Ask Miss O: How Do I Handle Jealousy When My Dom Plays with Others?

6 Ways to Deal with Jealousy in Kink, Open Relationships and Alternative Dynamics

Jealousy can hit hard, especially in kink and open relationships where emotions and power dynamics mix in unpredictable ways. If you’re struggling with that knot in your stomach when your partner sees others, you’re not alone.

Here are six practical strategies to help you take back control and navigate those feelings without losing yourself.

1. Name the Beast: Jealousy Isn’t the Enemy

Let’s be honest, most of us have felt the sting of the green-eyed monster at some point. When your partner gets intimate with someone else, even within an open or agreed-upon dynamic, it can send us into a tailspin. Suddenly, we’re trying to keep our cool, especially in kink spaces, where freedom is often part of the deal.

We don’t want to seem “less-than“. We definitely don’t want to be seen as “needy”, even worse, admit we are actually ‘jealous'. That dreaded word, the one that, alongside ‘monogamy’, can clear a poly venue faster than a fart in a crowded elevator.

In our overthinking minds, the new playmate can become everything we’re not. So, how can we even compete?

Here’s the truth: jealousy isn’t the enemy. It’s not a villain to be exiled, it’s a signal. Sometimes it’s protective love. Sometimes it’s fear. Either way, it deserves attention, rather than shame.

Jealousy is just a feeling. It’s not inherently bad, it just is. Like physical pain, it draws our awareness to something that needs attention. Pain isn’t usually welcome, but it has a purpose. So does jealousy.

Sometimes, a little jealousy can be arousing, the kind that sharpens our desires, heightens the stakes, or adds a hint of possessiveness. But when it’s left unchecked or twisted into something darker, it can drag us into obsession, despair, or a place we never meant to go.

That’s when it becomes destructive. Skewed jealousy is like holding onto resentment: whether it’s justified or not, all it does is eat you alive, while it has minimal impact on the person you’re jealous of, especially if you don’t act on it.

So what’s the first step?

Naming it.

Say it out loud: “I’m jealous!” Without flinching.

It takes real guts to admit that, guts, self-awareness, and a whole lot of humility. Especially when jealousy is often seen as unattractive, particularly in the world of ethical non-monogamy, where you’re expected to transcend human emotion like some enlightened Maharishi.

But not everyone is on the same page, at least, not in my experience. In many open or poly dynamics, one partner is often more invested than the other. That alone can create tension. Add in the societal pressure to perform emotional intelligence like a yogi, and you’ve got a breeding ground for silent suffering.

Jealousy is not a failure. It’s an opportunity, a chance to check in, get curious, and figure out what’s really going on underneath the surface.

So Where Does Jealousy Really Come From?

It’s not usually about the other person. It’s about what their presence brings up in you. It might be:

• Fear of abandonment or being replaced

• Low self-worth or harsh internal comparisons.

• A sense of powerlessness in your dynamic

• Unmet needs for reassurance, attention, or affirmation

So name it. Don’t shame it. It’s okay to feel jealous.

In fact, it’s deeply human, and usually, it means you care. Whenever I’ve been in love, jealousy showed up like part of the territory. I’d even argue that admitting to jealousy is far more evolved than pretending you’re above it.

During my poly years, I wore emotional detachment like a badge of honour, one I hadn’t truly earned. I told myself I was sexually liberated. Evolved. And sometimes, I was. But other times, I felt anything but.

If I’m honest, I wasn’t jealous of other lovers. I was jealous of the time, the energy, and the intimacy they might get that I might not. I wasn’t competing with a person. I was reckoning with a space I felt pushed into.

Ultimately, jealousy doesn’t make you weak, broken, or “bad at non-monogamy.”
It makes you real. Honest. Human. And capable of something much deeper. That’s a far better place to start from than cold, detached, or in denial.

Read. No Reply: Social Media Madness

One of the biggest killers of emotional equilibrium in any relationship, especially in multiple ones, is social media. My advice (which, I’ll admit, I’ve gleefully ignored more than once) is simple: never, ever, ever go on social media when you’re feeling low, suspicious, grieving, or looking for answers. Because let’s be honest, those answers are rarely the ones you were hoping for.

