48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 42

Hari breaks free for a deep breath and pulls her down. They both slither up onto the bed, their lips locked in a passionate kiss. Now Hari's fingers are at work in Niamh's slit and on her clitoris. She spreads her legs to encourage that delicious friction and reaches for his penis with her free hand. Its hardness fills her fist as she squeezes and moves the skin. Both of them are lost in the inarticulate gasps, squeaks and grunts of pleasure. Hari's lips move over her neck, down to her nipples and back, licking, sucking and nipping. Her own tongue is exploring his ear, one hand is trapped beneath him, but clutches his back and ribs.

As the two reach a plateau and pause for breath, Niamh turns about to seek Hari's cock. She caresses it tenderly, then, gently peeling back his foreskin, engulfs the crown in her mouth. She sucks on it and moves her tongue around all its ridges. Hari still seeks her vulva, so she places one leg on the other side of his head, allowing him maximum access. His hands roam over her buttocks and his tongue delves into her folds. Niamh is rapidly approaching her peak; she releases his cock to request her orgasm.

"Master, may I come."

"Yes, yes," he moans, "but take me from on top!"

Niamh rolls out of her position and straddles his hips instead. She takes his cock in hand again and guides it into her sex. Niamh leans back slightly, to increase the pressure on her clit, and begins a slow rhythmic rise and fall. It does not take more than a few seconds before Hari empties himself into her with a loud cry. Niamh follows, almost immediately, as her whole body shudders with release. Exhausted she falls forward onto his chest, her head tucked into his shoulder. Hari holds her tight, trapping her arms by his side.

After the effort of love-making, they lie together on the bed for many minutes. Niamh, at last, recalled her slave status and moved to clean her Master, but he stopped her, saying, "No, just lie here with me."

After a minute or two, Hari clears his throat, then says, "Niamh, my dear, I have something to tell you."

She hoisted herself onto an elbow and looked at him expectantly.

"Martin has decided that the time is ripe for The Enterprises to expand into the Indian market, and he has offered me the position of General Manager. It is a great honour for me, that he thinks so highly of my abilities. This morning I told him I would accept the position. I think he was genuinely pleased."

"Master, that is wonderful for you. I'm sure you will have great success and I know my Owner values you highly." Niamh realised then, that their free form coupling was, in some sense, a farewell. He would go on to new challenges, while she would remain behind, a slave.

Hari looks directly into Niamh's green eyes, "I would have loved to take you with me back to India," he says, "I asked Martin for permission, but he says you are needed here. Would you have liked to have gone?"

This is the kind of difficult question a slave hates to hear. Niamh knew she would have to answer, but it is much easier, in many ways, just to obey and not have to express a preference or an opinion.

I have to tell Master Hari the truth, she thinks, but although there could be many advantages, she finds she doesn't really care to go to India, which is an unknown quantity. There are other considerations which flash through her mind.

I know Jane values my work, and I am excited by the work I am doing with Julie at the Opera, but when Master Hari leaves there will surely be a gap in my schedule. I expect I will do more work for Jane, but will there be another Master to replace Hari? My Owner has said I am needed. What does that mean? There is the Opera, of course, and now I often do research for him. Does he mean for sex? He has only taken me a few times. I'm sure he does it with Julie. Sally? What about Anne and Pat?

Since Niamh finished her initial slave training and moved on from the Intake Corridor, she remained always conscious that she was a slave, but her life had seemed almost normal in contrast. Most of the time she has a job to do, in somewhat strange circumstances, yet basically an ordinary job, even though she often has to sleep with the boss.

Hari can see the turmoil in her eyes. He wonders what is going through her head.

Niamh realises that the question has already been answered.

She opts to give him a non-committal answer. "Master, I am a slave; I must do as my Owner commands."

He sighed, "Yes, of course; I understand. There's another complication, too. It seems I have been arranged into a marriage. My mother has been bombarding me with messages about this lady, with photographs attached. I don't mind, really; I've been expecting it. I thought I could choose my own wife, but sometimes it's just too hard to fight tradition. The lady is British, too; her parents were killed in a motor accident and she was adopted by my father's cousin. He's one of the wealthiest men in the city. I'm sure he will be a very useful ally for The Enterprises in India."

