Date: Sun, 31 Oct 2010 17:01:21 +0000 (GMT)
From: Jamie Knight <badboyjed@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Cashmaster Jed Part 2

The Adventures of Cashmaster Jed -- Part 2

This work is copyright and remains the intellectual property of the
author. Any reproduction, either in part or in whole, without the express,
written permission of the author is strictly forbidden.

      The beamer sped through the city streets, my suited cashpig stealing
nervous glances at me as it drove to the hotel it had been ordered to book
for it's weekend of cashrape and abuse. It's pathetic hard-on was clear in
it's expensive pin striped crotch, a nervous sheen of sweat on it's
forehead and upper lip. I smiled to myself. It had spent the last 15
minutes eagerly tonguing my Nike airs as I gloated over my first wallet
rape and tribute. The wad of 20's felt good in the pocket of my trackies,
nestling against my stiff 19-year-old cock. I was still playing with the
heavy 24 carat gold chain I had ordered it to have ready on the glove
compartment. I had wrapped it round my black leather gloved hands, liking
the look of the gold against the tight black leather. I could take the cunt
out tomorrow and get me some sovereign rings. That would look MINT. Fuck I
loved using cash slaves! Nothing got me harder than taking a faggot's hard
earned cash as it grovelled and thanked me. The power I had over these
fucktards was like a drug, and I was going to be high on it this weekend,
as my latest walking wallet had already begun to prove it's worth.

      I glanced out of the tinted windows as we slowed to a stop at traffic
lights. People hurried along the early afternoon pavements outside,
preoccupied with their own little worlds and worries. "What a bunch of
fucking morons," I muttered to myself. They played by the rules. They were
happy to work for a wage and accept what was offered. They were weak and
powerless and were content in their fucking drab, pointless lives. Not like
me. I took what I wanted. As a superior I knew it was mine, and how to take
it. It was the natural order. The strong took from the weak. Law of the
fucking jungle. And I enjoyed it. I really fucking got off on it.

      Smiling to myself again, my cock tented higher in my trackies as I
made a fist and gripped the chain harder, then casually leaned over and
punched the cunt in the side of the head. Grunting and taken completely by
surprise, his head smacked the glass of his door with a satisfying
thud. Shock and fear showed in his eyes as he righted himself and sullenly
looked towards me, taking on board my scallyboi smirk as I gently caressed
my gold covered fist with the other gloved hand. "Got something to say
piggy?" I sneered. The suit stared for a moment, swallowed, then lowered
his gaze.

      "Thank you Sir." He said quietly, before putting the car in gear and
pulling away as the lights changed. It had remembered that part of my email
instructions as well. Not only was it my ATM. It was my punchbag.

      "What a fuckin' queer piece of shit you are." I laughed.

      "Yes Sir. I am Sir. Thank you Sir." The suit stole another nervous
glance at the next set of lights as I rubbed my hard-on through my trackies
and held his gaze with my cocky, bad lad stare, daring him. It worked every
time, even when I wasn't using cunts like this one. No-one dared argue or
complain when they met that look that said, "Come and have a go fucker. See
what you get." He dropped his gaze again. Fucking spineless queer.

      The rest of the journey passed without incident, and we arrived at
one of the plushest hotels in the city; the 5 star Marlborough. Modern,
exclusive, and best of all, fucking expensive!

      We drove to a parking space near the main doors and once parked, the
suit got out, straightened it's tie, walked around to the other side of the
car and respectfully opened the door, standing to attention with it's head
bowed as I took my time getting out. As I straightened up, my leather
gloved hand gently brushed the fag's hard-on through it's trousers. I felt
it twitch as the faggot gasped at my touch. I leaned forward, narrowing the
distance between our faces, and taking a firm grasp of it's pencil dick I
leaned in even closer before I whispered in it's ear; "You fucking disgust
me you gay piece of shit. You are only a wallet. You are a fucking fat
loser cunt and your only FUCKING purpose in life is to serve ME. Got it?"

      The suit gasped in surprise, (or was it pleasure?) "Yes Sir, thank
you Sir" it snivelled quietly, head still bowed. I released my grip, and
started towards the doors. The pig hurried ahead and held the door open,
then stood waiting to one side.

      The reception area was tastefully decorated like those houses you see
on TV, all large print monochrome wallpaper, glass and arty shit. I slung
my bag on a low table and sprawled on one of several leather couches (I
like leather) while the suit made it's way to the main desk to get the
key. The foyer wasn't busy and I checked out a couple of well-dressed suits
who were approaching me on their way out. I idly imagined the size of their
wallets as they glanced curiously in my direction, wondering what a scally
lad like me was doing in such an exclusive establishment, before dismissing
me with a glance as I put my feet up on the table. Pricks.

