48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 43: Igor

Albert let it come. Actually, it was all very courteous, but there was no doubt that some whipping was needed, according to everyone who spoke. Listening to their reasons, I learned that these slaves had been told that "the whip is always present" during their transport to the schooner. Failure to bring it out would damage the credibility of the lessons they had been given.

As soon as this was clear, I made it clear that I hadn't known that, and that they were right in insisting on a whipping. But, I left in a plug for some "counseling" along with the whip.

Albert waved the discussion to an end. "OK, team. Let's try this. As our new recruit suggested, let's have a counselling session to put this girl's mind back on the straight and narrow. Then, let's give her six strokes with the cat. Is this enough?"

There were murmurs of assent all around the table. I could feel the tension evaporate as everyone seemed satisfied. Then, Albert had an addition. "Since Igor made the point about a counselling session, I think it's just right that we have him conduct the session. Agreed?"

I was, instantly, mortified. I had no idea how to do any of this! I'd been told I was going to get instruction, even some "internships," so I could learn all these points about slave control and teaching! But, the cheers and laughter that erupted from Albert's announcement showed clearly that it was a done deal.

During the tour Albert gave me of the facility he had built on Minorca, he gave me some valuable lessons. One, never settle on a correction in the heat of the moment. The next day will be plenty of time to consider what is best, and the slave can worry for those hours — probably a good lesson for the slave. Two, make the correction symmetrical with the offense. Three, once the correction is decided, there cannot be any cancellation or mitigation. The Owner's word is Law.

"The basis for any correction, like the aim for any lesson, is to produce a Good Slave. By that, we mean a slave who accepts her submission to her Owner, a slave who tries to anticipate her Owner's wants and needs, and a slave who performs every action up to the standards she has been trained."

I thought about these points as I tried to formulate a strategy for my "counselling session."

Albert ended his instruction and tour of the school after a short lunch. He brought me to the slave corridor where the miscreant was housed. I could see that she was lying on the floor of her cell, tied in a tight hogtie, with a bit gag in her mouth. Albert checked with the Security station and noted that she had had the gag removed for breakfast, which was a protein drink taken via a straw, but had not had anything since.

We entered her cell, and I noticed the door was closed and locked once we were inside. One chair had been provided and Albert moved it to sit where the slave could see us both.

Albert's speech was short and direct. "My dear, your trainers have discussed the crime you committed last night. It is time for you to learn about your correction. We call it a 'correction' because we find the word 'punishment' is really too harsh for what we want to accomplish. Now, you haven't met the man accompanying me, but he is going to be one of your trainers. I want you to know that he has our complete confidence. I've known him for some time, and his work has always been exemplary. I'm sure his work with you will also be exemplary. His name is Igor, but you will always address him as Master, or Sir, because he has full control over you. Now, I'm going to leave you with him for your first lesson. I'll be looking forward to his reports of your progress."

With that, Albert rose and, the door being opened by an attendant guard, left the slave corridor. I took the seat and looked over my new charge. Although the hogtie made it difficult for me to estimate properly, I judged she was about five feet, four inches tall, "petite" in size, weighing no more than 110 pounds. Her hair, currently loose and tangled, was a light brown. Her eyes, also brown, regarded me with hostility, which I tried to ignore.

I called to the Security Station: "Has this slave been given a name yet?"

There was a quick shuffle of papers and a negative head shake. "She only has her Transport Number, 5502."

I thanked the guard and turned to the slave. "Well, 5502, I'm sorry we have to meet this way. I'm sure you're uncomfortable with that gag in place, so I'm going to ask you a question. Think carefully before you move your head in answer. Will you speak peacefully and civilly with me this afternoon if I remove your gag? No screaming, no bad words, no bad names. Peacefully and civilly. Nod your head if you want to answer Yes or shake your head if you want to answer No. For now, either answer is permitted."

