Picked up a vintage Chanel dress at the boutique today. The fabric is heavy, the cut is severe, and it makes me feel… untouchable. I love the way expensive things feel against my skin. It’s a specific kind of power, different from the classroom. It’s the power of being desired just for existing in a room. I want someone to slowly peel this dress off me, inch by inch, while they tell me I’m worth every single penny. To have my tits and cunt worshipped like the treasures they are. To be treated like the precious, spoiled princess I am. Who wants to unwrap me?