Even when I take a hiatus countless men are still greedily poring over every word I’ve written, eagerly fantasizing about finding themselves at my hands. My absence seems to only make the cravings worse–incredibly intense but impossible to satisfy. Now that I’m hungry to drain again, several new cash slaves have experienced sweet release, including the one I drained earlier today.
“Hello, Sir,” the new fag greeted. “I have read your blog for months. I love it so much. Will you help me become a good slave?”
I smirked at the question, having noted “cashmaster” in his username when I approved the add request. Apparently he’d tried his hand at the other side.
“Who was I kidding with gods like you around!?” he acknowledged.
The faggot claimed to want an alpha who could take control, though he hesitated when I asked what that meant.
“I get so excited but worried at the same time. I’ve served masters before, but not a regular/permanent level,” the cash slave explained.
“Why not?” I probed.
“I’ve always been scared I’ll go too far. Get carried away.”
After discussing one of his specific fantasies (I’ll save that for another post if we actually wind up exploring it), I asked the cash fag if he was ready to tribute.
“I think so, Sir. My heart is beating so fast.”
“Destiny calling,” I assured him.
With that, the rush building, this faggot wound up being the first to use the Circle account I created some months ago, sending $20.
“Thank you, Sir. Please own me. It’s small, but it could be the start of something big.”
A prescient statement, as you’ll see. I’d already defeated his will. With that single small tribute the cash slave already knew he’d wind up gushing vastly more.
I ordered the cash fag to send more, his dick rock hard. “What are you?” I asked.
“A faggot, Sir.”
“There we go. Faggot for a real man, right?”
“Yes, Sir,” he agreed.
The new cash slave pressed the button but Circle stood in the way. They wanted to review his personal information before he could send more. Terrible fucking timing.
The faggot was apologizing but I reminded him there would be plenty of future opportunities once the issue with his account had been resolved.
He confided that he would have second thoughts when I was able to do significant damage: “When I’m horny I’ll ask so much of you. Second I blow, I’ll regret it all.”
“Typical. When you’re horny you reveal what you really want.”
“Exactly,” the cash fag agreed. “That’s when I need to be taken advantage of and used.”
It’s so easy to run away when you get off, but the urge just builds and builds until you’re back begging to be used again. When that’s all you can think about, the only way you can possibly get release. Try to fight your nature and you’re guaranteed to lose.
“Woke up thinking I’d be over you,” the cash fag wrote the next day. “But I’m not. Just annoyed Circle is still not working. Gotta wait another day or so. But the important thing is I woke up with you in my mind.”
That tiny taste of my power had already taken over his thoughts. The second Circle was in working order he’d be back begging.
“All I’m thinking of is you,” he wrote on Monday. “And can’t wait to be your next victim. Just saying that makes my cock get hard, Sir.”
Today the faggot finally had good news: “My Circle works! Rape me,” he begged immediately.
With the payment form loaded on his screen, typing my email address in, his heart was racing for the second time, that satisfaction that comes from submission on the verge of being realized.
“Sent, Sir. Just something small but it’s early.”
$10, the small amount presumably the fag’s last desperate attempt at self-control. Next he sent $20.
“Your dick must be rock hard,” I said with another smirk.
“Yes, it is rock hard. I need to be raped.”
“Let’s keep going then!” I urged. “Step it up some more. $30.”
“Nah. Sent $40 instead.”
Fuck yeah, that’s the right idea! So much for self-control. Within minutes I had $50 more in my account.
“Dunno how much more I should give,” the cash fag worried.
“Is that a lot for you?”
“Seeing as I haven’t had a rape in several months, yes. I’ve given more than that before when I used to be a cash fag.”
“That just means you have cash to spend! ‘Used to be,’” I mocked.
The cash slave repeated that it was his first time in six months. He explained that he’d only lost miniscule amounts here and there since.
“Tell me what you want,” the faggot begged.
“Let’s go for an even amount right now,” I suggested, thinking that if it had actually been six months he’d spray his load at any moment. “$80.”
“Sent,” he wrote almost immediately.
“Fuck yeah. Exactly where I want you, doing anything I want. I’m amazed you haven’t already cum all over the place.”
“Me too,” the cash slave admitted. “I’ve been edging.”
“Not that it matters. Even when you do lose it you’ll be back begging in no time. Pleading to get cash raped. Fags like you can’t help that.”
“I think I should stop now,” the cash fag wrote.
“You think that’s enough for today?” I pressed.
“No,” he conceded.
“No such thing as enough when I deserve everything.”
The faggot wanted one last hit to send him over the edge. I suggested that $50 or $100 would be acceptable, wanting a nice number to tweet about later.
“You tell me whatever you want,” the faggot begged again.
Another huge grin on my face. “Let’s make this memorable. Definitely the $100. Do it, faggot.”
When I checked after he said sent, I noticed $150 more in my account–he’d actually sent both the amounts. This cash fag really did want to make the experience memorable!
“Next time we do this I think you’re going to be seeing the huge smile on my face,” I predicted.
“If there’s a next time.”
“If?”
He repeated that he’d been “good” for six months, just losing $10 or $20 a couple times a month to “take the edge off.”
“But the craving was still there, wasn’t it?”
Obviously. I’d just taken $350 in 25 minutes, finally satisfying the cash fag’s pent up need to drain.
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At that point he dismissed himself, claiming that he was going to avoid social media lest it ignite the urge again. So much for that…haha. The faggot was messaging me again minutes after I posted the shot of his transactions, already sporting a semi.
“You’re in my head,” he acknowledged. “I wanna feel the rape get harder. So hard I feel compelled to give myself to you. Own me.”
“This is what happens when you go six months without getting what you need. The desires are overwhelming.”
“Yeah,” the cash fag agreed. “I need total control and ownership.”
“You can join my little collection.”
“Oh shit. God I love you. Wanna feel your pain so you gain.”
“You’ll be feeling it,” I promised.
“Today wasn’t enough. I felt zero guilt afterwards.”
For the moment, at least. “That means you need to get fucked harder,” I prescribed.
The fag was looking at my Tumblr pics again, his dick growing and growing as we chatted.
“Making me horny,” I warned. “Thinking about raping you harder. Seeing my balance climb higher and higher.”
“All yours, Sir. You deserve to own me. To take what’s yours.”
I sent him a request for $50 that the faggot quickly paid, bringing him to $400 for the day. When I sent another for $100, we finally hit the limit.
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“Too much for one night,” the fag protested.
“My cock never understands that.”
It’s pretty greedy…in every possible way. I’m not making any apologies for that. Alas, feeling that the cash faggot really had reached his limit, I pulled my hand away and announced that I was going to go get lunch with some of his money.
When I got back to my place and signed in, a message was waiting: “Now the guilt has really hit.”
We’ll see how long that lasts. Like I said, in the end a faggot’s nature always wins out. Always.