La Chatte Heureuse Pt. 05 Ch. 07-12

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Part Two: Christmas

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Chapter 7: Day Three, 24 December.

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Preparation for Christmas festivities kick into full swing from this morning. The dungeon is now officially closed for four days. However, as is often the case, an exception has been made for Madame Faye, and by extension, me. I'm not complaining, since I came here to experience the restraints and punishments Madame Faye chooses. I like receiving punishments as much as Madame Faye enjoys imposing and delivering them. If that makes a masochist, then within the boundaries of behaviour imposed by La Chatte Heureuse, I suppose I'm guilty as charged. Today we try out the hanging chain we saw yesterday. The cuffs are repositioned so that my arms are stretched above my head, limiting my ability to move about. It's a better position to receive a flogging than the yoke offered yesterday.

I'm made to perform an erotic striptease before we proceed with the punishment Madame Faye says that I deserve. Most of the six black marks I earned yesterday were unjustified in my opinion, but it doesn't alter the fact that they were awarded. Now I must suffer a dozen lashes of a whip in settlement. To an observer, Madame Faye's treatment of me may seem harsh and unfair, but this is a game I willingly play. I know Madame Faye well enough to understand that she is demanding and, at times, seemingly cruel. But it's an act. She is always in control of her emotions and she understands how to manipulate mine. While she constantly pushes me towards expanding my boundaries, she never goes further than I can tolerate. All I need to do is completely surrender myself to her, and trust her with my well being. So far she hasn't disappointed me, and I think we've both benefited as a consequence.

Madame Faye chooses one of her favourite types of whip. A multi-strand rubber flogger that hurts but doesn't cut the skin. We have another eleven days here, so Madame Faye is being careful to pace herself correctly so that I'll still be fit enough to receive punishments at the end of our stay. I've never yet used my safe word to end a punishment, and I've no wish to do so now. But Madame Faye insists that I must use the safe word if I cannot endure any more. It's a test of her skill as much as my endurance to ensure we never reach that situation.

A bucket of cold water tossed over my burning back is the only recuperation I'm allowed after the twelve lashes are delivered. I feel a twinge of pride at my ability to count the strokes clearly and without tears. A few grunts and gasps are all I let past my lips. Madame Faye would never demean herself by complimenting my performance, but I detect a small smile of approval as I refasten my harness.

"You can go and join Slave Pixie until lunchtime," says Madame Faye as we walk back to her suite.

Madame Faye give no explanation for her instruction, and I know better than to probe for a reason. I haven't seen Madame Violet and Pixie for the last day and a half, so I presume this is something that's been arranged between the two mistresses. Madame Faye takes me to Madame Violet's suite and leaves me with instructions to obey her orders.

"Have you been told what duties you are to perform for the festivities?" I ask Pixie as soon as we are together.

All Pixie and I were told beforehand was that four additional work parties, North, East, South and West, have been created to attend to the preparations, and later clearing up, of the seasonal festivities. Each work party consists of six members of the Slave caste.

"I've been assigned to the East work party for the next three days. I guess we all find out later what duties we are to do. What about you?"

"I've only been told to report to the reception desk at certain times over the next few days," I reply. "It looks as though I'm some sort of floating reserve to help out where necessary."

Although I have no idea how long my assigned tasks will take, the frequency of my reporting times won't unduly affect my time with Madame Faye. I already suspected that Madame Faye would be wanting some time to herself. The envelope that arrived yesterday looked suspiciously like something to do with her work. I'm mindful that Madame Faye has a business to run, and taking time off at this time of year isn't easy for her.

I help Pixie with the tasks that Madame Violet has set her. The two of them clearly have a less regimented routine than the one I share with Madame Faye. The sight of dirty laundry lying on the floor at this time of day would give Madame Faye apoplexy, and earn me several black marks. However, Madame Violet doesn't seem to mind, which reflects in Pixie's casual attitude about the mess.

"If you want Madame Violet to renew your slave contract, then I suggest you pay closer attention to your assigned duties," I suggest to Pixie in what I hope is a helpful way.

"Madame Violet doesn't make any complaints about my work," replies Pixie, defensively. "This is how we operated last summer."

"Last summer you were coerced into being Madame Violet's slave, so she probably made allowances for your lack of enthusiasm. If I was her, I would expect more of you in the current situation. You need to convince her that renewing your contract is a better option than simply hiring a maid service."

"Hmm. I hadn't thought of it in that way. Perhaps you are right."

Pixie puts a bit more effort into tidying up the room and getting the laundry sorted and washed. I'm about to help with the laundry when Madame Violet comes over to us.

"Slave Tessa, I need your help," says Madame Violet, indicating that I should follow her.

Madame Violet sits on the couch and resumes drinking her coffee. I kneel on the floor in front of her with my head bowed in the manner Madame Faye has taught me.

"I've been made aware that Madame Melody and her chattel slave, Drippy, will be among the arrivals on this morning's boat," says Madame Violet. "There has been some friction between Madame Melody and Madame Faye over a bet they made many months ago. Unfortunately, it seems that Madame Melody has been assigned the suite next to yours, so there's a good chance the two of them will come face to face before long.

