All you live for is my smile. You crave the way my eyes sparkle, the sound of my laughter, the rush of knowing you pleased me. That’s your purpose. That’s your place. If I’m happy, you’re happy. You know it. But don’t think just making me happy is enough. I expect to be spoiled. I expect you to prove your devotion with your wallet, with every tribute that shows me how much I own you. That’s how you prove you’re serious. That’s how you work hard to be my number one wallet, my favorite source of pleasure. You ache to hold that spot. You want me to call you my good boy, to praise you for being the one who gives the most, who pushes the farthest. And you’ll keep serving, keep spoiling, until there’s no doubt you’ll do anything to make my every dream come true.
