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findom

The rush of turning down your money

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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.

chastity, teases

Your key around my pretty neck

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I keep picturing myself with your key around my neck. Your pleasure under my control. Your body submitted, surrendered, mine.

Wouldn’t it be thrilling? Intoxicating. To know that I hold your key. A pretty chain around a pretty neck where everyone can see.

See that you are mine.

See that your surrender is mine.

See that your trust is mine.

Can you picture me at lunch, at the salon, dancing, walking around the city, pressing a manicured finger to the key and smiling. Because it’s our secret and it’s out here for everyone to see. Because it’s a reminder of my power. A reminder of your obsession.

I can’t stop thinking about it.

That key.

That thread stretched taut between us, mistress and submissive. Goddess and worshiper.

service

When you serve other women, you’re serving me

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When you pay for the coffee of the woman behind you in line, remember:

She could be me.

When you carry something heavy for a woman you’ve never met:

She could be me.

When you attend a party and offer to do the dishes at the end of the night, you could be doing it for me.

When you listen.

When you worship.

When you serve.

When you give.

You might be accidentally serving a goddess.

You see, we hide in plain sight. Vanilla jobs. Vanilla clothes. Vanilla grocery store runs. Until you learn to spot the divine, you will miss us. Even when you think you know how to spot the divine, you will still miss us.

We’re tricky like that.

Cloaked and hidden one moment, throwing electricity at you with a single glance the next.

But we’re there. We see when you serve. It gives us power, pleasure.

It gives me power. Pleasure.

It sparks attention. Intrigue. Especially when I can feel that you are doing it for no other reason but service to the divine.

Remember today that every small act of care toward the women around you is an act of worship. Even when I cannot see you, it pleases me immensely. And when I can see you, I remember.

I remember the quiet worshipers. The acts of sacrifice.

I remember you.

teases

The anticipation is the point

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“Next week is a long time,” he said before asking if we could do the cash meet the same day.

It is a long time, I agreed. And that’s the fun of it.

Because half the pleasure isn’t the fantasy itself. It’s not the moment you hand me your money. It’s not the moment I look into your eyes and demand it. It’s not when I order you to put on my panties, to kiss my boot, to beg, to stroke yourself.

It’s the anticipation. The lead-in. The hours, the days you spend picturing it in your mind, wondering what it will feel like, knowing it’s coming.

There’s a reason I call myself a tease. I love to draw things out. I love the waiting. I love doling out moments of relief and then pulling the string taut again with anticipation for whatever comes next.

Would you rather have one hour of anticipation and fantasy or a day? A week? A month?

The pleasure is so much deeper when you’re desperate for it, begging, weak with the wanting.

There’s a reason I don’t let you dictate timing. Because I can hold out longer than you. I can play with you. Tease you. Dangle the risk that is waiting, the shuddering, shivering fear and pain and pleasure.

I can take your five-minute fantasy and make it something more.

teases

Being a goddess is true euphoria

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This week I’ve gotten a lot of messages – but three of them made me stop in my tracks.

Three made my heart race, my pulse tick upward.

Three made me bite my lip in anticipation.

They were about different kinks, different requests, different types of dynamics. But they all had some things in common:

Surrendering control.

Being willing to take risks for me. Big ones.

Worship.

It all comes back to worship.

And the more I embrace it, the more I am myself. Authentically. Fully.

Powerfully.

teases

Your anticipation tastes like power

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I love it when you schedule a session but you can’t stop thinking of me in the meantime. And so you’re in my DMs begging to send. Offering gifts. Wanting attention.

Mistress.

Goddess.

Please.

Please.

Your anticipation. The waiting. The way you can’t stop thinking about the next time I text you back…

It’s delicious.

teases

This is not for you, pet

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When I slip my stockinged feet into knee-high black boots and walk with confidence down the street…it’s for me, not you.

When I massage lotion across my skin, letting my hands glide pleasurably over every curve, keeping the skin soft, supple…it’s for me, not you.

When I strip down to my underwear, take a teasing photo…it’s for me, not you.

When I place delicate body jewelry under my clothes…

When I toss my hair casually to one side…

When I close my eyes and savor the taste of that coffee you bought me…

When I slip the silky lingerie you sent over my skin…

It is for me. I am doing it for me.

My pleasure.

My power.

My sexiness.

My joy.

My self.

If you’re lucky enough to get pleasure from my joy, I’m happy for you. But it was never for you. It never centered you. It never will.

q&a

Someone asked what being a mommy or soft domme means…

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It depends on the D/s relationship, but for me it typically means I’m not mean or loud or bratty with my subs unless they’ve specifically requested that dynamic or they’re being assholes. I am more likely to call my subs pets than piggies or losers. I am more likely to hold back and let them crave my approval than I am to actively disapprove.

What people (both in kink and my life) tend to long for from me is this kind of care. They want to surrender. They want someone else to take the reins. They want to be seen and known and guided. Sometimes the dynamic feels like owner/pet. Sometimes goddess/worshipper. Sometimes mentor/lucky mentee. Even friends call me mommy, designated adult, and other similar things. It’s hard to know exactly what other people see in me that causes this, but my whole adult life people have craved my approval, handed me their secrets, trusted me with vulnerable parts of themselves, asked me to guide them – so really I’m just bringing my whole self to the D/s dynamic and it manifests as what some consider mommy or kind domme dynamics.

Of course, things are a bit different with different people. Some people bring out a more teasing side of me; some bring out a more motherly care. Some become lapdogs. Some bring out the goddess. In any case, I’m always in charge. 😉

I have yet to have a D/s connection that feels exactly the same as another, so for me it’s about getting to know the other person and finding where our needs either intersect or don’t.

findom

The “aha” moment that led me to Findom

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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.