Category: financial domination

Rachel 1*844*332*2639 Ext 457

Loser #114 called again. He was just as pathetic as all of the previous times. I can’t believe how he is so easily controlled and manipulated by a nineteen year old bratty teen tease. All I have to do is tell him what a fucking loser he is and he starts oinking and throwing money at me. I just giggle and say “$cha$ching” over and over again. And he just keeps oinking and throwing money. He really is a total fucking loser. I decided to see what all I could get him to pay me for. So I made him suck on a dildo and tell me what a fucking loser he is while he was gagging on it. That turned him on so much that he begged me to drain his wallet. So I did just that while I took the dildo and shoved it up his ass and fucked him with it. He oinked the whole time. So I took it out of his ass and made him lick it clean. That made the pathetic little loser’s dick hard. It was time to take it to the next level.

Continue reading “Loser #114” →

findomme

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

My journey into findom began innocently enough. I was posting cryptic Instagram captions about “liquid assets” and “monetizing my worth,” when a guy slid into my DMs asking if I’d ever considered “roleplaying a trust fund beneficiary.” Little did he know, I was all about roleplaying!

The first time I hosted a findom session for a man I’ll call Kevin (not his real name, though honestly, I’m sure someone named Kevin will read this and think it is him), I wore a tie I’d bought for $12 at a thrift store and demanded he pay “pay the lady” up front, as is customary in this profession.

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Rachel 1*844*332*2639 Ext 457

He came into work. I saw him point to me. He wanted to sit in my section. I had never seen him before. But he was loud, blunt and to the point. He ordered a big mug of beer. Then he proceeded to tell me that he’s a paypig. The more he drank, the louder he got. They finally asked him to leave but he was oinking for me all the way out the door. I couldn’t stop thinking about him all night long. Finally when my shift was over, I headed out to my car. As I approached it, I heard him oinking at me. Then he came over to me on all fours. He literally started throwing money at me. And kept telling me how pathetic he is and what a loser he is. All I could do was giggle. He kept asking me how old I was. Every time I said nineteen, his boner started dripping and he started throwing more money at me. I had never seen anything like it. Then he started saying that he wants to suck and fuck cock. Every time a man would walk by, he would start panting and throwing money.

Continue reading “My Little Paypig” →

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.

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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.

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Puppet's Trip To The Nail Salon

Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357

The nail salon is one of my most favorite places in the world! However, when you’re a spoiled Princess like me, it can become a costly trip every two weeks. Not for me, (HaHa) Daddy typically covers the expense, but this week it was Puppet’s turn to foot the bill.

I sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through nail inspo on my phone as he swung through the drive-through to get my Iced coffee (and one for my tech, who works so hard and deserves a treat too!) before pulling into the Salon’s parking lot. Of course, he hurried from the driver’s seat to open my door and help me out. “Ready for this?” I smiled at him, and he nodded eagerly. I stepped in close to his body and palmed his cock. Giving it a slow, gentle caress. “You’re so hard, already?” He groaned and rocked his cock into my hand. “It’s going to be a long appointment, don’t disappoint me.”

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Diana 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 248

It’s amazing what kind of ridiculous things you’ll do for a taste of my luscious behind and those perfectly perky breasts. You know exactly how I like you don’t you? Broke and desperate, with your wallet wide open and your mind completely stolen by the thought of ravishing my body.

I’ve been watching you goon, Paypiggy, and I must say, the way you squirm and sway, completely under my spell, is absolutely delicious. You surrender to me so willingly, your dignity abandoned in pursuit of satisfying my every whim. It’s almost adorable, really.

I’ve taken great pleasure in lavishing you with my attention, teasingly grazing your fingertips against the soft swells of my breasts. And then I immediately lead you on a merry chase of financial submissions. You tremble and blush, unable to resist as I deftly manipulate your money like a maestro conducting an orchestra of cash.

Continue reading “Silly Paypiggy” →

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” →

gooner

Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407

Across the digital ether, I was spending my day with a loser. We all know the type. He wasn’t anything special or out of the ordinary, just your average gooner who’d found my corner of the internet. He paid me for my time, of course. What he bought, primarily, was attention. Curated, commodified attention. Sometimes a few pics—nothing too wild, just enough to keep the illusion alive. But what he really wanted, what he truly craved above all else, were those trigger words.

You know the ones I mean. Those exact phrases, spoken or typed, that would unravel some tightly wound spring inside him. Words that would trigger him to stroke and edge himself stupid, lost in his own private loop of self-abasement and gratification. I, the puppeteer, tugging on invisible strings with carefully chosen syllables. He, the puppet, dancing to a rhythm only he could hear.

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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” →