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  • 48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 15: Julie

48 Hours on Blue Bayou Pt. 15: Julie

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Readers, Here is co-author J Spe's latest offering on Julie's life in Hong Kong. Enjoy.

Carole99

Author's note: The team tries to "case" the trials the Empress will put Julie through. During this exercise, the moon moves into its waning gibbous phase and Julie has a Big Date. The preparation for the Empress finally gets to Our Heroine and Master poses a question.

J Spe

Chapter Twenty-one: The Boutique

Charles comes to our kitchen in the quiet time between Office Hours and Dinner. He sorts through the fruits on display until he finds an appealing apple and then, amidst crunchy bites, tells Anne and Pat what his aides have worked out with the Empress. I kneel quietly, absorbing as many details as possible about my "interview" with the Empress. I know that, as a slave, I will be told what I need to know in order to do what my Master wants done. I appreciate that Charles and my trainers are being quite lenient in allowing me to listen to this briefing. My Inner Goddess suggests some things I should do when I have the chance to attend them.

Charles' recitation of the plan goes quickly. "The Empress wants to see Julie in two days. She suggested that Julie arrive about nine in the morning. She remarked that Julie need bring nothing with her because her household would be able to provide anything necessary. She said she'd call us when Julie would be ready to return, but she didn't say when that might be."

Pat's reaction is swift. "That's even briefer than the last slave she had for interview. Then, she told us what she wanted to explore with the girl. This doesn't give us anything to prepare for!"

Master's lieutenant waves a bit distractedly. "I thought so, too. I'm guessing one of two things. First, that the Empress has had some background information about Julie and doesn't plan any greatly detailed interview. Second, that she hasn't been able to get any information at all, and so she's planning to check into everything. Either way, there's no way to plan or prepare anything specific. We'll have to just go over the general situation and then leave it to Julie's wits to make the Empress happy."

Anne's response is a bit slower and more thoughtful. "Did she say whether she planned to use Julie while she was there? I can't believe she didn't drop some hints about the interview. It wouldn't be like the Empress if she didn't make it out to be some spy thriller like out of the Cold War."

Charles' face is blank to this question, but I had caught something in his original presentation. I kneel up and raise a hand, just like in elementary school. Charles asks if I wish to speak and nods approval when I say "Yes, Sir."

I do my "take a deep breath first" routine and start slowly, giving my trainers time to see what I'm getting at and stop me if I'm getting out of line. "I noticed an expression Charles used at the start: 'her household would be able to provide anything necessary.' I think that means she plans to play a bit and she already has the toys she wants to use. If you think she would be likely to drop a veiled hint, that's the one that sticks out to me."

My trainers trade looks, but nobody says a word for some time. Charles finishes his apple and flips it to me. As the slave in this meeting, I catch it and deliver it to the dustbin. There is still silence in the kitchen.

Pat finally breaks the ice. "Charles, you've been here the longest. What can you tell us about the Empress' likes and dislikes? I'm thinking Julie's idea is about the best we're going to get in the next two days. What have previous slaves reported when they got back from the Empress?"

Charles colors up a bit and seems at a loss for words. "Pat, I'm sorry, but I don't remember much from the previous interviews. I'm sure the Archives have the reports from each of the girls we've sent to her, so I'll pull the files and check for information tonight. I should have something by morning."

He turns to Anne and asks, "Anne, you're the only one here with a recent visit to the Empress. Can you tell us anything?"

Anne's eyes look down. Her voice is a whisper when she finally speaks. "Please, Sir, I've tried to remember what happened, what she asked, whether she played with me, many times since my visit. I'm sure you'll find a similar report from the other girls who went there. I remember a nice welcome when I arrived, everything friendly and warm, with some introductions to her staff. We had tea, I think, and then there was a walk in a small garden. I remember lots of flowers and a nice scent in the air. Then, I remember her kissing me and saying good-bye and that I'd reflected credit on myself and my Master. There was a car to pick me up and bring me back here. I remember the debriefing only a little, but I know nobody seemed surprised that I couldn't give a more complete report on my time with the Empress."

