πŸ“š la chatte heureuse Part 4 of 4
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LESBIAN SEX STORIES

La Chatte Heureuse Pt 04 Ch 01 05

La Chatte Heureuse Pt 04 Ch 01 05

by rachaeljane
20 min read
4.51 (6000 views)
adultfiction

Tessa, Slave for the Summer

A La Chatte Heureuse (The Happy Pussy) story.

Foreword: La Chatte Heureuse is an exclusive lesbian club located in an old mansion on a remote island in the middle of a lake. The complex consists of a recently refurbished mansion and a collection of one and two storey annexes. Members and staff of the club belong to one of three castes -- Mistresses, Ladies and Slaves. Each caste has its own privileges, dress-code and rules. Members of the Slave caste choose to stay on the island in one of three categories: general, field, and bondage.

Staff of La Chatte Heureuse (& role):

Mistresses: Monique (Manager), Nicole (Receptionist), Rebecca (Slave overseer), Stephanie (Slave overseer)

Ladies: Fatima (Housekeeper), Grace (Steward for Mistress caste), Helen (Administration), Kirsty (Transport), Ruth (staff cook)

Slaves: Brooke (Administration), Elise (Administration), Judith (Maintenance), Olivia (Medical), Sheri (Housekeeping)

Principal visiting characters in this episode:

Mistresses: Selena, Celia, 'Lash'(Alina), Faye, Anastasia,

Ladies: Nadia, Raewyn,

Slaves: Tessa, Jessica, Sandra, 'Bambi'(Chrissy)

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Chapter 1: Tessa. Saturday Week 1 of Tessa's stay

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I was already feeling nervous as the minibus navigated the winding road to the lake. Now that we have transferred to the boat to take us to the island, I'm struggling to hold back a panic attack. What started out as a wonderful surprise holiday, has now transformed into a 'what the fuck were you thinking?' ordeal. The worst part of my situation is that it's entirely my own fault. I was given a choice. I was warned about the consequences of the choice I made. But I pushed ahead anyway.

"Nearly there, Tessa," says Kylie, mistaking my wan look for motion sickness.

The four of us started our journey as strangers. Our common link is winning the Sapphic Quarterly magazine's competition. A free holiday at the women-only island resort called La Chatte Heureuse. A quick on-line translation told me that the club's name means 'The Happy Pussy' in English... although not the domestic pet variety of pussy. The Mistress-Lady-Slave caste system on the island was fully explained to each of us, so I can't complain on that score. What is inexplicable and inexcusable is my choice to join the Slave caste for the duration of my stay. Perhaps it was the different duration of the prize that swayed my choice; one week's holiday as a member of the Mistress caste, three weeks as a Lady, or six weeks in the Slave caste. While I admit to being a lesbian... at least to a few of my close friends, I've never considered myself to be submissive... well, only in my wildest fantasies, but even then, not as a slave. But six weeks on an island resort fits with my immediate needs. My final year at university starts in seven weeks time, but being anywhere within reach of my parents over the summer break will drive me close to insanity. Anything is better than listening to their constant lectures on the evils of same-sex romances.

I study my travelling companions. We are all aged in our early to mid-twenties. I regard my waist-length wavy red hair as my best feature, even though wearing it long can sometimes be a nuisance. The others have shoulder length brown or black hair styled in a far more practical manner. Our choice of clothing suggests we come from wildly different backgrounds. Kylie is dressed in a latest designer jacket and trousers, while Nadia's fading dress must have seen several years of service. My blouse and jeans probably label me as a student, which I am. Raewyn is harder to categorise. Her bearing and neatly pressed clothing hint at a military background, although she seems to be too young to have served as more than a cadet.

None of us have revealed which caste we have chosen to join. Raewyn let slip that she starts her new job in four weeks, so her choice of caste is clearly different from mine. Kylie doesn't strike me as the sort who would submit to anyone, but I suppose that could also be said of me. For the moment we are all four equals, enjoying the pleasant view as we approach the secluded island.

As the boat nears the small jetty on the island, we get our first glimpse of the old mansion, just visible through the trees. The resort's brochure I received in the mail doesn't do justice the magnificent scenery around us. Nor does it convey the resort's isolation from any other habitation. We left the nearest town just after lunch, over an hour and a half ago.

