48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 37: Julie

Master knows! He takes his time filling my cunt with his prick, a prick that is also reacting to the probe in my ass. This time, I am the one starting the pelvic rhythm, trying to get my Master aroused to as great a climax as possible as quickly as possible. I barely manage to gasp a single word: "Permission?"

Master has time for just a few breaths before I feel his prick spasming and spurting in my channel. Just a second before I lose control, thank goodness, he grants permission for my orgasm, and we rocket over the rainbow.

I am thankful when Master shuts off the probe and gently withdraws it from my rectum. I am still writhing in suspension when Master's prick softens and he withdraws from my cunt. Left empty, I draw several deep breaths and slowly come down from the climax. I wonder how much the orgasm earlier contributed to setting up for this spectacular feeling?

Master lowers the cables suspending me until I can fall into Position One and gently clean his package. Master is patient with this task, of course, and I have a moment to wonder if he's going to want another orgasm soon? But he signals for me to present my wristlets for unwrapping, followed by my anklets. With that nice smile he has, he guides me back to his bedroom and a few hours of sleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Eighty-Five: A New Plan

I'm awake when the bedside clock shows it is morning, but my Master is still asleep. I am considering how to awaken him when the telephone goes off.

I get to learn something about Master: he wakes up 100% alert and ready for business! I'm not familiar with the particular Project under discussion, but Master clearly has all its "bits and pieces" nicely aligned in his mind.

I do his shave and shower details and select some clothing that I hope will be satisfactory for his day: light blue slacks and a white dress shirt, covered by a navy blazer. He can add a tie later, if needed.

Master points to a short tunic for me and I manage to untangle most of my hair and put it into a ponytail while he checks his desk for papers he studied last night. A wave of his hand positions me at his heel and we go to his dining room. Charles and Anne are already prospecting at the buffet. I grab a platter and look to Master for instructions on what to select for him. A few gestures and a pair of "Again" commands fill the platter and he leads me to my kneeling pad near the head of the table.

As usual, I am pleased when Master handfeeds me slices and sections of melon or orange, followed by forkfuls of a vegetable omelet. It has, I think, a bit too much onion in it, but our tablemates have no trouble in polishing off their portions. I get some apple juice while Master and Charles have a cup of tea.

I'm thinking about getting ready for my gym time, when the conversation changes. Master starts by asking Anne about the First Lady's List.

"Master," she says, "it's posted on your office computers."

"Thank you. I'd like you to take Julie through each item and bring her up to date. I have a lunch appointment downtown, so you'll also have time to show her what Charles has added to our files on the Opera. She'll need the information for her visit there tomorrow."

"Yes, Master. And, the IT guys have gotten her laptop configured. I'll make sure all the Opera material is transferred there. They showed me how to encrypt files, and I'm sure those files should be protected."

I don't say anything, of course. First, nobody addressed a question to me. More important, I can't think of anything to say!

Anne grins at me and I'm sure she knows just how adrift I am! We wait as my Master and Charles leave. Anne takes my hand and leads me to the First Lady's workstation. It's still larger than my cubicle at the law firm, but the desk now presents, alongside the usual computer, a very thin laptop, impressive in its silver matte finish. Anne shows me the hidden lock and how to open it. "If you don't do it just right," she says, "the IT guys have it rigged to fire a siren that they swear can be heard in Beijing."

I pay a lot of attention to each step Anne shows me.

Pat comes in and Anne switches to the desktop screen showing the Master's appointments. I get a short update on the first appointment and then that manager shows up. I guide him into Master's office and take his coffee order. While I'm fixing it, I think about that Project and realize that Anne's briefing, while short, was fully packed with information.

As Master's three slaves work through the morning list, I realize I am getting a concentrated dose of a world-wide economic actor. I can see why the island's government is so keen to have The Enterprises continue investing in the Special Administrative Region.

The last appointment for the morning is an earnest young woman who looks like she has been working outdoors all her life. The budget for her Project is only $1000, so I wonder why it rates a full half-hour and a personal visit.

