48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 24: Julie

"OK." The lady has more information. "We aren't going to use names during this auction. Some Buyers have things about some names, our research has shown, so you're going to be Fifty for the duration of your stay here. Got it?"

"Yes, Ma'am, I am Fifty for the duration. Thank you, Ma'am."

The last item at this station is a measurement of my neck, which I figure is for the House collar.

The male slave takes me across the room to another station, where blood is drawn, probably testing for a range of diseases Owners don't want their slaves transmitting.

Another station goes over my medications (just multivitamins, daily, and contraceptive injection, monthly, and I've already had this month's).

The next station is where I am to get my collar. Several other "chattels" are waiting and I join the crowd. Nothing seems to be happening, so I ask the male slave if there's a problem? He shrugs, thinks for a moment, and tells me "Stay here." He goes off on some quest and returns a few minutes later to announce to the group of us, "They're waiting for everyone to get here so they don't have to give the instructions umpteen times."

When he returns to my side, I give him my thanks. He grins back and says, "No, thank you. It was an opportunity to show some initiative, some interest in the House's business. I should get a good mark out of it."

Somebody has fed him a smart pill since I saw him last!

After a few more of the "merchandise" arrives, a distinguished-looking man comes out with a bunch of flat boxes. "I have our standard House of Slavery collars for each of you. It isn't the standard flat metal or leather collar most of you are used to. We use a Turian collar here, a round ring of stainless steel with a subdued satin finish. The tongue-in-groove lock is closed using an Allen-type wrench, so the design allows for optimal comfort and prevents our locks from getting caught in your hair.

"We think your neck, especially if it's a nice long neck, is an ideal aesthetic showplace for the symbol of bondage. There is something about the collar which transforms a man, or a woman, especially; its incredible effects manifest themselves both psychologically and behaviorally.

"Now, some details. These collars are exceptionally secure, not just because of the lock, but because they contain electronics that identifies you wherever you are in this building. And, the electronics can also deliver a shock if you are in an incorrect location.

"But the thing to remember is that your collar provides you with a physical symbol to match the emotional bond of your relation to your Owner. It elegantly represents the significance and commitment of a lifetime bond, which is why we put great thought and effort into creating such a beautiful piece of jewelry."

He hands the boxes to our guides and I have a sense of how ironic this service is as the male slave locks my collar around my neck. Of course, after such an introduction, everyone wants to see how they look. The House doesn't miss a beat here. Each box comes with a mirror so I could see that the man was exactly right. The satin finish looks elegant, the collar fits just a little loosely so I can swallow and move my head without interference from the metal, and a small ring dangles in front, just the right size for clipping on a leash.

We return to the main station, where the Registration processing began, for my cell assignment. As I am about to stick my hand into the box for ID, a smartly-dressed but somewhat overweight middle-aged woman hesitantly approaches the table carrying a piece of paper. It can't be anyone but a potential Buyer, so I quickly drop into Position One as she asks the man if he is the Slavemaster.

"Yes, Ma'am, I'm the Slavemaster for this House of Slavery. How may I help you?'

She sidles up to him and I can just hear her whisper "I would make it worth your while if you could lend me this one for an hour or two."

I am surprised just a bit. My preparations had stressed that the House would test us, trying to get explosions of anger or some other unfortunate response from us. I just keep still, waiting for the Slavemaster's response.

It is laughter: rich, loud, and long. "Ma'am, what you want is the Scheduling Desk. It's just one floor up. They'll take good care of you, I'm sure. And, Ma'am, please, as a Buyer, you don't have to make it worth anyone's while. Our House has had a No Tipping policy since it started. We are proud of the merchandise we have on offer and are pleased to present it for your inspection. Our aim is to have any Buyer find exactly the unit of merchandise he or she desires. The Scheduling Desk will arrange delivery and pick-up of any unit to your accommodations. The basic rule is Reasonable Use but no marks; there is a Damage Fee that will be assessed against your CD for any marks or harms to the unit."

The woman gives him a quick Thank you and, blushing a bit, scurries back to the elevator. The Slavemaster chuckles and announces, "Another newbie. They're good for business, but I'm always amazed at what they don't know about being a Buyer and an Owner. That's why, while you are having this afternoon and evening to get relaxed and friendly, they're in our School for New Owners. For some of them, we have an Extended School right after the auction. We want you all to know that we think it's part of our service to see each of you sells well and to a responsible Owner."

Inside, I have to giggle. A school for Owners? I think I should volunteer to teach there. I had done just about everything wrong a slave could, so I should be a natural for that school. Well, maybe not; I still don't have much of an idea about how to get a slave to do things right.

I stick my hand into the "palmar venous pattern" ID box and the computer flashes a cell number. The male slave guides me down one floor and, with a flourish, presents "our Main Auction Slave Corridor." The room is huge, probably taking up the entire floor of this building! Cells line the outside walls, marked off by vertical bars, with a kiosk at each cell, just as in the Enterprise's slave corridor. A row of cells also extends from two opposite walls. In the open center of the room, there is the usual Security Station. The cells themselves are a virtual copy of the Enterprise's. My real estate background suggests that the architect who first designed this system must have made a fortune copying it to so many slave corridors.

Author's Note: Our Heroine is now registered at the House of Slavery's auction. How will she sell herself to the Buyers? Who will hazard his or her hard cash for a slave On Consignment from her Owner? Will her recent understanding of slavery match someone's fantasy of slavery? Will she even "make" her Reserve Price? Your Authors hope the next Chapter will answer these questions. (For any other questions, you'll have to put up a Comment or send an e-mail.)

• J Spe