There are two inevitabilities in life… the first is death. The second is submitting via financial submission for Goddess Lola Atlas.
2023-09-23 16:11:32 +0000 UTC View PostMost people use their Friday nights to blow off steam... going out, socialising, drinking, dancing. You on the other hand spend your weekends alone. Horny and hate stroking to financial ruin. You sit there in submissive isolation... disgustingly aware of just how pathetically weak you are for me.
Suddenly, you're in the same exact position as you've been in countless times before. No savings to show for the hours of work you've put in. No dignity or sense of self respect. All you have left, is a lap soaked in a big messy puddle of a cum covered mess. The kind that you only ever manage to achieve through findom. The kind that you only ever manage to achieve with me.
Denial turns you on. Being rejected and teased with censored n*des drives your little goon bot brain wild. “Men” like you don’t deserve the pleasure of pumping to my big juicy t*ts or round plump a*s. No. Instead you’re going to stroke to findom, degradation, and pixelated p*rn.
2023-09-22 22:40:00 +0000 UTC View PostThe truth is, I have no interest in the means of your survival. The emotional toll findom takes on you. The damage it inflict onto your life. Thats your responsibility. My prerogative is being toxic as f*ck in every means imaginable as you cry and hate stroke your savings away.
2023-09-22 13:42:27 +0000 UTC View PostFindom is SO good for you. Forget water, oxygen, sunlight, and food. Getting financially f*cked into oblivion is all you need!
2023-09-21 21:22:36 +0000 UTC View PostBegging for mercy only motivates me to fuck you and your finances further. Harder. Faster. With such passionate vigour like you’ve never experienced before.
2023-09-21 20:11:02 +0000 UTC View PostRinsing your wallet all the way down to zero whilst you tell me all the ways that findom has ruined your life is SO hot. Keep going, B*tch Boy.
2023-09-21 20:08:05 +0000 UTC View PostThe bottom of my heavenly feet are enough to completely corrupt you. To make you lose your mind. To make you forget all about your responsibilities, and indulge in your most twisted desires.
You'd do anything to lick them. To suck on each individual toe. Massage them for hours, and have the privilege of being stomped on.
The dirtier the better. The more debris and sweat makes you weaker. Dumber. More susceptible to submitting in the worst possible ways.
I know you sit there. Leaking. Desperate for the opportunity to become completely bankrupt by them. Words aren't necessary when you're confronted by my soles. The only option you have is to cave into that fanatical, findom, desire. To serve and SEND.
I love objectifying men. Nothing beats breaking them down. Draining them dry. Reducing them to an empty carcass of a wallet. Tearing at the very fabric of their humanity. Ignoring. Belittling... reminding them of just how disposable they are, enriches my bank account and soul.
2023-09-17 18:10:25 +0000 UTC View PostHumanATM's don't speak. Can't feel. Can't move. Their one and only function is to obey commands. To fulfil their truest form of distributing funds at the press of a button.
Any crumbs of a being that at one point or another laid behind the mechanics of the machine, dissipate as soon as it goes into findom mode.
I type in the pin code, input the maximum amount, and withdraw one fat stack of cold hard cash over, and over, and over again...
Sometimes a machine malfunctions. Holding back from continuously spurting out after hundreds if not thousands have already been taken... but that doesn't matter.
After all, once one machine breaks down, theres always another ready and waiting to be used just around the corner.
Theres nothing more easily replaceable than janky, useless, appliances. So as soon as one becomes fruitless, I'll simply send it to the scrap yard and cheer on as its crushed into oblivion.
One good boy after the other obliterating their financial stability for me over, and over, and over again. Doing absolutely nothing and getting absolutely everything is SO f*cking hot.
You’re welcome, findomaholics!
I've learnt a lot about you within the short stint of our interactions... for one, you like it hard and rough. Financial submission turns you on, and churning out cash makes you feel alive.
However, soon after the guilt kicks in. The regret and shame takes a toll on your tiny little c*ck and yet, that isn't quite enough for you to deactivate your account.
No. The truth of the matter is you're still sitting there wanting to divulge in this deliciously financially self destructive kink. The guilt doesn't do much to trump the craving you have of bending down at my feet, whilst kissing the bottom of my toes, as you worship my voluptuous figure and form.
