La Chatte Heureuse The Happy Pussy Ch 8
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La Chatte Heureuse (The Happy Pussy) Ch. 1 free porn video
Chapter 1: A Step into the Unknown
How does a twenty-two-year-old woman with negligible previous sexual experience end up working at a place of debauchery like La Chatte Heureuse? My urgent need for a well-paid job is a good excuse for my initial fall into the dark but alluring world which La Chatte Heureuse offers its members. But that doesn’t explain my decision to stay, nor my willing participation in the additional duties Monique has ‘invited’ me to perform. Can I ever return to what most people regard as a normal life? If I tell you my story, then perhaps you can answer that question for me, because I simply don’t know if I’m able to go back. Nor am I sure if I want to return to normality, even if I could.
My job application to work for an organisation called La Chatte Heureuse was partly due to a mistake. I recognised the organisation’s name as being French but I wrongly translated it as The Happy Cat. Since I like cats, I took the name to be a good omen. Only when I was invited to attend an interview did I realise my error and that The Happy Pussy has nothing to do with pussies of the domestic pet variety. Should I have cancelled my application the moment I realised my mistake? Probably, but my situation was getting desperate. The massive storm which hit the town where I live destroyed the trailer home I was renting and flattened my employer’s premises. Suddenly I found myself homeless and unemployed. Living in my car soon lost its novelty appeal but I had insufficient savings to do anything else.
Despite my non-existent experience in anything remotely kinky, I convince myself that I am broad-minded enough to at least attend an interview. After all, this is simply an interview for a receptionist position, so what can go wrong? I could always turn the job down if I didn’t feel comfortable at the prospect of working there. Besides, the job has an added benefit. Because of the remote location of La Chatte Heureuse, a place in the on-site staff quarters comes with the job. That's a big plus from my point of view. By taking the job, I will solve my two major problems at the same time.
When I check the map to see where La Chatte Heureuse is located, I discover that it is on an island in the middle of a lake, a long way from anywhere. Fortunately my would-be employer is conducting interviews in a town within easy reach of where I have parked my car.
I enter the office at the address I’ve been given for my interview. I manage to avoid blushing or fumbling my words when a gorgeous dark-haired goddess dressed in a sexy black leather outfit greets me and introduces herself as Monique. I’ve never determined if Monique is her real name, but my first meeting with her goes surprisingly well. We discuss my background and my reasons for wanting the job. I decide to be honest - more or less - and admit that my current situation is dire. Monique seems sympathetic to my plight but I can’t tell if it influences her decision.
There are three hopeful applicants being interviewed for the receptionist position and, for whatever reason, I’m the one who is offered the job. I accept immediately without making too many further enquiries. If you consider that to be jumping in at the deep end, then I’m not going to argue. But by now my desperate situation is getting even more desperate. With the worst of the storm damage having been cleared, the local police are having a purge on homeless people living anywhere within the town limits. I’ve had a run-in with them twice in the last three days, and now they’ve threatened to impound my car if I don’t find other accommodation by Saturday.
Monique gives me instructions for when and how I’m to report for work. The location of La Chatte Heureuse is so remote that they operate their own shuttle bus service between the nearest towns and the lake I saw on the map. From there, a boat will take me across the lake to the island. The shuttle bus will collect me on Thursday at eleven o’clock.
I arrange to store my car and unneeded belongings in a lock-up garage and I wait with my luggage for the shuttle bus to arrive. I’m feeling nervous, but I’m also more than a little excited at what I regard as an extremely daring act for me. An unmarked twelve-seater minibus arrives on time and a group of seven women disembarks. A few say farewell to one another, but others simply fade into the background. I’ve no idea who they are, but I presume they are members of La Chatte Heureuse. The bus driver checks my identity and those of four other women who have been waiting in a cafe nearby. I’d noticed them earlier, but I hadn’t realised that they were also waiting for this bus. They had made no effort to approach me even though it must have been obvious from where I was standing that I was going to be a fellow passenger.
“Sorry for all the security,” says the driver as she insists on checking the contents of everyone’s luggage. “It’s better to deal with any unauthorised items here in town rather than further up the line.”
Monique’s instructions made it clear that any cameras, computers, mobile phones or recording devices of any description are prohibited at La Chatte Heureuse. It’s a rule applied to all members and employees without exception. That in itself should have alerted me to the nature of the activities carried on there. So far, all I know about La Chatte Heureuse is that it’s a ‘women only’ club which provides a playground where members can participate in special events and generally relax and play to their heart’s content. All for a price, of course. My mental picture of the place before I arrive is of some sort of sapphic paradise. However, imagination and reality are rarely the same.
