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Gimp is a BDSM term for a sex slave dressed in leather. Obviously the most famous gimp of all time is the one in the film “Pulp Fiction”. I kind of felt bad for that gimp. I mean, he didn’t really do anything wrong. It was Zed and the other guy that were the baddies. We assume that Marcellus Wallace and his “hard, pipe-hitting niggers” tortured and killed Zed for his ass raping antics. But on their way out, did they leave the gimp alone? Or, did they kill him by association? I hope they left him alone.
But it is a good lesson for all the kids out there. If you’re going to be somebody’s sex slave gimp, keep your nose clean.
Figuratively speaking. Your actual nose will probably be stuck up some pretty dirty places. And you’ll fucking like it, you understand me? Now get back in your box and don’t you make another fucking sound until I come to get you out.
I have a gimp, whose name is Stephanie. She ran away from home on her 18th birthday, and I saw her crying outside the bus station. She had spent her last two bucks on a hotdog, and didn’t know anyone in town. She was happy to be out of her abusive home, where apparently her dad sexually abused her and beat up her mom all the time.
I felt kind of sorry for her, but it was mostly that I was really attracted to her. So, I stopped and asked her if she was OK. She explained her situation, and I told her she could spend that night on my couch. She was a little nervous, since I was a stranger, but I look trustworthy and she had no other place to go.
On our way back to my place, I saw a refrigerator box. I put it in the corner of my bedroom. I asked Stephanie if she found me attractive after we had smoked a few joints and had some beers. She confessed that she did. We had sex right there on the couch, but I made sure to be the dominant, powerful sexual partner right from the start. I told her exactly what to do, and employed a little pain play. She loved it.
I made her sleep in the refrigerator box that night, and told her that if she wanted to stay with me, she’d have to wear a gimp suit. I had one left over from my last girlfriend that died during some auto-erotic asphyxiation play. Long story. Point is, be careful during auto-erotic asphyxiation play.
Anyway, Stephanie and I have been master and gimp for the last three happy years. Her box is getting a little tattered, so I might have to get her a new one soon. But if I’ve learned one thing about having a gimp, it’s that the rewards far outweigh the costs.
And you’ll fucking like it, you understand me?
1. I like it when my gimp submits to my will.
2. My pimp’s gimp has a limp that he got from a wimp chimp at the zoo.
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