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It’s easy to think that BDSM is—by it’s very nature—subversive.

We’re the weirdos. The freaks. The ones taking societal norms and turning them on their heads, pushing them past their boundaries, exploring the landscapes marked on the normal societal maps as “here there be dragons.”

There’s loneliness in that.

There’s horniness in that.

And sometimes there’s some pride in that.

In being subversive. Being edgy. Being kinky.

So it took me some time to parse out the truth of BDSM spaces. That yes, there is subversion here. Yes, there is a landscape here that’s off the beaten track.

But also, yes, you will find a lot of play, kinks, relationships, and norms within our space that do the very opposite of subverting societal scripts:

They reinforce them.

Making fun of you for being femme? Not subversive. Centering the peen? Not subversive. Prioritizing a fantasy woman over your wife? Not even close to subversive. Your age gap fantasy where your old ass is desired by women half your age? Not subversive.

You’re on the same scripts as the rest of the vanilla men. You just want to have that vanilla cake and call yourself edgy too.

And goddamn I find you boring when you do that shit.

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When a man comes to me wanting me to shame him for femininity, to dress him up in high heels and glitter and call him sissy or queer, that’s not subversive or exciting.

That’s just entrenching the status quo. That women are less than men. That men are lowering themselves by exploring femininity. That femininity makes you queer. That femininity itself is defined by glitter or lipstick or pink sparkling wine.

It is, in a word, boring. Predictable. The opposite of edgy.

Now, if you want to put on a dress and feel your feelings. If you want encouragement to step deeper into a world of things your assigned gender has denied you—be that lipstick, sisterhood, or platform heels—fuck yeah. That’s subversive. That’s not playing by society’s rules.

That’s where I want to meet you.

That’s what turns me on.

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When a man wants to play a homewrecking fantasy where a hot dominant woman way out of his league swoops in to steal him away from his wife (as if he were a prize), that’s not subversive. It just reinforces the idea that any man—regardless of any real effort or character traits that women value—is a prize by default, that women are in competition for y’all, and that men determine which woman has value and which one is expendable. Not to mention that it is rape culture—that your wife’s consent and value have been taken off the table.

That’s not subversive. It’s not edgy. It’s the most boring, on-script fantasy of them all.

The subversive, sexy version of this is handing over your power to your wife. Be cucked. Be hers. Let her pass you around to her friends if she wants.

That’s sexy. That’s interesting. That’s subverting a status quo.

The other subversive version of this is consensual threesomes, group sex, non-monogamy, sex parties—desire outside the bounds of the box society drew.

Or being free use for women. (But again, you have to become the kind of person women want to use. No skipping steps.)

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This is the kind of world I want to live in and it’s the kind of kink I want to play with.

One where disempowered people find power.

One where the beautiful parts of yourself society shames are rendered beautiful again.

One where submissive men find the fucking gorgeousness of their submission.

Where femininity is sexy and powerful and worth exploring.

Where you are not empowered because of your gender but because of the work you’ve done in yourself to be safe, powerful, and emotionally stable.

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Am I kink-shaming you?

If your kink is built on unexamined misogyny, racism, or other bigotries—damn straight I am.

But you know what I’m not shaming and will never shame? You doing the work to find the fucking sexy kink underneath that other societal bullshit, doing the work to dig out the bullshit part and find the sexy, powerful, authentic part.

The part that wants to explore femininity for real.

The part that admires women.

The part that wants to rest.

The part that wants to connect and repair.

The part that wants to feel hard feelings and exist with them.

The part that wants to center someone else’s pleasure.

The part that wants to give up power for real, not cosplay it.

The part that realizes that the way into fantasies about being wanted by multiple women is about becoming a person multiple women would want—and that the boring script about having to harm one woman to be wanted by another is just that, a boring script.

I take it back. I’m not kink-shaming most of y’all. I’m kink-reframing.

Because at the heart of the most boring “kinks” (are they even kinks when they are sooooo status quo, though) are real desires that probably are subversive according to society:

Being wanted by multiple people

Embracing your whole self instead of just the parts the Council of DudeBros who Decide What Masculinity Is have decided.

Putting down your power and responsibilities

Stepping outside hierarchies or reversing your role in them

Feeling empowered in a way vanilla life never quite delivers on no matter how privileged you are

That’s the part I’m here for. That’s the part that’s sexy. That’s the part that’s empowering—not just when you’re horny but when you cement it in your soul.

So feel free to miss me if you want to stay on the script. And if you want off it? Let’s fucking go.

Findom is transactional.

It’s a common refrain from those in BDSM when it comes to findom. You’ll even hear it from some people within the findom community itself.

Because there’s money involved, this is a baseline assumption. Money = transaction. No money = no transaction.

And boy oh boy how wrong this is.

So let’s unpack it. Because for me, findom is the one space within BDSM that often does—in its purest form—lack transaction. It is transgressive precisely because it’s about money and it’s not transactional.

