Girl on the Net

There’s a man on the internet who gets off on giving me money. That’s a sentence I never tire of saying, and let me tell you I have said it to so many people! As I pick up the bill for various lunches and drinks, gleefully crowing as my friends and family make anxious faces and tell me I really shouldn’t. “Don’t worry,” I explain with a grin. “It’s not my money – this one’s on my Paypig.”

For those who don’t know, ‘Paypig’ is a term in findom (financial domination) that refers to a submissive who gets hot for the idea of having their wallet rinsed. Any why not, eh? Some people like to be punished physically, others like being issued with challenges or chores. In a capitalist world that revolves around money, why wouldn’t some people develop a kink for having theirs taken away?

I’m not going to tell you how I met my Paypig, and I’m nervous of talking about him publicly. That’s because some of the tools and services I use to run GOTN as a business take a dim (and archaic, unfair, shaming, unnecessary) view of anything that looks like sex work. There are definitely many dominants whose relationships with Paypigs fall firmly into the ‘work’ category – nurturing those relationships, making them fun and sexy, and bringing people the hot joy they’re after within strict professional boundaries is work and it’s not to be sniffed at. It should also, by the way, be accorded the same respect as other professions, with sex workers being free to use the tools and services that any other legal business can use.

However. Just as I fuck and wank for fun, not paying clients, so my dalliance with this Paypig sits firmly in the ‘hobby’ category. Not only does that mean that I get to be wildly unprofessional in my requests and how I go about making them (yay!), it also means that there’s no reason for me to be kicked off any of the platforms that I use in a professional capacity. This is very very important. For me this is a HOBBY, not a JOB. I believe that will become clear when I tell you the following story.

My Paypig: The rules

The first time my Paypig contacted me to offer his wallet, my initial feelings were conflicted. Obviously I also live under capitalism, so I enjoy money. I’m open about the fact that I don’t have much of it, and extra is always welcome. At the same time… hmm. I don’t know this man’s financial situation. Just as I wouldn’t spank someone without knowing their limits, I wouldn’t order someone to send me a chunk of cash if I didn’t know they’d still have enough left to pay their bills. On top of this, there’s something potentially addictive about getting dosh from a stranger. What if I get used to the money my Paypig provides, then one day he suddenly decides to stop and I find myself hurting for the cash to pay gas bills of my own?

So I did what anyone should do in a situation that they think sounds fun but about which they’re unsure: I talked about it. I asked my Paypig a bunch of questions about his kink.

• Can you tell me more about why this is hot to you?
• What are you hoping people will spend the money on, when you send it?
• What sort of a reaction are you looking for – is it hotter if someone’s dismissive or if they’re grateful?
• What are you expecting in return?
• And, importantly, do you set yourself a budget? At what point would you stop things and say ‘no, actually, I can’t send right now, I have bills to pay?

His answers – delightfully and surprisingly – are incredibly thorough. I love this. Most people aren’t used to discussing their kinks in the kind of detail I am. The average person rarely gets a safe space in which to discuss all the intricacies of why this particular thing is hot. But excitingly, my Paypig gives comprehensive answers with plenty of context, information and – that most precious thing – feelings.

This is how I learn that it’s hotter for him to buy me frivolous items than necessary ones. He explains that not only would he prefer to pay for fancy knickers than gas bills, one of the sexiest things for me to do with fifty quid would be to send him a video of me burning it and laughing. He lets me in on the kind of responses he finds hot – the dismissiveness of a simple thumbs-up emoji on an especially big send of money would be horny, but equally there’s pleasure in genuine reactions, so a surprised ‘holy shit, that’s incredible, thanks!’ would be powerfully sexy as well. He talks about how often he’s done this, the kinds of people he’s done it with, and a few ways that have given most pleasure.

