Date: Sun, 23 Feb 2020 20:24:17 +0000
From: Betabater B <betabater111@gmail.com>
Subject: Cash Slave for a Teenage Master

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I'm a pay pig for a teenage master.


Hi. My name is Elliot. Actually, it's not really, but it's as good a fake
name as any. Fake, because this is a true story. Well, I've had to
embroider it here and there for the sake of the story, but then we do that
in our memories anyway so it's probably fine. It's about how I, a single
gay guy in his late thirties, became the cash slave of a nineteen year old
straight guy, a man nearly twenty years younger than me. I'm not sure how
far I'll go with this confession, but here's the story of the first
encounter I had with him online, which was also my first experience with
financial domination. If I find that people are interested in reading more
about this experience then I'll add more later on.

Within the year I've known my Master my life has changed a lot. Someone
observing from the outside, who knew what I was and what I am now, what I
have done and would do for him, could understandably say this change has
been for the worse, but for me, as I kneel here writing, naked but for the
metal cage encasing my dick, it has been the best year of my life.

Just a year ago I had considered myself to be a man. A gay, somewhat
submissive man, but a man nonetheless. Today, as I write this, and thanks
to my Master's training and wisdom I have accepted that I am not a man and
that I never was. I am a pig, a pay pig, his pay pig.

I met my Master online, as many people do these days. It's hard to fathom
how these kinds of connections had been made in the past, before the
internet, especially between two men. I'd been browsing a fetish profile
site, it was pretty mixed with gay, straight and bi men and women all
sharing their interests in the panoply of kinks we humans devise. It's an
interesting place to get lost in, which I probably was when I stumbled on
Master's profile. I admit, shallow as it sounds, it was the thumbnail pic
that caught my attention first. I'd always had a weakness for cute, blond,
blue eyed hs/college aged guys, the kind that had been dealt a great
genetic hand and couldn't help but look like they knew it too, and who were
beginning to understand just how much this can get them in life, just what
their entitlement is. That's how Master looked.

The photo appeared to have been taken at a park or something similar, the
day seemed golden and I wondered idly if that was the sun's or his
reflected glow. Master was looking directly into the camera, a wry smile on
his full, almost pouting lips. His eyes were shaded pools of blue and as I
clicked the photo to enlarge I took an involuntary breath as the view
widened to show not just his head and shoulders, but his chest and stomach,
moving in defined and elegant lines to the waistband of his shorts. His
chest was mostly smooth, with just a thin gathering of pale hairs along his
sternum, which then narrowed and ran in a line, down across his defined
belly and towards where my imagination would follow. I felt myself get hard
as that pleasant tenseness we all know began forming in my groin. I saw
that Master had about a half a dozen more photos in his profile album, so
naturally I opened those as well. These others showed a different side to
the smiling jock in the park.

Master didn't wear any fetish gear in these pictures, no leather cap, no
whip or paddle in hand, but as I clicked each picture I could feel the
submissive side of me stir, wriggling inside of me as I unconsciously
ground my ass into the chair. It's a behavior I'd noticed in myself before,
that when my submissive switch is turned on my hips reflexively move to
mimic the actions of getting fucked. That's what I was doing as I drank in
each picture. In one, Master was sat on a lawn chair in what looked like a
back porch, a beer in one hand as the other held up it's middle finger
towards the camera, and Masters face, a pure expression of contempt and
superiority, his now steel cold eyes looking directly into mine. The view
was from below, as if taken from the floor, and looked up past Master's
white socked feet, their soles brown grey with wear, dotted with fragments
of grit or twig or crumb. I couldn't help but imagine being the one on the
floor at this young god's feet, feeling the heat radiating and the smell
diffusing from those socks, dreaming of pressing my face into them and
breathing them in, breathing him in as he sat above me, commanding me. I
could almost taste his teen funk on my tongue. I hadn't felt this strongly
about a picture in a long time, especially since there was nothing
pornographic about it, but something combined in it to push every button I
had.

Back on his profile I read his bio. The headline said he was straight, so I
figured I was going to have to make do with just perving on his profile. I
didn't mind that, especially as I'll admit that I've always had a special
thing for straight, dominant guys. I guess it's about wanting what you
can't have, but I would always find it hot to imagine these men using the
women they encounter, wishing maybe that in was in their place, but more so
wishing that I was simply told to kneel and watch. That thought would
always turn me on the most.

