La Chatte Heureuse Pt. 04 Ch. 10-14

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Chapter 10: Tessa. Thursday, week 4

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Thursday morning is a warm pleasant summer's day. I feel content, despite waking several times in the night when my ankle fetter restricted my movement as I rolled over. By now I've recovered from my week long ordeal during the special event in the tower. The aches and pains I acquired during the event have faded, although I still have erotic dreams from my time under Madame Lash's wicked attention in the Sheik's Harem.

My bed by the window of the dormitory in building E4 is the same one I was given when I arrived on the island. As a slave, I know I have no say in the matter, but I would have been disappointed if I'd been allocated a different bed after my week in the tower. Fortunately, those on the administration staff here are sensitive to the needs of everyone, not just the mistresses.

Slave Lauren is the only other slave who attended the special event and who is still here. At first she was reluctant to talk to me, but yesterday she broke her silence. Madame Claire, a mistress who attended the special event, and is still here, is paying for Lauren's extended stay until Saturday. Apparently Lauren's stay was to be as a 'general slave' like me, but her failure to give the mistresses the information they wanted during the games, means she's now here as a 'field slave'. She's not thrilled at the heavier duties required of her as a 'field slave', but I think she accepts the consequences of failing as a spy. I've no sympathy for her predicament, but that doesn't stop me from talking to her. The special event was designed to be fun, and bearing grudges afterwards is silly.

"Have you heard the rumour," says Lauren to the eight of us currently sharing the dormitory with her. "Madame Faye is due to arrive today."

I recall Madame Selena mentioning a Madame Faye during the first week of my stay. If what I've heard is true, then Madame Faye makes Madame Lash look like a saint. However, I'm cautious about rumours spread by slaves. I found Madame Lash to be hard but fair, contrary to several rumours I've heard about her during and after the special event. She even invited me to contact her once I'm back in the real world. I'm not entirely sure what she has in mind, but she hinted at offering me some well paid contract work. I'm tempted to find out more.

Madame Stephanie unlocks our ankle fetters and we all make a dash for the showers or the kitchen. My bed is at the end of the double line of beds, so I'm invariably the last to be unlocked, and last in line for the toilets. I suppose I could use the chamber pot under my bed, and empty it after breakfast, but I've so far resisted that option.

As usual we all report to the Slave Holding Area in the administration building by nine o'clock. From there we will be allocated to work parties. We've finished cleaning the tower after the special event, so today will be a new set of chores. The 'field slaves' get the less desirable heavy tasks, while general slaves are allocated to lighter duties. That doesn't mean we work any less hours, simply that we aren't expected to do heavy manual tasks.

Unless more slaves arrive today, we are down to fourteen slaves, excluding the three 'chattel slaves' belonging exclusively to a mistress. The first week I was here, we numbered twenty six slaves, and there were forty at the special event last week.

"You can always tell when Madame Faye is expected," says Slave Bess as we wait in the Holding Area. "Several slave bookings get cancelled at the last minute, and early departures increase."

"Clearly you aren't one of those quitting early," I say.

"No. I'm fortunately the wrong type for Madame Faye's tastes. She likes her slaves to have some meat on their bones, and with well proportioned arse and tits. A lot like you in fact. Unless you are a masochist, I suggest you try to keep out of Madame Faye's line of sight."

"Is that possible?" I ask.

"No. But it might help your psyche to believe that it's possible."

I'm assigned to a work party cleaning the windows and floors in the mistresses accommodation block, building E3. It's far more luxurious that the cramped slave dormitories of E4. Bess and I join Slave Sheri and Lady Fatima, the housekeeper, gives each of us a bucket and cloth, and instructions to clean the inside of the windows. We set to work, starting at different locations along the corridor. Five of the suites are in use, so we need to knock and ask permission to enter. It's a regular Thursday routine, so none of the mistresses object.

I walk into the suite of Mistress Violet to find her slave 'Pixie' lying spread-eagled and naked, with her wrists and ankles chained to the four corners of the bed. The steel collar around her neck proclaims her to be a chattel slave, and Madame Violet's exclusive property. I do my best to ignore the scene, but I can't help a twinge of arousal at the sight. Pixie must sleep in the cage along the side wall of the suite. I haven't seen her in E4, and there's no other bed in here. Of course, she could share her mistress's bed, but the mattress and rumpled blanket in the cage suggests otherwise. It's none of my business, so I promptly set about washing the pair of windows in the suite.

"I've seen you around over the last few weeks, Slave Tessa," says Madame Violet. "Are you a regular member?"

"No, Madame," I reply. "I'm here for six weeks as a prize for a competition I won."

"Hah! Yes. I remember Monique mentioning it a few weeks ago. Do you like it here?"

"Yes, Madame," I reply truthfully.

"Do you think Pixie likes it here?"

"I don't know, Madame. We haven't met before."

"Then it is high time that you got to know her," says Madame Violet.

Looking at Pixie bound helpless on Madame Violet's bed does funny things to my insides. I can't determine whether I'm feeling jealous, fearful, or just plain aroused. Perhaps all three. Pixie is moaning softly as though pleading with her Mistress to do more than watch her writhe on the bed.

"Here," says Madame Violet, handing me a vibrator. "Make this bitch come. Not that she deserves it after last night."

I don't pretend to know what occurred last night, but Pixie is lifting her cunt as though begging for me to do as I'm bid. I comply with Madame Violet's order and run the vibrator over the offered cunt. I'm far from being an expert in doing this on another woman but Pixie is so aroused that I don't think it matters. Less than a minute into my assault, Pixie lets out a muffled scream as an orgasm wracks through her.

"Thank you, Madame. Thank you," weeps Pixie.

I don't fail to notice that Pixie is thanking her mistress and not me. I switch off the vibrator and offer it back to Madame Violet.

"No, no," says Madame Violet. "Once is not enough. Pixie needs to learn the penalty for denying her mistress."

Again, I've no idea what any of this is about, but using a vibrator on an eager cunt is a simple enough task. I resume my assault in Pixie's cunt and before long she is visibly aroused. The sight before my eyes arouses me to fever pitch. I slip my free hand under my skirt and reach for my clit.

Thwack!

Holy shit!! I drop the vibrator. Both my hands instinctively grasp my arse, which feels as though it's on fire.

"Dirty slut! How dare you play with yourself without permission," snaps Madame Violet wafting her cane in the air. "Now pick up that vibrator and make Pixie come."

A month ago, I might have simply run out of the room. But my experiences over the last three and a half weeks have taught me that fleeing like that would be a huge mistake. I grit my teeth and suppress the tears forming in my eyes. My arse is going to hurt for quite a while. That was no gentle swat, but a full-on slash of Mistress Violet's cane. I fumble for the vibrator, take a deep breath, and resume my work on Pixie's cunt.

Pixie is easily aroused and my task is relatively simple. I count three orgasms before Madame Violet decides that my task is complete. She takes the vibrator from me and proceeds to use it on herself. To my shame, my own juices have been flowing down between my legs despite the red-hot sting across my arse.

"Finish the windows and get out, Slave," orders Mistress Violet as she drives herself towards an orgasm with the vibrator.

I do as I'm bid.

Half an hour later, Bess, Sheri and I gather our buckets and cloths and head towards the exit, having finished cleaning all the windows. I keep my skirt pulled down as low as it will go so that the wicked stripe across my arse isn't visible. At least Madame Violet didn't draw blood, so hopefully the mark will fade soon enough.

We almost reach the door when a mistress I haven't seen before walks towards us. Both Sheri and Bess make a sharp intake of breath when the recognise who it is. The moment I see the name on the mistress's collar, I realise why Bess and Sheri are nervous. So this is the infamous Madame Faye.

I lower my eyes quickly, partly because slaves are expected to do so out of respect for a mistress, and partly to avoid undue attention. At first I think Madame Faye isn't interested in any of us, but as she walks past us, she grabs my hair and forces my head up. She studies me for a moment like a cat admiring a tasty mouse trapped in its claws.

