Femdom Money
I have never been involved in a relationship with a rich woman, and Ms. Cat definitely qualifies as wealthy. A multi-million-dollar house in an exclusive neighborhood (she also bought the lot in back so nobody builds to block the view), three luxury cars, a vacation home, commissioned art, a personal chef, personal trainer, gardener, cleaning staff, designer clothes, jewelry, First Class plane tickets, etc. And that’s just the stuff I know about. There is nothing cheap about anything she owns…well, maybe except me.
She makes a fortune from her law practice, but I get the feeling she has other sources of income as well. Perhaps alimony or a settlement from ex-husband? Maybe inherited money? It’s all pure speculation because she doesn’t share any of that with me. I just know that she lives her life as though price is no object. Unfortunately, I can’t do the same.
For example, I have always been the one to pick up the check at dinner in prior relationships, but she doesn’t allow me to pay for anything. In fact, I think the few times we’ve gone out to eat together she’s intentionally taken me to expensive restaurants that she knows I can’t afford. I think it provides her a power rush being in control of the setting, and I must admit a tinge of humiliation being unable to pony up for the bill. In that kind of environment, I feel dependent upon her, which of course I am.
The first time I saw the menu at one of her restaurants my tongue just about dropped out of my mouth. The cheapest entrée was $110, and it didn’t include any side dishes. The wine list prices were equally obscene, as was the dessert list. It was hard for me to even enjoy the meal, because of the prices. Highway robbery! She paid with a credit card but left three crisp one-hundred-dollar bills on the table for the tip. I just shook my head in amazement. I didn’t even know a world like that existed.
She’s been to my home once when we first met, and frankly I was embarrassed when she saw it. Not to say that I live in the slums, but my home is quite ordinary. It’s basically a two-bedroom dude-cave in middle-class neighborhood in hill country outside of Austin. I’ve done some nice things with the landscaping, and tried my best to decorate the interior in a stylish way, but no one would ever mistake my place for a palatial mansion like she lives in. She always insists on playing at her place, and I suppose for good reason.
But the thing that has bothers me most about our class difference is that she won’t introduce me to her friends or family. It gives me the feeling of being the hired help, rather than someone intimate. I am getting used to spending holidays alone or with my family. I have invited her to several of my family gatherings, but she has always declined. She never invites me to anything where I would be seen with her.
Don’t get me wrong, the time I spend with her is always spectacular Femdom play. She puts me in sub space like no other. For a guy that’s used to paying for professional domination, to serve a Goddess like her for free is more than most submissive men could hope for. I just wish she’d let me come a little closer.
However, I sense that she enjoys having someone like me at her beck and call. I am neatly compartmentalized so as not to interfere with any other aspect of her life. I provide an outlet for her kinky desires and growing sadistic pleasures. However, sometimes I feel like I’m on the clock when I’m with her. While I enjoy sucking her monstrous delicious clit at the end of a session, I know that as soon as she climaxes, she’s going to unceremoniously escort me to the door. When my usefulness to her is finished, she moves on to something else. I don’t think she gives me a second thought once I’m gone. In that sense I’m no different than her cleaning lady. I provide a service, and then it’s expected that I leave.
She has mentioned converting the guest house into a dungeon, which at first excited me. She even suggested I might spend the night there one day. These are the hundred-thousand-dollar fantasies that are out of my price point. She spoke of knocking out walls to increase space, raising the ceilings, walling in windows, BDSM furniture, soundproofing, as well as ordering a $10,00 bondage bed. After it’s completion all play would be in the guest house.
But then a small detail hit me, and it hit me hard. The guest house has a separate entrance, and carport that’s hidden from main view. Suddenly, I realized that after the guest house conversion, I would probably no longer be permitted in her home. She could have friends and family over and no one would be the wiser that I was kept in the guest house.
On the flip side there sure are a lot of benefits about having a friend with benefits. It’s nice not having to spend on anything and having a zero-balance card at the end of the month. She has paid for my electrolysis sessions and has pledged to pay for any future body modifications such as a slave tattoo or piercings (she tells my nipples are next). She wants me to take on a more feminine appearance when we play, so I’m fairly certain that we’re going to go “shopping” on her dime one of these days. She won’t even let me bring my toys, because everything she has already purchased in the last few months has been the latest and greatest. My $20 Amazon.com dildos just can’t compete.
Bringing my toy collection would be much like her seeing my house, a disappointment to her.
Yet, even though this relationship doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, I’m going to stay the course. I figure that even if I’m compartmentalized like her cleaning help, if I’m with her long enough, she’s bound to at least grow a little fond of me and start making me a part of her personal life. That’s my hope anyway.
