Holiday Highlights

The next morning, of course, saw our arrival back at the ship's home port, and the end of the cruise. After getting up and showering, I helped my Mistress dress as usual, but then I also dressed myself, since all passengers had been warned that we might be well within sight of other ships or land.

After so many breakfasts and other meals, at which I had had to serve my Mistress or other owners, it was quite a change to sit at table with her and to be waited on by the ship's crew. Although they were still the same people who, like me, had spent the whole cruise as naked slaves, I found it difficult to recognize them wearing their smart uniforms. They, on the other hand, knew very well who was who between my Mistress and me: they managed simultaneously to treat her with humble servility, and me as merely their equal, but cleverly and with such good humour that it was impossible to take offence!

Brenda and Dan joined us after breakfast, dressed as "normal" people again but obviously still very excited over their experiences as unaccompanied slaves. We spent our last couple of hours aboard ship wandering around the decks, chatting and watching the nearby shipping and our own ship's docking. Despite the fact that we looked like any other vacationers, there was no reason we couldn't talk about the more interesting events of the cruise... and we did!

At last the time came to disembark -- after another tearful farewell scene with Helen! Once through the customs formalities, we packed our luggage in the cars and were preparing to set off, when my Mistress sprang another of her surprises....

"We won't be driving to your motel with you today," she told Brenda and Dan. "I've been invited to spend a day or so at the cruise company's shore base." She turned to me. "You won't mind spending the time there with me, will you?" she asked sweetly, but in tones that clearly told me I had no choice. "You might enjoy going on the crew bus: it's over there, just tell the officer your name. See you later... and see you behave yourself!"

Taking her "suggestion" as the order it was intended to be, I said goodbye to Brenda and Dan and made my way to the bus she'd pointed out. I was also certain that her last remark had been a hint for me to act more like a slave than an ordinary passenger: so, when I approached the officer seated beside the bus, I waited quietly for him to speak to me before I spoke.

"My Mistress told me to report to you, sir," I said quietly. I'd already noticed that no-one else was about, so I used the words a slave would.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Slave Peter, sir," I replied, and he checked a sheet of paper he held.

"OK, slave," he said. "You may get in and sit in the front seat."

As I obeyed, I noticed a sign just inside the door, announcing in large letters: "Guest aboard. NO talking." Over the next fifteen or twenty minutes, a number of crew members came from the ship and reported to the officer by showing him a ticket of some kind. Not a word was said as they accepted his nod to board the bus, smiling at me as they passed and taking their seats quietly behind me. I guessed it was very likely they were all crew slaves but, as at breakfast, it wasn't easy to recognize them with their clothes on!

When the bus was full, including the driver's seat but excluding a seat at the front facing backwards, the officer got in and took his place in that last seat. Still without a word, the driver -- another slave, I supposed -- started up and we drove away: and the following journey of less than half an hour passed in the same complete silence. Naturally, I was very curious as to what was about to happen: clearly, as the sign indicated, this silence was intended to keep me guessing!

At last we stopped at a gate in a high stone wall: the gate opened, we drove through, and it closed again behind us. Instead of driving on, we stopped just inside... and the officer spoke for the first time since he'd told me to get on the bus.

"Here's where we get off," he said to me. "You first, slave, and obey the orders you're given."

Stepping down from the bus, I was greeted by another officer, a woman this time. "You're slave Peter?" she asked briskly.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied.

"Right, then," she said, "off with your clothes, and put them in this bin!"

I wasn't exactly surprised, but I must confess I'd thought that this sort of thing was confined to the ship and the unusual islands it visited! But I obeyed, of course: when I was naked, the officer snapped a collar around my neck, and I found myself attached by a rope to a post. A moment later she had fastened cuffs on my wrists behind my back.

