A few weeks ago, I noticed a familiar name when I scanned my Tumblr activity. Inferior, using the same username he’d had on Yahoo, started following my page. The faggot hadn’t contacted me yet, but I knew his return was imminent. A day or two later, Inferior added me on Skype.
“I hope You enjoy them, Sir,” he greeted, signaling that he’d purchased something from my Amazon wish list.
Inferior bought the $230 sunglasses I added recently, pushing me over $15,000 in purchased items. He also suggested a pair of underwear that would flatter my bulge. I ordered Inferior to buy those too, recognizing that I could use them to my advantage later.
“Where have you been?” I asked after the sub had checked out. I hadn’t heard from him in nine months.
“Lost in the cycle,” the faggot admitted.
“And inevitably drawn back to worship alphas again.”
“Well…one particular Alpha.”
The next day, Inferior let me know when my packages would be arriving.
“I could drain you in the meantime,” I suggested, knowing that I could take some cash.
Inferior claimed there wasn’t much left to drain, but he sent a tribute anyway. That’s what good faggots do.
“You miss me?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, Sir…and Your power. And the meaning I find serving You, Sir.”
It’s satisfying to have a purpose, a reason to get up and labor every day. For some slaves, my smile is the greatest possible motivation. There’s nothing better in the world.
“$25 more sent, Sir,” Inferior wrote.
He wanted to see me again, for the first time in 9 months, but was terrified to ask. The faggot, knowing my power, was well aware that my image could eliminate the morsel of self-control he had left.
Inferior departed before I had the chance to test that proposition, two weeks elapsing before our next conversation; maybe the sub was trying to stay away again, hoping to spare himself from financial devastation.
As always, the absence was only tempoary; hiding isn’t nearly as fulfilling as giving in. The faggot messaged me today, finally providing an opportunity to show off the new underwear.
“OMG. Perfect,” Inferior complimented. “Glad the briefs give your massive God cock support!”
I turned the cam off, Inferior sending $50 to thank me for showing off the gifts he bought.
“I’m pretty fucking horny right now,” I revealed, knowing how obsessed the sub is with my dick.
“It did look like you were filling that pouch, Sir.”
“Now it’s back in my hand. Ready to destroy some faggot.”
“Another tribute, Sir. You are perfect, Sir. Please, Sir,” Inferior begged. “I ache to see you.”
I called the sub again, my huge bulge displayed from the very beginning.
“Oh god. Fifty more given, Sir. So perfect.”
Haha. This was going to be easy. I pulled my dick out, Inferior’s payments continuing at a rapid clip as I enjoyed myself.
“We’re going to make this another one of those hard weeks for you!” I promised.
“Already well past that, Sir.”
Looking at my rock hard dick, the faggot’s little clit was leaking in his pants. He couldn’t stop sending cash.
“I’m afraid I may cum in my pants, Sir.”
“You should,” I suggested, imagining him walking around the office with a huge slick of cum.
“So close.”
I ordered a final payment, Inferior dutifully complying, and then grabbed the underwear he’d purchased. I rubbed the precum off the head of my cock with them, and that sent the faggot over, the evidence deposited for everyone to see.
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I’ll probably need to exercise more restraint in the future, since Inferior isn’t the kind of guy who can regularly lose $450 in less than an hour, but it feels great to be back taking what I deserve.
Who’s next?