People think being dominant is tying someone to a bed and whipping them until they shout "harder, daddy." What a load of nonsense. Being dominant is like being a driving instructor - you have to constantly ensure that the newbie doesn’t kill themselves, doesn’t kill anyone else, and also get them to learn something along the way.

And yes, I know that comparing BDSM to driving schools is not very sexy, but I’m fed up with all this "50 Shades of Grey." Newbies come in thinking they’re going to have some mystical experience of self-discovery, and all they find out is that no, you can’t stick an anal plug the size of a beer can up your backside on your first time, no matter what you’ve seen on PornHub.

As a dominant, I have the responsibility to make sure that newbies don’t hurt themselves. That they understand their limits. That they learn to say no. That... damn it, I’m sounding like a bloody informational brochure from an NGO. The point is that you have to take care of the newbies because these idiots are capable of saying yes to anything just to please.

And speaking of newbies who say yes to everything...

Alex had been coming to my house after work for two weeks. All very innocent, of course. Just two buddies having a beer, watching a show, and... other things.

"Alex, when I say 'on your knees', it doesn't mean you throw yourself on the floor as if I’ve shot you," I explained for the fifth time in two weeks. "It's a fluid, controlled movement..."

"I’m sorry, sir," he murmured with a perfectly modulated voice while rubbing the knee he had just banged against the floor. My frustration with his clumsiness prevented me from noticing how natural that "sir" sounded.

"Again," I ordered, wondering if my neighbors would think I was training a particularly clumsy dog. "Slower."

This time he tried more carefully, but somehow ended up tripping over his own feet and fell face-first. And this is why I don’t take newbies.

"Are you okay?" I asked, struggling not to laugh.

"Yes, sir," he replied with his face as red as a tomato, looking down in a perfectly executed gesture of submission that I attributed to pure coincidence. "It's just... the floor is slippery."

The floor was carpeted.

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At work, things weren't any better. The other day I almost had a meltdown when I heard him say:

"Sir, would you like to review my pull request? It's quite large, and I need your help to fit it all in."

I spent ten minutes trying to calm myself before I realized he was literally talking about code, and any attempt to further the conversation led to pure technical jargon. And so we are - him unwittingly being the walking fantasy of any dominant, and me reminding myself to be responsible with the newbies.

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The first time I tied Alex up was a revelation. N...