By now, the others were alighting from the bus: they needed no orders, but instantly stripped naked, tossing their uniforms into another (much bigger!) bin, and submitted meekly to the officer shackling them exactly as I was. (I found it fascinating that, once they were naked, I recognized almost every one of them!) The officer was remarkably efficient and, as quickly as they were ready, she had us all shackled in two lines: my and another slave's collars were attached to two posts and, behind us, each slave's collar was attached to the wrists of the slave in front. Yet her efficiency didn't prevent her indulging in an occasional fondle of the nearest naked body!

The bus drove back through the gate and, a short time later, a little runabout like a golf car drove up from the opposite direction: its driver was a male slave, naked and securely shackled with heavy cuffs and chains from his ankles to strong rings and from his wrists to the controls. Turning the car in its own length, he reversed it close to the posts... and I realized what was about to happen! The officer unhooked the two ropes from the posts, re-attached them to two hooks on the car, and said, "OK, take them away, slave!"

She slapped some of us cheerfully on our rumps as the car moved off slowly, forcing the two lines of slaves to follow. Wondering what might happen if one of us were to fall, what with our wrists behind our backs and our collars and all, I concentrated very hard on keeping my balance. The slave driving the car glanced back very often for the same reason, but obviously all the other slaves were doing as I was, because he didn't have to stop, despite keeping up a brisk walking pace and once or twice even speeding up to a slow jog.

After a 'journey' of three or four hundred yards along a grassy lane between trees and shrubs, we emerged onto a sunlit lawn in front of a large low-lying building. As we came closer, I saw a number of people sitting in comfortable chairs under the verandah, and among them was my Mistress! The slave driving the car slowed it to a very slow walk passing in front of them, and I suddenly realized that we slaves were 'on parade'!

I didn't know what was expected of me, so I simply held myself straight as we walked by, but I noticed that the slave-girl beside me, leading the other line, seemed to drop just a tiny curtsy. For their part, the group of Masters and Mistresses seemed hardly to glance at the two lines of naked slaves as we passed -- but I did hear some comments that might have referred to us!

Once we had all passed, the car led us down to a lower level of the lawn, where a few more officers stood waiting beside the first of a large semi-circle of posts. The car stopped for a few seconds, then moved a little further before stopping again: during one of these stops, I had time to look around, and saw that slaves were being released one by one from the rear of the lines and fastened to the posts by their wrist cuffs. As I was at the front of my line, I was the last to be released -- only I wasn't released, at least not then. Instead, with only me in tow, the car returned to the verandah, and it was my Mistress herself who came to release my collar.

"Hello, slave!" she greeted me brightly. "I hope you had a pleasant trip here. Now it's time for you to meet some very important people." Leading me towards an older and very distinguished-looking couple, she went on, "I hope I don't need to tell you how to behave or how to address them, to make me proud of you."

A moment later we were facing this couple and now she spoke to them: "Lord and Lady Ruthven, may I present my slave for your inspection?" Hoping I was doing the right thing, I dropped to my knees.

"Delighted!" said the woman. "He seems to know his place well enough. Do you mind if I give him a few orders and ask him some questions?"

"Not at all!" was my Mistress' prompt reply.

"Come stand here, slave!" ordered the woman. "Legs apart... good!" I obeyed, positioning myself where she indicated between her and her companion, with my legs well apart and well within reach of them both: as was only to be expected, their hands began to run casually, but very intimately and expertly, over my naked body. They also asked me a few questions and, not having caught their full names and with my Mistress behind me and so unable to give me any cues, I decided to address them as "M'lord" and "Milady", which they didn't seem to mind.

When I told them my name, the man said, "Ah yes, you're the slave who wrote the diary of your first cruise and your visit to the island." The woman chimed in with "Are you enjoying your slavery, now that it's full-time?" and I replied honestly, "Yes, Milady, very much!"

It was a slightly strange feeling -- yet another new kind of humiliation -- being fondled like this by two people old enough to be my parents, if not grandparents! They seemed the sort of people one would expect to be very proper and to disapprove of nakedness and such-like: and they were , in their very refined speech and proper manners, yet far from disapproving, they were clearly taking pleasure in my nakedness! I wasn't really surprised when my cock reacted by getting hard, thanks not only to their hands on it but also to my thoughts of how total was my Mistress' control over me, that she could so easily put me a position like this.

