Category: Financial Dominatrix

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?”

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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.

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hotel

Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404

I saunter into your Vegas hotel room, my hips swaying hypnotically as I approach you, the high roller of the night. I’m here with my friend, and together, we have a plan to entice you into giving us your winnings. But first, we want to give you a show you’ll never forget. I turn to my friend, giving her a wink as I begin to slip out of my dress. It pools at my feet, leaving me standing there in nothing but a pair of lacy panties and a seductive smile. My friend follows suit, and soon we’re both standing before you in nothing but our undergarments.

I can see the surprise and desire in your eyes as you take us in. I step closer, my hand reaching out to trace a finger along your chest. “Like what you see?” I ask, my voice low and sultry. You nod, unable to speak as you take in the sight of us. My friend and I exchange a wicked grin, knowing that we have you right where we want you. I move closer, my lips brushing against your ear as I whisper, “Why don’t you sit back and enjoy the show?”

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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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Kaykay's Wallet Fitness

Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357

All good daddies have worked hard to build their portfolios and bank accounts, stacking paper and fattening up their wallets as their success grows. That IS what makes them a Sugar Daddy, after all. No one wants a fake-ass Splenda Daddy who can’t provide because his money isn’t right. No, my wallet fitness program is for older men with bottomless credit limits and deep, deep pockets.

It’s at this pinnacle in a man’s career when Kaykay’s wallet fitness is a must! Success can quickly go to a man’s head, and if his fat wallet isn’t trimmed now and then by his greedy sugar baby, he might forget how important it is for him to keep working and bringing home that bacon!

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