I still have stories from October, November, and December that deserve to be shared, so I may interrupt the Empty series next week. As popular as the first part was, I'm not rushing to finish. The best is still ahead.
One quick aside: Cash Slut approached me this week begging to get fucked. Unfortunately, I was out and the faggot had signed off by the time I returned. You know he's due to break at any moment, and then there's only one question: how high will he go?
Day Two: The First $1,000 Day
It took more than a week to collect Cash Slut's second tribute. Empty, even after cumming the first time, was ready to give it up the very next day. He didn't get much done at work after I took his cash rape virginity: "Bit out of it cos I didn't get much sleep." Haha. I pointed out that he had me on his mind too, and that can make it tough to focus on anything else.
The new slave had checked his bank account and was supposedly feeling nervous about how much he'd spent.
"Finger slips are expensive," I reminded him.
"It was your fault for being you."
"Haha. I can't help that fags like me. Who wouldn't like me? Just like you can't help being a weak submissive fag. Dominant real man, submissive fag. Perfect match."
Empty asked if he could see my cock sometime. At this point, he'd never seen me on cam. Since I keep writing about slaves losing thousands of dollars without seeing me, this is an opportune place to offer a word of caution to the rest of you: be careful about who you're paying. Any guy can make a Tumblr (or establish some other presence), declare himself an alpha, parrot the language we use, and start collecting cash. Most of them aren't who they claim to be. Looking at slaves' Paypal accounts recently, I've noticed payments to certain notorious fakes--almost $1,000 in some cases. It's not my job to out the fakers here, but I hate seeing money that should have been mine instead resting in the hands of some fat old pretender. When a guy doesn't have the history or reputation that I do, you should be suspicious. Your cash should be in my hands anyway.
Setting a perfect example, Empty's desires took hold again on day two: "I want to worship you, Sir."
"Go send me $100 then," I commanded.
Empty did.
"Fuck yeah. Feels good to obey me, doesn't it?"
"Yes," the slave answered.
"You've figured that out really fast."
"I knew I liked obeying Alpha men for a long time," he pointed out.
Empty has served men sexually and followed orders from hot jocks going back to high school, even if he was new to losing cash.
"I knew I was made to obey them," he explained.
"That's how a lot of fags start off. They recognize their place like that."
"Yeah, I know my place."
"Down beneath the real men, worshiping and serving them."
All that talk about worship and service brought Empty back to thinking about my cock. He asked if I would send a pic.
I've recently been accosted by some masters for showing off that particular part of my body. Apparently abs, faces, and feet are acceptable, but dicks are off limits. From this illogical notion that there should be some kind of distinction, I can certainly divine a truth: whatever the complainers are packing must not be worth showing off, since they've posted pics of everything else. The jealous losers can berate me all they want, but they're reading my words right now for tips, and the petty bickering--completely meaningless to me--only serves to reveal their own insecurities.
The sight of a big cock can make a slave incredibly weak. Empty found that out when I finally deigned to grant his request.
"Does the fag want to see my cock?" I taunted.
"Yes, please," Empty begged.
"Haha. I should probably take more first. Make you show me how badly you want it."
"I do want it!"
"So come on fag. Show me how badly you want it," I ordered.
Empty sent $200, bringing his two day total up to almost $1,000. The slave was expecting a picture, since that's all he asked for, but I did better than that, instead calling him on Skype for the first time. He saw my face and the famous smile, and then I moved the object of Empty's desire into the shot.
"Fuck that is hot," he commented on my dick. I had just started to touch it, so I wasn't close to being fully hard yet. The faggot completely stopped talking for a few minutes, probably strenuously working his much smaller endowment as he enjoyed the pleasure of seeing mine. "Fuck that is so thick. I'm mesmerized, Sir."
I was everything I promised I would be and still exceeding Empty's expectations.
"I love being a good fag, and I love seeing that sexy smile on your face," Empty wrote. "Seriously, I could stare at you for hours."
