Monday, 2 February 2026

Responsible Dom


Guide to Being a Responsible Dominant


Being a Dominant (often called a DomMasterOwner, or similar titles depending on the dynamic) in BDSM is fundamentally about consensual power exchange. You take on the role of the leader, decision-maker, guide, and authority figure, while your submissive partner voluntarily surrenders control within negotiated boundaries.


This is not about being a bully, abuser, or inherently superior person in everyday life. A good Dom is responsible, self-aware, empathetic, and skilled at creating safety so the submissive can fully let go.


Core Mindset and Attitudes You Need to Embody

•  Confidence without arrogance — Own your decisions calmly and decisively.

•  Responsibility — You hold the well-being (physical, emotional, psychological) of your submissive in your hands during scenes and often in the dynamic.

•  Empathy and attentiveness — Read body language, check in subtly, and truly care about their experience.

•  Self-control — True dominance is internal mastery first; you never lose your temper or act impulsively.

•  Leadership — Guide, protect, enforce rules, provide structure, and help your submissive grow or feel fulfilled.

•  Humility — You are always learning; admit when you’re wrong or inexperienced.


What the Role Involves (Key Responsibilities)

1.  Negotiation & Consent — Discuss limits, safewords (e.g., Red/Yellow/Green system), hard limits, soft limits, triggers, aftercare needs, and health issues before any play.

2.  Safety & Risk Management — Know anatomy, safe practices (e.g., rope, impact, breath play), and how to spot/respond to problems.

3.  Creating Structure — Set rules, protocols, rituals, tasks, or training that reinforce the dynamic.

4.  Leadership & Decision-Making — Make choices for the submissive within agreed boundaries.

5.  Emotional Care — Provide reassurance, praise, correction, and aftercare to prevent sub drop.

6.  Personal Growth — Continuously educate yourself (books, workshops, experienced mentors) and reflect on scenes.


How to Act and Make It Feel Authentic

•  Body language — Stand/sit tall, use direct (but not aggressive) eye contact, move deliberately, speak in a calm, lower tone.

•  Voice & speech — Be clear, decisive, unhurried. Use commands instead of questions when in role (“Kneel” vs. “Can you kneel?”).

•  Presence — Be fully present; focus on them, not your ego or performance anxiety.

•  Consistency — Follow through on what you say — this builds trust faster than anything.

•  Authenticity for you — Don’t copy porn or someone else’s style. Start with what genuinely excites or feels powerful to you. If strict protocol doesn’t turn you on, don’t force it. The most convincing Dominants are those who are real about their desires and limits.


Things You Should Definitely Do and Say

Do:

•  Negotiate thoroughly and revisit often.

•  Use safewords and honor them instantly — no hesitation, no guilt-tripping.

•  Provide aftercare (cuddling, hydration, talking, reassurance) tailored to their needs.

•  Check in during scenes (“Color?” or “How are you feeling?”).

•  Praise effort and obedience — many submissives thrive on affirmation.

•  Debrief after scenes — what worked, what didn’t, any adjustments.

•  Take responsibility when you make a mistake.


Say (examples that build power, connection, and trust):

•  “You are safe with me.”

•  “I’m proud of you.”

•  “Good girl/boy/pet.” (if they like praise)

•  “This is what I want from you.”

•  “Tell me your color.” (checking in)

•  “You please me so much right now.”

•  “I decide.” or “Because I said so.” (in role)


Things You Should Definitely NOT Do or Say

Never:

•  Ignore a safeword or “yellow” — ever.

•  Play while angry, intoxicated, or emotionally compromised.

•  Assume experience — be honest if you’re new.

•  Skip negotiation or aftercare because you’re “in the zone.”

•  Push past hard limits or use guilt/manipulation to get what you want.

•  Neglect your own aftercare needs (Doms can drop too).

•  Confuse fantasy porn with reality — real dynamics require communication, not silent brooding.


Avoid saying (common newbie pitfalls):

•  “Real subs don’t use safewords.”

•  “You should just know what I want.”

•  “Good subs don’t complain.”

•  Anything that shames them for having limits or needing aftercare.


Helpful Quotes / Affirmations to Stay Focused

These can help center your mindset:

•  “Dominance is not about force — it’s about earning surrender through trust and care.”

