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I love to have a slave girl’s neck collared and chained to the wall.

This is Daphne, one of my girls.

I own her. Daphne is not her original, given name. She does not know her new name yet or even that I decided to change it to Daphne early on after I acquired her. This girl’s space is six feet by six feet square with bars on two sides and a small door locked with a big padlock.

After an auction, when a woman realizes her sale is real, the look on the slave’s face is beautiful.

In the beginning we have all of the standard panics, thrashing, bucking, kicking and screams – all to no avail. At one point she even thinks she is going to die.

With a feeling that she has been unconscious a long time, each new candidate finds herself in this type of cell, wanting to cry when she sees the steel bars and concrete walls.

In the beginning of her transition to that of a slave girl, she awoke devoid of most of her clothing. The more she becomes conscious, the more her situation unfolds to her.

As a groggy girl slowly comes to, she knows she has to struggle. Yet she is prevented in doing so by the tight restraints that hold her wrists.

The earliest conditioning consists of the girl being treated like a piece of property, a thing, perhaps an unusual toy, but certainly not a human being.