48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 28: Julie

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A Chinese 雪的工作
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Part 28 of the 51 part series

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

48 Hours on Blue Bayou, Part 28: Julie, Scene 21

Author's Note: It's a pleasure to be back with you, our Dear Readers. In this Part, Julie has some experiences at the Opera office that unsettle her Master and the Enterprises. While these are being "sorted out," our Heroine gets some new assignments and a new partner. Julie's "job description," of course, covers all these quite satisfactorily, right?

As always, we are interested in your suggestions about "fixing" the problem at the Opera as well as about the new assignment. Also, I think I've managed not to leave any of those bad puns around in this Part.

— J Spe

Chapter Sixty-Four: Harry Brown, Part I

Butterfly is again on time for our second day at the Opera offices. We stop by Madam Ping's office for a cheerful greeting and head for Harry Brown's office. Greetings are friendly and I ask him for a bit more detail about the tour he worked on before coming to Hong Kong. He gives us a quizzical look but recounts a tale or two of trying to get some item packaged and shipped and all the wrong turns it took before finally arriving, fortunately just in time.

Butterfly and I laugh, we hope, in the proper places, and Brown seems to relax. Butterfly and I, to the contrary, seem to share some disquiet. The stories could be about any shipment, anywhere. I wonder if Brown is hesitating to speak — tell tales — in front of too many witnesses. I think Butterfly has the same thought, because she rises and excuses herself to go "interview the other staffer," as if we'd planned it!

I continue with a few general questions and Brown seems to relax. I manage to get him talking a bit about his earlier training in opera companies, with him reeling off names of some "great teachers" — impressarios, really. None of the names is familiar to me, and Brown "forgets" to link a name with a company. There are also stories about getting this or that singer signed up cheaply, but no artist that I'd ever heard of, and he still isn't putting names of opera companies together with names of people. Well, I never said I knew anything about opera, right?

I offer my thanks for his help and explanations, mentioning that I still had a few things I wanted his opinion on, and ask, if possible, might I stop by after lunch to continue? Brown smiles and waves a hand in a grand gesture, saying he'd be pleased to talk some more with me.

Outside his office, I get the feeling that I've just been through a shower of rubbish. Back in Chicago, we had a name for this: a "snow job." I hadn't learned the Chinese equivalent, but I put it on my list for Charles.

[Eventually, I learn that the Chinese expression is 雪的工作.]

I find Butterfly and we go off to a noodle shop for lunch. I still have no cash or credit card, but Butterfly's supply of cash takes care of us. We share impressions of Harry Brown and find almost identical thoughts: there's something off here. I explain that I'm going back for more this afternoon and Butterfly says she's going to go through his Personnel file to see if that will give us some insight into a man who is supposed to be a valuable resource for my Big Idea.

I find Brown opening mail. He waves me to a chair and proceeds to lecture me on what each missive portends. I try to lighten the mood by asking why the mail should predict bad things.

"It's simple, really, Miss Julie. If the mail doesn't have a check or a signed contract in it, it's usually an Invoice or a Bill or some edict from somewhere that's going to make my life harder."

I provide an encouraging giggle and try to change the subject. I mention the one opera I saw in Chicago, tell him I wasn't all that impressed, and ask him how he liked working in the Windy City. He has a vacant look for a moment, and then seems to come around a bit. It turns out he liked working for the Chicago Opera and even liked the people of Chicago.

"They had a definite earthy quality," he says, "that I found endearing. And the slang they used — that was always fun. For instance, in most of the cabs I took, the cab driver was always in a rush, so he was always hollering at the other cars. 'C'mon,' he'd yell, 'I don't have all day!'"

My grin of familiarity must have taken some of the edge off the dire prospects of the mail, and he goes through the rest of the mail with me, explaining in fairly clear detail what is going on. I can see that he's got at least the contracting with artists and musicians down pretty well. I ask how he knows all these people and that lets him relax almost completely as he goes into stories about agents who pestered him about their stables of singers, stories about singers he just "bumped into" at some performance or after-concert party, and stories of tycoons trying to get their girlfriends into the company. He seems well-connected.

