48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 41

"We are pretty sure you don't know what a boxtie is," Niamh announced, "so this is your first bondage position. We will position each hand at the opposite elbow and we want you to grasp that elbow while we apply the rope." He felt his hands and arms being positioned and grasped his elbows as ordered. "Very good, slave," said Niamh, "now just hold the position."

Dagmar brought several hanks of rope and he could feel coils of rope grasping and then tightening against his forearms. He thought he could tell that knots were being tied, but he could not feel them.

"We tie the knots where your hands can't reach them," Niamh added. "We've found that slaves are more comfortable knowing that."

Derek's only thought was that the ropes, so far, were not painful. He wondered if the coils would cut off his circulation, but then realized that that would be a "harm" and Mistress Julie had told him that there was no reason to harm a valuable "unit of merchandise." He wanted to believe her, but wondered, would a Mistress lie to her slave, perhaps to get the slave to be more compliant?

As if she could read his mind, Julie had a lecture ready for him. "There must be complete trust between slave and Mistress. If a slave doesn't trust his Mistress, that could lead to mistakes in understanding what his Mistress wants and needs, leading to the slave failing his duty to his Mistress. If a Mistress cannot trust her slave, how can she give him any privileges? How can she be sure she is meeting his basic needs? For this reason, your Mistresses will never lie to you. You can always trust their word. And, similarly, you must never lie to your Mistress; it is a sign of disrespect. These are nonstarters in our world of slavery."

More rope was used to wrap his arms loosely to his chest, running above and below his nipples. Fingers wrapped rope around the strands in each armpit, taking up the slack and tightening this chest harness. He had seen this in photos of some Japanese Shibari, or Kinbaku, bondage models, and now felt how powerful those extra wraps were. He could move only his fingers, and not very much, at that. Again, he was paraded by a Mistress through the audience so the men could examine, and test with their fingers, the placement and tightness of ropes and knots. One man also fingered his nipples, finding them more erect than flat. The new slave was a bit embarrassed by this familiar handling, as well as by the state of his nipples.

Julie came around to his field of vision for a moment, but disappeared as she bent to examine his parachute. "I do believe we're seeing some stretching here," she intoned in a flat voice. "Now, we have a package we can put on display."

Derek couldn't understand what she meant. She had led him around by his prick, showing his prick and ballsac to the men and women before and after applying the parachute. Could there be that much change that more display was needed? His wall of worry began to develop an arch of humiliation.

Naimh, who had applied the parachute, appeared to remove, first the weights, and then the plastic disc. "Oh, yes," she exclaimed, "this prick and balls are much prettier now!"

Mistress Sally moved a sheet-draped piece of equipment into the center of the room. With a flourish, she removed the sheet, presenting a platform a little more than a meter square with a square wooden post rising from its center. The post was topped by a fan-shaped shelf of clear plastic, tilted forward just a bit. The handle of the fan, about three centimeters wide, was extended for several centimeters, ending in a window about two centimeters wide. Just before the window, the handle showed a soft mound of black vinyl. From each side of the fan portion, a threaded metallic column rose about five or six centimeters.

The new slave had no idea what the device was, but the fine finish and clean lines suggested it was an important piece of furniture. That was enough for his imagination to infer that he would experience it as a torture device.

Niamh led him to the device, mounting the platform from the "handle" side. She pulled him forward, so the handle slid between his legs, until his thighs were against the fan-shaped shelf. She spread his ballsac on the shelf, between the two upright columns.

Two Mistresses came to his sides, and Niamh passed his prick to one of them. The other held a clear plastic rectangle with two rows of holes in the long dimension of the plastic and slots running between the holes and the long edges.

Julie began a lecture, and Derek switched his attention to this Mistress. "There is a long history of use of stocks and pillories, but people often get them confused. The short version is that stocks generally hold the victim's feet, while a pillory holds the victim's neck and wrists. This device has some features of both. For instance, the shelf holds our slave's balls on display. You can see how much this display benefits from his prior exposure to the parachute as a ball-stretcher. Now, Niamh and I are going to shackle his feet in place, so that qualifies this as a set of stocks."

