48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 21: Julie

As if on cue, the chime sounds announcing the Cart's appearance. This time, there are two attendants. Working together, they move the inhabitants of the corridor, one by one, from our cells to the Cart, where a leash shackles us to the Cart. It is a ballet of precision. Bowls of stew are ladled out, with a roll added for each slave. There is no cutlery, and the newbies learn from me that fingers are the tools of choice. As I lick the bowl clean, in preparation for my portion of juice, the newbies follow suit. I smile at each and, one by one, they manage a smile back. I am beginning the bonding process the Training Director demanded!

As soon as the Food Cart moves away, the questions start. I laugh a bit, hoping to set everyone at ease, and wave my hand to bring some order. "My name is Julie. Can you tell me what they've named you?"

"Five," comes from the sallow-faced girl on my left. "Three," comes from the redhead on my right, followed by "Those bastards didn't even let us have proper names!" "One," comes from the slave on the far right.

I smile at each and pick up on Three's complaint. "Three, just a warning. They don't appreciate being called rude names, and they really don't want to hear complaints. It has to do with the First Law of Slavery: Slaves Never Win. If you think about it, you'll see the logic. All the power and control is with them. You have no power, none at all. They get to order and command. You get to perform. If you perform, everything is fine and you go on to the next command. If you fail, they don't want to hear excuses. You didn't perform, for whatever reason, so you failed. You've heard the line 'Failure is not an option?' That's part of the First Law. Nobody will even ask why you failed. You failed; you get corrected.

"My story is probably not different from yours," I say. "I was on a cruise, I got captured, they brought me here, they've been training me for a few months. I missed a standard — Master's Enterprises keep telling me they have 'high standards' and I've found they're absolutely right about that — and I'm down here getting 'corrected,' as they say. Sometimes, it hurts." I turn so they can see my cane stripes. The redhead produces an "Oh, my god!"

By way of impressing them, I add, "They said this was just a minor correction, not even needing me to be fastened to the whipping bench. Some corrections hurt; these cane marks are the worst pain I can remember. Sometimes it doesn't hurt, not directly, like these chains I'm wearing. This is called a sirik and has been used to punish slaves for centuries. They could have used much heavier chains — I got off lightly because, remember, this is only a minor correction."

I can see that Three has lots of questions, but she seems to be taking my warning to heart. One tells us that she was taken from rural France, from a farm. She has been traded at least twice, she thinks, but her last slaver had assured her that this auction was going to see her "set up for life."

I can see that she's afraid to ask if that's true, or even what she faces in Master's Enterprises. Training Director didn't have assignments mapped out for any of these slaves beyond Sex Slave. I'm not sure how far I can go in talking with these slaves, but my Inner Goddess points out that any training I provide means less work for him, which he probably would grab credit for. I take a breath and try a gentle opening.

"Have any of you been told what kind of slavery you would have here? One's former owner sounds like he sort of knew what kind of auction was being assembled."

Three raises a hand and I point to her. She starts slowly, but gradually gets more animated. "I was working in sales at a department store in Ireland when I got grabbed one night. I think it was only a week or so ago, but they kept me in a dark room most of the time so I can't be sure. They ripped my clothes off and tied me to a bed except for meals and toilet breaks. They used me all the time, mostly my vagina, but some guys wanted to spurt in my mouth. Finally, one of them said he had a trip for me where I'd have a new job, one where I'd make 'money for an old rope.' I thought of some terrible things that could mean and started to cry. He slapped me to get me to stop, saying that was just an old saying about making easy money. They got me cleaned up a bit and then gave me a shot. I passed out and didn't wake up until I was in this new place where the boss said he was going to auction me off. He was kind, I suppose, in his way; he didn't rape me or anything. He got me cleaned up and into those clothes they just cut off me. The next morning, a bunch of us girls were put up on stage and they bid on us."

