Human ATM

Some men crave affection. Others crave purpose. But you? You were always meant to be reduced to something simpler. Something useful. A machine. My machine. A Human ATM, programmed for one function: to dispense for Princess.

It starts with a glance. My blonde curls frame a face you’ll never forget, my blue eyes piercing through your defences. You’re already folding, already imagining what it would feel like to belong to me. To be owned. To be reprogrammed. I don’t want your heart, darling. I want your obedience. Your devotion. Your cash.

I am your new romantic interest, the only one who matters. Forget the world outside. Forget your old life. You exist now to serve, to worship, to be my vessel. Another cog in my grand plan. My pretty fingers, tipped with perfect nails, tap your buttons and make you spit out cash. It’s not just a transaction. It’s a ritual. A surrender. A programming so deep you’ll never escape.

You are my machine. My Human ATM. Every beep, every whir, every note dispensed is a hymn to my power. You don’t think. You don’t feel. You dispense. For Princess. For me. And in return, you get the privilege of my attention, my smirk, my control. You get to be useful. To be owned. To be reduced to the only thing you were ever meant to be.

So go ahead. Press your own buttons. Beg me to take more. Beg me to drain you dry. Because in my world, that’s the only love that matters. The love of a machine for its Goddess. And you, my darling, are my favourite machine of all. 🖤💕