48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 13: Juli

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The center of Master's universe.
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4.39
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Part 13 of the 51 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 10/21/2014
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Carole99
Carole99
467 Followers

Author's Note: Julie, Our Heroine, has just performed for a government Minister and is now delivered back to the staff kitchen. She has been too "occupied" to think about whether she performed well or badly, and certainly has not thought about the intelligence she was supposed to elicit. This will now be "rectified."

J Spe, coauthor

*****

My Minister greets Anne and Pat, my trainers, with a friendly smile. "Well, ladies, thank you for waiting up for us. Usually, these constituency visits are dull, but tonight has been quite the opposite. Now, I'm sure you have a question or two for me?"

I am shocked speechless, which just shows how much training I'm going to need to carry off this First Lady stuff. Anne, however, moves smoothly into the breach.

"Sir, you know, of course, that our Enterprises have real estate all over the Territory. Mostly, they are in places well-served by the MTR, but some are here on the south side of the island. We keep hearing about extending some lines to the south, but no construction seems to get going."

Clearly, Minister is prepared for this topic. He rattles off the names of several committees and companies that have been asked for proposals. He mentions "budget battles" a few times. He winds up the mini-lecture with the observation that a short line, naming just a few stations, might be in the cards in the next year or two. From the grins that Anne and Pat are showing, this is exactly what my Master wanted to learn. We escort him to the elevator lobby and he is gone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Seventeen: De-Briefing and Corrections

Not ready when Minister asked for questions. Not able to hold the position. Tinkled the chains/not understanding the cleaning position. Balanced by return NOT in transport mode. I am thinking of what I was supposed to do and how I measured up.

Back in the kitchen, I start cleaning up after our "coffees" when Pat and Anne tell me "Just let that go for a moment, Julie. We need to know what you said that put the Minister so on guard at the start."

I'm startled by their question. I explain that I had given the line suggested by my Inner Goddess and he laughed, promising to have me fainting from laughter. My trainers ask the question again, from a different perspective, and I remember my chagrin, covered by a chuckle which led to Minister's question and my answer. Pat's expression shows displeasure with my chagrin: clearly, I hadn't been thinking with Master at the center of my universe, had I?

"Your conversation may have seemed light-hearted and immaterial to you," Pat says, "but the idea of 'keeping you laughing' was so unexpected, so unusual, that it set off his suspicions of a trap. Ministers don't usually sniff around a room, turning on lights and such. We don't know if he found any of our bugs or cameras, but he was clearly not going to say anything in that room."

"Then, why was he so talkative and forthcoming later in the kitchen?"

My trainers look at me with amazement clearly written on their faces.

"Please, Ma'am, this slave doesn't understand. It all seemed so ordinary, so routine. Just a bit of banter back and forth. This situation is not like anything I've been in before. Please, explain what's been going on; this slave just doesn't understand." By the time I've gotten these words out, I'm wailing and sobbing. My mind is in a whirl and the only thing I can think of is a single word: de-accession.

Anne wraps me in her arms and strokes my back, the calming gestures that I've come to crave from my trainers. It takes a bit of time, but I gradually gain some self-control.

"Hush, Julie," she says, no tone of anger in her voice. "There's no permanent harm done, so there's no great crime here. Pat and I just need more details so we can work out the triggers and responses."

Pat picks up, also without anger in her voice. "Julie, look at it this way. You come from a brand new country, with not much in the way of tradition. Most everything is informal, on-the-fly. Now, however, you're in an ancient country, with traditions thousands of years in the making. These people are used to regular ways of doing things. Every move, every comment, every facial expression is expected to follow these rules. They don't expect banter. And, the idea of him keeping you laughing is inconceivable."

I'm beginning to catch on. The old cliché about the "inscrutable Orient" comes to mind. I tell this to my trainers, and they nod and smile in agreement.

Anne releases her embrace and motions for me to kneel. "I suspect that, by the time he brought you to the kitchen, he had categorized you as just another 'crazy American' and not smart enough to entice him to reveal the information we wanted from him. It was, therefore, simply expedient for him to ask us what we wanted. It posed no problems for him, so he gave us some information. It's enough for us to start tapping our other sources for details."