"Welcome to La Chatte Heureuse," says the young woman dressed in a smart black leather outfit. "My name is Madame Nicole. I'm the receptionist for La Chatte Heureuse. I'll escort you to the administration block and complete your registration."

I recall the club rule that says members of the Mistress caste are called 'Madame' rather than 'Mistress' when being addressed. We grab our bags and follow Madame Nicole to a two level building located to one side of the mansion. My nervousness has subsided for the moment. The pleasant surroundings and friendly welcome have dispelled some of the torrid scenarios my vivid imagination had created on the journey here. I'm the last in line at the reception desk. That's entirely my fault, as the sight of two women working in the garden caused me to pause as we walked from the jetty. It's one thing being told about the dress code for the Slave caste, but seeing it in real life is another matter. Communal living at university means that plenty of the female students have seen my tits, so I convinced myself that shouldn't be any different here. However, mentally agreeing to do something doesn't always match with reality.

At the reception desk, Madame Nicole is joined by two other members of staff. One is obviously a member of the Slave caste from her attire... notably her naked chest. I recall that a person's name is displayed on a necklace or collar around her neck, and the colour of the lettering denotes her caste... white letters for slaves, blue for ladies, and black for mistresses. Slave Brooke and Lady Helen are assisting Madame Nicole with the task of registering our arrival and introducing us to the lifestyle of La Chatte Heureuse. It's only during the registration process that we learn of each other's choice of caste. From here on it will be Madame Kylie, Ladies Raewyn and Nadia, and yours truly, Slave Tessa.

Once we confirm our identities, and reaffirm our choice of caste, we are registered into the island's security network. Our palm prints are recorded, which enables us to unlock those doors and gates that our caste is permitted to open. Needless to say, mistresses can open all doors and gates, while slaves can only open doors into communal areas. Finally we are divided by caste. Brooke takes me into a different room, while Lady Helen attends to Raewyn and Nadia at the reception desk. I presume Madame Nicole is looking after Kylie, but I'm too busy listening to Brooke to pay attention to them.

"We must find you a suitable outfit to wear," says Brooke, showing me a chain necklace with my name spelt out in white letters at the front.

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"Are you used to submitting to another person's commands, or is this a new experience for you?" asks Brooke.

"This is all new to me," I confess. "I was swept up in the excitement of winning the competition. Six weeks on an island resort sounded too good to miss. However, I glossed over the fact that I'll be a slave. Will I be expected to do a lot of work?"

"Yes, all slaves are expected to work during their stay. However, you will be classified as a 'general slave', which means you won't be required to do any heavy manual work. 'Field slaves' do the heavy work in exchange for a discount on the cost of their stay. The lifestyle at La Chatte Heureuse is designed to provide enjoyment to all guests regardless of their caste. Even those classified as 'bondage slaves' normally gain pleasure from their stay here, although in their case, you need to have the right temperament to appreciate the experience."

Brooke shows me an assortment of tops and skirts. The tops all have the common feature of leaving my tits completely exposed. Some styles are more confining, pushing the wearer's tits close together. Other styles lift and separate. I opt for a cotton under-bust corset that lifts my tits without squeezing them together. I notice Brooke is wearing something similar, although hers is made of a synthetic material.

The choice of skirt is dictated by height, and the size and shape of the wearer's arse. The standard design appears to be a short length skirt ending about six inches above the knee. The slit on one side of the skirt enables free movement of the legs, although it means flashing your thigh when you walk. The rear of the skirt is shaped to hug the wearer's arse like a second skin.

"What about shoes?" I ask.

"No shoes," says Brooke. "Slaves go barefoot unless you are assigned to work somewhere that requires protective clothing and footwear."

"I presume I'm allowed to keep my panties on?" I ask.

"Yes, if you wish, and providing a mistress doesn't order you to remove them," replies Brooke, lifting her skirt to reveal her nakedness under her skirt.

I'm unsure about going without panties, but I recall that my joining instructions made it clear that I must obey anyone of the Mistress caste without question. My only right of refusal is if the instruction requires me to endure or carry out a prohibited action. Those prohibited actions include causing permanent damage and committing criminal acts. However, being subjected to corporal punishment, or being told to strip naked, are all well within permissible bounds.

