how to be a dom

Everyone has been there: You're at a party and someone says something about how much they enjoy being a dominant or how kinky their sex life is. Your mind races with questions: What does that mean? Do I want to be involved in that? But what if I'm not sure about it myself? Don't worry, we've got you covered. In this article, we'll cover everything you need to know about being a dom from the perspective of submissives who have experienced both sides of the coin.

Do your research

Do your research. The BDSM lifestyle is not for everyone, and if you're thinking about exploring it, it's important to understand what it means and how to go about doing so safely.

• Research the BDSM community online. There are many resources available online that can help you learn more about this lifestyle: books, websites and blogs written by people who practice bondage or discipline/dominance (BDSM), as well as social media pages devoted specifically to these topics. Many of these sources will offer advice on how best to approach someone if you want them in your life as a partner or lover; others may provide tips on how exactly one goes about tying up another human being without accidentally cutting off their circulation!

• Do some local sleuthing! Once you've gained some knowledge through reading books or surfing the web, take advantage of all those new skills by going out into real life--and meeting real people! You might find yourself attending events hosted by local groups such as munches (where folks gather just for conversation) or workshops where experienced Doms teach other interested individuals how best not only tie knots but also create safe spaces where everyone feels comfortable expressing themselves freely without fear

Decide if you're a switch or a full-time dom

You may be a switch, which means that you can play both roles. In this case, it's important to know what style of play you're looking for and how much time each role takes. If your partner also enjoys switching roles, then all the better! However, if your partner is only interested in being dominant or submissive, then being able to switch between the two may not be an option for either party.

This decision will affect not only what type of relationship dynamic works best (full-time vs casual) but also how much effort should be put into finding other partners who share similar interests as well as what kind of toys/equipment are needed when playing together

Understand your motivations to be a dom

Before you start to learn about the lifestyle, it's important to understand your motivations. Why do you want to be a dom? What do you hope to get from it? And what are the limits of what you're willing to do in this role?

Understanding these things will help ensure that both parties are on the same page about what's acceptable and what isn't, as well as help prevent any misunderstandings later down the road. It's also important for both parties' safety: if one person wants something that goes against their safeword or limits, then there needs to be another way out (like an "I'm done" phrase).

It's also worth noting that being a dom isn't just about sex--it can also mean having power over someone outside of sexual situations (like ordering them around). If this sounds appealing but doesn't involve physical contact at all times, then go ahead and try out being a top instead!

Set boundaries and stick to them

Once you've decided what kind of relationship you want, sub and dom relationship? it's time to set boundaries. This is a crucial step in being the dom you want to be because it helps ensure that both parties know where they stand.

Boundaries should be discussed openly, honestly and often throughout the duration of your dynamic--especially when one or both parties feel like something isn't working for them anymore. It's important not only for establishing what works for each person involved but also for creating an environment where all parties feel comfortable expressing themselves freely

Determine what level of involvement you want with your submissive

You can be a dom in a casual relationship, or you can be a dom in a long-term relationship. You can also be a dom in a polyamorous relationship, or even an open one. The level of involvement you want with your submissive will determine how much time and effort you put into training them.

You should get tested for STIs. The most common STIs are herpes, chlamydia and gonorrhea. In some cases, these diseases can be passed from partner to partner even if there is no visible symptoms. Also, test for HIV and hepatitis B and C. If you choose not to get tested for any reason, don't have sex with anyone who has not been tested in the last six months.

STI Screening Recommendations:

• For all new sexual partners: Get tested at least once a year and more often if you have multiple partners or engage in riskier activities (like anal sex).

• If you're pregnant: You may want to get tested before getting pregnant or immediately after giving birth so that any infection can be treated before passing it on to your baby through breastfeeding or vaginal delivery (if necessary).

Being a dom is more than just BDSM

Being a dom is more than just BDSM. It's about control, not pain. It's about power, not dominance. And it's definitely not something you should do if you're looking for someone to treat you like shit and give no respect in return.

Domination is about trust and respect--and communication! If your partner isn't communicating what they want or need from the experience then there won't be any way for either of you to have an enjoyable time together. Communication is key when it comes to being both a good sub or top (or switch).

Conclusion

These are just a few tips for being a dom. If you're interested in learning more about the lifestyle, check out our guides on how to be a submissive and how to be kinky in general.

Where to find a kinky dating partner?