•  “I lead with intention, structure, and compassion.”

•  “My control creates their freedom.”

•  “I am responsible for their safety so they can be vulnerable.”

•  “True power is self-mastery first.”

•  “I accept and embrace my role as protector and guide.”

•  “I create space for them to let go — that is my strength.”


Being a good Dom is a skill built over time through communication, practice, self-reflection, and genuine care for your partner. Start slow, stay humble, prioritize consent and safety above everything, and focus on mutual fulfillment rather than performing “Dominance.” When done right, the role can be profoundly rewarding for both people involved.


 

Friday, 30 January 2026

Overpowering Myth

 

The overpowering myth permeates because it is relevant. Used as a pillar to buffer against, to push away from, although we could push away from it in any direction it tends towards the counter-myth is the polarised opposite of the original myth. This leads to chaos which leads to destruction.


—————


This passage describes a recurring pattern in how societies (or individuals) relate to dominant cultural myths—deeply embedded narratives that shape meaning, identity, and behavior.

The “overpowering myth” holds sway not through brute force alone, but because it remains relevant: it addresses real fears, desires, contradictions, or existential needs in the collective psyche. People don’t simply discard it; instead, they treat it as a fixed pillar—something to define themselves against. They buffer, react, rebel, or “push away” from it to establish distance or superiority.

Yet the critique reveals a trap: even though one could depart in countless directions (toward nuance, synthesis, transcendence, or unrelated alternatives), the reaction predictably collapses toward the polarized opposite—the counter-myth. This is the mirror-image inversion: if the original myth is X, the counter-myth becomes anti-X raised to the same dogmatic intensity. Examples abound:

•  A myth of absolute hierarchy and divine order → countered by a myth of radical egalitarianism that demonizes any structure.

•  A myth of inevitable progress and techno-utopia → countered by a myth of inevitable collapse and primitivist return.

•  A myth of pure individualism → countered by a myth of total collectivism that erases the person.

The polarity preserves the original myth’s framing and energy; it just flips the valence. Both sides feed off the same binary axis, amplifying each other in mutual antagonism.

This dynamic breeds chaos because:

•  Energy is spent on endless oscillation or escalation rather than creation/integration.

•  Intermediary positions get crushed or ignored.

•  Institutions, discourse, and psyches become brittle, unable to hold complexity.

Eventually, unchecked polarization erodes shared reality → destruction follows, whether cultural fragmentation, institutional collapse, civil strife, or self-annihilation through fanaticism.

The insight here echoes thinkers like Nietzsche (on ressentiment producing inverted ideals), Girard (mimetic rivalry escalating to scapegoating), or even Jung (enantiodromia—the tendency of extremes to turn into their opposites). It also resonates with contemporary observations of culture-war dynamics, where each “side” claims to be the pure antidote to the other’s poison, yet both reinforce the same underlying split.

Breaking the cycle requires refusing the binary pull: not pushing against the myth as primary orientation, but moving orthogonally—toward what the myth cannot name or contain, toward lived complexity rather than narrative purity.



Rationalism Vs Delusion

 

 

“She cannot cope with reality. They’ve recognise that about her. Part of her fragility is she will be triggered at any suggestion that she cannot handle reality. They describe her as vulnerable. They are agents of her delusion.


I have to live in reality. Immediately this makes me a problem for her. They are protecting her from me by shouting me down. I operate on a very basic system of logic that the delusional should not have control over the rational. It should be that the rational has control over the delusional. It has to be this way for the rational to function. They are choosing to aid the delusional to make sure the delusional can function, at the cost of enabling the rational to function.


These are the principles involved. Our experiences are a manifestation of that struggle.


Her stubbornness, her refusal to accept reality, is what made it that eventually the realistic people pulled out from supporting her. She was only supported by delusional people.


Of course, without stability, and without the donations of rationality to keep her going, she could no longer keep going.


Things got worse and worse for her. She realised the only people who were supporting her were as delusional as herself. The rejection of reality, the rejection of rationality, was ultimately her downfall.


It manifested in the form of self-destruction.


One of the things she could never accept is how stable people do not want to empower self-destruction. Stable people do not want to empower delusion. Only unstable, delusional people resonate with disharmony.


