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If that’s the only thing you can think of to ask in an email…you probably don’t REALLY want to know.
I look at it this way. Everything’s eventual. Everything! Take that however it hits you.
I can understand wanting to build a little anticipation before you work up whatever you have to work up to call; that’s fun. But if you are overly concerned about being taken advantage of, you’ve already fucked yourself in advance. If you haven’t been victimized ever in your life, try it. It’s fun. It builds character….I promise.
The short and maybe not so obvious answer to what’s now the $50 question is this: No. I’m not a money Mistress. That’s like asking me if I’m a toe just because a have them.
Do I like financial domination?
Not always.
I love money and I love the stuff it buys…make no mistake about it. Sluts that are only financially submissive don’t really ever get it. Most are caught up in the cycle of assuming that serving Me financially is going to be like any social retard’s standard issue dynamics with the opposite sex:
- you go to a strip club, you tip a girl $20 or so, get yourself a lapdance, and hope for $20 more she’s gone over her cell phone plan minutes enough this month to have to blow you.
- you go to a bar, buy a girl a few drinks and hope that she leaves her her friends and the remainder of her self-esteem on the sidewalk she just puked on so she’ll go home with you.
- you marry the girl who shat on you socially all during high school. 15 yrs, 30 lbs and one smart mouthed tween later, she’s all yours! Sure about that? Better keep it that way! Now you’re stuck at a company you hate, but that pays really well in order to keep her. Essentially, you’re paying her not to fuck everything that she even thinks may have a dick…because that’s what’s she’s used to.
Now it’s what you’re used to. Here’s where you’d expect one of those lame little smiley things. I’m better than that. This sums up how I feel whenever I come across a financial submissive shit eating grin. Talk about having it Cincinnati bowtie backwards !
It really takes a slave mentality to let go and let yourself be enjoyed like this. If you’re the type that thinks that the Amazon gift certificate you randomly send to my inbox is what it takes, you couldn’t be more wrong!
I guess I’m just spoiled by that thing formerly known as rosie.
I like to play scavenger hunt types of games if W/we’re having a day time play date. Nothing that’s complicated or a huge deal to Me or anyone else with a personality and the self-esteem that goes with it. It’s always just enough to make a paranoid, anxiety-ridden, old cocksucking perv destroy its respectable-looking dress shirt with sweat. I get one of those canvas shopping bags, fill it up with a few grocery items, leave the prize or clue at the bottom and drop it off somewhere nice and populated.
I don’t have the time to go through anything elaborate for My fag on demand. It’s not worth it. I guess you could say the new car smell is gone and I need another…
These days, I’ll leave only one bag for it. The small bubble envelope at the bottom of the bag contains the list of things it needs to bring, how much to bring for any guest stars, the card key to the room, and a picture from the previous playdate. Oh, and I always address the envelope to his office building. I’m DEFINITELY no expert on being responsible, but I guess the staff at a lobbying firm would know what to do with things like that. This sums up how I feel everytime I make a drop for it. Shit Eating Grin
Simple start to a throat raping afternoon right? Not if someone takes the bag. I know it’s a recession and all but who really wants a bag with nothing in it but canned pork products, a bar of soap, summer squash,a few bottles of Honest Tea, and an envelope?!! Well last week someone did. As usual, the bitch got all bent out of shape when it couldn’t find the bag. Instead of taking responsibility for not being there to pick it up no later than 10 minutes after I drop it off, it decided to go on a racist rant about how one of the no good homeless people standing around downtown took it. I’m not the most racially sensitive person either but was I going to let any of its personal failings go without milking every inch? No. That’s not Me. Shit Eating Grin
So of course I just calmly explained how the special interests that allow him to make a verrrrrrry good living and his own “special interests” in all things black and brown didn’t exactly match his words. Then I reminded him that I’d be more than happy to blur the lines between his interests for him if he was so out of control. At that point I was half listening because anything he has to say…I’ve heard a million times before. I just listen for tones at this poing. That was until he said:
You’re right. I should try to walk a mile in another man’s shoes. I have no right….
It’s funny how inspiration just kind of falls out of the sky. I asked him which shoes he had on at the moment.
New & Lingwoods..russian calves
Wtf?!! I had to Google to officially come to the realization that this thing is a bigger brand whore than I am! This is something that has at least 100 pair of specially made size 12 women’s pumps in a storage unit. Most of them haven’t been worn more than once if at all. This was taking way more time than I’d planned for it, so I told it to head towards the CNN center….lots of bums hang out there. The beauty of it is that when it called me back it said:
I guess I’m really going to have to walk in another man’s shoes today right?
Awww…it still thinks of itself of a man. I think the 8.5 inch and 10 inch reminders it took North to South respectively reminded it that only one man walked away in some unfamiliar shoes earlier that day. This is what does it for Me!!!
Yeah, I love being spoiled but when I don’t even have to tell a slut what I want….when it already knows that its going to have to trade its $1500 shoes for a pair that will probably leave it with some 3rd world quality fungus…yeah, this is it!
Am I going to get all, “Money doesn’t matter, it’s all about the ‘relationship’.” No. I’m not really into relationships…of any kind. Experiences. Moments. Little flashes of heythatwasfunthatonetimeletsoneupit. That’s all I want…as long as it keeps that new car smell Shit Eating Grin
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