Charles' face lights up with this report. "Yes! Now, I remember. That's why I couldn't answer earlier: there are no reports from the slaves who went there. I'll check the Archives, of course, but I'm willing to bet that each girl's report will be a copy of Anne's."

I'm the one going into this "lioness' den," so I'm probably the most worried person in the room. I rely on the previous permission to speak and ask, "Please, Sir, it sounds like the slaves get drugged or something? I mean, how can they spend such important time with such an important personage and not recall anything? This was supposed to be an interview to clear them to be Master's First Lady. It would affect the rest of their lives!"

Charles nods but adds, "Of course, we suspected something like that. But, we tested each girl and the Toxicity Screen was clean for each girl. Someone suggested mind control, like hypnosis, but none of the girls remembered anything like a lead-in to a hypnotic trance. It was just a blank time."

Anne gets up and marches to the freezer, where she extracts a tub of ice cream. She waves at me and orders "Four dishes, Julie." I move to the cupboard and dish out four portions, aware that ice cream is not on a slave's Approved Diet Sheet. Anne has something in mind!

"All right, folks. Here's the situation, as best we can decipher it. Empress wants to see Julie in two days. Clearly, she's not worried about any preparation we could give her. Prior slaves have returned in good condition and with no report of what happened. We've been able to rule out chemical doping that the interrogators might have used. It's like Sherlock Holmes said, 'When you've ruled out the impossibles, everything else becomes the probable.' Let's proceed under the assumption that they'll get Julie hypnotized in some way. At the least, we know they won't cause any harm to Julie because that serves nobody's purpose. So, what are our options?"

Pat picks up the thread. "OK, going with the hypnosis idea, what could Julie say that would be a problem for Master? She's been here less than a month and hasn't been involved deeply in any project the Empress doesn't already know about. If she says anything about the recent visit of the Minister, it'll be old hat to the Empress, I'm sure."

Charles manages a chuckle. "Given how powerful that old lady is, she might even have sent the Minister instructions on asking for Julie just to get a line on what Julie is good at!"

This, of course, brings a round of laughter from my trainers, and a scarlet blush from me.

Anne brings the discussion back to the point. "Is there anything we can do to protect Julie from being hypnotized?"

The kitchen is quiet for a few moments, and Charles clears his throat. "I've heard a lot about hypnosis over the years because it was something of an interest when I was younger. There was always a battle about the idea of not being able to resist hypnosis, or about some way to resist hypnotic suggestions. There was never a clear resolution, as I recall, but there was always controversy."

My trainers and Charles talk a bit longer and then Charles leaves to check the Archives. I'm pretty sure he's not going to find anything more than what we've discussed. Pat, Anne and I repair to the small pool that welcomed me just a few weeks ago and soak, nobody saying much. Finally, we repair to what is again "my" room and I am prepared for dinner.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Twenty-Two: Dinner and ...

Master is in a bright mood as Master, Igor, Pat, Anne, and I assemble. Because of the ice cream in the kitchen, I'm not sure how hungry I am. The worry about my trip to the Empress is also sapping my appetite. Master notices the small portions I take from the buffet Chef has presented and, once we are seated and he has said his thanks for the produce of the fields and streams, he asks Pat if I am all right.

For an instant, I am angry. I'm sitting at his left arm; he could have asked me directly, right? Then, I realize the proprieties. I am his slave, and I have several trainers who are responsible for me. He is correct in asking them first. I feel a small blush of embarrassment and look down to try to hide it. Igor's grin tells me he's seen the entire flash of emotions and understands completely. I suspect he'll find some time to "explain" it all to his trainee.

Pat summarizes the news and discussion from the kitchen. Master's glance at Anne prompts her confirmation of the situation. Finally, Master looks at me and strokes my right shoulder and down my arm. His expression and his gesture tell me of his concern. I have a sense, even without his speaking, that I've caused him a problem, that I've somehow failed him.

Wrong!

"Julie," his voice is quiet and confident. "None of this is your fault. You haven't done anything but make me and your trainers proud of you. When I saw you on Blue Bayou, when I saw how you reacted to what the slavers put you through, I knew you would be perfect for my service. I am willing to bet that you'll impress the Empress just as you impressed me."