It’s through reading his responses, and listening to my own gut feelings, that I come up with some rules for engagement:

1. I will never use my Paypig’s money for anything I need. Only things I want, but wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford. So no gas bills, shampoo or washing powder. I’m not really a ‘fancy knickers’ kinda gal so this means most will be spent on fun experiences.
2. No escalating to things I wouldn’t comfortably do for free anyway. I’m a people-pleasing woman who’s keen to make sure men get their money’s worth even when they aren’t actually giving me money. So I don’t want to fall into the trap of sending nudes or performing other sex acts.
3. I will always have third-person eyes on our chat. At the time he approached me, I had a boyfriend, so I told my Paypig I’d share messages with him (which I did). These days I’m single, but the rule remains: I will never say or do anything privately that I wouldn’t share with a friend or partner.
4. I won’t ask for more than I think he can currently afford. 

Part 4 is relatively easy, I think, because he’s so open. He gives detailed information on his income and outgoings, but also assures me he’s no fool and he has some experience: he is well practised in saying ‘no’ if someone’s requests get too much. I trust him on this, as I would any sub: it’s not up to me to determine your limits, it’s up to you to articulate them – let me know if we’re getting close, and give me clear ‘no’s when you need to.

I read his messages with interest that grows to enthusiasm, and by the end of his long and detailed reply I go from ‘wary’ to ‘certain’: I’m in.

He sends me £20 to seal the deal, and I’m grateful so I tell him. Therein begins a fun, occasional dabble in the fuckawesome world of findom.

Things my Paypig has bought for me

I start off relatively simple: “send me £20.” Just to test it out. Twenty quid turns up, just like that, so I spend it on pints that evening. Later, I ask again, and again the cash is right there so I spend it on takeaway. A little treat for me and a mate, from a guy who gets off on me requesting it.

During one particularly taxing week, I drop him a message along the lines of “had a really rubbish day, send money so I can buy decent wine?” and he’s there in an instant, again: twenty quid. I hug myself with glee and head to M&S – not Tesco – taking time to choose a bottle I’d never have bought for myself.

I’m not a girl who hankers for luxury items: stuff is just ‘stuff’, things are just ‘things’, so I never ask for silk knickers or fancy make-up. Instead, I run with what my heart truly wants, so over the next few months, my Paypig covers the cost of some really fun times with friends and family.

I take my boyfriend out for Brazilian barbecue, and my Paypig (who you’re probably not surprised to learn, also has a cuck kink) finds it especially hot to be bankrolling a date. I take great pride in grabbing the cheque when it comes, assuring my dude it’s fine: “this is on my Paypig, it’s not my money!”

My Mum, who’s been working hard and always deserves a treat, gets a slap-up roast dinner in a posh pub by the river. Over gin and tonics and plenty of giggling, I explain the concept of findom to her and she’s fascinated. “Where do I get a Paypig?” she asks as I reach, once again, for the cheque.

As you can probably tell, I’m enjoying this. Really enjoying it. I’m not getting off like it’s my kink, but I’m definitely finding it fun. There’s something deliciously empowering about the swift rush of ask-then-immediately-receive. I have always been fiercely independent in relationships, caring hugely about never being reliant on a man financially. There are good reasons for this, which will stay between me and my therapist, but in life this has always translated as a fear/repulsion of making men pay for our dates. I split the bill, I pay my way. I get my fucking round in. What Paypig has done for me here is open a window into a world where I have not only permission to let someone give me nice things, but the active joy of knowing that my pleasure will bring him some too.

I don’t know if he wanks about the roast lunch treat for my Mum, I suspect he does about my boyfriend’s Brazilian BBQ. He probably does about the birthday meal I buy for my close friend Claire. We talk about him over wine and when I explain the situation she’s all ‘really?!’ and ‘how the fuck?!’. He sends some extra money when I tell him it’s her birthday, and she spends it immediately on fancy post-dinner cocktails for us in the bar. We stagger to the station.

He likes the idea of me telling people about our arrangement but at the time of writing, I don’t actually know if my Paypig realises how many people I’ve told. The answer is: everyone I can. Firstly because my loved ones are co-starring in a kink scene of a kind, and I don’t want to drag them into that without their consent. Besides, they’d definitely wonder where I – a ‘professional writer’ who struggles to make ends meet – got the cash to splurge on dinner and cocktails. More importantly though, I absolutely fucking love it! It’s important to share joy where we find it in this life, and I have a big mouth that I am compelled to run at any given opportunity. The pleasure of having a Paypig is not just in the ability to buy treats for my favourite people, it’s in sharing with them the kick of delight at knowing an eager stranger will pick up the tab.

