My First Cash Pig

My First Cash Pig: Sexy Money Moves

 

Hello, naughty ones. Ever notice how life can intertwine our fate with people from our past in ways we never could have anticipated? Today, I want to tell you about a particular instance that included one of my former supervisors, a guy I’ll call Felix, who became my first cash pig.

Those of you who are new to my blog may want to read about my history with Felix and how I went about reclaiming my power from him. For now, suffice to say I definitely wasn’t looking forward to running into him again. But life had other plans.

Our reunion happened out of the blue one day at my favorite coffee shop. I remember doing a double-take after I heard “Alyssa?” and saw him, of all people, approaching me with a hesitant smile. I also remember shooting him a dirty look as I rose from my seat.

He begged me not to leave and to give him a moment to apologize. He also insisted on buying me another latte.

My decision to make Felix my first cash pig

His words were laced with remorse as he recounted the sins of his past. And it was there, amid the clatter of coffee cups and whispered conversations that we struck a deal. Felix offered to submit to my every whim, to surrender himself entirely to me in exchange for the release he so desperately craved. In short, he still wanted to jack off in front of me. Only now, he was willing to pay me to watch.

I still felt no inkling of sexual attraction towards him. However, I couldn’t deny the allure of the opportunity to be financially compensated by the man who once got off on getting off in front of me for free. So I agreed to let him be my first cash pig.

I demanded tributes and gifts with reckless abandon, reveling in the power I held over him as he scrambled to fulfill my every whim as promised. And with each passing interaction, Felix sank deeper into his role as my first cash pig.

I enjoyed mocking and teasing my first cash pig

His small cock was an endless source of amusement for me. I frequently reminded him of his shortcomings below the waist in the cruelest ways. And I also enjoyed using an assortment of toys to pleasure myself while he knelt before me and looked on, helpless and aroused.

Sometimes I used his mouth as a toy, letting him suck my toes while I pleasured myself in front of him. Or I’d let him eat my pussy. His cock would be sticking out like a little doorstop each time. And he would beg for permission to jack off while he serviced me or after.

Did I let him? Yes, but I attached an arbitrary fee to each stroke to serve as a reminder of his servitude to me as my first cash pig.

Desire shone in his eyes as I settled back in his office chair and draped my legs over his shoulders. “Make me come, or I’ll have no choice but to up the price of your stroking privileges. And keep your hands off your micro-peen while you pleasure me, pervert!”

“Yes, Mistress,” he nodded as he clasped his hands behind his back.

Then he leaned forward, his mouth finding its target with a precision born of desperation and desire. And as I surrendered to the sensations coursing through my body, I couldn’t help but marvel at the power I held over him. His pleasure was entirely in my hands, to be granted or denied at my discretion. That alone made my nipples hard. And I started playing with them while I rode his tongue until I came.

My first cash pig’s cocklette was hard as I caught my breath and commended him for putting his mouth to good use.

“Permission to masturbate, Mistress?” His voice was laced with need and uncertainty.

“Permission granted. But you should know that I’ve decided to raise the price of your stroke fees anyway.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.” His hand moved at a feverish pace.

“One-hundred dollars… Two-hundred dollars…”

I said as I ruthlessly tallied his strokes. And I could see the strain etched upon his face, the knowledge that his pending orgasm would come at a steep price.

“That handjob just cost you $9,600,” I said, my voice cold and indifferent as he grunted and squeezed the last drops of cum out of his cock. Then I swiped his credit card on my reader and threw it at him after the funds hit my bank account. “That works out to about $3,200 an inch for you.”

“Yes, Mistress.” His body trembled with post-orgasm aftershocks while he clutched the card with sticky fingers and steadied his breath. And a kaleidoscope of sentiments flashed across his face as he watched me step into my stilettos and pull my coat on over my sheer, crotchless teddy.

“Bye, little piggy,” I said to my first cash pig before I left his office $9,600 richer.

In retrospect, I’ve learned that there are no winners or losers in the game of dominance and submission. There are only the gifts of sexual liberation and empowerment, in my opinion. And sometimes, those gifts come from the unlikeliest people.

Wanna be my newest cash pig? Call me.

Call Me 1-800-215-8390