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I drifted slowly up from sleep.  My first sensations were purely physical, totally relaxed muscles and no worry anywhere.  I started to feel what was around me, satin sheets under me, and a light blanket tossed carelessly over my otherwise naked body.  My arms were stretched over my head.  As I try to move them to rub my eyes I am stopped, and realize they are tied to the bed.  My eyes snap open, though it looks like they haven't for a moment.  The room is almost pitch black, the only light being an outline of a door directly in front of me.  As my eyes adjust to the darkness I try again to move.  Neither my hands nor my feet can move more than three or four inches.  Now that I am totally awake I can hear the soft clink and rattle of chains and feel the soft cuffs on my wrists and ankles.  Looking around, all I can make out are the edges of the bed and the outline of what looks like a dresser.
The room is silent, but then I hear footsteps, coming from outside the door, and two or three voices, getting louder.  All the voices are male, and one is very familiar.  The footsteps stop for a moment outside my door, and then carry on, but not as many.  A key turns in the lock, and the door swings open.  I am momentarily blinded by the light, but even when my eyes adjust, all I can see is a tall silhouette, broad shouldered and obviously a guy.  He reaches over and flips on an overhead light, blinding me again.  When my vision clears, he is standing next to my bed, gazing down at me, very far down.  He is at least 6'6" tall, with the arms of someone who works out regularly.  Clean shaven and bald, with dark blue eyes that almost seem black.  His eyes had a predatory gleam that made me want to scoot away from him, but I was stopped by the chains.  He noticed my slight movement and smiled, creeping me out further.  For some reason my mind flashed on the picture of a tiger, this man exuded the same carefree and deadly air.
His voice, when he spoke, was a low growl that reverberated through my chest.  "You are probably wondering why you are here, and who I may be.  You do not get to know this.  All you need to know is you are to address me as Sir, and you are only to speak when given permission."
I open my mouth to say something, with my usual disregard to instructions, and receive a prompt slap across the face, hard enough to make my ears ring for a second.  My eyes opened wide and my mouth snapped shut.  Sir continued as if nothing had happened.
"I am aware that before this, you were a free individual, and had a name and personality and such.  We are here to change that.  While under my guidance, you will respond to the name 'Gem'.  Disobedience will be punished."  The entire time he had been talking, his eyes roamed up and down my thinly covered body.  He reached down and twitched the blanket aside, leaving me totally naked under his gaze.  My wordless exclamation of shock must have been taken for talking, because his gaze snapped to my face, and another wordless, dispassionate slap.  His glare contained almost no emotion, just a hint of annoyance.  It wasn't a look one human gave to another.  His every look and action put me in mind of a dog hater inspecting a poorly trained mutt.  He sighed.
"I can see you will need more explanation.  You have been brought to my facility to be trained.  Your mistress says you were fresh caught, and not from this country.  She is paying a great deal of money to make sure you are ready for her party.  I have three weeks to turn you into the perfect cat-slave.  Do to both the time frame and the nature of your mistress; this job is not to be trusted to my normal trainers.  I shall be training you personally.  I am now permitting you to ask three questions."
My head was reeling from all the information he had just casually laid out.  Literally thousands of questions ran through my mind.  Finally I managed to choke out, "What do you mean by mistress and slave? Slavery has been illegal almost 400 years!"
"Slavery may have been abolished in your former country, but here it is completely legal.  Your mistress is the Lady who bought you at auction, and now owns your freedom.  Disobedience, attempts to escape, and disrespect towards freemen are illegal, and may be punishable by beatings or death, depending on your owner and the severity of the infraction."   As I laid there, trying desperately to process this information, memories started to slowly resurface, laying out the last few weeks.  Storming out on my lying cheating bastard of a boyfriend, walking along the beach, moon bright enough to cast shadows, one of the shadows changing shape, a guy coming up to me, running really, then blackness.  A few random flashes after that, the inside of a van, then what looked like a shipping crate, and airplane, then finally, a huge auditorium.  As my mind was working, he continued his inspection of my body.  I am around 5'9", with an all around medium tan, thanks to mother nature.  I had finally saved up enough to get all my body hair, from the eyelashes down, permanently laser removed.  The hair I had left is a dark brown, verging on black, long enough I often sit on it, and thick enough to be a pain to brush and care for.  My figure was often described as hourglass, and I was toned from all the running I had done over the years.
As I started to ask my next question his eyes snapped back up to my face.  "What is a cat-slave?" I asked tentatively, in case he decided he didn't want to hear me and I got another of his disorienting slaps.
"A cat-slave," he replied "is a female slave who is trained to adorn a party, acting like a cat would, and offering sexual pleasure to her master or mistresses guests."  His mention of sexual favors made a blush start, which made him smirk.  "Yes, part of your training will be learning to perform many sexual acts, but don't worry, your virginity will stay intact.  Your mistress wishes to get some of her investment back by auctioning off your maidenhead at her party.  It is a fairly common custom when buying a virgin."  He must have noticed the shock in my eyes for he stopped explaining and sat back, waiting for my next question.
As soon as my head stopped spinning I managed to stammer out my last question.  "Who is my mistress?"
"This is not a usual question, you do not know?"  I shook my head no, afraid to break the no talking rule again.  "You are owned by the Lady Marsilla de Prisa.  The de Prisa family is one of the wealthiest and most powerful in the surrounding countryside." He stood up then, and looked down dispassionately.  "Tomorrow is the official start of your modifications and training, you should get some sleep, you will need it."  With that cryptic comment, he covered me up and left, turning out the light and locking the door, leaving me with my churning thoughts.