I am becoming a Domme.

Being dominant isn’t easy — I can’t even bring myself to capitalize the words for talking about myself.  It seems too self important, too damn cheesy. I’m a neophyte “Dominant”. I have no desire to truly put myself above another? Does that make me less dominant because my desire isn’t to be above, but in control of?

This new area of my psyche — and of The Neighbor’s — that we have begun to poke around in is wondrous and strange. Being dominant over him perfectly incorporates much of what has come naturally to me most of my life: leadership, caring, intuition, and control.

As a mother I have been in charge of a life and all its minutiae; as a woman raised in a relationship-centered culture I am intuitive and always anticipating someone’s needs and thoughts (thanks, sexist world, for that). My personality is bold and fearless, despite my attacks of ridiculous bashfulness and I’m creative to the bone; and control is the elusive thing I have yearned for in all my relationships, and knowing that it’s a parlor trick of heart and mind makes it even more tantalizing to me.  Like spraying myself in a cloud of perfume in the middle of a dump. I can pretend I’m somewhere else for a minute or hour or two.

We’ve gently explored our roles over the past few weeks and exhausted our brains talking about limits and expectations. I know his hard limits and I have been reading exhaustively what it means to be a “good Domme.”

I don’t want to humiliate him unduly. I want him to trust me, to give himself and his body over to me completely. I crave being needed, feeling important to him.

I’ve gently rebuked him when he pointed out the obvious, fearful I would miss it. He’d tried to squirm away from me when I placed a wedge of ice on his round, rosy bottom due to a pleasant belt-heavy punishment because he wouldn’t stop grossing me out about something.

“My jeans will get wet!” he’d protested. I held him down and smacked him smartly then blotted the wetness dry with a fluffy towel I’d spotted hanging over my foot board earlier.

“You need to trust me, TN. You need to understand that I will have thought of everything already, that I will take care of you before even you know you need it.  Unless being neglected is something you get off on, you need to understand that I also need to take care of you.” He sighed then and sunk deeper into my mattress as I let the ice melt more easily than his walls seem to be. But I am a patient woman.

Being dominant, to me, means I am in charge of this young man’s everything. His desire, his pleasure, his care, his pain, his fears. When I can meet his mistrust and dismantle it with a few softly spoken words and a kind, but firm hand, my heart soars.

He comes to me more and more with a twinkle in his eye, testing me, begging me to take the reins. I am growing more confident with each encounter and he is learning my limits and when we can switch. He forgives me when I stumble and I remind him how much power he has in this, yet NO isn’t an option anymore.  We’ve struggled with that one just a little.

Throughout our year-long plus affair he has wielded NO against me like an angry rider at an old nag. NO to this, NO to that. Sometimes with a polite thank you stapled onto it, sometimes cruelly applied, but he was like a child learning his rights and powers with grown ups and I went along with it. Until now.

I understand that NO for him is part of his emotional journey. A word that, until the last two years, was virtually absent from his vocabulary.  His childhood based in neglect and powerlessness forfeited him that basic human right to NO. He reclaimed it, abused me with it, and now I have gently demanded it back and he has willingly — trustingly — given it back to me.  I think he gets it.

I have asked to be the gentle keeper of his NO because it would destroy this delicate balance we are braiding together if he misuses it. His NO, claimed by him to thwart or challenge me, stops me dead and takes away all my dominance. It rocks me to the core in a more deeply intimate way than his regular nos did — those stung and stunk like shit, but they didn’t disembowel my ego.  I depend on his trust to go along with my demands in order to remain dominant in his presence.

We have a safeword, and he may use that, of course, but he may not tell me NO. He is beginning to understand his responsibility to me more, to the discourse between us. I’m not certain his former Domme explained any of this to him. They had a brief affair wherein she physically dominated him, certainly, but I’m unaware of the emotional dominance she demanded of him other than ordering him around.

She entered the playground an established Domme; she knew what she wanted and what she was doing and he deferred to her immediately and naturally. He’s seeing behind my velvet curtain, can see me struggle.  Maybe I have to work harder to gain his submission.  Hence the ban on NO.

Joy floods my heart when I know he’s baiting me so I’ll spank him and I feel balance when I redden his bottom and get to kiss it softly to make it better. Pushing my own limits to feel inside of his shell turns me inside out and inflames my desires for him; that he hands himself to me so willingly kick starts an engine in me I had no idea existed several weeks ago.

Then there are days, days like last week, when he clearly wanted to be in charge and I realized that I had power over that, too. I let him take it.

I gave it up and he took my foul mood and my soft body to bed and I emerged from the cocoon of my darkened room a little happier and a lot more centered.

It’s a process. I’m learning. I don’t always do it right.

A week and a half ago I wanted to exert some long-term control over him and therefore banned him from cumming unless I caused it. Ultimately, I’m tired of his hand stealing the pleasure of his jizz from us together, and I think it’s also an easy exercise to prove his loyalty to submission with me. He’d agreed, but slipped up two nights ago.

