You Cucks Are Such Fun Little Toys

While I always have the time of My life tormenting you, making you bend every which way for My amusement, spending hundreds to thousands of dollars on My spoiled life, it can get quite boring spending it alone. Good thing that I have a man to help Me spend it and indulge with Me.

And that's where you come in, loser. You know off the bat you could never compare. You were cursed to be laughed at by girls like Me for the rest of your days, making you sulk in your own disgrace while we drain you of your money in bars, buying us drink after drink, only to go fuck the hot stud standing next to you. He puts in one tenth of your effort, and yet I'll always choose a man like that over you. 

And yet... you're happy to let us run off. You're content with how much of a fucking loser you are. You'd be nothing but dead weight. A comedy act in the bedroom. A laughing stock that I'd tell My girlfriends about over coffee. You are absolutely NOTHING compared to the gorgeous stock of a man I choose to associate with. And you're completely happy knowing that I, the woman you worship and adore, is taken care of by someone worthy of Me and My intimacy.

He has all the confidence girls like Me make sure you never develop. Why would you be confident as you have nothing to offer? His style, you wish you could have, as you try to remember not to tuck your shirt into your fucking underwear. His deep, purring voice gets Me hot while your awkward, nasally voice is like sandpaper on My ears. And I could write books about how his cock is something you were cursed never to have, how it satisfies Me physically while yours is just a joke attached to the in-between of your twitching legs. 

You're bound and determined to make sure your Goddess is taken care of in ways that you could never provide. So you spend, and spend, and spend on us. He could easily spoil the two of us, as could I, but we prefer to be held tiers above you, laughing at your pitiful life, taking your money to spend on expensive dinners, sex toys you'll never see us use, penthouse rooms to fuck in all night, and money to wear out on dates with one another. Men like you just gawk at couples like us when we walk past you on the street, out of awe and jealousy. Wishing you could be him, wishing you could get Me, and knowing that you will never be anything to us but a fat wallet and a mindless worshipper. 

We even keep My phone next to My bed as we fuck endlessly, the pings from My payment apps and email almost drowned out by the screaming he forces from My lungs, from My throat that had previously been engulfing his glorious cock. Your paying only makes us fuck harder, too satisfied with our power over you to stop and check. We know you send fat numbers. We know you'll continue to send once we're done. We know you'll never stop as long as we're greedy for your submission and cash. You just continue to sit there with your babyclit hard for us, stroking it desperately, wishing you could at least get the honor of drinking his cum from Me once he's done enjoying My body.

We're waiting, cucky little fuckboy. You'll be our next toy, our next plaything. You won't be able to stay away for long. And once you've walked into our world, there's no way you're getting back out. 

You will belong to us...