And whatever you do, don’t pour yourself a bottle of wine for "Dutch courage" and go snooping. That bottle often turns into two. And if your phone is anywhere within arm's reach, you know how this ends.

Cut to the next morning: You wake with a pounding head, that five-minute window of dread creeping in before you remember… your phone was right next to your pillow.

You scroll. You squint.
And there it is: your lengthy heartfelt 3 am message, read. No reply. Brilliantly worded in the moment, that now reads like a manifesto of madness.

Not only do you look needy…
You look desperate.
And quite possibly a lunatic.

The Soft Toys Remember

The most painful memory I have of social media wasn’t some big reveal, it was something small. So small, so forgettable, that in “real” life, I never would have known about it. But social media has a way of shoving things in your face that were never yours to see. Things you have no business knowing, and yet can’t unsee once you do.

Maybe this comes with the territory. Maybe I’ve normalised it too much over the years, but when you share a lover, you sometimes share a bed. It never bothered me. I as I cared for them all, and the intimacy felt like a privilege.

But intimacy has layers, and it has risks.

One morning, after my lover had left, I made the bed and found myself gathering up the soft toys scattered around the house: bears, mice, hedgehogs… even the rabbit we’d been non-consensually puppeteering the night before.

I tucked them into bed in a neat little row, heads on pillows, arms folded sweetly over the duvet, like well-behaved schoolchildren at lights out. Some of the toys had stories, some were sentimental gifts, while others: discarded love tokens. Old, battered or brand-new, each seemed to carry its own little soul.

I did it on a whim. A small, silly gesture. Maybe I was expecting a message in return, maybe not. Days passed, and I forgot all about it.

Then, out of nowhere, a friend called to show me something on social media, totally unrelated, and there they were. Post after post of the same soft toys in bed, now stars of staged photos: lewd little scenes, silly voices, imaginary conversations. My lover and his primary laughing, posting screenshots of each other, puppeteering my quiet moment into a whole other performance.

That was my thing. I did that. It came from a spontaneous part of me.

I didn’t say anything. It seemed so silly, so insignificant. And yet… it cut straight through me. Why did something so small hurt so much?

I felt like a part of me had been stolen. Not out of cruelty, but carelessness. I cried quietly, alone, and felt foolish for how deeply it got to me. But it did, yet, I’d facilitated something joyful for others…

So why did it break my heart?

2. Kill the Monsters in Your Head. Meet the Other Lover

Obsessing over who they are or what they have only feeds the jealousy. It becomes an endless, toxic loop: replaying stories in your head, comparing, catastrophising. Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is meet the so-called “rival” and realise they’re not a threat at all. They're just a person. A person with flaws, fears, and feelings… just like you.

In fact, if you both love the same person, chances are you’ve got more in common than you think.

I call it Monsters in the Dark.

Because when we have nothing to hang our insecurities on, no face, no voice, no real-life data, we create our own villains. And left completely in the dark, we tend to make them huge. Impossibly perfect. Intimidating. Untouchable. Monsters.

It took two years before I met “the primary.” I’d had two years of imagining her. Two years of assuming she was everything I thought I wasn’t. More poly. More fun. More social. Just More.

She was the kind of glittering woman who jet-sets to festivals, curates a magical Instagram presence, and hosts dinner parties with tantric tea. Meanwhile, I could barely get an Uber back from Sainsbury’s with my off-brand box wine and five dead basil plants.

Terrified doesn’t even cut it. I felt sick with nerves.

We were due to meet in a trendy bar in East London. Naturally, I spent a small fortune on a haircut, downed a few pre-drinks nearby with a girlfriend, and tried to pretend this was all totally normal.

I walked in, heart racing, and headed toward the back.

And there she was.

A petite, studious-looking woman. Hair tied back. No makeup. Big moon-shaped glasses. And the warmest smile I’d ever seen. We hugged and sat down.

And within five seconds, two years of comparison, jealousy, anxiety, and mental gymnastics vanished.

Gone.

Because here’s the thing: once you realise this person is just another human, with their own insecurities, struggles, and messy backstory, there’s nothing left to hate. The fear loses its bite. The illusion dissolves.