Pat catches my chin and turns my head to face her. "A slave has no right to feel — what did you call it? — chagrin? You reacted to your own feeling with a trigger that set off our Minister's suspicions. This is not acceptable. Master's slaves meet a higher standard in controlling their behavior. Now, that is a crime and your trainers will discuss your correction. Now, Transport Mode!"

The command is so curt that, for an instant, I don't understand, don't react. Just before Anne can grasp my arm to bring me upright with hands behind, I manage to scramble into position. The handcuffs click on, just a click too tight, I sense, and I am marched to my room.

I am as terrified as I was on Blue Bayou, but I manage to hold onto one idea: I will be corrected, but not de-accessioned. I am taken out of Transport Mode and quickly strip and manage to hang or fold the clothes Master's Enterprises have provided. After a quick trip to the toilet, I lie down on the bed. That is when I notice the absence of any pillow. My "correction" has, at least in part, started. Pat takes my left wrist and cuffs it to the bed. Through to the click of the door lock, not a word has been said. I understand. None are needed.

I manage to get to sleep but the click of the door lock awakens me after just an hour. Pat comes to the bedside, takes my right wrist and imprisons it, pairing it with the already chained left. In a second, she is gone.

But, of course, she returns two more times during the night, during which each of my ankles is cuffed and chained to the bed. I am a bit stretched, and not at all sleepy in this position.

The morning adds some humiliation to the discomfort of my correction. Pat arrives with a bedpan, instructs me to lift my bottom so it can be placed, and waits for me to relieve my bladder. I respond to the "Lift up" command and the utensil is removed. Pat dumps the contents in the toilet and I hear the pan washed. Pat's departure is signaled only by the click of the door lock.

In just a few minutes, I catch on that this "correction" will also involve missing breakfast.

I also miss lunch.

I am so grateful to see Igor's grinning face that I don't see the small whip he is carrying. However, I know enough to wait for his opening greeting before spouting anything.

"We think you might have had enough time to get your focus back on Master as the center of your universe. Are we right?"

My answer doesn't gush right out. My trainer has asked a serious question. I do the deep breath thing and put my thoughts in order.

"Yes, Sir. This slave thanks its trainers for this silent period so that it can bring Master again to the center of its universe."

I have given quite a bit of thought to this statement, including whether to add a promise to never lose that focus again. In the end, I decided that might not be possible — the Associates at the law firm always thought I was the headstrong one. I'd worked on that sentence ever since my first ankle was cuffed to the bed. I wait to see if it hits the right note for my trainers.

Apparently, it does.

Igor nods and says, "Yes, we thought the time away from any distractions would be helpful. Now, consider your behavior with the chains the Minister used to stretch you so beautifully."

It takes me a moment to remember that, after Minister had been satiated, I'd tinkled the chains so he'd free me to clean him. Actually, he'd just moved a bit and presented himself to me while I remained in position, the position he'd wanted captured in a photograph.

Igor asks, "Can you describe your error for me?"

I replay my thoughts about making noise with the chains, and how it was entirely unnecessary. I am embarrassed, but manage to squeak out an answer for my trainer.

"Please, Sir. We were lying together after the Minister was finished, and I remembered how important it is to never leave a Master unclean. I wanted to move to clean him. Instead, he moved and presented himself and the cleaning went without my needing to be freed."

Igor nods thoughtfully and adds, "So, why are your trainers so upset by this mere snippet of your action?"

Now that I'm looking at it from a Master's point of view, it seems obvious. "Please, Sir, this slave should not have asked or signaled to Master to do something. A Good Slave does not direct its Master. A Good Slave waits until its Master orders the slave.

Igor's grin widens. "Exactly so, my dear. Now, you seem to be in a very close approximation to the position you were in at the time of your, let us say, indiscretion. Thus, it is symmetrical to administer your correction at this time. You will count the strokes, right?"

I barely realize what is happening but manage to gasp out a quick "Yes, Sir" before his whip lays a stripe across my thighs. It burns like fire, but the chains prevent me from curling away from it.

I almost scream out the count, "One, Sir, may I have another?"

Igor complies, this time across my abdomen. Along with the count, I have the crazy thought that the diet and exercises my trainers have had me on had slimmed this area of a few pounds of "baby fat."