So first, let’s talk about what transaction means. Because it has been reduced to this idea of “anything involving money.”

The reality is that transaction is this: exchanging one thing for another.

That’s it.

If you give a sales clerk money and get a watermelon: transaction. If you help someone move in exchange for them helping you move: transaction. If you buy someone dinner and expect sex: non-consensual attempt at transaction.

Helping your friend move because you want to: not a transaction. Donating money to a cat rescue: not a transaction. Sharing your watermelon expecting nothing in return: not a transaction.

We live in a world where most men approach women in a transactional way. They want something from a woman and they try to figure out what the minimum they can offer is to get that thing.

This is where we get conversations about the “nice guys” who seem think if they put enough kindness coins into the hot girl vending machine then sex and relationships pop out.

This is also where we get men who rage when they “give a compliment” to a woman and she doesn’t perform gratitude for them.

It’s why many women reject gifts from men, knowing that there are invisible strings attached.

And it’s one of the reasons so many dommes are so exhausted. Because male subs come to us saying they are ready to serve, they will do anything, they want to give, to sacrifice…

But far too many actually mean they want us to enact a specific fantasy. They want to be “forced” to do something they actually already want to do. They did not come to serve when service requires real sacrifices—of ego, of actual power, of time, of money.

So, here’s the thing I get off on: actual submission. The kind that is generous and willing to sacrifice. With time. With money. With opening up parts of yourself that feel scary to open up. Letting me break apart bad habits, squash ego, and smash apart societal power structures that actually keep you from accessing the best parts of yourself.

I want submission that craves my pleasure. I want submissives who give with no expectation.

I want—in short—no transaction.

Only then do I feel a desire to give anything back.

And this is where findom—in its purest form—speaks to me.

Because it asks submissive men to unlearn transactional thinking. It asks them to go against all societal conditioning and give. Give the things society tells you make you a man, the things you’re told to cling to.

Your ego. Your time. Your energy. Your money.

Give them to the very people that our society taught you to extract from.

Unlearn entitlement to women’s time, energy, emotional labor, sexual labor, educational labor, care.

Yes, it’s sexy. Yes, it turns you on. Yes, you get something out of it. But not because you have demanded a transaction. Precisely because you have not.

Because you felt the euphoria of giving.

Because you felt the euphoria of breaking free of a societal cage.

Because you experienced genuine power exchange by laying your power down.

Because I chose to talk to you, play with you, go deeper with you because I wanted to. Not because a transaction bound me to do so.

Findom is and can be many things. Not every dynamic gets here. Not every submissive lays down power for the same reasons or in the same ways. Not every play follows this path.

But some do.

And it is one of the reasons findom can feel so freeing and sexy and powerful to women, many of whom have never experienced anything approaching a non-transactional connection with a man.

Plenty of submissives come to findommes asking what they get for their money. And some of us are happy to play that way, depending what the asks are.

But this isn’t actually findom.

It’s a form of paid femdom. Or femdom with some findom sprinkled in, perhaps.

Nothing wrong with that, but it’s time for us to start understanding the difference—and the power in that difference.

Pure findom is non-transactional. Full-stop.

The money is the point. The sacrifice is the point. The submission of your wallet is the point.

The point is not what you get out of a domme during, before, or after that submission. “What you get” exists based on her pleasure. Not your transaction.

So, here’s the thing:

I started in femdom in my personal life. I still live that way. I still love it. D/s changed my life and continues to do so.

I still love the things I used to love. And I still incorporate femdom elements into nearly all of my findom connections. I tease and I cuck and I humiliate and I play.

And the reason I feel so free to do those things, is because of findom.

Because the joy isn’t really there for me when it’s a straightforward exchange of money and services. When you pay for a session and I deliver it.

The joy is there because I feel abundant. Worshipped. Because you’ve poured your wallet and yourself into pleasing me. Because you are generous without expectation.

And that is makes me want to surprise you. Tease you. Play with you.

If you have sessioned with me more than once, you’re grandfathered in. I only session twice with people I genuinely enjoy. But the only inquiries I want moving forward are findom ones.

In short: If you don’t want to pour yourself (wallet included) into my service, it’s a no.

If you are wondering what you get in return for serving, it’s a no.

If you need to be chased, it’s a no.

If you come entitled, it’s a no.

I crave worship. I crave service. I crave sacrifice.

The two things I want you to release your iron grip on are your money and your ideas about masculinity. Only then will you truly be able to take this journey with me.

So here’s where it starts.

When I first stepped into findom after years of lifestyle femdom, I didn’t have high expectations.

I was excited, curious, intrigued. And I slipped into Reddit and shifted my FetLife profile with a question hanging on my lips:

Is this for me?

I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t come in hell-bent on making it work.

I just knew that something about this space resonated for me. I knew a domme had told me, unprompted, a few years before that I would be good at pro domming. I knew that I loved the D/s dynamic that had unfolded in my personal life. I knew I was a dominant person and that people even outside of kink look to me to hold space, control situations, and be in charge.

