The revelation of a female friend’s fantasy leads to financial domination.

This female domination story contains scenes financial domination (Findom), Orgasm control and humiliation. It is entirely fictional and completely my own work.

Please DO NOT read any further if you do not enjoy fictional stories in which males submit to dominant females, either willingly, forcibly, or by coercion.

Please DO NOT read if you think that stories like this should end up with the male taking control and beating or fucking the female – If that’s your bag, none of my stories are for you.

Please DO NOT read if you don’t like stories in which men are made to pay for Sex.

Please DO read further if you want to learn how the protagonist’s female friend lures him into a game of financial domination.

If you like this story, please vote and opinion – it helps to marginalise the votes and comments from Trolls, of which, sadly, there are many!

I hope you enjoy!

———-

MONEY

Drunken lips let secrets slip. Sometimes those secrets should never have been shared, but, in our case, Amy’s lips opened the door to her private garden, and we found a dark and secret place together in it.

Amy and I were childhood friends and had, coincidentally, ended up at the same university after graduating from 6th form. On the night that changed our lives, we’d been at a party at Bryan’s student house, and although it had been a lively event, at midnight the music had to be turned down, and by 1am most of the revellers had staggered away. All that remained was a scattering of sweaty drunks asleep amongst the empty beer cans, wine bottles, and lager filled ashtrays, or attempting to cook post-party snacks from whatever meagre offerings the barren kitchen cupboards could provide. Amy, some close friends and I sat beneath blankets on the sofas in Bryan’s lounge, passing a bottle of Bacardi around and chatting general nonsense. The blankets were welcome as the heat of the party subsided, and the cold, early hours of the morning crept upon us.

I don’t remember meeting Amy for the first time, but I do remember how we became friends in primary college back in the 1990’s. Amy at all times had the most fiery red hair imaginable, and in a college of brunettes and the occasional blonde, she was the subject of many cruel childish taunts. I was no stranger to puerile cruelty myself, my German-Turkish surname being Ufuk, and so, on one occasion while our classmates made fun of Amy’s hair, I made a reputation for myself by punching seven boys squarely on the nose. It was a shameful and bloody incident, but nobody teased Amy again, nor made fun of my name for several years. Amy and I were an item after that, for at least a week, until I decided that girls were boring and that it was more fun to play Star Wars. Ironically, it was Amy’s hair – the cause of her lonely despair in primary college, that made her a rare and desirable thing in senior college. By the time she was in her mid-teens her body was slim and her breasts well developed, her lips were full and red, and her green eyes were big and bright. When she was young, her mother told her to be proud of her red hair because it was gorgeous, and by her mid-teens she finally realised that it actually was, and wore it big and long about her pale, freckled face. She dated the boys who teased her in primary college, and broke all their hearts, but she never dated me… by this time, childhood hero or not, Amy was completely out of my league. When we were young, I at all times wondered that she had a sort of hungry look about her – as though there was at all times something on her mind that she desired. When we matured, I began to think of it as a look of lust, which only made her more attractive to me. Then, when we were in our late teens and on a college field trip in Wales, she unwittingly did something that would cement my longing for her forever; she unlocked my Shower cubicle with the edge a penny, and opened the door so that all the girls could see me naked. It was a childhood prank between friends that we laughed-off quickly, but that moment, when she opened the door and stood there laughing at my humiliation, lived-on forever in my fantasies.

On that cold evening at Bryan’s house we somehow ended up talking about prostitution, and suddenly, to an uproar of laughs, Amy, who was sat to my right, blurted out, “I’d hate to HAVE to have Sex for money, but I’d Love a man to pay me for Sex.” Sensing her sudden embarrassment, I put my arm around her and said, “I’d pay you any day Amy”. Our bubbly friend, Gina, who was snuggled-up to my left, raised her drunken head off my shoulder and said, “Such a pervert!” a little too loudly, and the raucous laughter continued.

We carried on drinking and laughing, talking about anything and everything, reminiscing and dreaming, but something had changed between Amy and me – there was an energy between us, a sort of underlying, intangible anticipation. She nestled closer to me under the blanket and I felt as though she had an excitement about her. I knew that she was still thinking about being paid for Sex, and my throw-away but sincere response. Gradually more and more of our companions fell asleep, but the indefinable nervous agitation between us kept us awake.

We kept drinking.

