The Kitchen Slave (5)

Posted by ColdHarbour on Tue 27 Nov 07, 6:07 PM to ColdHarbour's blog.

My friend finally managed to read the weblogs she nagged me into writing. I met her last night. I have therefore been asked to make it absolutely clear that my friend is a respectable married woman and that, consequently, any suggestion that she might be “just some dirty-minded old slag who spends all day in the pub thinking about kinky sex” is wholly untrue.

Consequently, I am pleased to state publicly and categorically that my friend is indeed female and that I do not consider thirty-six to be old. She also wears a wedding ring and thinks a lot about a great many things, including nocturnal urban wildlife, international and inter-racial relations, and Chelsea Football Club.

As to her drinking habits, I can personally attest to the fact that, only last night, she demonstrated her commitment to temperance activism by pouring almost an entire double-vodka & tonic into her cleavage, rather than into her mouth.

She said: “Plus I do NOT fucking swear near half as fucking much as what you fucking make out, you cheeky cunt!”

I said: “So what did you think of my weblogs?”

She said: “Got into any nice knickers lately?”

I said: “We've already had that conversation.”

She said: “Just checking. I mean, you did say you had some girls write to you, right? I just wondered if …”

I said: “I said a few people wrote in. But not the way you mean. Besides, they all live a very long way away.”

She said: “So?”

I said: “So my dick isn't that long! What do you think?”

She said: “That's not what I heard! I mean every time I see you with a girl there's always more than one of them. Like that skinny old bit and the little young one with big tits I saw you with the other week. Don't think I never saw them two having a little peck and a cuddle on the way out.”

I said: “The was my daughter saying goodbye to my sister”.

She said: “Ooops! Sorry about that. I thought … well … Anyway, it is true though. I mean apart from that. It is true about you having more than one at a time. You can't have that many fucking sisters!”

I said: “No! So?”

She said: “So I know they're not after your fucking money 'cos you ain't got none so ... Well, you know. I just thought you must have … you know … whatsname! Be a bit big in the old lunchbox department.”

I said: “Ah!”

She said: “So … so how big is it? Go on! I won't tell nobody!”

I said: “I know, because I'm not going to tell you.”

She said: “Oooh! Meanie! You're no fucking fun. I didn't mean you got to show it to me or nothing … not unless you want to, that is. But it is, isn't it! I mean … you know … BIG! It must be!”

I said: “Nope! Quite the opposite as it happens.”

She said: “Nah! You're having a fucking laugh. Go on. Let's have a quick look! Nobody can see under the table and I won't tell my old man, I promise. I just want to see what I'm missing.”

I said: “You're not missing anything. Besides, I left my tweezers and magnifying glass at home. And it's dark! If you seriously think that I'm letting you and your flame-thrower lighter anywhere near my crotch, while you breath vodka fumes all over it, dream on!”

She said: “Fuck off! I'm not that pissed. Anyway, stop winding me up. I mean you can't be that … Oh fuck! Are you serious? I mean, it's not really that little is it?”

I said: “You'll never know, babe, so put your lighter away before you set fire to the table”.

She said: “So what is it then? I mean, well if it's not your prick, then how come you keep finding ones up for it?”

I said: “I'm just lucky, I guess.”

She said: “Fucking greedy bastard, more like. I am being serious here, you know! I mean, some of them I seen you with was really pretty so it's not like they can't pull. Nothing personal but you ain't exactly Brad Pitt! So how come they put up with it?”

I said: “Put up with what? The size of my cock?”

She said: “No, fucking idiot. I mean how come they put up with like … you know … you having other girls besides them. How come they don't want you all to themselves and that like normal?“

I said: “Some do but they can't have me like that, so they either learn to live with it or leave. They're slaves not my girlfriends”.

She said: “But why? I mean, forget all the slave-girl stuff for a minute. Why should they put up with it? I'd have the right fucking hump if it was me. If my Henry brought some bird home with him, I'd have his bollocks for breakfast!”

I said: “You wouldn't like them. I had sheep's balls once. Not nice!”

