. 10-14

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Chapter 10: Tessa. Thursday, week 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is that possible?" I ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Madame," I reply truthfully.

"Do you think Pixie likes it here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thwack!

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

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

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

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

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

I do as I'm bid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Madame," I reply.

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, okay," grumbles Madame Faye.

"Yes, Madame Nicole," I reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Chapter 11: Tessa. Thursday Week 4.

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Madame."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Put that on," says Madame Faye.

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

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