      As they made for the main doors, the younger of the two looked back
and held my gaze for a moment as he opened the door for his more senior
colleague. Returning his look with a cocky smile and a wink, I subtly
grabbed my crotch and flicked my head towards the toilets door over on the
other side of the room. The younger suit licked his lips as I rubbed my
rapidly hardening cock suggestively, slowly stood up and crossed the
room. At the door to the gents I looked back to see the young suit making
some excuse to his older colleague, before nervously looking around as he
made his way over. This was too fucking easy. I walked in to the bogs. They
were large, with modern basins, automatic taps and selections of hand
lotions and soaps for fuck's sake. There were 4 cubicles on the far side of
the room; not your cheap partition shit, but proper floor to ceiling mini
rooms. Perfect. Putting the seat down in the far left cubicle, (real
wood. Classy) I sat badboy style, legs apart, cocky grin and foot holding
open the cubicle door, as the suit walked in.

      He was in his late 20's, with a shock of sandy hair in the latest
messy style, clean shaven with brown eyes and was sharply dressed in the
latest city boy style. Charcoal grey suit, pointed black shoes and thickly
knotted silk tie. He fucking reeked of cash and I was going to have it! He
paused as the door swung shut behind him, looking me over as I leaned
forward and crooked my finger at him, beckoning him. "Oioi ya dirty fukka."
I said.

      "IÉI don't normally do this," he stammered and he cautiously
approached. His voice was high and strangled, and his manicured hands
fluttered at his sides.

      "Na mate, Ôcourse ya don't." I drawled as I rubbed my tenting
trackies. The longing in his eyes was plain to see. This was going to be
easier than I thought. "You wanna taste of a young hung scally boi don't
ya?" The man stopped at the doorway, his hard on obvious.

      "Yes. Yes please," he said quietly, looking at me earnestly.

      "'Yes SIR!' you mean, gayboi." I snapped.

      He gaped at me, not quite believing what he heard, or was about to
do, probably. "Sorry Sir. Yes Sir," he hesitated a moment before blurting
out, "And I'm not gay Sir. I'm married." He held up his left hand as proof
of this pathetic statement. I was going to enjoy this.

      "Yer, whatever gayboi. Get the fuck in here an' lick my fucking
trainers. You've been eying them up ain'tcha boi?" The slut nodded dumbly
and quickly crossed the remaining space, closing the door behind him as I
smiled. He knelt on the pristine tiled floor and my trainers got their
second cleaning in an hour from a poof's tongue. I leant forward, making
sure my crotch was rubbing the top of his head as I locked the door. The
suit moaned with pleasure. I quietly got out my phone and flicked on the
camera, taking a couple of quiet shots as I encouraged the poof to lick
harder. He needed little encouragement. "Kiss my cock queerboi." The suit
hesitated then looked up at me nervously. "That's what you want isn't it
boi?"

      The suit paused, and then appeared to make a decision. "Yes, Sir," it
said.

      "Good boi." I said as I held my hard on through my trackies at eye
level with the kneeling executive. He looked at my cocky smile and then
tenderly kissed my throbbing rod through my Nikes. "Yeah boi. Just like
that." I muttered as he kissed it again and again with greater
enthusiasm. Fuck this felt so good, but the best was still to come. When I
couldn't wait any longer I lifted the waistband of my trackkies down and
under my bollocks, releasing my cock into the suit's face. He gasped and
hesitated, looking at it. "What are you fucking waiting for queer? I won't
suck itself!" I growled. The suit dove with renewed vigour, and was soon
sucking, licking and kissing my rock hard 9 inches of boy meat. Getting my
phone out of my pocket for a second time, I snapped off a few more shots
and a quick video, then put it away again. The cocksucker was so engrossed
that he never noticed.

      This was my moment. This was what I had been waiting for.

      Leaning forward, my leather-gloved hands slid down from the back of
his head and around his neck, pausing to force his mouth deeper over my
thrusting, fat cock. The suit choked and moaned with pleasure before
resuming his frantic work. Yeah. Married. What a fucking joke. My hands
continued across and over his shoulders and down his chest, between his
shirt and open suit jacket and across his rock hard nipples. The bulge was
there on the left. Without pausing my hands slipped inside and the left one
slipped inside pocket almost caressing the fat leather wallet. Fuck this
felt fucking great. It was another big one, so fat it caught on the rim of
the pocket as I took it out. The suit suddenly stiffened, and a hand
gripped my wrist. "What do you thinkÉ" he gasped, looking up at me.