Niamh has a number of thoughts, but only says, "Congratulations, Master." She makes a mental note that Master Hari doesn't appreciate the distinction between British and Irish.

"Look, I have a photograph of her here."

He takes his cellphone and opens the photo gallery. Flipping through, he chooses one of the photos. Out of the screen looks a beautiful, smiling face. Though now made up exquisitely and dressed in a traditional sari, Niamh recognises her immediately.

It's the girl from the cage next to mine, when I was sold.

A thousand thoughts raced through Niamh's head, but she managed to bite her tongue.

"Master, she looks very beautiful."

She has no doubt that Hari's father's cousin bought her as a slave. He must have changed his mind for some reason, or perhaps he had a fit of conscience or remorse. It occurs to her that he probably added in the advantage of a connection with the new Head of The Enterprises in India.

"Yes," he says, "I hope she will be able to do for me as well as you have."

"I'm sure she will," Niamh whispers.

Hari switches off his phone and places it on the bedside table. Niamh lies quietly beside him, her hand on his chest, thinking about the last time she saw the face in the photograph. It seems the girl's dream of a better Master has been amply fulfilled, and more. I wonder what her name is now, she thinks

"Master," she says "Would you tell me your fiancee's name?"

"Well, why not? Her name is Malavika."

"Master, what does it mean?"

Hari wondered about her curiosity; she surely couldn't see her as a rival, she knew that Martin would not let her go with him. He supposed it was natural curiosity since he had never before mentioned the many photographs his mother sent him.

"You said it yourself. It means Most Beautiful."

Niamh was quiet; she snuggled against him. He often wanted her to stay the night and tonight she wanted to be held.

"Master, perhaps you will bring her to the next Project Round Up."

"What is that?" he asked.

"Oh, haven't you been to one? I haven't either, but Julie told me about it. It's an annual gathering of all the Project Managers. Most of them bring wives, or husbands. Apparently, it's a very grand affair."

Whatever Hari may have thought about this prospect was lost as Niamh realised he was soundly asleep, his arm around her chest. She wriggled a little to get more comfortable, and in a short time she had joined him.

Chapter 111: Niamh asks a favour

Martin was a little surprised when Julie said that Niamh had asked to see him. It was not unknown for slaves to approach their Owners to ask a favour, but usually they would not dare take time from their fully scheduled days and nights, risking a Master's displeasure and the distinct possibility of a correction. Nevertheless, he gave permission, telling Julie to schedule a quarter-hour, in the afternoon.

As the time for the appointment neared, Martin found himself distracted by thoughts of Niamh. She was a relatively new addition to his stable of slave girls, but she had quickly made an impression on him. The first time was at her collaring ceremony, when she had seemed mesmerised by his presence. He had been attracted by her flaming mop of red hair, kissing it, without really knowing why, it was certainly not a usual part of the ceremony. Perhaps she exuded some kind of pheromone? When he had taken her anal virginity, she was nervous, no doubt, but she had accepted her part and they had all enjoyed orgasms.

When Hari Singh had mentioned the new slave was a sailor, Martin remembered, with fondness, his boyhood in England, where he had first learned to sail, and Hong Kong where he competed fiercely in club races. He had decided to test her abilities by taking her out on the bay. She had proven to be highly competent, working naturally and efficiently, without need for instructions, to help rig his little yacht, and to work the sails. She had been relaxed and playful, and he had also relaxed, and when they had sex later she was an enthusiastic participant.

Now he was curious to know what had led Niamh to request an interview. He also found a pleasant stirring of his cock, as the gorgeous redhead entered his office and made for the kneeling pad beside his desk.

"Well, my dear," he asked, "what can I do for you?"

Niamh raised her head, saying, "Please, Master, Master Hari has told me about his appointment as the General Manager for India, and I wanted to ask you if there could be a farewell party for Master Hari?"

Martin was never loathe to hold a celebration, but he thought there was something else behind Niamh's request. He decided to delve a little deeper.

"Niamh, that's a splendid idea, but why did you not go through the official communication channels."

"I'm sorry Master. It's just that I thought it should be a surprise... the grapevine works too well here... and Master Hari was so kind to all the slaves he worked with, I hoped they could bid him farewell, too." Martin could tell that Niamh's voice was pitching higher with anxiety. He pushed his chair back from the desk and beckoned her to come closer. She shuffled forward and, as Martin indicated, laid her head on his lap.