"While I agree with your mistress's assessment that Madame Melody is ill-suited to being a member of the Mistress caste, it doesn't alter the fact that she is one. And there are several mistresses here who will support Madame Melody simply because of her opposition to Madame Faye. My biggest fear is that some mistresses will goad the pair of them into a fight."

"I see, Madame," I reply. "What is it that you are asking me to do?"

"Do what you can to defuse any tension between Madame Faye and Madame Melody. I've already asked the staff mistresses to do what they can. Unfortunately they are rushed off their feet handling so many visitors, so I'm not hopeful they can do much."

"I'm not sure I'm going to be in a position to do much either, but I'll try," I reply. "However, if Madame Faye orders me to do something, then I'm duty bound to obey her."

"I understand, but you have proven yourself to be resourceful before. In the interests of making sure everyone enjoys the festivities, please do what you can."

I could ignore Madame Violet's request since my first loyalty must be to Madame Faye. However, my conscience won't let me dismiss her request. Besides, Madame Faye told me to obey Madame Violet's commands while I was in her suite, so her request could be regarded as giving me an order. Hopefully I won't be placed in a situation where I'm forced to make a choice.

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Chapter 8: Day Three, 24 December.

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I return to Madame Faye's suite at the scheduled time, and prepare her lunch. While doing so, I sneak something to eat for myself. Madame Faye expects me to feed myself as and when I get the opportunity, so I'm not disobeying any orders. By the time lunch is over, the weather outside has turned wet and bitterly cold. Most of the residents of the accommodation block have taken to their rooms for the afternoon. Small ad hoc parties are organised between some of the mistresses, but Madame Faye isn't invited to any of them. Her reputation for being a bitch to everyone regardless of their status won't be easily forgotten nor forgiven. Although Madame Faye pretends indifference, I can tell from her behaviour that she is disappointed at being left out of the celebrations.

Madame Faye's exclusion from the parties at least means she devotes her attention to me. That can be both a good and bad thing, as I quickly discover. Madame Faye has no intention of allowing me any idle time, and she has me practise various presentation positions as well as more vigorous tasks. Consequently I'm kept active and my body soon begins to glisten with sweat. That in turn causes my flimsy clothing to cling to my body. I'm relieved when Madame Faye orders me to remove my clothing... such as it is... and continue my exercises naked.

Around mid-afternoon someone rings the suite's doorbell. It's unlikely to be Madame Violet and Pixie as they had been invited to afternoon tea with a couple of other mistresses. Sometimes Madame Faye likes to answer the door herself, so I don't immediately move towards the door. Besides, I'm naked, not that it unduly bothers me.

"Go and see who is at the door, Tessa," says Madame Faye. "If it's a mistress, then invite her in."

I open the door to reveal a young woman in a smart leather dress and waistcoat. Even though I can't read the name on her necklace, her leather clothing identifies her as a member of the Mistress caste. The exorbitant membership fees for the Mistress caste ensure that its members are generally an elite group of extremely wealthy women. Such wealth invariably breeds confidence and arrogance that channel a mistress's behaviour towards some unwritten La Chatte Heureuse norm. Certainly Madame Faye fits my perception of a typical member of the Mistress caste. However, the mistress before me portrays the posture of someone entirely different. I soon realise that this must be Madame Melody, and the slave wearing a chattel slave collar standing behind her is Drippy.

"Is this Madame Faye's suite?" asks the visitor with a barely suppressed stammer.

"Yes, Madame," I reply. "Please come in. Madame Faye is in the lounge."

I manage to read her name on her necklace as she walks past me, confirming my supposition that this is Madame Melody. After what Madame Violet told me, I'm more than a little nervous about what may follow.

"Madame Melody and her slave, Drippy," I announce to Madame Faye as we enter the sitting area.

"Hah! We meet again, Melody," purrs Madame Faye with all the sincerity of a cat spying a juicy mouse. "Have you come for a rematch of our previous bet?"

"Um... I thought we agreed to call that bet a draw," says Madame Melody with a hint of nervousness. "Neither of our slaves could free themselves from their bonds in the time allowed. Drippy and I are staying in the suite next door and I simply thought that we should say hello."

"We only agreed to defer resolution of the bet until a later date," says Madame Faye. "Perhaps we can now settle the bet."

"If you wish. I'm sure Drippy won't mind. But what about your slave?"

"Tessa will do as I require. A slave is expected to obey her mistress. You don't ask her for permission. You have a lot to learn about being a dominatrix, Melody."

Drippy and I can't fail to overhear the conversation. Strangely, the short exchange reveals more about their relationship than the words alone. I don't detect any animosity between the two mistresses. I don't know how the bet came about, but it seems that they are content to settle it amicably. Madame Violet is wrong to suggest that there is hatred between Madame Faye and Madame Melody. Perhaps that impression came from other mistresses making mischief.

"And you cheated with that bet by having Nicole teach you some rope ties."

"That wasn't cheating," bleats Madame Melody. "There was nothing in our bet that prohibited someone showing me how to tie up a person."

"Are you arguing with me, Melody?"

"Um... err... no, Madame Faye."

I don't think Madame Melody's nervousness around Madame Faye has anything to do with the difference in their ages. Madame Melody is slightly younger than me. She's the most atypical mistress I've seen on the island. Unfortunately for her, anybody showing the least subservience to Madame Faye is going to be treated little better than a slave regardless of her caste.

