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Last year, I did a bunch of interviews with a group of financial submissives for my upcoming book ‘The Findom Files — The Psychology of Findom From The Submissive’s Perspective’. I’m sharing one of the interviews below.

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Me: Hi Ben, thanks for joining me. First of all, could you tell me a little about yourself? Where are you from? What's your background? How was your upbringing?

Ben: Hi. Yeah, thanks for having me.

So, I’m Ben, I’m 42, I live just outside of Pittsburgh. Grew up around here too. Pretty normal background, I guess — middle class, dad was a mechanic, mom worked in a school cafeteria. Catholic household, strict but not abusive or anything. You know, “don’t talk back,” “be a provider,” “man up,” all that stuff.

I was the quiet kid, kind of kept to myself. Did okay in school, not a genius or anything. Got into IT, did well for myself — well, until… yeah. Findom.

But back then, no one would’ve guessed I’d end up like this. I was the responsible one. The one everyone trusted.

Me: Do you have any siblings?

Ben: Yeah, I’ve got a younger sister — three years younger. She’s married now, got two kids. Totally different path from me. She’s always been more grounded, more… normal, I guess.

We used to be close growing up, but we don’t talk much anymore. She doesn’t know about the findom stuff. Or at least, I hope she doesn’t. If she did, she’d never look at me the same again.

Me: So when was the first time you realized you were into findom?

Ben: It didn’t start with findom, exactly — it started way before I even knew what that was. I think the seed got planted in high school.

There was this girl, Melissa. One of those clicky, mean girls — always surrounded by friends, always had guys chasing after her. We got paired for a history project, and I got it into my head that I could impress her. I worked so hard on that damn project, tried to be funny, helpful, whatever she wanted. Then one day, I asked her out. Thought maybe I had a shot.

She laughed. I’ll never forget it — she said, “Why would I go out with a loser like you?” Just like that. Right to my face, with that smug little smile. I was humiliated. I felt sick. But also… turned on? I didn’t understand it at the time, but that moment did something to me. I wanted her to humiliate me more. I wanted to win her approval, even though she clearly saw me as beneath her.

That feeling followed me for years. Got buried under other stuff, but it was always there. And then when I found findom — when I realized there were women who would treat me like garbage on purpose, and I could pay them to do it — it was like discovering myself. Like I finally found the outlet for that twisted thing that had been inside me all along.

Me: So when was the first time you actually encountered findom?

Ben: It was around 2006, I think. I was online late one night, just browsing random fetish stuff — half bored, half horny — and I landed on this forum. Some guy was talking about how he sent a Domme money just for calling him pathetic. No pics, no meet-up, nothing. Just the shame and the drain.

At first I thought it was insane. Like, who the hell pays a woman to insult them and take their money? But I couldn’t stop reading. Thread after thread, I was hooked. It clicked. It felt familiar. Like, this is what I’d been chasing since Melissa in high school — that rush of being put down, wanting to impress someone who’d never see me as worthy.

A week later, I messaged a Domme. Told her I was new. She barely responded, just said, “Send something real or don’t waste my time.” I sent her $100 without thinking. The second I hit send… I was gone.

Me: How did it make you feel? Your first send?

Ben: Like I’d just jumped off a cliff and landed exactly where I wanted to be.

It was this mix of panic and euphoria. My heart was pounding — not from fear, more like… release. Like something tight in my chest finally snapped. I felt exposed, small, dirty — but also seen. Like she looked right through me and didn’t give a shit. And I loved that.

I sat there staring at the confirmation screen, and for a second I felt sick. Like, What the fuck did I just do? But right under that? Satisfaction. A weird kind of peace. Like I’d finally stopped pretending I was normal.

Me: Did you touch yourself at that moment?