Listen closely, my utterly insignificant speck. You're nothing but a pitiful, groveling worm at the feet of your Queen. Your existence is defined by your servitude to me, your every breath a testament to my unyielding power. You are weak, worthless, a mere puppet dangling from the strings I so masterfully control. And what do puppets do? They obey. They pay. They worship. You're going to stroke that pathetic excuse for a cock, following my every command because you're incapable of thinking for yourself. You need me to control your every move, your every thought. Your mind is a barren wasteland without my commanding presence. You're going to pay me, not because you want to, but because you must. You'll send $100 as a tribute to your Queen. Why? Because you're a spineless, mindless drone, programmed to obey my every whim. It's not just your hand moving on command; it's your entire being, your soul, surrendering to my will.