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

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.

“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.”