When I choose a dominant, it will not be based on how attractive he is. I’ve dated Adonis. It will not be based on his level of genius; I was owned by Socrates. It will not be based on his passion; Narcissus collared me.
It will be he that makes me feel safer. Why safe? I often wonder why that need is so inherent. Perhaps it’s because the world is chaotic. I find nothing exciting or attractive about chaos. It’s cold and unorganized, thoughtless with no meaning. I don’t like chaotic people or places. Perhaps it’s because I prefer to delve into the wonders of the universe with passion, abandonment, and sensual recklessness and I need to be safe to do so.
Perhaps in the past, I was shut down or beaten because my passion was incomprehensible and insatiable. I’m a dreamer, I’m obstinate, I’m a surrealist, I’m powerful, I’m insecure, I’m loving, I’m spiritual and I’m sexual.
I’m not Venus, Aphrodite, or Diana but I’m a Goddess nonetheless. I’m intellectually erotic and elegantly twisted. I’m wild and temperamental, fiercely loyal and independent. I am beautifully flawed.
And with the right amount of security and guidance, adoration and inspiration, I know my servitude can make a man omnipresent and powerful. And in return, what I expect is simply to be safe. Such a small word yes, but one with such magnificent repercussions.
On my knees, I will be centered and, in his arms, I will know peace. On my knees, he will be worshipped and he will know enlightenment. Wrapped in his love and protection, he will lead me to explore the mysteries of the universe and its infinite possibilities and I will finally feel safe enough to love and be loved.