For a moment, I could see some surprise in her eyes. She hadn't expected such a question, let alone the possibility of losing the gag! I waited for her answer, but I could see she was busy trying to figure out if this was a trap of some sort.

"5502, this isn't a trap. I'm your Master, so I'm not going to lie to you. One of the rules of slavery is that there must be perfect communication between Master and slave. Let me explain why this is so. If the slave could lie to her Master, how could her Master know what his slave needed? And, if the Master could lie to his slave, how could she trust any lesson or instruction her Master taught her? No, there cannot be any lying or mis-communication between Master and slave. Now, will you behave if I have the bit gag removed?"

With the tightness of the hogtie, it was hard to see her nod, but I announced that I had seen it and asked the Security guard to remove the gag. It took just a few moments. As he left and the door locked, I could see her surprise as she worked the kinks out of her jaw muscles. People think a gag is just for silence, but an effective gag puts significant pressure on the jaw joint as well as on the neck muscles.

I used these moments to put a smile on my face.

When she had enough time to get her jaw in service, I changed to put an inquiring look on my face. She caught on quickly.

"Thank you," she said. Her voice was a bit hoarse, but there was no stridor in it.

I raised an eyebrow, signaling a question about something missing?

"Thank you, Master," spilled out of her mouth in a rush.

"Very good, 5502. Now, I'd like to hear a little about how the bit gag affected you. You will tell me, won't you?"

I could see changes of expression run across her face. I was sure this was another item she wasn't expecting to discuss. But, her Master had asked a question and she was required to answer.

"It was horrible. It tasted terrible. It made it hard to breathe properly. And, it made me drool. I couldn't swallow properly and my saliva kept drooling all over me." And she added, "Master."

"Yes, you're exactly right. Those are most of the things that happen with a gag. We know about them because we've used gags for some time. That's why your cell was moved to right by the Security Station. Someone was always watching you. You never were in danger of having a problem with your breathing. This is a lesson you should learn right away. We think you are a valuable asset. There is no point in harming you. As long as you do as commanded, you will be safe."

"But, I don't want to be a slave!" Now, her voice was more strident. "Please, Master, let me go home. Please?"

I put my smile back on and answered in the voice I had used on Parade Grounds around the world. "Slave, there is no going back home. There is no going back, at all. Your life has been changed. You are now a slave, a unit of merchandise, an asset on our Accounting Books. One of the things that means is that you are not allowed to ask for any 'going back.' Do you understand that?"

It was the first time I used that typical Slave Question on her. She thought for a long moment but finally managed a soft "Yes."

"Yes?" I inquired.

"Yes, Master," she replied.

"Very good, 5502. You're getting into the way slaves speak with their Owners, their Masters. Later, you may speak with the guards and with any slaves that have been here for a while. You will learn lots more about how slaves talk, how they listen, how they act, both with their Masters and trainers and with other slaves. One of the Rules of Slavery is that slaves are always generous with each other. You may depend on what another slave tells you.

"Now, I can see that the drooling and the handling from last night has left you dirty. I would like you to take a shower, but that would require removing the ties that are controlling you now. Will you try to take a swing at me if the hogtie is removed, or will you behave peacefully and civilly?"

It was obvious that 5502 was mentally calculating her odds of overcoming me. Of course, when the locked cell door was added, there was no doubt about her calculation. Her "Yes, Master" was heartfelt.

I took my time releasing the link between wrist and ankle ties, running my hand over her back as if to smooth out the kinks in her spine. Actually, it was a pleasure to feel the softness and silkiness of her skin. Probably, she was used to some powders or lotions for her skin. This one might know a great deal about making herself desirable.

I freed her ankles before her wrists. Kicks without balance from the arms are mostly ineffective. My slave let me free the restraints without any trouble. I pointed to the showerhead in a back corner of her cell and instructed, "When you are under the showerhead, the Security guard will start the water. It is not too hot in these cells. There is a bar of soap on the counter. You will have eight minutes to soap everything and rinse everything. I'll be right here, and I'd appreciate not being splashed. Do you understand?"