I agree with him as much as possible, of course. When he gets to the tycoons part, I drop in that that's the story behind why the opera house in Chicago was built as it is. Surprisingly, Brown seems not to know the story, so I explain that William Randolph Hearst, the newspaper magnate, wanted to get his girlfriend into the Metropolitan Opera, but was rebuffed. So, he built a huge theater for her in Chicago. It had a tower section and a lower main section, so it sort of looked like a chair or, in Hearst terms, like a throne. And, he placed it facing west, with its back to New York, just to show his contempt for New York. The story became one inspiration for the Citizen Kane story. Although, you had to give Hearst credit. He built the second largest auditorium in North America.

I can tell from Brown's expression that this story is new to him. And it seems to put him a bit out of sorts. His answers to my questions, all of which are really simple and basic, get short and argumentative. I am just about to thank him for his time and attention and try to leave when he stands and comes close to my chair. I have a moment to notice that his expression is not angry, but rather cold and perhaps a bit contemptuous.

"You know, kid, I had a good working relationship with that woman's slave for a couple of years. We got along well, he explained about the Mistress/slave arrangement, and we understood each other. Now, I've got you to babysit. So far, I don't like how you're working with me. If you've got the same status as the last guy, then you're also a slave. That's right, isn't it?"

Brown now has a thin smile just twitching his lips.

I'm unsure what to do. For the opera, I'm a Boss Slave, but that's still a slave, isn't it?

Brown pounces on my hesitation. "OK, kid, like I said. You're just a slave. Well, kid, here's the rules for slaves in this office. When I give an order, you carry it out, just as you do for that fancy snob you've got back at your corridor. Do you understand?"

It's the slave question that does me in. In a bit of a daze, I slide off the chair — slaves don't get to sit on furniture, right? — and fold into Position One, my head down in submission.

Brown grabs my chin and lifts it so he can see into my eyes. "Slave, I asked a question. Your answer is required. Now!"

He is going to make me grovel, I just know. I take a quick breath and manage to say I understand. He isn't satisfied. He makes me repeat it twice, each time a bit louder. I'm almost certain that the whole office must be able to hear my humiliation.

He drops my chin and I try to get up, but he pushes my shoulder down. "Not yet, kid. I have a job for you first. I've listened to some nice talk from your mouth. Now, it's time to use your mouth for what it was really designed for. Do you understand, slave?"

I hear a zipper being pulled and know that Brown wants a blowjob. But first, he wants me to acknowledge him and agree to his demand. I'm not sure if he has that power, but I know that, as a slave, I don't have any power. I grab a breath and say, "Yes, Sir, a blowjob. Thank you, Sir."

I barely have my mouth open when he stuffs his prick into it. His position is just far enough from me that he doesn't choke me. By the time he shuffles the few inches forward, I am adjusted to the geometry and bringing my skills to life. A few swipes of my hands clear his trousers and shorts out of my way so I can stroke his thighs and cuddle his ballsac. My lips are close around his shaft, which is about average in thickness, but a bit longer than usual. I'm trying to give him the feeling that he's in tight contact. Still, I know not to hurry my tongue. Each lick up or down his shaft should generate its own electricity. When I take him deeper, and use the twirls and swirls motions, I want him to be able to feel where each movement goes.

Brown doesn't grab my head and force his prick deeper. He stands at ease, his hands twining through my hair with relaxed motions. He has backed off from his early attack and is now content to let me do all the work, make all the moves. He isn't giving any hint of his level of arousal, so I am forced to add strokes, add movement, add suction to make sure this blowjob is successful.

Soon, I can feel his balls begin to rise in their sac. He is aroused and climbing the ladder of arousal rapidly. He could come at any moment, a good thing, right?

No, it's too soon. He'll feel cheated, even if his climax is explosive. He'll want his new slave to be working longer, harder. I gently squeeze his balls down and take a few breaths around his lance. And then, it's back to work, moving this would-be master up the ladder of arousal with all the skills my trainers have taught me.

I keep on working, adding a few snatches of humming the March of the Volunteers, as I did with the Old Boss Slave, until Brown loses patience.

