Technically I was about $60 short, but I’ll call that close enough. After two weeks of barely tending to my cash slaves, demand is definitely pent-up. I was out for most of Wednesday and still managed an almost $1,000 haul.
I’ll start with Preacher, who had messaged me about an hour before I came home.
“Getting some alone time soon, Preacher?” I asked upon returning.
“Yes, Sir,” the faggot answered promptly.
“Excellent. Time to worship.”
Preacher grabbed his laptop and opened Teamviewer, his name appearing on my contact list. I logged in with my password, finding Square ready to go.
I entered an amount and typed in the security code for Preacher’s credit card, which I have saved, but it didn’t work. Fuck! When you’ve already started huffing poppers, that’s a frustrating problem.
Fortunately, Preacher was able to log in to Paypal, where I commenced taking my money while we discussed my perfection and the faggot’s descent into servitude. The cash slave is conservative with credit, keeping just one card with a relatively low limit, knowing that he can’t be trusted with more. The balance of that card has steadily crept up in the time that I’ve known this faggot; when I bring up the prospect of more debt he emits an almost gleeful moan.
I’d taken $125 and was halfway to a final payment when I heard Preacher start to climax (he’s so loud when he gets cash raped that he has to make sure the house is empty). I sent the last $25 after he came, making my total $150.
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Thirty minutes later, Preacher sent another message: “It hit the poppers hard enough it was fucked up for 10 to 15 minutes after finishing with you, Sir.” Haha. Fuck yeah.
Literally one minute after I’d finished with Preacher, Cash Cow messaged me. I’ve never written about this faggot before, but I’ve drained more than $1,000 from him. We were actually in the same city a week ago, but obviously I was too busy moving to do anything about that. When I last used Cash Cow, he was sniffing his poppers and literally mooing.
“Milk my udders, Sir!” he said as I typed in payments to myself. “I’m your cash cow! Mooooooooo. Mooooooooo.”
I laughed so hard. I’ve seen moo typed out quite a few times, but it’s hilarious to hear while you’re actually draining a fag. I never finished writing that post, but I’ll keep the name.
Cash Cow messaged me on Monday night and tried to send cash while I was asleep, but he didn’t have the right payment email. He spent $100 sending a gift from my Amazon wish list instead.
“And when is faggot getting fucked again?” I asked yesterday.
He suggested it was going to be at some point in the future, but then he said he bought new poppers. I mentioned that I’d just poppered up and cash raped Preacher.
A minute later, Cash Cow sent his Teamviewer information and I logged in, calling the faggot on Skype. As always, he was naked and working his clit dick, tugging at his big bitch tits too. He’d been reading stories on my Tumblr page.
I started with Paypal, taking a few easy $20 payments while the faggot huffed and got fucked up. When I noted that his Paypal credit was maxed out (a balance of almost $5,000), Cash Cow revealed that he was in the process of getting a loan to pay off his credit cards–so that he could max them out again sending cash to straight men, of course. I can’t wait!
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When the cash fag suggested I do some shopping, that sounded like a great idea. It’s been months since I had a diligent Amazon slave; someone else really needs to step up to keep the wish list empty. I added a mix of clothing and things for the apartment to the first round, the total topping $100. Cash Cow’s Amazon password was filled in, so I just had to click the buttons and the stuff was on the way. I made two more orders while the faggot sniffed his poppers, spending a total of $400 on his Amazon store card.
Cash Cow had to leave after that, but he sent me a message this morning: “Fuck…all morning I have been getting Amazon alerts saying items are shipping. A reminder of the drain last night.”
You think that made his little clit dick hard? The faggot was talking about getting drained harder this weekend, so hopefully I’ll be clearing a few more items with his card soon.
Later that evening, I heard from Kroner, who was scheduled to appear almost 12 hours earlier. He felt bad because he paid someone else, and he wanted to make it up to me. The cash fag didn’t waste any time. He apologized for being late and informed me that he’d sent $50, the amount of his transgression.
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“I deserve it since you wasted my money,” I wrote.
“I know. And I am sorry,” Kroner apologized again.
“I’m sure you’ll keep making it up to me.”
“Fuck.”
“I know you want to be a good faggot.”
“Yes, Sir,” the cash slave agreed.
Twenty minutes after Kroner left for the night, Striver appeared, eager to watch me spin the cash wheel again. The cash fag showed me that 250 Euros were available in his account. I logged in with Teamviewer, Paypal and the cash wheel ready.
“Feels good to be back in control here,” I typed on the slave’s screen.
“So excited,” he wrote back.
When I called Striver on Skype, I didn’t realize that he’d never seen me on cam before. Obviously the cash fag was elated, more excited than I’ve ever seen him. I took 120 Euros spinning the cash wheel, and then he cut me off when I landed on 50. Striver wanted to watch me cum to claim the last amount, but I wasn’t going for that.
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Striver sent me one of the confirmations that I’d accepted his payments today.
“I like when I see something like that in my email account,” he wrote. “Maybe we could meet tomorrow again.”
Another one hooked! After Striver left, another pathetic faggot appeared. This loser had $80 of payments fail a month or so ago, and he’s been begging me to cash rape him again ever since.
I’ve been insisting that he pay what he owes before I’ll make any effort, a demand the cash slave had been resisting, but apparently he couldn’t stomach waiting anymore. He sent a $25 payment on the $80 owed, asking if I would rape more if he sent the rest. Of course. The faggot dispatched the other $55 and sent his Teamviewer information. When I logged in and started a Skype call, the sounds the faggot made left no doubt about how much he’d missed me.
I drained another $40, taking everything the cash slave had earned at his serving job that night. He said he wished I still lived in Florida, imagining that I could take the money straight from his hands as he left work.
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Fifteen minutes after the faggot had busted, he was back: “God, I’m still itching to give You more.”
“Typical faggot. Never enough.”
“Each time You message, I get a tingle.”
The faggot said he couldn’t afford to spend the cash he had left on anything but bills, so I dismissed him to bed. I know he’s glad to be rehabilitated; he won’t get ignored the next time he’s begging for abuse.
Keep the effort up, cash slaves. I should be making $1,000 every day.