48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 42

Coauthor's note: This part will see big changes in the lives of some of the inhabitants of the slave empire known as The Enterprises.

—Taliesin1, J Spe

48 Hours on Blue Bayou, Part 42

Chapter 108: Debriefing after Act III

A large crowd, including the entire leadership team, greeted the slaves on their return to The Enterprises' Headquarters. The Concierge Service even had a Welcome Home! banner stretched over the entryway.

Julie had expected the van transporting the slaves to go directly to the underground garage area. Dagmar, her eyes wide at the obvious celebration, exclaimed, "What's going on?"

Sally laughed and explained to the new slave. "Dagmar, this is what a good Owner does for his slaves. He sent us on a task and we did it up to his standards. This is how he tells us Thank you. Didn't your bank ever thank you for a good job?"

The new slave let the question go as she watched the Security crew release the restraints on the slaves. Still dressed in their white romper uniforms, the slaves filed into the building and glided into Position One before their Owner.

A grinning Martin led a round of applause for the slaves. "Ladies, the first thing is to tell each of you 'Thank you.' And the next thing is to tell you that the job you did was exemplary, up to the highest standards of The Enterprises. Your work will serve as a teaching service for everyone in our organization. From the research and planning, through your preparation and practice, to the way you carried all this out, you have our admiration. Again, Thank You."

Each slave took these words to heart. Julie and Niamh, certainly, had large lumps in their throats. Neither could have uttered a word at that time. Sally, who had known similar expressions of satisfaction from her Owner over the past years, still felt a warm wave of pleasure engulf her.

And Dagmar? She was shocked. The entire time of her slavery had stressed how the power exchange left her with no rights, no privileges, but just the obligation to serve, to be of service, to be used. Now, her Owner had even addressed her as "Lady!" She would have to think about this!

Martin continued. "Now, everybody is invited to the Casino. I understand Chef has arranged something there."

Indeed, Chef had! The formal dining room presented multiple tables of desserts, including cakes, pies, puddings, doughnuts, and cookies. So many cuisines were represented! And, the table in the center of the room presented a Chocolate Fountain, surrounded by bananas (freshly peeled), marshmallows, strawberries, and other delectables waiting to be enrobed.

A long table at one side of the room presented tubs of ice cream, with hot fudge, butterscotch, and caramel sauces and syrups. There were even sprinkles, whipped cream, and Maraschino cherries for topping.

It was unbelievable! Later, Charles would learn that One had suggested and Chef had elaborated on the "Welcome" idea. So many staffers, in so many departments, had contributed to the "Men's Party" that the idea had just rolled through the building like an avalanche down a mountain.

The slaves moved from table to table, greeting staffers whom they had served, tasting a bit here and there. Julie, remembering how she had ended most evenings in her apartment with a dish of ice cream in her life "before," loaded a dish with scoops of three different flavors of the delicacy that never appeared on the Food Carts of Morning or Evening Nourishments. It was only after several swallows that her Inner Goddess reminded her, Igor will have to work all that stuff off you!

Her reply was short: It's worth it!

Eventually, of course, the excitement died down, especially as the tables were emptied. Charles signalled, and Pat and Anne shepherded the four slaves to Martin's office.

"I'm going to have a call to the Empress in the morning, so we need to debrief tonight," Martin announced. He nodded to Charles, who had a list of items to check. The group went down the list, each slave having permission to add her own observations and ideas. Again, Dagmar was surprised by the informality that her Owner had decreed. She even had a chance to register her dislike of the romper uniform she was still wearing, although, as Niamh pointed out, she had shown it off well just before Act Three.

This sparked a memory that had been at the back of Julie's mind. "When the men were talking about their exploits with their partners, it seemed that Derek was rather quieter than the others. Do you have anything else to report?"

"Yes," Niamh chimed in, "You said you had something tell us later."

Dagmar's head sagged. She felt she might be in trouble now, but she already knew that it would be a bigger crime not to be honest, especially with her Owner present. "When Master Derek took me to the stateroom, I couldn't bear to just be passive and let him do whatever he wanted to do. So I told him that I would show him how to make even a free woman his willing slave. I gave him some lessons in the art of cunnilingus, which he picked up very quickly. He gave me three good orgasms, and I was happy enough to let him take me after that."