Pat puts me in the picture. "This is one of our Master's favorite Projects," she says. "It involves micro-loans to women in impoverished rural areas to set up their own farms or businesses. Master got started on this several years back. The first micro-loan was for $25 for a woman to buy a load of firewood, which she sold in her town, making enough of a profit to repay the loan, with interest, and still send her kids to school wearing shoes and clothes. Now, she's working on building a house for her family. She wants it to be one of the few homes in that area to have running water and electricity. We think she'll make it."

Anne adds, "Master will want to hear about each of the women and what they're doing. To him, the Project is not about micro-loans, it's about mini-entrepreneurs, and he follows each of the women. He thinks the idea certainly was one of the better Nobel Peace Prizes. That's why the manager comes in and why she gets a full appointment slot."

Clicking on a few links shows that the repayment rate on the micro-loans is 96%. The real estate business my law firm was doing had nowhere near that success.

I am struck by how my Master is involved with this Project and how he has been involved with my slavery. Both activities have shown how seriously he takes his responsibilities and authorities in the power exchange.

Almost without thinking, I hear myself tell Pat and Anne, "I'm glad he's my Master."

The only reaction is a small pat on my back. I realize I'm beginning to look at my Master, my Owner, very much as Pat and Anne regard him.

Charles brings the file for Master's lunch meeting and we slaves kneel as Master and his lieutenant leave.

We head to the local kitchen where we slice and dice a bunch of vegetables into a salad. There are some fresh rolls and several juices and lunch goes quite easily. My Inner Goddess reminds me I'm supposed to work at the Opera tomorrow, but there were never any details about what to do there.

I signal for a question and Pat nods approval.

"Please, Ma'am, is there something specific that I need to do at the Opera tomorrow?"

Pat's grin tells me I've asked the right question! "Julie, the Empress and our Master have talked a bit about your idea of importing great foreign opera companies for extended stays. The Empress isn't sure how that could be funded, but Master says she's excited by the prospect. So, while nothing has been approved, you'll need to develop some information about the chances this could come out at least even."

Anne has set up the files for the Opera information just as precisely as Pat did the Comprehensive Plan for the Circus. I am surprised by the detail that The Enterprises' teams have dug up about the staffers and the financial and artistic history of the institution. On impulse, I look for Harry Brown and find only a bare bones listing of former opera companies where he worked. Anne follows, of course, and everyone has a good laugh when I look up from the small entry for the SVR agent.

"You didn't expect us to put his Russian Intelligence activity front and center, did you?"

After a moment, I nod and giggle. "Right, it's not the sort of thing to advertise."

Anne shows me a file which has a list of donors from our last Gala. It only needs a quick scan for me to observe, "Not many names here, and not much in big money, either."

My two trainers giggle and Anne raises a finger, as if in warning. "Julie, what should you do before closing this file?"

I stare blankly at the screen for a moment before my Inner Goddess comes to my rescue. "Protect the file?" I ask.

"OK, good idea. How do you protect a file?"

Now that I'm on the trail, this question is easy. "Password?"

"Right the first time," says Anne, and she shows me how the IT team wants that done. "What password would you like?"

"It seems like a musical word would be good," I say, trying to be as tentative as possible. "Maybe a Chinese opera composer?"

Silence. Anne manages a small smile and asks, "Does anyone know an English version of a Chinese opera composer?"

Pat has an answer. "I'll bet Edward would have a name ready in an instant."

Anne and I giggle, of course, and I add the idea that the password should be somewhat remote from our current project.

Suddenly, Pat breaks out into a grin. "OK, here's a suggestion. Who is a great composer, whose name everybody in music will know, who wrote a famous opera that gets performed fairly frequently, but it was his only opera?"

"He only wrote one opera?" I ask. "But that means his name will only come up easily for something else, like songs or symphonies?"

Pat's "Exactly!" seals my choice of password. I only ask one more question. "I hope his name has more than five letters?"

Anne has been quiet, probably thinking as hard as she can to answer Pat's implied challenge. Now, she clears her throat and we all focus on her.

"Try 'Beethoven,' she says softly.

"Damn!" answers Pat. "I thought I'd get you on this one!"