I frowned at him and spanked him once. “I’m not pleased, TN. For the love of God. All I want is your semen in my body. Somewhere. Is that too much to ask?? I don’t mind that it’s hard for you to cum, but do you think you could help me out a little bit? Keep your hands to yourself if you think there’s even the slightest chance we’ll fuck later?” He was silent, I was cross.

He looked down, ashamed. “I slipped up,” he said quietly.

“Ok. I need to think of a punishment for you. Lemme think, but you’re back on the No-Cumming regimen. Understood?” He nodded and went about with vacuuming my apartment, clad in a pair of my silky white panties trimmed in teal velvet and lace.

Eventually, he stripped out of my underpants and swung loose in front of the fire, vacuum in hand. I snapped pics and waited for him to finish. When he was done and flicked the machine off I said, “Ok, I know what your punishment is. You must clean your bathroom, rugs and everything. If you don’t, you aren’t allowed over here.”

He gasped. “Noooooooooooo!”

“No, really. I’m serious.” I’d promised myself I would not have my butt touch that toilet one more time in that condition.

“So, what if I never do it?” He was challenging my dominance and I had no smart, reasonable thing to counter with. I had stepped into the trap all parents know about: The Follow Through. I had laid out a consequence I was not actually willing to enforce and, just like a child, he immediately saw the weakness in my statement.

I’d overestimated him; I thought he’d play along like a grown up, but he doesn’t want that. He wants to be dominated, told what to do like a child. He needs a very firm, authoritative hand and I hadn’t quite realized it until that dreadful second I felt my power slip away.

Later, as he left that night, he twisted my nipples and sucked on the swells over my shirt, I hugged him close to me as my mind continued to search for a solution.  I didn’t feel good about our earlier exchange, but didn’t know what else to say. As the door clicked behind him and the cold draft dissipated around me it suddenly came to me.

I quickly pecked out the following text:

Let me start over with my newest demand. Erase the rewards and punishments we discussed from your brain. Just do as you’re told. You have until next Sunday to clean your bathroom, ok? I’ll review your efforts Monday night and respond accordingly.

His reply?

“Yes ma’am.”

Something is happening below my feet. It’s like the worms are wriggling and pushing the flowers up faster. TN is responding to this kind of care and love from me like a wilted houseplant. His attentions are more vibrant, more dependable, just more.

Laughter and fun — true Hyacinth fun — has therefore leaked into our dusty basement playground, as well. A bright, 4×4 beam-sized ray of sunshine slicing through the cobwebs and depravity. You see, it all comes down to humping.

It’s a dirty little secret of mine: I hump those I love.

I used to bite them back in college. I had a girlfriend once — a girl I didn’t particularly love — once have her feelings hurt because I’d bitten her two roommates, but not her. I show my affections in strange ways.

These days, I only hump. I humped my first love and second, and I’ve humped most of my girlfriends whom I love. In recent days, I’ve begun to hump TN – like a crazed Chihuahua. He laughs hysterically and tears squeeze out of my own eyes as my loud laughter joins his. It’s bizarre and ridiculous and fucking funny, y’all. What am I doing humping grown people anyway??

So, it was a sweet surprise when he started requesting it from me and doing it to me in turn. He’d lay on the floor and beckon to me, beg me to hump him. And just last night, as he was reluctantly leaving me and my sore throat, he came back to my bed, climbed on top of me and gyrated.

When he stopped, he just rested there, sunk down into my neck and hugged me tight. I squeezed and patted him back, smiling into his warm skin.

I may have been wrong about everything.

Maybe he really does love me after all — in his own way — I may have more of his heart than any woman may ever.

This could have something to do with him feeling safer with me under the constraints of a D/s relationship or maybe it has something to do with almost getting dumped by me again last week. A man’s realization of how close he’d come to his own death is a powerful thing and certainly requires changes.

He pledged his faithfulness to me that night of the almost-breakup. “I will be faithful to you, Hy, I promise. I will tell you before I look for another woman.” He remained non-committal, otherwise, but that pledge evaporated the crazy inside of me that was beginning to build.

“Hy, I’m not looking to date anyone right now. I can’t. I don’t want to lose this.” It was a sobering and comforting thought. After sacrificing love and commitment in order to keep doing this with him, it’s nice knowing he’s also sacrificing something. I feel like we’re more evenly matched and I feel more powerful, more worthy of dominating him.

He claimed that I do, indeed, receive love “of a certain kind.” I will cede this point to him. I do.

I’m holding my breath and waiting for the colossal sucker-punch waiting for me now that my defenses are lowering by the hour and my heart has opened more, instead of shutting down like it was supposed to. I thought the seasons were changing into something entirely different from this. I thought it was ending, but, like the coming spring, it’s blossoming into something new altogether. Fuck me.

photo 2
My heart, my universe.

