I'm going to reduce you to nothing but a brainless, grunting piece of stock for me. Then I'm going to take my shiny glove and lube it all up and I'm going to milk you, going to harvest your come. And if it breaks your brain completely? Well, that's just too bad. This is the end of your desperate stroke addiction; this is where all of that touching has gotten you. You are all mine, and it's time to milk you. This is a dark piece that will leave you quivering and humiliated, dehumanized and frightened, milked and drained and empty and begging and broken.