Servitor – Page 6 – Contemplating the divine

Servitor’s off on holiday and as is traditional, there’ll be at least three captioned images a day, no context or any kind of theme and probably no replies until I’m back late in August (I’ll try to look in once or twice, but you know what it’s like when you’re on holiday – even the smallest work-related thing can somehow spoil a day you’d planned to devote entirely to line-writing or whatever).

Beach-slapped

Servitor will soon be going on holiday – no more hours of toil chained up in a laundry room in a dark cellar in a town house for me, for the next couple of weeks I’ll be doing my hours of unpaid labour chained up in the laundry room of a luxury holiday villa! As is now traditional, there will be daily posts with captioned images without context, comment, replies to comments or point. But to warm things up, today’s post is holiday-themed.

That’s one of the nice things about being on holiday: the way you sometimes have to find a way without the things you’re used to. Like… one time I booked this villa that didn’t have wi-fi or any kind of Internet access, so my SO and her friends just spent the time beating me savagely for my blunder, instead of going online.

In general you don’t need any preparations different from visiting any other country, but do be aware that certain kinds of injuries are excluded from the health insurance.

Speech rules and frequent use of the gag do tend to result in one’s conversational skills atrophying. But you won’t hear me complain.

In case you’re maybe thinking this is an unfair over-reaction, I should explain that it’s not just Paul’s lacklustre oral sex performance the previous night that’s led them to feed him alive to the snakes. Or the wild dogs, whatever. No: it’s been a few things over the last few days. Not enough gin in Lydia’s cocktail, too much in Suzie’s… that almost-sulky look when instructed to move all of the deckchairs a little to the left, when he had just finished moving them a little to the right… that kind of thing. Plus, his ears stick out a bit making him look funny, as Yvonne rightly pointed out. So really, being torn apart by wild dogs (or having whatever snakes do, done to him) is what he deserves. Anyway, just relax and do the best job you can tonight, OK?

My apologies to any ‘readers’ who’ll have to declare they looked at a forbidden image and face the consequences. if you look really closely, you’ll find you cannot actually see any naughty bits. But then ‘looking really closely’ is forbidden by most sensible females too…

Some men complain once they’ve arrived about the brochure being misleading (quite apart from missing out the whole slavery thing, it does fail to reflect the full age profile of the resident females) but they usually realise the error of their ways quickly enough.

Corrigible

Maybe she needs to make them even more memorable.

I won’t give away the plot but when they turn the male over, there are footprints all over his back. Nothing unusual about that, obviously, but these footprints turn out to have been made by three different people, plus another male. Quite the mystery…

*Won*‘t she feel a fool when she finally takes that hood off him and sees that she’s got the wrong man! But that won’t be for a very long time yet, almost at the end of what she has planned for ‘Richard’. She’ll be ever so embarassed, the poor thing.

Oddly, I’ve tried ‘it’s not my fault I’m a man’ on my SO and it cuts no ice – as she likes to say, is there anyone else in our relationship to blame for that? And I’m compelled to admit she’s right.

Gold and silver shine

A special post.* See if you can guess what the theme is.

*Yes, sissy, I know you’re special too. Very special. And what a stunning outfit! Run along now.

On the outside

Just a little tale, slightly too long to fit as a caption.

Yes, of course, I knew we’d met before – never forget a face! And actually, I recognised that look of startled terror when you saw me arrive; I always get that when I run into a former inmate. But I was thrown by your not having anything branded onto your forehead… I suppose they removed it when your appeal was upheld and you were released, right? They did a good job, I can only just now see the faint scars now I know what to look for.

Well well. I do remember you. Prisoner R552… erm… R5526…?

817! That’s right. You know, we guards were all pleased when you were found not guilty. You never really struck me as the rapist type. Still we all had to whip you and make you do all that hard labour naked and in chains, obviously, I mean: that’s the job. Nothing personal.

Err…a bit indelicate, maybe, but what, er, stage of your ‘re-education’ were you at when you were released?

Pre-op! Right. Excellent. Sorry, but it did seem worth asking, as we’re on a blind date. Wouldn’t want to get all the way through and then find nothing to… you know. I am straight, after all, not like most of my colleagues. If that’s not too forward.

Elephant in the room… go on – tell me the worst thing I ever did to you? Let’s get it out there.

Did I really? Oh dear. And what shock level did we have to reach before you licked it all off my boots?

OK, that’s not too bad. They go up to 20, you know. Very sensible of you not to try to hold out. Everyone always does lick it all up eventually. And swallow, obviously. Some think they can spit it out later but we don’t let them get away with that! It’s not a holiday camp, after all. But you know that.

Anyway, I’m sure the food here tastes a lot better. Shall we order?

But… as that was such a disappointingly short one (feels odd to be typing rather than hearing that phrase) there’ll be an extra post tomorrow, on a topical theme.