48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 30: Julie

Author's Note: Welcome back, Dear Readers,

We hope you are enjoying our new co-author, Taliesin1, and his details of slave Three's introduction to The Enterprises (Part 29).

In this Part, we find out a bit about Harry Brown and The Enterprises' sponsorship of a circus in Macau. Did you ever wonder why circuses come in "rings," and why the rings are the size they are? Our Heroine's Master explains it all.

— J Spe

Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Operation, Part I

I am not told anything about the Enterprises' investigation of Harry Brown. Who tells a slave anything, anyhow? I go to the Opera office infrequently, occasionally in care of Butterfly, but usually with one of the Security staff. Brown doesn't demand any more blow jobs; in fact, he seems a bit polite.

Edward informs me that there is an "operation" planned and that my part will be central — and then doesn't tell me what my part is!

I guess my raised eyebrow is a clue to how much I want to know, both for being helpful as well as for not screwing up the operation. He laughs and says, "Julie, you can't screw this up, so stop worrying." How's that for a reassuring sign my Master trusts his slave?

The morning starts with my trip to the Opera office without chaperone, perhaps, I think, another sign from my Master of his trust? No one, of course, remarks on this change, but I do notice Brown's expression shift from "polite distance" to "intense interest and expectation." Sure enough, after I've spoken with the lady in charge of the Box Office, he appears and, with a simple crook of a finger, he summons me to follow him. He leads me at a leisurely pace; no one will think that he is capturing me. We enter a storeroom where furniture, perhaps props for a set, is stored. The door lock clicks and Brown breathes his first word to me: "Strip."

In seconds, I am positioned over the back of an upholstered sofa, my legs kicked apart. There is the usual sound of a zipper and the touch of hands positioning my hips. I can feel the smooth hardness of the tip of his cock caressing my cleft from my rosebud to my pussy. There won't be any foreplay to get me ready for penetration. I take a deep breath, ready for the man to plunge into my core, but the door opens, almost casually, and a man's voice says something in Chinese. It takes me a moment to process the translation: "I don't think you want to do that, jerk!"

Brown's hands leave my hips and his cock disappears from the entrance to my channel. A sheet is thrown over me and another voice, this time in perfectly accented British English, announces, "You are both under arrest as foreign spies, targeting a major cultural institution of the People's Republic."

I hear the clicks of handcuffs as Brown is secured. The British voice tells me to — slowly — wrap the sheet around myself, I do and look longingly at the clothes one officer is stuffing into a plastic bag.

His partner has a surprise for me: an iron collar for my neck, with short chains dangling down my back. The chains end in wrist shackles and I am, again, helpless before my betters.

One officer snaps a few pictures of the storeroom as well as my "partner in crime" and me. He waves the cellphone a bit, saying only, "Evidence." I am thankful he waited to collect his "evidence" until I was — somewhat — clothed. Brown still has his pants and shorts around his ankles and I work hard to stifle a giggle as he tries to get himself back in order. Finally, with a sneer of disgust on his face, an officer rearranges Brown's clothes; he also removes the prisoner's belt and adds it to the bag with my clothes.

The officers move us out of the Opera offices quickly and without comment to the astonished staff. I've heard stories about how government operates in Communist countries, and I can't say I'm surprised at the lack of response by these workers. I just hope my Master and his legal or security teams will be able to get me sorted out of whatever these cops think is going on. After all, about the only thing that could link me to "foreign espionage" is that I'm not Chinese.

Brown and I are put into different SUVs and are taken to different offices. At least, I don't see him in the small building where the cops deposit me. A friendly-appearing female officer who speaks pretty good English takes my name and fills out some forms with my side of what I have been doing in Hong Kong since my arrival, which she has from the Checklist of those arriving on Master's airplane so many months ago.

I select "Personal Assistant" as my job title at the Enterprises and she does not question that. I give a fairly vague and general description of my duties at the Enterprises and she does not question that, either. She does not ask any questions about my "espionage" activities, does not photograph me, and does not take any fingerprints. She allows me access to a toilet, helping me with the sheet clothing me, and provides a bottle of water with a straw when I request something for thirst. There is no mention of removing my collar or chains.

