A Dominant’s arms are a bulwark against the world. Fortifications against a rising tide of

A Dominant’s arms are a bulwark against the world. Fortifications against a rising tide of those that would do you harm, that would poke you full of holes, judge you, tear you down. A pair of great gates that are closed against the trials and tribulations of the world, keeping out the unwanted, and providing safe harbour, an environment for you to expose your vulnerabilities and fragility.

They’re also the grand arena where the matador fights the bull. Safe from everything else, you’re left alone with the beast, just you and him, dancing a dangerous salsa. You’ve got to roll with the punches, take the blows that he throws at you, because that safety is what you want.

Better the devil you know, intimately, the devil you trust, the devil that cares for you, and cares about the other side of you, the side that enjoys getting alone with the beast, than the devils outside. The ocean of malcontent that exists beyond those arms.