“I am not the right Dom for everyone”. This is one of the cornerstones of my belief system, even as a professional. I negotiate with a lot of people concerning the experiences they’d like to have. Some of these negotiations end up in really great sessions! Some of them end when it’s clear I don’t offer the particular activities or experiences a client is searching for. Sometime I have to be the one to decline an appointment, telling a potential client to seek someone else out. It might be because they’re looking for services I don’t provide, but often I decline working with someone because they come across as more entitled or disrespectful than I’m willing to deal with. Sure, I don’t make as much money as I could because my boundaries surrounding these things are clear. I have no problem turning down a client I don’t trust, who pushes me about my boundaries, or who seems entitled to my body and time.
We live in a world where cis men (by the numbers, though they certainly aren’t the only offenders) have been brought up believing they have a right to the bodies and actions of the people they’re attracted to. How this comes out behaviorally runs the gamut from people pressuring others into sexual activity, non-consensually touching people in public (and private), not “stopping” or pausing whatever behavior has been requested to end during an argument, declining to engage in (or getting out of) meaningful negotiation in order to get away with whatever actions they aren’t comfortable addressing openly or hearing a “no” about… the list goes on. Today our cultural conversation is more about enthusiastic consent and negotiation, however it’s still really important to hold space for “no means no”, even in arguments, and not to undermine the process of finding an authentic “yes” by utilizing peer pressure.
One of the best tools I have for safety and good rapport in my practice is good vetting technique. I’m not ashamed that I can be a pain to negotiate with. I take it seriously. I ask a lot of questions and expect clear, honest, and comprehensive engagement in return. I don’t book same day appointments with people I haven’t worked with before, as it leaves no time for proper vetting and planning on my part. I rarely agree to same day appointments with people I have worked with before, as that would require me to rise to the occasion of someone else’s expectations without enough time to ground and center the energy I’m offering, which generally makes things feel less safe to me (and certainly less enjoyable). I love being great at what I do, which means I need to know myself intimately, respect and accept my limitations, and build my offerings meaningfully in order to avoid burn out and to perform at a standard which meets my own satisfaction.
My work as a Dom is equal (and similar in many ways) to my work as a performance artist. There isn’t much difference between the two gigs aside from the number of people I have in audience. In both I articulate my perspective about relationships and identity in a skilled manner, utilizing my audience to make my points. I value my creative process, as does my audience, and what we end up co-creating from my lead has the ability to change perspectives, educate, open or reframe personal beliefs, edit behaviors and influence personal meaning-making… the list goes on.
I hold the basic expectation that I’m working with adults who have mastered respect of my autonomous body outside of their personal desires. I take responsibility for what I bring to the table in return. I’m diligent about consent, negotiation of boundaries, and being truthful about my experience level and skills. If I make a mistake I appologise and check-in about it. I do not believe Dominance means perfection, but I do believe it demands taking a higher level of responsibility for the fallout of play. This demands clear ethics in order to follow through meaningfully. I may not ultimately be the one in complete control of my BDSM scenes—the person submitting to me can always revoke their consent and end our play—I am always responsible for my actions and responding to their fallout.
When unforeseen results are experienced, it doesn’t matter that I didn’t mean for them to be. It is up to me to step up and clean up the mess I’ve helped make. Acting responsibly doesn’t mean that someone I’ve harmed or triggered will regain (or even want to regain) their trust in me. When I choose to step into Dominance, I’m stepping into a role fraught with dangers—both the obvious ones expected from any form of risky play, but also unseen and unknown dangers that my actions are capable of triggering. Therefore it’s as important that I trust my sub as it is my sub trusts me. Without the appropriate type and amount of trust on both sides of the equation, it’s much less possible to carry out intimate connection with good endings consistently.
Our society is wrestling with these ideas right now. There’s very little trust of people who think differently or who seem to live a different lifestyle from those they are around. I think many people of a certain age who’ve struggled with marginalization in their lifetime have learned to understand different perspectives enough to navigate conversations which are less than ideal in order to survive. People who haven’t had to struggle through as many hardships, or who haven’t committed to personal growth, haven’t learned these same skills. While I can have empathy for and curiosity about the degree of difference between myself and any person I’m negotiating with, I still must have boundaries in place about how far I’ll bend before I decline to bend any further. I define and redefine this balance (and these lines) throughout time. Knowing myself intimately (positive and negative), examining past mistakes I’ve made, cultivating better understanding about where my boundaries need to be day to day, having conversations with others in similar situations about how they cope with hardships we share, and through constant research I continue to educate myself about how people think, question, and converse in order to connect with others about the things they want and need. This research into “what things mean to people who are not me” is invaluable to my own ability to not burn out. I love being great at what I do. I love getting better at it too.
A person who calls themselves Dominant, yet is incapable of self-examination is not Dominant in my opinion, but domineering. A domineering person has no business taking control of my body. I should not trust a domineering person to do what’s right for me, as they’re in that position to get away with what they can for themselves. A domineering person is not interested in further education when they’re called out for having a bad bedside manner, or not being sensitive to their partner’s needs, fears, boundaries, and goals. To serve a person who’s serving themselves is not submission in my opinion, but akin to walking into situations potentially rife with abuse, neglect, triggers, and unanswered for harm. I think it’s a really sad and dangerous reality that many people assume anyone calling themselves Dominant or Master is a safe, knowledgeable, sensitive, and respectful partner in kinky activity. I find in far too many situations this is simply not the case.
It’s human nature (to some degree) to read into situations the things you want from them. That behavior isn’t necessarily manipulative when it’s not conscious, but it’s often amplified by ignorance of what other people’s needs and expectations might be. This is why my vetting practice is extensive, and my expectations from those I vet are high. I expect that when someone pushes my buttons they’ll either stop or adjust accordingly to my request when I speak up. If a person I’m vetting is disinterested in responding authentically to my requests, why would they act any differently in a session with me? That behavior points to the person being more than simply “an annoyance”, but someone I cannot even consider reasonably safe enough to engage with.
It’s important to suss out which playmates (professional or lifestyle) are trustworthy and suited to your desired skill level, communication level, and have interests and goals matching your own. It’s not that people who I decline to work with are unworthy of love, affection, connection, or play; it’s simply that I’m not convinced time spent with them will pan out in a way which feels nourishing and/or respectful to both of us. That’s not a good match professionally for me, as I take my job and it’s potential for pitfalls seriously. When people do not show themselves to be worthy of trust, creative inspiration will not follow. Without inspiration there’s no scene I can provide that won’t contribute to burning me out. If I’m burnt out my Dominance is worth very little, so what’s the point of play to begin with?
I’d rather build a client list full of trustworthy clients who allow me to shine as I lead us in games which please deeply and satisfy everyone.
I’m not passionate about harming people in the name of BDSM or flexing Dominance publicly or privately. I’m passionate about the incredible connection and meaning which comes from deep vulnerability when people skillfully explore what’s possible, when people decide to eschew their shame and other unwanted repressions in exchange for intimacy and deeper, better knowing.
Play On My Friends,
~ Creature
This writing takes time, research, and consideration. It is my art.
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