Punishing the stable boy
October 4th 2011
Today was absolutely fabulous.
After a terrible week in London I managed to get down to my country house for some relaxation and to relieve the stress and tension which had been building all week
I love nothing better than to dress in my exquisite English riding habit and, selecting my favourite long dressage whip, set off for the stables.
Arriving at the stables I was infuriated to find that my mount was not correctly tacked up and ready to go. This was my weekend and was supposed to be stress free. Ian, my stable boy, was going to pay for his poor work. Ian had been in my employment ever since I had managed to get him off a break and entering charge and had him assigned to me under the terms of his probation. Any violation of his probation and he would find himself back in court, something he planned to avoid at all costs. Being a pretty and somewhat effeminate boy the last place he wanted to be was jail with a bunch of hardened, and more to the point horney, convicts. The important thing with Ian is to keep him in his place so after a verbal tongue-lashing I decided to relieve some of my stress by applying a physical lashing, to his bottom. Standing behind Ian as he bent over a bale of hay and swishing my whip made me feel better right away. Applying six slow hard strokes, and seeing his reaction to each one, removed any stress that still existed. Setting off for my ride I naturally gave Ian something to think about while I was away and that was the promises of more punishment upon my return. Today’s ride was delightful. The stories about girls and their horses are true. Sitting astride a large powerful animal and rubbing up against the saddle is a wonderful turn on. Add to that the ability to control such a big beast with the flick of my whip is delicious. And as I like to ride hard I have no hesitation in urging on my stead whenever necessary. Not is a cruel way but in a way that appeals to my dominant side. Returning to the stables I decided to give my dominant side some more pleasure and as I had promised Ian some additional punishment I had to keep my word. With more time to spare than at the start of my ride I had Ian strip completely before putting him over the hay bale. I noticed his erection and flicked my whip cross it to teach him some manners about self-control.
To be continued…..
An autmn tale
September 23rd 2011
Escaping the advancing autumn is just the ticket and my apartment in
Nice does the job splendidly.
The rays of the sun are still warm here and the sparkling Med is a
view to die for, especially after a hard week in grey old London.
Yesterday I took up a poolside location, complete with lounger, a
glass of perfectly chilled French wine and a good book.
All was going swimmingly until the pool maintenance man arrived,
complete with cleaning equipment, nets and chemicals.
Damn didn’t I order this to be done next weekend when I wasn’t here?
Some flunky would pay for this incompetence.
In the meantime I told the pool man to do his work as quietly as
possible so as not to disturb my relaxation time.
He nodded his understanding. Normally I don’t like to see tradesmen
but this one was different. In his 20s he was muscled tanned and very
fit.
Dressed in a tight white t- shirt and smart shorts he had the air of a
man who knows his attractiveness, a slightly arrogant air of self-love
about him.
He set about his work and I caught up with my book, not really giving
him a second look.
But then I caught him. Blatantly giving me the eye in the most
salacious way. The audacity of it!
He looked away but his face betrayed his guilt as did the bulge in his shorts.
I called him over.
“Whats your name?” I asked.
“carl”
“well carl you seem under-occupied. Will you do me a favour?”
“I’ll try”
“take off your shorts and put on these.” I threw him a pair of
stockings that I had been wearing earlier.
“you must be joking miss?”
“I never joke about punishing perverts caught being voyeurs. Don’t try
and deny it carl. You were eyeing me up. I feel very upset. You
realise I am going to report you to your boss and because of my VIP
status, he will sack you?
“I’m sorry miss” he replied, his cockiness receding.
“that’s not good enough.”
“look please I’ll do what you say,” he replied, stripping off his
shorts and trunks to reveal an erection before starting to put on my
stockings.
Unused to the sheer material, I watched his ungainly efforts to put
them on, my smile growing wider with each fumble.
Eventually he was dressed and ready for my inspection. Picking up my
parasol, I walked over to him and ordered him to bend over.
He presented his arse for me without a murmur and I proceeded to let
him feel ten hard lashes with the parasol.
Despite his hunky exterior he yelped when he felt the full force from
my high swinging arm as it connected with his fleshy rump.
The last stroke made him drop to his knees where he remained, a
ridiculous figure in my stockings with a red arse and a red face. How
delightful!
But I wasn’t finished with him yet. I picked up my dogs bowl and
placed it on the floor in front of him. I then picked up a bottle of
water and ran the liquid down my foot, between my toes and into the
bowl.
When it was half full, I pushed the bowl under his nose.
“you must be thirsty in this heat carl, why don’t you have a drink. I insist.”
he began to drink and I dabbed my toes into the side of the bowl to
add a bit of taste to his tipple.
“good doggie” I said, satisfied that I had successfully taken the wind
out of his sails.
“right carl, I think we’re done don’t you?”
“yes miss” he replied dejectedly.
“off you go then.”
he got to his feet and could barely raise his head to look at me
although the one between his legs seemed to have no trouble.
And then my stockinged pool maintenance man made his exit, his tail
well and truly between his legs!
A day at the races
August 31st 2011
As my playthings know I enjoy a sybaritic lifestyle and nothing beats a splendid day at the races. Flat or national hunt, Longchamp or Saratoga, I love them all, but I have a soft spot for Ascot. Berkshire is where I stable my polo ponies (and very lucky playthings!) and so Ascot is but a short journey. I also enjoyed a rather delicious experience at last year’s Royal Ascot.
