My Yoga Instructor Is A Dominant Woman

My yoga instructor is a dominant woman.

Well, at least I think she is. Ok, I just daydream she is.

No, not just because she’s attractive. It’s her tone, how she commands everyone taking her class. It’s confident without being overbearing.

It’s probably all in my head though. I’m associating and attractive commanding woman and the pain I sometimes fell in yoga with an attractive commanding woman and the pain I’d rather get.

Once, while I was in the downward dog position (note educational image) she came up behind me and place her hands on my hips to adjust me into the correct posture.


It took everything ounce of self control to not get turned on.

I haven’t gone to yoga class in months however. Saving up for the Euro-trip and maybe a hint of laziness has prevented me from going.

Does she see me in those positions and have dirty thought of me? Does she imagine that the only way I’ll really understand how to do the positions correctly is if she’s standing behind me with a cane or by tying me into position so I’ll have some kinda muscle memory?

It’s a nice thought.

It makes yoga classes interesting.

Someone once suggested I try going to naked yoga. Naked yoga? That has nothing but trouble written all over it. Either there will be a bunch of guys there only going because they’d hope to see naked women doing yoga (as I’d be doing), or I’ll be surrounded with beautiful naked women doing yoga and I’ll get kicked out for getting turned on within the first five minutes.

Ok, within the first minute.

Domme-dar, Slave-dar and Black Rose

A friend and I attended Black Rose in DC this weekend.

I’ve been to other events similar to BR but this is by far the best I’ve been to yet. Of course it helps that I attended with one of my best friends.

The classes were well organized, the hotel was great but a bit expensive (Note to self: stay at the hotel across the street next year and save some coin) and the people were amazing.

I did enjoy a bit of complex rope bondage thanks to the friend I went with. There was an attendee area to their website and Viviane had suggested I put something down on my profile to indicate I was dying to be beaten until I collapse.

I did post it.

I didn’t get one.

Someone owes me a good beating.

Our biggest disappointment was that we were only there for just over one day. To get the full benefit I think one needs to be able to stay for the entire event.

We met a few friends for dinner and the subject came up of Domme-dar, the ability to detect someone who is dominant.

A dominant at the table said she has slave-dar, service-dar and a few others as well.

For me it’s very obvious when I detect it. Of course there are plenty that I don’t detect but when it’s there…it’s REALLY there.

It could be the way she walks, carries herself, talks, looks at me or just her overall vibe.

I usually get weak in the knees (possibly due to a desire to be on them), find myself either at a loss for words or having way too many of them, heavy breathing, extreme fidgeting, occasionally whimpering and I’ve been told I get a look in my eyes. Similar to puppy dog eyes but more…wanting.

When I’m around a woman that pops up on my Domme-dar I don’t necessarily have sexual thoughts, it’s more of a feeling of helplessness. Helpless because I desperately want to do something for her to please her.

Perhaps it’s that desperation that turns them off.

I have no problems meeting or sleeping with vanilla women because for the most part, I have no interest in them. I’m my normal confident funny self and only see them as possible friends. I can’t imagine anything more than short-term sexual buddies (if that) because I know what I want long-term. It’s funny how that works.

Maybe if I knew what makes me pop up on the slave-dar, I could prevent those qualities from coming through.

Or maybe it’s the tight leather pants that clues them in.