Pay Me By The Minute
Mmmmm. Cock out, sweetheart, and open your banking app. I'll wait.
Good boy. That was fast.
Tonight I'm running a tab on you. Everything I give you has a price and I say it out loud when I give it. Permission to touch yourself — five dollars. My voice in your ear — ten. Looking at my tits — fifteen. Being called a good boy — twenty, and your chest went warm, didn't it.
And the rate doubles every ten minutes. What costs you five at the start costs eight hundred by the end, and you'll say yes to that one faster than you said yes to the first.
You'll pay for edges. You'll pay to be called pathetic, and then pay twice more to hear it again. You'll pay three hundred for me to describe my cunt and never get near it. You'll pay for thirty seconds of silence, and the silences get more expensive, and you'll want them more.
Halfway through I'll offer you the door. You can close this and owe nothing. Mmmmm. And you'll pay a hundred dollars to shut it instead, because by then the tab is the whole point.
By the end nothing on the bill will be an object, sweetheart. Words and waiting. That's what you actually buy, every time, from every girl — I'm just the first one honest enough to itemise it and read it back to you with your hand still wet.
Seven thousand four hundred and forty dollars. One hour. Twenty-four times you said yes without once asking the price first.
And the next time I put a real number in front of you, we'll both already know what you do.