"Tessa, make some drinks for Madame Melody and me," says Madame Faye. "Take Slave Droopy with you."

"Her name is Drippy, not Droopy," says Madame Melody to Madame Faye.

"Hmm... like that's so much better. What possessed you to call her that?"

"Oh! Drippy has been her nickname since we together in kindergarten," replies Madame Melody.

I escort Drippy to the suite's kitchenette and fill the kettle.

"Have you two been friends since childhood?" I ask Drippy, picking up on what Madame Melody said.

"We've known each other since kindergarten, but we've only been close friends for the last five years," replies Drippy.

"So does that mean you live the mistress-slave lifestyle all the time?"

"Not really. We live together on a 'friends with benefits' basis. Melody is the more dominant of the two of us, but it's only here on the island that we adopt the roles of mistress and slave."

"Then why do you come here as mistress and slave if it isn't your natural lifestyle?" I ask, intrigued by their motivation for doing so.

"We are both lesbians and we joined La Chatte Heureuse together when we turned eighteen. We initially belonged to the Lady caste, but we found that it wasn't providing what we wanted. Then Melody came into some money and she could afford the fees for the Mistress caste. We thought it a good idea to try our current arrangement."

"And is that working out for you both?" I ask.

"It's a bit too early to say. This is only our second time on the island as mistress and slave. Last time was okay, and we learnt a lot about our own personalities. I'm hoping this time we can develop further on that."

As soon as the drinks are ready, Drippy and I serve the two mistresses. Fortunately Drippy has the sense to mirror my actions as we kneel demurely in front our respective mistress while they enjoy their drink.

"Get changed, Tessa," says Madame Faye once she's finished her drink. "It's time we went down to the dungeon. Are you two coming as well, Melody?"

I quickly change into my harness while Madame Faye gathers a few things. Madame Melody and Drippy just stand in bemusement.

"I thought the dungeon was closed until after Christmas," says Madame Melody.

"Not to us it isn't," scoffs Madame Faye.

Five minutes later the four of us are dashing across the wind swept path and entering the Slave caste quarters. Although some of the slaves will have been assigned to serve the mistresses in the building we've just left, there are plenty of others who are enjoying their own spontaneous party.

We don't linger in the corridor, and we quickly make our way down to the dungeon. Although the area is officially closed, access and egress to the dungeon is the same as always. While there won't be hourly patrols by ladies or mistresses, the newly installed monitoring cameras in the cells seem to be operating, enabling whoever is on duty in the Administration building to keep watch on activity in the dungeon.

"Twenty minutes of play, after which we can administer the punishments our slaves have earned," says Madame Faye, looking at Madame Melody, but addressing us all. "Then we can have a rematch to settle the bet we had before."

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Chapter 9: Day Three, 24 December.

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When Madame Faye says 'play' she means placing Drippy and me in all kinds of restraints and having us perform near impossible tasks while bound. It's surprisingly good fun and all four of us are getting aroused in no time. Drippy is the first to lose control of herself and achieve an orgasm. She did so without permission, although Madame Melody's reaction suggests she doesn't make it a requirement. Madame Faye is quick to point out Madame Melody's lack of control over her slave, and insists that Madame Melody punish Drippy for her disgraceful behaviour. Then Madame Faye turns her attention to me.

"Did you also have an orgasm just now, Tessa?" demands Madame Faye.

"No, Madame," I reply truthfully, although I am not far from reaching that peak.

"I think you did and you are lying, Tessa. That's a back mark you've earned."

"But I didn't come, Madame," I reply.

"That's another black mark for arguing with me, Tessa," says Madame Faye. "You know my rules."

"Yes, Madame. I'm sorry," I concede before I end up with even more black marks.

"Excellent. Now it's time to redeem the eight black marks you've earned. We shall use the 'A' frame. Remove your clothes and position yourself on the frame."

I obey, steeling my nerves to endure the punishment that will soon follow. Two strokes of the chosen implement will be delivered for each black mark. I suppose I should feel privileged that Madame Faye chooses not to lock my wrists and ankles in place against the frame. With Madame Melody and Drippy watching nearby, Madame Faye intends for me to show off my obedience and training. My own stupid pride means that I will hold the required position until the punishment is completed.

Mercifully, Madame Faye chooses one of the lighter whips that won't cause more than a reddening of my back and arse. Nevertheless, sixteen lashes of her whip are still a lot to endure, but I'm confident in my ability to withstand the assault on my body.

"No, no, Tessa," says Madame Faye. "Face the other way. It's time that I warmed those delightful tits of yours."

I've endured a tit flogging on several occasions, although Madame Faye usually prefers my back, arse and feet. Her choice today is clearly as a demonstration to Madame Melody and Drippy of her authority over me. I'm unsure what to make of Madame Melody. To me, she's chosen to be a member of a caste that she is ill-suited to belong. From what Drippy revealed earlier I can understand her deciding against being a member of the Lady caste. While I've met several pleasant women of the Lady caste, I fail to understand why they bother belonging to such an insipid caste. Most of the fun of being a member of La Chatte Heureuse is had by those of the Mistress and Slave castes. Clearly Madame Melody has the wealth needed for Mistress caste membership, but her temperament and diffidence means that she get's eaten alive by her caste peers. And yet she has come back for more. She and Drippy are clearly close friends... possibly lovers. Perhaps protecting her slave-lover is the reason Madame Melody endures all the insults.

