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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.