48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 27: Julie

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"Don't say anything stupid! Or, don't say anything, Stupid!"
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Part 27 of the 51 part series

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

48 Hours on Blue Bayou, Pt. 27: Julie Scene 20

Author's Note: Again, we appreciate the insights in your Comments. Our Heroine's status gets discussed in this Part and she winds up — I love this expression! — "hoist on her own petard."

— J Spe

Chapter Sixty-One: Questions on Life and on Laundry

Pat arrives to escort me to the kitchen to help prepare breakfast. I have been up, doing my Morning Rituals but, mostly, concentrating on my Master's discussion of my slavery. From his discussion, the whole matter seems very simple. He enjoys owning slaves, so he goes out and buys them. Part of his enjoyment is from the training, the shaping of the slave. The slave corridor, with its cells and guards, is just to shape the slaves' environment, a part of their training. The Training Director, the Physical Education department, the Concierge department are all adjuncts to create the most enjoyable of slaves. I had done this with the three newbies in the Intake Unit and with Three in the Minister's Room. Everybody in the Enterprises, it seems, thinks this is normal, part of the routine life of the Enterprises. If I question anyone, would it seem to be another crime? But, what about my enjoyment? I have to talk with someone, and my trainers, Anne and Pat, who are slaves themselves, will not do. But, I can use them to get permission to talk with Charles or Edward, Master's lieutenants. It will be a start.

As the coffee is brewing, I signal a question for Pat, and she nods approval. "Please, Ma'am, Master has been discussing something with me, and I would like to explore it further with Charles or Edward. Is that permissible?"

I have not mentioned the subject of my "exploration," fearing it would be too close to my "escape" crime. Pat probably understands everything, anyhow, so I simply wait for her decision.

In a few moments, it comes.

"Slave, I will make the appointment and let you know about it."

I say my thanks and we complete breakfast in silence.

Fifteen appears and takes me to the gym, where Igor has me make love (and a small increase in resistances) to the machines. As I am finishing with some distance on the treadmill, I raise my hand seeking permission to ask a question. Igor nods approval.

"Please, Sir, this slave would like to ask some questions about itself. Its Master has been discussing its slavery with it and this slave has some questions." I'm not sure whether Igor has learned that I'm permitted First Person speech, so I stay with Third Person speech this morning. I can see how this opening might lead to a lot of messy discussions, but I'm sure my trainer is smart enough — and experienced enough — to cut off any talk before it becomes a problem.

Igor grins, as if he knows what's coming and figures it will give him a chance to use his whip on my ass or some other place. "No problem, kid, but what kind of questions could you have? Master bought you; you are his slave, his chattel, and all you have to do is do what you're told, when you're told, and up to the standards you get trained to. What could need clearing up?"

When my trainer puts it like that, so simple, all in one sentence, I have to agree with his question. I giggle a bit and venture an answer.

"Please, Sir, that's a very good description of the outside of this slave's world. No problems there, Sir. This slave's questions have to do with the inside of this slave's world. For instance, how does this slave get to be happy being a slave?"

I pause here. I know I've put out the Big Question, and I can see that one answer is that the question is irrelevant for a slave. A slave is happy when her Master or Mistress accepts her performance of a task, when her Master or Mistress does not correct her with a crop or whip or whatever. But, that seems like the mirror image of happiness, doesn't it? Just the absence of a "correction?"

I am thankful that my trainer, Igor, does not go down this "routine" path. He has a broader idea to put forth.

"Julie, the idea of happiness is a bit hard to pin down. For instance, if Chef sent up some chocolate something right now, I would be very happy. But, that is not the whole story of happiness. That example is something that comes from outside, from Chef. It is not in your control, so you can't be sure it will ever be there.

"A better kind of happiness is the kind that you control, because you can generate it on your own schedule. Here's an example from right now. You came into my gym and did the routines I ordered. You did them well and I didn't need to correct you at all. Now, do you remember how you felt when you finished those routines and moved to the treadmill for your finishing run?"

I think back just a few minutes and am careful of my response. "Yes, Sir, this slave remembers feeling relief that it didn't get a cut from your whip today."

