I’ve been craving effortless control—the kind that doesn’t need to be shouted, only felt. The kind that makes your heart race when you see my Wishlist grow longer. There’s nothing more satisfying than watching your balance shrink as mine expands. No discussions. No limits. Just weekly proof that you know your place. A good pig pays, and pays well.

You’ll send weekly tributes, without prompting or complaint. Tribute begins at $500/month, but many pigs exceed that out of devotion—or desperation. You may also be directed to buy from my Wishlist for specific rewards. If accepted, you may be granted limited 24/7 messaging access. I may text you when I want something. Or nothing at all. Occasionally, I’ll toss a compliment—“good pig”—when you exceed expectations. This is not a game. It’s a hierarchy. You belong at the bottom of it.

You'll feel euphoric in your emptiness, as though each payment realigns you with your purpose. With every tribute, your shame sharpens and your bond deepens. I, on the other hand, will feel nothing but satisfaction—and maybe the urge to take more.