It was a game at first. She was never going to fuck any of those men online, just tease them. It was empowering, how horny they got, how desperate they were for her. She had never felt so alive.

Some of them were assholes who called her names but she found she even liked that. When they told her to dress like a little girl, even that left her wet, if very ashamed. And through it all, she couldn’t stop touching herself.

It was an addiction. Of sex, attention, and even control. At first, that mattered the most, but it was quickly lost as she cared less about how the men treated her and just that they wanted her. She slowly escalated, performing on command, slapping her tits for them, sucking her thumb, or calling them Daddy. And things like college started to matter less and less to her. Those moments felt dull, gray, and colorless. Every moment her roommate was gone, her laptop would be open and she would be performing.

Within a few months, she had left the dorm and got a room with another girl who worked midnights. Money sent by some of her fans helped her pay for a place. She really needed a job, but gifts sent to a PO Box helped her get by. She started missing classes and then, she met him.

He wasn’t like most of the other men online. He didn’t pathetically ask, he didn’t bark orders. He spoke in clear and simple sentences that sounded like he was asking but felt like they were orders. If she refused, he didn’t call her names or insult her. Instead, he wouldn’t call her by his pet names for her. Somehow, that hurt more. Being called Miss Allison instead of bunny, baby girl, or doggie bothered her. It was the tone. Allison or Miss Allison wasn’t spoken with praise or love. The others were. And she started to desperately crave that praise and love.

He knew that as well, of course. He took it upon himself to start educating her. Pushing her gently and not so gently. She dropped out of college. She barely talked to anyone but the men online and him. Her room often stank of sweat and sex. But she was happy. When the computer dinged, she dashed to it if she wasn’t already online. He started giving her tasks, most of which involved reading. Reading and lots and lots of videos. All porn, all day, but with one order. Not to cum. If she got close she was to get up and do something else until the moment passed, then immediately resume. She would let men pay to watch her watch porn, rubbing away, almost always naked in her bedroom except to eat or shop. Praised nonstop by men who didn’t give one fuck about her as a person.

And she was happy. Gloriously so. As long as she was on-screen talking to men. Away, everything crashed to nothing. She felt empty unless the glow of the screen caressed her face and the voice of a man, preferably him, graced her ears.

The videos changed, becoming more and more degrading, more misogynistic, with men telling girls they were nothing. They weren’t even human. It made her all the wetter. He never called her Allison anymore. She was only pet, bunny, or doggie. Usually doggie. Bit by bit, she lost herself in that online world and didn’t want anything else. When he told her to go out dancing and let any man touch or do anything they wanted to her, she did. But only after touching herself for a week without cumming. She danced and grinded against them all night. And when a man who had fingered her soaking cunt until she trembled on the dance floor took her out back and pushed her over, she didn’t resist at all. She didn’t think about STDs or condoms, nothing but his cock and the moment. And when he pulled out and another took his place, she didn’t care either. Even when a man fucked her ass and made her cry, she just rubbed herself harder, sore and hurting, until she came before he unloaded in her ass.

She went home, exhausted, leaking a puddle in the uber, drunk on sex. She messaged him and he made her masturbate as she told him what she had done. He told her she was a good doggie and she felt alive as she came again. More videos came along with orders on some days to not bath or clean, because that’s what humans do. But she was better than that, she was his pet, his good girl, his doggie. She touched all day, only cumming when allowed, watching hours of porn that was sadistic and abusive. She was so needy as she watched the other girls on the screen. All of them less, like her. Its. Cunts.

She didn’t realize that her old friends never called anymore. She never talked to her roommate, barely even talked at all. She didn’t want those things as she was for those men online. And when her mail brought airline tickets one day, from him, she cried. She packed a few gifts and left anything with her old life, her old name, behind. She just had her ID that would be thrown away when she arrived in his town. She didn’t exist anymore.

It did, and it was happy.