“It’s been months since anyone has heard from me. At first it started as a normal date. Then everything got hazy after my first beer. I knew I was a lightweight but something wasn’t right. She had offered her body as support for me to lean on. The last thing I remember is an Uber pulling up from the bar. I woke up in a living room, except I was naked with a collar around my neck and it was chained to the floor. I could see she was busy setting up what looked like camper equipment in front of me. Obviously afraid and shocked I beckoned my concerns and demands. She approached me and with a firm grip on my balls, shoved her tongue in my mouth and told me as she held my neck in her other hand that property shouldn’t speak unless spoken to. After hearing how I would make money for her live-streaming me masturbating, I was shocked and nervous.

It’s been months since I was captured. My master has edged me so many times I can’t keep track. I’ve very much lost count. She’s told me that people are still looking for me but that the news stories are far less frequent and there’s no hope to find me. Because the streams only show me from the neck-down, it makes sense. From what I understand I have a dedicated fan base that subscribes to my sexual torture and it’s been quite profitable. I know so because she rewards me with pleasure and calls me her good boy. She says soon I’ll breed her on stream. The says the fan base is excited for it and it’s our next step. She’s so cruel and compassionate. I crave it. It’s not like I forgot or renounce who I was or the live I had, but that voice in my head seems to get further every day, replaced by her desires—my mind under sexual lock, and she has the only key…”