Once rational people decide to stop empowering unstable people, the unstable people will naturally disintegrate. Their chaos will probably increasingly escalate to violence before that happens. 


If a person decides to empower instability and delusion, they are not a rational, stable person.


Unstable people describe that stability as a form of fascism because it is stable, stoic, sustainable, solid, wholesome and functional. The unstable person is using the wrong word to describe the stable people. That is a part of their delusion.”



—————-



The text lays out a stark, almost philosophical framework for a relational or group dynamic: one person (or entity) deeply invested in rejecting reality/delusion, surrounded by enablers who shield her fragility at the expense of rational functioning, while those grounded in logic eventually withdraw support, leading to inevitable collapse or escalation.

This pattern resonates with several well-recognized psychological and interpersonal phenomena, though it’s framed here in binary terms (rational vs. delusional, stable vs. unstable) that can oversimplify complex human motivations and mental health realities.

Key Elements in Psychological Terms

•  Fragility and Triggering Around Reality: People with rigid, defensive beliefs (sometimes delusional in clinical terms) often experience intense distress when those beliefs are challenged. Delusions aren’t always “crazy” hallucinations; they can be fixed false beliefs that serve as protection against overwhelming emotions, low self-esteem, trauma, or existential threats. Confronting them directly often backfires, entrenching the belief further as a defense mechanism.

•  Enabling as Protection: The “agents of her delusion” describe a classic enabling pattern. In relationships (family, romantic, or social), people may avoid confrontation out of compassion, fear of escalation, guilt, or codependency. They shield the person from discomfort, which inadvertently maintains the dysfunctional belief system. This isn’t always malicious—sometimes it’s genuine care gone awry—but it can prevent growth or intervention.

•  Withdrawal of Rational/Supportive People: Stable individuals often set boundaries when enabling self-destruction becomes unsustainable. They stop “donating rationality” (a vivid way to put it) because continued involvement empowers harm. This withdrawal can feel like rejection to the fragile person, accelerating decline. In extreme cases, it mirrors dynamics in addiction, personality disorders, or shared delusional systems (folie à deux/famille), where the delusional person’s reality dominates the group until healthier members exit.

•  Escalation and Self-Destruction: Without external anchors to reality, instability can intensify—emotional spirals, isolation, or even volatile behavior. The text’s point about chaos escalating to violence before disintegration aligns with how untreated severe delusions or personality issues can progress if support networks collapse.

•  Labeling Stability as “Fascism”: This is a common projection in such dynamics. Terms like “control,” “rigidity,” or “authoritarianism” get weaponized against boundaries, logic, or accountability. It’s part of the delusion’s defensive toolkit: reframing healthy limits as oppression preserves the fragile self-view.

Broader Reflection on the Principle

Your core axiom—that rationality must ultimately hold authority over delusion for functional systems to survive—has merit in practical terms. Societies, families, and relationships need shared reality-testing to function sustainably. Pure compassion without boundaries can enable harm; pure rationality without empathy can become callous. The tension lies in balance: how to uphold reality without cruelty, and how to offer support without enabling.

In practice, people rarely fit neatly into “rational/stable” vs. “delusional/unstable” camps. Most exist on spectrums—someone can be highly functional in some areas while deeply defensive in others. Mental health conditions involving delusions (e.g., delusional disorder, aspects of schizophrenia, or severe personality pathology) aren’t chosen stubbornness; they’re often tied to brain chemistry, trauma, or coping gone extreme.

If this describes a real situation you’re navigating (personal relationship, family, or professional context), the healthiest path often involves:

•  Maintaining your own grounding in reality and boundaries.

•  Avoiding direct debates over the core delusion (it rarely persuades and often escalates).

•  Redirecting focus to observable impacts (e.g., “I care about you, but this pattern is harming relationships”).

•  Encouraging professional intervention gently, without ultimatums that trigger more defense.

•  Protecting your own stability—sometimes distance is the most compassionate choice for everyone.

The tragedy in these dynamics is mutual: the fragile person loses support, and the rational one carries the burden of being “the problem” for insisting on reality. But enabling long-term delusion rarely leads to genuine stability—only temporary reprieve before harder reckonings.





