasing the full pressure of his lips. She responded as well as she could with little moans and movements, but his power and passion prevailed. Autumn was already breathless. His hand found a zipper. It slowly descended, and he reached in, working his way to her breast. "Ahh!" He twisted and pinched her nipple. "Master." He began slowly working the dress down and off. "Ohh!" He took the other breast in his teeth. She stiffened with pain. He slipped his hand inside her panties and caressed her moist lips. As he increased and deepened his strokes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and began moving her hips. "Mmmmm, mmmm" She started planting kisses around his neck. From her little murmurs and movements, he sensed her arousal. He casually withdrew his hand and whispered, "Stand, please." It took a moment and a few deep breaths before she comprehended his request. In a moment her hands were behind her head. "Your panties are lovely." Autumn understood. She lasciviously peeled them down and on impulse, kicked them across the room. "Undress me." Soon the only bit of clothing between them was a pair of high heels. "Offer yourself to me." Autumn's mind madly raced through the positions. She sank into a full kneel at his feet. Instead of crossing wrists, she put her hands under her breasts and pushed them toward him. She looked up at him with a genuine look of arousal. "Master." He made a tiny gesture with his finger. She rose toward him and straddled his knees and rigid penis. He took her shoulders and lowered her on himself slowly and fully. He commanded her with his eyes. Up and down, slowly passing himself over her lips. Each stroke produced a little shiver. He was in no hurry. Knowing her legs would tire, he placed his hands on her hips. Lifting her, his pace increased. She squeezed as though to keep them from separating. Both were groaning. Minutes, or was it hours, passed. "M-master! Ahhh! Ohh! Ahhh! Oh god!!" He knew that her orgasm would trigger his. He loved those contractions on his tool. "Uh, uh, uh, uh-ahhh!" They came down from the high still joined together. She leaned on his chest. "Stay with me tonight. Playtime is just beginning." "Master." 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 05: Juli Welcome back, Dear Readers! When we last heard Julie's story, she had been taken by slavers, "trained," raped, and auctioned to Master Martin, who transferred her to his yacht, where, on her first evening, she is starting her education as a pleasure slave for the Master. Carole99 and J Spe ***** Chapter Three: Interrogation Anne shepherds me back to my cabin, or, rather, my cell. I notice the cot is now dressed with a sheet. Anne arranges herself comfortably in the chair and points to a spot about a meter in front of her. I guess that's where she wants me, so I walk to it. "Slave, what was your first name before Master bought you?" My answer is prompt. "Julie, Ma'am." Part of me is surprised and puzzled. Wouldn't any of Master's staff already know about the auction and the name of the slave Master bought? I barely catch myself before asking this question. "That's a nice name. Master may leave that alone. Of course, by the time we get home, I'm sure the accounting folks will have a proper number for you. You see, slave, you're just a new asset to be added to Master's books. The accountants will be following you as you cause expenses and earn income. You might guess what happens if the expenses get too far ahead of the income." It is said as a statement, not a question, so I do not make a comment. Inside, I'm wondering how Master is expecting me to "earn income." At least one function jumps to mind and I cringe just a bit. Anne picks up and gives a short laugh. "No, my dear, Master doesn't plan on simply renting you out. Get your mind up and out of the gutter. In Master's society, that stuff is small potatoes. I'm sure Master will have more information for you when the time comes. "Now, let's get down to details. The first thing slaves have to do is move into positions. Did the slavers teach you anything?" I remember the "training" from Albert and that girl Lisa. For a split-second, I wonder what happened to her; after I was sold, I heard several screams, but nobody said anything to us. "Please, Ma'am, they taught us three positions. They called them 'Inspect,' 'Kneel,' and 'Down'." I don't offer to demonstrate. I'm smart enough to realize that when someone wants me to do something, they'll tell me to do it. I'm just a slave; I don't get to demonstrate initiative, right? Right. Anne gives a small smile and comes up to remove the handcuffs. Seated again, she smiles and issues an order. "Strip." Mindful of the only clothes I have, I bare my body, taking just a moment to fold each piece: shirt, bra, jeans, panty. Anne nods toward a corner, and I deposit the tiny pile with care. I am hoping to get more use from each item. "Now, let's get back to the positions. Show me what the slavers taught you." She puts me through the three positions, checking not only the positions but my grace in moving from one to another. Anne seems satisfied, I think. Then, Anne speaks. "Not really what we're expecting, but you do seem to move from one position to another without falling down. Go to Kneel, now!" I scramble into the position as fast as I can; I'm attempting to project a willingness to perform, I think. Anne circles me with a critical eye. From somewhere, a riding crop has appeared in her right hand. She uses it to tap my forearm. "For the basic kneeling position, probably the one you will spend most time in," she says, "we want your hands palm down on your thighs. This is less tiring than up behind your neck." Directed by taps of the crop, I widen my knees and move my hands. I am surprised by Anne's "less tiring" comment. My Master is concerned about my getting tired? Anne must be a bit psychic. She laughs, "Surprised by our concern? Don't be, my dear. We've been doing this for quite a while and we've worked out the simplest ways for slaves to be productive and efficient. Now, you will also come to have your hands locked behind your neck while kneeling, but we call that position 'Kneeling Presentation,' and we use it for certain tasks that we'll get to eventually. This basic kneeling position we call Position One. You'll learn to hold this for as long as necessary, sometimes over an hour if that's what's needed. Do you understand?" The question! I hurry to answer. "Yes, Ma'am. This is Position One, the basic position, hold as long as necessary. Thank you, Ma'am." "Now, go to the Down position the slavers taught you and I'll demonstrate how Master wants it." I move easily into the "all fours" position and look up expectantly. Anne raises an eyebrow and I quickly look down, a more subservient position. Anne's crop taps the insides of my thighs and I spread them a bit. More tapping and I spread my thighs as wide as I can. "Come off your hands and go down to your elbows." I lower myself, at least my head, but then I realize my ass is sticking up much higher and my pussy is more visible with my ass higher. It is also more accessible, as I find out when Anne's crop starts trailing over each of my labia. She uses a slow stroke, starting from the front and coming to the back, where the crop circles my rosebud before she lifts the crop to start at the front of my other lip. In just a few strokes, I am lubricating like mad. Anne uses the crop to scoop up some juice and presents it to my mouth with the command, "Lick the crop clean, slave!" I have never really tasted myself, but I find I like it! I nibble on the leather tip, but Anne picks up on this, as she does on my reaction to everything, and pulls away the crop. "Hey, slave! Slow down, there. A bit more gentle on my crop, if you please — and I'm sure you will please, right?" From my aroused state, I manage to croak out a "Yes, Ma'am, slow and gentle. Thank you, Ma'am." Anne looks at me with a small smile. "Slave, I think you're probably a bit aroused now, aren't you?" I manage my "Yes, Ma'am. I'm aroused," with just a bit of a blush. Anne coos, "And you would like to cum, wouldn't you?" Is she nuts? Of course I'd like to cum. What's arousal for if not to climax? But, something tells me there's more of a lesson coming. I reply simply, "Yes, Ma'am." I am rewarded by a pat on the head. Anne picks up her lecture. "Sorry, slave, but that's not on, and, many times, may never be on. You see, slave, some of this society gets their own highs when the slave is denied her climax. Your pain becomes their pleasure. This is another part of slavery. Do you understand?" My sense of fairness is outraged. I'm sure Anne sees my muscles tense. She pats my head again, this time running her hand down my neck and back in a soothing motion. I have been asked a question; I know an answer is expected. Another deep breath and I am ready. "Yes, Ma'am. Foregoing my climax makes their climax better. I understand, Ma'am." "I hope you do, Julie. Most often, I won't be able to tell you ahead of time. There is a rule for slaves that you already know, and it might be a help in this situation. You know that slaves have nothing, right? So, that means you don't own your own climaxes, right? So, that means that you must ask permission, from whoever is arousing you, before you climax. Don't leave it too late, or you may not be able to control yourself before a climax erupts. An unpermitted climax is one of the major crimes in this society, and you can bet the correction is correspondingly stiff. Do you understand?" What's to understand? Someone will push me up the path to arousal just for the pleasure and excitement of punishing me for cumming if I don't get permission to cum? I'm beginning to see into the dark side of this "pleasure slave" existence. I remember to answer Anne's question. "Yes, Ma'am, I understand." Anne's sigh tells me that she understands my feelings. She, too, is a part of this society and is bound by its conventions. She adds, "Just to continue with the idea that this society will often provide you with some pain or suffering for their own pleasure, this evening I'm to put you into an example of bondage. Do you know what a hogtie is, slave?" The name makes me think back to some rodeos I saw as a youngster, but there is nothing specific. "No, Ma'am, just that it sounds like something from a rodeo." Anne's laugh is a low chuckle. "Very good, Julie. But, this is a far more potent tie. I'll go slowly, so you can adjust." Anne moves me to lie on my cot, face down. From a small bag, she retrieves two hanks of rope, about like clothesline. She crosses my forearms at the small of my back and wraps several loops of one rope around my wrists. As the loops settle in, I realize that there is no way I'll be getting out of this tie on my own. Some knots finish the wrist tie and Anne leads the rope up to my upper arms, where more loops draw my arms towards the center of my body. A few cinches in these loops wrack my shoulders back and I can feel my breasts thrust forward under the stress. The second hank is used to tie my ankles together. Then, the ankle rope is led up to my wrists and Anne's pull draws my heels up to my ass. A bit more tension and my back begins to arch backward. I gasp and Anne takes that as sufficient and ties off the rope. "You'll find you can roll from side to side, and maybe even roll off your front and onto your back. I wouldn't advise that, because your weight will be all on your arms and shoulders." She doesn't say what pain or damage that might cause, but I can bet that means some sort of dislocation. "I'm sure you'd like to know how long this tie is for, but that's another thing about slavery. The slave never gets to know how long a trial will last or how many strokes of the whip or cane she will receive. It's another tool to teach acceptance. I do have some comfort for you, however. Someone will always be checking on you. And, just like all the other corrections we've talked about, this one will hurt but you will not be harmed." There is another pat on the head, stroking down my neck and upper back to the ropes. And then she is gone, the click of the door lock putting an end to what my Master had called "tonight's tasks." I'm sure there's no chance of my getting loose from this hogtie, particularly because I can't even see or reach any of the knots Anne tied. Still, I spend some time reaching and rolling and pulling on the tie. I am careful not to move too violently: I don't want to fall off the cot. I make no progress in getting free, or even a bit loose. This takes a bit of effort, and I find myself working up a sweat. I stop, not wanting my Master to find his slave with an offensive aroma. It occurs to me that, considering he has bought me and ordered Anne to teach me, my Master probably knows all about his slave's aroma. Still, for my own sense of myself, I'd rather not stink. It takes just a few seconds for me to realize that this is how small I've become: the big thing for tonight is to not stink. I spend some time reviewing Anne's earlier instruction. I can guess that food and ropes are likely to be the big expenses for my class of asset. But what kind of "income" could I earn? Anne seemed to dismiss simple prostitution as beneath the social order I've been drafted into. Before I build up some expectations, I drift into sleep. The urge to pee wakes me. There is no one in the cell with me, but I am certain that there must be cameras all over the ship. I hope there is also a microphone, and I call out, "Please, someone, I've got to pee. I don't want to wet the cot you've provided for me." Relying on Anne's assurance that someone will always be checking on me, I make just the one call. I trust that my betters will appreciate my attempt at a dignified communication rather than a series of hysterical screams. Then, I wonder if they really would care which communication I made. Slaves don't sit on furniture. Slaves don't get alcohol. Slaves don't get pie. Slaves don't get to have climaxes. I'm learning that slaves are pretty low on the scale of life in Master's society. I suppose I should be getting angry about that, but, right now, I'm really focused on getting to pee. It probably takes about five minutes for a crewman to respond, and I am unbelievably happy to see the same man who had given me my first instructions. "Hey, kid, how are you doing? Got to go, I understand? Hold still for a bit and I'll get these training wheels off." I hold still and whisper my Thank You when the ankle rope is finally gone. He moves my legs back and forth gently until I regain control of them and then hauls me up and walks me down the hall to the head. After I finish emptying my bladder, he dries me with a gentle touch and guides me back to my cell. He places me face down on the cot and snaps a set of shackles from one ankle to the cot. These have several links between the cuffs and I am unbelievably happy with the new degree of freedom compared to the handcuffs. I'm getting to be an expert, it seems. I take the chance of whispering another Thank You, and, when a "correction" is not immediately forthcoming, I have the daring to ask, "Please, Sir, is there a service I can perform for you?" Whatever my daring, he throws back his head for a good laugh. When he has finished, he grins and informs me that, as a slave, it is not my place to offer a "service." My Master or his friends will inform me when a "service" is to be performed. "It's part of your new life, kid. You don't get to set the clock or the agenda, or whatever. We set it as we wish. Your job is, as you will see, much easier. You never have to worry about what to do; you just do what we say and when we say it. Do you understand?" My answer comes pretty quickly. "Yes, Sir. As you wish, Sir. Thank you, Sir." I take a breath and dare to add, "Please, Sir, may I know your name, Sir?" He smiles and I get another pat on the head. "OK, kid, it's Igor. And I'm not Russian; my mother was fascinated by Russian literature." In a conversational tone, he announces that he'll dim the light so I can "get my beauty sleep." In a moment, he is gone, the click of the door lock ending the scene. I take stock of my new situation. Arms still tied, naked, shackled face down on the cot. Right, all present and accounted for. I am surprised, and a bit puzzled, that I never asked about the arm tie. After all, without the ankle rope, it isn't a proper hogtie. He might or might not know for how long this upper tie is scheduled. Then, I remember Anne's instruction: a slave never speaks except to answer a question. I got away with a couple of questions. I'm glad I didn't ask more. I am startled to realize that I have fallen into the behavior pattern Master and Anne laid out for me. Not much of a peep out of me! The girl who competed her way through high school, college, paralegal training, and several rungs of the corporate ladder is submitting to new rules of behavior just because someone paid a lot of money for me. I have no explanation for this and fall asleep without even a plan to find out about this. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Four: Training The next few days pass with Anne or Igor putting me through some basic training in positions and movements. With taps or slashes from their riding crops, I am encouraged to learn a variety of positions and to accomplish movement from any one to any other with not only speed but even grace. Igor makes the point: "Any slave can be taught where to put her head or a hand. The good slaves, however, think about and practice movements so they look beautiful. When I judge a horse's conformation, all the pieces have to move together, what we call the 'way of going,' and grace and beauty there is a major part of a horse's value. Do you understand?" I'm afraid I do. As a slave, a piece of property, eligible for sale or trade, I'm going to be valued like any beast. My answer is perfunctory. "Yes, Sir, grace in movement. Thank you, Sir." Igor thinks for a moment and then continues. "Let me push on with the horse conformation idea. There are seven major parts to judging a horse. They are animation, stamina, vigor, alertness, adaptability, attitude, and tractability. Master's slaves have been known for stamina and vigor, along with eagerness and a strong natural way of moving. We're going to start your gym routines soon so that should take care of your stamina and vigor. The attitude you bring to your job will show in your eagerness and in your way of moving. I'll be letting you know when you meet Master's standards." I suspect his preferred method of communication will be his crop. So far, he and Anne have used the crop with just taps to direct my position, but I'm afraid that the instrument is also capable of the "hurts" they call corrections. The yacht has a small gym with a couple of machines, but Anne and Igor are creative with just some elastic belts and a pair of two-pound weights. I had been more or less regular at some yoga and Pilates classes before the Blue Bayou, but those lasted only an hour. Now, my "classes" go until I am exhausted. Anne and Igor, however, never seem to break a sweat. I am afraid to ask if that is what they mean by "Master's standards." There is another addition to my schedule. Anne is instructing me on "erotic anatomy of the male and female," as she calls it. There isn't a lot of Latin and Greek names to remember, however; I'm learning street names as well as proper names in French, Spanish, and German. Anne says I'll eventually pick up some Chinese and Russian names as well. Her teaching method involves her pointing to a structure on myself and then having me apply my fingers or lips or tongue on her, for the female parts, and on Igor, for the male parts. I can't tell much about Anne's level of arousal, but Igor seems to arouse quicker than any of my previous lovers. I suspect this is another aspect of slavery. Throughout, I am not allowed to become aroused. Igor puts it bluntly: "Kid, you haven't earned it yet." With their crops so handy, I do not dare to ask when, or how, I might "earn" some arousal or, even, a climax. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Five: Travel One day, perhaps a week into my "training," the atmosphere on the yacht changes. Crews are moving faster, with more purpose. Conversation is more clipped, the vocal tones more urgent. Igor is nowhere to be seen. Anne manages my gym class with a slightly disconnected air. Even with a desperate need to know what is going on, I manage not to commit the crime of asking a question. I am comforted — just a bit — by the fact that, when anyone wants the slave to know anything, they'll be sure to tell the slave. I do know this aspect of slavery. It is afternoon when Igor comes to my cell. He has a dress and sandals for me to wear. It is the first new clothing since my auction. The dress is a black Calvin Klein White Label Asymmetrical Zip sleeveless dress. The industrial-sized zipper runs from the scoop neckline at my left breast down to a slit in front of my left knee. The sandals have a moderate heel. There is no bra or panty. Igor takes me from my cell and brings me, in Transport Mode, up on deck. A quick look shows some land, with our yacht bearing towards a small jetty. Master smiles at me and says, "Julie, you're about to go for an airplane ride. You haven't been seasick, I notice, so I expect you'll enjoy the flight." The crew brings the yacht alongside the dock and a pair of gangplanks are laid out. I am surprised at the number of crew debarking with Master, Igor, and me. I have a moment to wonder if Anne is with us, and another moment to wonder if Chef is with us. A small convoy of SUVs fills with people and a truck loads lots of luggage. Nobody asks for any Passports or documents. The convoy moves off in just a few minutes. The trip is short and ends at a small white building, standing at the end of a runway and sporting a few antennae. I guess this is the local International Airport. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 05: Juli Master Martin turns to Igor and asks a question. "Security?" Igor nods, smiles, and answers, "Coming right up, Sir." He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a black cloth which he shakes out to show a hood. "Julie, this is for you until we are airborne. Any problems?" I'm terrified, but I'm sure Master and Igor have allowed for that. I've never been hooded before, but then I hadn't been a slave until a few days ago. I'm not usually claustrophobic, so I take one of my deep breaths and answer, "No, Sir, no problems. Thank you, Sir." Master provides a reassuring pat on my shoulder while Igor slips the hood over my head. There is a drawstring to snug the opening around my neck, but I can breathe with no trouble. Sight and sound, however, are gone. Igor helps me out of the SUV and we stand around, waiting for something. Nobody tells me what we're waiting for; I'm just a slave, right? About two minutes later, there is some movement around me and Igor's hand guides me forward. A short walk and Igor taps my head twice. I guess that means to step upward, and I try it. I'm right! I climb perhaps two dozen steps and Igor taps my chest. Walk forward? I do and enter an air-conditioned space. Igor, or someone, guides me a short distance, turns me around, and pats my rump. I sit and whoever fastens my seatbelt. The handcuffs remain and I find it more comfortable to lean forward a bit. There is just a small hustle around me and then I hear the cabin door close and lock, the engines spin up, and my flight races down the runway to become airborne. Nobody pays any attention to the hooded slave in Transport Mode for a short time. Then, a soft touch lets me know the hood drawstring is being untied and, a moment later, the hood is whisked off. A musical voice says to lean forward, and the handcuffs are removed. The stewardess is smiling as she asks how I am. I think about telling her I'm a tad upset at being abducted, enslaved, auctioned, and trained for duty as a "pleasure slave," but manage the more acceptable, "Thank you, Ma'am. I think I'm OK." "If you'd like to freshen up, I can show you the facility," she says. I'm sure my grin gives her the answer. She unlocks the seatbelt and guides me aft to a facility seen nowhere on any commercial flight. "Master and Anne had this installed last year," she says. "It replaced two standard airline toilets, but everyone likes it." I'm still a slave, even in a royal lavatory, so I don't say anything, just letting my grin express admiration and gratitude. Washing my face and using the hairbrush to arrange my hair feels heavenly. Master's appearance jolts me back to reality, but his smile is disarming. "Julie," he says, "it's nice to see your smile. Now, our stewardess this evening is Sharon. She'll see to your needs. It's a long flight so let her know when you're hungry; she's a marvel with a microwave. She probably has some magazines around as well." I sense that the rules of speech may be a bit relaxed during the flight, so I manage a small bow and a "Thank you, Master." He nods and moves away. Sharon guides me back to my seat. "We can do almost anything from a Peanut Butter and Jelly through a Grilled Cheese up to a broiled steak or chicken. I'll be around in about an hour for your choice." Not only the rules of speech, but lots of other rules are different here! On the yacht, I ate what I was fed and nobody asked me what I liked. Now, a stewardess is going to take my order? I am feeling a bit "detached," as if some of the mooring I've done since the auction is coming undone. Later, Anne comes up and takes the seat beside me. I notice that her seat is a First Class type, while mine is a routine Coach type. For some reason, I feel a bit more grounded. Anne changes that. "Julie, you've done quite nicely this past week," she starts. "Master, Igor and I are proud of your accomplishments. From watching your presentation at the auction, Master was sure you'd adapt to his requirements, and we're pleased you're proving out." Wow! That's high praise, coming from a trainer that doesn't brook anything less than perfection. I manage a quiet, "Thank you, Ma'am. I think you and Igor had a lot to do with it." She waves the compliment off. "Do you have any idea where we're going tonight?" I had heard some remarks from the crew about Hong Kong during mealtimes, and my purchaser had mentioned his base in Hong Kong when he was preparing me for transfer to his yacht, but I'm not sure whether a slave is supposed to be listening to other's conversations. I decide to be somewhat daring. "Please, Ma'am, Master mentioned his base at Hong Kong after my auction." "Good girl," smiles Anne. "It's good you remembered. We should be there in about twelve hours. I don't suppose you've been there, or anywhere in Asia, before?" "No, Ma'am," is an easy answer. I'm wondering about this new-fangled idea of conversation with a slave. "You're going to be introduced into Master's circle in just a few weeks. You'll find that this society has its own standards, culture, idiosyncrasies. For instance, the power is almost always in the man, but each man must have a beautiful woman on his arm. A plain woman will make even an important official or an industrial leader so much less powerful that there is a continual struggle to show off each man's woman." For a moment, Anne's gaze seems to focus on some distant view. "For a year or so, I was Master's badge of distinction." She shrugs. "Then, I was just part of the scenery. I told Master as soon as it happened, and he gave me this position. Master has been so good to me, I'd go through Hell for him." I have never heard a woman talk about her man that way. Since he bought me, Master hasn't had much to do with me except for feeding me at the occasional meal. Anne picks up her story. "You will be two people in Hong Kong, and you need to understand each role very well. Not performing each role well will lead to a very short time with Master. I've said it before: he has high standards. Now, the first role, the public role, is to be a devoted woman, deeply in love with Master and enjoying the high-society life you will lead. You will go to horse races, theater, art galleries, concerts, opera — all the things the high and mighty do. You will wear the latest fashions and eat the finest foods. You will work out at the most luxurious spas and have your hair coiffed by the most talented and created artists. Master will see you have whatever your heart desires. Are you with me so far?" I can't help but be excited. "It seems like a fairy tale come true," I say. "But, it doesn't include letting me go home, does it?" Anne chuckles. "No, that's not part of the deal. You may have a great time, but you have to know you're really working for Master." "All right," I say, "you said there was a second role?" ***** Dear Readers, Julie will have to wait a bit to find out about her "second role," but I don't think it will be too long. In the interim, let's hear what you might want that role to be. (Carole99 and I are curious, also.) The old saying was "Keep those cards and letters coming," but we now have electronics, which is so much easier. J Spe 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 06: Autumn This part reveals Autumn's new life after her first night with Master. Reading the series from the beginning is highly recommended. Your comments are welcome. I believe that most men and women have dark, secret dreams about being "taken". This series explores those fantasies. Please don't confuse them with real life. Immediately following Pt. 04: Autumn didn't emerge from the Master's suite until mid-morning, barefoot and carrying her heels and the white panties. "How are you feeling?" "I'm very sore, Miss. And I need some sleep." "Of course, dear. You have today and most of tomorrow to rest up. Do you have any injuries?" "No Miss, he didn't hit me or anything. He just kind of overwhelmed me." "Yes, every woman on this ship knows exactly what you mean. Did he wake you during the night?" "Twice, Miss Miriam." She blushed and looked away. "Did he...." "No, Miss, not that. I thought he was going to the last time. He had me in that position, and I started to cry. He must have noticed because he leaned down and whispered in my ear." "What did he say?" "Miss, he said, 'I love your pussy.' and I think he does. I can hardly walk." Miriam laughed. "He loved all of you! He has never given out 5 chips before! You pleased him very much" She kissed Autumn on the cheek and pressed the chips into her hand. "Be good to yourself. Take a nice bath, rest, and relax. I will send food and a lotion for your soreness. I would like to send Linda to visit with you this evening." "Yes, Miss, I would like that very much. Linda is sweet. Thank you." Autumn spent the day napping, bathing, eating, and napping. She was in a dreamy state when Linda knocked. They began with a lingering hug and a light kiss. Linda opened a bag with food and a rare treat, wine. They chatted like old friends for 2 hours. The subject of Master came up several times. "I have to say, the night wasn't half bad, but I wouldn't want to do it every night! How often does he ask for us?" "It seems to me he likes a visit about twice a week when he is aboard. But he has 4 of us right now, not including Miriam, so you usually get a week or more, unless he really likes you. How many chips did you get?" "Five," she whispered. "Wow! You are good! Maybe the rest of us can relax." Linda giggled, showing that she was teasing. "I got 4 a couple times. Rose got 1 one time, and she couldn't sit down for a week after her session." That comment produced a little shudder in both women. "Master is very forceful, but he believes his girls should have fun too. How many did you get?" "Um, Let's just say I may have gotten a chip for each one! I have never had such strong ones before, but I'm sore as hell now." They laughed. "So true. Miriam is right about the submission thing. The orgasms are better and they make up a tiny bit for the bad parts of this job." They both realized that Linda had used the word 'job.' Both started to laugh, then grew silent as their situation sank in. In tears, they tightly hugged again. "Oh Linda, what are we going to do? Are we stuck here forever? I'm kind of OK with Miriam and even the sex, but this isn't a life!" "I know, dear. We just have to get through it and wait to see what happens. I know you can see that it's better to do exactly what they want. I like Miriam too, and she knows him very well. Seems like everything we do with him, she has already done many times. That reminds me. Miriam wants me to show you how to give him a bath." "A bath! I was in a shower with him once and it was not fun. It was quick though. What is there to show?" "Oh, he is very particular about his bath. He has a little quirk that I won't even tell you about. And we're going to practice on another man first. I'll come and get you in the afternoon. We're going to be in Miriam's room because she has a big tub." By the next day, Autumn's soreness was fading, and she was rested. Linda told her to wear only a robe. In Miriam's bathroom, they drew hot water to a depth of a foot or so and added a dash of scented oil. At Linda's direction, they knelt naked and open beside the tub. A man entered the room wearing a white robe. It was the Captain! He gestured with his hands and they both stepped into the tub, settling into the familiar position at each end. The Captain stepped in and sat down. "Kneel up!" Both women came up out of the water. He soaped his hands and began a thorough inspection of their pussies. Autumn jumped at his touch. "Hold still!" Each woman voiced a gasp as he ran a finger slowly along the length of her slit. He finished by brushing up between their cheeks. "Good job, ladies. You know he likes you to be smooth at all times." "Thank you, Sir," both women chimed in. Linda picked up a bottle of body wash and reached toward Autumn. "Remember I told you that Master has a certain way he likes to be washed?" She poured the soap across Autumn's breasts and then over her own. "We are going to wash the Captain as much as possible with our tits. Get up against his back and start rubbing." Autumn felt the blush begin in her cheeks and spread down to her neck. She hesitated a moment, then started lightly brushing her breasts against his back. Linda started on his hands and arms. She nodded to him and then poured a pan of water over his head. Taking Linda's lead, they knelt up and washed his face and neck. Autumn saw Linda supporting her breasts with her hands and did the same. Each movement stimulated their nipples. The Captain's whiskers were maddening. The Captain moved to expose his legs. As they awkwardly tried to wash his feet, his erection poked out of the water. He said, "Enough." They used their hands to finish his feet and legs. She touched him on the arm, prodding him to kneel up. While Linda washed his aroused cock, Autumn rubbed his cheeks clean. "Autumn, at this point, Master will signal in some way if he wants head. Rinse him well and begin. But sometimes he will go down on all fours." The Captain obliged. "If he does this, he wants you to pump him. Put wash in one hand reach around to him. Put the other hand on his balls from behind. Caress and squeeze. Now, try it." She remembered masturbating Master back on Blue Bayou. She started her service. Before long, the captain was groaning. "Autumn, now circle the base of his balls with your thumb and finger. Gently pull them down." A fleeting thought of really hurting the Captain floated in and out of her consciousness, but he started grunting and spurting into the water. Autumn looked at Linda. The look on their faces seemed to reflect the same unexpected thought: "At this moment, he is completely helpless and submissive." In a few moments, he came out of his distracted state. Breathing heavily, he stood. Linda flipped the drain lever and stood to rinse him with a hand-held spray. He stepped out to let the women dry him. He donned his robe and reached in his pocket. Placing a stack of chips on the counter, he said, "Well done, ladies. Our boss will be pleased. I love this job. I believe I will be seeing you again on Friday." As he left, Linda put her hands on Autumn's shoulders. "Listen, sweetie, we did a great job. Thank you for following my lead. He left a nice pile of chips. That will keep us on Miriam's good side. Now, I don't think either of us is a lesbian, but that shouldn't keep us from having some fun in this big ol' tub!" They rinsed and refilled the tub. They splashed and laughed and washed each others backs, feet, and legs. Linda giggled, "Our tits are already clean, honey!" They slightly turned away from each other and reached down with a soapy hand to their crotches. The friction felt great, but it was too embarrassing to go further. As they stood to rinse, Linda guided one of Autumn's feet to the side of the tub and directed waves of hot water back and forth up between their legs. For a moment, they were lost in a delicious, steamy haze, but Linda turned off the water, afraid that Miriam might walk in. Soon they were dried and dressed. A quick hug. Linda whispered in her ear, "They have no problem with a little self-help from time to time, OK?" She whispered back, "OK, thanks for helping me get through the bath with him. I am amazed at the weird things that turn men on." "Yeah, no kidding! We better go back." The bath with the captain and the splash-fest afterward had been arousing. Back in her room, Autumn made good use of the lotion. Thoughts crossed her mind as she rubbed. The Captain inspecting their pussies. Their hard nipples rubbing across his body. His seed spurting into the water. As she gasped out her orgasm, she pictured Linda riding out her own helpless climax. Miriam came into her room early the next morning, carrying a dress on a hanger. Autumn quickly assumed her position. "Please put your robe back on and sit on the bed. Master is pleased with your progress." With a wink, she added, "The Captain seemed quite happy as well! Did you get some pleasure from the practice session as well?" Autumn moved her knees closer together. Miriam could easily read her thoughts. "Uh, yes Miss, I did. Parts of it were, um, exciting." "I'm sure. You don't need to be embarrassed, my dear. We all need a little relief now and then. There is so much sexual tension around here. A few years ago, I might have tied your hands down to keep you from playing with yourself, but that has changed." "Let me tell you a story. About 4 years ago, one of the girls committed suicide. I realized then that we should have seen it coming. Master was very strict back then. I began talking to him about this, and he slowly came around. Back then, orgasms were by permission only, and the girls were not permitted to speak to each other." "Remember, I was once in your position. When I became more of an assistant to him, I knew that these rules were a source of great bitterness and frustration over time. As a result, he has granted both a little more privacy and a chance at some companionship. You have made a friend in Linda and I encourage that. I caution you not to overdo with these 2 little freedoms. They flow from the Master through me. Do you fully understand me?" Autumn hesitated, framing her words. "Yes, Miss Miriam, I understand. I will not let it get out of hand." Miriam laughed. "Dearie, I don't think 'out of hand' is the problem!" In a moment, Autumn got the joke as she thought about her activities in bed the last evening. She blushed. "Your duty this week is in housekeeping. I'm going to pair you with Linda and you will start on the bridge today. I brought you this outfit. There are some proper shoes in the closet. The dress is short enough that you will be glad you have panties. Go and eat in Linda's room. I'll pick you up later." "Thank you, Miss Miriam. Without you this would be unbearable." They chattered like old friends at breakfast. "Linda, what is this cleaning duty like? These dresses look a little dangerous." "We'll be safe on the bridge, not like the kitchen. But again, it's not about us. It's about not distracting the crew. The rest of the ship will be pretty safe too, because the guests can only grope when they are with the Master. The kitchen is the pits. One time I got a finger clear up between my legs. And then you have to thank the brute." "Do we have to, uh..." "No. We only have to service them at the poker game. I guess if we were told to fuck them we would have no choice, but I think the Master sees us as a kind of harem. Even the Captain only gets so much." "You said there were 4 girls here. Who is the other one?" "Oh. Her name is Abby. You'll see her later when we are cleaning the kitchen floor. She keeps to herself and won't talk much. I worry about her sometimes." "Have you heard that a girl killed herself here? Miriam told me that this morning. How awful!" "I heard. Happened before I got here." Linda reached across the table and took Autumn's hands. "Promise me if you start feeling like that you'll tell me. This is hard, but we can help each other." At that moment, Miriam opened the door. They stood up. "Have you forgotten your manners when I enter your room?" Both girls quickly knelt. Linda reached for the top button on her dress. "No need for that. I just don't want you to forget where you are, and who I am. You are to be obedient and compliant at all times. Do you understand?" "Yes, Miss Miriam." They were clearly embarrassed at their lapse. They walked to the bridge in silence. Linda knew the routine: Wash the windows inside and out, wipe all surfaces, clean the floor and the restroom. They were not to talk on the bridge. Mid-morning found them cleaning staterooms and hallways. Miriam reminded them that she would be inspecting their work. Linda whispered, "We have to be careful not to relax around her. She can't make it heaven around here, but she can make it hell. Just ask Rosey. Miriam made her pay for a session yesterday, and she didn't have enough for meals. And she didn't take her then. She has to wait until tonight." "What does she do that's so bad? I know she complains, but..." "When you were with the Master the other night, did you fake it? Did you pretend to be turned on?" Autumn looked down. "No! He's such a powerful guy. I was lost in him. Do you?" "No, he rocks me every time, but Rose just can't get into it. I actually admire her in a way. She doesn't buy into any of this. I never thought of myself as submissive, but that's how you survive around here." In a week's time, they covered about half the ship. Linda said there were also paid cleaning staff. Each day the last task was cleaning the galley floor. Autumn saw Abby, a tall redhead whose face and arms were covered with freckles. Autumn tried several times to make eye contact, but she never looked up from the work table. Miriam allowed them to eat breakfast together each morning. On the third day, Rosemary brought a tray. She was shuffling her feet as the women noticed her panties around her ankles. "Rose, what are you doing?" There were tears in her eyes. "I can wear them in the galley, but I have to pull them down everywhere else. And I have to show my ass to everyone I see." She turned around to show her welts. Tears became full sobs. The girls rose up to embrace her in a hug. "Rose, what happened? I didn't think it was going that badly." "Linda, I was with the Master a couple days ago. I just froze up! He called Miriam to take me out. It was awful!" Autumn said, "I'm so sorry Rosemary. You know we all care about you..." Her voice trailed off. All three were in tears. Rosemary turned to shuffle back to the door. One evening Miriam called all 4 women to her room. It was the first time they had ever been all together, and they were fearing the worst. Each was wearing the usual white robe. Autumn noticed that Rosemary's panties were not around her ankles. "Ladies, there will not be a poker game on Friday. Master wants us to stage a different kind of event. I am expecting each of you to fully participate." She looked directly at Rosemary. "Master is a history buff, and we are going to enact a slave auction as it might have happened in ancient Arabia." She glanced at each one as this announcement sank in. Autumn gasped, remembering her auction on Blue Bayou. "Ladies, this will be more of a play than a real auction. Master and his friends will be bidding on the same amenities you provide at the poker game: Your beautiful bodies will be on display and you will enthusiastically service them." She looked at Rosemary again. "The Captain will serve as slave-master. He will bring you into the room wearing these caftans that I brought. He will remove them and he will display your assets to the bidders in a thorough and personal way. In the next 2 days, we will be practicing 6 display positions. You are already familiar with 3 of them. Do you understand?" Each of the 4 women looked at the floor and blushed in varying degrees. "Yes, Miss Miriam," Autumn squeaked out. "Rosemary, look at me. This is your chance to get back in my good graces. Do you understand me?" Rosemary nodded, "Yes, Miss, I will try my best." "We will start in the morning. Each of you take a caftan and try it on." As their robes dropped, Autumn noticed that Abby's freckles extended down her chest and back. After a couple trades, they each found a fit. "Tonight you will think about how you are going to please the Master this week. You may go." The next morning found them standing before Miriam in the ankle-length caftans. Their feet were bare and their hair covered with a hood. "Ladies, the scene for our little play is this: You have been captured and brought to a village square for the monthly slave auction. The slave-master will strip you and display your body in ways meant to arouse the bidders. You will be reluctant and embarrassed, but compliant. That part should be easy, as it will be true." "The captain will not be at our practice sessions, so I will take his part. I will have this small whip, but you will not feel its lash. You will comply with its mere caress. Let's begin. Stand off to the side. The Captain will be talking to the bidders in chairs in front, but I don't need to do that. Linda you are first." Miriam motioned with her hand. Linda didn't move. Miriam waited, then made a light crack with the whip. Linda moved to center stage. "Perfect my dear. Now turn for us." As she competed her circle, Miriam stepped behind her. She pulled the hood down, opened a button at the back of the dress and slowly peeled it down off her shoulders. Waiting a moment, she gradually revealed Linda's breasts. "The Captain will be describing your beauty as he goes." Gradually, the caftan dropped until Miriam directed Linda to step out of it. "Turn again for us, my dear, and then stand for inspection." Linda placed her hands behind her neck and separated her feet. Being naked in front of the other women was even more stressful than stripping for the Master, and her rising blush showed it. Miriam tapped her knee with the whip. She moved her feet farther apart. Miriam moved behind her and lightly traced her fingers down the length of Linda's body, from arms to hips. Linda trembled at the touch. Miriam stepped in front and tapped the whip on the floor. Linda shook a few tears off and lowered herself into a kneeling position. She knew a tap was coming. She widened her legs to the maximum. Miriam tapped her elbow. Linda straightened up, stretching her body. "That was very good, Linda. We'll do more later. Get dressed." She looked at the remaining women. "I expect each of you to perform your part at least that well. Abby, your turn." As Abby's body was revealed, Autumn was curious about the extent of her freckles. Miriam saw her staring and smiled. "Master is also fascinated by these freckles. He thinks they are charming." At this, Abby's freckles faded into her blush. Autumn was next. Miriam trailed the whip over her stomach and breasts. "As I do that, shrink back from the whip. Good." As Rosemary was revealed, her red marks were still visible on her thighs and ass. She played her role as Miriam expected, with a mixture of hesitance and obedience. "Thank you Rosemary. I know that was hard. I am pleased." "Ladies, this afternoon we will practice the floor positions. They are much harder to perform, but I'm expecting each of you to comply perfectly. We will practice them as a group to save time. Wear your robes after lunch. I will see you then." Later the women were back with Miriam. "Strip and assume position 3." Four robes fell to the floor. Linda was first to place her left cheek on the carpet and spread her legs. The rest followed with Rosemary sinking to the floor last. "You are showing your charms to the bidders. Be proud of your beauty. I will step behind each one of you in turn. When I crack the whip, you will reach back and open yourself to me." 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 06: Autumn Autumn was first. 'Crack!' She placed her fingers on each side of her pussy and tugged. She was trembling and sweating. Miriam moved to Abby. In a few minutes, all 4 were straining to hold position. "At this point, the Captain may invite the men to inspect you more closely. Be ready for that. Now you may relax and stand." There were more positions to practice, but Miriam knew that none were as difficult or as humiliating as the 'doggy' pose. By the end of the day, all were tired and covered in sweat. "Do any of you think we need another day of practice?" Silence. "I don't think so either. You have all done well. I am going to send you back to your duty assignments tomorrow to keep your minds busy. You will have Friday off to prepare for the event in the evening. You may go and clean up. Thank you again." In the shower, Autumn's fingers found their target once more. The day had been arduous and stimulating, especially during the last position, when Miriam touched each one with the whip handle as they held their legs open. The handle had smooth ridges that produced a delicious sensation. Her orgasm released the tremendous tensions of the day. As she bucked her hips on her hand, she pictured Abby's freckled body gyrating in the same age-old rhythm that women have practiced since the beginning of human history. At breakfast with Linda the next morning, neither spoke for long time. Finally, Linda asked, "How are you feeling? That was hard." "Yeah, in one way it kind of felt like the worst visit to a gynecologist ever. But it was so damn stimulating. I helped my self twice last night!" "I know what you mean. Miss M really understands how women are built. If this auction tomorrow is that arousing, we'll be begging those men to fuck us." Linda looked up from her plate. "I can't believe I just said that. What am I becoming?...." Just then Miriam opened the door. The women were on the floor in seconds. "I am going to do some further training with Rosemary and Abby, but both of you did so well yesterday! Thank you. I am pleased, and I will find a way to reward your performance. Master said that it was very important that the auction go well." At the end of the day Autumn found a TV installed in her room. After a shower, she explored with the remote and found a large selection of movies. She was still deciding when Linda knocked. "Miss M said that this was our reward for obedience, Yay! Miriam also said not to let it interfere with our duties." They spent the evening and the next morning watching comedies, giggling, and enjoying each other. After lunch, Miriam gave them some final instructions. "I want you clean and fresh and in costume by 4. Your televisions will show the time. I want you to try think about this as an erotic experience. Every woman has dark fantasies about being taken. Isn't that true?" Autumn looked at the floor. "Uh, yes Miss, I guess so..." "You both know so! I want you to recall some of those naughty dreams today. This will not be easy, but it won't be as distressing if you get into your role." The players gathered for the drama. Four men sat in front of a small stage. The Master sat at the side. All were in Arabic robes. The Captain led the captured women onto the platform. They were joined in a coffle by collars and a light chain, hands bound in front of their bodies. "Gentlemen, welcome to our humble market. Today we have specially selected wares for your viewing. These ladies come from western countries and do not speak our language. They are tall and beautiful and responsive as you will see. I will accept your bids in writing after the viewing." He released Linda's hands and neck and brought her forward. "For your pleasure, I have Farhah, which I'm told means 'lively'. We shall see!" He drew a small knife and cut the button from the back of the caftan, slowly baring her shoulders. He helped her draw her arms from the dress and held them over her head. He began a leisurely roll of the dress down over her breasts and abdomen, one side at a time, stopping at the navel. "Notice her perfect skin." He began to caress her stomach, moving up to the left breast and nipple. The Captain turned Farhah away from the bidders and slowly worked the caftan to the floor. She stepped out of it and turned back to face the men. "Gentlemen, before we go on, I know the other girls are eager to shed their dresses for you." One by one, he stripped the women in the same casual manner. He stepped in front of them, snapped the whip and pointed to the floor. Using the touch of the whip to place their limbs, he soon had each captive kneeling spread-eagled and stretched. He stepped behind the group and seized Autumn by the hair, bending her back almost to the floor. The Captain reached down and moved her legs wider. He trailed the whip between her legs and up her body, causing a tremor. He looked directly at the man closest to Autumn. "Sir, Asmara, or butterfly, has been carefully shaved from the neck down and perfumed, as have all these women." "Please step forward and inspect your prospective purchase." He let Asmara's head rest on the floor and moved her feet to sit flat. He placed her hands on her knees and motioned her to hold them open. The man settled between her legs and began exploring her body. As she held herself open for his tender scrutiny, a new blush began spreading from her face to her chest. He lightly ran a finger over her slit and then entered it as though checking her virginity. Asmara couldn't help but tilt her hips and clench on his finger in time to his erotic strokes. Farhah was next in line for display. Tahera, or purity, and Huma, or bird, each lay on her back and in turn, received her stimulating inspection. Some of the men visited all 4. The Captain then motioned the 4 women to stand. Red-faced and out of breath, they looked at the bidders. "Time for your initial bid, gentlemen. Please hand me your paper with your preferences in order." He glanced at the bids and began arranging the captives in front of the proper bidder. "We can have another round if you wish, or we can end it here. Does anyone want to go on?" Silence. The men were far too eager for the next phase of the event to begin. "All right, you may take your purchase and get better acquainted in your room for the next 2 hours. I would remind you of the rules we set up before the sale." He waved his hand toward the women. The first man took Asmara by the hand and headed for a door. The second man swept his arms under Huma and carried her off. She put her arms around his neck. They were kissing as they left the room. Master watched from the side. There are few sights more arousing than seeing a naked woman in the control of a fully dressed man. Miriam, ever alert, walked behind him and began rubbing his shoulders. The third buyer picked up a piece of the chain and attached it to Tahera's collar and led her to the side. Farhah's temporary master picked her up and threw her over his right shoulder. His left arm snaked up between her legs, making her squirm and kick. Miriam and the Master were alone in the room. "Excellent, Miriam. Only one thing could make it perfect." "Yes, Master, I know." She walked to the stage and picked up a piece of the chain, wrapping one end lightly around her neck a couple of turns. Returning to him, she dropped her dress and handed him the end of the chain. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 07: Julie Welcome Back, Dear Readers. Julie, Our Heroine, is about to learn about her dual roles in Master's service. Would any of you like to share her service? — J Spe. Note to new readers: Please read the original chapter, "48 Hours on Blue Bayou" and then follow the story of each captive separately. Lisa, Pt. 02, (so far). Julie, Pts. 03, 05, and now, 07. Autumn, Pts. 04 and 06. We apologize for any confusion. We are co-authors writing 1 part at a time. Thanks for your comments. Many thanks to Co-author J Spe for writing Julie's story. As always, please don't confuse fantasy with real life. Carole99 ***** 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 07: Julie Continuing from Pt. 05: "You will be two people in Hong Kong, and you need to understand each role very well. Not performing each role well will lead to a very short time with Master. I've said it before: he has high standards. Now, the first role, the public role, is to be a devoted woman, deeply in love with Master and enjoying the high-society life you will lead. You will go to horse races, theater, art galleries, concerts, opera — all the things the high and mighty do. You will wear the latest fashions and eat the finest foods. You will work out at the most luxurious spas and have your hair coiffed by the most talented and creative artists. Master will see you have whatever your heart desires. Are you with me so far?" I can't help but be excited. "It seems like a fairy tale come true," I say. "But, it doesn't include letting me go home, does it?" Anne chuckles. "No, that's not part of the deal. You may have a great time, but you have to know you're really working for Master." "All right," I say, "you said there was a second role?" Her face loses a bit of its excitement. "Yes, and it's even more important to Master that you do this one well. It's the private side of your existence. You are going to be part spy and part treasure. Master will train you to ferret out the secrets his opponents are trying to keep. Mostly, these are business deals or political schemes, occasionally some illegal stuff like smuggling operations. Master will try to protect you, but there can be some risk if the opposing team decides you are trying to do them in. "The treasure part comes from using your body. Master will lend you to the opposition for sex or playtimes. He won't be able to protect you during some of these tasks, but the usual rule is that there is not supposed to be permanent damage to any of the girls. Your pose will be that you like it rough and that you are always ready for more." "That's why you and Igor have been training me to stimulate and satisfy both men and women, isn't it?" Anne nods. "Yes, that's implicit in your role. You must be able to get any of the powerful men and their women so aroused and distracted that their pillow talk will help Master's businesses." With a giggle, Anne tells me of her greatest triumph. She was leant to a poker game as, ostensibly, just a hostess. "It was supposed to be just passing cigars and drinks and making a few sandwiches. But I got the group so aroused that the game was forgotten while they played with me and boasted about their latest maneuvers. The intelligence I brought Master was so huge that Master was able to rack up tremendous profits along with building up his reputation." There is a pause and Anne's gaze goes distant again for just a moment. "You really enjoyed that game, didn't you?" I ask quietly. "Well," she grins, "I do now, looking back, but it took a month to recover from the games." "Can you tell me about these games? And, what do you mean about recovery?" "You can probably guess at most of them. Of course, they used me for sex, my mouth, my cunt, and my ass. They showed off their skills with the whips, single-tail and cat-o'-nine-tails. There was one guy into Japanese suspension ties. He was very artistic, but every pose he tied me into was designed to stress parts of my body. That's what took the most time to heal. Later, Master told me the guy was over-the-top complimentary about me being such a good subject. When Master mentioned that he'd had to spend so much time and money on my recovery, he just shrugged and said it was well worth it. Master told me he had a hard time not laughing in the guy's face, because lots of the money Master made came from this guy's stuff." "So, Master's profits and reputation come from these other guys, what you called 'the opposition,' spilling their secrets while they bang you or beat you?" Anne looks at me a bit sharply. "Don't get high hat on me, kid. Anywhere in the world, everyone reports to someone, has to keep someone happy. You did it in that legal firm, didn't you?" She has me there! I had never slept with any of the partners, but I'd been nice to some jerks I wouldn't have given the time of day. "I see your point. OK, but it never got to where I needed time for treatment for recovery. This is a whole lot bigger stage." Anne nods, then grins. "And Igor and I agree with Master that you'll shine on it. The big hump is getting your mind straight. If you look at this like a prison sentence, you won't be good at it and you won't enjoy the parts of it you should. If, on the other hand, you share Master's plans for you, if you put yourself into enlarging Master's world, then you'll probably have a ball, be a great success, and earn Master's gratitude." I sense there is a reverse side of this coin. "And if I can't?" "Master's accountants will let him know — debits and credits — what he's got invested in you, from the time his yacht met Blue Bayou up to the current minute. They'll have estimates of the market for a used slave. If your value isn't up to the current market, he'll be ready to sell you on. And, from the stories I've heard, the next step isn't at this level." All I see is an abyss facing me. My face probably shows how scared I am. Anne takes my chin in her hand and looks into my eyes. "If Master, Igor, and I didn't have the strong conviction that you'll do well, not just survive, we wouldn't waste a minute on your training. There are plenty of other girls we could work with. You should drop this negative attitude, this 'I'll be a failure' idea, before it takes root in you. You know how teenagers always feel they can do anything? That's the proper attitude for you, and that's because, for you, it's going to be true. Master has done this with so many girls, he knows what he's doing." I can't help but be reassured by Anne's talk, her logic. Master has been successful, right? So, he knows what he's doing, right? So, I can really do this, right? It all sounds so simple when she lays it out like that. I manage a small grin. "OK, Anne, let's do it!" Sharon comes up to us and drops a small curtsy. "Julie, Master is asking for you." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Six: First Service Master's smile when he opens the door is radiant. I'm kind of getting to like that smile. I get to see it when I'm accepting something from him, like the handfeeding at meals, or some training. "Please, my dear, come in and make yourself at home." A glance around shows Master's suite to be magnificent. The windows are at least double the usual size, even for First Class. The walls are upholstered in a cream-colored tapestry enlivened with blocks of color, interesting but not overwhelming. The aft wall presents a dresser and mirror equal to any I've ever seen. The forward wall is the headboard for a king-size bed flanked by floor lamps. A desk is to my right on entering, while the wall left of the door supports a wardrobe. There is a door near the dresser which, I guess, leads to a bathroom. "I'm pleased that the dress fits you," Master says. I twirl a bit, showing off the little flare possible with the skirt. Master gives a few appreciative claps with his hands. "Please sit down on the bed and take off your sandals. I'm sure the week without real shoes has made these heels a bit tiring to wear." My grin lets him know he's right. I place the sandals at the foot of the bed and stand, waiting for Master's next instruction. Instead, Master circles me, slowly, with a hand on my shoulder, then caressing my back, sliding down to my waist and then a bit lower, cupping my ass. Coming in front, Master looks right into my eyes. Immediately, I expect to feel fear, but rather it's different. There are equal parts of respect and trust in my mind. I just know I have nothing to fear from Master. He will take care of me, is what his look says to me. His voice is quiet and easy, with no hint of anger. "Anne and Igor have been working with you on the anatomy lessons the past few days. I'd like to see some of what you've learned. I'm going to draw the zipper down your dress until it comes off. I'm going to expect you to undress me, gently, folding my shirt, pants, and underwear, until I'm as naked as you. Then, you're going to show me what you can do to get me aroused until I'm almost mad with desire for you. I want you to finish me with your mouth. Do you understand?" It was always there, wasn't it? Master had bought a pleasure slave and he was expecting pleasure, wasn't he? Anne and Igor had been training me, weren't they? So, why am I surprised by these orders? A part of my paralegal mind suggests that human beings can fool themselves into an alternate reality with just a bit of effort. Had I been making that effort? My Inner Goddess suggests that Master is waiting for an answer, that I had better quit making foolish efforts, and get with the program. My Inner Goddess is nothing if not practical, I know. Besides, she is always up for a romp on a king-size bed. I move my hands to the small of my back, thrusting my breasts, especially the left one, forward. A deep breath, and my answer comes out easily. "Yes, Master, your slave understands." What more does a slave have to say? Master's hands come up, one to hold the neckline and the other to draw the zipper down. There is a slight rustle as Master brushes the dress off my shoulders and it puddles at my feet. Master steps back and I seem to know he wants me to pick up and fold the dress. Igor has said Master prefers neatness over random displays. In a moment, I am back, reaching for his shirt. It rustles, as silk does against wool, as I draw it out and unbutton it. A few moments later, I have his belt unbuckled and drawn from his trousers. A button and a zipper and I draw down, rather than let fall, his trousers. He steps out of them easily. A moment later, I kneel to unlace his shoes and draw them and his socks off. They go next to my sandals. Master raises his arms to ease removal of his undershirt and I am left with his shorts, already a bit tented by his arousal. "No hands for the next step, my dear." I nibble at the waistband and grasp it with my teeth, pulling it over his semi-erect cock. One side at a time, I tug his shorts down until he steps out of them as well. I step against Master, welding my body to his, trapping his erection between us. After a moment, I lead Master to the bed and he stretches out on his back. In a moment, I am on the bed beside him, running my hands over his chest and abdomen. Anne has taught me to use a light touch at the start and Master smiles as I worship his chest and abdomen, not going near his package so soon. I can feel small contractions of Master's abdominal muscles as I stroke over them. When Igor did this to me, I had been both tickled and, almost, pained. I hope this is what Master is feeling from my hands. His mouth gasps out a single "Oh, yes!" Score one for the slave! Without any rush, I move to Master's nipples, circling them, occasionally twisting them, even some small pinches. When Anne did this to me, I rocketed up the arousal ladder. Master, however, is proving a bit less sensitive. I add my lips and teeth to the nipple play, and Master grins and nods. Score another for the slave! I have no idea how long Master wants this game to last, but my sense of proportion tells me it's time to move to Master's package. I cuddle his scrotal sac and feel the weight of the jewels inside. I stroke from Master's crotch down the sac with one hand, finally letting the balls fall into the other hand. I set this up as a rhythmic play, letting the balls, what the French call les testicules, go from hand to hand. Master begins to move in time with my rhythm. I move my thumbs to the front of his sac, so that each stroke now has a slight pressure to it. Master is now lifting a bit with each stroke and I can feel his balls draw up to the top of his sac. His erection is full now, and I haven't even touched his cock. I divert my hands to the insides of his thighs, up high near his pelvis, and I see his balls descend just a bit. Igor had said that a seduction should have some peaks and valleys, that a continued arousal runs the male to a climax too soon. Master is now entering a valley, with Master's cock not quite so erect. It is time to show attention to Master's cock. My experience, which isn't what you'd call encyclopedic, sizes him up as about average. For an instant, I hear echoes of the "size is not what counts" argument, then I focus my attention on Master, where it belongs. I blow a gentle breeze across the organ, and it responds with a jerk higher. I gently grasp the pole and find it is hard as a rock. There is some movement of the skin and I milk Master with one hand at a time, similar to my play with his balls, moving from base to tip. Master's glans is a deep bluish to purple color, indicating the blood engorging his cock. I change direction, moving from tip to base, hand to hand. Master is now voicing small moans and beginning to twist a bit with each pass of my hands. I notice he hasn't put out any fluid, no pre-cum, and I wonder if Master is using his skills to resist my skills. I grin; this is a battle he is not going to win! I have no idea how long we've been playing, but it seems to me time to introduce my lips and mouth to Master's cock. First, a small, short kiss on the tip. Then, little kisses and an occasional nip with my lips on his shaft. Soon, I open my lips and take just a bit of his head into my mouth, holding it for a moment, long enough for a swipe with my tongue. Then, another breath across the head, the cooling effect serving to arouse Master a bit more. Now, there is a bit of pre-cum from his slit. Score another for the slave! Gradually, I take more and more of Master's length into my mouth. With each additional inch, I work my tongue in different motions. There is a simple side-to-side motion, useful also for positioning Master in a cheek or in the center of my cavity. Licking around the cock gets more moans from Master. "Twirls and Swirls," as Anne taught me, gets Master to buck up and down. When I feel Master reach the back of my throat, I panic for a moment. Gagging and retching are not on my program, I have been taught. I try Anne's suggestion, to try swallowing maneuvers. This gets my tongue working faster, but I am able to take more of Master inside me. Now, I have my nose buried in his bush, and I am aware that his scent is clean, male, and strong. I release Master from my mouth slowly, in stages. With one hand, I stroke the inside of his thigh and he spreads his legs. In a flash, I am between his legs, my knees keeping him wide open for me. Master's hands grab my head and I expect him to force my mouth back to his cock. What he does is undo my ponytail and my hair falls around my face and onto Master's abdomen. It is another tool to tease him with. I go back to milking his cock up and down with my hands, and add swishes of my hair across his lower belly and thighs. It is an attack on two fronts! I move again to take Master into my mouth, moving my hands to his ballsac again. I can feel his balls move upward and I tug them down gently. I want to prolong his arousal, but, eventually, I'm going to make sure he wins this battle! Now, I add a bit of suction to my tongue activity. Master is now writhing on the bed and I know I wouldn't want to be denied release from this point. I just about get all of him in my mouth when he lets out a shout and I feel his cock swell as his cum shoots down his cock and into my throat. I start swallowing for the first jet or two; Igor has laid down the law that no drop of a Master's cum is to be spilled. Then, I hold the rest in my mouth. It gets pretty full. As Master finishes, I slow my tongue motions and, when I detect some softening, I free his cock. In a moment, I look up at Master and open my mouth, showing him I have held all the seed he gave me. "Good girl! You may swallow, Julie." I do and stop to consider Master's taste. Slick mouth feel and some lemony flavor? Master pats my head and then the bed alongside him. I crawl up and snuggle against him. I suspect he has had a "very good" experience, but this doesn't seem like the best time to ask for a clinical evaluation. Master grins at me. "I was right, again. Julie, you'll do very well. Now, press the green button on your side of the headboard one time and let's get a short nap." I am amazed at the warm wave of pride that envelopes me, but I manage to find the green button and give it a push. I have just been used by a man wanting to get off. I have had no stimulation or any arousal. There has been no pleasure for the slave. In fact, I'm perspiring a bit from all the effort. It was all his arousal, his climax, his pleasure. If this had been a date a month ago, I would have been furious and kicking the dumbass male out of my bed and apartment before he got a chance to dress. Now, "you'll do very well" is enough to make me proud of myself? I take a look at myself and, yes, the pride is the only thing there. I may be a slave, but Master has valued me "very well" and that's enough for me. I fall asleep beside my Master wondering at this aspect of slavery. