Caribbean dream….
March 5th 2012
There was an air of almost panic about the place - Miss Davenshaw was on her way.
There was just an hour until our mistress touched down in Barbados for her winter break and we, her loyal team of slaves, were going into overdrive to get everything perfect.
Miss Davenshaw demands perfection and if you don’t deliver you get the boot. Well a sharp high heel up the backside and a slap across the face at the very least.
I must admit I have never met Miss Davenshaw. I was gifted to her by a female friend and found myself ordered to the Caribbean and pressed into service.
So there was a lot of polishing, scrubbing of floors, preparation of food and general hard work going on as the arrival of Miss Davenshaw drew near.
Some of the slaves were virtually trembling with fear. One minion in his 50s, was tearful that he would be punished for ordering the wrong flowers for the hallway.
I told him not to worry, she probably wouldn’t notice and if she did she wouldn’t fire him because he was a faithful old servant.
Eventually the time came for miss to arrive. I was told to stay out of sight while her favoured slaves lined up to greet her.
Her Porsche arrived and out stepped a truly exquisitely stunning woman who looked like she owned the place, which she did.
She also owned the slaves lined up before her and with a simple snap of her fingers had each of them drop to their knees, bowing their faces into the gravel of the drive. Miss Davenshaw walked along the line, stopping at one slave to push his face further into the gravel with her high heeled shoe. “Much lower” was the instruction.
I was starting to see why the other slaves were so nervous.
Then she entered the hall and instantly noticed the wrong flowers on display. She called for the old slave responsible and he jogged along as quick as he could, bowing and scraping.
Miss Davenshaw slapped him across the face and told him: “you’re fired, get out.”
The old man started begging for mercy but Miss Davenshaw just stood with her hands on hips unmoved before slapping him again and telling him to shut up.
She then grabbed a tuft of his balding pate and forced him to the ground and ordered him to lick her shoes.
Defeated, he did so. A few minutes passed before he was told to stop, stand up and follow Miss Davenshaw.
She walked him to her electric gates and had a slave open them. She then kicked him out “into the gutter where he belonged”.
He continued to beg her for mercy right till the end but she was unmoved. Years of service counted for nothing.
“let that be a lesson to all you slaves,” she said. “remember you are here to serve me.”
Fun at the gym
November 25th 2011
I wanted to share with you something that happened yesterday.
I was at the gym toning and perfecting the sensational body you all worship and adore. I was finished and was towelling down when I noticed one of the other patrons gazing at Me. Of course I am used to male eyes following me as I sashay around my daily business but I had a spot of devil in Me yesterday and thought it right to teach this potential slave/cuckold/whore (it is SO much fun organising you playthings into your little boxes and every man is a potential toy).
I turned and gave this man an appraising look which he took as a come hither signal. I then walked to the showers. I didn’t even need to look back to see if he was following me. How could he do anything but?
Once in the showers I slipped out of my clothes and stepped under the hot steaming jet of water. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that the man had followed me and was standing already playing with himself.
I stopped what I was doing and turned to face him. So entranced was he by the sight of me (well, he’s only human) that he didn’t realise I was now looking at him. However he soon realised and a look of panic spread across his face.
I stood hands on hips and in total control of the situation. ‘So you like following women and watching them do you? That’s how you get your kicks is it?’ Such was my commanding tone that the man couldn’t formulate any response beyond confused ‘ahs’ and ‘ers’.
‘Well gaze on, gaze on.’ My playthings are used to see me as their extravagantly well dressed dream Woman, but I can assure you all that Miss Davenshaw naked is a sight beyond your wildest imagination and I am just as powerful naked with my proud, fine body on display as in any business suit. This man knew this and was standing mouth open, powerless. ‘You like what you see of course,’ I was enjoying myself now, ‘Well, take your clothes off, get down on your knees and crawl on your belly here and kiss my beautiful feet.’ The man did as he was told. ‘Now wank, but you are not to come till I say so. This is for My entertainment, not yours.’ The man hurriedly started tugging at his penis and soon I could see it engorging and that he was on the verge of orgasm. I bent down and slapped his balls hard. The man collapsed whimpering and clutching his groin. ‘I told you this was for my entertainment.’ I taunted him as I left him on the floor. Oh and when I left the gym I should mention that I took a nice little bundle of clothes with Me. I wonder how he got home naked??
Till next time My devoted sissies, subbies and cuckies.
Did you know
November 21st 2011
HIEROPHILIA hierophilia ( Hieros: sacred or holy; philia: attachment to) refers to those who are aroused by sacred objects. This may include such things as masterbating with crosses or while sitting in the church pews. Some have even broken into churches at night and had sex on the altar. (Personal Communication, Austin Texas, 1969) Many of the early goddess religions revered sex and included it as a part of their worship. Statues ,animals, priests and priestesses were all provided for congregants’ sexual gratification at one time or another.
A servants work is never done
November 3rd 2011
The wonderful thing about Me, Me, Me is actually being Me, Me, Me. Or, more precisely do I prefer to be Me, the Bitchy Boss, or Me, the School Governess, or Me, the well you get the picture My little playthings of an idle hour. I love role play as students of my site know (and I know how assiduously you study My site) and yesterday one of My playthings had asked if I could be the Lady of the Manor. Mmm, delicious, and an easy role for Me to slip into as I am used to the finer things in life.
I had told My minion to clean the drawing room of My little country place and that I would be back in an hour or so. I am a Woman who likes a natural order of things so my minion was dressed suitably. I had him wearing fishnet stockings, heels (lovely to watch My playthings totter as they work) and a little lace pinny around his waist and set him to work.
I know you’re all thinking that I came back to inspect his work. How utterly conventional of you, surely you know by now that I like to bring a bit of wit and imagination to everything I do.
