Findom: when the daddy is the one being kept

Part 1: The Encounter That Changed Everything

Álvaro was 54 years old, a man of impeccable presence who lived in a spacious penthouse in the Salamanca neighborhood of Madrid. He was an independent financial consultant, with a full agenda of wealthy clients and a bank account that knew no worries. But his true pleasure was not in accumulating more wealth, but in exercising subtle, elegant control over men who voluntarily surrendered to him. He enjoyed financial domination: that game of power where money flowed from the hands of a submissive to his, expanding limits calmly, without shouts or insults, only with a serene smile and a gaze that said "I know exactly what you need".

Pedro, on the other hand, had just turned 30. He worked as an administrative assistant in a logistics company in Valencia, with a decent salary but always tight at the end of the month. What really excited him was financial humiliation: giving his money to an older, superior man who would laugh at his small penis, whip him until his ass was red, or simply use him as an object of pleasure.

He found Álvaro in a findom chat on a discreet app. At first, they were small tributes: 10 euros for a coffee, 20 for a gin and tonic on a Madrid terrace. Álvaro accepted them with elegant messages: "Good boy, Pedro. This coffee tastes better knowing where it comes from". Pedro masturbated reading those messages, imagining the luxurious life he financed with his effort. The tributes grew: 50 euros for dinner, 100 for a new suit.

Álvaro never asked in a crude manner; he suggested, guided, made Pedro feel that it was his decision... although both knew it wasn't entirely. Until one day, Álvaro proposed a face-to-face meeting at a discreet hotel on the outskirts of Valencia. Pedro accepted, trembling with anticipation. He arrived at the hotel with his heart racing. Álvaro was waiting in the suite, dressed in an impeccable white shirt and dark pants, drinking whiskey with ice. "Take off your clothes, except for your underwear", he ordered in a calm voice, without raising his tone. Pedro obeyed, kneeling on the carpet. Álvaro approached, lifted his chin with two fingers. "Look at me. You're going to give me 300 euros today. In 50-euro bills, one by one, while I use you". Pedro took out the wad of cash from his wallet, trembling.

The first bill he handed over while Álvaro gave him a soft, almost affectionate slap on the cheek. "Good boy". Another bill, and Álvaro ordered him to massage his feet, bare and strong. Pedro did it with devotion, feeling how his small penis hardened in his underwear. More bills: one for each whip on his ass, one for each of Álvaro's laughs at his "boyish penis". "Look how pathetic you are, Pedro. Paying for this". But he wasn't cruel; he was protective, like a father who corrects his son with firmness. In the end, with the 300 euros in Álvaro's hand, Pedro felt liberated. Álvaro hugged him, kissed him on the forehea...