If I become a slave master, I will have some cute but ironic MASTER’S NAME; something like MASTER DANNY or DOCTOR FRECKLES. I will spend weeks trying to come up with that special name, the name that would make me the MASTER …
If I become a slave master, I will build a prison on stilts in the Everglades, Lake Okeechobee. I will house in my pens hundreds of busty and young and attractive women, wearing only bikinis. I will pay some of the women to beat and punish the others, so that everyone could feel good about social contracts … The women will do battle and shower together, the entire complex will be under 24/hour WEBCAM surveillance … and you can stream it, from my ONLY FANS channel. If I become a slave master.
YOU’LL BLOW YOUR LOAD after 10 seconds of streaming my “Bad Girls of Florida” series, and don’t get me started on the spin-chair suspended over the bull shark pool. Many will accuse me of crimes, but the world is changing pal and it’s time to get in on this FAST LANE action.
When my slave-women are bad, I punish them. I treat them as DINGY AND NASTY POND SWALLOWS and banish them to the alligator pens where many a young waifish soul loses her LIFE … nightly … because I’m a BEAST of a slave master. They don’t talk back so much, they make me sandwiches.
AS A SLAVE MASTER I will attain TOTAL POWER when I harness the energies of my slaves to build time machines. We will make and test these machines, I will use my slaves as test subjects. Will many of these dusty and dusky and swarthy men be WASTED in these INSANELY BIZARRE experiments? – one hopes, one just does.
Over time I will carve up my slaves and replace my organs with theirs. I will drink and frolic and abuse my body knowing all too well there are REFRIGERATORS FULL of new hearts, livers, lungs, kidneys, you name it. Eventually my insides will be replaced by machines and robot bullshit and nanites. I will become TRANS HUMAN and will live for HUNDREDS of years, beating and whipping and shipping my slaves across the Atlantic, on a cargo ship named the “Middle Passage”.
I WILL BE FEARED by all the muskrat herders of GRINKEN TOWN, the DUNKEN DONUTS LEAGUE can go fuck itself, really.
If you say “fuck Dan, don’t you think it’s wrong to have slaves?”, I will make YOU my slave now. I own your mind, your doom, your fear pudding. The scope of YOUR EXISTENCE is now limited by the prison I’ve created around your WILL. Soon, you will gather up 10 or 20 busty women between the ages of 28 and 45, and you’ll take them to my SWAMPOUND (swamp-compound) in FLORIDA. YOU THINK IT’S WRONG? WHAT ARE YOU, A CHILD?
My slave women will go to WALMART and buy me water melons and fried chicken and corn starch … fucking okra … WTAF is OKRA?
MY SLAVE WOMEN will be ADMIRED by other HOOMAN-FARMERS in Florida, and so I’ll need to be careful. It’s just so easy for some sly mother fucker to go to WALMART and stalk them young raven-haired seductrons …
YOUR BLACK FEMALE SLAVE is YOUR POWER TROPHY, don’t disrespect her.
AFTER YEARS OF SUPER SEXUAL TRAINING, my slave women will learn to summon the coyote spirit and dance naked with the wolves of tomorrow.
If I become a slave master, I will hunt them for sport. I will put them into some kind of fucked up maze, filled with sharks and scorpions and pitfalls. And the slave will move through this dungeon zone, dodging and swinging on ropes. So many bodies will be dumped, because I will be hunting them with a drone that has a .22LR smg attached to it, and like 3,000 rounds of ammo. And I’m a total dick, and life isn’t fair.
SO …
If I were a slave master, I would be the master of the insane.
And my slaves would find bliss, in the emptiness of commitment and trench-foot dreams.
If I were such.