48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 26: Julie

48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 26: Julie Scene 19

Author's Note: Thank you to all the commenters. You caught all the major points of the previous Part, and brought up good questions. I'm glad to see that you noted how puerile and naïve Julie's interviewer (Apartment 2375) was. As for "slave corridors," they are "Standard Issue" items in this society. Just as this year's automobile models all come with four wheels, an engine, power steering and power brakes, the accommodations for slaves are also standardized, engendering similar emotions and thoughts among all slaves. The case of the Slavemaster is a bit more devious, as this Part will describe.

— J Spe

A short, pudgy man approaches me, checks my face against his smartphone display, and grins at me. "I certainly agree with my orders. For sure, you'll do." I guess he's the agent for my new Owner, which is confirmed when, with a wave of his hand, he gets one of the women to unlock the chain of my shackle from the stanchion. He uses it to lead me away.

We come to an elegant lobby and the agent sees me out to a big black SUV, one of dozens waiting in the driveway. A guard passes my chain through a ring hanging from the roof over the back seat and adds a shackle to my right wrist. Short chains capture each ankle. The seatbelt completes my restraints. The pudgy man taps the driver's shoulder and asks, "You got the delivery order?"

A grunt answers him, but he is satisfied. I get a wave of his hand and the driver raises a frosted glass between the front and back seats. I realize the windows are blacked out as the SUV moves off. I cannot see where I'm being taken.

I don't get taken very far. The driver speaks to someone and a rear door opens. Another guard flourishes a key and asks if I'm going to come along nicely? Well, I'm not really in a position to argue, am I? I convey this sentiment with a smile and a "Yes, Sir." My wrist and ankle shackles are removed and I am helped out of the SUV.

It is the megayacht! I am back at the Nansha Marina and my Master, Charles, and Edward are standing at the gangplank.

I don't understand! I was prepped for a month so as to "sell well." With a sob, I fall into the kneeling Position One. The tears the Prep Team warned me about course down my cheeks.

Edward signs something for the driver and the SUV disappears. Charles circles me and says, "Yes, just like in the Catalogue."

Edward gives me a perfunctory pat on the head and addresses my Master. "Sir, your trainers are going to have their work cut out for them from what our sources at the slave corridor had to say."

My Master, his face impassive, nods and says, "Yes, I suppose so. Let's get the asset aboard. We've made Chef delay lunch long enough." He comes up to me and — before I can react, maybe try to kiss his shoes — orders "Transport Mode."

I rise and turn in one movement, my hands in position for the handcuffs. I follow everybody across the gangplank to the megayacht Master has rented and giggle at the comparison to my departure from Blue Bayou. Nobody pays any attention.

We proceed to the stern, where a table is set for three, with one kneeling pad near the head of the table. I wait until my betters are seated and then slide, as gracefully as I possibly can, onto the pad. I notice the crew is casting off from the dock and the yacht's engines are throbbing a bit. A server produces three flutes of sparkling wine and the three men salute each other. My Master even says, "A well-executed plan."

Have I mentioned that I'm not a moron? I begin to figure out that this month or more of preparation for auction, this time in the Intake Unit for new slaves, the time in Madam Chan's laundry, the discussions about how to serve an Owner, all this was an elaborate "correction" for a slave who had a single wild idea about escape.

My Inner Goddess figures this out also, and goes off in gales of laughter. I try to be serious, matching the men, but a small giggle turns into a full-sized laugh.

Charles and Edward do a "high five" and turn to my Master with wide grins. "Sir, didn't we tell you not to say that? She figured it out before the salad course!"

My Master's grin matches theirs and he has a ready rejoinder. "Yes, but I'm still glad she did."

Nobody pays any attention to me.

The salad comes and goes. Soup comes and goes. The aromas are enticing, but nobody pays any attention to me. A platter of lamb chops appears and, along with accompanying vegetables, is soon empty.

There had been Morning Nourishments, but I had eaten little, worried about the auction. Now, I am hungry!

Master relaxes in his chair and tells Charles he might as well deliver the bad news now.

His tone, quiet and non-committal, scares me back to attention. Charles pushes his chair back, removes the handcuffs, and faces me.

