London, Monday 11th of December 2017, 8:50pm

She who dares, wins!

February 4th 2013

One evening I received an invite to a party where most of the crowd were wealthy lawyers or bankers.
The latter were much in evidence and one in particular showed tendencies for gambling which perhaps showed why the country is in the financial doldrums.
However in terms of manners he was an old school type of gent, dropping quaint phrases like “my word is my bond” into his conversation.
Dressed in a hugging black dress to show my lithe body at it’s best and wearing an elegant pair of heels, I soon attracted his attention. 
He was giving it his best shot at trying to impress me, dropping names here, flashing expensive watches and cufflinks there but I proved immune to his charms.
Later he moved on to a game of roulette in a side room, joining a small group of men of a similar age and ilk, all trying to outdo each other and show how alpha they all were.
I joined them and soon began taking their money.  One by one they dropped away, each one sent packing with his tail between his legs.
Only “my word is my bond” remained but his chips too succumbed to my superior skill.
“You must let me try and win back my money” he said, a hint of desperation in his voice.
“I don’t think so,” I replied. “I have enough money here to upgrade my Porsche and still have dinner at The Ivy for a fortnight. Thanks for the game.” I started to rise from the table.
“Ok how about one winner takes all bet? I"ll throw in my Bentley outside,” he said, tossing his keys on the table. “Come on be a sport.”
I mulled it over briefly, sat down and made my response:
“Ok I bet you all your money and the car that you can’t remember all the colours of my shoes. And don’t think of peeking under the table.
“This is a test of your observation skills as well as your betting courage. You see, if you lose I want you to get on your knees and lick my shoes too. That’s a non-negotiable part of the bet otherwise I walk out now.” 
“I"ll take it,” he said without hesitation, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “They’re black obviously.”
“Are you sure, is that your final answer?” I replied. “Remember I said all colours.”
“I’m sure. I checked you out as soon as you arrived from head to toe. And black is always my lucky colour on the roulette table. Final answer.”
I smiled at him.
“Well now it’s the moment of truth,” I said rising from the table to stand over him.
His eyes darted to my heels and a triumphant smile appeared on his smug face, while his hands started reaching for my chips. 
“Not so fast,” I told him. “Remember I said all the colours.”
I lifted the my heel to reveal a bright red sole. He looked horrified.
“But that’s not fair,” he protested.
“I hope you’re not trying to wriggle out of the bet,” said the party’s hostess who had overheard the whole conversation.
“Miss Davenshaw’s shoes need cleaning. Get to it.”
He looked forlornly down at my heels.
“Yes it all came down to red or black and red was my lucky colour,” I said. “You’re not going to disappoint me are you? After all your word is your bond.”
The hostess and I started laughing. Slowly the loser got off his chair and dropped to his knees.

Best session of the week…

November 4th 2012

Swotty school boy Johnathan, likes to suck up to the teachers in the hope of being made a prefect. One day he brings some cakes to butter up the headmistress but when he walks into the office he is confronted by the sight of the head girl sitting in her chair. The Headmistress is away for the afternoon and has left the Head Girl in charge for the duration. She is a bit of a bitch and a bully and likes picking on boys especially, and seeing his attempt to curry favour with cakes is the last straw! She decides to have some serious fun knowing he is scared of the bully and since she is the favourite knows no one will believe anything he says about her. She invites him to sit down and cooly extracts the truth from him before deciding to exact her revenge on this creep. During the questioning she noticed the pathetic loser kept staring at her beautiful stocking clad feet from which she is dangling one of her open toe shoes. She confronts him on this and forces a confession of his secret foot fetish and then the games really begin….First she takes one of the stockings off and forces him to open his mouth and puts it in and tells him to close it. Giggling she puts the other over his face and laughs before ordering him to strip for her amusement. Humiliation then ensues over many things including the size of his tiny manhood. She then says he must do everything to please her. This includes taking a good over the knee paddling. He thinks the ordeal is over when she then pushes him to his limit with whips/canes marking his bottom and laughing. Then he is forced to be her pet dog and walked around on a lead. She lets him worship her beautiful feet with painted toe nails which is all he can ever be allowed and mayber her legs if he deserves it. Just when he thinks the ordeal is over, he is told to pick up his cakes and hold them in front of the head girl sitting on a desk and plunging her feet into them destroying both cakes and his hopes of being a prefect are dashed as she laughs in his face and orders him to lick the cake off the floor before the Headmistress returns.

