“Who Am I” is the second entry in the puppy series, a still moment carved in confidence and curated submission. He’s no longer holding the camera—the camera is ready, waiting. He’s positioned himself with intention. Every detail is deliberate: the chain resting between his pecs, the mask drawn tight around his face, the cock swollen but soft, as if aroused by the act of being observed, not touched.

This isn’t a question of if he belongs in this role—it’s a question of how deeply. The pride is real, the body sculpted, the gaze—through the holes of his mask—is searching, not for the viewer, but for a deeper reflection of self. Maybe he is someone’s property now. Maybe that thought excites him. Or maybe the performance is just for him, a test of identity against the backdrop of exposure.

As he stares into the screen just beyond the camera, the question lingers—not with doubt, but with ritual weight: Who am I?