"It all has to do with the debits and credits the guys in Accounting have. It turns out that we made a nice profit on your sale, less commissions, of course. However, we ran afoul of the "wash sale rule," the rule that says you can't claim a profit or loss when you sell an asset and replace it with an essentially similar asset unless you wait more than thirty days between transactions. And then, the price Master paid for you, plus commissions, was not in the budget for this Quarter. Further, there was no Meal Plan for an additional diner in our lease for this yacht. In fact, to keep the Harbormaster on our side, you're being carried as a supercargo for our trip downriver. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir, I understand." Of course I do. Real estate sales often had to take this provision of the US IRS code, Section 1091, into account. But, at least in the U.S., it only applies to losses. Tax laws in Hong Kong also include gains?

Charles continues. "This correction has involved many people, including the Empress. You'll have to thank her for this morning's Prep Team."

I nod my head, not daring to speak.

"The matter of the Slavemaster is a more difficult one. When your crime created the need for a correction, we had lots of discussions about what type of correction would be effective. After your performance with the construction executive, we finally decided that the preparation and execution of an auction was likely to train your mind in the direction we'd tried to teach you. Obviously, we didn't want any of the Buyers to get excited or interested in you; the plan always was to buy you back in.

"The Slavemaster was quite helpful in the planning. It was his idea to withhold you from Demonstration Day, expecting you to understand that this would diminish your opportunities. He thought it would intensify your appreciation of what power a Master really can wield, another layer to your correction. He was really irritated with the story you put out through the other slaves, the True Story of Fifty's Fellatio. On the face of it, it's so unbelievable that he was worried about his House's reputation for honest dealing. That's when he got us to have that talk with you. Afterwards, he haggled with us about an 'adjustment' in the commission his House would get from your sale."

My Master grins a bit. "He was so shaken by how fast and wide that concoction got around that he couldn't decide whether to put you on the block early or late in the auction. He was pissed off enough that he asked us for permission to 'show how well this slave marks.' After the auction, he told us that he felt the strikes with the crop were just about an even trade."

Charles adds, with a chuckle, "And, he didn't mind that you sold for the second highest price all day. His House's commission, without the 'adjustment,' will make a lot of people there happy."

I drop my eyes to the darkening marks on my breasts, mostly hidden by the Calvin Klein. The pain is just a continuous ache now. I have a flash of anger at the Slavemaster, but then I realize that, as the Temporary Owner, he could have ordered any number of cuts with that crop. My Inner Goddess makes the observation that the Slavemaster's idea to pull me off the Demonstration Day schedule eventually made me the star of their Winter Exceptional Unit Auction. I wonder what the Empress and the rest of Hong Kong society will think. As usual for a slave, I'm sure somebody will tell me when they think I need to know. Until then, the realities of the power exchange, my duties to my Master, give me enough to think about. In the end, the Slavemaster was right.

Charles picks up the thread. "There are a few more items. You don't get to eat until you're back at the Enterprises, and, even then, your diet is restricted. You also don't get to use First Person speech anymore. That is, there is no more 'I' or 'me' or 'myself' or 'her' for you. From now on, you're 'This slave' or 'Your slave,' or 'My Master's slave.' For a pronoun, you will use 'it.' Do you understand?"

I barely manage to squeak out the answer. "Yes, Sir, this slave understands." This part of my correction will go on forever. This slave will always be reminded of this slave's error with every sentence. My Master does care for this slave, but his correction also shows how deeply he was hurt and how determined he is to prevent similar crimes in the future. Indeed, this slave understands.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Fifty-seven: Reunion

This slave is silent for the rest of the trip downriver. Even the beauty of Victoria Harbor and Victoria Peak don't raise this slave's spirits. This slave's Master has accepted it once again as his slave, but nobody has said anything about its return as First Lady. This slave suspects it will learn that part of its correction when it enters the lobby of the Enterprises' building.

As it was when this slave departed, the lobby this evening is deserted. Igor is the only one waiting for our group, and takes over responsibility for this slave from its Master, only a few words being exchanged. He guides this slave to an elevator and this slave closes its eyes, not wanting to see which button he pushes. When the doors open, this slave is overjoyed to see the lobby of its Master's apartments, with Anne and Pat waiting for us.