He stroked her neck and her flaming hair. "Niamh, I was planning to take a group out to a restaurant, to farewell Hari, but I think you are right. There should be an opportunity for the slaves Hari has worked with, to bid him goodbye, and I know there are quite a few. I'll ask Anne to help you organise it, and keep it super secret."

Niamh hugged Martin's legs, "Thank you, Master. I wanted Master Hari to know how much he was admired." She smiled, "I mustn't waste any more of your time."

As Niamh retreated, Martin stared pensively after her. She had come to him, her Owner, no doubt with some trepidation, to ask a favour, not for herself, but for Hari Singh and for all of the others, slave and free, who had worked with him in some way. He also remembered how Niamh had been so eager to take a role when Julie needed rescuing.

As she had knelt before him, she had seemed so vulnerable and so desirable that he had been tempted to rush her off to the bedroom right away. Though Martin was decisive in business, experience had taught him not to be too impulsive in personal relations. He thought, I will have her come to me after the Farewell party.

For some reason, Niamh's visit had brought up the memory of Laura, who, twenty-odd years before, had been his fiancée. They had met at Oxford, of course, both reading law, and the irrepressible party girl had drawn out Martin, who had grown up somewhat shy and introverted. They had been very serious, he recalled, planning to marry, even discussing how many children they should have. Much to Martin's bewilderment, it had all fallen apart, as Laura pursued what she clearly thought was a better offer, involving a minor title.

Martin was bitter, against Laura naturally, but had transferred this bitterness to all women, vowing that he would not marry, or take any woman seriously, until he was in a position of indisputable power. Still, he had good prospects, through his parents' contacts, with a City law firm. Ill luck, though, loves company. Only three months later, his parents were killed in an air crash. Many would be totally undone by events such as these, and Martin very nearly was, drinking heavily and falling into depression.

It was his fellow Oxford student and old friend from Hong Kong, Edward, who helped him overcome his sorrows and live again. From his parents, he had an inheritance, small perhaps by his present standard, but sufficient to start a determined young man on the road to wealth. He decided to return to Hong Kong and seek what opportunities he could find.

About a year before this, China had announced an acceleration of the economic reforms aimed at building a Socialist Market Economy. Though established some twelve years before, the Shenzhen Special Economic Region, bordering Hong Kong, mushroomed in the early 90's after this initiative. Using his small capital and partnering with Edward and Charles, another boyhood friend, Martin threw himself wholeheartedly into the pursuit of opportunities in China. The fears and uncertainties in Hong Kong leading up to the transfer of sovereignty in 1997 presented different opportunities to Martin and his partners who picked up many bargains from those nervous investors who withdrew from the territory.

From the turmoil of the Nineties emerged The Enterprises, the private holding company that coordinated the partners' many interests in construction, manufacturing, finance and trading. Its empire stretched wide in China, Southeast Asia, Oceania, the Russian Far East and as far as the European Union. The Enterprises brought great riches to the three partners, and greatest of all to Martin, the major shareholder.

Chapter 112: Hari

Next morning, as Niamh was tidying up after breakfast, Anne came up to discuss the farewell party for Hari.

"Martin has asked me to help you organise a farewell party for Master Hari. I must say that I am really pleased you thought of this, because it shows that you are thinking about your Master and The Enterprises and what will be pleasing to them. Actually, the organisation should not be too difficult because we have complete records of all the people, slave and free, that have worked with him."

"Thank you, Ma'am," said Niamh, "what do I need to do?"

"I'll send you down to see Chef, when I've got the final numbers; he will know what's required. Be sure to tell him it's a farewell. I'll split the list with you for notifying everyone. Your main task will be to lure Hari down to the Executive dining room at the appropriate time without arousing suspicion."

Niamh grinned, "I'm pretty sure I can do that."

"One more thing," Anne gave Niamh a hug, "You seem to have impressed the Master so much he has scheduled you for himself tomorrow night. Fifteen will help you prepare."