I read further and found that Master was indeed looking for female
submissives to serve him sexually and domestically. He described his belief
in his inherent right to be served and pleased, to be waited on and
worshipped. My dick oozed as the submissive creature inside me purred at
the thought of serving this Adonis, even as a lackey, a cleaner, a cook, a
chauffeur.

My eye was caught by a word in the last paragraph, "faggots". My dick
leaked a little more. I know it's not woke to say it, but hearing a
straight guy casually throw the word "faggot" out always gets me hot every
time. I quickly read further.

"To all you faggots creeping on my profile, I know you all are, there's no
way you're ever getting near my dick so fuck off asking. If you ain't a
popper sniffing pay pig then I'm not interested in hearing from you. If you
are, then grab them poppers and that piggy wallet and dm me."

Now, I'd heard of financial domination, but I'd only seen a few profiles of
girls who did it, and to be honest I hadn't really understood it, but as I
read that paragraph the damn animal in my groin suddenly leapt up,
straining and begging. Maybe it was because I was already pretty fucking
worked up by this guy but all at once the thought of submitting to this
young man in that way felt dangerously exciting. I remembered a sealed
bottle of poppers I had at the back of my bedside drawer and hurried to get
it, caught in the moment and the mood but still not certain I'd message. I
grabbed my wallet from the table as I sat back down and felt a kind of
shameful pleasure at following just this one order. This feeling only
served to make me feel more reckless, more horny, as the prospect of giving
money to this arrogant but beautiful teenager who no doubt would see me as
desperate old faggot pushed a deeper button I hadn't known, or admitted I
had.

Decided, I opened a message dialogue box and typed, "pay pig here sir,
poppers and wallet ready" and hit send. I was giddy, impatient, nervous,
turned on. I hadn't really counted on a response, at least not so quickly,
but after perhaps five minutes, in which I had been looking back through
Master's photos, stroking my aching dick through my boxers, I heard the
notification of a message. I quickly opened the mailbox. It was him.

"Ok pig get on Skype...", and his user ID. I opened the application on my
desktop and entered his name, selecting and typing a message.

"Hello sir. We we just messaged on the other site." I waited, his account
idle for a few minutes before coming online and beginning to type. His
reply came.

"Good piggy. So, you been drooling on my profile and wanted to get a taste
of the real thing?" He sent. Did he know how literally correct he was? I
didn't presume to ask and assumed that he did.

"Yes sir. Your photos are amazing." I sent. I had a window open with the
photo of his feet and his raised middle finger, and glanced towards it
again, thrilling at the thought of communicating with the young alpha male
it showed.

"Haha, yeah I know faggot. And you call me Master, got it piggy?" I
squirmed hard on my seat again at his words, and even said it out loud as I
typed back, "yes Master".

"You learn fast, faggot. Now you got those poppers ready? Time to test you
once more before I turn on my cam and I can get to work on that cash pussy
of yours." I don't know why, or where it came from, but I let out a quiet
moan at the phrase "cash pussy", and I heard Master chuckle, like he was
the only one in on a joke.

"Got them here Master", I typed back, excited even more now by the prospect
of seeing him. I picked up the bottle of poppers and pushed to open the
lid. The aroma reached my nose a second or two later, that unforgettable
smell that reminded me of sex, of losing control and getting dicked deep
and hard and raw. That's why I always kept a bottle, I loved the rush of
hypersensitivity and abandon it brought to sex.

"Ok pig. Two rules. You sniff until I say, and you keep your hands off your
useless cock unless I say. Got it? Good. I'm gonna count down from ten, and
for every number I want you to take a deep huff on those poppers. Ten,
deep, long hits to get that pig brain of yours nice and fucked up. Think
you can handle that without passing out, faggot?"

"Yes Master. I ready Master." I typed, and got the bottle ready at my left
nostril, holding the right one closed with the thumb of my other hand.

"Ok pig. Let's fry that brain. Ten."

Master then proceeded to count in that manner from ten to zero. Each number
came about five seconds after the last, but sometimes longer, and I held
each deep sniff for each interim. The effect of course was immediate, and
my blood began pumping faster as my body began to tingle and my head became
woozy. Poppers feed the submissive in me, as I guess they do for a lot of
people, and I felt myself sink deeper into that head space where
inhibitions matter less than the immediate sensation of an act of service.
As Master completed the countdown he asked, "Still there, pig? Pretty
fucked I bet."

I focused long enough to reply, "yes Mater."