Her face took on a wide grin and she nodded. I waved a hand, saying, "A slave does not communicate with nods and waves. A slave communicates with speech, loud and clear."

Her answer was immediate. "Yes, Master. No splashing."

It was a pleasure watching this young woman shower. The soap lathered nicely and she spread it over her body with enticing motions. For a moment, I thought of joining her under the shower, but realized that was for a future time. When she was rinsing, I thought she positioned her body and used her hands in a provocative way. Something going on here?

She exited the shower within the time set and looked for a towel. I explained that there would be no towel until her training efforts earned her one. There was a flash of disappointment, perhaps some anger, across her face, but she made no sound.

I pointed to a spot about a meter in front of me and explained that slaves usually kneel before their Master. She managed to get into a semblance of Position One, the kneeling posture that slaves use most, with not much grace. That would come with training, I expected.

I began to describe her crime. "Last night, you assaulted a guard. This showed lack of respect for someone charged with your welfare. You actually hit the guard, making the crime a physical crime. When other guards came to quiet you, you refused to quiet down and even bit one of them. Human bites are considered one of the most dangerous infections, so the guard has been placed on medical leave. Again, this showed no respect for those in control of you. You have showed no control over yourself, as I understand from the vocabulary you used during this time."

I paused for a moment, both to let the gravity of her crimes set in and to enjoy some of the comments the guards had reported: She has a list of words you don't expect from a nice young girl, and She could be a sailor, the way she swears!

"Now, the use of your mouth suggests you use your mouth to pay for those crimes. Your correction will involve the use of a spider gag to hold your mouth open. As with gags generally, you will drool over yourself. That will be messy and humiliating, but that's what crimes with your mouth often come to. Incidentally, one of the training exercises we use involves your mouth taking various things in. We will place some of those during this correction.

"Your crime of disrespect and physical assault requires a symmetric correction. You will be restrained in a posture that shows no respect for your body. The physical assault will be corrected with lashes from a suitable instrument, which will be shown to you at the proper time. It is not necessary for you to know how many lashes have been decreed. Other slaves may watch your correction. Everyone will know about your crime, that you refused to learn lessons that slaves must learn to serve their Owner. Everyone will be grateful that they are not the ones receiving the stripes. Afterwards, and you may be sure there will be an afterwards, the medics will examine you and treat any cuts in your skin. You will probably stay in their Unit for a day before returning to this cell to continue your lessons.

"Your correction will take place tomorrow. You will have Evening Nourishments tonight, but none tomorrow until after your correction. The Guard will insert the spider ring gag after tonight's Nourishments.

"Now, this is the information your Master wants you to have. Your Master wants you to see how this correction is symmetric with your crime. From this correction, Your Master expects, first, that you learn that your actions were a crime and, second, that you are expected never to repeat them."

I waited just a moment to see if 5502 had any reaction to learning about her correction. From her face, I could see the information sink in, with tears of fear beginning to form and spill from her eyes. I added just a bit of comforting information — at least that's what it is supposed to be. I've never thought it did much except, after the correction, in confirming what a Master had said.

"Your Transport Number is 5502, so you can tell that we've been at this business for a long time, and that we're good at it. We've told you that we won't harm you. This correction may be a hurt, but all hurts heal. Of course, once you've been hurt and recovered, you know you can be hurt again. We have found that this is a good thing for a slave to know.

"Now, your schedule for the rest of today includes a class with other slaves in Positions and Movements. If the trainer in the class permits it, you may talk with the other slaves."

I didn't give her a chance to ask any questions, mostly because I wasn't sure about having any answers for her. I left her cell and went to find out who would be administering the lashes. A helpful secretary pointed me to a Senior Trainer named Ilana. She was about my age and had come to Albert's "School" when it was still in Macau. She showed me the cat she was planning to use and described a whole series of canes, whips, and floggers that could have been used. Each sounded like an extreme instrument but Ilana brushed that off.