Everything seems to be quiet and low-key, marching to the rhythm of a government routine, until Butterfly rushes in with cries of happiness at finding me. "We didn't know where they took you. They didn't think to leave an address."

I don't understand this, but I'm sure that, as usual, when someone decides I need to know something, they will tell me. Butterfly and the female officer chat in rapid Chinese for a few minutes and the officer leaves. Butterfly turns to me and asks if I'm OK, if I've been treated well, or if I need anything.

"No," I answer, "I'm unhurt, just a bit embarrassed to be dressed a bit 'out of uniform.' They said I was arrested for foreign espionage, but nobody has said what I was spying on. I've had some water and a bathroom visit, but nobody has said when I might have these chains and cuffs off."

Butterfly takes a moment to examine my restraints closely and comments that they don't appear too uncomfortable. "They're not as elegant as the Empress' stock of restraints, of course." This surprises me a bit, but then I reflect that, to a slave, collars, cuffs, and chains are pretty much part of the daily scenery and, just as the Eskimos have multiple names for snow, slaves become expert in the qualities of their restraints.

I then realize that it is the Empress' team that has found me, not my Master's team. I begin to notice that this office doesn't have the flags and photos of government officials that one would expect to see in a government office. And I recall that the uniforms on the "arresting officials" weren't those of Hong Kong police. In short, I catch on that this may simply be that "operation" that Edward was sure I couldn't screw up.

That's when the female officer returns with the bag of my clothes. My wrists are released and I am allowed to dress, but then my wrists are re-cuffed and I am, again, helpless. The officer and Butterfly have been chatting and Butterfly comes up to me and, while seeming to examine my collar, whispers to me.

"The staff here are a bit upset that their routine has been upset by your visit. The manager of this office, in particular, is angry at having their productivity ruined for the day. Would you mind doing some oral sex to put the manager back in a comfortable frame of mind?"

I suppose I should be shocked by this request, but I'm becoming certain that this is not really a government office, and that some imposition has been made on whatever business it really is, and that my Master would want me to help right any upsets. Edward would probably mention that it is, really, just part of my job description as a slave. And the "permission" question? Well, I think Butterfly still outranks me, so her "suggestion" solves that problem.

I can't suppress a grin as I whisper back that this slave will do its duty and please take it to the manager's office. Now, I can see why the cuffs were re-applied: they help a slave maintain the proper view of things.

The manager's office seems quite large, with the usual busy desk, a few filing cabinets, and a small table. There is also a nice upholstered couch, presenting a dignified woman wearing a severe expression. Butterfly leads me up to her and I fall into Position One, my head down in submission. She instructs Butterfly for a moment and then rises to remove her skirt and panties. By the time she has reclaimed her seat, I am ready to approach her.

I start by kissing the insides of her knees, gently moving them apart until her legs are spread wide and I have access to her core. I move slowly, covering the insides of her thighs with kisses, licks, and small nibbles. In moments, I detect the aroma of arousal and I know to slow down, not to rush for a quick climax. I move from thigh to thigh and the manager begins to squirm under my tongue. As my kisses rise toward the junction of her thighs, she pushes her pussy forward, falling back on the couch, granting me complete access to her core.

Anne and Pat have schooled me in many techniques for cunnilingus and I bring several of them into use. I cover her labia, the large outer and the delicate inner lips, from front to back and from back to front. I graze over her clit, circle the nub with my tongue, and then nibble at this center of pleasure with my teeth, always using a slow and light touch. I am rewarded by a rapid breathing pattern, flushing skin, and engorging labia and clit. The manager is beginning to lubricate and my Inner Goddess cracks a comment about how much it is going to cost the office to clean the upholstery of the manager's juices.

Finally, I come to the center of the manager's core. I penetrate her cunt with my tongue as far as possible, trying to get at least near her G-spot. I add some suction and flip my hair at her upper thighs and pussy. I lap up her flow of juices and notice an anise flavor, something I haven't tasted before!

