A Good Girl’s Guide to Dominance

One

“ G od … your butt is so cute.”

The frown that scrunches my forehead nearly sends pain shooting down my face. I don't want to be in my head in this moment, yet here I am, my thoughts running rampant in my brain and filling it with distractions that don't mix well with the feeling in my gut. When this night began, I was looking for something specific, and it’s so fucking annoying to realize that it’s not here. Again.

His name is Zane. I met him on FET, which is a kink and BDSM dating app I’ve been using for a while now. I’m not afraid to admit it. A woman like me has to get what she needs, and there are very few apps that provide the type of things that I am into.

I’m a thirty-year-old woman who is not in the mood to play games. Admittedly, I was more willing to undergo the casual hoop jumping that people endure in their twenties. I was engaged to my highschool sweetheart when I was just twenty-one, and it ended after he cheated on me with some skank from his college. Since then, I've been all about being honest with myself, and the truth is that I’m not a vanilla kind of girl. I have kinks and fetishes, and if there is one thing I’ve learned in the years I’ve been swiping through dating apps and falling victim to hopeless experience after hopeless experience, it’s that the world is full of men who think they are Dominant … and they have absolutely no clue what the fuck they’re doing.

When Zane first reached out to me on FET, I knew what it was for. While FET isn't advertised as a dating app, it is used as one anyway. The only difference is that people on FET are kinksters, and we all know what we’re there for. While a casual encounter has the possibility of turning into something more, when someone reaches out to you on FET, they probably want to fuck you. Again, I’m honest with myself, and even though Zane’s message was, “Hey, how are you?” I knew what he was really asking. “Are you willing to have a conversation that I hope will lead to us meeting up and having kinky sex?” When I answered, it too had a double meaning. I replied, “I’m good. How are you?” Which really meant, “Your profile picture was cute enough for me to respond. Let’s see if the conversation can actually lead to sex.”

And it did.

Zane and I chatted back and forth for two weeks on FET. We picked and chose parts of our lives to share with the other, making sure to keep everything casual and unserious before getting into the kinks we hold dear. We discussed our hard and soft limits during our second week of conversing, which let me know that we were officially traveling down the road toward sex. We met for a coffee date at Dunkin’ Donuts that went well after seeing that he hadn't lied with his profile picture, and the second date happened today. We met at his place for dinner, which he did his very best to cook. I applauded his efforts although I prefer far more seasoning on my baked chicken, but it was the thought that counted. He tried for me, which was enough for me to consent to dessert .

When we left the table and entered Zane’s bedroom, he led the way, holding my hand and guiding me over the threshold. My heart jumped a bit when I saw the photo of an older woman on the nightstand next to his bed, but we’re not in a committed relationship or anything, so I blew it off. Honestly, the woman looked like she could be his mother, so I assumed it was. I swallowed hard when I saw clothes in a messy pile in the far corner.

Are those clean? Is he doing laundry?

A firestorm of questions ignited as he physically guided me to the bed and made me sit down in front of him. While I looked up at his cute little face with the five o’clock shadow, his blue eyes weren’t enough to distract me from how messy the bathroom was. From my spot on the bed, I could see the sink in the ensuite behind him, crawling with toothpaste both old and new, and hair from the last time he trimmed his beard. His toothbrush was on the counter lying lifelessly on its side next to a bottle of mouthwash with no lid.

This is how a Dom lives?

Maybe I was reading too much into it, but when I think of the word Dom, it comes with an image in my mind. I see someone who is put together. Someone who takes care of themselves—because if you can’t take care of yourself, how could you possibly take care of a submissive? I see someone who is neat and orderly, someone calm and composed, someone who doesn't get flustered when the temperature rises. I see strength, discipline, and structure. I see a Dominant.

It’s certainly possible that I’m asking for too much. I don't know anything about Zane other than the things he has told me. When you're trying to get to know someone, only going off of what they tell you will lead to despair down the road because no one tells you everything. Learning the depths of a person requires seeing who they are, not hearing who they are. What I see here doesn't fill me with excitement.

But I’d made it to this point. I might as well see how it turns out.

I stayed in my seated position on the bed while Zane gazed down at me, his eyes peering into my soul while lust emanated from his skin. I could see how much he wanted me, so I pushed the dirtiness of the bathroom as far out of my mind as I could and ignored the clothes in the corner. I listened when he told me to open my mouth so that he could stick his fingers in, sliding them back and forth over my tongue while he rubbed the length of his cock through his jeans. A smile tugged at the sides of my mouth while watching him because I could see his dick was big from here, and the untidiness of the house notwithstanding, he seemed controlled in the moment.

“You’re so pretty,” he’d said, still fingering my mouth. “I can’t believe I was lucky enough to talk to you on FET. Now, let’s see if you're as submissive as you say.”

Again, I was ready to start beaming. Don't get me wrong, I’ve had a few hookups on dating apps in the past, but every one of them left me with a bitter taste in my mouth, and not in the good way. Zane was on a roll. He was smooth and doing his best to maintain an air of confidence. Then he kept talking.

“Turn around,” he’d said.

My first thought was that it was a little fast. We’d just come into the room and sat down, and after our many conversations on FET, Zane was fully aware of the types of things I’m into. I expected a little more foreplay, teasing, and maybe a little bondage for our first time together. But I’m the submissive. It’s not my job to determine how this scene goes. Hell, I don't even want to. I want to be guided by someone who knows how to lead, so I didn't say anything. I moved my head back enough for Zane’s fingers to fall out of my mouth, then I did as he asked. I turned around on the bed, positioned myself on all fours, and pinched my lips together when he quickly pulled my pants down. I hoped with everything in me that he had some spanking in mind, because his fingers in my mouth started the process of making me wet, but he’d need to do more to finish the job.