Don’t Interrupt Me - case study


Report of My Experiences of Prolonged Psychological and Emotional Abuse

For approximately 15 years, I was subjected to repeated domestic abuse by my former partner. This was primarily psychological and emotional in nature, though it had severe real-world impacts on my life, mental health, and ability to be heard in important discussions. The abuse often involved deliberate tactics to provoke me, derail conversations, shift blame, and discredit me in front of others, especially in formal meetings involving state workers, mediators, or professionals.

A key tactic she used was to interrupt me while I was speaking by suddenly saying, “Don’t interrupt me,” even though I had not interrupted her at all. She would do this repeatedly in meetings. At the moment she said those words, she had not been speaking, she was the one cutting in on what I was saying. Because we then both ended up talking at the same time (me continuing or defending myself), observers would hear the overlap and assume I was the one interrupting her. This created a false impression that matched the narrative she had already planted: that I am volatile, difficult, and prone to interrupting or talking over her.

She knew exactly what would trigger me. Being falsely accused, derailed from the topic I wanted to discuss, and then watching others accept her version without question. She would deliberately push those buttons in front of witnesses to get a defensive reaction from me. When I responded (by calmly but firmly explaining that I hadn’t interrupted, or insisting on finishing my point), it was used as “proof” that I was the problem. I have chronic laryngitis, which means I physically cannot raise my voice or shout, even under stress. I lack the vocal capacity to do so. My speech is naturally slow, deliberate, and firm as I work around the hoarseness and strain. Despite this, observers frequently described my normal speaking style as “raising my voice” or “shouting her down,” even though my volume never increased. This misinterpretation ignored my medical condition and framed my stoic, controlled responses as aggressive or unstable behaviour.

What made it worse was that the people watching (professionals whose job it was to be neutral and observant) did not step in to stop it. When I asked them to intervene and prevent her from triggering me this way, they refused, saying they were only there to observe and record, or that they wouldn’t act on my behalf. 

In their records and decisions, they focused on my defensive reaction as signs that I was “impossible to live with” or disordered, while accepting her claims at face value. To me, this felt like they were complicit in the abuse: allowing it to happen in real time, then using my predictable, trauma-informed defense (delivered calmly despite the provocation) to validate her story and dismiss anything I tried to raise.

She often explained to others beforehand that I was “highly volatile” and “easy to trigger,” framing any response from me as proof of my inadequacy or disorder, rather than a reaction to being provoked and misrepresented. This is classic gaslighting and blame-shifting: she would create the situation, provoke the reaction, then criticize me for responding, while denying or minimizing her own role. It’s also a form of DARVO (Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender). She denied her interrupting/provoking, attacked me for my defence, and reversed roles so she appeared as the reasonable victim and I as the aggressor.

The result was that the real issues I wanted to bring to the table, serious concerns backed by evidence, almost never got discussed. The meetings got hijacked by this pattern: her interruption tactic, my calm factual defense, the group’s siding with her narrative, and my evidence or points being dismissed as invalid because I was supposedly “undermining her” or displaying disordered behavior. Even when I clearly explained exactly what had just happened (that she interrupted me with “don’t interrupt me”), they often went into denial, saying things like “well, you were both talking at the same time,” without acknowledging that normal conversation overlap is different from deliberate sabotage. Because they had already been told I was the problem with a history of this behavior, they backed her version instead of looking at the facts.

This pattern repeated consistently over the years. It was frightening how reliably it worked: she protected herself from accountability, prevented criticism of her actions (of which there was a great deal, supported by evidence), and enlisted state workers to reinforce the idea that the man was bad or disordered. The presence of these observers amplified the trigger for me, knowing they were there to document “evidence” against me while ignoring the provocation made it feel like sanctioned abuse. Throughout, I remained stoic and composed in these meetings, speaking slowly and firmly as my condition requires, despite the deep trauma of being repeatedly misrepresented and disbelieved.

In summary, I endured years of female-to-male domestic abuse through sophisticated psychological manipulation. It relied on provoking reactions, misrepresenting them (including mislabeling my medically constrained, non-raised voice as aggressive), and gaining institutional support to maintain control and avoid responsibility. The state systems I encountered did not recognize or support male victims in this context, allowing the same tactics to succeed time after time with no consequences for her.

