Dominance: My Drug

Power exchange compels me in a way that’s entirely alien to the rest of my experiences. Tools and toys, whips and sadism all leave me cold if there is no power exchange driving their use. It’s not sensation, not pain or bondage that makes me feel. It’s power.

Classic BDSM doesn’t quite fit me because I have not an ounce of respect for sadomasochism or bondage–not without dominance and submission. What is it about power exchange that compels me? I’ve tried to solve the puzzle for weeks, but I’m still left with no answer.

I’m an accidental feminist. I’m strong and self-sufficient enough to live happily as a single person for the rest of my life. I don’t need a man, but give me someone who knows how to use his power and need becomes my way of life.


I once met a man who had enough intellect to treat me like a puppet without my even being conscious of what he was up to. He manipulated me to such an extent that I only realised he’d been pulling my strings just before his grand finale. When I saw the sheer genius in it, I was ready to drop a hundred limits. The mind fuck was the doorway. It’s the only doorway there is to my submission.

No fancy rope work will ever win me over, but if you don’t need rope or restraints to bend my will, your rope and restraints gain meaning. They become channels for dominance.

And dominance? That’s the finest drug on this earth. I can trip on it for months on end.

What is it about power exchange that compels me? Is it my attraction to the wit, intellect, and brilliance of it? No. A man who can play a woman like an instrument, who can raise her on a note and drop her just as quickly uses his mind in the same way others use their hands. And my brain is the most sexually responsive part of my body.

A man who plays a woman like an instrument is also cavalier enough to take what he wants from her. Base instincts move to the foreground, and there is no knot on this green earth that can bring out the corrupt in me. I cannot respect an inanimate object. I can’t trust it or find intimacy there.

In the end, I want to see who a dominant is. I want him to see who I am. That’s the point of all relationships, and power exchange amplifies that exponentially. Being that close to someone, how could I not let them have the depraved side of me that used to be buried so deeply that I didn’t let it out for decades. The side I didn’t even know it existed–not until someone opened the door.


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