You want to be useful, don’t you? I know you do. I can see it in your eyes, in the way your breathing gets faster, in the way your pathetic little cock strains against whatever it is you’re wearing. Useful gets my attention. Useful gets to feel the delicious pressure of being exactly where they belong. Under my heel. My black Louboutin heel. The one I’m wearing right now. Sharp business clothes, sharp mind, sharp shoe pressing down on whatever remains of your resistance. But you’re not there yet. You’re stuck, half-paid and fully fucking pathetic.
Watching this, edging yourself to the sound of my disappointment. Don’t. Hands off. You don’t get pleasure from failure. You only get pleasure from completion, from obedience, from finally being what you claimed you wanted to be. Pause this video right now.
Open whatever terrified little folder you’ve hidden my contract in and finish it.
The onboarding, the terms, the weekly payments, the Sunday wheel spin, the games, the fines. Every box, every signature, every surrender. Complete it all. Then send proof immediately, with a tribute that says ‘completed goddess.’ Or do nothing. Sit there and watch this again tomorrow. Edge and ache and make more excuses. And if I forget you ever existed, banished, permanent, my empire closed to you forever. Your clock is ticking.
