This horse the only thing that’s worthy of a ride from me. My paypigs know they will never be good enough for that.
As my eyes dive into the crystal waters of Sardinia, I think of my little pay piggies who have made this happen. I think of how they will be suffering for me, after giving me every last dime they have, just so I may continue my lavish lifestyle. My daydream is quickly interrupted by my personal assistant, Samantha, as he hands me an ice cold glass of champagne. I scorn Samantha for being so thoughtless as to disrupt my thinking, but still accept the glass. The sun glistens off my 12ct diamond as I take my first slip and my mouth is greeted by the most amazing taste.
“What is this exquisite drink?” I exclaim to a staff member serving on the yacht.
“DOM Perignon, vintage of course.” explains the server.
I laugh to myself; this drink must be made for me.
My sadistic brain goes wild at the thought of money. Using sad little subs for their money is my speciality, knowing that this is all they live for. To them, I am a masterful goddess and they are little losers that are only here to serve. These subs love to drain their wallets for me in exchange for nothing but humiliation. I suppose it is their only way to provide me with pleasure since their tiny cocks won’t do a thing. My paypigs know their place, they will never question their beautiful mistress and will never deserve to. I know my worth, in fact I am priceless, and I never deserve to stop living this luxurious lifestyle
As my golden blonde hair shifts in the calm sea breeze, I feel a slight shiver. I am cold. I click my fingers at my assistant who is fidgeting tirelessly with her phone. Within a second, she scurries over.
“Do I pay you to sit around all day playing on that useless gadget?” I say sternly
“N-N-N no M-M miss S-Stern” she quivers “I-I was just trying to.”
“No! No Excuses!” I shout
“Now get me my Gucci robe… and NOT the gold one, it’s so last year”
Oh, I do love being a dominatrix. It’s something in your nature, I think. I can see the way I intimidate; the way people stutter when they talk to me. It must be so humiliating for grown men to crumble at my feet, sad little cash cows. They know my worth as much as I do. Due to my background in elitist society, I have always known my worth. My associates are that of celebrities and politicians alongside old money heiresses and lords, even royalty. I grew up knowing only luxury and I do not expect to live by any other means, my finsubs act as human ATMs keeping me in the lifestyle I have always been accustomed to.
I do love to travel, my yacht in Sardinia is one of many across the globe. Sardinia itself is rustic and old fashioned, but has a beautiful elegance to it. Almost untouched. Untouched, just like my loser subs. My assistant cautiously approaches me and lays down my beautiful Gucci robe alongside a stunning pair of exclusive black Prada sliders, only 10 pairs were ever made. My feet look so good, beautifully tanned with white toenails. My finsubs would beg for a feet pic or two right now.
After a relaxing day sunbathing, I hear the sound of heels clicking and giggling. My girls have arrived. We greet with two air kisses from side to side. My Michelin star private chef prepares us a gourmet meal of lobster, freshly caught this morning, paired with a beautiful cabernet sauvignon. My little pay pigs will be on bread and water now, I can’t hide the smirk arising from the corner of my mouth. We finish and I quicky order the servers to tidy up, I cannot stand the mess. They scramble to clear the table, bumping into each other in fear of being too slow.
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