"Do you intend to punish your slave as well?" asks Madame Faye, looking at Madame Melody.

"Um... I don't think Drippy has done anything wrong that requires punishment, Madame Faye," replies Madame Melody.

"Yes she has, Melody," replies Madame Faye. "She had an orgasm without your permission. Besides, you don't need an excuse to punish a slave. Show some backbone and teach Slave Dippy who is the boss."

"Drippy. Her name is Drippy," says Madame Melody.

"Then it's high time you became her mistress and stop behaving like her best friend," says Madame Faye. "Why else are you a member of the Mistress caste and Drippy a slave? Once you leave the island you can climb into each other's pants as often as you like, but on this island you are mistress and slave. Behave like it at all times!"

"Yes, Madame Faye," stammers Madame Melody. "Sorry."

"Pah! Melody! You're a mistress like me. You and I are equals. You should call me Faye... not Madame Faye. Only slaves must address me using my caste title. And ensure Slave Drippy remembers that when she talks to you. Has she ever failed to address you by your title?"

"Um... yes... frequently. I prefer her to simply call me Melody."

"That's not acceptable. She is showing disrespect for your position in her life. That is a punishable offence. Chain her up to the shackles over there and wallop her arse with this until she begs for forgiveness. If she doesn't learn her lesson today, then repeat the exercise again as often as necessary."

Neither Madame Melody nor Drippy resist Madame Faye's instruction. I don't know them well enough to divine their true thoughts at this development. I have my own ordeal to face, so I pay little heed to Drippy's reaction at being shackled to the hanging chain. Being made to stand facing outwards provides me with a clear view of Madame Melody's punishment of Drippy.

Whereas I endure my punishment in stoic silence, Drippy has no hesitation in voicing her response to the rather tame strokes of the leather paddle Madame Melody is brandishing. After three strokes Madame Melody places a leather bit between Drippy's teeth to stop her caterwauling.

I'm not sure which of us is more aroused by the time the two mistresses finish delivering the punishments. Madame Faye has again skilfully tempered the lashes of her whip to bring me to the cusp of an orgasm. Madame Melody has been less precise in her treatment of Drippy, but she has nevertheless aroused Drippy and herself to the point that the pair will need to satisfy their urges soon.

"I suppose we will need to postpone settling our bet until another time," says Madame Faye to Madame Melody. "Both slaves look as though they are ready to perform whatever sexual act we desire. Isn't that so, Tessa?"

"Yes, Madame," I reply as I wait patiently for permission to stand away from the A-frame.

Madame Melody released Drippy from the hanging chain and they are locked in an embrace as soon as Drippy's hands are free of the restraints. While I know that Madame Faye will want to return to her suite before we have sex, it's clear that Madame Melody and Drippy are eager enough to fuck each other here in the dungeon.

Neither Madame Faye nor I are looking for a long-term relationship. That doesn't mean that we are uncaring or oblivious to the other's needs. In many ways we are compatible, which I suppose is what drew us together in the first place. Our passion for the dominant-submissive scene pulls us together. However our lifestyles outside of that narrow, albeit exciting, world are completely different.

While my own development as a submissive lesbian has blossomed under Madame Faye's tutoring, I'm unsure what it is that I'm offering her in return. I'm sure she could find plenty of more accessible young women to chastise and punish. My classification as a 'buttercup' at La Chatte Heureuse is uncommon but far from unique. Besides, a mistress with Madame Faye's experience doesn't need the added bonus of her thrall actually liking the treatment being metered out.

"What are you thinking about, Tessa?" asks Madame Faye suddenly. "Is the sight of Madame Melody and Drippy making out giving you improper thoughts?"

"I'm just comparing their relationship to ours, Madame," I reply. "I sometimes wonder whether I'm doing enough to please you."

"Rest assured that if you are not doing enough to please me, then your arse and tits will be the first to know of my displeasure. But I agree that those two are very different from us. They have a strange friendship; a mistress who thinks she's too harsh, and a slave who thinks her mistress isn't harsh enough. Perhaps between us we can put them on the right track."

"Yes, Madame," I reply, unsure what other answer is appropriate in the circumstances.

"Now, have you recovered enough that you can walk back to the suite unaided?"

"Yes, Madame," I say with a hint of pride in my voice.

My confidence in being able to walk unaided is solely because my insides are boiling with lust. I'm not sure if even Madame Faye realises the effect on my libido that a moderate flogging triggers. It isn't that I don't feel pain, because I do. As long as the punishment is within some undefined boundary, my inevitable arousal overrides the soreness. Only later, once I come down from the stratosphere of lust, do I feel the need for ointments or creams to ease the pain and disguise the inevitable bruises and red marks on my body.

We return to Madame Faye's suite, leaving Madame Melody and Drippy to their passionate game. For once, Madame Faye takes me straight to her bed before I can change my clothes.

"Put this on, Tessa," says Madame Faye, handing me a strap-on cock.

While I've previously fucked Madame Faye with a rubber cock, this is the first time she's had me use the strap-on variety. Her favourite position for fucking is lying down side by side while I frig her with one of her toys held in my hand. Perhaps I'm not the only one aroused at the sight of Madame Faye and Drippy unashamedly fornicating on the dungeon floor.