A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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36 thoughts on “I am becoming a Domme.
  1. thinking your little boy TN should refer to you as “Mommy” or “Mommy Dearest”, instead of using HY !!!!

      1. Yeah, why? I thought this was very good. I always remember that one with Noodle, too, where you skipped back and forth in time. Thought you pulled it off very well : )
        Oh, and really? You would take away his right to masturbate? Make sure you balance this whole dominant/submissive thing, or else he might rebel, try to take back some sense of lost identity. Men get weird when they feel they’re losing a piece of themselves to someone else. One time my best friend told me I could burn as many of his cd’s as I wanted, so I burned about thirty, thinking music is something to be shared and that he didn’t mind, and he became furious with me for taking so much of something that made him “him”. It started a serious falling out between us. Stupid shit, in retrospect, but there you have it.

          1. Lucky him!
            I have a favorite sweatshirt, the kind with the super-soft fuzzy fleece lining in it. But hey, whatever. No performance anxiety to worry about with it. Always look on the bright side of life!

  2. Hy babe, Remove all doubt from your mind. You have touched thoughtfully on what it means to be Dominant in ways many self proclaimed “masters” will never understand.
    Ginger smiles when she tells me I’m the master of the mind fuck. I like that its a joke between us that I think eludes to the trust and care we place in each other. I keep her off guard challenge her to question herself and how she thinks about things all because I truly care for her. It is that concern for her well being that is the foundation of trust and allows us to explore the things we do.
    Much of the comercialization of BDSM leaves a bad taste in my mouth and I don’t use much scene speak in our playtime but it has a place and helps set the tone. There is so much more to being dominant than just being cruel it carrys a great responsibility. I feel better with Teacher/student relationship than calling myself Master or Dom.
    I have always been fond of the saying ” with great power comes great responsibility”.
    I am happy for you in your newfound role and look forward to watching you bloom into that role

    Best wishes and limitless love and compassion

    John” Cruel ” Steeves

        1. Ah, gotcha. Well, thanks so much for your note. This is all so surprising to me (this new dynamic between us). It seems almost too good to be true, honestly…

  3. I’m with Ella… More ‘good boy’ pics please….. such a tease!

    You are doing just fine in learning your role as Domme with TN. It really is what works naturally with the two of you and your needs and desires. As I’ve mentioned before, he cares for you far more than you realize and you have both found a path that gives him the place to explore safely those feelings. Be patient…you have his heart more than anyone probably ever has. And that is the beauty of a D/s relationship. Men find it far easier to release parts of themselves that have been hidden, even from themselves, to someone they can safely open themselves up to. There lies an intimacy so deep…beautiful!

    Enjoy the ride!

    ~ Vista

    1. Thanks for the words of encouragement and wisdom, Vista. This could all be yanked away from me if he meets someone else, but until then… well, I guess I’ll just eat it up.

      1. Awww…But you are under estimating the power of a D/s relationship. Yes…someday he may do that…but he’ll never forget what he had with you…if he is ever able to walk away. ;) None of us are guaranteed tomorrow…so yes…enjoy every bit!!!!

  4. Goodness look at his beefy thighs, and your beautiful body. Love the editing on those photos as well. What can I say, of course I love the message and the delivery, but I’m hardly impartial anymore.

    This surely is territory I know nothing about, control in a relationship is something I will always feel lacking. But the whole D/s thing that seems to be such a theme in so many great WP blogs that I follow, I’m slowly seeing the allure and addictive nature of it all. Needless to say I’m glad you are tackling it and I shall live vicariously through you (or TN since my default position would be little sub).

    Feel better soon Miss ;)

    1. Thanks, G. This cold is kicking my arse.

      Re: the D/s stuff, my head is still spinning about it. I’m curious how it’s going to affect my future relationships… I’m only an ankle into the kink pool, but have a feeling I’ll be getting at least waist-high at some point. I used to believe with all my being that I was submissive, too… strange how quickly things can change. xx Hy

  5. I’m not sure but it sounds to me your domme style is quite light. Not exactly what I’d expect from a domme or I would do as a domme (which of course I’m not so what do I know? ;-) ) but it sounds like quite some fun anywayso that’s the most important :-D

      1. Oh, yes humiliation and pain… yep, not my thing either… but what I meant is you sound sweet in your post. I guess the thing with the Domme attitude is strong authority… am I wrong? :-)

  6. Your response in changing thought was …? Allowing yourself to change direction in a “better” way, to me, allows adaptation but also enlightenment and I think compassion for him in a way that sidesteps punishment but still maintaining leadership/dominance. It reminded me of mothering kids you want to become smart adults with a mind of their own…instead of just being the authoritarian who rules by always being right. Don’t know if I was clear but I’m fucking tired just hearing all the work you have to do. That is what you call a relationship though – good for you. Hey – what email do you like using? Jayne

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