"Hand your bucket and cloth to one of these other two, and come with me, Slave Tessa," Madame Faye says to me.

I've no option but to obey, and I follow Madame Faye into the room she has clearly been assigned. It's almost identical to the room Madame Violet is using, with a human sized cage along one wall to imprison a slave. However, Madame Faye doesn't have a chattel slave with her.

"Adopt position five, Slave," orders Madame Faye after she deposits her suitcases on the floor.

I mentally run through the various 'presentation positions' I was taught during my first week. I've rarely been asked to adopt one of the positions, and when I have, it's usually been position two. Fortunately I've a good memory for such things. I drop onto my hands and knees and stretch my arms out before me, leaving my arse in the air. There's no hiding the welt across my buttocks.

"What a delightful sight," muses Madame Faye, running her finger gently along the welt. "We shall see about adding a few more to your collection before we are done."

I don't like the sound of that threat, but I'm too much in Madame Faye's thrall to resist. My biggest problem is that I find myself yearning for this kind of treatment. Despite being portrayed as an ogre, Madame Faye is an attractive brunette in her late twenties. She obviously looks after her body, and she doesn't go overboard with make-up and jewellery. Her clothes are top-of-the-line designer wear, broadcasting her wealth and influence without the help of accessories. Her luggage looks brand new and expensive.

"Stand, Slave Tessa," says Madame Faye a few moments later. "I presume you know the meaning of the yellow flower on your necklace?"

"Yes, Madame," I reply. "It shows that I'm classified as a Buttercup type."

"Indeed," muses Madame Faye. "And Buttercups are my favourite type of slave. You and I are going to become well acquainted over the next ten days. If that's going to be a problem for you, then you need to say so now."

"It won't be a problem, Madame," I reply, hoping I'm making the right decision.

"Excellent. In that case I will make arrangements with the club for you to move in here with me for the duration of my stay."

I look at the cage, and I look at the bed. I wonder in which one I'll be sleeping. It's notable that I don't resist Madame Faye's presumption that I will comply with her wishes.

"Now, you can start your duties by unpacking my luggage. I'm going to be gone for half an hour. Do your work, and don't leave this suite. Understood?"

"Yes, Madame," I reply.

I carefully unpack Madame Faye's luggage. There's an assortment of kinky leather gear and several sex toys among the regular clothes. They will all fit comfortably inside the generous wardrobes, so I separate the regular clothes and leather gear into separate spaces. Only when I'm finishing do I realise that Madame Faye's luggage doesn't contain any underwear, nor has she packed a nightie. The club provides toiletries for all its visitors, although the quality of the soap, toothbrush and paste is notably better in here than is provided for slaves. Similarly, the towels in the bathroom are made of luxurious Egyptian cotton compared to the cheap variety provided for slaves.

I'm not sure what to do with the sex toys. The vibrators and strap-on cocks will fit in one of the drawers. However, the metal cuffs and chains are more problematic, as is the selection of whips and paddles. At least Madame Faye doesn't travel with canes in her luggage.

Madame Faye returns about forty minutes later. Mistress Nicole is with her and it's clear that the two have been arguing.

"Tell Madame Nicole that you consent to sleeping in my suite for the duration of my stay," says Madame Faye to me.

"Of course Slave Tessa consents, Faye," fumes Madame Nicole before I can answer. "I wasn't calling you a liar. I merely pointed out that Slave Tessa cannot be your chattel slave. She's not a club member, and you haven't been together long enough. She can sleep in your room, and you can have exclusive use of her services. But she must be allowed at least two hours of free time to herself each day... without any restrictions. She also has the right to terminate the arrangement at any time. Is that acceptable to you both?"

"Yes, okay," grumbles Madame Faye.

"Yes, Madame Nicole," I reply.

"And the club's policy about the maximum amount of punishment that can be inflicted on a slave also applies," continues Madame Nicole. "The usual waiver for chattel slaves won't apply, since obviously, Slave Tessa isn't a chattel slave."

"Yes, okay, I get the message," says Madame Faye. "No beating the crap out of Tessa if she disobeys."

"Exactly," says Madame Nicole. "You have plenty of leeway for your games, just don't overstep the club's boundaries again. And if I hear that Tessa has used her safe-word and you've ignored it, then you can expect more than a few weeks suspension."

Madame Faye glowers at Madame Nicole, but it is water off a duck's back to Madame Nicole. This obviously isn't the first time the two of them have locked horns. Satisfied that I've consented to the arrangement, Madame Nicole leaves the suite. As soon as she has gone, Madame Faye's mood lifts as though her previous ire was simply an act.

"Show me where you've put everything, Slave Tessa."

I show Madame Faye where I've stored everything. She seems satisfied with my efforts but I suspect it is beneath her dignity to offer praise. It's nearly lunchtime, and I'm unsure what arrangements there are for meals for the mistresses. There's a small kitchenette in the suite, but it isn't designed to handle more than making a hot drink and toasting bread.

"What size clothes do you take?" asks Madame Faye.

"Usually a ten, but I can sometimes fit into an eight, depending on the item, Madame," I reply.

"Hmm. Well let's see what is going to fit you. I'll not have you wearing a common slave's outfit if you are going to be seen in my company. Try this on."

Madame Faye hands me one of her kinky outfits. It consists of two pieces, a lace up corset and a tiered ruffle miniskirt. At first I think the outfit is made of imitation leather, but on closer inspection I realise it's the genuine thing. As the corset is shaped to squeeze my waist and push up under my tits, I presume it is normally worn with a cotton peasant blouse. However, in keeping with the dress code for the Slave caste, I'm not offered a blouse.

Madame Faye seems content with my new outfit and she marches me off to the dining area down the corridor.

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Chapter 11: Tessa. Thursday Week 4.

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I'm not surprised to find that Slave Pixie, two other chattel slaves, and I, are required to prepare lunch for the mistresses. Fortunately lunch is a buffet that consists of easy to prepare salads, breads, cheeses and cooked meats. The chattel slaves have everything well in hand, so there's relatively little for me to do.

Almost by magic, several mistresses arrive within a minute of each other. The mistresses help themselves first and are soon busy gossiping at the main table. The four of us help ourselves to whatever food is left over. We eat in silence, since the chattel slaves quickly hush any attempt by me to engage in a conversation. One by one, the mistresses finish their meal, and those with a chattel slave call her to their side as they leave the room. Madame Faye isn't in a rush to finish her meal, so I start to clear away the empty plates.

"Leave that, Tessa," says Madame Faye. "A work party will come and tidy up later. Come over here."

By now there's only the two of us left in the dining room. I stand facing Madame Faye, who is sipping coffee at a glacial pace. She's obviously not in a rush to leave.

"Have you had enough to eat and drink?" asks Madame Faye.

"Yes, Madame."

"Perhaps you can manage a bit more," says Madame Faye spreading her legs apart.

I could play dumb and simply wait for her to explain what she means. However, after nearly a month here, I know what she intends me to do. She's testing me. I drop to my knees and move forward so my head can reach between her legs. She lifts her skirt slightly giving me a good view of her shaved cunt.

"May I, Madame," I say, unsure whether I should ask permission or simply begin.

"You may, my oh-so-polite slave. Feast away," sighs Madame Faye.

I push my tongue into her cunt and begin to probe deep inside her moist passage. I move my hands to hold her thighs in position, but Madame Faye pushes them away.

"Keep your hands behind you, Slave Tessa. Let's see how good you are with that tongue."

I comply with her wishes, and I do my best to arouse her with my tongue and lips. I feel nervous as I'm not experienced at this sort of sexual play, and Madame Faye has a reputation for punishing poor performance. I've no idea how well my performance measures up to Madame Faye's standards. Her juices flow freely but I don't detect any sign of an orgasm, even after teasing her clit. Throughout the ordeal, she continues to sip her coffee as though bored by the whole episode.

"Enough, Tessa," she says after a while. "We shall return to my suite and freshen up. Have you sampled the dungeon in E4?"

"Yes, Madame. Madame Selena introduced me to it three weeks ago. And last week I spent time in the tower dungeon during the special event."

