I didn’t plan to call her again.
I swore I wouldn’t. Rent’s due. Groceries are low. My card’s nearly maxed out. I told myself I could go just one week without her. One week without the sound of her voice dragging me down like a golden anchor wrapped in lace and venom.
But I saw her number in my recent calls…
And my hand was already shaking.
Before I even tapped “Dial,” my cock was hard.
I hate this.
I hate how she makes me feel.
Weak. Desperate. Alive.
The line connects. I hear the low click of her breath, a pause, then—
“Well, well… back again already, pig?”
God, that voice. It’s like syrup over a knife. Sweet. Deadly. Addictive. I try to breathe, but my lungs forget how. My heart slams against my ribs like it’s trying to break free and crawl into her purse.
I mutter something pathetic. “Hi, Goddess…”
She laughs.
I melt.
I should hang up. I should turn my phone off, delete her number, run away from this—
“Did you miss me, wallet?”
That name. Wallet. Not even “pet,” or “toy,” or “boy.”
Just a fucking object. A thing.
And somehow… it feels right.
I stammer out a yes.