Flâneuse
don't ask me
- Joined
- Jan 16, 2014
- Messages
- 947
- MBTI Type
- INFP
- Enneagram
- 9w1
- Instinctual Variant
- sp/sx
I was kidnapped, sold into slavery and brought to a mansion in an undisclosed rural area to work for a family. I didn't know why I'd been sold into slavery, but I had the feeling I was being punished for something. I met the only other slave, a quiet and resigned young man who vaguely replied that he'd failed to achieve what was expected of him after I asked why he was there. I told him I didn't understand exactly why I was there, but that I believed I'd been targeted for doing something wrong.
The family had two kids, an eighteen-year-old boy and a seventeen-year-old girl. The parents were very strict with the girl; she wasn't allowed to date until she was eighteen and they wanted to know where she was every minute she was away from home, but their son had just embarked on a career of being a porn star soon after turning 18 and his parents were perfectly fine with it. The one paid servant of the family, a young woman, warned me to steer clear of the daughter as much as possible, without elaborating on why. Soon after, I found myself about to pass the daughter in the hallway, and made the mistake of making eye contact with her. She got angry, told me I wasn't allowed to look at her and started calling me a bunch of four- and five-letter words. I barely held in the counter-insults that were at the tip of my tongue, but the fear of whatever punishment would await me helped me keep it inside. I settled for merely imagining telling her off.
The next thing I remember, I was playing volleyball in the family's pool with a bunch of people, mostly guys, who were at least eight inches taller than me.
The family had two kids, an eighteen-year-old boy and a seventeen-year-old girl. The parents were very strict with the girl; she wasn't allowed to date until she was eighteen and they wanted to know where she was every minute she was away from home, but their son had just embarked on a career of being a porn star soon after turning 18 and his parents were perfectly fine with it. The one paid servant of the family, a young woman, warned me to steer clear of the daughter as much as possible, without elaborating on why. Soon after, I found myself about to pass the daughter in the hallway, and made the mistake of making eye contact with her. She got angry, told me I wasn't allowed to look at her and started calling me a bunch of four- and five-letter words. I barely held in the counter-insults that were at the tip of my tongue, but the fear of whatever punishment would await me helped me keep it inside. I settled for merely imagining telling her off.
The next thing I remember, I was playing volleyball in the family's pool with a bunch of people, mostly guys, who were at least eight inches taller than me.