As we known, the most of kinky people have lots of question about kinky dating, for example "where do I go to find people, partners, and relationships now that I've found kink and D/s?" It's a huge hurdle to get over and something that everyone seeks. A partner. A lover. A relationship. It's not as easy as going down to your neighborhood bar and seeing if you meet someone attractive. There's a lot more compatibility requirements when you want to find someone that already identifies as a Dominant and then figuring out if they are the Dominant type for you.

Step back for a moment. Do you know what sort of Dominant you are looking for? They aren't all the same and your style of submission that you crave requires a specific sort of Dominant. In this case, you are a unique snowflake. You will have to sort through a lot of potentials that just don't meet your needs before you can find the match for you. It's not unusual to spend months and years have a kinky dating with like minded partners to explore with on more than a casual setting. Don't give up and try not to lose your patience.

Treasures are not easily found, but when they are discovered they sparkle bright and strong. So keep traveling and you will find someone, eventually. Where to look though can feel limited. In this age of technology, you can search the globe for someone if you are open to that. So open your heart, get searching and maybe you'll find love.

When you are ready for dating you might start with this list of places. I'm separating them in two sections; online and offline. I'll do my best to list as many places as I can but I'm not currently dating so I may be rusty. I also can't guarantee that these sites will work for you, but if you don't try then you'll never know. Make sure you read up on how to write a profile and protect your privacy while dating online on kinky dating sites.

There is also the harder option of finding a partner and then introducing them to kink. You can then find any man that attracts you and you think might have what it takes and then talking to them about your interests to see if they are interested. The decline rate is higher, but you just might get lucky. In this case, you can find a partner in all of the ways that non-kink people do; from the bar to the grocery store, church or through friends.

Where did you find your previous or current partner? Would you like your short story shared on Submissive Guide? Send me an email and I'll add it to this post.

Some risks of kinky dating

When so many who live and work in Los Angeles are part of the mass tech industry migration, for others, the city holds general lifestyle appeal, and they end up in the industry after the fact. I am one such convert, a lifestyle female dominant who grew up. Before, I had only online interactions that grew out of the dark corners of kinky dating sites; with few public kink events to offer indication of anyone’s sociability or reputation, there was a tepid air of distrust sewn through every online and offline interaction I had. On moving to Los Angeles, I was relieved to live and date in a place where I could find an extensive BDSM dating site. I could take people on kinky dates, have them meet my kinky friends, and feel some kind of self-esteem in my identity as part of my “real life.”

In the time it took me to transition to tech, kink was already experiencing a kind of mainstream cultural resurgence, even in my workplace. I became aware that certain men at Google lived their lives firmly out of the sexual subculture closet, either as polyamorous or kinky; Google directors and high-level managers proudly proclaimed their preferences in news articles and speaker websites. Of course, they were generally middle-aged white men, all of them dominants or tops.

The dichotomy between the risks of being out and male, versus being out as a kinky woman, became particularly apparent when I found myself on dates with other kinky tech professionals, especially other Googlers. By virtue of the numbers game, dating in a city where many people work for a handful of tech companies, lots of the amenable kinky gentlemen I met on kinky dating sites ended up being one of my fellow 14k Bay Area Googlers. My Alt and BDSM profiles included the usual vague biographical details, and flagged my femdom identity. Could a coworker spot me without my knowing? There was always the risk, but it felt a measured one, or at least one proportional to my right to find happiness.

So I found myself on a date with – let’s call him Matthew, a fellow Googler who joined me for a fine enough first round of drinks at a local bar near my evening GBus stop. But in subsequent texts, things began to get tense:

“So oral worship huh? That’s your primary thing?” he asks.

“One of many things. Even vanilla women tend to like oral sex.”

“I don’t, at least not giving anyway. I don’t eat pussy. I’m old enough now that I know I just don’t like it, never have. Don’t do it.”

“I understand if that’s not your thing, but it’s a deal-breaker for me. I’m not really into play that’s only about pleasuring the submissive.” (He had just finished telling me in extensive paragraphs all about his desire to be pegged.)

“A deal breaker? That’s fucking ridiculous.”

“If we’re not a good match it’s not ridiculous, it’s my right to say no to something as much as yours.”

“Fine, thanks for wasting my time then.”

Yikes. His texts predictably ceased after that.

Just a few weeks later, I am standing at the bar inside the resort rented exclusively for our amusement as Googlers, pushing the ice around the well drink from the open bar. A group of male coworkers near me is conversing animatedly, ducking their heads around each other to steal glances in my direction. Before I can consider the possibility that they might be looking at me, one breaks away and slides in, close: “You’re in [group] aren’t you? I think I’ve seen you when I go to that building.”