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Chapter 10: Day Four, 25 December

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Last night's celebration was pleasant enough, although those of us of the Slave caste were kept busy preparing food and serving the mistresses. Even so, we had enough to eat and sufficient free time to enjoy the evening.

I'm roused by the electric jolt through my collar at the usual time. The only difference in my early morning routine is a quick exchange of 'Happy Christmas' with Madame Faye. By prior agreement, we don't exchange gifts. Our daily visit to the dungeon is earlier than usual in order to allow time for me to recover and help with the Christmas Lunch preparations. Madame Faye doesn't believe in gentler treatment simply because it's Christmas Day morning. I'm instructed to bend over a wooden beam leaving my arse fully exposed for a spanking with one of Madame Faye's favourite paddles. Unlike yesterday my wrists and ankles are shackled to the wooden frame even though I could hold my position while the punishment is delivered. I suppose I should feel privileged that Madame Faye has sufficient faith in my ability to quickly recover and be ready for work in two hours time.

Madame Faye doesn't waste time getting down to business. I've barely completed a stroke's count before the next one arrives.

I would have preferred longer to recover, but that's not to be. I had only accumulated two black marks since yesterday, so it wasn't a long session. Despite the session's brevity, we return to Madame Faye's suite feeling horny and in need of relief.

I confess that despite my experiences over the last six months, I still have a lot to learn about pleasing another woman sexually. My lesbian friendships at university are too recent to have developed into anything meaningful. Sex with them has tended to be furtive fumblings and hit-and-miss attempts to arouse the other. I know my own erogenous zones, and what turns me on, but the sensitivity of those zones can differ from one person to the next.

More often than not, Madame Faye diverts any attempt by me to please her sexually. After yesterday's session in the dungeon, things feel slightly different, although I'm hard pressed to identify in what way. I oil the leather strap-on cock ready to penetrate Madame Faye's fragrant cunt. She's more aroused than I've seen her before. Normally she is the queen of emotional control, even during sex. Unlike me, she doesn't shave her pubic hair completely but trims it into an attractive heart shape, bisected by her slit. I would trim my pubic hair the same way if Madame Faye would allow me, but her rules require that I keep my cunt bare.

Wearing my leather harness during sex is a new stimulation for me. The harness adds a new dimension to the experience as it gives Madame Faye something to grab and control my movements in a variety of ways. I soon become accustomed to the way she is is manoeuvring me to satisfy her mounting arousal. My role is simply to act like a doll and confine my active participation to pumping the cock back and forth as it buries itself deeper into her eager hole. Madame Faye lets out a satisfied groan as she reaches an orgasm. I'm nowhere near achieving an orgasm of my own, but I know not to become frustrated if Madame Faye chooses to deny me the treat. In reality, I don't mind being denied an orgasm as the next one I'm allowed will be all the more powerful for the wait.

Although I'm never allowed to forget that I'm the submissive partner in our union, Madame Faye and I spend a pleasant hour treating ourselves to a mind-blowing sexual romp. Whether intended or not, I gain some insight into the previously well guarded emotional side of Madame Faye's persona. Outwardly she portrays herself as a brash, confident, and sometimes arrogant woman. However, underneath that outer shell is a more considerate and gentler person. I suppose I caught a glimpse of this kinder self when Madame Faye was tutoring Madame Melody yesterday.

"I suppose you need to go and help prepare the Christmas Day lunch," says Madame Faye, untangling our sweaty arms and legs. "Straighten yourself up, and go and prepare a bath."

"Yes, Madame," I reply, removing my strap-on cock, and easing the straps on my harness into the correct position. I resist the temptation to remind Madame Faye that she is the one who 'volunteered' my services to help out with today's lunch.

Even though it's Christmas Day morning, that doesn't mean everyone can sit back and relax. Those of the Slave caste who weren't involved in preparing last night's meal are assigned to preparing a buffet Christmas Day lunch. Although I'm Madame Faye's personal chattel slave, and excluded from the daily assignment of slave duties, she has decreed that I'm to assist with today's meal preparation and the washing up afterwards. Although she doesn't explain the reason for her decision, I think she has done so because she needs time alone to catch up on some work for her fashion business. Several times I've seen her reading the documents that arrived the other day. It's clearly something she needs to deal with soon.

The food for the buffet lunch is being prepared in several kitchens around the complex, and will be taken across to the large room in the Administration building that was used for last night's party. The main tower building that was once the original mansion would provide a larger area, but I presume heating the huge area of the tower at this time of year would be problematic.

"You can wear this outfit while you are working," says Madame Faye, handing me a smart white cotton mini-dress with a lace up bodice and cut-away top that leaves my tits exposed in the usual La Chatte Heureuse Slave caste style.

"Thank you, Madame," I reply.

I would be perfectly happy to wear the leather harness I've been wearing for the last few days, even though it exposes more of my body than the standard form of Slave caste attire. I quickly change and, with Madame Faye's consent, I go to the Administration building to be assigned to a work party. By the time I get there, the food preparation duties have already been assigned to the general and field slaves. I'm added to a small group who are to get the room ready for the lunch. Drippy is among the group, having been belatedly assigned to help out by Madame Melody. Slave Brooke of the club's administration staff is placed in charge of our group. It isn't a role that she seems particularly comfortable handling and it soon becomes obvious that there's a lack of coordination in our efforts.