Five, who has been quiet all along, picks up the story. "It was all kind of quiet. There was no shouting like at the farm auctions when I was a young girl in the Balkans. After a while, a man took me down from the stage, put handcuffs on me, and led me to this big van, along with these other two women.

"I got taken the day after my husband divorced me. The Court Clerk said I'd have to come back late the next day to get the final papers. When I did, these two guys just picked me up like I was a package, all wrapped and ready for the Post. I spent a couple of days, I think, in a van, chained to the floor. They drove in shifts, night and day, I think, until they delivered me to the man who ran the auction. He didn't seem too happy with me at first, but he gave me a meal and a shower, with some fresh clothes — those were the ones they just cut off me — and then he said I didn't look half bad. He turned me over to a woman who taught me three positions. She hit me with a short whip until she was satisfied I could go from one to another without falling over. It took most of the night. The next morning was the auction and here I am."

I pace a bit in my cell and the newbies seem to wait for my reaction to their stories. They weren't much different from my own. I had the benefit of teaching from Igor and Anne, and then Pat, leading me into slavery. It has been softer, I suppose, but, now, we're all here in the same slave corridor.

"OK," I say, "we've all had about the same trip getting here. When I got taken, the slavers also trained me in a few basic positions. Let me tell you, our Owner and Master will make sure you know lots of positions and can move from one to the other with the grace of a prima ballerina. The trainers call it Positions and Movements, or Square One. Whatever job you'll eventually get, these are maneuvers you've got to perform perfectly. The trainers, I'm sure, will have short whips or riding crops to make sure you perform perfectly. My advice is to work like Hell on these, because they're constantly testing you, constantly grading your work. You won't get a good assignment if you can't perform perfectly."

"What kind of assignments do they have here?" It is One, the girl from France.

This is my cue! "There is a hierarchy of slaves. At the bottom are the slaves who work out in the fields or with the animals or in factories. These are mostly men, because the work is heavy and hard and the accommodations are pretty rough. If you screw up, and if they don't just decide to sell you on, this is where you'll go.

"The next step up is called Office Slave. You may work in a factory or in an office or store. The work is exacting, but you'll probably at least have regular hours. I think the Enterprises' Office Slaves are housed in dormitories.

"Above the Office Slave is the House Slave. You get to work with the people who are taking care of these Enterprises, like in the kitchen or laundry. You probably won't have a regular assignment, because every day there is something different going on here.

"The top shelf for slaves, at least from what I've seen in these Enterprises, is Body Slave. You get assigned to one of the managers as his or her personal assistant. You do what he or she wants, when he or she wants it, and how he or she wants it. And that includes sex. A Body Slave is always ready for whatever her Master or Mistress wants. And that brings me to two words you have got to understand."

I pause for effect. A glance around shows that my three "students" are paying strict attention. "The two words are 'need' and 'want.' Whether it's one or the other, your Master or Mistress is going to rely on you to have whatever items ready for these needs or wants, and before your Master or Mistress thinks to ask for them. Do you understand?"

I kind of like how I'm introducing The Question to these new slaves.

From the cries that go up from the newbies, I'm not sure that was a good time for the question. As Three puts it, "There's no way in Hell anyone can do that. It would take some magic to even know about what a boss would want."

I wave an arm and they quiet down. "No, there's no magic involved. What is involved is really pretty simple. You have to work like Hell to find out what project your Master is working on — and the proper title is not 'boss' but Master or Mistress — and then you study it until you know it like the back of your hand. Then, when your Master starts that project, you think about what he's going to need or want in the next half-hour and you make sure that all those things are right to hand. And, it's not things you would use, but it's the things he or she likes to use. Do you understand?"

There is a short silence, and One, the girl who seemed angry when the slaves were brought in, asks, "But, is this really possible? Can you get to know a Master so well?"

I grin. It's time for the pièce de résistance! "My dear," I say with all the confidence I can muster, "all you have to do is keep your Master as the center of your universe. For a slave, there is no one but her Master. Her universe revolves around her Master. If you can keep your Master at the center of your universe, the rest of it is a piece of cake."

