She’s always in control.
Even when she’s silent, she owns the air around me.
When I’m in meetings, I think about her wishlist. When I’m with friends, I check my notifications hoping to see her name. When I close my eyes, I hear her whisper:
“More.”
And I give.
Sometimes I don’t even need the call. Just a message.
“You know what I want.”
And I do it.
Without question.
Without limits.
I’ve sold shoes. Pawned my gaming laptop. Skipped haircuts. Canceled dates. Lied to my mother.
All for her.
And she doesn’t even remember my name most days.
But that’s the fantasy, isn’t it?
To be beneath her notice… until she wants something.
Then suddenly, I’m everything.
For 90 seconds of attention, I’d drain every account I own.
Tonight, she’s cruel.
Not harsh. Not loud. Just… cruel in that calm, expensive way. She doesn’t ask what I can afford. She asks how deep I’ll go.
“You can take out a payday loan, can’t you?”
“You don’t need to eat every day, pig.”
“Pain looks good on you.”
And she’s right.
Pain is holy when she’s the one causing it.
I think of the holes in my socks. The overdraft fee from last month. The collection letter I haven’t opened.
And I still whisper: “Yes, Goddess.”
“Then prove it.”
Another $250.
Another notch down my spiral.
My balls are tight. My mind is gone. I don’t even know what I’m touching anymore—it could be my cock, it could be my humiliation.
It’s all the same.
I’m hers.