But for now I’m relegated to being her pussy sucking chastity boy who also satisfies her pegging fetish. I guess that’s okay, too.
She makes a fortune from her law practice, but I get the feeling she has other sources of income as well. Perhaps alimony or a settlement from ex-husband? Maybe inherited money? It’s all pure speculation because she doesn’t share any of that with me. I just know that she lives her life as though price is no object. Unfortunately, I can’t do the same.
For example, I have always been the one to pick up the check at dinner in prior relationships, but she doesn’t allow me to pay for anything. In fact, I think the few times we’ve gone out to eat together she’s intentionally taken me to expensive restaurants that she knows I can’t afford. I think it provides her a power rush being in control of the setting, and I must admit a tinge of humiliation being unable to pony up for the bill. In that kind of environment, I feel dependent upon her, which of course I am.
The first time I saw the menu at one of her restaurants my tongue just about dropped out of my mouth. The cheapest entrée was $110, and it didn’t include any side dishes. The wine list prices were equally obscene, as was the dessert list. It was hard for me to even enjoy the meal, because of the prices. Highway robbery! She paid with a credit card but left three crisp one-hundred-dollar bills on the table for the tip. I just shook my head in amazement. I didn’t even know a world like that existed.
She’s been to my home once when we first met, and frankly I was embarrassed when she saw it. Not to say that I live in the slums, but my home is quite ordinary. It’s basically a two-bedroom dude-cave in middle-class neighborhood in hill country outside of Austin. I’ve done some nice things with the landscaping, and tried my best to decorate the interior in a stylish way, but no one would ever mistake my place for a palatial mansion like she lives in. She always insists on playing at her place, and I suppose for good reason.
But the thing that has bothers me most about our class difference is that she won’t introduce me to her friends or family. It gives me the feeling of being the hired help, rather than someone intimate. I am getting used to spending holidays alone or with my family. I have invited her to several of my family gatherings, but she has always declined. She never invites me to anything where I would be seen with her.
Don’t get me wrong, the time I spend with her is always spectacular Femdom play. She puts me in sub space like no other. For a guy that’s used to paying for professional domination, to serve a Goddess like her for free is more than most submissive men could hope for. I just wish she’d let me come a little closer.
However, I sense that she enjoys having someone like me at her beck and call. I am neatly compartmentalized so as not to interfere with any other aspect of her life. I provide an outlet for her kinky desires and growing sadistic pleasures. However, sometimes I feel like I’m on the clock when I’m with her. While I enjoy sucking her monstrous delicious clit at the end of a session, I know that as soon as she climaxes, she’s going to unceremoniously escort me to the door. When my usefulness to her is finished, she moves on to something else. I don’t think she gives me a second thought once I’m gone. In that sense I’m no different than her cleaning lady. I provide a service, and then it’s expected that I leave.
She has mentioned converting the guest house into a dungeon, which at first excited me. She even suggested I might spend the night there one day. These are the hundred-thousand-dollar fantasies that are out of my price point. She spoke of knocking out walls to increase space, raising the ceilings, walling in windows, BDSM furniture, soundproofing, as well as ordering a $10,00 bondage bed. After it’s completion all play would be in the guest house.
But then a small detail hit me, and it hit me hard. The guest house has a separate entrance, and carport that’s hidden from main view. Suddenly, I realized that after the guest house conversion, I would probably no longer be permitted in her home. She could have friends and family over and no one would be the wiser that I was kept in the guest house.
On the flip side there sure are a lot of benefits about having a friend with benefits. It’s nice not having to spend on anything and having a zero-balance card at the end of the month. She has paid for my electrolysis sessions and has pledged to pay for any future body modifications such as a slave tattoo or piercings (she tells my nipples are next). She wants me to take on a more feminine appearance when we play, so I’m fairly certain that we’re going to go “shopping” on her dime one of these days. She won’t even let me bring my toys, because everything she has already purchased in the last few months has been the latest and greatest. My $20 Amazon.com dildos just can’t compete.
Bringing my toy collection would be much like her seeing my house, a disappointment to her.
Yet, even though this relationship doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, I’m going to stay the course. I figure that even if I’m compartmentalized like her cleaning help, if I’m with her long enough, she’s bound to at least grow a little fond of me and start making me a part of her personal life. That’s my hope anyway.
But for now I’m relegated to being her pussy sucking chastity boy who also satisfies her pegging fetish. I guess that’s okay, too.
3 years ago