She bit her lip waiting for her doom to be pronounced. Instead, she was astonished as Martin and Charles burst into peals of laughter. It was Charles who managed to regain control first. "Dagmar, that was a potentially risky move, but it seems to have paid off. Derek gave you a highly flattering report."

Martin added, "He also offered a much larger donation than we were expecting, and of course the others were bound to match him, ― so, well done!"

At last, the list was done and Martin was satisfied he was ready for the morning call. Security came for Dagmar and Sally, while Pat and Anne brought Julie and Niamh back to the Executive Floor. Stopping at the kitchen, Pat had a word for Julie.

"Kid, we watched the evening on the cameras. You handled the events very well, almost like you'd been doing it for years. How did it feel to you?"

Julie sensed there was a purpose hidden behind Pat's simple question, but she wasn't sure what it was. She gave a simple, forthright answer. "Ma'am, I was in two states most of the time. Either I was enjoying the evening, even the time with that broker, John, or I was so scared I didn't have time to worry about anything. It was just 'keep pushing on to the next item.'"

Pat smiled; she had had those events also. "And, what about the ship's Captain?"

The ship's Captain and crew had not been on Martin's list. Julie was afraid to say any of the negative thoughts she'd had about the Captain during the evening, but Pat had been watching the video feed and probably had detected some response of hers.

Again, she gave a simple answer. "Ma'am, the Captain didn't do anything to hurt the event, but he didn't add anything, either. The 'Welcome' speech he started with was nice, but a bit florid — not the inviting, exciting words we would have liked. Anyway, he disappeared when we went to dinner and that was that."

Pat nodded and smiled. "OK, then. Have a good night. We'll start planning the next steps in the morning."

Of course, that startled Julie. She had been so focused on the Men's Party that she really hadn't thought much about what would come after it. She wriggled out of the white romper and stood in the shower thinking. Unfortunately, no thoughts came to mind. She toweled off and went to bed.

Just before her head hit the pillow, she had a thought. "Mrs Ping! The other audiences!

~ ~ ~~ ~

Chapter 109: The Empress Makes an Announcement

The First Lady's List showed a call to the Empress as its first item. Charles and Edward joined Martin for the call, but there was no signal that Julie should attend. She retreated to her office, puzzled. She fussed over a plant for a few moments and was happy when her telephone rang.

It was someone from the IT Department. They had worked up an excerpt from the video feeds of the evening, showing the arrival of the Young Man, Derek, his care of Dagmar during dinner, some of his reactions to Act Two, and all of Act Three, finishing with his dramatic pledge of support for the Opera Project and the reactions of the other men to this leadership. As a sensitive item, the disk had been encrypted and was in safekeeping, along with the original video and audio feeds from the Ocean Star. The IT department wanted her to know the disc would be available if The Enterprises wanted to give it to the Young Man at some time.

Julie thanked the IT guy and got a legal pad ready for any ideas she would have for "the next steps." She made a note about the "disk for Derek," but hadn't made any other notes when the chime signalled the need for her in Martin's office.

In seconds, she was gliding into Position One alongside her Owner's desk. Martin greeted her and motioned to the speakerphone. That instrument produced the voice of the Empress.

"Julie," she said, "your Owner has been telling me how well you performed at the Men's Party. Thank goodness you weren't in the room, because I'm sure you would have fainted from embarrassment. Still, I did want to tell you that you've passed all the tests and hurdles I set for you. I'll be looking forward to working with you in whatever position Martin assigns you."

It took Julie a moment or two to understand what the Empress was saying. And then, she was too shocked to produce any answer. Martin and his lieutenants remained silent, small smiles playing on their faces. Finally, Martin cleared his throat and Julie came out of her trance.

"Please, my Empress, this slave thanks you for your confidence. This slave will work to justify and maintain your trust. Thank you, Madame."

Charles' nod signalled that Julie's speech had been correct and appropriate. She began to relax a bit, with a wide smile blossoming on her face. It was matched by smiles lighting up the men's faces. Martin and the Empress exchanged a few pleasantries and the telephone call ended.

