What is the “perfect” slave, or domme? And learning to embody both

Humans are many layered creatures.  Deliciously complex beings.  How these complexities, folds in our raiment, manifest themselves, are sometimes not so easy to understand, or even blithely ignored.  I am spelunking in the depths of my being on this blog, and together with all of you, have discovered things that make every day a little more interesting…and if there is one thing I can hope from this, is that all of this soul-searching, navel-gazing, deep sharing might help some of you do the same, to find greater strength, whether in joy or in grief or just in your daily lives.

Being born trans means that it either happened in the womb or it happened (depending on how spiritual you are and what you believe) energetically when my soul embodied this corporeal form.  In other words, it is at least as old as my current human existence…and in truth, I believe that it is confined to that.  Next time, and on previous occasions, I have manifested as something else.

Distinct from this is being a slave.  This is a by-product of my life and experiences on this planet.  It is part of my engagement with the world—a coping mechanism, a communication mechanism, an expression of self, a way to love.  All these things.  But it is very much of this world, and very much something that is learned, as opposed to being trans, which is something that just “is”.

There is something else, however, which is more ancient than all of this.  Some people might call it energy.  Some people believe that life, all matter, everything is energy.  Some people believe that this energy is God…and that the etheric threads I touch on from time to time are manifestations of the Divine.  Star Child, a beautiful and wacky woman, one who is utterly charming and disarming and just as filled with human frailties as I am, has said to me, “Buddhism is not a religion, it is a practice.”  And so, she teaches me the practice, explicitly taking over from the Dommes and dictating the course of my reading.  She is not my Domme, but also respects the ordering of my psyche to know that if she wishes to work with my energy in the most effective way, that she must work with my energy, rather than try to change it.

Pagans have different beliefs than Christians than Jews than Muslims…Paganism and witchcraft are often associated, but just as Buddhism is a practice, so too is witchcraft.  Perhaps belief in a practice, or the practice of a practice is a form of belief.  Perhaps.

I am a witch.  This much we know.  What is a witch?  A witch is a vessel.  A vessel for energy.  Some witches seek to control or influence the energy that flows through them, seek to assert their own agenda, to curse, to heal, to direct.  But these desires only serve to constrict the flow.  You cannot want energy to do something.  If you do, you may be partially effective, that you are throttling the flow to a certain extent, perhaps stopping the easy flow of elements that you don’t want, and directing things a bit.  But this is not power.  Power comes when the energy just flows.

My practice, in all the ways which you know, and in many not yet written of, is to cultivate the flow.  The practice of Buddhism is proving very conducive to this.  So too have been my relations with two dominatrixes in particular.  And this “cultivation” by them has been either conscious or unconscious, but it has worked, continues to work.  Ego death is one way to work against quid pro quo, personal agendas, wanting things from people, expectations, all of which serve to throttle the flow of energy.

Why all of this?  Because the witch in me is older than my trans self.  Just as I know that I was born trans, I also know that I was born as a vessel for this energy.  That I was born a witch.  And learning how to feel and cultivate this power is very much a form of personal enlightenment…and yes, it does work.  

This witchiness, however, is not from this lifetime.  Spoiler alert, I believe in the eternity of the soul.  My bloodline is a witches bloodline.  I have carried this inside of me for at least a thousand years.  One of the curious accidents of a side hobby as the family genealogist has been my discovery of the witches I descend from.  My mother’s line, in particular, is filled with them.  Clearly not just passing the craft on from mother to daughter, but that this has continually appeared over and over, on multiple branches, and separated in time and by generations.

When I was with the therapist who first accompanied me on my Ayahuasca journey, the first time she met with me she began speaking of ancestral trauma.  And this was before I had even opened my mouth, before she knew the first thing about me.  She felt drawn to the topic.  She described the journey I would be on as an opportunity to heal these things.

I told her about my need to “let her out,” and she spoke of “she is possibly not the only her you need to let out.”  I wanted to know what she meant.  “Ancestry.  I can see a long line of women standing behind you, women whose voices have not been heard, whose voices need to speak through you.”  Holy f!  This was before I even said I was trans.  I told her.  She encouraged me to explore it, but to also listen to their voices, to hear what they needed to say to me, these women in my own past, whose blood I carry.

