The Difference Between Obedience and Devotion

Obedience is simple: “Do this. Don’t do that. Follow the line.”… Really anyone  can obey. But devotion?That’s different. That’s chosen, not demanded.

Obedience comes from pressure.
Devotion comes from desire.

Obedience is about rules.
Devotion is about worshipping Me.

One fades the moment the task is done.
The other stays, quiet, steady, loyal. I don’t look for subs who follow commands. I look for subs who surrender because they want to. Obedience is meaningless action. Devotion is true connection.

And I know which one truly lasts.

NYC

 Jan 8 - Jan 22 

Plan accordingly. 

Listening Between The Lines: Soft Core, Public Curiosity, And The Real Work

Listening to Fresh Air on NPR this week, I was pleasantly surprised to hear a segment on the novel Soft Core by dominatrix and writer Brittnay Newell. It caught my attention.

Every few years, mainstream culture rediscovers dominatrices the way it rediscovers with wide-eyed curiousity..sometimes slightly nervous often eager to translate O/our lived experience into something safe enough for polite conversation. What interested me about Soft Core is that it seems genuine.

That alone makes it worth talking about.

As someone who has spent years working in this world, never as fantasy, but as discipline, lifestyle,  real intimacy, psychological architecture. Yes, I’m always curious how our realities are framed when they pass through popularity hands via literature. Too often it seems "the dominatrix" becomes a metaphor instead of a real person. A symbol. Maybe a device. Or worse, a kink dispenser for the masses. 

From what I’ve heard so far, Soft Core seems to resist that flattening. It hints toward the contradictions that actually define this work: tenderness alongside controlcausal intensity. The title itself is telling: "soft" where people expect hard edges, deliberate where others expect chaos.

I haven’t read the book yet, but I’m intrigued. And I’m glad NPR gave it airtime. Which brings me to something lighter, but oddly related.

 

I’m also looking forward to seeing Wicked: Part Two later this year. On the surface, it has nothing to do with dungeons or power exchange. And yet, stories about women whose authority is misunderstood, moralized, or punished tend to resonate with Me. The older I get, the less interested I am in being liked, and the more interested I am in being authentic.

There’s a quiet confidence that comes with that.

Whether through literature, theater, or lived experience, I’m drawn to stories that allow women to be complex and commanding without apology or caricature. If you’ve read Soft Core, I’d genuinely love to hear your thoughts. Not hot takes. Just genuine impressions.

And if you haven’t, maybe consider why a story about a dominatrix written by a dominatrix feels novel at all.

 

Link to the NPR PodCast Episode of Fresh Air 

Lace, Garters, Straps, Thigh-High Boots.

 

Religion is the Opium of the People

 

I am your religion and addiction.

  Now you are with me, kneeling before Me, you feel whole, complete. That void within you is filled, for the first time, ever. At last, a sense of total belonging. When My eyes gaze into yours you will loose yourself completely in My reality. You enter My Dimension of being. At one point you thought your fantasies were complex, ravishing ... of such great depth that they seemed unobtainable. 

Suddenly you realize that I lead you towards something much deeper than you could have ever even thought of. My world hits you harder and you fall lower into total submission - for Me. 

  At this point, and only if you allow it, then I will become your one true God, your religion. The single most important aspect of your life. The singularity that sucks you in. Everything in your pathetic existence starts to be orchestrated around My Powers over you.

Finding yourself entirely intoxicated with excitement. I am your new drug, your new Mistress. The Goddess who you crave and can no longer live without. I give true meaning to your life. Something mystical, baffling, yet so simple: 

Me Goddess - you slave - you serve - you belong.

The Loss

I keep my stable of slaves small on purpose, but that also means the losses cut deeper. The hardest one—one I still struggle to talk about.  Losing someone who wasn’t just a sub, but one of My closest friends. Even now, writing this, I can feel that knot rising in My throat. We spent years together, often talking on the phone three or four nights a week, sharing plans, laughter, frustrations, dreams. He was loyal, devoted, funny, very stubborn, insightful and he understood Me in a way that only time and trust can create.

Nothing will ever replace My puppy steve - no dynamic, no new connection, no fresh excitement. And honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever meet someone I bond with in that exact way again. He left a void, a quiet space in My life where his presence used to sit so comfortably. I wasn’t prepared for how suddenly he would be gone. I don’t think anyone ever is.

A few months before his unexpected departure, he said something that still rings in My head everyday. 
“Fuck it .. let’s go to the Keys and figure it out when we get there.”
I remember laughing and telling him I couldn’t. I have a job, a family, responsibilities. A life that doesn’t  allow for spontaneous escape. But now? Part of Me aches at the thought. If I had known what was coming, I would have spent his last months on this planet with him, been there 24/7, no questions asked, no hesitation. Just: “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

I can’t change that. I can’t get that time back. What I can do is honor what he was to Me: My loyal sub and My devoted servan,  2007 to 2024. Rest in peace, My friend. you will always be an important part of My story, still part of my heart. 

 

Rookie mistakes

When I first started as a ProDom, I assumed experience and skill would come naturally, that people would instinctively always respect the space I created. I quickly learned it doesn’t. I misread signals, over-invested in the wrong energy, and learned the hard way that not everyone is ready to rise to the occasion. Some lessons weren’t painful, they were enlightening: patience matters, subtlety carries more weight than loudness, and discernment is everything.

Looking back, my early missteps weren’t failures, they were tuition. I got paid in experience. My mistakes taught me how to recognize the people worth my time, how to hold space without overexplaining, and how to let my presence do the work for me. 

I am a product of My past and My years of experience. Every encounter was a lesson. Those lessons built the confidence I carry today, a quiet authority no one can fake, and a standard I am no longer willing to negotiate.