He grins a bit and, his voice lighter, says, "Of course, she'll put you through some exercises the slavers couldn't have the foggiest ideas about, but I'm positive she'll wind up with the same opinion I got."

Damn! I never get it right! First, I was angry. Then, I was sure I'd done something wrong and was about to have another "correction." Now, Master says I've done exactly what he wanted and he's proud of me? My Inner Goddess is laughing — almost hysterically.

I've been a slave for almost a month. Even allowing for starting at Square One, without any idea about this slavery thing, you'd think a talented professional would be able to figure out what's going on, wouldn't you? Well, let me tell you, right now I'm just confused.

I suppose it shows on my face. The rest of the table is smiling — Igor is actually grinning! — at me. Master strokes me again and I focus on the warm feeling I've been trained into.

"Julie," he says, "we've been doing this for a long time, and I know the Empress thinks we do it pretty well. About now, I judge, you're feeling a mixture of emotions. That's to be expected. When you were in your old world, you knew all the rules and you knew all the players. Now, you're nowhere near your old world. Your status is slave, chattel, the lowest rung on the ladder. Everyone has control over you. We've trained you to become, or, at least, start to become the Good Slave we want. You are bright enough to see that it has nothing to do with what you want, right? So, we expect that one of those emotions is anger, maybe even hate."

Master pauses, as if allowing his slave to answer, confirming her anger, her hate — of her captivity, her slavery, and even of him. Fortunately, I'm "bright enough" to figure that such an outburst, while he might understand and expect it, is not a smart thing to do. I put my hands in my lap and gaze at them as quietly as I can.

"On the other hand," Master picks up as if he hadn't inserted that pause, "we've provided you with a substitute environment. Your job here is vastly more significant than it was in the cubicle of the law office. The food you are served is prepared by an excellent chef, rather than coming out of your freezer via a supermarket. The clothes you are wearing have labels you never shopped for before. After the Empress' imprimatur, you will move in a society you only read about in the papers. Do those items register in your mind, my dear?"

OK, a direct question. I am free to reply, to tell them all off. But, my mind is caught up by the balancing act Master has described. I manage a bit of a reply. "Please, Master, the bread and water menu wasn't anything like what I ate before." I'm not trying to be argumentative, but it's just the first thing that I sort out.

If the table was smiling before, they are all laughing out loud now. Pat is laughing so hard she has tears coming out of her eyes! I stop, more confused than ever. Even my Inner Goddess is quiet.

One of the servers pops his head into the Dining Room to see what all the hilarity is about. Master waves and he retreats. Finally, a semblance of calm returns to the table. Master's smile reaches his eyes and his face is lit up. Again, that feeling of warmth comes from somewhere and washes over me.

"Julie," Master intones in a mock serious voice, "remind me to tell you the Undue Levity legend sometime."

"But, you do make a valid point. The bread and water was a correction for a bad action. You had such things happen to you in your life before, right? It was one of the Rules of Life. It taught you that actions have consequences, that the world won't let you off if you screw up. It made you a responsible adult. Now, you see that slavery is not all that different. The actors may all be more personal now, and what constitutes a 'screw up' may be different, but the Rule is the same. The advantage to the Rule in slavery is that, once your correction is paid, your Master and trainers consider the case closed and your slate clean. Was it that way in college or your law office?"

I remember some of the feuds I'd had growing up, and some of the vicious office politics that had ensnared me in the office, and I have to smile at Master and say, "No, Master, it was a lot more complicated there."

"All right, my dear." Master's inflection tells me he is coming to a summation of his lesson. "Your life now is dictated by your slavery. It is not exactly comparable to your life 'before,' but you don't have your life 'before.' You haven't mentioned any kind of abuse in these minutes, so that is not a factor in your slavery. This is how we're going to leave this discussion: you are a slave; you will follow the Rules of Slavery; you will obey commands from your Master, your trainers, and others we select. You will perform to the standards we train you to, or you will suffer corrections. In all of this, you may think whatever you like, as long as your performance does not suffer. In time, my experience shows, you will come to have pride and satisfaction in your service. You may not believe that right now, but I'm sure I'll have a chance to check on this in the future."