He is slightly older than me, generic medium-brown hair, medium-build, medium-everything white male tech employee with a Patagonia vest unzipped over his button-down shirt.

“Yes, haven’t been there very long. You guys are all in… what, Ads?” I reply, glancing at the shirt of one of his friends.

“He was. I’m not.” He slides his hand up the bar behind me, and I see the wedding ring. I crunch my body away as my internal proximity-alarms start going off.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he continues. He’s so close I can smell the scotch on his breath. He tries to snake the other around my other side, corner me against the wall. I defensively raise my hand.

“Expect to see me?” I blurt out, “I don’t know you.”

“I know you though,” he laughs. “The dominatrix from [group].”

My heart rate, steadily rising during our brief interaction, feels it has been stopped by a hard electric jolt.

“Ex-excuse me?” I stammer. My mouth tastes like metal.

“Yeah, you’re that one he said is like a professional dominatrix? Or something? That’s really hot…” he continues but my heartbeat is pounding so hard in my ears that I can’t hear him. I bat his hand away and scramble through the crowd.

He said.

He said? My brain races with panic as I sit at the bottom of some service stairs. Who is he said, WHO SAID….

Oh my god.

Matthew knew my first name, what group I worked in, could easily look me up on the intranet directory and find not just my full name but my email, even what building and what desk I sat in. The latter feature had become a hazard before: I had twice caught male Googlers who had lurked my Alt profile coming into my building to stare at me across the floor. Were they checking to see if I was as attractive in my pictures as in real life, or worse…?

The Google value of available, transparent information, of universal and powerful search had come to bite me firmly in the ass, violating my privacy, threatening my job and even my physical safety. Massive tech companies still make these internal features available, indeed many of their external features, without any consideration for how they can disproportionately be weaponized against women by jilted men. I thought of the directory again as text messages began to roll in from different strange numbers that night, soliciting me for sex, to come to a hotel room at the resort, that Matthew said I was “available.”

Many people know Google’s motto is “Don’t Be Evil,” but there was another stated value that stuck with me from when I heard it in my Noogler orientation. It was: “Google should be a responsible steward of the information it holds.” When employees who hold the world’s information, their coworkers’ and users’ information, fail to internalize this value, there is a loss to the product, to the workplace, and to retaining talent, that is multiplicative and potentially apocalyptic.

My time at Google was brief, but long enough to experience firsthand how a company that struggles to remove harassment from its own products also enables harassment within its own walls. Like many women who are sexually harassed in the workplace after rejecting a coworker, I eventually left Google for another job without ever feeling as if I could even begin to explain the problem to someone with the power to stop it, let alone go through any official reporting or remedy processes. In kink communities I had always believed myself to be safe, that there was a respect and a vocabulary for the divide of private and public information between partners that carries through to each of our “real lives.” But my identification with the community was no inoculation: entitlement to my body, my sexuality, my space still exists, a function of how men see women: consumables, objects available for their sexual consumption.

I wish I could believe that the entitlement reinforced by our industry and our workplace didn’t empower Matthew to take revenge, simply for being too incompatible to go on a second date. But this entitlement is baked into our platforms, by those that can neither imagine being subject to it nor believe it to be wrong: it takes just the slightest push of a bad actor, more empowered by technology than they ever have been, to cause the protections that I carefully erect to come tumbling down.

It’s a consideration I have to make carefully now. Men who partake in sexual subcultures are seen as studs, badasses, sexual wolves. The image of the kinky man is the intense, rugged dominant man swimming in nubile submissive women, running his leather glove-clad hands over their flanks as they coo over his dark sexual power. By contrast, dominant women are broadly seen by men who do not desire them as a subversion of this “natural order,” a kind of demanding, bossy shrew. To men that do desire them, femdoms are a hypersexualized toy: surely the drive for sex (with them, of course) is the only reason a woman would demand anything.

This hypersexualization characterizes my entire kinky dating experience, and especially the toxic sexual harassment that leaked into my workplace. I am very often treated as if I am some box for a man to check, an experience he needs to have, something exotic or novel he wants to try just to say he did, or to see if he “even likes this kink stuff.” I exist for men’s own sexual self-exploration, a freak without my own right to privacy or freedom from public shame, a resource for their own self-discovery — that like all things in an on-demand world, they feel entitled to access at any time.



As male kinkiness and male sexuality fetishisizes the taboo of taking without asking, is it any surprise that the products they build have no consideration for consent, for the safety of the user built in?