When you so desperately ask for the opportunity to go broke ..
Added 2023-11-03 04:38:33 +0000 UTCWhen you so desperately ask for the opportunity to go broke for me, you're not just pleading; but instead begging to elongate your commitment to the role of a lifetime. One in which you play an impoverished little bank B*tch whom against its better judgement, inevitably finds himself sending the entirety of "his" most recent paycheque to me, over and over and OVER again.
Much like any other addiction, you go through a seamless cycle. Painfully predictable in each and every act. First, you tell yourself you don't need findom. Its toxic. Unhealthy. You mourn the loss of all the cash you so frivolously sent my way, and then tell yourself theres no better time to commit to sobriety than now.
But, maintaining your distance from a deliciously tantalising drain is easy when you've no money to give. The real challenge comes about as soon as you realise payday is on the horizon, at which point you find yourself innocently scrolling through my feed. Looking at our past chats. Reminiscing on times before.
Your c*ck twitches. Growing harder. You take your right hand and push down on your shaft, squeezing it with a self loathing grip in an attempt to control the subconscious signals your body is sending you.
Soon after, your paycheque hits, and just like clockwork you find yourself messaging me... vibrating in ecstacy as you once more, empty your accounts for Goddess.
"It feels so f*cking good."
"I need this."
"F*ck. I love you Goddess."
"Take everything. Please."
"I'm worthless. Useless. My money is yours."
"I've worked so hard for you Goddess."
"I beg you to drag me into more debt."
"Please order me to send more. I need you. I need this."
"Nghn you're the best I've ever f*cking had."
Before long, you find yourself once more spending a whole other fortnight suffering due to the consequences of your own self sabotage. Anxiously awaiting your next paycheque. Swearing that same old idiotic oath.
Poor little finsl*t. Speak soon.