“One of the women in my lineage is the last woman to be executed for witchcraft in this country,” I said.

“Holy shit, look at my arms,” she showed me the hair on her arms standing straight up.  “Step into that, she is here.”

I know that I carry this “gift” since I was born.  Stepping into being the witch that my soul is, is stepping into being a vessel, a medium.  Being trans is a tool in service to this higher purpose.  I know that.  Embracing my true physical nature, neither male nor female, cultivating the vulnerability and sensitivity that exists for a trans woman, is helping this energy emerge.

Please don’t misunderstand.  I am not writing about this to describe what I am.  We all do seem to have a need to define ourselves, to belong, to know who we are.  But this was the first lesson my path.  Who or what one is cannot be a gift of the self, it is what others put on us.  The only thing that can be a gift of the self is the how of our lives, how we conduct ourselves, how we behave, how we treat others, how we go about every aspect of our lives.  To show respect to others, to show respect to the self.  This is the way.  This is our calling.

In other words, I am not saying I am a witch to express what I am or who I am.  I am saying that I am a witch to describe how I choose to conduct myself.  Being a witch means being true to my lineage, and more specifically, for allowing the energy to flow in me, to flow for the good of all which I serve.  And learning how to do this without inserting myself into the process, to learn to trust the wisdom of the universe, to trust instinct, to trust my heart…this is the way to step into power.

I am amused by the teachings of the Wiccans.  This is not a criticism, but it is so often, as are so many of our collective teachings, about providing a sense of belonging, of structure.  But true enlightenment, true Wisdom is available to anyone.  

I have wanted to heal people because of how it makes me feel, that it gives me a sense of purpose, makes me feel valued, and I have realised that this is all wrong.  One must heal people to heal people, without agenda, without purpose, to allow this to just happen.  I offer myself when it is appropriate to do so, but without expectation of any kind.  Learning to do this is an affair of the mind and of the heart.

So, as I allow this energy to flow, I also cultivate my ability to hear it, to feel it, through various practices…I am learning how to breathe for the first time, learning to meditate, learning to just feel my own body.  Learning to respect self and others.  Being certified in Reiki has helped with this a great deal, as it has felt like an upgrade to my energetic systems.  The flow of enlightenment has increased.

The dark of the feminine

I have spent a lifetime turning my back on my own masculinity.  I do not do that any longer.  I am proud of this part of me.  Of my spiritual strength and clarity.  Of my ability to devote myself heart and soul to another without needing to steal the limelight.  Of being a supporter.  This is what makes me an effective leader…and I do know that I am, because of the results I produce—and I say “I” very wrongly…for I don’t actually do anything…I simply help others get out of the way of their own ambitions, and help them find alignment between each other…I help the people who work for me to dream, to dream things they never thought themselves capable of, either on their own, or in concert.  That is something which springs from my masculinity.  To stand stall in the name of Justice, to protect, to serve.  This is the essence of divine masculine energy…it is not one of control.

The confident man is the one who provides the hand that holds the kite string…to say that such a man “flies” the kite is an absurdity…the winds, energy, she herself flies.  He is but her (absolutely vital) connection back to the earth.

Just as profoundly, I seek to deepen my connection with the feminine.  To absorb the power of Mercy.  To learn of life’s lessons seen through a woman’s eyes.  Above all, I seek her vulnerability, to share it, wear it, to live it.  

I struggle with her rage.  With the dark side of female power.  The chaos and all-consuming nature of it.  And yet, I must learn of it, must learn how to feel it, and to let it course into me.  This will come with time.

The return of etheric threads

The etheric threads are all around me now.  I feel life and connection to others as if we are a giant tapestry.  I do not seek to understand why someone is in my life, or what purpose they may have in my life.  I let it happen.  It is not always easy, for the human condition often leads us to desire…to enumerate the things we want.

I had a recent opportunity to spend an evening with a group of dominatrixes.  It was a social gathering—it wasn’t being on the clock.  And you might well imagine that to be with such a fine group of women, each more powerful, determined, special, and vulnerable than the other…there was the honour of being there, yes, and that was real, but to also be there without desire, without wanting anything from them, not even to serve, was something enormously positive for me.  Good energy takes care of itself.

