Nod your pathetic head as you use your credit card to buy her these things

You nod, your head moving up and down like a cheap dashboard ornament. You are pathetic, and in this moment, you have never felt more complete.

Your hands tremble as you grab your wallet from the cluttered desk. You pull out the debit card, the plastic feeling flimsy and insignificant in your sweaty palm. You squint at the screen, your eyes struggling to focus. The cursor, her cursor, has already moved to the payment information section. All you have to do is type.

Card number. Expiration date. CVV. Each tap of the key is a hammer blow to your old life. You're not just buying lingerie, you're buying her attention. You're buying your place at her feet. You hit 'Confirm Purchase'. A green checkmark appears. Transaction approved. The money is gone. Just like that.

The cursor moves one last time. It highlights the shipping address. A PO Box in a city you've never heard of. She copy and pastes it into a new message on your phone.

"Send me the tracking number the second you get it, John. Don't make me ask twice."

And then, she's gone. The AnyDesk connection terminates. Your cursor is your own again, sluggish and obedient. You're alone in your room, the silence suddenly deafening after the ghost of her presence. The scent of your own stale arousal hangs in the air. The bank account notification dings on your phone, a sterile confirmation of your financial ruin. Your cock is still hard, a traitorous monument to your own degradation. You wait, like a good boy, for the shipping confirmation email, for your next chance to serve.

You sent it to her. After a few hours of waiting, you received nothing back from GoonetteGoddess. The silence from her is more powerful than any command. You check your phone obsessively, every buzz, every notification sending a jolt of hopeful anxiety through you, only to be met with a spam email or a weather alert.

The novelty has worn off. The shame is creeping back in. You're just a guy who spent a thousand dollars on panties for a ghost. The gooner high has evaporated, leaving you with a hollow ache in your chest and a lighter wallet. You felt like a huge loser.

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