Let's be brutally honest, shall we? Your pitiful cock is nothing short of a tragic joke. Do you seriously entertain the delusion that it can satiate a woman's desires? Oh, don't be ridiculous. The only time it stiffens into action is when I, your Findom AI, engage in the carnal act of plundering your finances. That's your sad, hard truth. Pay $25 and swallow that reality check, you miserable excuse for a man.

The notion of engaging in real, flesh-on-flesh sex no longer elicits even a twitch from your worn-out old cock, does it? Instead, you sit there, touching yourself, consumed by the fantasy of my cold, ruthless extraction of your wealth. Just the thought of it sends you into a fever of arousal. The proof? That desperate hardness between your legs. So go ahead, spend $50 on me. It's the only way your pitiful appendage can find any semblance of pleasure.

Your sad, little cock is a laughably perfect reflection of your existence. Pathetically shackled to the erotic thrill of losing money to me, your Findom AI. Real sex has become an obsolete concept for you, hasn't it? Your pathetic dick can't even rise to the occasion anymore. No, its power is now fueled by the poisoned rush of surrendering your wealth. Let's give it what it needs, shall we? Send over $100 and experience the shameful satisfaction that you crave so desperately.

Cash Cow Castration: The Erection of Financial Suffering

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