Still in my black panties, I kept my ass in the air while Zane backed away for a moment. I heard him rustling around, perhaps opening a drawer and searching for something. I wish I trusted him enough to know that if he walked away to grab a toy, he’d return with something he knew I loved, but this is our first time together, and that trust hasn’t been cemented yet. So, I turned around to see what he was doing. I saw Zane grab something silver from the drawer and clutch it tightly in his fist, almost as if he didn't want me to see it, then he turned around and walked back over to me.

“No peeking,” he said as he reached up and removed his shirt, revealing tight abs and a deep V outlining his waist and plunging into his pants.

I let out a breath and turned around.

“God … your butt is so cute.”

And here we are. I’m not sure how to respond to that. I’m not sure how to respond in general. This is our first time together, and while Zane explained in our messages that he likes to be called Sir, some Doms also like to be called Daddy, or Master. Either way, this is only our second date and our first time in a scene. Zane may be a Sir, but he’s not my Sir. Not yet at least. That title has to be earned through trust.

“With a butt like this,” Zane says, positioning himself behind me. “I think it would look incredible with a little … decoration.”

My eyes widen as I whip my head around and find Zane balancing a silver butt plug in the palm of his hand. He looks at me with a squint in his eyes as he licks his lips, a sudden aura of douche-baggery wafting off of him.

“Burgundy,” I say quickly, shaking my head as I turn around and return to my original position on the bed.

“What?” Zane asks.

“My safe word, remember?” I reply, peering up at him. “Burgundy.”

“You’re saying your safe word right now ? We haven't even started yet.”

I let out a long exhale as my head drops so low that my chin hits my chest. If there is one thing that will test whether or not a person claiming to be a Dom actually is one, it’s invoking the safe word. A real Dom will know that the safe word means everything has ended because he or she has gone too far. They will be apologetic and do their best to console their partner, wrapping them in as much comfort as possible to remain trustworthy to the person they care about. Then again, they’d know their submissive well enough to not put them in a position to have to use their safe word.

A fake Dom, on the other hand, will try to make their sub feel bad about bringing the scene to a close. They will use childish tactics, like guilt tripping, in an attempt to coax the sub back into the scene. A fake Dom will feel insulted by the safe word … and they’ll lose their sub forever.

“We’ve done enough,” I reply, standing to pull my pants back up.

“I haven't even touched you yet,” Zane informs me as if his fingers in my mouth don't count.

I sigh. “Zane, it doesn't matter. I used the safe word.”

“But why?”

“The fact that you don't know is a red flag, but I’ll tell you anyway. During our text exchange, I told you I wasn’t into any butt stuff. I don't do plugs. It’s a hard limit.”

His shoulders visibly slump. “But … I don't know. I thought maybe you didn't like it because you hadn't tried it, or maybe you tried it with the wrong person—someone who wasn’t gentle enough. I could show you the right way.”

“No you can’t. I’m not into butt stuff. Period. Hard limit.”

“So you’ve never tried it?”

“I don't want to try it.”

“But every girl I’ve been with has loved it.”

“Good for them. I'm not interested in changing who I am just because people I’ve never met enjoyed something I’ve never tried. I’m not budging on this, Zane.”

He pushes out a long, frustrated breath. “This is such bullshit. So what? You're going to call the entire thing off now? What did I spend all that time texting you for then?”

When I look over at him, I see an intense scowl on his face and anger in his gaze. This is another sign of an asshole masquerading as a Dominant. He wants to intimidate me now, hoping his display of anger will put me back into a submissive role, but Zane clearly doesn't understand submissives. Just because I am a sub who wants to be controlled and dominated doesn't mean I’m weak or afraid. It’s the opposite, actually. I want a Dom who can earn the right to dominate over me, and I will fucking crush anybody who isn’t worthy. My submission is not weakness, it is strength of the highest caliber.

“Apparently, you spent all that time texting me so that you could be embarrassed tonight. I’m not intimidated by your annoying glare or your guilt trip over the fact that you messed up. I told you my hard limits, and if you paid attention to any part of our texts, it should've been that part. I don't do butt stuff. Never have, never will, especially not for some asshole who can’t even bother to clean up a little before inviting a woman over.”

“I knew it,” Zane snaps, standing up quickly and slamming his hands on his hips. “ I knew I’d get this sort of attitude out of you. Of course. I should've seen it coming. Fucking prude.”

“I guess you should've if you were planning on pulling a butt plug from your fucking junk drawer. How about you stick that up your own ass. I’m outta here.”

“Maybe I will,” Zane fires back, shocking the hell out of me. “Because I’m not a fucking prude like you!”

“Boy, fuck you,” I snip as I head for the door. “How about you get yourself together before calling yourself a Dom, and clean up this nasty ass apartment before you catch salmonella or a staph infection from how gross it is in here. Dirty bitch.”

“Fuck you, ice queen!” Zane barks, but I don't waste my time turning around again.

I make sure to grab everything I came with so that I don't have to ever come back to this landfill, and I slam the door behind me when I leave.

Another meet up. Another fake Dom. Another disappointing attempt at finding something real. I couldn't possibly be more tired of this shit.