The first time I tried to be dominant, I apologised. In the middle of the scene. He was doing exactly what I asked. I was in charge. And I said: sorry, is this okay? He opened his eyes. Looked at me with a mixture of tenderness and exasperation. You’re supposed to be dominating me right now. And you just apologised. I laughed. He laughed. The scene ended. I felt like a fraud. But here’s what I learned: finding your dominant voice — whether you’re a woman, a man, or anyone — is not about becoming someone else. It’s about accessing a part of yourself that society has been telling you to suppress since birth. And that takes practice.
Why it’s harder for women
Men are raised with some cultural permission to be dominant — in bed, in business, everywhere. It’s expected. For women, the opposite is true. We’re taught to be agreeable. Accommodating. To make others comfortable. To apologise. To shrink. Stepping into dominance as a woman means unlearning a lifetime of conditioning in real time, in front of another person, while trying to be sexy. It’s ridiculous. It’s also liberating. Because when you finally stop apologising and start commanding — not performing someone else’s idea of dominance, but finding your own — something clicks. The power you’ve been giving away your whole life comes rushing back. And it feels incredible.
What actually worked — the practical guide
Start with a script. Not because dominance should be scripted, but because the first few times, your brain will go blank. Having three phrases ready — Look at me. Don’t move. Good. — gives you something to say when you’d otherwise panic and apologise. Use silence. You don’t have to talk constantly. Silence is powerful. Let them wait. Let them wonder. The silence is yours. Start with small commands. You don’t need to orchestrate an entire scene. Kneel. Close your eyes. Put your hands behind your back. Three words. That’s enough. Build from there. Find feedback that isn’t scary. After the scene, ask: what worked? Not was I good? — that’s seeking validation. What worked? is seeking information. One is neediness. The other is skill-building. Choose skill-building. Your dominance is not a performance. It’s a practice. Treat it like one — with patience, with curiosity, with the understanding that the first few times will be awkward and that’s part of the process. The best dominants weren’t born. They were made. In awkward scenes. In apologies that turned into laughter. In the slow, steady building of a voice that had been silenced for too long.
Your dominant voice is in you. It’s been there all along — waiting for permission. Give it to yourself. Not perfectly. Just authentically. The rest is practice.
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