The libido pills are doing work on my boy. He's full, swollen, desperate, begging -- and I don't mean only when I'm edging him. I still owe him a ruin for Worth the Wait going No. 1, but that doesn't mean I have to let him enjoy a single moment of it. He has it way too good; time to make him pay. I sit on him first in a gold-chained tiger thong, torn fishnets, and a raunchy crop top and remind him exactly what he's worth to me: He's worth what he can give me. He's worth what it costs him: his Amazon login, his credit card, his inheritance, his obedience, his dignity, his sanity. He owes it all to his Mistress. I edge him wild. Polishing the tip. Stroking him while my body presses up against his torso ... then I ruin him, let him buck and thrust into my sharp bare nails, and give him post-orgasm torment until the order to "Give me your wallet" seems like a kindness. Fuck you. Pay me.