findom

A sweet pet said recently the he felt so lucky to have discovered that the world was lying when they told him goddesses weren’t real. That the thing he’d been longing for for decades was real. Was here. Was now.

It made me think about how we got here. Goddess and worshiper. Both thriving.

His service was always with quiet, unassuming devotion. Never demanding. Always listening. Doing what he knew I would ask before I said the words.

It was worship. Admiration. Quiet, steady, unwavering support.

This is what I crave.

I crave to see your joy in serving. I want your devotion. I want you to know me and to do things you think will please me before I ever ask you to.

I want your creativity.

Your care.

I want you to hear me say that supporting women matters to me and then to see you out in the world offering service to the divine feminine.

I want you to see me get excited about that leather harness or a bubble tea or a fancy coffee and to quietly send.

I want to smile and laugh when I tell you to count dogs in the park and you write back to me with a number. I want to laugh and revel in my power again when I tell you to tip me every time you think of touching yourself and I see the tips slip in every few hours.

I want that kind of connection. That string pulled taut between us. My approval, my desires, my commands, your purpose.

The same sweet pet said with me he’d found his purpose.

This is what I want for all of us. To make you better. To make you stronger. To make you more confident as you serve, worship, give.

The first true finsub who dropped into my DMs wanted me to drain him. Be ruthless, he told me. Take it all.

It was hot as hell.

We talked about boundaries. I shared my hard limits. And I knew immediately that it wasn’t a fit.

So I said no.

No to the money. No to the teasing game of it. No to what would have been my first drain session.

I said no because it was what I wanted.

And that was hot as hell too.

The power. The rush. Saying no, I will not take your money. No, I don’t need it. No, what I want is what matters here. My boundaries are my power. My power is non-negotiable. And I will not trade it.

Because the money was never the point.

The power exchange is.

The worship is.

My authenticity is.

And if I play a game with you, you will know that it is because I want to.

I am curious. Or I am excited. Or I am aroused. Or I am exploring.

The moment I don’t want to be there, I won’t.

Your money does not mean you’re in charge. It does not give you power over a goddess. It does not mean you call the shots.

It is worship. It is devotion. It is a gift given freely. It is sacrifice in the presence of authenticity.

Taking it excites me, but so does turning it down.

You wanted to worship. But I set the rules.

It started as a slow exploration of my domme side with a partner who has a thing for worshipping powerful women. Kissing my feet. Sitting on the floor beside my chair. Anticipating my needs. Bringing me gifts.

The “aha” happened when I was I was having a girls night at my house (partner not invited) and all day he was texting me offering to come over and clean the house and do the dishes afterward. The first time felt like an offer, then it felt like worship. Obsession with the idea of pleasing me. And I LOVED it.

I realized that the surrender of his time to my control for my pleasure satisfied some part of me that I’d never experienced before. And from there it made perfect sense to me that both time and money fit into my goddess kink perfectly.

That moment gave me clarity and let me trace back to so many other moments that had the same roots and I finally gave in to what many people have told me over the years: I’d be a great domme.

So far, this journey has been deeply centering.