I abhor having my time wasted. I'm willing to have an initial conversation or two, to discuss a slave's particular interests and to determine where we might go, but capturing my attention becomes exceedingly difficult after passing that point. In my experience, guys who aren't quickly willing to tribute won't ever do it, either because they have nothing to give or they aren't yet ready to submit.
If I stopped replying to your messages, there's still hope if you're willing to act instead of just talking about acting. Striver has recently learned this lesson about second chances firsthand.
When Striver added me last July, he dreamed of reading about himself here. After botching several opportunities to tribute, I stopped responding to Striver's messages on Skype. Eventually, the cash slave gave up and deleted me from his contact list, resurfacing in April. Whoever the faggot had talked to as a substitute obviously couldn't compare.
"Please could you add me?" Striver begged. "I've got 100 for you to take."
I was asleep when the faggot first tried contacting me again, waking up to more than a dozen messages and a screenshot showing 500 Euros in his account.
"Just want to let you know that I am ready to obey, Sir," Striver had written.
When I read that, I certainly didn't believe it. I assumed the faggot was going to spend another few months wasting my time and proving useless. Nonetheless, willing to provide that second chance, I replied when he messaged me again.
"What can I do for you?" Striver asked almost immediately.
That's the kind of attitude that gets my attention. I gave instructions, the cash slave quickly sending a picture of the payment form filled out.
A picture instead of a payment? I presumed Striver was fucking around again, wasting my time as he stroked his hard dick to the fantasy. I know many of you out there--certainly some fags who I've never spoken with--have typed my address into Square or added wish list items to your Amazon cart, cumming before you could make it real. Rubberfag, for example, has typed $1,000 into the payment form several times and stared at it, imagining how Zero felt instead of actually feeling it. Trust me, you're only cheating yourselves.
"Don't send me pics," I ordered. "Press the button."
Finally, after almost a year of fantasizing, Striver did exactly that. He sent a picture of the confirmation.
With proof of sincerity, the cash slave was immediately rehabilitated in my eyes. He'd crossed the line, and now that he knew how submitting to me felt he instantly craved more.
"What amount should I send?" the faggot asked.
"50 more," I demanded.
Striver sent another picture of the payment form.
"Good cash fags click send," I commanded.
He did, showing me the confirmation again. "Wanna be a good one, Sir," he typed.
"Perfect."
We started discussing Teamviewer, Striver expressing how hot he thought it was.
"I could take another 50," I suggested, trying to make the most of this faggot's first time with me.
"TV is open," he wrote, sending the credentials.
Imagine the thrill when I logged in. After almost a year of flirting with this idea, Striver was living out what he'd undoubtedly shot countless loads imagining. Opening Paypal, I noticed that the faggot had added hundreds of Euros to his balance.
I took another 50. "Fuck yeah," I typed into Skype on his screen. "Finally being useful! That's what I like to see."
"Good. Thank you," Striver wrote back, ready to stop. Seeing me take the 50 myself was so hot the cash fag came watching me do it.
A few days later, Teamviewer was open again, a high balance available to rape. Striver suffered his first stumble into the cycle then, not managing to surrender the password.
"That's too much," he complained about the couple hundred I said I planned to take. "I can't effort it. But it is also really hard to resist."
Twenty minutes later, the faggot's dick still hard, his heart racing, Striver asked if I was still there. "I'm sorry for hiding," he apologized. "I really can't control my horniness. Should I send a payment first?"
I'd already left, so the cash slave had missed his opportunity that night. Too bad. Sure enough, though, the cash fag's desire was burning again a few days later. Striver sent an initial 50 and set Teamviewer up again, holding off on offering the password.
"To be honest, it's too much money," the cash fag resigned, floundering yet again.
I'm disappointed when a slave isn't able to follow through with a plan, especially when the failures come in quick succession, but I can forgive that when I know the desire to serve is sincere; I knew I'd take more money from Striver in the future.
A day later the cash faggot was talking about how difficult resisting me was. "What is wrong with me, Sir?" Striver asked. "Why does it turn me on to send cash to someone else?"
I've answered that question publicly already, but slaves are still asking. There's nothing "wrong" with liking feet, leather, or anything else; there's nothing "wrong" with being submissive. You are who you are, and I doubt you can change what turns you on any more than a person can transform from gay to straight. It's a pointless and miserable struggle.
When Striver saw the payment confirmation emails from our previous session, he explained that he felt sad and horny at the same time: "Sad to lose money, but I had an erection immediately as well."
That says everything, doesn't it? Your dick knows the truth even when your brain is struggling in vain against it. One head inevitably seems to prevail against the other.
The next day, Striver was asking me about fag tax wheels, saying that he really liked them. "I'm free, if you want," he volunteered with a smiley emoticon.
I set up a relatively painless wheel with mostly 25s, a couple 50s, and one 75, knowing that aiming too high would likely result in a quick cum eruption.
I took over Striver's computer with Teamviewer, spinning the wheel while he watched helplessly. After scoring 100 on the first two tries, Teamviewer cut off just as I was going for the third. Striver ran again, not managing to find the courage to continue before I left for the evening. Poor faggot.
Within a few days that reluctance was overpowered, Striver and I talking about setting up another wheel.
"It's hard to resist," the cash fag admitted. He wanted to experience it another time.
"Fuck yeah, you want it," I assured him, certain that the slave's cock was rock hard as he imagined losing control.
"I am really horny," the faggot acknowledged. "Nervous too."
Horny won again when Striver sent the Teamviewer password. I managed three spins, taking 100, and I had just landed on 50 when the faggot came and closed the program. 100 Euros appears to be the limit right now; stamina is obviously something we're going to have to work on, but I know we'll have many future opportunities.
Indeed, I heard from Striver on Skype earlier today: "Please let me know when you've got time again."