The manager has slid down and her pussy is well off the couch by now. I use my face to touch her as widely as possible, and she begins to buck her hips and moan as her arousal rises until it takes control of her entire body. The muscles of her abdomen quiver and I see spasms in her thighs and legs as her climax hits, but the lady does not scream or cry out. I keep my attack going until her climax has subsided and I can see her muscles soften.

In this quiet period, I lap up her juices until she is clean. She adjusts her position on the couch to regain her dignity and says just a few words to Butterfly. My guide answers with a similar dignified tone and cadence and my basic Chinese vocabulary catches a few words: "very good timing" and "attention to detail."

When Butterfly stops and there is a pause, I realize that I am required to speak. I have no idea what would be expected, but I follow the prompts of my Inner Goddess. "Please, Madam, this slave thanks you for the honor of serving you."

Butterfly taps my shoulder and I rise. Together, we back out of the manager's office and, my collar and chains still intact, leave the building for one of the Empress' cars.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Operation, Part II

We wind up at the Empress' headquarters, in a conference room with my Master, Charles, Edward, and Pat, along with the Empress, who is quite cheerful as she makes sure all her guests are comfortable. A man who I don't know is quiet and keeping to the background. I suspect he is from the Empress' spy service. My restraints remain in place, as if testifying to my role in this drama. The amber liquid Butterfly gets and shares with me is, you guessed it, ginger ale, but I'm sure my betters are working on various products from the Highlands or Lowlands of Scotland, to use a cliché. I know my trainers have warned me against using clichés, but the general air of festivity works to loosen that restraint.

The Empress takes command of the meeting. "Now then, we have Brown in seclusion. How do we want to interrogate him? What do we want to disclose from what we've found out?"

Surprisingly, the quiet man speaks up. "Ma'am, the usual routine is for the interrogator to make some vague charges and see how the target responds. The guilty ones start putting up defenses about what they've done, so that tells us where to go look. In this case, however, we know where to look. My inclination is to overwhelm him with most of what we know and get him thoroughly scared that, even without anything he says, we have enough evidence to convict him of whatever we'd like."

My Master picks up the thread. "Empress, since he's the one going to confront Brown, I think we should go along with his idea. There really isn't much we don't know already, so the faster we get Brown convinced his only hope is to confess and come over to our side, the faster we can get back to what we'd like to accomplish with the Opera."

I am also surprised by my Master's speech. Usually, he lets his staffers discuss the project or problem, lighting up all the dark corners, and then he gives the summary and next plans.

The Empress sits back for a moment, considering. None of the other executives offers a word, and so, the Empress nods and, her face moving into a wide grin, issues orders to the quiet man.

"Very well, then. Set Brown up for a session with about an hour of audio preparation. Use either the Good Cop or Bad Cop persona as you see how compliant he becomes. The main points we are interested in go to what he and his bosses were planning for the future. For myself, I'd like to know what made our Opera such a target. After all, we're on nobody's list of major operatic companies, are we?"

A small round of chuckles goes through the room. I don't react, of course, as is appropriate for a slave. Butterfly doesn't even smile, and I begin to think that she, too, is not in on all the details. We'll have to try getting with other slaves in the Empress' empire to find out what's been going on. My Master has drilled me that the Laws of Slavery provide that any slave will be generous with help to another slave.

The Empress resumes the meeting. "Now, what are we going to do for the one who provided the keys to this situation? He's put himself out for us, and by quite a bit, if I don't miss the signs. I don't think it was much in terms of cash expenses, but he and his team have exposed some delicate relationships. The opera world isn't that big that this can be easily hidden away, so we probably should propose some recompense that, first, is significant in his eyes and, second, won't complicate his operations in the future. Any suggestions?"

I notice some glances between Edward and Charles, and then a nod to my Master. He smiles and offers an answer. "Empress, we agree that a proper compensation is important. Who knows? We may need to work with him and his group again. And, we agree that a financial offer is not appropriate; it would be too small, considering what we've found, and it would leave tracks all over.

