You’re Not in Charge Here. I Am.

Men love to talk about submission. They fantasize about surrender. But the second they step into scene, what do they do? Start negotiating.

They try to control how they’re dominated. They hint at what they hope will happen. They want to be taken — but only if it aligns with the version of submission they’ve played out in their heads.

And that? That’s not submission. That’s topping from the bottom. That’s clinging to a script where you still get a say.

So let me make this simple: once you step into scene with me, it’s my decision.

If I want to fuck you? My decision.
If I want to leave you there, desperate and aching? My decision.
If I want to sit back, eat peanuts, and just look at you while you squirm in whatever state I left you in? Yeah, also my decision.

Because you’re not coming to me for a session. You’re coming to be part of an experiment.

Everyone knows I’m not a dominatrix — I’m an eccentric mad scientist. And when you step into my lab, you don’t get to choose what happens next. You don’t get to hope for the outcome you want. You don’t even get to wish for it.

If I take you into scene, it’s because I’m taking control now. And whatever happens next? That’s for me to decide.

Are you here to be studied? To be broken down? To be rebuilt into something I find more… interesting? Maybe. Maybe not.

But if you’re still wondering what you’re really expecting, then you’re already not ready.