You wake in the gray light of dawn. The phone hums beside you. You reach for it, the heart quickening, pulse like the ticking of a clock in a quiet room. You read the words on the screen and they pull you from sleep, dragging you out of bed. Apologies tumble from your lips, words for no one but the silence. You slap your chest hard. The sting rises, the skin raw. You hope it’s enough. You hope it’ll suffice. But it never does. The day starts with the weight of it all, a weight you carry like a cross.

You go to work. No panties, just as instructed. A message comes through, and you slip away to the bathroom. The air is cold against your skin. You do what you’re told, hands trembling, the heart pounding. You’re a toy. Nothing more. The tears are close, pressing against your eyes, but you hold them back. They’ve become too familiar.

Another message. This time, it’s the toilet bowl. You hesitate. You want to say no. But the reply is swift and brutal, a whip to the soul. The words cut deep, reminding you of what you are and what you’ll always be. Your feelings are dust, scattered on a wind that doesn’t care. No one has cared for a long time. You hold on to a thread of hope, the belief that maybe, just maybe, your mind could be enough. But the questions keep coming, probing into your life, into your soul. It’s a game, a cruel joke, or worse, a trap.

I deal in manipulation, in coercion. I explore the shadows of the mind, where fear and dread live. This isn’t a game. It’s a long road into darkness, and I’m here for the journey. I look for those who understand, who see the world for what it is and still choose to walk the path.

If you’re still with me, send a message. Keep it simple.

Your name, your age, what ties you to this world. Tell me why you’re here, what it is you crave.