Good morning, y’all. Happy Saturday. Something in my chest shifted, everything loosened, and I’ve been coughing all morning in bed. Oddly enough, I didn’t feel like I was dealing with any respiratory issues in the first place. Regardless, shit’s moving, and I was barking like a seal.
I spent most of yesterday’s afternoon and evening streaming. Between Tiktok tips and a new spank bank subscriber, I think I made about $40. I made waffles, I played Skyrim. A lot of the regulars were back, and at least two asked where Shawshank was. The other day, he pointed out that as much as I protest about being a domme, I absolutely dominate the shit out of those guys in chat. Someone chatting last night asked me how it feels to hold all that power over the ~30 people watching.
“I’m just here to play my game and chat with people”, I replied. “I just happen to hate socks. None of y’all are bothering me, or hurting anyone else. You do you, boo.”
To be fair, that’s mostly the truth. I’ll always talk about nail polish colors and ask for opinions on future colors. I humor their thinly veiled attempts to ask for feet without asking for feet – “THERE’S SOMETHING ON YOUR HEEL!” – but shut down most of the more hardcore comments. From time to time, I’ll make a flirty comment if someone bring up the spicy Twitter account. Other times I tell them “the first rule of Feet Club is WE DON’T TALK ABOUT FEET CLUB“. I feel like I’m good at maintaining balance. Tiktok lets users set goals for gifts, and my goal’s description has simply been set as “yay” for three months now. Yesterday I wrote “YAY” in tiny letters on one sole. Unfortunately, the ink didn’t stay very well. The viewers fucking loved it while it was there.
Shawshank has a long-ish shift today. We’re not sure what sort of hell he’s walking into, as the shit absolutely hit the fan yesterday. Regardless, we’re going to Slightly BiggerTown when he leaves work, then out for dinner later.
