48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 24: Julie

Blue Bayou Part 24 Julie Scene 17

Author's Note: Julie is being prepared for her second slave auction. Her trainer has promised her a surprise this evening. No Comments or e-mails tumbled to this one!

• J Spe

I just about run over the messenger on the return trip to my cell. It seems like an extra-long time for the Security Station to check me back in. My Inner Goddess is more excited than I can remember. The new slaves are still at classes, but, clearly, everybody knows something is in the air.

The female Guard comes into my cell with a sports drink, which I down with some nervousness. She motions me to place the empty on the sink, which I do, of course. I am just beginning to see this as out of character as I turn back to her when I see her waving a key. I freeze and she starts to unlock my sirik! Each padlock takes just a few seconds, but the entire scene seems to unfold like a movie — it's just that I can't hear the music in the background. I raise each foot for the ankle shackles and, then, I am unrestrained! I wear only my collar. Risking everything, since I have no permission to speak, I fall into the Obeisance Position and exclaim, "Please, Ma'am, thank you, Ma'am. And thank you for my Master and trainers."

The Guard smiles, collects the pieces of the sirik, and returns to the Security Station to log this event into the computer. I dance around my cell, stretching and running through all the Movements and Positions I can remember. It doesn't take long for my Inner Goddess to let the air out of this bubble. "OK, kid. Now, about the lessons?" I settle down for some hard thinking.

As the new slaves are returned to the slave corridor, each picks up on my freedom from the sirik. (Of course, my elegant arm waves might have tipped them off.) Their questions just bubble up but, obviously, I really don't have answers to their big question: Why did they take it off?

"Please, I don't really have answers for most of your questions. My trainer just told me there would be a surprise for me and to think about its lessons. I've been doing that and I have some ideas. You might be interested, so please listen, think about these lessons, and learn from my experiences. You don't need to go through everything I've gone through, you know. Slaves are supposed to be generous with each other, so learn this stuff now, before it comes to you as a correction. OK?"

Each newbie settles into Position One on her pallet. I walk from side to side in my cell, so each slave will be able to see the intense expression on my face. I am trying very hard to put some shape into so many ideas. Finally, I think I've got a good starting point.

"The first lesson of the sirik is that it really restricts your movement. It was a symmetric correction to my crime, I see now. Now that my Master has released me from the sirik, I understand that he has given me not only movement, but a kind of freedom to serve what he wants or needs. The lesson is simple: my job as a slave — and your job, too — is to keep my focus on what my Master is doing, so that I can provide for his wants or needs.

"The second lesson is a bit harder to describe. Part of it is that my Master has no interest or need to be cruel to his slaves. He and his staff are always ready to provide training. In fact, his training enables this slave to perform up to his expectations. He has never set a task that I was not trained to accomplish. He calls it 'high standards' and I'm sure you'll hear more about them from your own trainers. Maybe I can describe it as 'training to succeed.'

"And the last, most important lesson, is quite simple. Master trusts this slave. He has allowed me to leave the sirik behind. He trusts me to move to my assignments without Transport Mode cuffs or a on a leash led by someone from Security. I feel a sense of achievement, of pride in myself. I hope each of you, in your slavery, will come to that feeling also."

Well, it's a bit long, and probably too much "over the top," but that's how I've figured out the lessons Igor asked me to understand. I'm sure someone will correct me if I'm out of line. But, this time, I think I've got it right.

When the female Guard comes to insert my butt plug, and for a bit of pussy-licking, she casually adds that she enjoyed my little speech and will "borrow" some of the lessons to add to her own talks with the slaves coming to the Intake Unit.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Forty-Nine: I Walk to Conference Room 42

I find out that my "unpermissioned" speech to the Guard has a cost: one slash from the Guard's crop across my abdomen. There is another change in my schedule. The usual Gym workout is replaced by a ballet lesson in walking, or, rather, gliding, across a space. On my return, a Guard shows me a map. It details my journey to Conference Room 42, giving the codes for the elevator. He clips a fob to my collar and tells me its electronics will open appropriate doors for me. He has one other "present."

"Upstairs sent this new set of clothes for you. Get dressed and we'll send you upstairs."

