Tuesday Morning Bizarre

It's Tuesday morning, I have just gotten out of the shower and been greeted by one Mistress Max, clad in black rubber catsuit and corset. She has informed me that she has finished with one of her slaves, so if I need him to perform any household tasks, he will be awaiting my word in the kitchen.

Upon arrival in the kitchen, I have discovered a rather petite man in a red and black rubber gimp hood. The outfit is completed by the fetching apron depicting a muscled male torso, sporting Union Jack pants, that gimp-boy is wearing.

Just another Tuesday morning.

Call me old fashioned, but...

Friends, there are some things that one simply does not do in polite society. In fact, I would wager that even those with the most dubious of upbringings would balk at what I am about to share with you...

Tonight, I switched on my laptop and opened up what I believed to be an innocuous little file, well, as innocuous as a file full of pornographic material could be. But imagine my surprise, (and I really want you to try here), when I was confronted with an image of my friend, rubbered up, jumping on what can only be described as the kitchen counter, and pissing into what can only be described as the kettle. Yes indeed. It appears that civilisation somehow bypassed her little town, so close to the robust decency of London, and yet so far.

I was at her house only a few days ago. As an atheist, I feel no compulsion to thank god that I did not accept an offer of tea, however, I am once again reminded that my love of gin is a worthwhile pursuit. Had it not been for the bottle of Bombay Saph perched provocatively on the counter, my palette and mind might have been traumatised beyond repair.