First Cash Slave
While I was editing the post about Cashcunt last Friday, my First Cash Slave messaged me on Skype.
“Rape anyone today, Sir?” he asked.
“Not yet.
“I’m surprised they are not lined up already, Sir. May your slave send something, Sir?”
When we met back in 2008, this slave was losing thousands of dollars a month to me. I’d have to check a few numbers, but he likely still holds the all-time record for most cash drained by a single person.
After the financial crisis and some other unfortunate events, my First Cash Slave was forced to tighten his belt. He would tribute small amounts occasionally in the following years, but they were nothing compared to the cash that I had commanded in the first year we knew each other.
Now the slave is six months away from having more financial flexibility. When he asked if he could send something, I assumed it was going to be one of his usual $50 tributes.
“You have time to do it yourself, Sir?” my First Cash Slave asked after I reminded him of the payment email.
“Yeah, as long as it’s quick.”
The slave sent his Teamviewer information and I took $50, thinking that he still wasn’t able to go any higher than that.
“You don’t know how hard I am right now, Sir,” the slave wrote.
“I have an idea. I remember being logged into your computer and taking hundreds.”
“That was awhile back, Sir, wasn’t it?” he asked.
“Way too long ago. Slave tapped out for tonight?”
“It is your account, but please take it easy, Sir.”
I took another $50–the first time I’ve taken more than that from my First Cash Slave in more than a year–and kept going from there, extracting a couple more.
“You were too kind, Sir,” he commented about where we were at.
“I can always push harder. Been forever since I saw you send more than $50 in a night.”
“I want to show you I am trying my hardest to be a good slave, Sir.”
I drained $50 more, the slave’s cock throbbing in his jeans as I worked.
“$450 away from having my best month of the year so far,” I remarked. “I know I can’t push you that hard, but maybe I can cross it tonight.”
“So nervous, Sir,” the slave wrote.
“Why are you nervous?”
“Your control, Sir,” he answered. “Haven’t felt it this strong in a long time.”
My First Cash Slave introduced me to Teamviewer back in 2008. He was the first slave who ever gave his computer up to me, and now I was back in.
“Difficult to say no when I’m here pressing the buttons,” I wrote. “Making the choices for you.”
“Yes, Sir,” he agreed. “Safety net knowing my mouse is right here, Sir.”
That was permission to take as much as I wanted to take. I knew he’d stop me if I went too far, so I kept going.
“Your pathetic fat slave sitting here watching you and playing with nips,” he typed.
“Little dick make a big spot in those jeans yet?”
“Starting, Sir.”
With hundreds of dollars in cash accumulated, I decided to give the slave a special privilege, calling him on Skype. I would typically accept the $50s I mentioned earlier for nothing in return, but this performance merited something else.
“I’m sure this will you drive you crazier,” I teased.
“Oh god.”
“Yeah, exactly. I guess you get fatter and I keep looking better and better.”
I grinned and extracted more cash, getting closer and closer to making September the best month of the year.
“I look forward to when this will be more than a once in forever thing.”
“I’m working hard for you, Sir,” the slave assured. “To be owned by you, Sir.”
“A slave at work and a slave at home too.”
“Getting close, Sir,” my First Cash Slave warned.
I had taken a total of $450, leaving me just $150 short of a record month.
“You are going to make me cum, Sir. Finish your goal, Sir,” the slave begged.
I didn’t need his permission. That’s exactly the plan I had in mind, now typing $150 in.
“Fuck yeah! Good job, slave.” I told him how much cash I’d already collected for the month.
“And it’s the 16th?” he said incredulously. “So close, Sir.”
I gave my First Cash Slave permission to cum and he enjoyed an incredible orgasm, surely boosted by a feeling of usefulness that he hadn’t known for years.
“I don’t mind this kind of interruption. What a great one! Back to work, slave.”
“Yes, Sir,” he acknowledged, thanking me for draining his cash.
Gear Slave
Gear Slave had been trying to get my attention for a couple of weeks, but our availability wasn’t matching up. On this day, he was again eager to see more money leave his bank account but his roommate was in proximity.
“How much would you want?” he asked.
“However much you’ve got to lose. Your other cash is getting lonely in my bank account.”
