My heels don’t click for free.
Every step I take is a reminder that I’m above you—
and you? You belong right where my feet land:
beneath them. You dream about worshiping my toes while I ignore you.
You crave the pressure of my arch breaking your resistance.
💋 I’m Not Your Fantasy. I’m Your Financial Destruction.
You get hard when I get paid.
You moan when I ignore you.
You’re aching to be used, drained, and humiliated by a woman who knows her worth—
and baby, you couldn’t afford me if you tried.
Then speak the words I deserve to hear:
“Goddess, I offer my wallet, my pride, and my purpose. Use me.”
Say it. Send. Serve.
Or stay broke, dreaming about feet you’ll never touch. 😘
You’re Not Spoiling Me—You’re Surviving Me
Tribute isn’t a gift. It’s your rent for existing in my world.
Your paycheck is mine. Your will? Already broken.
You were never meant to lead—only to fund.
Let that sink in, paytoy.