Findom Cashfag

You know what’s nice?

Taking your wallet to the ATM, fucking his account, and then letting him thank you by cleaning the tread of your boots.

You know what’s nice?

Taking your wallet to the ATM, fucking his account, and then letting him thank you by cleaning the tread of your boots.

Then settling in to take care of the welt and toe and vamp and laces and tongue of the boot, twice for good measure, using your spit-covered beard to polish it all up real nice for Boss.

Then doing it all again on the other boot until Boss decides to turn you over and use your chest as a footstool. Lying there knowing that he posted something to Tumblr but not sure exactly what, since you heard your phone message notifications going off 45 minutes ago from the pocket of your folded jeans next to the front door.

10/10 Recommended. Best early Christmas gift I've ever gotten.

A fun thing to have your cashfags do, is to have them keep a tally of all the cash they give you. Then have them update the tally to your contact. That way, every time they talk to you, they’re looking right at their total service amount.

This faggot started a few weeks ago and has already passed four digits. He had never really been a full wallet for anyone before, but now he’s hooked on serving. He’s got a new job and we’re discussing how I’m going to use his first paycheck.

You know what’s nice?

Taking your wallet to the ATM, fucking his account, and then letting him thank you by cleaning the tread of your boots.

When I’m done with my workout it’s expected that my faggot is waiting and ready.

The car has been washed and detailed. My protein shake is ready for me. My post-workout meal will be ready when I get home. My place is clean. The bed is made. The bathroom is spotless.

It is as if I live in a five star hotel. Each time I leave, the space magically resets itself with the detail-driven effort of a staff committed entirely to my happiness.

The invisible service is both appreciated and taken as granted. I eat my food in quiet peace while my faggot stretches and massages my feet. I slip into the bed, afterward, devoid of worry— ready to grow.

Quietly, my faggot gets back to work. Making sure the dishes are clean. That the food is prepped for the next meal. That his pussy is ready to be bred if that’s what I I want as a pre-meal appetizer. It’s an easy life for me— and for them.