I meet a lot of men that want to meet a Real Domme, like Me. Sadly, a significant portion of those men are not at all prepared to actually … you know … meet a Real Domme. At this point, all of you are well aware of the fact that I obviously run the fucking show and either you do what I tell you to do or you get thrown to the welfare queen dommes and Appalachian barbie princesses of the world. And you know I don’t give two shits about it one way or another because I’m well-served by many men with whom I share very strong, important, and real connections. I am not authoring this post to rehash the numerous I-Don’t-Tolerate-Topping-From-The-Bottom scripted rants out there. (For the record, I always believe that there is a give and take in any relationship. Even the most cursory reading of Foucault will teach you that power is fluid. Domination and power exchange relationships do not happen in a vacuum … at least not ones with any depth or authenticity.) But I digress …
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