I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m not saying you should do it while angry, hostile, or full of pain. Or on the flip side, go in strong and expect connection. But when you’re ready, or if the situation allows, meeting the other person can be one of the most powerful and neutralising things you ever do, even if it’s only once.

From that day forward, I swore I’d never make monsters in the dark again.

Because in the landscape of open relationships and poly dynamics, where things can get wonderfully (and sometimes wildly) interconnected, sometimes the sweet spot is just a brief hello. Just a "Hey, I exist" moment. That alone is often enough to calm the nervous system and reset the mental narrative, even if you never wish to meet again.

Of course, there’s the other end of the spectrum, where you end up emotionally involved with each other, and suddenly you’ve got a whole new set of dynamics to navigate.

But that’s a story for another day.

3. Draw Your Lines In Kink and Life

Clear, honest boundaries aren’t restrictions, they’re emotional life rafts. Whether it’s reserved acts, public play rules, or “no secrets,” boundaries keep everyone sane, grounded, and safe from unnecessary heartache.

To illustrate, one of the most painful breaches of trust I’ve experienced in relationships, cheating, wasn’t painful because of the act itself. It wasn’t about the sex. It was the lying, the half-truths, and the omission of the parts that mattered most.

That feeling of being kept in the dark, manipulated into believing a curated version of reality, that’s the real betrayal. It’s not about the body or the flesh. It’s about trust. About the story being rewritten without your consent.

It’s about asking yourself:

Do you think so little of me?

Do you believe I’m that naïve, that I wouldn’t notice?

Or worse:

Did you not think I could handle the truth?

Why did you not think I was even worthy of it?

That’s the deeper cut, not just that something happened, but that you were deemed unworthy of honesty or respect. Like they thought so little of you, they could get one over on you.

While this hits hardest in cases of outright cheating, it’s just as relevant in the world of open relationships, kink, and non-monogamy. When you’re navigating multiple connections, transparency and honesty become non-negotiables. They’re your best friends. Your safety net.

Being left out of the loop, even by accident, hurts. Being misled, or made to feel like you’re “overreacting” for needing clarity? That’s emotional erosion.

There’s no one generic model for these kinds of boundaries, only the ones that work for you. But I’ll tell you what doesn’t work: secrecy. Silence. Vagueness dressed up as kindness. Omission of the truth. Hiding in the dark and hoping no one turns the light on.

Cheating in Open Relationships: The Ethical Illusion

Cheating doesn’t disappear just because you slap the word “ethical” in front of non-monogamy. You’re not magically immune to betrayal because your partner insists on being “transparent.” What does “ethical non-monogamy” even mean, anyway?

Did you take a course in morally sanctioned infidelity? Earn a degree in Advanced Honesty with a minor in Loopholes? Are you now an ‘ethical’ tool as well?

You see my point. “Ethical” is a word people love to wear like a halo, while ducking the actual emotional accountability that makes something truly so.

It’s not so ethical when:

• They forget to mention a new lover for weeks, until you stumble across it.

• They cancel your date night to “hold space” for someone else’s meltdown, again.

• They claim radical honesty, but conveniently omit the juicy details you would have wanted or needed to know.

• They weaponise “boundaries” to avoid intimacy with you, while offering it freely to others.

That’s not ethical. That’s selfishness wrapped in sex-positive gift wrapping.

So talk.

Be brave enough to name what matters to you. Have boundaries. Have difficult conversations. Keep some things sacred, just for you. Maybe you agree not to post lovers on social media. Maybe you reserve certain acts for just one person. Maybe you need to know dates and times, or maybe you don’t, maybe you want the graphic details, maybe you dont, whatever it is, make it yours, and make it known.

The more you’re willing to face the truth and speak your own, the more room there is for trust to grow.

Because the more you keep in the dark… the more you run from the light.

4. Talk Dirty But Also Talk Real

Jealousy thrives in silence and secrets. It festers in the dark. One of the best remedies? Radical honesty. Break the code. Share the scary stuff. Be bold enough to say, “Hey, I’m struggling.” No blaming, no drama, just real talk.

