A real Dom

 

Ever since you were a little girl you knew how to scan a room, you knew how to deflect, how to calm. You knew when to walk away, and when to run. And sometimes, how to shrink down and take it because running made it worse.

That knowledge has served you well and continues into adulthood. You know when to laugh at just the right moments, how to not be too much and how to be just enough.

And then he came along and fucked up your life in the best way. Not by taking control — you'd been controlled before, you knew what that cost. He took the control you'd been carrying alone and made it his to hold, so for once you didn't have to. He never told you who to be. He told you exactly what he wanted, and left no room to guess, no performance required. There was nothing to scan for. He'd already named it.

And the thing is, he wasn't some prince on a white horse. He didn't save you. He gave you permission — not to obey, but to stop bracing. The vigilance had a job once. With him, though. It was no longer needed. You looked for some time, expecting it to go wrong, waiting to see some facade drop, it never did, and you felt yourself open up, you could tell him about your blunders and he never judged you. He had an ability to take your day out of your hands, do it all while still making it all about you and you became a happy little princess. He slowly built you up, convincing you to do things you never thought you would do.

I haven’t mentioned sex in this piece and I’m not going to. But if you find this man, what you have in fact found is a Dom. The real ones will care for you every bit outside the bedroom as in.