You adore being demeaned and babbled to…so much that your sorry ass pays me to treat you like the infantile sack of **** you are…are you ready for your next lesson in findom, little one? Show me what that bank account is made of…and don’t think for a second you have an ounce of control. Directions are given by your Goddess, and you follow them, like the mind-fucked fool you’ve become.
Category: Findom