      "Now we don't want the boss man knowing what you've been up to do we,
gayboi?" I sneered

      "Wha..?" he sputtered as the truth began to dawn. I flicked open my
phone again and took another picture of his shocked expression as he knelt
there.

      "You're a queer piece of shit, and I'm your fucking boss now. It
ain't fuckin' rocket science cocksucker." I smiled evilly at him as the
colour began to drain from his face.  "I expect the fucks I use to tribute
me and hand over their filthy faggotcash to a real man. Me. You're gonna be
doin' exactly as I fuckin' tell you from now on, or these pics," (I flicked
through a couple so that he could see, before continuing) "are gonna be
findin' their way to your boss." His face paled. "Oh," I added, "and your
missis." The suit began to struggle to his feet, the full horror of his
situation apparent on his face. I pushed him back down hard with my trainer
firmly on his chest. "So take your fukkin queer shit hands off MY wallet,
get back down there and blow me, you disgusting, little fuck." I punctuated
the last three words by shoving my trainer into his chest and forcing the
queer lower into the floor.

      "SirÉ" the suit started, and then his shoulders slumped in
defeat. "Th..Thank you, Sir," he quavered. "I want to please you Sir, I
want to. Really."

      "Get to work fucktard." I snarled. He released my wrist, bent over my
rock hard cock once more, and returned to his work. If anything he was even
more eager than before.

      "There's a good little cash piggy." I crooned as he burbled his
agreement through his full mouth. "That's what you've always wanted ain't
it? A young boss to take you in hand and use you like the bitch you are."
Again the suit moaned his agreement as I felt my nob twitching in the final
throes of completion. I was so near to shooting my load of badlad cum into
this cashcunt. Laughing quietly to myself as I tensed and tensed again, I
opened the wallet. I wanted to time this perfectly. The heavy brown leather
fold-in-half held about a dozen credit cards. YES! I thumbed though the
notes in the back. A good 350 there. Fucking nice. I extracted the thick
wad of cash just as I shot my bolt into the eager suitpig. FUCK! My cock
pulsed and shot load after load of creamy boss cum into the eager cunt
kneeling before me. This was what it was all about. THIS is what I fucking
LOVED about using scum bags like the piece of shit in front of me. I threw
my head back and my eyes closed in ecstasy as I shot again and again. The
fucker on the floor moaned and sucked and slurped, as a stain of his own
darkened on the front of his suit trousers. Recovering, we both were still
for a moment, until I stood, pulled up my trackies, then folded the notes
and stuffed them into the pocket, before grabbing my newest cashpig by it's
tie and wiping my still dripping cock on it. He gasped again as I slapped
him across the face and released him. I stood and towered over the crumpled
figure in the corner as he looked up with something approaching
adoration. Yes this fuck was mine for sure. "Who is your FUCKING Boss, you
disgusting queer?" I panted, still high on the exertion and power I had
over this slut. Time to ram the idea home. My newest bitch absently
smoothed his tie and struggled back into a kneeling position as he gazed up
worshipfully at me.

      "You are, Sir. Yes, you are my Boss, Sir. I want to please you Sir. I
want to be owned by you Sir. Anything, Boss. I'll do anything. Just make me
yours Sir. It's what I want. It's what I've always wanted." The words
tumbled out, falling over each other in his rush to prove himself. He
looked pleading now, pathetically needy. And I was going to exploit it. I
unlocked and flung open the door, grinning to myself as it caught the too
slow suitpig on the shoulder. I stepped over it and out of the cubicle. It
scurried out on it's hands and knees like an eager fucking puppy, then
stopped and knelt and I turned to face it in the middle of the tiled floor.

      "Yeah piggy, damn fucking right you're gonna make me happy. Watch.
Now." I indicated it's wrist. It hurriedly flicked the catch and in a heart
beat the heavy steel diver's chronograph was in my leather-gloved hand. My
eyes glittered with greed as I slipped it into my pocket with the cash. I
opened the cunt's wallet again and extracted it's driving licence, and
without even glancing at it (like I gave a fuck what the queer shit was
called) threw the wallet at it's face. It struck the cunt on the forehead,
making it wince, before slapping to the tiled floor, falling open as it did
so. "In here, nine o'clock tonight. That," I pointed at the open wallet,
"will be full again. You've got 13 cards there, fucker. Each one will have
it's PIN number written on in permanent ink. And fucking smarten yourself
up queer. Your tie's fucking dirty." I laughed as I turned on my heel and
strode out. As the door swung shut behind me I heard a sob.


      Comments & congraulations to: badboyjed@yahoo.co.uk
      Paypal tributes & Amazon gift certificates to: boimaster3@hotmail.co.uk