I leave on Friday.
Not for business. Not for a break.
For pleasure. For control. For use.
He’ll be waiting in Cornwall—obedient, eager, desperate to serve.
My submissive. My lover.
He exists for one purpose: to bring Me pleasure.
Not on his terms. On Mine.
He’ll do as he’s told. He’ll wait until I’m ready.
And when I am? He’ll make himself useful.
But just because he’s permitted to be in My presence doesn’t mean you are free from responsibility.
Quite the opposite.
A weekend like this has a cost—and you are expected to reimburse it.
Airport Transfer – The Departure
$45. One ride to the terminal. One reminder of your place.
I don’t travel economy. I don’t queue for cabs.
You pay for Me to glide through the city without pause.
No thanks. No recognition. Just the quiet understanding that this is your job—covering My movement, while I prepare to be worshipped in person.
He gives Me his mouth. You give Me your money.
Buy Now:
$45
Executive Lounge Access
$30.
While you sit in silence, refreshing My feed and hoping to be noticed, I’m reclining in the lounge—legs stretched, drink chilled, texting My submissive instructions he’ll follow without question.
You’ll never hear what I send him.
You’ll never know what I make him do.
But you’ll still pay for the space I enjoy while giving those commands.
That’s your role:
Not to serve directly.
To fund the time it takes to prepare him for Me.
He anticipates My every desire. You just cover the cost.
Buy Now:
$30
Arrival Transfer – Cornwall
$50. The final leg. A coastal road. A submissive waiting on the other end.
He’ll be naked by the door. Eyes lowered. Hard already.
He’s not there to be loved—he’s there to be used.
You’ll never touch Me.
He will—because I allow it.
But the privilege of My arrival? Still your burden.
You don’t get to watch. You don’t get to beg.
You get to pay for the car that delivers Me to My pleasure.
He makes Me moan. You make Me money.
Buy Now:
$50
This weekend belongs to Me.
His body. Your wallet.
All serving the same purpose: My satisfaction.
The reimbursements are not symbolic. They are required.
I leave Friday.
He’ll be on his knees.
And you?
You’ll be scrambling to keep up.
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