I don't get a chance to respond because, at that moment, as if answering a cue, the server arrives with dessert: fruit salad for me and apple pie à la mode for the others. Still, Master has said I'm free to think, and his assertion about "pride and satisfaction" gives me lots to think about.

My thinking process, however, is arrested by Master's remark. "I've been reminded that today is the day after the Full Moon. I think I'll skip the briefing book tonight and I'd like Julie to attend me, say in about a half-hour?"

This time I'm glad he is addressing my trainers! I couldn't put a sentence together right now if it meant a ticket home!

Pat nods and says she'll have me ready in a half-hour. I barely manage to stand up from the table and follow her to my room.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Chapter Twenty-Three: My Waning Gibbous Moon Service

The moon is waning! My Master has called for me, just as the Legend laid it out. Oops, my Inner Goddess made me do that!

Pat and Anne are all smiles. Pat twirls a finger, instructing me to strip and — on autopilot — I do. I'm excited, certainly, just like any girl preparing for a big date. But we all know this is more than just a "big date." Even if you allow my "introductory service" on the airplane, this is going to be my First Time, for real. For some reason, I can't recall much about my original First Time, except it was with a boy I never saw again. I was angry then. I had made a commitment, I thought, and he'd rejected it and me. It was a long time before I trusted another male.

Tonight, though, is different. I'm not allowed to be angry. Nobody here thinks I'm making a commitment. That got made for me on the deck of Blue Bayou a month ago. Master won't be rejecting me, at least I hope not. He had told me at our first interview that, if I didn't please him, I could be "sold on." I haven't asked and nobody has volunteered what that might mean, but, wherever "on" is, it can't be at this level, can it? Igor and Anne — and now, Pat — have made me more aware of touches and actions than I could have dreamed of. So, I'm confident, right?

Well, maybe.

I wash my face while my trainers select a bra and panty set whose lace is designed to attract rather than support. Anne applies a small spritz of scent and I don a sleeveless white top, sheer so that it shows off the bra. It buttons in front, so that neither Master nor I will have difficulty with it. A pencil skirt comes to the tops of my knees, with slits along each thigh to provide flashes of skin with each motion. Pat's hands and comb do something with my hair, lifting it off my neck.

I am expecting Transport Mode for my delivery to Master, but, after an inspection that pronounces me "Ready," Anne points out that a slave presenting herself with no fetters is so much more exciting and attractive. It is well before my deadline that I am sent into the hallway.

The walk to Master's apartment seems unusually long. The Security at the door nods, smiles and, when he casually says, "You look great this evening, Ma'am," half of the butterflies in my stomach settle down to roost.

Master welcomes me into his apartment, a place where I've never been. He leads me into a Living Room with masculine appointments: leather couches and armchairs around a carved wood coffee table, a large entertainment center on one wall balanced by bookcases on the other walls, with a wet bar in one corner. The large-screen TV is showing a newscast from some factory.

Master remarks that Fox Business News is highlighting some industry trends. He settles into an armchair and, without being instructed, I kneel alongside while he watches. A nearby table holds a yellow legal pad and pens, with some notes showing, which I am careful not to read; a slave will be told what she needs to know when her Master wants her to know it.

I try to get my digestion going, although I'm sure my stomach is tied in knots. Again, I'm like a new bride, a virgin, on her wedding night. This might not be as I have fantasized it, but it still is going to be my First Time with my Master. Master's hand starts stroking my head and down my neck to my back, the comforting stroke he and his staff have trained me to want and need. I am amazed that, even though I "know" it is a simple "motivational tool," it still works perfectly to restore my composure. Within moments, I am practically purring under his hand.

The program ends and Master closes the TV. "My dear," he says, "let me see a bit more of your walk, please."

I stretch upwards, a move I know will accent my breasts — that's got to be a good thing for my Master, right? I rise slowly and sinuously, like in the trashy novels I used to read. They were called "bodice-rippers," I recall, but I'm sure tonight is not going to see anything ripped. I make a turn or two around the furniture, pausing for just an instant at a large photograph of some baseball player sliding into some base amidst a shower of dirt.

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