The Pure, Tingly Arousal of Findom

I could write a 2000 word, MLA formatted essay on the reasons as to why findom makes me wet and warm. Though, recently I’ve discovered something different about it has my clit throbbing, something I hadn’t paid much attention to beforehand. The sacrifice. Yes, I know I’ve spoken about the sacrifice behind sending monetarily before, but something clicked in my head the other day: Nothing is hotter than when you send and tell me what you had to do to budget for me.

Domme Ripley, I worked five hours at my boring 9-5 to send your dinner.
Daddy Ripley, I chose to eat in and have cheap noodles to fund your nails.
Domme Ripley, I canceled my subscriptions to add another gift onto your birthday pile.

Every reasoning makes me hot, turns me on belief. Your obedience, paired with your willingness to prove you’re truly into female supremacy in all ways, even in a capitalist society where greed runs rampant. You’d rather guide me to riches than have a night out, or Netflix, or take a day off.

You work hard for the money you earn and yet you find yourself kneeling, reminding me of every sacrifice you’ve made to fund my lifestyle. That, alongside the payment notifications that make my heart skip a beat, really gets me going.