Shame, Self-Loathing and Financial Slaves

Is it just me, or does everyone have a slave these days? I feel like I’m the only person left in this socially crippled world without a personal servant. Slavery- it’s this year’s latest must-have trend.

After our adventures with the house-cleaning slave, my squat-mate Kerri decided to take it one step further and get a slave all her own. She found the willing masochist through his personal-ad on GumTree. This slave is a bit different from the last one however, in that this particular vessel of self-loathing gets off on giving greedy bitches all his money. Also known as a financial slave. I know, it sounds too good to be true.

If I had a financial slave, I’d get it to buy me things like cameras, clothes, and jewelry- things that I could touch and see and that other people would envy me for possessing. Kerri, on the other hand, gets her slave to pay for her to attend shaman lessons. Just typing that makes my conscience sick with disgust. If you’re going to stoop so low as to get a financial slave, you might as well dive all the way to the fucking bottom and bask in your overwhelming gluttony. Come on! Now is the time to ask for diamonds, dildos, fuck! Dildos covered in diamonds! Anything but shaman lessons. And on top of that, I can say pretty confidently that the last thing Kerri needs is an instructional course on how to take drugs and act like a weirdo. I’m pretty sure she’s already got that one down.

However, the way things work in Squallyoaks is, if one person has something, everyone else immediately has to have it too. It’s like a bunch of newborns fighting over a nipple. So naturally, after a week of seething with jealousy over Kerri’s financial gain, Hannah went and found herself a financial slave of her own.

Hannah’s slave is slightly more depressing, if that’s even possible. He gets off on the embarrassment of being forced to hand over his hard-earned cash in public. The way it works is that Hannah takes her slave shopping around central London, occasionally making a scene and calling him a few names, and in return the cretin buys her expensive dresses. Easy as pie. That is if you’re immune to the sinking feeling of remorse that comes along with taking rampant advantage of someone who is mentally unstable and deeply, deeply fucked up. To be honest I can’t tell if I’m utterly disgusted or wildly impressed.

I’m not bullshitting you, by the way. This shit is fucking REAL. And sad. And hilarious. And I don’t really know what my opinion on it is. For once, I’m speechless.

This is an extract from a recent email sent by Hannah’s slave. Notice how he always capitalizes the word you. The logistics of the internet slave trade.

I’m sorry if I was acting distant during our meeting last Saturday. I didn’t mean to upset You. Please, give me a second chance. I just want to give You my money. I’m begging You. Please, let me give You all my money.

We’re all spiraling out of control.

When the stench of rotting garbage in your house gets so disgusting that you have to wear a face mask just to sit in the lounge, that’s when you know you need a slave.



3 Replies to “Shame, Self-Loathing and Financial Slaves”

  1. Financial slave? Sounds like another term for Sugar Daddy to me.Whatever happened to the good, old-fashioned sex slave, who’ll eat you out whenever you want? It’s an acquired taste, but a lot of men prefer it to caviar.

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