When you picture me, picture me in my garden—muscat grapevines twining up trellises, flowers spilling over the tiny fences that keep them in their beds, and me, bare feet propped on the table, coffee infused with spices in hand, breathing it all in. Sunshine-soaked, eyes closed, time-rich.
Picture me…
…at my favorite sushi place, savoring every bite of the leisurely lunch you funded.
…at the vintage store, silk and leather and lace against skin as I search for the things that make me feel best.
…in my cozy reading nook, feet tucked up beside me in my sunset-orange-red chair, low light through the lampshade I drew trees on last summer. I burn scented wax, sip rich red wine, and read. History. Philosophy. Novels.
Picture me, in other words, luxuriating. Time-rich. Living the life I want to live.
This is the real luxury. The real truth of the kingdom your money builds for me. Pedicures and comfy sandals, sexy robes and cardamom-infused coffee on my tongue. It is hours of reading time. Lunches with nowhere else to be. Dance events I didn’t pay for. Vintage lingerie you reimbursed.
There is a tendency in this space for dommes to brag about working hard in their jobs, feeling they have to prove that in order to be worthy of your money, they must be doing this as a second job. Well, fuck that. My success in my vanilla career, of entrepreneurship, of so many years working for myself, taking only clients I wanted to take, charging premium prices because I’m damn good at what do—all that allowed me the luxury of time before I appeared in your feed.
And now I want more.
More naps in the shade in the swinging garden chair you’ll buy me. More homemade matcha granola for breakfast. More hours sifting through the treasures at flea markets and sending you the bill, leisurely manicures, weekend trips.
More time on passion projects, activism that lights me up, art for art’s sake. More time not slaving away for money—because you do that for me, don’t you?
Me? I’m here sitting in a sun spot with my dog at 3pm on a Friday. Taking photos of myself because I love to tease you. Inviting my partner to meet me at the cafe for an hour just because.
This is the life I build with your money. This is what you bring to the table. Your offerings at my altar to build the dream.