You adore being demeaned and babbled to...so much that your sorry ass pays me to treat you like the immature sack of trash you are...are you ready for your next lesson in findom, little one? Show me what that bank account is made of...and don't think for a second you have an ounce of control. Directions are given by your Goddess, and you follow them, like the mind-fucked fool you've become.