We settled on $200, a bit more than he had initially suggested. Gear Slave was still concerned about his roommate, but I reminded him that he probably wouldn’t last more than ten minutes anyway. He agreed and sent the money.
“It’s gone for good,” Gear Slave wrote.
“Fuck yeah. I see it. Captured.”
We started talking about the real meeting Gear Slave has planned for a long time, as we usually do. I don’t doubt that he wants it; the only issue is saving up enough money to attract my interest.
“You’ll be helpless. Totally poisoned. Me holding up poppers under your nose to get you completely fucked up. Making you kiss all that cash goodbye.”
“While you smile and take over,” Gear Slave imagined.
“Smile and laugh at you and how easy it was to take control. To poison your mind. Force your cash to join the other thousands I’ve taken from you.”
As I predicted, ten minutes of detailing his financial destruction led to an explosion of cum, all without any roommate interruptions. Perfect.
“So glad we were able to do it. You know me too well. Thanks for ruining me.”
Blindfolded
I’ve known Blindfolded for several years, raping hundreds of dollars at a time from him when he wasn’t busy running away. This cash faggot had apparently been reading about my black screen Teamviewer rapes and was curious to try the experience himself now that he’s admitted what he is again.
Happy to accommodate Blindfolded’s need to be cash raped, I logged in with Teamviewer to find the payment window open, immediately proceeding to black the screen out. As I started to write in an amount, I mentioned that I was just $200 shy of a $1,000 day. That definitely seemed to excite the cash faggot!
I sent an easy $75 to start, Blindfolded asking me if I’d hit the target yet.
“Not yet,” I teased, knowing that he wanted to cross the mark.
The connection was shitty to begin with, but after the first hit it was reduced to an even slower crawl. I started thinking the cash faggot might get to blow his load before I hit $1,000.
Blindfolded kept asking if I’d hit the goal yet as he waited, unable to see how slowly things were moving.
“Not yet,” I said again. When the site finally started to move, I typed in $125 and pressed ahead. “Now we hit it,” I bragged.
The faggot knew I was $200 short at the beginning, so obviously he was aware of how much I’d taken. He lasted for one more $35 hit–a light one after $200 in damage–before closing the cam, leaving the exact total a mystery.
I closed the payment window before disconnecting Teamviewer. If Blindfolded hasn’t the looked at the total–you never know how a cash fag will react to his first black screen rape–he might be seeing it here now for the first time.
Trust Fund
This faggot messaged me a couple hours after I published the post about Cashcunt, unaware that I’d already taken $800 for the day. I excused myself during our conversation to break $1,000 with Blindfolded and came back.
“Achieved the $1,000 for the day,” I boasted after a six minute absence.
“Fuck yeah. Another $200 just like that, Sir?”
“Just like that. Doesn’t excuse you from doing your part!” I warned.
“Of course not, Sir. I was wondering if you knew what my total was since I started draining again.”
I guessed $500-600 (probably closer to $500 at that moment).
"Fuck.”
“I took more than $800 the first time,” I reminded him. “$500-600 is nothing!”
“It’s a lot, Sir. I get so weak and lose track.”
“Fags are stupid when hot straight men make demands. So go. Type in $50. Send.”
“Can I see you tell me to, Sir?” Trust Fund requested.
I decided to grant the faggot’s request, calling him on Skype and verbally repeating my instructions. We talked for almost half an hour about Trust Fund’s weaknesses and my superiority, the cash faggot dropping $200 in total.
Deliriously horny after talking to me and losing so much cash, Trust Fund was eagerly searching Grindr for a real dick to suck. He thought he found one, putting an end to our session despite my protests.
Haha. The dumb horny faggot came back just ten minutes later to report that the other guy had flaked.
“Stick with real men,” I suggested.
Chifag
The loser bought another cheap item from my Amazon wish list and started sending emails again. He was asking how close I was to breaking my all-time record, obviously paying close attention to the pace of draining for the month.
“We going to break the record, faggot?” I asked.
“Mine or yours?”
“All of them.”
The fagshit created a new payment account and was approved for $3,600 in credit. That wasn’t enough to break the all-time record on its own, but I reminded him that we could do some Amazon purchases too.
Then the loser presumably shot his load and started cowering again. Fucking pathetic. Is there a better word than that to describe Chifag?
Whether I break another record or not, the month can only get better from here.