The two Mistresses wrapped leather cuffs around Derek's ankles, buckling them in place. Each cuff carried a D-ring and each Mistress used a short chain to lock Derek's ankles to the sides of the platform. Of course, spreading his legs to reach the width of the platform lowered his crotch onto the fan-shaped shelf and handle. Julie checked his buttocks, spreading them so his body could sink lower onto the shelf and handle.

"Now, his balls are held onto the shelf, so this qualifies as a pillory."

The men crowding around Derek nodded approvingly, with one commenting, "Exactly so. Very nice."

"Thank you, Sir," said Julie. "Now, I'm sure everyone noticed two components of the handle to the shelf that is displaying our slave's so-nice balls. At the end of the handle we have a window and, through this window, one can insert a device that will immediately bear on our slave's anus. I'm going to spread some lube on this device" — and she showed the audience a long, slender probe rising from a thicker handle — "and pass it through the window. A little more and I'll have our slave tell you what he feels."

There was silence for a few moments as Julie gently pushed the probe through the window and up to her slave's rosebud. As the probe pushed farther, Derek gasped and exclaimed, "No! Not there! That's not right, Mistress. Take it out; take it out!"

Julie, however, continued her manipulation of the device. Niamh came to the distraught slave and stroked his face. "Slave Derek, let me remind you of what we said earlier. You have no power, no control. All the power is with your Mistresses. That means that, whatever command they give, or whatever maneuver they do, is right, is correct. A slave does not have the power to decide what is right or correct. All that power is in his Mistress' hands.

"So, you see, what you just said makes no sense in the world of slavery. Do you see that, slave Derek? Do you understand?"

Julie's probe was now a few centimeters into Derek's ass, just past the sphincter muscle that holds the ass closed. There had been little pain, probably because of the thinness of the probe, but his ass was sending him "fullness" signals he'd never felt before.

He took a breath and gave Niamh the response she wanted. "Yes, Mistress, your commands are all correct, all right, Mistress."

It wasn't what he wanted to say, but he was learning that it was the proper reply to a Mistress. That difference, between what he wanted and what they wanted — and he had to provide — was a humiliating thing. He was the scion of an important family, sent to Hong Kong to establish an opening for a global business. A few lengths of leather, rope, and chain had reduced him to a compliant nothing. He had never, even when being hazed at University, felt such humiliation. He did remember, however, a tongue-lashing from a High School teacher about a book review ... But that was long ago and buried deeply.

Julie had driven the probe as far as she desired. The ribbing on the probe and the muscles of Derek's ass would hold it in place.

"I'm sure you are all wondering about this probe. Why put something so slender up our slave's ass? Something larger, say, a dildo, would have the size to stimulate pleasure centers for our slave. Now, our slave has been reasonably compliant, so I'm going to tell you that this probe contains some revolving wheels. When I turn it on, Derek will feel a pleasure he has not felt previously. Derek, would you like me to turn the probe on?"

It was a new question. Derek's mind recognized that, logically, the "No" answer was possible. Another part of his mind, however, told him that, logically, his Mistress was not likely to entertain that answer, and her response was also not likely to entertain him.

He hung his head a bit more. "Yes, Mistress, please turn the probe on."

Niamh held the remote control for the probe, and she turned it on as Derek spoke. The strange motions in his rectal canal surprised and scared Derek at first, and he yelped a few times. But, after a minute, the rhythm of the movements became sensual and he found himself pushing back on the probe. Julie responded by thrusting the probe a bit deeper and then withdrawing it, repeating the cycle as if the probe was a prick fucking a cunt. Derek found himself rising along the rainbow of arousal and wondered if his Mistress meant for him to have an orgasm?

No such luck! Derek never knew how his Mistress could know how far up the rainbow she had pushed him, but she stopped short of an orgasm.

Julie explained. "Derek, you remember we said that a slave owns nothing, not even his body. That means you don't own your orgasms. You must ask permission from your Mistress if you want to climax. You didn't, and so I withdrew the probe.

"Now, however, we have a chance to experiment with the second feature of the pillory's handle. Derek's 'taint' — named because 'it taint balls and it taint rosebud' — is resting on a black vinyl device. We're going to turn it on, starting at a low level, and we'll let Derek tell you what he feels. You will tell us, won't you, my dear slave?"