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Seven: Debriefing, in Multiple Waves Master and I are awakened by a musical door chime. Sharon is wheeling in a cart with two flutes of yellow bubbly fluid. Master passes one to me and salutes me with the other. I take a sip and remember that slaves don't do well with alcohol: my drink is ginger ale. I'm willing to bet that Master's flute contains champagne. I grin, letting everyone know that this is a part of slavery that I'm now familiar with. Master gives a series of orders, most of which go past me. Sharon makes some notes, says, Yes, Master, and exits. Master's slaves do seem to meet that "high standard" Anne and Igor have been stressing. Master leads me into the bathroom and we shower together. There is just a bit of play here; Master seems to have something on his mind. He dries me with a warm fluffy bath sheet that's at least twice as effective as my towels back home and orders me to dress and return to my seat. The warm feeling swamps the sense of being dismissed. Anne is waiting for me. She picks up from my grin that her pupil met the "high standards" rule. Still, a teacher's job is never done. She has me go through each of my moves, my maneuvers, asking about Master's response, his sounds, his moans, his movements. After just a few moments, I feel the warmth and pride slip away. "Please, Ma'am, I was feeling so good about this. It was my First Service to Master, and he said I'd done 'very well.' You make it seem like a trip through a carwash, just something mechanical." By this time, I'm almost in tears. Anne gets up, walks around a bit, and sits back down. She pats me on the arm. "Julie, you're right. A First Service should be something special, almost like giving Master your virginity. I'm letting my teacher-hat get the better of me. You take time to savor this. There's no rush. We can leave this til after the meal service." 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 07: Julie Now, of course, I'm embarrassed to have embarrassed my teacher. Anne has always been helpful. When she'd used her crop, it was only to point out something to me, never to issue a hurt, a "correction." I whisper a Thank You and Anne responds with a smile and a pat on my head. I'm learning that the relationship between a slave and a Master or teacher is a fragile and complex one. When Anne comes back, I'll be ready and willing to talk and learn from her. The Meal Service was not really similar to commercial airlines. The rolling carts were the same, but the dishes were real china, the cutlery was sterling, and the food was even better than on the yacht. When Sharon asked me for my choice, I looked at the menu in her hand — the same menu she had shown to others — and went for the broiled steak, medium rare, with baked potato. I don't know how she did it, but that's exactly what was on my tray, along with a true steak knife. There was even tea to finish it off! I thought about this for just a moment, and then remembered Anne's description of living two roles: in this role, I am the high-society asset of a wealthy and powerful man. I have no trouble thinking I can get used to this life! On Anne's return, I beg forgiveness for my outburst. She waves it off. "Julie, I should have been a bit more understanding. I've been there myself. I suppose the lesson here is that you have to be tuned to moving from one role to the other, often with just a heartbeat." As usual, Anne is right. And, she's right about everything being a lesson. This one I'd try to keep in mind: I will have to be ready to switch between slave and high-society at any time. I launch into my report, trying to recall every move I made and Master's response. Anne seems surprised by Master's response to my blowing a breath across his cock's head. We figure that, possibly because of a cooling effect on the wet glans, Master was more sensitive. Anne advises me to keep that in mind for next time. Surprise on my face makes her laugh. "Julie, there is always going to be a next time. Now, you've got to keep a tally of what does what to whom. This is important, because you have to know what you did last time. You can't do the same routine every time, even if someone asks for it. That way lies boredom, the worst thing for a pleasure slave." This pleasure thing is just as complicated as the slavery thing. My report finishes with my pushing the green button. Anne's face lights up. "Julie, you don't know what that means, but it's a very good sign. The green button goes to the stewardess station, telling them Master doesn't want to be disturbed for 30 minutes because he's just had a great excitement and needs a nap, but then to come in with champagne for him and ginger ale for his slave. When Master said 'you'll do,' this is high praise. What did you do then?" I think for a moment and tell Anne, "Master and I went to sleep." Anne's eyes open wide. "You didn't clean him off? Julie! A slave never leaves cum or fluids on a Master or Mistress. You always use your tongue to lap up any spills or fluids. The last thing a Master or Mistress wants is dried crusts of cum on themselves." I get the point that this is a big deal. I know I've "inked my blotter," as they say, and that a correction will be inevitable. I've absorbed enough slave lore to know that excuses are irrelevant and I resolve to wait for the crop or the whip or whatever with whatever equanimity I can muster. Igor has said that corrections are not determined in the heat of the crime, so I don't even ask what it will be. When I have to know, someone will tell me. That's how slavery is. Another thing about slavery is that there's always another service to perform. Sharon collects me and gives me the two-minute drill on serving coffee, tea, juice, or soda from the rolling cart. Master is convening a staff meeting in the forward conference area, meaning about fifty folks need to be watered, as Sharon says. She gives me a frilly apron to cover the Calvin Klein and we go to work. Because we do one person at a time, we get all the orders right and we don't spill a drop of anything. I catch Igor's eye and his smile nearly unnerves me. Master watches my every step and I get the feeling my credits and debits numbers are going in a positive way. When everyone is served and Sharon is ready to roll the cart away, Master says, "Everybody, take just a minute to welcome our new member, Julie, to our family. I'm sure you'll all help her get familiar with any project she needs information on." There is a smattering of applause, and I blush. Sharon's face is grinning ear-to-ear as she rolls the cart back to her station. Master points to a folded blanket at his side and I realize that's my place. I kneel and feel that surge of pride again. I have a place; I have a family; I have a Master! The meeting is fast-paced. Master names a project and someone rattles off how it's doing. Mostly, each report is delivered with what seems to me to be pride and satisfaction. There are one or two that I sense, with absolutely no basis, are fictions, made up to get the speaker off the agenda. Nobody says a word, however, so I just file it away. As Anne says, every piece of information is likely to be worth something to someone sometime. Master sums up the meeting. "OK, folks, we've done it again. A full-list review in less than an hour. If everything keeps going like this, we'll have to get more videos for the entertainment center." I see that smile again, the one I'm coming to like. The staff disperses and Sharon returns with the cart. Master thanks us for the service and adds, "Julie, after cleanup, come back to my quarters." I'm wondering if Master is going to want another service. Trying to act calm, I sound out Sharon. "Should you be expecting another green button signal?" She bursts out laughing. "No, Julie. You'll get to know Master better than that. Once he has notes about his projects, he works on them to set up the next question or the next step for each project. He'll have one-on-one meetings with the staff for the rest of the trip. By the time we land, the staff will have To Do lists a yard long. My advice is to stop for a pee and get to his suite as fast as you can." I leave the frilly apron, stop at the lavatory, and knock on Master's door within two minutes. Anne opens the door, waves me in, and I see a grin on her face as she leaves. I'm OK with that; I know somebody will tell me when it's time for me to know. An armchair has been added to the décor and Master is sitting in it. A kneeling pad is one meter in front of him, so I head for it, smile at Master, and kneel. Master smiles. "What did you think about the Project Meeting we just had?" Me? I have no idea about the meeting! I didn't have the foggiest notion of what any project was. What can I say? Master waits, patiently, but I know that he's expecting an answer. Another deep breath? "Please, Master, I don't know any of these projects. How can I answer?" Master's smile widens! "Exactly so. You fashioned a good answer, short and diplomatic, but asking for more guidance. That's the kind of response you will often need when you're at someone else's Project Meeting. Our projects are planned to benefit society and the natural world. It's execution that matters. Through the collaborative effort, we want to accelerate the process by which an idea can become reality. "Now, the first thing about any project is its Manager, the guy or gal who reports on it. What did you think of this crew?" OK, that I can answer. "Please, Master, I thought most of them were honest, sincere, prepared." He's picked up on my "most." "OK, who did you think was not honest, sincere, prepared?" Master is asking me to skewer someone whose name I don't know? "Please, Master, I don't even know the names of anybody in the meeting. How can I judge?" Master doesn't let me off the hook. "Names are not important. Tell me a size, a hair color, a tone of voice. Your initial assessments, your gut feelings, these are the things that you are going to have to assess for me. Don't worry about maligning anyone. I don't shoot people on just gut feelings, at least, not often. OK? Let's have your report." I mention the fat woman and the sandy-haired man who seemed to be making up their reports. Master shuffles a few papers and studies his notes. His face is not smiling. My stomach clenches in fear. He reaches into a pocket for a cellphone, punches a few numbers and says, "Hi. I wanted to follow up on your report, maybe make some plans. Will you please come back to my suite?" The other party replies, Master says Thank you and ends the call. He turns to me and says, "OK, I've invited one of the other staffers to be first. Let's rearrange the suite." In a moment, Master is at the desk and I am at the door, waiting for a knock. It comes, I welcome the staffer, direct him to the armchair, and take my place, kneeling alongside the desk. The conversation is pleasant. Master asks if some offer should be sweetened, the staffer says he doesn't think it will be needed, Master nods and thanks the staffer for his advice. He asks him to send in another staffer. I rise to see the staffer out and he smiles at me. In a moment, the next staffer knocks. It is the fat woman. I welcome her, direct her to the armchair and resume my place. Again, the conversation is pleasant. The fat woman has a compliment for me. Something about that sets me off. Are slaves worthy of comment by staffers to Master? Master is gracious in his thanks and asks a question. Fat woman temporizes and then starts speaking rapidly. I'm not a trained observer, but it seems obvious to me that she's making it up as she goes along. Master nods thoughtfully and asks about her staff: is it large enough, are they trained enough, who does she see as insightful and competent, who is just a burden on the team? Fat woman seems as definite about these questions as she was vague about the project questions. Master makes notes and ends the conversation with kind words for her husband, who seems to be seriously ill and not thought likely to survive. I can see the lady's tears as she thanks Master for his concern and the care he has arranged for her husband. The next staffer is the sandy-haired man. He breezes in, nods to me, and ensconces himself in the armchair. Has he been here before? Again, the conversation is pleasant. Master asks for his opinion on some facet of the project and the man gives it a good rating. There are the questions about his staff and resources assigned to the project. Master thanks him and asks for the next staffer. This process goes on for another three or four staffers, with Master being pleasant, asking just a question or two for an opinion or two, and a word about staffing and resources. When the last staffer leaves, Master turns to me and asks for a report. OK, I'd have to be a moron not to know this was coming, right? Well, I'm not a moron. I'm loaded with observations about each of the staffers. I go down the list as they appeared. I have a good opinion of the first staffer and think he's probably got good reason to think the offer doesn't need sweetening. For the fat woman, I ask, "Master, did this lady take over the project when her husband got sick?" Master grins. "Exactly so. She had been part of the team for so long it seemed reasonable to let her take it over. However, I think we've seen that it's just a bit more than she can handle, especially with her family in such trouble." I jump in. "That's why you asked about her staff. Who looks ready to take on more responsibility? She was a lot more comfortable and definite about this stuff." Master smiles again. "In the next week or so, depending on what happens with her husband, we'll see about getting her a furlough and re-assigning some of the staff. One or two, I'm sure, will do a good job for us." My take on the sandy-haired man is more nebulous. "My instinct is not to believe or trust him. I think he may have low-balled some of his better staff to keep his competition at bay." I see Master's smile. Again, the thought surfaces that he has a nice smile. "I'm beginning to think you're right about him. He came to our group along with the project just a few months ago. He hasn't done anything wrong, but he also hasn't done much to move the project forward. We'll need more data and analysis, I think. In the interim, he's asked for a large company loan so he can buy a house in Hong Kong. Do you think we should make the loan?" Now, we're getting more to my kind of business! "If this staffer is going to hold his job, then it's perfectly OK for the company to help him with a residential mortgage from a bank or even a friendly bank. If he's not going to be with you, Master, then the fewer ties you have to him, the better. At this time, I'd caution some delaying tactics within the administration. Bureaucrats are always good targets and everybody understands that large transactions take time, need to go up multiple layers for review, and so forth." Master looks thoughtful. "I don't like the idea of using bureaucracy to stall a decision. On the other hand, I don't have enough information to make a decision now. So, temporizing is the best we can do. I'll get more information in the next week and we'll go then." Decision made, Master's smile, at least a little of it, comes back. Master stands, so I stand. He smiles, pats me on the head — this is getting to be a nice routine, I think — and says it's time for sleep. "Tell Anne to set you up with one of the bunks and a nightie. Sharon will freshen the dress for tomorrow. Get a good night's sleep." I report to Sharon and Anne. Anne grins and says it'll take about a half-hour to arrange the bunk. Sharon giggles and says she'll come for the dress when I'm in the bunk. In the interim, I'm free to walk the aisles. I decide to start at the front of the plane. I find the sandy-haired man at a small bar just inside the main door. He's nursing what looks like a glass of Scotch coddling a large ice cube. I give a smile and he waves to me. "Julie, isn't it? Good to meet you. Stay a moment, if you can?" My brain does the calculations. It isn't an order. I have nothing more important to do, at least for a half-hour. I'd like to pick up more information about this man. OK, I'll stay. I smile again. He looks around, possibly for an attendant? I put him at his ease, saying, "Please, Sir, I don't need anything now." I seize an opportunity. "Was this your first full-scale Project Meeting?" His grin is rueful. "Did it show? I've just joined this group in the past few months. The project was going along slowly before they took over, but we thought it was OK. Now, I've lost the bosses I had, I haven't got any new bosses, and the home office keeps asking for Progress Reports. A week ago, I get this e-mail about this trip. I fly halfway around the world to get to this flight, and now I'm flying halfway around the world to get to Hong Kong, all for a ten-minute visit with the Chairman. It's just not the way I'm used to doing business." He stops abruptly, probably startled by the list of admissions against himself he'd just made to a person he didn't know but who seemed to be at the side of the Chairman (that would be Master). I try to keep him on this line. "When you were talking about your staff and resources, why didn't you mention any of this? It sounds like it's your front-and-center problem, right?" He looks a bit upset, I think. In a moment, he recovers and continues. "Well, most Chairmen I know are so many levels removed from the actual project that they wouldn't be aware of any of this and probably would be irked to get mixed up in it. And then, there's the old saying, Never Let Them See You Sweat. No, this is something I'll have to figure out on my own." I take a moment to let him digest and then give him the zinger. "About how much time do you think that might take?" He swivels around and looks more directly at me. I return his stare for just a moment, then look down. "I mean, it seems like you said the home office was always after Progress Reports, so I guessed that they had some time line they were measuring the project against." I trail off, letting him have time to give a response. I learned long ago that, when I stay silent, the other party often fills in the silence with lots of stuff. He does. "I think it'll take about four months to get the team up to the speed the Chairman seems to want. I don't think that's a good idea, myself, because they aren't used to working at that speed. There's liable to be too many goofs and errors at the speed they're expecting. And, for Pete's sake, what's the reason for the big rush?" I throw him a bone. "Now, that's a good question. Does this project have to meet with another project?" He shakes his head No. "Do we need either the resources or the personnel on this project to start another project soon?" Again, a headshake No. We are both silent for a few minutes. Then, I bring up a point from earlier. "You know, you said something earlier about not having any bosses. That can't be completely true, can it? I mean, we all have bosses, up to the Chairman, right? If there's nobody named between you and him, then he gets to be your boss, right? OK, so, if you think of him as a boss rather than a Chairman, can't you just go ask him all these questions? I mean, don't you need answers to do your job?" The explosion, when it comes, almost makes me giggle. "Sonofabitch!" He blushes a bit. "Sorry, Ma'am, that sort of slipped out. My apologies." I assume my gentlewomanly airs. "Think nothing of it. I can't say I haven't heard worse." Together, we share a laugh. But, I can see he's got his brain cells up and working. I excuse myself and start hunting for Anne. Is this something to report to Master immediately, or will the morning be OK? I find her in the very last section with her arms full of pillow. I give her the two-minute version and she shoves the pillows into a compartment and drags me to Master's door. A sharp knock is followed by a Come In and we enter. "Master, Julie has been interrogating the staffer you had in third and has some new information." Anne retires, quietly shutting the door. I am left with Master, who is dressed in silk pyjamas and looks ready for bed. I wonder if he's perturbed about the interruption but, after all, it was Anne's call, right? I give him the points I discussed with the sandy-haired man. About midway through, he marches to his desk, shuffles papers until he finds the one he wants, and starts making notes. By the end of my report, Master has a sly smile on his face. Master turns and asks, "What happened to the bunk?" I think back. "Please, Master, Anne was putting out pillows when I came to her with this information. The bunk is probably about ready as we speak." "OK, Julie. First, thank you for talking to this guy. As I said, he isn't one of our guys, so it's no wonder he feels like he's on the outside and the window he's looking in is frosted. When our organization took over the project, the old organization took their bosses and let the project go. He was the only one of management level that stayed. Since he was pretty far down the chain of seniority, it's no wonder he doesn't have any idea about how the project fits in with our Project List. "How about this idea: I have one of the office go-fors bring him a copy of our original Project Assessment, the one we made before we traded for this project. It will explain a lot of background that he seems to be missing. It will also tell him why we need this done by the time we specified in the contract. I'll add a cover note saying that I noticed his name wasn't on the Distribution List because the document is before he came on board with us. If he's smart enough to read it, it should answer all of his questions. What do you think?" 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 07: Julie "Master, it sounds like a good solution. If he doesn't get out of it what you think he needs, then what?" "Then, my dear, he's not good enough for our organization. He probably has some level of competence, but not enough for us and he'll be happier in another organization. You know, he may be a good #2 man, but he just may not be a Division Leader." Master gets up and gives me a hug. "OK, now, off to bed with you. You've saved enough of the world for one flight." I float out the door to the bunk Anne has prepared, change into the nightie, and hang the Calvin Klein where the nightie was. ***** OK, Dear Readers. We've got Our Heroine through her First Service and initial job as Master's spy. There will be a short break for Julie to get some sleep before she arrives in Hong Kong. There, we'll get to see how she works out as High Society Hostess and as Industrial Spy. And, of course, as pleasure slave. J Spe 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 08: Julie For the best experience, follow each captive separately. Part 1 sets the scene for the capture and auction. Lisa, Pt 2, is the first to enter her new life. Autumn, in Pts 4 and 6, has a different experience. Julie, written by coauthor J Spe, is in Pts 3, 5, 7 and 8 so far. As always, please don't confuse fantasy with reality. -Carol Julie, Scene Four: New Home, New Laws, New Mission Welcome Back, Dear Readers! This posting (which comes after Blue Bayou, Part Seven) follows Julie's arrival in Hong Kong and gets her used, and used to, her new home, with new Laws and even a Mission Statement. Julie has a difficult First Night, but she gets focused on her first duty as First Lady. J Spe ***** Chapter Eight: Welcome to Hong Kong I sleep like a baby, waking up when my biological clock says it's the middle of the night. The rest of the plane is silent, everyone still asleep. But then, everyone was on a different time zone when we left whatever island that was. I pad to the lav and relieve myself and then head towards the front where, I guess, I'm likely to find a stewardess awake. I find a stewardess and one of the pilots. I giggle an introduction and find out that we're still about six hours away from Hong Kong. The pilot tells me we've been in an over-the-pole route, so it's still pretty dark outside, but the sun should be up in about a half-hour. We're probably somewhere near the Russia-China border, flying south. We will cross all of China to get to Hong Kong. He says, "I figure it will be just after lunch when we arrive. Boss hasn't been in any hurry, so we've used the fuel-saving settings for this bird." That reminds me that I'm hungry. Susan, the new stewardess, fixes me a nice hot chocolate. Sharon knew slaves weren't listed for champagne, but I am not taking any chances that hot chocolate is on that list by asking. I give my thanks and pad back to my bunk. The sun, and most everybody else, is up and moving when I awake. After a trip to the lav, I trade the nightie for the Calvin Klein and my sandals and am ready for service. I head to the stewardess station and down a glass of orange juice and a roll with jelly. I am now ready to serve whatever breakfast Sharon and Susan have ready. Sharon gets a call from Master and fixes a tray. I am detailed to serve it, and manage not to spill anything en route to his suite. Master is dressed in a fresh white shirt and charcoal gray trousers with polished black loafers. He is pleased to see me, I think. He asks, "Have you had breakfast, Julie?" I answer Yes, but mentally kick myself that I've missed a chance to be fed by Master once more. The landing at Hong Kong International Airport, the 20 billion dollar architectural and engineering marvel on Chek Lap Kok island, is routine. Our aircraft leaves the runway and taxis for quite a while until entering a semi-isolated hangar. The doors open and ground crews push movable stairs into place. I am expecting Igor or Anne to put me into Transport Mode, but when Anne picks me up, she simply guides me with a hand on my arm. At the bottom of the stairs, she says something in Chinese to a lady in uniform and I see two check marks go on her clipboard. From the hangar, it is a moderate walk to the facility called SkyPier, where our group boards a ferry and heads eastward towards Hong Kong. We turn south under the Highway 8 causeway, with Ma Wan island to our right. A bit south and east and we can see Victoria Peak rising over the island. Then, past Telegraph Bay and Waterfall Bay, just north of Magazine Island, we turn due east and enter the estuary leading to the town of Aberdeen. Our ferry docks at the Aberdeen Promenade and we are met by a convoy of SUVs. There is a moment of chaos as different drivers call out for different groups of riders. Master, Igor, Anne and I wait for the last SUV, now certain that all our group has gotten rides to their homes or hotels. Master turns to Anne and says, "Anne, you've done it again! Everyone got a ride and nobody got lost!" Anne grins, blushes, and looks down, submissively. "Thank you, Master. Service is a privilege." I'm watching Master's face and I'm sure I see an expression of great concern and respect for Anne there. I wonder if Anne is aware of Master's care for her? The traffic is terrible, even for a city girl like me. Still, I don't see any accidents or people shouting at each other. We finally make our way to a small park-like block with two tall apartment buildings rising from a two-storey base. This is Master's home base. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Nine: The Tour, Laws and a Mission In the lobby, staffers direct our visiting Project Managers, their wives, and their entourages to the proper apartments. Master, Anne, Igor and I take an elevator that whooshes us to the top floor in seconds and leaves us in a large, airy entryway with floor-to-ceiling windows that provide a breath-taking view of the island. A few men and women are waiting, and Master greets them warmly. None is in livery. The men are in white shirts and navy pants, with the women in white blouses and navy skirts. Master smiles and suggests — but perhaps it is really an order? — that Anne and I have had a long trip and should go for a "soak" and we'll all gather for dinner. He, Igor, and some staffers vanish down a hallway to the left. Anne greets an older woman and they embrace warmly. Anne turns to me, saying, "This is Pat. She's been here for ages and will help you learn what Master wants you to do. Do you understand?" My "Yes, Ma'am" is automatic. With that one question, I understand that Pat is a particular superior that I must obey. With that one question, Anne has told Pat that my status is "slave" even though I will sometimes be serving as Master's prized possession. Pat greets me with a small smile, as if to say "I'll be watching you," and suggests that a tour of Master's apartment would be in order. Anne and Pat rattle off a bunch of places for me to see, and Anne heads down a hallway. Pat's smile widens a bit. "Wait here," she says and disappears for just a few seconds. She now has a pair of slippers for me and I change out of my heels. "Thank you, Ma'am," is my automatic response, and Pat laughs a bit. "Please, call me Pat. Around here, everyone does. I thought a fast walk-around would be easier without the heels." Right away, I'm getting to like this woman whom I must obey! I am more grateful as the "tour" runs through a series of bedrooms and salons on this corridor, which ends at a set of carved wooden doors for the library. It is a welcoming room, lined with bookshelves bearing enough books to keep me reading for years. I note the comfortable chairs and couches scattered in inviting groups but remember that that part of the room is off-limits to me. Pat notices, of course, but says nothing. Almost as an afterthought, however, she does point out a large padded area on the floor a short distance from a fireplace. The tour descends one floor to a gym where I will do my workouts. The floor has a non-slip rubberized surface which will serve for the Pilates exercises. The cardio exercises will be done on a pair of treadmills, an elliptical, and a rowing machine. I am glad there is no stair-climber: I learned to hate those in the law firm gym. For the strength conditioning, there are a few Bowflex machines, which use twisting rods rather than simple weights to provide resistance. The idea is to eliminate inertia, making it impossible to "cheat" your way through an exercise, while reducing strain on the joints and tendons. Each machine is set up for a slightly different series of exercises, and I'm sure I'll be put to work on them all in time. Pat notes that I'll have work for my back and shoulders (probably to improve my posture), my abdominals (to improve my "core"), and my legs (to improve my grace and speed?). A computer workstation shows a tracking grid to record my progress. "In six weeks, you'll be amazed at your progress," Pat announces. I had used the law firm's gym pretty regularly, so I thought I was in pretty good shape. I'm smart enough not to argue with Pat. Up the stairs, Pat shows me a large kitchen, with gleaming appliances, and a well-stocked pantry. I do not see any Food Service staff, but perhaps this is an "in-between" time for them? Down a short hall, Pat presents me to Anne, who is reclining in a small pool from whose surface lazy wisps of steam are rising. "Welcome back, Julie," she says. "Give your clothes to Pat and come join me." I strip under Pat's sharp eyes and a bit of a smile. Perhaps I have passed some test for this lady? In the pool, I welcome the luxurious feeling. "Master was exactly right about this," I declare, and Anne laughs along with me. "That tour covered so many rooms. Will I be working in all of them?" It is an innocent question, but Anne waves it off. "Master will have your next-day tasks for you each evening. He says it will encourage you to plan your day more efficiently. "Now that I've had my aching muscles soothed by this soak, show me some of the pleasures that this body will enjoy." I giggle a bit at Anne's artful expression, and proceed to arouse any still-aching muscles with my fingers and lips. It has only been a week, but I have gotten to know Anne's body quite well. I work from side to side and from the outer parts to her central parts. Finally, with my fingers moving over her pussy and my lips fastened on her left nipple, Anne climaxes very satisfactorily. I think about whether I should be angry or upset. I have just been summarily ordered to pleasure a superior. I have performed the task, and up to standards, clearly, because Anne is now lolling in the pool with a smile on her face. But, I have not been allowed any pleasure for myself. I have been used, right? Anne interrupts these possibly traitorous thoughts. "Julie, we have some time now, and I'd like to put you more in the picture about your slavery." Damn! That woman must be psychic. I offer a small sentence about wanting to be a good slave. Anne gives another wave of her hand. I'm finding that her waves are very expressive. "There are several Laws of Slavery," she announces. "They haven't been passed by the UN or anybody, but slaveholders around the world generally follow them. Here's the First Law. Slaves Never Win. It follows from the idea that slaves are chattel, property, with no rights. All the rights, all the power, is with the Owner. Now, what the First Law means is that you never object to a command. You never offer an excuse for a failure to perform up to standards. If you failed, you failed. Nobody is interested in why you failed, that it was something outside your control. Do you understand?" "Yes, Ma'am. No excuses. Thank you, Ma'am." Anne gives me a quick look, perhaps a bit put off by the speed of my answer. But, you know, I'm not an idiot. I offer, "Please, Ma'am, this First Law is pretty obvious, isn't it?" There is an answering giggle, and Anne pats my shoulder. "OK, girl. Now, if there's a First Law, that means there's a Second Law. It's also pretty simple: Things Can Always Be Worse. You think a correction with five strokes of the cane is bad? How about ten strokes? Twenty strokes? An hour in a hogtie? How about two days in a hogtie and you don't get any meals?" I have an involuntary shudder as I see how simple and easy it is for the Master. Anne, I'm sure, picks up my fears. "Julie, one of the corollaries of the Second Law is that corrections are proportional. If you just spilled some soup while serving dinner, you get just a few strokes or miss a few meals. The best thing about it is, once you've paid your correction, the slate is clean and the incident doesn't count anymore. "Of course, if you keep making the same mistakes time after time, then the Master can say that this is a crime of a different order. Then, the correction will also be of a different order. Do you understand?" I think for a moment and try to get a handle on something. "The slate is really clean, Ma'am?" "Yes, my dear. If you think about it, it just makes sense. Masters always try to make the correction symmetrical to the crime. That way, the slave learns better. The point, after all, is to get the slave performing up to standards." We soak in silence for a few minutes. Then, Anne continues. "This is probably a good time to tell you your Mission Statement, what will guide you in your slavery. It's also simple. You must always have your Owner, your Master, at the center of your universe. What does he want now? Need now? What could he need or want in the next half-hour? The Good Slave" — and I can hear the capital letters in her speech — "is able to know these things and perform them. For me, I got to be a Good Slave after many months of Master's teaching. That was when I realized I felt better about myself. I had pride and satisfaction. By then, I guess, it was too late." Anne breaks off abruptly, lost in her own remembrances. I keep silent, not wishing to intrude on my mentor. I can see that my recent thoughts are not what my Master would want. They do not have him or his needs or wants as their focus. My mission is to keep my Master as the center of my universe. I begin to look forward to the sense of pride, of satisfaction, that Anne had described. I try to change the discussion. "Ma'am, I've seen so many people about. Can you tell me about them?" Anne gives a bark of laughter. "You want to know if they're all slaves, you mean? No, they're not. Most of them are regular people hired to keep the Enterprises going, one of which is this base. Here's another Law of Slavery: The slave Respects Everybody, Free or slave. In that way, the slave is just like any free person. Master is particular about this; you will show everyone respect. "At dinner, you'll meet Charles and Edward. They're both Chinese and are major lieutenants for Master. Charles handles things for the Base and Edward is in charge of the Enterprises. I don't know how far back they go with Master, but they were established well before I arrived." I file Charles and Edward in the front of my mind and continue. "Please, Ma'am, what is Pat?" "Pat is another member of Master's team that goes way back. I think she came as a slave, but she's been so indispensable in this apartment that I guess you could call her the nearest thing to a First Slave." My blank look prompts an explanation. "A First Slave is like a First or Top Sergeant in the army. They can do anything they want. In some Houses, the First Slave can even arrange for a slave to be de-accessioned. You probably don't know about de-accessioning. Here's the short form. You know you've been listed as an asset for Master. If you screw up badly and there's no longer a need or desire for you, you get unlisted as an asset. Since you're no longer an asset, they can do anything with you, even execute you. Once the decision is made, anybody can carry it out. Sometimes it's quick, but some Houses have a ritual for it so it could take a day or so." I wave my hand a bit. "Please, Ma'am, I don't want to hear anything about this, whatever it is called. Please, don't let me get anywhere near this thing." Anne strokes my head and down my neck, a motion I'm getting to rely on. It makes me calm and confident, the way I want to be for my Master. In a moment, I ask the next question. I should have known it is one question too many. "Please, Ma'am, can you tell me about yourself?" My mentor's eyes and expression go hard. "Slave," her tone is cold and flat, "that is a question you are not authorized to ask. There will be a price. Now," and her voice changes to a light tone, "how about some lunch? It's a long time until dinner." I realize my trainer has let me off lightly and rush to agree with her. We dry each other, find robes, and head to the kitchen. In the refrigerator, we find fruit and various cheeses. The pantry provides bread. We boil water and Anne shows me how to brew a cup of tea for Master. "This is going to be one of your routines. He's very particular. Since I've been here, he's experimented with several recipes for the leaves. He's also tested how hot the water should be and how long the leaves should steep. When you do a cup for him, you'll be doing it in the open, so you'll have to have an internal clock for the steeping time. He takes it American style: no milk and two teaspoons of sugar for a cup, three for a mug because it's bigger." We munch and sip for a few moments. Then, I notice something and ask a question. "Please, Ma'am, I notice this is a kitchen, but where are the Chef and all the kitchen workers?" Anne chuckles. "I wondered when you'd tumble to that. This is actually the kitchen set up for Master's office suite, which you'll get to see tomorrow afternoon. I suppose this is as good a time as any to introduce your daily office service to you. "Master works just as hard as he plays. You saw how he relaxed on the yacht, right? Then, the vacation was over. His Project Managers got picked up and he and you joined them at the island for the flight here. Today, they're all getting their clocks set to Hong Kong time. They'll all be having dinner at the Casino or wherever they want in Hong Kong. On the plane, you served at the Opening Plenum, when they just went down the list of projects more or less in random order. For the next week, Master will meet with individuals or small groups to work out details of the next step for each Project. Master will set up a list each day and you'll shepherd the people into and out of his Office. This is part of being Master's First Lady. "By the way, we call the list of meetings The First Lady's List. We did that a few years back as a joke, but so many things happened that we've found it a good tool. For example, if someone wants to get a sounding from Master without going up the regular chain, through Charles or Edward, the List sort of tells them to contact you. You can pass messages like Does the Project have a chance of changing the budget or timetable? Or, Can we meet without Mr. X there because he's always so negative or argumentative? Of course, Master always tells Charles and Edward about these back-channel items, but it keeps everybody's nose from being out of joint." "But, how do I — " Anne cuts me off before I get the objection out. "You don't, my dear. After you bring the message to Master and he decides on an answer, you pass it to Pat or me. We have all the e-mail addresses and phone numbers, so we pass the answer to where it needs to go, along with our Project archives. A word about publishing anything, especially on the internet. The IT guys are pretty strict about this. Everything gets encrypted, no exceptions. That's why you never send anything; you pass it to Pat or me and we'll get it done. "Your job is to be the traffic cop for the Office. When it's time for the meeting to start, you usher the participants into Master's Office. You take orders for drinks or snacks or whatever anyone wants. You bring those to Pat and me here in the kitchen. We fix up the tray and you serve the items while Master is going through the small talk. Then, you're out of the Office and getting the next group welcomed and comfortable. Some of these men and women, even with years of experience, are still scared when meeting the Chairman of the Enterprises. You talk with them, pick up any intelligence, whatever. "When it's time for the current meeting to end, you enter the Office quietly and collect the dishes and silver. The participants should get the signal that the meeting is over. If they really want more time, they can make another appointment. You'll hear about that through the grapevine. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 08: Julie "Give Master some quiet time between meetings, about five or ten minutes; that's when you pass any messages or intelligence to Master. Then, you bring in the new team. And it all starts over." I am admiring the simple but efficient way Master has his teams moving through his Office. Anne has more for me. "You work out of a small office just a few meters away from Master's Office. It will have all the supplies you might need, plus some of the Reference Books Master sometimes consults. If Master has something to ask, he'll use the intercom to call you. But, here's the kicker." Anne takes a deep breath and becomes clearly confidential. "You realize that, just because of his wealth and position, Master is a target for all kinds of people?" I nod agreement. Master's Enterprises are world-wide, employing who knows how many people directly and by contract? Each of them would be impacted by an attack on Master. "So, Master has a fob in his pocket. If he fires it, you get a chime in your office. Your move is to come to Master's Office right away, just like you'd be coming for the dishes. But, this time, you leave the door wide open. If you see trouble, the alarm word is 'Pee.' You scream it loud and long and then get out of the way. Security has people who will come and take care of the situation. Do you understand?" I don't have to be told this is the most important time this question has been asked. "Yes, Ma'am. Door chime, leave door wide open, scream 'Pee,' and get out of the way. Thank you, Ma'am." I'm sure Anne and I hope we never have to use this maneuver. She didn't say it, but we both know the "get out of the way" line means that Security is going to come in guns blazing. If it comes to this, then the Security team is also aware that the opposition will be firing as well. A glance out of the apartment windows shows the sun getting low to the horizon. Anne says we have time for a nap, so I head to my bedroom — can you imagine a slave having her own bedroom? The bed looks imperial after the cot on the yacht. I am asleep in seconds. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Ten: Dinner and Plan Review It is the click of the door lock that awakens me. It may be my bedroom, but I'm still Master's slave. Anne and Pat come bouncing in and we all go for a shower. This one is big enough for all three of us to play, but, again, it is mostly my service. We dry each other and Pat starts doing my hair, which has just been kept in a ponytail since the auction. Having someone do your hair, let me tell you, is one of the most sensuous but not erotic feelings you can have. As a very junior executive in the law firm, it was about the only luxury I allowed myself. Anne is in my dresser to select a bra and panty set: lacy and silky, but not racy. She moves to the closet where she runs through a few hangers of dresses. She picks a light yellow shirtwaist dress with short sleeves and a hem just above my knees. I am again amazed that Master's teams have prepared so well for my arrival. Again, the dress is classically fashionable without being seductive. I could have worn it on Casual Fridays at the law firm. A pair of low heels completes the ensemble. Not quite. When we are ready, Pat says "Transport Mode," and I turn for the handcuffs. Anne senses my tugs on the bracelets and pats me on the shoulder. "Julie, we do this to get you accustomed to the rapid shifts you are going to have to make between slave and First Lady. This is for your training, and Pat and I think you're doing quite well. Do you understand?" What can I say? Inside, I'm upset; don't they trust me? Where could I run away to, anyway? But my training, especially the talk Anne gave me about the Laws and my Mission Statement, take over and I give a satisfactory answer. Both my mentors, Anne and Pat, really seem dedicated to Master. I wonder if I'll ascend that peak some time. Master's Dining Room is a bit more spacious than the Office Prep Kitchen and presents marvelous aromas as we march down the hallway. The table is oval, with a damask cloth and sparkling china, stemware (except for Anne, Pat, and me), and silverware. Master has me on his left, with Anne on his right. After Anne is Igor and then Pat. To my left are Charles and Edward. Charles is the taller and Edward is the rounder; both offer friendly greetings and tell me they are looking forward to our working together. Pat releases the handcuffs when I am ready to sit. As soon as we are seated, Master says a word of thanks for the food and Chef presents a garden salad, lightly dressed with a sweet and spicy dressing. The table talk is mostly about small items — we expect good weather while the Project Managers are here, some amusing stories from the plane trip that collected the Managers, and some tidbits of social gossip from Hong Kong's society. The main course is a honey and spice baked salmon. The fillets are moist, tender, and flake on the fork. There are several guesses as to the spices. The rice has a coconut taste and the steamed carrots are just short of crunchy. Everyone enjoys the dish, and calls for Chef to come out for a bow. He is, of course, pleased that his first dinner on Master's return is a success. About the spices, he waves his hand and says, "Oh, you know, nothing special, a bit of honey, lots of garlic, olive oil, some white wine vinegar, and then a bit of thyme, salt, and maybe even some black pepper." Right, nothing special. For a moment, I wonder if the "white wine vinegar" is one of the alcohol products slaves are supposed not to be able to take. Then, it's obvious. It isn't wine any longer. Dessert is ice cream for the others, red velvet cake for me. I'm so impressed that Chef even remembered that a new slave would be here that I beam as the wait staff collects the last dishes. Master, remembering my first dinner with the crew on the yacht, says, "I'll be sure to tell Chef you enjoyed his dinner." We both giggle a bit and, of course, Master makes me tell the story behind the joke. Anne does the tea ceremony for Master, herself, Charles, Edward and me, while Igor and Pat work the espresso machine in the kitchen. I pay attention to Anne's hands while she does this, because I see how she uses gestures like a magician about to produce a rabbit from his hat. This girl has a talent for this! I am again amazed when the cup she passes me has absolutely no leaves escaped from the pot. I add the two teaspoons of sugar and find the tea too sweet for my taste. But, if my Master wants it that way, his slave will serve it that way. Master asks Charles about the plan for tomorrow. Charles grins and says almost every wife has asked him about it also. He ticks off the participants. "We have 45 Project Managers and assistants here. There are an even dozen wives, one husband, and two significant others. There also are, by the way, four teenagers and six infants or toddlers. I've hired a counselor from one of the colleges to show the teens some of Hong Kong's cultural treasures as well as our beaches. He's got a sailboat, so they'll get to race around the Harbour and a few bays during the week. Security has a couple of staff who will see the kids to a few clubs on evenings when they're not with their parents. The Packet that went out with the invitations was explicit about good behaviour. I think Security has already had a word with each kid, explaining that, if they get arrested, nobody here will remember them. "We hired a nurse to help with the toddlers. She's seen each of them and checked their temperatures. None have a fever, so we're hoping not to have anyone get sick. "The big trip tomorrow morning is to the Mall at Pacific Place. They sent us some maps of the store layout, so the ladies seem ready to shop. Anne and I will have Enterprise cards to pick up the tabs. Hopefully, everyone will be back in time for the Festive Dinner planned for the Casino tomorrow evening." Edward picks up the schedule. "Now, for the Managers and the assistants they brought with them, we have meeting rooms all assigned in the Casino and the Day 1 The First Lady's List was part of the stuff they got on checking in. You'll have meetings from 1300 to 1630, mostly a half-hour each, with the Managers you asked for. Dinner is scheduled for 1800, so everyone should have time for a nap or a small workout. The gym and pool in the Casino are staffed up. We added two certified personal trainers for the week and one of them recommended a family physician for 'just in case' stuff." Master looks at Anne. "I've got the list of clothes that we'll try to get for Julie. The stuff we ordered from the yacht all looks nice on her. With the mixing and matching, she should be able to go all week without repeating any outfit. It's only the shoes I'm a bit concerned about; I'd like more colors to go with the dresses. We'll tackle that at the Mall." Master looks satisfied and Anne smiles at his approval. Master looks thoughtful for a moment and turns to Pat. "My dear, it looks like you're the cavalry in reserve tomorrow morning. Anything you need?" Pat, I knew, had done this a few dozen times. I wasn't expecting her to announce any problems. "Master, the only thing not already in place is the flowers for the conference rooms. The florist delivered the items for the Managers' rooms, but didn't have the whole order. He swears this stuff will be here and in the rooms by 0800 or, he says, you can have his wife." Again, I am astounded. They were having flowers in the meeting rooms? My law firm had flowers in the office only on Christmas. And the guffaws when Pat said about the florist's wife? Pat turns to me and explains. "The florist's wife is a nice lady and really smart about arrangements, but she's about as wide as she's tall and the florist has a running joke about how he's trying to replace her with a new model. Actually, they're still in as much love as when they got married, so she takes the jokes with good grace. She's actually a good part of their success, and I'm sure her husband knows that." Master turns to Igor. "Anything?" Igor shakes his head. "Martin, we've done so much more preparation this Roundup that there's nothing I can think of. I think I'll be most useful working with Pat this morning. The IT guys have changed all the passwords and plan to change them each night. They've got everyone tuned up on the encryptions and the anti-hacking software. And, when you add in the background, where it looks like most of the opposition is busy with their own problems, it looks like a quiet week." Master gives a short laugh. "I've heard that line before. OK, then, let's everybody get a good night's sleep. Breakfast will be ready here at 0700 or in the Casino at 0800." He turns to me with a smile and I can't help but grin back. "Julie, I'd like you to spend an hour or so with Edward. He's been the one to introduce the Chinese language to our newcomers and I'd like you to start learning some things that you will use here." I'm a bit shocked. Master didn't ask the question: Do you understand? Of course, how could anyone not understand: go with Edward and start learning Chinese. Still, I wonder if it means Master is beginning to see his slave as at least a little trustworthy and reliable? I'd really like that. Edward and I talk about language in general, and about Chinese in particular for about an hour, although it seems much less. Pat comes for me and we do the Transport Mode thing in front of Edward. I force down the feeling of humiliation and Edward gives me a pat on the shoulder. Pat sees me to my room and removes the cuffs. As I'm undressing, she starts, "Julie, it's been only the first day, but I want to tell you something. I've seen several new slaves over the years. None of them has been so calm and focused as you. Whatever your background, whatever the training on the yacht, you've behaved like you understand this crazy life and you're planning to do what Master needs, what needs to be done to make everything succeed. That's a tremendous advantage when it comes to actually doing what Master needs. I'd say you're going to be a jewel this year or so." Pat doesn't wait for my answer. Actually, I'm so surprised by her remark that I don't have an answer. She rummages in the top drawer of my dresser and comes to me with a mass of metal. "For tonight, the Protocol calls for this introduction to the hardware." She reaches for my left nipple and rubs, twists, and pinches the nub until it's fully engorged and I'm getting aroused. She applies the nipple clamp, the kind that looks like a pair of tweezers, and slides the locking ring up to secure the clamp. In just a few moments, my right nipple is similarly captured. A delicate chain links the two clamps. Pat is not finished. "Lie down on the bed, Julie." Pat moves me a bit lower on the bed and brings a leather cuff up and wraps it on my left wrist. The cuff is chained to the side of the bed. Similar restraint is put on my right wrist. I am spread almost like a starfish. Pat checks that the clamps are not too tight, smiles at me, and says, "Have a good night's sleep. You've got a wake-up call at 0600 for a short gym session before breakfast and getting ready for the Mall." I hear the door lock click as she leaves. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Eleven: Nightmare I'm locked in with no immediate responsibilities beyond learning to tolerate the pain from the nipple clamps. It is a constant pain, personal, aggressive, like a demon burying a stake in my chest. I'm thankful that Pat chained my arms out to the side. If she'd gone to the headboard, my breasts would be stretched and the pain would probably be much worse. I breathe deeply and try to relax, to sink into the pain. I focus on the pillow; on the yacht, I had folded a towel for my head. I'm sure I'm asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. Then, I am awake, or perhaps dreaming? I am outside in a meadow, surrounded by flowers. I am standing between two young trees, saplings. My arms are raised by chains running from the leather cuffs on my wrists up to the trees. My legs are spread wide by cuffs also chained to the saplings. I feel like an acolyte to the sun. There is some music playing, dance tunes, I think. The meadow begins to fill with people and I am more sure I am dreaming. I cannot see their faces, but I hear their murmuring. None approach me and I wonder who they are. The music changes, becoming more martial. The crowd seems more energetic. From someone directly in front of me, a small sack is launched at me, hitting me in the abdomen. It is like a punch, but not very hard. The sack contains some candy, I think, because some red, sticky fluid splats across my abdomen. The crowd cheers and waves something. I look hard and make out slingshots of various sizes and shapes. Another sack flies toward me. I try to dodge, but the chains hold me almost immobile. This one hits my chest, knocking the breath from me for a moment. There is a susurration from the crowd, as if they are sharing the settings on their slingshots. Soon, the sacks of candy are flying at me like missiles. I can dodge the ones near my head, but the rest of my body is soon marked by the red splashes. A sack that hits my breasts, where the nipple clamps are still affixed, elicits a musical siren for a few moments. Each of these strikes brings forth cheers from the crowd. I am impressed by the discipline in the crowd. There is no pushing or shoving. Each is courteous, allowing his or her mate room to aim and fire their sack. Soon, the pain from each strike melds into a continuous pain. In a little bit, I am moaning and sobbing with the pain. I cry out, I beg, I entreat. The hail of missiles continues. When I can take no more pain, however, the meadow darkens and the crowd seems to evaporate. I am still standing, but the chains to my wrists are taking some of my weight. I think I go to a deeper sleep, because the dream starts again. This time, however, I am tied with my back to the crowd. Now, there is some martial music in the distance and one or two sacks are launched and hit my back or shoulder. It is as if gunners are trying to bracket a firing solution for their slingshots. I am patient and gradually the pace of firing picks up. This time, there are no nipple clamps to give a musical signal. Each hit feels like a punch. I try to "sink into the pain," as I have read advice previously. Perhaps it helps. As before, when the pain becomes too much, the crowd and the meadow fade. At last, my 0600 wake-up call arrives. It is a young girl who seems unsure of herself. She says nothing, but frees my wrists from the cuffs and removes the nipple clamps. I look at my body, but see no splashes of red. Nevertheless, I am sore all over. I find a tank top and a pair of shorts in the dresser and I ask the girl if I may go to the gym on my own. Her face immediately dons a horrified expression. She manages to squeak out "Transport Mode" and I turn for the handcuffs. She delivers me to the gym, where Igor greets me and removes the cuffs. "Good morning, kid. Did you sleep well?" The rule is that a slave cannot lie, so I blurt out my dream with as much detail as I can recall. Igor looks thoughtful and offers an opinion. "Sometimes a nightmare is what a slave has after having some improper thoughts." He hasn't actually asked a question, and so I offer no further details. Igor has my training grid up on the workstation, and he puts me through a shortened version of the Bowflex machines. Somehow, the soreness from last night's missiles does not seem to affect my performance. I don't even work up a sweat. Igor, Pat, Anne and I manage a hearty breakfast from a re-supplied refrigerator. Back at my room, Pat and Anne select a matching bra and panty set, a bit more daring than last night's. Anne explains that I am going to have to impress the sales ladies at the Mall. For some reason, this makes me laugh and my trainers look at me in surprise. We do the shower thing, although without much playing, and Pat does my hair in a simple wave. I don the sheath dress that Anne has selected along with the medium heels from last night. I'm ready to go shopping. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 09: Julie This is co-author J Spe's latest offering on Julie's life in Hong Kong. If you are a new reader, be sure to start with Pt. 1. Then follow each captive separately. Julie's Parts are 3,5,7,8, and now 9. Please don't forget- this is fantasy. Carol Julie, Scene Five: Ready to Shop Author's Note: Welcome back, Dear Readers! Julie's part in her Master's Enterprise Roundup takes off with the wives going shopping in Hong Kong's premier Mall. Then, at the Opening Banquet, Julie must be the Master's First Lady. Of course, there is a bit of a cliff-hanger. —J Spe 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 09: Julie As I lick him clean, my trainer murmurs his thanks and some compliments before succumbing to sleep. I'm still quite a bit up the rainbow of arousal, but I've accepted that as part of my slavery. We spoon for the rest of the night. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 10: Autumn Previously in Autumn Pt. 06: (To read Autumn's story from the start, read Parts 1, 4 and 6 first.) "Time for your initial bid, gentlemen. Please hand me your paper with your preferences in order." The Captain glanced at the bids and began arranging the captives in front of the proper bidder. "We can have another round if you wish, or we can end it here. Does anyone want to go on?" Silence. The men were far too eager for the next phase of the event to begin. "All right. You may take your purchase and get better acquainted in your room for the rest of the evening. I would remind you of the rules we set up before the sale." He waved his hand toward the women. The first man took Asmara by the hand and headed for a door. The second man swept his arms under Huma and carried her off. She put her arms around his neck. They were kissing as they left the room. Master watched from the side. There are few sights more arousing than seeing a naked woman in the control of a fully dressed man. Miriam, ever alert, walked behind him and began rubbing his shoulders. The third buyer picked up a piece of the chain, attached it to Tahera's collar and led her to the side. Farhah's temporary master picked her up and threw her over his right shoulder. His left arm snaked up between her legs, making her squirm and kick. Miriam and the Master were alone in the room. "Excellent, Miriam. Only one thing could make it perfect." "Yes, Master, I know." She walked to the stage and picked up a piece of the chain, wrapping one end lightly around her neck a couple of turns. Returning to him, she dropped her dress and handed him the end of the chain. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 10: Autumn Late in the evening, Miriam patiently waited in the hall near the guest cabins for the women to emerge. Linda came out first, clad only in a towel. She was still damp from a shower. Autumn followed, wearing a large man's robe. "Meet in my room in about an hour. I'll have some food and we can talk about your evening." When all four women were together, Miriam spoke. "I'll give you your chips privately, but Master is pleased. He is also giving you a week of free meals. I want to hear from each of you about your experience. First, the rules we set up before the auction were that, other than your mouth, you were not to be penetrated and that this was to be mutually pleasurable. Linda, tell me what happened with your guest." "Yes, Miss. He told me to undress him with my teeth as much as possible. It took awhile, but when he was naked he said to kneel and take him in my mouth. I guess we were both turned on by the auction because he didn't last very long. Then, he put me on the bed and licked me. I was surprised that he would do that, but he was good and I came all over his face. He seemed a little embarrassed by that, but we laughed at it. We took a shower and then he just wanted to cuddle and spoon. Before the time was up, he wanted another blow job, I mean head, and that was it." "Were any of you injured in any way?" Autumn spoke up. "Miss, not really. He spanked me, but it was kind of playful. And I, uh, came on his other hand at the end." "Rosemary?" "Miss, I brought him off with my mouth on the bed. He said I could do myself if I wanted and went into the bathroom and took a shower. We watched TV the rest of the time. I'm sorry! I didn't know what to do!" Rosemary started crying, expecting the worst. "No, no, you are fine, Rose. That's all he wanted. He had no complaint. He might not have understood the full meaning of the rule or didn't care. After men spurt, they get drowsy and lose interest pretty quickly. He gave you four chips, dear. That's as many as any of you got. Well done!" Rosemary smiled and wiped her tears. "Abby? Your turn. Did your guest follow the rules?" "I guess so, Miss Miriam. I know we have to do whatever they want. May I tell you about the strange part?" "Yes, dear, tell me everything." "Well, first, he put me on the bed and gave me the best massage ever. He hit every muscle. My face, my shoulders. It felt so good. He kept going back to my, uh, pussy. By the time he worked his way down my legs, I had an orgasm. Then, he asked if I knew why he chose me. I didn't know. "He said I had the prettiest feet! He started rubbing and licking them. He got his tongue down between each toe. It was kinda gross, but it felt great. Then, he put my feet together and squirted all over them. I was so sleepy from the massage that I guess I dozed off for a while. He was gone when I woke up, so I took a bath and waited. I haven't seen him since." "Wow. I didn't know he was a foot man. He gave you four chips though, so he was happy. All of you have pleased Master. In fact, he was so turned on by the auction that he dragged me back to his room. No rules! I didn't get much sleep." She smiled at Abby. "He didn't pay any attention to my feet, but he was very thorough with other places." Everyone giggled. "You are all learning that everyone, especially men, has fantasies and fetishes. Some of them are very specific. I once knew a guy who only wanted to lick my navel. These gentlemen are all rich, so they can afford to play out their fantasies like other guys play golf. Of course, they usually leave their wives at home. One weekend, though, Master had two guests who brought their wives." "So, one of these days you might find some women at the poker table. I tell you this because we will be doing some training with each other soon. You will be expected to perform with the same skill and enthusiasm." Abby's hand flew to her mouth. The other three gasped. A couple started to talk. "Miss, Miss!" Miriam held up a finger. Her voice took on a darker tone. "Shh. We will all do exactly as we are commanded. I understand that this will be hard at first, but you are not free to choose. She looked at each one as eyes dropped to the floor. "In fact, looking at your reaction, I think we need to take a small step right now. Stand up!" "Rosemary, you have the most to lose here, so you will lead. Take Abby and start to kiss lightly around her neck and face. Then go in for a full, wet kiss. Now." Tears formed in Abby's eyes. Rosemary aggressively grabbed her and started "necking." Abby tried to respond, but mostly just stood there. "All right, enough. Linda, Autumn, I hope you can do better than that." As they embraced, both flashed back to the bath with the Captain and the splash-fest afterward. They had no trouble getting into the act, finishing with a long kiss. "Excellent! We will return to this topic in the near future. You will return to your duties tomorrow. Master is pleased with all of us. That probably means he will be making business deals tomorrow with his guests. You may go. Abby, stay with me for a moment." As the door closed, Miriam's smile faded. "Strip and kneel!" Suddenly distraught, Abby dropped her robe and assumed the position, spreading her legs and freckles. "Abby, why do you think Rosemary kissed you so enthusiastically a few minutes ago? Do you think she is a lesbian?" "Uh, no Miss! I..." "That's right, she is not," Miriam cut in. "Rosemary is desperate to please me. She knows what happens when I am not happy. I'm not happy with you right now." "But, Miss, I..." "When I gave you a command a while ago, you imitated a fence post! I think it might be time for your first session." "Oh, please, Miss! I'll try harder! Please." Abby's tears welled. "I expect you to do whatever you're told instantly, without thinking." Miriam let her words sink in for a long moment. "Nose on the floor! Crawl to me!" Abby obeyed in seconds. "You thought foot licking earlier was gross? Remove my slippers and worship my feet with the passion you lacked with Rosemary!" Abby took a deep breath and set about her task. She noisily began sucking Miriam's toes and kissing around her arches and heels. She rubbed the soles with her fingers. Like most women, Miriam loved a nice foot massage. She closed her eyes and let it go on as long as possible. "All right, crawl to the bathroom and fetch a damp cloth to clean up your slime." As Abby shuffled away, Miriam thought, "She even has freckles on her ass!" Abby returned and carefully cleaned Miriam's feet. "Turn away from me! Position 3!" In a moment, Abby presented her pussy. "Hold yourself open!" Miriam began rubbing and tugging Abby's lips in a slow massage. "Is this what he did last night?" "Yes, ahh, Miss." The rubbing was having the intended effect. Miriam's fingers made circles around Abby's now-exposed clit. "Mmm, ahh." Abby moved her hips and gasped. As a light spasm hit, Miriam stopped and pinched her ass cheek viciously. "Owww! Oww! Please!" "Stand. Leave your robe here. You are to go find the other girls. Wake them up if need be. You will tell them everything that just happened. Every detail. Do you understand?" "Yes, Ma'am." "Go!" Abby scampered from the room, naked. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ For the next three weeks, life aboard the yacht was routine. The Master left on an extended trip with Miriam. The head chef took charge of the four women, supervising their work schedule. There were no poker games. They gathered each evening in Autumn's room to watch TV. No one spoke of Abby's startling story, though all were shaken by it. On the morning of Miriam's return, she called a meeting in her room. Autumn, Abby, and Linda left their duties and gathered. As they entered, each knelt and looked at Miriam to see if she expected her to strip, but she waved them to chairs. A few minutes of silence followed. "Rosemary is no longer aboard ship. I will only tell you that she did not fit in well here, and she will be sent on. She will not be harmed, but her life will not be as pleasant as it was here. We will not speak of her again. Am I clear?" Three faces took on a look of shock, but Miriam heard a whispered, "Yes, Miss." After a few moments to let this sink in, she asked, "Autumn, do you remember a man called Albert?" Autumn shivered as the images flooded back to Blue Bayou. She heard the Captain's announcement to gather on deck at dawn. Men with guns. Facing him in a towel after showering and shaving. The interview. Autumn nodded at Miriam through tears, but the images continued. Her naked spanking in front of the other women. Lisa. Walking on deck in a dress, stripping in front of those men. Albert ordering her to wiggle her panties down to her ankles. Leaving with them in her mouth. She put her face in her hands and started sobbing. Miriam's eyes narrowed. "I thought you were past all that. I guess I was wrong. I think I'm going to leave for a while. Perhaps you all need to talk about how you came to be here. Maybe you need to cry. Master always says that tears are cleansing. I'll be back in 45 minutes." Linda moved over to Autumn and drew her into a hug. Abby joined the circle, "As much as I hate it, I think it might be good to tell our stories." She went to the bathroom to get a glass of water and a washcloth for Autumn. After a few quiet moments, Abby spoke again. "My story is pretty short." "I was in a bar in Jamaica with a couple friends. We were on a three-day weekend getaway. We were having fun, flirting and dancing. Guys were sending drinks over. I felt a little dizzy and went toward the restroom. I must have been drugged because the next thing I remember was waking up here." "I guess I was out of it for a couple days. I woke up one morning and saw Miriam sitting there. I smelled the stench. I had peed and crapped myself. At first, she acted like a nurse and helped me shower and get cleaned up. She took me to a different room and put me back to bed for another day. Then it started. The training, the positions, her little whip." "I guess about the fourth day she brought the Captain in and I had to crawl over and put my mouth on him. I had never done that before. It was awful!" Linda and Autumn both nodded. "We know, Honey. We know the Captain very well." Through tears, Abby went on. "He came back every day until they were satisfied. I had to thank him for his time. He would pat me on the head and leave. Then, Miriam would make me finger myself until I came. Since then, I've mostly been in the kitchen until that auction. I've never been to the dreaded poker game that Rosemary hated so much. Oh, sorry, we're not supposed to talk about her." "Have you been to the Master's room?" "Yes, Linda. He's very passionate, isn't he? After a little while, I just kind of fell into his game. I just tried to imagine I was on a date with a really handsome guy. He's been happy so far. I have never thought of freckles as being sexy until I got here. Even you two can't stop staring!" At that moment, Autumn was staring. "Sorry, but they are cute, honey, and so is your hair!" She reached up to fondle Abby's red locks. "Other than the first couple weeks and that time Miriam was so mad at me, this has been a lot like going to a job every day. Oh, and the fake auction. That was so hard, but by the time it was done, I was all over that guy! And then, we didn't even do it!" "Oh yeah, the foot guy," chimed Linda. "Not that I'm into that, but you do have pretty feet." Abby wiggled her toes a bit. "Thank you. That's about it for me. Linda?" "Well, girls, I guess I just walked right into it. I had a boyfriend at the time. We were doing a little kinky stuff. It went from blindfolds to handcuffs over a month or two, and then he started tying me up. He got off on roping me to the table or the bed. Once he put the car in the garage and had me on the hood. It was fun for me as well, but after a couple months it was like he ran out of places and lost his spark." "One weekend he took me to a big party on a yacht. Yes! It was this yacht! He was a business associate of the Master. I actually remember meeting him. He put his hand on my upper arm and looked into my eyes. I could see that he was a powerful man in command of the room, you know?" The other two women could only nod in agreement. "We were drinking some kind of sweet slushie drinks and I got a little smashed. I woke up with one hand cuffed to a bed, and I heard 'Good morning' from Miriam. It wasn't a very good morning. The rest is a lot like your story, Abby. I guess I've been here a few months longer than either of you." "I met you, Autumn, under the poker table. And I think you were in the kitchen, Abby. You know, all men love a good blow, but I hate doing two guys in a row and having them throw chips on the floor like dog treats. Abby, I'm betting you are up this week. Take two washcloths and a water bottle with you." Linda lowered her voice to a whisper, "I guess my favorite part is straddling Master and bringing him off long and slow. And like, the last few times I'm popping my cork right along with him." That produced the first giggles of the morning. Autumn knew it was her turn. "OK, my trip to this place was hard, but I guess I can tell you about it. I was on a Caribbean vacation with a few other couples on a hired yacht called Blue Bayou. One morning, these men with guns took over the ship. They made us line up at a railing and took our jewelry and phones. I was thinking that might be all there was, but one of the girls started yelling at them, and the leader, this horrible man, Albert, had her spanked in front of us. He had his men take us to our cabins to shower. They made us shave ourselves all over and brought us back upstairs just wearing towels." "Then, we each had what he called an 'interview' where we had to answer a bunch of questions. He made us drop the towel to step on a scale. It was too much and I freaked out. This other guy dragged me back out on the deck and spanked me really hard. It was horrible. He made me wait there naked until the rest were done, then I had to go back in." "Somehow, this Albert recruited one of the girls named Lisa to finish my interview. It was awful. She made me shave a couple hairs I had missed, then she rubbed around down there until I came. The next day, she started training us for an auction. Not like the one we had. A real one, where we had to strip and parade around for these men. When Master bought me, he took me to a cabin. You can imagine what happened there." A few tears formed on her cheeks. The three women drew into an embrace again. "Linda, you have been so good to me. You have helped me through the worst of this. Thank you. Abby, we will be there for you, too. I'm sorry for what happened with Miriam after the auction. I guess she has something new for us to do, but her mentioning Albert's name is not a good sign." They embraced for a few more minutes and sat back in the chairs in silence. When Miriam returned, she waved her hand in a way that told them to stay seated. "Autumn, did you do as I asked?" "Yes, Miss." Autumn was still trembling. "We talked about how we came here. May I ask how you came here?" "That's fair. At one time, I headed up one of his companies. After a time we also became lovers. I knew he was a powerful dominant and I enjoyed that, but it all changed when one of my employees embezzled a large sum of money. He flew into a rage and held both of us accountable. The man just disappeared, but he demanded that I pay back every dollar. At first, I was in servitude like you. I still am in some ways, but now I manage the affairs of the ship, other than the actual operation, which is the realm of our dear Captain." "I called you here because Master has a new acquisition. Her name is Anna and we didn't have to bid on her because Master received a communication from this Albert, recommending her as a good match. She will be here in a week and we are all going to participate in her indoctrination. You will serve as models and coaches. Can all of you do this?" Linda immediately said, "Yes, Miss Miriam, we can." She saw this as a kind of promotion and didn't want to show any hesitation. The other two showed a confused look. "Ladies, it's very simple. When I want to show Anna a position or a technique, you will demonstrate with enthusiasm and grace. She will have some rudimentary training before we see her, but Master expects to see a submissive and obedient addition to our group in a short time. He has a new activity in mind that will require participation from more than one of you." "We are going to use a version of 'good cop, bad cop' with Anna. We will talk about that later. For now, Autumn and Abby, return to your duties. Linda, please stay for a moment." The two women filed out. "Linda, Master and I are pleased with your performance and attitude. You are a leader among the women. We would like you to take on more responsibility as my assistant if you interested." "Oh yes, Miss! I would like that very much. What would you want me to do?" "You will organize the work schedule each week and work with the cooks and other staff on the monthly supply order. That can be learned. But there is a much more difficult duty and that is training. You will take a major role in training our new property, Anna." "We must be completely overwhelming and degrading at first with a trainee. She cannot sense any softness during the first week, so she will accept her situation. Then, we can work on a psychological dependence. This has worked very well with Autumn. Rosemary was a disaster and Abby is a work in progress. Linda, if you can't handle this, tell me right now." "Umm, I guess you're asking me to put on an act. Is that right, Miss?" "Exactly. I don't enjoy being harsh with you girls, but this is our situation. I act on Master's demands and you will be required to do so as well. Think carefully before you accept." Miriam leaned in to whisper. "There is a chance that you could earn your eventual freedom. I am working toward that right now." 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 10: Autumn "Oh Miss! I'll do anything..." "Shhh. I know. It begins with the new girl. Of course, you must not breathe a word of this to anyone." "Yes, Miss! You know I won't." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "What is your name?" Miriam, sitting in a chair, faced the new girl. Linda stood to her left, Abby and Autumn to her right. "Um, Anna Holmes. What's going to happen to me?" "First, Anna, you will address me as Miss Miriam. You will only speak to answer my questions and you will answer them fully, in complete sentences. Is that clear?" Anna's voice took on a higher pitch. "You have to let me go! What is wrong with you?" She bolted for the door but found it locked. She fell to the floor, curled into a ball and started loudly sobbing. "We are going to wait for you to return to your place, Anna Holmes, then, we will start over. Do not try my patience. We are on a boat in the middle of the ocean and you are not going anywhere. I do not wish to gag you, or ask my assistant to use the leather belt she is carrying. Now, get yourself together!" After a few minutes, a subdued woman rose and walked back across the room. She wiped a few tears on her sleeve. "A few minutes ago, you wondered what was going to happen to you. But you already have a good idea, don't you? What is going to happen to you? Do not forget my rules." "Um, err, I guess I'm a captive on this boat, but why? Uh, Miss..." "Miriam. You are correct. Your situation will become much clearer in the next few days, but first, you are going to tell us about yourself and show us your assets. The man you know as Albert usually provides us with a complete assessment of his shipments. But, he sent you to us raw and untested. So, we will start from the beginning and do some training as we proceed. "These girls are Autumn and Abby. They are your role models and you will do exactly what they do. For example, remove your blouse. Slowly." The two women started to unbutton from the top. "Ohh, please!" Linda took a step toward her. "OK, OK!" Anna started unbuttoning and letting the blouse slip to the floor. As she looked up, she noticed that the two women were bare-breasted. "You are not permitted a bra on board. Lose it!" Anna tearfully reached back to unclasp the bra and let it slip from her shoulders. "Very nice. Tell us your height, weight, and measurements." "Umm, I'm 5 foot 3. I weigh about 110 and uh, I'm about 32-27-34, Miss, uh Miriam." "Thank you. Put your hands behind your neck and turn around for me." As three girls turned, Linda thought of those wind-up music boxes with twirling dancers. "Now, pick up your bra and read the tag to us." After a long sigh she read, "Ummm, it's 34B, Miss Miriam." "Thank you. Linda, please finish the interview." Linda took a deep breath and walked up to Anna. Slapping a leather belt on her hand. "You have 15 seconds to get naked!" The terrified girl quickly kicked off her shoes. Her jeans were tight, so she tumbled to the floor to peel off socks and pants. She looked up. "Wait! Stand up! Get those shoulders back and your head up. Be proud of your body!" Anna ended up standing at attention like a sobbing soldier. "Now, as slowly as you can, peel off those pretty pink panties, one side at a time. If you're going too fast, I'll let you know with this." Another loud slap of the belt. Anna jumped, but started moving the waistband at her left. Half an inch at a time, her last covering headed south. She had to tug at the legs a few times. As the panties hit Anna's knees, Linda realized that she had been concentrating on her subject the whole time. She glanced back to her right. Autumn and Abby stood at attention, panties at half-mast. Further back, she spied Miriam, slightly smiling. "All right, drop them!" Three pairs, one pink and two white, fluttered to the carpet. "Now, fold your clothes in a neat pile and take them to Miss Miriam." Anna went to one knee and began folding the jeans and blouse. The bra and panties topped the pile. The two role models offered their clothing as well. "I believe you are ready now for a few more questions. You will address me as 'Ma'am,' and speak in sentences. Is that clear?" "Yes Ma'am. Uh, yes, that is clear." "I am impressed to see that you are bare. Is that normal for you?" "Ummm, no, ma'am, that man shaved me down there." Anna's blush returned as she remembered holding her knees open for Albert. He had been gentle but persistent, shaving and bringing her to a rolling orgasm. "Good. Did he teach you any positions?" "Uh, I'm not sure, Ma'am. He made me kneel down." "Show me." Anna dropped down, putting her hands behind her neck. "Did he tell you to keep your knees together?" "No, Ma'am, he, uh, he, err, said to keep them far enough apart..." She looked away, in tears. "Go on!" "Uh, far enough so he could tell if I was, uh, t-turned on." She started to separate her knees. Every eye in the room turned to her crotch. "And?" "No! I'm not! ...Ma'am." Linda took a step forward, crouched down and ran a finger along Anna's bare slit. Anna came up off her heels. "Ahhh, please!" "Really? What is this?" She held up a shiny finger. Anna put her face in her hands and sobbed. "All right, let's get on with it. Do you have any tattoos or birthmarks that we haven't seen?" "No, Ma'am, I don't have any of those." "How old are you and where are you from?" "Um, I'm 24 and I live in Denver, Ma'am." "Anna, I think we will continue tomorrow. If you have any hope of ever getting back to Colorado, you will do exactly what you are told, and you will try to please me in any way that you can. Do you understand?" "Yes, Ma'am, I understand." "Good. Autumn here will take you to a room and get you some food. She will also answer some of your questions. You may go." Autumn fetched robes from the bed and gave one to Abby and the other to Anna. She directed Anna out of the room, thinking, 'OK, good cop-bad cop.' She mouthed "Food" to Abby. To the new captive, she said, "You've had a tough day. Are you hungry?" "Yes, Ma'am, but mostly just tired." "Please call me Autumn. You and I are in the same boat. Oh! I guess I made a little joke!" Anna produced a slight smile, then stopped dead in the hall. "This can't be happening! It's a nightmare!" She collapsed into Autumn's arms. They clung to each other for long moments. "How can you..." "I know, honey. Come on, we can talk in the room." As they arrived, Abby walked up with a tray of food. As they nibbled and sipped some tea, Autumn began. "Anna, first off, none of the women you saw earlier is here by choice, not one. We are here because the owner of this ship bought us. That is horrible, but it's the plain truth. He is rich enough and powerful enough to do whatever he wants." "No! You have to help me get away! What is wrong with you?" Abby spoke. "Anna, we have all looked for ways to escape. We're in the middle of the ocean. I don't even know what ocean, but we never dock anywhere. The Master has everything brought to the ship..." "Master? I'm not a slave!" She collapsed in tears on the bed. Autumn moved in to rub her back. "Get some sleep. I'll be back in the morning to help you get a shower. Remember when Linda said there is a possibility you could get back to Denver? Cling to that thought tonight. Abby and I will help you through this." For breakfast, Abby brought oatmeal with blueberries and coffee for three. They ate largely in silence. Autumn said, "Why don't you go take a long hot shower. Be sure to check your shaving. We have an idea to make today a little easier for you." Anna emerged from the steamy bathroom with her robe tied tightly and faced Autumn. "What idea?" "You have to learn and practice the positions. We thought it might be easier to do that here, instead of going back to Miss Miriam and Linda. What do you think? We can even keep our robes on for the first part." "Umm, OK. This is really happening, isn't it?" "Yes, honey, it is. This is that bad dream we've all had about being kidnapped and sold. But, if it had to happen, we are better off than some. They will not torture us or throw us in a dungeon or a cage. If you can do what they say and have some kind of enthusiasm, even fake enthusiasm, you won't be hurt at all." "If you can't, they have what they call a session. I have had one. I'll just say it's a painful spanking with a bonus." Abby added a little giggle. "The first position is 'stand.' Hands behind your head, feet apart a little more. Good. Elbows back a little. That's it. Look straight ahead, unless someone is talking to you. Now, go to your knees, hands behind your back." Autumn observed the new girl's first attempt. "You know what I have to say now, don't you? "Yes." Anna moved her knees apart. "All right, the last one is embarrassing, but there's no way around it. Keep your knees apart and put your face on the floor. This is called 'down,' or '3.' Sometimes they will just snap their fingers." With a gasp and a reddening face, Anna complied. "Good. Now in one motion, go back to your knees and then stand." Her first try was clumsy, but she managed to go through with it. "Anna, naked is normal around here and you might as well get used to it," Abby added as she dropped her robe. "Now, go from one to the other as gracefully as you can. Watch Autumn." Autumn amazed herself at how fluidly her movements went. "Now, you try it a few times. It gets easier." After a half-dozen tries, Anna met the girl's approval. "OK, let's get dressed and talk a little more." Autumn began. "Honey, have you ever given a man a blow job?" Anna recoiled a little at the question. "Uh, yes, a few times. Why?" "We have to do that here. They just call it 'head.' In a day or two, you are probably going to have to give one to the Captain. It's part of the training before you see the Mas... uh, the owner." "And before the poker game," Abby added. Just then, Linda opened the door. Autumn started to guide Anna down, but Linda held up her hand. "Just stand." The three barefoot women rose together. "Anna, have you been practicing? Lose the robe and show me 'stand.'" In a moment, Anna stood naked before Linda. "Kneel." Anna slid gracefully to her spread position. "Good. Now, 'down.'" Anna's face touched the floor. Linda glanced at the other girls. "Miss Linda," Abby quickly whispered, "We didn't get any farther." "Oh. OK, Anna, turn to face the wall and look back at me." Anna slowly turned. Linda stepped up and gave her a light slap with the belt. The sound of the slap was much stronger than its force. "Oww! Please!" But Anna knew. She parted her legs widely. Humiliated, she quietly sobbed. "There will be times when you are commanded to hold yourself open with your hands, but for now, go through the sequence with grace and poise." Anna began to move through the three positions, grateful for the practice before Linda walked in with the belt. "Stand. You are going to meet the Captain tomorrow. I will expect obedience." Autumn thought again about 'good cop-bad cop.' "Miss Linda! May we have one more day with Anna before..." "Yes, that will be fine. Use your time wisely." She turned and left. Anna gave out with a sigh of relief as she donned her robe. "Oh my god, thank you! This is all happening so fast. Autumn, why is she so mean?" "They feel they have to be intimidating at first to get us to accept the situation. We all went through it. It will get better so long as you do what they say. I promise. Can you try?" Anna sat on the bed. "I have an idea! Let's get dressed. I'll go find some food and then we'll take a tour of the ship. OK?" Autumn knocked on Miriam's door. As she entered she made a motion to kneel, but Miriam motioned her to sit in a chair. "Dear, that was a good move to ask for another day. Linda thinks Anna is coming along nicely." "Thank you, Miss. We're trying to do our part. We'd like to walk her around the ship later. Is that OK? She's on overload right now." "That's a good idea. Begin talking to her about galley and housekeeping duties. Most women can relate to cooking and cleaning. It will get her mind off the other part." "May I ask why Linda is suddenly carrying a belt? What's going on?" "No, you may not ask. I will simply say that our job is to produce a compliant, obedient Anna. If we are successful, good things will follow for all of us. That is not a change. We all are to do what Master commands. Do you understand?" "Yes, Miss Miriam. Will you excuse me? I was on my way to get some lunch for us. Thank you." As Autumn retreated to the door, she was already thinking, "Could this mean Linda is going to replace Miriam? Is this her chance to leave? My chance?" As the door closed, Linda came out of hiding in the bathroom. Miriam and she continued their conversation in whispers. "Dear, Master has at last agreed that I have fulfilled my obligation to him. If all goes as planned, I can leave the ship in about a month. You and I have two hurdles to clear: Master has to believe that you can do my job at a high level, and he has to receive a very good visit with Anna. I think the second one will require our utmost effort. Your thoughts?" Linda lowered her voice even more. "Miriam, I've learned a lot already. Let me shadow you for a couple weeks, maybe even in your meetings with Master. I can absolutely do this! As for Anna, I think it's going well. Your good cop-bad cop plan is a good one. I have an idea to take it even further. What if we enlist the Captain to put on a little show..." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The girls were back in Anna's room on the morning of the Captain's appearance. The previous day had been light, with a tour, eating, and girl talk. Now the talk turned serious again. Autumn knew she had to pull this off if there was any hope of escape. "Anna, you said you have given blow jobs before. You have to give one to the Captain today. Abby and I are counting on you. If the Captain is happy, life gets better for all of us. Can you try?" "I don't know if I can. The last guy I went down on needed a shower. It was not good." Autumn thought of her smelly client at the first poker game. Smoothly, Abby replied. "Anna, that's one thing you don't have to worry about. The Captain is always very clean..." Autumn broke in. "Listen, we have both been there. Here's what you need to do. First, look him in the eyes as you crawl closer. Lick your lips. Make him think you want to do this. Then start slow. Kiss and lick for a few minutes. He doesn't want to stick it down your throat. Just take it in and start moving. Use one hand to pump him a little and the other to massage his balls. Keep moving your lips over his ridge. Moan a little. He'll get off in no time." "Then just kiss and lick a little more and you're done. He will give you some poker chips. Just take them. We'll tell you about that later. OK?" Anna nodded and looked at the floor. She was wiping a few tears away when Linda opened the door. "Are you ready?" "Yes, Ma'am." "All right, come with me. Abby, you may remain here." The Captain, shirtless, sat in a chair in the room. Linda, Autumn, and Anna entered. "Strip and keel." In a moment, the two women adopted the familiar open pose. They didn't notice Miriam in a far corner. "Anna, you may begin." Anna started to crawl toward the Captain. As she approached, he started to unbuckle his belt. Anna progressed as far as placing her hands on his knees when she froze and put her head down. "Oh please!" "I thought she was ready," accused the Captain. Miriam darted forward. "Linda, give me that strap! I'll get her ready!" She grabbed the strap and stepped toward Anna. Linda quickly headed her off. "Wait! Please, wait a minute, Miriam! Let's give her a little time to get herself together. Please!" She was standing between Anna and Miriam. The Captain dramatically looked at his watch. "Give them fifteen minutes, please! Autumn, talk to her. Miriam, let's leave the room for now." Linda took Miriam's arm and guided her to the door. Miriam glanced back. "Fifteen minutes." Autumn grabbed a robe and rushed over to pick Anna up. "Come over here for a minute. Put this on." She whispered, "You can do this, Anna. Just go through the steps." Anna wiped her face on the robe sleeve. "I know! I'll go with you. We'll double team him. C'mon, just stay with me." Autumn dropped to all fours and glanced up. In a moment, Anna shed her robe and dropped beside her. As they crawled, Autumn made full body contact. "Good morning, Captain. Your pants look too tight. Let us help you." Autumn led in the effort to take down his trousers. Excited by the previous drama, he already sported a nice erection. "You take one side, I'll take the other." They began their two-front assault on the Captain's shaft. Anna followed Autumn's lead, making little moans and slurping sounds. Autumn moved Anna's lips up to the head. "OK, honey, do your thing." The shaft disappeared into her mouth. The Captain groaned. Autumn began tiny nibbles on his balls. After a few long moments, she whispered, "Captain, can we give you another bath soon?" "Ahhh, ahh, oh, oh." That image finished the job. He slumped in the chair, breathing heavily. At length, he moved to pull his pants up. Through a few more deep breaths, he said," Thank you, ladies. Here are five chips, but you'll have to split them." As he left the room, he saw Miriam and Linda in the hall. He gave them a wink and a smile. Miriam gave a short curtsy and said, "Thank you, Captain! It looks like our little charade worked." "Always a pleasure, ladies!" In the room, Autumn pressed the chips into Anna's hand. "Show these to Miriam. You passed the test! The chips are money. I want to hug you, but put your robe on first." They smiled and embraced as Miriam walked in. Autumn pulled Anna down to kneel. "The Captain is very happy with you two. Thank you. Anna, how many chips did you get?" "Five, Miss. I don't know what they are for yet." "The girls will explain. And Autumn, here are more chips for you and Abby. Do you know where the spa room is?" "Yes, Miss, near the stern?" "The three of you are cleared for two hours of private time there. I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you again. I am very pleased." For the first time in their collective experience on board, the women were happy to shed robes and get naked. They splashed, dunked, and giggled the two hours away. They spent the rest of the day in Autumn's room, watching TV. As yawns began to outnumber laughs, Autumn turned the TV off. "Anna, the chips are our money. We pay for meals and we can buy underwear and a few other things. The weird part is that you earn them, umm, I guess, with your enthusiasm. The Captain was happy, so he gave you five chips. If you can find a way to accept our situation, you will see that it could be so much worse. Soon, you'll spend a night with the Master. It's not hard to please him because he just takes over. A little like spending the night with Richard Gere in Pretty Woman." Abby said, "Anna, you can do this. It's how we survive. We work and we give them sex. You have to get with it. There is really no other choice. Autumn and I have seen what happens if we don't. It's bad. But it seems like we can be together a lot in our off times..." "...And if there is any chance to get back to real life some day, this is it," Autumn added. Anna took a deep breath. "It seems you are right about not having a choice, and you guys have been so good to me. I'll do my best, but I can't promise a lot of enthusiasm." They drew into one more embrace and went off to bed. Around midnight, Linda came to Autumn's room and sat on the bed. She could smell that her friend had been masturbating. "Wake up, naughty girl. I know what you did!" 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 10: Autumn "Oh, umm, hi. What are you doing here?" She sat up beside Linda, slowly waking up. The "naughty girl" comment sank in and she pulled the sheet up around her breasts. "OK, you caught me. I thought today was great, didn't you? What happened back there with the Captain?" "Sweetie, that was all an act with Miriam and the Captain. We were counting on you to step up and you sure did. I'm sorry we couldn't tell you. We wanted you to be natural." "So, what's going on with you and Miriam? I know you are not as mean as you were acting before." "Sorry, honey. No comment. But, everyone is happy right now and you and Abby are a big cause of it. Miriam has given me some new duties, but you and I will always be friends, even if I have to play mean to you in front of the others. I'm doing scheduling now and I have a couple of things for you. First, you and Anna have kitchen duty this week. Take her in the morning. Also, there is a poker game this week. You and Abby have that. It will be her first..." "...Wait! What about that man..." Autumn could almost smell that disgusting odor again. "...Don't worry. Miriam brought it up with Master. It won't happen again. The clients have to shower before the game. Talk to Abby about it. I'm thinking about having Anna watch through a crack in the door. All right, honey, get some sleep and keep your hands outside the covers!" Giggles. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Autumn was relieved that, after four days in the kitchen, no one had come in to grope Anna. It was going to be traumatizing enough to have her observe the evening's poker game. As they waited under the table, Autumn whispered, "Abby, once it starts, it won't take long. They're so excited when they sit down, it only takes about ten strokes to get 'em off. What worked on the Captain will work on them." "I know. I'm getting used to it. Do we really have to go out there and strip for them after?" "Yeah, we probably will. Don't look at their faces. Remember, you can get lots of chips here. I got ten once." "How many for a ticket out of here?" Autumn gave her a gentle elbow. "Shut up, bird-brain! Here they come." In moments, the four chairs were filled. The girls could hear the small talk and the sound of cards flipping around the table. The women were well-prepared. They had bowls of warm water, bottled water, and washcloths. As promised, all the men were clean and relatively sweet-smelling. Nothing could mask the taste and odor of semen, however. Within 20 minutes, four men came to a groaning finish. Autumn used her patented final kiss and earned nine chips. Abby received seven. They waited for the last act. Master seemed to wait forever before calling them out. "You are both lovely. Please leave your panties around one ankle." This was the clue for them to turn around and draw their garments off. They gracefully turned back to face the table, fingers laced behind their necks. "Please walk around the table and say hello to my guests. Gentlemen, try to look these ladies in the eyes!" As she approached each client, Abby tried to figure out which ones she had serviced. Each one turned his chair and held out his hands to greet her. "Hello, beautiful!" There were laughs around the table as each man tried and failed to follow Master's prompt. Bare breasts and smooth pussies overruled eye contact. She took each man's hands and did a little curtsy. "Hello, I'm Abby." Observing this little ritual played right in to Master's fantasy about nude women and clothed men. His eyes clouded over a bit as the scene finished. Soon the girls were side by side again, panties still dragging along on one foot. "Thank you, ladies. I am pleased." They entered the hall to find Anna and Linda, who offered robes. They swiftly pulled their panties into place. "Oh, thank you, Linda! I was getting goose bumps there at the end." Anna remained silent as they made their way to Autumn's room. Linda waited while the girls brushed their teeth and gargled. As they gathered in a circle, Autumn commented that the worst part of male come was the aftertaste. All three women nodded in agreement. "But at least they were clean this time. They all smelled like Ivory soap!" Linda started the conversation. "So, Anna, that's the poker game and you're up next time. I'll go with you and guide you through it. OK? What are your thoughts?" "Well, Ma'am, I..." "...Wait. You have been through a tough indoctrination in the last couple of weeks. Now, Anna, when it's just us, please call me Linda." "Oh, OK, I will, Linda. I haven't had a chance to thank you for intervening with Miriam that day. You saved me!" "You are welcome, dearie. We are in a new phase now. It seems like you have accepted your place in this strange menagerie, so I will now be more like a den mother. I will do my best to protect you. Your first test will be the poker game on Friday. Abby did very well, and I'm counting on you to play your role as well." Linda drew Anna into a long embrace. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Two weeks later, Miriam came to Autumn's room. "Turn off the TV, honey. You don't want to miss this news." Miriam took her hands as they sat on the bed. "It's all set. I'm leaving the ship and, if you can agree to the conditions, I'm taking you with me." Autumn's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my god! Tell me!" "I have satisfied my debt and regained his trust. I'm going to run one of his smaller businesses in Germany and you are going to be my accounting assistant." But, you have to agree to stay with me for a year and never, ever say a word about your time here. Don't answer right away." "But..." "Listen carefully. He is a powerful man who stays in international waters most of the time. Do you remember that French tycoon who raped a hotel maid in New York City? Nothing ever happened to him. These people are untouchable. Do you understand?" Autumn didn't hesitate. "Yes! Miriam, I owe you everything! I agree! When?" "We leave in three days. I have lined up an apartment in Berlin. I would like you to stay with me at first. We have one more event with Master and then we are free. He wants to spend a night with Anna. Since you did so well with her last time, I suggested a threesome. He took exactly one second to say Yes." "Yes, we can do it! Anything! Let's go wake Anna up!" "That will wait 'til tomorrow. This will be your most important performance, but you must be sure Anna is fully into it. You two will show up at his door eager and horny. Now, Linda only knows that I'm leaving and, of course, Anna knows nothing. We need to keep it that way until the last minute. Let's get some sleep, dearest. We're going to need it." At noon the next day, Linda found Anna on cleaning duty. "Anna, you're off for the day. Go find Autumn. You are going to see the Master tomorrow and you are going to perform with grace and passion. Am I clear on this?" "Yes, Linda. I'll do my best." Autumn and Anna spent the day talking about how they would approach Master. "Anna, they are counting on us to keep him happy. Life is always better when he is. This time, I think we should be a little aggressive with him. I have an idea, but you have to be right there with me. OK?" Autumn took her hands, hoping not to betray her ulterior motive. "Yes, I think I can do it if you will be there with me. What is he like? I've never even spoken to him." "Well, he just has this power that won't be denied. He doesn't need a belt. He uses his eyes. He just looks at you and you melt. You might be surprised at how gentle he can be. Somehow, I've never felt like he was forcing himself on me. It's hard to explain, but you'll see." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Miriam and Linda watched from a distance as the girls approached his door. Autumn focused on one thought: She could be free in 24 hours. Anna was torn between the reality of giving herself to a stranger and the fuzzy concept of "taking one for the team." Autumn knocked twice. Master opened the door a few inches. "Sir, you ordered a massage?" "Uh, oh yes, come in, ladies!" He opened the door wide. Instead of falling to the customary kneeling position, they faced him. Abby held up a small bottle of oil. "Sir, did you order the Premium Special Massage?" They both stood close and looked up at him. "Why, uh, yes I did!" The look of surprise and delight on his face was priceless. No one else knew of the scene they planned. "Shall we proceed to the bedroom?" Remembering her role, Anna said, "Sir, the Premium Special is clothing-optional. Will you please help us with that?" They both turned their backs to him. He slowly lowered one zipper, then the other. The white gowns fell to the floor. They turned and, out of habit, placed their hands behind their necks. He lowered himself to one knee and slipped the white panties to the floor. He couldn't help but reach out to caress the two bare pussies at his eye level, eliciting a nice gasp. They began removing his shirt. As Autumn knelt to slide his pants down, she pressed her cheek along his already stiffening penis. "Please, lay on the bed, Sir." Master stretched out on his stomach as Anna straddled his back and Autumn moved to work on his legs and feet. Anna started rubbing his head and lightly tugging on small handfuls of hair. He started making little sounds of pleasure. Anna knew from long experience that women loved a vigorous scalp massage. It was one of the great pleasures of a visit to a beauty parlor. It was no surprise men liked it too, though most would never talk about it. Autumn started on his upper thighs, casually running her nails along his testicles as she kneaded his muscles. She worked her way down to the calves, frequently returning to squeeze and tickle him. She started rubbing her thumbs on the soles of his feet. Having his hair and feet massaged at the same time felt wonderful. He started squirming and moaning. He tried to turn over. "Please, Sir! We're almost finished." Anna started on his shoulders. He relaxed. Autumn's roaming fingers found him to be fully erect. In a few moments, Autumn realized that he was ready to explode. "Would you like to turn over, Sir?" Anna rose up to let him turn. His penis stood completely upright. Autumn took Anna's hips and guided her onto the Master, setting an excruciatingly slow pace, as Linda had advised. Up slowly, a little wiggle, a tight clench, back down. Autumn lightly tickled and raked his balls from behind. Master, groaning, reached up to fondle Anna's breasts. Up and back down. As he started breathing and moaning rapidly, Anna increased her speed and concentrated on the head. Autumn could tell that Anna was also lost in lust. Master erupted. "Ahh! Ahh, uh, uh, uh, uh, oh!" Autumn reached around to rub Anna's clit. In a moment, she exploded as well. "Ohh! Oh! Mmm...oh god! Uhn, ahh...stop...Autumn... please!" She tried to push Autumn's hand away. Master sat up, still inside Anna and drew her into a long, deep kiss. He lay back again and guided her slowly off, indicating that she should lay beside him. Autumn took a cue and whispered, "Sir, would you like to be alone with her now?" "Yes, thank you." Autumn gave her a light pinch on the bottom, picked up her dress and padded out of the room. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Miriam made sure that Autumn and Linda had some time to say goodbye. They cried and hugged and talked for 30 minutes until they could hear the helicopter winding up. "I'm sorry you have to stay. Miriam says that if all goes well, you could leave here in a year or so. You have to find me then! We have to see each other again!" The last hug, the last wave. Autumn and Miriam, airborne, took one last glance at the ship and tightly holding hands, looked forward in the direction of the mainland. Author's Note: Dear Readers, this marks the end of Autumn's adventure in captivity. Please watch for the continuation of Julie's life in Hong Kong by co-author J Spe. I will also endeavor to continue Lisa's life in the harem (from Part 2). We appreciate your comments. —Carole99 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 11: Juli Author's Note: Julie is working out as Master's First Lady, but is worried about an upcoming presentation to a Minister for some "playtime." Here's how that evening goes. Enjoy! J Spe Chapter Sixteen: The Yoga Master Igor comes into my office as the meeting schedule is closing out. Again, I have been Master's First Lady with success. There were a few more "Could you ask about's" and "Would you be able to see if's" than yesterday, all passed to Master and answered, sometimes after a good laugh, by Anne or Pat. Even Edward had been amused, which, I am coming to find, is a rare thing. My secret idea about Edward is that he's patterning himself after StarTrek's Mr. Spock, all aloof and analytical. "Let's go for a stroll," Igor says. He guides me past our kitchen, and I get a wave from Pat; my trainers keep each other informed. I'm wondering about this "stroll" when Igor grins and explains. "In this business, you get used to taking precautions. Your office is such an obvious place to plant a bug, but walking the corridors gets you out of range of any one bug, and it's not likely Security would miss a line-up of bugs. The cameras, of course, will see us strolling, but they're on our side." It's an idea I hadn't had. The law firm had taught me never to talk in public, especially in elevators. But, this is our home turf! He hadn't really asked a question, so I just nod. Igor does some gesticulating, as if telling me a funny story, which I figure will make the camera guys happy. Then he becomes serious. "The minister is pretty high up in the government here. The Chairman has good relations with the government, which is important to keeping his Enterprises rolling along. So, there are topics we don't want you to bring up tonight." I know enough that this is something to concentrate on. Making a list and Checking it twice is definitely not part of the routine. For the cameras, I give a short, hearty laugh. "Politics, of almost any kind, is out. Actually, unless it's some rebellion that's going to change the government, we don't really care about politics. The Party is in charge and it looks like staying in charge. Mao had a saying: 'The handle of the knife is firmly in the hand of the Party and the People.' What concerns us is economics. The big questions are what will the Party do about the exchange rate for the dollar or euro and what will the Party do with taxation? I don't think our minister is anywhere near those problems, so anything he might tell you about them is likely to just be office scuttlebutt. "What we're currently interested in, you might be surprised about, is what's happening with the MTR, the Mass Transit Railway. Here on the south side of the island, we've never had good public transport. Oh, the buses run pretty well, but it's not as fast or comfortable as the subways on the north side. Every few years, some politician makes a splash with a big Plan" — and I can hear the capital P in Igor's voice — "but they don't put any money into it and nothing gets built. Now, there has been some real work planned, but we haven't seen anything tangible. We have some real estate on the island, and it would be good to know if it's going to be more or less valuable if and when anything gets built. Tonight's minister might have some news about that project. "Of course, he wouldn't have gotten as far as minister if he wasn't aware of the value of the news he might let slip. On the other hand, he also knows how highly we value the girls we bring here as First Lady, so he's going to see any 'slip' as a pretty even payment in kind. "That's where your job gets harder. Anne and I know how exciting you can be. But, that's because we've taught you things that we know Western types find exciting. Tonight's minister, it seems, is a yoga master. We don't have much on what he wants, except that he's said to be very patient. He can run a yoga session for a couple of hours, we've learned. So, when he tells you something you're not sure of, you tell him so and ask for guidance. In any case, giving him that control can't be a negative." I consider what Igor has told me. Stay away from politics. Probe about the south side subways. He's probably going to ask for some yoga positions and I'll have to ask for direction there. Not much of a briefing, is it? Well, I've been on blind dates with less background. Of course, those were when I could say No and Stop, words I'm not going to be able to say tonight. "Please, Sir, is he going to want to try anal tonight?" I'm not a fan of anal intercourse, mainly because it wasn't ever good on the times I tried it. I catch Igor considering for a moment and know that he's trying to be kind. "We don't think so. The idea is that he doesn't know how tight you might be. He knows you've just arrived and he's probably pretty sure that the Chairman didn't get you from a dockside brothel, and so he's probably not going to be that demanding. On the other hand, Julie, I won't kid you that it might come up." I flash my trainer a smile. He responds, and I know he'll be there with the cavalry if things get too far out of hand. At least, I hope so. I never found out what price Master paid for me, but for the time my auction went on, it had to be pretty high. Master won't want his chattel damaged, will he? What a comforting thought! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Dinner, I think, goes well. Igor, Charles, Anne and I meet the minister in the upstairs lobby with Charles making the introductions. Mr Minister eyes my white Calvin Klein halter dress, takes my hand gently and murmurs how pleased he is to meet me again. I smile and curtsy and say "My pleasure, Mr Minister." Not very Shakespearean, is it? We chat about the usual stuff — weather, mostly, but a bit of local gossip — before Chef comes out and invites us to his dining room. With a wave of his hand, Chef directs us to a buffet of mostly salads, but with some fish and meat platters. "Mr Minister, I took the liberty of checking with your staff and they suggested that a salad buffet would be the best idea for tonight," Chef announces. Mr Minister, who is a plain-looking man, with hair neatly trimmed, wearing an impeccably tailored grey suit set off by a patterned blue tie, laughs. "Good idea, my friend. I've been to a formal dinner each of the past three nights and I'm afraid I've enjoyed them too much. This is just right. Thank you for thinking of my staff. I'll be sure to pass that on to them." I'm impressed. Here's a politician not campaigning for votes and he's still making nice remarks. Chef leads him through the buffet while an assistant loads a plate as Minister makes his choices. The rest of us, of course, follow and load up on our own. As Minister is walking to the table, Chef suggests a choice of wines. There is some discussion about the selection, but I'm sure I'm getting ginger ale, right? Conversation around the table is a bit more substantial. After all, our guest is a leader of an important part of the world's economy. His views are heard with great respect and only Charles has enough background to suggest additional factors for consideration. I can see that Minister's respect for Charles is substantial. About the time the group finishes Chef's bottle of wine (I was right, ginger ale for me!), Anne rises and suggests that Minister might be comfortable in the guestroom to the right. There is some handshaking and polite Thank You's all around and my Minister takes my arm and we saunter down the hall to the right. I suppose I should be angry. I could have invited Mr Minister, couldn't I? By having Anne make the invitation, I am clearly just a piece of property being loaned out, kind of like a library book. Of course, I quickly realize that that's exactly what is being done. Ruefully, I make a small chuckle. My Minister hears it and asks the reason. I can't say I'm laughing at my slavery, can I? Fortunately, my Inner Goddess supplies a perfect line. "My dear Minister, I've been looking forward to tonight since the inquiry came. I'm certain you'll keep me entertained and laughing all evening, won't you?" Well, my Minister has a moment of surprise flash across his face, but then grins and, as he hands me into the guestroom, accepts my challenge. "My dear Julie, I won't be happy until you faint from laughter." He has a quick dekker around the room, lighting some lamps and bringing the room some brightness. Anne and Pat showed me the room earlier, and I'm sure of where all the toys are. I wait at the foot of the four-poster king-size bed until Minister is satisfied. He comes to stand before me for a moment, then reaches out a hand to stroke my hair. Pat has combed and brushed it to a shining fall of tresses. His hands go to the zipper pull at my neckline and the dress parts, dramatically presenting my breasts to my Minister. Minister smiles and says, "This new style, with zippers looking like they are of industrial strength, is a style I think I could get to like. Some of the artifices the designers use are really quite impossible for us poor men to handle." I stand, making sure to keep my hands from moving to cover myself. Again, my Inner Goddess has a line ready. "But, Sir, if it was a man who designed them, I would expect any man could operate them, right?" My Minister has a good laugh at this. He holds the dress open and his eyes glitter at the sight of my breasts. Pat has applied a light rouge to my aureolae and nipples, saying that there's a surprise there. Before he touches me, however, he reaches for the gold clasps at the back of my neck and the halter top slips down. In one movement, I am bare to the waist. Minister's hands move to support my breasts. All is still for several moments, and then I realize that this yoga master is taking deep and regular breaths. I try to match him and his eyes open in surprise. "Julie, are you skilled in yoga, then?" I make a moue and look down in submission. "No, Sir, I've tried a few times, but I've never been flexible enough to reach many of the positions of yoga." His smile is warm and his tone is friendly. "Well then, my dear, tonight I shall be a yogi for you and make it possible for you to reach at least a few of my favorite positions." I have to giggle at this double entendre, and Sir joins me. He moves his hands a bit and I get a short tingle in my nipples. The textured cotton/viscose material of my dress slides from my body and I step daintily out of it. Now, I am naked, nude. And a bit aroused, I am surprised to find. Sir sheds his jacket and I quickly drape it over the valet stand near the bed. With a wink, I move to his tie and shirt, adding them to the stand. A moment to undo his belt allows Sir to step out of his trousers, which I kneel to gather. While I'm there, I efficiently remove his shoes and hose. I circle behind Sir and embrace him, ready to remove his undershirt and he helps by raising his arms. When all is folded and draped on the valet stand, I kneel before him, ready to draw down his shorts. All this has taken just a few moments, and has been done in silence, except for Sir's regular breathing. My own breathing is a bit more agitated and faster. This whole ballet is moving me up the arousal ladder, I find. "With the teeth only, my dear," comes Sir's instruction for his shorts. I have practiced this with Igor many times, and I pull off his last clothing with skill and efficiency. Sir moves to the bed and points to a place a meter in front of him. I kneel and bend my head in submission, but Sir raises my chin so he may stare into my eyes. "The eyes are a window into the soul, my dear," Sir says. I have heard that line before, but the intensity Sir brings to the act seems to lift me off the carpet a bit. He takes my hands in his and we are now breathing in the same rhythm and I can feel the attraction between us. Sir is in no hurry and, as I look at him seeing into my depths, I realize his gaze has not flicked to my breasts for a moment. I understand that this man has control and is in control, something I must report to my trainers. In a few moments, I feel the muscles of my face and neck relax and soften. My brows unknit; my jaw unclenches; I am 100% present. Sir rises and goes through a few yoga poses, ending with a slight jump and Sir standing, feet wide apart in a sort of lunge position, his hands stretched forward and back, and his eyes looking forward over his outstretched arm. He takes a few deep breaths and, just a bit of relaxation in his pose, softly issues instructions so I can match the pose. "This is Virabhadra, the Warrior II pose. It is named after a fierce warrior, an incarnation of Shiva. We describe him as having a thousand heads, a thousand eyes, and a thousand feet. He wields a thousand clubs and wears the skin of a tiger. Tonight, I put you in this pose to engage your pelvic muscles." As I breathe, I can feel the air descending through my body and strengthening those pelvic muscles. Sir comes beside me and, after stroking my neck and back for a few moments, rests his palm over my pussy. He presses, first gently and then more firmly, against my sensitive area until I abandon the quiet, deep, regular breathing for a series of gasps and moans. Sir continues his lecture. "These taps are designed to wake up the muscles and nerves in this area." My body is almost aflame and my mind is streaming through the cosmos. My Inner Goddess is awake and shrieking at me to Hold the Pose! Don't Move a Muscle! I manage. Sir drops two fingers inside my sheath and I don't manage anymore. I crumple in a heap at Sir's feet. Instantly, I can think only of how I have failed my Master's guest and the "correction" that is sure to follow. But Sir is laughing! Full-throated, belly-shaking laughs! I manage to fold into a kneeling position and wait for Sir's judgment. But, Sir smiles at me. His voice light, he says, "My dear Julie, the muscles are to awaken so they can do the next service, not crumple into a puddle of girl." He is taken by another spasm of laughter. In the moment, I recover some of the poise which I remember I had at the law firm. "Please, Sir, what is the next service?" I'm smart enough not to dwell on failing this Virabhadra service. Sir's arm lifts me to my feet and we approach the bed. "After such a fierce pose as Virabhadra, the muscles must be relaxed by massage. There should be some oil ready?" OK! This I can do. In fact, my trainers have kidded me that I must be part Swedish, maybe even Viking. I arrange Sir prone and warm some oil from the bedside table in my hands. I start with a shoulder, move down to the hand, and then cross over to the other shoulder. Neck and back follow in their own time and Sir offers some encouraging sighs or moans as I work out some tight muscle. I am about to move to his hips and glutes when my Minister rolls over, sits up, and grins at me. "No, Julie, we don't want to soften the leg muscles. We still have much for them to do this evening. "Now, there is the small correction to be applied from your failure to hold the Virabhadra pose, yes?" I sigh, inwardly of course. I must not give my betters any idea that I might not agree with them. Minister moves from the bed, taking me with him, to the foot of the bed. He picks up the leather wristlet where it is dangling from a short chain to the top of the bedpost and wraps it around my left wrist. The right wrist is similarly imprisoned and I face the foot of the bed, hands raised as an acolyte. Minister sits on the foot of the bed just to my right, his legs now surrounding my own. His right hand traces upward, from my soft belly to my navel and up my right ribcage to my breast. I am soon breathing quickly as his hand explores the curves of my breast and nipple. I make the mistake of leaning into his right hand when his left hand crashes into my butt, administering a first-class spank. I have fallen for the oldest trick in the bdsm book: distract the slave while the painful stroke is coming. Automatically, I respond with a count. "One, Sir. Please, may I have another." Minister obliges and I report the count. "Two, Sir. Please, may I have another." It is the standard reply throughout slavery, my trainers have taught me, and it will continue as long as the Master wishes. Triced up to the bedposts, I can hardly offer any resistance. My allegiance to Martin, my Master, is all that prevents me from screaming. My Minister finishes my right cheek at five. As I could have predicted — had anyone asked, which nobody ever does — he moves around to my left side and the process is repeated. Now, however, I know, or think I know, that there will be only five spanks, and this knowledge sustains me through the ordeal. Again, I manage the count without any screams. Sir stands and strokes his targets lovingly. "Julie, thank you for your submission. I will make a point of telling your trainers that you felt no need to scream. It will be a great credit to you and to their training." Well, that's a new one! I push my Inner Goddess down when she is about to comment on his assessment of my "absent need to scream." Unnecessary! My Minister rummages in the small refrigerator near the bathroom door and comes up with two small bottles and an opener. His, I see, is a split of Champagne. Mine, you guessed it, is ginger ale. It's fortunate I like ginger ale, although, in the time before Blue Bayou, I really liked Champagne more. I recall the importance the gym folks gave to "post-exercise replacement nutrition" and look forward to the ginger ale. More rummaging finds a flute for him and a glass straw for me. Minister holds my bottle and straw up for me and we sip in silence for the time it takes for the fire in my butt to simmer down. Minister selects a pillow and places it on the bed before me. I'm not sure what he's planning until he slides in front of me and sits on the pillow. It elevates his mouth to the level of my tits. Minister wraps each of his legs around one of mine, forcing me to a spread-leg stance. It is a perfect posture for Minister's hands to rove all over my body. He plays each of my areas like a virtuoso. First, one breast and the opposite bottom cheek. Then, a thigh and a shoulder. Next, both underarms; here, I practically sag into giggles as Sir tickles me without mercy. All along, Minister is gazing into my eyes, savoring the flashing emotions running through them. Mostly, I guess, the sensations are pleasurable when he's using the pads of his fingers and a stroking maneuver. But, Minister also uses his nails in a pinching maneuver. He hasn't gone near my labia or my clitoris, but he's got me climbing the ladder of arousal. I'm breathing totally at his rhythm and I cannot tear my eyes away from his. Even my Inner Goddess is silent, simply aching for more. At some point, my Minister decides he's hungry, so he sucks my left nipple into his mouth and starts sucking and nibbling on the tender bud. With my arousal level already high, it takes no time for the nipple to become rock hard. Minister switches to the right nipple and in seconds I am moaning with need. My trainers have made me understand that a slave doesn't own her own orgasms, that she must receive permission before she climaxes. I manage to gasp my request before I get to the point of explosion. Minister adopts a ministerial mien. He stops his hands, his lips, his teeth, and his tongue to consider my plea. We breathe, in unity, while he considers. While he considers, my body slides down the ladder of arousal. I'm sure he sees the dejection and defeat in my eyes. He hasn't said No, but I am no longer on the edge. My eyes leave his and my head bends in submission. My trainers have told me that much of a slave's work is to wait. I wait. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 11: Juli Minister does eventually make up his mind. He releases my legs and moves back on the bed, coming to a kneeling position in front of me. He reaches up and unsnaps my wristlets from their chains and guides my hands to encircle his waist. His rampant member now nestles between my breasts. I know what is expected, so I use my elbows to pack my breasts tighter to his cock and begin to rise and fall against him. It isn't the best way for a breast fuck, but it's the easiest one for the male. I am doing all the work, but I am also in control. I can slow down as I feel his erection thicken or speed up as he begins to soften. The controls have reversed. I move faster, trying to push my Minister over the edge into ecstasy, but his embrace tightens and slows me down. Sir is still in control and we are again breathing together. My legs are beginning to tire and I suspect Sir understands this, probably from a few quivers in my movements. He releases me and backs off a bit. I stop and concentrate on getting myself together. Minister has worked me for what seems like forever. I am a bit sweaty and I'm not sure all of my parts are still connected. My heart rate, when I check on it, is running way too fast. The thought of more aerobic work in the gym flits across my mind. My trainers have hardly beaten me, but they have made me focus just as they had announced: my focus has become whatever my Master might need or want. His needs and wants have become the center of my universe. My Minister smiles. "You see, my dear Julie, that the discipline of yoga allows one to control his arousal. It allows the connection with the partner to become so deep that these become acts of love more than passion. Am I correct in this?" A slave always answers, and answers with truth, right? There's no way I can deny my Minister. I return his smile, saying, "Yes, Minister. I did not know this before, but you have made me understand. Thank you, Sir." He chuckles. "Well now, not so soon with the Thank you's. I would like to introduce you to the Reclining Goddess pose, also called the Supta Badda Konasana. Supta for Reclining, Badda for Bound, and Kona for Angle. Please lie comfortably on your back." It is easy to follow that order and Minister takes a moment to stroke my arms and legs from shoulder to fingers and from hips to toes. I'm instantly tingling with some arousal. Minister laughs at the surprise that must show on my face. The bedside table produces a pair of handcuffs and Minister locks them on my ankles. I think this ensures that I won't be able to spread myself for him, but Minister has me bend my knees and draw my feet up to my pelvis, the soles of my feet in contact. "This butterfly position of the legs starts a dynamic for you," Minister instructs. "You will find a tension as you open your knees more widely, but the point is not just to open wider, it is to soften your inner thighs, allowing them to sink into your pelvis. Stroke your inner thighs, my dear, and let the chakra flow into your pelvis. As it does, your heels will come closer and your knees, on their own, will fall wider apart." I try it and — what did you expect? — Minister is exactly right. "Now, my dear, press downward with your heels and lift your pelvis a bit." Again, I try and, with my pelvis up, Minister slides a pillow under it. My heels fall to the bed and I feel 100% pussy. I am soooo ready for Minister. "Now, we must insure that my dear has a proper oxygen supply for her pelvis. Please raise your arms toward the head of the bed." This takes no thought at all. Then, I hear the clicks as Minister hooks my wristlets to chains from the head bedposts. I have only an instant of irritation. I'm not going anywhere, am I? And, I'm so aroused that I'd like Minister to take me there sooner rather than later. Minister pays some more attention to my nipples and I fight the need to writhe under his touch. He wipes a finger across each bud and presents it to my lips. Confused, I still know enough to reach out with my tongue and clean his finger. The taste is spicy and sweet! This is the surprise that Pat had mentioned during my preparation. I cannot suppress the giggle that erupts. Minister joins me, but then gets back to stroking and tapping the zones where he has found maximal response. He has me mapped like a geologist's plan of an oilfield. I find I am pleased! Master mounts me gently, playing the head of his cock at my labia before entering. I recall some distant biology lecture that described vaginal nerves as concentrated in the first part of the organ, but I am getting sensations from places much deeper. I tug on my wrist chains, just to let Minister know that I'm ready, and he sets up the ancient rhythm between a man and a woman. I don't direct him. He is the Minister, right? He may be too slow or too shallow right now, but I'm predicting that he'll take care of that in just a moment. I just try to match his rhythm. As a casual remark, Minister gives permission for me to climax. I am so aroused I almost don't hear him. It takes considerably longer than a moment, and I am completely drained by the time Minister is satisfied. When he is comfortable lying beside me, I tinkle my wrist chains. I need them loosed so I can clean him, right? Minister comes to a kneeling position near my head. I turn and am able to clean him without my wrists free. I manage to suppress my Inner Goddess' giggle at how neatly I am positioned. Minister rests, breathing deeply for a few minutes, and then gets up. He hooks a finger in my ankle cuffs and draws my legs straight. I can feel my thighs returning to their full length. My Minister looks at me, stretched out now from his pleasure. "My dear, I would treasure a photo of you as you are just now. Unfortunately, that is a bit impractical, but I did want you to know about it." I am completely at a loss! At a minimum, Minister is telling me that this experience was memorable for him. His allusion to impractical says he knows my status is not just a simple First Lady for a major enterprise in his constituency. I hasten to smile and express my appreciation for the care and instruction he has given me. In short order, I am freed from the wrist and ankle restraints and we shower together. I dry him with a number of warm fluffy towels. I pass his clothes to him and, as he does his tie, I slip into my dress. Minister makes a game of sliding my zipper up to complete the evening. My Minister hooks my hand over his as he marches me up the hallway to my kitchen. Anne and Pat are sharing a "coffee and" and we join them like old friends. My Minister has one more surprise for me. ***** Author's Note: Sorry for the cliffie, but this is a natural "break in the action." In the next Scene, Minister's surprise is dwarfed by a surprise from Julie's trainers. Look for Scene 7 in a few weeks. In the interim, Carole99 and I would be pleased to read your comments, suggestions, and (as for the yoga sequence) any corrections. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 12: Lisa Dear Readers: This is the next chapter in Lisa's life in a harem. Reading Parts 1 and 2 is necessary for a full appreciation. These stories about captive women controlled by powerful men are my personal fantasies. If you find a few crossroads with your own imagination, great. If not, please return to the diverse buffet that is Literotica. Follow the other women separately by name — Autumn and Julie. Carole99 ***** Previous scenes from 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 02: Lisa (now named Raisa): "Isa, just sit back and listen for a while. First, Master is just a man. He will not hurt you. Master loves women! He just likes to play out his little fantasies. Has Alina told you about his virgin thing?" "Yes, a little." "OK. First, he knows you're not a virgin. You just need to act all shy and nervous, like you want him to be your first, but you don't know what to do. He will come up and kiss you. Respond. He will take your hand and walk to the bed. He will slowly undress you. Cover yourself like a blushing bride." "Follow his lead. He will be very gentle. When he enters you at first, give a small cry of pain. Then, begin responding to his thrusts. From what I've heard, your body will take over from there." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The next afternoon, Alina sat with Raisa and Tala. "Isa, we will help prepare you for your visit. We will bathe and perfume you, and help you choose the perfect clothing. You will be wearing white silk panties and bra as is befitting a young maiden. As we get ready, I want you to go through your fantasies about your evening. When men dream about sex, they think of the actual act. But women tend to soften the image. They may think of a man on a white horse, sweeping them away. Raisa, are you ready?" "Yes, Alina, I think I'm ready. Thank you for your kindness." Hours later, there was a soft knock on a door. A man's voice responded, "Enter." The door opened and a beautiful woman, dressed in a long gossamer gown and white slippers, stepped inside and paused. "Welcome, my dear Raisa. I have waited many days to see you again. You are exquisite! Please come closer." 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 12: Lisa He led her into the room by the hand, launching her into a dancer's twirl. Even in the soft light, he could see the outline of her body through the gown. Raisa whirled away, ballooning her dress, ending in a kneeling position, knees tightly together, befitting her role as a fair maiden. "You are lovely, my dear. How are you feeling?" "I am afraid, Master." "I know. Please sit with me. I have some nice wine." They sat together on a couch. The table had a tray of food and wine. "Red or white?" She chose red. "Good, I like a bold red myself. Here. Now take a deep breath and try to relax." "Thank you, Master." She took a healthy sip, then another. "I am not going to be disingenuous and ask you if you like it here. I will ask you, though, if you have been treated well. Alina speaks highly of your assimilation to our home and your leadership among the other women." "Master, thank you for putting it that way. Under the circumstances, Alina has been fantastic. This has been overwhelming, but without her and Tala, it would have been a nightmare." They both sensed that the time for talk was over. "Finish your wine, dear. Let's continue in the other room." Raisa nervously drew another deep breath and drained her glass, worried that she might not pull this charade off. Master bent to pick her up in proper bridal fashion, carried her into the bedroom and placed her on her feet. She began trembling as a single tear appeared on her cheek. He moved in close behind her and began lightly kissing her neck. He whispered, "You are so lovely, I am tempted to take you right now, but there is no hurry. I want time to lose its meaning for us. Hmm?" Raisa took another deep breath. "Yes, Master." For the first time, she heard soft music playing. "Dance with me." She turned back to his face as they slid into a slow motion glide. He kissed her face and then full on the lips. His body made full contact as she returned the kiss. They began a light grinding of hips and lips. Raisa increased the pressure and started a low moan as they made a circuit of the room. "Master," she breathed, "Please don't go too slow. I need you." Her gown had a row of buttons down the front. He undid the first two and began kissing her neck, slowly working his way to her navel with fingers and lips. He was light on his feet, gliding her around the floor as he peeled the gown away. As they passed near the door, he reached out to dim the lights to a low glow. Near the bed, he kissed her bare shoulders as the gown slipped off. He stepped back and took a deep breath of his own. "Ahhh, so beautiful. Please lie here, dear. I'm going to take twenty minutes to undress you." Raisa lay face down. He slipped her bra straps down, undid the clasp and ran his fingers slowly under the fabric. He gently raked his fingernails up and down her back and on the sides of her breasts. She made little murmurs and sighs as he progressed. He began running his fingers under the seams of her white panties, starting at the waist, then going under the leg bands. More sighs. More murmurs. "Please turn over." As she faced him, he drew off the bra and began his light fingernail routine on her breasts. "Oh, Master, please! I can't take it." Though her legs were still tightly together, her hips were moving on their own. He returned his fingers to her waist and leg bands. He grazed closer and closer to her sweetness. "Ahh! Ohh! Please, Master." In this part of the world, there are many traditional potions designed to stimulate men. Rhino horns. Powdered bull testicles. But there is no more powerful aphrodisiac than the breathless sounds and delicate smells of a thoroughly aroused woman, and Master was hovering over one at this moment. "What do you want, my sweet?" "Ahh, I want you, Master. I want you to be my first." Again, he ran a finger under her leg band, and along her slit, feeling dew. "Mmmm." Raisa's hips flew upward. In a small whisper, he said, "You'll have to show me what you want, but slowly, please." After a moment's hesitation, she reached down to remove her panties a little at a time, a voluntary act of surrender. In one motion, she guided his body over hers and parted her legs. "Master," she whispered, "I need you. Please, go easy." He met her lips with a deep kiss. He rubbed his hard shaft along her moist slit. Raisa tilted her hips up to meet him. He slid into her, holding back, only entering an inch or so. He moved back and forth over the short distance. To keep from instantly exploding, he tried to think of other things for a few moments, as Raisa gasped and moved under him. Finally, he reared back a little to give her a warning and plunged in. "Ahhh! Ohh!" Her body jerked as he began surging in earnest. She orgasmed first, clenching and bucking on him with great gasps and groans. He came soon after, punctuating each spurt with a lusty grunt. Exhausted, he rested his full weight on her for a moment before quickly propping himself on his elbows in true gentlemanly fashion. He reached back to touch her knee, rolling them to a side-by-side position, while remaining inside her. He began kissing her around the neck and face, ending with a deep, long kiss on the mouth. "Time for rest. First, please use the restroom. When you open the door a bit, I'll join you in the shower." He started to withdraw from her at an excruciatingly slow pace. Finally, he pulled away, producing a mutual quiver. "Thank you, Master." Completely sated, Raisa padded unsteadily to the bathroom. In a few minutes, she left the door ajar, but he didn't appear. She peeked out to see him sound asleep, lightly snoring. She thought, "No surprise there. They always get drowsy after sex." Smiling, she changed plans and drew a deep, hot bath. She nearly nodded off herself as she steeped in the bubbly, sweet afterglow of a great orgasm. They woke up around the same time, he still on his back and she nestled against him, one leg over his. She whispered, "Master, you missed your shower, but it's never too late. Allow me to wash you all over." He quickly sat up, getting his bearings. After a moment, he said, "Yes. Proceed." As they made their way to the bathroom, Raisa sensed a change in his voice and manner and realized that the virgin fantasy was over. He was back to his role as the alpha male. He confirmed her thoughts as he stepped into the shower. "Wash me thoroughly and then come to your knees." "Yes, Master." She lightly scrubbed him from head to toe as he stood completely still and silent. As he turned around from rinsing, his partial erection bobbed near Raisa's face. She began worshiping his penis in earnest, an act she knew would be repeated many times in the future. Just the act of kneeling and attaching herself to this powerful man triggered her own heat. But as soon as he erupted in her mouth, he seemed to lose interest and stepped out of the shower. The direct, self-assured Master she had met on Blue Bayou was back. Aroused and unsatisfied, she followed. While drying him, she slyly rubbed herself on his leg, but he didn't seem to notice. She crawled after him into the bedroom, moving to an open kneel as he dressed. He turned to face her, and she opened a bit wider. He noticed her enticing stance and smiled. He believed in leaving pets and eager females a little hungry. "You may go now. You have pleased me. You may choose your clothing from the things in the closet." Arrayed in a flowing dark blue and purple wrap, she decided to detour to her room before the inevitable "after-action" report with Alina. Soon, she quenched her frustrated flames with the aid of Master's rubber penis. As images of the evening's pleasure flashed through her mind, she rode out her orgasm, thinking, "Yes, ah, indeed, uhh, this thing really is an mmm, exact replica." On her way to the bathroom, she absent-mindedly put it in her mouth before rinsing it in the sink. Alina and Tala met her with a tight hug. "Master is quite happy with you, dear! He is usually a man of few words, but they were all complimentary!" "Thank you, Alina. It was quite a night." "I love your new clothes!" Tala tugged at her sleeve. "Was it worth giving up your cherry for blue?" All three women smiled. "Yes, and you were right. He was very gentle, and I did feel like a virgin, uh, sort of. I'm glad it's over." Alina motioned them to sit down. "Ladies, please have some hot tea. Raisa, try these. They are called sambousek, little meat pies." Raisa was starving and needed no further invitation. "First, dear one, welcome to our family. You will be staying with Tala now and become part of the group for swimming, bathing, and meals. You will find friends and share all the gossip and rumors that always fly around this place." "I need to remind you of Master's wish that we not speak about where we are from or how we got here. It is a good rule because that talk only causes sadness and longing. I am expecting you to become a leader befitting your name, and to keep the conversation focused on the future. Can you do this, Raisa?" "Yes, Ma'am. I will do my best. May I ask about Ishamel and Kiah? Will I see them again?" "Of course, dear. You will see them at lunch every day. Ishamel will be ready to give up her whites in a couple of weeks and Kiah will follow soon, though she needs more training. I want you to tell them all about your time with him so that they won't be so nervous. They will be sharing a room as well, so you are free to visit them. I'm guessing you would like a nap right now, so I will leave you and Tala." After another long hug and a few kisses around the face, Tala said, "First off, Isa, there is no camera in this room. They have cameras in the virgins' rooms, and all around the pool, but not in our rooms. So, we can talk freely here, and even break a few rules here." Tala lowered her voice. "We have to be so submissive and compliant all the time, but we can rebel a little in here, and that's what has kept my sanity in this crazy place." "What do you mean?" "First, let's pull our beds over. That could be a hint as to things that happen after lights out." Tala gave her a wink. They scooted the two singles together, making a king-size bed. "OK, time for a little nap. Then we break our first rule. We talk about who we are and where we're from." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Two hours later they sat up on pillows and faced each other cross-legged. Tala glanced at the door and again spoke in a low voice. "I'm from Stockton, California, which is always listed in the top five 'worst places to live,' and it really is. I couldn't wait to get out. I was working at a strip club behind the bar, but, y'know, I never had to strip until I came here!" They giggled at that thought. "You know that song, 'The Road Goes On Forever'? It was like that. This high-roller dude came in, tucking hundreds in every thong and giving me the eye. I followed him outside like a puppy. A stupid puppy." "We went to Frisco for a year. He liked to go to those sex clubs, and I was game for anything that didn't smell like Stockton. We had a wild ride, but he always wanted more. He started tying me up and letting other men spank me." One night he just left me there, and I never saw him again. I guess he went back to Stockton to get another twit. It's a little fuzzy just how I got here, but I think a roofie was probably a big part of it. That was a year ago." "Oh my god, Tala! How awful! You seem so normal now. How did you endure?" "It was pretty bad at first. I always thought sex slaves were from the 1500s. I cried all day. I thought they were going to kill me one day when I said, 'Yes, Master jackass!' Raisa pictured Master's face and laughed. "But then Alina came along. She was strict, but she was more like a big sister." "So now, I do what they expect and play the part, especially when I'm with him. I like to imagine it's a little like being married to a rich guy. You put out when he wants, you give lots of blowjobs, and live a pretty good life. You asked how I endure? That's how!" They decided to go to the dining room before Raisa told her story. As Raisa entered in her new garments, a little murmur ran across the tables. Several women waved and smiled in recognition of her new status. Tala took her hand and raised it in the air, producing applause in the room. Raisa blushed, realizing that everyone knew that she had given her "virginity" to the Master. "Would you like to sit with your friends?" Tala pointed toward Kiah and Ishamel, whose white clothing stood out in the sea of color. Raisa put her arms on their shoulders and gave a friendly squeeze. Conversation lagged as the four women recognized a subtle "color barrier" between them. The women in white realized that, while they were still undergoing the demeaning daily training sessions, Raisa would now be living the good life, whatever that was. "Kiah, I heard you two were rooming together. Do you like it?" Kiah looked down at the food. "Yes, it's fine." Raisa glanced at Tala. "Kiah, it's hard to talk here. Maybe we can visit later. I have lots to tell you." She winked at Ishamel. Back in their room, Raisa told her story. She had been a business major at Florida State University when she and her boyfriend signed on to a two-week cruise on a private yacht, the Blue Bayou. Pirates took over the ship and sold off the women the next day. "Tala, it was awful. This horrible man made us strip and shave all over, and then he inspected us like cattle..." Tala couldn't wait any longer. She leaned over, kissed her on the lips and whispered, "I want to inspect you later, dear, but it won't be horrible. What do you think about that?" After a moment, Raisa returned the kiss and started squirming. "Uh, OK," she sighed. "Another rule to break?" "Oh yes!" Around midnight, in total darkness, Tala worked her way over to the other side and peeled the sheet down. Raisa awoke as she felt her panties slide off her ankles. "Shhh. Inspection time. Open up!" For women lucky enough to experience it, one of the most intense and delicious pleasures in life happens the first time a tongue slithers across her clitoris. Raisa was no exception. "Oh! Uh, I th-thought our mm-mouths were for M-masterrrrahh!" Her hips started bucking as Tala moved her legs wider. "Oh, oh, oh god! Mmmmm! Stop, it's too m-much!" This spurred Tala to a new speed and depth, carrying a gasping, groaning girl through her orgasm. She kept licking and kissing until Raisa's breathing slowed. Tala moved up to lay her wet face on Raisa's chest. "You don't want to kiss me right now, but how about a nice bath?" Nestled in bubbles, Tala arranged Raisa across her lap and shoulder and lovingly washed every inch of her new friend. As they walked arm-in-arm back to bed, Raisa whispered, "I've never tried it before, but I will return the favor if you like." "Maybe tomorrow, dearie. We just got squeaky clean again, and I'm exhausted." After a tender kiss, they drifted off to sleep. Raisa drowsily thought about Tala's "inspection" for a long time. She suspected that a harem might be similar to any place where the sexes are separated, as in a prison, where people would try to find release without actually becoming gay. She thought about the times the three "white" women had helped each other out. The training sessions had been so arousing! She thought there were about ten women in the actual harem. That meant visits with the Master might be infrequent for many. She drifted off thinking that Tala's tongue skills might help her cope with her captivity in this weird world. She scooted over far enough to put a hand on Tala's arm. The next day at lunch, Tala told her about the harem bath. "Twice a week, we all take over the pool area. We bathe each other and swim, but we mostly just talk and have fun. We're going there next, and you won't need a suit." Shortly, they hung up their robes, joining seven other naked beauties, swimming and bathing. Raisa felt every eye on her as they traipsed across the room. She realized that they were seeing her body for the first time, so she tried to walk a little more elegantly. It must have looked silly, as Tala gave her a friendly elbow. "Just relax. Let's swim first! Race you for five laps?" The race was even for about three laps, then Raisa slowly pulled ahead. "OK, OK, you win! Slow down and swim with me.!" As they slipped through the water, they heard a mixture of laughter and chatter from the other pool. They finished together and headed for the bathing pool. Swimming in the nude was always mildly arousing for Raisa. Several pairs of women were washing each other and giggling. One was using a razor between the other's parted legs. "Isa, they like us to check our smoothies here, and they don't mind if we do more. Lie back and I'll show you. Tala started rubbing and pinching around her pussy. Raisa self-consciously looked around and saw two other pairs in the same erotic position. One had her feet on her partner's shoulders. Soon the grunts and groans of an orgasm echoed off the water, triggering a feeling in Raisa that soon blossomed into a full climax. They relaxed and caught their breath. Tala brought her face right up to Isa's ear and faintly whispered, "You owe me two, sweets. You can pay me the second one later." By the time Tala gasped out her orgasm, two other women had also reached their pinnacle. The pool had an unmistakable smell of female sex. In another part of the building, Master watched the women tend to each other in fascination. His voyeuristic fetish had produced a raging erection. "Master," Alina whispered, "I have a nice warm tub drawn for you. Let's finish in there." 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 12: Lisa They stepped in, and she began to wash him, but he couldn't wait. He pushed her onto her knees and viciously entered her from behind, causing Alina considerable pain. He lasted fewer than a dozen strokes before erupting into her and collapsing onto her back. "I know I hurt you. I got carried away. I hope you are all right." Alina knew that this passed for his apology. "Sorry" was not often in his vocabulary, especially with women. That was for weaker men. After bathing, he lay on the bed enjoying her loving massage. She knew her pain would subside in a day or two and that they would not speak of it again. Later in the evening, Tala and Raisa were browsing through a few books in the room. They kept glancing at each other. Finally, Tala moved closer and started whispering. "Wait til lights out. Alina never stops in after that. Today was great!" She lowered her voice even more. "There's a reason they let us do all that in the pool. Master has cameras in there, and he gets off watching us. I've been with him a couple times while he watched, and it just drives him wild." Tala leaned over to nibble on her ear. "Umm, if we were all in the pool, who was with him today?" "Alina. They go way back, and she gets him. Anything she has us do in training is something she has done with him. All the submissive stuff, the kneeling, offering yourself, a little spanking, and, of course, the rubber cocks are all stuff they cooked up. Oh, and by the way, I was with him when we watched you come all over that thing" Tala lightly kissed her neck. "Wait, spanking? I didn't know about that. Has he paddled you?" "Sure, but he just uses his hand, and it's not too bad. Master isn't into bondage or pain. He has this domination thing. I guess we're pretty lucky that he's not violent. And he almost always gets you off. No complaint there." Raisa had a gleam in her eye. "Let's get ready for bed." Almost at the instant the lights went out, Raisa crawled over to Tala's side. They started with a long, deep kiss, then Isa started a whispered exchange. "Alina said we were not lesbians." "We're not. Get busy." Isa moved down, kissing Tala's nipples as she traveled. "It's really dark down here. I'll have to inspect you by touch." "Mmmmm. I think you found it." Tala stretched one leg out and put the other on Isa's back. "Ahhh!" She kissed around the bare pussy and timidly put her tongue out. The taste was a little salty, a little vinegary, but not surprising, as every girl tastes herself at some point in life. She began a light lick along her slit. Each stroke went a little deeper. "Ahhh! Ohh. That's it." Raisa's nose and chin were getting slick. "Mmmmm." Tala reached down and guided her head a bit upwards. "Ahh, yes, right there." Raisa started a rapid strumming motion on her exposed button. Tala started squirming and panting. The delicious feeling came to a boil as her climax washed over her. The tongue contact became overwhelming. Tala tried to push Isa's head away, only succeeding in slowing the assault. Raisa's flagging tongue finally stopped, and she moved to rest her head on Tala's breast as their breathing slowed. "Get up, dearie. My turn to wash you all over." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ As in all of life, days in the harem may go slow, but the months and years go fast. Within a few months' time, Ishamel and Kiah were sporting bright colors and Raisa had settled into a routine with Tala. Twice, Master had called both women to his room, putting them in submissive poses and having them crawl to his bed. By morning, he and both women were highly satisfied. With the two new admissions, there were now 12 in the harem, and they all looked forward to the bathing times. The room filled with women in various states of undress, coming and going. Gossip and laughs competed with backbiting and glares over petty jealousies. Tala described it as a hormonal jungle of chattering birds. A few of the older women had a somewhat higher stature in the group, and could stop a minor quarrel with a glance. The younger ones would usually accept the admonishment, instead of asking Alina to settle a squabble. There were always a few women missing at each bathing session. There was a centuries-old aversion in this culture to a girl's monthlies, and these women would often isolate themselves for the week. Toward the end of each bathing session, one of the older women would get quiet for a moment. This was a signal that traversed the pool. Under the pretense of shaving, those who wanted additional stimulation would begin the pleasant pastime, observing the oft-repeated caveat: "Our mouth belongs to Master." The chatter would die down, replaced by purrs and whimpers of arousal. Kiah still resisted this public display and Ishamel would usually take her back to their room for a private session. On one occasion, as Master watched these two stimulate each other, Alina idly remarked that regular orgasms were a real morale booster for the girls. He nodded, but couldn't quite get his answer out as he grunted his ejaculation into Alina's hand. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ One afternoon, Alina walked into the pool area and selected a chair. She motioned that the women should get dressed and sit around her. Contrary to her usual even temper, they noticed a serious demeanor about her. "Ladies, I think you would all agree that under the circumstances, we have a pretty good life here." Tala glanced at Isa with a look that said, "This isn't going to be good." Alina continued. "Master is pleased with each of you in this group, but there has been some trouble outside this circle. There has been theft and an attempt to smuggle goods out of the compound. Also, one of your former members tried to flood the kitchen in a fit of temper. "Master and I dealt with this quite severely. He is going to speak to everyone inside and outside this building about these provocations, and there is more discipline to be meted out." This comment caused a commotion among the women. It seemed that each one looked at every other one for signs of guilt. "Ladies, wait. I am not here to accuse anyone, and not one of you has done anything wrong. In fact, just the opposite. Please, relax. I need to enlist your help in a quite rare situation. Our Master is in a foul mood. He feels betrayed by those close to him. I dare not even mention what his actions have been in the last few days. I have a plan to raise his spirits and demonstrate our loyalty and submission to him. "Master is going to visit us in a few days, and we are going to fulfill his wildest flights of fancy as a group of subservient, adoring women. All of us have been with him, and we know he loves women. I have seen each of you leave his room after a sleepless night, exhausted, but smiling. Am I right?" There were many nods and murmurs of assent, along with some wide-eyed wonderment at what was to follow. Tala spoke first. "Alina, I think we are all with you. Please tell us what we are to do." "Thank you, Tala. Would you please come up and face the group? I would like you to model our little demonstration for us. I have only told him that he will come in for a kind of inspection. As he faces each of us, we will go through our submissive postures for him. We are going to choreograph a little performance." "We will start with boxed elbows and we will be wearing brightly colored long gowns with a sash. As he faces you, move your arms up and drop your dress to your waist. Tala?" Tala slipped the robe off her shoulders, baring her breasts. She put her hands behind her neck, pushing her chest out. Over the next hour and a half, they practiced the seductive moves they would make as Master traveled down the line. When Alina was satisfied, she noticed their copious perspiration and sent them back to the pool. She left the room, knowing that the repeated erotic display of their bodies might prompt a few to pair up again. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Alina's command performance commenced in the cleared dining hall one evening. A red fabric backdrop framed the scene. Ten women, dressed in blues, reds, purples, greens and oranges awaited Master. Two were excused for personal reasons. Master walked in and faced the first girl. "Ibra." He towered more than a foot above her. "Thank you." She gracefully lowered her wrap and smiled. "Master." He made an unexpected move and gave her a light hug. After a second's hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against him. He repeated his response with each one. "Anila." "Ishamel." He kissed the last few and started his sensual tour again. This time, each one slowly untied the sash, dropped her garment to the floor, bent down to arrange it in a bright circle around her and moved into a spread-out kneel, hands on thighs. Alina watched her ten charges complete their group posture of complete, beautiful surrender. She noticed Master's rapt attention. As he walked down the line again, each one spread her knees a bit wider. She walked over to him and motioned him to step back a few feet. As one, the women moved into a semi-circle around him. Ibra lowered her face to the floor and stretched her hands gracefully toward him. Anila kept her knees spread, and leaned back to form an arch, her hands near her ankles, and her legs touching Ibra's outstretched arms. Alternating, five girls formed what they knew as the "worship" position while the others formed the "bow." Master took in the erotic tableau for long, silent moments. Some in the backward arch started trembling from the strain. Visibly moved, he whispered something in Alina's ear and strode from the hall. "Please relax, ladies. You had a perfect performance!" Each one quickly sat up with knees tightly together. Though it was demanded of them often, no woman liked to display herself in such a demeaning manner. "I am so grateful, and Master is as well. I believe we have accomplished our task. Please dress and go reward yourselves with a nice bubble bath or something. Then return here in two hours for a big feast. Again, thank you!" "Tala and Raisa, please stay for a moment." Both wore red on this day. They sat again at Alina's feet. "Master is euphoric if you get my meaning. He asked me to pick any two of you to send to his room. I know you will represent us well. Please clean up quickly and go to him. Just continue the dance. Offer yourselves completely. Thank you." They quickly walked toward their room. A tear formed on Raisa's cheek. "So this is our life, Tala?" Tala wiped off the tear with a tender kiss. She took Raisa's hand as she opened the door. "Yes, dear one, but don't think of it that way. We have each other, and he brought us together. We're just going off to thank him!" End of Lisa, Part 12 Dear Readers: My co-author, J Spe, and I enjoy your comments. Please watch for new adventures of the former guests of Blue Bayou. Follow each captive by name: Autumn, Julie, Lisa. Carole99 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 13: Juli Author's Note: Julie, Our Heroine, has just performed for a government Minister and is now delivered back to the staff kitchen. She has been too "occupied" to think about whether she performed well or badly, and certainly has not thought about the intelligence she was supposed to elicit. This will now be "rectified." J Spe, coauthor ***** My Minister greets Anne and Pat, my trainers, with a friendly smile. "Well, ladies, thank you for waiting up for us. Usually, these constituency visits are dull, but tonight has been quite the opposite. Now, I'm sure you have a question or two for me?" I am shocked speechless, which just shows how much training I'm going to need to carry off this First Lady stuff. Anne, however, moves smoothly into the breach. "Sir, you know, of course, that our Enterprises have real estate all over the Territory. Mostly, they are in places well-served by the MTR, but some are here on the south side of the island. We keep hearing about extending some lines to the south, but no construction seems to get going." Clearly, Minister is prepared for this topic. He rattles off the names of several committees and companies that have been asked for proposals. He mentions "budget battles" a few times. He winds up the mini-lecture with the observation that a short line, naming just a few stations, might be in the cards in the next year or two. From the grins that Anne and Pat are showing, this is exactly what my Master wanted to learn. We escort him to the elevator lobby and he is gone. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Seventeen: De-Briefing and Corrections Not ready when Minister asked for questions. Not able to hold the position. Tinkled the chains/not understanding the cleaning position. Balanced by return NOT in transport mode. I am thinking of what I was supposed to do and how I measured up. Back in the kitchen, I start cleaning up after our "coffees" when Pat and Anne tell me "Just let that go for a moment, Julie. We need to know what you said that put the Minister so on guard at the start." I'm startled by their question. I explain that I had given the line suggested by my Inner Goddess and he laughed, promising to have me fainting from laughter. My trainers ask the question again, from a different perspective, and I remember my chagrin, covered by a chuckle which led to Minister's question and my answer. Pat's expression shows displeasure with my chagrin: clearly, I hadn't been thinking with Master at the center of my universe, had I? "Your conversation may have seemed light-hearted and immaterial to you," Pat says, "but the idea of 'keeping you laughing' was so unexpected, so unusual, that it set off his suspicions of a trap. Ministers don't usually sniff around a room, turning on lights and such. We don't know if he found any of our bugs or cameras, but he was clearly not going to say anything in that room." "Then, why was he so talkative and forthcoming later in the kitchen?" My trainers look at me with amazement clearly written on their faces. "Please, Ma'am, this slave doesn't understand. It all seemed so ordinary, so routine. Just a bit of banter back and forth. This situation is not like anything I've been in before. Please, explain what's been going on; this slave just doesn't understand." By the time I've gotten these words out, I'm wailing and sobbing. My mind is in a whirl and the only thing I can think of is a single word: de-accession. Anne wraps me in her arms and strokes my back, the calming gestures that I've come to crave from my trainers. It takes a bit of time, but I gradually gain some self-control. "Hush, Julie," she says, no tone of anger in her voice. "There's no permanent harm done, so there's no great crime here. Pat and I just need more details so we can work out the triggers and responses." Pat picks up, also without anger in her voice. "Julie, look at it this way. You come from a brand new country, with not much in the way of tradition. Most everything is informal, on-the-fly. Now, however, you're in an ancient country, with traditions thousands of years in the making. These people are used to regular ways of doing things. Every move, every comment, every facial expression is expected to follow these rules. They don't expect banter. And, the idea of him keeping you laughing is inconceivable." I'm beginning to catch on. The old cliché about the "inscrutable Orient" comes to mind. I tell this to my trainers, and they nod and smile in agreement. Anne releases her embrace and motions for me to kneel. "I suspect that, by the time he brought you to the kitchen, he had categorized you as just another 'crazy American' and not smart enough to entice him to reveal the information we wanted from him. It was, therefore, simply expedient for him to ask us what we wanted. It posed no problems for him, so he gave us some information. It's enough for us to start tapping our other sources for details." Pat catches my chin and turns my head to face her. "A slave has no right to feel — what did you call it? — chagrin? You reacted to your own feeling with a trigger that set off our Minister's suspicions. This is not acceptable. Master's slaves meet a higher standard in controlling their behavior. Now, that is a crime and your trainers will discuss your correction. Now, Transport Mode!" The command is so curt that, for an instant, I don't understand, don't react. Just before Anne can grasp my arm to bring me upright with hands behind, I manage to scramble into position. The handcuffs click on, just a click too tight, I sense, and I am marched to my room. I am as terrified as I was on Blue Bayou, but I manage to hold onto one idea: I will be corrected, but not de-accessioned. I am taken out of Transport Mode and quickly strip and manage to hang or fold the clothes Master's Enterprises have provided. After a quick trip to the toilet, I lie down on the bed. That is when I notice the absence of any pillow. My "correction" has, at least in part, started. Pat takes my left wrist and cuffs it to the bed. Through to the click of the door lock, not a word has been said. I understand. None are needed. I manage to get to sleep but the click of the door lock awakens me after just an hour. Pat comes to the bedside, takes my right wrist and imprisons it, pairing it with the already chained left. In a second, she is gone. But, of course, she returns two more times during the night, during which each of my ankles is cuffed and chained to the bed. I am a bit stretched, and not at all sleepy in this position. The morning adds some humiliation to the discomfort of my correction. Pat arrives with a bedpan, instructs me to lift my bottom so it can be placed, and waits for me to relieve my bladder. I respond to the "Lift up" command and the utensil is removed. Pat dumps the contents in the toilet and I hear the pan washed. Pat's departure is signaled only by the click of the door lock. In just a few minutes, I catch on that this "correction" will also involve missing breakfast. I also miss lunch. I am so grateful to see Igor's grinning face that I don't see the small whip he is carrying. However, I know enough to wait for his opening greeting before spouting anything. "We think you might have had enough time to get your focus back on Master as the center of your universe. Are we right?" My answer doesn't gush right out. My trainer has asked a serious question. I do the deep breath thing and put my thoughts in order. "Yes, Sir. This slave thanks its trainers for this silent period so that it can bring Master again to the center of its universe." I have given quite a bit of thought to this statement, including whether to add a promise to never lose that focus again. In the end, I decided that might not be possible — the Associates at the law firm always thought I was the headstrong one. I'd worked on that sentence ever since my first ankle was cuffed to the bed. I wait to see if it hits the right note for my trainers. Apparently, it does. Igor nods and says, "Yes, we thought the time away from any distractions would be helpful. Now, consider your behavior with the chains the Minister used to stretch you so beautifully." It takes me a moment to remember that, after Minister had been satiated, I'd tinkled the chains so he'd free me to clean him. Actually, he'd just moved a bit and presented himself to me while I remained in position, the position he'd wanted captured in a photograph. Igor asks, "Can you describe your error for me?" I replay my thoughts about making noise with the chains, and how it was entirely unnecessary. I am embarrassed, but manage to squeak out an answer for my trainer. "Please, Sir. We were lying together after the Minister was finished, and I remembered how important it is to never leave a Master unclean. I wanted to move to clean him. Instead, he moved and presented himself and the cleaning went without my needing to be freed." Igor nods thoughtfully and adds, "So, why are your trainers so upset by this mere snippet of your action?" Now that I'm looking at it from a Master's point of view, it seems obvious. "Please, Sir, this slave should not have asked or signaled to Master to do something. A Good Slave does not direct its Master. A Good Slave waits until its Master orders the slave. Igor's grin widens. "Exactly so, my dear. Now, you seem to be in a very close approximation to the position you were in at the time of your, let us say, indiscretion. Thus, it is symmetrical to administer your correction at this time. You will count the strokes, right?" I barely realize what is happening but manage to gasp out a quick "Yes, Sir" before his whip lays a stripe across my thighs. It burns like fire, but the chains prevent me from curling away from it. I almost scream out the count, "One, Sir, may I have another?" Igor complies, this time across my abdomen. Along with the count, I have the crazy thought that the diet and exercises my trainers have had me on had slimmed this area of a few pounds of "baby fat." Igor works his single-tail whip upwards, putting stripes on my abdomen, chest, and across each breast. Finally, he stops the slashes and leans down to nip playfully at each nipple. I am surprised to find them both fully erect, even with the fire of the whipmarks so close. I have screamed with the pain from each stripe, but there was no crying or sobbing or pleading. What have these trainers made me into? "I think these stripes and this position will provide some food for thought?" Igor's eyes show his interest in my reply. I manage a very sincere, "Yes, Sir," and then cannot suppress a giggle. Before Igor can get upset over this extraordinary response, I rush out an answer. "Please, Sir, your 'food for thought' just looked like a replacement for breakfast and lunch." Igor allows a small chuckle and informs me that someone will be by to get me ready for dinner this evening. I'm dying (figuratively speaking, of course) to see the first whip marks I've earned in my slavery, but I know better than to ask for a mirror. The marks will be there, probably a bit more colored, when my trainers believe it is time for me to be freed for dinner. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Eighteen: The Legend It is after the Round-up, and both Pat and Anne had used me to help them relax, although from the moans and screams and writhing around, I didn't think they got much relaxation. I am curious that neither Master nor Igor has called for me. It isn't that I am jealous of whomever they are with — at least, I don't want to think that — but I am curious. OK, so maybe I am a bit put out that they aren't calling for my "services." After a few more days, I must be giving off some signs of upset, because Anne braces me during a snack, saying, "OK, kid, what's bugging you?" Diplomatic, right? I blush and look down. Such submissive behavior is usually a good idea when a slave is answering her trainer. Anne isn't fooled for a second. She grabs my chin and forces me to look into her eyes. Thankfully, they are more curious than fierce. "Please, Ma'am, I just don't understand. The Round-up is over and all that stress is gone, but Master hasn't called for me at all. Igor hasn't, either. What am I doing wrong, Ma'am?" Anne's face breaks out into a wide grin, which confuses me more, although it is much better than a frown. "Kid, you're not doing anything wrong. Matter of fact, Master said he rather liked all the things you did during Round-up. Said it was very helpful. So, stop worrying, OK?" So, OK, I'm not in trouble. Still, a girl likes to get those calls, you know? My face must have shown this feeling, because Anne gives a short laugh and adds, "Slave, here's part of your slavery you haven't absorbed yet. Slaves get told what they need to know when Masters and trainers want them to know it. You just keep on keeping Master at the center of your universe and you'll be fine." She pauses, as if for an effect. "You do remember about Curiosity and the Cat?" She seems to be making a joke, but I have learned enough about slavery to know that, for a Master, it is only a split second between a joke and reality. I take my usual deep breath and get myself back in focus. When it is proper time, I'd be told. Proper time comes about two hours later, after I'd shepherded a visiting dignitary and his aides through his meeting with Master and his aides. Master signals for me to return after the farewells. I make it back upstairs in record time, kneeling before him in perfect position. "Julie," he begins, his voice not giving anything away, "it is time for you to learn about an ancient Chinese tradition. Do you know about the phases of the moon?" WHAT! Talk about coming from left field! I get over my startle and manage something about learning about the moon in High School. Master beams! I am all right! "Very good. Now, do you know what phase we're in just now?" I am so not all right! Master can tell even before I manage some feeble excuse. He chuckles a bit. Now, I'm scared. Master's slave had failed something and, now, Master is chuckling? I can only think he's enjoying the prospect of seeing me "corrected" in some horrible and painful manner. Suddenly, I'm not breathing so easily. Master pets my head, moving his hand down my neck and over my back, just the way he knows I like it. Actually, it's the way he trained me to like it. "Julie, relax for a moment. Most women, nowadays, don't keep up with the moon. When it was more important to keep up with their cycles, then they had a reason to watch every evening. "Actually, we're into the waxing gibbous phase now." I'm impressed, but my expression must have shown I had no idea what waxing a gibbous was. Master's smile shows he understands. "That means that the moon is in its first half, the half when it's growing larger, fuller. After the full moon, when the moon is getting slimmer, we call that the waning gibbous phase. Understand?" That question I know. "Yes, Master, I understand. Waxing is growing and waning is getting smaller." "Now," Master continues, "because of the legend of Let's Fuck All the Virgins, both Igor and I aren't calling for your services. In a few days, when the moon passes Full, I'm sure you'll be called. Does that reassure you?" My grin and my "Yes, Master," get me another pet. I rise with the grace Anne and Igor have trained into my muscles and fairly float out of Master's office. Of course, as soon as I get into the hallway, I realize that I really don't understand. What's this ancient Chinese legend of Let's Fuck All the Virgins? I only know two Chinese here at Master's Base. Charles is nowhere to be found, but Edward is in his office. I let Anne know where I'm going and present myself to Master's lieutenant, folding into my kneeling position with all the grace I can muster. If I'm going to try to extract information from the man, I figure I'd be wise to "soften him up" with some feminine wiles. Edward sees through my wiles. "Nice position, Julie. Now, what brings you here in such a rush? Unless I miss my guess, Master must have said something to you?" It's an opening! "Yes, Sir," I start, using my "conspiratorial" tone of voice. "Please, Sir, Master wants me to research something. "Master was scoping out some activities for the next few days and mentioned something that was controlling them." OK, there's a bit of misdirection there, but Master did mention "a few days," didn't he? Edward cocks an eyebrow, a trait I know means he is intrigued. "Indeed? Well now, let's see." He thinks for a moment and a faint smile warms his face. "Given one clue about a few days and another about controlling events, the only factor I can think of would be the moon." "Yes," I interrupt. "He said we'd have to wait until the waxing gibbous got to be a waning gibbous, just after the Full Moon phase." In the time it takes me to get that one sentence out, I realize my act of interruption is going to rate me a "correction." I push that unfortunate idea down and ask, "Please, Sir, Master also referred to an ancient Chinese legend —." "That must be the legend of Let's Fuck All the Virgins?" Edward is allowed to interrupt a slave. "Yes, Sir, that's the name he gave me to research." Well, that might be a bit of overstatement, but, hey, when you're extracting intelligence, doesn't a lawyer get to lead the witness a bit? Edward leans back in his chair, tents his fingers in front of his lips, and considers. Then, "Do your trainers know where you are?" "Yes, Sir. I told Anne I was coming here to ask you about something." "All right, then. Prepare a pot of tea for us. It will take a bit of time to put you exactly in the picture. I'll do a telephone call while it brews." I'm back upstairs to our kitchen putting the kettle on when Anne comes in. "Slave," she says, and I know I did something not according to proper procedure. Immediately, I am kneeling one meter before her, my head down in submission. I don't have long to wait. "You said you needed to consult with Edward. Now, you're back, and without reporting in?" This has got to be my Lucky Day! My trainer is asking a question, giving me an opening to present my excuse for the indiscretion. I try, "Please, Ma'am, Master said some things that needed research and Edward said it would take some time and to brew a pot of tea to cover that time." As Anne considers my "report," which sort of hangs in the air for the present, I can see how much embellishment I have done on a few simple remarks. A cliché suggests itself: Boy, am I on thin ice! Anne whips out — OK, maybe that's not a good phrase — her cellphone, taps a key, and says, "Hello, Edward. Julie tells me you're going to help her with some research? Would it be convenient for me to join you for the discussion?" She listens for a moment, a grin spreads across her face, she says Thank you, and replaces the cellphone. "Make the pot large enough for three." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ As I bring the tea service into Edward's office, Anne and Edward are already seated around the conference table, where a plate of cookies is waiting. I pour the cups, taking extra care this afternoon not to spill a drop. Anne takes an envelope of sweetener; Edward has two lumps of sugar. I file this for future reference. Edward nods his permission for Master's slave to have a cup of tea. Everyone looks comfortable and Edward tells us the ancient Chinese legend of Let's Fuck All the Virgins. Once upon a time, in the land east of the sun and west of the moon, there was an Emperor who was beloved by his people for his kind and just rule. Because of this, he was also beloved of the gods who ruled the universe and they gave him the promise of a long life. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 13: Juli This Emperor, of course, had only the most beautiful, most graceful, most talented slaves in his 词, his castle. Naturally, the three finest of these served in his 词, his harem. When the time finally came for the Emperor to die, he blessed the three slaves in his harem with the promise of a long life. The gods were so impressed by this act of compassion that they extended his blessing into a life of eternal youth and vitality. The heir to the Emperor, after a proper period of mourning, entered the harem and adopted the three slaves as his own. And his heir also did so. In just a few generations, it became known to all that these three slaves were truly blessed, and the reputation of the Emperor's harem grew with each generation of heirs. Of course, the world is always turning, and the Emperor's land eventually came under attack by the barbarians. It was a hard war and the Emperor's forces fought bravely, but unsuccessfully. The castle was captured and the barbarians ran wild through its myriad of rooms. Tapestries were slashed. Delicate china plates were smashed. Crystals were broken. At last, on the night of the new moon, the horde broke into the harem and captured the three slaves. As is proper for the conquerors of a harem, each slave was examined by a knowledgeable physician. Each was found to be a virgin. The barbarian chieftain found this inconceivable. Virgins in a harem? Virgins whose talents had been extolled for generations? It was a circumstance that demanded an explanation. The ministers of the land could not make the barbarians understand the history of the harem slaves, starting with the Old Emperor, his people's love for him, and the gods' love for him and, in the proper time, his harem slaves. The concept was foreign. Now, everyone knows that proper barbarian procedures for developing an explanation include torture. After all, isn't that what makes them barbarians? In the end, the barbarians tortured the harem slaves from the new moon until the full moon. The gods supported the harem slaves and, on the night when the moon had lost just the slightest bit of fullness and when the barbarian chief was lying drunk at a celebration, they transported the souls of the three virgins directly to heaven, leaving only their bodies, lying as if asleep. Eventually, the barbarian chief awoke. He was invigorated, as they say. He turned to his aides and spoke the fateful words: "Let's Fuck All the Virgins." Instantly erect, the crowd rampaged through the castle and down to the dungeons, where they fell on the virgins, only to find them lovely but lifeless. Limp with defeat, the barbarian chieftain became a target for the enraged crowd. His end was much quicker than the trials he had ordered for the virgins. In the land, chaos reigned for a decade, until a new Emperor arose, filled his people with a sense of honor and purpose, and rebuilt the land. And that is why, to this day, the cognoscenti understand that the time from the new moon until the full moon is not the time to welcome a new slave into one's harem. One must wait until the proper time, the time of the waning of the moon before one can fuck the virgins. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Silence fills Edward's office as Anne and I contemplate the lesson of the legend. For my part, that my Master would maintain such a lofty ideal for his slave is terribly endearing. After a proper period, Anne punches Edward's shoulder and thanks him for expounding the legend to us. I gather the tea service and we return to the kitchen. I know it is not the place of a slave to start a conversation with a trainer, but I must let some feelings, some words, out. I kneel before my trainer, my head not bent in submission. Anne immediately recognizes my need. "Slave, do you wish to speak?" Her tone is soft and gentle. I nod. "You may speak, slave." "Please, Ma'am, I need your advice. Now that I understand Master's observance of the proprieties, is it in order for his slave to tell him of her understanding, of her elevated opinion of him, of her resolve to wait on Master until it pleases him?" Anne has no trouble with my question. "Slave, I am astonished that you could even think such thoughts! Do you not understand that such thoughts show how far from the center of your universe you are carrying your Master? Master mentioned the legend; he trusts that you will learn about the legend. Does a Master worry about the opinion of his slave? Does a Master doubt that his slave will be ready at all times to serve? Have you learned nothing from the hours Igor and I have talked to you, worked with you?" Anne stops, but the tide of disbelief mixed with anger continues to pour from her. I am devastated. My trainer's few sentences have exposed how flimsy is my understanding of this new Path in Life. My questions all came from my ideas, my needs. They didn't come from my appreciation of what my Master needed or wanted. It was my pride that generated that speech. Truly, the old axiom about Pride has led to my fall. I am certain that my correction will be instantaneous and severe. Perhaps even de-accessioning? It is too horrible to contemplate. I fall forward, grasping my trainer's ankles. Unbelievable! I have touched my trainer! I am wracked with sobs, disconsolate, inconsolable. And yet, my trainer withholds her hand, the hand that has variously dealt me taps to teach positions and movements, up to fierce slashes with her crop. We maintain the tableau for long seconds. At last, Anne prods me up to a kneeling position and I strive to make the position, at least, perfect for her. Minutes pass with no words spoken. My trainer is wise! She is allowing me to bring my emotions, my raging "flight or fight" hormones, under control. Silently, I weep for such care! "Julie, I want you to look at me. I am going to explain something to you and I want you to understand this perfectly." Her tone is flat, unemotional. The caring tones are gone. Slowly, I manage to look up at her. Her face is calm, with no hint of anger, or even of disappointment. "Julie, it is clear that, now, you understand your error. Truly, this was a great crime against Master, against Igor, against me. Clearly, where there is a crime, there must be a correction. However, a good Master never decides on a correction in the heat of the moment. Your Master and his trainers will discuss your crime and assess your correction. When your Master feels it is appropriate, you will be told and your correction dispensed. If the lesson is learned, you will return with a clean slate. In the interim, you will return to the room Master has given you and you will remain there, out of our sight. Do you understand? That question is like the crack of doom. Banished. Out of sight. In the room Master has given, no longer "my" room. I have barely enough energy to whisper, "Yes, Ma'am. Out of sight. Thank you, Ma'am." The steps to the room seem interminable. The door is open and I contemplate the bed. No! I don't rate lying on such a facility provided by such a Master. I crumple to the floor, tired beyond belief, and sink into the darkness. I don't know when, but at some time, Pat appears with a slice of dark bread and a glass of water. I recognize the rations from Navy Regulations on punishment of enlisted sailors. When the meal is consumed, I hear the clicks as Pat locks one wrist to a leg of the bed. The door lock clicks as Pat leaves, no words spoken. The silence and the clicks of the locks have been eloquent. Tears fall afresh and I descend again into the darkness. ***** Author's Note: Our Heroine must wait until her Master and her trainers decide on her correction. Your patience is entreated for, I hope, just a short time until the next Scene is ready, possibly before the next New Moon. If you have any suggestions, of course, please send them along. J Spe and Carole99 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 14: Julie Author's note: Our Heroine, having committed a crime against her Master, awaits her correction. This Scene describes how she comports herself and her trainers' reactions. Then, a new Force appears. J Spe, co-author Chapter Nineteen: Correction The door lock awakens me, but however long I slept has not refreshed me. My Master and Igor enter, with Igor holding another slice of bread and glass of water. My Master's face is calm, but without any expression. Igor sets the rations before me, and I manage to consume the meal. There is not enough joy in me to say I manage to "eat" the meal. I express my thanks for the meal silently, with just my facial expression and eyes downcast in submission. My Master sighs softly and says, "Julie, we have come to a correction for your loss of concentration on what should be at the center of your universe. We hope you will learn from this." He strokes my neck and back a few times, then turns and leaves. I am overjoyed that he has not sentenced me, his slave, to de-accessioning. The correction has not been described, but I am resolved to survive it and, certainly, learn from it. Igor pokes about in the dresser, finally coming up with a length of chain that ends in a large hook. The end is rounded, slightly smaller than the size of a table-tennis ball. "Julie," Igor starts, and I rush to assume a proper kneeling position. "This is an anal hook. It is designed to go into your bottomhole without any damage. Today, we're going to use it to fill your ass and give you something to focus on, something you can center your attention on." I had read about such an implement some time ago, but had never seen — or ever thought I would see — a real one. Igor waits while I look at the instrument for a few moments. As he turns it over so I can inspect it from all sides, it becomes clear why this will be part of my correction. This would enter the axis of my body, its very center. I would be forced to focus on its intrusion into my core, my center. Igor notes the slight wry smile that twists my lips. "It seems that you see the symmetry between this instrument of correction and your crime," he says. "Do you remember the nightmare you had your first night here? You have lost your Master from the center of your universe. We will make this the center of your universe until you realize that having Master at your center is preferable. We will, of course, be patient with you. You may take as long as you wish to come to this realization." My trainer points to the bedpost harboring my restraint, and I back up to it. He applies a bit of lube to the ball at the end of the hook and, slowly and steadily, forces it past my sphincter, the muscle closing my anal canal. Stretching the muscle, it finally pops into my canal; the ball will now hold it inside me. Igor runs the chain up to the top of the bedpost, and I lean up against the post to ease to strain. Igor nods thoughtfully and lets an inch or two back before securing the chain. He checks the dresser again and retrieves a leather collar, which he fastens around my neck. Another short chain snubs my neck to the foot of the other bedpost, taking up all the slack in the first chain. I am on all fours now, with no freedom of movement at all. The hook has an insistent call, and my mind has no other focus than this center of my being, my universe. Igor takes the plate and glass from my rations when he leaves. Master's slave is neatly presented to the silence of contemplation. The first thoughts seek for any erotic sensation. The hook is not slender, and my canal feels full, but there is no pleasure from the fullness. I wonder how near the sensation of the hook is to the anal penetration of a cock. Nobody has asked, but I am still a virgin in that hole. In the end, however, I cannot but come back to the symmetry of the hook in my center and my Master at the center of my universe. Igor, of course, never even hinted at how long this scene would last, just that they "will be patient." When Anne comes with my next ration of bread and water, she surveys my chains and then unlocks the hook and collar from their stations. I freeze in position, not wanting to give any sign of displeasure to my trainer. She circles a hand, and I switch end-for-end, confused. Simple, actually. She just exchanged bedposts, and I am now tethered facing the opposite direction. The vista is not exciting. I raise one knee out to the side, attempting to mimic the canine motion for urinating. Anne grins her understanding and, in a moment, a bowl appears into which I splash my relief. A moment later, the door click signals the end of this visit. Not a word was spoken, but that sixth sense that develops between a slave and her trainers tells me that they are satisfied with the way I'm performing this correction. In a way, I'm proud that I am able to sense this without spoken words. The import of this hits me minutes later. I am adjusting, I am accepting, I am becoming the slave Master purchased at auction on the deck of the yacht Blue Bayou. For some time, I cannot think. Then, my only thought is that I am learning what it means to say that "Master is at the center of this slave's universe." Anne and Igor bring me my rations of bread and water for two more meals, switching me between the bedposts each time. At the second meal, I rearrange myself without instruction, anxious to show compliance with my trainers. Good idea, right? Wrong. Igor laughs and waves me away from the bed. "Thank you," he says, "that was the move we were waiting for. You've passed the first part of this correction. Now, we move a bit up the scale." He removes all my restraints and decorations, except for the anal hook. He has me wrap a bungee cord twice around my waist and fixes a short chain to the cord from the hook, holding it in place. I am told to fold a bath towel lengthwise into quarters, tuck one end under the bungee cord in front, pass the towel between my legs, and tuck the other end under the cord at my back. I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror and see that my feminine center is well-covered. Igor gently inserts his hand under the towel and determines that I am not lubricating. Well, what slave would be during a correction? "All right," Igor says reassuringly. "Your next appointment is with me in the gym. Transport mode!" My hands fly to the handcuff position without thought, and we move out of the bedroom my Master has assigned me and down to the gym. I am aware that, except for the towel, I am walking through Master's apartment naked. In a few moments, I am also aware of the gentle movements of the anal hook, still in my center. The sensations are not painful, but, as I am led down the stairs, I begin to feel some heat building between my legs. By the time we reach the gym, I am beginning to lubricate. With the warm-up stretches, the hook is less stimulating, and I begin to hope I can complete this portion of my correction without further arousal. "Julie, your aerobic work today is a few miles on the treadmill. There will be a few hills to climb and a few speed changes, but nothing you haven't already done. Piece of cake, right?" I'm not as certain as my trainer seems to be, but my response is easy. "Yes, Sir, piece of cake." Igor starts the treadmill slowly, and I quickly fall into a comfortable gait. There is some rubbing of the towel against my pussy, but it is not painful. However, as the treadmill demands a faster pace, and especially when my trainer adds a small incline angle, I realize that the long loops with zero-twist yarn of extra-long-staple combed Turkish cotton that make the towel dense but fluffy are quite like fingers stroking sensitive skin. After a few minutes, the warmth in my core starts to build. I realize that this arousal could build up to a full-scale climax. Would my trainers grant permission for their slave to have a climax? Could this be possible during a correction? My mind is whirling with these considerations as Igor reduces the incline and announces "You're doing fine, my dear. One hill complete." It's as if this is a regular, routine session. Thankfully, the forces at work from the Turkish extra-long staple cotton come down with the treadmill angle. I push my worries about an unpermitted climax away and concentrate on my gait and breathing. Soon, another "hill" arrives, one with a steeper incline but my trainer reduces the treadmill speed. The arousal rises, but I push it down successfully. Over the next minutes, I realize that my trainer is varying the treadmill speed and incline in a pattern. He is trying to find the combination that maximizes the stimulation of the towel and hook but does not push past the limits of my endurance and stamina. I remember his expertise in judging equine conformations, where "stamina" was a major component. I worry that this treadmill session will be a competition between my stamina and my arousal. The anal hook is participating actively in stimulating my arousal. The sense of fullness is growing steadily, unlike the variations from the towel. At the 5K mark, about 25 minutes into the run, it is clear that my trainer has found the magic combination to keep my arousal level climbing. It is a battle this slave will not win. I raise a hand, hoping for permission to speak. "Julie," Igor asks, "do you wish to speak?" "Yes, please, Sir," I manage in a less-strong voice than I would like. "Go ahead, slave," he replies. "Please, Sir, may this slave be permitted to climax, Sir?" This comes out in a few gasps. I see a smile trying to crease Igor's face, and he nods, "Yes, my dear, but don't fall off the treadmill if you do." I can't help but giggle at the situation. I'm wearing an anal hook and a Turkish towel for correction as well as stimulation. My trainer has me running on a treadmill as part of a regular exercise session. I'm going to be allowed to cum, but I'm not supposed to fall off the treadmill? Of course, when I do climax, Igor shuts down the treadmill, and I hang on as the waves of feeling shake me from head to toe. Igor sits on the treadmill, gathers me in his arms and holds me safe. The smile he was hiding is now a wide grin. As the orgasm recedes, Igor strokes my neck and back, just the way he and Anne have taught me to like. The thought passes through my mind that, even as a slave has no power, the power exchange does make the Owner responsible for care of the slave. My Owner and trainers have just given me the most powerful orgasm I can recall. I'm not sure how long we rest, but eventually Igor lifts me to my feet. I teeter a bit until I can get some balance, and Igor leads me the gym shower, where he instructs me to undo the bungee cord and remove the towel, now heavy with my juices. He grasps the anal hook and, telling me to bear down, pops the tool from my rectum. I know enough to take the instrument and wash it until it glistens. By that time, Pat has appeared with a short robe for me to wear to return to my room, in Transport Mode as usual. Pat has a small smile on her face as she tells me that my schedule is open until Dinner. She produces a small speech, which I sense is part of a standard protocol, to the point that, with my correction served, my slate is now back to clean. I would be well-advised to ponder the lessons of the correction so as not to require a future correction. I'm sure she's delivered this piece dozens of times, but I listen hard because it's the first time for me. She sees my look of concentration, of course, and breaks out into laughter as soon as the speech is concluded. "Sorry if I rushed through the speech, Julie," she says, "but I've delivered it to so many slaves over the years that it just comes out in a rush. The main point, which I'm sure you heard, is that you are back to a clean slate and this bad time is really over. We all expect never to bring this up in the future." She turns and leaves, the click of the door lock a now-familiar sound. I wonder, for a moment, how far and how long I managed to go on the treadmill, and whether I scored a "good time." Before I can think it through, exhaustion claims me. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Twenty: The Empress The young girl who woke me that first time for my early morning workout wakes me again. She is no longer unsure but waves me to the toilet and into a pair of shorts and a tank top before an authoritative Transport Mode command. Igor greets me with his usual smile, unlocks the handcuffs, and directs me to the machines. I am just through the upper body cycle when a crush of people enter the gym. A glance at my trainer's face shows a startled and somewhat fearful expression. In the time it takes to untangle me from the machine, he has me kneeling in front of an elderly lady, dressed in a white blouse and flowing long skirt. Her face shows the fine lines of a graceful aging process, but her erect posture proclaims no infirmities of age. Her eyes are jet black, bearing an inquisitive gaze at me. Immediately, I recognize that this is a Mistress of great stature. I am thrown into some confusion when I realize that Anne and Pat, my trainers, are also kneeling, one on either side of me. The silence in the room is broken seconds later when my Master bursts into the room, a wide smile on his face and his hands out, ready to embrace the sudden visitor. "Empress," he announces, "how good to see you again! Thank you for coming to visit our humble dwelling." The woman turns slightly, allowing my Master's embrace but not returning it. I sense she is testing my Master, but I have no idea about what. Nevertheless, my Master swoops in and plants a discreet kiss on her cheek. Now, she lets a smile begin to break out as she pushes him away. "Martin, did you think you could keep your new First Lady a secret from me? You didn't call when you returned, and you didn't call after the Project Round-up. You've been quite a bad boy, haven't you?" I nearly faint at the tone of chastisement she is directing at my Master. But, he barely waves a hand in dismissal. "Empress, I would never insult your Intelligence Service by presuming to call you at every little event, would I?" My Master's ready response assures me that he's up to this exchange, and I look up a bit for a better idea of this presence. Immediately, Anne's strong whisper corrects me: "Down, slave!" From the other side, Pat's whisper adds, "Obeisance position, now!" Thank goodness for training! Instantly, I flex forward until my face is almost to the floor, my arms stretched out in front of me. The figure called Empress approaches and slides her shoe under my face. Automatically, I kiss her foot with just enough pressure for her to register my submission. The spicy aroma from the leather of her shoe is a surprise. "I see you have started her training already. We will have to discuss when to present her." I cannot see my Master, but the tone of his reply, easy, relaxed, and friendly, is reassuring to this slave. "Of course, my dear. Would you do me the honor of allowing a Tea Ceremony this morning?" Her reply is instantaneous. "Don't be silly, young man. You men have no idea how much work has to be done to keep life going around here. My staff will set it up." There is a shuffling of feet, and I gather that the Empress, my Master, and an assortment of aides have left. Igor taps my shoulder and says, "Kneel up, slave." I rise to the position and see smiles on the faces of Igor, Pat, and Anne. Igor strokes my head and neck — a maneuver they have taught me to treasure — and Pat starts to explain this event. "That old lady — I guess you could call her the dowager — is about the most powerful lady in our Master's social and business circle. She practically runs high society here on Hong Kong. Many of the cultural institutions have her on their boards, but she's so powerful that she doesn't need to be on any board to get her way. If you're going to be accepted as Master's First Lady, you'll have to satisfy her that you deserve the position. Only when she's satisfied with you will she allow you to be presented. You go first to the ladies and then to the gentlemen. It's almost like a hazing when you apply to a sorority in college." Anne picks up the story. "She goes back to some family that came here with British rule. The story is that she has some ties to British royalty. Whatever the case, she's the chatelaine of society here and now. Nothing happens, as they say, without her imprimatur." Anne pauses for a giggle and adds, "I'll bet one of her aides is, right now, on the phone with one of Master's aides trying to coordinate a calendar for you." There are so many questions swirling in my brain at this new aspect of my life! It is probably lucky for me that I can't sort them out fast enough to ask any, because Igor waves his crop and suggests that this slave still has the larger part of her gym routine to perform. Pat and Anne nod gracefully and leave me to my trainer and the machines. It takes barely a few moments before a slash from Igor's crop tells me something new has been added to my routine. I continue my repetitions while Igor fills me in. "Julie, you've been working on these machines for a couple of weeks, and you've gotten to know the routines very well. Your trainers are all proud of the work you've put in. I've been able to increase some of the resistances and reps for you, and you've moved along very nicely. "With an appearance before the Empress, however, you've got to add another dimension to your work. When she tests you, you've not only got to do the reps, but you've got to do them with beauty, with style. Do you remember our discussion of judging a horse, the ideas of animation, stamina, vigor, alertness, adaptability, attitude, and tractability? The Empress is going to be looking at your stamina, your attitude. You have to show her your eagerness to serve and to serve with beauty in your way of moving." For a moment, I'm not sure exactly what my trainer wants me to do on these machines to show all that. As if he knows exactly what his trainee is thinking, he sets it up for me. "For these exercises, it's not enough to show you can perform the number of reps at the number of kilos resistance. You've got to show your attitude to the routine, to the machines. You've got to make the Empress believe that you love the machines, the routine." I'm beginning to get an idea of the scope of this new assignment when he makes it crystal clear what I am going to do. "Julie, I want you to make love to these machines." The idea is preposterous! Reflexively, I'm about to say something which I'm sure a slave shouldn't say, when my Inner Goddess makes a point. You know how you move when someone is making you aroused, when someone is pushing you to an orgasm, when you're screaming your climax? You really look great at those times. That's the kind of looks and moves he wants you to be doing when the machines are pushing you to activate some muscle group or when you're about to complete a third set of reps on some machine. You feel the exertion; you enjoy the exertion; you enjoy the idea of completing the routine. You look great at those times, and he wants you to let everyone know — to show how great you feel at those times. You'd have to be a moron not to want everyone to see how great you feel. Am I right, or am I right? OK, I'm not a moron. And, she's right about how good I feel when I've got a routine done without collapsing from exhaustion. I give my trainer a grin and offer, "You just want me to make love to these machines? Like, during a chest or shoulder press, it's really my breasts that I'm exercising? Trying to get my breasts bigger, plumper, more sensitive?" Igor's grin tells me I've got the concept. Then, of course, my trainer has a topper. "You could also try to fill them with milk, ready for suckling." 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 14: Julie It's the First Law of Slavery: A Slave Never Wins. We share a giggle for a few moments and then Igor has a reminder. "The 'bigger and plumper,' you're right, are for your Master. The 'more sensitive' is for whom?" He's pointed out my problem with keeping my Master at the center of my universe. He's recognized that the 'more sensitive' is likely to be for me, the slave. My Inner Goddess prompts an attempt at a redirection; the Laws of Slavery have no need for an excuse. "Please, Sir. More sensitivity is only to enhance this slave's movements to create more pleasure for my Master." My face tells Igor that even this slave knows it's a weak attempt, but he gives me a small smile, as if to tell me that he knows I almost lost the center of my universe, but he appreciates that I'm trying to maintain it. Author's note: Thank goodness Our Heroine is improving! But, what will the Empress require of her? The next Scene begins to open new avenues for Julie. J Spe 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 15: Julie Readers, Here is co-author J Spe's latest offering on Julie's life in Hong Kong. Enjoy. Carole99 Author's note: The team tries to "case" the trials the Empress will put Julie through. During this exercise, the moon moves into its waning gibbous phase and Julie has a Big Date. The preparation for the Empress finally gets to Our Heroine and Master poses a question. J Spe Chapter Twenty-one: The Boutique Charles comes to our kitchen in the quiet time between Office Hours and Dinner. He sorts through the fruits on display until he finds an appealing apple and then, amidst crunchy bites, tells Anne and Pat what his aides have worked out with the Empress. I kneel quietly, absorbing as many details as possible about my "interview" with the Empress. I know that, as a slave, I will be told what I need to know in order to do what my Master wants done. I appreciate that Charles and my trainers are being quite lenient in allowing me to listen to this briefing. My Inner Goddess suggests some things I should do when I have the chance to attend them. Charles' recitation of the plan goes quickly. "The Empress wants to see Julie in two days. She suggested that Julie arrive about nine in the morning. She remarked that Julie need bring nothing with her because her household would be able to provide anything necessary. She said she'd call us when Julie would be ready to return, but she didn't say when that might be." Pat's reaction is swift. "That's even briefer than the last slave she had for interview. Then, she told us what she wanted to explore with the girl. This doesn't give us anything to prepare for!" Master's lieutenant waves a bit distractedly. "I thought so, too. I'm guessing one of two things. First, that the Empress has had some background information about Julie and doesn't plan any greatly detailed interview. Second, that she hasn't been able to get any information at all, and so she's planning to check into everything. Either way, there's no way to plan or prepare anything specific. We'll have to just go over the general situation and then leave it to Julie's wits to make the Empress happy." Anne's response is a bit slower and more thoughtful. "Did she say whether she planned to use Julie while she was there? I can't believe she didn't drop some hints about the interview. It wouldn't be like the Empress if she didn't make it out to be some spy thriller like out of the Cold War." Charles' face is blank to this question, but I had caught something in his original presentation. I kneel up and raise a hand, just like in elementary school. Charles asks if I wish to speak and nods approval when I say "Yes, Sir." I do my "take a deep breath first" routine and start slowly, giving my trainers time to see what I'm getting at and stop me if I'm getting out of line. "I noticed an expression Charles used at the start: 'her household would be able to provide anything necessary.' I think that means she plans to play a bit and she already has the toys she wants to use. If you think she would be likely to drop a veiled hint, that's the one that sticks out to me." My trainers trade looks, but nobody says a word for some time. Charles finishes his apple and flips it to me. As the slave in this meeting, I catch it and deliver it to the dustbin. There is still silence in the kitchen. Pat finally breaks the ice. "Charles, you've been here the longest. What can you tell us about the Empress' likes and dislikes? I'm thinking Julie's idea is about the best we're going to get in the next two days. What have previous slaves reported when they got back from the Empress?" Charles colors up a bit and seems at a loss for words. "Pat, I'm sorry, but I don't remember much from the previous interviews. I'm sure the Archives have the reports from each of the girls we've sent to her, so I'll pull the files and check for information tonight. I should have something by morning." He turns to Anne and asks, "Anne, you're the only one here with a recent visit to the Empress. Can you tell us anything?" Anne's eyes look down. Her voice is a whisper when she finally speaks. "Please, Sir, I've tried to remember what happened, what she asked, whether she played with me, many times since my visit. I'm sure you'll find a similar report from the other girls who went there. I remember a nice welcome when I arrived, everything friendly and warm, with some introductions to her staff. We had tea, I think, and then there was a walk in a small garden. I remember lots of flowers and a nice scent in the air. Then, I remember her kissing me and saying good-bye and that I'd reflected credit on myself and my Master. There was a car to pick me up and bring me back here. I remember the debriefing only a little, but I know nobody seemed surprised that I couldn't give a more complete report on my time with the Empress." Charles' face lights up with this report. "Yes! Now, I remember. That's why I couldn't answer earlier: there are no reports from the slaves who went there. I'll check the Archives, of course, but I'm willing to bet that each girl's report will be a copy of Anne's." I'm the one going into this "lioness' den," so I'm probably the most worried person in the room. I rely on the previous permission to speak and ask, "Please, Sir, it sounds like the slaves get drugged or something? I mean, how can they spend such important time with such an important personage and not recall anything? This was supposed to be an interview to clear them to be Master's First Lady. It would affect the rest of their lives!" Charles nods but adds, "Of course, we suspected something like that. But, we tested each girl and the Toxicity Screen was clean for each girl. Someone suggested mind control, like hypnosis, but none of the girls remembered anything like a lead-in to a hypnotic trance. It was just a blank time." Anne gets up and marches to the freezer, where she extracts a tub of ice cream. She waves at me and orders "Four dishes, Julie." I move to the cupboard and dish out four portions, aware that ice cream is not on a slave's Approved Diet Sheet. Anne has something in mind! "All right, folks. Here's the situation, as best we can decipher it. Empress wants to see Julie in two days. Clearly, she's not worried about any preparation we could give her. Prior slaves have returned in good condition and with no report of what happened. We've been able to rule out chemical doping that the interrogators might have used. It's like Sherlock Holmes said, 'When you've ruled out the impossibles, everything else becomes the probable.' Let's proceed under the assumption that they'll get Julie hypnotized in some way. At the least, we know they won't cause any harm to Julie because that serves nobody's purpose. So, what are our options?" Pat picks up the thread. "OK, going with the hypnosis idea, what could Julie say that would be a problem for Master? She's been here less than a month and hasn't been involved deeply in any project the Empress doesn't already know about. If she says anything about the recent visit of the Minister, it'll be old hat to the Empress, I'm sure." Charles manages a chuckle. "Given how powerful that old lady is, she might even have sent the Minister instructions on asking for Julie just to get a line on what Julie is good at!" This, of course, brings a round of laughter from my trainers, and a scarlet blush from me. Anne brings the discussion back to the point. "Is there anything we can do to protect Julie from being hypnotized?" The kitchen is quiet for a few moments, and Charles clears his throat. "I've heard a lot about hypnosis over the years because it was something of an interest when I was younger. There was always a battle about the idea of not being able to resist hypnosis, or about some way to resist hypnotic suggestions. There was never a clear resolution, as I recall, but there was always controversy." My trainers and Charles talk a bit longer and then Charles leaves to check the Archives. I'm pretty sure he's not going to find anything more than what we've discussed. Pat, Anne and I repair to the small pool that welcomed me just a few weeks ago and soak, nobody saying much. Finally, we repair to what is again "my" room and I am prepared for dinner. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Twenty-Two: Dinner and ... Master is in a bright mood as Master, Igor, Pat, Anne, and I assemble. Because of the ice cream in the kitchen, I'm not sure how hungry I am. The worry about my trip to the Empress is also sapping my appetite. Master notices the small portions I take from the buffet Chef has presented and, once we are seated and he has said his thanks for the produce of the fields and streams, he asks Pat if I am all right. For an instant, I am angry. I'm sitting at his left arm; he could have asked me directly, right? Then, I realize the proprieties. I am his slave, and I have several trainers who are responsible for me. He is correct in asking them first. I feel a small blush of embarrassment and look down to try to hide it. Igor's grin tells me he's seen the entire flash of emotions and understands completely. I suspect he'll find some time to "explain" it all to his trainee. Pat summarizes the news and discussion from the kitchen. Master's glance at Anne prompts her confirmation of the situation. Finally, Master looks at me and strokes my right shoulder and down my arm. His expression and his gesture tell me of his concern. I have a sense, even without his speaking, that I've caused him a problem, that I've somehow failed him. Wrong! "Julie," his voice is quiet and confident. "None of this is your fault. You haven't done anything but make me and your trainers proud of you. When I saw you on Blue Bayou, when I saw how you reacted to what the slavers put you through, I knew you would be perfect for my service. I am willing to bet that you'll impress the Empress just as you impressed me." He grins a bit and, his voice lighter, says, "Of course, she'll put you through some exercises the slavers couldn't have the foggiest ideas about, but I'm positive she'll wind up with the same opinion I got." Damn! I never get it right! First, I was angry. Then, I was sure I'd done something wrong and was about to have another "correction." Now, Master says I've done exactly what he wanted and he's proud of me? My Inner Goddess is laughing — almost hysterically. I've been a slave for almost a month. Even allowing for starting at Square One, without any idea about this slavery thing, you'd think a talented professional would be able to figure out what's going on, wouldn't you? Well, let me tell you, right now I'm just confused. I suppose it shows on my face. The rest of the table is smiling — Igor is actually grinning! — at me. Master strokes me again and I focus on the warm feeling I've been trained into. "Julie," he says, "we've been doing this for a long time, and I know the Empress thinks we do it pretty well. About now, I judge, you're feeling a mixture of emotions. That's to be expected. When you were in your old world, you knew all the rules and you knew all the players. Now, you're nowhere near your old world. Your status is slave, chattel, the lowest rung on the ladder. Everyone has control over you. We've trained you to become, or, at least, start to become the Good Slave we want. You are bright enough to see that it has nothing to do with what you want, right? So, we expect that one of those emotions is anger, maybe even hate." Master pauses, as if allowing his slave to answer, confirming her anger, her hate — of her captivity, her slavery, and even of him. Fortunately, I'm "bright enough" to figure that such an outburst, while he might understand and expect it, is not a smart thing to do. I put my hands in my lap and gaze at them as quietly as I can. "On the other hand," Master picks up as if he hadn't inserted that pause, "we've provided you with a substitute environment. Your job here is vastly more significant than it was in the cubicle of the law office. The food you are served is prepared by an excellent chef, rather than coming out of your freezer via a supermarket. The clothes you are wearing have labels you never shopped for before. After the Empress' imprimatur, you will move in a society you only read about in the papers. Do those items register in your mind, my dear?" OK, a direct question. I am free to reply, to tell them all off. But, my mind is caught up by the balancing act Master has described. I manage a bit of a reply. "Please, Master, the bread and water menu wasn't anything like what I ate before." I'm not trying to be argumentative, but it's just the first thing that I sort out. If the table was smiling before, they are all laughing out loud now. Pat is laughing so hard she has tears coming out of her eyes! I stop, more confused than ever. Even my Inner Goddess is quiet. One of the servers pops his head into the Dining Room to see what all the hilarity is about. Master waves and he retreats. Finally, a semblance of calm returns to the table. Master's smile reaches his eyes and his face is lit up. Again, that feeling of warmth comes from somewhere and washes over me. "Julie," Master intones in a mock serious voice, "remind me to tell you the Undue Levity legend sometime." "But, you do make a valid point. The bread and water was a correction for a bad action. You had such things happen to you in your life before, right? It was one of the Rules of Life. It taught you that actions have consequences, that the world won't let you off if you screw up. It made you a responsible adult. Now, you see that slavery is not all that different. The actors may all be more personal now, and what constitutes a 'screw up' may be different, but the Rule is the same. The advantage to the Rule in slavery is that, once your correction is paid, your Master and trainers consider the case closed and your slate clean. Was it that way in college or your law office?" I remember some of the feuds I'd had growing up, and some of the vicious office politics that had ensnared me in the office, and I have to smile at Master and say, "No, Master, it was a lot more complicated there." "All right, my dear." Master's inflection tells me he is coming to a summation of his lesson. "Your life now is dictated by your slavery. It is not exactly comparable to your life 'before,' but you don't have your life 'before.' You haven't mentioned any kind of abuse in these minutes, so that is not a factor in your slavery. This is how we're going to leave this discussion: you are a slave; you will follow the Rules of Slavery; you will obey commands from your Master, your trainers, and others we select. You will perform to the standards we train you to, or you will suffer corrections. In all of this, you may think whatever you like, as long as your performance does not suffer. In time, my experience shows, you will come to have pride and satisfaction in your service. You may not believe that right now, but I'm sure I'll have a chance to check on this in the future." I don't get a chance to respond because, at that moment, as if answering a cue, the server arrives with dessert: fruit salad for me and apple pie à la mode for the others. Still, Master has said I'm free to think, and his assertion about "pride and satisfaction" gives me lots to think about. My thinking process, however, is arrested by Master's remark. "I've been reminded that today is the day after the Full Moon. I think I'll skip the briefing book tonight and I'd like Julie to attend me, say in about a half-hour?" This time I'm glad he is addressing my trainers! I couldn't put a sentence together right now if it meant a ticket home! Pat nods and says she'll have me ready in a half-hour. I barely manage to stand up from the table and follow her to my room. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Twenty-Three: My Waning Gibbous Moon Service The moon is waning! My Master has called for me, just as the Legend laid it out. Oops, my Inner Goddess made me do that! Pat and Anne are all smiles. Pat twirls a finger, instructing me to strip and — on autopilot — I do. I'm excited, certainly, just like any girl preparing for a big date. But we all know this is more than just a "big date." Even if you allow my "introductory service" on the airplane, this is going to be my First Time, for real. For some reason, I can't recall much about my original First Time, except it was with a boy I never saw again. I was angry then. I had made a commitment, I thought, and he'd rejected it and me. It was a long time before I trusted another male. Tonight, though, is different. I'm not allowed to be angry. Nobody here thinks I'm making a commitment. That got made for me on the deck of Blue Bayou a month ago. Master won't be rejecting me, at least I hope not. He had told me at our first interview that, if I didn't please him, I could be "sold on." I haven't asked and nobody has volunteered what that might mean, but, wherever "on" is, it can't be at this level, can it? Igor and Anne — and now, Pat — have made me more aware of touches and actions than I could have dreamed of. So, I'm confident, right? Well, maybe. I wash my face while my trainers select a bra and panty set whose lace is designed to attract rather than support. Anne applies a small spritz of scent and I don a sleeveless white top, sheer so that it shows off the bra. It buttons in front, so that neither Master nor I will have difficulty with it. A pencil skirt comes to the tops of my knees, with slits along each thigh to provide flashes of skin with each motion. Pat's hands and comb do something with my hair, lifting it off my neck. I am expecting Transport Mode for my delivery to Master, but, after an inspection that pronounces me "Ready," Anne points out that a slave presenting herself with no fetters is so much more exciting and attractive. It is well before my deadline that I am sent into the hallway. The walk to Master's apartment seems unusually long. The Security at the door nods, smiles and, when he casually says, "You look great this evening, Ma'am," half of the butterflies in my stomach settle down to roost. Master welcomes me into his apartment, a place where I've never been. He leads me into a Living Room with masculine appointments: leather couches and armchairs around a carved wood coffee table, a large entertainment center on one wall balanced by bookcases on the other walls, with a wet bar in one corner. The large-screen TV is showing a newscast from some factory. Master remarks that Fox Business News is highlighting some industry trends. He settles into an armchair and, without being instructed, I kneel alongside while he watches. A nearby table holds a yellow legal pad and pens, with some notes showing, which I am careful not to read; a slave will be told what she needs to know when her Master wants her to know it. I try to get my digestion going, although I'm sure my stomach is tied in knots. Again, I'm like a new bride, a virgin, on her wedding night. This might not be as I have fantasized it, but it still is going to be my First Time with my Master. Master's hand starts stroking my head and down my neck to my back, the comforting stroke he and his staff have trained me to want and need. I am amazed that, even though I "know" it is a simple "motivational tool," it still works perfectly to restore my composure. Within moments, I am practically purring under his hand. The program ends and Master closes the TV. "My dear," he says, "let me see a bit more of your walk, please." I stretch upwards, a move I know will accent my breasts — that's got to be a good thing for my Master, right? I rise slowly and sinuously, like in the trashy novels I used to read. They were called "bodice-rippers," I recall, but I'm sure tonight is not going to see anything ripped. I make a turn or two around the furniture, pausing for just an instant at a large photograph of some baseball player sliding into some base amidst a shower of dirt. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 15: Julie Master, of course, picks up on this latest digression from the perfect completion of his order. "I see you noticed my baseball photo," he says. I note his too-casual tone, and guess that he's holding back on another correction for his slave. Again, wrong! "I've always liked baseball. When I was growing up, it seemed like a perfect metaphor for life. You had to work hard every day. Each day was its own reward or disappointment, profit or loss. You had to work with a team of players. You couldn't let today's errors affect the next day's play. "This photo shows the Detroit Tigers' Ty Cobb, probably the greatest player the game has seen, sliding into third base where the Philadelphia Athletics' Frank 'Home Run' Baker is trying to make the put-out during an intense part of the 1909 pennant race. Cobb's spikes cut Baker's arm and precipitated a huge controversy. Connie Mack, owner of the A's, called Cobb the dirtiest player in the game. This photo, taken by William Kuenzel of the Detroit News, showed Baker reaching across the bag to tag Cobb, who was sliding away from the third baseman. The photograph vindicated Cobb. The Tigers won the pennant that year." "Yes," I answer, as usual without thinking. "But the Pittsburgh Pirates beat them in the World Series, just like we beat them in the 1907 and 1908 World Series." Master's laugh, so unexpected that I instantly fall into the kneeling Position One, is followed by his — also unexpected — comeback: "Yes, and those were the only World Series the Chicago Cubs ever won. It's the longest drought on record, over a century without success. "I'm glad to meet a Cubs fan," he says, coming to my side and lifting my face to see his grin. "I've always thought you've got to give their fans credit." I'm on the other side of the world, and American baseball is a link between people, even a Master and a slave! Master strokes my hair as we talk a bit about the current season, but then I sense a change in his attention. "Julie," he says, his voice a bit strained, "I had thought this evening would go very slowly, as we got familiar with each other, but you've got me so excited that I'd really like to take you in my arms and undress you and make mad passionate love with you, just like in the cliché." Well, how often does a girl get such a proposal? I rise and stretch, turning a bit to let Master see all of his slave's curves, a move Igor taught me. Master tilts his head, smiles, holds out a hand, and leads me to his bedroom. Again, it is a masculine room. Here, the large photo shows another baseball great, Babe Ruth, hitting one of his 714 home runs. Master spins me around and runs his hand through my hair. I'm no longer hesitant or worried. Master's touch, as usual, has brought that warm, happy feeling to his slave. I lean back just a bit, placing my arms at my sides, while Master undoes the buttons and tugs my top out of my skirt. Another twirl and the top has departed. Master's eyes feast on the lacy bra, and his hands cup my breasts, gently supporting them. I reach behind and open the clasp and the material flutters away. Master's hands are, by turns, gentle and rough, soft and firm, on my breasts. In moments, my nipples have swollen to full erection and Master takes first one and then the other in his mouth, nibbling and swirling his tongue on the buds whose sensitivity I had described to Igor. I reach for Master's shirt and open his buttons quickly. As before, he helps remove his undershirt by raising his arms. I have no difficulty with his belt or trousers, again because Igor has had me practice so many times with so many belts and trousers. I can see his erection tenting his shorts so, without needing instruction, I use my teeth and lips to lower his underwear. Master grins and waves his erect member at me, so I grin back and turn, presenting my ass for Master to stroke before he tugs my skirt and panty down, whereupon he returns to stroking my ass down to my thighs. The warmth in my core is beginning to heat up from just these opening touches. Master reaches around and cups my breasts, but this time his fingers are circling my nips, with an occasional pinch or squeeze. With the added pressure of his rampant member on my ass, these two attacks are cracking my composure. I am led to Master's bed, where he stretches me out and starts a soft massage. I am reaching above my head, my eyes closed, to show myself to Master, when I feel the grip of a handcuff, followed by a single click as I am secured. My eyes snap open, questions hovering over my mouth, but my trainers' efforts save me from error. Continuing his massage, Master explains in a soft voice, although I can detect some quivers of arousal. "Julie, we all know how special tonight is for you. But we do want you to realize that this is all within your slavery, what we were talking about at dinner. That's the reason for the single restraint. It won't prevent you from any movement you want, but it serves as a marker. And, just to make it official, you do have permission to climax." I make a tentative movement with the secured wrist and, as Master had promised, the tether is long enough for my full range of motion. I use the hand to stroke Master's hands that are still continuing their gentle massage. I am climbing the arousal ladder and the cuff is just a marker, a reminder. Master moves on the bed alongside me, and I return the massage movements, stroking him from shoulder to waist, and then below. We are not in any rush, and I think I can tell from Master's moans, rough breathing, and sudden movements that he is enjoying this play as much as I am. We move in harmony, presenting each other with fresh vistas of skin, or breast, or ass, or vulva, or scrotum, or penis. Master has a few longer nails that make their own signature on me, each one a surprise that makes me jump a bit and makes Master laugh each time. I am thrashing about a bit when Master's hands separate my thighs and he poses his lance at my entrance. Fearful of dislodging him, I freeze for just the moment he needs to enter me, and then I am full of my Master. He pauses for the second it takes for me to accommodate his size, and then begins to move, some withdrawal, some plunge inward, some other movements that I'm not sure about. A pinch on one nipple is magnified by my arousal into a flash of lightning in my eyes. I return Master's pinch with one of my own, and Master also responds with a cry. I raise my legs and encircle my Master, drawing him deeper into my core. As always, there is movement and a bit of friction, pushing me further up the rainbow. Master's movements are increasing their depth and tempo, and, together, we crash over the top. We lie, wrapped in each other, for long moments. I can feel Master's cum slowly dribbling out of my sheath, but I know not to disturb my Master's enjoyment of the afterglow. I can sense his cock is softening, what Anne has taught me is recalled. In a moment, it will withdraw from me, and I'll feel the emptiness. Still, I have the single cuff to remind me that Master has desired me, has picked me out from the crowd, and has wanted to make this First Time great and magnificent for me. Master's deep and regular breathing tells me it was great and magnificent for him, too. It is probably an hour or so later that Master awakens me. He motions me off the bed and easily strips off the damp sheet, flipping a fresh and dry sheet in its place. We giggle a bit fitting the sheet to the bed and then Master asks me to sleep with him until morning. We spoon and Master strokes me, both front and back, until sleep claims us. The tether stays on. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Twenty-Four: A Plan Develops I feel wonderful in the morning. Master and I shower together and I am sent off with a robe to my room. I dress casually and join Igor, Pat, and Anne in the kitchen for breakfast. Nobody says anything about last night, which I find a bit strange, as well as amusing. I'm still a slave, right? I'm supposed to report to my trainers about everything, right? Well, it seems that Master is a bit outside this program. I wonder whether that's because both Pat and Anne seem a bit in love with him? Charles shows up with a handful of files and confirms what we suspected. None of the recent slaves "interviewed" by the Empress had anything to report. There is some new information Charles brings. He tells us that "resistance" to hypnosis has had lots of study, without any good resolution of the controversy. There is some evidence that people cannot be induced under hypnosis to do something they would not do if awake. There is also evidence that a good hypnotist can confuse a "resistant" subject so that the subject believes their action is not something they would not do. Master strolls into the kitchen and the conversation goes around Charles' report a few times. I've been at case conferences in the law office that seemed exactly like this one: lots of angles discussed, but none of them offer a "good" solution. Of course, even though I'm the one most affected, nobody asks me for any ideas. Of course, I don't have any ideas worth adding to the mix, anyway. Master finally waves a hand to signal an end to the palaver. "Let's recap the situation," he says. "First, we think the Empress is going to interrogate Julie. But, about what? Her intelligence group probably has as much of our 'inside' information as we do. So, I don't see that as a danger to the Enterprises or to Julie. "Second, the Empress might — correction, probably — will want to play with Julie. We all know that could be a lot of fun, right?" My trainers actually blush a bit at this! Charles has a blank expression on his face and he is studying his coffee cup with great intensity. Master is showing a nice smile. I am surprised at the sense of pride that I feel! Master doesn't let this moment linger. "So, what we are worrying about is what the Empress might do to Julie. But, we have the history of the previous slaves. None seemed damaged after their 'interview,' and none seemed under some 'post-hypnotic suggestion' after their interview. So, where are we?" Igor jumps in. "Do you think we're worrying for nothing?" Master raises an eyebrow in surprise. "No, of course not. But, are we worrying about the right thing? Best estimate? I think we don't need to worry about the Enterprises and I don't think we need to worry about damage to Julie. So, what's left?" Pat has the answer. "Master, could Julie not pass the Empress' standards? Could she be deemed not good enough to act, to be, First Lady?" Master's smile widens. "Now we're focused on the real problem. OK, you've been training her for all these weeks. You know lots about how she reacts to your challenges. You probably have a good idea of how she would think when the Empress challenges her. How do you think she'll do?" Even I can tell this is the main question. I try to make myself as small as possible, hoping that my presence will not hamper a forthright assessment. I am, let's not be catty, as curious as possible about my trainers' opinions of me. In rotation, Igor, Anne, and Pat give a sentence or two. I am shocked by their endorsements. Each thinks I'm going to impress the Empress, even beyond just passing inspection! OK, they aren't going to disparage their own work, are they? But, I know these guys; they're all committed to Master's service. They won't want to misdirect, subvert, or lead him astray, I think, hoping my evaluation of them is anywhere near correct. Master ends the discussion. "I think you're right. Since the time on Blue Bayou, she's done all the transitions, all the learning, all the maneuvers we've tasked her with. So, we don't need to worry about her surviving the Empress. "Now, the last question is, do we tell this to the Empress? How do we present Julie so that the Empress 'gets' our confidence in this prospect? I've dealt with her for some time, and I think that presenting a strong starting position is the best way to a strong ending position. Any ideas?" Charles is the one with the greatest understanding of how Master operates, so he suggests that a simple straightforward presentation would be best. My trainers have some other ideas, but none are radically different. Nobody thinks some artificial cloak is going to fool the Empress. Charles seems to end the discussion with a startling question. "How about we ask Julie how she'd like to present herself?" The discussion has gone on for almost an hour and this is the first time it has turned to me, the subject of all the angst. Of course, this is natural in slavery. The slave never has a complete picture of anything. It's simply "Just the things you need to know." I may be a bit surprised, but the law office taught me "Never Let Them See You Sweat." I give my standard deep breath and add a toss of my head. I haven't put my hair "up," so my ponytail just sweeps around to hit me in the face. Fortunately, no one laughs. "Please, Master, this slave thinks the Empress must be expecting that you and your staff have gone through this exercise. I'm reminded of a radio show that interviewed kids about their school, their family, all sorts of things. I think the title was something like Kids Say the Funniest Things, or something like that. And it was true; the broadcasts were almost always hilarious. Anyway, the moderator used to explain his technique for getting the kids to talk. He'd just ask them, 'What did your folks tell you not to say?' I never heard a kid dodge that question. "If the Empress wants to know something, why don't we just tell her? It's the same as the Minister" — I shuddered inwardly here; did I really want to bring up that disaster now? — "none of it is damaging to the Enterprises. And, if I'm to carry off a presentation of First Lady, I think I'd do best by being First Lady-ish." There is a moment of quiet as everyone digests this proposal. I can believe that this — consideration of a direct proposal by a slave — has never been a prominent feature of their work. Finally, Igor looks at Master and declares, "I'm for it. I've seen how Julie responds to commands or challenges; she just takes a deep breath and goes after it. If we add any folderol to her, it won't come off as believable." The others at the table nod in assent or murmur similar thoughts. For some reason, I get that warm feeling again. Was Master right about the "pride and satisfaction" thing? I don't get a chance to reflect on this question. Igor signals I'm overdue for a gym workout and everyone else has the daily tasks. There is a simple "Transport Mode" command and he leads me to the gym. After the usual stretching warm-up, I go through the machines I have gotten to know. This time, however, I'm concentrating on "making love" to them. There is only one cut of his crop, a mild one, and I judge Igor is happy with my work. Well, not so fast. "Julie, you do pretty well on these machines, but we don't know whether the Empress will try you out on these. With all the equipment available, she could have any number of other makes or types. Your job, if she tests you here, is to show you appreciate the workout and you love the machine. Just one word of caution: If she sets too great a load, too much weight or resistance, don't hesitate to signal the problem. Nobody wants you to tear a muscle or tendon or dislocate a joint. Don't be a martyr or heroine here. The job here is to show you appreciate your body and keeping it in tip-top shape. Do you understand?" It's the first time in a long while since he's asked that question. I realize, of course, that he's waiting for my "Yes, Sir" answer. But I sense that there's more here. I do my deep breath — and realize that everyone knows that maneuver. "Yes, Sir," I answer, adding "What she really wants to know is whether this slave is just going to follow orders or is going to think about what the command really means, what Master really wants. Will I just accept the weight and the reps ordered, or will I match them with my capabilities?" "Exactly so." Igor's smile tells me I'm seeing the situation as he is. "Now, I'm going to run you on the treadmill a bit longer and harder than usual. I want you to be able to tell when you're getting to your limits." So, I move to the treadmill and start at a fast walk, moving to a jog and then to a run. I'm not going to know what regimen the Empress, or her gym staff, will use, so I don't worry about the details. I do count the "hills" so I can know whether the Empress' run will be longer than I can take. I am impressed by the number Igor gives me before something tells him I am finished. Igor has a container of chocolate milk ready for me when, a little unsteady, I come off the treadmill. He's checked the exercise physiology papers, he says, and chocolate milk has all the required fluid, calories, and electrolytes everyone agrees on, plus lots of protein. The law office gym had a few different "sports drinks." Take it from this slave, chocolate milk tastes better. Igor gives me another container and I down that as well. I'm sweating, but a feeling of accomplishment, of "climbing the mountain," brings back the idea of "pride and satisfaction." I've really got to think about those words. My day goes by mostly without my noticing it. I am constantly thinking of what the Empress might ask and how I could respond. I know Master seems unconcerned about revealing trade secrets, but I've seen too many "slips of the tongue" in the law office from even practiced attorneys to be confident of not committing a faux pas. I'm not quite so worried about "play" that the Empress might demand. Pat and Anne have told me enough times how they had "enjoyed" me that I am fairly confident in that sphere. But, then again, what if the play gets "rough?" Anne's story of the poker game, with the need for "recovery" after the Japanese suspension exercises, is fresh in my mind, although Charles' files and Master's recall seemed to show no harms had been done to prior interviewees. The problem, I guess, is just the not knowing what is coming. After the last of Master's meetings, he waves me to a kneeling pad in his office. "Julie," he begins, and the tension of the day just erupts from me. "Master," I wail, "I'm afraid. I don't think I can do this. The Empress will see right through me. I'll say something or do something wrong or bad and she'll send me back here labeled Unacceptable." As I spill tears, Master's handkerchief is quickly soaked. Master just waits until the storm passes, as, of course, storms do. For once, I am speechless. I know I have been trained and have been complimented on my performances, but none of that seems protection against the demons I am imagining. Master has assured me that there is virtually nothing untoward or embarrassing I could say. Yet, I am as terrified as I had been when the slavers took over Blue Bayou. Finally, Master's gentle strokes calm me enough to kneel up properly for my Master. Imagine, I couldn't even hold Position One properly! It adds despair to the terror. Master is unperturbed, it seems. "Julie," he begins again, "I'm glad you had that outburst. You know you are facing an unknown, so worry and concern are to be expected. Now, it appears I know you better than you seem to know yourself. You must believe your Master and your trainers when we tell you we think you will do well tomorrow. Now, I'm not going to make that a command, because I don't think you require a command. You have adapted to slavery very nicely, we think, and we also think you will go to the Empress as a slave serving her Master well. That is, you will do anything the Empress asks, tells, or commands, just as you have done here. You will answer any of the Empress' questions." 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 15: Julie I look at my Master and I think I draw strength from his composure. He has provided an emotional anchor to my undocked emotions. I do my breathing thing and wait. Master hasn't asked a question, so I'm not permitted to reply to his homily. Still, I manage a smile, and am delighted when he smiles back. "Of course, your outburst did violate all sorts of rules. I think the proper correction will be three strokes of a nice whippy cane. I'll ask Igor to carry them out after dinner; we do want you to be able to sit for dinner, don't we?" I am aghast. First, I am calmed and reassured. Now, I'm to be beaten? Master has another surprise. "Since this is for so few strokes, really just a minor correction, I think you may decide for yourself whether you want us to go to the trouble of fastening you to the whipping bench or if you can hold yourself still enough to get this over with just in the Down position? Think it over and let us know at dinner, please." Author's Note: Any suggestions for how Julie should handle this "minor correction?" Clearly, she has to get through it well enough to go to the Empress in the morning. Your ideas might help Our Heroine "survive and prosper." J Spe 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 16: Albert Albert's Story, by J Spe Author's Note: The Blue Bayou story starts with several couples embarking on a yacht looking for two weeks of fun and sun. Then, slavers strike, taking over the ship, stripping and training the women, and auctioning them off to buyers looking for sex slaves. This story follows the Chief Slaver, Albert, detailing how he came into this profession. Along the way, we learn how his resourcefulness was developed and how he responded to many challenges. For the most part, we will learn that they were similar to those challenges entrepreneurs usually face in building a global enterprise. We have listed this story in the Non-Consent/Reluctance area, although there is not much erotica detailed, to keep the Blue Bayou saga together. Thanks, Dear Readers, for your attention, your votes, and your comments. You may be sure that Carole99 and I appreciate all of these! — J Spe The ship was dark and quiet. The female auction on Blue Bayou was over, and Albert's organization was almost a half-million dollars richer. There would be expenses drawn against that, but, for only six girls sold, it was a good auction. Tomorrow, he would have to see about the men and the crew. Tonight, his crew of slavers would party. He knew each of them and, for sure, each would be ready to go at daybreak. Operations didn't always go so well. Albert remembered back to some awful screw-ups he'd heard about from Vietnam and a few he'd been caught by in Afghanistan. He had resigned his commission when it looked like more of the same for Iraq, and this was the second time around! The politicians had no idea what made any of the Middle East countries go, and there was no way to teach them. The military did what the politicians told them to do, and usually did it well, but a lot of people he knew were probably going to get killed in this war. He remembered his Separation Day at Camp Lejeune. It was late January and the trees were not showing any buds. The sky was clear, with just a few clouds scudding by. There had been a short ceremony, the surprise being that he was being decommissioned as a Major. He'd spent so long as a Captain that he wasn't even sure what his new pay would be for the last period. As each of his mates saluted him for the last time, he felt an unfamiliar lump in his throat. "My God, I really care about these guys!" Of course, he cared. He'd seen most of them through the last few years of patrols and operations. He'd been fortunate in not losing anyone this past year. There were few in the battalion who could make that claim. It was not that they'd drawn easier, safer assignments. No assignment on a battlefield is safe. He'd just been a bit luckier, and maybe a bit more trained. That old geezer who'd beaten him up during his first year in the Corps had taught him far more than was in "the book." The party was a quiet affair. Officers and enlisteds from the battalion came by to offer congratulations and "stay in touch" messages. On a whim, he'd had a bunch of business cards printed with his name, his new title: MARINE CORPS, RETIRED, and his e-mail address. He'd tried to stay in touch, but he knew messages didn't always make it across oceans and warfronts. It was one of the reasons he was getting out. That and the money. He'd been banking his pay since he'd enlisted, so he knew how much a twenty-year veteran should have. Some of the men who'd passed him on the lists had much more. Secrets are hard to keep in the Corps, and he knew that much of the overage was from "surprising" sources. It wasn't his style to go accusing folks, so he didn't. He just felt it was his time to strike out on his own. It was about the same mantra that had helped him get through all the training exercises and operations he had completed: If they can do it, I can do it. Simple, really. He had no worries about getting out of the Bachelor Officers Quarters, the BOQ. There were plenty of rooms but few officers coming in. He'd taken his time, trying to think of a new line of work during the day and partying in the evenings. So, he was there when the kid at the desk came looking for him to answer an international phone call. It was from a buddy he'd served with in Afghanistan. The guy had stayed behind in Southeast Asia after the war. Albert had heard stories about him being in a dozen different cities and in a dozen different jobs. He took the phone with an expectant grin. "OK, you old slob, what do you think you're doing busting up my nap time?" "Slob, is it? You couldn't clean a knife of watermelon seeds as well as any of my squad!" They traded insults for a minute before the caller got down to business. "I heard you were getting out. I had lots of trouble adjusting when I got out, and I wanted to tell you I'm here for you if anything gets too heavy. Friends are for helping with the heavy stuff, you know?" Albert had felt a stab of gratitude at this open display of friendship. Mostly, guys in the Corps kept that stuff pretty well buttoned-up. They talked some more, and then Albert realized an international call usually cost a fortune. He tried to get off, but his friend wouldn't let him go, always bringing up another story. Finally, Albert mentioned cost and the line went silent for just a moment. Then, explosive laughter came across the continents. "Albert, the place I've got now practically owns the local phone company. Look, take down my number and think about coming back out here. There's lots of opportunity and I'm sure you'd at least enjoy the vacation." He'd done just that. Two weeks later, he was relaxing in Macau, the former Portuguese enclave just west of the former British colony of Hong Kong. His friend had sent some staffers to meet him at the airport and they'd whisked him through all the bureaucracy in record time. His views of the colony matched the travel brochures exactly. The place was picturesque and the traffic wasn't as bad as he remembered in the former Saigon, now Ho Chi Minh City. The staffers had checked him into a fine old hotel and said that his friend would meet him in the bar at 1700 hours. He had to laugh at the reference to "military time." At precisely that time, his friend had appeared. He wasn't laughing, however, and Albert had come to his "alert" status as the man took a chair. "Took" seemed exactly right, Albert remembered. The man had put on lots of weight, but he still moved like an athlete. There was just the sense of power radiating from him. Albert waited for his friend to order a beer and open the conversation. In contrast to their telephone talks, this conversation started seriously and got denser as it went. "Look, Albert, I got you to come here just because I remember how hard it was to decompress from the Corps. I really thought you'd have a nice vacation here. I'd show you some of the opportunities that are springing up in this part of the world and maybe you'd get some ideas, either for here or for back in the States." Albert nodded. He knew that there was at least one more shoe still to fall. "Well, it seems as if I've got my ass in a sling and I could really use some of the expertise you're carrying around. If you'd help, I'd be very grateful. But, I've got to tell you, it's not going to be a simple walk-in-the-park patrol." Albert had heard similar stories and pleas just listening at the Officers Club bar on many nights. Most stories turned out to be disasters, for men and their careers. The guy who managed to survive intact often got beers and shots paid for over the next few days. Maybe his friend was setting him up for something? On the other hand, they knew each other well enough not to beat around the bush when it counted. Albert leaned forward and made a fateful announcement. "Look, I can't take on a mission until I see the briefing. That's how I did it in the Corps. I don't see any reason to do it differently now. You have time for me?" His friend's face lit up with a smile. "I was hoping that would be your reaction. Let's go to my office. I'll show you the gears and switches and explain the game." The "office" turned out to be a two-story building in a quiet street. Inside, there were rooms with maps on the walls, rooms full of girls typing forms, and a huge phone desk, with three operators trying to sort out incomings from outgoings. Albert had been impressed by the quiet efficiency of the operation. He knew from experience that any busy operation often degenerated into people not connecting, not getting through, and getting upset, usually with bad results. When they got to the "corner office," he was shown a map of the South China Sea and the adjoining China. It had markings that seemed to be ferry lines along the coast. Some locales inland were marked, along with roads leading back to the coast. "This is the battlefield," he was told. "These towns and villages are often just a hundred or so people, maybe eight or ten families. Few towns have electricity. Most are just now getting good water supplies. Everyone is dirt poor. If you can't grow your own food, you starve. So, over the generations, these people have developed a cash crop, their children. My teams visit about once a year. Some family has a son, but usually a daughter, that they sell us for about a year's subsistence. In the years we don't visit, many of the kids die of starvation or infection, things that we don't have in our country. OK so far?" He'd asked what his friend did with the kids they'd bought. "It's simple. We bring them to an island we own in the South China Sea. We feed them; we train them in farming and in some city skills. We teach them some language, depending on the market forces. Then, we take them to the market and sell them to rich folks who want a kid or want a slave or any combination. My teams visit about every year or so to keep tabs on the kids. Any sign of abuse and we haul the kid out of there. There's always been a market somewhere for every kid. Inventory is not a problem." "OK," he'd asked, "what's the problem?" "Greed, basically. As you'd expect, we have to have lots of government types on our payroll. Some of them have cottoned to our system and set up their own teams. My guys are getting ambushed in the field and my ferries are getting hijacked on the sea. It's stupid, really, but some people you can't tell anything." "So, what kind of responses have you made already?" "The usual sort. We've tracked down the ambushers or hijackers and killed a bunch. They seem to be easy to replace, so we've got running battles going on all the time. We need a new strategy and some new people to run it. That's why I'm wondering if you could study this a bit and figure a better way. Of course, I'd make it worth your while." Albert had nodded absently, already thinking about the problem. He had arranged to talk to some of the team captains, both land and sea types. There were just too many bases to cover. A team coming from any area could be hit at any number of places before it reached a central site. Albert became convinced that this Peripheral Strategy was not tenable, was expensive, and got too many people killed, including some of the kids they'd rescued. Seen this way, the answer was almost obvious. A Central Strategy was needed. Identify the government officials who were not staying bought, who were running their own teams, and convince them to stop such unhelpful operations. Some might be amenable to reason, some might need bigger bribes, some might need to be forcibly retrained, and others would be impressed by the forcible retraining. When he outlined this to his friend, there was initial scepticism but a willingness to explore further. His friend sent out feelers among the officials and identified several who seemed ringleaders among the troublemakers. Albert arranged for surveillance on these officials, training some of the youngsters in this art. Nobody paid attention to kids running around on the streets, begging for food or clothes. It was part of the background noise in any city. Within a few weeks, Albert and his friend's organization had "books" on their targets, including family, friends, and lieutenants. About a month into this exercise, Albert thought they had enough to make a few "approaches" to one or two officials. His friend, claiming more experience, said they really had enough information to make a sweep of a small group who were focussed on one province. Albert wasn't so certain, but his friend pushed and so Albert agreed and worked up a combined target plan. The friend said he had enough staffers to carry out the plan and Albert went on vacation to Hong Kong the weekend of the operation. When he got back, there was clear satisfaction in his friend's organization. The teams had captured all four targets, along with a few wives or girlfriends and a lieutenant or two for each official. They had brought them all to a compound outside of town and "explained" things to them. One official had "seen the light," Albert was told. Two others were argumentative, at least until a few arms were broken. One official was uncooperative and was later found lifeless in a sewage lagoon near his home. The organization's follow-up squads had continued surveillance and found that the officials had explained to their teams that they could no longer afford their services. With the surveillance net Albert had constructed, very little activity was not known. Unhelpful activity was called to the official's attention and suggestions made to cease and desist. Few suggestions were ignored. About a month later, Albert's mail caught up with him. A bank statement showed his regular account had doubled. There were also statements from two banks Albert had never heard of which each showed a quarter of a million dollars available. Albert thought he'd discovered a useful life after the Corps. There was some danger, which made it attractive. There was profit, which helped with the attraction. And the stories of some of the kids who had been placed in other countries showed real accomplishment. Most were going to school, even high school, something impossible in their hometowns. Their new families were proud of their accomplishments. Some of the kids were happier now than before being sold by their parents. He gradually explored more of the organization. The island training center unfailingly showed happy kids, which is what kids are when they aren't starving or working barren fields from sun-up to sundown. They were learning modern skills, and it was amazing how fast they picked up English or French or even Russian, the languages of the families who were looking for them. The distribution part of the organization was more spread out, less easily controlled. It was hard to move a kid across a few countries to some town and expect to find a suitable home for him or her. Albert began to wonder if some other strategy was possible. And then the internet blossomed across continents. The island training center could work up a few pages about some kid and post it on their website. People all over the world could "shop" for the kid they wanted. The distribution system tightened up, with kids even getting to see their new families by videos before their training was complete. Occasionally, a family would send in a list of desired skills or a description of the kid they wanted. The training center would see that suitable kids got the desired training. When your business is successful, you gradually become known to the rest of the world. Albert found this out while sunning himself on one of Hong Kong's beaches. A kid came near him and kicked sand at him. Albert had a bit of Chinese, so he told the kid to knock it off. The kid kicked more sand. Another speech led to more sand. Albert sensed this was something different from a nasty kid, so his next speech was different. "Who's telling you to go bother me? And, why is he sending you? Why doesn't he just come by and we'll talk? Go away and don't come back without answers, kid." The kid went away, returning about ten minutes later. He crouched down to speak with Albert privately. Albert thought it was cute. "She says she's embarrassed to be seen talking to a strange man on the beach. She would like you to come to her bungalow. You come?" "Sure. Just let me collect my stuff and we'll go right now." The kid waited and then grabbed Albert's bag and carried it as a prized possession. He led Albert to a small mansion facing the beach and handed the bag to an angry-looking guard. The guard motioned Albert to raise his arms for a pat-down, but Albert smiled and said it was unnecessary. Puzzled, the guard asked why. "Well," Albert said, "I never kill a woman on the first visit, so there's no need to search me." The guard had his own ideas about this woman, but he figured it would be simpler to watch the visitor. He could be shot later. They often were. The woman claimed to be the head of a local crime gang. She called herself The Dragon Lady, which she said she'd picked up from some old comic books. Albert laughed, and agreed it was a good name because he'd seen the same comic books when he was a kid. There was a bit of small talk, but Dragon Lady seemed anxious to get to her point. Finally, she explained. "When I see a successful entrepreneur, a man who has built or rebuilt a business, I try to learn from him how he went about it. My business is doing well, but it would be nice if it was bigger or more profitable or easier to run. Can you come help me do these things?" It was as bald-faced a proposition as any he'd gotten from the prostitutes in Saigon, but the Dragon Lady made it interesting. He checked his Macau operation and things were running well there, so he stayed with the Dragon Lady for a few months. It didn't take long for him to figure out that there was nothing wrong with her operation. Even if there had been, he didn't think she was going to accept any suggestion he might make. With the idea in mind that, any time she wanted, she could have him killed, Albert started discussing with her what she really wanted. By then, she had developed some trust in the former Marine, so she gradually let him know her plans. What she wanted was out of a lot of petty crime operations. She wanted to concentrate on drugs. Afghanistan, Iraq, and Iran were producing more and better material, and the market was taking anything produced. But, she couldn't just shut down these superfluous operations, could she? Anyone watching would assume she was vulnerable, which would make her vulnerable. Albert could see her problem, but it took a while to come up with a solution. Among the local chiefs, she set up competitions — local gang wars — with the survivor inheriting the business. She collected a bit off the top for six months and then let the business go. The only business that could not use this system was her slavery business. Starting from just supplying local warlords in various countries with sex slaves, she had grown into capturing lovely young ladies, training them to be sex slaves, and distributing them throughout Asia and Eastern Europe. The business had been fairly profitable but, since it was centrally run, there were no local chiefs to fight over it. After a little research and observation, Albert felt that this business might merge with his Macau business. There would have to be expansion of the Training Center, but the flow of kids or ladies was about the same, he had thought. So, he and his friend bought the business and consolidated operations in Macau. Differences began to appear between the two operations almost at once. The kid business was mostly run in an easy-going manner, with the kids enjoying the "growing up" ideas of school and skills and families that could take care of them, preparing them for a better life while serving the family interests. The sex slave business needed a more decisive hand, with the girls mostly resisting their new lives. Albert tried recruiting potential slaves from all sorts of different groups, but suitable girls were already in good families, in school, and with prospects for a husband and new family in their near future. One or two girls tried to swim away from the island, at least that's what the trainers thought. No traces were ever found of the girls. That didn't scare the other girls into more tractability, but made them more resistant. Developing a submissive slave with sexual skills turned out to be a more difficult process than anyone imagined. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 16: Albert Albert was spending more time getting to know this business' distribution lines and, he later admitted, got "a bit detached" from the central problem: training girls. Finally, his friend had enough. "Look, Albert, we're not in the same business. We were at the start, and you deserve credit for doubling our size and profitability. I can see the kids mob you when you visit the Training Center. But, this other business is just not working. I'm spending too much time on a bunch of young women. It's cutting into time I need to spend on finding kids good families. How about you work on this problem and, just like the other problems, maybe you can find a solution. Otherwise, I don't know that I want to be in that business." Albert had agreed to look at the problem. He soon realized that the basic difficulty was that the inputs were different. The women wanted different lives from the kids, and were not willing to give up those wants. They had started from a different base from the kids, and there seemed no way to change their minds or refocus their desires, or a whole lot of other psychobabble. Then he had two women who positively thrived in training. The instructors couldn't praise them enough. Albert took them to his apartment for closer study. He remembered that week as being as harrowing as a couple of weeks in Iraq. But it explained the problem so that, over time, he used the insight to come up with a solution. If you want slaves, start with submissive women. If you want sex slaves, start with women who want sex. It made the job of the Acquisition Department more difficult, but it made the Training Center a lot more relaxed. Over time, the Acquisitions people began to focus on single women, running from 18 to about 30 years of age, working in small offices or factories, living alone, or possibly with another similar female. Over the course of a few years, the Acquisitions Department honed its Research and Development Branch protocols. Depending on the country, women were researched at small colleges or small businesses. Big families were an exclusion criterion. Divorcees were not excluded unless there were children involved. Gyn physicians and clinics had their records hacked for sexually active types, at the same time excluding those with difficult diseases. Targets were "interviewed" by making simple contacts at a bar or concert. Drug addicts were screened out. Each Country Team had its own favorite types and venues. Albert spent time training the Acquisition Teams. The ideal "snatch" was to take the woman from her apartment, make her so helpless in her bindings that she was completely terrorized, and move her quickly to the island Training Center, where her training was immediate and constant. Another routine, more expensive but often more easily done, was to advertise a "free training course for models." Women who showed up for the "course" alone, or with a single girlfriend, made a good catch: two for one expense. The application of terror, the binding into a helplessness the young women had never known, and the transportation could all be done as if on an assembly line. The R&D folks liked this one because their subjects researched themselves, answering questionnaires and being examined and photographed "from all angles." The training course was simplified. Some physical discomfort was alternated with sexual stimulation for the first days, along with limitation of food. The tired, hungry, thirsty, scared, stimulated young woman most often accepted her new life. If not, a week's repeat usually gained acceptance as the girl realized that the training could be repeated endlessly, and probably more severely, until she submitted. Then, the "finishing" of a sex slave took another month or two. Albert understood that his friend had been correct. These were two entirely different businesses. While the new Acquisition and Training Protocols had mostly solved the original problems, his friend was still uncomfortable. So, Albert bought him out. That Separation Day lasted almost a week, and staffers up and down the businesses enjoyed it to the fullest. New offices were easy to find in Macau and some e-mails from friends in the Corps developed new staffers. The island Training Center proved a more difficult problem. You couldn't really cordon off a bunch of kids from a group of young women, they found. Some training that required trainees losing inhibitions and becoming comfortable wearing only handcuffs while doing everyday tasks like food shopping, were difficult to explain to the kids. Public whippings as punishment for rule infractions had to be moved to small internal spaces, losing much of their emotional impact on other trainees. Another island was obviously the best choice. The first possibility presented itself almost by accident. As well-established entrepreneurs, the partners were able to move in fairly high levels of civilian and government society. At one event, Albert couldn't remember for exactly what, some Planning woman had complained that the Army types were giving her grief over some construction project. Drawing her out was easy: just listen and commiserate. She explained that the Army wanted details on the ocean bottom off China's coast. "I've sent them details about areas that have potential for oil or gas exploration, but they keep sending them back — not up to our standards, they say. But they never tell me what their standards are. If they'd tell me what they're looking for, don't you think, wouldn't I be able to help them more?" Albert had chuckled at just another Army screw-up. They had an acronym for it, right? SNAFU: Situation Normal; All Fucked Up. But when she mentioned that she'd found at least one area that met their "standards," Albert became interested. It was a shallow area, miles off the coast, with an occasional rock or two above mean sea level, and off the common ferry routes. He managed to get a colonel's name from the woman and sat back to consider. Why would the People's Liberation Army want some spitheads out near nowhere? It made no sense until his friend, more as a joke than a serious idea, mentioned that "maybe they won't always be near nowhere?" Albert routinely watched the government closely, not only because he was paying many of them, but because this "spitheads" project seemed so bizarre. Over the course of months, he cultivated planners and Army types until, at a year-end celebration, as he recalled, he met the colonel named by the woman. As old military types do, they each had "war stories" aplenty. This colonel's stories mostly focussed on engineering battles rather than war zones. Albert was intrigued, and let his interest, and respect, show. The colonel waxed eloquent. He was experimenting with building a group of spitheads into an island which the Army could shape to its particular likes: no damn civilians or competing industry, no environmental panels, no nothing! Albert laughed along with the colonel, and then got in a question about how big an island was he talking about? When the answer came back in kilometres, Albert knew he'd struck gold. The only thing that took up kilometres was a runway. China was building "aircraft carriers in place" in the East and South China Seas! Given advances in undersea cables, the Army could furnish power and communications anywhere. He recalled a stint on Guam, when the island had nothing besides his training squad. The movie house was mobbed each night. The carefully controlled bars were not much fun, especially if you couldn't pick a fight with some Army types. The internet would make these islands almost resorts! Patiently, Albert had cultivated the colonel. A "date" with one of Albert's "trainees," suitably documented by audio and video recordings, made the colonel see the usefulness of allowing Albert to build a "concession" on one island. The colonel sold it to his superiors as an income-stream to offset the usual budget overruns that accompany any government project. Albert's business already had a small fleet of ferries, so the comings and goings of his "trainees" and "trainers" raised no eyebrows. The colonel, actually, was "worked into" the graduation exam for each trainee. Albert's girls were now "Inspected and Approved by the People's Liberation Army." Could any slave have a better provenance? Of course, over these times, markets and conditions had been changing and developing. The market for slaves was not different. With his frequent visits to world capitals, Albert met a wide range of wealthy people. He was friendly, had interesting stories, and listened with a sharp ear. He was a bit surprised that so many of these rich folks had so loose a tongue. Sexual desires of all kinds were mentioned and discussed easily. Albert took these back to his island and updated his Training Center Protocols. If you provide a service, there will always be people who want hire you. Someone had said that a long time back, and Albert learned it still held true. Placement of a few talented slaves generated word-of-mouth advertising, the best type of ad. Now, the backwaters of South-east Asia didn't supply enough suitable material while the length and intensity of Protocols meant his island Training Center was crowded and rushed. At one vacation back in Macau, his friend had quipped, "Albert, this is no way to run a business." Spurred by his friend, Albert looked at his slavery enterprise. It still had the same three divisions that he had inherited from the Dragon Lady: Acquisitions, Training, and Distribution. But each Division had expanded into a bureaucracy, with layers of managers, lots of bookkeeping and controls for the accountants, and a core of staffers who did the actual snatches, training, and delivery of the slaves. His revenues were rising consistently, but so were his expenses. Revenue per staffer was surprisingly high, but so were expenses per staffer. Still, even by the financial records and forms that his accountants filed among the various countries where taxes were expected, the enterprise was doing well. The one marker that didn't look as good, at least in Albert's eyes, was net income per slave. If he hadn't been doing such "turnover," Albert would not have been able to live as he wanted. He would have had to think about each purchase, each vacation, each hotel accommodation. When he talked about it with his friend, the friend smiled and pointed out, "Albert, it's like the old marketing strategy: We lose money on every sale, but we make it up in the volume." They laughed, but Albert thought it was a bit brittle and hollow. So, he started thinking about his strategy. By now, he'd picked up enough jargon from the businessmen to know what he needed was to "Update the Business Plan." Conveniently, the University of Pennsylvania Wharton School was advertising a week-long Conference on Business Plans in Philadelphia. Albert checked into the program topics, was satisfied they might help solve his problem, and registered. It was the first time in many years that Albert spent much time in his home country. It felt good, but he was surprised by some of the things the younger generation was up to. The coeds on campus seemed already halfway through his Training Program in Sexual Arts, but none of them seemed interested in a career of service. His casual contacts at local bars or campus events reminded him that his Training Center Protocols would also need updating to properly prepare this type of recruit. He did take a few names and numbers of women he thought attractive enough to be worth the training effort. That part of his week, he reflected, was at least as helpful as the classroom time with the philosopher-kings of the faculty. The faculty, he was surprised to discover, was actually fairly reality-based. Remarking on this to one lecturer, he was told that Wharton had been known as "a hotbed of misfits in the financial world" since Joseph Wharton founded the school in 1881. The day after the conference, Albert spent several hours on the phone and using e-mail to contact several other slaver organizations around the world. He'd come in contact with most of them, of course, just by talking with his customers. The "proper procedure," he'd learned, was to call early in a contact and explain his agenda before anybody got worried about some scheme or "aggressive business tactics." There were enough government officials on somebody's payroll that "the industry" ran quietly and efficiently. It took him almost two weeks to get back to Macau, still his operational hub. Most slaver organizations were smaller than his own and he picked up only a few tips on this or that point, usually about training the new slave. A few were larger and he learned that they, too, were concerned about burgeoning bureaucracy and efforts to stay "lean and mean." There weren't any panaceas, as far as he could tell. His last contact had summed it all up rather concisely, he had thought. "You pick up the units you think you can train. You try to train them, at least to the point of saleability. You try to get them sold to a good customer, one who pays quickly, treats his or her slaves well, and comes back for another unit when you've got more inventory." He invited his friend to a few dinners and, afterwards, they discussed Albert's entire universe. Albert was a bit embarrassed by the praise his friend lavished on the attendants serving the two men, but managed to take it calmly enough. Some parts of his Training Protocol, after all, seemed to be holding up quite well. They agreed on one point almost from the start. The most important statistic had to be Income per Slave. Some seasons were busier than others, but the enterprise had to make a profit on each unit. The primary expenses items remained Acquisition, Training, and Distribution, and any expense not directly contributing to these activities was suspect. It quickly became evident that there were a lot of those expenses. So, Albert began reviewing the processes that were generating those expenses. Each process had evolved over time, sometimes years, with each layer added seemingly for a good reason and with expenses justifiable. Now, however, the increased use of various electronic devices, some unbelievably multifunctional, really allowed for a pruning of many steps and levels. There was another facet of this pruning that appealed to Albert. The trainees could be made to concentrate on fewer aspects of their environment. The dangers — consequences of failing to perform up to standards — in their environment could be spread among fewer elements and people. There would not be as many possible chinks in the control systems. The trainees would learn to respond to signals from these fewer devices with greater sensitivity. A more sensitive and responsive slave would grade higher on the Sheldon scale and sell for a better price. He had thought that it was a win-win situation. Albert had put these changes into practice without announcing any revolution. Each worked about as well as predicted, which amazed Albert and his friend. Some of the computer programs they had specified worked well even in Version 1! Unheard of! Albert found himself with more information, and useful information, as the new processes took hold. His accountants also told him of increasing Income per Slave. He had not yet solved the problem of acquiring sufficient and suitable trainees, although the new cash flow was making that problem less pressing. Distribution was satisfactory, although there had been a temporary dip in sales after the dot-com bust. He decided to focus on the island problem. It was "just in time." The colonel had been promoted to Brigadier, or Senior Colonel. He was proud of the four small stars, flanked by a pair of red lines, on his collar and jacket shoulder boards. He had begun thinking of promotion to Major General, with one large star and no lines as his insignia. He needed some maneuver that would reflect enough credit to make him stand out. Merely pouring sand, rubble, and concrete in the middle of the East and South China Seas didn't seem important enough. That such a huge project was going off on time and within budget, without any pushback from the rest of the world, seemed a small spark in his world. He didn't even realize that the lack of crumbling sea walls, falling docks, or even potholes in the runways was so unusual that Headquarters was holding their collective breath about him. Albert sensed that there was a new dynamic about the second time he got a call from the Brigadier. He arranged to meet at lunch and, after a glass of wine, the Brigadier explained the new world order. Albert understood his situation and explained how the officer should present this project to Headquarters. He should claim that, for the island under consideration, Army requirements were increasing and the Army needed the facilities under lease to the concession. He had negotiated with the holders of the concession and made them see the logic of abandoning their facility. It would take them almost a year to construct suitable facilities elsewhere, but they would leave serviceable buildings for the Army to occupy without any further formalities than an official Termination of Concession. He understood that he was not to mention the Army's loss of rental income. Adding the value of the facilities without any construction costs would be a major improvement in the financial picture of the island. Another win-win result. With a date now hanging over him, Albert had been forced to ramp up the search for a new island. He knew he wouldn't find another completely barren island with infrastructure in place. He wondered what his real requirements were. As usual, he found his friend a good sounding board. They added and subtracted ideas over a couple of dinners. Albert spent time with the officers of the Training Center to collect their views, some of which surprised him. For instance, he discovered that some trainers wanted access to beaches. The idea was that new slaves would respond positively to time in the sun as well as negatively to the idea of being towed out to sea and left for the sharks. His experience with the PLA suggested that a stable national government would be a positive attribute. Power being exercised at the local level would be a stronger positive attribute. Everyone wanted an island with a balmy climate. The idea that tourists would frequent the island was a negative, at first. Then, it became clear that tourists would bring incoming and outgoing traffic, a useful cover for the movement of the merchandise, either by air or ship. He already had a small fleet of ferries; he detailed someone to look into small aircraft. Albert had organized his Island Search Project teams by oceans, starting with the China Seas and swinging around to the Celebes Sea (for islands between Indonesia and Australia), the Bay of Bengal (Myanmar around to India), the Arabian Sea (India around to Somalia), and the Gulf of Guinea (off Western Africa). He briefly considered the Coral Sea; there were thousands of islands, but they seemed to be pretty far away from either his sources or his customers. Finally, he had a team for the Mediterranean Sea. He wasn't too hopeful there; the Med was such a busy place he wasn't sure he could find a nice, quiet island to settle down on. In the end, he was surprised by the Balearic Islands, a group of small islands off Spain's Mediterranean coast. Spain was a constitutional monarchy, but government had devolved to local parliaments. The island of Minorca was sparsely populated, with large areas of forest. There were a few towns, but almost the entire coast presented fine beaches. He had visited the island as a tourist. He found the hotels in reasonable shape, but not suitable for stays of a week or more. Every beach he visited was comfortable, although some were only accessible by climbing down from the Camí de Cavalls, an ancient path that circled the island. It was constructed, probably, in the Fourteenth Century for defense. Patrols had used the small Menorquin horses, giving the path its name: cavalls means "horses". The government had recently taken control of the path and was spending perhaps two million euros to restore it. He had enjoyed the long-distance walk and thought it might go into the slaves' physical exercise program. Perhaps a complete trek around the island could be part of their "graduation" exercises? 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 16: Albert The island, about 35 miles long, was roughly comma-shaped, with ports at the northwest and southeast ends. His travel agent had mentioned that the summer high temperatures were rarely over 85° with winter lows around 45°. Most months, there were fewer than seven days of rain. The southeast port, one of the finest in the world, featured a short estuary leading to the town called Maó in Catalan and Mahón in Spanish, which was reported as having been founded by the Phoenicians and was famous as the place of origin of mayonnaise. Within a mile or so, he found several large tracts of land off some small roads. Water, sewerage, and electricity seemed reliable. There was an international airport and frequent ferries to Barcelona and Valencia, should one of his fleet be unavailable. Because the island, along with Gibraltar, had been ceded to Great Britain in 1713 after the War of the Spanish Succession, a fair portion of the populace spoke English. The tourism industry, of course, was another spur to the use of English. All in all, Albert had been impressed by the place. The tourism industry would cover most movements of his merchandise and transport vessels. There was space and infrastructure for his Training Center, although he'd have to rename it Training Centre. The local government didn't seem too intrusive and the local businessmen he'd met seemed capable. In just a few months, his agents had bought about ten acres (just over four hectares) on ME 5, the street named Carretera de grau, just south of the nature reserve at Parque natural de la Albufera de es Grau and about five kilometres from the port city of Mahón. The land was a bit elevated, with superb views down into the city. With the experience of building the Training Center on the Chinese island, his staff had building plans ready for the local municipality almost as soon as the property was transferred. Actual construction was slower than expected, but the contractors and workers did a good job and his staff, most of whom had come with him from China, was pleased. He was able to move within the time limit he had suggested to the Brigadier. The Acquisition Department, with the rural areas of China now so far away, began to look for pools of prospective trainees. There wasn't the same level of poverty as in Asia, and the department staffers "interviews" in the watering holes and beaches of nearby countries showed most suitable specimens were embarked on definite career paths. It was one of Albert's lowest points. Events, however, usually follow one of the universe's Rules of Balance. One of the former Marines met a group of young men and women who had chartered a small boat and crew for a vacation sailing the Mediterranean and visiting its islands, sometimes for just a meal or some shopping, sometimes for an overnight party. The charter company, of course, preferred most parties to be held off their ships. The former Marine had been impressed by the sophistication of these young folks. The cruise ship industry, together with yachting and recreational boating, now had more passengers in a year than the ocean liners had carried before jet planes had made them obsolete. This growth, of course, was owed to changes in technology and economics and the youngsters' interests in the natural environment of the sea. Most had jobs, but a short conversation showed these were not careers. Most were paired off just for the charter cruise. He thought that they might make suitable trainees, although the Training Centre protocols would need some "adjustment" to fit this new type. Albert was intrigued. These men and women would come with a sense of style and fashion, attributes that would be Unique Selling Points. He got to talk with people at the charter companies, who uniformly had low opinions of "these crazy kids." Most felt these young folks had too much money for their own good and didn't have a clue about how the world worked. Wherever they went, a flash of plastic provided any whim its satisfaction. Albert's IT team spent some time hacking into several charter companies' computer systems, usually surprised at how little protection they used. Most had reports on the people hiring their ships and crews, with leads to their e-mail accounts and hometowns where, a few deeper searches showed, they had no long-term anchors. One of the IT women, who claimed to be writing "a great novel of crime and passion," showed him a couple of e-mails she had composed by which, she claimed, the young lady had resigned her job, ended the lease on her apartment, and informed her family (a brother) that she was "running off to join the bohemians." Albert was doubtful anyone would fall for such pap. He tried out the story one night with a group from one charter. To his astonishment, nobody even blinked; one young man claimed he had signed up for this charter when he'd heard a friend of his had done just that! He shared this news with his friend in Macau, who laughed uproariously. "Albert, you've just put yourself into the Older Generation. You'll never understand this Younger Generation." Well, he'd supposed, it might be true. Still, he attacked the problem of taking over a charter boat just as he'd planned his military operations. He designed maneuvers for the Captain and crew, for the ship itself, for the male passengers and the female passengers. What would the charter company do about the loss of their ship? How many ships could be made to "disappear" before the navies of the world took notice? In contrast to an airliner crash, most shipping loses were unremarked in the media. If it wasn't in the Bermuda Triangle or Japan's Ma-No Umi, the Sea of the Devil, nobody paid attention. Only off Somalia had piracy been so intense and expensive that the world's Navies had responded, almost eliminating the problem. And, accidents or "unexplained events" claimed about two large ships a week; there were no good statistics for smaller ships, such as fishing boats. Albert figured that he could "harvest" a charter every two months if he moved from sea to sea. Gradually, a Plan evolved. Albert would take a crew of about a dozen men on a fairly small boat into the area where hacks of a charter company's computers showed a party boat would be. Running dark, he would come alongside the target craft after midnight, when the passengers and most of the crew would be asleep. Boarders would secure the bridge and above-decks first. Any personnel would be cowed into submission by a gun or knife and handcuffed to a rail. Below decks could be taken by one of two maneuvers: a cabin-by-cabin search or by a loudspeaker alarm and order for everyone to report on deck for an emergency. In the past few years, these had worked well. Only one crewmember tried to stay hidden; his beating had served as an example to the others that resistance was futile. He had experimented with various protocols after the target was secured. Most often, he had transferred the captain and crew to his own ship, where they had been secured in cages below deck. Male and female passengers had been separated. The market for young males was usually not rich, although it was usually strong enough that one of the "Logistics" companies would be ready to take the lot, crew and male passengers, off his hands. He soon learned that female crew were not often suited to retraining as slaves. He calculated that this revenue would cover the Variable Costs of the operation. That left the young women. Most charters, he had learned, involved six to eight couples. The females, now alone, unarmed, and terrified, could be handled by any one of his men. Each operation, he varied the drill. Sometimes, the women were simply stripped, immobilized by chains or rope, and, after the cages were emptied of males, imprisoned until their transfer to the new Training Centre. Occasionally, if he was operating far from base, he would have arranged a rendezvous with potential buyers near some island for an auction. Albert had learned that these impromptu auctions, either on the island or at the captured ship, were always popular with the rich folks who were "in the market." It took only one or two auctions before he figured out that some "training" of this merchandise would increase their selling prices. Given the circumstances of short time periods, terrified units, and need to avoid permanent markings, his training staff had worked over several possible protocols for this training. He had eventually come to select two ideas. First, all the women's hair below the neck would be shaved. To emphasize their helplessness and increase their humiliation, this would usually be done by the woman herself, under close watch by one of his crew. Those women unable to manage the task themselves would be shaved by another female prisoner or by one of their captors. It was a powerful introduction to their new lives. Second, the units would be trained to move gracefully into a few basic Positions. Seeing a unit move from kneeling to a display position almost always aroused a buyer, improving the sales price. Albert had, after some experimentation, come to the belief that sex with these units at this time was usually lacking in enthusiasm, except that, for some women, the act of forced fellatio was a powerful humiliation, leading to a more compliant trainee. Protocols allowed any of his crew to use the merchandise for this, always with the warning that the use of teeth would be dealt with harshly. So far, there had been no trouble on this point. The Blue Bayou operation was winding down. The female passengers had been auctioned successfully and their buyers had departed. This morning, Albert expected the "troopship" from one of the slaver organizations to come alongside for the men and crew. A few of Albert's organization had prepared some breakfast and his squad was enjoying a final cup of coffee before this last transfer. "Regular protocol for the men?" asked one of the newer members. "Yes," Albert answered. "Mind a question, Sir?" "No, we've got some time before the troopship is due. What's on your mind, son?" The young man hesitated a moment, but finally seemed to get his question together. "Sir, we almost always work with the females naked. We even get them shaved, so they're more naked. But, the book says to leave the men in their shorts. Why not get them naked also? I mean, they're also going to be slaves, right?" It was a good question, Albert thought. He recalled the series of raids they'd made a few years back. Mostly by accident, on some raids, the men had been stripped naked; on other raids, they had been left in their shorts. He described the situation to the questioner. "It was not really an experiment, but it worked out that way. We found that the naked men just didn't want to move. There was a lot of crouching and bending. We had to use a whip or a cattle prod to get them to go where we wanted them. "For the men with shorts, this wasn't a problem. They had just as much resistance in other ways, but when we said to move, they moved. It was just something that made it easier for them, so it was easier for us. Eventually, we wrote it into the Protocols." "And the use of coffles? We put the men into one, but I've never seen a coffle of women?" Albert laughed. "Well now, most of these men will be going to some field or mine. They'll be working in a gang. They get used to the coffle that much sooner, and they learn to be careful who they're pulling or pushing on, as well as how to balance." The young man nodded thoughtfully. "There's really a lot of thought that's gone into these Protocols?" Albert gave him a pat on the back. "Son, this stuff has been going on for centuries of centuries, all around the world. It's all gotten pretty standardized by now." As his questioner moved off, Albert thought he saw a younger version of himself, always noticing things, analysing things, asking why anything was done the way it was done. He'd learned a lot from the stories the non-coms and the officers had told him. Except for one colonel who'd chewed him out for being an "upstart," most were willing to explain things. Through all the combat, lots of these "trivia" had proved to be much more than trivia. The one thing that wasn't standardized was what to do with the captured ship? It always seemed like a major waste to just scuttle it, although that certainly put an end to efforts to trace the crew or passengers. But, markings had become so sophisticated that it was dangerous to simply paint the ship, stencil a new name and number on her, and sail her into any port. Ship construction was so detailed to an individual craft nowadays that even a silhouette could become identification for a wanted ship. Back in his Macau business, Albert had overseen some modifications of a few ships, but they were time- and labor-intensive and the result was often unsatisfactory. His thoughts were interrupted by his radioman's approach. "Troopship called, sir. They think they're about four hours away." Albert smiled. "Thanks, Sparks. Any traffic dogging them?" "Didn't say, sir. I'll ask with the next position squeal." "Very good." The Protocols called for Albert's ship to "squeal" its location, encrypted, every half-hour from sun-up to sundown. He knew there was a backup force out there somewhere, usually just a half-hour away. So far, they hadn't had to use it, but Albert always felt better with a Plan B in operation. Four hours meant the ship would arrive just as dusk was falling. Transfers of the merchandise would be hard to spot in the dark. Another of his squad came up. "Sir, the Captain of this bucket would like a word with you. He wasn't acting up or anything, just seemed a bit scared but resolute, if you get my meaning." "OK, bring him up, handcuffs behind and leg shackles, if you please." A few minutes later, the Captain, chained and looking a bit dishevelled appeared. He shuffled towards Albert until stopped by a hand gesture. Albert smiled a bit, trying to let his prisoner know none of this was personal. "You wanted a word, Captain?" "Yes, Sir." His voice was strong and confident. Albert sensed some strength in this man, even though he could see the tension in the man's face. "Go on, then." "I'm not sure of what your plans are for my crew and me. I get the impression that you've done this before, because I can see you're good at it. I suppose you've had some military? Anyway, if you've got a moment, I'd like to see about a deal." Albert was intrigued. No hysterics. No threats. An opening of negotiations? "What kind of deal do you have in mind? We've got some time before the next act, so go ahead, lay it all out." The Captain's expression relaxed a bit. "Thank you. I watched how you managed the auction. Clearly, you've made quite a pile here. I was comparing you to myself. You can't be doing this every day. It takes a while for all the planning and surveillance, I would guess." Albert's eyebrow flickered as he registered some surprise at the man's opening speech. Where was he headed? "So?" The Captain noticed Albert's reaction, satisfied that he'd managed to score a point or two. "I said I was comparing our two positions. You're in charge of quite some organization here, or at least a senior exec in this group. I'm just one of the hired help at the charter company. They give me grief most of the time. The rest of the time, it's the damn passengers who have no idea about running a ship, keeping them all safe, keeping them all entertained. Well, this time they weren't safe. My guess is they disappear into some underclass spread out around the world. Well, Sir, I don't want to be part of that world. I'm not as young as you, but I'm a damn good skipper. I'd like a chance to join your organization. I'd pay my dues, if you want, but I'm not an asset to throw away in some mine or dump." Albert considered the startling proposition for a moment, trying not to let on that he was, just a little, thrown by it. Albert put on a bit of a chuckle and asked, "So, what would you prefer to some mine or dump?" The Captain was clearly ready for this one. "Sir, I've been in the smuggling business for some time. Interpol knows me, so I can't really go to the cops and tell them about you. I'd probably get prosecuted as an accessory. So, I'm a good risk to keep on the water. And, there are some things about Blue Bayou that you may not have found. It'd be a shame to just scuttle her." Now, Albert was hooked. "OK, Captain, let's have a tour of what makes the usual scuttle not a good idea." The Captain grinned and turned to enter the companionway to below decks. He showed Albert where the passage seemed to end before the boat ended. A few taps on a fixture made a door slide open, revealing another room, lined by shelves and cabinets. The Captain explained the door code and described the contents of the shelves. Most was the usual run of marijuana and heroin, but there was also a surprising amount of counterfeit medications. The big prize, however, was a drawer containing a leather pouch. The Captain's voice was soft when he explained, "This should pay my ransom, I would think." Albert hefted the pouch; it had to be less than a pound. Opening it, he poured a few diamonds onto a counter. Most were small enough for rings, but a few were of a size likely to be impressive in a necklace or pin. Carefully covering his interest, Albert agreed with the Captain and said he'd see about "adjusting" his plans. "I suppose you also have a suggestion for the future of this ship?" That produced another grin from the Captain. "The problem with ships is they're so easy to identify. Each is built for a particular purpose, so each is designed and constructed pretty much as a 'one-off.' Blue Bayou is easily recognized by her superstructure. However, when we built her, we made that superstructure easy to change. A few cuts with a torch and most of it lifts off. Then, you can build whatever you want on the hull. Presto, new ship. In my quarters, I've got two sets of papers for this ship, one blank enough for whatever you want. There's a shipyard in Marseilles that's done this before." Albert nodded, pocketed the leather pouch, and ordered the Captain to his quarters. There, he took the papers for the ship as well as those for the Captain. If he was going to be sold separately, his new Owners would need these documents. Back on deck, Albert assigned a crewman to return the Captain to his cage; the chains could be removed there. He turned to thinking about how to structure the Captain's new career. There was no place for him in Albert's organization, and he didn't think his friend in Macau would want him. He'd have to talk the slavers on the troopship into taking him for a slot different from the one advertised. Such "perturbations" in a business deal were not welcomed in this industry, he knew. Still, the man made good sense; how long would he last down in a mine or out in a field when he would last so much longer on a ship? Albert laid out the last instructions for how the male passengers and the crew were to be presented. Albert's crew passed a meal to each of the remaining merchandise and then had them taken to a bathroom where each was made to shave, shit, shower, and dress in just their shorts. The female crew member was given the laciest bra and panty set that Blue Bayou offered. The merchandise was told a bit about what to expect at evening: their presentation to new buyers. They were drilled on how to address these buyers, what to say and what not to say, how to stand and how to behave. Albert himself explained what these units of merchandise were being judged on. He pointed out that he had a reasonable expectation that the merchandise would cooperate. The presence of crewmen holding whips and canes emphasized Albert's instructions. Stories about the women's humiliations, spankings, and auctions had been allowed to circulate among these units. None were expecting a miraculous rescue. As dusk fell, the merchandise was collared and the collars were locked into a coffle. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 16: Albert The Captain was again in shorts, handcuffs and leg shackles. He had made his case as best he could, he knew, and he had no alternative but to trust his current Owner to make a good deal for him. When the troopship arrived, the pace, relaxed during the daytime preparations and training, picked up. The coffle of merchandise was paraded before the leader of the buying group and cursory questions were asked and answered. None of Albert's crew interfered; it was important for this buyer to satisfy himself that the merchandise was worth the price. Evidently, it was. The buyer came to Albert's position and offered his hand. The two men shook hands and the deal was done. Then, Albert made the case for the Captain. At first, the buyer was uninterested. An older man wasn't going to last long where this merchandise was heading. But, Albert showed him the smuggler's storeroom, with the drugs and the counterfeit medications still boxed and tagged. When the buyer's avarice angel made him smile just a bit, Albert knew this deal was also done. He passed the Captain's and the ship's papers over and there was another handshake. With the merchandise transferred, the buyer's crew set about making Blue Bayou ready for tow. Two crewmen were assigned to stay with her to help with steering and control. A towed ship builds up considerable momentum and doesn't slow down quickly. A towline about one hundred feet long was passed over the troopship transom and guided through the Blue Bayou's bow fairlead and attached to a strongpoint with a couple of turns and a half hitch. It would be easy to disengage in an emergency. Personal flotation devices and radios were passed to the pair. With a final wave, the troopship slowly moved ahead, paying out the towline carefully. At last, the yacht swung around and started its journey. Aboard Albert's ship, there were smiles all around. Their prey had been taken, the units of merchandise had all been sold, and the ship itself was, in effect, gone. The team could relax until the next operation, probably in two months, and definitely in another of the world's oceans. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 17: Julie Author's Note: Our Heroine, Julie, is being readied for an "interview" with the Empress, the Territory's leader of high society. Will she be confirmed as a "First Lady?" But first, Julie has a problem. See how our former paralegal deals with it. And then, how she deals with the Empress. J Spe Chapter Twenty-Five: Dinner Before Correction I am heading for my trainers. Master has just helped me get over an outburst of fright and terror of my impending "interview" with the Empress. He has also decreed three strikes with "a nice whippy cane" as correction for my outburst. Then, he asked whether I'd like to be fastened to the whipping bench for such a "minor correction" or could I take it just crouched in the Down position. From his reference to "minor" and his remark about "going to the trouble of fastening" me, I'm pretty sure my Master is expecting me to refuse the fastening to the whipping bench. The problem is, can I manage the three cuts without recoiling out of position? And, can I do it without the screams that would embarrass me and, I'm sure, my trainers? My paralegal mind notices that Master said nothing about consulting with anyone, so I'm looking for at least one of my trainers. I find Igor and Anne in the kitchen. Even as I drop into the Position One kneel — which I'm being careful to execute as gracefully as possible — Igor notices my flushed face and upset demeanor. How could anyone miss it? He nods to me and says, simply, "Speak, Julie." How's that for a knowledgeable trainer! I pour out the details of my worry, my outburst, Master's homily, and my correction. Igor looks thoughtful for a moment and then pontificates, "I'm pleased that Master has such confidence in my ability to administer even such a minor correction." I about choke with anger until my trainers burst out laughing. Now, I'm just confused. I'm smart enough not to say anything right here, especially something that my Inner Goddess is ranting about in my inner ear. In slavery, three can become thirty in a blink of an eye. Finally, Anne punches Igor on his arm and he explains to his trainee. "Julie, three cuts really is a minor correction. I know that you haven't had a real caning. That means you're going to be surprised at how excruciatingly painful it is. But, you have to remember that it's only three, that it's a hurt but not a harm, and that you'll recover from this hurt with no long-term problem." Anne picks up the thread of Igor's reassurance. "Now, let's focus on the question Master left you with: fastened to the whipping bench or kneeling free? What do you think about each choice?" OK, a direct question. I do my deep breath thing and start. "Fastened would be easier. I couldn't jump away or break position. I'm sure that would be better for Igor. Still, Master did mention how much trouble it would be to get everything set up. So, I think I'd do Master better if I tried for the Down position. But, I just don't know if I could hold it." Igor asks, "What if you had something to hold?" I never thought of that! Quickly, I realize that could change all the dynamics of my correction. It would still hurt — and my trainer had promised it would be excruciatingly painful — but I would have something to focus on. The physical act of holding on would have to affect my tendency to jump, wouldn't it? "Now, about the screams." Anne moves us to another practical point. "Of course you would reflect more credit if you could be silent, but my experience with slavery is that it takes a slave a long time and lots of work to reach that stage." I imagine that Anne is referring to lots of strikes with the "nice whippy cane." Anne continues, "So, nobody is expecting you to be silent. So, you don't have to be embarrassed by your screams. In a way, they certify that Igor is doing a good job." Igor has a helpful suggestion. "Now, Master said nothing about a gag, right? If you wish, I can use some type of gag? Maybe a ballgag or a cleave gag? The thing is, they're not actually totally soundproof." Helpful, right? I bend my head in submission and whisper my gratitude to my trainers for their guidance. It is dessert time at the dinner table before Master brings up my correction, recounting my crime for Charles, Edward, and Pat, along with Anne and Igor, who already know the story. I can't be sure, of course, but I'd be astounded if the grapevine hadn't already informed everyone of my misdeed. Some entrepreneur is probably already selling tickets for my correction at Hong Kong Stadium or, if it is to be indoors, at the Arena Hall at AsiaWorld-Expo. I have no difficulty not mentioning these thoughts as Master turns to me for my answer. Actually, I guess I knew from the very start what my answer would be, had to be. I would be embarrassed to put Master to the trouble of strapping me to a whipping bench. I have no idea what a whipping bench looks like, but I can't believe it is as comfortable as a park bench. And, given the training I have had, I think I'd be embarrassed to admit that it wasn't good enough or severe enough for me to be able to take a minor correction without the restraint. My Inner Goddess is counseling me not to play at being a heroine, but I think I always knew I am going to try it. I take my breath and announce, "Please, Master, this slave will accept her correction in the Down position." Finally, I've gotten something right! Grins and smiles wreath everyone's face at the table. Master takes my hand and brings it to his lips for a soft kiss. I get that warm feeling again. Master looks at Igor and Igor rises to announce: "Ladies and Gentlemen, Julie will be ready for you in the Corrections Room in 30 minutes." He waves a bit to me, and I rise to follow him from the table. I don't know where we're going. The "Corrections Room" was not on the tour Pat gave me on my arrival. Igor strides down the hallway and I hurry to catch up with him. He unlocks a door almost at the end of the passage and enters, turning on the lights. I enter a few steps, glance around, and stop, paralyzed. The room extends the width of the building, with a high ceiling from which I see an arrangement of pulleys and cables descending. I recall Anne's description of "suspension," and I'm glad that isn't going to be on tonight's menu. The floor is carpeted for the most part, with several patches of the rubberized surface used in the gym one floor below. There are no windows, just banks of cabinets and racks lining the walls. I can see hanks of rope and coils of chain, each neatly coiled and posted in its place. There is a display of whips suspended from their handles, the longer ones with the lash coiled and hung on a convenient peg. On one wall, a saltire, a St. Andrews Cross, is mounted, extending about a foot into the room. There is a sink and washing station at each end of the room. A few small carts are lined up near one washing station, their cargo covered by a clean white sheet. Towards one end of the room, a pillar, perhaps six inches square, rises from floor to ceiling. It bears several sets of manacles dangling from short chains. At the other end, there are a few pieces of furniture, each covered with a clean white sheet. From D-rings recessed into the rubberized floor areas, short chains lead to metallic or leather shackles. Each view fairly screams "Pain!" Anne had restrained me in my first days of slavery with some ropes and chains and, of course, the handcuffs. Clearly, that was minor league stuff. This room is clearly at the Major League level. Igor's smile and a beckoning hand draw me to one cabinet. "Julie, it's necessary for you to strip now. Put your clothes on the hangers in this closet. They'll be right here for you afterwards." Reassuring, isn't he? I'm practiced at this, so it takes just seconds before I am naked before my trainer. He twirls one hand and I make a slow turn so he can inspect every part of me. I suppose that, once, I would be blushing furiously at this humiliating act, but my training has taught me that it is actually not intended as a humiliation; my trainer is simply checking to be sure there is nothing to cause delay or cancellation of this appointment. Well, maybe I blush a little. Igor manages a "Good" assessment of his trainee and leads me to one of the rubberized floor areas. It shows a plastic bar, about a half-inch in diameter, held about three inches off the floor by a pair of stanchions. Igor directs me to kneel before this bar and reach out to hold it. "OK, now," he says, "put your elbows on the floor and bring your knees up to your elbows, spreading your knees as wide as you can. This is the position you need to hold. Do you understand?" I figure this out as I'm assuming the position. It's quite inventive, I think. "Yes, Sir. Holding the bar will help keep me from jumping out. Thank you, Sir." "Now, the topper is that you can take the bar in your mouth. Chomping on the bar will help keep you from too much noise. Do you understand?" I try to bite the bar. It's plastic, so it doesn't have much taste, but it's soft enough so that I won't damage my teeth. I notice that putting my head down does wonders for lifting my ass up. It's going to be a great target for my trainer. "Yes, Sir. Biting down will help control for screams. Thank you, Sir." I guess that I don't have to point out how high my ass is. Now, I realize I haven't seen any canes, especially "nice whippy canes." Whips, yes. Canes, no. My puzzle is explained a moment later, when Anne brings in a large plastic tube, from which Igor draws out several long canes. I see some fluid dripping from them, which does not make sense to me. Anne brings the tube to me and shows me several canes still inside, along with the fluid. "These are rattan canes, the finest and most flexible in the world. We get them from Imperial Cane and Strap Company, Ltd., of North Yorks, England.* "Their canes are made from the finest rattan imported from Malaysia and Singapore. Proper care for the rattan entails soaking in brine for at least a day before use. A dried out cane loses flexibility and, more importantly, weight. Indeed, a soaked cane is much easier to control. Tonight, Igor will use a Junior cane, although, with even slight practice, any cane can produce a wide variety of sensations. These are made of a light grade of rattan but are strong, flexible and whippy. Each is the standard 1.2 meters long (almost 46 inches) and 1.27 cm (a half-inch) thick. It imparts a memorable sting, adequate for light to moderate discipline. We use this cane because it has an indefinable combination of density and suppleness, an almost fluid quality which gives the penetrating sting. You will feel a snap at first contact and a thudding finish to each stroke. That is what makes a good caning the most respected of all punishments." Helpful? Anne's speech sounds almost like the description in a catalog. In some ways, the routine words are comforting: I won't be permanently scarred. In other ways, she has promised each stroke will bring pain different and more intense than any I have borne. My Master and his team files into the Corrections Room and there is a moment of greetings. My Master takes my chin in his hands and looks into my eyes. I know he will see fear in them, but I hope he will also see his slave's resolve to accept its punishment in a way that meets his standards. Master whispers, "For tonight, and because there are only three strikes, there is no need to count. Do you understand?" This is unexpected, a departure from the proper procedures. It is a clue my Master knows about the ingenuity my trainers have called up for my benefit. My answer is prompt. "Yes, Master, your slave understands." Master says simply, "Igor, you may begin." I do not look up from my plastic bar. I am focusing on the bar with my eyes, my hands, and, now, my jaws. There is a moment of silence, then a sort of swishing wind noise, and my ass is on fire. The pain, as Anne had said, started as a local sting but exploded into a total body burn. I am so shocked that I cannot breathe, let alone cry out. I have not moved from the bar and my jaws are clamped on it as if I had a case of tetanus. I do not know how long it takes to start breathing again, but I manage. Big, shuddering gasps. I sense that Igor is waiting, giving me time to save up the oxygen I am going to need for the next blow. He strokes my back, always a welcome feeling. When the strokes on my back stop their soothing, I grab the bar again, ready — but not ready, never ready — for the stroke of the cane. It comes, and the bar again helps me hold still and hold silent. The pain is the same, I think, but my brain tells me I'm not thinking now. Again, Igor uses his hand to place soothing strokes on my back while I try to breathe. Now, my brain is telling me Hold the pose! Do not break the position! This sounds like a good idea, I think, but my brain isn't telling me how to do it. Then, amidst the silence in the room, I see the bar in front of me and clamp my jaws on it just as the third stroke falls. Again, I go into some far off space where breathing is not needed. A cough reminds me to come back home where breathing can be normal. Slowly, I realize the room is no longer silent. There is applause! I release my jaws from the bar and look up, not thinking whether I have permission to look up at my audience. My Master and trainers are all wearing smiles and applauding! Igor taps a hand and says I can let go now. It takes a moment or two to relax my muscles and release the bar. Slowly, the whole room comes into focus and I realize my correction is complete. I have survived the hurt! Unbidden, Igor's instruction from my arrival on Master's yacht comes to mind: once you've recovered from the hurt, your survival will tell you that you can always be hurt again. Anne comes alongside and pats me on the head, adding "Julie, go to Position One, now." Automatically, it seems, I am kneeling in proper position. Then, my ass screams its anger and resentment from contact with my heels. Anne is right there with another command. "Kneel up, now," I raise up and my ass quiets down. Anne tells me that her first command was to let me know how my ass would feel on any contact. Then, she got me off my ass as quickly as possible. Master comes to me and also strokes my head and neck. "You did well, my dear, just as I expected. Your trainers will have more to explain to you. Stand up, now, and go with them to your room. Do you understand?" I hear my "Yes, Master. Go with my trainers. Thank you, Master." But, it takes me a few moments to rise to my feet. My Inner Goddess is making wisecracks about having a pain in the ass, but I silence her as I place my hands for Transport Mode. Nobody says anything about my clothes. Back in my room, Igor, Anne, and Pat regale me with compliments. I had not broken position. I had not screamed. I had taken my correction well. They tell me this is high praise for a slave. I am not asked for my opinion — when is a slave's opinion important, anyway? Finally, Igor guides me to the full-length mirror I have used to make sure I am presenting the-slave-I-have-become properly. He turns me this way and that and, looking over one shoulder and the other, I get to see three dark red stripes across my buttocks. They are straight across, perfectly level and parallel, evenly spaced across the curve of my ass. I have never seen the marks of a cane. My eyes are glued to them as I continually turn, left and right, to see them from any angle, again and again. Anyone who sees them will know these marks are from a cane. Anyone will know that these are the mark of a slave. Pat breaks into my reverie with a command. "Julie, lie down on your front on the bed. I've got some ointment for your ass. It should help with the pain for tonight. Tomorrow, we've got some creams we can use to help the healing." Anne helps me to lie flat and Pat applies her ointment. In a few moments, I feel the pain recede a bit. Igor comes even with my face and asks, "Julie, I'm sure you couldn't think of anything but the pain, but, now, are you getting back to yourself?" He was the one who caned me! And now, he wants me to talk to him! Damn yes, I want to talk to him! I want to tell him I hate him, hate his cane, hate all my trainers, hate my Master, hate this slavery, hate everything that's happened since I got on Blue Bayou. And, he's asked a question, so I am OK to talk, right? OK, I have a lot to talk about! I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My anger, my hate, they are silent. I feel lost in a strange world. My mouth closes as my eyes pour out my tears. It is Anne who takes my hand in hers and squeezes gently. "Julie, I understand exactly what you're feeling now. Believe me, this is not unusual for a new slave. It happened to me, also. Take your time now and sleep on it. We'll talk more in the morning." Igor adds, "Anne's right, Julie. I'll cancel your 6:00 AM gym. It's more important for you to think and then talk with us." Pat has a small smile as she says, softly, "Julie, you wear your stripes beautifully. These are your first, and you probably can't see it now, but they are really beautiful." What is she talking about? I can see them perfectly well, and they just look like big red marks. How can anybody see beauty there? I am about to explain this to my Master's First Slave when Igor strokes my shoulder and murmurs, "She's right, Julie. We all know you don't see it that way now; Hell, you can feel it better than see it, right? But, believe us — and remember this — these marks are beautiful." My Inner Goddess is silent, and I see the wisdom in staying silent about this point. Instead, I ask, "Please, what will the Empress think about these stripes? There's no way I'm going to be able to hide them if she wants a play session. In fact, she'll suspect something just from the way I walk or sit, if I can sit." My trainers break out into big smiles — can you believe it: smiles! I've had the worst pain and now I could be marked for life! Igor applies another soft stroke on my shoulder. "Now, that's the slave we've trained! You're focusing on what your Master is going to need next. All right, now. Let me ask you what you think the Empress is going to think." I have no idea of what the Empress might think. I don't know the woman or anything about her circle. I gasp at the question, but then start thinking it through and answering my trainers. "Please, Sir, the Empress knows I am a slave, so she won't be surprised to find these marks of the cane. She knows that slaves have no privacy so I expect she'll start asking about the crime that led to this correction." I stop, horrified at what I'm guessing could be the Empress' next step. Anne reads the expression on my face and asks, "Julie, what are you thinking now?" It's a direct question and demands an immediate answer. I manage to squeak out, "Please, Ma'am, could she think she's entitled to add her own to Igor's marks?" I can see my trainers strain to hide their laughter. I realize I've just said a silly, childish thing. I'm a slave. Anybody can use me for anything. If the Empress wants, of course she is entitled to add more stripes. And anything else, I assume. It's the First Law of Slavery, right? Slaves Never Win. My trainers give me a moment to let this realization seep through me. Anne, again reading my face, observes, "It's OK, Julie. I think you've gotten a better idea of how this game is played. Now, let's get on with trying to think about what the Empress might want. Any ideas?" My trainer has neatly put the ball back into my court. I must move beyond the stripes to what the Empress really wants from this "interview." This is something that I have really thought about, so I take my deep breath and start. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 17: Julie "Please, my trainers, I think the Empress is looking at this like a job interview. Remember what she said in the gym? About how much work has to be done to keep life going around here? She has a society to run, so she needs workers and contributors. I think she'll try to see if I can perform in her society, if I can present my Master in the best light, if I can represent her standards to the world." My trainers take in my words and appear to consider them. There is some further reassurance that my caning is of no importance, an idea that makes my Inner Goddess bristle with pungent remarks; I manage to remain silent as they prepare to head off. Pat leaves her ointment "in case you'd like to apply another treatment during the night." The door lock clicks, reassuring me that my life is back to "normal-in-this-world-of-slavery." My mind refuses to work on any more problems and I fall asleep. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Twenty-Six: Appointment with the Empress The young girl wakes me at 6:00 AM, as usual, but this time I'm to wash and head for breakfast. I stop her and ask, "Please, you've come to take care of me so many times, but I don't know your name?" There is a fleeting blanch of color on her face, but then she whispers, "Please, Ma'am, my Master calls me Fifteen." I manage to put on a smile, and reply, "Thank you, Fifteen. Have a good day." She turns and practically flees my room — and, yes, I'm thinking of it as "my" room, again. I wash, snap my hair into a ponytail, don a short robe, and make it to the kitchen in time to help slice some fruit and set out plates and cutlery for my trainers and me. Nobody mentions my ass, and I'm surprised that I can move fairly well. Igor loads the toaster and breakfast starts very quietly. Finally, Pat opens the conversation. "OK, we're all a bit on edge right now, aren't we? Well, I've thought and thought and I think the Master's take is just about the best." "In that case," Igor picks up, "we shouldn't get any answers rehearsed. Julie will come off best with fresh answers to the Empress' probes." Charles appears with a present, clearly a bottle of wine from its shape and the ribbons tied around the neck of the bottle. "We sent a bouquet of flowers last time, but I think the Empress will enjoy this a lot more." His grin suggests that this is not a routine house wine, right? Wrong again! Charles explains that the bottle comes from one of Master's enterprises, a vineyard and winery in Australia and it is from the equivalent of "Grand Cru" terroir. He stops to say that "terroir" is the kind of soil in which they grow the grapes. "About ten years ago, Master interested a French Champagne house in his Tasmanian property. They tested and did some experiments, and now we're selling a sparkling white wine that's about as fine as the stuff made in the Champagne region." So, it is a house wine, but not a routine one. One of these days, I'll get something right, I hope. Charles' appearance has lightened the mood considerably, and we all repair to my room to select my couture for this interview. My trainers go through almost every outfit I've worn since my arrival, but none seem "just right." Some want it elegant, some want it sexy, some want it "more refined," which isn't at all clear to me. Finally, the clothes stop flying around and, of all people, Charles makes a suggestion. "You know that little black dress she had on when she arrived? She looked pretty good in it, and I thought that big zipper was as enticing as Hell." Anne sings out "Calvin Klein," and Pat digs into the closet, returning in a flash with the "little black dress" and a big smile. For the lingerie, Anne finds a bra and panty set featuring "full coverage" of my derriere. Now, I'm wearing the big smile. Maybe this will keep the stripes covered? Black pumps with a moderate heel (how long will I be wearing them?) finish the ensemble. I am taken to Master's office for a final glance and OK. "Julie, you look lovely, as always. And, the ponytail gives you the joie de vivre of a teenager. Please, go see the Empress and enjoy the visit." I'm not so sure about the teenager thing, but I've gotten such support from my Master and trainers, now my family, that I grin, curtsy, and head off to the car feeling as if this is going to be another of Igor's "piece of cake" routines. The Empress' limousine seems as long as a battleship, but the footman installs me in the back seat and the chauffer makes the car move off smoothly. We travel for a few minutes and the chauffer brings the car to a stop on a quiet street. The footman joins me in the back seat and says, "Miss Julie, the Empress would like you restrained. Please give me your right wrist." It is said so quietly and calmly that I automatically extend my wrist. It is only when the shackle clamps down that I realize I'm in trouble. Wrong again! The footman smiles and explains, "Thank you for your trust and cooperation. There is just one more item." He fiddles with some black cloth and shakes out a hood! I go from scared to terrified, but I'm already shackled, so a fight is not an option. Resigned, I allow the hood to be slipped over my head and tied in place. As in Master's airplane, sight and sound are taken from me. The footman stays at my side as the limo resumes its journey. It isn't a very long trip, possibly ten or fifteen minutes, I estimate. Paying attention to the passage of time was a trick I learned, long ago, would help me stay calm and relaxed. I'm guessing that the shackle and hood might be the Empress' way of pulling rank or trying to get me angry or upset or something that would detract from the image of Master's First Lady. I keep telling myself that that's the job position I'm interviewing for and all this stuff is just testing folderol. I figure if I tell this to myself often enough, maybe I'll come to believe it. When the limo makes a sharp right turn and the tires start crunching on gravel, I guess that we've arrived. I remain still so that the footman can remove the hood and unlock the shackle. He opens the door and hands me out of the limo as if no excursion into slavery had been played. I have a moment to glimpse a huge mansion set in a large lawn. There is no Reception Committee, and the footman walks me up a stone path bordered by some flowers I don't recognize to a massive front door, which swings open as we approach. My footman announces "Miss Julie" to the pair of footmen at the doorway and returns to the limo. The new footmen nod and gesture me into the house. The entryway is about the size of the gymnasium at my High School, with a splendid chandelier hanging from a second floor ceiling. I have scant time to get my bearings because, as one footman closes the door, the second announces, "Please follow me." With my entry into this magnificent edifice, I work up my First Lady demeanor as fast as I can. I take shorter steps than usual and move slower than usual, hoping the soreness in my buttocks will not announce that I am merely a slave just a few hours past a minor correction. As the footman leads me through the mansion, my Inner Goddess reminds me how absolutely absurd this whole enterprise is, and I start to smile. The smile is almost to a grin when I am ushered into a large salon, lined with books and tapestries, featuring the Empress seated at a beautiful dark wood desk. A few servants pick up some papers and a cup and bow themselves out. The Empress rises and comes toward me, her hands outstretched in greeting. We embrace, I present the bottle of wine, and this chatelaine of Hong Kong says "Julie, so nice of you to come and visit me. I hope the trip was not too long?" My Inner Goddess sees an opening and spouts a line. "Thank you for the opportunity of this visit, my Empress. And, your footman made the trip quite interesting." I can't restrain a second of giggle at the many possible interpretations the Empress will have to research for that line! The Empress ignores it and invites me to sit down on a nice soft sofa, which I manage without uttering a sound, while my hostess takes an upholstered chair facing me. I am prepared for some conversational battle, but the Empress scuttles that with her first words. "Julie — may I use your first name? — I'd like to get to know you better, because we have a chance to work together here on a lot of good causes. Now, I know you came here under, let us say, 'unusual' circumstances. That, of course, will be part of our friendship, but it needn't be a barrier. I've known your Master for many years, and I doubt he's made your life miserable. As you maintain your focus on his needs, I'm sure he'll continue to care for you. "Now, I'm sure Pat and Anne and Igor have told you all sorts of stories about how I seem to run high society here — and I want to assure you that most of them are probably reasonably true — but you have to understand that someone is always in charge, and who better than me?" Her pause from this immediate offensive gives me a short panic attack. This woman is so attractive and confident, so clearly in control of herself and our interview, I find myself wishing to become like her. I wasn't ready for this "confession" and I'm not sure what she expects me to say. I do my deep breath thing and make a try. "Please, my Empress, this slave knows nothing about high society. Before I came to Hong Kong, I was a simple paralegal in a fairly large law firm. I got to know a bit about business, but I've never been a part of what you called 'high society.'" I hope that sets up a proper relationship between our two levels, but Empress brushes it off. "Nonsense, my dear. You've been successful in the business world at your law firm. Society, high or low, is not all that different: each has its laws and customs, and those regulate how the members treat each other. If you could operate there, you can operate here. "Of course, you wanted to succeed in the law firm, didn't you? Do you want to succeed here?" Neat! She's served the ball right back at me, with the challenge if I want to engage and succeed. I'm sure my Master wants me "fully engaged," as they say, and most assuredly to succeed. He has told me this since our first meeting on Blue Bayou. OK, I get ready to answer her challenge with one of my own, a tactic one of the law partners told me about: never let them run you around. "Please, my Empress, my Master has told me he expects me to serve and he has pointed out that I've done well since he bought me. Still, this is a whole new world for me, one I have no experience or training in. Will you help me learn what I must to be the successful First Lady he wants?" She is not fazed by this challenge at all! "Of course, Julie. That's why I invited you here. There are as many piranhas swimming in our harbor as in your old firm's waters. I didn't get to be Empress without learning how to fend them off. In fact, you'll probably hear some wild stories of how I actually ate some of them alive." Now, she's giggling like a high school girl savoring a maneuver at a dance in the gym after a football game! Or whatever game they played back in Olde England. The hilarity lasts only a few seconds, but, her smile still full, she offers, "My dear, we've started talking business too soon. I haven't even asked whether I can offer you a cup of tea. What can I get for you? We have American coffee also, of course." In the next instant, my Inner Goddess explains a few ideas to me. I know about coffee, and there isn't much ritual to it. Here in the Orient, and especially in a former British colony, tea is likely to have more ritual to it. Let's see how she manages a tea ceremony; we could learn from her, right? "If I may, Empress, I think I would like tea. Perhaps a variety that you favor, or that comes from this region?" There is an instant of laughter, but the smile remains. "Julie, you confirm my expectations, and probably your Master's expectations, of you. Was that part of your preparation for this?" Damn! This woman is good! The ball is back in my court but with a grenade attached. I've got my breathing under control now, so I answer with a soft lob. "No, Empress. My Master and my trainers discussed this interview and instructed me, of course, but their conclusion was that my Master has nothing to hide from you, that we all recognize the work you do, and that this slave is more likely to pass your inspection as she answers truthfully and from her own core." Have mentioned that I have a tendency to go over the top, to "lay it on thick?" The Empress sees this also, I'm sure. She nods, "I appreciate your candor, Julie. I think I'm going to like working with you." She waves a hand and, as if by magic, a slim young girl appears, receives a flood of instructions in quiet Chinese, and disappears. My hostess rises and beckons me to a window. I manage to rise, again without a sound, and join her. She points out a few landmarks in the magnificent vista, among which I only recognize Victoria Peak. I offer one of the few Hong Kong facts I have learned. "The Peak is the highest place in the Region, at 552 meters." Empress leans back and looks at me quizzically. "And why is that important?" I'm in for it now! Empress has just taught me that a comment is only voiced when it makes a contribution to the conversation. Maybe that's something I should have learned in kindergarten? "Please, Mistress," I try, my language showing I've slipped a few notches. "It was one of the things my Master told me on the ferry from the Airport. I have since learned that The Peak is the home neighborhood of many officials, one of the most expensive addresses in the world." "Now, that's a useful piece of information," is her response. "You must never forget how we keep score in society: wealth, position, family. Is that different from your law firm?" My rueful grin and my nod tell her that the rules are the same on the other side of the world. There is a gentle knock on the door, followed by a soft rustle as the young girl, she can't be out of her teens, guides a glass cart to a small round table and lays out tea service for two. "Come, Julie, and see if you can sit for our tea." SHE KNOWS! The Empress throws back her head and a loud laugh erupts. She is so enjoying this that, even with my face blushing deep red, I am forced to join in just a bit. Nevertheless, the pride of my Inner Goddess makes me take a seat at the table without uttering a sound. Empress takes the other chair and the young girl pours our cups. I have enough sense to wait until Empress tastes her cup before lifting mine. The tea has a pleasant aroma, but quite a dry taste. I try a few sips and notice a funny, warm feeling in my abdomen. Immediately, the idea of a drug flashes into mind. Empress picks up the expression on my face and a smile starts on her face, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "My dear, I believe you are thinking that your tea has been drugged. Isn't that so?" I struggle to take a deep breath, and manage a small squeak, "Yes, Empress." "Please don't concern yourself. This tea has some calming properties, it is true, but I do not find it necessary to drug my visitors. In any case, we have much to accomplish today, so drugging you would be counter-productive. Do you understand?" There's the question! I manage to replace the cup in its saucer without spilling any and with just a minimum of clatter. "Please, Empress, this slave does not understand." It is the first time I have given this response. My Master and trainers are always so exact in their commands that understanding was simple. Now, I'm not sure that I'm even hearing the Empress correctly. She nods and looks to the young girl. "Prepare a cup of Constant Comment® for our guest. Show her the packet before you open it." Within seconds, the servant produces a standard foil packet of one of the world's most well-known teas, opens it before me, and places the teabag in a fresh cup. She lets me see clear hot water pour from a pitcher and uses a new spoon to swirl the tea. We wait in silence for the tea to steep properly and then she sets the cup before me. I gather the remnants of my courage and take a sip. It tastes familiar and washes away the warm feeling. In a few moments, while the Empress observes me, I feel back to myself. I am thinking hard. Clearly, this dominant woman was testing me, but about what? And, what is my best play now? My deep breath goes quite naturally, and I offer a gambit. "Please, my Empress, my Master and my trainers instructed me to be completely open and candid with you. They noted that prior slaves have suffered no physical harms and seemed not to have had 'hypnotic suggestions' implanted that made them think differently or do things differently from before their trip to the Empress. So, my Master said, Empress may use you for some kind of entertainment, in which case that's not really outside your job description, is it? Or, she may use a drug or hypnosis to amplify her interrogation. In that case, you can only report what you've seen or heard, and we have no problem with that because the Empress' spies probably already have most of that anyway." Now, Empress' smile does reach her eyes. "My dear Julie, that is the prettiest speech I've heard in years. And, you can tell your Master that it does him and your trainers credit. But, in point of fact, the test was a different one. This tea is a bit unusual, and I serve it to learn what your reaction will be to a new or unusual challenge. Most of the time, my subject will pick up on the taste or the abdominal feeling and panic. Your answer shows you didn't, and that tells me you're made of stronger stuff. "Now, if you're comfortable again, we can go to the next test. Ready?" Well, I'm "comfortable" again, but I'm not sure I'm ready for another test. Empress has asked a question, so I'm bound to answer. I try this one, "Please, Empress, about as ready as I'll ever be." This time, Empress gives a full laugh. "Good answer, Julie. Now, I'm dying to see whatever stripes you have. I could tell from your walk that you've had a recent correction. So, I'd like you to strip yourself for me. Now!" Empress' tone is not harsh, I think, but it is clear she expects compliance right here, right now. I stand and divest myself of the dress, bra, and panties. I lock my hands behind my neck and take the chance of turning slowly so my interviewer will see all of the marks my Master has ordered. Empress says nothing for a long moment, but I catch a bit of sparkle in her eyes. My Inner Goddess observes that I've passed this test also. Empress seems to agree. She comes to me and gently but firmly runs her hands over my back, my decorated rump, and thighs. I think I can feel her power in these simple strokes. "Julie," she remarks, "you mark very nicely. And, these ridges will be with you for a few weeks. I take it this was your first caning?" "Yes, Empress, my first caning." "You must tell me the complete story. What was your crime and how were you placed, all the delicious details." Oh no! I'm not going to explain about my breakdown while Master was preparing me for this séance! I try a quick patch. "Please, Empress, it was just a simple error and my Master said it rated only a minor correction." Empress fixes me in a stare, and I know she doesn't believe me. As my Master had instructed, I go to the truth, and spill the story of my loss of control and loss of focus. I tell how I was counseled about the fastening, and how my trainers provided me with a support. I describe each strike. At the end, I am blushing with embarrassment, and find my eyes downcast. It takes an effort to raise them to look at my interviewer. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 17: Julie Empress is smiling! "My dear, any correction with a cane is not really a 'minor' correction, although the number of strokes was insignificant. Now, what have you learned from this correction and from your report of the case just now?" "This slave will not lose her composure or her focus on her Master. This slave understands that there is no need for embarrassment before her Empress." I had thought of this moment, of course, and tried several formulations of this answer. I hoped this one was the right one. Empress says simply, "Very good, Julie. That's another test you've passed." Yes! Finally, I got one right! Score one for the slave! The warm feeling this powerful woman has kindled in me is nothing like the foreign feeling from the first tea. "Now, come with me. I'd like to see you perform in the gym." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Twenty-Seven: Making Love to the Machines The Empress takes my hand and, almost like two schoolgirls — but with an understanding of her superiority to me — we walk through her home, really, a mansion. There is even a full suit of medieval armor on display at the foot of a staircase. We climb up one floor and I am ushered into a gym several times the size and scale of my Master's. A gorgeous hunk of man comes immediately to Empress' side. I hear her instruct him to "evaluate" this slave, "using the routines she is used to." It is easy to hear her "voice of command" as she exercises her natural authority over him. My Inner Goddess suggests a ploy: act as a First Lady rather than a slave. It will be a small attempt to regain some dignity and status. So, without waiting to be asked about "my routines," I smile at the Empress and say, "Thank you for the opportunity to show what routines I have been working on. Usually, I start on the bicycle, going at slow speed for 30 seconds followed by high speed for 90 seconds, and doing five repeats." Empress allows me to complete this nice speech and then dissolves the ground around me. "Of course, my dear. My training staff has gotten your routines from Igor by e-mail this morning. I'm sure the machines are already set up for you. Just follow my trainer and he'll have you sorted out fairly quickly." I manage a weak "As my Empress wishes," hoping to escape without offering further offense. Empress' trainer waves me to a bicycle whose seat is at just the right height. He punches the Start button and the same numbers light up as on Igor's machine. My Inner Goddess offers the suggestion that I shut up and just make love to the machines. I don't give her the courtesy of an answer. I notice that my heart rate, which is expected to speed up with the 90-second speed trial, doesn't actually rise as much as it does on Igor's bicycle. And, it comes back down faster during the 30-second slow periods. I'm impressed! Somewhat the same results show for several other routines: chest presses, arm and leg curls, single- and double-arm pushups, and so forth. Throughout, I keep repeating the mantra "Make Love Not Sweat" as the trainer moves me along. Still, after two hours, there is a considerable sheen of sweat on my body, the trainer has used several towels to wipe down the machines, and I've consumed almost a liter of water. As the trainer finishes his notes, I am flushed with pride that I've gotten through the workout with nary a single cut from his crop. According to Igor, I'd come close to that a few times in his gym, but he always delivered a cut or two "just to help maintain focus." I'd bridled at those, but today I'm happy that I got the message my trainer was trying to deliver. This trainer passes me through a shower and wraps me in a bath sheet to get me ready for the Empress. He presents me in Standing Presentation posture and gives his report quite succinctly: "Stylish," he says. Without even a nod, he turns and goes off to another trainee. Empress' smile lights up the area. I have passed another test, it seems! "Julie, after a good workout, I like to indulge in a massage. Put the towel in the laundry bin and follow me." Her command moves us to an alcove at the back of the gym where a pair of Asian women stand ready at massage tables. Their hands are firm but gentle and, for the next half-hour, I give myself up to the pleasure they bring. I try to think of something to say to my interviewer, but I am warned by her earlier observation about importance. The ridges on my posterior generate no mention. Finally, we are both dressed in white tunics and the Empress leads me back to the main floor, this time to a dining room. I recognize the elements of an enterprise Mess Hall. There is an extensive buffet of salads, cheeses, and meats along one wall, with small groups of diners arriving and taking a table or two with suitable greetings to neighboring tables. There is no clatter of dishes, but a quiet level of conversation that makes me think each group is protecting its turf or these folks are just unnaturally soft-spoken. I don't catch any signal, but conversation stops and everyone rises as the Empress enters. She gives a small, confident smile and says, simply, "Welcome to you all." The groups reform, but I am left with the impression that each has at least an eye or two out for any sign of interest from the Empress. None of the partners at my law firm was anywhere near this level of control! The slim young girl from the tea ceremony appears at Empress' side and fills a plate as Empress signals. Tipped off by a nod from a server, I take a plate and select foods I recognize and can manage. A quick glance around and I just know Empress will be seated at an empty round table in the center of the room. Footmen appear and pull out chairs for the two of us. Empress seats herself and watches as I complete the same maneuver with only a quick gasp. Empress' smile of pleasure warms me, I am surprised to find. Footmen open linen napkins for us and, with Empress setting into her plate with gusto, I try to follow. I'm hungry, of course — breakfast wasn't all that much and was several hours ago — but I'm still keyed up about this interview. A waiter passes by and fills my goblet with pale yellow bubbly. I take a sip and am shocked to find it isn't ginger ale but actual sparkling wine! Empress notices this, of course, just as she has noticed everything about me this morning. "I thought you might enjoy this adult beverage. Naturally, I don't think this is something you need to put in your report to your Master. Do you understand?" The words just tumble out. "Yes, my Empress, this slave understands. Discretion in all communication. I believe that covers this development." Empress' smile is beautiful, I think. My Inner Goddess is laughing at how quickly this woman has shown me how easily my Master can be tricked. No wonder that so many Archived slave reports were empty of content! Conversation flows easily. At least, easily from the Empress. She points out a few bureaucrats scattered among the tables, along with several businessmen and women. I do not fail to be impressed by the level of Hong Kong society visiting her staff. I do note, however, that beyond an identification, she provides no glimpse into what they are doing here, or which of her staff are attending to them. Empress catches a staffer's eye and beckons him to her table, starting a parade of staffers. Introductions are brief, just an exchange of first names. Each mentions a project he or she is working on and how it is nearing success. By the time the fourth or fifth staffer has "dropped by," I figure out the pattern: Empress is rolling cultural institutions past me and letting me know what she is doing with them. The Children's Zoo is busier than ever, and is looking for another elephant. A ballet company has settled a contract with its orchestra. A concert hall has had an acoustic engineer in to improve its sound quality. The new Premier League of the Hong Kong Football Association has done well in its initial season and seems on sound financial ground for next season. I manage to show some interest in each institution, but I am mystified why the Empress is parading these before me. At some point, Empress seems to catch my wonder and stops the parade to explain. "Julie, your Master is one of the pillars of our society in the SAR" — I already know that this is the Special Administrative Region that keeps the former British colony within the Peoples Republic of China — "and needs to shoulder the burden of some cultural institution so that our population has one of the best lives in Asia. He has been generous with his time and finances, of course, but he has always dodged taking on a major institution. Now, I am going to use you to get him to commit. The only problem, as I see it, is to pick out an institution that will hold his attention, or, at least, be one that he will be willing to have you take care of." What? She wants me to "take care" of a major cultural institution in one of the premier locations in the world? "My dear, don't look so shocked. This is the way it's always been for these institutions. The people who have the power and money to support them don't want to run them. The people who want to run them don't know how to do it. The people who use them can't afford them. I've found, after many years doing this, that the most efficient way here in Hong Kong is to get one of the Masters to let us use his First Slave to do what needs to be done. I've set up a system for training First Slaves that's the equal of an MBA program in Fine Arts. If you can convince your Master that this is his 'obligation to society,' then you'll do at least as well as some Ivy League type. And, let me tell you, you'll have a ball doing this." I can hear the quotation marks as she spouts off about "obligation to society." I've heard those comparisons to "Ivy League types." What I saw in the law office was a lot of petty quarrels and one-upmanship games, leading to a terrific waste of time, energy, and cash for the few institutions the Partners advised. I had often thought I could have done a better job with half the fireworks and less money than what actually happened. Wait a moment! Am I falling for this dominant woman's sales pitch? My Master told me he bought me to be a pleasure slave and to spy on his business rivals. Since when did cultural institutions get on my plate? I tamp down my enthusiasm and the Empress senses this almost instantly. "Julie, is something scaring you about this work?" Oh, she is slick! Just a simple dare to embarrass me into signing up for some nest of intellectual vipers! Well, I won't have any trouble staying out of that corridor! "You haven't been told yet, but I've already cleared this with your Master. He left it to me to fill you in once you've chosen which institution to take on." Damn! It's that Rule of Slavery again: a slave is told only what she needs to know when she needs to know it. I feel the ground begin to dissolve under me. For a moment, I again feel anger at my Master, my trainers, my slavery. A wild notion of how to get back at them, how to make them sorry for what they've done, engulfs me. The feeling is delicious! Then, reality intrudes. Any rebellion, any act of refusal, any discourtesy or disrespect, will simply be "corrected." I would have committed a crime and the correction would be perfectly justified. Three strokes is a minor correction? How about thirty strokes? Three hundred? Master would wave a finger and his loyal household, slave and servant, would fix me to the punishment bench, unceremoniously beat me, and, if I survived, arrange for the accountants to de-accession me. If I was very lucky, Empress might collect me as a House Slave, never to be seen in polite company. Remember the First Law of Slavery: Slaves Never Win. I decide to accept another defeat. I am becoming a Good Slave. I work at draining the bitterness from my voice and body language as I face the Empress, head down in submission, and ask, "Please, my Empress, what institution shall I serve?" "My dear, I can see how hard that must have been for you. But this is a decision you will have to make on your own. You will have to live with it for months or, if you work out as well as your Master and I expect, even years. Two years ago, the slave who was running the Opera died after two decades in the job. "So, you must choose carefully. I've set up your afternoon for a series of meetings with the institutions that are most in need. They have orders to be honest, forthcoming, and helpful to you. Of course, that's to be expected; each of them knows that any other behavior will see them expelled from the SAR as unemployable. You'll have to factor that into your assessment of what they tell you." Empress looks around and the slim young girl who arranged the tea ceremony and helped with Empress' plate at lunch materializes at her side. "Butterfly will show you to an office and guide you through the meetings. If there is anything you want or need to know, just ask Butterfly. She grew into being my Body Slave so fast that it seems she's been with me forever." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Twenty-Eight: Job Interviews Lunch is clearly over. I have managed to enjoy the cuisine, but I'm still not sure about the conversation. Empress sweeps off with a pair of staffers and her body slave — Butterfly, she's called? — takes my hand as if she's my kid sister and leads me to a not-so-small office. I decide to trust this fellow-slave, at least for a bit. Each of my trainers has stressed that slaves must be generous to each other, must always work together, and so on — stuff I took for mostly fluff. Now, I'm going to have to rely on it. Before I sit at the desk Butterfly has shown me to, I smile and try to engage this young girl. "Butterfly, thank you for helping me this afternoon. From the Empress' introduction, I'm sure you know more about all of this than I do. How do you think we should begin?" The girl giggles as she takes a seat on the sofa across from the desk. "Please, Ma'am, my Mistress has told me only that I'm to see you have whatever you need. I've been Mistress' body slave for less than a year, but I can probably find someone to ask if it's something I'm not sure about." Great! This could be like the old saying "The blind leading the blind." Butterfly adds, "There is a schedule set up on the workstation. Your name for today is "Julie' and your password is 'schedule'. Mistress thought that might be easy to remember." A tap on the mouse lights up a Welcome, Julie screen. The Empress is so far ahead of what any of my side had been thinking that I just grin and log in as instructed. There are two pages of appointments, starting in just a few minutes, with names and background sketches. Butterfly looks over my shoulder and giggles. "This is just like Mistress' morning list. You'll get through these in no time. If you'd like, I can bring in a small drinks setup and some cookies?" I grasp at her suggestion as if it's a life preserver in a storm. "Yes, please. That sounds like a big help for meeting new people." Butterfly takes all of three minutes, if that, to position a tea service, a few bottles of various soft drinks, and a platter of butter cookies on the table in front of the sofa. Cups, saucers, plates, glasses and cutlery come from a cabinet. It all looks more British than Chinese, I think. Butterfly must have sensed my thoughts because she chirps, "My Mistress has wanted me to learn the niceties of a proper English tea ceremony. She says it's simpler than a Chinese or Japanese ceremony." I smile and reply, "In my old law office, we didn't make much ceremony about this stuff. Most of the men were A-types who just took whatever they wanted from what was available on the bar. The women, on the other hand — and they also were A-types — made a point of not needing any drinks." We are interrupted by a pair of young men. I check the schedule and confirm that they're from one of the orphanages. They go through a presentation about their institution's history, number and types of children, and funding sources. They seem to have all this down quite well, and tell me that they've been working together for three years after going through the Empress' "Prep School" for administrators. I don't find any hint of any problem and, when I ask, the two simply smile and tell me that's what they are there for. It's not hard to figure that this team has been put on my schedule to show what a "good" institution looks like. I thank the men and they exit gracefully. I share my impression with Butterfly and she nods, her face serious. "If so, then the other groups are going to be much more messy to talk to." "Butterfly, I think you've just shown me what to look for. The Empress isn't going to want me or my Master to screw up a place that's going well. I'm betting that we're about to hear some real sob stories." My helper frowns and says, "Slaves have no money of their own, so slaves don't get to bet on anything. And, what's a 'sob story'?" I'm about to explain when another pair, this time an older man and a woman "of a certain age" appear. They are from an art gallery that was established in the last century by an Englishman and has been well-respected in Hong Kong for decades. Now, the founder has died and his sons are quarreling about the institution. One wants it to be more commercial, meaning to sell more works, while the other wants to emphasize the gallery's museum consultation services. Butterfly has a few questions about the sons. From the team's answers, I suspect no one from my Master's Enterprises will want to invest any time or energy, let alone cash, with them. I thank the pair and Butterfly sees them out. I check the schedule, finding we're about on time, and the next team is to be from the Opera. When Butterfly returns, I ask her about her name. "Oh, it was given to me by Mistress when she bought me from the slaver. She said she liked opera and this was the name of her favorite character." A few more questions establish that this girl has never actually been to an operatic performance, but when a touring company came through her town each spring, it was a big occasion for the adults. "And, of course, butterflies are such beautiful creatures, who wouldn't like the name?" OK. I'm beginning to see a pattern here. Empress is always way ahead of us. She's been setting scenes for me since her footmen picked me up this morning. She names her body slave after a favorite character. She mentions that the previous slave-in-charge-of-opera had died two years ago after two decades in the job. She does not mention the slave who is now in charge. According to my schedule, that slave is about to appear in my office. Butterfly provides the topper in a whisper. "The Opera Boss Slave is just outside. He's a bit of a twerp, my Mistress says, so I'll go get him and announce him properly. It's what he always wants." I suspect Butterfly is not familiar with the concept of "twerp." I come from behind the desk and extend my hand to "the Opera Boss Slave" but he doesn't take it. He gives a frosty smile, glances around, and sits in an armchair near the sofa. I take the hint and motion Butterfly and myself onto the sofa, where we all smile and wait for someone to break the ice. My Inner Goddess sniffs and kicks me into gear. "Good afternoon. I'm pleased you could come to tell me a bit about one of Hong Kong's premier cultural institutions. How long have you been with the Opera?" His tone reminds me of a teacher explaining fractions to a dull student. He's been "with" the Opera almost a year and is proud that their recent gala met their budget expectations. He is generally exasperated at the "Prima Donnas," both male and female, who come to sing or conduct in "my house" and who don't appreciate the exposure he has given them in the "Pearl of the Orient." 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 17: Julie While I realize he's referring to Hong Kong, I have already picked up from somewhere that Manilla (and the rest of the Philippines) and the island nation of Sri Lanka also consider themselves Pearls of the Orient. I adopt a sympathetic tone and ask how "his house" is doing. I am looking for any fiscal problems, but he begins moaning about all sorts of physical problems. The offices are all cramped, the computers are from medieval times, the upholstery in the auditorium hasn't been changed since he doesn't know when, the box office staff is probably selling tickets on the side, and, of course, the roof leaks. Not a word about the stage, the orchestra pit, or dressing or rehearsal rooms for the performers. I murmur appreciatively and ask about these other items. He shifts position, gives me a sharp look, and says something about "they're always complaining about everything anyway." Butterfly manages to ask about the coming season and I get a different perspective on this Opera Boss. "Oh, this season is all buttoned up. Next season is almost all set, just a few contracts to haggle over. I've got a real sharp kid who knows a bunch of agents and he manages to line up the top talent for our productions. Still, it's sort of crazy to try to set a contract for who's to sing on a certain afternoon or evening three years ahead. Who knows if they'll get hit by a bus or go down in a plane crash before then? Still, it's what my Mistress wants, so that's what I give her." Butterfly and I seem to have made a good impression, because we have no trouble getting the Opera Boss to recount tale after tale of woe from "his house." Along the way, he lets drop that, at least, he doesn't have to actually be at any performance, so he doesn't have to "dress up" except for the Gala each year. Since his Mistress likes to be Mistress of Ceremonies for that evening, he doesn't even have to say anything all night. Something reminds me that I have a schedule to keep, and so I rise and thank this Opera Boss Slave for his very comprehensive presentation, perhaps a bit too effusively. Butterfly ushers him out and I check the schedule, finding I haven't even used all the time allotted to this institution. The remaining institutions are all small and the times shown are short. The pattern is looking complete, but I want to check with Empress' body slave for any further insight. She returns, simulating fanning herself as if from an overheated environment, and grinning. I grin back and ask, "Butterfly, we didn't use all the time we had on the schedule, and no other institution has so much time allotted, and your Mistress really likes opera, and that guy really doesn't seem like he likes opera. I'm beginning to sense a pattern here. Empress really wants me to take on this Opera, doesn't she?" Butterfly falls into the kneeling Position One and looks at me with clearly innocent eyes. "Please, Ma'am, this slave couldn't presume to speak for my Mistress." "OK, let me rephrase that question. From as much as you've learned about your Mistress and the twerp who was just here, do you think your Mistress might not mind seeing someone else in the opera job?" Now, Butterfly's eyes light up and he mouth moves into a grin. "Now, this slave is just about certain about that! Mistress never explained 'twerp' to me, but I've figured out it's not a good word." "Right on, Butterfly! Now, if you'll just call the others on this schedule and let them know we won't need to visit with them, I'll get ready to try to talk your Mistress into letting me try the Opera job." Butterfly nods and clicks on a bunch of icons at the workstation, typing a sentence or two for each one. In moments, the schedule goes blank. I get the idea that those other institutions are probably not worried — or surprised — about the cancellation. Butterfly suggests that we "give them back the office" and offers to show me the Empress' gardens. Each of the previous slave reports had mentioned a trip to these gardens, and I'm interested to see what might be special there, so Butterfly takes my hand again and we go off to explore. The garden is delightful. Trees and shrubs mark off patches of lawn, bunches of flowers, and masses of herbs. Butterfly has Chinese names for most of the flowers and an occasional herb. I recognize just one flower, the spikes and trumpets of foxglove, the plant from which digitalis is extracted. One of the partners took this medicine and he had it growing at home, with some color photos in his office. Each trumpet is deeply colored, and a mass of spikes makes quite an impact. I'm not sure whether asking Butterfly how she came to be in the Empress' service is proper slave conversation, but her mention of being purchased from "the slaver" could be an open door, right? Right. Butterfly re-arranges herself on a carved wooden bench and tells me she was a young child in a small town in one of the Former Soviet Republics when her parents sold her to a slave caravan that made regular stops in their town. It was a commonplace event, she assures me, because every family in town was poor and besieged with extra mouths to feed. The caravan took her to some bigger cities where she was sold to one family or another, usually for about a year at a time. One family was in international trade, and they taught her English so she could answer the telephone for them. Whenever the slave caravan came through, she was usually sold back to them with her new skills bringing the family some profit. The slavers were generally harsh but not brutal, and she seemed proud that she had learned enough tricks to deflect most of the punishments that were routine. She was particularly proud that she had never had to suffer the bastinado. Igor had told me about that particular rite, and I knew enough to congratulate Butterfly on her skills. "Well," she muses, "some of it may have been skill, but I'm sure most of it was just good luck!" The Empress sweeps across the greensward and Butterfly and I slip easily into the kneeling Position One. Empress takes possession of the bench with a small wave of her hand and smiles at us. "All right, then. I see you have made your decision, Julie. What are your Plans?" Plans? I haven't asked her about the Opera, and haven't gotten my Master's approval, and haven't had a look at the place or the books, and she wants Plans? And I can hear the Capital P in her question. Butterfly comes to my rescue. "Please, Mistress, Julie and I were just turning over some early ideas. The Opera Boss Slave told us that this season was, as he said, 'buttoned up,' and next season was in hand by one of his boys, and pledges from the recent Gala took care of the budget. We're not familiar enough with the institution's long range plan so that we can move on it." This girl picked up more than just English working for all those families across Asia! I just manage to notice that Empress hadn't asked what institution I wanted and Butterfly's referred to the Opera Boss Slave, as if Empress already knew what I was going to discuss. Again, I suspect that this woman is way ahead of my Master and me. Her next statements prove it. "Well, of course, my dear. When all those e-mails cancelled the appointments after the Opera, I called your Master and confirmed your selection with him. Of course, he's delighted you chose such a prominent cultural institution for his attentions. And the Mistress who has been 'holding the fort,' so to say, is pleased that she can return to the equestrian world she prefers. "Your Master is arranging a dinner for Friday evening so there can be a formal transition. I think you should spend tomorrow at the Opera offices to get familiar with the permanent staff, especially the 'boy' who seems to be doing the contracts for next season. Then, a day or so with your Master to develop his Plans and introduce them to all the players. That should make for some fine conversation Friday evening. Do you have any questions?" Questions? She's just bypassed the multi-stage presentation I was trying to put together. I'm feeling like the old saying "Up the estuary without visible means of propulsion," although I learned it using less elevated terms. Fortunately, my Inner Goddess reminds me of the phrase Pat has taught me that slaves can always use. "Please, my Empress, it shall be as you desire." I'm not fooling anyone. Butterfly barely manages to suppress a giggle and Empress nods, waves, and says, "Yes, of course, my dear." She turns to Butterfly and issues orders, among which I recognize getting me to someone called Jason to get started on the Administrative Academy course. I am more pleased to learn that I'm to have dinner tonight with the current crop of Academy students. You know the rule about a slave gets told what she needs to know when she needs to know it? I'm hoping that dinner will be that time for me! * The Imperial Cane and Strap Company, Ltd., of North Yorks, England is a real enterprise, whose products are known, and respected, throughout the world. Its website is easily located and well worth your perusal. End Note: Julie seems well on her way to an official imprimatur, right? Well, let's see how she does in her next few "tests." Your authors hope to have them ready in just a week or so. J Spe 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 18: Julie Blue Bayou: Julie, Scene 11 Author's Note: Our Heroine, Julie, seems to be passing the series of "tests" set up by the Empress to determine if Julie will be officially recognized as First Lady of her Master's Enterprises. The Empress' Body Slave is now taking Julie for an "interview" with Jason, manager of The Academy which will train Julie in managing a cultural institution. —J Spe Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Academy Butterfly again takes my hand and we charge off to a quiet corridor a few floors up in the Empress' mansion. Butterfly positions me kneeling before a plain door and knocks, joining me in Position One. A small man opens the door and smiles at us. Butterfly makes the introduction and he beckons me into his office. As the door closes, I see Butterfly grinning and turning to leave. Instinctively, I head for a kneeling position in front of this man's desk but he grins and waves me off. "Julie, within this Academy, we have all sorts of people, from slaves and servants up to hired help and even Masters or Mistresses. We don't want to discourage anyone from asking a question, or offering an observation or answer, so we suspend all the formalities. You get to sit on chairs, you get to start a conversation or ask a question, you don't have to give way to anyone. The basic rule is simple: Everyone Respects Everyone." I'm shocked, of course. I've just come from the Empress telling me what she and my Master had agreed to about my working at the Opera. I'm going to be the Good Slave who provides whatever her Master needs or wants, who keeps her Master at the center of her universe. Now, this Jason is telling me that I'm going back to freedom in the Empress' Academy? Jason must have sensed my quandary, or suspected it from prior slaves' experiences. "Julie, this is just another small space in your universe. Just like you learned how to behave and operate in your Master's space, so, too, will you learn to operate in my space. Do you understand?" That question puts me back together. Just as Anne had described, this slave is expected to perform up to Master's standards in whatever role he has arranged for her. I smile and answer as expected. "Yes, Sir, this slave understands. Everyone respects everyone." Jason goes over some of the "courses" in the Academy, noting my training as a paralegal and my experience in real estate and commerce. Finally, he gets around to asking what I know about opera. "Please, Sir, I only know a few items. The story is told in song as well as speech, and is about grand truths or evils, and the performance isn't over until the fat lady sings." All right, I'm being a bit of a smartass here, but isn't that about all most folks know about opera? I can see Jason trying to hide his grin, but it finally bursts forth and we both get a small laugh from my sally. "I'd suggest that you push that remark to the back of your head when you talk to the people at what is going to be your institution. And, the 'fat lady' is almost always a soprano, a class of people who are always difficult to manage. Of course, your Master is going to get all the plaudits for your exhausting efforts and excellent results, but you'll know whether you did well or not before anyone else. There won't be a partner in the corner office to hide behind." Jason goes over a few details and schedules for my "training," and then looks up expectantly. "I see we have a bit of time before assembling for dinner. I've had a long day and would like a bit of oral sex. You might think of it as your first homework assignment." Well, I'm finding out that the "suspend the formalities" only goes so far. I can't say I'm really surprised by this order. Somehow, Jason's earlier pronouncement didn't seem to ring all that true. I come around his desk and find he has pushed his chair back. Almost automatically, I register what his chair says about him. If the perks for the Empress' staff work anything like my old office, Jason's executive seating proclaims his elevated rank. His chair has the high back that's quite stylish, with padded leather cushioning (in black satin finish) that's supportive, plush, and comfortable, and with enough levers to adjust to any position desired by the occupant. Now, Jason arranges for the seat cushion to slope slightly downward, reducing stress on his legs and my upper body. Jason probably notices my survey of his furniture and adds, softly, that the entire suite meets or exceeds applicable ANSI/BIFMA performance standards for intensive use 6-8 hours per day. None of the partners in my old firm would have known that! Just before I kneel between his legs, a hand wave prompts me to shed the tunic I've been wearing since the massage earlier. While I maneuver Jason's belt, trousers, and shorts off, he restarts the massage of my breasts. This is more arousing than any of the university courses I had "before!" I stroke his thighs and add a pinch or two at random times. Jason's prick seems to notice these, becoming more erect with each one. I "pet" his prick and it seems to like that also! I plant a few soft kisses on the helmet of his prick and Jason responds with a few twists of my nipples. I cup his sac with one hand and stroke it with the other, changing hands every few strokes, and am rewarded with a few soft moans and sighs. As his balls rise to the top of his sac, I encircle his sac with a finger and gently press them back down. The Head of the Academy starts breathing a bit slower and easier, but, as I reach for his lance, I find it is still erect. A few more kisses and now it is hard. I squeeze at its base and, again, Jason's arousal seems to recede. I take the first inch or two into my mouth and run my tongue around the helmet and along the groove and ridge Anne has taught me is named the corona. Jason is now starting to buck his pelvis in small jerks. I take my mouth away from his meat and look up at my expectant conqueror. His face is flushed and his mouth is partially open in a wide smile. He places a hand behind my head and gently indicates that it is time to finish him, to bring him to climax. My mouth takes almost his entire prick and my tongue lashes it with the Swirls and Twirls Anne and Igor have taught me. He bucks his hips, driving his lance to the back of my throat. I fight my gag reflex and add suction to my tongue's efforts. This pushes Jason to the peak of the rainbow and I take jet after jet of his cum. I swallow some, but keep a mouthful ready to show my submission to my superior, my acceptance of his expected command to swallow his semen. While I wait for the command, my mind does a quick check-up. I have again serviced a superior male with enthusiasm, but I have been allowed only a mild stimulation. I am expected to be grateful for the opportunity to service this male. It would be considered presumptuous, possibly treasonous, to express any desire for my own satisfaction. I am not surprised, however, by my lack of anger at this tally. My Inner Goddess has shrugged her shoulders and gone for a nap while I wait. I have not been tortured or physically beaten into this submission, but the systematic, constant, unrelenting pressures of my Master and my trainers have brought me to this acceptance of my slavery. The handcuffs of Transport Mode, the selection of any clothes, the warning taps of riding crops at my physical workouts or sexual technique training sessions, and, yes, the "minor correction" of three strokes with the cane have all taught me the realities of slavery. It seems my Master was correct in his expectation that, with the training he and my trainers were "thoughtfully" providing, I would achieve "pride and satisfaction" from my slavery. They'd been doing it for a long time, he'd said, and added that they were good at it. Kneeling between Jason's legs, waiting for his command to swallow his semen, and finally receiving the command, I am forced to agree with them. I do feel that sense of pride and satisfaction they had promised me. There seems to be no anger or rancor in me at this time. I complete this service by taking Jason's now flaccid prick in my mouth and licking it clean. He inspects it before standing and dressing. He points to my tunic, giving permission for me to dress. With a smile, he says, "Now, how about joining the rest of our student body for dinner?" He leads me to another dining room, this one much smaller than Empress' Mess Hall, and I am presented to about two dozen "students" who are rapidly depleting a buffet table of salads. There is a decorous round of applause and one young woman beckons me to join her and a few others at their table. I am wondering if this, too, was arranged by the Empress and, sure enough, the woman, taller and perhaps a year or two older than I, remarks that the Empress had asked her to "take charge" of me for dinner. She introduces her friends, who all seem typical university student types. Nobody says anything about their status, so I can't be sure whether they are slaves, apprentice administrators, or even Mistresses in their own organizations. Table conversation is friendly, with a few warm digs easily rebuffed by the target. The tall woman introduces herself as Gwen but gives no other background. The others at our table follow suit, just first names and a phrase or two to make me feel welcome. I remember my first meal aboard Master's yacht; the group was larger so there wasn't a lot of introducing beyond Master's presentation. The conversation was also friendly, but it mostly ignored me. The group returns to the buffet tables when servers have replaced the salads with a selection of different chicken presentations. Gwen tips me that the title cards in red are for more spicy dishes. I grin my thanks and select from two green-label presentations and find the food good. Conversation gets around to some of the institutions the group is working for. Each of them is unknown to me, something that the group must know, because they add an identifying sentence for my benefit. Then, it seems, I'm on stage. The questions are gentle and open-ended, so I can't just use a yes-or-no answer. I manage to say that Empress is considering assigning me to the Opera, but I get in that I'm early in the process. Nobody asks who my "sponsor" is, so I guess that they either know already, aren't likely to need to know and so don't care, or are avoiding getting into a delicate area. There is a bit of conversation about a paper, due in two weeks, about some aspect of finance, but nobody offers to explain that to me. I wonder if the Empress has me slotted into this class and whether I'll be writing this paper. My Inner Goddess kicks in with the simple answer: I'll be told what I need to do when they want me to do it. I notice that the Servers are readying a few pies for dessert, but Butterfly appears, thanks the group for hosting me, and leads me off. I offer a compliment about the dinner and Butterfly's answer is sharper than I expect. "Of course. The Empress and Headmaster have trained staff to high standards. Most of the senior staff have been with Empress for simply ages and wouldn't tolerate anything less." Again, it's the "high standards" line that Igor and Anne told me about from my first days in slavery. The flashes of "pride and satisfaction" that I've had have always been linked to these "high standards," so I guess that Master's lecture about being trained was not some flight of imagination. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Thirty: Play with the Empress Butterfly seems a bit tense, not at all like the vivacious young girl from this morning. I don't want to spark any confrontation, so I refrain from any questions, merely holding her hand as she leads me upstairs to a private apartment. She positions me, kneeling, and keys the door chime. In a moment, a smiling Empress opens the door, thanks Butterfly for bringing me, and dismisses the girl. She looks me over for a moment and then beckons me in. "I hope you've had some good discussions with my Headmaster and with some students at dinner?" It's an obvious opening, and I've prepared a non-committal answer. "Yes, Empress," I say, "Headmaster Jason spent quite some time, explaining the various courses I could study and testing my basic skills." Empress bursts out laughing. "Of course he did, Julie. Were you surprised by the test?" I am pleased that my answer provoked a laugh, and I answer simply that my impression is confirmed that my status in any Academy course will be as Master's First Slave, rather than as Master's First Lady. The Empress nods and adds, 'It's good that you picked up on this so early." Empress leads me through several rooms — salons, really — to an ornately carved heavy wooden door. Without a word of instruction, I know that beyond this door lies the Empress' own "Corrections Room." I slip into Position One, kneeling, my knees wide apart and my head bent in submission. Empress raises my chin with a fingertip and I can see the excitement dancing in her eyes. Her voice is warm and throaty. "My dear, I believe you know what's on the other side of this door. Now, I'm going to play with you for a few hours. Some of it, I'm sure, you will enjoy, but some of it will be painful. I'd like to hypnotize you for this session so that the pain is of no consequence. You'll agree to this, of course, but I did want you to know what's happening. Now, just follow my hand with your eyes. Focus on the nice ring on the hand. I'm sure you're impressed by the ring; it was a gift from some Rajah to my uncle about a century ago, it seems." I hear the information about hypnosis and about making the pain "of no consequence." I see the Empress' hand move before my eyes, and I focus obediently on her ring. It seems to bear an elephant, his trunk upraised in triumph. In a moment, I am feeling so relaxed that Empress' voice is hard to hear. I work at it for a bit and it becomes clear once more. I pick up the command to take off the tunic I've been wearing all day and the item just seems to disappear. Empress has me turn a few times and then move through several of the Positions my trainers have taught me. I don't notice any cuts from the long black crop she is now holding, so I begin to feel good, that feeling of pride and satisfaction my Master told me about. Empress leads me to a pair of cables hanging from the ceiling. Padded leather wristlets attach my arms to the cables and then my arms are lifted just above horizontal. Empress fusses with my ankles and I sneak a look, finding that padded leather anklets are being wrapped around both ankles. The anklets have short chains which attach to D-rings in the floor. The cables raise my arms to the vertical, and then lift me to my toes. Empress circles me, murmuring comforting words in Chinese which I don't completely understand. She strokes my arms and I see her hands wearing furred mittens. As her strokes move to my back and front, the feeling is quite erotic, as if I'm being aroused by dozens of lovers. The cables lift me further, until I am suspended a short distance above the floor. I feel some tension in my arms, but no pain. The anklets have my legs spread fairly widely, but not uncomfortably. The Empress' mittens move down my body, across my mons, where some circular motions are especially welcome. They continue down my thighs and legs, but I am wishing them to return higher. Empress shows me a flogger with perhaps two dozen falls. It seems a bit familiar, and I seem to recall my trainer Igor demonstrating something similar when I first arrived in Hong Kong. The Empress moves behind me and soon I feel something like mosquito bites on my shoulders. Of course, I realize that, with my arms in the wristlets, I won't be able to scratch at the bites or flick off the insects. Instead, I mentally shrug my shoulders and resolve to ignore the blighters. The sensation moves down my back to my bum, where the insects seem very interested in feasting. Perhaps it is the ridges left by Igor's nice whippy cane? I clench my buttocks a few times and the movement does seem to throw them off. The Empress, smiling nicely, comes around to my front and flicks the flogger at my abdomen. Now, I realize that this is the instrument making those "bite" sensations. I understand Empress' smile now, and smile back at her. "Julie," she says, "you mark beautifully. It's so nice that you aren't even moving around. Now, I'm going to move the flogger up a bit. I think you'll be surprised at the new sensation." The strokes of the flogger indeed move up on my body until Empress is striking my breasts, first the left and then the right, in a forehand-backhand maneuver. I think she's demonstrating quite a skill here; most tennis players can't match their forehand and backhand shots. The sensations from the flogger do change, from temporary bites to erotic rubs, and I find myself climbing the rainbow of arousal. For a moment, I am a bit worried; I know it is impermissible to have an orgasm without permission. However, I soon figure out that I can easily ask Empress for permission, so all will be well, right? Still, I am enjoying the arousal and don't actually speak. With my breasts nicely marked, Empress stops the flogger and lays it on a counter. I am sorry that this allows my arousal to subside. She stands close and her hands reach out to massage my breasts, adding a few rubs and pinches on my nipples, which are standing firm and erect. I moan a bit as arousal returns a bit. When she attacks one nipple with her tongue and teeth, however, I quickly rise up the rainbow. I know she has heard my moans because she tilts her head back and smiles, then attacks my other breast. I barely gasp out the single word "Permission?" Empress again tilts her head and gently instructs me. "No, my dear Julie, no orgasm just yet. Hold on and we'll get to that later. Do you understand?" Of course I understand and I whisper my "Yes, Empress, later." Empress retrieves the flogger and stands just a bit to one side. Her aim is now my lower belly, including my mons. The sensation is a bit sharper here; after all, this is supposed to be an erotic zone, right? I know I'm smiling and Empress is smiling back. The steady rain of strokes changes as Empress changes her technique. She is holding the flogger handle crosswise from my slit and whirling the falls in a circle, with the falls coming up between my thighs onto my pussy. Sometimes, the falls strike my clit, sending sparks into my core. Empress nods as the falls set up a new rhythm. She says, pleasantly, "The aim here is to vary the speed of the flogger. As it goes faster, you will get more aroused. You must tell me how you're feeling, Julie." "Please, Empress, my pussy is getting to feel a bit warm just now." Empress smiles and says, "Exactly what is desired. Julie, you're doing very well." Well, that's got to be high praise from the lady who runs my Master's society, right? Naturally, a slave does not respond with a Thank you, because a slave must accept whatever her Master or Mistress gives her. I bow my head, showing my submission and appreciation. Unfortunately, Empress stops this attention to my erotic center. I am disappointed, of course, but I remember her promise of "later," so I do what slaves often do: I wait. The Empress returns the flogger to the counter and selects a short single-tail whip from an assortment lying within reach. It is another instrument that my trainer Igor demonstrated for me. I recall that its bite was a bit sharper than the flogger's and I wonder where Empress will strike. In a moment, a sharp bite stings my left armpit. I remember my trainer Anne teaching me about erotic areas, and the axilla (the proper name for armpit) was one of the surprising ones. After a few strokes, I am once again on the rainbow. There are short pauses as Empress switches to my right axilla and then back and forth, but the arousal doesn't subside. I am distracted by the thought that no previous lover had taken such time for foreplay. I am enjoying the Empress more and more. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 18: Julie Then, Empress stops and returns the single-tail to its place. I am disappointed, naturally, but I understand that slaves must be content with whatever pleasure their Masters permit.. When Empress stands before me and starts massaging my pussy with her hands, however, I quickly move from disappointment back to pleasure. The different sensations from her fingernails and fingers are new to me and I study them intensely. One finger circles my clit and I feel it engorge. Finger taps move it in different directions, and I sense that it is harder than I can remember. The finger moves to enter my slit, spreading the labia apart and inviting a second finger to join. Shortly, they are exploring for my G-spot. The Empress is so skilled that finding it takes almost no time and, as this sensitive spot is stroked, I lubricate and rocket up the rainbow. I barely manage to croak out "Permission, Empress?" The fingers slow and stop, with Empress shaking her head. Again, disappointment accompanies the slide down the rainbow. But, Empress smiles and says, "Not quite now, my dear, but soon." I smile again. Empress has renewed her promise! Empress' fingers leave the warmth of my cunt and appear before my face. They wiggle and I open my mouth, taking them in for a proper cleansing. I know my own taste, and, as usual, I like this treat from Empress. She picks up a small box from the counter and I feel the cables lowering me until my feet are on the floor, still held widely apart. Empress moves a frame somewhat like a sawhorse in front of me and, as the cables continue to lower my arms, she bends me forward, over the frame. The cables are unclipped from the wristlets, but these are quickly secured to the legs of the frame. Empress stands back and checks my posture. With the frame tucked into my abdomen at hip height, my torso is bent to the horizontal, held in place by the chains to my wristlets. Evidently, this is the position the Empress desires, because she nods, smiles, and says, "You're doing quite well, Julie. Now, I'll be back in a flash, if you'll be good enough to wait." And she strokes my neck and back, just as my Master has trained me to like. So, of course, I'll wait. It's what slaves do, right? I move an arm, then a leg, rearranging the muscles from the tension of the suspension. Quite soon, Empress reappears, but she has changed! Her dress is gone, and she is wearing only a leather bra that pushes up her breasts to create quite a bit of cleavage. She has added to this a waist harness that supports a dildo of some size. It must have been made from a live specimen because I can see the groove and ridge of the corona, the retracted foreskin, and the veins of the shaft in great detail. I would like to reach out and touch the beautiful instrument but, of course, the wristlets stay fixed. I murmur a quiet "How beautiful!" and Empress chuckles and agrees. "My dear, I'm going to play with this now. Your part is to respond, but I want you to hold off your climax as long as you can. Then, when you absolutely have to, you may have your climax. Do you understand?" My Inner Goddess says something about how hard could it be to understand basic sex, but I answer simply. "Yes, Empress, hold off, but orgasm is permitted." Empress nods and goes behind me. The "bites" — that I now recognize are from the flogger — return and move from my back to my sides and to my butt. A short pause brings the whirling sound and my pussy again warms up. Empress' talented fingers explore my pussy from this angle and I start lubricating with the arousal. I feel the tip of the dildo tap my clit and nose between my labia. Empress is not plunging in, but that is just the movement I crave. I hump back a bit and my butt receives a spank! Empress has instructed me to be patient! Gently, Empress penetrates my cunt and my muscles grasp the artificial penis as it is fed to them. I feel the sense of fullness develop and agree that slow and steady has its advantages. There is a momentary pause as Empress fills my tunnel. The Empress begins a withdrawal until the dildo is almost totally withdrawn, and then forces it back in. The withdrawal and insertion cycles continue, with Empress varying the speeds and motions and it is not long before this slave is rising on the arousal rainbow. When Empress leans over, reaching for my breasts, the added stimulation is enough to send me over the cliff into a magnificent orgasm. By the time I have come back to myself, the Empress has removed her strap-on and I have an instant to notice her pussy is shaved as clean as my own. Empress presents the dildo to my mouth for cleaning and I see it is a double dildo! Empress wanted me to hold off until she could climax together with me. I take the instrument of our orgasms into my mouth, cleansing it with my saliva swabbed around by my tongue. I have the chance to observe two different tastes. Empress is helpful, turning the dildo without forcing it into my gag-reflex area. During this ritual, Empress is softly lecturing. I learn that it is important to show gratitude in this society. It is important for this slave to know that her Master or Mistress always has her best interests in mind. It is important for this slave to know that her Master or Mistress always feels a responsibility for the welfare of this slave. It is important for this slave to know that the Empress has cared for her so much that she provided the magnificent orgasm for this slave. Now, it is obvious that this slave needs to show her gratitude to her betters. It is clear that this slave wants to show her gratitude. This slave will show her gratitude to the Empress. The lecture repeats while I clean the dildo. Of course, the Empress is right, isn't she? My Master cares for me. By extension, the Empress he has lent me to also cares for me. The magnificent orgasm means I owe gratitude to the Empress. I will show this gratitude. I will be proud to show this gratitude. I am wrapped in these warm feelings as the Empress unlocks my ankle and wrist chains from the frame and leads me to a corner of her Correction Room, pointing out our destination with the hand bearing that interesting ring. The corner is set up as a bedroom, featuring a king-size bed bearing a pack of pillows. Empress unhooks the leather bra and sits on the edge of the bed. Although I am bothered by the "bites" of her flogger and single-tail, I concentrate on falling into a kneeling position between her thighs. She taps the inside of one knee and I understand this is where to start showing my gratitude with licks, kisses, and an occasional nip with my teeth. Pat and Anne have trained me to move from side to side in a rhythm that allows one side to cool slightly before it is again attacked, all the while moving slowly to the juncture of thighs where I will find the pussy or prick deserving of my gratitude. I have spent hours in this service to Pat and Anne; I am a bit embarrassed that Igor has not been able to tolerate this service for very long, usually spurting his cum on my breasts and face after only ten or fifteen minutes. He has been kind to me for this reaction, usually only one or two cuts with his crop after I have cleaned him and myself. I am pleased that Empress is receiving my gratitude and service with patience. I backtrack once or twice to a lower position and she rewards me with a throaty moan and a monosyllabic Yes! When I am finally ready to begin on the lips of her pussy, she gently pushes me away and climbs onto the bed, lying with her legs widespread. She instructs me to place a pillow under her hips and I find it presents the pussy I am worshipping in a much more open position. I slither between her legs and begin lapping, one side and then the other, from front to back and then from back to front. Igor taught me this maneuver, saying it would add an aura of mystery to the service if Master or Mistress could not guess the next nibble. In a few minutes, Empress is moaning, saying, "Very nice, my dear," and "Ah, a good one, my dear." I bring my hands up to hold Empress' labia wide open and plunge my tongue into Empress' slit. Her musky aroma is delicate, but definite, and different from my trainers'. Empress is now bucking gently, but when I gently poke her clit with my nose, she gasps and gives a short squeal. I lap up the increasing flow of her juices, plunging my tongue ever deeper into her cunt to collect them. Although I have registered her increasing movements and sounds, I am surprised when her climax crashes over her. I am slow to drink up the juices she squirts and some lands on my face and on the bedsheet. If I were doing fellatio, the man would usually have grabbed my head and held it tightly in place. Naturally, I won't mention that to Empress later because I know that excuses are irrelevant and immaterial for a slave's failure to perform up to standards. In the next few moments, I use my tongue to clean the Empress' cunt, clit, labia, and thighs. I manage to get most of my face clean as well. I hold my position and wait for Empress' command. In a few minutes, she sighs contentedly and instructs me to lie beside her. "My dear, that was an excellent service. You have quite a talented tongue and your trainers have polished your technique to the high standard we expect from your Master' slaves. Now, we're going to sleep here tonight. Tomorrow, we'll have some further planning for you." And, with a sinuous stretch, the Empress moves the pillow, waves her hand with that interesting ring in front of me, and settles into a tranquil sleep! I am impressed by this woman. To go from the heights of erotic arousal to sleep in just a few moments? It's going to take me a half-hour to come down from the heights Empress took me to. I lie still; it would be a significant crime to disturb Empress' sleep. But, I have so many thoughts buzzing in my mind. Have I passed the tests Empress has set up, at least so far? Is my Master going to allow me to become the new Opera Slave Boss? What happens to the former Opera Slave Boss? What will I be expected to learn in the Empress' Academy? I am not thinking about servicing Jason or anyone else in the Empress' headquarters. That's just part of my job description, isn't it? As I review the day, the "play" that the Empress enjoyed with me seems to be fading away. I run my hand over the three cane-strike ridges and find they are still a bit tender, but the "bites" are just a little "itchy." Finally, I come to the Big Question. Have I satisfied the Empress that I am good enough to be a First Lady in this society? Before I can do much about that worry, I realize that I'm falling asleep. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Thirty-one: A new day. A new job I awake feeling just great! I start to stretch, but the presence of another alongside me makes me stop. I remember that this is the Empress, and I'm sure she wouldn't be happy to be jostled awake by someone else's slave. That's when I notice Butterfly kneeling alongside the bed. She grins up at me and whispers, "You look like you've had a good night's sleep." I grin back and agree, adding that even my ridges feel better this morning. Butterfly giggles and then, turning serious, starts instructions. "Empress will want you to awaken her with something erotic. Try nibbling on her breasts or stroking her pussy, but don't go into it until she's awake; she says she wants that feeling when she's awake enough to enjoy it." I nod my understanding and start my day's work. Empress' nipples are easy to reach, so I take one in my mouth and the other in a few fingers, alternating licking and sucking with stroking and squeezing. In a few moments, Empress' eyes open and she begins to purr. I take the opportunity to switch nipples and Empress provides a short chuckle to encourage my efforts. She lets this continue for a few minutes, giving a small stretch every now and then. Finally, she asks Butterfly for the time and sits up. "OK, kid," she says. Her voice is warm and friendly, so I don't have a panic attack at her sudden move. "We've got time for a shower and dressing. Then, you've got to see some folks at the Opera for your first lessons. Let's go!" She pads to the bathroom just off her Correction Room and sits to relieve her bladder. It reminds me that mine also needs emptying. When she is finished, she opens her legs widely and looks at me inquiringly. I rush to kneel before her and lick her clean. As she heads to the shower, I take the opportunity to pee and catch up with her as she is entering the large shower stall. Spray heads jut from three walls, providing stimulation virtually all around. I file this away for a suggestion to my Master. Anne and Pat have trained me in the routines for washing a Master or Mistress, so I take the shampoo and work a handful into her tresses. She purrs as I run my fingers through sections of her hair. Next is a handful of body wash and a washcloth and a start at Empress' back. Empress helps by turning so that her back is not facing a spray. When I've got her legs done, she turns and I get more body wash and start up at her neck and work down, this time going slower so as to make sure her breasts are really clean. She spreads her legs as I approach her mons and I make sure this area is also spotless. Empress takes some body wash for her face and then she twists and turns to rinse all the shampoo and wash away. This is my time for a quick shampoo, soap, and scrub. I massage Empress gently, from head to toes, front and back, making sure she is rinsed clear. The spray also gets me clean. I jump out of the shower and present a large fluffy towel for Empress as she gracefully exits the spray. She is smiling as I wrap a regular towel around her hair. All this is done without any commands spoken. With a smile that reaches her eyes, she says, "Julie, that was another service done to high standards. Now, finish here while Butterfly suggests a wardrobe for this morning. We have your clothes ready in the closet. We should head for breakfast in fifteen minutes. Do you understand?" The question tells me that I am still in First Slave mode. Still, might the preparation of "your clothes" indicate the First Lady mode later? Kneeling, I say my line with confidence, "Yes, Empress, this slave understands." I am through my morning ritual and bathroom clean-up in ten minutes and luxuriate in the time allowed to don the bra and panty set, white silk blouse, black straight skirt, and medium-heel black pumps. I even manage to run a brush through my hair, clearing the tangles, and gathering it into a ponytail. My mind's eye "sees" Igor standing over me, a stopwatch in one hand and his crop in the other, as he trained this capability into me. Empress leads me to the Mess Hall, which is sparsely busy. Again, Butterfly fills a plate as Empress directs, mostly fruit and some yoghurt. I select some juice, a bit of scrambled egg, and a slice of toast. At the table, a server pours a cup of coffee for me, which is delicious. Empress passes on coffee, which surprises me. I don't know how to get through a busy day without at least a starting cup of coffee. At my Master's base, I have taken the lead in keeping a pot fresh. Anne and Pat have allowed me this much initiative, something for which I am hugely thankful. Empress has my schedule ready this morning. I read through the Opera's website, which is colorful but difficult to navigate. There is some history of the institution but little about coming attractions. Many pages are devoted to the large number of Honorary Directors, Advisors, and members. Of course, I know none of them — yet — but I suspect that this recognition is important for maintaining their sponsorships. There is no publicity for singers coming for the next production, but a very impressive page devoted to the Artistic Director, including a long list of cities and festivals in which he has sung. It adds that he produces several festivals in other cities. There is a small reference to a budding Chorus and a Children's Chorus which I decide needs my follow-up. I report these impressions to the Empress, who shifts her expression into a small smile and tells me that her impressions match my own. She does tell me about a few of the Honorary Directors, and I learn that several world-leading entrepreneurs are passionate about the place. But, her prior remark about "the people who have the power and money to support them don't want to run" them seems accurate. A flicker of her eyebrow seems to suggest that this may be a focus of my work? The Empress has arranged transportation to the Opera where some of the permanent staff will show me around and fill me in on "their hopes and dreams," as she characterizes them. I'm not sure if these words show care or contempt for these staffers. Butterfly is detailed to escort me since she is known to the staff from "previous visits." Given what my Master and trainers have said about the Empress' "Intelligence Service," my respect for this Body Slave rises a few notches. In the car, Butterfly fills me in on the senior staff, but my attention is distracted by the realization that this is the first time since I was enslaved and auctioned that I am moving about a major city without restraint or guard! When I let Butterfly share my feeling, she manages a sad smile and asks why I don't consider her part of the security apparatus. "But, you're a slave, just like I am. We could go anywhere, even to a police station. We could escape!" The slim young woman shakes her head. "Julie, you don't see everything around you. Do you think anybody out there will help us? That anybody wants to be against the establishment? The elites of Hong Kong and the officers of the government? We have no papers, no money, only the clothes we're wearing. And the driver: do you think he'd risk his job to see us just dance away?" She shakes her head again. "And, if you went off by yourself, do you think I'd want to face my Mistress' security team for you? When I was promoted to Body Slave, they explained all this to me. They trusted me, and I can't fail that trust." Butterfly turns to our driver and asks him to pull off the road for a few moments. I realize that I've probably committed a grievous crime and I can feel my hands go cold and sweaty, my body shivering in fear. I am at a loss for words, but Butterfly lays a hand on my shoulder and comforts me. "I had the same feeling when I was first sold, but the family that bought me explained all this to me. Never forget what they call 'the power exchange,' Julie. They have all the power; we don't. This is just another lesson you need to learn about your slavery." Butterfly is much younger than I am, but she is much wiser in experience. She tells me about some slaves who staged an escape and what happened when they were returned. Corrections went on for days sometimes and each slave was "sold on," usually to a place not nearly as benign as our present place. Our driver has been silent throughout Butterfly's lecture. I cannot help wondering if he will be reporting my crime immediately or on our return — and I know that we have no choice but to return to the Empress' headquarters. I signal this question to Butterfly and she immediately turns to him and asks, simply, "Driver?" He turns and looks at me with serious eyes. "Ma'am," he says, "I'm not the proper one to make this report." There is an instant's pause and it is clear that the "proper one" is going to be me. I am appalled by what I've done. The thought arrived and I spoke before its meaning was evident. I must look terrible: pale, shivery, fear evident to all. But Butterfly strokes my arm, almost the way my Master and trainers do, and I manage to get back to myself in a few minutes. When Butterfly takes my pulse and finds it no longer racing, she smiles and tells our driver to resume our trip. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 18: Julie My visit to the Opera offices is quite formal, something Butterfly warned me about. From my experience with the Minister, I am not about to be flippant or brash about anything! All the management staff are lined up in a large conference room. I find out later that it's the only conference room. Butterfly introduces me as the liaison with the Empress and doesn't mention the previous Opera Boss Slave at all. The woman in charge, Butterfly tells me, is the bookkeeper-treasurer-accounting department. Since the Mistress in charge has been the Honorary Treasurer, this makes sense. She introduces the staff by rank, using only their family names. I suspect that nobody expects we will become fast friends. There is a short tour of the offices, and I notice how orderly everything is. I do not see any posters or banners advertising our next production. Each staffer has offered to be "helpful" or "full cooperation," but no one has mentioned a question or problem to be helpful or cooperative about. I do not meet the Artistic Director. Our return to the Empress' headquarters is uneventful, with Butterfly venturing her idea that I made a good impression. I am starting to understand that this Body Slave to the Empress is much more than just a slim young woman. She has the knack of saying nothing until saying just a few words of substance. I am deposited in a sitting area outside Empress' office for just a moment before Empress arrives and sweeps me into her inner sanctum. In a few moments, she has all my impressions of the institutional office and staff. There is an instant of silence and I realize it is time for my confession. I slip from the chair and kneel before her desk, my head bowed, as is proper. "My Empress, this slave has erred. In the car going to the Opera, this slave thought about escape. This slave spoke to your Body Slave about escape. Your slave enticed your Body Slave to leave your service. It was only your Body Slave's wise counsel that instructed this slave in this error." It's about as short and complete a confession as I can imagine. No background. No reasons. No extenuating circumstances. I am frozen in Position One, my mind a blank. There are a few moments of silence, and then Empress comes around her desk and strokes my head and neck. "What have you learned from this ripple in time?" she asks quietly. My emotions give way and I begin to sob, tears falling from my eyes. "It was an illusion, Empress. This is my reality." Again, a pause. Another stroke from the Empress and my sobs and tears stop. "You will have to inform your Master, of course, because he is the one who has your best interests at heart. We will not speak of this again. Do you understand?" For an instant, I am surprised that the Empress will not be my judge and executioner, but then it is clear: only a Master or Mistress can judge his or her slave because only they are party to the power exchange. My answer is obvious: "Yes, Empress, this slave understands." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter Thirty-Two: Ladies who Lunch Empress returns to her desk and announces my afternoon schedule. "I have invited four First Ladies to join us for a light luncheon. You do not need to know their status. You do need to impress them as you have impressed me. Do you understand?" It's just as Pat had described: first to the ladies and then to the men. I rush to answer, "Yes, Empress, four First Ladies to impress. Thank you, Empress." My mood jerks around from the terror of my confession to a bright confidence. I have passed the Empress' tests so far. If I hadn't, there would be no luncheon. My Inner Goddess is grinning and chanting "You go, girl!" Empress adds that these First Ladies come from different generations of leaders in Hong Kong society, but all are leaders in their fields. For an instant, I wonder if any of them, or their men, have been targets or associates of my Master. There is no one to ask, so I drop that concept. As if summoned by a thought, Butterfly enters and, with her arm under mine, lifts me and guides me out of the office and to a small apartment. I shed my blouse and skirt, freshen up in the bathroom, and am startled by the dress Butterfly is holding up for me. She announces, with a proud smile, "We've just gotten this today. It's from KAUFMANFRANCO, which is Ken Kaufman and Isaac Franco. They like to claim a 'mix of sophistication and edge.' They're mostly into blacks and whites, with luxurious fabrics and embellishment. It was this white halter with a keyhole cutout in front and a low back or a leather item, possibly sprayed with sequins." "But, my bra will show through, probably both front and back," I exclaim. "That's easy," the unflappable Butterfly announces. "No bra." Have I mentioned that I'm not a moron? My mind assimilates a flock of points. Empress knew about the dress. She is putting me out for study, but not for failure. Igor's exercises have improved my posture and chest muscles so much I have been secretly proud of my new bustline. I add the bra to my morning costume and slip into the dress. I wiggle a bit to properly fit my breasts into the dress. It falls to a few inches above my knees, about the length I would not have worn in my old law office. "This is much better than leather with sequins," I observe. Butterfly giggles for just a moment. I take a deep breath and tell this Body Slave that I have confessed my morning crime. Her expression doesn't flicker at all as she waves a hand, dismissing the affair. I am delivered to a private dining room just in time to help Empress welcome four ladies, two a bit older than I and two much older. Empress introduces me by my first name, adding that Martin has brought me to Hong Kong only recently. Each lady smiles and welcomes me, the younger pair adding a nice kiss on my cheek. While the older pair are clearly British, I'm not sure about the younger women, named Rose and Sharon. I make a small joke about them being paired horticulturally, but it goes past them. I have to explain about one of the finest flowers, the rose of Sharon, mentioned in the Bible. The Empress adds that, although it isn't a rose, South Korea's national flower is called the rose of Sharon. Happily, this sally is allowed to pass and we troop to the table, where Empress seats me at her right and the other women seat themselves easily. There are the expected compliments on the centerpiece and appreciations of the Empress' hospitality. Empress accepts them graciously and nods to the servers. The first course is a seafood salad and I take a few sips of the chilled Chardonnay accompanying it. In a moment, my Inner Goddess is up and shrieking at my stupidity: getting drunk during an interview? I switch to the sparkling water in the next goblet. The conversation flows easily. These friends have lots of friends and activities in common, I learn, and they are relaxed about recounting escapades. I notice several featured tricks they have pulled on their men. I contribute laughter and "expressions of joy" at appropriate places, but I have no stories to tell. I expect that my experiences on Blue Bayou would not fit in here. The soup is a kind of gazpacho, nicely seasoned (to my taste), although Francine, one of the older women, chides the Empress that her chef must have run out of spices halfway through preparations. I am a bit surprised at this sally, but Empress waves a hand, laughs a bit, and offers to swap chefs with Francine. Francine blushes a bit, waves her hand as well, and backs off. At the garden salad course, the talk turns to me, gently at first, but then more insistent. I mention my paralegal background, and nobody seems impressed. I skip the events of the Blue Bayou, saying only I met Martin on a cruise. Francine tries to get me to admit to playing a trick or two on Martin, but I dodge that one. I try to depict Martin as a gentleman, courteous and fun to be with. Wrong! There is instant hilarity around the table, and Rose manages to gasp, "That's not the Martin we know!" I fire back an inquiry about how did Rose — or any of the ladies —come to know so much about "my Martin?" Empress does another hand wave and soothes the situation by suggesting that "the mysteries of men must be left to the mysterious men." I think that's a cute saying, and express that opinion, and the conversation shifts pretty quickly to some politics on the island. I decide to drop into this talk a tidbit about having heard that something was being done about better rapid transit service on the south side of the island. Sharon and Marie (the other older woman) match my tidbit with some of their own, items I squirrel away for my Master. The main course is a baked stuffed salmon on a bed of rice with some grilled vegetables. I am reminded of my first meal on my Master's yacht, but, of course, manage to keep that to myself. The ladies fall to discussing the exploits of another of society's belles, a woman who is spending more of her man's wealth in the gambling casinos of Macau than she is on clothes, an effort which is keeping whole couture houses afloat, it seems. Some of this seems a little incredible, but I'm just a paralegal, so what do I know. At least, I know enough to keep silent on this talk. While the other ladies have used chopsticks easily for the salad and salmon, I have relied on standard western knife and fork. Eventually, someone asks about this. I essay a wave of my hand and a comment that "my Martin" is teaching me, one food at a time. Even the Empress laughs at this one! Of course, while everyone announces that they just couldn't do dessert, everyone takes at least a small slice of the strawberry cheesecake the server dishes out. Conversation noticeably declines as these slices slowly vanish. Butterfly appears, wearing a long blue cheong-sam which clings to her body very attractively, with the coffee and tea service. With a small grin, I see my tea is Constant Comment. Francine and the Empress take Lord Grey tea, while American coffee is the choice of the others. Now, the conversation shifts to expressions of pleasure and gratitude to the Empress along with wishes for me for a happy and long life together with Martin. Eventually, the Empress makes sure each lady is well-prepared for her next appointment and we escort the group to the front door. Empress takes my hand and we head back to her office. Butterfly is there with a glass of sparkling water for each of us and then my "debriefing" begins. Unlike my first meal with my Master, I am primed for this discussion. I have a few small observations of Francine, Marie, Rose, and Sharon. I express some disbelief in some of the tales they told about their men, and a larger amount of disbelief in the stories about the belle of the gambling and couture houses. I indicate some interest in the business tales discussed. I decide to skip the chopsticks discussion, but Empress focusses right in on it. "No, my dear," she says earnestly, "you handled that exactly right. There's no sense in hiding a skill you're not yet good at. The point is that you'll have to be better at it next time you dine with these ladies, unless it's at an American Fourth of July barbeque party. "Now, I thought you handled the disgraceful gossip about the gambling very well. You didn't ask for any of the lurid details they were ready to display for you and you didn't express any judgement about the unfortunate lady. That was exactly right for this society. Of course, you must know that the whole story, even those lurid details, was made up just for this occasion. It was another of my little tests for you, and you passed quite well. I'm sure Sharon and Marie, who made up most of it, were a bit irritated they didn't get to the really juicy parts of the story." Well! Score one for the newbie! "All right, Julie. It's time for you to return to your Master. I hope you'll give him a good report about your time here. I've enjoyed almost all of it, and I will be arranging with your Master for an evening with the men." The Empress stands and extends a hand to me. I grasp it, firmly but not tightly, and drop a curtsy to this ruler of Hong Kong society. Butterfly, of course, appears and escorts me to the front door, where the driver from this morning offers a smile and a salute as he settles me in the limo. "Just a seatbelt this time, Ma'am." I giggle a bit and thank him for the courtesy. Author's Note: How will her Master, his lieutenants, and Igor, Pat, and Anne react to Julie's crime? What would be a "symmetrical" correction for such a crime? Your Suggestions and Comments are welcome, of course, and may show up in Julie's future. —J Spe 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 01 Lisa's mind was whirling. Her options were limited. She said, "Yes Sir." "Good. Your first task is to return the favor I just did for you. Peter, bring the bowl and cloth." Albert stood, lowered his pants to his ankles and sat at the edge of the chair. "You are to very gently wash me, and then service me with a measure of enthusiasm. Kneel." Lisa knelt. At a gesture from Albert, she spread her knees. She wet the cloth in the warm soapy water and began to clean the already hard organ before her. She held it up with one hand and began to wash his balls and shaft. There was no doubt what he wanted next. She lowered her head and began using her lips and tongue. She lightly squeezed his balls. After two hours of ordering women around and inspecting their most intimate parts, Albert wasn't going to last long. Moments later he exploded in her mouth. She pulled back. He grabbed her hair and forced her head back onto his shaft. She kept licking and moving her lips. After a minute, Albert sat back. He handed her the cloth. "I expect you to stay long enough to give me maximum pleasure. You may use this cloth on me and then yourself." Lisa gently wiped his organ. "In fact, go take a brief shower in there. Find some clothing. When you return, your second task will be waiting. I believe her name is Autumn. You will take charge of her personal inspection in the same way I did for you. If you understand, go quickly." Autumn came into the cabin at Peter's arm, naked and walking with an awkward gait. She heard a toilet flush. The three people stood silently, looking at the bathroom door. In a moment, Lisa emerged in jeans and a t-shirt. A little panic showed on Autumn's face. "Lisa, is Autumn a friend of yours?" "No Sir, we just met yesterday." "Good. That will make it easier. Autumn's interview was interrupted as she was folding her towel." Albert handed the towel to Lisa. "Carry on." While in the shower, Lisa had considered her options. The odds of a better future and even possible escape were with Albert, as opposed to the unknown fate facing the others. Though harsh, Albert didn't seem to be a monster. And he really had given her an intense orgasm. She decided to not only try for this position, but to go all out. She narrowed her eyes. "Autumn, you will address me as 'Ma'am', and you will follow my instructions quickly and precisely. Is that quite clear?" The two men in the room gave Lisa a startled look, but kept silent. Autumn mumbled, "Yes ma'am." "Speak up!. I notice that you are walking funny. Are you in pain?" "YES MA'AM!" "Here is your towel. You haven't finished your task." Autumn took the towel and began to fold it quickly. She was trembling again. She offered it to Lisa. She took it, shook it out and threw it back. "Try again. I'm expecting more from you!" This time the towel looked much neater. "Now I need to check your personal grooming. Sit on that chair and raise your legs in the air." Autumn quickly did as she was told. Lisa grabbed her knees and spread them apart. She began the inspection, rubbing and grazing the skin here and there. Autumn started to move her legs. "Hold still!" Everyone noticed large red marks on her behind and upper legs. "You missed a few spots when you shaved. Have you ever shaved yourself before?" "No ma'am, not before today." A blush started to redden her face. "Go into that bathroom and fetch the razor and cream. Move!" She awkwardly stood up and scampered to the bathroom. When she returned, she resumed her position without further instruction. There were no arms on the chair, so she had to place her hands under her knees. "Autumn, you are doing very well so far. Now, I am going to point out areas that need more attention, and you will take care of them." She again started to lightly run her fingers around Autumn's pussy. Soon her clit peeked from under it's hood. Lisa's erotic inspection continued. "Here." Autumn had to lower her head to see where Lisa was pointing. She moved the razor down and scraped it across the offending hairs. "You won't need any shaving cream. You already are getting plenty of lubrication down here. Aren't you?" "Y-y-e-e-ss M-m-a-a-m", Autumn replied through heavy breaths. Lisa began slow circles around her clit, while tickling around her thighs and ass with the other hand. Her touch was very light, as Albert had 'taught' her. Lisa saw Autumn's nipples stiffen, as her fingers made closer contact. Autumn's toes began to flex and a low moan came out of her mouth. Lisa's fingers began an accelerated movement. Soon, her orgasm was upon her. Her hands flew from her knees to cover Lisa's hands at her crotch. Her head flew back, her feet were moving, and little gasps came between breaths. She tried to stop Lisa's moving fingers at her clit but couldn't. She rode out her orgasm. The men could see her bodily contractions. Albert couldn't take his eyes off of the scene. He thought, "Wow. She's not faking that one. The toes curling, that blush, and those contractions are a dead giveaway."After a few moments, her little bodily movements and breathing slowed. Lisa told her to sit up. She gave Albert a glance and moved her eyes toward Peter. Albert smiled and told Peter to bring the bowl and cloth. As Peter approached, Lisa motioned for him to sit. "Autumn, you are going to pay your dues for that great orgasm I just gave you. You are going to wash Peter and then bring him off. Peter lifted up and lowered his pants and shorts. "Kneel." The tearful, gasping girl took the wet cloth and began cleaning Peter's shaft. Lisa pointed downward. He lifted slightly and felt his testicles being washed. He was already quite hard. Lisa snapped her fingers and pointed. Autumn understood and began licking and sucking. For any man, the day's events would be arousing, and Peter was no exception. He grabbed Autumn's head and began pumping. He came to a moaning finish. Lisa handed her the wet cloth. Autumn started wiping her mouth. "No, clean him, then yourself!" She wiped the head of his still hard organ, and then brought the cloth to her lips and spit several times. Albert, who had seemed stunned into silence, spoke: "Peter, give her towel back and take her to the dining hall with the others. Lisa, stay for a moment." They sat in chairs facing each other. Fully dressed, and feeling her success with Autumn, she felt confident. "I am quite impressed with your performance. I would even go as far as to say you are the one I have been looking for. I know you are single, and I saw how you slapped the man you were with, so listen to my offer. I want you to be my assistant. Not my slave or servant, mind you, but shall I say, my 'subservient assistant'. You tamed Autumn with authority. I believe that you even enjoyed it in some small way." "This is a lucrative business, and I am offering you a position on my crew. Along with the obvious work aspect that you have seen, there are also stays in hotels and fine dining. The work can be extremely hard and sometimes quite dangerous, but the rewards are many. You will be all things to me. A trainer, a travel scheduler, a secretary. You will do similar work with women that you just did. I will demand your complete loyalty. Oh yes, you must also be sexually available to me, and only me. You will be off limits to the crew. I think you have seen that I am not a psychopath or a pervert. I simply believe that men and women have separate roles in this life, and I have never seen a woman who was my equal." "Now, I'm sure you have many questions, and I will answer all at length. But now it is time to eat. Let's go see what's for lunch while you consider my offer." They walked down the hall to a dining room almost filled by a large table. On the right side, Lisa saw the eight men and the female crew member, fully dressed. Each had one hand on the table. She quickly surmised that each one was handcuffed to a chair. On the left were three women, still in towels. Some had been softly crying. The two other women, comically wearing aprons and nothing else, emerged from a large door carrying trays of food. Someone had traded towels for aprons. They began spooning a sort of stew into bowls and passing them down the table. As they turned back to the kitchen, Lisa did a little double take. One of the server's aprons framed her quite red ass. Several others noticed as well, remembering the first spanking. Everyone's attention momentarily focused on the food. They began looking at Albert and then at Lisa. Albert held up his palm. "Please enjoy your meal. And remember the rules I established earlier. All will become clear to you soon." The two women passed out glasses of water. Albert pointed Lisa to a smaller table near the door where his three crew sat, already eating, guns beside their bowls. As they ate, Lisa observed various behaviors among the captives. The women were alternately glaring at Albert, the Captain, and the captive men. The men were looking at their food. Lisa noticed a faint smile on one face. She thought, could the pirates have talked to the men and told them they would be released? She was sure the women, after their humiliating ordeal, would not be so lucky. Then she realized that she was also a captive who had gone through the same ordeal. Forced to strip, to have a personal inspection, to have a forced orgasm, to be made to shave! She wondered about the woman from the crew. She was quite skinny, and at least in her forties. Could these pirates have decided they didn't want her? Was she too old? Maybe they had some odd respect for fellow sailors. After everyone was finished eating, the pirates lit cigarettes. One of them got up and began down the row, offering one to each man. Three nodded and the pirate lit each cigarette with a lighter. He turned his back on the women and returned to his seat. This started a series of sighs and snorts among the women, as their situation began to dawn on them. Albert silenced them with a glance. None of them wanted to feel Autumn's pain. He rose to speak. "All of you will be leaving the ship in the next two days. My men will take you to your rooms for the night. The men will be cuffed two to a bed. I can't risk any heroics or foolish bravado from you. The women will sleep in one room. We have moved some beds to accommodate this. Ladies, feel free to commiserate and plot all night. In the morning the rules apply once more. I want to compliment you on your compliance thus far. That will be reflected in your assessment. Peter, show these ladies to their room and see to their comfort." Lisa followed Albert back to the captain's cabin. "Have you thought about my generous offer? Do you have questions?" "Yes Sir. I feel I have no real choice but to trust your word. I don't want to be with the others. My first question is what is really going to happen to those women? Are they going to be sold off as prostitutes?" "No, not exactly. But freedom is also not in their future. I have contacts all over the world who rely on me to bring them concubines and courtesans. They will be offered a future in a harem or in an apartment as what you would call 'a kept woman'. As long as they are subservient and can adapt, they will have a decent life. That is why women are on this earth. They are to serve and satisfy men." These women will learn to flatter and flirt in public, and give long and enthusiastic service at night. They will dress, and undress, to please the whims of their man. Some of these men like to trade among themselves. But I have confidence that they will not be killed or given to common pimps. But they must learn to be obedient and attentive." "And I, as well? What if you get mad or tired of me?" "Yes, you must also be obedient and attentive, and sexy, but voluntarily. I have already seen that in your personality. That is why you are sitting here. You will be part of the crew and dress like the crew. In private, however, I will expect you to be in any state of dress I prefer, and completely available to me. We will be lovers- of a sort- and after what happened earlier, I don't believe you will be disappointed. When we are discussing business, I want your calm attention. But my decisions are always final and you will follow them precisely. As for making me mad, I don't recommend it. If you defy me, I will whip you as you saw today. I need your decision." Lisa stood up. She thought, "Here goes." She slowly drew her shirt up and off. She unbuttoned her jeans and slipped them off . She stood naked before him again. She whispered, "Sir, business or pleasure?" and sat on his lap as she began a long kiss. As their lips parted, he said, "Actually, a bit of both, my dear. You are going to do a training session tomorrow with the women. You will teach them three positions of display. Stand up. I will teach them to you now." Lisa frowned a bit and hesitantly stood. "The first is called 'inspection'. Stand with your feet shoulder width apart and your hands behind your head. Elbows back." Albert stood. "This allows me to assess your physical condition. Turn slowly." As she turned, he ran a finger down her back and left cheek. Lisa shivered. "Position two. Kneel. Knees spread wide. Hands behind your head. Good. Now practice moving quickly and gracefully between these positions. Remember, elbows back, knees wide." Lisa bent forward on all fours to rise. "No. To gracefully stand, stay upright and extend one foot in front, then rise." After several repeats, Lisa was standing at inspection. Albert brushed the back of his hand across her erect nipples. Another shiver. He trailed his hand slowly down to lightly caress her bare pussy. A gasp. He caught her folds between three fingers and lightly tugged her lips. Lisa went up on her toes and gasped again. Albert said, "I believe you are ready for the third position, my dear. Down on all fours." As she moved, he opened his pants and shirt and slipped them off. "Knees apart, bottom up." He knelt behind her and touched her outer lips with his penis. Then he slowly slipped in. A moan escaped Lisa's mouth, and another. Albert set up a rhythm. He reached down to caress her clit. At times he slowed to a steady in and out. Then he would speed up. All the time, his fingers gently rubbed her. He knew from long experience that women took much longer than men to orgasm. He also knew that forcing women to submit and display themselves was often a subconscious turn-on. He sensed she was close. She was moving back against him. He heard a low groan, and sped up his rhythm, his fingers rapidly strumming her clit. "Ahhhh Ahhh Uhhhh Oh Oh Oh!" Those hard contractions had always been a trigger for him. Seconds later, Albert exploded into her spasmodic pussy. They collapsed to the floor. "Are you still with me, Lisa?" "Ahhhh.. yes. ahhh uhh Sir." He told Lisa to shower first as the stall was small. Later they sat at a table. Albert's smile faded. He said, "Business. When we are working I will be very demanding. There is no room for error or softness. You will still address me as 'Sir' and show deference at all times. The men will lose all respect if they see defiance in you. Do not give them orders. Do not even speak to them unless you have to. They are not nice men. Do not grow cocky or there will be a swift consequence. Do you understand?" "I think so Sir. I'm at your mercy. I will try to do what you want. Some of these women are not going to have an easy life, are they?" "Perhaps not. Lisa, if you can't put such sympathies out of your mind, I will take you to join them." "No Sir! Please!" A small panic began to arise in her chest. "Let me show you. Tell me what you want me to do with them." "That's better. Have you thought about the positions? How do you plan to proceed?" "Ummm, I thought I would take them one at a time and teach them." "Take two at a time. It will save time and it will be more instructive for them. They all need to get over their modesty. In fact, you will take two and I will take the other three. Then we will compare." Next morning, Albert stayed well back as Lisa opened the ladies cabin. All had found various articles of clothing during the night. "Did anyone tell you to get dressed?" demanded Lisa. All the women froze. "Get them off! Now!" Robes, pajamas and jeans began dropping. She pointed to Autumn and Julie, who had been first to get her clothes off. "Come with me. Quickly!" As they headed toward an empty cabin, Lisa asked, "Have you eaten?" "Yes Ma'am," Autumn quickly replied. Lisa showed them into an empty cabin. "No talking. Get in there. She left the door open. "Go into the bathroom together and take care of things. While you're there, check each others grooming, especially around the ass, where its hard to see. That seems to be very important around here. You have 5 minutes. She noticed Albert with the other girls in the hallway. Her competitive instincts kicked in. She thought, "no sympathy, no softness." The two women filed back into the room. "Kneel, facing each other." They quickly complied. "I am now with Albert. You will do exactly what I tell you to do, quickly and without thinking. I hope that is clear." Lisa picked up a large wooden spoon that she had found in the galley. "My hand may not be very persuasive, but this will be. Now, we have work to do. I am to train you in ways that will be helpful to you in the future. You will address me as 'Ma'am'. Now, hands behind your head." Lisa took the spoon and pushed Julie's elbows back. "You are to mirror each others movements." Both women moved elbows back. "Spread your knees." Autumn moved to comply. Julie hesitated. Lisa smacked her inner thigh. "Owww! Please!" Through tears, she said, "Ok, ok!" Lisa tried to think of what Albert would say. "Ladies, this is your position when told to kneel in front of a man. You are displaying your body for him and waiting for instructions. Your tits are thrust out and your knees are wide. Now stand." The women awkwardly got to their feet. "We'll need to practice a little grace, won't we girls?" Without waiting for an answer, Lisa asked, "Where should your arms be?" They quickly put their hands behind their heads. "Feet apart! This position is called 'inspection'. Good." Lisa began rubbing her fingers over both women's nipples, hardening them. Lisa trailed a hand down to their pussies, lightly exploring. Autumn began to make small movements. A gasp and a little shudder followed. Lisa said, "Now, down on all fours. Knees spread. Asses facing me." As their legs parted, Lisa gave them an 'Albert', a slow, light rubbing and tugging, moving ever nearer to the clit. Within a few minutes, both women were moist but too nervous to orgasm. Lisa let the girls subside for a while. "This position is called 'down' You will assume it when commanded. Some men will just point down. Others will snap their fingers. Some may call it position 3." "We will practice going between positions. I am expecting grace and quickness. Stand!" As they worked, a sheen of sweat flowed down faces and breasts. "Kneel." "Stand." Lisa lightly smacked a knee or an elbow a few times, but the girls were getting good at it. Footsteps faintly sounded in the hall. "Stop! Kneel." In a moment, Albert stood in the door and motioned. "Ladies, come in." His charges meekly filed in. They saw the two kneeling women. With a glance at each other, they knelt in the line. Lisa saw red marks on their thighs. All five were sweaty and short of breath. Albert remarked,"I'm impressed! Now, ladies, you will show me what you have learned. Your responses yesterday and your obedience today will all be part of your assessment score." Ten eyes went wide in shock. "Stand!" The women rose to their position. "Kneel!" Julie was the last to get back down. At a nod from Albert, Lisa went behind the group and gave Julie a low swat. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 01 "Ow! Ahh! Please!" "Face away from me!" In seconds all were facing the wall. "As I count from left to right, each of you will show me 'down'. One!" Autumn went to all fours. "Two!" Julie followed. A red stripe crossed her behind. She seemed to hold her legs extra wide. In a moment all five women were lined up. "Crawl to that wall, turn around, and kneel." They hurried to comply. "Good. As your reward, four of you will be permitted clothing this evening. Julie, you will not, as your quickness needs some work." Albert had the women crowd into the small shower two at a time for his amusement. As Julie and Autumn emerged he looked over their wet bodies. "You are all to remain hairless from the neck down. In the morning, you and your shower partner will inspect each other thoroughly, as we did today. If any of my men enters your room, you will silently kneel where you are. Be ready to follow their orders. My men may require further service from some of you tonight, but your smooth pussies are safe for now. Do not forget that your actions and your obedience are all part of your score. I'm proud of you. Each of you is a beautiful female specimen." At this, something approaching pride very briefly surged among the tired women. It quickly faded as the word "specimen" sunk in. "Lisa will escort you to your room." She saw Peter in the hall outside the cabin. The look on his face told her that he had not accepted her new role. "Peter, Albert has made it clear that I am not in charge of the crew. I will be his assistant, not his First Mate. Each of you is very good at this sordid business, and I am trying to fit in because I have no other choice. I will try to stay out of your way. Can we give this a try?" Peter gave a slight nod of his head. "Good! Thank you." As she made her way to Albert's cabin, she tried to decide whether to undress for his pleasure or wait to gauge his mood. She opened the door and saw him at the table, staring at a laptop. She stood just inside the door. "Sir?" Without looking up, he said, "Strip and kneel!" Lisa quickly complied, sensing anger in his voice. She waited, hands on thighs. She knew better than to speak. She began to realize that the divide between business and pleasure might be difficult to discern. Albert stood up, sending the chair tumbling. He ripped off his shirt and jeans, and in one movement he threw Lisa on her back on the carpet. He proceeded to rape her, finishing off in moments. He got up and strode to the shower leaving Lisa spread on the floor, panting. In a few minutes, he stepped out of the bathroom and jerked this thumb, letting Lisa know it was her turn. When she emerged, wearing a robe, Albert motioned her to sit down. "I don't apologize for my actions. I was angry, and you walked in. I don't promise it won't happen again. Today has gone sour. My contacts are not responding. I think I have competition out there. Shaken and sore from the attack, Lisa remained silent. She had not expected anything like this. But there was no going back on this. She took a deep breath and began rubbing Albert's back and neck. "Come to bed", she whispered. She continued to massage his back until he fell asleep. During the night, Lisa could hear the faint sounds of slaps on flesh and cries of pain. She slept fitfully. In the morning she decided to play her 'lovers' role and wake Albert up with her mouth. A few licks and moves with her fingers brought him erect. She gave him a light kiss on the lips and then proceeded to swirl her tongue around his shaft. A crooked smile and a moan preceded his explosion. Remembering, she continued her tongue action as he subsided. She rose to get a warm cloth to bathe him. They dozed for half an hour. Albert got out of bed, and said, "Thank you. Now get dressed, we have business." As he made a call, Katherine and Julie knocked on the door. They had a tray of food. Lisa was surprised when she noticed that Julie was wearing shorts. Apparently something had happened during the night. Lisa remembered the cries. "Congratulations, Julie!" Julie's eyes went straight to the floor. "Thank you, Ma'am," she muttered. With a wave, Albert shooed them away. As they ate, Albert tried to formulate a plan. "We're running out of food and fresh water. We have to act today. You will take the girls and find each one something to wear. Nightgowns, dresses, anything revealing and sexy. That one, uh, Julie. Put her in the skimpiest nightie you can find. I want to see her legs. We're taking pictures in two hours. I'll tell the boys. Go." Lisa faced the women. "Ladies, we are going to each of your old cabins. You are going to retrieve some clothing. You should feel good about that. However, I will choose that clothing from what you have." Autumn's room was first. Lisa told her to show her what was in the pile on the floor. She spotted a blue teddy. "That's the one. Put it on now." Autumn began looking back in the pile. "No underwear." Autumn obediently dropped her robe and slipped the nightgown on. "Perfect, let's go." Soon, each woman was clad in a gown or dress. One was in a bikini. They were gathered in a cabin when Albert entered. "Stand! Elbows back!" When he was satisfied, he took a few pictures. "Turn around." More pictures. "Kneel." As each one lowered herself to the floor, Albert swept his eyes across the group. Julie wore a short, flimsy baby doll that covered almost nothing in her present awkward position. Katherine was wearing a black cocktail dress that kept her from spreading her knees very widely. He took a closeup of each one, and with a wink at Lisa, turned and walked out. Katherine cried out, "What is happening to us!" Quickly, the rest started jabbering. Lisa held her hand up. "It's time to answer that question. Relax and quiet down and I'll tell as much as I know. We are captives. There is nothing you or I can do about it. What each of you can do, is try to make the best of this. Albert has promised me that you are not going to be harmed. But I can already see that much depends on you. Soon, men will be looking at you. They will be bidding on you." Tears began falling. Julie fell on the floor, sobbing. Lisa waited. After a time, she continued. "Yes, you are going to be auctioned off." Autumn raised her hand like a schoolgirl. "Why are you so special?" Lisa thought for a moment. "I made a deal with the devil. He made me an offer and I took it. Any of you would have done exactly the same and you know it! Now I don't know any more than you about what happens next. But I have learned that it doesn't pay to make him angry. Some of you have learned it too. I'm going to do exactly what he expects and you will too if you want to get through this. Now, we're going back. Julie, apparently your score went up last night, so keep the nightie." Julie looked away. Peter appeared in the doorway. "When we get back you will follow his instructions. Is that clear?" "Yes, Ma'am," came a weak response. The barefoot, barely clad women filed out. When Lisa returned to Albert's cabin, he smiled and motioned her over to a chair. She breathed a sigh of relief at his elevated mood. "OK, I have a deal. This evening, we will meet 3 other boats. I have ten gentlemen coming aboard to view the merchandise. The weather is good, so we will do this on the aft deck. After lunch, I will brief the girls on what is expected. You are to remain with them when they are not on deck. Keep their spirits up as best you can. Most if not all of them will be leaving tonight." "And the men?" Albert shot her a stern look. "Don't concern yourself with matters outside your duties!" "I'm sorry, Sir. It won't happen again." Beads of sweat began to form on her face. An image formed in her mind, of her standing in a line to be auctioned. She realized that she could never truly trust Albert. She also realized that there had been no sights or sounds of the captive men today. A little shudder came over her. Was there a way out of this? A way off this boat? A way back to her life? No. In another world, she might even like Albert. In this world she was really only one level above the others. She would have to play her few cards with all her wits. The captive men were conspicuously absent at lunch. Everyone ate in silence. Two women, perhaps even more comical in aprons and night gowns, served and cleaned up afterward. Albert brought his chair nearer to the table. "Ladies, this evening will bring our association to an end. As you have been told, we will have visitors. Each of you will probably be leaving the boat with one of them. If it is any comfort I want you to know that I only have high quality clients. You will not be sold into prostitution. You will be serving one man at his pleasure. This man will pay a large sum of money for you. This gives you a measure of safety, as you will be a valuable and expensive investment. I see that each of you is looking at me as though I am a monster. No, I am a man. Perhaps more of a man than you have ever known, but still a man." He looked at each girl in turn, until each one looked away. "Over the next few hours, you will receive further instructions and we will go through a kind of rehearsal. You will quickly and carefully follow every command. I can assure you that none of you wants to earn a punishment this evening in front of my clients. That would cause a loss of respect among them. Do any of you think that would be a good idea?" "No Sir.", he heard, almost in unison. "I may ask you to assume the positions you learned, and others. I will probably ask you to reveal yourself at some point. You will be obedient and graceful. There will be no breakdowns or outbursts. You will return to your rooms now. Lisa will decide what you are going to wear. It may well be what you are wearing now. You will have time to clean up and have a light meal before the evening's entertainment. You are dismissed." Peter directed the women to the hallway. Albert faced Lisa. "I want them in panties and bras. I thought Katherine's dress was very nice. I think that would be better than nighties. It will be more exciting for the clients as their bodies are revealed. Keep them busy while you gather the clothing. Get them cleaned up and dressed by five o'clock, and bring them to the deck. I will ask one of the men to bring food. Questions?" "No, Sir, I understand." "You are not to tell them, but I have come up with a score for each one from one to ten, based on beauty, obedience, and sexual response. The starting bid will be the score times $10,000. Autumn is an 8, and Julie is a 5. The rest are in between. For your own information, you would probably be a 9. You may go." "Yes Sir" Lisa blushed lightly and started for the empty cabins where she would find dresses and underwear. She was thinking, "No! Being a nine is not a good thing here. I have to do just what he wants. I need to be still on this boat tomorrow!" She brought her collection back the room and spread it out on a bed. "You are to find underwear and a dress that will fit you. Do not put them on yet, as you need to shower. Keep your hair dry. Pick your clothing now and begin taking turns to shower. Be sure you are clean shaved. No stubble. There will be food here later. We are leaving here at 5." The women eagerly started going through the clothes. A little shopping spree broke out. Lisa smiled and thought, "Even the spankings are not as humiliating for a woman as being naked." One was already entering the shower. This done, she thought about shoes. She had noticed heels in some rooms. Yes, they would need heels for the auction. Men loved heels. Peter and another man were on watch near the womens cabin. Both men looked her over as she passed. "Peter, I'm going to get shoes. We'll be ready on time." All she got from Peter was a small nod and a glare. His look told her that he was picturing her as she shed her towel the day before. She kept moving. A feeling of dread came over her. She thought, "There are ten clients coming aboard and only five women. Albert just told me I was worth $90,000 minimum. Will he betray me? Is this a setup? I don't dare ask him. But if he tells me to get in a dress, That will be the end of me. Oh, God!" She stopped walking and leaned on a wall. "Breath, Breath! OK, OK! Concentrate! Get it done! Shoes!" She continued down the length of the hall, entering the rooms to gather heels. Shortly, Lisa was back with the ladies. "Katherine, you're dressed. Come and get shoes." She dumped them on the bed. Katherine was a mess. Her face was red from crying. Her hair was uncombed. "Find some shoes and put them on. Then sit on the bed." Lisa found a hairbrush on the floor, sat down next to Katherine and started brushing her hair. "We have to get through this. We have no choice." Katherine glared at her. "That's easy for you to say! You're not being sold off!" More tears. "Right now, I'm not even sure that's true, but no matter. He has us. Now take a few deep breaths. We're on a schedule. I really believe that the more we cooperate, the better off we'll be. We have to trust in that." Lisa looked up, and saw that the other four women were listening. The women wobbled on deck at 5:15. Each was wearing a cocktail dress. For the most part, their hair was combed. Their faces were various shades of red from crying. Lisa, to her relief, was still in jeans and a t-shirt. "Thank you Lisa. Ladies, we're a little behind. Please do as I say, and this will go well for all of you." There was a faint menace in his words. Again, he looked at each one directly until she looked down. "Please line up facing me. Autumn, you are on the left. Julie, on the right. You will be called by number, one through five, as you are standing now. Lisa, write down the number order. Now, one at a time, turn to your right and walk to the rail, turn, and come back to your position. I want to see the beautiful women that you are." They walked as they were told. Albert thought, "The heels were a good idea. It's hard for them not to look good in heels." As they returned, he said, "Now, hands on hips, slowly turn completely around. Good. Now, sink to your knees, opening your legs as far as your dress will allow." There were a few gasps, but the women numbly knelt as told. "At this point, I will ask each of you to rise. You will then follow my instructions precisely. We don't need to practice that part." As his meaning dawned on each girl, tears and blushes began anew. He called Lisa aside. "Take them back . Get them to clean up each others faces. Get them to put on some lipstick. They can eat a little. Then come back here. Our guests will be here in an hour or so." "Yes Sir." Back in the room, Lisa got the women settled as best she could. They were in a mild state of shock. She knew Albert's instructions would distract them somewhat. As she left, a crewman stood the open door. She realized that his presence would keep conversation among the captives at a minimum. She entered Albert's cabin and stood by the closed door. He waved her to a chair. "It has been a hell of a day, but things are looking better now. Your job is to keep them calm and impress the importance of following instructions. In my experience, once they are on deck they will comply with my directions. I will send for you in a while. Find a bottle of whiskey and a glass. As you wait off deck, give each one a shot of booze. It will relax them." The final act was at hand. The group waited in the hall. Lisa passed the shot glass and topped it off for each girl. They could hear low voices nearby. Albert spoke. "Gentlemen, in a moment, we will view the consignment. You have a card with five numbers, some comments, and a score with each. As I explained, the starting bid will be the score multiplied by $10,000. I have personally assessed the shipment over the last two days. I assure you the value is reflected in the score. Take notes as we proceed. After the viewing, the bidding will begin. You will then have a private visit with your purchase before departure. I remind you of the strict confidentiality of these proceedings. Shall we begin?" He backed up until Lisa could see him and gave a wave. The women filed out and faced the audience in number order. "Ladies, as I call your number, please walk gracefully to the rail and return to your place. Number one." A small sound escaped her lips as Autumn made her way to the rail. The tight dress forced small steps and as all the men noticed, her heels made the small muscles in her calves move in a delicious way. Julie was next. Each woman again faced the bidders, a slight flush showing on a few faces. "Now, turn slowly and finish in a kneeling position. Soon all five were in a somewhat awkward kneeling posture. "Heads up please. Number one, rise. Number two, rise and unzip her dress and help her out of it. Very slowly." Albert's voice was sharp and compelling. Julie stood up and stepped behind Autumn. The sound of the zipper seemed very loud on the silent deck. A sigh of anticipation lightly rose from the audience. Julie lowered the dress, and slipped it off Autumn's legs. "Number one, bring the dress to me." Autumn had to cross in front of the men in bra and panties. "Thank you. Please return. Each of you will repeat this procedure in order. Begin." Julie's dress soon slid off. The walk across to Albert seemed to be the most embarrassing part so far. Blushes and small sobs began. In a short time, five women stood in bras, panties, and heels. Everyone knew what was next. "Number one, reach back and slowly remove your bra, drop it on the deck, and slowly turn again. Number two, as she finishes, you will wait a moment and then begin." Soon each captive proffered her breasts to the bidders. A new blush began spreading from the necks down to the chests of a few women. The audience noticed that the cool air and the stress were causing nipples to harden. The men could barely take their eyes off the women in order to take notes. Albert waited until the bidders seemed ready. "Thank you. Now, for the last part of the auction, I want each of you to turn away from us." A small feeling of relief passed through the women as they turned away. Number one, lower your panties halfway down your thighs. All eyes watched the spectacle. "A little more. Good. Now quickly place your hands behind your head and wiggle out of them! Now!" A kind of wail escaped Autumn's lips, but she began. She had to gyrate wildly to get her tight pink panties to slowly slide to her ankles. "Lovely. Leave your panties where they are, slowly turn and sink to a full kneel." Tears flowed as she complied.. Sighs came from the frozen men. Albert watched as the scene took effect. "Number two. Proceed!" As Julie hooked her fingers in the waistband, a trembling came over her. "Keep going!, Albert warned." After a half-minute or so, he said, "Peter!" Peter stepped in with the wooden spoon concealed at his side. With a loud smack, the spoon struck Julie's left cheek. "Owww!" This jolted her back into motion. The blue panties slid to half-mast. Holding her legs tightly together, Julie began. The wiggling action was driving the men wild. As she twisted and moved, the panties slowly edged down until they dropped at her ankles. Soon she was spread out beside Autumn. Fifteen minutes later all five red-faced captives were in this most humiliating position in front of a group of ogling men who were about to bid on their naked bodies and their services. All five remained still, unable to look at their audience. Albert broke the silence. "Ladies, please remain as you are. Gentlemen, please finish your notes. The bidding will be in $2000 increments above the starting figure. Just raise your card to indicate a bid. This will not be a high pressure auction. Each of you already have formed a valuation for this merchandise. There is no need for me to shout and carry on. That might be embarrassing for the ladies." It took a moment in the charged atmosphere for the bidders to realize that Albert had made a joke. A big laugh broke out among the men as the tension was broken. 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 01 "Number one, stand and slowly turn." Autumn slowly rose. "80. More?" Cards flew up. Albert began nodding, trying to keep up with the rapid bidding. Each man wanted Autumn. Albert knew that he had to auction the best one first, or the bidders would be saving their money for her. More bids. "96. Any more? Okay, 130. Number one, walk over to this gentleman and hand him your panties. Then take his arm and leave to your left. You will find numbers on the cabin doors" Autumn hesitated as the command sunk in. She looked down at her panties, numbly deciding whether to take them off or wait until she walked over to him. Albert snapped his fingers. She slowly shuffled over to the man, bent down to pick them up, and held them out. The man stood up and stepped toward her. He walked a little bent over, his erection hampering his mobility. Lisa, Peter, and the other man listened as the bidding resumed. Julie was next, then Katherine. The bidding went quickly, and soon the last captive delivered her panties to her 'gentleman'. After watching Autumn's awkward walk, each had picked up her panties before walking across the deck. As each couple left the deck, the sight of a woman wearing only heels on the arm of a fully dressed man captured every eye. There were five men left in their chairs. Albert said, "Gentlemen, this concludes the regular auction. However, I have a bonus. For your pleasure!" He turned just as Peter and the other man grabbed Lisa under the arms and carried her out on deck. She screamed and kicked out as they began to pull up her shirt. End of Part One