In my own journey with dominance,
I found not only power —
but a mirror.
And in that mirror,
the soft and unspoken truth stared back:
I am not yet who I ask him to become.
Not fully.
Not yet.
His surrender,
so pure,
so trembling with trust —
became my initiation.
Not into control,
but into care.
Not into authority,
but into accountability.
Not into performance,
but into presence.
How can I demand obedience,
if I do not obey the whisper of my own soul?
How can I correct,
if I do not confront my own shadows?
How can I hold him through fear,
if I refuse to meet my own?
This is the truth no one tells you about dominance:
It is a mirror that shows your ridges and cracks,
your unclaimed thrones and untended wounds.
And it asks,
quietly but relentlessly:
Will you rise to meet yourself?
I dare not call him to grow,
if I do not also bloom.
I dare not ask for his devotion,
if I betray my own values.
I dare not lead,
unless I walk first.
So I walk —
with mercy as my compass,
with clarity as my sword,
with softness that does not shrink,
and strength that does not shout.
In this path, I do not just become a Dominant.
I become a vessel.
A flame.
A home.
A reckoning.
A re-birthing of the self that can hold another’s becoming
because she has not turned away from her own.