Igor presses a bit. "And?"

I think a bit and add, "And, there was a sense that this slave had achieved something. This slave thought it was lucky to have gotten through the routines without a correction."

My trainer grins. "Here's where we have a disconnect. You felt a sense of achievement. You were right to feel that, because you did achieve something this morning. But, you thought it was from luck, from maybe I missed how you screwed up on some machine, right?"

My giggle tells him that he's right.

"Well, my girl, that's where you're wrong. You achieved because you worked for it, you studied for it, you put in the effort for it. There was no luck involved, and your trainer didn't miss some bad move on some machine. You should have enjoyed the hell out of that sense of achievement, because it wasn't easy to do, was it? You worked for it, and now you got it. You didn't realize it, but that sense of achievement is another description of happiness."

I'm a bit surprised by this and almost lose my footing on the treadmill. It takes a few hops and jumps and I'm back to my stride. But, in those moments, I realize that my trainer has redrawn my picture of who I am and what I'm doing. My Inner Goddess is waving frantically and mouthing to me Don't say anything stupid! or, maybe it's, Don't say anything, Stupid!

There's always something safe a slave can say. I manage to make my voice sound confident. "Thank you, Sir. This slave appreciates your wisdom."

Wrong!

A mild slash with his whip shows Igor's dissatisfaction. "Slave! That's such a standard response that I get the idea that you're not taking each and every word I spoke as seriously as I spoke it. Try again!"

I am saved for a second by the chime indicating the treadmill is going into "Cool down" mode. I look directly at my trainer and explain. ""Please, Sir, you described what this slave felt so accurately, but interpreted those feelings so differently from your slave. This slave will have to think about what you pointed out about its reactions. Thank you, Sir."

Igor's grin tells me that I'm back on solid ground.

Fifteen appears and puts me into Transport Mode for the trip to the Laundry. The handcuffs are parked on my right forearm and Madam Chan places a bowl of paper slips before me, along with the one copy of the detergent assignment list. This time, there are only two questions: what was the item? And, was it easy to iron? Madam Chan has simplified the response boxes: now, they are just Yes/Easy and No/Not Easy. I am impressed by this grandmother's statistical skill!

Each slip bears a number corresponding to the number on the detergent assignment list. Just to make it easy on myself, I arrange the slips numerically. That's when I find I'm missing slips from Number 49. I have a feeling of dread about this, but am not sure what it means, or what I can do about it.

I tally the votes, by item (towel, shirt, sheet, pants, pillow case) and by result (Easy, Not Easy).

Step Two is to check the detergent assignment sheet for the Old Numbers. I pull the tally of the items and their Easy, Not Easy votes. For most items, these are split about fifty-fifty. For the shirts, however, the Easy loses about forty-sixty. Well, that's not so surprising: ironing a shirt is a lot more complicated than a sheet or even pants.

I repeat the tallies for the New Numbers. The results are a bit dissimilar. For the flat stuff, the votes are also about fifty-fifty. But, for the shirts, the votes are sixty-forty. Easy wins.

Now, the missing Number 49 might make a difference. There could be a dozen shirts, or more, in that wash, enough to move the percentages. How could I get around this problem?

Well, it also depends on what the problem is. Did the worker just skip Number 49, but use the proper detergent for Numbers 50 and above? Or, did the worker use the Number 49 detergent and label it Number 50? That would make all the numbers above 49 the "wrong" detergent.

It occurs to me that there are about the same number of washes above and below the missing #49. In any case, each detergent should work about as well for the lower numbers as the higher numbers, right? I go back to my tally list and redo the statistics for shirts under 49 and over 49 for the New and the Old detergents. The proportions come out very close to the first scores, even given these numbers are smaller. OK, I have at least some "evidence" that there was proper use of detergent according to the list. I shuffle all my lists together and get ready to face Madam Chan.

I'm just on time. The nice grandmotherly lady bearing down on me has been replaced by a Field Marshall type from the losing side in a war. Still, she asks her slave if the analysis is complete. Her slave answers simply: "Yes, Madam Chan, although there may be a small complication."

