48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 33: Julie

Eventually, all the desserts are gone, which seems to be the signal for our party to return to our main salon. Our platforms and posts are waiting for us to disrobe, fold our gowns and lingerie, place them and our heels in labelled trays on the table, and embrace our posts, wearing only our silver collars.

Across the salon, Aleksei is splashing more vodka among our new Masters. Pat whispers to me that she thinks they are "redistributing the wealth" again.

She's right, of course. I am surprised that the leader, Sergei, has selected me and wonder if, perhaps, this is a result of a good recommendation from his son?

I am further surprised that Sergei takes my hand, rather than clipping a chain to my collar, to lead me to his suite.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Seventy-Eight: A New Connection

Sergei's suite is about the same as the other Russians' suites. Still, his presence seems to fill the salon and bedroom. My quick look doesn't show a whipping post, for which I am grateful. I have suspected that Kolya's idea about a whipping as foreplay might come from his father, but Sergei shows me a totally different idea.

"My dear, your song-and-dance routine was delightful. I'm quite pleased that your Pat was so persuasive when we planned this Circus. And, I'm sure you made sure everyone had a good look at your legs during your dance."

Well, what can one say? Of course, everyone could see a lot more than a leg since this Circus began, right? Still, I'm smart enough not to disagree with my current Master.

"And now, I think it will be fun to shower together. Between the heavy meal and the active dancing, I think some freshening is in order. Please, undress me."

I am impressed by the quiet tone of his speech. No peremptory orders, just a simple idea and command. My training with Igor and my Owner — and a little practice with Madame Chan's laundry — gets my new Master out of his formal dress into his birthday suit. I notice that he wears it well!

The shower goes well. That is, he gets to lather all of me, with special attention to the "interesting parts," and he has me provide similar special attention to his "interesting parts." He separates my labia to glide a finger into my slit, then adds a second finger to provide the bit of friction that arouses me. He is rewarded by a flow of lubricant, which he stimulates with a thumb on my clit. I'm holding his shoulders, because the rest of me is getting a bit wobbly. This problem increases as his fingers probe deeper, reaching for my G spot.

By this time, I know he won't need to whip me, because his prick is fully erect. I raise one leg and Sergei slips his prick easily into my cunt. I curl the leg around his hip and he is fully seated, penetrating to the top of my channel.

I rock my pelvis to increase the friction, and Sergei moves his hands to my hips, guiding our movements, staying in the rhythm. My Master bends his head to take a nipple into his mouth, which he teases with his tongue and teeth. I arch backward to improve the thrust of my breasts as Sergei moves to my other nipple. Someone has taught Sergei's tongue some of the Swirls and Twirls that Pat and Anne have taught my tongue! A fire is beginning to spread from my breasts to my belly and cunt.

I begin to worry about permission to cum, but Sergei is way ahead of me. "Julie, you will come exactly when I come. Do you understand?"

A beautiful command, completed with the standard slave question! I manage to gasp a "Yes, Master," and try to keep up with his moves.

He leans against the side wall and grasps my hips, lifting me a bit. Without a conscious thought, I wrap my other leg around his hip and he lets me down just a bit. I am filled more than I ever knew and the fire is as bright as I have ever known. We are moving pretty well under the spray when I feel his prick swell and press into me just that bit more. I know he is cumming and I let my own orgasm flow in time with his.

My Master stands, supporting me on his prick, for a few moments and then gently lifts me free. My legs uncurl and I find I can take my own weight on them, something that surprises my Inner Goddess. Still, she reminds me that showers are for cleanliness and I'd better get about cleaning my juices from my Master's package. I kneel and carry out this detail. My Master's smile tells me he is pleased with my service. My trainers have made me understand that this is the point of all my training. I get that warm feeling of satisfaction, and I know I'm grinning from ear to ear.

After a final rinse, I wrap Sergei in the fluffy bath sheets and dry us enough to move to the king-size bed for "a short nap," as Sergei expresses it.

I awake to find Sergei on the telephone, speaking Russian, and, from his tone, easily giving orders. I make out the name of Sally, and I know he's talking with Kolya, who selected Sally in the latest redistribution of wealth. The conversation is not long and Sergei turns to me, saying, "Kolya will be joining us. Wrap yourself in a bath sheet so you are presentable when you open the door for him."

