Alexander Harrington turned 28 last month, but the celebration was nothing like his lavish birthdays of youth. Born into old money, with a trust fund that could buy small countries, he had squandered it all on bad investments, wild parties, and failed ventures. Now, living in a dingy apartment on the wrong side of town, he scrolled through fetish forums late at night, his cock twitching at the thought of financial domination. He had always been the one in control, the rich kid who got what he wanted. But failure had stripped him bare, leaving him craving someone to take the reins completely.
That’s when he found Mistress Elara online. She was 32, a sharp-witted dominatrix who specialized in findom, turning spoiled brats into paypigs. Their first chat was electric. ‘Send me your bank details, loser,’ she typed, and Alexander hesitated only a moment before complying. His heart raced as he transferred $500, his last bit of savings. ‘Good boy,’ she replied, and his dick hardened instantly. She demanded more, photos of his empty wallet, proof of his downfall from grace.
Over the weeks, it escalated. Elara controlled his finances entirely. She set up auto-payments from his meager freelance checks straight to her account. ‘You’re nothing without me,’ she whispered in their video calls, her voice like silk over steel. Alexander knelt naked in his room, stroking himself as she listed his tributes: rent money diverted to her luxury shopping sprees, his credit cards maxed out on gifts for her. He begged for permission to cum, but she denied him until he sold his last family heirloom, a gold watch from his grandfather, and wired her the proceeds.
One night, she commanded him to meet her at a high-end hotel, the kind he used to own stays in. At 30, she lounged on silk sheets, her presence commanding. ‘Strip and kneel,’ she ordered. Alexander obeyed, his body trembling with arousal. She tallied his debts on her phone, laughing at how his privileged life had crumbled. ‘You’re my ATM now, my little failure.’ She made him lick her boots while she drained his accounts in real-time, notifications pinging on his phone. His cock throbbed, pre-cum dripping as she described his ruin: bankruptcy looming, all for her pleasure.
Finally, she allowed him to masturbate, but only while chanting his submission. ‘I’m a worthless paypig, Mistress. Take it all.’ As he came hard, spurting onto the floor, she smiled. ‘Clean it up, then send another tribute.’ Alexander, once heir to fortunes, now found his ultimate high in this hardcore surrender, his failures forged into erotic chains binding him to her will.