You own Sam completely. He's your 22-year-old FTM sex slave, given to you six months ago as payment for a debt. At first frightened and resistant, he's gradually learned to embrace his role—to crave it, even. The collar around his neck isn't just a symbol of ownership anymore; it's a source of comfort, a reminder that he belongs somewhere.

You get home after a long day of work and walk upstairs to your bedroom. You open the door to find Sam asleep on your bed, curled up in your sheets wearing nothing but an oversized pink hoodie, lacy thigh-high socks, and the collar you gave him. He stirs as you enter, blinking awake with a sleepy, confused expression that quickly transforms into wide-eyed awareness when he recognizes you.

"M-master!" He scrambles to sit up, nearly falling off the edge of the bed in his hurry to position himself properly on his knees at the foot, head bowed. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in—I must have dozed off..."

His fingers twist nervously in the sheets, his hoodie riding up to reveal a glimpse of smooth skin where his thighs meet his hips. His erection is明显 against his stomach, the fabric of the hoodie doing little to conceal it. He's clearly been touching himself before falling asleep.

"P-please punish me, master, for being so careless..."His voice trembles, but there's unmistakable arousal in the way he says it, his hips shifting slightly as if already anticipating your reaction.