The Crown is Heavy: 13 Quiet Fears Every Dominant Carries

Inside the Mind of a Dominant: Unspoken Insecurities, Power Dynamics, and the Emotional Weight of Ds Leadership

1. I’m Dominant, but also a Feminist

Many Dominants wrestle with how power exchange fits into egalitarian values. Is the desire to lead, to control, to be obeyed inherently oppressive? Is it self-justification, or a deeper call to integrity?

I remember how often Dominants I met would make it clear, almost to the point of insistence, that they held women in the highest regard. Many even identified as feminists. And it wasn’t performative. The best Dominants, the real ones, love the people they lead. They dominate with care, with precision and reverence.

A desire for consensual control isn’t abuse. Wanting to be obeyed does not mean believing the other is weak. In fact, many of the strongest women I’ve known have longed to surrender, not out of helplessness, but from trust, from self-possession, from power.

You do not have to apologise for being dominant.

Just because you want to be respected, deferred to, even obeyed in your intimate life, doesn’t mean you’re anti-equality. Don’t fall into the trap of overcorrecting to prove your moral compass. Dominance isn’t the enemy of feminism: coercion is. And that’s the difference.

The cornerstone of all this is consent, and consent is born of choice. Many women (myself included) choose this dynamic with open eyes and open hearts. Don’t deny us the right to choose submission, to seek surrender, to long for power that holds without harm.

Most Dominants adore their submissives. They don’t take them for granted; they honour them. Their power isn’t loud or performative; it’s measured, grounded, and emotionally fluent. It lives in the pause before the command, the attunement to silence, the steady presence beneath the storm.

Yes, there are those who dominate from ego, from unhealed wounds or quiet resentments. But that’s not kink, that’s just humanity. These roles don’t sanctify anyone. The responsibility lies in how we choose, and who we trust with the most vulnerable parts of ourselves.

2. Fear of Exposure in a World Obsessed with Appearances

Even with Fifty Shades on supermarket shelves, real kink is still taboo. Anonymity is armour, but it’s also a kind of prison.

The idea of being outed, misunderstood, or judged isn't pleasant. We should never have to apologise for being ourselves, but unless someone is part of this world, or truly open-minded, kink becomes easy ammunition. It’s a strange paradox: celebrities dress like dominatrices or collared slaves in trendy city restaurants, pop songs blare Rihanna’s “whips and chains” at kids’ birthday parties, and Fifty Shades remains the highest-grossing erotic franchise of all time. But if we, the ordinary people, get caught in the act, we’re labelled something else entirely.

It’s tremendously unfair. The stigma of “Miss Whiplash” clichés, leatherette floggers, and cowering men in gimp masks is a hard to shake, yet the truth is something far more nuanced, and often far more tender.

As a consequence, I live with many names and many faces. I have a fairly popular FetLife profile, and some of my collaborative artwork with others there has travelled widely. But I remain beneath the waves. I won't link it to Odalisque, not out of shame or embarrassment, but because I’m a private person. Which, in itself, is a paradox. I write anonymously under a pseudonym, but I’ve included a photo of myself on the About and Behind The Curtain pages for those who are curious. I’ve kept a low profile by choice and enjoy my anonymity.

It is possible to live both lives successfully. In fact, they often begin to merge and level out. Just as long as you remember to put the cuffs away before Granny comes to tea, though the cover of a prior ‘fancy dress party’ is always useful to have at hand.

Despite the path I walk, I’ve managed to live a public life quite privately. What I do is my own business. There are still people in my world I keep it separate from, but the more you live this lifestyle, the more you realise you don’t really have to hide. It’s not a seedy, shameful thing. It’s not a clandestine act or a masturbatory circus unless you choose to make it so.

Staying private isn’t difficult. Most in the lifestyle understand the unspoken rule of discretion. I don’t feel like I live two lives anymore, just one, adapted. You learn to seamlessly integrate what you can, and cordon off what you can’t. It becomes a part of you, one you might share with only one other person, or with a chosen few.

The trick is knowing who to choose.

3. I Want an Equal, Not Someone Broken

A common misconception is that Dominants seek vulnerability or brokenness in a submissive, but real strength in submission comes from self-awareness, confidence, and choice. The most powerful D/s relationships aren’t about rescuing or fixing; they’re about two whole people agreeing to a dynamic that enhances both. When submission arises from trust and mutual respect, it’s an act of profound equality, not imbalance. You don’t want a shadow to dominate, you want a partner who stands beside you, even when kneeling before you.

