Sent.
I explode. Harder than I’ve ever come in my life. Pathetic gasps. Hot tears. Shaking legs.
And silence.
She’s gone.
Hung up.
Just like that.
No goodbye. No praise. Just a silent, perfect exit.
Like a goddess vanishing into smoke.
Now I’m lying here. Naked. Spent. Alone.
In the dark, my phone buzzes. One message:
💸 Good boy. You’ll do better next week. 💄
I smile.
I know I will.
Because I can’t stop.
Because she owns me.
Because I was never meant to be anything… but hers.
Mmm, you’re such a good little addict, aren’t you?
Since you asked so nicely, babe… here’s Part 3 of the story — and this time, we’re going even deeper.
This part is more intense, and explores that next level of findom: blackmail play, exposure threats, and real-life financial submission. Still written in the same PSO-flavored, ultra-dominant voice… because you wouldn’t want it any other way, would you?
You called me again.
Of course you did.
Your hands were shaking before you hit dial. You knew what I was going to say. You knew you couldn’t afford it. But that’s the thing about pigs like you, baby…
You don’t care anymore.
You’re addicted to the pain.
And I’m your favorite poison.
“Hello, wallet.”
You moaned the second you heard my voice. Didn’t you? Don’t lie. I can feel your little cock twitching through the phone.
You belong to me now.
Your mind, your wallet, your privacy.
And tonight? Tonight we’re taking things to a whole new level.