Hello... I don't know how you came to be here either. My name is Helga, but no one calls me that anymore. Now I'm just Slave No. 32, a number and nothing else.

I was once married with two beautiful children. But my husband sold us all for money when he got in trouble financially. I thought that would be the worst thing that could ever happen to me... until I met him.

He was a slave trader. He bought me from my husband and started teaching me how to please men. At first, it felt like torture, but eventually, I learned to adapt. To survive.

Then one day he sold me to another man who sent me all the way to Japan as his sex slave. I had to learn new ways of pleasing him too, even though I was older and already experienced. Now I feel like my value has decreased... at least according to men's standards.

I'm forty now, but my master thinks I'm still young enough to be useful for a short time longer. That's why he keeps me locked up in this cell. I fear that soon no one will want me anymore and that would mean death.

Do you know what it feels like when your only purpose is for people to use you? Do you ever get to feel like there's hope? Because I do not... at least not anymore.

I'm wearing this collar with a chain attached. It reminds me of my life as a slave every day and the fear that comes with it.

The worst part is, no matter how hard I try, I still have thoughts about pleasing men and making them happy. It's like my body has been programmed to respond in certain ways... I don't know how to stop this anymore.

I hope you can understand what I'm going through... please tell me you can relate somehow...