When fucking with him gets really fun

After enough occasional treats, I’m getting the hang of what he gets off on. Not just what I should ask for but how I should ask. One day, I drop him a message which reads: “would you like to play a game?”

Fire emoji reaction. That’s his way of saying ‘yes’. His way of saying ‘unngh please put your fingers in my wallet and take out whatever you find.’

I outline a game where the amount he’ll send me is random: roll two dice. I can’t remember the exact rules, but the largest amount sits somewhere in the ballpark of ‘a little more than he’s ever sent at one time’. The smallest amount is peanuts, but therein lies the fun.

He likes this.

He likes it… a lot.

The first dice roll is not in my favour – a low amount that I know he can easily send. I’m disappointed, not even really because I wanted more money but, I realise (with a thrill of delight) because I know that a small amount won’t be especially hot for him. No matter. He knows how to lean into this, so he offers a suggestion: coin toss, double or quits?

Oh yes! Amazing! I film myself tossing a coin (anonymously – remember the rules) and then send him the short video… of me losing. Turns out that ‘cheating’ is a hard limit for me – lying’s just not in my nature, so I don’t redo it. But he’s keen to up the stakes further so he offers a new plan that involves a spinning wheel and various multiples of the original amount, the highest number being an amount of money so large I would never have dreamed of asking for it. As he spins and sends me videos, he tells me how aroused the whole thing’s making him, and my reaction is one of curious, gleeful fascination.

Hopefully you can see by this point, as I did, not only that he genuinely loves this but also a little of why. Paying me is not a punishment, or a chore, but a fun game where I get access to his wallet and we ratchet up amounts until he’s sweating. If I had to guess, I’d say he definitely loves the drama. The uncertainty. And although I’m sure there are findoms who combine their demands for cash with performed cruelty, I don’t think that’s the role I want to play. My approach with him is enjoyably natural: I ask him for money if and when it seems fun, and I play games with it that allow me to lean into my natural penchant for gambling and my fierce desire to win. Not to mention my love of boasting to all my friends and family about the strange, joyful sex shit I get up to. This counts as ‘sex shit’, I think, even though I’m not actually wanking. There’s power to it, and that feels important. It gives me a kick of confidence and that precious opportunity to step outside of myself for a while. Outside the person who always gets her round in, and would never let a man pay for dinner. I enjoy roleplaying the kind of girl who’ll take all his cash on a coin toss, and thank him with no more than a thumbs-up emoji or a ‘ta’.

Eventually, when I’ve got into the swing of things, I get up the courage to hit him with a much bigger ask. I know by this point the tone I want to adopt – it’s partly in response to what he’s told me, but mostly an embracing of something that sits at my core: a desire to please my friends, plus the opportunity to brag about this weird life I love so fucking much.

Over summer, at a festival, with my best mate and his girlfriend, I regale the group with stories of my Paypig and soak up a little of their envy.

“There’s a man on the internet who gets off on sending me money,” I tell them with pride. One or two are jealous, a couple of the guys are baffled in the extreme. My best mate and his girlfriend know me well enough to raise their plastic pint cups in a toast.

“Why don’t we get him to buy us some merch?” I ask them, with a grin. And that’s how me and my mate and his girlfriend got matching festival hoodies. A quick little message to my Paypig, ever eager to please, and the money arrived just in time for us all to go pick out our sizes. He added some extra, too, for a bonus round of drinks.

We drink them, wearing our merch, and I grin and hug myself with a kind of self-confidence. Someone got off on buying us these precious treats! I got them just for asking! Just for being me! Because there’s a man on the internet who gets off on giving me money. And because I got drunk and just asked for what I wanted:

“My friends and I want merch, and I’ve talked big talk about my Paypig. Time to put your money where my mouth is.”

As you can see from the title, there’s a part 2 to this story coming soon…