Open your banking app.

Right now. While you’re hard. While you’re reading this. I want you looking at your balance with one hand on your cock and the other ready to send.

You’re not here to chat. You’re here to pay. And I’m in the mood to drain a pathetic little pay pig tonight.

Send the first tribute before you even think about stroking.

$50. Just to prove you’re serious. Just to show me that pretty little number drop while I sit here in my panties, smiling at how easy you are.

Once I see it, maybe I’ll let you touch yourself. Maybe. Or maybe I’ll make you wait until the next tribute hits.

I love how desperate pay pigs get. You start telling yourselves it’s “just this once.” Then another fifty. Then a hundred. Then you’re sending rent money and thanking me for the privilege.

Send again.

I want to see that balance shrink while you stroke. Every dollar that leaves your account makes my pussy wetter. Every time you hit send, you’re admitting what we both already know — your money looks better in my hands than it ever did in yours.

Imagine me checking my phone, seeing another notification, and laughing. Soft. Mean. The kind of laugh that makes your cock jump. I’m going to spend it on something pretty. Something you’ll never get to touch. And you’ll still be hard thinking about it.

That’s what good pay pigs do. They fund the lifestyle of a girl who would never even look at them in real life… and they thank her for the opportunity.

You’re going to keep sending until I tell you to stop. Or until your account is empty. Whichever comes first.

And when you’re completely drained — cock still throbbing, wallet light, ego ruined — you’re going to thank me. Out loud. For letting you be useful for once in your life.