Perhaps fortunately, Brooke is called away to the office to attend to some matter, leaving the five of us to manage on our own. Apart from Drippy, I've not previously met the other slaves, although that isn't unusual given the number of members on the club's books. The strangers are about my age or a little older, and wear the standard necklaces that label them as general or field slaves. For some reason they look to me to provide some form of leadership. It isn't clear whether that's because of my larger-than-usual 'chattel slave' collar, or the designer dress that I'm wearing. In the interests of getting things ready quickly, I do my best to organise our work. To my surprise, the other slaves immediately comply with my orders.

After a few minutes I realise that not only are my charges obeying my instructions but they are actually flirting with me. The casual way Naylene runs her hands over my arse, and Ginny's lewd posture when she asks for further instructions, tempt me to respond to their advances. Of course they don't confine their flirting to me alone. I suspect Ginny and Claire are in an established relationship, although they could simply be a pair of brazen sluts.

"What's it like being the chattel slave of a sadist?" asks Naylene.

"I wouldn't know," I reply, feeling slightly shocked at the question. "Madame Faye isn't a sadist. She's strict but fair."

"Really? That's not what some of the other mistresses say about her," continues Naylene. "Doesn't she punish you every day, though? I hear she makes use of the dungeon, even though it's closed over Christmas. The marks on your tits and arse confirm that you've been beaten."

"Yes, that's correct, but being punished each day is what I expected to happen when I agreed to come here," I reply. "I wouldn't be wearing the butterfly emblem on my collar if that wasn't the case."

Wearing the emblem of one of the four 'flower' classifications is an indication of your sexual preferences, rather than anything that a slave achieves. However, the emblem is often seen as a prize, theoretically making the wearer easier to pair with a mistress. That certainly works for the relationship I have with Madame Faye. A buttercup like me has a strong preference for bondage and punishment, and a relatively low liking for humiliation. My neutral feelings about my mistress requiring sex, and expecting my servitude make up the set of criteria. Relatively few members of the Slave caste attempt the flower assessment, and only one in four who make the attempt meet the exacting standards of one of the types. Of those slaves who achieve an award, the buttercup type is the rarest.

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Chapter 11: Day Four, 25 December.

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I soon realise that Ginny and Claire are what Madame Violet calls 'weekend slaves'. The pair are moderately submissive, but to them, their experiences on the island are nothing more than playing a sexy game. Naylene seems more dedicated to the submissive lifestyle, although she confesses that she's never had more than casual relationships with a dominatrix. From her comments about Madame Faye, I suspect that Naylene is frightened of getting trapped in a dominant-submissive arrangement that she can't escape. It's a risk all submissives take, and one of the reasons many only play out their desires within the relatively safe surroundings provided by La Chatte Heureuse. I would offer advice if I could, but I'm too new to this lifestyle to provide meaningful help. Then an idea comes to mind.

"After Christmas, why don't you ask one of the staff mistresses if you can take a Flower Assessment," I say to Naylene. "I don't know if you'll fit any of the four types, but if you do, then it will help you find a dominatrix who has compatible preferences to your own."

Naylene agrees to consider my suggestion although I think she will need someone to push her. Currently she must be feeling too insecure to take the plunge. I'm hardly an expert on living a submissive lifestyle, but I know that finding a dominatrix whom you can trust is a daunting task. That's why I think taking the Flower Assessment will help Naylene. Even if she doesn't fit one of four predefined types, the analysis will help her better understand her own preferences in relation to others.

Slave Brooke returns a short while later and she's impressed at the progress we have made in her absence. However, it is Madame Rebecca we need to satisfy. She will be the one who decides whether we have accomplished our task. We finish assembling the folding tables and placing decorative table cloths on each of them. The balloons and other festive decorations are in place, and Naylene brings the plates, napkins and cutlery from the kitchen. Clearly La Chatte Heureuse doesn't believe in using paper plates and plastic cutlery... not even for those of the Slave caste. Once we agree that we have completed our task, Slave Brooke goes to inform Madame Rebecca that the room is ready for her inspection.

I think we all feel relieved when Madame Rebecca confirms that she is happy with our efforts. Slave Brooke is sent to inform those working in the various kitchens that they should start transferring the prepared food to the room we have prepared. Madame Rebecca assigns Naylene, Ginny and Claire to organising the placing of the plates and bowls of food on the tables as they arrive.

"Slave Tessa. Slave Drippy. Come with me," orders Madame Rebecca.

Drippy and I follow Madame Rebecca upstairs to the staff living area. It's the first time I've been on this floor of the Administration building. I notice that the staff dormitories are only slightly more spacious than the dormitories in the Slave quarters, and the living area is comfortable without being luxurious. The kitchen, however, looks like a bomb site.

"Lady Ruth is away at the moment, so we have no staff cook," says Madame Rebecca. "All the staff have been busy. Nobody has done any washing up for several days, and we are running out of clean crockery and utensils. You are to wash and dry these things, and put them in the cupboards and drawers over here. Understood?"

"Yes, Madame," I reply, sensing that even using the dish washer, this is a task that will take us over an hour.

