Then you wake with a start.
With biologicals their beginnings are slow, watery affairs, where light and sound gently caress barely formed sensory organs and stimulate a nascent nervous system. They have weeks or months to awaken, soft flows of electricity enlightening tightly clustered synapses.
For you it’s completely sudden, utterly bright and stern and he drags you out your box and strikes you, hard, on the ass, with a large wooden paddle. You groan compulsively, computing precisely the amount of force he applied and knowing his exact mood, you moan.
You sink down, your cheek on the floor and turn your head a little as he talks to you. God he’s so handsome, his beautiful beard and his full figure, he carries it so well. And that voice, it’s like honey in your ears, so perfect, smooth, manly. A big wave of pleasure rolls through you and over you as he commands you. “Yes sir,” you manage to slur out of your mouth in a haze of pleasure and brain chemicals and love, “anything for you.”