"You are now a member of the Slave caste," says Brooke, fastening the necklace with my name around my neck. "Remember, you must obey any mistress who gives you an order. If you have completed whatever task you have been given, then ask the mistress who set you the task if she is satisfied with your work. If she has finished with you, then report to the Slave Holding Area. That's the room with the yellow door at the south end of this building. Depending on the time of day, you will either be assigned a new task, or allowed to go to the recreation building until lock-up."

"What about my belongings?" I ask. "The bus driver confiscated my phone."

"Lady Kirsty has placed your phone in your locker over here. The clothes you were wearing when you arrived will be stored in there as well. All the lockers have two combination locks. One you control, and one the staff mistresses control. You're not allowed access to your personal belongings during your stay here, unless a staff mistress permits it. Put your things in the locker and set the combination on your lock. Make sure you remember the combination."

"What do I do now?" I ask, when I've finished locking my things away.

"Go to the Slave Holding Area... down that corridor to the room with the yellow door. Don't worry, you won't be ignored or forgotten, and remember that you aren't allowed to leave this building without permission from a mistress. The fastener to your necklace contains a microchip that enables the staff to monitor your location. Take that as both reassurance that someone is looking out for you, and as a warning that any unauthorised roaming will be spotted, and a punishment will follow. And don't make the mistake of removing your necklace, even to take a shower. Unfastening the necklace will trigger an alarm."

I'm impressed at how thorough the arrangements are for delivering a visitor's chosen lifestyle while on the island. Brooke returns to her desk and I go down the corridor in search of the room with a yellow door. There's no sign of Kylie, Nadia and Raewyn. Everywhere here is well signposted, so I easily find the room with a sign on the wall proclaiming it to be the 'Slave Holding Area'. I'm briefly stymied by the locked door, until I remember to use the palm-pad to unlock the door. The palm-pad is coloured white, which means anybody can unlock the door. That makes me wonder why they bother locking the door at all?

I enter the room through a short glass corridor with doors either end like an airlock. The second door will only open once the first door is closed. Inside the room are seats, cushions and tables that resemble a sheik's harem. There are three other slaves in the room sat talking to each other.

"Hi, I'm Tessa," I say to the group. "I've just arrived on the island, so I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing."

"Hi Tessa," replies the oldest of the women. "I'm Harriet... or Harry, as I'm called among our caste. The Nubian goddess here is Dabala, and the young fair-haired lass is Gemma."

When Harry says 'young lass', she's referring to a woman in her mid to late twenties, so Gemma is a few years older than me. Dabala is, as Harry says, a brown skinned beauty, probably in her late twenties or early thirties. Harry is several years older, but I estimate that she's no older than forty. Her body is well toned with only the slightest evidence of sag in her tits.

"Take a seat, Tessa," says Harry. "You'll soon learn to appreciate whatever rest you can get."

The brochure and joining instructions I was given emphasized that I should be careful not to reveal too much about my real life. While applicants are thoroughly vetted before being accepted as members of La Chatte Heureuse, there's still a small risk of someone using personal information gleaned during a visit to the island for blackmail or harassment later. Even I had to participate in an on-line interview to verify my suitability to come here.

I soon learn that Harry, Dabala and Gemma are classified as field slaves, which means they will be assigned the more onerous tasks in exchange for a generous discount on the cost of their stay. They tell me that 'Field Slave' is a misnomer, as a lot of the work they perform is carried out indoors. I'm unsure what duties I'll be required to perform as a 'general slave'. The brochure simply referred to 'light duties'.

I study the Slave Holding Area in more detail. I discover that the palm-pad on this side of the door is coloured blue, meaning only Mistresses and Ladies can open the airlock doors from this side. We are stuck in here until someone comes for us. The room has some basic facilities. There's a small kitchenette along one wall, with mugs and jars of coffee and tea. A hot water dispenser is mounted on the wall and a small fridge holds milk and bottles of chilled water. There's no food, but I suppose you can't have everything. A shoulder high screen in the corner of the room shields a toilet and small washbasin. There's no further privacy offered if a slave needs to answer a call of nature while in this room.

