This piece originally appeared on the Ask A Sub Patreon in February of 2022. To gain access to the whole archive of over 250 posts and advice columns, join my Patreon here.
When people think about 24/7 lifestyle D/s, they tend to picture a sub locked up in a cage with a. ball gag in, unable to make any decisions for themselves. When presented with this characterization, I always admit that being locked up and not allowed to be productive or think is a fantasy of mine (although not always the sexual kind), but I don’t see how it would work in reality. Unfortunately — capitalism. We all gotta work and pay the bills. Even cute tiny baby subs, and all-powerful, worship-deserving Dom(me)s. (Switches may be exempt, I'm still checking the capitalism bylaws).
In reality, as people’s lives become further enmeshed and relationships progress, money quickly becomes either a topic you have to discuss, or something you desperately avoid in fear of killing the mood. I have fallen, unfortunately, into the latter camp for most of my relationship. A child of the Great Recession, I saw my family torn apart by money dysfunction, and we even lost my childhood home just as I was turning 18. In my experience as a child and teen, even acknowledging money (or lack thereof), led to screaming arguments. It was a topic I couldn’t touch without walking on eggshells, even with myself.
What I’ve had to teach myself over time is that money, like sex, is more than meets the eye. It’s a metaphor and intersection for all kinds of the softer parts of relationships that have a hard time coming to light until we’re in our most vulnerable areas. Money is about the exact numbers on your budget (or overdrawn checking account, me @ me), sure, but it’s also about honesty, respect, communication, fear, and stands in as really important way of communicating your values and judgement to your partner(s). It’s about building trust and ultimately becomes a window into how your partner sees the world.
The first time Mr. Dune and I really talked about money was when I was moving out of an apartment with a roommate and into my own place. At the time, He was making more money than me. I knew I wasn’t ready for us to live together yet, but as I considered the studio apartments in my price range available to me in Los Angeles, I began to lose hope. Over lunch, He offered to pay a portion of my rent, something like $300 a month, so I could be in a slightly nicer part of town and have a parking spot that would allow me to feel safer about coming and going from my building, especially since I was often arriving home from my commute late at night. This amount of money, which was manageable for Him, would make all the difference to me. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. He would be there a ton of the time, and beyond that He was making an investment in my future happiness when we inevitably moved in together. It was important to Him (and me) that I get some time to be independent before we cohabitated.
And now, years on and married, I can see that that time on my own was crucial for me. I’m very glad I accepted help even though it felt so unnatural to be anything other than totally self-reliant. So each month as I Venmo requested Him for His portion of my rent, I practiced doing so as if it was comfortable and normal, taking Him at His word and allowing Him to follow through on His offer. He did, and I learned that I can rely on Him without Him ever lording it over me or using it against me — things I never expected but still things my nervous system and anxiety disorder (and biological father issues) needed to learn firsthand.
When we think about Doms and subs and money, there’s typically a lot of gender stuff going on that my anecdote unfortunately doesn’t disprove. A lot of times, when people think of the money arrangement between a Dom and a sub, they think of a female sub as a kept pet for her male Dom. Alternatively, you might think of male subs paying tribute to a female Domme — buying her Louboutins and paying her rent. What’s problematic here is that not only does this binary eliminate a whole spectrum of genders and pairings and sexualities under the kink umbrella, but it also makes less extreme circumstances less tangible. Also, not all Dommes wear Louboutins. Some wear sneakers.
So what gets left out when we’re limited to this gender-inflected way of looking at money?
We miss the sub who makes more money than her male Dom and who gladly picks up the check when she suggests a fancy restaurant.
We miss the married couple with children who view all money as communal, but who allow the Domme to put down her card from their joint checking account every time they go out to dinner.
We miss the long term couple who lives separately and keep everything separate so their relationship can remained focused on other things. (I imagine one of them snores and the other is a light sleeper)
Most importantly, we miss that we’ve all imbibed a narrative that D/s can only work when money is fantastical and unlimited and the Dom arrives everywhere he goes in a helicopter. But D/s is done by real people. And in this economy?? Real people do not have unlimited means. There will always be limitations. Just like in scenes. And our negotiation tools help us figure it out.
So if you’re trying to find your way into a conversation about money, these starting points might give you some ideas:
“How did your parents talk about money when you were younger?”
“When there wasn’t enough money for something, what happened?”
“Do you feel comfortable being honest when you need to spend less?”
"How do you celebrate when you're making a little more? Do you online shop? Splurge on a meal? Save it all?"
“What is your philosophy about balancing present day joy and long term security? How would you break it down by percentages?”
“What do you consider priceless? Where are you comfortable cutting corners?”
“How do you feel when I pay for something?”
“How do you feel when you pay for something?”
“Should we have a system for who is picking up the check at what time?”
Another thing that has helped us is to identify our money vibe and priorities, and our fluency with this comes right out of how we negotiate D/s. How frugal are we? Are there seasons where short term joy outweighs savings? Where are we letting fear rule and how can we be more specific about it? Left to my own devices, my money operations tend to be very sketchy with weird overspending followed by periods of disproportionate belt-tightening (thanks, bipolar!). When we collaborate together, I have to be a lot more literal about what’s going on. Shining that light on our values and our reality is key.
So let this be a reminder to anyone reading (AND ME) that discussing money isn’t a dangerous mood killer. Ok, it might be, but the idea of sweeping it under the rug and ignoring it comes straight from the same lineage as the idea that talking about sex in advance kills the vibe. We’re not on this planet to drift downstream on autopilot, and being clear about money is an important way to build autonomy, as well as empathy for each other’s experience. What if knowing about someone’s money values could make you feel more secure and trusting? What if something good lurks inside that box you might be afraid to open? I’m willing to bet there’s treasure in there you can’t yet imagine.