Maybe when you were younger you spent your Sundays in a pew, but these days, your Sundays are reserved for something else. On Sundays, you worship your Goddess with your Wallet, opening it and closing it as She commands. Everything you have is Hers to ask for and She reserves the sweetest rewards for the good boys who open their wallets wide for Her and shut their little mouths. What will She take from you this Sunday? Nothing more than She deserves and nothing more than you can handle. She takes notes of who sends and who does not. Her power leaves you weak and shaking, desperate for more. You tithe to your Goddess every Sunday, worshiping her with every cent spent and ache for it until Sunday comes again.
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