Some of the hardest conversations I’ve ever had turned out to be the most healing. That said, I used to recoil in horror at the idea of telling my Dom things like: “I’m feeling insecure.” Back then, I was terrified of being seen as uncool or getting placed on the ‘too needy’ pile and quietly phased out.

But here’s the truth: in D/s, we often forget how much power the submissive actually holds. In hierarchical dynamics, especially where there’s a “primary,” or an alpha in the room, it’s easy to feel like we’ve signed away our agency the moment we submit.

And yet… submission is a choice.
And choices come from power.

If I were back in that poly relationship now, knowing what I know, I wouldn’t have handed my power away so freely. I would’ve brought it with me. I would’ve said:

“This is what I need.”
“This isn’t working.”
“Can we find a middle ground?”

Because even if someone is your Dom, that doesn’t give them a green card to run a secret harem of subs/switches or crystal-collecting tantric facilitators. If they have eight lovers, you can too. If they want freedom, you’re allowed to. There’s no universal hierarchy that trumps your own agency, even if you choose not to take it.

And here’s the kicker, the “primary” in our situation? She held her power. To be honest, she probably held a little too much of it, but I respected her for it. She did her own thing. She had boundaries. She wasn’t competing. And that? That was magnetic.

Meanwhile, there I was, hair freshly cut, my most trusted outfit, trying to dazzle my way through discomfort. And there she was: natural, bare-faced, entirely at ease. Not pretending. Not trying. Just being herself. It made me think. Not that there’s anything wrong with making an effort, but I wondered if my presentation that night was more about armour, than truly being myself.

That experience taught me something huge:

You can’t perform your way into emotional safety. You have to speak your way into it.

Especially in D/s, communication is everything. If your partner shuts down, avoids, or doesn’t care to engage with your emotional needs? That’s not dominance. That’s disinterest. And it may be time to ask if they’re the right partner for you. Or whether you’re prepared to make the sacrifices to meet them there.

Of course, only you get to decide what you’re willing to accept. Not your friends, not your community, not the people who think they know better. If your dynamic works for you, even if it makes no sense to anyone else, that’s enough. It’s yours. It’s personal. Just don’t lose sight of your power in the process.

Invest in yourself. Do the small things. Say no. Draw a line. Not to play games or be hard to get, but to hold yourself with care and respect. That energy radiates, and it’s seriously attractive. People with full, rich lives naturally draw others in. It’s not about competing over the number of lovers or chasing ‘revenge’ affairs; that leads you nowhere fast.

Never forget: in the context of Ds, as a submissive, you have just as much power as any dominant. And as a lover, you have just as much power as the primary. Use it. Don’t give it away for free. And remember, boundaries are sexy. Being told “no” can be very sexy. It shows you respect yourself, and it teaches others to do the same.

5. Know What You Can Bear And What You Can’t

Polyamory and open D/s aren’t for everyone, and that’s not only okay, it’s crucial to understand. There’s nothing noble about betraying yourself just to keep the peace.

These dynamics can be deeply rewarding, but they also demand emotional honesty and self-awareness. The tension between desire and reality can stretch people in unexpected ways, a subject I explore more fully in Bound by Desire, Torn by Reality.

I once knew a sub: she was gentle, fun, deeply spiritual. A radiant person to be around… until she wasn’t. Outbursts of sudden, sharp anger would erupt with no warning, like pressure from a long-forgotten valve finally blowing off.

And behind the rage? Heartbreak. Not from being unloved, but from living out a story she wasn’t really writing.

She believed she was polyamorous. She said it often, to friends, lovers, and strangers. She wore it like a dress-pin. A free spirit. Open. Sex-positive. Soul-led. But quietly, the truth was far less Instagrammable: She wanted monogamy. Or at the very least, a clear, committed anchor, a life, a home, someone she didn’t have to share.

This inner split, between the self she wanted to be and the self she actually was, tore her in two. And the more volatile the situation became, the deeper the divide. It’s more common than people like to admit.

