48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 35: Julie

My Inner Goddess suggests we could use a shower, and I ask my Master. He nods and we spend a short time with soap and spray. He particularly checks my breasts "to make sure there is no compression," whatever that means! I dry him with a large bath sheet and he leads me back to the bed, indicating I may join him in the bed.

But, he does attach my leash to the headboard with a small padlock.

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Chapter Eighty-One: The Crime is Stealing

From the dim light of my Master's smartphone, I understand it is barely dawn, but my inner biorhythms have me fully awake. While I debate whether to simply go back to sleep, my Inner Goddess is prompting me to service my Master. With care not to rattle the chain of my leash, I manage to get his cock in my mouth. His taste is a bit bland, I find, but that could be from the shower just before bedtime.

His cock is not bland when it comes to a response, however. With just a few licks and kisses, it is almost fully engorged and erect. I'm preparing to take it more fully when I hear my Master's laugh. I look up and see Anton grinning widely.

"Slave," he whispers conspiratorially, "do you need a password for getting my cock fully seated in that lovely mouth?"

I have to giggle, but I play along, whispering back that cocks of this size usually come fully encrypted. With another laugh, he suggests I try "Come!" as the password. I wave my hands around his cock and put some ghostly overtones into my pronunciation of the word.

I have no problem getting his lance fully seated in my mouth. Clearly, the password works.

Anton strokes my head and back as I lick and kiss his cock. He spreads his legs a bit and I add my hands fondling his ballsac. It doesn't take much time for his cock to fully engorge.

But Anton has another idea.

"Slave, I think I'd prefer a breast fuck to a blowjob. It's been a while for one of those. What position do you like for that?"

Damn! He wants me to lead this maneuver. But, that means I have to figure out which position would be easiest for him, which position would be most stimulating for him, and, maybe, which position would be simplest for me. For a moment, my slave training rebels: slaves are not programmed to be directive or prescriptive, right? Slaves are trained not to take initiatives, right? Slaves are trained to obey, to comply with Master's needs or wishes, and only when Master gives the order, right?

Clearly, not this morning! Fortunately, my training helps me figure out what will probably give Anton the most pleasure, and I signal him with a few waves of my hands. He quickly rolls into a kneeling posture over my chest and I capture his rampant cock between my breasts. I provide some friction, but the beauty of this position is that my Master can, with simple rocks of his pelvis, control the development of this foreplay. That control, my trainers have taught, is key to my Master's inevitable eruption.

But Anton has a bit of a creative urge, it seems. While his cock is fucking my breasts, he has a few fingers reaching for my pussy, stroking my clit, and entering my cunt. While I am working on his prick with my breasts, he is working on my G-spot.

We are both successful. He erupts with gouts of sperm that splash over my face, neck, and breasts, with a few spurts that get into my hair. I erupt into a nice climax that doesn't cause spasms of my limbs or screams from my throat.

It is when my Master brings his fingers, drenched with my juices, up to my mouth for cleansing, that I realize my error: I had not received permission for that orgasm! I had not even thought to ask for permission! I had violated a rule taught to me by my trainers from my first day aboard my Owner's yacht!Slaves are chattel. Slaves own nothing. The Master owns everything, especially the slave's body.I had just stolen an orgasm from my Master. The juices I am cleaning are proof of my crime.

The look of disappointment on Anton's face tells me he knows about my crime. He rolls off the bed, not even letting me clean his cock. In a soft voice, he orders my Morning Ritual, adding that he will shower separately. The bonds between Master and slave are sharply severed.

I remain silent. The remnant of professional pride remaining knows that no explanation, no discussion is appropriate. My Masters will confer and my "correction" will be announced.

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Chapter Eighty-Two: A source of innocent merriment

The workouts this morning at the Gym go without comment. In fact, there is almost no talk, and certainly no banter, among the Russians, the slaves, or the trainers. Somehow, everyone seems to know about my crime. For an instant, I wonder if the SVR has developed some type of mental telepathy.

As we file back to the main salon for the breakfast buffet, Pat slips a few words to me. "Relax for now, but eat sparingly."