"Haha, dumb faggot." He sent back. "Close enough this time. Time to see
you." And with that the familiar jingle of an incoming call bleep-blooped.
I hit the green button and his video feed appeared, as did mine. If
anything Master looked even better on cam than in the stills I'd seen of
him so far, some quintessential quality of masculine dominance that can't
be captured in a moment. He seemed to take me in for a moment too before he
spoke.

"So, how ya feeling, faggot? Pretty high I bet, huh?" Masters voice was
deeper than I expected and belied his cherubic features. It seemed to find
it's resonant point at my taint and I squirmed a little as I answered.

"Yes Master," I said, breathing deeper than usual. I was struck by how
feminine my voice sounded after his. And he was right, my head was still
spinning from the popper hits and I had no doubt I looked as fucked as I
felt. My cock was leaking pretty much continuously into my boxers now,
wetting them so that the fabric felt slimy against the sensitive head.

"Good pig. So, tell me why you messaged me. I mean, I know why, but I want
to hear you say it, pig." Master was smiling as he said this and he looked
so seductively hot that I answered, almost in a trance, "I want to be your
pay pig, Master."

Fuck, saying that out loud brought that deep, shameful pleasure again, but
this time it hit harder and my straining dick jumped up and down. I
breathed deeper, feeling close to the edge already. Master's smile widened.
"Yeah?" He said, clearly enjoying himself. "You want to be a good little
faggot ATM for a hot, young, straight alpha, huh?" As he said this he
lifted his arm into a flex, pulling back the sleeve of his t-shirt to
reveal his sculpted bicep, pale and veined like marble, and no doubt as
hard. Perhaps it was the poppers still, but I felt genuinely breathless at
the sight. He looked at his screen, his gaze just below the camera as he
watched the effect this casual display of his masculinity was having on me.

"Yes Master," I managed to answer after a second or two. "I want to be your
faggot ATM." An hour ago I'd never have imagined I'd be saying those words,
but here I was saying them willingly, and for the time being at least I
meant it. I was committed to trying this fetish, of following where the
animal led me.

"Yeah, you old faggots are all the same. Fucking desperate to serve a man
like me. Well, piggy. Don't you think you should beg me, then? I mean, if
I'm gonna do you the favor of taking your cash you gotta show me that you
really need it. On your knees. Beg me." His tone was direct and commanding,
so much more than you'd expect from a man of his young age. I quickly stood
and pushed back the chair, making room, before kneeling down in front of
the computer.

"Hey, dipshit, point your camera down." Master barked, and I looked to see
that only the top half of my head was visible on my feed, so I quickly and
somewhat clumsily readjusted the angle so that I was visible from head to
knees.

"Sorry, Master." I muttered as I finally took my place on my knees.

"That's better. That's a better place for you, don't you think?" He said.

"Yes Master. I agree."

"So I know you got the poppers. It's time to show me your wallet. Fetch it,
boy. Chop chop!" I quickly reached and took my wallet from the desk,
holding it up in front of me. My cock was now harder than it had ever felt,
except perhaps for when I was a teenager, first discovering masturbation. I
felt humiliated and exposed, kneeling there before this much younger man,
offering him my wallet, that symbol of masculine success, but it was a warm
humiliation, like cumming in your pants. Hell, the way I was leaking it was
almost literally like that. This boy had me in his hand at that moment, and
he knew it.

"Now start begging, cunt. Make it good. You're not just here to lose your
money, your here to entertain me, too." Master smiled as he said this and I
felt myself melting further. Fuck, this kid was gonna turn me into a puddle
at this rate, but then maybe he knows that too. Needless to say I complied
with gusto.

"Please, Master. Please take my wallet, please take my money. Please let me
be your pay pig, please let me entertain you." I would have said anything
at that point, intoxicated not just by the poppers but by the act of
inviting this guy I'd just encountered to use me in the most selfish way I
could imagine. Not just inviting, but begging, pleading. My dick was
pleading too, almost vibrating with arousal. Master noticed the dark, wet
patch on my boxers.

"Aw, looks like the piggy's ready to cum in his panties." Master laughed as
he said it, the sound making my dick twitch twice. "Ok, I guess I kept you
waiting long enough. You can put my wallet down now, keep it safe for me,
boy, and open up your cashapp, I'm gonna take the first withdrawal from my
new piggy bank."

I put my wallet down on the desk before leaning over to bring up the app.

