I arrive an hour before our dinner reservations. You give me a gift: a beautiful Agent Provocateur set. I love it but I paw through the box expecting to find something else. I'm a little disappointed that you didn't include anything more significant, especially since it's Valentine's day and I chose you over all my other suitors. I decide to slip into my new lingerie before I go into more detail about what I expect from you. My gorgeous body in this pretty, sheer set makes you instantly aroused. Don't touch. If you want to stroke for me, you have to give me your wallet. I pluck it from you and you start pumping, instantly helpless. I pull out to the cash in it, explaining how grateful you should be that you get to worship me. This is not enough. I want your credit card too. I'm going to ask you nicely 3 times what the code is. You feebly protest. I slide the card across my chest. It looks like this plastic will get to explore more of my body tonight than you will. You give in. Good boy. But I want more. I want another card. This time, you give me the code without hesitation, so weak to my demands. This is all mine now. It'll be your responsibility to keep these cards topped up when I max them out. You've pleased me so I give you a cum countdown. After you explode, I tell you to cancel our reservation. I have another date to attend and I'm sure you must be tired and deflated after that orgasm. Happy Valentine's day, bitch.