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.