It is good advice, of course. There is no need to quiver on tenterhooks. When my Masters have decided on a punishment, that will be time enough for emotions. And, it is not good to have a full stomach when it or another part of you is being beaten. And, I'm pretty certain it will be some corporal punishment. There just isn't time for a drawn out sentence.

Anton seems to share these understandings. My Master feeds me just a few slices of fruit and a spoonful or two of yoghurt.

When my sister slaves are placed on their platforms, guided to Position One, and secured with handcuffs behind the pole, I realize that the salon has been transformed into an instrument of slave justice. The Russians take chairs, facing me in a semicircle. Sergei, again in a fresh shirt and immaculate trousers, recounts my crime: "The slave took an unpermitted orgasm."

Just six words, but they bring back all the anguish I had felt after my "escape attempt." I take a quick look around at my sister slaves. Only Pat is watching me; the others have their heads down in submission. I'm not sure what message my trainer is sending, but I let the anguish slip away. It did no good back then, and I must show some of the strength that The Enterprise slaves are known for, I think. Thankfully, my Inner Goddess is there, whispering strong thoughts into my mind. I keep my eyes down but I try to have my posture show this strength.

Sergei is speaking. "We are familiar with The Enterprises' idea that punishments should be symmetrical with the crimes. We agree that this is a just concept. The crime was stealing. The organ of stealing is usually the hand, grasping for what is not given to the slave. The punishment will be a caning of the hands. There will be one stroke for each hand. We believe this punishment will fit the crime."

Turning to Anton, Sergei asks him to provide a suitable instrument. Anton slips out of the salon and the silence of expectation settles over us all.

Wrong! Not all of us. My Inner Goddess, prompted by the Russian leader's pronouncement, is singing gently in my ear Gilbert and Sullivan's Chorus from the Mikado's Song.

My object all sublime
I shall achieve in time —
To let the punishment fit the crime,
The punishment fit the crime;
And make each prisoner pent
Unwillingly represent
A source of innocent merriment,
Of innocent merriment!

There is no time for any verses; Anton is back, this time with a cane that looks a bit shorter than the one Igor used, but with about the same heft. At least, I think so; I'm not an expert on these instruments. A thought flashes across my mind: if I'm not careful, I may get to be that expert!

Sergei has instructions for me. "Julie, you will stand in front of your platform. You will raise one arm at a time, palm up, and stretch it forward. Anton may adjust its height. After Anton delivers the stroke, you will let the arm drop to your side and you will raise your other arm, palm up, ready for its stroke. Afterwards, you may move as you wish. Do you understand?"

That question! In a way, I am glad he asked it. It is so routine! I could be raising an arm just to pick up a glass of water. I take a breath and answer. "Yes, Master, I understand."

Anton moves to my side and makes a gentle wave of the cane. I see where he wants my hand and, without really deciding when or how to do it, I raise my left hand. Anton taps the palm and I lower it a few centimeters. There is a blur of a white-sleeved arm and a whir of the cane, ending with a solid crack on my hand.

I cannot describe the pain. It engulfs me, moving with the speed and force of a tsunami wave. The reflexes in my nervous system have pulled the hand up to my chest, as if to protect it.

There is no protection as the pain settles down into a burrowing, burning onslaught. I gasp once or twice, I think, and decide to concentrate on my breathing. There was no mention of screams or cries in my instructions, but something in me demands I stay silent, at least through the strikes themselves. I let the left arm drop and, as if on a pulley, my right arm rises.

The height is just right. There is only another blur and whir before the second tsunami wave engulfs me. Again, the reflexes pull my hand to my chest. I manage two breaths before I can put the hand at my side. I have no idea, no thought of what to do, so I just stand. My Master will tell me what he wants when he wishes.

Sergei comes up to me with a small smile on his face. "Julie, you did well. Your slate is clean. I will tell this to your Owner and add that you are a credit to him and to your trainers.

"Now, Pat has some ointment for your hands. You will stay with her until rejoining us at lunch. Do you understand?"

I fall into Position One and reply, "Yes, Master. Rejoin at lunch."

Someone has freed Pat from her platform and she leads me to a bedroom where a small medical kit is laid out. She checks a label or two until she finds what she wants and proceeds to apply some white paste to my palms. She has a small wrap for each hand and then sits me on a window seat. I notice it is a nice day, outside.

