A Day at the Races

They really did it in style. Wealthy friends invited them to join their party in a grandstand box at the Goodwood April meeting, one of the smartest occasions in the British social calendar. Lady Josephine looked stunning, wearing a white linen jacket over a bronze silk dress and a broad-brimmed white Ascot hat with a wide crimson ribbon. No-one would have guessed that the smartly turned out gent accompanying her was in fact her slave, subject to her imperious whim, should she choose to exercise it. His Mistress turned a few heads as she went to examine the runners and riders for the next race in the parade ring.

"I'm making a little side-bet," she murmured to her slave, "I'm putting ten on number eleven at ten to one."

"Ten pounds, number eleven to win?" enquired her companion.

"No, no. Not ten pounds. This is my bet: if it wins you get a hundred licks of what you love to lick. If it loses, you get ten strokes of my lovely new riding crop!"

"Certainly, Mistress," replied her slave.

Between races the slave would run down to the bookies' stalls to make bets and collect any winnings, while his Mistress enjoyed the food, the champagne and the company in the private box. Their host, the rather debauched-looking but attractive Lord Lansdowne, was paying her a lot of attention and she enjoyed the flattery that he was lavishing upon her.

Shortly before the last race Josephine found the opportunity for a quiet word with her slave: "Lord Lansdowne has invited us to a party at his house after the races. He has offered me a lift in his helicopter. You'll need to follow on with the car. Here is the postcode you have to find."

With one of her wicked smiles she handed him an old betting slip, on which she had written the crucial set of letters and numbers.

An hour later her chauffeur was in what looked like an endless queue of cars trying to get out of Goodwood, when he heard the roar of a helicopter overhead and wondered if it was the one carrying his Mistress. She would certainly be at Lansdowne Park a long time before he was.

Lansdowne House was a place big enough to have its own postcode and it was about ninety minutes later, as the sun was setting, that the chauffeur rang the bell at the impressive entrance. A severe looking woman in a grey business suit came to the door. She looked at him without smiling.

"Are you Josephine's chauffeur?" she enquired.

"I am, yes."

"Then you should have gone to the tradesmen's entrance." She snapped, "Accompany me."

He followed her down the steps of the portico. She led him to what looked like a stable block and opened one of the stable doors. She indicated that he should enter the building. It was indeed a large, old stable. There were no horses in it, but the trappings suggested that there recently had been. The woman closed the stable door behind her. She addressed him.

"Take your clothes off and give them to me." She said in a most matter-of-fact sort of way.

He looked baffled and did nothing.

"I hope you are not questioning your Mistress's orders. She made it quite plain that that is what she wants you to do."

Now he understood. This had been devised by Lady Josephine. He had no option but to obey and swiftly stripped all his clothes off under the uninterested gaze of the woman. She took the clothes from him and placed them on a bale of straw. Then she picked up a chain from the stable floor and, looping it round the bars of a manger, she attached the cuff at one end of the chain round one of his ankles, while he looked on in amazement. She secured the other end of the chain to the manger with a padlock, gave him a contemptuous glance, turned and left the stable, noisily locking the door behind her. She then turned the light off from outside, plunging the slave into almost total darkness. He sat on the straw bale and was aware that the night was becoming chilly. He could not guess what it was his Mistress had in store for him.

In the distance he heard the sounds of the party. In his solitary confinement all he could do was ponder. And he pondered the paradox of how much he adored his Mistress, despite the terrible ways in which she chose to treat him. He loved the times when he could be her help, her best friend, her source of strength. But the times when he was merely her possession created in him a devotion like none he had ever known before. Here he was chained up naked in a strange stable and all he could think of was how much he loved his Mistress.

It was more than two hours later that his Mistress appeared. She turned on the light and entered the stable. She was arm-in-arm with Lord Lansdowne, who was now in fancy dress, wearing the outfit of a Roman emperor.

"You know Gerald, don't you slave?" she said to her crouching, naked underling.

"Yes, Madam."

"Well he gets turned on by watching a woman urinate. Does that make him an old pervert, slave?"

"It is not for me to say, Madam," replied her slave.

"No. It's not for you to say, slave. I am going to let Gerald enjoy his fetish with a little variation, because he is going to watch me piss all over you. On your back on the floor!"

Without removing her beautiful light-green satin panties, Mistress Josephine raised her skirt and squatted over the face of her obedient servant. She smiled at Lord Lansdowne.

"All that beautiful champagne has gone to my head, Gerald - and to my bladder, as my poor slave is about to find out."

The slave looked up at his beautiful Mistress, as her golden wine welled up in the delicate satin of her panties, then flooded through the material and on to his face.

Her companion appeared to enjoy the spectacle, s Lady josephine .

"Now Gerald is going to show me his four-poster bed, slave. That should be interesting too."

"It'll be a five-poster, when I get there," said a slightly drunken Gerald, grabbing Jo's hand and pressing it against the erection, which was evident under the folds of his toga.

"I'll collect you, when it's time to drive me home, slave!" his Mistress called out to him, as once again the heavy door was closed and the light switched off.