My reaction didn't go unnoticed, and the man said with a smile, "It seems you enjoy being handled by old fogeys like us, eh, slave?"

Deciding that honesty was the best policy, I replied, "Well, M'lord, it's really exciting for me to feel so much in my Mistress' power..."

"What?" interrupted the woman, "Our touch isn't exciting?" But her tone and expression said that her outrage was feigned, as did her next words: "No, don't answer that, we can understand how you feel... but let me tell you, we still get a lot of pleasure from looking at and handling the younger bodies of naked slaves like you! And now, Mistress Tina," she turned to my Mistress, "perhaps it's time for your slave to join the others."

"You nearly said the wrong thing there, didn't you?" murmured my Mistress as she led me down to the lawn. "Don't worry, I'm quite sure they weren't really insulted... and I'm very pleased with your behaviour and your answers to their questions! But now I'll leave you here with the crew slaves for the afternoon's fun and games: later I have a big surprise for you!..."

She fastened me to a post in the same way as all the others -- our wrists held behind our backs with cuffs and joined to the posts by a very short chain -- before she spoke again. To me she said, "You have permission to talk quietly to these slaves; and..." to the nearby slaves, "... you may tell my slave anything he asks about." A warm smile, a quick but possessive caress, and she was gone, returning to the verandah -- but not, I noticed, without giving several other helpless and available slaves a brief fondle on her way!

I and the slaves nearby started to chat, and I learned quite a lot in a short time: that this was the headquarters of the company that ran the cruise ship; that most of the crew would be here for a week's break while maintenance work was done on the ship, leaving only a skeleton crew on board; that this afternoon's main event was a traditional 'inspection' of the crew slaves for the pleasure of Milord and Milady; that their title -- a real one! -- was Lord and Lady Ruthven, and they were the largest shareholders in the cruise company; that they owned this enormous house and its extensive grounds, which could accommodate the whole crew easily and had plenty of facilities for bondage, slavery and discipline; and that, although some officers would be taking their slaves away for a holiday, most would be spending the week here, enjoying the owner/slave activities they all loved without the responsibilities of the ship and passengers.

During the better part of two hours, the golf car made several trips, each time bringing more naked crew slaves, all of whom were fastened exactly as I was until all the posts on the lawn were 'occupied'. By now I had discovered how neatly our shackles were designed: the height of the posts and the shortness of the chain were such that we could stand quite comfortably, but it was almost impossible to turn around; it was also possible to kneel, and some slaves did so for a few minutes' change, but then their wrists were held high up their backs and quite severely; to sit down, however, was impossible -- unless one were some kind of contortionist!

It must have been quite a sight, I guessed, for the people sitting on the verandah: at least 80 or 90 naked bodies on display in the sunlit surroundings of green lawn and trees and flowering shrubs; and every one of those bodies facing them, each with tits and pussies or cocks in full view! As for those enjoying this view, finally there were about 40 sitting in comfort, all dressed smartly but casually: most had arrived on a couple of trips made by another bus, but some seemed to have come independently. Although one or two were new faces to me, I recognized nearly all of them as officers -- just as most of the naked bodies on the lawn were familiar as crew slaves.

Suddenly, Lord Ruthven stood up... and an immediate silence fell. "Ladies and gentlemen," he adressed his companions on the verandah in his beautifully cultured voice. "And slaves," he went on, turning to us on the lawn. "Welcome home to The Three Ms!

"A few of you haven't been here before, this being your first end-of-tour break, and we also have a guest slave with us: so, for those who may not know what that name means, 'The Three Ms' stands for 'The Masters' and Mistresses' Mansions'. It is our home, and it's home for any or all of you who wish to stay when you are not aboard ship: there's room for us all, and all the facilities we need to enjoy those activities we all love so much!