After my two trainers finish a giggle and a hug, Pat explains that Beethoven wrote Fidelio as a tribute to a woman's love and efforts on behalf of her husband. Anne adds that it has been thought of as a hymn to liberty and freedom. I don't need my Inner Goddess to remark on how apt it is to have its creator as the password to computer files kept by a slave.

I do arch an eyebrow at my trainers, as if to ask whether my Master would be offended by this action? To their credit, Pat and Anne give it some thought before Pat, Master's First Slave, says, "Julie, I'm sure Master will see the implications, but I don't think he will extend that to any rebellion. Besides, it wasn't your suggestion in the first place."

The file closes without any pings from the computer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Eighty-Six: I Ask a Question

There are only a few afternoon appointments on The First Lady's List. Fifteen appears and, once more in Transport Mode, I am delivered to Igor and my gym routines. As she is parking one cuff on the opposite wrist, I wonder if I will ever graduate to moving around Master's apartments free of the damn handcuffs. Igor must pick up some vibrations from these thoughts because he takes the arm bearing the shiny steel bracelets as he leads me to the first machine.

"Julie, would you like to ask me about something?" His voice is soft, without any strain or evidence of anger.

I fall into Position One, the safest place for a slave, and keep my head bowed. My voice, when I manage to get it going, seems thin and broken to my ears.

"Please, Sir, I remember how helpful your words were when we talked about a slave's happiness. Today, I was working with Anne and Pat in my Master's office, and I felt that happiness, that sense of achievement we talked about. As you said, it wasn't something that Chef had sent up, but something that I worked to do — and I think I did it to Master's standards.

"And then, I was delivered here in Transport Mode, helpless in restraints. Please, Sir, will I ever be trusted to bring myself here on my own, because I want to be here, or even just because I am scheduled to be here?" I break off, scared that I've said too much, probably too much by far.

Wrong! Well, why should this time be any different from all the other times?

Igor comes to my side and strokes my neck and back, just as they've taught me to like. "My dear, let's take a 'time out' before we go through your PE routine, yes?"

My "Yes, Sir," is barely above a whisper. Igor snags a stool and rolls it to my side, where he sits and strokes my back. It provides a sensuous motion and feeling.

"Slave training is sometimes a bit more complex than we all realize. It is actually not so easy to assign all the power to a master and no power to a slave. Anybody who's awake and walking around has, at least, the power to control her own mind. Our training leads the slave to follow the commands and orders we give, but each slave controls how he or she reacts to those commands. And these are continually changing, as the slave gets more or different training.

"In your case, you have had the sense of achievement, of satisfaction, from completing tasks up to standards you have been taught, right? In many ways, you are very near the level of Pat or Anne, and everyone is impressed at how quickly you have come to this level.

"But then, there was that break in training. You completed the correction program Master set up for you, and you did it well. Your slate, as Master told you, is clean from that break. Still, there is some logic in maintaining some 'reminders' of your training so that you keep your focus as we want it. Do you understand, so far?"

I guess I can see their point. The Transport Mode handcuffs are about the only restraint I have had since the Circus. I'm not sure, but I don't remember if the click of my door is just the catch or is still the lock. I haven't even tried the handle in a long time.

"Yes, Sir, I understand. Maintain a focus. Thank you, Sir."

Igor smiles and continues. "Thank you, Julie. Now, however, we've got to rethink the handcuffs. How certain are you that you can maintain your focus, that you will keep your Master at the center of your universe, without them?"

Wow! Don't worry about asking the Big Question!

I'm trying to think of an answer, any answer, but my mind is whirling in fifty different directions. My hands are trembling. My Inner Goddess is right there but, for once, she's shocked into silence. Slowly, I begin to formulate an answer.

"Please, Sir, I think I can maintain the proper focus, that I can keep my Master, my Owner, at the center of my universe, just as you said. But, Sir, I don't know for sure. Please, Sir, may I have a Trial Period, like a tryout time — maybe about a week? — where I could try without the handcuffs and we could see what happens? This way, I would know that I have only a definite time to try to maintain focus on my own. I wouldn't have the worry of 'forever' to worry about maintaining my focus."

