FinDom Fun – Part 1
Scarlett is a FinDom queen now, but she wasn’t always. Even so, she was never your average college co-ed. Sure, she was on the cheerleading team, sure, she got decent grades, and yes, she was the treasurer for her sorority. On paper, she was no different than her pretty, young, exuberant classmates. But an “average” student? No. She was something else entirely.
You see, Scarlett figured out at a young age how the world worked. She knew, almost intrinsically, that climbing her way to the top of the food chain meant stepping on a few heads to get there. Nobody said success was easy, after all. Another thing Scarlett had learned in her 24 years was that sex sells – and there was money to be made all around, if you knew where to look.
However, as successful as she was socially, her endless hunger for material wealth kept her awake at night, tossing and turning in her satin sheets. Satin? Ugh. She wanted silk. She wanted the finest life had to offer, and she wasn’t interested in waiting around for it to just happen to her. Sure, she believed in fate, but she also knew that fate, at times, needed a push.
One night, she was on her laptop – which was not the best on the market, much to her chagrin – when she stumbled upon an article about findom. Although, you might know it better as “Financial Domination.” She knew she had to learn more. A man’s place was to provide, after all. “A fool and his money are easily parted.” She murmured to herself, as she pulled her cat into her lap. She scooped up the pure white feline in her arms and whispered into its luxurious fur. “I’m going to make us very rich, Tiffany.” The cat purred in her arms. Yes, they were going to be very rich, indeed.
A new beginning…
Scarlett’s FinDom start was clumsy, but all errors were quickly forgotten. After weeks of rooting through time-wasters and faux-slaves, she saw a message in her email that got her attention. He was polite, bordering on sycophantic. She was thrilled. Before long, they had arranged a meeting. She chose a very high-end restaurant, known for its sushi, with chefs and decor imported from Japan, furniture imported from Germany, and customers with cars imported from Italy. Normally, when she suggested this particular venue, her would-be suitors balked, but not this one. He was very pleased with her expensive taste.
She told him that a beautiful woman needs a beautiful outfit to fit in at a beautiful restaurant, and thankfully, he got the hint. After they set up the meeting place, she got a notification on her phone – Mark had obliged her request! She had $500 to spend on making herself look as perfect as possible.
The day of the meeting finally came. She put her long, copper hair up in a sophisticated French twist. Her new dress was deep blue, to bring out her eyes. It stopped just above her knees, and had elbow-length sleeves, with a deep, plunging neckline, emphasising her ample cleavage. She finished the look with silver heels, an antique silver bangle, and diamond studs. She looked rich – no, she looked expensive. Perfect.
She took a cab to the restaurant and was led to a table for two, close to the center of the room. A twinge of irritation ran through her when she saw that her patron was late, and sat down, facing the doorway. She had no idea what the man looked like, she only knew that he was already enamored with her. She ordered an appetizer and crossed her legs. The clock ticked on. She was about to leave, furious, when suddenly, a moderately well-dressed man took a seat across from her. She said nothing, merely staring. He blinked as he took her in, in all her luxurious glory, and meekly apologized for his tardiness. And yet, she said nothing.
“M-may I kiss your hand, Goddess?” He whimpered. She narrowed her eyes…and extended a perfectly manicured hand towards him. His lips brushed across her knuckles, and he let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, thank you, Goddess, I–” He started.
“You’re late.” She withdrew her hand and sipped her drink as she started to scan the menu.
“Yes, Goddess, I’m so sorry, the traffic was–”
“Something you should have considered.” She still didn’t look at him – only at the clock. “And because of your negligence, you’re 12 minutes late to our meeting. Tsk, tsk,” she shook her head, “very upsetting, my ‘loyal’ subject.” She drawled. “You understand my time is valuable?”
“Yes, Goddess.” He sighed and bowed his head. “Let me repay you for your time. Let me earn your forgiveness.” He babbled, brow dripping with sweat. She finally looked at him.
“…One hundred dollars.” She deadpanned. He frowned with confusion at the low number, and pulled out his wallet as she held out her hand. As he placed a single bill into it, she continued her stipulations. “Per minute.” She narrowed her eyes, daring him to back out, like all the others, daring him to disappoint her. He let out a moan, low and desperate, and started stacking more bills into her hand. He stopped at seven bills, $700, and checked his wallet.
“I’m out of cash.” He gasped. “Please, mistress, allow me to send you more through an e-transfer.” He pleaded. She waited for a moment, and nodded. He typed frantically; her phone buzzed. She widened her eyes when she saw the number on the screen. Instead of sending her the remaining $500, he sent her another $700! “To make up for my lack of cash.” He explained as she looked up at him, confused. She only smirked in response.
Your Queen and Goddess,
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