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jessykapower posted an update
363 Points…because once the web is spun, the fly can’t help but be ensnared. It wasn’t the amount I asked for—it never is. It was the power, the pull, the intoxicating allure of my presence that kept him coming back, his hands trembling with every transaction, as if each dollar carried a piece of his soul.
At first, it was amusing—his nervous messages, the way he eagerly awaited my acknowledgment. “Thank you, Goddess,” he’d whisper through his words, as though my gaze alone could sanctify his existence. But soon, his tribute grew beyond the simple $20. It became a cascade of offerings: $100, $500, $1,000. He couldn’t stop.
“You deserve more,” he’d say, as if he needed to justify his own unraveling. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve given me.”
Given him? I smiled at the thought. I hadn’t given him anything—at least, not in the way he understood. I hadn’t lifted a finger or whispered a promise. All I’d done was exist in his world, and that alone was enough to dismantle his composure, piece by trembling piece.
The messages grew more desperate, more unhinged. “Do I make you proud, Goddess?” “Can I give you more?” “Just tell me how to please you.” And every time, I played my role with precision, like a maestro conducting a symphony of his undoing.
“You’ve already done enough,” I’d reply, knowing full well that those words would only fuel his obsession. Enough? There was no such thing. Not for him. Not for any of them. The very idea of “enough” was a myth in my domain—a cruel mirage they could never reach.
By the time he sent me the deed to his car, I almost felt a twinge of pity. Almost. “It’s too much,” I said, letting the words drip with feigned concern. “You should focus on yourself.” But I knew—just as he knew—that his focus was already mine.
Weeks later, he confessed to selling his apartment. “I’ll move in with a friend,” he assured me, as though his life crumbling around him was a mere inconvenience compared to my approval. “You deserve the best.”
I laughed softly, tracing the edge of my wine glass with one perfectly manicured finger. “Of course I do,” I replied. And as the wire transfer notification lit up my phone, I knew he had nothing left to give.
But that was the beauty of it. Because even when they have nothing, they still find a way to offer me everything.