Country Retreat

July 28th 2012

I am taking a well-earned break from the city for a week. My business affairs are mostly in order and what I’s need dotting and T’s need crossing can be handled by my employees. I have left my city home in the capable hands of one of my favourite houseboys, I have made sure there are no male clothes in the house so I can be sure he won’t shirk his duties and run off to meet his rugby team to get drunk. I have also left him in chastity until I return so I know he won’t be rummaging through my wardrobe and bringing himself off into a pair of my nylons, dirty boy.

We pull up on the gravel path of my country retreat. My chauffer opens the door and immediately falls to his knees with his face in the gravel and his bottom in the air.

‘Thank you Peter.’ I say as I step out of the limousine and give his backside a swift stroke with my riding crop. ‘That was because we are two minutes late Peter. Don’t let that happen again. Now take my bags to the main bedroom’.

‘Yes Ma’am, thank you Ma’am, right away Ms Davenshaw.’ He warbles and scurries around to fetch my bags as quickly as he can. It is starting to rain and without me having to ask a naked houseboy hurries over to hold an umbrella over me. I do so hate getting my hair wet. I don’t acknowledge the houseboy but begin to walk up the gravel path towards the front door. On each side of the path grovel my stable of slaves, subs, sissies, houseboys and cuckolds who will be here all week to make my stay as comfortable, pleasurable and entertaining as is possible. All with their faces pressed to the ground. All with their backsides raised as high as they can get them. As I pass each one mumbles a ‘welcome Ms Davenshaw Ma’am’ into the gravel. I ignore all but the last who I give a sharp whack on his behind. ‘Face lower, arse higher’ I order in my coldest tone. He does this immediately whilst apologising profusely.

My heels give a satisfying click on the stone steps leading to the front door which is being held open by Francis, the head houseboy.

‘Welcome Ms Davenshaw. Your house is ready for your requirements. I do hope everything is in order Ma’am.’ He says. ‘. Me too Fran if only for your sake. I’m feeling particularly sadistic today after my long drive.’ I warned him. I swear I actually heard a gulp before he answered, ‘Yes Ma’am. What are my orders?’ I reply by telling him to leave the rest of my ‘workforce’ outside for another ten minutes, in the rain just so as they get an idea what sort of mood I am in and then tell them to congregate in the main sitting room ready for inspection. He runs down the steps to deliver the good news to the shivering minions and take to my room to shower and change with Peter scuttling behind me struggling with my bags.

After a quick shower I change into some brand new satin underwear that one of my subs recently gifted me with. Pulled on some lovely black seamed stockings and slipped into a dramatic and very sexy suit. I wanted my subbies salivating after me from the off and as I pulled on my 5 inch patent stilettos I knew that I looked fantastic. I looked into the full length mirror which only confirmed this, gave myself a sly little smile and started for the sitting room for inspections.

My subbies were of course all there awaiting me, again in the face to floor arse in the air position which is the default protocol unless otherwise instructed. I was in one of the plush leather armchairs, crossed my legs and let my stiletto danger from my foot.
‘You boy.’ I said to the subbie nearest to me and kicked him lightly on his arm.’ A glass of wine, white, hurry.’ He hurried. ‘The rest of you stand, legs slightly apart, hands behind your backs’. I clicked my fingers and all my kneeling slaves jumped up to attention. I looked slowly around the semi-circle to review my toys for the week. All of them had their eyes to the ground as is required and more than one of them was visibly shaking, whether this was from being outside in the rain or from simply being in my presence I didn’t know. Probably a bit of both I suspected.

Each slave was naked except for a collar. The collars were of different colours depending on the subbies role in my world. This also corresponded with one other item they each wore, again different depending on their tendencies. There were two stable boys with brown collars and rather dashing horse-tail butt-plugs firmly in their bottoms. These boys would be responsible for my horses and all the work that goes with that. They would be sleeping in the stables most nights with their penises tethered to the ground. Both of these subs were high-flying executives I had met at my riding club. Next there were four houseboys with white collars and little silky pinnys around their waists. They would be responsible for the general running of the house and garden along with Fran, the cleaning, the cooking and the pampering. Next to those were two bisexual sissies with pink collars and black high heels. They would be providing entertainment and would be responsible for keeping my wardrobe in order. Then there was a cuckold with a red collar in a plastic chastity tube. This sub was for me to experiment on. To try out all the different ways I can drive a man to almost an insane level of lust and frustration. He was also going to be my personal shopping slut should I get the urge to have peter drive s to the local town for a spree. This cuckold was incredibly wealthy so I knew I would want for nothing. Last in the semi-circle wearing studded black collars were my dog-boys, four of them, each picked for the size of their manhood and their sexual prowess should I in the week get that particular urge. They were doggy trained and each of them a foot fetishist. They would spend the week in the kennels until called to worship my feet and legs or to perform any other sort of worship that I had a whimsy for.