"My Lady and I," he continued, "look forward eagerly to these weeks between your tours of duty on cruises: they are the times we can get our fill of the sight of sexy naked bodies of you slaves all around the place; and, if your owners agree, we can also get to play with some of you ourselves! We may be getting old," he smiled, "but many of you know we can still make your slavery enjoyable, exciting and... ah... shall we say interesting ? Isn't that so?"

There was a chorus of "Oh yes, Lord Ruthven!" and "Yes sir!" from the slaves on the lawn, and there was no doubt at all that they meant it. Lord Ruthven acknowledged the compliment with a genteel inclinataion of his head before continuing.

"We especially enjoy this little gathering, this tradition so kindly kept up by the officers to cater to our little whim: namely, to inspect the ship's crew after each tour, and to satisfy ourselves that you are all fit and well -- and as sexy as ever! We'll come to that inspection shortly, but before we do....

"Sometimes," he went on in a tone that was almost sad, "this gathering is also an occasion for less pleasant matters, as we review the performance of the ship's company during the tour. I regret to say that, this time, one of the crew slaves has been accused of 'conduct unbecoming a member of the crew'." His voice was quiet, but the loud gasp from the slaves around me indicated that this must be a pretty serious matter.

Lord Ruthven gave a signal and, from just out of sight of us slaves, the golf car appeared, with a single male slave following: he was attached to the car by a metal collar and chain, much heavier than the one used on me, there were cuffs and an equally heavy chain on his ankles, and his wrists were held high up behind his back by another chain to the back of the collar. He stumbled slowly after the car until he was directly in front of Lord Ruthven, where an officer unhooked the chain from the car and made him kneel.

"Slave," said Lord Ruthven, and now his voice was vibrant with authority, "the Captain has informed us of the accusation made against you, and has told us that you are aware of it. Now, if you admit to it, there will be no need for the evidence to be made public and nobody will need to know any more about it. What is your answer?"

Humbly, but loudly and clearly enough to be heard across the lawn, the slave replied, "Please, Lord Ruthven, I'm guilty and I apologize for the trouble I've caused."

"It's good to see a slave," responded Lord Ruthven approvingly, "who is ready to admit his faults. Lady Ruthven and I will now decide on your sentence: you will remain kneeling." An expectant silence hung over the whole audience while Lord and Lady Ruthven conferred very quietly for what seemed ages, but was probably less than five minutes.

Finally, Lady Ruthven faced the kneeling slave and spoke in very formal tones: "Slave, you have admitted behaving in a manner unbecoming to a member of the ship's crew. Your sentence is as follows: one, you will be bound in a humiliating way and whipped by Lord Ruthven and myself in front of everyone present here; two, you will remain bound during the afternoon's activities, and be available for touching by both officers and slaves; three, you will spend the full week confined alone in a cell, and shackled to prevent you giving yourself pleasure; four, you will receive additional punishment twice daily from any officer who wishes to do so, privately or publicly at their discretion; five, each night you will be at the disposal of Lord Ruthven or myself or any officer we may offer you to; lastly, you will be on probation during the next cruise, under the very strict supervision of an officer to be nominated by Lord Ruthven, the Captain and myself."

She paused, as if to let the full severity of these penalties sink in; but I couldn't help noticing that she did not ask the slave if he was willing to accept his punishment. "Now," she went on at last, "since no particular officer owns you, you may beg an officer of your choice to see that your punishments are not too severe: otherwise, will you accept one that we appoint?"

The slave seemed to hesitate for a moment, then said something that we on the lawn couldn't hear. A lady officer came forward and spoke briefly with Lady Ruthven, who then announced, "Very well, this officer has agreed to your request, which has effectively made her your owner for the week of your sentence: she will see to your confinement, and you will accept without complaint whatever restraints she chooses for you; she will either give you your twice-daily punishments herself, or hand you over to other officers who wish to assist her, and her approval of your punishments will be final, without appeal from you; and the first approval she will give, is for the public penalty we propose now!"

