An ethical dominant who can take what he wants, to hell with his feminist upbringing, is worth every ounce of my lust. He’s a rare breed—a unicorn, and no wonder. He must be simultaneously selfish and selfless, compassionate and dispassionate, measured and feral. He must achieve an impossible balance, and how could I not respect that? You couldn’t find a more counterintuitive knot of kinks if you tried, which is why I don’t believe 80% of the “dominant” labels on Fetlife profiles. Wanting to dominate does not equal achieving the fine and impossible balance required from the role.
A D-type who can make me feel safe and scared all at once achieves some kind of miracle, and that’s one of the reasons he manages to turn this stubborn, demanding woman into a sub who only wants to please. He appeals to some ancient part of me that I will never understand. The more a sadist wants, the more valuable he is to me. He’s my version of plenty, and I do like abundance with my kink. Give me a thousand desires, and I will give you the earth.
I’ve met a few men like that, and they’re some of the most evolved people I know. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. Dominants must be intimately acquainted with their most savage selves without a stitch of guilt. They must manage that violence compassionately and find balance in utter chaos.
I can pick a man like that out of a crowd like a scent dog. He has sex appeal thick enough to choke on.
This world doesn’t have much acceptance for such men. They’ve probably been rejected on the basis of their kinks many times and had their trust shattered even more. That they’ve been able to accept and express their dominance in that kind of environment is an achievement in itself. It says much for their maturity.
And people ask me why I like my men properly aged, like a fine oaked wine.