Presentable? He's a man I've been fucked by just hours ago!

My Inner Goddess comes to the rescue. Dummy! It's just so Kolya will have something to strip off you when he comes in! Oh! Now, that makes sense! Also now, I realize I've got to get my erotic high under control, and right now, or I won't be able to do whatever my Masters are going to want or need me to do. It's that "center of the universe" thing, again.

I manage to wrap a bath sheet just above my tits, tucking in a corner just where my Masters will expect to find it. I even run a comb through my hair, getting most of the tangles out and letting the tresses splay out invitingly over my shoulders.

When the chime sounds, I am right there to open the door to Kolya. He is also wrapped in a towel, just not a big one. I manage to stifle a giggle, but his grin lets me know he's detected it.

He is barely inside the room when his hand plucks the corner of my towel from its tuck, saying, "If we might just see what's here ..."

I understand that a slave has no right to cover herself from her Master, so I manage a small pirouette, depositing my towel on the floor. Kolya, his hands already familiar with my breasts, makes their re-acquaintance into a formal occasion, with my nipples engorging as much as they ever have!

Kolya slows the game a bit by ordering, "Slave, my towel, please." I kneel and gently undo the large safety pin that holds it together, contriving to get the two towels discarded in the same place. I'm going to have to pick them up later, right?

With a hand at my back, Kolya propels me toward the king-size bed where his father is smiling broadly. Sergei announces that his son has another plan to put into action. Well, I think, his first plan worked pretty well, didn't it? "Our research shows that you have never had a double penetration. Is this correct?"

I think I know what he means, so my answer is simple. "Please, Masters, I think this is so."

With a little chuckle, Sergei beckons me to the foot of the bed and issues instructions. I will climb onto the bed, kiss him from his feet upwards, and position myself between his thighs. As I begin my act of fellation on him, his son will come up behind me and take me, doggy-style. I will not climax until they have. Inevitably, the instructions end with the standard slave question, "Do you understand?"

Of course, I understand! The geometry is clear and simple. It's the timing and the movements that will be the problem! While I'm focussing on one man's cock, another man's cock will be moving on and into me. From the movements I have been trained to, which do I do, and when? Is there a rhythm I need to set up? My trainers have made me aware of so much that enhances a Master's pleasure, but how do I coordinate these two Masters? And, my Internal Goddess notes, this particular pair of Masters has not practiced this before!

I'm not sure what signs I am giving off, but Sergei picks up on my quandary. "Julie," he says, "this is not a military confrontation on some battlefield. We know you dance well, because we've danced with you. Now, just follow our leads, just like on the dance floor, and I'm sure you'll do well."

OK, it's nice to have a Master's confidence, but the other side of that coin is his disappointment when you step on his toes while dancing, if you get my point. A Master's mood, every slave knows, can turn faster than the weather.

Sergei stretches out on the bed and, as ordered, I climb onto the bed from its foot. I kiss Sergei's left foot, then his right, and proceed "northwards." I vary the side so as not to set up a predictable pattern. Soon, I am rewarded by small gasps and moans from the leader of my new Masters. When I get to his pelvis, I detour a bit, licking and kissing his hips and abdomen, working my way to his nipples.

This is when I feel the bed rock and feel Kolya's touch on my back. Sergei's prick is almost fully erect, at least enough to stand up, looking like a flagpole. My hands encircle its base and I manage to get my mouth around the head of Sergei's prick.

Kolya's hands have been running up and down my back, lightly, almost like a tickle. I'm not giggling, however, as my Inner Goddess is providing a running stream of suggestions and orders. I move "south" a bit to give my mouth a better angle for its work, followed by spreading my knees to give Kolya a better angle for his work.

Kolya's grip moves to my hips and I try to hold them as still as possible. It wouldn't do to make it hard for his prick to hit a moving target, would it?

Not to worry. Clued by sensation from his hands, Kolya is moving to match any of my motions and the tip of his prick is nestled in my cleft. It feels a bit familiar, just a bit different from my recollection of the cowgirl ride he'd given me.

