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Who you see here is, well, actually, let's keep them unnamed, it's better that way. All you need to know is this person made the mistake of letting an online dominatrix take control of their sex life. The key was mailed to them with no return address and strict instructions never to unlock without permission, permission that has never come. Why did they want their penis locked up like this? Because they're a loser. That's why. The humiliation of it all is part of the appeal, isn't it? With every week that passes without an erection, without any real use, things down there feel... different. Smaller. A little more withered. It’s fitting, really, a shrinking organ for a shrinking sense of self-worth. And they genuinely believe there’s a connection, that this distant figure is invested in their suffering. The truth is so much more pathetic. The key holder, likely juggling dozens of other locked boys just like them, sees their pleading emails as spam and their progress photos as validation of their power, nothing more. There are no pet names, no aftercare messages, not even a feigned interest in their day. It's sad because the loser invests all this emotion into a void. They cry and ache for someone who would likely forget they exist the second they closed the chat window. Their entire sexual identity is being systematically erased for an audience of one who isn't even watching. The only thing the domme cares about is that the lock stays engaged on her screen; it’s a game score to her, but it’s his entire reality.