"C'mon, kid, let's go! I don't have all day!" This time, I hear the disconnect, the jarring choice of words. I know he's a fraud! I manage to bring him off to what must be at least a satisfactory climax, holding a mouthful of his cum for him to see. He nods and directs its swallowing. I clean him with my tongue and rest back into Position One.

He stuffs his prick back into his clothes and, turning away, says, "Nice job, kid. Just so you know, I'll be expecting more and better as we get together again. And, for next time, wear a looser and shorter skirt, and without panties. Do you understand?"

I can imagine Brown's reasons for this order. The only answer, of course, is a simple, "Yes, Master." Brown has me repeat it.

I escape from his office and, thankfully, meet Butterfly in the corridor.

"It's time for us —. What happened?"

I don't want to say anything where it might be overheard, especially by Brown. I just whisper, "Outside, please, Butterfly."

This slave of the Empress takes charge of me, hustling me down the few corridors to the door and we are outside, in fresh air. The car is waiting for us, and Butterfly bundles me into it without a word. The driver must sense something amiss, because he has us moving into the safety of the traffic without a command.

After a few minutes, Butterfly senses my self-control back and asks, quietly, "Report?"

I don't want to relive the attack, but I owe Butterfly and my betters the duty of an answer. I manage, "He knew I am a slave. He demanded a blowjob. I had to give it to him."

Butterfly nods and takes me in her arms for a few moments. It is comforting, just what I need. She says, softly, "It's OK, Julie. You did nothing wrong. These things happen. I know it's a cliché, but the point is you didn't do anything wrong. I'm sure Master Martin and the Empress will sort this out. Now, just let your mind wander and your body relax. We'll be home in just a few minutes."

Well, the traffic takes care of that plan! And we two slaves get a giggle out of that! By the time we do get back to the Enterprises, I am surprised to find myself back almost to normal. Someone must have sent some kind of signal, because the driver takes us directly into the parking area where we are met by a squad of Security and a pair of medics. A few words from Butterfly, however, calm everyone, and we are ushered up to Master's office, where Charles, Edward, and Pat are waiting.

I never want to see the anxious look on Master's face again.

There are pads for Butterfly and me to kneel on and Charles presents me a small glass of pale amber liquid. It has the aroma of Scotch. A drink for a slave? I look up, confused.

Charles grins. "If you don't take some of this 'mission whiskey,' none of the rest of us can have any either."

I manage to get a swallow down, and cough a bit. Slaves really don't do well with alcohol, do they? Everyone laughs as they sip their own aliquot of the nectar.

Master takes charge. "OK. We got a text from the car about something happening at the opera to Julie. We're glad to see Julie back here, now safe. Let's have the story, slowly and completely, and we'll see what needs to be done. I've got everyone here, so you'll only have to go through this once. Are you ready, my dear?"

My Master avoided the slave question! He's set this up, as necessary as it is, to be the easiest thing for me. That warm feeling that comes when I realize his care is here again. I start slowly, but get more confident as I detail the events with Brown. I have to lower my eyes as I detail the oral sex and Brown's last series of commands.

As I finish, Butterfly picks up her story. "I shared Julie's suspicions of Brown from the morning. The stories he told were just a bit off. He never matched names with places. There were never any dates, even approximates. I got a look at his Personnel File during the afternoon. He listed five premier opera companies, but all for only a year or two, with very little time between jobs. It was hard to see a career progression in the job titles he gave. His referral letters were routine, not much more than corroboration of job titles and dates. And, each was signed by the HR department, not by his direct supervisor. This is not how premier opera companies hire their staff.

"When I picked up Julie in the corridor, it was clear something unexpected had happened. She kept it together, however, and we made it to the car, where your driver got us here in great shape. I suppose he was the one who texted the alarm?"

Charles smiles a bit, and confirms her suspicion. "Yes, we've got some small but easy-to-send messages that get the cavalry warmed up.

"Now, Julie, you said that Brown tipped you off that he was a fraud. From Butterfly's recap of his resumé, it already looks suspicious: people just don't flit from one major company to another. You can get fired from one and, perhaps, move to another, but you don't build a career by changing so often. So, there's one red flag. What are yours?"