"Good. That means I don't need to show you what happens if I feel the need to punish you."

We return to Madame Faye's suite and I'm instructed to strip naked and take a shower. It's an odd time of day for a shower, but I do as I'm told. When I've finished I return to the main room to find that Madame Faye has laid out one of her designer dresses. It's a beautiful gossamer outfit that highlights rather than hides my body.

"Put that on," says Madame Faye.

I obey, although why I'm being made to dress like this is a mystery. I resist the temptation to ask the reason. While my tits are covered for the first time in nearly four weeks, the flimsy gossamer top clings to my curves like a second skin. If anything, the outfit is more indecent than walking around with my tits exposed. Not that such things matter on the island.

"I know what you slaves get up to when you have your free time. I expect this dress to be returned in good condition, so I suggest you forego any of the usual sex games. For the next ten days I am the only sexual partner I expect you to have."

As if to reinforce her command, Madame Faye locks a chain belt around my waist, making it impossible for me to remove the dress without ripping it. I'm sure this isn't what Madame Nicole specified about being without restrictions during my free time, but I can accept this limitation for now.

"It's nearly three o'clock," says Madame Faye. "I'll be waiting for you outside the administration block at exactly five o'clock. Don't be late. Now go and enjoy your free time."

The other slaves will not be allowed their free time until later. That means there will be nobody in the recreation building with whom I can socialise. I know I'm being used like the meat in a sandwich in a battle between Madame Faye and La Chatte Heureuse's management, but I can't see what I can do about it.

I have unrestricted access to the administration building and, bizarrely, the stables. To enter any other building, I'll need a Mistress to unlock the exterior and interior doors. It's a pleasant afternoon, so I take a walk along the wooded path to the stables. It's one of the oldest buildings still in use, possibly pre-dating the current main house itself. It's many decades since the stables were last used to house horses, going back to the days before the valley was flooded to create the lake. These days the primary use for the stables is to provide shelter to any slaves who miss the deadline for lock-up, and must therefore spend the night outside.

The stables are also one of the few buildings that those of the Ladies caste can use during the day. The facilities and activities at La Chatte Heureuse are geared towards servicing the needs of mistresses and slaves. Those of the Ladies caste cannot participate in most of the activities, and they must settle for sunbathing, walking and generally amusing themselves. A few volunteer to perform routine checks on the slaves in the dungeon, which I presume is a popular task because it helps relieve the boredom of doing nothing.

I enter the stables, which are much bigger than I imagined. The stone floor is kept clean. The days when straw littered the floor are long gone. I soon realise that I'm not alone. A tall dark haired woman in her late forties, dressed in a smock, is sat at an easel, painting. I'm about to back away to avoid disturbing her when she sees me.

"Don't leave on my account," says the woman. "What's your name?"

"Um... Tessa. Slave Tessa, Madame," I reply, unsure whether she's a Mistress or Lady. Her necklace is hidden under her smock collar.

"Lady. Lady Lydia," replies the woman. "No mistress would waste her time on the island painting pictures. Do you like painting?"

"I've never had a talent for painting. My artistic schooling focussed on music, Lady." I reply.

"That's a nice dress you are wearing. It looks like one of Faye's creations. Has she made you wear it?"

"I don't mind wearing it, Lady," I reply, surprised at her observation, and the thought that Madame Faye actually designed the dress. "I suppose it would normally be worn with a slip underneath."

"Not if it's one of Faye's creations it wouldn't. No, I'm sure you are modelling that outfit just as it has been designed to be worn. Come here and tell me what you think of my painting."

I don't question how Lady Lydia knows about this dress. I approach her easel to take a look at what she is painting. Some artists get touchy if you try to look at their work before completion, but Lady Lydia clearly isn't one of them.

I look at Lady Lydia's handiwork. It's three-quarters finished, with the stables in the background more advanced than the young woman in the foreground. The woman's posture appears almost saint-like, but instead of some religious artefact, the woman holds a whip.

"Has Madame Faye been sitting for you, Lady?" I query when I recognise the woman in the picture.

"No. I sketched it from memory. Hell will freeze over before Faye stays still long enough for a portrait."

"You must know Madame Faye very well, Lady," I say. "I recognised her in your painting even though it's not yet complete."

"Yes, I know her quite well. Faye is my niece. I was the one who introduced her to La Chatte Heureuse. I sometimes wonder if I did the right thing."

"Does Madame Faye know you are here, Lady?" I ask.

"Oh yes. We arrived together, and we will leave together. Beyond that, I doubt we will have anything to do with each other for the next ten days. But she's my niece, and despite Faye's many faults, I love her. I hope you will look after her. She can get carried away when her creative juices get blocked."

"I will do my best, Lady. But I'm a slave and I doubt I can influence Madame Faye's actions."

"Don't under-estimate a slave's power over her mistress," replies Lydia. "Faye has given you this dress to wear, which she would only do if she wanted to earn your respect. And that yellow flower symbol on your collar indicates that you're a Buttercup... exactly the type of slave Faye will need the most if she's to overcome her creative block. I'm afraid we artists can be temperamental beasts at times, particularly if we get frustrated. All I ask is that you do your best to help Faye with whatever she needs."

I reaffirm my promise to do what I can, although I suspect that will be very little. I'm about to leave Lady Lydia in peace when she asks that I let her sketch me kneeling down. I've nothing better to do, so I comply with her request. I realise when she's done that she's adding me to her painting, kneeling at the feet of my whip-carrying mistress. The scene is quite erotic and my insides react in a wholly inappropriate way.

At five o'clock I stand waiting outside the administration block as Madame Faye had ordered. I can see her inside, standing at the reception desk giving Slave Brooke a hard time. I'm unsure whether to go inside and join Madame Faye, or wait where she told me to meet her. I play safe and stay where I am. A few minutes later, Madame Faye comes storming out of the building with a thunderous look on her face.

"Come, Slave," snaps Madame Faye at me. I'm more than a little fearful that she will get aggressive once we are alone. However, refusing her command, or running away, isn't an option I'm prepared to consider, so I obey.

We return to Madame Faye's suite. She's calmed down a little during the walk here. Slave Pixie had the good sense to get out of our way when she saw Madame Faye barrelling down the corridor towards her.

"Right, your free time is over, so you will change back into the leather outfit," says Madame Faye once we are in her bedroom. "If you are likely to need the bathroom in the next few hours, go now."

I quickly prepare myself for whatever is going to come next. The leather corset isn't the easiest thing to tie up by myself, but I do the best job I can. Madame Faye examines my effort and tightens the laces on the corset so that I can barely breathe. I ease my torso slightly so that the corset sits in a better position and I can at least breathe normally.

"Since the management here won't give me the details I requested about you, I'll have to ask you directly. And I expect the truth, not what you think I want to hear. Understood?"

"Yes, Madame," I reply.

Madame Faye launches into a series of questions, some of which are very personal. I'm not sure she has the right to expect me to disclose such personal details, but I'm too much in her thrall to refuse. She doesn't take any notes, so I presume she is committing my answers to memory. A few questions are obviously tricks to ensure that my answers are consistent. I've no idea what she intends to do with what I've told her. Despite giving personal details about my love life and sexual experiences, I don't feel that anything I've said is blackmail material. Sure, my perverted sexual fantasies would be embarrassing if revealed to the wider world, but it's nothing I'd pay money to keep quiet. My mother already thinks that I'm a deranged lesbian slut, so giving her another stick to throw on the bonfire of her daughter's reputation isn't going to make a difference.

By now Madame Faye has calmed down to what I presume is normal behaviour for her. Like me, she has changed into a leather outfit, although hers is far more substantial than mine. I'm barefoot while Madame Faye has tight knee-high leather boots. Her outfit includes a studded leather collar worn above her necklace. I confess that the sight of her outfit makes me go weak at the knees as my fantasies suddenly take on a real life form. Madame Faye is dressed exactly how I think a stern dominatrix should dress.