Igor seems to consider this offer. I get a few more of the strokes they have taught me to like and my hands stop trembling. I catch up on my breathing — how come I didn't take my usual deep breath before making this offer?

"Julie, I will pass your offer to your Master this evening. I'm sure there will be some discussions and consultations. I don't recall any such plan before. I can see some positive slants, but there are also some negative ones to consider. I'm sure Master will let you know his decision as soon as it's made. OK?"

I giggle a bit because that's not the standard slave question, is it? I look at my Trainer directly and say, "Thank you, Sir. I appreciate your effort." It's a short and direct agreement, showing, I hope, the proper attitude. Igor rises from his stool and we do the exercise routines. I'm trying hard to show "love" for the machines and I don't get any cuts from Igor's whip, but, today, I'm wondering if my Trainer is, perhaps, a bit distracted by our conversation?

No! He smiles as I coast down the "cool down" part of the treadmill run and remarks, "My dear, considering that you've just had an important conversation, you applied yourself to the routines with great concentration. I didn't pick up a single slip, which I guess you noticed because you didn't get a single cut from my whip. One Attaboy!"

I'm wearing a huge grin when I finally get off the treadmill. Just as I'm turning to present my wrists for the handcuffs, Igor taps my shoulder, stopping me. Before I can fall — with some amount of grace, I hope — into Position One, Igor looks me directly in the eye and asks a question.

"Julie, one reason why I'm glad you're back from Macau is that I missed you while you were away. It's probably not a secret that I don't find any of the other slaves as exciting as you. So, I'd like to have you this evening. Now, as a slave, you don't get to think about this appointment; you just show up at the appointed time.

"But the offer you proposed, that you be free, on your own, to keep your focus where we'd like, gives me a chance for a small test. Suppose, instead of me just marking your schedule so you are brought to me for the evening, I ask you to come to me for the evening. You'd have to think about whether that is something you want to do, or something you are willing to do, or, perhaps, something you don't want to do but you will do it because you're still a slave. You'll have to factor in a host of things: how sore and tired you are after the Circus, how long the day has already been, how horny and demanding I might be after so many days away from you. Do you think you can answer such a question?

"Let me put the question in a slightly different way. Suppose you are walking through a factory where teams of slaves are working. The teams are working to conceive and give birth to new slaves. One team, your guide from management announces, has not produced the standard number of slaves. That team gets whipped.

"The next team your guide shows you has produced the standard number of new slaves. The guide announces that this is the Acceptable Team and the members leave for their homes at the end of the day.

"Your guide moves you to a third team. He announces that this team has worked 'harder and smarter,' as the saying goes, and has produced more than the standard number of new slaves. This team also goes home at the end of the day. Since slaves don't get paid, there is nothing extra for these team members beyond their internal sense of achievement. Your guide tells you these are the Good Slaves.

'Now, Julie, to which team do you ask to be assigned?"

For a second, I am paralyzed. I never imagined anything like such a question. I've noticed that I've had more and better sex since the Blue Bayou than ever before. But, it was all with people who ordered me, not with people I'd selected. It was always for their satisfaction; my satisfaction was just an incidental by-product. It was always positions and toys and techniques they favored, never ones I'd wanted. Now my trainer is offering me a chance unlike any in my training or slavery.

Not surprisingly, my Inner Goddess is waving her arms and calling me to just shout "Yes! Good Slave!"

There are so many things to think about! But then, in only a moment or two, I know what answer I want to give.

"Please, Sir, your slave will come to you this evening." I remember enough from the dating rituals "before" so that I don't tell Igor that I'm pleased he wants me, prefers me to the other slaves he can call.

Igor says, "Thank you, Julie. Just so you don't need to do a lot of explaining, I'll mark your schedule. I think Fifteen is on duty tonight. She'll come for you."

My trainer said "Thank you!" Usually, a trainer tells a trainee, "Good," or "Not bad," or gives a lecture about how the task should have been done. "Thank you" is different; it tells the trainee that the trainer appreciates that the task was done to help or to satisfy the trainer. It's a personal connection. From the other slaves, I've learned that "appreciation" and "Thank you" are not the most common words heard in slave corridors.