Gradually, I feel the ointment cooling my hands. My face must have shown some gratitude for this because Pat strokes my hair and back and murmurs that she and the other slaves are proud of how I managed.

"Please, Ma'am, I'm not sure myself. Sergei gave the instructions and Anton waved the cane and all the rest of it was just on automatic. I don't even remember if I screamed at all?"

Pat applies another soft stroke and replies, "No, Julie, you didn't make a peep. I don't know how you managed that."

I'm probably just about back to myself, because there is a small giggle and I confess, "I was just trying to breathe and stay standing."

We talk quietly for several moments, just "touching base" to make sure we're on the same page, doing what our Owner would want or need. I don't think this is the proper time to ask about the Russian "takeover" of our plan for this Circus. Well, it really has turned out to be a circus, hasn't it? I've lost count of the number of rings in play.

Sergei stops by and asks how I'm doing. I slip off the seat and into Position One, responding that Pat's ministrations are working. Our Master's soft caress of my neck ends with a tap on my collar. Pat finds a leash for me and latches it to the window seat. Sergei nods and tells Pat she's needed in the pool: they're starting a water polo game and they need her to fill out the slave side. Pat grins and waves to me as she leaves with our temporary Master.

I have a quiet giggle. If they realize the imbalance for a water polo game, they are going to be quite upset when it's time for the next sexual games. But, my Inner Goddess reminds me that these men are resourceful; they will probably figure out how to arrange two men with one slave. For one, I'm sure Kolya will have some ideas. How about three men and two slaves?

It is while I'm considering this problem that I realize what I'm doing. I'm keeping my Masters at the center of my universe. I'm working to anticipate what they might want or need in the next few moments. There is a sense of quiet satisfaction and achievement at this realization.

My thoughts drift to the future. I'm pretty sure the Russians will turn us back to The Enterprises' team later this afternoon. But, do I really want to go back with them to Hong Kong?

Let me rephrase that. It's not a question of going with Sergei or another of the Russians as against going back to my Master, Martin, along with Igor, Anne, Pat, Charles, and Edward, along with the rest of The Enterprises. It's a question of whether I want to continue as a slave.

This is not as easy a question as I assumed. It isn't about my life in a cubicle at the law firm or in a penthouse at the top of this world. I had planned on completing law school, getting more experience, and eventually having my own law practice. With any luck, my industry would provide me with just as nice a penthouse in Chicago, or perhaps New York or Washington. And, designer labels are available in all these cities.

It really is about what Igor explained to me that first night: the exchange of power. Am I satisfied to have no power, no authority? Am I satisfied to be having more sex (and better sex, let me add) than I had before going onBlue Bayou? But, of course, it was all at the times and with the persons and with those persons' preferences as selected by my Master. Were any ofmypreferences, my needs, being filled?

And what of the future, ten, twenty, thirty years from now? Would I be an assistant to Pat and Anne, keeping The Enterprises going? Is that the arena for my talents? What about arguing cases before higher levels of the justice system, maybe even the Supreme Court? What about changing my clients' lives for the better?

Well, my Inner Goddess reminds me, you certainly have affected lots of people already. Remember the lady from New York wondering about her husband? Remember the sandy-haired man who wasn't really ready to be a part of my Master's team? Even Fifteen, the kid at the penthouse, has grown and developed from her contact with me.

I eye the leash linking me to the window seat. It's a simple spring catch, not a padlock. I could easily unlatch the leash from the seat. Come to think of it, I could even lose the leash from my collar. But, I don't. My Master ordered it, and so it will remain, with me attached, ready for my Master's next command.

So, I go back to wondering about my "acceptance" of slavery. I think I've gotten comfortable as a slave: I'm certainly not thinking of escape the way I was before that trip with Butterfly to the Opera. And, I've followed my trainers' advice to enjoy completing the tasks I've been set. It has led to lots of the warm feelings of achievement I've had, even here at this Circus. Still, are they enough to sustain me for twenty, thirty years?

Of course, this is when the penny drops. I don't have any idea of what to compare these warm feelings with. I haven't marshalled a case before the Supreme Court, or managed an intricate corporate merger, or anything that would give me a comparison of satisfaction. My Inner Goddess kicks in with the observation that warm feelings won't accompany any loss before the Supreme Court or screw-up in a corporate deal.