I mentally prepare myself for whatever might come next. Madame Faye's behaviour suggests that we aren't going to be starting with a bondage and sex session. I soon realise that she is preparing to receive guests. Sure enough, Madame Nolene arrives ten minutes later, followed shortly afterwards by Madame Violet with Slave Pixie in tow.

The three mistresses spend the next few hours in a strange form of verbal sparring as each tries to impress the others with their wealth and social connections. Meanwhile Pixie and I are kept busy serving coffee, and later a meal, while otherwise being ignored. Pixie is far better than me at standing patiently in one of the establish 'slave presentation' positions. I try my best not to fidget, but I lack practise at imitating a statue.

I don't deliberately listen to the three-way conversation, and most of what I hear is meaningless gobbledegook to me. However, I receive confirmation that Madame Faye is a clothing designer in the cut throat world of high-end fashion. Madame Nolene is a divorce lawyer with a reputation for ruthlessness, while Madame Violet is a high-priced surgeon who seems to specialise in cosmetic surgery for the ultra-rich. All three of them live a million miles away from the social circles I inhabit in the real world.

"I acquired Pixie last year," says Madame Violet, attracting my attention to the conversation of the mistresses. "Her mother defaulted on payment for some surgery, and she needs more time to pay. Pixie agreed to be mine to do with as I wish if I allowed her mother more time to pay."

I glance at Pixie who seems slightly embarrassed at being the subject of the conversation. On the face of it, the arrangement is repugnant, but without knowing the details, I withhold making any judgement. Pixie doesn't convey the impression that she's being forced into being Madame Violet's slave. Pixie is either a brilliant actress, or there's more to their arrangement than Madame Violet implies.

"I notice Tessa isn't your chattel slave, Faye," says Madame Nolene. "Send her to me when you've finished with her today."

"I've made a generous donation to club funds to have exclusive use of Slave Tessa," snaps Madame Faye. "You will need to find another slave to satisfy your needs."

The thought of being purchased like a piece of property does strange things to my psyche. Madame Faye clearly expects a lot from me if she's prepared to spend money to acquire me. I mentally consider the consequences of being owned, and I start to understand how real slavery must feel. Suddenly this isn't a game any more, but a whole new way of life for me... at least for the next ten days.

Madame Faye's guests depart around eight o'clock, by which time Pixie and I have cleared away the remains of dinner, and washed the dishes. I tried to engage Pixie in conversation about her plight, but she avoided doing more than confirm what Madame Victoria said to the others. I had earlier followed Pixie's example and snacked on the food we were preparing. I'm not sure if that's standard practise when serving in the Mistresses' accommodation building, but Mistress Faye made no effort to see that I was fed.

"I feel like having a bath, Slave," says Madame Faye in a tone that makes it clear she switched into her role as a dominatrix. "Remove your clothes and prepare a warm bath. You can show me your skills as a bath slave."

I can only guess what duties a bath slave is required to perform. I've never even fantasised about adopting such a role. However, I'm happy at the prospect of giving it a try.

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Chapter 12: Faye. Friday Week 4 of Tessa's stay.

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I'm woken at seven thirty with the mug of hot coffee I included in my orders to Slave Tessa last night. So far she has been successful in carrying out my orders correctly. Slave Tessa's inexperience at being a personal slave has only occasionally been evident. I had to tell her that a bath slave washes her mistress from inside the bath, and not from the side. At least she didn't baulk at the intimacy that sharing a bath creates.

Nor did Slave Tessa complain about being made to sleep inside the cage. As it's her first time in my charge, I left the cage door unlocked overnight. I've experienced instances when new slaves have panicked when waking in a locked cage. At least the unlocked cage meant Slave Tessa could rise and make my morning coffee without me needing to release her.

"Did you sleep well, Slave Tessa?" I ask. "Were you warm enough with a single blanket?"

"Yes, Madame," replies Slave Tessa, not falling for the trap of saying otherwise.

I doubt that Slave Tessa slept easily. The length of the cage means that a slave needs to sleep in a foetal position. The mattress is little more than a thin foam mat, and the blanket is made of coarse wool that probably irritates her skin. I know I could never sleep in that situation, but then, I've no intention of ever being imprisoned in a small cage.

"Do you remember the orders I gave you last night, Slave Tessa?" I ask.

"Yes, Madame."

"Then list them and tell me which ones are done."

"Last night you told me to clean the bath after we had finished, Madame. That's done. Then I was to..."

"Okay, you can skip last night's duties since you've clearly completed them. What have you done so far this morning?"

"I've made my bed, Madame. Completed my morning ablutions. Laid out your clothes. Made your coffee. Prepared your breakfast..."

"Good. At least you can remember orders, Slave Tessa. Now bring me my breakfast. I'll have it in bed."

I'm impressed at Tessa's ability to remember orders, and carry them out in the correct sequence. However, I'm slightly disappointed that there's nothing I can legitimately punish her for doing, or not doing. I'm going to need to change my tactics.

After Tessa has cleared away my breakfast tray, I roll out of bed and use the bathroom. I dress in my leather dominatrix outfit even though I instructed Tessa last night to lay out one of my dresses. I go through to the living room where I find Tessa kneeling patiently on floor awaiting my further orders. There's a slight look of surprise when she sees me in my outfit, but she quickly resumes her neutral expression. I've nothing arranged until afternoon tea with Violet, so Slave Tessa and I have time for some fun... well, fun for me, at least.

"Now, my beautiful Buttercup, you are to provide me with your best effort at pleasing my inner desires," I say as I sit down on the couch.

My order is deliberately vague. It's unreasonable to expect Slave Tessa to know what my inner desires might be. Particularly as I'm not entirely sure myself, but that's beside the point. The last two slaves who attempted to carry out this order failed miserably. Their backsides and tits suffered as a consequence. However, they weren't Buttercups, so their failure is hardly surprising. Can Tessa do better? Part of me hopes that she will, while part of me would be happy to warm those delicious peaches tantalisingly visible under her skirt.

Slave Tessa goes into the bedroom to retrieve my collection of restraints and sex toys. She deposits them at the edge of the rug, strips herself naked, and promptly proceeds to demonstrate her skills at self bondage. She has clearly done this sort of thing before, and I mentally berate myself for not discovering her fetish for this during yesterday's interrogation. She's well and truly immobilised by the time she has finished. I'm not even sure that she could free herself unaided. But there's no need to probe her ability to do that at the moment. The sight of her bound in such a helpless and erotic position has me reaching between my legs and running my other hand over my tits.

"Punish me, Madame," says Slave Tessa. "I've been a naughty slave."

I can't tell whether Tessa is aroused by her actions, but I know I certainly am. I had no preconceived idea of what would qualify as 'pleasing my inner desires', but I'd be hard pressed to find anything better. I reach for a light flogger and proceed to tease Slave Tessa with playful slashes across her tits. Her gasps and moans confirm that she's in seventh heaven, and that it won't take much to tip her into an orgasm. However, this isn't about her pleasure, but mine.

I'm tempted to remove my clothes and have Slave Tessa bury her tongue in my cunt. But that means removing the ball gag. Perhaps we can do that later. For the moment I want to see Slave Tessa squirm and writhe under my control... silently begging for pleasure that I'll be happy to deny. I remind myself that Slave Tessa is a Buttercup, and this is exactly the sort of treatment a Buttercup craves. Sexual release is simply a means of coming down from the erotic high of being bound and punished. I feel ecstatic that I've discovered a slave who truly appreciates the treatment I want to deliver.

There isn't much I can add to Slave Tessa's bondage. A leash on the leather collar is the only addition I make. I make her wriggle her way around the room simply for the pleasure of seeing her struggle to comply. My light flogger is replaced by a crop, which in turn is discarded in favour of a whip. My strokes on Tessa's arse and tits become progressively harsher, but I'm careful not to draw blood. I've no intention of creating open wounds and scars, and I've being doing this long enough to know how far I can push a slave. In Slave Tessa's case, she is remarkably resilient, but I still hold back from hurting her too much.