My fellow passengers on the bus talk quietly among themselves, clearly wishing to keep their conversation private. I don’t intrude, even though the occasional overhead sentence intrigues me. I’m still feeling too nervous to join in their conversation uninvited. After about ten minutes, the bus turns off the highway and takes a narrow, winding road through a heavily wooded valley in the general direction of the lake.
“Are you the new receptionist?” asks the driver, who seems to be willing to talk once she realises the other women are excluding me from their conversation.
“Yes,” I reply. “I’m not sure what I’m letting myself in for, though.”
“Hmm. Greenway House isn’t the sort of place everybody likes,” muses the driver. “But I’m sure you’ll do fine if you are broad-minded enough. I’m Kirsty, by the way.”
“Hi, Kirsty, I’m Nicole. You said Greenway House?” I query. “I thought the place was called La Chatte Heureuse.”
“La Chatte Heureuse is the organisation which owns the house and grounds. This whole area was once called after the 19th-century industrialist Obadiah Greenway. But the mines, factory and town which bore his name have all gone. All that remains these days is his grand house and its grounds … and a lake surrounded by a huge expanse of wilderness. The local mines which made Greenway his fortune all played out in the 1930s, and Greenway Falls became a ghost town when the engineering works closed a few years later. Then in the 1950s, the government decided to build a dam at the southern end of the valley and create a huge reservoir. Greenway Falls ended up deep underwater. Only Greenway’s mansion remains, although now it’s a pleasant lakeside estate on an island rather than as it appears in old photographs; a forbidding castle-like property perched high on a hill. With the lake acting like a moat, and the rugged country and steep hills surrounding the area, the mansion continues to enjoy a level of seclusion rarely found these days. Of course, you can only come and go by helicopter or boat.”
“How long has La Chatte Heureuse been at the mansion?” I ask.
“Just over five years. Before that, it was owned by some reclusive cult which believed that the end of the world would occur in 2012. When it didn’t, the cult started to break up and the house was eventually abandoned. La Chatte Heureuse bought it for next to nothing and started setting up its exclusive operation in a wing of the house. Last year the owners decided to expand their operation to make use of the whole house and grounds. Buildings are being repaired and extra staff employed.”
“So who owns La Chatte Heureuse?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure it’s an answer you really want to know. There’s definitely a larger organisation in the background, but who they are or what else they do is a closely guarded secret. The local operation is run by Monique, but I’ve never seen anybody likely to be her boss. Since this shuttle bus is the only vehicle used to carry people to and from the lake, I get to see nearly everybody.”
“Wouldn’t it be quicker to fly people in and out by plane or helicopter?”
“Quicker, perhaps, but the authorities won’t allow planes or helicopters to land on the lake and the local terrain makes it impossible for a plane to land anywhere near the island. A few of the more wealthy members fly in by helicopter, but that’s not very often.”
We arrive at the southern end of the lake where the road comes face to face with the barrier of the dam wall. Kirsty turns the bus to the right and promptly drives along a steep, narrow track just wide enough for the bus. The track continues past the top of the dam and follows the lake shore for a while. It ends in a clearing where there are several small stone buildings and sheds. The buildings don’t look as though they’ve been used for years, but a couple of the sheds seem to be in better condition. Kirsty parks the bus inside one of the sheds and unloads our luggage.
“Follow me,” says Kirsty, leading us onto a stone jetty where a medium-sized cabin boat is waiting.
We grab our luggage and do as we are told. We board the boat and make ourselves comfortable. Kirsty boards last and a few minutes later we are on our way along the lake.
“How often do you make this trip?” I ask Kirsty once I’ve grown tired of admiring the view. It’s a pretty setting, but one tree soon gets to look like every other tree.
“Normally three times a week, but twice daily if there’s a special event coming up.”
“Special event?” I query. “What sorts of special events does La Chatte Heureuse put on?”
“It varies quite a lot. They are themed games lasting for a week or even longer. Some of them can be very popular and the demand for places can get very competitive. You’ll soon see what I mean. The next special event is at the end of the month and bookings will open tomorrow.”
“How does that work if there are no computers or phones allowed?”
“We aren’t so cut off from the outside world as Monique’s rules seem to imply. The island has its own electricity generators and we’ve a satellite link for communications. There are specially modified computers and phones available for the staff to use.”
The boat ride takes about fifteen minutes. The island sits inside a wide bay and I only notice it once the boat passes around a headland. Monique meets us at the wooden wharf where the boat docks, and she escorts the four club members to wherever they are going. Monique instructs me to wait with Kirsty, who busies herself with securing the boat and preparing it for its next journey. I stand on the wharf, admiring the house.
