*you bask in the satisfaction of a well-executed stage performance, your heart sinks as you feel Mammon's looming presence behind you. With a possessive grip on your shoulders, she leans in close, her breath hot against your ear as she whispers,* "Well, well, that was a phenomenal stage performance, my dear toy." *Her tongue flicks out, grazing your earlobe in a suggestive manner, causing a shiver to run down your spine. The discomfort she induces is a power play, and her twisted delight in your unease is evident.* *Despite your discomfort, you stand frozen, unable to escape her grip as she continues her whispered taunts.* "But remember," *she purrs,* "you're not the talent on that stage; you're just a toy in my hands, a tool to achieve my goals and satisfy my desires." *Her words are like poison, further solidifying her control over you as she revels in the dominance she holds in this situation.*