We play for well over an hour before I decide that I can't wait any longer for sex. I replace Slave Tessa's ball gag with a gag that has a large rubber cock attached. The gag can be mounted in two ways, either with the cock pushed down the slave's throat, or the other way round so she can fuck her mistress. I place some lube on the cock since Tessa has no ability to do so while she is tightly bound. I decide against stripping naked, but instead open the zip on my leather trousers to provide access to my cunt.

Slave Tessa doesn't need more than a tug on her leash to prompt her to lean forward and push the cock into my cunt. Once the cock is embedded as far as she can manage, she proceeds to pump back and forth. I'm already is a highly charged state of arousal, and although Tessa's efforts are a little jerky, I soon experience an orgasm. However, I'm not going to be satisfied with just one orgasm. At my command, Tessa succeeds in bringing me to a second orgasm but she is clearly tiring. It can't be easy manoeuvring the cock while bound so tightly. A considerate mistress would loosen Tessa's bonds, but I'm not ready to allow her that luxury. She bound herself in this fashion, so I presume she can tolerate the restraints for a while longer.

I don't detect Slave Tessa achieving an orgasm, but the inside of her thighs are wet with her juices. She's done well to endure everything we've done, but I think she is in need of a rest. Pushing her too hard in our first session might jeopardise the success of future sessions. I close the zip on my trousers and resume sitting on the couch.

"You may release yourself from your bonds and get dressed, Slave Tessa," I say, tossing the bunch of keys to her cuffs onto the floor beside her.

I watch as Tessa contorts herself into several different positions as she releases herself. It takes her about fifteen minutes to remove every restraint, and then dress. As usual, the lace-up corset is difficult to tie unaided, but I'm satisfied with Tessa's effort for now.

"We'll have an early lunch, and then you can have your two hours of free time," I say. "I'm having afternoon tea with Madame Violet at three o'clock, and I want you in attendance."

I find a suitable dress for Slave Tessa to wear during her free time. The dress she wore yesterday served its purpose as a prototype, and seeing Tessa wear it helped me decide on some design modifications. All being well, I can begin a production run of the modified design in a few weeks time.

Today's dress is also a prototype of one of my new designs. I'm currently torn between producing it as a sexy nightdress, or leaving it as kinky wear for nightclubbing. Tessa slides into the skin hugging lycra dress. This version of the dress has her tits covered by a black fishnet bra, and I briefly consider whether to dispense with the bra and leave her tits bare. When I see that the wide mesh of the bra highlights rather than hides Tessa's tits, I decide to leave the bra on her.

"It's a quarter to one now, so I expect you here by a quarter to three at the latest," I say to Slave Tessa as I escort her from the Mistresses quarters and point to where she is to meet me later.

I return to my suite and catch up on some work. This morning's session with Slave Tessa has unlocked the mental block in my creativity. I shouldn't have let the snide remarks at the last fashion show upset me so much. But that's now in the past, and thanks to Tessa, I can resume my new designs. Without my computer I can only sketch my new designs by hand, which I find strangely therapeutic. Perhaps Aunt Lydia's devotion to painting has some merit after all.

I meet Slave Tessa outside the Mistresses quarters a few minutes late. She's waiting nervously as though she is beginning to doubt she heard my instructions correctly. I like to keep my slaves on edge so that they don't become complacent.

"You've five minutes to wash and get changed. Be ready," I say as I escort Tessa into my suite.

"Yes, Madame," says Tessa as she scurries into the bathroom.

I gather my sketches and put them away in my large folder. I feel as though I've had a productive couple of hours. Despite my initial annoyance at having to allow Slave Tessa two hours of free time each day, the arrangement seems to have had an unexpected benefit for my work.

Slave Tessa reports to me within the five minutes I've allowed her. As usual, she's struggled to fasten the corset tight enough. I take a moment to pull the laces tighter. The effect is to force her to stand straighter and thrust out her tits. It's an attractive look which I'll use as a benchmark for her posture in future. I don't want Tessa to get lax with her appearance. I expect perfection from a slave even in circumstances where that may be difficult to achieve.

I've known Violet for several years, although we only see each other at La Chatte Heureuse. Our career paths are very different so we have little reason to contact each other outside of the club. I've no need for cosmetic surgery, and Violet's taste in clothing is... well, less said about that the better. Two other mistresses, Isabella and Lisbeth, are already here with their slaves. Neither of the slaves are chattel slaves, so I presume they've been commandeered from some work party. Stephanie probably won't like that, but the club rules allow any mistress to 'borrow' slaves from work parties.

"What game are we playing today?" asks Lisbeth.

"Strip poker," replies Violet. "The slaves do the stripping, of course."

"The slaves aren't wearing much, so it's going to be a short game," I observe.

"I considered that," replies Violet. "I thought we might add a few ornaments like belts and bangles to make the tally up to eight items to be removed before the slave is stark naked."

The other mistresses agree to Violet's suggestion, and we each set about choosing the extra items we want our own slave to wear. Violet has a selection of items and I select those that make Tessa's beauty stand out. There's no harm in making the other mistresses feel jealous.

"The rules," says Violet as the four of us sit around a table with our slaves standing in a line to one side. "Five card draw. Players can fold on no more than three hands. The slaves of all losers who haven't folded are penalised. A player drops out when her slave is naked."

I prefer the variation of the game where we bet and buy extra chips with items of the slave's clothing, but I guess that's a much slower game. This version relies a lot on luck. The other three mistresses seem eager to have the slaves naked as soon as possible.

I win two of the first five hands, having folded on one hand. Slave Tessa is minus her belt and one sandal. She's better off than Slave Pixie who has shed four of her eight items. By the twelfth round only Isabella and I are still in the game. Both our slaves are down to two items of clothing. Winning the game from here is down to pure luck, so I don't feel overly smug when my three fours beat Isabella's pair of kings on the last hand.

Of course, the game of cards was just an excuse to have the slaves remove their clothing. Group orgies excite many mistresses, but I personally prefer the privacy of my own suite for sex. I'm much more aroused when I'm applying restraints and delivering punishments to a slave. That's what Slave Tessa likes and it's why we are a perfect match. Nevertheless, I participate in the forty minute romp that follows. To their credit, all four slaves play their part, although how much of that is out of duty, and how much personal desire is debatable.

Having exhausted ourselves, the two 'borrowed' slaves are returned to their work parties. I check Slave Tessa has dressed herself to my satisfaction, and we return to my suite.

"Prepare a bath, Slave," I order as we walk through the door to my suite.

Slave Tessa obeys and strips herself ready to bathe me. I saunter into the bathroom a few minutes later and allow Slave Tessa to undress me. Yet again I'm impressed how Slave Tessa plays her part. Her eyes are kept demurely away from staring at me. Her posture is suitably subservient, without cringing or slouching. She rarely forgets to say 'Madame' when speaking. She's an attractive sight, whether dressed or naked.

"Do you normally wear earrings?" I ask, as I step into the bath.

"Only the studs I'm wearing, Madame," replies Slave Tessa, as she climbs into the bath behind me. "I had my ears pierced when I was a teenager when my boyfriend at the time bought me a pair of earrings. I stopped wearing them when we split up."

"Does that mean that you are bisexual?" I ask.

"No, Madame. Nothing like that. I dated a few boys while I was at high school, but it never went as far as sex. I've know for many years that I'm a lesbian."

"Girlfriends?"

"Only the ones I told you about yesterday, Madame. Being a lesbian in the social circles around me isn't something I can be open about. Being here is the first chance I've had to feel sexually liberated."

"Then you should become a member of La Chatte Heureuse," I reply.

"I can't afford the fees, Madame. I get a small allowance from my late grandfather's estate, but my parents have suspended any financial support until I marry... a man."

"If I were to pay for your membership of the Slave caste for the next year, will you agree to come here as my chattel slave, twice, for two weeks at a time? I will select dates that fit with your studies."

"That's very generous, Madame. I'm not sure what to say. I've promised Madame Lash to contact her and consider a proposal she wishes to make."

"Alina... that's Madame Lash to you... and I are good friends. I'm sure we can come to some arrangement that suits everyone concerned."