The Field Marshall ignores the "small complication" and asks for the result. "Please, Ma'am, it looks like the New detergent makes ironing shirts easier than the Old detergent. For the other items, it doesn't seem to make much difference which detergent you use."

"OK, slave. Now, what is the complication?" Clearly, the Field Marshall wants to know.

This slave explains about the missing wash number and how it might mean the responses are unreliable. This slave is adding the reasons for the unreliability when the Field Marshall goes on leave and the grandmother starts laughing.

This slave is smart enough to stop right there. When Madam Chan wants to explain her laughter, she will.

She does. "Missing wash is in middle, right? I think washer just hid Number 49 at end of day, so workers can go home. I find 49 for you."

The grandmother charges off, laughing as she looks for the washer who worked that day. There is a sense of expectation in the Laundry, but it seems not to be fearful. This slave has never felt this type of tension before.

With no orders to do anything new, this slave waits for Madam Chan's return, which happens in surprisingly short order. She is accompanied by a crestfallen worker carrying a basket of wash. He dumps the load on the table near the tally sheets and sorts out two shirts. This slave grins; two shirts is not going to change the proportions by any significant amount.

Madam Chan waves a hand over the poor guy's head and asks, "Slave, you have any questions for this worthless soul?"

"Just one, please." I look at the guy and ask if he's sure each wash got the right detergent according to the list.

Immediately, he regains all his lost dignity and declares, so that the entire floor can hear him. "Yes, Ma'am, of course, Ma'am, just as the list showed, Ma'am."

Madam Chan dismisses him and his basket and whispers to me. "They think I not know how come everyone is ready to leave just on time. But, bus and train schedules are very tight at end of day, so I let them leave some baskets over for next day. This one just got lost. Now, all OK?"

Grinning, this slave assures her Supervisor that "all is OK." Then, curious, this slave asks, "So, do you buy the new detergent?"

My Supervisor nods, "Of course. Is twenty percent cheaper. Not hard decision."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Sixty-Two: Conversation with Edward

I am cleaning the Prep Kitchen when Edward pops in and takes a seat. "Anne said you needed to talk with me?"

I am not ready for this! I know the problem, but I have not formulated the questions exactly as I want. Master's lieutenant sees my confusion and laughs. "Julie, it can't be so complicated or complex that we can't nibble around the edges until it gets solved, can it?"

I grin and, in a rueful tone, admit that he's probably right.

Edward chuckles a bit and, his tone becoming a bit harder, corrects me. "Not exactly. Because you're the slave here, anything I say, anything a Master or trainer says, is completely correct. That's part of the power exchange. Because the command comes from a Master, or an explanation comes from a trainer, it is exactly right. For a slave, a Master cannot give an incorrect explanation or an illegal command. Does this make sense to you? It's just an extension of the First Law of Slavery, right?"

I use the time it takes to drop gracefully into Position One to get my answer straight. "Please, Sir, this slave understands and agrees. Completely correct, Sir. The problem this slave wanted to explore is a bit different, however. Please, Sir, the question is about happiness for the slave. Or, perhaps it is about satisfaction or comfort in slavery. Another view might be about satisfaction, about pride, for the slave."

Edward looks thoughtful and considers for a moment. Then, "I think we'll need a pot of tea for this one. I'll be back in a moment."

Master's lieutenant disappears and I set up water for boiling and the teapot with the tea he likes. I set out a single china cup and saucer along with an earthenware mug, hoping I haven't pushed myself too far. I have a second to wonder where Edward has gone. Perhaps to get a line on the problem from Anne? Master's team has worked together so well for so long that, sometimes, it seems they have some sort of telepathic communication.

He returns as the kettle starts whistling. I warm the teapot and prepare the tea. I pour his cup and Edward waves a hand. "Julie, this is probably the kind of discussion that needs to be on an equal basis. Get a china cup for yourself."

I get that warm feeling as I fetch another cup and saucer and pour the tea. It was such a simple command, but it opened a fresh vista of what slavery means in these Enterprises. I find I can present my problem and questions fairly clearly in just a few lines.

Edward nods and asks, "I see most of your problem. Let me ask, how do you see Anne and Pat as slaves in the Master's Enterprises?"

