She is my possession, my responsibility, my primary interest, and my saving grace. I am a Dom. I demand respect from her. I expect obedience from her, I am a Dom and from my slave, my beloved, gem, I receive the sweet fruit of submission. But that is just a fact, it is not the story. Submission is the fruit, yes. But as is so often the case, much more understanding is derived from the gestation. You see, I am a Dom, and I live in the paradoxical world we call life. I treasure the submission of my gem as I would treasure the most precious, the most valuable of all gifts.

It is a gift of hers, one she has bestowed upon me. I am humbled by it. I am honored by it. It is a gift for me to treat with care, respect, understanding, and reverence. It is a gift far more fragile than a century-old ceramic doll. It is a gift which cannot be purchased. It is also a gift which I must earn. And so you see, the paradox lives,. I am a Dom.

My gem and I share much together. We move forward each time we are together. We touch the heart of each other with a sense of wants and needs that this universe has not had the opportunity to experience. I am a Dom. When we talk and when we are apart, I feel her breath upon my neck. When she is near, I feel the sensation that I always so carelessly thought would come only on the eve of a new love.

I am a Dom and she fills me. With her each day, it is beautiful. When she is in front of me, I shiver. When she touches me, I melt, and when our flesh is joined, I feel the power of a million suns. I am fueled by her every move. When I ask something of her, she delivers, unwavering in her belief that his union, improbable and so very rare, causes disbelief in the doubts of destiny. She submits from extreme strength, not from weakness.

I accept the role of Master and teacher with all the responsibilities such roles entail.The dispelling of myth and intrigue, the discarding of old mores, of believing in the other which others would dismiss out of hand, and the never-ending quest to have the purist of pure upon me. Matters of the heart are perhaps the most elusive of all endeavors. My gem and I are not immune to this so powerful, so elusive so inexplicable, so often painful, so often joyous web of emotions. Love is a liquid and it fills the container of the world, taking on the shape of it and it alone, willingly and effortlessly. I am a Dom and I know that even the slightest hole in the container means that the liquid drains out easily.

I am a Dom and our container is filled with emotions. She is my slave. Our union is one I would fight for the death to defend. It is a web of comfort, respect, trust, laughter, friendship, lust, and understanding. Yes, I am a Dom, and yes, I hesitatingly yearn to say "I love you", although fear the words. I scoff that others will try to explain it, and I laugh at those who doubt its existence. No, I am a Dom and she is my world.

I am a human being. I am compassionate and I can be stern. I can be gentle, I can cry, hurt, and smile. I am needed and I need. I am educated. I have succeeded and I have failed. I am creative and I cherish life. I am a friend, a brother, a son, a father, a husband, and I am a DOM.