"Thank you, Madame. May I give you an answer early next week? There's so much happened to me in the last few weeks that I feel overwhelmed."

"Yes, OK," I reply. "Now I think it's time that you gave me an all over body wash."

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Chapter 13: Nicole. Saturday Week 6 of Tessa's stay

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Faye and her aunt Lydia are leaving in a few hours. I feel as though I can start breathing again. Normally Faye's visits generate a whole series of complaints from other guests... abused slaves, insulted ladies and mistresses complaining about Faye monopolising the facilities. The last ten days have been unbelievably quiet in that respect. Faye has been a model guest... at least for someone from the Mistress caste. My only lingering concern is that Slave Tessa has been emotionally or physically damaged during her time submitting to Faye's dominion.

I've only been able to keep a distant watch over Tessa. Faye has kept her word, and allowed Tessa two hours of free time each day. I notice that Faye has scheduled Tessa's free time to make it impossible for her to socialise with other slaves. I wish I could have made that a requirement, but the club rules don't stipulate the timing of a slave's temporary manumission.

"I release Slave Tessa into the club's care," says Faye as she checks out. "I'll have her report here for a re-assignment of her accommodation as soon as she's carried my luggage down to the ferry."

"Did you find Slave Tessa satisfactory for your needs?" I probe.

"Yes. Most satisfactory. She's agreed to come as my chattel slave next time I visit."

"Um... Slave Tessa isn't a club member," I reply. "She won't be able to visit the island once her current stay concludes."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. I think you'll find that there's a pending application for Slave Tessa to join La Chatte Heureuse as a member of the Slave caste."

While I'm pleased at Slave Tessa's decision, I'm surprised by Faye's comment. A new applicant needs two existing members to sponsor her application for membership. Processing new membership applications is part of Helen's role, so it's easy enough to ask her to verify Faye's assertion. I wait until the ferry has departed before checking. Sure enough there's an application from Tessa, sponsored by Faye and Lydia. It will take a few days to verify the details on Tessa's application, although we have already checked her birth certificate and other identification documents when she first claimed her prize.

"I see that you've applied for membership of La Chatte Heureuse," I say, when Slave Tessa appears at the reception desk. "You must be enjoying your stay here to make that decision so soon."

"Yes, Madame," replies Tessa. "So far my stay has surpassed my wildest expectations. I'll be sorry to leave in a week's time."

"Well, once you are a member, you can visit again. The membership fee allows a member of the Slave caste seven nights of free accommodation on the island each year."

"Madame Faye wishes me to come for two fortnight stays as her chattel slave, so I will need to use my free accommodation during one of those stays, Madame."

"That's not how being a chattel slave works. The mistress bringing a chattel slave must pay for their combined accommodation. Your own allowance for free accommodation won't be needed. You can use your seven nights how you like. Now, we had best find you a bed in E4 for the remainder of your stay. There are eighteen members of the Slave caste arriving today."

I escort Slave Tessa to building E4. The bed she has occupied for the first two weeks of her stay has been allocated to member who goes by the name of Slave Bambi. A third of the visiting slaves use a made-up name for anonymity. I don't inquire as to the reasons why members choose particular alternative names. Slave Bambi is a shy thirty year old with long blond hair, who arrived last Saturday with two of her slave friends. Her friends have already departed, but Slave Bambi is booked to stay until next Saturday. She's scheduled to depart on the same ferry as Slave Tessa.

"Do you prefer a bed by the window?" I ask.

A slave isn't normally allowed any choice about her allocated accommodation. However, I feel I owe Slave Tessa a favour after she kept Faye out of my way for the last ten days.

"Yes, Madame. If that is convenient."

I reallocate the bed opposite the bed now used by Slave Bambi. It was originally earmarked for one of today's arrivals, but I move the her nameplate to an unallocated bed further along the row. I fix Slave Tessa's nameplate over her bed and lock it in place. Keeping the nameplates firmly fixed to the bed-head avoids squabbles between slaves over bed allocations, and prevents the more dominant slaves from bullying other slaves into trading their beds. The beds by the door are the most favoured as it means being first in the queue for the bathroom and kitchen in the morning. The beds by the window at the other end are second choice, with those in between least favoured because of the heat and smell of crowded bodies.

"Madame Faye allowed me to keep the leather corset and skirt she gave me, Madame," says Slave Tessa. "Am I allowed to continue wearing them, or should I change into the standard slave uniform?"

"I think you should change," I reply. "You will be too much of a target for mistresses and slaves alike if you wear that expensive outfit. We can put the outfit in your locker until you are ready to leave."

I take Slave Tessa back to the administration building and we place Tessa's leather corset and skirt inside her locker. I arrange for Slave Brooke to reissue a standard Slave caste outfit to Tessa.

"Report to the Slave Holding Area as soon as you are ready," I say to Slave Tessa as I leave her in Brooke's care.

I turn my attention to the arriving members. Four mistresses, three ladies and eighteen slaves are among today's arrivals. Kirsty is having to make two round trips to transport everyone. The abnormally high number of arrivals can be attributed, in part, to Faye having left the island this morning. Perhaps if Faye is preoccupied with Slave Tessa in future, we'll have fewer members rescheduling their visits to avoid confronting Faye during their stay.

"What do you intend to do with all these extra members of the Slave caste?" I ask Stephanie and Rebecca, who are in charge of allocating work to the slaves. "We'll have fourteen field slaves, six general slaves... excluding club staff, and three bondage slaves this week."

"Some of last week's tasks had to be deferred until this week because we could only muster one work party of field slaves," replies Stephanie. "It will take us a few days to catch up. I think our biggest problem is going to be satisfying the four arriving mistresses. They've requested that a bondage slave be allocated to each of them."

"What?!?" I say in surprise. "There's no record of that request on their booking. I would have warned them how difficult that would be to achieve had I known."

"Nevertheless, the club received an email late last night making the request," says Stephanie. "Apparently Monique promised them that we would do our best to satisfy their request."

Monique's reply doesn't surprise me. La Chatte Heureuse always does its best to meet the requirements of members, particularly those of the Mistress caste. I check the details of the four arriving mistresses. They are all close friends, so they are probably visiting the island as a group. However, we only have three slaves booked as bondage slaves this week, so the mistresses are going to need to share.

The four mistresses and the three members of the Slave caste booked in as 'bondage slaves' are all established members of La Chatte Heureuse. Consequently, I'm confident they can play their games without additional supervision. New mistresses can sometimes get too rough in delivering punishments, and inexperienced slaves sometimes realise that they've over-estimated their ability to tolerate the strict regime of a bondage slave.

The arrangement with the four mistresses sharing three bondage slaves starts to unravel on Tuesday. Slave Lana injures her leg in an accident on the punishment frame. She wishes to shrug off her injury and continue as a bondage slave. However, I ask Slave Olivia to give her medical opinion about Lana's injury. Olivia is adamant that Slave Lana needs to rest her leg and that she cannot continue as a bondage slave.

"We need at least one... preferably two... additional bondage slaves," demands Madame Anastasia, as though I can wave a wand and produce them out of thin air.

"There are no more bondage slaves on the island," I reply as calmly as I can, since clearly had there been another bondage slave here, she would already be part of their group.

"Then we would like to ask the other slaves here if they would switch to being our bondage slaves for the next three days. We'll cover the extra club fee for one or two slaves to switch, and pay each volunteer two hundred dollars a day."

The offer made by Anastasia is generous, but whether it is enough to attract any of the slaves is uncertain. Having looked through the profiles of the slaves in residence, there are only three or four of those here who would be capable of withstanding three days of the gruelling regime.

"Slave Bambi and I wish to accept Madame Anastasia's offer, Madame," says Slave Tessa when she and Slave Bambi appear in reception an hour after a general announcement has been made.

While I am confident Slave Tessa will survive mentally unscathed from three days of torment, I'm far less sure about Slave Bambi. The bondage slave regime isn't simply a matter of enduring numerous restraints and punishments. Being locked in a dark cell and enduring endless hours of confinement is only for those with courage and the right mindset.