She said: “Don't change the fucking subject, you! I'm interested. Really! I don't get it. I'd tell you to fuck off if it was me so how come they don't?”

I said: “Ask them. It's not like anyone's forcing them to show up or forcing them to stay. It's their choice. Take it or leave it. It's just how I am and, if they don't want it, I guess they just don't want me after all, because that is me and always has been! But you can't just forget the slave-stuff. That's what makes it work!”

She said: “But what about the old green-eyed monster? They must get jealous of each other sometimes. If it was me I'd be going round looking like the Incredible fucking Hulk all the time!”

I said: “Sometimes they do get jealous. But, like I said, either they get over it or they get out and I don't care which. If they want to be slaves, I'll keep them as slaves. If they just want to play kinky-girlfriends they can play elsewhere. It's hard enough taking care of more than one as it is, without me having to referee to a cat-fight.”

She said: “Have you?”

I said: “Have I what? Sat through 'The Sound of Music'? Never! Fed slaves chocolate while watching “My Fair Lady” with them? Yes, as it happens! What are you talking about?” Have I what?

She said: “Ever had to referee a proper cat-fight between them?”

I said: “Yes, most Sunday afternoons at one time. I had two who liked to wrestle and I liked to watch so I invented 'strip wrestling' for them. The winner got a special treat and the loser …”

She said: “What? Fuck! I hate it when you do that. Here's me getting all interested and then you stop just when you get to the juicy bits! You're worse than that limp-dick male stripper they had down the Social Club last week on Ladies Night!”

I said: “I told you before — I don't talk about what we do between ourselves. Besides, you look interested enough as it is for a respectable married woman and, since you're not getting any …”

She said: “Shut up. And stop staring at my nipples. I can't help it. It's cold sitting out here. Poxy smoking ban! I thought it was supposed to be for the good of our health? More like giving me fucking pneumonia!”

I said: “Try drinking your drinks instead of wearing them. That'll keep your chest warm! Or is a vodka & ice bath some sort of new breast-enlargement fad-therapy? Trust me! You don't need it!”

She said: “Here you! I'm the one supposed to be getting pissed! And don't change the fucking subject. I just got distracted. What was I saying?”

I said: “We were talking about your chest”.

She said: “No, before that! I gone all red now. What was I really saying? Oh I know! So … so how does it work then? I mean … you know! Do they all pile into bed with your or do they have to queue up and take turns? I've always wondered about that. My old man tried to get me interested in a threesome once. You should of seen his face when I asked who the other bloke was going to be!”

I said: “It's getting late! I need to get back soon.”

She said: “Oooooooooooh! But you know I'm going to keep asking until you tell me. Right?”

I said: “Keep asking then!”

She said: “I will. Just tell me one thing before you go, though. I mean … Well, not being rotten but I can see how you would like having all them girls, but what do they get out of it? I don't get it!”

I said: “They get each other! That's what it's all about! It's not about me. I'm just the excuse for them all to be there.”

She said: “So what? They all closet lesbians or something?”

I said: “They would hardly need me if they were, now would they? What I meant was … I bet you've still got girlfriends that you went to school with.”

She said: “Course I have! We're all off on a girls' night-out next week. Angie's knows this bouncer at some posh club up in town. It'll be a right laugh. Just like the old days!”

I said: “Then you already know what my slaves get out of it — each other, as I said. They give each other things that I can never give them. That's why, if anyone has a right to be jealous, it's me — jealous of them sharing what I can never be a part of.”

She said: “So you only do it for them? Not just 'cos you're a horny old bastard and one's not enough?”

I said: “Yes, sort of! It works like a family. We do it for each other!”

She said: “Know what? I reckon you're a right old softy when it comes down to it. Don't suppose you can buy us another drink before you go, seeing as I spilled half mine and I still got to buy something to give his Lordship for dinner.”

I said: “No! I'm not that much of a softy. Besides, I'm flat broke and I just saw your old man drive past. Time you got back to your kitchen and started slaving over a hot stove for your Lord & Master!”

She said …Sorry! I forgot! My friend doesn't swear!

Edited Wed 28 Nov 07, 2:52 PM by ColdHarbour