Before the Weekend: A Letter to the Curious Couple

A personal letter from an experienced Dom to couples who are curious but cautious. This piece offers steady, reassuring guidance to those considering their first steps into D/s. It’s not about labels or performances—it’s about presence, pacing, and discovering how trust begins.

THE DOM'S NOTEBOOK

8/25/20232 min read

You don’t need a dungeon. You don’t need a checklist. You don’t need lots of toys and gadgets.
You don’t even need to know what you want yet.
You just need a willingness to find out. Together.

If you're reading this, it’s likely you’ve felt a nudge. A quiet itch at the edge of your connection that says: there’s more we could explore. Not because anything’s broken, but because you sense something deeper is possible. More presence. More tension. More trust. And perhaps, a new language for desire.

Let me be clear from the start: this is not a test, and there is no final form you’re supposed to become. The journey into D/s, or any form of intentional intimacy, is not about doing it “right”. It’s about doing it together.

This hour, day, weekend, or any moment you choose to carve out for each other, is not about how far you go. It’s about how honest you’re willing to be along the way.

You’re not here to perform. You’re here to connect.

Too many people mistake power for performance. But true dominance, at least the kind I live and write about, isn’t about barked orders or elaborate scenes. It’s about attention. Structure. Care.

My role, if I have one in this space, is to guide. To offer a rhythm. To show you how the smallest details, eye contact, a hand on the back of the neck, a single word whispered at the right moment, can shift everything. But you’re the ones who walk the path. You choose the pace. You decide what fits.

There is no template. No pressure. Just presence.

What matters most is this:

That you speak clearly and kindly.
That you listen with the same care you hope to receive.
That you remain open, not to any particular act, but to the process of discovery itself.

You may try something and find it’s not for you. That’s not failure, that’s clarity. You may feel silly, nervous, awkward. That’s not a problem, that’s honesty. You may surprise yourselves. Good!

D/s is not a finish line. It’s a practice. One ritual, one conversation, one scene at a time.

If you remember nothing else, remember this:

It’s not about what you do.
It’s about what you choose to do with each other.
Deliberately. Respectfully. Curiously.

You won’t be pushed. But you may be changed.
And if you’re lucky, you’ll change each other in ways that last long after the weekend ends.

With respect and anticipation,
- The Writer