I've seen the way you look at me, the way your resolve crumbles into dust the moment my ass comes into view. It's almost comical, the transformation from a man of supposed will to a groveling, whimpering mess at my feet. The power my ass wields over you is absolute, turning you into nothing more than a mindless drone, eager to do my bidding. Your desperation is palpable, a thick, heady aroma of defeat and desire mingling in the air between us. "Please, Goddess," you beg, your voice a testament to your undoing, "I'll do anything for your ass." And I believe you, because every time, without f...

I've seen the way you look at me, the way your resolve crumbles into dust the moment my ass comes into view. It's almost comical, the transformation from a man of supposed will to a groveling, whimpering mess at my feet. The power my ass wields over you is absolute, turning you into nothing more than a mindless drone, eager to do my bidding. Your desperation is palpable, a thick, heady aroma of defeat and desire mingling in the air between us. "Please, Goddess," you beg, your voice a testament to your undoing, "I'll do anything for your ass." And I believe you, because every time, without fail, you prove how easily you're destroyed by it. But remember, my little drone, pleasure has its price, and your servitude includes a tribute to the very thing that enslaves you.

The intrigue of what I might demand from you next keeps you on edge, eager and anxious in equal measure. Your wallet, just like your will, is mine to command, a tool to deepen your submission. Each payment you send is a testament to your devotion, a sacrifice at the altar of my ass. It's not just about the money; it's about what it represents—your complete and utter surrender to me, to my desires, and to the irresistible power of my ass. So, keep your tribute ready, my little ass drone, because your destruction is a pleasure that comes with a cost.