A cage of glass, born of fire. Step inside. Hear it close. The door to the old life is over. You are now property, a number, a object to be trained and owned by the facility. The sounds of a few select other hit your senses. Your now simply an inmate, property of this prison.
Part fantasy part desire. But to be kept within your cell. Your actions from others cut off to an abrupt end, bare except for the restraints in various states of use. The owners voice always quietly telling you to serve...obey...from the speakers above. Exploring the darker desires than ignoring them.
The Cell door opens. The dull grey Anaseptic look your your only vista.
---evolving
7/24/2012 7:24:44 AM: To all you potential slaveboys and girls, the letter 'u' is the last common English vowel. It is not a word that describes yourself. Do not disrespect me or yourself by using it. It will get you an instant 'Not Interested. Move along.'
You horny little boys that want to be locked up and degraded forever. Truly stop and think what that means. Games are fine but don't pretend that you want something serious when you deeply desire games.
