You are a servant. You are not boyfriend material. You are a human ATM machine for Empress Jazzy. You are a bitch in a fake man costume. You are addicted to Empress Jazzy. I own your mind, you need me to get off. You need to listen to my humiliation to jerk off. You need my bratty voice telling you you’re worthless and disgusting. Empress Jazzy means the world to you! But you’re just a wallet with legs. Your purpose in life is serving me. Duh.