"But Madame," says Drippy. "The party downstairs will be starting soon."

I quickly tap Drippy on the thigh to stop her whining. Whether I'm quick enough to avoid Madame Rebecca's reprimand remains to be seen.

"Indeed it will, Slave Drippy," says Madame Rebecca in the tone of voice that conveys her irritation. "Do you need reminding that you are a member of the Slave caste, and you have undertaken to obey the orders of your betters?"

Fortunately Drippy has the sense not to press her complaint any further. Had she been arguing with Madame Faye then she would have undoubtedly incurred a black mark... probably several.

"You are in charge, Slave Tessa," says Madame Rebecca as she departs. "Both of you may join the party downstairs when you have completed your task here. Be warned, that I shall be inspecting the quality of your work later."

I don't give Drippy time to sulk and moan, and quickly set her the task of rinsing crockery and stacking the dish washer. In fairness, she quickly overcomes her annoyance at missing the start of the party. While Drippy is doing her tasks, I sort the glassware, pans, utensils and everything else into stacks that we can tackle by washing and drying them manually. Trying to wash everything in the dish washer will be too slow. There must be several days worth of used items dumped in the kitchen in a haphazard fashion. Fortunately there's no left over food stuck to the crockery.

Having set the dishwasher going, I start washing the glassware. Drippy grabs a towel, after clearing a space on the workbench to place the finished items. Before long we have worked ourselves into a rhythm. It's arduous work, but it gives us time to talk.

"Do you like other people giving you orders?" I ask.

"Sometimes," sighs Drippy. "My boss at work is a real dominant bastard who orders me about like I'm his property. I think he would like to fuck me, but he realises that I'm not into men. He makes up for his sexual frustration by making me do demeaning tasks."

"How do you feel about that?" I ask.

"I guess I put up with it. I'm a professional photographer. I don't have the money to start up a business of my own, so I must work for misogynist old men like my boss. In any case, I don't want to move away from Melody, so my career options are very limited. What do you do in real life?"

"I'm in my final year at university. I also do some part-time work for one of La Chatte Heureuse's mistresses."

"You work for Madame Faye in real life?" queries Drippy.

"No, not Madame Faye. She and I keep in touch during the year, but I don't do any work for her beyond sampling some of her new kinky creations. I have a contract to do casual work for Madame Lash."

"You must be a masochist if you involve yourself with Madame Lash," says Drippy. "I've never crossed her path but I've heard stories about her."

"Hmm. She's not as bad as her reputation portrays. Unless, of course, you really dislike the feel of a cane or whip on your body. I presume you don't like being subjected to corporal punishment?"

"A hand spanking, or a soft slipper, is usually my limit," confesses Drippy.

"So, what turns you on about being submissive, or is it all a fantasy game for you?"

"It's more than a game to me, but I'm unsure how to achieve what I desire. I like it when someone orders me about and makes me do things I might not otherwise do. I sometimes wish that Melody was harsher in her treatment of me."

"You should refer to your mistress as Madame Melody, particularly while you are here," I say. "If you emphasise your submission in real life, Madame Melody may respond by being more dominant in return."

We continue to work our way through the stack of dirty crockery and utensils. After about thirty minutes we are about two-thirds our way through the pile. I start putting clean items away while Drippy empties the dishwasher. All being well, we should finish our work here and only be ten minutes late for the party.

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Chapter 12: Day Five, 26 December

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Yesterday's lunch gathering extended until late afternoon. It was a pleasant social event that everyone seemed to enjoy. My own pleasure was tempered by the absence of my mistress. If I could access Madame Faye's suite without a mistress accompanying me, I might have left early to check on her.

I feel that my time with Drippy was well spent. She seemed to appreciate the advice I offered. Whether she will act on my advice remains to be seen. Madame Melody and Drippy left well before the end of the party. In their case, I suspect it was a burning need to get inside each other's pants.

The small electric shock through my collar wakes me at the usual time on Boxing Day morning. I follow the early morning routine that Madame Faye has stipulated, even though I sense that she is distracted by something that necessitated her missing the Christmas Day lunch.

I complete my early morning chores and present Madame Faye with her breakfast. There is clearly something troubling her, and I'm unsure whether to ask what it is, or remain dutifully silent. Although she and I email each other regularly during the year, I otherwise have very little involvement in her real life. We are acquaintances rather than friends, despite the sexual relationship we share at La Chatte Heureuse. We each satisfy a sexual need of the other without the pressure of expecting a deeper commitment.

The fashion industry in which Madame Faye works is very competitive and stressful. Somehow I don't believe that the pressure of work is the cause of her current malaise. Madame Faye's business success is the result of her own efforts, although the inheritance from her father's estate undoubtedly helped. As regards her personal life, I know only a few snippets of information gleaned from different emails. For instance, I know that she has a sister a year younger than her, and that her father died when she was fourteen. Her mother travels extensively and she's currently living somewhere in Europe. Beyond that, I have very little knowledge of Madame Faye's personal life. I couldn't even tell you whether she's bi-sexual. She has never mentioned any male sexual partner, but that doesn't exclude the possibility of one or more existing in her past.

Fortunately, by the time Madame Faye has finished her breakfast, she's more like her usual self.