Igor works his single-tail whip upwards, putting stripes on my abdomen, chest, and across each breast. Finally, he stops the slashes and leans down to nip playfully at each nipple. I am surprised to find them both fully erect, even with the fire of the whipmarks so close. I have screamed with the pain from each stripe, but there was no crying or sobbing or pleading. What have these trainers made me into?

"I think these stripes and this position will provide some food for thought?" Igor's eyes show his interest in my reply. I manage a very sincere, "Yes, Sir," and then cannot suppress a giggle. Before Igor can get upset over this extraordinary response, I rush out an answer.

"Please, Sir, your 'food for thought' just looked like a replacement for breakfast and lunch."

Igor allows a small chuckle and informs me that someone will be by to get me ready for dinner this evening. I'm dying (figuratively speaking, of course) to see the first whip marks I've earned in my slavery, but I know better than to ask for a mirror. The marks will be there, probably a bit more colored, when my trainers believe it is time for me to be freed for dinner.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Eighteen: The Legend

It is after the Round-up, and both Pat and Anne had used me to help them relax, although from the moans and screams and writhing around, I didn't think they got much relaxation. I am curious that neither Master nor Igor has called for me. It isn't that I am jealous of whomever they are with — at least, I don't want to think that — but I am curious. OK, so maybe I am a bit put out that they aren't calling for my "services."

After a few more days, I must be giving off some signs of upset, because Anne braces me during a snack, saying, "OK, kid, what's bugging you?" Diplomatic, right?

I blush and look down. Such submissive behavior is usually a good idea when a slave is answering her trainer. Anne isn't fooled for a second. She grabs my chin and forces me to look into her eyes. Thankfully, they are more curious than fierce.

"Please, Ma'am, I just don't understand. The Round-up is over and all that stress is gone, but Master hasn't called for me at all. Igor hasn't, either. What am I doing wrong, Ma'am?"

Anne's face breaks out into a wide grin, which confuses me more, although it is much better than a frown. "Kid, you're not doing anything wrong. Matter of fact, Master said he rather liked all the things you did during Round-up. Said it was very helpful. So, stop worrying, OK?"

So, OK, I'm not in trouble. Still, a girl likes to get those calls, you know? My face must have shown this feeling, because Anne gives a short laugh and adds, "Slave, here's part of your slavery you haven't absorbed yet. Slaves get told what they need to know when Masters and trainers want them to know it. You just keep on keeping Master at the center of your universe and you'll be fine." She pauses, as if for an effect. "You do remember about Curiosity and the Cat?"

She seems to be making a joke, but I have learned enough about slavery to know that, for a Master, it is only a split second between a joke and reality. I take my usual deep breath and get myself back in focus. When it is proper time, I'd be told.

Proper time comes about two hours later, after I'd shepherded a visiting dignitary and his aides through his meeting with Master and his aides. Master signals for me to return after the farewells. I make it back upstairs in record time, kneeling before him in perfect position.

"Julie," he begins, his voice not giving anything away, "it is time for you to learn about an ancient Chinese tradition. Do you know about the phases of the moon?"

WHAT! Talk about coming from left field! I get over my startle and manage something about learning about the moon in High School. Master beams! I am all right!

"Very good. Now, do you know what phase we're in just now?"

I am so not all right! Master can tell even before I manage some feeble excuse. He chuckles a bit. Now, I'm scared. Master's slave had failed something and, now, Master is chuckling? I can only think he's enjoying the prospect of seeing me "corrected" in some horrible and painful manner. Suddenly, I'm not breathing so easily.

Master pets my head, moving his hand down my neck and over my back, just the way he knows I like it. Actually, it's the way he trained me to like it.

"Julie, relax for a moment. Most women, nowadays, don't keep up with the moon. When it was more important to keep up with their cycles, then they had a reason to watch every evening.

"Actually, we're into the waxing gibbous phase now."

I'm impressed, but my expression must have shown I had no idea what waxing a gibbous was. Master's smile shows he understands.

"That means that the moon is in its first half, the half when it's growing larger, fuller. After the full moon, when the moon is getting slimmer, we call that the waning gibbous phase. Understand?"