I didn’t inspect his work; instead I came back with two of My Friends, the divine Miss Darcy and the exquisite Glaminatrix to allow them to do the inspection. My servant had obviously heard Us talking in the hall and looked terrified when I opened the door, he was blushing and stammering, he hadn’t expected this. Here he was, dressed as a half naked maid and three beautiful Women coolly appraising him, and worse, smiling and enjoying Themselves at his discomfort.
We ladies wanted to share the pleasure of using My squirming plaything so My two Friends inspected the cleanliness of the room while I picked up a riding crop. My Friends were soon finding fault with My servant’s work and each fault garnered the little man a lashing with My crop. By the time We had finished he was raw.
After this I took off his pinny and told him to serve Us afternoon tea. he scurried to and fro now in just his stockings and heels while My Friends passed comments on him, his body and his work, none of it was flattering and we spent a happy afternoon enjoying Our tea and humiliating My little servant. Miss Darcy wondered if I could spare him for some gardening work at Her place. As She lives in London and the only ‘garden’ She has is a window box facing out on to the street I had to agree. My servant moaned and quivered at this, but I know he will do it. I will get Miss Darcy to tell Me all about it. Perhaps I’ll tell you all about it in a future diary entry.
Till next time My devoted sissies, subbies and cuckies,
Miss Antonia Davenshaw
Monday Morning Sacking!
October 24th 2011
It’s been really hard work this year keeping all my business interests healthy with the economy as it’s been. It means I’ve had less time than usual for playtime, which is really frustrating.
The one consolation of this downturn is that it enables me to really indulge my domineering side ‘in real life’ rather than just with my subs behind closed doors. And there’s nothing I like better than humiliating an arrogant man who truly deserves it.
I had to visit one of my small businesses last week to sort out a few problems. The annoying thing about this place is that its issues are not really recession-related. It’s just that the staff seem quite error-prone – or at least accident prone. I wasn’t sure which, so I went down there to do some trouble-shooting.
This business has three young female staff and a male manager who’s not been there long. I’d begun to suspect he was the problem, as the business always did well under the previous manager. He seemed to have perfectly good credentials when I hired him, and he was articulate and charming. But I confess I found him annoyingly cocky right from the start. Also, early on I’d had to give him two warnings after allegations of bullying from two of the girls. One of them, Amy, actually wanted to resign after he outright yelled at her in front of the other staff for something she felt was not her fault. I persuaded her to stay, since not only would it have been wrong for her to be chased out by bullying, but she’s also extremely efficient and knows the business better than anyone else there, despite being only 25. But it cost me a steep pay-rise and a lot of time and effort smoothing things over – which is exactly the kind of totally unnecessary issue I can do without when I have other businesses with less avoidable problems.
I’d called a staff meeting early in the morning and I started asking questions right away. Mr Arrogant annoyed me instantly by answering questions that weren’t directed at him and generally giving the impression he considered himself in charge. But it became pretty clear that he was less familiar with the business than everyone else, especially Amy, who had all the facts at her fingertips and gave me straight answers while he just evaded and blustered.
Eventually he took a step too far. As I pressed him on why a particular order had not gone through correctly he started to explain to me, quite patronisingly, that since he did this job every day and I didn’t he “knew what he was doing”. The implication being that I didn’t.
I took the gloves off at that point and asked the three young women to step out of the office and wait just outside. Then I outlined to him all various ways in which it was obvious he hadn’t a clue what he was doing. I wasn’t yelling, but I made certain it was loud enough for the girls to hear outside. And I made sure he ended up looking like the pompous, incompetent idiot he is.
I got up, opened the door and ushered the girls back in just in time for a particularly withering finish to my observations. He was blushing to the roots of his hair at this point, and literally started stammering until I cut him off by starting to address a few comments to the girls.
As they sat down, I noticed that all the women looked extremely satisfied. I more or less ignored Mr Arrogant as I outlined a few things we needed to do to straighten things out. Then I turned to the noticeably quivery manager and announced that I thought the main problem had simply been slapdash management and that since I’d already given him two warnings I was within my rights to fire him.
He changed his tune at that point. We were all treated to an absolutely delightful display of self-abasement full of apologies and acknowledgments of his failings and assurances that things would improve, all delivered in his best oh-so charming manner.
I let him waffle on for a while and finally interrupted to say that he could stay on if he wished but that he and Amy would swap roles and he would report to her. (Amy being about twenty years younger than him made the idea of demoting him below her all the more delicious to me, I must say).
“That’s if you’re prepared to have him acting as your junior while you sort out the mess, Amy.” I spoke with complete deference – as if she was my boss too.
It would have been nice if Amy had twisted the knife a bit but she was all gracious acceptance. I told Mr Arrogant to call me when I was back in London either with his acceptance or resignation, and then I said my goodbyes to the girls. As I left they were enthusiastically congratulating Amy and ignoring Mr Arrogant, who seemed too cowed even to get up and leave the room.
I was fully expecting him to resign but later that day he called to say he would accept his demotion IF I could assure him he’d get his old job back fairly soon, assuming his work was satisfactory. I just said “I can’t assure you of that at all”, at which point he buckled completely and waffled on about working hard to regain my trust. I said ‘good’, told him I had another call to make, said goodbye and hung up without waiting for his response.
I did have another call to make. I called Amy and told her to fire him as soon as she’d found an appropriate junior replacement. She was very pleased with that suggestion! “Oh, and Amy” I added, just before ringing off. “When you sack him, make sure it’s in front of all the staff”. Amy seems an extremely sweet-natured girl so I was quite surprised when she gave a wicked little laugh and said “That’s exactly what I was just thinking!”
I feel so much better knowing this little business is being run by someone with such excellent judgement!