Again with few words, Igor turns this slave over to Pat, Master's First Slave, and Anne. It is not at all like this slave's introduction to these apartments all those months ago. There is no "tour." Pat simply orders, "Strip."

In moments, this slave has folded the Calvin Klein and is kneeling alongside it, hoping its position is at least satisfactory. Pat smiles thinly and observes, "Slave, you do seem to understand at least Position One. We will explore other parts of your understanding. Crawl after us, now."

Anne and Pat march off to the Prep Kitchen they and it have used for Master's office appointments as well as informal meals and snacks. This slave is directed to prepare a pot of tea and it rises to carry out the command. If one could describe silence as being "thick," this is what it seems now. The only sound is the water boiling and then the simple hiss of the leaves as they steep. This slave lays out cups and saucers for three, hoping to be included. Anne corrects it by simply adding, "You may take a mug for yourself." The contrast between china and earthenware, between trainers and slave, cannot be more obvious.

About the only straw this slave can grasp is that, whatever its Master and trainers have planned for it, it will be done upstairs; this slave has not been consigned to the Intake Unit slave corridor. This slave manages to remember how each trainer likes his or her tea, and Anne's only partially-hidden smile lets it know that it is doing well.

Igor joins us as this slave is pouring his cup. "Hey, how's this for good timing?" His voice is light, and this slave grasps a few more straws.

With its trainers seated and their slave in Position One, Pat opens the lecture, and this slave doesn't fool itself that she is not about to "read it the riot act" about its crime and lay out its restrictions for the future.

"Slave, your crime was inexcusable. I tell you this because, unlike other crimes where the correction puts the slave back at Square One with a clean slate, you are back at Square One with a chipped, cracked, and discolored slate. As a slave, you are not to use First Person Speech. You signaled that you understood this; is this still clear in your mind?"

This slave takes its deep breath, mostly to gather strength rather than to figure out an answer, and produces the proper reply. "Yes, Ma'am, this slave understands." Pat nods.

Igor takes over the catechism. "Your training will be a little different this time. We hope you still have the skills we taught, but we'll take it one step at a time. There will be one change, one we regret, but it seems advisable." He waves a hand and I see a short single-tail whip where he usually carries a simple riding crop. Corrections would be sharper and harsher. This slave is glad that its trainer doesn't ask the standard slave question here; this slave would be mortified to voice agreement with this change, although it is an obvious adjustment to its training regimen. This slave manages a smile before it looks downward in submission.

Anne brings up the final part of the new program. "Master has directed that, until we are familiar with your emotions, I will be serving as Master's First Lady. You may be asked to assist from time to time, but all that is really some time away." Again, this slave's trainers are showing compassion in not asking the question which will provoke humiliation in their slave.

"Now, I understand that you have not eaten since before your auction. Chef has left some salad and cold cuts in the fridge. You may eat those now."

This slave finds the plates and polishes off the meal rather quickly. In fact, there is a small "burp" as it finishes. The trainers laugh and Igor supplies the usual line: "I'll tell Chef you enjoyed his selections."

There have been no questions asked, so I, or rather, this slave, has said nothing, not even a Thank you for Evening Nourishments. This slave collects all the tableware and washes them by hand.

Anne announces that Master's new slave will use the same room as before. She leads this slave there and it finds the room somehow different from "before." A glance around shows that there are no clothes in the closet and the bed has been replaced by a cot. Another sign of the "Square One" status. This slave uses the toilet and returns to the cot, arranging itself as comfortably as possible, and Anne produces a set of shackles for its ankles, with a short chain that attaches to the cot. It is the same lesson that had been taught on this slave's first night. The chains are not so much for security or restraint as for training the slave's mind and emotions. When the door lock clicks, it is just another emphasis of this lesson. As this slave drifts into sleep, it hopes that its mind absorbs this lesson better than it did "before."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Fifty-eight: Training (and Work) Resumes

This slave is pleasantly surprised to find Fifteen awakening it in the morning. Her body language and tone of voice, however, are changed. "Slave," she almost barks, "you have fifteen minutes for your Morning Rituals. Then, a bite of breakfast and I have to bring you to the gym. I don't want to be late. Do you understand?"

This slave slips into Position One and gives the only acceptable answer. "Yes, Ma'am, this slave understands. Fifteen minutes. Thank you, Ma'am."