Eventually, Amy inched closer to me and put her lips close to my ear. “Do you have any money with you?” she asked in a trembling whisper.

I was surprised, but immensely aroused. It wouldn’t be the same as being exposed by her in public, but the wondered of demeaning myself before her by paying for Sex was still profoundly arousing, accentuated somewhat by the knowledge that being paid for Sex turned her on.

“About £10,” I whispered.

“Is that all? Do you think I’m cheap?” she teased, quietly.

“No! It’s just that that’s all I have today.”

Over the course of the next five minutes she snuggled tightly to me beneath the blanket. I could sense her nervousness and excitement.

“Give me the money,” she said, eventually.

I took a moment to check that Gina was truly asleep on my left shoulder, then I carefully fetched my wallet out of my jeans’ pocket without making too much of a disturbance. The bottle of Bacardi made its way past us again, and we each took a swig, then I slipped the £10 note from my wallet and passed it to Amy below the blanket. She didn’t look at it, just tucked it away somewhere.

“Open your jeans,” she whispered.

Trembling, I silently unbuckled my belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped my fly, pulling it open. Almost immediately I felt Amy’s little hand slip into my jeans and over the bulge in my boxers. I resisted the urge to moan as her hand began to explore, stroking up and down the length of my erection, and rooting further between my legs to finger my balls.

She kept her hand there while the dwindling conversation rattled on, and a new bottle of spirits circulated around the room, then, after having held my throbbing cock in her soft hand for at least 20 minutes, she pulled her hand back out of my pants and leaned in to my ear. “That’s all you get for £10,” she whispered, “You want more, you pay more.”

Eventually everyone was asleep. Even Amy had nodded off, breathing heavily with her head on my shoulder. I was the only one awake, sandwiched between Gina and Amy, my cock hard as iron while I wondered about what Amy had just done, and what she might do next.

———-

I woke the following morning as a broad beam of sunshine traversed my face. I moaned and clenched my eyes tight, unable to ignore the bright red and yellow of the inside of my eyelids. The beam crept slowly across my face, and within a few minutes, Amy received the same, rude awakening.

“What time is it?” she croaked.

I extracted an arm from beneath the blanket allowing cold air to rush in around me. I tipped my phone up. “9:15,” I replied, my voice harsh and broken too. “Want some breakfast?”

Amy straightened herself on the sofa and wiped a little drool from the corner of her mouth. “Best cure for a hangover,” she said.

Bryan declined any offers to help tidy his house, saying that it needed to mature for a while before anyone tackled it, so Bryan, Amy, Gina and I caught the bus down into town. Once there, Gina told Bryan that she wanted to go to McDonald’s, so Bryan tagged along with her leaving Amy and me to dine at Maggie’s Café where the food was greasier, and therefore, in our opinions, better for a hangover.

We sat opposite each other at a small table by the window, and ordered a Full English each. Finally alone and able to talk freely, I decided I should broach the matter of last night.

“Hey, Amy, about last night…” I started.

Amy’s face lit up as though she had just eaten the most delicious food known to man, and she threw her eyes to heaven. “Wasn’t it exciting?!” she exclaimed, “It felt so sordid… and it made me feel….”

I waited as she chose her word.

“Like… powerful,” she concluded, “Like taking your money made me feel powerful. Sort of sexy.”

I was relieved that she didn’t feel awkward about it, but I had no idea where we were gonna go from here. “Yes,” I admitted, “but it was cheeky of you to leave me with a boner like that!”

She chuckled a little, and leaned towards me. “You want more, you pay more,” she laughed.

“How much more?” I asked, without much wondered for how open or revealing the question was.

“Oh, you’re interested?!” she exclaimed with a wink.

I could feel the blood rush to my face as I blushed. “Only ’cause I still have a boner,” I spluttered. I’d intended the statement to sound like I was only interested in paying more because we hadn’t finished off last night, but it actually sounded like it was the prospect of paying her for Sex that was turning me on. In hindsight, it was both.

“Well, you can either take care of that yourself, or you could pay someone else to do it,” she said, wryly.

The waitress arrived with our breakfasts, placed the plates before us and rotated them until the sausages faced us, as though she were serving venison in a Michelin starred restaurant. It hadn’t been prepared by Heston Blumenthal, but my god!, that greasy meal looked good!

