Another Slave

About a year ago, back when I was living in that shithole Squallyoaks in south London, my squatmates and I briefly owned a slave. We found him through his personal ad on “Chore Slave Seeks Dominant Abusive Master,” I believe it said

To the rest of the world our slave was a 28-year-old lawyer from Nepal, but to us he was a servant. Twice a week he would come over and do our dirty work – wash our dishes, alphabetize our VHS tapes, scrub the semen from the walls with a toothbrush – and in return we’d abuse him. Hannah would whip him with one of her various leather and chain bondage toys. Kerri would scream unknown Scottish obscenities at him in her retarded accident, occasionally throwing the remains of her TV dinners at his back. I once made him lick a wad of my saliva off the floor. It was kind of fun but also slightly disturbing if we weren’t drunk or high. However, after two months the slave stopped showing up, realizing we found the situation more humorous than we did sexually arousing. Basically he wanted a dominatrix, not three K’ed-up scumbags more interested in watching America’s Next Top Model than shaming him.

After the house-cleaning slave ditched us, some of my friends went on to get slaves of their own. They’d been given a taste of power, and they wanted more. Hannah, for a while, had a slave that would pay her to scream at him in public. Kerri found a man in Hungary who funded her weekly shaman lessons (embarrassing), as long as she engaged in sexy emails with him on a semi-regular basis. I never bothered finding another slave, perhaps because I have this thing called “conscience” which makes me feel guilty when I take advantage of others. But who knows?

Recently however, through almost no effort of my own, I acquired my second slave. Slave and I met on a sex fetish forum. My forum username is Slutever, and two months ago he messaged me asking if I ever read the sex blog of the same name. When I informed him that I was actually the author, he began casually messaging me, offering to “buy me things.” At first I felt uncomfortable about it, but after his tenth email literally begging to buy me gifts, I gave in and sent him a list of books I wanted on Amazon. Not the sexiest of all gifts, I know (I think he had lingerie in mind), but he obliged.

The day I received my first package I felt an unsettling mixture of pleasure and guilt. Some weirdo perv in Ireland had bought me these books and I had given him nothing in return (aside from maybe a boner or two). I enjoyed the feeling far more than I wanted to.

That was a month ago. I now receive books in the mail almost every day. Slave buys me books and in return I send him photos of myself reading them (and occasionally licking them, if he asks nicely). It’s pretty simple. Recently things have started getting slightly weird though. Like the other day Slave sent me a video of himself naked on all fours, practically crying, begging to buy me more books. He’s also started sending pictures of himself with BOOK BITCH carved into varying parts of his body, as well as excessive emails telling me that I own him. I can’t decide how far I should push this.

The problem with having a slave, however, is that after a while of being handed freebies, it’s easy to fall into the mindset that you deserve this type of behavior–that one sided relationships are normal and OK. It’s easy to become a bitch, basically. But then again, is Slave even really my “slave?” I’m not forcing him to do these things; I’m just sort of sitting here apathetically as he willing self-mutilates. As long as I’m not promising him anything I won’t give, and he’s not secretly planning to kill me, then it’s fine, right? Is it wrong to take from someone who wants to be taken from? Hmm… finding the answers to these questions will require a fair amount of moral analysis and intellectual gymnastics, and right now I’d rather just be bought presents.

P.S. Slave, I know you’re reading this. Now get on your hands and knees and lick the fucking floor you bitch. 



8 Replies to “Another Slave”

  1. it's like prostitution but you don't actually have to touch his body. win.i considered being a "sugar baby" for a while, I signed up for a few sites and browsed the sugar daddies and sent some of them messages but the sex part freaked me out. the richer they got, the older they got also. i wish they were willing to buy me things in exchange for photos of me licking the things, that would be way better.

  2. he has a thick dick, we had a slave once for one day, me and 3 roomates shared a house and it was filthy dirty, cause we were teenagers more concerned with drugs party booze than clean, so we found an ad for a slave, he came over and took off all his clothes we gave him some cleaning supplies and told him to get to it, eventually he got tired of just cleaning and wanted us to pounish him, so we put a dog collar on him and made him eat dog food on all fours while whipping him, then he wanted to massage our feet and thats where we drew the line, we did not want him to touch us, so we told him to piss off, we also put his hair in pig tails, he was suppose to pay us $50 but never did he said that this slave/master relationship wouldnt work we are not what he is looking for we said "ok whatever" our house was super clean and thats all we wanted after all.

  3. i think it is wrong. and here’s why: all of your energies taken to help fulfill this man’s supra-perverted fantasies could easily be used to actually help a human being that really needed help e.g. a person who can’t handle their drugs i.e a drug addict, a person who wants a home but doesn’t know how to keep a job to pay rent i.e a homeless person or finally someone like kim kardashian.

    you could really go to school and be a therapist and work at a clinic or something and be more genuinely helpful to those people in the world that are less fortunate and feel really good about it and not question whether it was right or wrong

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