So I took a curious step, then another. Another. I took from my personal experiences and I took from the new ones. I played with subs who came and went (both proverbially and otherwise) and those who stayed, who were the right connections for me.

And here I am, nearly a year in.

What a delight to find that I could carve out the space I wanted to within findom, that my curiosity led me to something that feels so right, that my lifestyle experience translated so seamlessly into what I’ve built online.

This week I’m thinking about how grateful I am.

That I found this space, this slice of my people.

For moments that feel powerful and sexy and also life-affirming.

For my long-term boys and my short-term ones.

For a space where I can authentically be. A space to laugh at you and tease you and toy with you. To push you and also for you to know I’ll catch you when you fall. To sometimes be the mean girl and sometimes be the nice one and always be the one holding space and standing in my power.

There’s a common idea of D/s as a sort of Puppetmaster/puppet pairing. The domme holding the strings on the marionette. The sub the dancing bear, moved by her every twitch.

And perhaps there is some validity to this. Perhaps some D/s connections feel that way.

But for me, the dead weight of the dancing bear twitching under my fingers has never been the goal. And those who come to me in the way of hollowed-out puppets don’t get far.

Because the truth about my experience of D/s is this:

It’s a dance.

One person makes a move and the other responds, which fuels the creativity of the first.

If you’ve ever done any partner dancing, this is how it goes: there are typically two defined roles. Lead. Follow.

From the outside, it looks as though the lead is directing the dance. Controlling the movements. Simply sweeping the follow along for the ride. And with beginners, this is often the case.

But go deeper and you realize what is really happening is a complex interplay between two parties. Both with agency and creativity, despite having different roles.

A good lead is suggesting (not commanding) movements. They are paying attention to everything that’s going on around them so they don’t steer their follow into another couple or send them spinning too far away. They are paying deep attention to their follow and adjusting their lead to match the follow’s skill and comfort levels. And they are reacting to their follow’s creativity.

A good lead doesn’t have a map in their head that must be followed at all costs. They are paying deep attention to the specific follow they are dancing with.

And the follow?

This person isn’t simply following commands.

They are paying deep, focused attention to their lead’s every move. Following where the slightest shift in a shoulder, hip, or wrist leads them. They are reacting to the lead’s suggestions—often with an enthusiastic yes but sometimes with their own creativity and re-direction.

The best follows sometimes choose to transform the suggestion of a single turn to a double, the suggestion of a turn to the right with a playful turn to the left instead. The follow can add or subtract energy to the dance. They can make movements smoother or sharper. And a good lead will be paying attention and reacting to those shifts too.

Perhaps most of all: with an excellent, safe, thoughtful lead, the follow is practicing deep trust.

They are trusting that if the lead suggests they step backward, they will not lead them into another couple or a wall. They are trusting that the lead will catch them if they lift them off the ground. That the lead knows where they are leading and how to get the follow safely there.

This doesn’t mean the follow isn’t aware of their surroundings. But it does mean a certain type of surrender, trust, and submission.

Not because the follow is lesser. Not because the lead is the authoritarian dictator. But because social (not choreographed) partner dancing in its most beautiful form requires both of these roles to thrive.

My best D/s connections resonate so deeply with my best dances. The lead/domme suggests, the follow/sub responds, adds creativity, sparks new ideas for the lead/domme. The lead/domme responds to those new ideas with another suggestion, and so on.

I use the word suggestion because a good lead is not a stiff, inescapable cage (which would make for a stiff, uncomfortable, inescapable dance). They are sturdy and confident and capable. They inspire trust. When they move the follow, the follow goes because they want to, because they trust, because of the power and presence and confidence and experience of the lead allow that follow to drop the daily baggage of overthinking, pushing back, second-guessing.

The follow can drop the lead’s hand at any time. They can leave the dance. They can stop it. This is not prison; it’s art.

But in a truly good pairing, they don’t drop the hand, leave the dance, stop the flow. Because both have entered their perfect flow state—a state of co-creating a dance that is perfectly, exactly theirs. Not scripted, choreographed, practiced—but connected to and created by each other in that exact moment.

I talk a lot about co-creation between domme and sub because that has been my journey. That is the type of dynamic that lights me up. It’s why I ask my subs to communicate clearly, to hand me their ideas, their buttons, their fantasies, to participate in the co-creation of a dynamic that is distinctly ours.

Just like a dance, we are working with a lot of pre-existing components. In the dance, these are steps and moves, turns and kicks, etc. In a dynamic, perhaps it’s kinks and norms. And in both cases, the outcome isn’t formula—it’s creative freedom.

Some subs worry about sharing their kinks, afraid that dommes will cater to them instead of doing what we love. But I am not your puppetmaster, forcing every puppet into the same script. I am a dancer, your lead, inviting you to a space of co-creation, connection, and evolution.