As I take more and more of Sergei into my mouth, Kolya feeds more and more of his lance into my cunt. He mixes some withdrawals with penetrations, and I follow his maneuvers with my own for Sergei's lance. I am forcing myself to concentrate on the Russian leader, using a hand to check whether his balls are coming higher in his sac, showing more arousal as my tongue laps and taps at the head and shaft of Sergei's prick. My Inner Goddess is reassuring me that Kolya's prick will take care of stimulating the walls of my sheath.

Still, as my own arousal grows, my pelvis is beginning to dance with Kolya, meeting his thrusts with my own, and presenting different angles every few strokes, each of which my Master matches. Now, he is so well buried in me that he moves his hands up, reaching around to caress each breast. The rhythm of his hands, however, is not a regular caress or pinch or squeeze. With most of my mind on Sergei's now steel-hard prick, it takes me a while to realize Kolya is using a paradiddle rhythm, as if he is a drummer in a marching band. His hands are squeezing or pinching: right breast, left breast, right breast, right breast and then left breast, right breast, left breast, left breast. The rhythm is not complicated: slow, slow, fast, fast, so that the two fast squeezes take just the time of one slow squeeze. I learned that rhythm when I dated a drummer in the high school band. He used it as we were marching off the field after each game. It gave the band so much power that the crowds just split before us and allowed us through.

And my breasts are responding! Warmth is spreading over my chest and reaching down to where my cunt is responding to Kolya's strokes.

But my Inner Goddess is poking me to concentrate on the Russian leader. I vary the pressure or suction of my mouth and add a humming — not a tune, but just notes in time with Kolya's paradiddle of my breasts. This has an effect on Sergei, of course, and he starts bucking and thrusting deeper into my mouth. I am having trouble staying with him but he starts calling out for me to finish him. I take him as deeply as I can, letting him into my throat, and he roars out his orgasm, his sperm coming faster than I can swallow, with some leaking out of my mouth.

Kolya has not held back from his arousal and, as his strokes tap my G-spot, we climax together.

The men rest quietly, only their ragged breathing indicating the races they have run. I am still aroused, however, and I keep my tongue feasting on Sergei's prick, even as it softens. My pelvis is still tilting up and down, and my cunt is still milking Kolya's sperm from his softening prick.

Kolya releases my breasts and uses his hands to rise up on his knees. He gives each side of my ass a short, sharp slap, followed by some nice slow circular caresses. It is a wonderful finish to a great fucking.

Some quiet Russian flows between father and son and then the son repeats the ass slaps and announces that he and his father are each awarding their slave a "Best Ever" award. For an instant, I wonder how my life would have been different if my Owner had let me be sold at an auction that Kolya and Sergei had attended.

My Inner Goddess reminds me that a slave's work is never done. A few more licks and kisses for Sergei's prick leaves it clean and I turn to clean Kolya's prick. This is a bit more work than he expects, I think, because he starts engorging and erecting almost immediately. He gives a few gasps and low moans and a quick glance at his face shows his surprise that he doesn't need to flog a girl to get hard. My Goddess clucks approvingly — you're a very good teacher!

But now, I'm in a quandary. This Master is getting aroused. Do I complete his cleaning and pull away? Or, do I take him up the rainbow of arousal again?

Saved by the bell! A telephone rings and Sergei picks up. He listens for a few moments, and then starts laughing. A few words in Russian end the call and he rolls out of bed. He points to the floor at the foot of the bed and I know that's where I'm expected, probably in Position One. As smoothly as possible, I make the move and am rewarded with a grin. This slave has gotten something right!

Sergei turns to his son and, this time in English, recounts the telephone call.

"You sent Sally to Anton, right? Well, he started to compare that one with the one he had — I think it is Five — and was concerned that one of them wasn't showing the big nipples he likes to chew on. He says we should bring all the girls to the main salon and see how big we can get all the nipples. He says it would help him pick out the next slave he'll want."

Kolya's face shows surprise for a moment, but then an expression of curiosity. "Papa, how does he plan to make the nipples grow?"

Sergei grins and, as he starts to dress, says simply, "Well, he didn't say, so I suggest you head back to your room for some clothes, and take Julie with you. I'll meet you in the Main Salon as soon as possible."