We didn’t speak any more about Amy’s prostitution fantasy during the meal, but the subject was never far from my mind, and I could tell that it was on Amy’s mind too. She had a sort of excited aura about her, a twinkle in her eyes that added to her general lustful appearance. She glowed as though my acceptance of her fantasy allowed it to bloom like a flower within her. She seemed sure of herself, and a little cocky. Suddenly, and for no reason that I could fathom, she began to eat from my plate too, leaning over with her knife and fork to cut a sausage and take a piece, or scoop up some beans with her fork. I stopped eating and looked at her, trying to make her question herself, but she just kept on stealing food and chatting brightly. I wasn’t annoyed. In fact, for some strange reason, I found it a little sexy.

When my plate was empty and Amy was replete, she called the waitress over. “We’ll pay separately please,” she said.

Grease must be cheap, as each of our bills, complete with coffee, came to £4.50. Amy pulled out a £10 note, flashed me a wicked smile to let me know that it was MY tenner, and gave it to the waitress. “Keep the change.” she said. I paid exactly £4.50 with change from my pocket as it was all I had.

The afternoon was ours, so we wandered towards the centre of town, half planning to meet up with Bryan and Gina. On Carrigan Street we came to an ATM where I stopped to draw some money out. I pressed the button for £100, and Amy immediately smooched into my side. She placed an arm around my shoulder and a hand flat on my chest, and tiptoed to bring her lips to my ear. “Hoping for something special tonight?” she teased.

I suddenly felt incredibly awkward – I needed the money for other purposes and there was no way I could afford to give Amy anything much to continue her game. To put £100 into context, I earned just short of £400 a month from three nights a week working as a waiter at Montgomery’s, and this only just supplemented my student loans enough to kept me in the black, after beer of course.

“Amy, I really need this money,” I stammered.

“That’s a shame,” she said, “£100 might have bought you in to ‘anything’ territory.”

“What does that mean?” I enquired.

“Anything?” she whispered into my ear. “Pay me enough, and I, will, do, ANYTHING you want me to do.”

The lewdness of her suggestion made my cock suddenly twitch and stiffen as I drew the cash from the beeping machine. I laughed, awkwardly. “Maybe when I’m rich,” I said.

As we headed down the high street on our way to McDonalds, I could not get Amy’s offer out of my thoughts, and many of my deepest, most personal fantasies kept popping into my head, uninvited, lobbying me to pay for them to come true. I thought what ‘anything’ meant to Amy – did it just mean vaginal Sex? – or maybe Anal? would she dress up for me, or tie me down, could I watch her masturbate? Maybe I could ask her to treat me cruelly… would she spank me for £100, or maybe even discover a way to humiliate me again?

“Give me £40.” Amy said suddenly, breaking me from my daydreams.

“I can’t Amy!” I said, genuinely. “I owe Bryan 40, I need 30 if we’re going out tonight…”

“Give me the 30 for tonight then.” she said, playfully, “We’ll stay in instead.”

I suppose that in my head I weighed the prospect of another 8 pints of beer against some sexual favour from Amy, and decided that the night-in was better value for money, because I found myself steering us into the sheltered doorway of a closed-down Woolworths, fetching my wallet from my pocket, and handing her £30. She took it with a smirk and tucked it down the neck of her dress and into her bra.

“Are you sure you can’t stretch to 40?” she teased.

———-

Amy lived with Gina and two other girls in a house on Poulter Street that, at its best, looked like Bryan’s did after a party. Nobody seemed to tidy anything, ever, and although Gina and Amy’s other two housemates were friendly and funny, I found the four of them a little intimidating en-masse. I generally tried to avoid the place, but when I arrived there in the early evening, after having gone home to Shower and change, I was tingling with excitement. I was somehow relieved to discover that Amy had not dressed tartily for the evening. In fact, she hadn’t dressed up at all – she wore a grey, baggy, wool jumper and light blue, holey jeans which seemed to be the usual attire for residents of the Pit of Poulter Street. They wore next-to-nothing when they went out in the evenings, spent all their gas and electricity money on booze, then dressed up for arctic conditions back at home.

Amy ushered me in and then, to my great relief, straight upstairs, avoiding her housemates whom I could hear cackling in the front room. I’m normally totally respectful towards women, looking away if a thigh is revealed whilst a lady sits down, or if a short skirt reveals panties on the escalators, but today I allowed myself to watch Amy’s lovely Ass as we climbed the two flights of stairs to her attic room. Her bottom was small and round, and I imagined it to be firm. A guilty wondered entered my head that I could see it if I wanted to… if I paid her enough.

