Chapter 3: A Tour of the Slave Quarters

“How many members are here at the moment?” I ask.

“Six mistresses and twenty slaves, excluding those on the staff. There are also four members who belong to the Ladies caste who arrived with you this morning.”

“I haven’t seen many members about the place,” I observe.

“Everyone is busy working in the tower trying to finish the refurbishment before the weekend. Normally you would see the field slaves working in the gardens and around the buildings, but they’ve all been reassigned to work in the tower for the next few days.”

“Field slaves?” I query Brooke’s comment.

“Unattached members who choose to be slaves can specify whether they wish to be a field slave, a bondage slave or a general slave. Field slaves are allocated the heavy manual work around the house and gardens. Bondage slaves spend most of their time restrained or imprisoned, but they too can be put to work. As the name implies, general slaves are used however a Mistress desires. Staff choosing to be slaves can only select the general slave category since the lifestyle of the other two categories would interfere too much with our duties. Slaves belonging to a specific mistress are referred to as ‘chattel slaves’. You can recognise chattel slaves by the steel collar they wear around their neck rather than the name necklaces everyone else wears.”

“There’s a lot to remember,” I say. “I didn’t realise this lifestyle could be so complicated.”

“There’s a logic to it all, but it may take you a day or so to get your head around all the details, Lady. Just remember that anyone without a necklace or steel collar is a guest, and that the colour of the letters spelling the person’s name shows their affiliation to one of the castes.”

“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to give orders to a slave,” I say.

“You won’t need to do that, Lady. Only a Mistress can issue orders to a slave. I’m showing you around because Madame Monique ordered me to do so. I’m not allowed to leave my work area unless a Mistress requires me to do a task which makes it necessary.”

“So how does obeying a Mistress’ order match with the work duties you must perform?” I ask. “Surely you must experience times when you are unable to complete your work because a Mistress has ordered you to do something else.”

“None of the staff at La Chatte Heureuse have fixed working hours, Lady. We are required to perform our allotted tasks at any time of the day or night as required. As our receptionist, you will be expected to meet new arrivals and allocate the appropriate accommodation for their needs. It doesn’t matter if it’s a dozen members arriving by boat at lunchtime, or someone arriving by helicopter in the evening, it will be your task to meet them and allocate their accommodation according to their caste and needs. We are also expected to cover for another member of staff if they are absent or on leave. For example, Lady Ruth will be attending to any urgent office matters while I’m showing you around.”

Monique already warned me that my workload will require irregular hours, and since I’m living on-site, I don’t anticipate having a problem with meeting her expectations. However, I’ll reserve judgement on that until Monique explains my duties tomorrow.

We approach the third single level building, which is quite different from the other two accommodation blocks. Firstly there’s a steel grill door across the entrance which is barring our way.

“The slave quarters, Lady,” says Brooke, somewhat unnecessarily. “A slave cannot unlock this door, so I need you to open the door for us. If you place the palm of your hand on the pad here, the gatekeeper will identify you and unlock the door.”

A few moments later there’s an audible click and the grill slides open to let us enter the building. We walk through a pair of wooden doors beyond the grill and into a corridor running the length of the building.

“How did the gatekeeper know to open the door?” I ask, unable to see any watching cameras. “And who is this gatekeeper anyway?”

“The ‘gatekeeper’ is what we call the automated security system which controls access to the slave quarters and some of the other buildings to ensure slaves don’t enter or leave without a Mistress or Lady as an escort. It also monitors the sensors around the island, watching for any unauthorised landings.”

The slave quarters consist of four dormitories. each about the size of one of the staff dormitories in the administration block. Except here there are thirty beds crammed into each dormitory. The beds each have a thin mattress and a single blanket. I can’t fail to notice the steel ankle cuff fixed to the foot of each bed which can be used to keep the slave shackled to her bed. It must get claustrophobic when every bed is in use.

“Do slaves actually like sleeping in here?” I ask, my mind having difficulty in accepting that anyone would volunteer to sleep in these conditions for any length of time.

“Oh, yes, Lady. The alternative is to sleep in the dungeon downstairs.”

“Downstairs?” I query. “I thought this building was only one level.”

“There’s an area downstairs which used to be a wine cellar. We now use as the dungeon, Lady,” replies Brooke. “Any slave who displeases a Mistress or Lady, or fails to complete her tasks on time, is made to sleep in the dungeon. Would you like to see the dungeon now?”

“Um ... yes, okay,” I reply, not really sure if I’m ready for this.

Brooke leads me along the corridor until we reach a narrow staircase leading down. We go down the stairs into the basement. In front of us is another steel grill with what appears to be two cages with doors front and back. They obviously work like an airlock.

“I will wait upstairs, Lady,” says Brooke. “A slave can enter the dungeon if a Lady or Mistress enters at the same time. But only a Mistress can escort a slave from the dungeon.”

I’m torn between skipping the dungeon from our tour or satisfying my curiosity. The thought of a woman being locked in such a place stretches my moral boundaries to the limit. I might see something I’d rather not see. But I’ve already done wild things today, and I’ve felt sensations which I would never believe myself capable of experiencing. Consequently curiosity wins the battle swirling inside me.

I place my palm on one of the pads by the left cage. There is an audible click as the outer door unlocks. I step into the cage, which is only just big enough for me, and pull the outer door closed. The moment the outer door locks, the inner door unlocks and I enter the eerie world of the dungeon.

I follow the short passageway as it doubles back on itself twice in an “S” shape. The effect is to block the light coming from the stairwell so that the main part of the dungeon is only lit by the subdued red lighting strategically placed around the walls. On one side of the dungeon are what appear to be eight cells, each with a stout wooden door containing a tiny barred window at head height. I peer into an open cell and stand frozen in ... what? ... horror? No ... surprise? No ... trepidation? Hmm ... perhaps. The prospect that I might one day find myself locked in such a tiny room rattles my imagination and does strange things to my senses. I take a deep breath and step inside the cell. The cell is only big enough for the door to swing open without colliding with the hard wooden bed placed across the cell. The only other item in here is a small chamber pot underneath the bed. There’s no light other than what leaks through the window in the door. Without thinking I start to fondle my tits which promptly pop over the top of the half cups of my uniform. Instead of pushing them back in place, I toy with my nipples. I’m being really slutty, but I can’t resist satisfying my arousal. But I don’t want to be gone too long so I take a deep breath and bring a halt to my indecent game.

On the other side of the dungeon is a small open area with wooden frames and trestles, the purpose of which I presume is to torment some poor slave. The chains hanging from the walls and the shackles bolted to the floor only reinforce my suspicions. The sudden sound of chains rattling coming from one of the cells interrupts my examination. It sounds as though I’m not alone in this dungeon.

I didn’t think to check all of the cells since Brooke had said that everyone is busy working in the tower. Do I dare to look and see who it is in the cell, or do I quietly leave and return to where Brooke said she’d wait. Once again my curiosity gets the better of me and I walk along the line of cells until I come to the cell numbered ‘5’. I peek through the cell door window and in doing so block what little light is entering the cell. The occupant of the cell immediately realises that I’m standing at the door to her cell.

“Forgive me, Mistress,” pleads the woman, who is obscured in the dark shadows of the cell.

There’s a rattle of chains and a moment later there’s a face looking back at me from the other side of the door. The face belongs to a woman who must be in her forties, although the weak light makes it difficult to be certain. I notice a steel collar around her neck ... which means that this woman is what Brooke called a ‘chattel slave’ and that she’s ‘owned’ by a particular mistress.