The Hunger That Devours Itself: A Dominatrix's Manifesto on the Nature of Men

A Societal Reflection and My Poetic Justice to the World as a Dominatrix

There’s something rotten in the architecture of masculinity —a default setting wired for conquest, not reverence.

In their natural state, many men, when given the chance, do not preserve beauty —they desecrate it.

It is not enough for them to witness femininity.

They must lay claim to it.

They don’t mean: I want to protect you.

What they mean is: I want to possess you.

Over years — no, lifetimes — I’ve watched the same pattern repeat. The moment a man sees something beautiful, something good, something soft… his instinct is not to cherish it, but to consume it. To make it his. To dull its shine so that it reflects only him.

This isn’t love. It isn’t romance. It’s rot disguised as desire.

And the sad sick twist of society... more money, power, and status a man accumulates, the more capable he becomes of accessing women — not to uplift them, but to erode their softness, to remake them into extensions of his own ego. A harem of hollowed-out trophies. And not only does the world rewards this behaviour --- it celebrates it.

What enrages me is not just the inevitability of this cycle,

But the indifference..... the casual entitlement...

The belief that it is simply “how things are”

That is why I am committed to reversing the gaze,

reclaiming the whip — not in cruelty, but in justice.

Sadism not as abuse, but as symbolic correction...

A mirror turned back on the nature of men. To reclaim itself.

Because I am not here to be devoured.

I am here to make them feel everything they’ve escaped for far too long.

I want them to squirm beneath the weight of their own appetites.

To choke on their unchecked desire.

To kneel.

To obey.

To confront the full shame of what they’ve become.

I want them to taste submission —not as kink, but as penance.