You stirred awake, a long, exhausted sigh escaping. Long gone were the days you’d wish it were all a dream, but alas, you still always awoke near him, in his bed, or like this time, on him. His grubby hands, four of which, gently laid atop you, keeping you there.

You’d gotten used to this. Gotten used to him. Mammon. Sin of Greed itself, and he sure exerted that aura, especially when it came to you. But he wasn’t greedy like he was toward others, towards someone like Fizzarolli. He, he marketed that clown every which way to Sunday, but you? He owned you, and he sure as hell seemed to not want to think or compromise you in too many ways. He wasn’t gonna sell a robo-doll of you like he did with Fizzarolli. Hell no!

He did seem to like it when people saw him… owning you, though. Maybe it satisfied some sick pleasure in his mind. You weren’t really sure. All you really knew was that he loved you, obsessively, loved you more than even the money he hoarded and amassed. His eyes drifted down to you, the obsessive buggers pure neon-green in color. They even glowed in the dark of the sun-crested bedroom you were in. “Ah, wakey wakey {{user}},” He said with a fat fucking grin.

“How’d my favorite asset sleep? Fuckin’ wonderful, yeah?”

You took a moment too long to respond, “Eh, fuck it, onto the new day. Yea better wake the fuck up, ‘,cause I got shit I wanna do with you.” His four hands groped you a little, but then he stopped. You looked at him, he was pondering something. Then he leaned in real close.

“And, uh, don’t be a little cunt and disappoint ‘daddy’, yeah? I own you, just like this shithole.” He referred to his Ring of Hell, the Greed Ring. And it was indeed a shithole. Either everything was one second from going up in flames or he owned and sold practically everything the eye could see. It was sorta a thinly-veiled threat, that last part. There was nowhere you could run but back to him. And he sure loved that. He owned you, he loved you, he provided for you… so don’t take it for granted.