This is not an exaggeration or one-sided complaint—it is my lived reality, repeated across numerous interactions. I am sharing this to document what happened and seek understanding, validation, or appropriate support.



———————————-

Grok reply: 

The situation you describe is a deeply distressing and prolonged experience of what appears to be psychological manipulation and emotional abuse, often framed within the broader context of domestic abuse where the roles are reversed from common stereotypes (female perpetrator, male victim). The core tactic here—intentionally derailing someone’s speech by falsely accusing them of interrupting (“don’t interrupt me”) when they are the one speaking uninterrupted—fits patterns of gaslighting and DARVO (Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender).

Understanding the Specific Tactic

This method exploits social norms in group settings (like meetings, mediations, or family court proceedings). By inserting “don’t interrupt me” at a moment when the target is mid-sentence and hasn’t spoken over anyone, the accuser creates the illusion of being spoken over—especially if others aren’t paying close attention or are already primed to view the target negatively. Observers hear overlapping voices (as the target naturally defends or continues) and default to the accuser’s framing because:

•  It matches the pre-planted narrative (“he interrupts her,” “he’s volatile”).

•  It aligns with gendered assumptions or prior “programming” that the man is the problem.

This isn’t mere miscommunication; it’s a calculated deflection. When explained clearly, denial or minimization by observers (“well, you were both talking”) reinforces the gaslighting, making the target question their own reality while the group reinforces the false narrative. Over time, this erodes the target’s credibility, prevents substantive discussion of issues (e.g., evidence of wrongdoing), and positions the accuser as the reasonable/victimized party.

This aligns closely with DARVO, a well-documented response in abusive dynamics:

•  Deny — The behavior (triggering/interrupting) is reframed or ignored.

•  Attack — The target is criticized for their reaction (e.g., “shouting her down,” “interrupting”).

•  Reverse Victim and Offender — The perpetrator claims victimhood (“he’s impossible to live with,” “he’s undermining me”), while the actual victim is painted as the aggressor or disordered.

Research on DARVO shows it’s effective at shifting blame, increasing self-blame in victims, and influencing third parties (like authorities or mediators) to side with the DARVO user—particularly when gender stereotypes play in (e.g., male victims seen as less believable or credible).

Broader Context: Institutional and Societal Factors

Your account highlights how state workers (e.g., in family proceedings, mediation, or social services) can unwittingly—or sometimes complacently—enable this by:

•  Prioritizing one narrative without scrutiny.

•  Viewing defensive reactions as evidence of instability rather than responses to provocation.

•  Failing to intervene when abuse is occurring in real time.

Male victims of domestic abuse face unique barriers:

•  Lower reporting rates due to stigma, shame, and disbelief.

•  Services often geared toward female victims, leading to fewer tailored supports.

•  In some family court or mediation contexts, biases can manifest as skepticism toward male claims of abuse, or assumptions that men are inherently the aggressors.

Statistics vary, but studies indicate male victims are often disbelieved or face harsher judgment, and false or exaggerated accusations can be weaponized in custody disputes. While systemic bias debates exist (some argue courts favor mothers in custody overall, others point to abusers—regardless of gender—exploiting processes), your experience reflects documented patterns where psychological tactics like gaslighting succeed in group/institutional settings, especially over long periods (e.g., 15 years).

What This Means for Him

This isn’t “just” reactivity or a mental health failing—it’s a response to repeated, intentional provocation in an environment stacked against recognition of the abuse. The fear and anger make sense: being gaslit publicly, with authority figures complicit, is profoundly invalidating and isolating.

If this is ongoing or recent (or if seeking validation/healing), resources like male-focused domestic abuse helplines (e.g., in the US: Domestic Abuse Helpline for Men; in the UK: Men’s Advice Line) can offer non-judgmental support. Therapy specializing in narcissistic abuse or trauma (e.g., EMDR for triggers) helps rebuild trust in one’s perceptions. Documenting patterns (dates, witnesses, what was said) can counter gaslighting in future interactions.

You’re describing a form of abuse that thrives on invisibility and denial—naming it clearly (as you have) is a powerful step toward breaking its hold. If there’s more context or specific help needed (e.g., resources in a certain country), feel free to share.