The Perfect Life #4
Dear Dr. Perfect.
I am struggling to be fully supportive of my sister’s lifestyle. She’s a dominatrix, and is very public about that, as she wears scarlet latex everywhere. Her bond with her current slave is strong. At family gatherings, he must eat his meal from a dog-bowl on the floor at her side as the rest of us sit at the table. The concern is that he is a large man—about six foot eight inches, though he seldom stands fully upright. His back strains against the underside of the dining table, which is admittedly short. The slave is agitated constantly via an egg in his rectum, his skull and spine take a beating. The dining table came over from Prussia when our family emigrated in the early 19thcentury. My sister insists we get a new table, but the old-world craftsmanship is priceless, and has our family crest emblazoned upon its top. Must we ditch this heirloom in the name of family?
Sincerely, A Woman Who Loves Her Family
Every family has one. My own brother does cosplay, and I still don’t get it. We often drift apart from our siblings at some point and go our separate ways. I’d like to think that familial bonds travel to adulthood, even when overshadowed by dominatrix slaves. What you’re describing could be a point of contention if not handled with the right amount of finesse. That’s what I’m here for.
You’ll have to look past your sister’s attire for the time being and focus on the slave. It’s only natural that you’d want to make him feel comfortable during family gatherings despite his unfortunate proximity to the dining table. There are a few ways to remedy the situation.
Someone of his height will always face the uncomfortable confines of any area when on all fours. He probably can’t take more than a few steps without hitting a wall. Perhaps such discomfort is a facet of his submissiveness. He might even feel a little left out. Here, your sister dons her glossy latex with her pale face, deep mascara, and piercings for all to see. Meanwhile, her slave is reduced to eating out of his bowl, which he should, with not so much as a pat on the head. Imagine how he feels, being pulled back by his leash to the car at the end of the night. For all I know, he loves it, but we’ve got to probe deeper here, much like the unfortunate placement of the egg.
No one in their right mind would get rid of a Prussian dining table, especially with an emblazoned family crest. Have you gone mad, Ma’am? I trust that you haven’t. You could purchase another table of the appropriate height or you could stand up to your domineering sister for once and suggest an alternative placement of the dog bowl, one that isn’t directly under the table. Another suggestion is to visit the nearest underground dominatrix club and recruit your own slave in response. With two slaves on hand, she’ll have no choice but to accept an entirely different area for them to eat, where her slave’s rectum is at least a few feet away the looming Prussian antique.
If this scenario fails to quell tensions, talk with your sister, sibling to sibling, and explain where you’re coming from. You love the table and your new slave, and she’s just going to have to accept it. She might not appreciate the insolence and the interference into her lifestyle, but that’s when you bring out the big guns with a large bottle of wine and The Rocky Horror Picture Show to put everyone at ease. The slaves will sleep in the corner as you two drunkenly reconcile. That’s usually how these things go. Someday you’ll both be too old to don tight leather and chains, assuming you’ve embraced the lifestyle too, and all you’ll have are the memories. If you do decide to get rid of the table, let me know. I’ll make you an offer.