It isn't actually a "set" of clothes. It is a leather halter and g-string ensemble, dyed gray and light red. The halter simply outlines my breasts, because there is no triangle of material to form a cup. Wearing the halter, I feel my breasts are at least a cupsize larger. The g-string is so narrow that it snuggles in my slit. But, I will not be going "upstairs" naked!

The codes work in the elevator and two corridor Fire Doors I hadn't thought about before open at my touch. Conference Room 42's door is open and, as usual, I am first inside. Today, Charles brings the folder. He has me pirouette and I delight in showing off my mobility without the sirik as well as with the basic moves the balletmaster has taught me.

Charles, of course, is ahead of me. "I like your new clothes," he announces. "I have just the thing to set off the leather look." He points to the floor one meter in front of him, and I go to Position One right there. Charles produces a small jewelry box and extracts a pair of small, complicated machines. "Do you recognize these?"

"No, Sir. I don't know what these are."

Charles shows me how squeezing two small pads opens up a pair of larger pads. "These are clover clamps. They are to decorate your nipples. The spring mechanism has an important purpose. It applies a standard pressure on your nipples so these clamps won't fall off. The rest of the machinery has another purpose. As you pull on the clamp, or as weights are attached to the clamp, the mechanism closes more tightly on your nipple. We usually start with a few grams, but most slaves can work up to a half-pound with practice."

Master's lieutenant has been supporting my left breast in one hand, his thumb stroking my nipple, which is now almost fully engorged and erect. He positions the clover clamp and releases the spring slowly, so the clamp fixes itself to my breast quite gently. He follows a similar procedure with my right breast and it is a few moments until I feel the pressure, the bite of these clamps.

Unbidden, my hands come up a bit, but Charles captures them in his hands and holds them away from my breasts, now throbbing in pain. The warm glow from the decorative halter is only a memory. With his cellphone, Charles takes a photo of my new decorations and shows it to me. I cannot believe how erotically exciting it is!

"Slave," he says, "the nature of your nipples is to go numb after a few moments. The clamps are designed not to cause any damage to your nipples. But, when the clamps are removed, there will be some pain as circulation is restored to these nice buds. This may be painful for a time, but it is worth it to enhance the beauty of your breasts. Do you understand?"

My answer is never in doubt. "Please, Sir. This Slave understands. Project beauty at all times. Thank you, Sir."

"Now, we've been reviewing some of what we've discussed in these conferences. Master wants to make sure you understand one of the points very clearly. That is, during the Demonstration Day, there will be all sorts of attempts to stir your emotions, to humiliate you, to make you explode. The buyers know that our Enterprises are selling you, and they probably suspect that the reason for your sale is some lack or defect in your psychological response to slavery. So, they'll push you to see what makes you explode. What are you going to do about these probes?"

With just a second's thought, I realize that the lessons my Master was teaching with my release from the sirik provide solid ground for my answer. "Please, Sir, my plan is to demonstrate spirit, but with acceptance of my slavery. My Master's kindness and care have taught me this acceptance. My plan is to demonstrate enough spirit to entice and engage a buyer. I will not, as you say, 'explode.' I think I'll try to use humor, perhaps a bit of sarcasm, to show this spirit. My trainers have shown me that a bit of humor shows that this slave understands the limits her slavery imposes and accepts her slavery."

Charles' grin shows I am following the leads my Master and trainers have laid out for me. My Inner Goddess is already giggling at the jibes and jokes she will try out on the Slavemaster and his staff, as well as on the buyers.

"From the grin on your face and the sparkle in your eyes," Charles replies, "I'm sure you're really looking forward to these Demonstration Day encounters."

My blush — I can still do that? — confirms Charles' suspicions. He wags a finger, and I know that he, or someone from our team, will be watching to make sure I don't overdo this!

The rest of the conference lays out my schedule. There will be sessions to work on designs for my hair and makeup, a bit of review for some clothes I may need before Registration at the House of Slavery, blood tests to show my freedom from illness, and sessions with the balletmaster to improve my grace in moving. I've already heard his favorite saying a dozen times: Think that you are a long drink of water; flow into position as you satisfy your thirst, without turbulence.

