Chapter 8: Day Three, 24 December.

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 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.