You want nothing more than to place a fat stack of money in front of me. You can't help but embrace the true extent of the bottom feeding, findom, brain dead b*tch you are... and thats what makes for our frivolous amounts of never ending fun.
Had the pleasure of informing somebodies wife all about a particularly naughty boys findom addiction. Oops! 🤭
You’d think that he’d have the sense to pay attention as his life fell apart, but instead he continued to send and serve whilst wifey packed her bags. How very amusing.
If you’re in your 30’s, have a job, and any of the letters including E, I, O, A, U in your first or last name… then you owe me £10k. You’re welcome!
2023-09-08 06:38:47 +0000 UTC View PostI love how easy it is to weed out the broke submissive sl*ts amongst the hoards of rich horny men that are ready to become poor for me... 💕
2023-09-07 22:00:09 +0000 UTC View PostThe excitement that stems from financial domination doesn’t just start and end with a tribute…
it’s the hours of work that went into affording such a pleasure. The mental and emotional build up that brings you to your knees and compells you to send.
It’s the infliction of damage that’s done to your bank account, and the tedious hours spent thereafter trying to recouperate the extent of the destruction that’s been done.
The drain itself might last a few minutes, or even a handful of hours… but the experience itself goes far beyond.
It’s exhausting pretending to be anything but the financially submissive little cash c*nt you are.. isn’t it?
You’d much rather live an authentic existance… one that consists of being victimised, battered and verbally ab*sed by hot, powerful, dominant women on a regular basis… just as much in public, as well as private.
No hiding behind a mask of machoism. Kneeling at my feet, desiring nothing more than to sacrifice every bit of material wealth to me; it’s rightful owner.
Meanwhile, I tower over you, laughing at your pathetic little whimpers of humiliation and desperation. Using every one of your triggers to my benefit, as your submissive mind and wallet escalate into territories of findom, unknown.
You’re an ugly, unf*ckable, findom addict. Subhuman in every sense of the word. The only redeemable quality you possess is your paycheque. The only use your shrivelled up sad excuse of a c*ck has is leaking lump sums! You’re nothing and no one unless you’re SENDING! Never forget.
2023-09-06 01:22:26 +0000 UTC View PostNothing compares to profiting off of heart break. The amount of subs that come crawling back to findom and relapse straight after the end of a relationship is hilarious.
I don't care if she cheated on you. Ghosted you. Finally came to her senses after months of denial and pulled a "its not you, its me" out of the blue.
All that matters is that the amount of damage done to your bank account matches the shattered ego that she left you with. If not, worst.
Throbbing. Twitching. Aching. Kneeling. Desperate to stroke. Desperate for a drain. Desperate to worship every inch of my form, and succumb to the power of my speech. The intoxication has already started seeping into your fragile little mind. You're but just one trigger word away from complete and utter findom ecstasy.
You can feel your very being morphing into its paypig form. Any inner conflict that once plagued your conscience has now subsided. None of reasons that typically seemed worthy of resistance suddenly stand up against the desire to submit.
Before you've even had the chance to register, you've sent your first tribute. Before you've even had a chance to second guess your actions, you're hundreds deep into being drained. All you can do at this point is give in and enjoy the slippery slope which is that findomme spiral.
Feels so f*cking good... doesn't it my little wallet?
Prepare that little cashc*ck for Goddess. On the count of three you’re going to scroll through my feed, read all my posts, stroke to my media, and last but not least relapse in the name of findomme.
In three…
two…
One.
Go.
At times I feel sorry for you… the debilitating toll your findom addiction takes on your finances. The ways in which it has completely altered and taken over your life.
It’s genuinely heartbreaking knowing that the only way you manage to derive any remnants of s*xual gratification is by being on the receiving end of inhumane amounts of degradation, coupled with a bottomless pit of money that slips between the cracks of your bank account directly into mine.
It must be remarkably gut wrenching when you reflect on all the hours you’ve put into every paycheque, just to be confronted with the fact that you’ve once more buckled beneath your paypig tendencies.
I bet it brings you to tears… and I can’t help but feel ever so slightly responsible for that. So if it helps at all, take solice in the fact that your suffering makes me smile.
