The notification buzzed on my phone - a deposit, as expected. I smiled, knowing he was already squirming on the other end, desperate for my approval. There’s something intoxicating about it, the way he hands over control so completely, so willingly. It’s not just money - it’s his power, his independence, his pride, all stripped away and offered to me with trembling hands.

I sit back, crossing my legs slowly, savoring the thought of him agonizing over how much to send. Too little, and he knows I’ll tease him for his inadequacy. Too much, and I might just push him further. But that’s the beauty of it - he doesn’t know where the line is. He’s lost in me, his Queen, and I thrive on that.

The money is nice, of course, but it’s the dynamic that truly arouses me. The submission behind every dollar, the way his chest tightens with every transaction, knowing he’s placing himself deeper under my control. I feel powerful, desirable, and utterly untouchable.

As I message him back - just two simple words, good boy - I know he’ll spend the rest of the night basking in my praise, replaying my approval in his mind, desperate for the next moment I demand more.

And oh, I will.