A silly little thing (I know I am but what are you? Oh no, hang on…). Anyway, just a poem, not worth taking up a whole posting slot, so up it goes as an extra.
“I don’t know how you cope”
Said the gimp to the simp
“With her constant demands for more cash.
Don’t you long when you meet her, to kiss shoes to greet her
Or serve as a tray for her ash?”
“It’s my kink and that’s that.”
Said the simp to the gimp
“But your lifestyle is hardly ideal.
Caged or chained all alone, with no life of your own
Till you’re summoned to crawl at her heel.”
“I’m her pet and I’m proud!”
Said the gimp to the simp
And he showed off his monogrammed collar.
“You’re just moneyslave 9; when you’re typing online
All she sees is the sign of the dollar.”
“At least I can type”
Said the simp to the gimp
Showing fingers splayed out, with a grin.
“I can move my hands freely and stand on my feet – see?
My meals don’t come out of a tin.”
“Right!” – started the gimp
But his voice was soon stopped
By a ball gag, inserted at speed.
“Your mouth’s not to bicker, you boot and floor-licker!”
And the gimp was dragged off on a lead.
“Well that finished fast”
The simp chortled in glee
Then with shock he caught sight of his phone.
“Too slow to reply – that’s three times now, so bye!”
And he sat there, all sad and alone.