The "dear slave" felt a flash of resentment at the condescension in the question. But he managed to voice his agreement. The wall of worry had his mind clearly attuned to what his Mistresses wanted.

Niamh tapped a few buttons and the vibrator in the handle came to life. The early sensations did not reach forward to his balls, or backward to his ass, but straight upward into his prostate. As Niamh increased the strength of the signal, he felt himself, once again, rising up the arousal rainbow.

Haltingly, he managed to put a few words together. "Mistress, I didn't know this area was so sensitive. I can't describe the sensation exactly, but it feels good."

One or two of the other men knew exactly what Derek meant, but remained silent.

As Niamh increased the signal further, however, the pleasure began to change, until Derek began whimpering with the combination of pleasure and pain common to this area. He was about to violate the rule on speaking with a plea to stop when, again, his Mistress knew he had reached a particular point. A touch of a button and the black vinyl pad fell silent and still.

One of the Mistresses came up to the slave and wiped his face with a warm washcloth. It was the most pleasant experience of the evening, Derek thought.

Niamh returned the remote to its place and announced, "Now, let's see what the other Mistresses have been doing."

The Mistress with the plastic rectangle lifted it a short distance. She had laid the new slave's prick on the plastic and, with her partner, had laced it in place with a bright red shoelace, tying a large bow at the front of the plastic. The prick was straight and markings on the plastic showed its length at eight centimeters, clearly not engorged or aroused.

"The interesting thing that can be done with this plastic is to lay it on top of our slave's ballsac. You'll notice that the two upright columns from the shelf fit into the slots in the prick plastic. Now, I have a pair of wing-nuts that fit on the threads of the uprights. As you watch, I can spin the wing-nuts down, which would compress the prick plastic on the ball display shelf. Of course, I could tighten the wing-nuts as much as desired, until the balls are crushed flat."

Derek's cry startled the fascinated audience. "No, Mistress, please, no!" Even with his feet spread and his torso pressing firmly on the device, the slave was making a surprising amount of motion.

Aware that his cry had violated one of Mistress' rules, Derek was trying to regain some control over his body. Everyone could see the flush on his face and chest as he fought this battle. Julie and Niamh came to his sides and stroked his neck and arms, moving around to his front as his gyrations softened to mild tremors.

"Derek," Julie murmured softly. "Let's take this in order, right? First, you haven't remembered that we told you that there is no point in harming a slave, right? Second, the Mistress said she could tighten the wing-nuts. She didn't say she was going to. Third, in fact, she didn't spin the wing-nuts very far down the uprights at all. It seems evident that you were not trusting your Mistress.

"You also spoke out despite the rule of no speaking. Now, slave, do I have all your crimes listed?"

Derek's mind was only partially listening. Mostly, his attention was still on his prick and balls. He knew his Mistress was running down a list, probably of the bad things he had done. He saw no way to contradict her because his emotions, brought into play by the Mistresses' maneuvers, prevented clear thoughts. From his wall of worry and its arch of humiliation, he could put together only a few words. "Please, Mistress, your slave apologizes. Please, Mistress, let me go." As he said it, he knew it was not right. It was not even enough. If he could have fallen on his knees and begged, he knew he would have. Only the pillory kept him upright. He was broken. Softly, he began to cry.

From the discussions Julie and Niamh had held with Pat and Anne and then with Martin and Edward, they recognized that the once confident entrepreneur was not the body in front of them. The young man had broken more quickly than they had anticipated. Instinctively, they knew that repair was now needed.

Julie took the lead. "Derek, we've been holding slaves for a long time, and we're good at it. Just this evening shows that, right? So, we're going to let you earn yourself back. If you follow my instructions, it will all be fine again. Do you understand?"

His mind grabbed at the offered way out. "Yes, Mistress," he sobbed. "Just tell me what to do."

"All right, Derek. The first thing is you have to pay for violating the rule of no speaking. I'm going to gag you for a little bit, so you won't forget, but it will clear your slate of this crime. Do you understand?"