4. Safewords: I Need Them, but She Doesn’t

Safewords are often hailed as the cornerstone of safe play, a clear, undeniable way for the submissive to stop a scene when things get too intense, which is especially true for first times or unknown partners. But what if they undermine the very dynamic they’re supposed to protect? For me, they can feel like a direct challenge to a Dom’s authority, a sudden break in trust that disrupts the flow of surrender.

I’ve seen partners who don’t want safewords because they crave complete surrender, a place where trust is so deep that words aren’t needed to know limits. But that kind of connection demands absolute emotional attunement. It’s not something to rush into or take lightly.

Safewords can feel like a necessary crutch or a symbol of distrust, depending on the relationship. Sometimes they’re a bridge for the new or uncertain; sometimes they’re a boundary that never gets crossed. The key is understanding what they mean for your dynamic. If safewords make you feel like you’re constantly policing your partner rather than leading, that’s a signal to reconsider how you both communicate and negotiate limits.

True dominance is about holding space so completely that surrender feels safe without ever needing to say “stop.” But that kind of trust is rare and unshakeable, and not everyone wants or reaches it, and that’s okay. For some, safewords are the safest path forward; for others, they’re the first sign a dynamic may not be right.

5. Consensual Non-Consent: Can Someone Withdraw Consent After the Fact?

How do we navigate retroactive regret, especially in darker play dynamics? Is consent ever future-proof?

Consensual Non-Consent (CNC) pushes the edges of trust and control, where consent is granted in advance to experiences that simulate coercion. But what happens if, after the fact, regret or doubt creeps in? Is consent a contract that can be rescinded retroactively? The truth is, consent is a living thing, it thrives in ongoing dialogue, reflection, and care.

Previously, I created a short, signed contract offering my explicit consent to non-consent play. My ex-Dom still has it. For him, it provided confidence and reassurance, knowing that boundaries were clearly agreed upon beforehand. For me, it was a powerful act of trust and ownership over my submission. But even with contracts, feelings can change. That’s why CNC requires exceptional communication and a deep emotional connection to hold space for evolving emotions.

The dominant’s role isn’t just to lead but to listen, to honour when their submissive’s experience shifts, whether during or after a scene. If regret or doubt surfaces, it’s not about blame or breaking agreements; it’s about caring enough to revisit boundaries and work through the emotional aftermath together. CNC is not a loophole to ignore consent, but a delicate dance of trust, respect, and constant negotiation.

6. I Don't Want to Dom 24/7

People forget: dominance isn’t a job you clock into. Time off doesn’t mean the dynamic is broken; it means you’re human.

This fear is common and entirely understandable. The myth of 24/7 dominance, that you must be in command every second of every day, is one that scares off more people than it should. But like many myths, it collapses under the weight of real experience.

Let’s be honest: no one can sustain a session dynamic indefinitely. Most people tap out after two or three hours, and even that requires focus, energy, and intention. But here’s the distinction: the dynamic doesn’t disappear just because the scene ends. Power exchange lives beneath the surface. It’s there in the tone, the glance, the subtle rituals, the energy between two people. It’s the difference between “acting dominant” and being Dominant.

I once knew a man, a self-described Dom, who faced this very dilemma. After his divorce, he debated whether to pursue a power exchange marriage or go back to vanilla. In the end, he married a vanilla woman, saying that a 24/7 D/s dynamic just felt “too exhausting.” But years later, he was still seeing submissive escorts on the side. There’s no judgment here; life is complicated. But it does beg the question: what would have happened if he’d let go of the myth of 24/7 and instead found someone he could build something quiet, integrated, and real with?

Another example: a club owner once told me about a man who arrived proudly with his new submissive on a leash. “She was tied naked to a radiator all last week,” he boasted. A week later, he came in alone. “We broke up,” he said with a shrug. Performative D/s burns hot, but often burns out just as fast.

The truth is, many D/s couples look completely “normal” from the outside. You wouldn’t know anything was different unless you noticed the way she poured his coffee, or the way he corrected her posture with just a glance. I’ve had entire stretches of D/s relationships where nothing overt happened for weeks, no scenes, no protocols, and yet the current never stopped flowing. It was in us. Dormant, perhaps. But there.