During this formal little speech, I watched the officer: she was looking down at the slave who was now in her charge, and her expression was a mixture of excitement, anticipation and... yes, glee! I wondered for a moment whether the slave might come to regret his request, but somehow I had the feeling that he might find himself quite enjoying the week ahead, despite the apparent severity of his 'sentence'.

Lord Ruthven, Lady Ruthven and the officer now turned their backs on the slave for a minute or so, obviously conferring in low voices so that he would not be able to hear. Then the officer, with the assistance of two others, arranged the slave for his first penalty: leading him down to the lawn, they placed him in the exact centre of the semicircle of slaves, removed his collar and wrist shackles and made him lie on his back with his head towards us. Next they stretched his arms above his head in a wide Vee and fixed his wrists there with what could best be called 'stakes'.

In view of how they were used later, a little more detail of these 'stakes' would be appropriate: made of metal, they were more than three feet long, the lower half of which consisted of sharp double spikes. These were placed on each side of each of the slave's wrists, then hammered into the ground until those wrists were held down -- inescapably but not painfully. The upper part of the stakes formed two posts, the purpose of which soon became clear: releasing the slave's ankles from the metal cuffs and refastening them into padded cuffs, each attached to a pole about four feet long, the officers then lifted his legs high, pulled them over his head and pushed the free ends of the poles into sockets in the stakes holding his wrists.

The poles must have been made of flexible but strong steel; although they bent under the weight, they still held the slave's legs well up and widely spread. He now rested on his shoulders, and his naked body was arched in a most vulnerable and shaming pose; between his spread thighs, his crotch pointed at the open sky; his cock, in a state of semi-erection, dangled down over his belly as if trying to reach its owner's face; and his bum, obviously, was totally available for the whipping I felt certain was to come.

Lord and Lady Ruthven now came down to the lawn, spent a moment inspecting his bondage, then took up their positions with short whips in their hands. The target, however, was not his bum: instead, with great skill and accuracy, they methodically whipped his legs from ankle to crotch. We other slaves, watching with interest, could see the action from various angles -- the two arms swinging up and down in time with each other, or the whips curling around the slave's legs -- but the slave himself would have seen only the arms appearing between his legs, just before the whips snapped down!

They started just above -- or, since his legs were inverted, below -- his ankles, both whips landing at the same time, and steadily worked their way towards his crotch. Part way there, and without missing a beat, they began to alternate their blows to ensure their whips would not get in each other's way. The slave took his whipping well, only grunting once or twice as the weals marched side-by-side along his calves and then along his thighs: but the grunts grew more frequent and louder as the whips landed on the tender flesh of his inner thighs close to his crotch. The final few strokes brought the loudest cries, but perhaps this was less from actual pain than from fear of what might happen: these fell almost vertically, striking first the tautly stretched tendons at the join of his legs and crotch, missed his balls by the tiniest of margins and snapped down his belly parallel to his hanging cock and only inches away from it!

Finally the whipping stopped, and Lord and Lady Ruthven came to stand at the sides of the slave where they could look down into his face. "You've taken this part of your sentence well," said Lord Ruthven, "and we trust you will take the rest in the same way. By its end, we're sure you will really understand how seriously we take our slaves' proper behaviour. Now, there's more to come of this afternoon's punishment...."

He raised his voice to include all the watching slaves. "When you other slaves are freed from your posts, you have our permission to come and touch this slave in any way you like!" To the slave at his feet, he went on, "Your caretaker officer will stay nearby, to see that no-one gets nasty and really hurts you. The real lesson for you is to suffer the deepest humiliation, of being handled and teased and so on by mere slaves like yourself -- and this pose does make your naked body so nicely available! -- and we trust you will learn better the humility we expect towards owners." As he spoke, he and his lady both ran their hands up and down his taut legs, then all over his bum, crotch, cock and balls.