It’s easy to get swept into saying yes because you want to please someone. Because you don’t want to seem small, needy, vanilla or “less evolved.” Especially in kink and poly scenes where non-monogamy can feel like the price of entry, and monogamy is the new taboo.

But when you say yes while meaning no, even with love in your heart… resentment creeps in. And eventually, it shows.

I’ve seen this dynamic, the ‘Yes Woman’ (or man) play out again and again, especially in couples on shaky ground. One person wants to open things up, and the other says “yes,” afraid that saying “no” might mean losing them altogether. It rarely ends well. That’s not a judgment, it’s just what happens when we override our emotional truth. I’ve been the ‘Yes Woman’ myself, more times than I care to admit.

The only way through this is radical honesty. With yourself first. What are your actual needs? Can you handle the discomfort of non-monogamy, or is it shredding your sense of self? Do you need exclusivity, or just clarity? Are you saying yes from expansion, or from fear?

This doesn’t mean you can’t adapt or evolve. Sometimes, compromise works. Sometimes we surprise ourselves with how much we can hold. Other times, what we actually need is to stop holding it at all.

There are even relationships, often mature ones, that function on silent contracts. She’s no longer interested in sex; he strays discreetly, under the unspoken rule that he doesn’t stray too far, he keeps providing, she keeps the family together. It works. It’s real. It’s theirs.

The point is: whatever you choose, make sure it’s yours. Not someone else’s story. Not the community's expectation. Not the hashtag lifestyle of the week. Get honest about what you can bear, and what you can't. Then live from there.

Because nothing will drain your spirit faster than trying to be someone you’re not, in a relationship you don’t really want, to keep a person who no longer sees you clearly.

And remember: you’re allowed to want monogamy or protocol around others. You’re allowed to want depth over breadth, closeness over chaos, privacy over openness. You’re allowed to say no, even if you once said yes.

So if you find yourself in an open dynamic that leaves you feeling anxious, hollow, or chronically confused, don’t gaslight yourself into believing you should be able to handle it. You’re not broken. You’re not less evolved. You’re just human, and your truth is valid.

Better to walk away with your integrity than stay in something that costs you your peace. Love can stretch us, but it should never break us. And knowing your limits isn’t weakness, it’s wisdom. In a world where “yes” gets handed out too easily, the most powerful thing you can sometimes say is a loving, unapologetic no.

6. Expect the Shadows to Return. Have Your Tools Ready

Jealousy is a shape-shifter. Just when you think you’ve nailed it, it pops up again, a casual mention, a new lover in the mix, or a social post that hits like a punch to the chest. It’s normal. And it’s okay. What matters is not whether jealousy resurfaces, but how you respond when it does.

Have your tools ready. That might be grounding techniques such as a heart-to-heart with a trusted friend, journaling, a therapist, a long bath, a YouTube spiral, or even cheap box wine. Whatever works, without shame.

Jealousy has a cruel way of making us compare ourselves to others, not just within kink or poly, but in life. It amplifies every insecurity we already carry, especially in a world where social media thrives on illusion. Don’t fall for it. Influencers, ads, movies, it's all smoke and mirrors. What’s real is you.

And the truth? The damage often doesn’t come from “them.” It comes from us, our spirals, our fears, our imaginings. The “what if he leaves me for her” thoughts, or “maybe she’s better in bed,” or “he’ll take her to Paris” loops. It’s a fast route to soul erosion if you let it.

Instead, pour that energy into you. Learn something. Try something new. Salsa lessons, sketching, pole dancing, hiking, swimming, cooking, learn a language, get creative, anything that expands your world outside of them.

The more you invest in yourself, the more magnetic you become, not for them, but for you. That’s the kind of mystery and confidence that turns heads without even trying.

You are enough. You always were. Don’t let jealousy steal your shine. Remember your power, and if it wobbles sometimes? That’s okay. Just keep coming back to yourself and keep your light shining bright.

If you're navigating this kind of pain or intensity, know you're not alone. It's not easy, but it's not shameful either. Be gentle with yourself. And wherever you are on your path, I’m wishing you clarity, courage, and connection.

For the record: these are my personal observations and experiences. I’m not a therapist. If you feel you’d benefit from support, consider reaching out to a professional.