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I identify much more with the Top label, and I’ll explain why.
The more I think of it, the more “Domme” feels unfitting for the way I engage with kink.
Now to understand where I stand, we first need to go over my definitions of these labels ; and the crucial ways in which they differ from one another. It’ll be fast :
A Top takes the lead during a play scene.
A Domme sets up systems, protocols and routines to train a submissive both during and in-between play scenes.
Because of this crucial distinction, I don’t think I’m a good Domme — and it’s not the imposteur talking here ; I’m merely observing my rythms, my innerworkings, and concluding I’m not a fit for the role.
I don’t make a good Domme because I am the most chaotic, disorganized person I know.
I cannot stick to a routine for the life of me, I have approximately zero follow-through ability, and extremely varying levels of social battery.
Granted all this screams unmedicated ADHD, but that’s not the point lmao.
The point is : my mind right now is not equipped to take on the responsibilities that come with the ‘Domme’ territory.
How could I be the one to set up protocols and routines, then stay on someone’s ass ensuring there’s follow-through — when I can’t even do that for myself ? Let's be real, c'mon.
I can try. I can set the routines up. I can make the training protocols and rituals. I can schedule the weekly check ins.
I have in the past.
Not only do these bore me to hell and back, they also end up triggering massive imposteur syndrome in me when I eventually, inevitably, fail to follow-through.
Ask anyone who's ever been a pet of mine : this road leads to disappointment and unfulfillment on their end ; because I'm not able to uphold that type of structure long term.
I don’t stick to things, I rotate fixations ; which is fine. It’s how my mind works and I’m done working against it.
It doesn’t mean I’m not good at what I do. It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy naughty times — I love brainwashing subjects, and I love making grown men whimper and beg for more ruination.
(men specifically, yes.)
It simply means I am a Top, not a Domme.
Means I’ll gladly play with your mind, I just won’t "hands on" train it.
I don’t do routines, I know it’ll end up disappointing everyone involved.
I don’t do the exclusivity shit either. I can’t be “your only one” — that’s way too much pressure to be available, and as I said : my social battery levels vary wildly.
A submissive mind needs guidance, structure, but above all sustained, consistent training.
I cannot consistently provide that. So the pet will either ‘cheat’ or remain miserable and unfulfilled ; none of these outcomes are desirable to me.
I'm not looking to own anyone.
I'm just here for a nice mindfuck. Or two, or three.
I’ll still use the label for SEO purposes though. It just makes it simpler for the algorithm to deal with me.
Whether in or out of play, I'll also still expect submissives to adress me with the appropriate titles (Madam, Temptress, Siren) and deference.
But reader, at least now you know :
I am not a Domme.
There’s a lot of labels I subscribe to.
After all, I am legion.
A playfun siren, yes.
A dark muse, also yes.
A video vixen ? In a way, yes.
A kinky brainwasher ? Fuck yes.
But a Domme ? Not quite.
Consider me your... depravity director.
Your mindmelt maestro ?
that itch you always come back scratching,
the one your mind keeps drifting to
as for a mysterious, unexplainable reason,
you can't seem to get me off of it.
Consider me that.
Then, next time you feel the urge to lose a bit of your sanity...
So I’ve been outta hiatus for a little while, a couple of weeks or so.
Came back after a payout was triggered, wondering who amongst my sea of weaklings had missed me the most.
As it turned out… quite a few.
Not only past suitors, but new ones who’d stumbled accross my work during my absence and made a point to let me know how smitten they’d gotten, how sad they were having discovered me at my sleeper state.
The minute I logged in, they flocked to me.
Desperate to let me know how much they’d missed my claws,
they all but rushed to bask in my light again ; to feel my pen melting their minds again, if only for a sweet second.
I’ve been hanging out since. Rekindling old flames, igniting new ones.
Fun times. Thrilling times.
Sexy times. Lucrative times.