"And now," said Lady Ruthven, "it's time for us to give our attention to all these other slaves, who we know have behaved properly on the cruise!" She and Lord Ruthven each went to one end of the crescent of shackled slaves, then made their way towards the centre: they spent a minute or so with each slave, chatting as well as fondling the naked bodies made so available by the nature of their shackles. To some they gave just a pat or two, others they handled thoroughly and intimately, and they seemed to know every slave by name.

As for the slaves, they seemed really to appreciate this attention: Lord and Lady Ruthven may have been well past middle age, but it was clear that they both still knew how to make their caresses interesting and exciting. I happened to be on the half of the crescent 'handled' by Lord Ruthven, and I can vouch for the murmurs of pleasure from nearby female slaves as his hands roamed over their tits and bums, played with their nipples and crept between their thighs. And when he reached me, I found his touch as skilfull as a very experienced woman... and as arousing!

Behind them followed two officers, who released each slave from his or her post. The first few were sent into the house and began to bring out trestle tables, tablecloths, plate after plate of delicious-looking food, bottles of wine and elegant glasses: by the time all the slaves had been 'inspected' and released, all was ready for the very pleasant 'garden party' that occupied the rest of the afternoon. It had a style that was in keeping with the genteel manner of Lord and Lady Ruthven -- except for the one glaring incongruity, that hardly anybody but I seemed to notice: although some of the 'guests' were wearing the appropriate clothing, at least two-thirds were stark naked!

The atmosphere was quite different from that aboard the ship, because all the slaves were free to wander about and mix with the officers, chatting with them almost as equals. Almost, but not quite! There were still subtle but definite distinctions, beginning of course with their respective states of un/dress: some areas were clearly 'reserved' for officers, and no slave entered them; officers occasionally fondled slaves as they chatted, but never vice versa (yet it seemed to happen only when the slave 'invited' it); and slaves served officers with food and drink, but this too appeared voluntary, without any orders being given.

Soon after I was released from my post, my Mistress took me 'under her wing': I appreciated this, because we were the only real guests present, and without her guidance I would have been unsure of what was expected. We ate and drank and chatted with a number of officers and slaves, and in short enjoyed ourselves as we would have at any garden party.

I was fascinated by the one exception in this crowd of eating, drinking and cheerfully chatting people: the helpless figure of the slave who'd been punished earlier. In a way, of course, his punishment was still going on, and I got my Mistress' permission to watch for a while, as quite a few slaves took advantage of the offer Lord Ruthven had made. Under the watchful eye of his 'caretaker', they tickled, stroked and pinched his naked body, ran their nails gently over the tender weals on his legs, and especially fondled his bum and crotch and cock and balls, all helplessly suspended at such a convenient height. A few female slaves teased him even further by crouching or kneeling over his head, putting their pussies within inches of his face while they caressed his cock.

Having gained some idea of what was allowed, I asked my Mistress if I might take my turn too: her reply sounded almost surprised, "Of course -- go right ahead!" So I had the opportunity to enjoy the strangely exciting sensation of touching that helpless slave in any intimate way I wanted, my hands exploring his captive and utterly vulnerable nakedness. I discovered, however, that what really turned me on was imagining myself , as it were, in his shoes!

After a couple of hours or so, the garden party began to break up. Some officers and their slaves -- now dressed -- drove away, for private holidays or to visit other friends during the week's break between cruises. Without any signal that I noticed, the relative freedom we slaves had enjoyed seemed to end quite suddenly, with officers issuing orders for the tables to be cleared away. My Mistress led me into the enormous house, to the room assigned to her for our stay.

It was a very comfortable guest-room, with deep carpet and a window over-looking a pleasant garden. However, I wasn't in the least surprised to see more than a few solid-looking rings fixed strategically in the floor, walls and ceiling. The bed, I noticed, was easily large enough for two, and there was no sign of the kind of slave pallet I'd become rather used to. My Mistress saw me looking at the bed and smiled, guessing at my thoughts.