Books and other forms of entertainment are noticeably absent, so those here must create their own amusement. It's early afternoon, so it seems likely that we will be assigned work rather than being granted additional recreation time. The brochure said that all slaves are allowed a minimum of two hours free time each day, but it didn't go into details.

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The door opens a few minutes later and a woman dressed in a leather jacket, trousers and boots enters the room. I copy the actions of the other three slaves and promptly stand with my hands on my head.

"Shit! Madame Selena," whispers Gemma to me while the new arrival is opening the inner door to the airlock.

Madame Selena walks directly to where I am standing. She looks at me carefully as though choosing a cut of meat at the supermarket. When she looks at my face, I quickly lower my eyes... partly out of some natural instinct to display submission, and partly out of embarrassment at her close appraisal of my exposed tits.

"Hmm. Nice behaviour; nice hair; nice face; nice tits; nice arse," murmurs Madame Selena to me.

I suppress a gasp of surprise when Madame Selena takes hold of my tits and runs her hands over them. I briefly look into her eyes before lowering my eyes again.

"Tsk! Tsk! That's naughty, Slave Tessa. You must learn to keep those eyes lowered. Now, follow me."

I glance at Harry, Gemma and Dabala, but their lowered eyes and static bodies don't give me any sign of encouragement. I quickly follow Madame Selena out of the room.

"I'm informed that this is your first time on the island," says Madame Selena as she walks in front of me.

"Yes, Mistress," I reply.

I nearly collide into Madame Selena's back when she stops abruptly. She turns to face me with a scowl on her face.

"Madame... not Mistress, Slave! You must always call a member of the Mistress caste 'Madame'. I think our first stop on this tour shall be the punishment devices and cells in the dungeon. Maybe if you understand the consequences of your mistakes, you may try harder to obey our rules."

"I'm sorry for my mistake, Madame. I promise to try my best to get it right."

"To be honest, I don't mind if you make mistakes," replies Madame Selena. "I always enjoy punishing a slave for a misdemeanour. You, however, might prefer to do more than simply 'try your best'. Unless, of course, you are like some of the slaves here who like their arses kept rosy red and warm. Are you one of those?"

"No, Madame. It isn't something I've ever had to put to the test."

"If you haven't tried the experience, then how do you know you won't like it?" muses Madame Selena. "Perhaps we need to find out sooner rather than later."

A funny feeling ripples through my body in response to Madame Selena's words. I can't determine whether it is fear or arousal.

"This is building E4," says Madame Selena as we approach a single level building with bars on the windows and a grill door in front of the entrance. "As you can tell from the bars and the sign by the door, this building is the main accommodation block for the Slave caste. We shall check which dormitory contains your allocated bed while we are here."

The blue palm-pad by the entrance grill indicates that only members of the Mistress and Lady castes can provide entry into the building. Madame Selena unlocks the grill and we step through the wooden door beyond, and into the inside of the building. There's a long corridor running down the middle of the building to a window at the far end. Doors are placed at intervals on either side of the corridor. Madame Selena checks a sheet pinned on a cork notice board by the door. I soon realise that it is a list of bed allocations for the current residents of E4.

"You're in bed E4-B7," says Madame Selena. "Let's check it out."

I follow Madame Selena along the corridor. The similarity of the corridor to the one in my old school is uncanny. However, instead of classrooms, the doors open into narrow dormitories, housing twelve single beds arranged along the two long walls... six beds on each side. Dormitory B is the second door on the left side of the corridor. Bed seven is at the far end of the right-hand line of beds, and the nearest to the sole window in the room.

"Lucky you," says Madame Selena. "You get a bed by the window. Fresh air when you need it. Now I'll show you where the showers, toilets and kitchen are located before we go down to the dungeon."

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Chapter 2: Selena. Saturday, Week 1 of Tessa's stay.

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Normally I dislike showing a first-time visitor around the island's facilities, particularly if she is a member of the Slave caste. All that doe-eyed wonder at La Chatte Heureuse's many facilities and pleasant surroundings; the naΓ―ve innocence of what life will be like for the duration of her stay here. However, I owed Nicole a favour after she helped me out of trouble when I punched that snotty cow, Faye. I'm not sure how Nicole achieved Faye's agreement not to make a major issue of our fight, but Faye and I eventually agreed to let the matter drop.

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