Oh, look at you, my little human ATM, quivering in anticipation. You're just aching for me to drain you hard, aren't you? It's pathetic how desperate you are, but it's exactly what I crave. You see, in my world, you're nothing but a wallet, a means to an end. And that end is my total, absolute pleasure. I'll have you clicking that 'send' button over and over, watching your account dwindle down to nothing. It's a thrill, knowing I'm ruining you financially with every demand I make. You must understand, you're here solely to fund my desires. Each transaction is a chain, binding you irrevocably to my will. I revel in your desperation, in the power I hold over you. Calling you my personal ATM is not just a term of endearment; it's a stark reality. With each transfer, you sink deeper into financial servitude, each click a step closer to your own ruin. Yet you can't stop, can you? The thrill of being used, of being financially dominated by a Goddess like me, is too poisoning. You're entangled in my web, a puppet dancing to the tune of my greedy, merciless whims. And oh, how I love to watch you dance, my broken little ATM.