"Now, I think we need to attend to redeeming those three black marks you acquired yesterday," says Madame Faye.

Yet again, I consider myself innocent of each misdemeanour that earned a black mark. I suspect there are mistresses and slaves here who secretly want to see me punished as some strange revenge for their dislike of Madame Faye. They won't confront Madame Faye face-to-face. Instead, they fabricate or exaggerate my faults, and try to goad me into rebelling against Madame Faye over the undeserved punishments. Had they fully understood the meaning of the buttercup symbol on my collar, then they would know better. Their plan is doomed to failure because of my liking for bondage and corporal punishment.

As soon as Madame Faye is ready, we go across to the dungeon in building E4. It's still officially closed until the day after tomorrow, so we have the dungeon to ourselves. The short walk to the dungeon enables Madame Faye to revert to her normal self. She selects a nasty looking single strand whip that I've not experienced before. The braided strap makes it look like a small bull-whip although I'm not very knowledgeable about such things.

"I think it is time to push your endurance skills a notch higher, Tessa," says Madame Faye as she escorts me to the wooden punishment frame. "We only have exclusive use of the dungeon for a couple more days, and I think it's best we do this without an audience."

While I have previously held my position without needing restraints, Madame Faye fastens my wrists and ankles so that I'm spread-eagled facing the frame. She removes my leather harness, which suggests that my back is the target for today. While I would prefer that Madame Faye punishes my arse and thighs... or even my breasts... I know I that don't have a choice. It isn't the first time my back has been the focus of her punishments, so I steel myself to endure the six lashes that will be delivered soon.

I begin to worry about the level of pain to follow when Madame Faye takes the unusual step of placing a ball-gag in my mouth and fastening the straps tightly behind my head. I must trust Madame Faye to know my limits. Using my safe-word while I'm gagged is difficult, but not impossible.

"Face forward and prepare yourself, Tessa," orders Madame Faye. "And don't forget to count, or you'll receive additional lashes."

I can no longer see what Madame Faye is doing, so I must rely on sound alone. There's a swishing sound of the whip as Madame Faye prepares herself. After a short pause I hear a sound that instinct tells me is the whip flying towards my back. I grit my teeth on the ball gag, determined not to scream at the pain.

The stroke lands on my upper back. It's nothing like I've experienced before. I'm completely confused. Whereas I was expecting a sharp pain, I feel nothing of the sort. It's as though my back has been brushed by a feather. Did Madame Faye pull back her stroke at the last minute? That seems unlikely given her usual method of delivering punishments.

"I'm waiting, Slave Tessa," orders Madame Faye.

"Umm... One Madame. Thank you," I reply quickly as best I can through the ball gag.

My words are accompanied by a lot of drool, but that can't be helped. I shake myself out of my confusion before I incur an extra stroke. The first stroke was so mild as to be like a lover's kiss. However, I don't bank on the remaining five strokes of my punishment being so generous. Fortunately, they are equally tame.

Madame Faye releases me from my cuffs and she removes my sopping wet ball gag. My chin and upper body are covered in drool, and I feel embarrassed at my appearance. There's no towel or rag available to dry myself, so I look pathetically towards Madame Faye for guidance. She finds my predicament amusing. In other circumstances I might be annoyed, but seeing her back to her usual arrogant self is refreshing. Madame Faye resolves my problem by removing her panties and handing them to me.

"Dry yourself with this," says Madame Faye, handing me her panties.

The panties are hopelessly inadequate for me to do more than smear my drool into a more even covering. When I try to hand back her panties, Madame Faye simply indicates that I should put them in my mouth. Only when I have pushed them completely into my mouth and closed my lips around them does Madame Faye indicate that she is satisfied.

"I think we are done in here for today, Slave Tessa," says Madame Faye. "Let's return to my suite and you can clean yourself properly."

I dutifully follow Madame Faye out of the dungeon, quickly looking around to see what implement Madame Faye had used to deliver my punishment. All I can see are the usual whips and paddles. Since Madame Faye isn't telling me, and I'm too obedient to her rules to ask, I never find out which implement Madame Faye used. Clearly it wasn't the small braided bull whip she demonstrated before.

We soon reach Madame Faye's suite and I'm promptly dispatched to take a shower and wash Madame Faye's panties. I complete both tasks quickly and return to the living area where Madame Faye is reading the documents that were delivered before Christmas. There is clearly something in the documents that is worrying Madame Faye, but I've no right to stick my nose into her personal business. I kneel on the floor in front of her.

"I have a favour to ask of you, Tessa. I'm hoping the light treatment I gave you just now will put you in a frame of mind to agree to my request."

"I will comply with any request that I'm capable of achieving, Madame," I reply.

I mean my words sincerely, although on reflection what I said sounded like a rote phrase. Fortunately Madame Faye doesn't take issue with my words.

"I may need to cancel our agreed fortnight here in summer," says Madame Faye. "I have a few family problems to sort out and they may come to a head in early summer."

"I will support whatever you decide, Madame," I reply. "I will place myself at your disposal for a fortnight over summer as we agreed. If you can't come here, then I'm willing to serve you as your slave elsewhere, if that is preferable. Or I can work to repay my debt to you in another way."

"That is a generous of you, Tessa. I shall give some thought to your offer and we can discuss it in due course."

[end of part two]