I live in a gilded cage, pampered but not free. My owner likes to collect unusual things. He is a wealthy viscount, living in a chateau in rural France. Attached to the mansion there is an enormous hothouse, the size of the palm house at Kew. It is tropical, with birds of paradise, exotic palms, giant butterflies and parrots. I love to wake up in the morning to the sound of tropical birds and iguanas.
My costume is a feathered skirt and elaborate feathered headdress. The feathers are the colour of flames - orange, gold and red. I am naked to the waist and my nipples are accentuated with crimson rouge. The skirt is heavily layered at the back, reaching almost to the floor, but tiered upwards towards the front until it reaches my waist. This results in there being nothing at all at the centre front except the band that reaches around my hips, holding it all together.
My cage sits high up in the tree canopy, and the door to it is always open. Outside there is a swing, with jasmine and vines growing up the ropes that support it. If I want to I can swing to play, or to get to a platform attached to a wooden walkway leading down to the floor.
I am not alone. There are two gardeners who live and work in the hothouse. They are gay and totally devoted to one another. They are also devoted to me, tending to my every need. We play together like kids when there is no-one around, swimming naked in the lily pool, eating fresh mangoes straight from the tree and teasing the monkeys. It is their job to make sure that I am kept free from body hair, and they take turns to have me spread my legs wide so they can shave and tweeze, leaving me pink and a little sore. It's worth the small amount of suffering for the yoni massage they give me afterwards. Using a balm which they make themselves, they use their supple thumbs to make little circular movements on my outer labia, up and down. It feels exquisite. Usually it is short (they have work to do) but other times they will keep it up until my juices are flowing, my eyes are closed and I hear myself letting out little moans of pleasure. All it takes is the palm of the hand pressing on my mound and a thumb on my clit and after all of that build up I orgasm in a delicious wave of pleasure. Although gay, they enjoy making me come occasionally and I don't object, of course! But they can be moody and easily pissed off, so I never ask for that. Things are not always peaceful in paradise, especially when they fall out with each other. But this is rare.
At night my friends retire to a tree house they built for themselves and I have my cave. I love my cave. It is small, but comfortable, having a bed of soft animal fur to lie on, and lit by the soft glow of candles.
Visitors come to the hothouse. They wander along the footpaths between the trees and some venture up onto the wooden platforms in the tree canopy. When they come I usually sit on my swing, unless I don't like them in which case I'll stay in my gilded cage.
About once a month the Viscount (I'll call him Victor!) throws a big party. These are expensive, glamourous affairs with a casino, live music (usually jazz or classical) burlesque artistes and an elaborate feast. At the feast my keepers (the gay gardeners) and I have to wait at table, along with Kat. More about her in a minute. At the house there is a full quota of staff - a Butler, a Cook, a Housekeeper, maids, kitchen staff and a Nanny. Victor keeps his Nanny on the payroll despite being an adult. She looks after the health of everyone in the house. Kat lives in the chateau and considers herself to be above me because I only go there for the parties. She looks down on me and we do our best to ignore one another most of the time. She is dark with black hair and wears a sort of catwoman outfit. She curls up at our Master's feet when he sits in his chair by the fire. I hate her and have been known to pull her tail, causing her to re-adjust her costume.
After dinner the guests are invited to gamble. The casino is set up in the ballroom, a large elaborate room with a magnificent chandelier. There is a roulette table in the centre of the room, and poker tables. At one end of the room near the enormous fireplace there is a billiard table.
One particular party lives in my memory. Victor usually holds an auction or presents as a prize me, or the Cat. He never enjoys us himself, except for occasionally stroking us or inspecting us for flaws, like collector's items. He is a voyeur and gets off on watching his guests taking their pleasure of us.
One balmy summer evening at a particularly glittering occasion, Victor decided to hold a roulette game and offer the winner the choice of either me or Kat. To show his guests the merchandise, I am brought to the billiard table. For evening occasions in the house I am expected to wear gold stilettos, and I teeter up to the billiard table on 4 inch heels, supported on each side by my gay friends, who adopt serious expressions for such an occasion. This usually means having to try not to laugh, especially if I have been nicking champagne from the kitchen. They lift me up onto the edge of the table and spread my legs wide, keeping my knees straight so I have to lean back on my hands to keep my balance. Then Victor will come and carefully open my pussy lips to expose my pink flesh for all to see. Look but don't touch is the rule, and after a glimpse of my innermost secrets I am lifted down and turned around, feathered skirt raised to expose my buttocks. The high heels create an appealing shape and also expose my pussy lips. Victor usually gives the Butler a nod at this point, if he is nearby, to slap my pussy lips to make them to pinker and do the same to my buttocks a couple of times for good measure. Then the skirt is lowered and I am whisked away to the main guest suite, left vacant for this purpose, where Nanny is waiting with a bubbly bath. Kat is displayed in a similar fashion and taken away to be prepared in another wing. The winner will be given the key to the room where his prize awaits after making his (or occasionally her) choice.