Finding my power is that the noise levels are going down.  Being in harmony with the self results in a growing energetic quietude.  We can be a river, flowing with depth and power, quietly making our way.  Monkey brain is increasingly under control.  Calm has descended.  My naturally zen outlook on life is increasing.

The Perfect Slave

Slave is a very powerful word.  What do I mean by it?  Many things.

First, the perfect slave is true to him or herself.  By true, I mean in service to.  A true slave is willing.  A true slave is always aware of not just their will, but their desire, and supremely conscious of the path s/he must take to continue to grow, to develop, to improve.  This is the most basic level of being a slave, but also the most important, and perhaps most frequently overlooked.

As someone who tumbled willy nilly into this world of D/s, and discovered that I was just as guilty as the next person of wanting to be a slave for all the wrong reasons, I get it.  But with the correct intent, one of true service, then sooner or later we auto-correct.  The struggle and danger for a slave, is to lose oneself, or even to seek to lose oneself in the other, in submission.  I believe this is dangerous.

Submission is an active process.  Sub space is active, not passive.  We share responsibility for directing it.  It is a form of powerful incentive.  To tap into it is to tap into healing energy.  To simply wallow in it, to not do something with it, is a terrible shame.  To “play” with someone who does not seek to do something with it, something positive, something healing or growing, is also a terrible shame.

It is dangerous and vulnerable to be submissive, and this is true for an active submission as it is for a passive one.  Both are dangerous in equal measure though for different reasons.  We are not babies, but as you can imagine, the passive sub can lose their domme and be torn asunder just as the baby who loses its mother.  The active sub can lose their domme and feel destroyed for not being loved despite their efforts.  These are the risks.

What does this perfect sub do for me, wish to do for others?  [I shall refer to “her” as a form of self or for any reader who wishes to embody that].  My commitment to her is to be present.  To commit to grow.  To invest and to do the work required for self awareness.  To put aside judgement.  To put aside expectation.  To serve without guile or desire.  To speak the language of love through making the very best of me available to all that is good and beautiful in her, recognising too, that there is also ugliness in all of us, an ugliness which must be forgiven even before we attempt to alter or extirpate it.

In other words, the perfect slave, is one who is relentlessly disciplined, relentlessly focussed on her goals, and relentlessly willing to strive to make the best of the self, so that when she comes to lie at her feet, she can do so with the satisfaction that she has done her best to be her best, and that the humble offering of the self in submission be one that is offered in service, in devotion, in honour, in the name of all that is good.

The Perfect Domme

The perfect domme knows who she is, and when she doesn’t, knows that she doesn’t.  She does not pretend, or put on airs of false confidence.  She can be vulnerable, frail, questioning, uncertain, all these things, but she is above all true.  Absolutely true.

She is not afraid to listen, afraid to hold space, to be the container for someone else.  No, on the contrary, she is energized by this, energized by the respect that it embodies, no matter through which path it is achieved.

She is also enlightened and helpful to the slave, insofar as she takes pride in seeing her charge grow and develop as a human, and in her image.  She co-creates with her partner in D/s to find a harmonious dance, perhaps leading, perhaps not, but always conscious.  And she does this with a pure heart, not a self-serving one.

And like the perfect slave, the perfect Domme also seeks to grow through this powerful dance, through the special roles that each person plays.  This is the essence of a kind of love, an intensely powerful union that can take any number of forms, whether sexual, spiritual, financial or any other.

It must simply be true that both people are raised up through the interaction.


As I turn back to the meanderings of this post, I conclude that the interplay of submission and domination within me speaks to that which must grow, is there to give strength and courage, the discipline to keep going…for this process is hard, and all good things take work.  But the higher purpose is also there.  And that higher purpose is that the good, the innocent, those in my blood, but it could be just as easily yours too, that there is ancestral trauma, injustice, injustice of having been othered, and for having been put to the sword, or stoned, or hung for being “other”.  I embrace my “other” as a trans woman.  The witchiness is simply stepping into that otherness.  To bring to life that which put my forbears to death.  So I stand, learning to use my voice, wishing, hoping, that others find the courage to stand up and be counted for who they are, what they are, but above all, how they are, no matter the face of bigotry which lies before them.  Let us lose fear together.

That is what works for me, what I seek, what I cultivate, what I wish to be a part of.  And you?  What’s your kink?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s