I don't understand it but I NEED it

When Travis first stumbled across my blog, he was a little confused. Sure, he thought it was hot—who wouldn’t? But he couldn’t wrap his head around it at first. Why would anyone willingly send me their pictures and videos, knowing I was just going to expose them? Put them on display for everyone to see. Humiliate them. Own them.

It seemed risky. Dangerous. Shameless.

But the more he thought about it, the harder it got to ignore. The idea of giving someone total control—of handing over his body, his photos, his pride—started tugging at something deep in his brain. No, deeper than that. In his cock. In his soul.

And then he found out about Blake’s Bros. Found out that people were paying to see these boys—paying to watch them be used, degraded, shown off like the little whores they were bred to be. The thought of me profiting off his body pushed Travis over the edge. That was it. He couldn’t fight it anymore.

So this 26-year-old boy dropped to his knees, desperate, needy, pathetic, and begged me to let him join. Begged to be turned into one of Daddy’s good little sluts. Another toy for the collection. Another pretty face and perfect body to parade around for the world to see—and for me to own completely.