Being financially dominated by the straight tradie

I came across his profile on an adult dating website. His profile header stated that he was a dominant bull looking for cuckold couples. Reading through the rest of his bio, I was certain that he was exactly the kind of man that I had been looking for. He was an electrician – a tradie – who was naturally masculine and dominant. An alpha male, a real man. He was straight and attached, which was exactly what I was after.

I sent him a message. It was a fairly lengthy introductory message, but I wanted to explain fully what I was after so that he didn’t just dismiss me as another horny gay guy trying to “turn” a straight guy and get in his pants.

I made it clear I was not after sex, or anything even remotely sexual or physical at all. I was a gay guy who worshipped straight men and enjoyed being financially dominated by them, I explained. I provided some examples about what kind of things I was into and looking for and asked if he might be interested in allowing me to serve him with my wallet.

A few days later he replied. He said that my message had come as a surprise but that it had caught his attention. He had not heard of financial domination before, but said that he had done a little bit of research after he received my message and that he would definitely be interested in trying it out.

We exchanged a couple of messages, discussing the basics of what we both would want from a meet and an arrangement like this. We were both on the same page about what we wanted and didn’t want and our interests clearly aligned, so we made plans to meet up one night later in the week. He told me that I would be taking him out for some drinks after work, so we could meet in person and then go from there. He gave me the name of a bar and told me to meet him there at 4:30pm on Friday afternoon.


The next couple of days went by and finally Friday arrived. I messaged him Friday morning to confirm that we were still on for drinks that night. He replied just after lunch. “Yes, I am still good to meet. I want you to get to the bar 15 minutes early and order me a whisky sour. I want it waiting for me when I arrive. Sit at a booth in the corner. I’ll see you at 4:30.”


I arrived at the bar at 4:10pm – 20 minutes early. I made my way to the corner booth and took a seat. There were only a couple of other people in the bar. I guess it was still early yet – most people would be still at work until after 5pm.

I waited five minutes, until exactly 4:15pm, and then I walked up to the bar and ordered two drinks. A whiskey sour for him and a gin and tonic for myself. I paid the barman and took the drinks back to the corner booth.

I sat there patiently, waiting for him to arrive. My stomach was fluttering with a mix of excitement and anticipation and nervousness. The clock ticked over to 4:30pm and he still hadn’t arrived yet. I started to get anxious. I hoped that he was still coming and hadn’t changed his mind. I thought about whether I should message him or not, but I decided against it for the time being. At 4:37pm, he messaged me.

“On my way. You better have my drink waiting for me, it’s been a long day.”

I replied saying that his drink was indeed waiting for him and that both it and I were in the corner booth as per his earlier instructions. “Good” was all he sent back. Everything about that short exchange was turning me on: the absence of an apology or explanation for running late; the lack of a timeframe for just how much longer he was going to be; the directness and assertive nature of his tone. It was all perfect.

I sat there, continuing to wait. At 4:50pm, he walked in the door. He was still dressed in his work clothes: hi-vis shirt, work pants, and steel-capped boots. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showing off part of his sleeve tattoo down his right arm. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a lightly hairy chest that was glistening with sweat. Holy fuck he was hot! I couldn’t believe a man like him had even agreed to give me the time of day. He walked over to the booth and sat down opposite me.

He smiled at me and said hello. “I take it this is mine,” he said, while reaching out and taking the whiskey sour. “Yes, Sir,” I replied. He took a sip and looked across at me, penetrating me with his gaze. “It’s good to see you can follow instructions. That’s a good start,” he smirked.

We talked for a little bit, the usual introductory type of conversation two people have when first meeting each other. I was surprised at just how easily the conversation flowed. One never knows what to expect when meeting someone for the first time, but it wasn’t awkward or anything at all. I felt completely comfortable in his presence.

When I noticed that his drink was 2/3 empty, I asked him if he would like another. The bar had filled up a little bit more by that time and so I wanted to be proactive with ordering new drinks so that he didn’t have to wait for it. He said he’d have the same again, so I grabbed my wallet and headed up to the bar, ordered, and paid.

I sat back down and we continued talking. He was incredibly charismatic. His entire personality was magnetic. Confident but not conceited, assertive but not rude. I sat contently, listening to him talk about his life and fascinated to hear and understand more about this amazing man sitting in front of me. Our fresh drinks arrived just as we finished our old ones. He commented on the perfect timing and I felt my face flush. It felt like the best compliment I had ever had.