Niamh was surprised. She couldn't think how she had impressed her Master? It was only a simple request, and she had been so nervous, she was sure she had gabbled incoherently. True, the Master had soothed her and granted the favour, but she could not believe that he regarded her as anyway special.

There was no time to worry about it, though. She was helping Hari prepare for his departure, which mostly entailed clearing his office, sorting and packing his files, mostly to be passed on to the staff who would pick up his projects. There was such a mountain of paperwork, it was evidently going to take more than one day. Some papers were to go to archives, other to be shredded. There were some projects and files he would take with him, and these had to be scanned. One of the other Office Slaves, Sue Li, helped. Niamh had not met her before but as they worked they gossiped a bit about Hari, and Niamh felt even more glad that she had asked for the farewell party. She learned more of the many thoughtful and kind things Hari had done for the people he worked with.

Hari was in and out both days to supervise the work, or rule on some difficult choice. Hari made several calls to India to confirm arrangements. But mostly he was engaged in meetings with the people who would take over his projects. The last thing that Niamh did was to carefully pack up Hari's tea-making things: the delicate teapot, cups and saucers, and the special blend of Darjeeling tea leaves. She used a lot of tissue and bubble wrap and found a suitable white box in the discards pile. Seeing the Darjeeling logo jogged her memory of the time Hari had taught her how to make tea the way he liked. He had pointed out the stylised Indian woman, which proved the authenticity of the brand. On the top of the box she used a felt pen to copy the logo of the Indian woman, but she added a mop of red hair, in place of the original.

Hari's final meeting was with Martin. They discussed at length the broad direction for the new division in India as well as last minute details.

"Normally, you'll report to Edward," Martin said, "and I deliberately don't have a private email, but if you need to contact me directly, the best way is to use this special email address: firstlady@theenterprises.hk. Julie, or whoever is on the desk, will pass it on."

Hari murmured his appreciation.

"And that just about wraps it up, I think. Now, I think a drink is called for. Whiskey, or your preference?"

"Whiskey would be grand. Thank you."

Martin poured two tumblers of Laphroaig, handed one to Hari, and they sank into the armchairs facing the windows. Ap Lei Chau was the backdrop for the view of fishing boats and pleasure craft in the Aberdeen channel. They each raised their glasses.

"Cheers!"

"It's been a great pleasure having you here in Hong Kong, Hari, and I trust you've enjoyed the experience."

"I certainly have, Martin. The opportunity to work on such a wide range of projects has been very stimulating, not to mention the, how shall I say, special benefits of the job."

Martin laughed. "I'm sorry I couldn't let you take Niamh with you. I find I have a great need to keep her here, and in any event you would have no secure facilities for her in India. She may seem perfectly compliant, but I suspect she still needs a leash, metaphorically speaking."

"Well, yes. You know, that was the most surprising thing. I mean it was very pleasant, once I got used to the idea...but it's not really standard business practice."

"Let me tell you a story," said Martin. "About a rather introverted young man, who was jilted by his fiancée, then threw himself into forging a business."

"This is your story, I presume."

"Yes, it is," agreed Martin, and recounted the story of Laura and his subsequent rise in fortune.

"In the mid-Nineties, one of my joint ventures, a Chinese company, was involved in some infrastructure development projects in Yemen, in and around Aden port. There were some difficulties and delays which threatened to make the project not only unsuccessful, but unprofitable as well. I decided to visit myself to try and resolve the problems."

"I guess you were successful?"

"Yes, I was, and in the course of the visit, I reconnected with a local man whom I had known at Oxford. He invited me, insisted really, to visit his home in the City of Ibb. His home seemed more of a fortress from the outside, inside a luxurious mansion. He seemed to be very surprised I had not brought a 'companion' and I answered that I had found such an accessory often required more investment than the return was worth. He laughed, and said, 'Perhaps you are not investing in the most efficient way.'

"The next day, after breakfast, he said mysteriously, 'Come with me, I want to show you something you may find interesting' We put on local clothing and he drove us a little way out of town, to what looked like an abandoned fortress. My friend said, 'I have made some arrangements for you, but I will speak for you — say nothing and follow my lead.' I was a little apprehensive, as I could see that there were armed guards, but we were ushered into a large courtyard where there were divans arranged in a half-circle. There were about a dozen men already there with another three or four arriving later.