The Greatest Game

I absolutely adore playing shopping games. I feel like that should be said at the start of an AA style meeting. Hi, I'm Lotus, people call the the Fetish Goddess, and I have a cash kink. Money and shopping are fun. Taking it from someone turns me on. Manipulating men into shopping for me turns me on. Men convincing themselves that they need to give me all their money because they don't really deserve it makes me tingly, I feel drunk and predatory at the same time.

Once upon a time I felt extremely conflicted about what I've come to embrace as my full blown cash fetish. I believe that financial kinks are the most misunderstood of kinks, because the women who fake the kink don't even have to have half a clue about what makes this sexy in order to try to rake in some cash. In no other fetish are there as many fakes or flakes. They tend to come and go, but I've been breaking boys and creating addicts for years.

In normal circles I'm considered attractive, but not supermodel. I look like I could have modeled for most of Namio Harukawa's artwork- I'm curvy with muscles underneath, my strength softened by wide hips and big tits. My hip length mahogany hair is usually up in an elaborate bun, but when I let it down it cascades in waves. I wear glasses that are more accessory than necessity, and my pale pink skin is dotted with freckles. Men stare at my feet every time I wear flip flops, even those that don't have a foot fetish. I enjoy the power my beauty gives me over men and I take full advantage of my charm. I rarely go out without makeup and a perfect manicure on my fingers. I am utterly feminine and I enjoy every moment of it.

In short, I look something like a mix between a slightly evil librarian and a slightly inappropriate office manager. Skirts a tad too short, heels a touch too high, too much cleavage but not enough to be risque. My eyes tend to be arresting, the force of my personality seems to shine though no matter what I do, but honestly I wouldn't be out of place at a PTA meeting or a nightclub. I hardly look like a lunch-money-stealing pervert who gets off on forcing men to buy me shiny things, but I am.

Why is money so sexy? Money is power. It's one way in our society that men still hold considerably more power than women, just look at the wage gap, the dearth of female billionaires, the incredible lack of high power female executives. I like taking that power from men, I adore it when men want to give it to me.

Money is real. There are a thousand dorks online who claim that they will do anything, sacrifice anything, to please a woman like me. There's ten thousand ways to fake most of that. There is no way to fake cash. If you give it to me, there's less for you. People have a limited amount of it, they want it. They slave for their money, and in giving it to me they are slaving for me.

Money is sacrifice. If some sweet slave gives me a thousand dollars to please me, he's giving up whatever else he could have spent that cash on. Knowing that shoes, a pedicure, a cute dress, and a few fun nights out for me equal tightening the budget for a man is delicious. Sacrifice does it for me in a very big way.

Money is life energy. Each dollar a man earns represents a certain amount of time in his life that he's devoted, that he will never get back. It's a quick and easy way someone can give me hours and hours of his life, a true devotion.

I guess I just love how money is real power, and I adore taking power from men in ways that actually effect their lives. Sacrifice is an amazingly huge turn on for me, and knowing that someone is so dedicated to my whims and desires that they are willing to go without things they need is seriously delicious. If they could bottle that flavor it would be the most amazing candy in the world.

Too many people think of power exchange as something that only covers certain types of power, especially when it comes to men submitting to women. With bondage women can control someone physically larger. I've never been content just taking physical submission from one of my toys. I want to turn them into puppets, bent on pleasing me and easy to manipulate with the tiniest flicker of my finger.

I am not content to own men's bodies, that's the simplest thing in the world for a beautiful woman. I want every part of them- mind, soul, heart, and most of all, wallet, completely devoted to me. Money is power. I want men to give me their power.

Poor John had originally come into my web because he had a mild interest in hypnosis. Over a few months I'd warped his mind to better suit my own perversions. His cock belongs to me completely, he can no longer get hard without thinking of me. He has so many triggers put into his brain that I can make him dance any time I want. His desire to serve and please me has taken over parts of his brain. His sense of self interest is eroding, more and more he's obsessed with pleasing me. I love molding his mind like this, John's carefully implanted neuroses are a fucking work of art at this point. I tend his mind like a garden, and the bounty of his derangements are a never ending supply of boxes from Amazon.com heading strait to my PO box.

I could hear him breathing heavily over the telephone. His webcam was pointing at his desk, his hands...I just wanted to make sure he wasn't stroking without permission. We were about to start another round of the Greatest Game, and I know he barely lasted through the last round. I love a man who almost comes in his pants by using a credit card.

"Are you ready?" I giggled. I love this game.

"Yes. Please. Let me do it." His voice was hoarse with longing, with need. I purred knowing that I'd caused that.

"Alright, same rules apply this time as last time. You try to buy items off my Amazon wish list faster than I can add them. If you win this round, you get to touch, but not come."

"Please. I need it so badly." His head was spinning, three parts alcohol, one part post hypnotic triggers. "I need to see your feet in these shoes. Please, Goddess, let me buy them for you."

I laughed some more. "Allright, then, my darling pet- the list is at 560 items. begin!"

I can't help but laugh when I'm really enjoying myself. For years I thought that I needed to be stern, stoic, and completely in control to be truly dominant, and my constant giggling was almost embarrassing. One day I had a glorious realization- that part of why my boys need me as intensely as they do is not because my emotional control is perfect, but because the clarity and intensity of my emotions draws them like moths. My joy burns like the light from the sun, my lust is all consuming, and every one of my emotions rings pure like note from a bell. There is never any need to guess what I am feeling or play games trying to uncover what would please me.

I've fucked poor John's head up in enough hypnotic trances that he craves my laughter like most junkies crave drugs. He'd started out normal enough, but at this point he would do any humiliating, degrading, dirty thing I asked just for the chance to hear me laugh. I knew that he was quivering with pleasure listening to me shop. He was clicking and buying things as fast and hard as he could, my laughter distracting him enough that he paused and moaned.

I'm no slouch at clicking myself, and I love shoe shopping. With a few keystrokes I was adding amazing shoes to my list- I was on a roll of finding gorgeous red stilettos in my size when my poor puppet started to whimper. He was having such a hard time not jizzing his pants, without touching himself at all. Of course I found this hilarious. The timer I had set went off, it's beeping clearly heard over the phone.

"Looks like this round is over! What are we at?"

"I... the list is at 530, Goddess. I...I think I won."

It's a high, the greatest high. My head is buzzing, my lust and greed completely turned on. I'm having fun, his agony is my pleasure, and I want more. MORE! Any game where my puppets feel like they have won at buying me so many pairs of shoes is a great game.

"Why yes, you have won this round. You can touch yourself. But you know what would make me deliciously amused, darling?" I laughed over the phone again.

"Please... please tell me Goddess!"

"Give it up this round. Don't touch yourself. You can, you have my permission, but it would please me greatly if you denied yourself, just for my pleasure... even after all this hard work." I giggled.

His breathing was ragged, he moaned in agony, and his fingers trembled... but he didn't touch. I could hear the soft sounds of him trying not to weep with frustration. I was breathing faster, his pain so delicious, his sacrifices and cash sooooo good.

"Ready for the next round, my dear?"

"Please, yes, Goddess. Please. I need... I need to."

I set the timer again. It was going to be a lovely, long night.