That question I know. "Yes, Master, I understand. Waxing is growing and waning is getting smaller."

"Now," Master continues, "because of the legend of Let's Fuck All the Virgins, both Igor and I aren't calling for your services. In a few days, when the moon passes Full, I'm sure you'll be called. Does that reassure you?"

My grin and my "Yes, Master," get me another pet. I rise with the grace Anne and Igor have trained into my muscles and fairly float out of Master's office. Of course, as soon as I get into the hallway, I realize that I really don't understand. What's this ancient Chinese legend of Let's Fuck All the Virgins?

I only know two Chinese here at Master's Base. Charles is nowhere to be found, but Edward is in his office. I let Anne know where I'm going and present myself to Master's lieutenant, folding into my kneeling position with all the grace I can muster. If I'm going to try to extract information from the man, I figure I'd be wise to "soften him up" with some feminine wiles.

Edward sees through my wiles. "Nice position, Julie. Now, what brings you here in such a rush? Unless I miss my guess, Master must have said something to you?"

It's an opening! "Yes, Sir," I start, using my "conspiratorial" tone of voice. "Please, Sir, Master wants me to research something.

"Master was scoping out some activities for the next few days and mentioned something that was controlling them." OK, there's a bit of misdirection there, but Master did mention "a few days," didn't he?

Edward cocks an eyebrow, a trait I know means he is intrigued. "Indeed? Well now, let's see." He thinks for a moment and a faint smile warms his face. "Given one clue about a few days and another about controlling events, the only factor I can think of would be the moon."

"Yes," I interrupt. "He said we'd have to wait until the waxing gibbous got to be a waning gibbous, just after the Full Moon phase." In the time it takes me to get that one sentence out, I realize my act of interruption is going to rate me a "correction." I push that unfortunate idea down and ask, "Please, Sir, Master also referred to an ancient Chinese legend —."

"That must be the legend of Let's Fuck All the Virgins?" Edward is allowed to interrupt a slave.

"Yes, Sir, that's the name he gave me to research." Well, that might be a bit of overstatement, but, hey, when you're extracting intelligence, doesn't a lawyer get to lead the witness a bit?

Edward leans back in his chair, tents his fingers in front of his lips, and considers.

Then, "Do your trainers know where you are?"

"Yes, Sir. I told Anne I was coming here to ask you about something."

"All right, then. Prepare a pot of tea for us. It will take a bit of time to put you exactly in the picture. I'll do a telephone call while it brews."

I'm back upstairs to our kitchen putting the kettle on when Anne comes in. "Slave," she says, and I know I did something not according to proper procedure. Immediately, I am kneeling one meter before her, my head down in submission. I don't have long to wait.

"You said you needed to consult with Edward. Now, you're back, and without reporting in?"

This has got to be my Lucky Day! My trainer is asking a question, giving me an opening to present my excuse for the indiscretion. I try, "Please, Ma'am, Master said some things that needed research and Edward said it would take some time and to brew a pot of tea to cover that time."

As Anne considers my "report," which sort of hangs in the air for the present, I can see how much embellishment I have done on a few simple remarks. A cliché suggests itself: Boy, am I on thin ice!

Anne whips out — OK, maybe that's not a good phrase — her cellphone, taps a key, and says, "Hello, Edward. Julie tells me you're going to help her with some research? Would it be convenient for me to join you for the discussion?" She listens for a moment, a grin spreads across her face, she says Thank you, and replaces the cellphone.

"Make the pot large enough for three."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As I bring the tea service into Edward's office, Anne and Edward are already seated around the conference table, where a plate of cookies is waiting. I pour the cups, taking extra care this afternoon not to spill a drop. Anne takes an envelope of sweetener; Edward has two lumps of sugar. I file this for future reference. Edward nods his permission for Master's slave to have a cup of tea. Everyone looks comfortable and Edward tells us the ancient Chinese legend of Let's Fuck All the Virgins.

Once upon a time, in the land east of the sun and west of the moon, there was an Emperor who was beloved by his people for his kind and just rule. Because of this, he was also beloved of the gods who ruled the universe and they gave him the promise of a long life.

Carole99
Carole99
467 Followers
12