Home > Blog > Caribbean dream….
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.”