This slave is ready within the allotted time. Fifteen hands it a sports bra and a pair of boy shorts and announces "Transport Mode." Silently, we stop at the kitchen for juice and toast and make the trek to the Gym, where Igor is waiting. Fifteen unfastens the left handcuff and locks it on this slave's right wrist, convenient for re-use. Probably concerned that his slave has become less fit by its time in the Intake Slave corridor and preparing for the auction, Igor has gone back to exercises his slave was doing a month ago, both for Resistance and Repetitions.

His slave does the exercises, not forgetting to show its love for the machines. This slave is glad its trainer dropped the Resistance and Repetitions back a bit, because it completes the program without a significant rise in heart or breathing rates. Igor notes these responses without comment. Who tells a slave anything besides what she needs to know for her next task? This slave does not earn any cuts with Igor's whip.

Fifteen reappears, reinstitutes Transport Mode, and brings the slave up to the kitchen, where Pat and Anne are welcoming a visitor: Butterfly. Pat points and this slave sinks into Position One, hopefully with some of the elegance it learned from the balletmaster as prep for the auction. Soft drinks are offered to the visitor and Butterfly selects a pomegranate-apple juice combination.

This slave follows the conversation but, naturally, has nothing to say. Apparently, the Empress has used Butterfly as the Opera Boss Slave since my visit. It is now time for my Master's slave to resume that assignment. This slave learns that not much has happened in the office since its visit a month ago. The Artistic Director has been in and out, mostly to pick up his mail, which has come from many of the premier concert halls and opera houses of the world. He has an extensive tour planned. There has been no further work on the Children's Chorus.

This slave has not been asked anything, so it remains silent. It is wondering how being Opera Boss Slave fits with not being my Master's First Lady, but it knows that, when this is necessary for it to know, someone will tell it.

This slave's trainers consult the computer for available time slots and it is agreed that Butterfly will take this slave to the Opera office in two days and again on the third day, leaving the Enterprises Building at 9:30 AM and returning at 3:00 PM. It will develop familiarity with the planned programs and staff, focussing on the financial and public affairs sections. It will have a meeting with its Master, now the new Honorary Treasurer. Next week, its Master and the Empress will meet to consolidate the plans for the institution. Pat explains that this slave will be expected to make the presentation to the Empress. She asks, "Do you understand, slave?"

This slave understands the nicety here. Its Master will preserve "plausible deniability" for anything that does not survive this meeting. This slave's answer comes easily. "Yes, Ma'am, this slave understands. Programs, including financials and public affairs. Presentation with its Master for the Empress. Thank you, Ma'am."

Butterfly's eyes snap towards me. She has picked up on this slave's use of Third Person speech. This slave doubts Butterfly will ask the trainers about this directly; she will probably feature it in her report to the Empress. It will become a minor part of the conversation at the Empress' level. On the other hand, the Empress' spy service probably already has relayed this datum of information to her. Perhaps she will allay Butterfly's curiosity. Since Butterfly probably now outranks this slave, this slave will be formally obliged — beyond the usual generosity between slaves — to respond to any question Butterfly poses.

Fifteen re-appears and looks to Pat for permission to interrupt. Pat nods and Fifteen announces that she has come to conduct this slave to her next appointment. Pat nods again and this slave rises, still in Transport Mode. I'm sure Butterfly records this feature of the new OBS also.

This slave's Next Appointment turns out to be with Madam Chan and her laundry. Fifteen clips both my handcuffs to my right wrist, smiles, and leaves.

I am started at the Sort Position. For some reason, there are more bedclothes, but not towels, than usual. How can the Enterprises have more beds busy but not more showers? My mind tries a few scenarios, none of which is convincing. This slave stretches a bit and wonders if some computer program would be useful to the Enterprises? If one could figure out what activities would lead to what inputs to the Laundry, one could plan ahead for supplies to be ordered, right? On a long-term view, could one predict what machines of what capacity would be needed? On the other hand, Madam Chan has been at this for some years, so she's probably already got a good sense of what to order and when to order it. And the accountants, the same folks who are keeping this slave's own tally of Debits and Credits, probably would veto the expense of a really big machine, right? This slave saw it happen all the time at its old law firm.