I have just finished a bit of a sigh to put these thoughts on my back burner when Dmitry "pops in." He's grinning and excited, and his hair is wet, so I think he probably was on the winning side of the water polo game.

"Julie," he exclaims, "you should have been there! It was a hell of a game, and you girls made it close! Now, it's time for lunch and you can get them to tell you all about it."

I don't expect that any of the slaves will be as excited as this man, but I slide into Position One so that my Master can unlatch my leash and lead me to the main salon.

Wrong again! Both the Masters and the slaves are rehashing the game. I don't follow most of the details, but, clearly, the slaves didn't just "phone it in." Pat, for one, seems more excited than I've ever seen her! She seems to bounce up to me, taking my hands for a check of my bandages, and saying, "It was a hell of a game! Sergei says he's going to get the Spa's surveillance tapes copied for us. He says it reflects credit on our Owner and trainers."

I grin and offer a "Well done!" compliment, looking around at my sister slaves. Everyone, indeed, is grinning with excitement. It is only when we are all placed on our platforms and handcuffed around the posts that the excitement dies. My Inner Goddess has another observation.Sometimes, those warm feelings don't get to last very long.Another factor in the power exchange calculation I had been doing.

My bandages don't prove to be a problem for lunch. Dmitry handfeeds me from the cheeses, yoghurt, and fruits, with bites of the black bread favored all over Russia. Some apple juice via a straw washes it all down.

Of course, our Masters have been negotiating the next "redistribution of wealth" during the meal. I find that I am pleased that Dmitry has picked me. I must have done something right for him yesterday!

When we reach his suite, there is no hint of "tight muscles." Dmitry fixes my leash to the headboard of his bed and orders "Doggy position, Julie." I climb up, face the headboard, and go to the "elbows and knees" position, with my knees spread as widely as I can. Dmitry sheds his clothes, rummages in the closet for a moment, and climbs up behind me.

I am expecting the head of his cock at my cleft, but that isn't what happens. Dmitry's fingers are busy on my pussy, and I do start lubricating, but it is a large solid object that begins nosing into my channel. It takes a good effort not to yelp or dodge or even just to look down at what is entering me, but a slave is trained to be accepting of anything her Master desires, right? I take a few breaths and concentrate on allowing this penetration. Thankfully, my Master is in no hurry and the object — some kind of dildo, I guess — finally is seated as my Master wishes.

My Master also wishes to move the dildo, so I get feelings of withdrawal and penetration for a few minutes. I pay more attention to my Master's fingers as they circle, tap, and pinch (lightly) my clit. This begins to send me up the arousal rainbow!

But what kind of arousal would that be for my Master? I'm beginning to wonder if this is all Dmitry is going to do, and how should I respond?

Dmitry solves this "problem." His voice is a bit raspy as he tells me, "Julie, you've gotten this dildo nicely lubricated, so I'm going to move it a bit."

Fairly gently, the dildo comes out of my cunt and I begin to come down the rainbow. Then, the dildo returns, this time at my anus. With a few gentle prods, Dmitry manages to get the dildo up to and then past the muscle holding my bottomhole closed. A few more pushes, helped along by those fingers at my clit, and he's gotten it seated deep inside me.

Now, my trainers had used increasingly large plugs to condition me for anal sex, but this is clearly a major escalation. And, as my Master moves the dildo and his fingers, I get to climb the rainbow again. I'm so focussed on these new feelings that my Inner Goddess surprises me by asking,Hey, kid, what is this doing for Dmitry?

Not to worry! Dmitry has his cock-head teasing my pussy, picking up some of my juices, and then plunging into me in just two moves. I have never been so full! And, I'm gasping for breath as I remember to ask my Master for permission to come!

"All in good time, my dear, but not just yet," he replies. I gasp a bit more, trying to control my orgasm, to push it off. My Inner Goddess is screaming at me:You may be ready, but you haven't gotten him ready! Don't just stand there, kid, do something!

A move that Anne taught me pops into my head, and I start rocking my pelvis, increasing the friction with Dmitry's cock. I am rewarded by some moans and grunts. Dmitry is being pushed uphisrainbow!