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Why are you here?
Do you need--deserve--to be punished? That's for me to decide. Will I ridicule you--laugh at your pathetic excuse for a penis, be disgusted by your cowardice and lack of any demonstrably worthwhile attributes in life, pontificate at length as to the eternal enigma that is your existence in life--possibly? But not likely--you would need to be very special for that to be the case, and you are not special. You are no one.
Will I revel in the knowledge that you are my personal paypig, that your paltry earnings are eagerly offered up to my radiance as tribute in a futile attempt to please me? No, I will not revel--I will barely deign to acknowledge what is mine by right. Will I even bother to answer your call? Perhaps, if you have proven yourself desperate enough (you will NEVER be worthy, don't make me sick), but I will simply ignore you: possibly sigh in annoyance or groan at your useless attempts to engage my attentions in any meaningful way. You are not even worth the effort it would take to insult you. You are not me. You are not you. You are nothing.
If you mattered, I might be sickened by you. I might mull the feeble excuse for a man that you are, but you mean nothing to me--you mean nothing in life, you don't count in this world. You will try to buy my notice--you will not succeed. I am happy and fulfilled in life--things you can never be--because I am not you, because I do not know you, I do not notice you, I do not see you. I nothing you.
Calls are by appointment and appointments must be earned.