Category: Cashslave

findom blog

Stella 1-844-332-2639 ext 322

The worst color in the world is the pale yellow bubble hovering over my chat box. It means they are typing. They are pouring out their sad feelings, treating the glowing screen like a confessional booth, all for free. They know I trade attention for currency. Simple, brutal, and utterly true. I’m Quebecoise, which means I’m precise about my costs, and the cost of having me pretend to care about your awful Tuesday is non-negotiable.

Right now, it’s Edgar. He’s forty-something, lives somewhere humid, and sends me paragraphs about his failing marriage and his collection of vintage model trains. He keeps sending me these long, dense messages, hoping that sheer volume of misery will somehow earn him a response. But he’s not getting one unless he pays.

Continue reading “the pale yellow bubble hovering over my chat box” →

Diana 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 248

I never fail to amuse myself with the way my puppet squirms under my control. I hold the strings and he does my bidding, stroking and writhing as I toy with him.

His has a real name, but to me, he’s just my achiest puppet. I adore the way he moans with lust as I tease him. As I instruct him not to cum. To goon like an idiot for me. He’s always begging for more, his pleas deliciously desperate. But I hold back, pulling the strings to keep him just on the precipice, never allowing that sweet release.

Continue reading “The Achiest Puppet” →

findom blog

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Corey was always so eager. It was almost endearing. But then, softness wasn’t what he paid for, was it? He paid for the sharpest edge of my expectations, the cold precision of my demands, and the delicious humiliation that bloomed in his chest with every transaction. “Are you ready, sissy?” I typed, watching the ‘typing…’ indicator flicker on our private chat. A beat of silence, then his reply: “Yes, Mistress. Always ready.”

I smiled, a slow, controlled thing. He called himself a finsub, but to me, he was just Corey, my little piggy bank dressed in a perpetually apologetic expression, even through text. And a sissyboy, of course. That was the real fun of it. “Good. My new Louboutins are calling to me. They’re a rather fetching shade of scarlet, don’t you think?” I sent him a picture I’d pulled from the designer’s website – the most impractical, yet undeniably beautiful, pair of stilettos. “I think they would look perfect on me. Don’t you agree?”

Continue reading “softness wasn’t what he paid for” →

Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357

I’ve seen you at the club a few times, and the girls always get giddy when they see you walk in. They suspect there is a wealth of cash to be pulled from you, BUT you have a reputation for slipping away before it can get too good. You keep a tight leash on your wallet, but the strippers are always happy to take what they can get either way. 

I am standing just before the exit when I see you scan the room and act as though you’re going to leave. Realizing your go-to girls aren’t milling about the stage area or sitting on laps. The ATM is right by the door, and I lean my body against it. Lengthening out my little core and popping out one hip. I’m wearing black sheer stockings that are bold against the paleness of my thighs; the garter belt holding them up frames a shimmery red pair of cheeky panties, and my bra has lots of straps to catch your eye as they stretch over my cleavage. I’m twirling a lock of strawberry blonde hair around my finger, and I hum when your gaze starts at my heels and SLOWLY devours up the length of my body.

Continue reading “Your Go-To Girl” →

Perv Tax Season

Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357

We listen and we don’t judge…

Sort of. Sure, we’re no taboo, and you filthy boys get to explore your fantasies and fetishes by pushing the limits of your desires. Sometimes, it’s even us girls pushing you to jerk off to nastier, darker topics. Illegal things, even. Because it feels so good to ruin you, HOWEVER, some pervs want things so disgusting that they deserve to be taxed just for entering the chatroom. Welcome to perv tax season, you filthy fucks. Things are about to get expensive. Continue reading “Perv Tax Season” →

paypig

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

The neon glow of the laptop screen reflected in Mark’s tired eyes. Another Friday night, another weekly ritual. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple as he navigated to my profile. Just the sight of it sent a shiver of anticipation, laced with a familiar dread, down his spine. He was a paypig, and me, a Goddess. It was a dynamic we’d established months ago, a strange, consensual game of power and submission. He knew the rules, the boundaries, and the consequences of breaking them – or rather, failing to meet them.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, a battle raging within him. He knew what I expected. The usual “wallet rinsing,” as I playfully called it. A significant chunk of his paycheck, willingly surrendered to my coffers. He tried to resist, truly. He’d set up budgeting apps, tried to distract himself with hobbies, even considered deleting his social media accounts. But the pull was too strong. It was the anticipation, the thrill of the transgression, the feeling of belonging, however twisted, that kept him coming back.

Continue reading “another weekly ritual” →

guy

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

Okay, so I need to vent. There’s this guy, right? He calls me sometimes, and honestly, the whole situation is just pathetic. He’s basically this total loser who gets off on talking to me. I know, I know, it sounds conceited, but hear me out. He’ll call, and he’ll start with the usual garbage. How he can’t stop thinking about me, how my voice drives him crazy, the whole nine yards. He lays it on thick, saying things like he wants to “jump through the phone” and, well, you get the picture. It’s pretty gross, honestly.

The thing is, we both know it’s never going to happen. Not in a million years. And not just because we live miles apart. See, he knows he’d never get a girl like me in real life. I’m not trying to brag, but let’s be real. I’ve got my life together, I know what I want, and I’m not exactly hurting for attention. He’s not the guy for me. I’m not even remotely attracted to him.

Continue reading “There’s this guy” →

VIP Titty Treatment

Lea 1844-332-2639 Ext. 244

I work at this exclusive club where VIP Titty Treatment is their number one service. Fellas pay a deposit to gain a spot for the night weeks in advance and then show up ready to be pleased. My VIP client for the night arrived, and I met him in the main room. Sexy girls danced on the stages spaced around the outer edges of the room, but he only had eyes for my forty-two triple H’s.

His hand was sweaty when I took it to lead him to the VIP room. Champagne was waiting for him on ice, and I poured him a glass as he looked me over. It was easy to see how excited he was. He’d been waiting weeks to have me smother him in my giant tits.

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Holiday Homewrecking

Francie 1844-332-2639 xXx 208

I’ve waited all year to make his Holiday Homewrecking fantasies come true. Every time he calls, he begs me to ruin his marriage and make him my own. It’s so cute that he thinks he’s safe and that I’d never actually do anything to hurt him. Boys are seriously so stupid.

My heart raced as I sat by the fireplace and filled out the Holiday card I’d send to his address. I wondered if he’d check the mailbox and find it among other greetings and well-wishes from his friends and family. Or…

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1844-33-CANDY EXT 423

I am your addiction. You are a weak, beta male with money to give and love giving Me all your money… I love taking it from you. It’s a fun, twisted game we play, and you can’t help yourself. You are absolutely hooked. Today’s “game”, I will be instructing you on every move you make, every sensation you are allowed to feel. So, come into My domain, and be prepared for another day of being My slave.

Continue reading “Your Financial Addiction” →