And since I peeked back, I noticed something quite… noteworthy. An interesting shift I thought I’d share.
A shift that I believe started internally — only to be reflected back to me with every interaction I entered.
Taking deep, long breaths outside of the full-time fetish provider life really helped put into perspective how I feel about a lot of things, where I stand about a few others.
Without actively working on it, I grew a quiet sense of strength in who I am as a Top.
A seeminlgy unwavering confidence in the uniqueness of my style, its beauty, its effectiveness.
I came back with a new understanding of my tastes and a new appreciation for my skill.
As if my instincts had grown,
as if time passing had sharpened my fangs.
It all feels much more effortless, now.
Like being able to read energies, shift them where I want them to be by pressing
Just the right button at just the right time.
Something that used to take a little friction,
But not anymore.
This must’ve altered my gravitational field, because ever since I peeked back,
There’s been a surprising number of self-described Alphas crumbling before me.
I find this quite interesting.
It’s interesting because I usually label myself a Simp Collector.
I did poke fun at Alphas here and there :
the occasional, lighthearted Dominant Femme’s jab, you know.
But nothing sustained. Nothing targeted.
I never directed that much energy towards addressing them.
So I’d never gotten that many to begin with.
And I haven’t posted new content or new messaging. I did nothing to signal a positioning shift.
I’ve just been showing up, chit-chatting in the DMs.
Still, ever since I’m back…
They’ve been crawling out of the woodworks left and right to confess their psychosexual demise.
And they’re funny, these alphas.
They’ll fall into my web knees first, head bowed, cock painfully throbbing.
And they’ll gladly admit to their awe, too.
They’ll beg for me to ruin them in a way that’s… virtually undistinguishable from how the most pliable simps would.
But their “real life” status is something they never fail to bring up.
As they’re crawling,
As they’re watching themselves desperately fall for Me,
Thirsting for more and more subjugation,
At one point, they always bring up the fact they’re “usually quite Alpha”.
It seems they cannot help it.
Maybe to save face, maybe to entertain.
Maybe they’re just venting.
But the topic always comes up, at least once.
Some even make it a point to mention how they think they’d have a real shot at "seducing" me — read fucking me — should we meet in person.
And these are usually the ones who cannot wait to share pictures of their tall, muscular—nay, stone carved bodies with me.
Slutty little attention whores, these ones.
I find them quite entertaining.
Now—I know they’re not trying to seduce me when they do,
not in a conventional way at least.
They have far too much respect for the way I present myself to even attempt to.
No, I think they’re doing that for themselves, to try and latch on to some remnants of pride.
As a personal reminder, perhaps.
Regardless, the repeated, short span occurrences of this exact pattern of behaviour made me realize something : I’m kind of into it, actually. Like a lot.
It’s one thing watching a shy simp melt and stutter before me.
A delightful satisfaction that, truthfully, will never get old.
But a big, muscular hunk crumbling just as hard, if not harder ?
That is a rush I’m learning to savour.
One that is not about “breaking” Alphas,
because I don’t believe it's what I’m doing.
I’m not breaking them.
They’ll go back to their big masc ways right after we’re done exchanging filthy things.
They’ll go back to their domineering role, quite naturally.
I’m not trying to obliterate that aspect of them,
Nor do I think their crawling undermines anything.
Quite the opposite, in fact
I like the tension.
I revel in it.
I like the fact that people might lower their eyes at them in the outside world, yet
when they’re here with Me,
It’s MY gaze they struggle holding.
With me, they’re nothing but trembling, leaking little messes.
The witch in me cackles as the colossus surrenders, falls to his knees and begs for obliteration.
When he moans, squirms and whimpers while wrapping around my little finger.
What excites me the most about this dynamic is how powerful men so effortlessly relinquish everything when sucked into my orbit.
Truly a testament to my power.
Alpha as they might,
They recognize I’m the bigger deal.
A toy put it best the other day :
I’m the alpha’s Alpha. I like that phrasing.
