#RealDeal: 50 Shades of Friel (that time I became a FinDomme)
<editorsnote> Dear mom and dad, this post is probably not a good post for you to read. Love you! </editorsnote>
So, last night, I thought I was going to dollar taco night in the valley to catch up with some friends (in crypto) and pitch an idea that I have in the space …
… only I wound up at the Waldorf Astoria rooftop (not my recommendation) …
… got kicked out of a (coincidentally) crypto-event-based happy hour … tried talking my way out of it (with a full plate of every food they were offering at the buffet later) … epically failed … only to walk back over to the table and ask my friends confused wondering “what gave me away?” My new “girlfriend” and I happened to be stopped by a group of guys as we were leaving, so I wondered if security thought we were “working the event?”
Considering our happy hour tab was SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLARSI kinda wish I was “working it.”(We had a big group but not SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLARS big.) Only not selling my body for sex. Cause, that’s kinda not my thing. BUT I was a findomme once. And yes, that actually IS a thing.
Per UrbanDictionary:
Maestro …
Last June, I got an email from a new Talk Nerdy fan …
As I’ve said previously, HANDS DOWN (er tied up?)the most popular series of posts I have ever written has been the adventures in being a DIY Domme. (Which is why when I repackaged the Bruckheimer/ CBS pilot, we chose that exact topic. It’s all a numbers game in media.) Like another monthly visitor, I still to this day (and equally as regularly) get tweets …
and Facebook messages …
Most are interested in being one of my slaves, but some generally ask questions about the “scene” and or life in general …
The funny thing is that when you ignore them, they actually enjoy it …
Like I’d ever accept a slave that starts a sentence off with “yo.”
I’m not sure what it was about his Financial Domination email that interested me. Timing? Maybe. Money certainly isn’t a motivator, nor is the idea of accepting gifts from someone I don’t know. (Remember this post?) I view “gifts” of any kind as a form of power; I am only willing to accept something if it has meaningful value and as someone who is very selective, it made me question if I could go through with this.
Isn’t that the point?, I wondered.
I thought back to when I accepted my first slave, six years and one FULL lifetime ago. I was naturally curious with the radical honesty of the slave and while on my end it wasn’t sexual, I did discover my own voice and power in the process. But now? I know what I have and quietly carry that with confidence. Why repeat the life experience, I wondered?
I took a full 24 hours to think about it before I responded.
As an entrepreneur, I find myself frequently asking for money so being in a position where I demanded it felt like a (pun intended) value add.
Besides, at that point I wasn’t dating someone and if I’m not fucking someone, I might as well fuck with someone.
He followed my response with another email …
I read the first sentence and immediately flipped into full Domme.
Two days and one decision later, I sent another email …
Typing the word “pig” made reminded me of the nursery rhyme and how I’m not sure if this is what they actually meant when they sent “that little piggy off to the market.” Funny, how that rhyme is also about feet.
A few hours later, he sent this.
He also sent a screenshot (which was nice since I didn’t have to click a link and wait those extra seconds for the page to load).
I thought, before opening up the image …
I actually happened to like the shoes he picked (practical and I can dress them up and down), but I wasn’t going to accept any sort of first offer.
<tangent> Giving myself the name “Mistress Jennifer” helped me compartmentalize the dynamic; my whole life I’ve been Jen (and mostly Jen Friel – all spoken as one word). I was only ever called Jennifer as a child when I was doing something I wasn’t “supposed to,” (hehe) and now as an adult I’ll call myself Jennifer only to someone I’ve met when I don’t want them to google me. It’s not hard to still connect the dots, but I feel like it helps. </tangent>
It’s important to note the boundary of time (which is important in the sub/ Domme dynamic). Once I gave him a command, he was truly out of my mind until he performed the task to my satisfaction. Then and only then did I begin to think about him again.
Needing to stay on task of time myself (particularly living with an out of sight out of mind mentality) meant that I set an alarm down to the minute from when I clicked send on the email (and not just when he received it).
::sets alarm::
I set it to “slave fail” knowing that the likelihood of him ACTUALLY pleasing me would be so low.
Four hours is very generous, btw; I was testing to see what he would do with it. Is he the kinda sub that would wait until the last minute? Those won’t last long with me. If I was going to do this, I needed to be in complete control of his mind at all times, and make sure I was one step ahead or I ran the risk of being “topped from the bottom.”
I love that BDSM has their own version of wikipedia …
I made that mistake before, and like a good nerd, I wasn’t willing to do it again.
Two hours and 37 minutes later, he completed my command.
