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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 tokat escort 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 yozgat escort 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 zonguldak escort 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!”