"Could you do it?"

The expression on my face, I'm sure, gives me away. "At the start, I had no idea what I was doing. With corrections and training, I was getting pretty good at it, at least most of the time. Then, I messed up. That's part of why I'm here, instead of with my Master."

The silence that greets this confession seems to go on forever. I don't want to go into details; I still have some shreds of dignity somewhere, my Inner Goddess keeps telling me. The new slaves have no context or background to understand, to formulate a follow-up question. I am surprised when the female Guard comes to the kiosk at my cell door. She looks at me, but her comment is clearly meant for the newbies.

"Slaves, you are just starting to understand your new Path in Life. This one has been working at it for a few months. Let me give you a piece of advice: Listen to what this slave is telling you. She learned all these things not from some book, but from living this new life. You'd have to be stupid to ignore the lessons she's telling you. Are you stupid?"

It's a direct question. These new slaves know the rules require a slave's direct answer. She walks around the corridor, pausing at each slave's cell door until the slave responds. Uniformly, the answer is a whispered "No, Ma'am."

I am flushed with gratitude. With just a single question, this Guard has ensured that my bond with the newbies, frayed by my confession, will stay strong. It is as Master had said that first night on his yacht: we are to be helpful and generous to each other.

Still, conversation stops as the new slaves try to fit themselves in a new universe. The female Guard takes this time to bring my butt plug into my cell. Instantly, I have three observers standing at the bars of their cells trying to fathom this procedure. Tonight's plug is a bit larger than before, so it takes me a few minutes to adjust to the fullness feeling. I still haven't had any arousal or erotic feeling from the plug and I'm wondering about that. I'm not sure whether this is something I could ask about when the Guard asks for my "Report."

While I'm busy "adjusting," the Guards are in the other cells explaining Evening Rituals. Even One is paying attention to their instructions. Afterwards, they have some questions about details, especially about how to keep their cells as clean as the Guards want them. I give the best answers I can, but, for the most part, lots of this will depend on their own grace and attention to detail.

Three has a new question. "Please, you told us about the First Law. Is there a Second Law?"

I hear a few snickers, and move towards them, stifling them. "Three, that's a good question. It shows you're thinking about this Path in Life. And, Yes, there is a Second Law. It kind of follows from the First Law. There's lots of formulations for it, but the simplest one is Anything Can Get Worse. You get sentenced to three strikes with a cane? It can easily be increased to thirty. Your arms are tied in a boxtie? How about they add some leg ties and you're in a hogtie? They take away one meal? How about three meals? For a slave, these are realities, and a Master or trainer can make them happen with just a wave of his hand."

That idea, that their lives are hanging on their Master's will or whim, is enough to silence further conversation. I can see each of these new slaves retreat within themselves, trying to adjust to this new reality. I try to add some perspective that might help them. "Please, slaves, let me add something for you to think about. You know I said you have no power in this new life, that your Owner, your Master has all the power? Well, the reality of this 'power exchange,' as it's called, is that your Master also has all the responsibility to keep you well. Remember that One told us that her slaver had said this auction would 'set her up for life?' Well, our Owner at these Enterprises is a good man, who takes these responsibilities very seriously. If you do the work you will be trained to do, your life here will be a good one. Some of the senior slaves have told me that they have a life of satisfaction, of pride, in their achievements. And, I have had that feeling on the occasions when I managed to do some assignment properly."

I don't know whether Training Director will approve of what I've told the newbies. It's all true, of course, but — if he had some other stuff he wanted discussed — that wouldn't protect me. Anyway, the call from the Security Station comes for Lights Out in ten minutes, so we all scurry around getting comfortable. When the lights dim, a sort of peace descends in my Master's Intake Unit slave corridor.

Author's Note: The Intake Unit Slave Corridor now has four inhabitants and Julie has the task of "orienting" and "imbuing" the newbies to their new Paths in Life. We'll see if she does as well as Pat or Anne in this task.

J Spe