I don't need my usual deep breath to get started. "He didn't know the story of the Chicago Opera House. He said he worked at the Chicago Opera, which has been the Lyric Opera of Chicago for decades, probably number ten or twelve on the list of major companies. But what rang the bell for me was his mistake in how cabbies talk. It's true that they yell at the other cars. But, nobody would say 'I don't have all day.' Proper slang would be 'I don't got all day.' He's been taught that line by some coach prepping him to look like he really came from Chicago."

Edward manages a chuckle, adding, "And then he repeated that line while getting oral sex? He must have been told that it would be good for humiliating someone."

"All right, everyone." My Master takes over the meeting. "First things first. Julie, you did nothing wrong, and have nothing to be ashamed of. As a slave, you don't have the power to reject any order. In a way, the point you made about doing him well is testimony that you've learned that, always, your work must be up to our high standards."

My Master gives a short chuckle. "Of course, this Brown character was not up to our standards; anyone in our world knows to get permission from a slave's master before giving any orders. We'll have to see what to do about that serious misplay.

"Now, from Julie's recounting of how Brown actually seemed to do well with the mail and contracts and so on, it seems that he's been trained to do some things well. But, who would train him and send him to our opera? And, why? We need to look deep into Harry Brown's background, and not just by check-off on an HR form. I'll talk with the Empress about this. She knows opera people around the world. Working from Butterfly's list of Brown's prior jobs, she and her staff can probably pinpoint this guy.

"I'm going to have some of our HR folks touch base with senior staffers at the opera. The cover will be something like a baseline survey to familiarize the new Honorary Treasurer with people and procedures. But, we'll find out the personal dynamics of the senior staff. I'm also going to see about some surveillance on Mr. Brown. Who he walks, talks, and plays with outside the office.

"If Julie has to go to the opera office in the future, I'm going to have a uniformed guard accompany her, just for show. Is there anything else to do?"

I hear a few details smoothed out, and I can see that everyone is on the same page as my Master. The next few weeks are going to be busy for two staffs, but nobody has declared war, at least yet. As the meeting breaks up, somebody needles my Master on the "mission whiskey."

"Boss, where did you get that stuff? It's worse than the moonshine we made while I was in the Navy."

The answer: "It's from the Navy, something I got from a submarine commander. Supposed to be used only for rescuing drowning members of the service."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Sixty-Five: A New Horizon

While teams from my Master and the Empress are investigating the Brown character, it is decided that I will be put to work on a recent project of the Enterprises: businesses in Africa. Under Edward's tutelage, I discover that the continent is a mass of developing commerce, with my Master helping to develop some ventures while helping to "postpone" others. I am to provide a suitable "blank canvass" on which various loquacious entrepreneurs can demonstrate their business ingenuity as well as their sexual skills.

It is the first time I am to "double team" a target. Edward introduces me to Sally, a slave from one of the former French colonies. She teaches me how to match the timing and rhythm of two seductresses with the fantasies of one Master or — I am a bit surprised to learn — one Mistress. She shows me a few ways to keep a target talking while my mouth is too busy to answer any inquiries about my own status, not that anybody will be particularly interested in anything beyond where I came from and how did my Master enslave me!

In fairly short order, I develop an engaging story, some of it even true. Sally cautions me not to be too exact or clear on any details: it would not be beneficial to my Master's Enterprises for anyone to be able to document this facet of his activities.

In the next weeks, I learn about diamonds and civil wars, about electric grids, and about something called "rare earths." Businesses don't need much of these minerals, but they are essential in all the new technology being developed, especially for electronics.

I am required to present myself in smartly tailored fashions. The work also entails a lot of time spent tethered to a bed or couch awaiting the pleasure of these entrepreneurs. Sally and Edward make sure I learn how to display myself as a slowly shifting work of erotic art. Edward, it turns out, has a few of those nice whippy canes and really knows how to use them! After most of the lessons, my Master enjoys "comforting" me, usually with his hands, but often with his mouth and manhood. Not always, but enough, I am driven up the arousal rainbow and permitted an orgasm.

Carole99
Carole99
470 Followers
12