18 minutes later, I sent a reply …
31 minutes later, he sent this …
11 minutes later I sent this …
4 minutes later he sent this …
Exactly at 9:45 the next morning, I sent this …
I also attached a photo of the polish …
31 minutes later the shoes were ordered (with the expedited shipping).
(It reads: Yes, Mistress Jennifer. I have ordered your shoes and paid for the expedited shipping. Thank you for allowing me to purchase these shoes for you Mistress. I am very thankful for this opportunity. I will give you the tracking information as soon as I receive it Mistress Jennifer.)
He spent $118, and I told you I was worth more than an amazon gift card. ::pfft::
36 minutes later I sent this …
Three hours and 10 minutes later he sent a link to the tracking …
Testing his willingness to submit, I gave a second command in the same day (technically speaking two hours and 46 minutes later) …
17 minutes later he sent this …
By sending this he failed. Do you see what I did? I said VERY SPECIFICALLY for him to take the photo but to also send me an email when he was ready. Knowing how eager he would be for me to see that he is pleasing, meant that he would more likely than not miss that part – going straight to just the action. If he didn’t miss it, I’d now know how detail oriented he is and to stay EVEN MORE on top of my game to avoid being topped myself.
Remember the part about having to stay one step ahead of him mentally?
That photo is me succeeding.
I let him learn of his failure four minutes later …
58 minutes later he sent this …
16 minutes later I sent this …
I’m still proud of that line, “I don’t speak the language of beg. Start groveling.”
23 minutes later he sent this …
I waited until the next morning to respond.
At 9:30 I sent this …
At 11:25, I checked with our office manager to see if I had received a package.
Not yet, she said.
I explained it was from a potential slave and if it wasn’t here for my meeting at noon, he has failed.
She smiled, but wasn’t surprised.
See, my plan was to walk into my Talk Nerdy TV development meeting saying the sentence, “my new slave just bought me these,” and put the shoe box down on the table in front of the executives to freak them out a bit.
If he failed, I wouldn’t have that life experience. That would leave me verrryyyy disappointed …
I then went to my meeting, and when the executives asked how my day was, (without skipping a beat), I said “fine until my slave failed. It’s so hard finding good ones.”
I then explained what I was doing and how real all of these stories are. “There is so much more too,” I said sitting down on the couch “and you can ask me anything but I’m really excited to show you what we came up with.” (The “we” referencing the woman who actually wrote the pilot and my true partner in crime.)
By the end of the meeting, the execs left with a smile …
And on the drive home, I wondered what I wanted the slave to do next. So many disappointments, he clearly wasn’t taking this seriously enough.
As I put my hair in a pony, I noticed some split ends.
I got an idea as I emailed CLEARLY FEELING GENEROUS …
54 minutes into pending termination, I looked down at my phone (obviously to respond to a man worthy of Goddess attention) and noticed there was still no response.
<tangent> The term “Goddess” btw is common for a domme “in the scene.” The use of capitals is also intentional. </tangent>
General rules in a scene is that you have to be crystal clear when something is over. Not receiving the information requested, I terminated his consideration.
I’d say that I cared, but I had better things to do.
Look at me using the word “he.” This isn’t a man; I wouldn’t even consider this “thing” to be a little pig. How does one fail at that?!?!
LOOK! IT’S A PIG DOING SOMETHING CUTE!!
Focus Friel. Back to the post …
I looked at my calendar and down at my hair. I really could use some pampering after dealing with such stupidity for a whole 32 hours.
Sometime later I emailed him back …
Then, (hilariously) the hair salon actually made a mistake by misspelling my last name …
Which of COURSE wasn’t actually their mistake … it his.
Remember, the command was for him to “tell the receptionist that this is a gift from a pathetic piece of shit.” I’ve been going to that particular salon for years, so I know they’d have a solid laugh and be down.
Have you seen the video and ever read the lyrics?
Here’s the chorus: ‘Cause you’re a god
And I am not
And I just thought
That you would know
You’re a god
And I am not
And I just thought
I’d let you go
Three hours later a familiar pattern reappeared …
And there you have it. That was my experience as a findomme. Oh and the hair salon? Coincidentally my hairdresser switched salons so I have no idea if he completed the command. And for the shoes? They arrived, but he failed. So, I gave them to my partner in crime and co-pilot for the TV show.
What’s the saying? One man’s trash is another woman’s treasure?
After all that, and he still never got a photo of my feet. Guess I’ll just have to find a slave that’s actually worthy. Know of any?
