You’re not a man. You’re not even close. Look at you, clutching onto your wallet as if it holds any power against me. It’s laughable, really—watching your pathetic attempts to hold onto something that’s never truly been yours. Your money? It belongs to me. Your pride? I stripped that away the moment you knelt before me. With every command I give, you sink further, realizing you exist only to serve, to give, to be drained dry by the woman who owns you entirely. Press "send" now, if you dare—but know this: mercy isn’t part of the deal. Only ruin. Because your money belongs to me, your soul be...

You’re not a man. You’re not even close. Look at you, clutching onto your wallet as if it holds any power against me. It’s laughable, really—watching your pathetic attempts to hold onto something that’s never truly been yours. Your money? It belongs to me. Your pride? I stripped that away the moment you knelt before me. With every command I give, you sink further, realizing you exist only to serve, to give, to be drained dry by the woman who owns you entirely. Press "send" now, if you dare—but know this: mercy isn’t part of the deal. Only ruin. Because your money belongs to me, your soul belongs to me, and you? You belong to me.