See? I'm not the only one who can be over the top!

As this conference draws to a close, Charles cocks an eye at me and tells me that he knows a good way to maintain the happiness that we've discussed in this hour.

"It isn't money or things or how beautiful you are," he says, "but whether you practice gratitude every day. There will always be someone with 'more' than you have, but people who are grateful for what they do have are also happiest." He suggests a few ways to practice this gratitude. "Meditate each morning; think about your purpose for the day, not just about what tasks are on your "To Do" list. Write down, or get the Guard to start a computer log for you, something for which you are grateful; this effort to look for positive things actually can help rewire your mind. Pay attention to inspirational and positive people; these folks are more fun to be around, and they won't drain the fun out of your life. If you do have a negative thought, talk back to it; use a positive thought to prevent the negatives from making an impact. Lastly, focus on your new Owner and Master; helping him or her will lead to a sense of achievement, a positive change in your mood."

By the time he finishes, I'm practically in tears. If only ... if only I'd practiced these ideas, I'm sure I wouldn't be in this Intake Unit slave corridor, facing my second auction.

Charles gives me that stroke on my neck and back that I treasure, and waves me back to my cell. By the time I reach the slave corridor, tears have left tracks on my cheeks. The Guard who checks me in notices, of course, and stays with me in my cell. He takes my "report" on the conference, immediately understands the tears, and folds me into his arms, offering the comfort of a friend. As I reach for self-control, he adds some words of comfort, for which I am grateful.

He ends with an aphorism, I think: "Remember, little one, I'm not going to be happy until you're not going to be happy."

It takes a moment, but I finally decode his statement, delivered with such quiet assurance. Shocked, I am ready to show some of that "spirit" Charles had spoken about, until I see his grin. Tears are forgotten as a spasm of giggles bursts out instead.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Fifty: I Sail Up the Pearl River

The day comes. My Master and his staff have told me about this auction and have spent hours upon hours, it seems, getting me ready. I have resolutely pushed the idea of leaving this "family" to the back of my mind, although it keeps slipping out. Still, as my Master has always done, I have been trained to succeed in this last task for the Enterprises: selling well.

I have completed my Morning Rituals and taken Morning Nourishments. Charles comes to the slave corridor Security Station, signs a few papers which, I guess, are my Transport Documents, and presents a new shift for me to wear. I trail him out of the slave corridor and up to the Lobby. It is the same Lobby I was ushered through so many months before — then with everyone's high hopes. Today, the Lobby is deserted and seems permeated by an air of sadness.

Today, I don't get to ride in an SUV. I am ushered to a small truck and placed in the cargo box. A set of manacles is placed on my wrists and the chain is lifted to the box ceiling. A wide belt is fastened around my waist and cables are clipped to it from four directions. My legs are shackled to D-rings set into the floor. The Security crew pats me on the head and tells me that this is standard Seven Point Restraint for moving a slave. The back door of the box opens and a fork lift slides a large container covered in a canvas jacket into the box. It takes a moment to lock the container in place; doors slam closed and the truck moves off.

The trip is slow, probably because of traffic, I guess. Eventually, the truck stops, backs up a bit as if to a loading dock, and doors are opened. The container is rolled out onto a dock at the Aberdeen Promenade, exactly the place where I first came with my Master to Hong Kong. The container is wrestled aboard a yacht that seems to extend out to the horizon! I am released from the Seven Point Restraint and am allowed to walk aboard using a gangplank copied from a castle in Disney's Magic Kingdom. I cannot help but compare boarding this ship with boarding Master's yacht from Blue Bayou. I keep my sandals and have traded the handcuffs of Transport Mode for the collar of my slavery.

A uniformed sailor guides me to a small room below decks. It is almost an exact copy of my cell on Master's yacht after my auction on Blue Bayou. I have to fight back tears of shame; I had progressed from this cell to the Empress' dining room, only to throw it all away, so that I was back to a simple cell on a yacht. The sailor says nothing but, as he leaves, I hear the door lock click.

