I had a bit of difficulty finding my a personal cash slave obedient and dedicated enough to care for me properly.

That isn’t to say that my personal cash slave never made mistakes. He did. And he was punished accordingly. Often times far more harshly than all the rest due to his higher privileges and levels of responsibility. Plus, men like him often need to be made an example of, as they already represent the expected behavior. I met this dude on one of the online sites that I visit regularly. He messaged me as they always do. He begged me to let him pay my bills. I turned him down, of course. You can’t just pay my bills. In this day and age, you need to earn my trust. Put the work in and show me that you are a loyal and obedient slave.

You must be willing to take pain for me, and to go to extreme lengths to serve me. In the beginning, I allowed him somewhat remedial tasks. Fucking up the larger ones was unacceptable, and he needed training for that. Like, how could I trust him with my dog, or my homework if he was careless or dumb? Unacceptable. So, I let him give me an allowance. And he needed to budget his money to plan for my luxury to be his main expense. So basically, I put him on a budget and gave him an allowance, of his own money, which was all mine really. If he could handle this, then he could be entrusted with more substantial responsibilities such; as student loans, utilities, rent, and of course, luxury for myself.

I needed bills paid on time, to maintain my credit score.

Slowly, this man who was nothing but a worm rose to become my live-in slave. The highest privilege of all. Not without grueling work though. Not without licking dog shit off of the soles of my heels, endless foot rubs, picking up extra hours when I required more money, and canings to repent for his mistakes. He learned what I liked, needed, wanted, and expected. He learned my schedule and my moods. My little soldier/secretary. He was, of course, still too pathetic, weak and vastly out of my league for any type of romantic interest.

But, on occasion, for a fee, he was allowed to masturbate next door while I fucked real men, or women, within my league. Sometimes I made him ask permission right in front of the massive guy that I invited over. Anytime he masturbated, I received a confession and a fee. The fee rose if he thought of someone other than myself. He had to prove himself resilient and capable of blind loyalty. I require blind commitment from my friends; of course, I would expect it of him as well. Finally, once proven timely and responsible. I added more responsibility. He put himself on the budget that he knew he should be on, in order to ensure my life be lavish.

This meaning he had to move in with me in order to make even more money for me and to serve me better.

Thus, he received the award of prolonged time in my presence, perhaps more than the boys I fucked. Although, I never, ever, rode his gross little cock. Ew. I still laugh when I think of his pathetic and constant hope to fuck me. Of course, the best thing to keep a man in servitude is…hope. Hope that one day all the pleasing would amount to enough. Not when you have an insatiable mistress. I drain my personal cash slave dry, and he must surrender to me! He provided, as allowed until he ran dry and even picking up extra shifts was incapable of fulfilling my surplus of desires.

I always emptied his credit card as quickly as his payments traveled through. Of course, he couldn’t keep up. He ran out as I always knew he would. What do you do with a roommate who can’t pay rent? You give them a grace period; his was full of plenty of pain and punishment. Then, when he still can’t make it, you kick them out. That is why I no longer have a personal cash slave.

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personal cash slave