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In a cramped, dimly lit room, a chubby, nervous man kneels, his nipples already red and swollen. He tentatively touches them, hissing at the pain. "I'm sorry, Daddy," he whispers, his voice shaking. He's ordered to crawl, to write 'slave' on his body, to use a violet wand on his tender nipples until he's crying and begging for mercy. His heavy breathing and occasional whimpers fill the room, the scent of sweat and ozone thick in the air.