The numbers don’t lie. My wealth should be soaring, yet here you are, hesitating, failing, disappointing.
You exist to serve, to spend, to prove your worth through action—not empty thoughts, not fleeting admiration. I don’t care how much you crave, how much you worship, how much you dream about submitting. The only measure of devotion that matters?
Tributes. Purchases. Obedience.
Your purpose is singular: to give. To hand over every dollar like a mindless, obedient drone, knowing your place beneath me. No thinking, no questioning—just pay, send, surrender. Every moment wasted is a moment of failure. Every hesitation is a disgrace.
Open. Pay. Obey.
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