"I'm not doubting that. I just had another fag stare at me for a whole hour."
"We can't help it."
"Yeah. Who wouldn't want to look at this?" I asked, the especially cocky grin stretched across my face.
I asked Empty if he'd rather get fucked or look at me.
"Getting fucked by some other guy, or staring at your amazing cock, body, face. There's no comparison. I would choose you."
"Fuck yeah. That's a good fag."
"Sir, please let me give you more money. I didn't expect this much from you."
Now he was asking to send more. Perfect.
"You thought you wanted it before. How badly do you want to give it to me now?"
"So badly. I feel like I cheated you," Empty confessed.
Haha. I told Empty he could easily make up any failing. When he asked how much, I suggested he let his finger slip again.
"I just don't want to offend you by not giving enough this time," he typed. Translation: $300 wasn't enough. "I'm sorry if this offends you, but is $500 too cheap?"
Two minutes later, the money was in my account. Empty had already exceeded his total from our first night and was on his way to losing $2,000.
"What are you?" I asked.
"A dumb gay faggot," Empty answered.
"And what am I?"
"God."
Like the many slaves who preceded him, Empty was realizing that it was impossible to fight what came so naturally. Seeing me smile and work my dick had pushed me even deeper into his mind.
"I am yours," he typed. "Your fag."
"Another fag living to make me happy."
"Sir, just seeing you, you're irresistible. How can I say no when you're looking at me?"
Empty couldn't resist my commands before he saw me; now it was truly impossible to say no. In the coming weeks, any amount I demanded would be immediately sent.
"Now I'm fucked," he acknowledged. "But so worth it."
Empty has a thing for armpits, which I had completely forgotten until he was begging to see mine. I stripped my shirt off and raised my arms up behind my head, my hairy pits completely capturing the faggot's attention.
"Fuck yes!!! Fuck yeah! Let me pay you again, please? Your armpit, I can't resist."
I love when taking cash is this easy. There's nothing better than a slave who obeys my orders without bitching and complaining. Empty sent $200 more.
"It's where it belongs now. In my hands."
"Exactly."
"Fuck. You've been used so hard," I wrote, thinking of how high the total was getting.
"By you?"
"Yes."
"Then I don't care. It's worth it."
With $1,000 drained, Empty said that he should be getting work done. He'd basically come home from his job and immediately started talking to me again. I knew the faggot could easily sit there staring at me all night, but I was still wary of pressing too hard knowing that this was the second cash rape he'd ever experienced. You'll see that restriction abandoned in the next installment.
I let him leave, but Empty was desiring to be used again later that night: "I want to buy you something from your Amazon wish list," he announced.
"You just can't get enough. So do it then."
Empty purchased the Ray-Ban sunglasses, asking if I keep track of how much each fag sends. He wasn't bothering to count the money as I took it, and some of the transactions hadn't posted to his bank account yet. I assured him that he'd lost very little compared to what I'm capable of taking. Some of the slaves reading this text have experienced $2,000 and $3,000 rapes. I told Empty I could be much harsher.
"That's how much I earn in a month," he said about those numbers. "And you earned it in a day."
I make significantly more money than Empty does, and I barely do anything. I don't have to do anything. Just be me.
"You deserve to be paid for just being you. You're a God," Empty raved.
"That cock, that smile. Drives fags crazy."
"Drives me crazy. I can't get you out of my mind."
At this point Empty took his first step down the Cycle path: "There's something wrong with me, though, right? I shouldn't be obsessing over someone this much."
Does that denial sound familiar? A huge number of you are mired in the same tough slog as you're reading this, struggling not to give in again. There's nothing wrong with you, just as there's nothing wrong with me. You are who you are; I am who I am; and we're never going to trade places. You want to serve and I want to be served.
"I haven't been this much of a fag for anyone else before," Empty said about being used.
"You've been waiting all your life."
When I dismissed Empty again, he was still repeating that he wanted to serve more.
"You will," I assured him. "Don't worry about that."