Lisa was a force to be reckoned with. The moment she stepped into her opulent Manhattan penthouse apartment each morning, her stilettos clicking authoritatively against the marble inlaid floor, the entire city seemed to tremble. But Lisa paid the bowing skyscrapers no mind. Her gaze was fixed on more immediate prey.
Striding into her lavish boudoir, Lisa settled herself into a plush velvet chaise lounge before her ornate vanity. She surveyed the array of designer cosmetics and perfumes spread before her – a dizzying display of every Who’s Who of the beauty world. A cruel smile curved her signature matte red lips. After all, when you were the richest and most powerful woman on the continent, a “humble” $1000 a month skincare routine was but a pittance.
As Lisa began to meticulously apply her makeup, making sure her porcelain skin was smooth and flawless, foundation blending seamlessly into her slim neck, Kohl eyeliner forming sharp cat eyes, and hair smoothed into a chic updo, her mind drifted unbidden to the real source of her most illicit pleasures. The men who came crawling on their knees to worship at her altar. The ones who threw their money at her with abandon, their wallets upturned like the bellies of dogs hoping for a treat. And for what? For a single breathy command from her, the merest cluck of amusement, the chance to serve as her personal ATM.
Findom phone sex was her guilty pleasure, her secret thrill that got her off like nothing else. The depraved depravity of it all sent shivers down her spine. Knowing she could drain a man dry with a few honeyed words, watch him spurt his pitiful orgasm at the mere sound of her voice over the line, imagining him left a twitching, exhausted wreck on the other end – well, that was the headiest aphrodisiac of all. Never mind that she had enough money to buy a small country. There was no rush quite like riding a man like a cheap whore and leaving him utterly ruined.
Lisa shifted on her seat, thighs clenching at the thought, and had to force herself to focus on lining her lips. She couldn’t afford to smudge, not with the full day of draining ahead. First, some limp-dicked loser named Chad was due for his daily deposit. Then there was Bitchboy Brad, ready to shove another few grand up her ass on command. And if she was very lucky, maybe that spineless worm Steve would finally work up the nerve to beg to buy her a new Rolex. One could dream.
She was just adding a spritz of her signature perfume when her phone buzzed with a text alert. It was from Chad, of course. The man was pathetically eager.
“Good morning, Goddess,” it read. “How may your lowly wallet slave serve you today? I’m ready to empty my accounts for your slightest whim. Just say the word.”
Lisa smirked at the screen before responding. “Did I say you could text me, worm? You know the rules. Wait for my call like an obedient little bitch. I may deign to permit you the privilege of paying your tithes later. If you’re lucky. Don’t make me wait.”
Her thumbs flew across the screen, a dizzying array of currency emojis and eggplant gifs, before hitting send with a flourish. The phone immediately began to blow up with incoming messages, each one more pathetic and sycophantic than the last. Lisa allowed herself a few moments to bask in the depravity of it all before silencing the notifications.
There would be time enough for that later. Right now, she had an empire to run.
Rising from the chaise, Lisa checked her reflection in the mirror one last time. The vision that stared back was the picture of perfection – a she-wolf in designer clothing, an apex predator ready to take on her unsuspecting prey. She smiled, slow and lethal, as she sauntered towards the door.
It was going to be a good day indeed.