"Nonsense," she said. "Any whip can be used gently; it's all up to the user. For this unit, I don't even plan to work up a sweat. The marks will be gone in a week or so. She should be embarrassed to list this flogging in her Diary."

The slave's trainer commented that my counseling must have been successful because she was much more attentive and accepting when he took her for training later. It seemed to me I'd dodged a bullet with this one!

I didn't have any role in the whipping. They made a bit of a ceremony out of it, getting other slaves, properly handcuffed, into a sort of gallery for the event. Ilana had set up a single whipping post, about a foot in diameter, in the center of the slave corridor and 5502 was marched out of her cell between two guards. She was naked, her hair gathered in a ponytail, with no restraints. I thought her expression was a mixture of fear, anger, and resolution not to show any weakness during her ordeal.

She was told to hug the whipping post with her arms, which were then tied together. A single strand of rope fixed her waist to the post. I could see how this position crushed her breasts to the post, protecting them from the whip. Her feet were separated and tied to the sides of the post, which meant her vulva were also protected. Finally, Ilana moved her ponytail around, stuffing it between her breasts, so it would not give any protection to her back.

Ilana announced the slave's crime but gave no hint about the number of stripes she would receive. Another psychological crutch removed. For the slave, the stripes could go on forever.

There was silence in the slave corridor as Ilana took her position. Then, there was a blur of Ilana's arm motion, the crack of the cat on the slave's back, a second's pause, and then the slave's scream. In an instant, a pattern of thin red lines appeared across the slave's shoulder blades.

Ilana came up to the slave and said a few words. Later, she told me that it was just a bit of encouragement, that the next slashes would be no worse, and that she would be able to bear them and survive. I don't think the slave believed her. The screams from the next cuts were just as loud, and she began pleading, begging us to stop, that she would be "good," that she would do anything, that she would give anything if only the blows would stop.

Of course, we had everything, and she would do anything and everything for us anyway. She was a slave, and that's what slaves do for their Owner.

After the last stripe, her back showed a pattern of intersecting red lines. I already knew that these would develop into welts over the next few hours, and they would persist for at least a week. Any sleep she got would be on her front. She would move slowly and carefully until the stripes began to turn color and fade. The experience, however, would be with her forever. Her owners, however many there would be, might beat her with a variety of instruments, but none would have the impact of Ilana's cat o'-nine-tails.

The medics waited thirty minutes before they untied the ropes and took her down from the whipping post. In their Unit, her back was washed and topical anti-infectives were applied. There were no breaks in the skin; Ilana was as good as her word. One dose of pain medicine was given just to get the slave over the initial reaction to her ordeal. An hour later, a liquid supplement was given and, at the usual time, Evening Nourishment brought food. By that time, the slave was sitting on a bench, each ankle shackled to a fitting on the floor. A spider ring gag was in place, with the slave offering no rebellion.

Albert encouraged me to follow this slave as she moved through the School. Eventually, she developed a trust in me that I found endearing. In fact, if a slave cannot find at least one such contact among her Owner's staff, he or she is not likely to become a Good Slave. Trust and confidence are the necessaries for the power exchange to function, I learned.

There was another benefit to my investment in this slave. Her trainers included me in many of the "tests" they set for her. I was part of certifying her completion of Basic Levels in Fellatio, anal sex, and Vaginal/Clitoral Muscle Control. By the time she was preparing for her auction, she was able to admit that she had never thought sex could be so good, or that she would know so much about satisfying any Master or Mistress using her, or that she would take pride in hearing their compliments about her sexual skills.

In these early days, I found every one of Albert's staffers completely open and helpful. Of course, there were so many things I didn't know that I may have said some less-than-brilliant things; fortunately, nobody brought them up. They not only taught me about the "Laws of Slavery," but also about the logistics and economics of slave production in Albert's House of Slavery.