Cash Meet Capers!

Financial Domination meets can be quite exhilarating, especially when you’re dealing with a pretty abhorrent specimen of a slave. PT3 was so worthless that I didn’t even bother to give him a cute pet name – he was big, dumb, ugly and literally only good for one thing. We had spoken online and in phone sessions before, but he held no interest for me. Even torture and humiliation just felt like a massive waste of my time, so I decided to use him simply for my own pleasure.

I started my morning with a luxurious bubble bath, taking great care to shave, exfoliate and moisturise myself before drying off and applying my makeup. Transforming myself in to a walking work of art is just another pleasurable part of the process for me, so I spent a good hour applying sharp winged eyeliner and ruby red lipstick. Still naked, I rummaged around in my closet until I found my butterfly vibrator – a pink toy with leg harnesses and a remote control. I slid it on and tightened the straps in to place before putting on my purple silk underwear and stockings. Finally, I zipped myself in to a slinky, black cocktail dress and stepped in to my round-toed stilettos. When I glanced in the mirror, I saw that my chosen outfit had some strong Audrey Hepburn vibes, so I decide to roll with it and add some white pearl jewellery and wear my hair up. After all, I was doing this for me – not him!

It was late afternoon when I went to meet PT3 and the sun was turning a brilliant orange and casting long, pale shadows across the cobbled streets. Of course, I had already laid out the ground rules and expectations of how this session would go. He had already text me during my taxi ride and given me the name of the café along with complaints about the quality of the coffee. My dress rode up to my knees as I stepped out of the vehicle and as I straightened up, I felt the nodes of my vibrators nuzzling between my pussy lips. It was easy to spot PT3 even though the tiny café was crowded – he was hulking and hairy, though somehow still balding – like his hair had decided to go on vacation from his scalp and visit everywhere else on his fat body. He looked up at me and smiled. At least, I think he did; as he had a horrible turn in his right eye so that it constantly looked at his nose.

I walked over to his table and sat in the empty seat opposite him in total silence. He had already ordered me a hot chocolate, so I started drinking it and ignoring him. After a few minutes of silence, it seemed he just couldn’t help himself, “I bought you a gift!” he gushed like an excited schoolboy as he handed me a large white shopping bag. Inside was a really ugly purse, I didn’t even bother getting it out to look at it; it looked expensive but incredibly gaudy. I pulled out my phone and reclined back in my seat, taking another sip of my hot drink and briefly considering turning on my vibrator to pass the time. He was still talking but I had blocked out the incessant noise, becoming more intrigued by how quietly I could cum in a public space.

“This is also for you, Goddess…” He pushed a brown envelope towards me with a podgy, hairy hand and I glanced up from my phone. It looked nice and fat, so I put down the drink I had been guzzling and lifted up the flap of paper to peek inside. There was a huge wad of cash, we had arranged for a £2100 minimum and I trusted him to obey. I picked it up and put it in my purse; inhaling deeply as the scent of fresh cash wafted past my face.

“I hope that’s good enough, Goddess…” He paused and I just stared at him, until eventually he became uncomfortable with the silence and started yapping again. My interest was rapidly waning, I just wanted to get to the main event, but I wasn’t going to waste such a good beverage! As he droned on, I flicked my phone over to a porn website and watched a BDSM video while I blocked out PT3. Some pretty brunette girl was handcuffed to a table with her feet behind her head, a large black ball gag causing her lush red lips to drool and slobber over her heaving breasts. One Dom tickled her sensitive pink soles whilst the other fucked her tight little cunt with a huge dildo on a stick. By the time I finished my drink, the girl on the screen was a mess of bodily fluids - her face thick with snot and drool and her eyes watering from the torturous tickling. Her little pink toes wiggled wildly but couldn’t escape the Dom’s feather light touch. As the dildo went deeper and harder, her pussy quivered and squirted cum everywhere. As I finished my drink, the second Dom began guiding the rubber cock in to her tiny, wrinkled asshole. I locked my phone, put down my glass and stood up to leave. The nearest ATM was just a short walk away and I was desperate to finish the session with the memory of that poor mess of a girl fresh in my mind. PT3 followed at my heel like an obedient dog as I sashayed down the street, running ahead once the cash machine was in sight.

He stopped down to read the screen and once I saw him enter his pin number, I switched on my vibrator and marched over with a wiggle in my step to position the toy so it rubbed past my pussy lips and sought out my throbbing clit.

He stepped back and bowed his head solemnly, looking like a pallbearer at a funeral. Of course, I knew that local ATM’s would have a £300 withdraw limit; which is why I had him spend the whole week previous withdrawing money every day. I felt the weight of the brown envelope in my bag as I swapped hands so I could punch in the numbers.

The machine took a few seconds to process the transaction and I held myself on the brink of orgasm until the fat stack of notes came out. This is, of course, the hardest part of my cash meets – timing it just right so that my sensitive pink fingers caressed the smooth paper at the exact moment my butterfly vibrator battered my sensitive pink clit in to overdrive.

I let a hip dip down, so that the soft nodules of the vibrator slit deeper in to my wet slit; as the ATM rattled and spat out my money I felt the electric, hot shudders of an orgasm building in my pussy and spreading out its prickly-heat sensation up through my stomach, radiating out through my body. I could feel hot, sticky wetness seeping out of me as I grabbed the notes and fingered through them to check the amount. My now-wet silk panties clung to my hot folds of sensitive flesh and I bit my lip hard as the final waves of my orgasm threatened to buckle my knees, images of the restrained sub girl from the porn flashing through my mind.

I must have took a bit longer than usual to compose myself, because I heard PT3 whimper pathetically behind me, “Is everything ok, Goddess? Is that enough? Are you pleased?” his disgustingly soft voice being the last thing I needed to hear after such and amazing climax. I quickly folded the notes and placed them inside my breast pocket and turned sharply on my heel to careen toward him. My sudden movement must have shocked him, because the cringe he wore so well moved from his voice to his whole body. I tried hard not to laugh at how absurdly pathetic he was – how the whole situation was. I managed to reduce my giggle in to a cruel smile and instead raised my tiny pale hand to his flabby, soft chin, and caressed his cheek lightly for a brief moment. I made sure to stare deeply and intently in to his eyes as I laid out my final commandment:

“You will go back to the café, lock yourself in a toilet cubicle, jerk off until you cum and send me proof that you have.” Then with a final click of my heels, I turned back and left him there; his reply of “Yes, Goddess!” floating after me.