I answer that this is part of the confusion. Clearly, these two women, although slaves, are held in high esteem among the personnel. I mention that I have the impression that each of them would "walk through walls" for our Master. It is this dedication that is, at least to me, hard to understand in a slave. I add that, careful of their emotions, I have not brought this up with either Anne or Pat.

Edward nods again. "You are correct, there. Each, I'm sure, has her own reasons and they are intensely personal. Still, we've had lots of slaves here, and I think I can give you some answers for your questions.

"If you think for a moment, you'll see that this thing that Anne and Pat show is not unusual. It is called loyalty, and it is prized in every culture. For example, loyalty is so ingrained among members of the Mafia that it has a name: Omerta, the Code of Silence. None of them will give evidence against any other, right?

"So, your question comes down to how does one earn such loyalty from others? You've heard stories about military officers whose men would follow them anywhere on the battlefield? You know stories about soldiers who fall on a grenade to take the explosion and save their platoon? For the most part, this kind of loyalty comes from each individual knowing that his fellows would do the same for him. In an army, the officers are trained to take care of their men and women. Get them trained. Get them supplied. Keep them fed and rested, at least as much as the war allows. Don't send them on stupid missions. Stick up for them when higher-ups are looking for a scapegoat. Do you see how that army stuff is quite like your work and relationships here in the Enterprises?"

From my posture in Position One, I'm sure Edward knows that this slave understands.

"Now, about the happiness and achievement feelings; this is a bit less exact. In some ways, if you are working in an environment that generates those feelings of loyalty, you are in an environment where you are accomplishing some objectives, some tasks. After all, if you're failing at most tasks, you're probably not building the quality of loyalty to the organization or to its people. On the side, that's why the Enterprises stresses standards and training so much. If we can't be confident of your successful completion of most tasks, we can't bring ourselves to be loyal to you, or expect that you will be loyal to us. You remember Pat's description of your slate as chipped, cracked, discolored? That's how we feel after your crime. Your performance will fix the chips, cracks, and colors, I'm sure.

"So, the bottom line, if I may be allowed such a big title, is that your accomplishments earn you those feelings of achievement, of satisfaction, of pride in your work. Now, think a moment. Did you have those feelings at the law office?"

I give a small grin and tell Edward that there were some cases that I handled that gave me those feelings. Mostly, however, the Partners took all the credits and there wasn't much left for the paralegals who laid out the law for them to utilize.

"That's too bad," Edward remarks, "especially because, if the Partners didn't let you feel pride in your work, and satisfaction in a job well done, it would be hard to develop any loyalty — or even some friendship — for them. I like to think that your Master's preference is for his team, both the regular staffers and his slaves, to feel like part of his family."

I am a bit surprised by this reference to family, and I suppose my expression shows it.

Edward waves a hand. "No, really. Consider just a bit: Your Master doesn't have any parents or brothers or sisters. There's a cousin or two, I think, in the UK. So, he doesn't have a biologic family here; it is just natural to want to create a family here at work."

I think I've learned much more than I expected from this discussion. My Master is a more complex case than I'm used to, it seems. I tell Edward that I'll keep thinking about what he's told me. He pushes his cup away and offers a smile before he leaves.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Sixty-Three: I Work with the Opera Staffers, and Think

Butterfly shows up exactly on time, ready to take me to the Opera offices, where I'm supposed to start becoming the Opera Boss Slave, helping my Master, who is now the Honorary Treasurer. I am a bit tense, not forgetting my crime from the last trip to the Opera. Butterfly doesn't try to engage me in conversation, and I suspect the Empress has guided her in this behavior.

We find the office working quietly. The staffers give me a proper welcome, not like the formal presentation last month. No one asks why it's been so long since my last visit. I try to focus on the productions currently on the schedule. The Opera mounts one Western opera each quarter, perhaps two or three performances each. A lady named Ping explains that it takes that long to get the musicians rehearsed, the minor characters and chorus trained, the sets built, and the costumes made or purchased. Because we have so few performances each year, the Opera has to rent a new theater each production, usually from among just a few venues. Things have been this way for years, she says.

Carole99
Carole99
470 Followers
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