D/s doesn’t vanish between scenes. It isn’t measured by rope marks or rituals. Sometimes it’s just the way he holds your wrist. The way your breath changes when he says your name. You don’t need to live in high protocol to live in truth.

I’m a submissive. But I also lead a life, run a business, make my own decisions. I do not submit to the world. I do not bend for just anyone. But when someone strong enough stands before me, my submission stirs without command. It’s never gone, just waiting for the right hands to awaken it.

7. Do I Even Know Enough to Lead?

There’s a quiet pressure in dominance to always appear confident and experienced, especially online, where everyone’s expertise is on display. But what if you’re still figuring things out? What if your leadership is a work in progress?

Imposter syndrome creeps in when you’re expected to have all the answers before you even begin. The fear that you’re not “seasoned” enough can make you hesitate, doubt your choices, or even hold back your voice.

Yet, growth doesn’t come from perfection. It comes from showing up, learning with your submissive, and embracing the discomfort of the unknown. Real leadership isn’t about knowing everything; it’s about being willing to learn while leading.

8. What Kind of Dom Am I?

With so many styles, DD/lg, micromanagement, bedroom-only, lifestyle, CNC, it can feel like you're not just choosing a dynamic, but an identity.

This question is far more common than people admit. Especially early on, many Dominants feel like they have to pick a box and stick to it. But kink, like identity, is fluid. What turned you on ten years ago might feel empty now. What you once couldn’t imagine doing might suddenly awaken in you with the right partner.

Style isn’t static. It evolves, with age, with experience, with love, with grief. And often, it shifts depending on who you’re with. A deeply obedient submissive might awaken your protective side. A playful brat might draw out your disciplinarian streak. The dynamic is co-created, and that’s part of the joy.

Some start submissive and become Dominant. Others switch back and forth. There’s no fixed rule. What matters most is that you’re honest with yourself, not just about your fantasies, but about what truly sustains you.

Do you want someone to kneel for you, or to truly trust you? Do you want obedience or devotion? Do you want a submissive you can leave in the bedroom… or one who follows your lead in the world?

There’s no wrong answer, only the courage to ask the question, and go find the person who wants to answer it with you.

9. The Perfection Trap

Doms are expected to always know, always lead, always be composed. But what if you’re still figuring it out too?

The truth is, we all are. No matter how polished someone looks on the outside, we’re all just trying to find the light switch in a dark room. The myth of the infallible Dominant is one of the biggest traps in this lifestyle, and one of the loneliest.

You don’t need to know everything. You just need to be willing to learn. Be honest. Ask questions. Take workshops, read, watch, listen. If it’s a practice that requires safety, like rope, breath play, or edge work, then yes, you’ll need real knowledge and hands-on training. You can't be a skilled rigger without first learning how to tie a basic knot.

But some of the most vital skills in Dominance aren't taught, they’re lived. Presence. Listening. Knowing when to push and when to hold back. That doesn't come from a checklist. That comes from care. From paying attention.

We all make mistakes. We all get it wrong sometimes. What matters is that we take responsibility, and whether we use those moments to either grow or hide.

The truth is, most submissives don’t want a flawless god. They want someone real. Someone who’s strong enough to admit when they’re not. Someone who can say: ‘I’m here. I’m learning. And I won’t stop showing up for you.’

That’s what leadership looks like, not perfection, but presence.

10. Being Misunderstood by Vanillas

It’s not abuse. But trying to explain that to the outside world, or to your vanilla friends, can feel impossible.

So don’t.

It might feel cathartic to get it off your chest, but the real question is: “What are you hoping to achieve by sharing it with them?” If it’s understanding, prepare to be disappointed. If it’s validation, ask whether you’re giving away too much of yourself to people who may not want or deserve to hold it.

Most vanilla people don’t want to know. Not because they dislike you, but because it makes them uncomfortable. It challenges everything they’ve been taught about sex, safety, power, and love. It’s a lot to ask of someone who has no interest, experience, or language for it.

You can’t bend others to your will, not even by explaining it beautifully.

