You don't need thousands of dollars to be able to serve me. Here's a great example, with more small slave stories to come next week.
Rubberfag
When Rubberfag messaged me last summer, he said he was nervous about becoming a cash slave again. He'd served a few times early in 2015, only losing $200, but the intensity of those experiences had scared him away. The faggot tried to resist the impulse to drain, avoiding me after the last time I used him, but I'd never really left his thoughts. Rubberfag continued to read about my other conquests, remembering his experiences and imagining himself back at my hands.
"I don't want to start again," he claimed. That story quickly changed: "Please just push me over the edge, Sir. I want to please you again, I really do."
Unfortunately, Rubberfag didn't have an acceptable payment method back in June, which meant his desires languished for almost six months.
"Merry Christmas, Sir," Rubberfag greeted on the holiday.
"Merry Christmas," I wrote back, immediately remembering who he was. "You have more than words?"
"Yes, Sir. Reading your blog. Fuck."
Haha. After all that time he still couldn't manage to stay away. I sent Rubberfag the payment email and he delivered a small amount of cash.
"Sent, Sir. Fuck. No one has managed to get me to drain in a while, but ten minutes on your blog and I couldn't fight it."
With that tiny little payment Rubberfag had finally returned to my stable, and now he had another taste of how gratifying submission could be. He claimed he couldn't send more, but I didn't accept that.
"You only lost $20," I noted.
"I know..."
"Just like whining, don't you?"
"No, I just...fuck, get out of my head."
"You know what you want," I assured him.
"Yes, I do," Rubberfag conceded, ending the struggle.
"Another $20. At least."
"Draining. Sent, Sir."
"Fuck, why can't I think around you?" Rubberfag asked, straining to trigger his rational thoughts. The slave succeeded that night, cumming and running away before he could send more money, but he was apologizing the next day.
"I'd almost forgotten how fucking hot it feels to get cash raped," Rubberfag added. I knew I wouldn't be waiting six months to see him again. I'd reawakened his urge to drain; the thrill of giving me what I wanted was overwhelming.
He returned a couple days later, mentioning that he'd taken $30 from another sub that night. The faggot recalled my earlier suggestion that I should get a cut every time he takes money.
"It's never going to be a ton, but...well, I want to make you proud of me," he typed with some hesitation. "Even I'm not sure when I started feeling that way."
"Where's my cut then?" I asked.
Rubberfag sent a picture of himself with a bottle of poppers held up to his nose. "Just getting myself sufficiently poppered and stupid," he captioned. "My brain still doesn't like when I do this. So I turn it off."
"Good boy."
"Feel much better now," the slave said as the euphoria washed over him. "Time Sir got more rubber fag cash."
"Fuck yeah. Turn that brain off."
Chatting afterward, Rubberfag revealed that he had waited a long time to add me on Skype initially. He feared my power; he feared losing too much control. At a certain point, though, reading didn't suffice anymore. Rubberfag craved to taste the experience himself; he needed to know me beyond these words.
Now the slave was telling me that he wanted to commit to making regular (if small) payments, that he wanted to "be a good faggot" for me. He was taking pleasure in submission rather than fighting against it.
Rubberfag still hadn't cum. He asked if he could see me on cam, a delight he hadn't known since a year earlier.
"I'll give you a little reward for being a good boy," I wrote after the Skype call started. "Don't I look great?"
He nodded enthusiastically, ecstasy evident on his face. Rubberfag started sniffing his poppers again.
"There you go. Going to shoot that load for me?"
He nodded vigorously again, obviously close to his release.
"Do it," I ordered.
Contentment surged over Rubberfag's face as his arm stopped moving. It took him less than two minutes to cum.
The slave messaged me again within a week, reading the first part of Empty's story immediately after I published it.
"Ugh...I want you, Sir. Good faggots submit."
"Sniff poppers and be a good faggot then," I instructed.
"Yes, Sir. Sniffing. I shouldn't be doing this. I told myself I wouldn't be one of your weak fags who can't even go a few days without draining."
He was doing it anyway. I'd already taken over his mind, and now he was powerless. Pleasing me was all that mattered.
"I'm just as weak as everyone else," he confessed. "No one can fight it, Sir."
Rubberfag came as he was setting up another payment. At least the amounts were growing.
After moving into a new apartment, Rubberfag suggested that he should restrain himself for awhile.
"We'll see, won't we?" I said skeptically. I hear those resolutions all the time, and they rarely seem to last.
Sure enough, after a week, Rubberfag told me he was horny. Ready to break down. I'd spent $40 on dinner that night, so I ordered the amount reimbursed. He dispatched the first half and started sniffing poppers, getting even weaker for me.
"Makes it so much easier to stop pretending you're in control," I wrote.
"Control sucks, Sir."
"Better to do what I tell you to do."
"Yes, Sir. Better to submit and obey."
After a few more sniffs, the second half of the money was where it belonged. That's a good faggot. I knew he was craving more too. Rubberfag always is; he always wants to go deeper, to submit more.
"Stop it, Sir," he begged.
"Just drown it out with some poppers and you'll be left with the truth. All those desires unleashed and unhinged. Begging for satisfaction."
"No," Rubberfag tried to say.
"You don't get to tell me no," I corrected. "Especially when you're really screaming yes."
"Yes," he surrendered. "More cash."
Rubberfag managed to restrain himself for a couple of weeks after that, but eventually he was messaging me again. I mentioned that I'd just put up another post, and he disappeared to read it.
"Fuck, I love Teamviewer stories," he commented as he started.
It was the post about Cash Queer, so the whole thing was Teamviewer. Rubberfag brought up his moving expenses again, but his imagination quickly started working. He fantasized about letting me in, getting so fucked up he couldn't type or talk.
"We fags always think we can resist...until we can't."
"My will always prevails," I reminded him.
"Yes, Sir. It does. Sir makes decisions. Rubber fags just obey."
When I told the slave to send cash, he surprised me by responding with his Teamviewer login--we'd never used it before. I entered the credentials and started sending myself $20 increments, an easy amount.
Rubberfag looked ecstatic as he sniffed and stroked. "I should have given you TV control forever ago," he wrote. "This is amazing."
The slave had always been afraid of giving me this much control, and now he was helplessly watching as I easily fucked him.
"Fuck, please let me cum, Sir," he begged after I'd sent myself $60.
"One more," I ordered.
I took the last payment but Rubberfag still hadn't shot. I threatened to take another to finish the job and that sent him over.
"Thank you so much, Sir," the slave typed after closing Teamviewer. "Fuck that was amazing."
I told Rubberfag I was pleased. He was close to exceeding the session record he'd set a year earlier in one of our first encounters.
"Yes, Sir. I love seeing you smile..."
It's addictive. Nothing is better than seeing that pleased expression on my face. Within minutes, the image was already making Rubberfag weak again. He'd just cum and already desired more.
"We should stop chatting," the slave suggested, trying to spare himself.
"You just want to be mine."
"Yes, Sir. Your faggot. See the keys to my collar and chastity cage around your neck. Dumb rubber ATM. Total control for Sir."
"That's what you need."
"Yes, Sir. Faggot needs Sir's control. Fuck I need to stop."
Rubberfag ended up locking himself into chastity to prevent me from striking again, but he asked me to take another $20 for any annoyance he'd caused. With his dick locked up, he watched me take over his screen with Teamviewer again, sending myself the cash.
"Thank you, Sir," he typed afterward, quickly signing off.
We've had a few aborted attempts since that $100 day, Rubberfag managing to avoid another drain. I know he's been thinking about me, though, and when he reads this he'll surely be getting fucked again.