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A day at the races..
June 1st 2012
One of my favourite months of the year is June largely because of Ladies day at Royal Ascot.
This year I had given the honor of escorting me to one of my more well off slaves, Ian.
Ian is a broker in the city and loves to show off in his Bentley. Ian is also something of an amateur jockey which was another reason I chose him. I had commanded Ian to pick me up at 10.00 am so that I could enjoy a leisurely drive to Ascot in plenty of time for a day of racing. Ian made the mistake of showing up 15 minutes late with some useless excuse about traffic. Grabbing Ian by his tie I pulled him inside my flat and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. Having little time to spare I reached for one of my canes, which I keep in a tall vases by the fireplace and bending him over an armchair proceeded cane him. Don’t swish, ever swish, be swish, late swish, again swish.
Minutes later I felt much better sitting in the back seat of the Bentley sipping a glass of champagne. Ian, fidgeting slightly as his bottom throbbed, managed to make up for lost time and we arrived in time for lunch. At this point Ian started to redeem himself and laid out a delightful hamper from Harrods. Dresses in his drivers uniform Ian served lunch with the appropriate deference an employee should show to his mistress. An elderly lady parked next to me in her Rolls nodded approvingly. The racing started and Ian ran back and forth placing my bets and topping up my champagne flute as needed. The sun was glorious and my luck was holding strong. My elderly, by now friend, was also enjoying herself and had in fact shared a number of good tips, which lead to my afternoon’s success. Sadly the last race of the day came up on the card and given my dominant disposition the obvious choice was a horse called Ladies Rule.
Although a 25-1 outside I sent Ian off to place my bet. The race was brilliant with Ladies Rule close to the front but never making any real progress until the final furlong in which she found an extra burst of speed and won by 3 lengths. Minutes later a subdued Ian was back admitting that he had been late getting to the betting window and had not placed the bet. Needless to say I was outraged and even my old friend commented that in her younger days such poor service would have been grounds for a horse whipping. I agreed and taking Ian by the ear walked him to the Bentley’s open boot and, as expected, found a riding crop. I instructed Ian to lean into the boot and with his bottom nicely presented proceeded to thrash him with the crop.