"I'll have to decide where to let you sleep tonight, won't I?" she said. "On the bed... or on the floor, the carpet should be quite soft enough for you... or maybe..." -- she slid aside a panel in the wall -- "... in here!" Behind the panel was the heavily barred entrance to a cell, big enough to stand up in but with a floor area too small to lie full-length: somehow, I felt I didn't need to guess what she would choose!

After spending the afternoon in the sun, she wanted a bath: as usual, I had to help her undress and then bathe her in the luxurious bathroom provided. As I was gently patting her dry afterwards, she said conversationally that the sight of all us slaves on display, shackled to our individual posts, had really turned her on, and that the pleasure of a bath with a naked slave to wash her had added to her arousal. Nothing more needed to be said and, when she lay down on the bed and spread her legs ever so slightly, I took the hint and began to use my lips and tongue as she'd been training me.

Two or three gentle, but obviously very enjoyable, climaxes later, she told me to go take a shower myself while she dressed. When I returned from the bathroom, she was wearing an outfit that, while casual, was so smart as to be almost formal. Now, for the first time since my release from my post before the garden party, she shackled me again -- my arms behind my back wrist-to-elbow, a chain between my legs to a cock-ring, and a fifteen-inch hobble chain between ankle cuffs.

There was a knock at the door, and my Mistress opened it... to reveal Master Paul standing outside. I suddenly realized that I'd been so distracted by the day's events, that I'd forgotten all about Helen: obviously, she must be here somewhere, and I now started to wonder what she'd been doing and why she wasn't with Master Paul. I knew better than to ask any questions without permission, and neither my Mistress or Master Paul seemed about to enlighten me: however, I did learn a good deal quite soon.

They went to a small, comfortable lounge, where they were served drinks by a crew slave. I was made to kneel between their chairs and, as well as the odd casual caress, I was even given a few sips from their glasses while they chatted. It turned out that the reason we hadn't seen Master Paul or Helen at the garden party was that they had been finalizing the details of their becoming employees of the Company that owned and ran the cruise ship.

As for Master Paul himself, these details involved his salary and the repayment of the loan my Mistress had made to him, as well as his duties as an officer. As for Helen, the details were quite different, and hardly what would normally be termed 'employment': they had spent some time with the Company's lawyers, drawing up and signing her formal -- if maybe not legally enforcable -- submission into crew slavery, involving matters like the limits on her treatment, and so on. Master Paul showed his great pride in the level of committment that Helen had agreed to: "She asked for hardly any limitations on how she could be treated," he said, "and none at all on any punishments for real misbehaviour or disobedience. 'If I disobey,' she told them, 'I'll deserve whatever punishments my Master or any other officer thinks is proper'.

"And when it came to deciding the term of her slavery," he went on, fairly glowing with pride, "she insisted that it's dependent only on how long I am employed as an officer! The lawyers had to work hard to persuade her even to put a 'period of non-negotiation' in the agreement: eventually we settled on a full year, which I gather is longer than most slaves agree to, during which the conditions, limits and so on of her slavery are fixed; after that, there'll be another meeting, where she may ask for her conditions to be changed -- but not , mind you, for her slavery to end. She was adamant that that is my decision alone, and she said she hopes I never make it!

"Just between you and me," he grinned at my Mistress, "I think the lawyers were just a little turned on by the way she behaved: insistent and yet so beautifully humble, and the adoring way she looked at me...! I must admit she turned me on: for a while there, I was almost afraid I'd make a mess inside the trousers of my nice new uniform. How d'you think I look, by the way?" He stood up to let my Mistress and me admire it, and pointed out something I hadn't noticed before: although it was new and very smart, it bore no insignia of rank or anything like that.

"This wait is making me nervous," he said as he sat down again. "I wonder when they'll ask me to come in for the formalities." It was then that I realized exactly why my Mistress had been invited here: it was as Master Paul's guest at his official start as an officer, and Helen's as a crew slave!