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Do you need to buy my happiness? Of course you do, but be warned, my happiness is fleeting. The moment I have what I want (which is EVERYTHING) in my possession, I want something new. If you plan to keep a penny to yourself, you better dig a deep dark hole to crawl into, because I only know how to take, take, take. Nothing turns me on like the thought of taking some loser's hard earned wad and spending it on the most frivolous things for myself! I have no tolerance for the words "I can't." I fully expect you pay pigs to take on three jobs to feed my endless greed. While you're punching keys, flipping burgers, and collecting cans like the closet-piggies you are, I'll be burning through your money at the mall and the salon, making myself the glamorous bitch you worship. While I'm out with real men, sporting the expensive gifts you worked to shower on me, you'll say 'Thank you, Mistress, for showing me what to aspire to.' Don't delude yourself into believing you will ever be a real man of any worth beyond his wallet. Your worth is not in question. You ARE W-O-R-T-H-L-E-S-S. Whip out your plastic, and pay me to tell you so! I deserve no less than total submission. I am an unpredictable tempermental mistress who only knows what she wants, which is subject to change, so trust that you'll find no lasting peace on the receiving end of my mood swings. Some days, I feel generous with my time and attention, if a piggy proves useful, but other days, the only satisfaction to be had is in the destruction and ruin of everything that steps into my sights. The best way to improve my mood and show me that you're not entirely purposeless is to pay me tribute, in the manner I am entitled.
If you need a real Ice Queen to ignore, humiliate, and remind you of how pathetic you are without your wallet, you've found a stone cold bitch.