It’s so much hotter knowing that the money you’d use to pay bills and generally survive is the money I use on cute designer shopping trips and frivolous vacations…
Don’t you just love knowing that the excessive sacrifices you make are what funds my every new pair of Louboutins?
No more hot water or heating in the winter. No more new clothing when your old, worn out pair of trousers start to fray at the seams.
Say goodbye to electricity, home WiFi, and mobile contracts. All those years of savings that you so carefully accumulated in the hopes that someday; you’d invest it in property, disappearing at the snap of my pretty little fingers.
Hundreds upon thousands gone in a moments notice. Anyone else would be mad about it, but the pure ecstasy that washes over your stupid humanATM, findom obsessed face f*cking LIVES for this sh*t. Doesn’t it, my little paypig?
No matter how inconvenient you do everything for me, in whatever way it is I say. Even the most seemingly unreasonable demands that I make, I expect done!
I don’t care for questions, no if, ands, or buts. It couldn’t be of less interest to me if the payment method I choose to drain you dry via puts you at risk of your wife finding out about your little findom addiction.
It doesn’t mean sh*t to me if I demand you to strip off all your clothes and drop a sweet £1k during work hours. Whether that be by excusing yourself from a meeting, or sneaking off to the public restroom… if you’re a good enough boy for me, you’ll get the job done!
Whatever means necessary. However hard it may be. I deserve absolutely everything! If. not. MORE.
I know that in the crevices of your submissive mind, you hold out for the chance that maybe, just maybe one day I'll see past your ugly paypig exterior. I'll find charm in your lack of wit, and perhaps even grow an appreciation for everything that you do for me.
In this fantasy world you've conjured, you've even dared to cross into territory of what it would be like to date me. To have me holding onto your arm, as you show me off to the rest of the world. The s*x we'd have. The intimacy we'd share. What it would be like to tell me how much you love me and finally hear me say it back.
None of this is real of course, but I'm honest enough to admit that I'd be willing to play along with it for a little while. I'd even be open to allowing you to think you'd ever have had a shot with me. After all, I'm aware enough to know that the deeper you sink into this daydream, the more desperate you'll be to get drained by me.
But the truth is, it will never happen. I'll never miraculously begin to view you as my equal. As a potential beau in this game of life. You always, and will never be anything but one of my countless little findom victims, who I exploit for nothing more than my financial gain.
You'll always be inferior to me, no matter what successes you have in your life, what challenges you overcome. How "attractive" or "intelligent" you think you may be... you'll always be at the bottom of the findom food chain.
2023-09-01 16:18:52 +0000 UTC View PostI love it when self hating sl*ts beg for the privilege to send. Watching them get off to the numbers in their account diminishing. SO hot.
2023-08-30 12:54:21 +0000 UTC View PostI can smell a weakling on the edge of relapse.... 😈
2023-08-29 18:34:12 +0000 UTC View PostThis isn’t an act. I really don’t care about you. I’m not “role playing” a heartless, greedy, money hungry B*tch. The Gods honest truth is that I am.
I measure your worth as a person by the contents of your wallet. My sociopathic ability to seperate the fact that you are fundamentally a human being at your core and not just another pay sl*t with a deliciously self destruction findom addiction is one of my greatest attributes.
You think I could in good conscience do what I do, and take as much as I take if I in some way shape or form empathise for you and your disposition? Of course not.
I’m here to exploit you and your every weakness for my very own selfish prerogative. Now, ask me if I ever feel bad for all the lives I’ve ruined and cash I’ve taken? Nope. I remain unbothered whilst frivolously spending the money you painstakingly worked so hard for.
Theres something so incredibly sexy about a submissive man who knows his place. Who does anything and everything asked of him. Who works himself to the bone to earn as much as he can for me.
A submissive man who derives immense amounts of s*xual pleasure from the same things as I do. Who recognises that getting me soaked is as simple as having just the right amount of cash to dispense directly into my tight, little, p*ssy wallet.
One that leaks uncontrollably whenever I utter the word "send." A Good Boy that manages to refrain from stroking unless given explicit permission to do so. Who puts MY needs and MY desires first.... Every. Fucking. Time.