Dominance is Not a Label, but a Verdict

Dominance is not a label to me. It’s something I feel in my bones, in my breath, in the way my body responds. A dominant makes me ache to do the difficult things, the well-nigh impossible things. A top doesn’t do that to me. We might have a fun scene, but he will never be enough for me in a love relationship. I need to submit like I need air, and a top annihilates my desire to serve the moment he shows me his dominance waxes and wanes as often as the moon does.

I’m often denigrated for speaking too well about dominants and not well enough about tops. I can acknowledge that some of my best friends are tops till the Hitachis come home, but that will never be enough to compete with the veneration I have for dominants. They’re my preference. Tops are not my type. I am allowed to have a type, right? Right. Moving right along, then.


In my industry, some believe you cannot label yourself a poet. Only others can tell you if you have what it takes to earn the title because ‘poet’ is not a role, it’s a verdict. You lack the objectivity to accurately figure out if you’ve been successful enough to produce poetry. I believe dominance and submission are the same.

I don’t think “dominant” is a title that can be self-given. Not with the highest degree of accuracy, anyway. This is not going to be a popular opinion, but it’s my opinion. I’m allowed to have those, right? Right. Moving right along, then.

There is nothing at all wrong with giving ourselves labels to more or less define our roles, but I think the final word comes from those we’ve been involved with. Having said that, a top would not give me the title, “submissive”, because he wouldn’t have the chance to see me submit. A top just cannot earn my submission. It’s that simple, really. It’s how I’m wired.

A top can make me lust after him while he’s with me. Only a dominant can bury me in a fog of desire day in and day out for months on end so that I can barely think well enough to keep my life ticking along properly. In that sense, dominants are quite dangerous to me. Thankfully, dominance comes from a gentle, compassionate place, so all that spinning out of control comes with a fair amount of protection. Maybe that’s why they send me into sub frenzy: they make me feel utterly safe. Safety is one hell of an aphrodisiac. It makes all your wildest fantasies possible.

I’ve done extreme things for a dominant. I’ve refused to do the simplest things for a top. A dominant can draw submission out of me despite myself. Doing for him, doing because of him is as intense as sex to me. He doesn’t even need to be in the same room to make me feel that way.

How could I not idolise that kind of power?

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