Martin signalled Julie to rise. As Charles and Edward spoke their congratulations, they each gave her a hug and stroked her back before leaving the office.

"Stay a moment, Julie," said Martin.

Chapter 110: Hari Shares Some News

Hari Singh was in an ambivalent mood as he sought out his favourite slave, Niamh. He was elated because of the success he had achieved within The Enterprises. He had been personally congratulated by The Chairman, Martin, and had been confirmed in a new appointment. On the other hand, he was anxious to find out how Niamh would react to his news.

Now that Niamh had been housed on the executive floor, it was more difficult to work out where she would be. She had a lot more responsibilities: assisting Julie with the First Lady's list, or researching for Martin, her Owner. She might be at the Opera, or scheduled for training, or she might be in the executive library or working for Jane in the Marketing department.

This last possibility caused him a little distress. Because of the shortage of marketing staff, he had to share Niamh's expertise with Jane. The last time he had gone there looking for Niamh, Jane had sent him off with a flea in his ear.

"You can pick up your girlfriend at 5:30, like everyone else," she had said. Hari remembered the deep blush, only partly disguised by his natural complexion. Apart from the undoubted fact that he shouldn't interrupt her work for a colleague, he was chagrined to think that they were, obviously, talking about his behaviour. He supposed Jane was correct, in a way; he liked talking to Niamh and he rather more than liked her sexual attentions. Did this make her his girlfriend? He had never had a girlfriend before. Of course, she is not really a girlfriend, she is a slave and cannot refuse me, he mused, but I do try to let her take the initiative.

What Hari didn't realise was that his attitude was confusing to Niamh. Of course, a slave should always be aware of what her Master needs or wants, but, as a slave, Niamh preferred to be given explicit orders, which she would obey, not to take initiatives which might be interpreted as fulfilling her own desires, rather than those of her Master.

There was another reason for Hari's ambivalence. His mother had been deluging him, more than usual, with messages and photographs of young women of her acquaintance. Most especially, a young woman of British birth who had been adopted by a cousin of his father. The girl was certainly beautiful enough. He supposed that she was a distant relative, but Hari, despite a minor addiction to Bollywood movies, thought of himself as a modern, cosmopolitan man, who would find his own wife. Deep down, however, he knew the reality of Indian society meant that he would sooner or later succumb to his mother's wishes.

Niamh was in the library, kneeling in front of a laptop, her slightly wrinkled brow a sign of concentration that he found very attractive. He stood watching for a few seconds.

"Master Hari. I didn't see you there." She swung around to face him, spreading her knees, as a slave should, when her Master appears.

"I was just admiring the view," said Hari. "You look busy. Will you be able to come with me?"

"Master, I'm writing up a report for Master Martin, on the Opera project. He wants it this afternoon, but I should be finished in about half an hour. Will that be acceptable, Master?"

"Yes, of course. Master Martin is your Owner, he must come first. I'll be in my office."

Hari left Niamh and headed back to his office, thinking of the pleasant prospect of Niamh brewing a pot of tea, the not so pleasant prospect of telling her of his imminent departure, and the very pleasant prospect of love-making afterwards.

I suppose I should start clearing out my files, he thought, but instead he relaxed into the sofa, his mind wandering to previous encounters. She was called Three then, he recalled, the first time she had come to his office, nervous, just graduated from the Intake Corridor, uncertain. He remembered also how he had been unsure of her status. Martin had only said that he had found him some marketing expertise to help with his projects. By her demeanour, he had supposed that she was a slave, but he hadn't known what he could do with her. He chuckled ruefully at his naivety. He hadn't known that she needed permission for a cup of tea!

Hari imagined Niamh kneeling in front of him, her lips gently attending to his member, which was now almost painfully rigid. When she appeared, slipping quietly in the door and moving to kneel beside him, her appearance paradoxically caused a softening, which allowed him enough freedom of movement to kiss her on the forehead.

"Niamh, please make a pot of tea for both of us."

She rose gracefully from the floor. "And what are you going to do, Master Hari?" she said with a cheekiness she knew he would let her get away with.

