Rick tapped a stylus against his tablet screen, closing out the notes he’d taken about the new client sitting in front of him. While he looked like any other middle-aged man going through an identity crisis, Stephen was an unusual case for a life coach like Rick in that he wasn’t looking for professional mentoring or goal setting. Stephen had sought Rick’s help to overcome a very specific, and very embarrassing, problem. 

“I just can’t bring myself to go to a therapist,” Stephen said as Rick looked up from his tablet. “It’s too humiliating. Do you think you can help me?” 

Rick puffed his cheeks out and exhaled sharply. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I want to help, but I don’t know if I’m the right kind of professional for your, shall we say unique situation. I’ve never even heard of findom before. I’ll need to do some research.” 

Man on a therapist's couch with the therapist writing in his notebook

Rick could almost see the hope come alive in Steven’s eyes as he threw the man a lifeline. “Thank you, I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” 

“I can’t promise anything,” Rick held up a hand. “From what you’ve told me about this compulsion of yours, it seems like it’s pretty hard to get out of.” 

“I’m willing to try anything.” 

Rick stood up, prompting Stephen to do the same, and the two men shook hands. “Let me see what I can find out,” Rick said, “and we can talk about the next steps at our next appointment.” 

That night, Rick took his first deep dive into the world of online findom. With just a delivery pizza for company, he sat alone at his computer for hours reading blogs, scouring social media profiles, and downloading erotica dedicated to the bizarre kink. He just couldn’t understand how someone could derive arousal from being humiliated into giving their money away. The more he read about people like Stephen going into debt to fund their obsessions, the more he felt compelled to help his newest client overcome his problem. 

Rick’s research led him to a findom site called Pay Your Master, which billed itself as the “premier online community for paypigs and the Masters who drain them.” The requirements to set up an account as a Master were stringent, but the threshold to join as a paypig was surprisingly easy. Within a few minutes, Rick was browsing Masters’ profiles, searching for some obvious reason why his client was so hooked on this unhealthy fetish. 

Rick had just started looking through profiles of paypigs when a pop-up message appeared in the corner of his screen. It was a DM from a Master, unimaginatively named “DebtDom.” 

Hey. I saw you’re new here. Got any questions? 

Boy, do I ever, Rick typed back. But I’m not here for myself. I’m doing some research for a client. 

DebtDom didn’t reply right away, and Rick couldn’t blame him. “I’m doing some research for a client” sounded like a flimsy excuse at best, and a scam at worst. He was about to close the conversation when the notification alert chimed. 

Happy to answer your questions, man. Anything to help your client out. 

Stephen gasped in surprise when he walked into Rick’s office the following week. The comfortable armchairs had been removed and in their place was a single metal stool. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the afternoon sun, and the only source of light in the room was a lamp in the corner. The air in the room felt stale and smelled of cigar smoke. Stephen took a few uncertain steps toward Rick, who was leaning back in his chair and resting his feet on the glass top desk. 

“Come on in, Stephen. Have a seat.” 

Stephen sat down on the stool and looked at Rick, his gaze darting back and forth between the life coach’s steely expression and the soles of his dress shoes. 

“I’ve learned a lot about your dirty little secret,” Rick said. “And how hard it is for a paypig like you to truly quit.” 

“Y-Yes,” Stephen said. “Yes, Sir.” 

“And as your life coach, there’s only one viable solution I can recommend for a hopeless cash slave like you.” 

Stephen squirmed on the stool and stared at the soles of Rick’s polished leather dress shoes. “Okay, Sir. What should I do?” 

Rick’s cock swelled in his suit pants as he teased Stephen by swaying his feet back and forth. “The way I see it, you can’t pay all those other guys if you have no cash to begin with.” 

Rick swung his legs back onto the floor and walked around the desk, stopping a few inches away from Stephen, who appeared to shrink as Rick’s six-foot frame loomed over him. 

“Take out your wallet, pig.” 

Stephen looked up at him in shock. Rick’s expression was stern and commanding, and Stephen quickly cast his gaze back to the floor. “Yes, Sir.” 

Rick leaned back against his desk and gave his growing bulge a squeeze. “Hand over your cash. Credit cards, too.” 

Stephen pulled the bills and cards out of his wallet and then held them out for Rick to take. “Thank you, Sir. Thank you for helping me.” 

“You’re welcome, slave,” Rick said. “But I’m not convinced you’ve been completely cured of your perversion. I want you to come back every week so I can keep an eye on you.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Stephen said. “Begging your pardon, Sir, but a week is a long time to go with an empty wallet.” 

“Hmm, I suppose it is,” Rick said and then pulled two $20 bills from the wad of Stephen’s cash and threw them on the floor. “That ought to keep you out of trouble.” 

Stephen thanked Rick for his generosity as he picked the bills up off the floor and then thanked him again before he left. With a satisfied smile, Rick dropped the cash and credit cards onto his desk and sat down. It had taken some time and a little research, but he finally understood why losers like Stephen got so wrapped up in findom. It was fucking hot. 

Rick flipped through the small pile of Stephen’s credit cards and picked one at random. He then logged into Pay Your Master and initiated a $100 transfer to DebtDom. His cock was rock hard, and he stroked it with one hand as he typed out a message with the other. 

Greetings, Sir. Please accept this tribute from Your loyal paypig. 

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