48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 18: Julie

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Everyone Respects Everyone.
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Part 18 of the 51 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 10/21/2014
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Carole99
Carole99
470 Followers

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 beyourinstitution. 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.

Carole99
Carole99
470 Followers