He stumbled into my IM like a barfly tripping over his own shoes. “I’m drunk,” he typed. That was his grand entrance. No “Hello Goddess,” no respect, just those two words. I smirked at the screen, rolled my eyes, and replied:
“Then prove it. Tribute me 25k.” And like magic.. ding. Balance up. 25,000 Lindens richer.

The Rules of My Bar

But drunk or not, I don’t accept empty words. So I gave him rules, sharp and simple:

“From now on, you answer only ‘Yes, Goddess’ or ‘No, Goddess.’ Every slip costs you. Every misspelling costs you. Every lazy answer costs you. Clear?”

He typed, “yes goddess”, missing a capital, missing respect. I didn’t even need to correct him; his balance did. 5k.

Then he slipped again: “no”. Wrong answer. 5k.

When he dared to reply with just “kk”, I laughed so loud I nearly scared my cat. Another 5k.

The rules weren’t hard. But like every drunk, he couldn’t follow even the simplest path through my minefield. And every mistake tasted like profit. The more he paid, the deeper I pulled him in.

“Pour another drink,” I ordered.
“Yes Goddess,” he typed, followed by another sloppy typo. 5k.
“Slap yourself and tell me you’re pathetic.”
“I’m pathetic godess.” Tribute.

“Now crawl for me and type it out. Beg. Show me you can’t stand without me.”
And he did, a long messy stream of words tripping over themselves like his hands could barely keep up. Tribute after tribute, mistake after mistake.

The Tantrum

After 50k, he got bold. “I’ve given you so much already… please Goddess, can I see you?” “Why? This works perfectly. You pay. I play. And you stumble deeper into my trap.”

He whined. He sulked. Then he snapped:
“I hate you.”
I didn’t blink. Just one word:
“Manners.”
The correction came instantly, obedient and bitter all at once:
“I hate you, Goddess.”

Much better. Love and hate are the same rope around his neck—he just hasn’t realized I’m the one pulling it tight.
So I demanded 25k more for access to my private sim. And of course, he caved.

The Voice Fantasy

But drunk wallets always want more. Seeing me wasn’t enough, he wanted my voice. “Goddess, I want to hear you.” I smiled at my screen. “Fine. Give me your phone number.” And drunk as he was, he did. Just like that. No hesitation. Personal information surrendered like candy.

So I call him up and I let my words drip through phone commands like:
“Drink more. Finish your glass. Good slut. Now prove your devotion. Don’t waste a drop, no matter where it comes from.”

Eventually I told him to drink his own piss, and he didn’t hesitate. And even when I told him to cum in a cup and show me the emptiness of his pride, he obeyed. Each act cost him. And another 50k down the drain.

The Finale

By then, he was broken. Wallet empty, pride destroyed, drunk out of his mind. I gave him the only gift left: the boot.

“Come back when you’re drunk again… and when your wallet’s full.”

Click. Gone.

Aftertaste

The best part? Tomorrow I’ll tell Olivia the whole story, and we’ll laugh about it together. Because losers like him never realize they’re not players in the game. They’re the prize. The punchline. And Goddess Tatjana always collects.

✨ 125k Lindens, one drunk fool, and a night of pure amusement. That’s what I call a good evening.