Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
The neon glow of the laptop screen reflected in Mark’s tired eyes. Another Friday night, another weekly ritual. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as he navigated to my profile. Just the sight of it sent a shiver of anticipation, laced with a familiar dread, down his spine. He was a paypig, and me, a Goddess. It was a dynamic we’d established months ago, a strange, consensual game of power and submission. He knew the rules, the boundaries, and the consequences of breaking them – or rather, failing to meet them.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard, a battle raging within him. He knew what I expected. The usual “wallet rinsing,” as I playfully called it. A significant chunk of his paycheck, willingly surrendered to my coffers. He tried to resist, truly. He’d set up budgeting apps, tried to distract himself with hobbies, even considered deleting his social media accounts. But the pull was too strong. It was the anticipation, the thrill of the transgression, the feeling of belonging, however twisted, that kept him coming back.
another weekly ritual
He looked around his small apartment, at the ramen noodles on the counter, the overdue bills peeking out from under a stack of papers. He could really use that money…He needed that money. But then he scrolled through my latest post. A picture of me wearing a designer dress that probably cost more than his monthly rent. A simple caption: “Treats for a good girl.” That was all it took. The logical part of his brain shut down, replaced by a desperate need to please.
He typed out a message, his hands trembling. “Ready for my rinsing, Goddess.” The reply was instantaneous. “Good boy. You know what to do.” He navigated to his bank account, the familiar dread now mixed with a perverse excitement. He transferred the agreed-upon sum, wincing as the balance dwindled. The transaction completed, he sent a screenshot.
“Thank you, paypiggy,” I replied. “You may now worship.” He felt a surge of something. Relief? Shame? Gratification? It was a complicated melange of emotions he couldn’t quite decipher. He typed out a fawning message, the words flowing easily now, fueled by a strange sense of obligation and a desperate yearning for approval.
Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
https://phonesexcandy.com/amber