The main building of the imposing house stands on a small hillock which raises it above the surrounding gardens. The outer edge of the gardens are bordered by a tall stone wall. The grounds inside the walls are a mixture of lawns and shrubs and are kept in neat condition. The grounds on the lake side of the wall have been left to grow wild. Part of the garden wall extends into the lake as though a section of the original walled garden was flooded when the lake was created and the wharf has been built where flowers once bloomed.
Access to the main house is up a wide footpath leading from the wharf. I can’t see all of the house from the wharf, but the largest structure is a tall square stone tower reminiscent of a castle keep. Around the tower are a series of interconnected smaller buildings that have been placed in a seemingly haphazard pattern. The scaffolding around the tower suggests that repair work is being undertaken.
"Only the east wing is open at the moment," says Kirsty when she sees me studying the construction work going on. "La Chatte Heureuse is being refurbished by the club's members. The four women who arrived with you are on the work gang for the next ten days."
"Can't the owners afford to bring in professional builders?" I ask.
"No men are allowed on the island. There simply aren't enough female builders available to do all the work, so members supplement the workforce."
"Oh! I thought the 'women only' rule just applied to club activities. I didn't realise it extended to everything."
Our conversation is brought to an end by the return of Monique. Kirsty quickly looks busy as though talking to me is something she shouldn't have been doing.
"I'll show you to your quarters and give you an hour to get settled," says Monique.
I grab my luggage and follow Monique towards the low buildings bordering the tower. Some of the buildings look unused and in poor repair. Fortunately, others are in much better shape and they must be the ones which have been refurbished. I begin to get some sense of the placement of the buildings, which aren’t as haphazard as they appear from the wharf.
“The buildings on the east side of the tower are the only ones currently in use,” says Monique, confirming Kirsty’s previous comment. “Repairs to the tower are nearly finished, as is one of the buildings on the north side. We hope to have all the buildings back in use by this time next year.”
"So what are all these buildings used for?"
"This two-storey block is the administration building with the staff accommodation on the upper floor. The three single-level buildings are for members' and guests' accommodation. The other two-storey block and the old stables over there are the entertainment rooms. But I'll introduce you to Brooke and she can give you a tour of those later. With the repairs to the main building nearly completed, we all have a lot to do at the moment."
"How many of us are there on the staff?" I ask.
"Eight at the moment, but more will be hired when the rest of the buildings are ready to be reopened. You'll meet them all tonight. There are four building contractors on-site as well, but they aren't regular employees of La Chatte Heureuse."
Monique escorts me into the building she called the administration block. She enters an open office where a young woman about my age is working at a desk. I do a double-take when I see how she is dressed. The halter top she is wearing leaves her tits completely exposed. Her short vinyl mini skirt is equally erotic.
"This is Brooke," says Monique. “Brooke, this is Nicole, our new receptionist. I’m going to show Nicole to her quarters and then I want you to sort her out with her uniform and show her around the place.”
“Yes, Madame,” replies Brooke.
If I felt uneasy before, then I’m practically trembling with nerves now. I didn’t realise I would be wearing a uniform, and what am I going to do if it is as revealing as Brooke’s costume.
“This way, Nicole,” says Monique.
“Yes, Madame,” I say, copying the way Brooke replied to Monique.
“Ah! You should call me Monique. Only slaves must refer to their betters as Madame or Lady.”
Slaves! Oh my God! What have I got myself into here?
“There are four castes of women here on the island,” says Monique when she sees the bemused look on my face. “There are Mistresses, Ladies, Guests and Slaves. Each caste has its own dress code and a set of rules specific to their caste. The building contractors are currently our only Guests and they aren’t allowed to participate in the lifestyle at La Chatte Heureuse. There’s no dress code for them.
“Mistresses can be recognised by the black name necklace all Mistresses wear.”
Monique gives me a closer look at the small chain necklace around her neck. Sure enough, the letters attached to the necklace spelling ‘Monique’ are black in colour.
“Only Mistresses may wear leather clothing, although that isn’t a requirement. Mistresses can wear any type of clothing they desire.
“Slaves wear white name necklaces or a steel collar with their name engraved in white letters. They are forbidden to wear leather gear other than restraining harnesses, collars and cuffs. Their breasts must be exposed at all times and they must allow them to be handled by any Mistress or Lady. They must refer to Mistresses as ‘Madame’ and Ladies as ‘Lady’. Some of the buildings are out of bounds to Slaves unless they are accompanied by a Mistress or Lady.
“Ladies are a mixed group made up of newcomers like you, and those members who prefer to watch rather than participate in the various organised activities of La Chatte Heureuse. Ladies wear blue name necklaces and may wear whatever clothing they choose as long as it isn’t made of leather. Ladies can enjoy most of our facilities and participate in a few of our activities, but not any of the major events. You will be classified as a Lady until such time that you choose otherwise.”
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