new domme


I am stuck in the present, fighting my past to become who I want to be. It is very uncomfortable and I just want it to be done. I want to be on the other side.

I went through this as a sub and I didn’t want to do it again, alas, here I am. *sigh*

I have not been happy with myself lately because I know I can be more. The future me is waiting impatiently behind the curtain for her time. I’d let her out if I knew how…

There is so much I have to overcome and so much that I’m up against…

I have been this other way for so long and I know it takes time to change, but, damnit, I want to be more right this second.


Thoughts About Blogging

I’m a little hesitant to write about the evil that lurks within me because of how it might be viewed. It’s not that I care how you view me, I care about the way I portray how I think and feel, if that makes sense. 

I enjoy reading blogs written by all types of people on all walks through BDSM. I especially enjoy deliciously evil Dommes in committed, long term relationships – there are so few in blogland (that I have found) – because I feel they get the most out of their relationships, and I want that. However, there is a lot lurking behind their words that isn’t always easy for readers to see. It is easy to see the evil and miss reasons. 

I don’t want you to miss my reason. I want you to see how I care and love through my evil. But, maybe that is a bit too ambitious? 

I also have noticed that I am not as open about my struggles as I was when I was a sub. I honestly can’t tell you why, but I think that needs to change. Dominants struggle and I am not an exception to that.

I am here to share my journey and have a place to express my feelings openly and honestly… somehow, I forgot that. 

Surprise and What I Did With It

I was in a horrible place when I last wrote in November. I was desperate for answers, not even answers, just… anything, ya’ know? Anything that would tell me something.

So I got on his iPad and opened up his tumblr account.

I’m not proud of my actions (he is definitely entitled to privacy), but I’m glad I did it.

(There, I said it. Moving on.)

What did I see?

Pictures of dominant women.

Lots of dominant women.

I was pissed and hurt — not about the pictures, ’cause let’s be honest, dominant women are hot. Had he been home (I wouldn’t have been on his iPad) I would have punched him, possibly in the balls.

I had a right to be hurt. Some of my suffering could have been avoided if he would have been honest with me. Do not misunderstand, I can sympathize with his situation. I cannot, however, sympathize with his choices. He didn’t have to spill all his beans, but he didn’t have to keep leading me on either.

And, besides that, I had asked him more than once over the last few years if he would like for us to be the other way around. He assured me, every time, that he wanted it the way it was — he wanted to be in control.

After talking it over with a friend and thoroughly overthinking it, I decided that I would go to him with an offer. An offer of switching or for me to be, you know, a Domme.

If you are a follower of my last blog, take your surprise, multiply it by 100 and that’s about where I was at.

The Talk

I sat down next to him on the couch, cuddled up to him, his arm wrapped around me and my head in the crook of his arm, and an hour later (possibly longer (ahem)) I managed to spit it out.

More than anything, I just wanted him to know that I was cool with it — that we could figure out a way together.

Inside I was a mess. I was doubtful I would be able to play the dominant. I didn’t want to, and I knew I would. It was better than having no D/s in my life. I needed it to happen. And if it was something he wanted…

At first, he was reluctant. I thought my head would explode (or I would rip his off) if he couldn’t admit that he was at least a little interested. I mean, it is completely understandable that he would be reluctant, but take into consideration where I was at in the moment as well.

I kept pressing, gently.

I kinda rambled on about how I wanted us to work and what we had been doing wasn’t working. When that didn’t seem to do any good, I closed my eyes and said, “It’s something I’m interested in.”

I felt him give a little. A ripple of relief…maybe?

I rambled some more, then after a stretch of silence I blurted out that I had been on his tumblr account.

He had a few questions about  when and why — he wasn’t mad (that came later). After I answered, he was quiet for a long time, then said, “Okay, we’ll try it for a month.”

And so it began.