The idea of completely surrendering an account to my whims–of me literally paying with a cash slave’s balance or credit–has induced countless erections, though until now that’s all it’s ever been: an unrealized idea, a fantasy that proves overwhelming after the bliss of an orgasm.
A couple years ago, I permitted a frequently serving cash slave to order a debit card linked to one of his accounts. I doubted that he would ever carry through, but when the faggot finally held the plastic up to the camera, I actually believed that I might soon be holding it in my hands. After addressing an envelope to my post office box, he sealed the card inside, promising to mail it as soon as our session was finished. It never did show up. He was too afraid.
When Reluctant floated the idea of sending me a credit card, I completely dismissed it. How could a self-described “terrible cash fag” accomplish such a substantial sacrifice? He’d already run away from me for months after covering a few tiny bills!
Then the card showed up. Holding the piece of plastic, twisting it in the light to see Reluctant’s real name printed there, I grinned with amusement. That sense of satisfaction dissipated, though, when I realized the faggot had already stopped messaging me. I was so suspicious I avoided ever trying the card, assuming that Reluctant had cum and canceled it before the envelope ever hit my box (I still kept it as a trophy).
Prescient on my part. When Reluctant inevitably started chatting again, he admitted to canceling the card almost immediately after it left his hands. Pathetic, yes, but I recognized that the cash slave wasn’t ready to offer something so advanced–he was still evolving as a faggot. When Reluctant made that first attempt, he was persistently mired in denial and fear, fixated on fighting his true nature while he aimlessly circuited the cycle over and over again.
Eventually, as always, the hollow convictions of the cycle were crushed and overwhelmed. More than a month into a round of deep soul-searching, the sub’s strength completely depleted, he decided to embrace his inescapable reality: he’s destined to be a faggot, to serve a man.
Reluctant’s behavior has shifted radically since that difficult but thoroughly considered admission. Soon after the faggot reappeared, I sent myself $100 from his bank account fully expecting that action to trigger the flight I’d become familiar with. I detected an obvious moment of panic after Reluctant had sprayed his load, but those feelings quickly subsided, replaced with complete acceptance.
“I want to be your faggot,” he declared again.
Rather than fleeing, Reluctant was now begging to send me another credit card.
“You going to cancel this one too?” I sneered.
“No, Sir. I promise I won’t. I want it to be yours. I want you to use my card.”
When the credit card arrived, the faggot and I were still in regular contact, a promising sign. I added it to the Uber app, still suspicious that it would be declined when I requested the ride. Instead my car was on its way.
I’ve been using Reluctant’s card for weeks now, running up what must be a couple hundred dollars in charges (I don’t bother keeping track). That number would be even higher if I hadn’t reflexively produced one of my own cards so many times when the opportunity presented.
Rather than fleeing, Reluctant has been delighting in this service. Every time I mention a movement, an expense, he eagerly asks if he’s been useful:
“Did I pay for your Uber, Sir?”
“Did I buy your beer, Sir?”
“Was your dinner on me, Sir?”
When I say yes, the faggot’s dick is instantly rock hard. He can’t stop talking about how ridiculously hot it is.
A few charges into this arrangement, I asked if Reluctant was keeping tabs on his credit card statement.
“I’m afraid to look,” the cash slave admitted.
I have no idea if Reluctant’s looked yet, but he certainly hasn’t canceled the card.
Indeed, in one of our last conversations he was telling me that he gets paid on Friday–the faggot is already looking forward to draining even more!
“You told me I’d always be your faggot,” he recalled from one of our first conversations about his flighty nature. “You were right.”
Spending my own money and having it quickly replaced, yeah, that’s awesome. Spending a faggot’s money and never giving it a second thought, that’s proving even better! Just imagine the look on my face every time I insert Reluctant’s card into a chip reader…