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When I tilt my head back to see him, the back of my head is resting in his crotch. He is sitting on the box with my head like a bowling ball in his lap, his two legs in front of me, his right and left thighs at my ears. My head is sticking out of the box now looking for him, except now he is behind me so, I have to look up. He is sometimes inappropriately friendly, as if we are best buds hanging out together. What I know about him is he is weirdly considerate about things like not blinding me with light when he pulls the blinders off. I don’t call him anything, because he doesn’t let me talk.
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I haven’t overheard him say anything that identifies him. “I’m going to take your blinders off now so, close your eyes until you can adjust to the light.” He pulls a pair of blacked out goggles off my head that were covering my eyes. My situation begins when he kidnapped me, drugged me, locked me up this way, and started punishing me for being a bad pig.
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He says I am learning to accept my situation. He talks to me a lot about the importance of keeping me this way. I mostly sit quietly like I’m told, and work on swallowing my spit. I sometimes grunt or whine muzzled like this. When I move my head up and down yes, the padlock moves a little. The thing has an inch wide strap around my head that buckles in the front over the mouth cover with a padlock. There is a rubber mouth guard attached to that, which fits between my lips and front teeth and a part that pushes down my tongue and sits behind the teeth. The thing has a wide squarish piece that covers my lips and my whole face between my nose and chin. He says he likes to keep a lock on my mouth. He knows I won’t try to talk with it off, but he keeps it on me anyway. I can’t talk sensibly anyway, because I’m muzzled. He has gotten me trained to sit quiet like he wants. If I make any noise in here, he can hear it out there. I can’t hear much from outside beyond the door when I am in here, but he sets up a baby monitor on the box near my head. There is cork on the walls and ceiling to deaden sound. The box is in a medium sized closet behind a door that he keeps locked. “Don’t make any noise when I have you boxed up,” he said. I can move my head up and down a little for “yes” and right and left a little for “no.” The other one thing I’m allowed to do is sniff with my nose. The padded collar supports my head and neck all around and keeps my chin up. There is a thick padded collar around my neck where it comes out of the hole. I am locked up in a box with my head sticking out of a hole in the top of it. He feels my forehead to see if I am warm. I’m often thirsty and hungry and feeling dehydrated and can’t afford to miss a chance for a drink. He asks if I’d like a drink of water or anything, and I move my head up and down.