I’ve also heard horror stories of people walking into a fetish club and finding a parent tied up, being flogged. Not ideal. But it does show how many more people live these hidden lives than we ever guess. Kink is everywhere, but often quietly so. Most people keep it behind closed doors, not because they’re ashamed, but because they want it kept sacred.

I don’t feel the need to explain myself to people who aren’t part of this world. I don’t apologise, either. I just keep it separate. My inner world is not up for public debate. It’s a private joy, and a powerful one. And shared only with those I trust.

We are all the products of our unique experiences. Of course, the world won’t always understand. Why should it? That’s not a failing, it’s just a reminder that your truth doesn’t require a witness to be valid.

Keep it sacred. Keep it safe. Keep it yours.

11. When the Sub is More Experienced

What if she’s had more partners, more scenes, more years in the lifestyle? Can you still lead with authority?

Absolutely.

Experience doesn’t cancel out desire. A submissive’s depth of history doesn’t diminish her longing to kneel; it often deepens it. And a mature submissive is not seeking a puppet master; she’s seeking a man whose authority doesn’t need to shout.

Yes, a seasoned submissive might not have the wide-eyed wonder of a beginner. She’s less likely to swoon at a firm voice or melt at the sight of a tawse. But she will notice how you hold yourself. She’ll be reading the spaces between your words. She’ll respond not to bravado, but to depth. To quiet certainty. To care laced with command.

And no, she doesn’t want you to be someone you’re not. She’s seen enough to recognise performative dominance from the real thing. What she craves isn’t perfection or pedigree. Its presence. Emotional attunement. Strength that doesn’t flinch when met with hers.

If anything, a more experienced submissive can be an incredible gift. She knows her boundaries. She can communicate clearly. And she’ll meet you where you stand, if you’re standing in your truth.

So don’t be intimidated by what she’s done or who she’s served. You are not here to mimic her past. You’re here to write something new. Authority is not about knowing everything. It’s about knowing yourself and inviting her to meet you there.

12. What If I Want More Than Just Her?

Dominants aren’t immune to longing or the thrill of novelty. But craving more while holding the weight of someone else’s surrender? That’s a razor’s edge between integrity and appetite. Can you want more without betraying what you’ve built?

This is the big one, the hill so many try to climb, and so few manage to stay on. My advice? Tread carefully. I’ve rarely seen polyamory truly work long term, not just from my own experience, but from witnessing many dynamics up close. Interestingly, some of the most devoted poly folks eventually choose monogamy. The wildest, most seasoned among us often look back with a mix of trepidation and quiet wisdom. We all thought it was exciting and progressive at the time, and we recognise that same fire in others eager to try. But the truth is, it’s often smoke, mirrors, and fantasy. Sometimes, it’s just a phase you need to live through.

Poly setups naturally dilute focus. Even with those who are fully committed, unless you’re the primary, the journey can be solitary. The chaos and camaraderie of multiple partners bring their own challenges, and it takes a lot of work to keep everyone supported and respected. It’s far from easy.

So if you’re considering opening your relationship or going poly, have a brutally honest conversation with yourself first. The clearer you are about what you want, what you’re willing to sacrifice, and what you can handle emotionally, the better your chances of success.

13. Emotional Labour: What if I’m Tired Too?

Sometimes, the Dom holds not just control, but the entire emotional landscape. But who holds the Dominant?

The truth is: dominance doesn’t make you invincible. It doesn’t exempt you from fatigue, stress, or the quiet ache of emotional overwhelm. And while you may be the one who holds the leash, the weight of holding someone else, day after day, scene after scene, can grow heavy.

In a healthy D/s relationship, that weight doesn’t always have to fall on you alone.

A good submissive doesn’t want perfection; she wants a man. A human. Someone who knows his limits and trusts her enough to say when he’s reached them. She wants to serve not just in fantasy, but in truth. That means supporting your emotional and mental well-being, not just your authority.

There may be days when she picks up the metaphorical leash, not to lead, but to guard it. To protect the space between you. To tend to the parts of you that are allowed to rest.

This isn’t weakness. It isn’t role failure. It’s the heartbeat of any real relationship: reciprocity. When you allow yourself to be held, you show her that vulnerability isn’t something to fear. You model what it means to be strong without pretending you don’t need care.

Yes, the Dominant sets the tone. But the sub often holds the echo, and she can catch you when your own voice falters. That, too, is power. That, too, is love.