The second part of Empty's story ended with my assurance that he would he be able to serve me more. Now you get to read about the fulfillment of that promise. Anticipating a flurry of inadequacy in response to this post--despite how much you're all going to enjoy reading it--I'll probably write another post about small slaves next week. I don't want to hear "I can't send $500 at a time" being used as an excuse not to serve. It's a pathetic one.
On to the good stuff. Empty wasted no time, messaging me again the day after his first $1,000 rape.
"Thinking about me again today?" I asked.
"I can't stop."
"Especially after seeing me."
"Exactly."
The cash fag had checked his bank balance. There was still plenty of cash left, fortunately, which meant the pillaging could continue.
"What matters is that I was happy," I said about the amount Empty had already spent.
"Yes, I love making you happy."
"Putting a big smile on my face."
Slaves are driven to alphas because they want to be useful. Empty had found a new purpose in encouraging me to grin. Seeing me happy made him feel happy too.
The slave was supposed to be working, telling me that he could do in the background while we conversed, but he was thoroughly distracted, consumed again by my words.
"Life would be so much easier if I didn't have to think," Empty commented. He needed me to do more thinking for him. We discussed the slave's finances in more detail. Empty revealed that he earned about $2,000 every two weeks, which meant that I'd already appropriated two weeks of his pay in just two days. That kind of brutal draining can't go on forever--savings get exhausted--but I was having an incredible time breaking the faggot in.
"This is my life now," Empty wrote.
"Being owned by me."
"Yes, completely."
"Focusing on what I want."
"Of course," the faggot agreed.
"Your savings are mine to take. Show me, faggot."
I demanded $200 to start, Empty making slight and ineffective protestations. He was using sad emoticons, but I'm sure my command had made his dick rock hard.
"Can you escape that alpha draw now?" I asked. "I'm already in your head."
"Fuck!"
"That's why you were thinking about me. If you tried to get away, what would happen? You'll just start thinking about me again."
"Fuck man, what can I do?"
"What can you do now? You're mine."
"Oh my god, I'm fucked."
I called Empty on Skype again, knowing that would mollify any remaining resistance and render him totally helpless.
"Oh man, I shouldn't have answered," the faggot typed after my image appeared. "You're too hot."
"You're too dumb. Probably not going to get away by looking at me on Skype."
"No," Empty conceded. "But I wouldn't want to. I think I just wanna watch you."
There was the truth I had already divined. The hollow complaints had probably been uttered as he touched himself and imagined going further than he already had. What he really wanted was to surrender, to be pushed more forcefully as he gave in to his desires.
"You like being my fag," I wrote, grinning.
"You have the most amazing cock," the slave excitedly recalled from the previous day. "Yes, I love being your fag. Can I see more?"
I chided Empty about not knowing how to beg. I told him to send $200 more, and the cash arrived in literally 20 seconds. So eager.
"Giving me more cash so I can draw you even deeper in."
"But--" I started stripping my shirt off, exposing the armpits this faggot admired so much. "Fuck," Empty uttered in reaction. "Oh my god. Oh fuck. I can't, you are amazing. Fuck, I'm gonna watch you for hours if you'll let me."
Now that we were past pretending Empty didn't want this, the truth flowed out: "My god, you are my life. You own me. You control me. I am yours. Everything I have is yours."
Empty raved about how hot I was, that everyone must want me, that I must get tired of constantly having to refuse people. Haha. Don't worry, I like the attention, as you might have noticed.
"Do you want more of your money, Sir?" the faggot queried. "Name it, it's yours."
"500," I directed, wanting to test that bold claim.
"No problem, Sir."
I was already horny when our conversation began, so I'd been pulling at my dick as we chatted, to Empty's delight. Precum was now pouring out as my cock stiffened up at his willingness to comply.
"Fuck, you got so hard," Empty observed, obviously watching closely even as he endeavored to fill out the payment form. "I love it." He stared for more than a minute before adding that he'd sent the $500. "Forgot to say. I got distracted by your cock."
Seeing the $500 arrive sent another surge through my body. Power really is an incredible aphrodisiac. In a moment, with a simple request, I'd calmly wrested what took half a week of full-time work to earn. I've warned some slaves about what can happen when I'm horny and they're desperate to please. Amounts can escalate quickly, the feelings of power and exhilaration mounting, getting me worked up even more, making me ravenous to demonstrate what I can compel. Slaves will follow right along, hypnotized by my swollen dick, my satisfied smile, captured in that moment. There is nothing greater than feeling that genuine conviction that you would do absolutely anything I desired. It's the ultimate high that cash fags seek out, the gratification that terrifies them so much they end up fleeing.
"It's all yours," Empty typed. "Everything of mine is yours. FUCK. I've had to stop myself cumming so many times now."
"It's hard to stop taking my money," I countered, still a long way from shooting. I wanted to feel that surge again, and I was absolutely certain I could push Empty higher.
"Don't resist," Empty begged. "It's yours. Just tell me what you want and you'll get it."
"Another $500, fag," I demanded.
I mentioned that I was already close to draining another two weeks of Empty's pay after he sent the money.
"What? Really?" the slave asked, so euphoric he wasn't paying attention. "I don't even care, take it all, Sir."
At this point, I asked if Empty had his sound on. I was tired of typing, and I wanted him to hear me cum.
"Yes," he answered. I started talking. "Fuck yes, I can't believe I'm hearing your voice. YES," he responded to whatever I said. "YOU ARE MY GOD. Fuck me hard, Sir."
I ordered $500 more as Empty struggled not to cum. I refreshed Paypal while I worked my rock hard dick, seeing almost $2,000 in the balance. All from tonight. All taken in less than two hours from a single slave.
I wanted to demand another round of cash, but I was already overwhelmed with ecstasy and on the verge of cumming. I let the orgasm happen, pumping hard, my dick slicked with the voluminous precum, warning Empty that I was going to shoot. I grunted loudly as semen sprayed out, my body contorting with waves of pleasure as my muscles contracted. I was still panting and grunting as the high wore off, laying there serenely as I caught my breath, totally satiated by the cash drain, until the warm cum started to dribble off my body.
Empty busted at the same time, transfixed by the stunning sights and sounds of my pleasure. Can you imagine how that felt?
"I said I'd pay you when you came," Empty wrote, referencing a promise he'd made as I was building up. "Tell me how much and I'll send."
I was about $200 away from having $2,000 in my account, after fees on all the other amounts. Now that we'd both gotten off, I decided to go easy, telling him to just send $200.
Empty had begun the day talking like he was already done with me, complaining that he needed to save, that he couldn't afford to spend too much. Instead he lost over $2,000 in the span of two hours. I asked if he was nervous now that he'd cum, thinking again of the cycle.
"Not nervous," the faggot answered. "I can't even say regretful, cos I loved watching you. And I knew I was making you happy."
A perfect answer, and the slave still wasn't done.
"You know how I said 'I can do my work in the background'? Yeah, that didn't happen. You had my full attention from the moment you started typing."
"Having more luck now?" I asked.
"Haha, yeah. But I still can't stop thinking about you. I was actually planning what I could buy you next."
We chatted about that briefly before I left to do other things.
"I can't stop thinking about you," Empty wrote hours after the rape. "Your sexy smile. Your massive cock. Your hairy pits." He went to sleep with those images ingrained into his brain.
When I signed into Skype the next day, a message was there waiting: "You're the first thing I think of when I wake up," Empty had written. "I don't know what you've done to me. I'm addicted."