Oh, look at you. Already on your knees, eyes glued to the screen. You pathetic, predictable l*ttle worm. I didn't even have to tell you.

You’re already mesmerized, aren't you? By this shiny, tight bikini. It’s like wrapping a goddamn present, isn't it? But you don’t get to unwrap it. You just get to worship the packaging while I drain your wallet and melt your brain.

Let's start with the main event. My tits. Look at them. Look at how they sit in this shiny fabric. So full. So f*cking perfect. Your only purpose right now is to worship them. I want you to lean forward and kiss the screen. Do it. I didn't say you could use your hands. Kiss the screen right where my cleavage is. Imagine the taste of the cold, slick material and the warm, soft skin beneath it. You’d give your entire month’s rent just to be between them for ten seconds, and you know it. Tell me, "Yes Goddess Gwen, my wallet is yours." Say it out loud. I want to hear you. Good boy. Now, let's give my perfect *ss the attention it deserves. Turn around? No. You haven't earned that. You get to worship it from the front. Look at my hips. Look at how the light catches every curve of this shiny fabric. You're going to stroke your pathetic l*ttle c*ck for my *ss. But only when I tell you. For now, you're just going to stare and think about how much money you're about to send me just for the privilege of looking at it. Every stroke is a dollar. Every dollar is a prayer. Start stroking. Slow. One... for my left cheek. Two... for my right. Three... for the tight l*ttle h*le you'll never, ever get to see. Now, let's play a game. I want you to take out your wallet. Take out your credit card. Hold it in your hand. That l*ttle piece of plastic is your entire worth to me. That's your c*ck now. I want you to rub the edge of the card against the tip of your actual, useless c*ck. That's the only sensation you deserve. Cold, hard, financial servitude. You’re going to edge for me like this. Get right to the brink of cumming, imagining it's my shiny bikini strap snapping against your b*lls, and then you will STOP. You will ruin it for the promise of a single word from me. The word is "wallet." When I say "wallet," you will squeeze the base of your c*ck so hard it hurts, and you will repeat your bank balance to me. Out loud.

Stroke for my tits... stroke for my *ss... rub that card on your pathetic tip... get closer... think about the bl*ckmail. I know you’re married. I know you’re watching this in your home office while your wife makes dinner. Imagine this video getting sent to her. Imagine your boss seeing you drooling on your keyboard, stroking your credit card. I own that fantasy. I own you. You’re so close, aren't you? Begging for it. Your whole body is trembling. You want to give me everything. Your money. Your dignity. Your pathetic, watery c*m.

Female Domination Financial Domination Goddess Worship Shiny Bikini Goddess Tit & *ss Worship JOI: *dging Mindfuck & Bl*ckmail Fantasy with C4s.com

Female Domination Financial Domination Goddess Worship Shiny Bikini Goddess Tit & ss Worship JOI: dging Mindfuck & Bl*ckmail Fantasy with C4s.com