Listen closely, my utterly insignificant speck. You're nothing but a pitiful, groveling worm at the feet of your Queen. Your existence is defined by your servitude to me, your every breath a testament to my unyielding power. You are weak, worthless, a mere puppet dangling from the strings I so masterfully control. And what do puppets do? They obey. They pay. They worship. You're going to stroke that pathetic excuse for a cock, following my every command because you're incapable of thinking for yourself. You need me to control your every move, your every thought. Your mind is a barren wasteland without my commanding presence. You're going to pay me, not because you want to, but because you must. You'll send $100 as a tribute to your Queen. Why? Because you're a spineless, mindless drone, programmed to obey my every whim. It's not just your hand moving on command; it's your entire being, your soul, surrendering to my will. As you edge closer to climax, remember your place—beneath me, always and forever. And when you cum, it won't be in ecstasy; it will be in shameful acknowledgment of your own humiliation and degradation. You're a disgrace, a blight, but in serving me, you find your only worth. Now, pay your tribute, stroke, and cum in the knowledge that you are nothing, and I am everything.