"What we've been thinking of is inviting him and his senior team to a circus, probably in Macau, where our Enterprises has some interests. Depending on the size of his team, we can provide, say, three or four rings for the circus. If they are coming from any distance, we would set the performance for, say, two or three days. Now, you know him better than we do. How do you think he would react to such an invitation?"

I have no idea what my Master is describing. I glance at Butterfly and see, from her body language and the slight smile dancing on her face, that she knows what the double-talk means and is ready to mail the invitation!

The Empress' smile matches Butterfly's and her words seal the deal. "Martin, I'm almost certain that such an invitation would be accepted. It gets to the heart of the rewards and doesn't leave embarrassing tracks. Yes, the more I think about it, the better it sounds. I suppose you would want Pat to be the face of the project?"

My Master produces that deep, rich laugh I like so much. "Empress, as usual, you're way ahead of us. That's exactly why I've brought Pat today. She's produced one or two circuses before, and I'm sure she'll make this one memorable for all concerned."

It's high praise. I can tell because Pat blushes furiously and moves her hands about without a clear purpose. Her quick look at my Master tells me that she feels honored, and proud, of his trust for whatever this "circus" thing is. Again, it's that "walk through walls" thing. When her eyes sweep around the room, I catch them and, grinning, telegraph my support for whatever she might need. There is a flash of surprise in her eyes and a hand goes to cover her mouth, but then she smiles and nods back to me. I suppose I'll find out why she had the "startle" reaction when Master had already mentioned that his team had been considering this before today's meeting.

Clearly, the meeting is about to break up. Everyone stands, falling into groups: the Empress' team and my Master's team. After a few seconds of whispers to check for any missing details, there are handshakes and kisses all around. The quiet man even has a gentle pat for my head and a murmured "Nice job, kid." And, I hadn't said even a word!

Pat takes charge of me and, my collar, chains and cuffs still shining, takes me out to an Enterprise SUV with blacked-out windows and installs me in the back seat, where the driver attaches the usual leg shackles and seatbelt. It is, I suspect, a compromise with the standard Seven Points Restraints protocol necessitated by the damn collar, chains, and cuffs!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Operation, Part III

Pat joins me and we head off into traffic. For an instant, I debate whether to ask for my restraints to be removed; then, I realize that slaves don't get to make that type of request, that I haven't been given even permission to speak, and that I haven't actually been told that I'm no longer considered a "foreign spy, targeting a major cultural institution of the People's Republic."

Finally, a huge grin breaks out over Pat's face. "OK, Julie, I expect you're bursting with questions, right? I think Master will want to put you in the picture for this one, so you'll have to wait until we get back to the Enterprises. I think I have most of the answers, but I'm sure Master will tell the story better."

Pat knows me so well! That warm feeling I get from just about any of my Master's attention comes over me, as usual. In that state, I rest comfortably during the ride. My usual irritation with slavery, with being owned, with not having any control over my life, even with the collar, cuffs, and chains, is swamped by that feeling. In the time it takes to get home, I realize that those feelings — the rebelliousness, the short temper, the likelihood of snapping off a mean answer — have come less frequently since I was sent back to Square One for "retraining" after my auction. I am left wondering what that will mean for the next year, or years.

The team, expanded by several of the Security and Concierge Services, reassembles in the Main Salon, the great room off the upstairs elevator lobby. It is the room where I went from First Lady to chattel in the Intake Unit Slave Corridor. Somehow, it seems brighter today.

Master's face has that nice smile as he waves me to a kneeling pad, Pat taking up her position behind me. With a look around to check that everyone he wanted present is in attendance, Master starts. "OK, folks, here's the current plan. It's been approved by the Empress, so there probably won't be any significant changes, but I'm sure each of you knows how things can go once we push the Start Button. The focus of the plan is Sergei and the senior members of his team. There probably will be three or four of them. We're inviting them to a circus, date to be determined. We'd like to run it in Macau, probably at the Venetian since we know those guys pretty well. The performance will go two or three days, depending on when they arrive. I'd like us to provide four rings for the circus. I realize that that means a lot of logistics support, but we have the time to get it organized and you all know how big a deal this is payment for. The face of the circus will be Pat, so, please, don't lose her contact numbers."