Derek wasn't sure about his Mistress' logic, but she had said the gag would clear his slate. He knew he should trust her and he knew that meant he had to agree with her correction. He managed to put the words together: "Yes, Mistress, a gag for the speech crime."

Niamh brought the gag they had selected for this possibility. It was a bit gag, about ten centimeters wide and two centimeters thick. It was covered with a smooth, tasteless plastic. Large O-rings at each end supported two straps. The heavier strap went around Derek's head, pulling the bit against the corners of his mouth. The thin strap went under Derek's chin, holding his tongue flat. As with most gags, he would be able to make sounds but not words. And he would drool.

As the bit gag was fitted, Derek began to regain some composure. He had not trusted his Mistresses. He had violated several rules, including speech. He was being put into a gag, so speech was impossible. In this way, he would begin to pay for his crimes against his Mistresses.

Niamh picked up the conversational tones Julie had used. "Derek, for your other crimes, you need to be spanked. But, you're not a child, so we won't spank you. But we have a special instrument, a flogger, that we use for these crimes. We're going to take you out of the devices you are in and take you to a saltire. This is a place where we can fasten you so you can receive the flogging. Do you understand?"

That question! Always needing an answer. He wanted the Mistresses to just do what they wanted. He didn't want to have to think of the answer they wanted. He nodded a "Yes," and prepared to go to the saltire for a flogging. He wasn't sure what a saltire was, but his Mistress had said it was where he would have his flogging, so it must be a good thing. Mistress had said that they had all the control and power, so any command was good and right and proper. So, he would go to the saltire when they led him there.

There were a few moments of pleasant touches as the Mistresses freed Derek from the scrotal pillory and its devices. Next came release from the boxtie and two of the Mistresses moved his arms to "work out the kinks;" much of his upper extremities was somewhat stiff. When the Mistress with the warm washcloths did his face, chest, and manhood, Derek felt as if all was right with his world, almost. He was glad the bit gag prevented him from the error of speech, because he had been about to express his thanks and gratitude. The last service the Mistresses did was to buckle leather bands on his wrists, matching those on his ankles. His first glimpse of these bands noticed that they were fleece-lined — for comfort against something, he wondered? — and each bore a pair of D-rings.

Julie and Niamh circled him, examining for any problems. Derek wondered why they didn't simply ask him to turn around. But, he had learned enough of slave control to realize that these Mistresses were doing as they pleased. And, therefore, that was the right and proper way.

Mistress Sally pulled a cord and a sheet dropped away from a device projecting from a wall of the Playroom. It was a large χ-shaped structure, easily two meters tall. It was fastened to the wall at the crossing of the arms. The lower arms showed small platforms for the occupant's feet. The upper arms showed dowels that could be used as hand-grabs. D-rings were spaced about ten centimeters apart up and down each arm, on the inside and outside borders. It was crafted of close-grained wood and the care evident from its finish told Derek it was a well-loved instrument.

Mistresses Niamh and Julie took their slave's arms and walked him to the wall beside the instrument. "These are some of the implements we can use to beat you," Julie said. Niamh added, "Each provides a different kind of pain and leaves a different mark. I have been told that an experienced whipmaster can use a series of instruments and bring out a symphony of cries from his target."

They showed him several whips, single-, double-, and multiple-tailed, of differing lengths and thicknesses. There were also different straps, some of leather and some of rubber, which Julie explained left larger and, sometimes, permanent marks. A tall canister contained several canes soaking in brine, which, Niamh explained, made them more supple and heavier, so that a caning was an experience to remember.

Julie finished the tour of the wall by selecting an instrument with many "falls," as she called them. "This is a flogger. The general plan is to have many falls so that even a light blow delivers a definite sting and thud. The leather may be thinner, as in this instrument which has falls of deer leather, or heavier, as with elk or cattle falls. Some prefer a wider fall, which has more thud, but this instrument has a more standard width, which tends to give more of a sting. Some floggers have a few as a dozen falls, but I've seen some with 40 falls. This one has 24 falls. We've selected this one because it is nicely balanced, which makes it easier for the Mistress to use, and it produces a nice balance of sting and thud."