Hello, naughty ones. Today, I thought I’d tell you a little more about my unusual relationship with Felix – a former supervisor, who became my first cash pig. I also want to tell you how I went about punishing my first cash pig and why.
After my divorce, I found myself in need of financial stability, and Felix was more than willing to provide it under certain conditions that led me to quit working for him. But after our paths crossed again one fateful day at my favorite coffee shop, we reached an understanding and established a mutually beneficial personal relationship.
Initially, Felix was a very generous cash pig. He lavished me with gifts, money, and attention, seemingly making up for all the times he’d exercised his white male privilege in the workplace to make life hell for me and who knows how many other women. But as time went on, his tributes started to dwindle. It was as if he had forgotten his place, or perhaps he was testing me. In either case, I decided to correct him one evening after receiving a particularly paltry tribute.
I summoned him over to my place, fully prepared to assert my dominance in a way he wouldn’t soon forget. And he arrived, as always, eager and a little nervous.
“Is this all you think I’m worth?” I asked, holding up his meager offerings. He stammered, trying to explain, but I cut him off. “Save it! If you think you can skimp on your tributes, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Earlier that day, I decided punishing my first cash pig would require more than words. I felt he needed additional motivation, so I bought some – with his money, of course. And what did he buy? A big, black dildo aptly named The Beast.
I remember Felix’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets when I showed it to him and used Wite-Out to write ‘MOTIVATION’ on it. But he knew better than to protest. This was the game we played, and he’d signed up willingly.
“Strip, bitch,” I ordered
“Yes, Mistress.” His hands shook slightly as he removed his clothes.
I told him to get on his knees. Then I said, “Now I’m gonna fuck you like you tried to fuck me with this bullshit tribute.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he whispered.
And his whimpering quickly turned into tearful pleas that I ignored while I fucked the hell out of him.
Punishing my first cash pig wasn’t just about money. It was also about shifting the power dynamics that had once kept me under someone else’s thumb. Felix had been one of those people, so his cries of pain and submission gave me a rush. I also delighted in his groans of frustration after I intentionally ruined his orgasm by laughing at him as cum drizzled down his cock, knowing he would’ve loved for me to stroke it or let him do it.
“I’ve decided you’re going to hold on to The Beast for a while,” I told him, pushing it deeper in his ass before I duct-taped it in place. He winced, and I loved the look of shame and fear that crossed his face. “I think it will help you remember your place.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Then I made him clean my apartment and handwash my laundry while he was as naked as a jaybird. And when he was done, I made him kiss my feet and beg for forgiveness and give me more tributes. Only then did I allow him to remove The Beast and leave, with strict instructions on how much his next tribute would be.
Some might think punishing my first cash pig that way was unnecessarily cruel, and maybe it was. But in retrospect, I see it as a form of therapy. Taking on the role of Felix’s mistress allowed me to reclaim the power I felt I’d lost during my marriage in a very unorthodox manner. And Felix got what he wanted: a woman who controlled his cock and his wallet.
Call me to find out more about my time with Felix.
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