Chapter 14: Tessa. Saturday. Departure day.

I’m not sure what time it is, but it must be well before dawn. Normally the hourly patrol of the dungeon to check on the well-being of those imprisoned in a cell, doesn’t disturb my sleep. However there are those who volunteer for the night patrol who take delight in tormenting those unfortunates like me who must sleep in the confines of a small cell.

“Wake up, Slave,” comes a voice I recognise as Madame Cynthia, one of Madame Anastasia’s cronies. “Present yourself for inspection.”

I roll out of bed ... such as it is ... and stand facing the small window in the door. As required, I place my hands on the top of my head and spread my legs apart. Madame Cynthia could unlock the door and either inspect me inside my cell, or have me step out into the main area of the dungeon. That’s not Madame Cynthia’s style. Whatever perverse pleasure she gets from watching me perform to her command, she does through the tiny window in the cell door.

“Turn around, bend down, and present your arse,” orders Madame Cynthia.

I obey. Refusing to do so will only result in a whipping, and I am leaving the island on this morning’s ferry. Madame Cynthia is inclined to be over-enthusiastic with the whip, and the last thing I need is a sore back.

“Pull your arse cheeks apart. Let me see your holes.”

Like a performing dog, I do ask Madame Cynthia commands. In the half-light of my cell, I doubt she can see much, but that isn’t the purpose of her game. In the three days that I’ve been one of the playthings of the four mistresses, I’ve assessed each of their particular fetishes. Madame Cynthia gets her thrills from issuing orders and having them instantly obeyed.

“Stand up and turn around. Reach between your legs and masturbate. But you are not to come without permission.”

Again?!? This must be Madame Cynthia’s favourite order to me. Every time I’m rotated into Madame Cynthia’s dominion, she has me frig myself until my juices flow freely down my leg. I wouldn’t mind if she occasionally fucked me, but she reserves her strap-on cock to fuck Slave Jaycee. At least I sometimes reach an orgasm when Madame Cynthia is in charge. The other three mistresses always drive me to a peak, but never allow me to come. Strangely, I don’t mind being denied the pleasure of an orgasm, as it only keeps me in a state of arousal, and makes me more eager the next time. By now my ability to stop myself from tipping over the edge into an orgasm has even impressed the very demanding Madame Anastasia.

“Please may I come, Madame?” I ask a few moments later.

“Already? You must have a slutty mind to arouse yourself so quickly.”

I couldn’t agree more. Being constantly denied an orgasm plays its part, but my dirty perverted thoughts plays wicked tricks with my mind, driving me into wantonness. Madame Cynthia isn’t in a rush to answer my question, so I must hold myself at a peak for what seems like an eternity. If I allow myself to fall back from my simmering peak, and Madame Cynthia allows me an orgasm, I will only have seconds to regain my arousal. That would be difficult, but not impossible now that I’ve had plenty of opportunity to practise.

“No. You may not come, Slave Tessa,” says Madame Cynthia a minute later. “Get back into your bed and lie face down with your head turned towards the wall. Place your hands on top of your head.”

This is another of Slave Cynthia’s tests of obedience. I can’t see her in this position, so I’ve no idea how long she intends to stand watching me. If I move while she’s watching me, then I get whipped in the morning. Something I wish to avoid today. Madame Cynthia will undoubtedly check on the other three slaves imprisoned in these cells, but she seems to reserve her torments for me. Eventually I fall asleep and I don’t see Madame Cynthia again until shortly before Slave Bambi and I are due to check out at ten o’clock in the morning.

The departure routine is the same as when Jessica left after the special event. At seven o’clock Slave Bambi and I are released from our cells. Slaves Jaycee and Naomi aren’t leaving the island until this afternoon, so they won’t be released from their cells for another hour. Madame Anastasia is scheduled to depart at the same time as Slave Bambi and me, so she is taking sole charge of us this morning. We are escorted to the bathroom and given twenty minutes for a shower and ablutions. Breakfast follows in the building E4 kitchen. The food is the same in each kitchen regardless of caste, so Madame Anastasia joins us as we eat. The other slaves in building E4 are unlocked from their bed shackles at seven-thirty, so we have been able to use the bathroom and have our pick of food before the rush.

Since there were a large number of arrivals last Saturday, many of those staying for a single week will be departing today. That means two ferry departures, one at ten-thirty, and the other at two o’clock. The three of us are booked on the morning ferry, which means checking out at reception around ten o’clock. Departing bondage slaves are required to undergo a quick medical check by the resident doctor, Slave Olivia. It’s a fairly cursory examination, mainly to check there are no hidden injuries that might cause bruising or swelling later. Whip marks on my tits and arse are checked for cuts, but any redness is passed as okay. Similarly, any marks from being bound by rope or metal shackles are given a quick once-over.

“I can give you some cream to soothe your arse if you need it,” says Slave Olivia when I wince as I sit down in a chair.

“No, thank you,” I reply. “I just need to be careful how I sit down for a day or so. It’s not all that painful.”

I don’t confess that I get a slight thrill at the thought of my tender arse. The occasional sting of pain simply reinforces my wicked sexual thoughts that haven’t reduced despite my release from the dungeon. Slave Olivia confirms I’m physically fit to travel. She makes no diagnosis of my mental state of mind, which is anything but normal. I doubt it will return to normal for some considerable time ... if ever. And, to be honest, I wouldn’t mind continuing to think and feel the way I do now.

Choosing to stay here for six weeks as a member of the Slave caste was a huge gamble. However, the opportunity to play out my wild and secret fantasies was too good an opportunity to miss. That similar fantasies are shared by others has helped me be more open about my desires. What I thought were uniquely my own perverted and disgusting thoughts turn out to be far from abnormal. And with that realisation, I feel much more mature. No more treating my lesbian relationships as something to only be talked about in hushed whispers. If those around me at home and study don’t like that I’m a lesbian, then that’s their problem, not mine.

I officially cease to be Slave Tessa, and become Tessa once again, when Madame Rebecca and I open my locker and I swap my Slave caste costume for my regular street clothes. I pack the leather corset and skirt that Madame Faye gave me into my travel bag, and place the rest of my Slave costume in the laundry bin provided for that purpose. Although I’m no longer required to address mistresses as ‘Madame’, I find it is hard to stop doing so.

During my few days as a bondage slave, the club administration has approved my application for membership of La Chatte Heureuse. I’m given a folder with my membership card and a summary of the club rules. A full set of rules are online, as are various other documents and information. My phone, along with those of all the others departing this morning, is handed to Kirsty to be returned to me once I leave the bus in town. Hopefully my close friend Dana has remembered that she promised to make the fifty mile journey to pick me up in town. Until my phone is returned to me, I have no means of contacting her. Fortunately, she knows I’m incommunicado during my stay here, so my silence won’t worry her.