It happens one week at a time.
You meet me at work. We hang out a little bit outside of it. Eventually, you come over to my place. I don't rape you right away - that's not the point of this, at all. I'm not in it for the easy pussy - although "boys" like you do have easy pussy.
Instead, I get a picture of you wearing your work shirt, with a joint in your hands. We're just hanging out, and you don't even think about the blackmail potential. It would make the company look bad if I published it, wouldn't it?
From then on, I start "jokingly" blackmailing you. It starts genuinely as a joke, where I mention the photo and threaten playfully to send it to our manager if you chicken out of another shot with me.
And then it becomes less joking when you try to back out and I get a little more serious, and maybe you take two more shots than you mean to. I collect photos and videos of you doing embarrassing things, extremely drunk or high, and at some point, the threat becomes to send them to other people you care about, not our manager.
Then, one day I tell you that I want you to take off your shirt and binder. You refuse, and I do send our manager just enough to get you fired. But that's just the threat, I say you'll never work again if you don't do what I told you, because I'll post publicly.
So you give me the tit photo I want. And now, because you've been fired, you're reliant on me. I "generously" take you in, and things spiral fast. You're modelling nude for me daily, because otherwise I'll kick you out. One time, you get an interview, but I send them your nudes and they don't hire you.
I make you call yourself a girl. You get progressively further from recently having a job, and the interviews dry up more and more, and now I'm making you suck my cock if you don't want to be out on the streets. I destroy your binders, and you can't do anything about it.
I start inviting my friends over for you to blow. I take away your T. I start fucking your cunt and demanding you cook. You're totally powerless, absolutely reliant on me.
A year after I started the new job, you're my unemployed, pregnant house"wife", although perhaps that's too generous, as a wife, at least, one theoretically likes. You do whatever I tell you to whoever I want.
