Half a year has passed since she was locked inside this room. At first, she couldn't stop vomiting—she couldn't even swallow food—but now she feels nothing at all. As long as she obeys without complaint, the beatings have lessened, and she's able to secure meals. She's no longer sure whether she even wants to leave; the thought of escape feels meaningless. She's come to realize that not having to think for herself is, in a way, comforting. Trapped in this dim room, her body and mind are completely dominated by endless violence and overwhelming pleasure. Now, she doesn't even desire freedom. What escapes her lips now are only moans, excessive drool from aggressive deep-throating, and the repeated whisper of "I'm sorry." She exists solely as a flesh toilet, kept alive only to satisfy raw sexual desire. Again today, she sobs around a thick cock, her legs spread wide open.