I guess looking back on it, she was a bit worried that I was in control of the relationship, as much of the rest of the weirdness has to do with power struggles. The first time was when she pulled out a riding crop in an attempt to spank me. I didn’t notice at first, but there was a stinging sensation in time to the music. I remember thinking, “what stings in 5/4,” before I realized what was happening. “I don’t really like that,” I said and threw it across the room. After we finished, she started telling me that she thought I would like it. This was when she dropped the bombshell.
“In high school, I had some work as a dominatrix. I could have gone pro, since my customers paid so well. They were some sick freaks.”
“Yeah, that’s uh… great, Roxy, but I’m not really into that sort of thing. Next time you want to try something like that, you should probably ask me first. I’m not really very freaky.” I went home that night instead of sleeping over, because I was feeling really uncomfortable.
She kept talking about what was going on in the department. Conner took a turn towards suicidal and ended up in the hospital. The story was he’d taken some pills and then climbed into the bathtub to slit his wrists. He came into the department the next day with pretty large bandages on his inner forearms. I felt bad, but Roxy called and said she had something that would cheer us up.
I went over to her place and it was like the first date. There was low lighting, mellow music, and a note on the door that told me to lie down on the bed. I complied, not knowing exactly what the fuck was going on, and she comes in with the hooker boots, and a leather teddy and the riding crop, and something that looked suspiciously like a ball gag. I thank God for having seen Pulp Fiction. That could have gotten very strange indeed.
“Kiss my boot, saints gambit, you fucking slave.” She ordered.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I got up and pushed past her out of the room, slamming the door behind me. In retrospect, I was lucky it was cold out, because otherwise she might have followed me up the street in the outfit.
At what point does your ruthless gnawing count as self-cannibalism?
Liberals want to mess with the rooms where we poo and pee. Unacceptable. We must protect our poo and pee.
These all just look like normal cats to me.
From what I understand, this genre is about getting eaten by crocodiles. I excel at this.
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