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How I Met My First Millionaire Slave

I’d met millionaires before, used and abused countless New York City investment bankers and hedge fund owners while working as a sugar baby in 2016. Last summer was the first time I’d met a rich submissive man, a man with perversions as deep as his pockets. He found me on an escort advertising forum and called me on my phone sex line to make his first contact. That night we stayed on the phone for 6 hours—I made $2000 by just chatting. He wanted to meet me immediately, but his busy schedule and viciously vigilant wife kept us away from each other for weeks. So he bought me 3 new pairs of Louboutin heels to make up for the wait. The numbers kept rising, and before we’d ever laid eyes on each other, my sub had already spent $10,000 grand on me. If you’re wondering why I treat $1000 tributes as if they’re nothing or act unimpressed when I’m given gifts from Gucci, it’s because it is nothing to me and it takes a real slave to impress me. 

Once we’d finally met, I literally dug my claws into his dick, easily taking control of his mind and his money after humiliating and publically torturing him. My slave was a huge masochist and craved heavier forms of abuse and degradation than I’d ever previously delivered. It was intimidating at first, to become the vile, sadistic woman he so deeply wanted me to be. Until then I’d never encountered a sub who allowed me to be so free in my perversions. Most of the clients I knew were skittish, repressed, and would never let me cause them any real pain, let alone leave a bruise for their wife to discover. This man was a different breed; he’d spent his whole life watching and secretly craving the fetishes he witnessed in his favorite BDSM porn. When he made his fortune he decided that he would spend it on what he desired most, the fantasy of being in a Female Led Relationship (FLR) with a real life Dominatrix. 

I whipped him. Flogged him. Used my strapon on him multiple times and even carved my name into his chest with a burning hot kitchen knife. We’d go out together like a normal couple, get drinks with friends, and enjoy each other’s company. When we got home, back to the 2-bedroom condo he bought for me in Brooklyn, New York, I’d get out of the car, spit in his face, and kick him in the nuts as hard as I possibly could. He’d collapse to the concrete, breathless and red faced as the neighbors would watch me drag him by his hair, draw him to building’s entrance, and command him to his feet. Those months we spent together were some of the happiest moments of my life. I finally found a submissive man that matched my energy, that was ready to be at the service of a real Queen. Sometimes I lay in the bed he bought for me, in the home he paid for, in the city I grew up in and think about my life, how this could happen, whether or not any of this is real. 

Well, if it’s fantasy, then I’ll keep dreaming. 

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