They don’t even bother trying to resist it—the pull, that is.
They just succumb and indulge,
They let me devour their willpower
the exact way the most smitten of simps happily let me do so.
And then, they’re back on their muscular legs.
Gigantic frames standing tall and mighty.
They go on about their lives, mind endlessly drifting back to that exquisite place,
To those very special pockets in time where they completely broke down for me.
I get unreasonably wet thinking about this tension.
Not because I find them hot per se,
Though I’d be lying if I said they aren’t nice to look at~
But because they’re a mirror.
A surface that reflects the potency of my influence back to me,
Which I find truly exhilarating.
Dear diary,
I think I just found a new favorite game to play.
This morning I was reminded of the time in college we were given the assignment « Alternative modes of exchange in a Capitalist society » and I thought ’hey, this is a great time to write about findom!’ :’)
Anyways, I posted the essay on Medium (click) if y’all nerds wanna give it a read ✨
PS. Yes, I got a nice grade 😄 prof said « bold interpretation, 15/20 » lmao
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Always going out of my way making sure everyone around me was comfortable, even when it meant I wouldn't be.
Oh yes, I was raised a nice girl.
I always wore my "nice girl" badge with pride,
even as I first picked up the dominatrix whip.
Bless me for not knowing any better.
I had yet to discover the real untold truth :
that in the overall grand scheme of things
behind each door that closes,
when every light turns off
nice girls are the ones who actually finish last.
they’re the ones who end up surrounded by,
emotionally chained up to mediocre masculinity –
for not realizing they could (and should) demand better.
I had no idea how potent my darkness could be. I didn't even know it existed. While picking up the whip immediately flipped a switch, it took a while for me to fully wake up from the patriarchal fever dream.
I held onto that "sweet girl" label for dear life, despite my very obvious taste for unethical mind-games...
Until I began seeing right through it.
Men seem to think the absolute worst thing a woman can do is using her wiles to get ahead. Don’t you wonder why?
heterosexual girlies,
the system has created a game so fundamentally rigged in your favor it’s almost rude at that point.
Masculinity is in crisis. And once they realize no Andrew Tate or brainrot subreddit will ever actually bridge the gap between them and the modern woman ;
they’re just going to have to get in line. they’re just going to have to better themselves, earnestly.
Plenty of dudes seem to feel like absolute worst thing a woman can do is using her wiles to get ahead.
I began wondering why so threatened?
Especially considering it seemed to come so easily to me.
I walk into a room, stand still, look around with my cryptic Van de Kamp ™ smile and see a few backs straightening, I catch a shifting gaze here and there.
And I'm supposed to not notice.
Not everyone has that sort of magnetism,
and I think we can all agree women wear it better.
So eventually I stopped being ‘nice’ ; went from asking to expecting.
I denied and scoffed, I teased and gaslit.
Sliding under someone’s skin so deeply they still get flustered thinking of me after years of radio silence became a lucrative hobby.
Knowing my voice takes root in someone's mind as they think perverted thoughts fills me with such delight.
There's a deep thrill in bending a person’s will with a strategic giggle.
Being romanced with late night "thinking of you" cash tips
And I commanded all of this through a screen?
Forget nice girls.
Being nice will get you toppled over, trampled, taken for granted,
leaving lesser and lesser space for evolution outside of that box
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going pro's actually the nicest thing you can do, ethically speaking.
Some of these hypergamic & dark feminine dating tips are outright psychological warfare, and I doubt most targets are privy to it.
Assuming the majority of these tricks are oblivious to the game played in their face,
And that such game is rigged for one-sided benefit...
then there's far more potential for deep emotional harm than when my preys pay me to employ similar tactics. Don't you think?
I'm not being the morals militia here.
Honestly, be as unethical as you freaking want girlie (chicago said it first) – I'm just saying mastermind girlfriends seem to "exploit" more "weaknesses" than pros when you look at it this way.
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