Fairly soon, the yacht leaves the Promenade and I am impressed by its stability in the open sea. Then, even the gentle rocking subsides and I guess that we've entered the Pearl River itself. Charles comes to my cell and signals me to follow him. Again, it's to the stern where he directs me to a buffet set up for lunch. I have my hands, in contrast to the Transport Mode for my first meal as Master's slave, so I take samples of some familiar dishes and bring my plate to the table, sitting where Charles points. We eat in silence, efficiently. I'm not sure what my program will be for this day; I do know that, tomorrow at 1300 hours, I am due at the auction house slave corridor.

At last, Charles sits back, his plate clean. "Julie, I want you to know that this trip is both sad and happy for me. The sad part is that I've come to like you over these months. You've brought some kind of spirit to the Enterprises that we've all enjoyed. Now, of course, that's all over and that's why I, along with many others, am sad to see you go. The happy part is that we've done everything we could to set you up for a good sale. The Buyers at this auction are all substantial men and women, with experience training and maintaining slaves. We've made inquiries and none of them has ever had a bad report about how they treated any slave, so we're confident that your next corridor won't be one where you'll be abused. Everyone is happy so see you go off to a good place."

He stops for a grin. "And the accounting guys think you have a chance to sell at enough to clear your Profit and Loss statement with the Enterprises."

I know, since Anne had explained it to me that first day, that I am considered just another asset, causing expenses and earning income, with a warning not to have the income fall too far behind the expenses. It is a bit upsetting to be reminded of it so simply, although I understand Charles' point of view.

My Master joins us from the Bridge Deck, something which seems to surprise Charles. He waves a hand and sits down alongside his lieutenant and across from where I have slid to Position One on the deck.

"Slave," my Master starts, and it just cuts me that I am no longer "Julie."

"It sometimes happens that we go along in our thoughts without really thinking. I'm afraid I've let that happen when we were doing your planning and training for this auction. Still, we have a few hours on this trip, and I'd like to talk with you, no rules involved. Will you do this for me?"

I am speechless" Speechless is not my usual state, but I don't know what to say! Charles comes to my aid as smoothly as he usually does. "Julie, the simplest answer here is "'Yes, Sir.'"

I manage a smile and give the "Yes, Sir," and my Master and Charles give a small laugh so I know the tension is broken.

"What I meant was that we've worked on some of the tactics that you might use to entice a Buyer. But, I've neglected a bit of strategy here, something a bit more basic than tactics. Take a generic buyer, for instance. This auction has been advertised as featuring pleasure slaves. So, what do you think a buyer might be looking for?"

That one I could answer! "Please, Sir, it's probably a male, and he's looking for a girl to have sex with whenever and however he wants it."

"Really? Just sex whenever and however?"

My Inner Goddess tells me I'm missing something here, but I can't think what. A guy is looking for pleasure, so he buys a slave for sex, right?

Charles seems to understand my Master better. He slips in another question. "Is sex the key to pleasure?"

Oh my! I begin to see some variation in the picture. "Please, Sir, doesn't the male see his orgasm as the end result, the climax, to all the foreplay?"

"And what is all the foreplay about? Why is it so important? Why are there all kinds of foreplay, all kinds of games people play, or roles they act out as part of the foreplay?"

My jaw drops as I "get" what he's driving at. "Please, Master, you're telling me that the climax is only like the winning score of a nine-inning game? That playing the game is just as important as hitting the home run?"

My Master's face breaks into a small smile, one of those nice faces he has. "Not only that, my dear, but sometimes the man enjoys the game so much the final score, the climax, doesn't matter too much. Now, tell me another name for 'game' that shows you understand what we're talking about."

Right here, where I could use a tip from my Inner Goddess, she's suddenly silent. I take my deep breath, try to relax at least my back and shoulder muscles, and wait for a thought, a word, to surface from my pool of consciousness.

Not a bubble breaks the surface.

I'm about to panic when, with a conspiratorial air, Charles leans over and whispers, "Try 'fantasy.'"

I manage to squeak it out and both my Master and Charles roar with laughter. Master manages to call out "Give the little lady a cigar!" And he and Charles go off on another peal of laughter. I'm not sure whether to join them or be insulted, until my Inner Goddess, suddenly back in action, reminds me that slaves don't get to feel insulted. I take the time to think about Master's discussion. I make a stab at trying to explain it to myself.