"I'm going to sit here and enjoy watching you make it." She laughed and waggled her behind.

She was wearing a slip that was split so far up the leg that she must surely have very little or nothing underneath. Hari sighed and settled back to admire her graceful movements, the product of many hours practice. He thought of the girl his mother had matched him up with, wondering if she could be half as exciting or graceful.

Soon the fragrance of brewing tea filled the office, as Niamh tidied away the tea and the kettle. She poured two cups and placed one cup, which would be for herself, on the table. She knelt and presented the cup for her Master with both hands so smoothly that not a drop was spilt.

For a short while, Master and slave were companionably content with each other's company, sipping their teas.

When the tea was finished, Hari signalled Niamh to join him on the sofa. She hopped up and snuggled next to him in the crook of his arm. She slipped one hand into his shirt and nibbled on his ear. Niamh knew that Master Hari liked her to make the first advances, supposing that in this way he could persuade himself that she came to him by choice. In fact, she did like Master Hari; he was kind, rarely punished her, and always made her feel appreciated. She took pleasure in their encounters, but she didn't love him, nor did she feel the same edgy combination of fear and desire, which so excited her, and which she craved, when she was with her owner, Martin.

To Niamh, Master Hari seemed distracted. Working hours — though such a concept could barely be applied to him and certainly not to her, a slave — were nowhere near over, yet here he was making small talk, instead of revising yet another of his projects.

Hari turned to Niamh and took her face in his hands, kissing her tenderly on the mouth.

"Let's go to my apartment."

Niamh got up from the sofa. "Yes Master," she said, and took his hand as he led her out of the office.

When the apartment door closed behind them, Niamh did not immediately slip out of her dress. She had learnt that Master Hari enjoyed undressing her. She had even taken a few minutes to put on a thong and gauzy camisole before heading down to his office. Niamh led Hari to the bedroom, seating him on the bed. She undid his tie, folding it carefully and placing it on the dresser by his hair brushes. She moved back to stand in front of him, intending to remove his shirt.

Hari took hold of her hands and stood up, enfolding her in a close embrace. She put her arms around his torso as he tilted her enough to find her mouth with his. Niamh parted her lips and their tongues met, jousted, and finally subsided. She could feel her dress being slowly dragged up over her buttocks to around her waist. She pressed herself closer to Hari and moved her arms up around his neck as he insinuated one hand between them, caressing her breast. She could feel his cock stiffening against her groin and she withdrew a little to let it rise.

His hands were moving all over her upper body, but also inching her dress up to her shoulders, whereupon they broke off contact, and Hari pulled it over her head. Niamh shook out her hair and set to undoing the buttons of Hari's shirt. She pulled it back and down, imprisoning his arms as she nuzzled his chest and sucked on his nipples. She could feel him shiver and hear a sharp intake of breath as he shucked off the shirt. She decided to let it hang there, and in any event his hands were now insistently questing under her camisole, lifting and kneading her breasts.

In just a few seconds the camisole joined her dress on the floor. Her training urged her to tidy up her Master's, and her own clothing, but she sensed that this was something different to the usual course of sexual encounters between Master and slave. Hari's eagerness was not the usual, more measured, taking of a slave. Normally, a Master would direct the slave to strip whatever clothing he wishes and to perform the actions or assume the positions he desires. Now, Hari was expressing an overwhelming human need, rather than a cool demonstration of sexual power.

He sits down on the bed. Niamh straddles his legs, as his hands on her buttocks draw her towards him; his teeth and lips are teasing her nipples bringing them erect. She pushes her body forward, seeking closer contact. Hari's right hand massages her breast, while the left grips her tightly around the small of her back. His mouth and tongue track down towards her navel and Niamh slips back off the bed, stands with her legs parted around his. Hari's mouth moves down to her bare mound, his hands caress her thighs whilst his tongue explores her labia, seeking the little key to her sexual pleasure. Niamh lets out a sound — a half sigh, half moan — as he finds it. Lips, tongue and teeth drive her lust until she takes his head and, forgetting her slave restraint, presses it into her groin.