Before the Dungeon: How Society Trains Us to Submit

Explore the hidden systems of dominance in school, religion, family, and work — and how they prime us to obey without consent.

Before the Dungeon: How Society Trains Us to Submit

By Klair Vayzor5-minute read

I didn’t become a dominatrix because I wanted control. I became a dominatrix because the world tried to take all of mine.

Before leather, before ropes, before the stage name and the rituals of command—there were schools, doctors, parents, and strangers who taught me what it meant to obey.

They didn’t call it submission. They called it respect.

They didn’t call it degradation. They called it discipline.

They didn’t call it ownership. They called it love.

I grew up inside a system that dressed control up as care. I was told to sit still when I wanted to move, be quiet when I needed to scream, say thank you when I was being watched. My body was taught to perform before I ever got to feel. And somewhere along the way, I learned that obedience was the currency that kept me safe.

But it never made me free.

The first time I truly felt the power of consensual submission, it blew apart everything I had internalized. Because that’s the thing the system never gave us—choice. In schools, you are punished for questioning. In families, you are guilted for asserting boundaries. In religion, you are shamed for your body. And in the public eye, especially as a woman, you are reduced to what you can serve or satisfy.

No wonder so many people carry shame around their desires. We were raised in institutions that fetishized control without ever acknowledging it. Think about it:

• The bell rings, and you obey.

• You raise your hand to speak.

• You’re told what to wear, when to eat, how to sit.

• You’re rewarded for silence.

That’s not just structure. That’s a scene without safewords.

When I entered the world of BDSM, I started to reclaim what was stolen. I realized that domination wasn’t about hurting someone—it was about holding them. Holding space. Holding truth. Holding them through their unraveling and their release. And I found that for many submissives, it wasn’t about being weak. It was about being seen.

Because in the dungeon, everything is intentional. Every slap, every stare, every command is agreed upon. In real life, control is often hidden. In kink, it’s negotiated.

And that’s what separates abuse from liberation.

I write this for every person who grew up thinking they were too much, too loud, too angry, too wild. For every person who’s been punished for being real. For every soul that was domesticated before it was ever allowed to roar.

Before the dungeon, the world trained me to submit.

But inside the dungeon? I remembered I was never meant to.

I chose to kneel only so I could rise.

And now?

Now I teach others how to do the same—on their knees, in their truth, with their power intact.

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