We sat side by side at the head of her bed, leaning up against the ugly, purple velour headboard and watching a rom-com on an ancient CRT television she had precariously balanced on a small table at the foot of her bed. We passed a bottle of vodka back and forth, which helped to calm my nerves. Nothing in the evening was unusual so far, but my thoughts were never far from the fact that she owed me £30 worth of something. She seemed more relaxed than ever; happy and excited even, but in no rush to jump straight to it. It wasn’t until the credits were rolling at the end of the movie that she made her move.

“So,” she said, rolling towards me and speaking softly into my ear, “what do you want to spend your £30 on?”

I’d been thinking about this moment all afternoon, wondering what I could expect for £30. She wasn’t doing this for the money – just the thrill of being paid for Sex, and she’d readily reduced the price from £40 to £30, so I figured I should take full benefit of the situation. “Let’s fuck!” I said, my throat unexpectedly trembling.

“Not for £30!” she laughed, immediately. She leaned into me some more, resting a little more weight on me so that I could feel her breasts pressing on my ribs. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ll do ANYTHING with you for the right price, but £30 won’t buy you my Pussy.”

I had never heard Amy speak so crudely or provocatively before, and I found it intensely exciting.

I hadn’t wondered of a ‘Plan B’. “Er, I don’t know then… what can I have?…” I stammered.

“How about I suck your cock?” she purred into my ear, her voice slow and sultry.

“Ok!” I squeaked.

Amy jumped off the bed with a giggle, and told me to stand before her. I complied immediately, then Amy sank to her knees and began to unbuckle my belt. I looked down at her, on her knees before me, undressing me so that she could perform this crude and carnal act of Sex upon me. She looked up, saw me watching her, and flashed me a hungry, naughty look as my jeans fell to the floor with a thud. She held my gaze, grabbed my boxers at the waist, and dragged them down my legs to my feet. My cock was, embarrassingly, only semi-hard but, thankfully, looked like it would only take a little attention to bring it fully to life. It jutted forward, and curved in a fat arc down towards her knees.

“Lie down.” she ordered.

I sat on the edge of the bed and lay back, then I grabbed a pillow and stuffed it behind my head, propping it up so that I could watch Amy between my legs. She ran her hands from my knees to my crotch, lifted my cock out of the way, then ducked her head down so that her lips brushed my balls. The first touch was electric, and I stiffened quickly while she began to plant soft kisses on my testicles with her red lips.

It’s hard to describe the emotions I was feeling at that stage; it was still strangely embarrassing to be semi-naked in front of the girl I had desired for so long, and to have her perform such a personal, intimate act on me. At the same time it was immensely exciting and gratifying to be the person who was helping her to live out her fantasy – to be the person she trusted enough to be uninhibited with.

Slowly, Amy increased the pressure of her kisses, tonguing my balls as she kissed, coating them in saliva and causing me to moan softly. Suddenly it occurred to me that she’d had many more boys than I’d had girls, and I thought how many of them she had pleased by tonguing their balls like this. I thought how many cocks had she tasted as they passed her lips, how much sperm had her skill drawn from them. I closed my eyes and let my entire world concentrate down to the sensation of her experienced touch, and the intense, singular, pleasurable feeling that it created in my balls and cock. I was aware that my shaft was Hot and heavy on my stomach, and that it twitched and throbbed as she teased me.

Eventually, Amy let her mouth wander up my shaft. She raised herself onto her ankles so that her head could hover over my aching cock, then she ran her tongue up and down its entire length, from balls to bell-end and back, over and over again while I moaned louder and louder, eager her to let the tip of her tongue flick across my frenulum or onto my perineum. I began to worry that I would explode as soon as she slipped my head into her mouth, but she seemed keen to make me wait for that, taking her time to tease me as long as efficient before allowing me that ultimate pleasure.

After an agonising wait, she finally brought her hands to my throbbing cock and pulled it vertical, then she rolled her red lips over my taut skin and took the head into her Hot, wet mouth. I moaned and tensed immediately, but Amy was careful and gentle with me, slipping me deeper into her mouth ever-so-slowly, deeper and deeper until her eyes widened and began to water, and she looked as though she was on the verge of gagging. Then she raised her head again, letting my glistening cock slip completely from her mouth. Ribbons of saliva poured from her lips.