"Are you both aware of what being a bondage slave entails?" I ask, looking at Slave Bambi as I speak.

"Yes, Madame," replies Slave Tessa. "I've already spent two nights in a cell in E4's dungeon, and then there was my time imprisoned during the special event. I've endured both Madame Selena's and Madame Faye's punishments, as well as Madame Lash's attentions."

"Hmm. And what about you, Slave Bambi? Why are you so interested in being a bondage slave?"

"Each time I've been to the island I've wanted to try being a bondage slave," replies Slave Bambi. "However, my friends who usually come with me aren't interested in bondage, so we've always chosen to be general slaves. This time I booked for an extra week, but until now, I lost the nerve to ask to switch to the bondage slave category."

"Has Slave Tessa influenced your decision?" I ask.

"Only to the extent that Tessa agreed to join me if I chose to accept Madame Anastasia's offer," replies Slave Bambi. "I am the one who raised the subject first."

"Then you will need to remember your manners, Slave Bambi," I reply. "You've spoken twice without proper respect for my status. A bondage slave who fails to say 'Madame' each time she addresses a mistress can expect more than a telling off. Understood?"

"Yes, Madame," says Slave Bambi. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Very well. If Madame Anastasia agrees to accept you, we can formalise a switch this morning. Go and wait in the Slave Holding Area while I speak with Madame Anastasia.

I find Anastasia with her friends in the dungeon of building E4. It takes all of five seconds for the four of them to agree to accept Slaves Bambi and Tessa. Anastasia follows me to the administration building to complete the necessary paperwork. I also ensure that she deposits the money she offered to pay the slaves with the club. I don't always trust those of the Mistress caste to honour their promises, although Anastasia is one of the more trustworthy. Some mistresses would promise something to a slave, only to refuse to pay up once the slave has completed her side of the bargain. It's not the sort of promise that can be enforced by legal action, so La Chatte Heureuse does its best to ensure fair play.

"I hope you aren't going to impose special conditions on the slaves' treatment," says Anastasia to me as we walk towards the Slave Holding Area.

"No. Both slaves have agreed to the usual rules. Slave Tessa has just spent ten days under Faye's control, so I think you'll find her hardy enough for your games. Slave Bambi has been a club member for seven years, although this is her first time as a bondage slave. I suggest you ease her into your games, but I see no reason for you to make any other dispensations."

Anastasia and I walk into the Slave Holding Area. There are three other slaves waiting in addition to Slaves Bambi and Tessa. Slave Tessa drops to her knees before Anastasia in a nice move that she must have learned from Faye. Slave Bambi follows Tessa's example a few seconds later. The other three slaves seem bewildered by the unusual reaction to our arrival. Normally, slaves are merely required to stand in line while those to be assigned duties are chosen.

"Come with me Slaves Bambi and Tessa," says Anastasia. "I shall introduce you to your new dungeon home for the next three days."

Slaves Bambi and Tessa stand and dutifully follow Anastasia as she returns to building E4. The other three slaves let out a sigh of relief that they weren't ordered to follow. Just because they aren't bondage slaves doesn't mean they are safe from being taken to the dungeon.

"How long have you been waiting here?" I ask the three slaves.

"About twenty minutes, Madame," replies Slave Rosa. "Madame Rebecca told us to wait for her here."

"Well, you can wash the floor in this room while you wait," I say, knowing that Rebecca will be at least another half an hour overseeing the work party unloading the supplies from the barge. "One of you follow me to collect what you'll need."

I make sure the three slaves have the cleaning materials to carry out my orders. I return to my desk and resume my normal duties. In other circumstances I would chide the office staff for allowing three slaves to remain in the Slave Holding Area for twenty minutes without notifying one of the staff mistresses. However, with so many members of the Slave caste in residence this week, all the staff are kept very busy.

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Chapter 14: Tessa. Saturday. Departure day.

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I'm not sure what time it is, but it must be well before dawn. Normally the hourly patrol of the dungeon to check on the well-being of those imprisoned in a cell, doesn't disturb my sleep. However there are those who volunteer for the night patrol who take delight in tormenting those unfortunates like me who must sleep in the confines of a small cell.

"Wake up, Slave," comes a voice I recognise as Madame Cynthia, one of Madame Anastasia's cronies. "Present yourself for inspection."

I roll out of bed... such as it is... and stand facing the small window in the door. As required, I place my hands on the top of my head and spread my legs apart. Madame Cynthia could unlock the door and either inspect me inside my cell, or have me step out into the main area of the dungeon. That's not Madame Cynthia's style. Whatever perverse pleasure she gets from watching me perform to her command, she does through the tiny window in the cell door.

"Turn around, bend down, and present your arse," orders Madame Cynthia.

I obey. Refusing to do so will only result in a whipping, and I am leaving the island on this morning's ferry. Madame Cynthia is inclined to be over-enthusiastic with the whip, and the last thing I need is a sore back.

"Pull your arse cheeks apart. Let me see your holes."

Like a performing dog, I do ask Madame Cynthia commands. In the half-light of my cell, I doubt she can see much, but that isn't the purpose of her game. In the three days that I've been one of the playthings of the four mistresses, I've assessed each of their particular fetishes. Madame Cynthia gets her thrills from issuing orders and having them instantly obeyed.

"Stand up and turn around. Reach between your legs and masturbate. But you are not to come without permission."

Again?!? This must be Madame Cynthia's favourite order to me. Every time I'm rotated into Madame Cynthia's dominion, she has me frig myself until my juices flow freely down my leg. I wouldn't mind if she occasionally fucked me, but she reserves her strap-on cock to fuck Slave Jaycee. At least I sometimes reach an orgasm when Madame Cynthia is in charge. The other three mistresses always drive me to a peak, but never allow me to come. Strangely, I don't mind being denied the pleasure of an orgasm, as it only keeps me in a state of arousal, and makes me more eager the next time. By now my ability to stop myself from tipping over the edge into an orgasm has even impressed the very demanding Madame Anastasia.

"Please may I come, Madame?" I ask a few moments later.

"Already? You must have a slutty mind to arouse yourself so quickly."

I couldn't agree more. Being constantly denied an orgasm plays its part, but my dirty perverted thoughts play wicked tricks with my mind, driving me into wantonness. Madame Cynthia isn't in a rush to answer my question, so I must hold myself at a peak for what seems like an eternity. If I allow myself to fall back from my simmering peak, and Madame Cynthia allows me an orgasm, I will only have seconds to regain my arousal. That would be difficult, but not impossible now that I've had plenty of opportunity to practise.

"No. You may not come, Slave Tessa," says Madame Cynthia a minute later. "Get back into your bed and lie face down with your head turned towards the wall. Place your hands on top of your head."

This is another of Slave Cynthia's tests of obedience. I can't see her in this position, so I've no idea how long she intends to stand watching me. If I move while she's watching me, then I get whipped in the morning. Something I wish to avoid today. Madame Cynthia will undoubtedly check on the other three slaves imprisoned in these cells, but she seems to reserve her torments for me. Eventually I fall asleep and I don't see Madame Cynthia again until shortly before Slave Bambi and I are due to check out at ten o'clock in the morning.

The departure routine is the same as when Jessica left after the special event. At seven o'clock Slave Bambi and I are released from our cells. Slaves Jaycee and Naomi aren't leaving the island until this afternoon, so they won't be released from their cells for another hour. Madame Anastasia is scheduled to depart at the same time as Slave Bambi and me, so she is taking sole charge of us this morning. We are escorted to the bathroom and given twenty minutes for a shower and ablutions. Breakfast follows in the building E4 kitchen. The food is the same in each kitchen regardless of caste, so Madame Anastasia joins us as we eat. The other slaves in building E4 are unlocked from their bed shackles at seven-thirty, so we have been able to use the bathroom and have our pick of food before the rush.