We talked and drank for a while longer, with me getting us two more rounds of drinks while we chatted. When he had finished the fourth drink, he announced that he needed a cigar. He walked over to the bar, where the cigars were on display, to pick one out. Knowing nothing about cigars myself, I sat and finished my drink while he made his selection.

When he sat back down at the booth, he told me that he had ordered three cigars – one to smoke now and two to take home with him. He had also ordered some food and another drink for himself. If I wanted anything to eat or drink, I would have to order it myself. He told me that he had opened up a tab and that the barman was waiting for me to go up and hand over my credit card to put against the tab. Holy fuck this was hot! He was doing exactly what I was hoping he would do – buy whatever he wanted without any regard for prices and expecting me to pay for it all. My dick was as hard as a rock.

I put my credit card behind the bar to pay for our tab, and I ordered myself another drink and some food. The barman asked if I wanted everything to come out together, but I told him to bring my companion’s out as soon as it was ready as I didn’t want him waiting unnecessarily for mine to be ready before he got his.

As I got back to the booth, the cigars and drinks arrived. We moved to a table outside so that he could smoke one. Watching this superior man sitting in front of me, puffing on his cigar and drinking his whiskey sour was so incredibly hot that if I had been standing up, I would likely have fainted.

He finished the cigar and we went back to the booth inside. Shortly after, his food arrived and he started eating, while I went up to the bar to order us more drinks. Our drinks arrived, along with my food, and we sat there eating and drinking and chatting.

After we had finished our food, and after another round of drinks after that, he announced that he had to be leaving shortly, as he had an early morning start at work and it was getting late. My heart sank. I didn’t want this night to end. But what I may or may not have wanted was irrelevant and I knew that.

I said that I understood and I thanked him for taking the time to come and meet with me at all. I told him that I had thoroughly enjoyed his company and I thanked him profusely for allowing me the opportunity to serve a man such as himself in this way. He just smirked at me and remarked that he was glad I knew my place in the world.

As we finished up our final drinks and got ready to leave, I told him that I really wanted to show him properly how much I really did appreciate what he had done for me that night by coming along and allowing me to treat him to a night out. He asked me what I had in mind. There is an ATM machine on the corner of the street outside, I told him. I would be incredibly honoured if we stopped there on the way and he let me withdraw some cash for him before he left. I explained that it was a small gesture show my appreciation for him gifting me with his time and company. “Let’s do it,” he said as he gave me a cheeky wink.

I went to the bar to settle the tab. The barman finalised the tab and handed me the bill – $384.35. He swiped my credit card and I punched in my PIN and took the receipt. I walked outside to meet him and we walked downstairs and outside the bar onto the street.

We proceeded down the street to the corner, where the ATM machine was located. I walked over to the machine and inserted my card. “Take out $600,” he ordered. “There’s something I need to buy on the weekend and that will cover it.” “Yes, Sir,” I replied.

I withdrew the cash and went to hand it to him, but he shook his head at me and told me to get on my knees. I was surprised, I wasn’t sure what was happening. When I asked him why, he told me that if I wanted him to take the money from me, I was going to need to beg him to do so. I nearly came in my pants right there.

I immediately dropped to my knees and held up the cash in front of me. “Please, Sir, please take this from me. You deserve it, Sir. Thank you so much for tonight.” “More,” he said, “make me believe it.”

I bent down and kissed his left boot, then his right one. “Sir, please, I beg you. Please let me worship you, Sir. Please take my money, you deserve it so much more than I do. I want you to have it, Sir. Please do me the honour of letting me serve you like this. Please, Sir.”

I looked up at him longingly, again holding the cash up for him. He smirked down at me, a look of amusement on his face. I could tell that he was thoroughly enjoying the sight of me on my knees in front of him, begging him to take my cash from me. He finally reached down and took the money, folded it in half, and shoved it into his pocket. “Thank you, Sir. Thank you so much,” I gushed.

“On your feet, faggot,” he barked, “you need to order me an Uber.”

I got to my feet and took out my phone out of my pocket. I opened the Uber app, typed in the pick up and drop off addresses, and ordered a car. There was one just around the corner, so it took less than a minute for it to arrive. When it pulled up, he waited for me to open the door for him before getting in. “Night, faggot,” he smirked, “and you’re welcome.” He closed the door and the car pulled out.

I stood there for a few seconds, watching it drive down the street disappear out of sight. Adding in the cost of the Uber trip, I had just spent over $1,000 for the evening. Holy shit. This was everything I had been hoping for. I hurried home to jerk off while replaying the evening in my mind over and over again. What a lucky faggot I was. I couldn’t wait to serve him again.

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