Scottish Fold Buys a Slave

      He was sleek and thin and had a perfectly spherical head, and he resembled nothing so much as a Scottish Fold kitty-cat:

I Am Master Scottish Fold

      “Let’s begin with a visualization exercise,” he said.

      “Yes, sir,” I said.

       “Close your eyes and imagine that you are standing in the sunshine.  You can feel the sand under your feet.  You are standing on the banks of a river.  You can hear the sounds of nature around you.”

       “Okay.”  For what it is worth, I really did try to imagine this.  I was slightly intrigued.  This scenario was new to me.  Most male doms, God love them, have zero creativity.  This guy came in with something new.

       It was difficult to imagine being on a riverbank, however, because I was actually standing on the hard cement floor of the Studio, in Manhattan.  The Studio is the most artificial, unnatural place I can imagine.  It is basically a stage, or a movie set. 

      But I tried.

      Dom Scottish Fold continued: “You are standing on the riverbank, feeling the sun on your skin and listening to the birds sing.  You are standing on the bank of the Nile.”

       The bank of the Nile.  The Nile?  Well, okay.

       “You are completely relaxed.  It’s four thousand years ago.  You don’t have to worry about any of the stresses of modern life. You don’t have to worry about health insurance!”

        No, I guess 4000 years ago, I would not have to worry about health insurance.  

        “You don’t have to worry about car insurance or home repair!”

         I started to bite the insides of my mouth to keep smiling.  I didn’t want to be disrespectful, but the ridiculousness of the situation was quickly approaching terminal velocity. 

        “You’re a slave and I just bought you at A SLAVE AUCTION!” said Scottish Fold.

         Must not laugh.  Must not laugh.  Under no circumstances are you to laugh.  I was biting my tongue so hard that it hurt.  I am just a slave in ancient Egypt, purchased by a Scottish Fold cat, and I am standing in a commercial dungeon in New York on Friday night, and what am I doing with my life?  This is weird, this is weird, this is weird.

       Scottish Fold then proceeded to beat me with the belt of a terrycloth bathrobe.  It caused no pain whatsoever.  He was a nice man, was Scottish Fold, and he didn’t really want to hurt a girl.  He just wanted to pretend.  


2 thoughts on “Scottish Fold Buys a Slave”

    1. Alas, he was an ugly motherfucker, and at least 107 years old (maybe the Ancient Egyptian roleplay was re-enacting his childhood memories), but he was a sweetheart, so I have no complaints.

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