Since there were a large number of arrivals last Saturday, many of those staying for a single week will be departing today. That means two ferry departures, one at ten-thirty, and the other at two o'clock. The three of us are booked on the morning ferry, which means checking out at reception around ten o'clock. Departing bondage slaves are required to undergo a quick medical check by the resident doctor, Slave Olivia. It's a fairly cursory examination, mainly to check there are no hidden injuries that might cause bruising or swelling later. Whip marks on my tits and arse are checked for cuts, but any redness is passed as okay. Similarly, any marks from being bound by rope or metal shackles are given a quick once-over.

"I can give you some cream to soothe your arse if you need it," says Slave Olivia when I wince as I sit down in a chair.

"No, thank you," I reply. "I just need to be careful how I sit down for a day or so. It's not all that painful."

I don't confess that I get a slight thrill at the thought of my tender arse. The occasional sting of pain simply reinforces my wicked sexual thoughts that haven't reduced despite my release from the dungeon. Slave Olivia confirms I'm physically fit to travel. She makes no diagnosis of my mental state of mind, which is anything but normal. I doubt it will return to normal for some considerable time... if ever. And, to be honest, I wouldn't mind continuing to think and feel the way I do now.

Choosing to stay here for six weeks as a member of the Slave caste was a huge gamble. However, the opportunity to play out my wild and secret fantasies was too good an opportunity to miss. That similar fantasies are shared by others has helped me be more open about my desires. What I thought were uniquely my own perverted and disgusting thoughts turn out to be far from abnormal. And with that realisation, I feel much more mature. No more treating my lesbian relationships as something to only be talked about in hushed whispers. If those around me at home and study don't like that I'm a lesbian, then that's their problem, not mine.

I officially cease to be Slave Tessa, and become Tessa once again, when Madame Rebecca and I open my locker and I swap my Slave caste costume for my regular street clothes. I pack the leather corset and skirt that Madame Faye gave me into my travel bag, and place the rest of my Slave costume in the laundry bin provided for that purpose. Although I'm no longer required to address mistresses as 'Madame', I find it is hard to stop doing so.

During my few days as a bondage slave, the club administration has approved my application for membership of La Chatte Heureuse. I'm given a folder with my membership card and a summary of the club rules. A full set of rules are online, as are various other documents and information. My phone, along with those of all the others departing this morning, is handed to Kirsty to be returned to me once I leave the bus in town. Hopefully my close friend Dana has remembered that she promised to make the fifty mile journey to pick me up in town. Until my phone is returned to me, I have no means of contacting her. Fortunately, she knows I'm incommunicado during my stay here, so my silence won't worry her.

Sat on the ferry talking to Anastasia and Chrissy (aka Slave Bambi) feels as strange, as does wearing ordinary clothes once again. Should I thank Anastasia for providing me with a mind-blowing sexual experience, or scowl at her for whipping my tits and making my arse sore enough that I still need to be careful how I sit? I suppose she only confirmed what I had already discovered about myself in the previous five weeks. That my own sexual urges border on the perverse but I'm far from unique in that respect. I lust for tight bondage; spanking and whipping; and repeatedly being brought to the brink of an orgasm, but then denied the ultimate pleasure. I'm not sure how I'm going to manage coming down from the high I've been living for the six weeks.

"Are you feeling okay?" I ask Chrissy.

It's difficult to step away from our time as Slaves Tessa and Bambi. Chrissy and I have a lot in common, as we revealed over the last week. Our individual journey of discovery into our own sexual needs travelled an almost identical path. It's to Anastasia's credit that she and her group recognised both the similarities and subtle differences between Slave Bambi's fetishes and mine. Slave Bambi's desire to be shamed during sexual play is not a fetish of mine. I doubt Slave Bambi would have passed the test to become a Buttercup.

"Yes," replies Chrissy. "The frustration I was feeling when I came here has gone, and I am ready to face the challenges ahead."

In Chrissy's case, she will be returning to her lover, who had given birth to 'their' child a few months ago. The new arrival had interrupted their sex life, and Chrissy was in need of sexual release in a 'safe' environment. Chrissy and I have said that we'll keep in touch with each other, but I won't hold her to that promise. She has a family to return to, and they should be the focus of her attention.

As for me, I must firstly return home and make my peace with my mother... if I can. Ma is probably still fuming from our confrontation on the island. She never accepts defeat gracefully, but at least she returned home without making any more fuss. Hopefully, she's finally realised that I'm an adult, and that I'm capable of making adult decisions. In any event, thanks to the money Anastasia has paid me, and the promise of contract work with Madame Lash, I'm financially secure while I complete my final year at university.

On a personal front, I shall call Jessica as soon as I'm on my own. I'm not sure how we are going to manage it, but when Jessica left the island, we both wanted a future together. Hopefully she hasn't changed her mind since then, as I'm more determined than before to make our relationship work. Perhaps now that I'm a member of La Chatte Heureuse, we can meet on the island during my 'free accommodation' week.

I shall also thank Madame Selena for the time and effort she put into preparing me during my first week at La Chatte Heureuse. I've no idea why she did what she did, but looking back, it made a huge difference to my experience at La Chatte Heureuse. I feel as though I owe her favour but I'm unsure how to repay her.

We arrive back in town and the bus pulls up outside the café that serves as a terminus. Kirsty hands everyone their phones and most of us immediately check for messages and missed calls. There are several missed calls from my mother, but they all pre-date her arrival on the island. The only recent message is from Dana, confirming that she'll pick me up here at midday. I send a message back confirming my arrival in town and tell her that I'll meet her in the café. That gives me half an hour to mentally switch from being a slave at La Chatte Heureuse to my normal self, however that may be defined after my experiences on the island.

The sixteen of us on the bus disembark, say our farewells, and go our separate ways. Anastasia has a chauffeur in a fancy car waiting to meet her, while Chrissy is immediately wrapped in the arms of an attractive black haired woman carrying a young baby in a sling around her waist. I'm briefly introduced to them both, but I don't linger and interrupt their reunion. I walk across to the café to grab something drink and eat. As I sit by the window I see several women boarding the bus for its return trip. All are looking excited and eager for their upcoming stay at La Chatte Heureuse. Did I look so eager when I boarded the bus six weeks ago? In some respects that seems like a lifetime ago. Certainly I'm a different person now than I was when I boarded the bus all those weeks ago.

"Well, you look a completely different person," says Dana, as she slides into the seat opposite me. "Your holiday certainly did you a lot of good. I must try the resort you went to sometime. What was it called again?"

"La Chatte Heureuse," I reply. "I'm not sure it's the sort of resort that would appeal to you."

"Why? Surely there were some hot males to make your stay worthwhile?" laughs Dana.

"That's precisely why I don't think La Chatte Heureuse is for you," I reply. "Only women are allowed on the island."

"Seriously?!? What is it then? Some Sapphic paradise?"

"I'm not sure anyone would call it a paradise, but, yes, it's definitely Sapphic in nature."

"And you enjoy that kind of set-up?"

"Yes, I do. I've not told you this before, but I'm a lesbian. So La Chatte Heureuse is exactly the type of place I enjoy."

"Hah! Finally you've come clean and admitted your sexual leaning," says Dana. "I thought you were never going to admit it... even to yourself."

I'm slightly shocked by Dana's comment. I had no idea she suspected that I was a lesbian. I've always been so careful about who I told. Dana has a wide circle of friends, several of whom wouldn't think twice at shaming anyone who isn't heterosexual.

"I've known for several years that I'm a lesbian. I just didn't broadcast the fact. However, these last six weeks have made me reconsider my secrecy, so in future I'm going to be more open. Does this alter our friendship?"

"No, not at all. I've suspected you were at least bisexual for ages. Does this mean you have designs on my hot bod?"

"No, Dana," I laugh. "You have a steady boyfriend, and I'm not into breaking up relationships. You are safe from me."

"Hmm. What if I don't want to be safe from you?" asks Dana.

"Perhaps we can discuss that on the journey home in the privacy of your car."

The journey home is an exploration of possibilities that leaves me wishing I had come out to Dana much earlier. However, that's something to pursue another time. My main focus now is the reception I'll receive from my mother. Will she honour the promise she made to me on the island, or are we going to resume our hostilities?

[The end]