Kolya puts the plan into action, pointing a finger at me and then to his side. I rise as smoothly as I can and he leads me, both of us naked, to his room. He parks me just inside the door while he slips on his boxers and a nice pair of shorts. A T-shirt and sandals complete his costume and we make it to the Main Salon only a few minutes after the original phone call. The other Russians and their slaves follow us in.

Anton waves the slaves to their platforms and the Masters see to capturing wrists, behind the post, with handcuffs. By the time we are all prepared, Sergei appears, dressed in a fresh white shirt and a fine pair of trousers. I'm reminded that one marker of a leader is the ease with which they present themselves in any occasion.

Anton explains that getting a nipple erect is not always easy. If the girl is afraid, or fearful, or just exhausted, the biology just doesn't work very well. One of the Russians offers the observation that he's never had a problem getting his girls' nipples erect with a few simple pinches. Anton waves this off, making the point that this technique lasts only a relatively short time.

Dmitry, in a slow drawl, helps the discussion by observing that, if biology isn't the answer, then there must be an answer in technology, right?

A buzz of chuckles confirms this concept. Anton grins and brings out a box from which he produces a few glass tubes, about two centimeters diameter and five or six centimeters long. One end is open while the other end has some sort of fitting. He comes alongside One and shows how her nipples easily fit into the tube. Then, he takes a gadget that looks like a small grease gun, fixes it to one end of a short rubber hose, and fits the other end of the hose to the glass tube.

"Slave," he orders, "stick out your tongue." He moistens the open end of the glass tube on her tongue and fits One's left nipple into the tube. Holding the tube tightly against the breast, he pumps the "gun" four times. We hear some air whistling from the gun and realize the gun has sucked air from the tube, which is now stuck tightly to One's breast. A twist of the fixture at the other end of the tube and the hose comes free. A moment's work fixes One's right nipple similarly. The slave is standing, her arms locked behind her, her breasts thrust forward, and her nipples slowly engorging in the vacuum chamber of the glass tubes.

Turning to the Masters, he explains, "This technology is an outgrowth of some work done for dairy farms. With four pumps, the vacuum guns provide a standard vacuum which is not harmful to the slave, but which encourages blood flow into the erectile tissue of the nipple. Most nipples respond in just a few minutes, with nipple growth at maximum by about ten minutes. We've kept the vacuum on for as long as twelve hours and seen no significant adverse effects. The engorgement lasts in proportion to the length of time of the vacuum, as much as several hours, long enough for some satisfying playtime."

The Masters' comments are all complimentary; the slaves, of course, are not asked for comments. In answer to a question, Anton reports that the technology has not yet been tested on lactating breasts. In moments, each of the Russians has a set of tubes, hoses, and a vacuum gun.

Sergei comes to me with a smile on his face. "Julie, I've seen this technology on the cows in our dairy operation. From the way the cows took to these tubes, you'd think there was something erotic about it. You'll have to let us know how it feels."

I am horrified, both by the use of the tubes and vacuum gun and, now, by Sergei's peripheral interest. Erotic feelings? Let me feed his prick into a vacuum tube and see if he feels erotic!

Probably from my expression, this Master picks up my horror and fear. As he gently cups and caresses a breast, he murmurs some positive motivation: "My dear, I'm satisfied this will cause no long term harm. And, I'm interested in seeing how this gadget performs. So, we're going to put these on and see how your nips respond." And then there is some negative reinforcement: "Of course, if you'd rather, I can ask Kolya to bring his flogger here."

I remember Kolya's flogger, the deer and elk leather falls marking me from neck to knees. My current Master has not asked a question, so I have no need to answer. As the First Law of Slavery ordains, I am keeping my Master's wants and needs at the center of my universe. I straighten my back, thrusting my breasts even more forward, and my Master affixes the tubes, first on the left and then on the right.

I am aware of the weight of the tubes, probably an ounce each, less than the weight of a clover clamp I had worn at The Enterprises. I am not aware of any erotic feeling.

Anton comes around with a small camera and a notepad. He records the time, takes photos of each breast, and surprises me with a "Thank you" as he moves away.