Don't know about you, but to me the first day of April always feels kinda special. The Northern Hemisphere where I live, anxiously awaits the arrival of the rebirth of nature. Only a fool disagrees.
On this special day, initially I felt like celebrating the arrival of spring 2020 by writing about die-hard dommes building better-than-brilliant dungeons out of nothing more than tiny Lego blocks. Size 1:1 for good measure that is.
After watching Tiger King [eat that Disney Lion cub], a new Netflix docu-soap, [spoilers from here on], I changed my mind and decided it's more important to warn prospective slaves by exposing Carole Basking as a failed, evil femdomme. Carole pretends to love tigers, so much in fact that she puts them in cages. Imagine what she'll do to hapless men that whisper "I love you" in her ear. Forget about happy ever after. Caged animals is a hobby she can afford after her husband mysteriously disappeared in the late 1990's. Talking 'bout evil findommes getting their hands on dirty cash for life.
There's one born every minute. Let's be honest, what rich Harvard graduate falls for a high school dropout, being accused murdering hubby number one, only to be photographed on all fours with her holding his leash? Hubby number two is highly educated [not the same as being smart, mind you] so he must have been aware of the exploitative nature of the various coloured shirts volunteers are being forced to wear in wifey's "wildlife sanctuary." Red is for newby loosers [1]. After two years non-stop hard labour for free you get promoted to the next colour. Sacrifice five years of your life for nothing and you end on top of the rainbow by being awarded a third colour of t-shirt. Being a different colour kinda makes you feel like being the top dog among underdogs. right OWK?. In the end plus zero still equals zero. So does minus zero.
Meanwhile, evil Carole confesses it takes at least half a decade for her to recognize any volunteer. Oh boy, so depressing that I can no longer, in good conscience, write about the trials and tribulations of Carole Basking for spring fun. Even a 100 percent heterosexual male like me cannot help but wonder where have all the beefy hunks in tight t-shirt gone? You know, those cute, sexy, young and innocent men willing to sacrifice their lives for the wellbeing of animals. Why doesn't Carol remember any hot male volunteers. Most likely because findommes who kill are so evil even men with less than half a brain turn around the moment they smell that kind of toxic evil.
So, tigers, lions or aligators, I'm not gonna write about them tomorrow. Luckily for me, today is March 31 and I have a few more hours left on the clock to come up with interesting copy. Why? Because Dutch is the luckiest guy alive. Dutch' [currently imaginary] mistress is not an evil overlord, meaning mistress gives me some more time to come up with a plan. To be continued tomorrow as the clock strikes April first. All hail Spring.
"Cool story dude, but what was she wearing?"
"Tell me it's something hot."
"A smile. A beautiful, intoxicating, gorgeous, perfect smile."
"That's all I [desire to] remember."
[So perfect a camera cannot possibly capture it. Trust me, it's infinitely hotter than her outfit, LOL.]
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[1] Ever been to a "temporarily" women's shelter, dear big cat volunteer? Kids free of charge, obviously. Doesn't pay any less than volunteering at Evile Carole's Big Cat Sanctuary. Except that this time you can acutally make a difference. On top of that, you don't work for free for a millionaire, nor are you subjected to psychological torture for years on end by the colour of the shirt your evil overlady makes you wear.
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