"Ok, Master. It's ready." Master sent his cashapp ID through chat.

"Get it ready to send $50. Don't hit send until I tell you. You need to hit
some more poppers first, bitch, so get them ready." Master was right, the
high had begun to wear off and I was feeling more aware, and maybe more
self conscious. He saw me put the bottle to my nose and smiled.

"You're gonna go from ten to zero again, faggot. Understand?"

"Yes Master." I said, nodding as I knelt ready.

"Ten..." And as before he counted me down, each breath taking me higher,
and his encouragements to submit went straight to my brain like the amyl.
Master's voice was deep in my head, telling me what a good little cash cow
I'm gonna be for him. How he's gonna enjoy frying my brains and taking my
money and my dignity. Every comment echoed in my head, replacing the
thoughts I was currently incapable of as he approached zero.

"One. No turning back, piggy. Once you hit send you're mine. Nothing in
your life is gonna compare to getting that purse of yours drained by me.
And, zero. Hit send and breath out, bitch. Feel that cash draining from you
to me."

I hit send, my head reeling from the poppers but still completely focused
on, or rather immersed in, the action of losing my money to this hot,
arrogant straight guy. As I saw the confirmation I felt like I was going to
cum, and if I could have touched my dick I would have, but his command of
me had left me paralysed. In a strange way, in that moment, I felt like his
puppet, his toy, which I suppose is what I already was. Master, who seemed
from the start to be able to read my thoughts said.

"Yeah, that's right, faggot. That's the rush of paying your Master. That
feeling in clit right now, that's the hook going in, and I'm holding the
line. I own you now, cunt. Got it?"

"Yes Master."

"Say it, bitch."

"You own me Master."

"You know it, piggy. And you're ready for more. Hit those poppers again,
we're going balls deep this time, bitch. Down from twenty."

My head still spinning from the last lot of hits, but so lost to his
control I nearly fell over in my rush to grab the bottle from the floor.
Master laughed.

"Faster, bitch. Now. Twenty..." I barely had the bottle to my nose when he
started the countdown. I thought if I made it all the way to the end I'd be
surprised, but I knew that I would keep going until he got to zero or I
passed out. I was barely able to focus on the computer screen as double
digits turned to single, his voice and words falling like pennies into a
well. At five he told me to type fifty into the app again. Then four,
three, two, one.

"And zero. Breathe out, fag. Before you hit send, remember I just gave you
a zero. I think you should give me one too, don't you?"

I wasn't sure what he meant, but was so spun out I nodded anyway and said
"yes Master."

He smiled again. "Good piggy. Now go ahead and put it next to that fifty.
Go on, piggy. You know it's the right thing to do."

The haze of his words and my own little cloud I discerned his meaning.
Without thinking I hit that zero key.

"Good piggy. Now send."

A moment later it was done, and so was I, as this time when I saw that
confirmation appear my poor, neglected, desperate dick took matters into
its own hands and began squirting and cumming in my boxers of its own
accord. I felt my hips jerk and grind as the waves of pleasure rolled over
me. I must have looked pitiful, and Master's uproarious laughter confirmed
this suspicion.

"Aw, did piggy get a cashgasm? Haha." I heard Master laugh as the orgasm,
cashgasm, shook my body, spilling out of me as the cash spilled from my
account to my Master's. It was a feeling I would become used to, and before
long would be the only way I came, but that first time was the most intense
sexual experience of my life.

"Yes Master. I think so." I managed to gasp out, and Master laughed a
little harder.

"That's a good sign, bitch. Bet no dick in your fag ass has ever made you
cum like that, huh, fag? That's how you know you're meant for this."

I could only nod in agreement, as reality began creeping back in at the
edges, and my self consciousness returned. My head was spinning with what
had just transpired. In just a few minutes I had lost $550 to this
teenager, who had wrapped me around his finger like it was nothing.

"Well, it looks like you're used up for now, faggot." Master said, and with
a feeling of gratitude at being given an exit I quickly answered, "Yes,
Master. I should clean up." Gesturing to my crotch, which was now a soaked
mess.

Master agreed. "Yeah. I expect you got a lot to think about, pig. Your new
life as my ATM, for one. I'll see you soon pig, I got another zero I want
to show you." And with that cryptic remark he logged off, his feed
vanishing and his account going to offline. I had a lot to think about.


Thanks for reading if you got this far. If you enjoyed it or just found it
interesting and want to hear more then let me know. betabater111@gmail.com