I was pleased with this harem. A good mix and all of them quality submissives. Fran has done well, I thought, maybe I’ll give him a little reward later for putting this ‘staff’ together. I know how much h likes my bottom. I might let him have a few little kisses through my lace panties.
I rose from my chair and addressed the gathering. ‘You all know why you’re here and all know the protocol. You are at my command and the command of any of my guests, all of whom will be arriving in the morning. You do not speak unless you are asked a question or otherwise ordered to speak. You do not make eye contact with me or any of my guests unless otherwise ordered to. You do not go to the bathroom without permission from either myself or my guests; likewise you do not eat without permission. Water you may take whenever you need. You do not masturbate or even touch yourself without permission and any unauthorised erections will be dealt with appropriately. Do I make myself clear?’

A chorus of ‘Yes ms Davenshaw.’ Greeted my ears.

‘Good. Now you’ve all got a very busy week ahead of you so I suggest you use tonight to relax and charge up your batteries. Except for you.’ I said tugging the cuckold’s chastity tube.’ You don’t get to relax at all I’m afraid, I’ve been looking forward to spending time with you, now crawl up to my bedroom and wait for me there.’

I was certain a slight look of dismay crossed his face before he stuttered out a ‘Yes ms Davenshaw.’ And scooted out of the room on all fours.

I finished what was left of my wine and dismissed my small army of subbies.
‘Oh actually you as well.’ I said stroking the cock of one of my dog-boys.’ You get up there too’

He barked once and darted out of the room on all fours.

This is going to be a very relaxing week indeed, I thought smiling thinly to myself before retiring to my chambers.

Best Session of the week

July 17th 2012

Naughty slut Sarah is summonds for a second CP detention, sent to the strict but sexy Headmistress Miss Davenshaw who has a penchant for physically and sexually punishing young ladies. Sarah wears a very short skirt, tight blouse, thong, stockings and suspenders and heels.Miss Davenshaw is suprised and disgusted that she is coming to school in this type of attire- she is a complete distraction to the boys and has also been reported to be bringing adult toys into school.

This is to be a punishment detention with hard CP: there is no hand spanking warm up- punishment immediately starts with implements before progressing to the cane. Sarah has been a very naughty girl and is to receive a severe caning of 100 strokes with a variety of canes and in different positions. She must count strokes and failure to do so leads to extra punishment. For the final very severe caning she is tied down to the punishment bed.  After she has been properly punished and Miss Davenshaw is happy that she is remorseful she must stand in her lingerie with her head bowed in shame, whilst Miss Davenshaw inspects her red stripey buttocks.

One really does have to keep ones staff in order…

June 19th 2012

JOHNATHAN WARD & CO
SOLICITORS

MEMORANDUM
From The Head of Training
To The Head of HR
Re Peter Marsh
Date 31 May 2012

Marsh was caught today spanking one of the 18 year old female trainees over his desk while masturbating.  He is a valued senior associate in the firm and so was given the option of being fired or sent to you for a caning.  He chose the latter and has been told to report to you at 2pm tomorrow.
If you have a tight tailored black trouser suit, please could you wear that as this is what the girl he was caught spanking was wearing and so it will emphasise that the caning is on her behalf.  Please then tell him how many strokes he is to receive.  He has been warned that the minimum he can expect is 36 strokes and that you may well have decided that his sentence should be many more than that.
I understand that you have acquired a number of new canes since Marsh last reported to you.  Before he arrives please can you have put out all your canes on your desk so that you can tell him to choose the one he thinks will be most painful.  If you are not satisfied with his choice, please change it and add extra strokes to his sentence.
He is to bend over a chair drop his trousers and lift up his shirt tail.  Please pull down his underpants yourself to add to his humiliation.  Please beat him as hard as you can from the outset, aiming for his sensitive lower curves, giving the strokes at 10 second intervals to enable him to absorb the pain.
Marsh must count each stroke and thank you for it.  You will no doubt repeat any if you are not satisfied he has adequately acknowledged the stroke or if he has moved out of position.  If at any stage he says that he would rather be fired, please stop the caning and tell him to leave.
If he takes his punishment in full please inspect his buttocks and decide whether his buttocks have taken enough.  He must stay in position until you tell him to stand in case you decide to continue his caning (without of course telling him how many more he is to get).

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