If you’re a serious horse person like me then Ascot can be a bit of a trial. All those women in all those utterly ghastly hats! I just need my natural presence and grace to attract the eye, not a full-on Carmen Miranda look. I still though enjoy the horseflesh and the showing in the parade ring and pre-parade ring last year gave me an idea. I had five or six playthings in tow and a couple of my dom male friends on hand and so decided that I would bring my own slant to checking on form.
I got my playthings into my box and had them strip off to their underpants. ‘Right,’ I said, ‘Now we’ll see what sort of flesh we’ve got on show here boys. Let’s have you run around a bit to get some colour in those cheeks.’ I sat down to observe, flanked on either side by my male dom friends. After a few minutes all playthings were panting and I ordered them to stop. ‘Now, off with the pants boys.’ My playthings were only too glad to oblige and some of them were already sporting erections. ‘I see that some of you are ahead of the game here. I want you all hard, so getting tugging boys.’ As they started to play with themselves I explained the rules. ‘I’m getting my ruler out and I’m going to measure you all. Not difficult as I see that none of you are hung like the animals outside. The loser has to suck the cocks of my two friends here, and I can assure you that they bear more comparison with the winners out there. The loser will of course be the one with the weeniest weenie. Think of it as Miss Davenshaw’s pecking, sorry, pecker order.’
At this a couple of my playthings blanched but all did as they were told. I stood up and walked down the line measuring as I went. I could see my playthings were torn between wanting to really submit to my whims and being rather frightened of the prize. I taunted them with this, ‘What little tarts you all are, none of you are losing your erections. My, my, my, aren’t we all keen to suck cock.’
Eventually there had to be a winner, but I shall save what happened to him for another time.
My personal fav session of the month so far
August 20th 2011
An senior pupil in Miss Davenshaws school is again caught masturbating in the stationary cupboard after seeing Miss Davenshaw in her well tailored business suit and sexy black seamed stockings and suspenders. He has already made one visit to Miss Davenshaws office on a previous occasion but is summoned again for a dressing down by Miss Davenshaw herself. He is mortified and knows this time he is in serious trouble as he was warned that should he be summoned again, then the punishment would be a lot more severe. She makes him strip naked and stand before her, She makes him tell her why he has disobeyed her and masturbated again without her permission, he obviously has a fetish seeing Miss Davenshaw in black seamed stockings and suspenders. She tells him that the punishment today will be very severe and that he must prepare himself for the hardest caning yet. She puts him in her sexiest stockings, makes him bend over her knee for a long hard hand spanking and then tells him to stand in the corner, then back over the knee for a further hand spanking.
Then she prepares an area (or a bed if available) for him to lie on his back and spread his legs as wide as possible, he is told to lie down on his back and spread his legs wide, his ankles and wrists are secured firmly, he is his to have the front thighs spanked hard, 50 spanks on each thigh administered 10 at a time, first on the right thigh and then on the left thigh until all are administered, light stroking over the thighs during the spanking to allow further spanks to be given. Miss Davenshaw then tells him to stand in the corner whilst she prepares a chair or something similar, he is told to bend over the chair and she secures his wrists and ankles firmly. Then she lectures him on his transgressions, she tells him that this caning will be double the hard caning received last time(40 strokes), 80 strokes of the cane in sets of 10 are to be administered to his bare bottom and that he must be silent throughout the punishment and will not be released until all 80 strokes have been given. Further strokes will be given if deemed necessary by Miss Davenshaw.
A weekend away
July 21st 2011
Off to Paris for the weekend for your adored diarist. Slave Philippe loves to please his mistress and I often head off to Paris to recharge my batteries when I want a change from London but not the country.
I met Philippe a couple of years ago and he proved immediately inadequate as a man. His Gallic pride originally stung when I pointed out that I like my men like my game, well hung and he was hardly that. Nevertheless Philippe is an adoring and favoured plaything and now he is trained and knows his place he is a dear little servant for me.
He collected me from the Gare du Nord and I ensured that he had his chastity device fitted (the poor little thing tends to get terribly excited around me and we have to watch for accidents). After he had dropped my luggage off at the Hotel Bristol where I was staying (at Philippe’s expense bien sur!) he escorted me to what must be my favourite shopping street in the world, Place Vendôme. Tiffany, Cartier, Chanel, Lacroix, all have exquisite salons there. With Philippe trotting around pandering to my every whim and the staff in these shops falling over themselves to supply to my wants I felt gloriously dominant.
Philippe’s wallet took a frightful bashing that morning but I suggested he console himself with the thought that all my shopping which he was carrying might be expensive but it was at least light.
Then it was off to a little gem. In rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau (it’s a bit like the Burlington Arcade) Christian Louboutin has a shop. Philippe was sweating a bit at first on his credit card but after five minutes of watching me try on Louboutin’s thrillingly erotic works of art (they are not mere shoes) had him almost fainting with pleasure. In earshot of the assistant I told Philippe that it was a very good job that I had fitted his chastity device earlier given that he was practically salivating watching me try on shoes.
After that it was back to the Bristol for a sumptuous bath with Philippe serving me champagne in the bath (I love being naked in front of my well established playthings, my perfect body so utterly transfixes them and the sense of power I get is intoxicating.
After a beautiful dinner it was back to the Bristol where Philippe gave me a wonderful foot massage (I pointed out that his cock was of no use to me but that he did have useful hands) and as a treat I let him spend the night on the floor at the foot of my bed.
Sunday back on the Eurostar and home to my UK playthings. I hope you didn’t miss me too much.