His body on mine, the warm scent of sweat, the wheezing of the steam radiator in my studio apartment during my first winter in Brooklyn—how it fogged up the windows like we were trapped inside a snow globe. Me, in an expensive silk lingerie set that he’d ordered me to wear. Him, gripping my hair. As I waited on all fours with my pink tongue hanging out, he put three fingers in my mouth and I heard it for the first time. Good girl.
Later, there was princess, little, fucktoy, baby, cumslut, lover, my girl. It was all flushed skin and wetness, comfort, release, screaming into pillows in hotel rooms, fully surrendering and relinquishing shame. I didn’t know what it meant then—this seemingly taboo dynamic of give and take, feeling my body open and crying out in relief at the end of it—other than I needed this—dominance and submission, a kink that lives under the BDSM umbrella wherein a partner acts as my Dominant, and I am submissive to them in a consensual and ethical power exchange.
Circa 2014, I’d routinely close my eyes with my hand in my panties and float higher and higher to the idea of submission. But pre-TikTok and outside of niche Reddit forums, I had no representation of what it actually was or what it meant for my sexuality.
Fast forward to 2025, and unlike in my early-kink era, mainstream film, books and podcasts are talking about dominance and submission in ways never before seen—most recently, director Halina Reijn’s film Babygirl, starring Nicole Kidman and Harris Dickinson. In it, a high-powered CEO named Romy (Kidman) puts her career and family on the line when she begins a torrid affair with her much younger intern, Samuel (Dickinson), resulting in a Dom/sub dynamic that is just as sexy as it is irresponsible. The film doesn’t depict what the dynamic of Dominant and submissive should be, but rather, what it shouldn’t, and that’s by design.
“My movie is a warning,” Reijn previously told Cosmopolitan in an exclusive interview. “We're witnessing two people who are not doing it totally right. They have no experience in the Dom/sub world. My movie is a fable, it's not a documentary. It's a cautionary tale.”
I’ve been an open member of the kink scene for over five years and have explored my submissive side in many ways, including getting flogged in front of strangers at a sex party and even sharing my Dom with other subs. Through my escapades, I’ve learned that all kink dynamics require a few things to exist in a healthy way: Consent, communication, boundaries, ethics, and safety. Sadly, if an IRL dynamic looked like the one in the Babygirl (think: office romance, coercion, and messy, non-existent boundaries) it would be highly unethical. Not only do Romy and Samuel skip any kind of conversation on consent, but she’s also in a position of power over him—one he yields against her several times.
“The film shows a lot of the downsides of starting a Dom/sub relationship without any established boundaries or discussion,” says kink expert Amanda Dames, aka The Kink Consultant.
Unfortunately, this kind of relationship is common when two people who are completely new to kink don’t know how to practice it responsibly. In the film, Romy and Samuel don’t do any research before engaging in their play. When Romy tries to establish boundaries, Samuel threatens to blackmail her, and eventually shows up at her house and starts interacting with her family. Viewers might think the relationship is toxic, but it’s less that it’s toxic as much as it is, again, irresponsible. Both of the characters end up getting hurt and hurting others, again and again.
“People often think the Dom is fully in charge, and if a dynamic is ‘toxic’, it’s because the Dom is taking advantage,” Dames says. “But in situations like Babygirl, both people are new to the dynamic, and it’s not just one person’s responsibility to create the boundaries of the relationship.” The film also shows the complication of exploring a kink relationship while at work (which, to be clear, is never a good idea). Adding kinky power dynamics to any relationship is complicated, but especially at that level.
Overall, the film is more of a crash course on what not to do. Even though it’s sexy, it should be viewed as what it is: A fantasy, as Reijn says. When you watch Kidman down a glass of milk and be called a good girl, or when Samuel orders her on all fours in a shabby hotel room, think of it as a kick-starter for conversations. Instead of following in the film’s footsteps, use the moments that sparked arousal to talk to your partner(s) about how they’d feel about kink, or perhaps go inward and reflect on what you find sexy about it. You should never jump head-first into a relationship like this, especially if you don’t know the other person that well.
“There have been so many online debates about whether or not Babygirl is a good representation of kink, but that’s the wrong conversation to have,” Dames says. “The question is, how can two people go about their exploration in a better way?”
So, what should the BDSM-curious do? When I began my own research, all I knew was to hit Google or Reddit for info, but there are several ways to learn IRL, too. Get involved in your local community by finding educational and social events through sites like Fetlife.com, look out for Munches—meetups for kinky people in non-sexual environments—and get to know like-minded people before diving into kink. Once you’ve gone to some educational events or read a few books (like The New Topping or The New Bottoming by Dossie Easton and Janet Hardy), then consider what to look for in a Dom or sub.
“Doms should look for subs who have an idea of what they're interested in trying—who have some experience or who are ready to take things slowly,” Dames explains. “Subs should look for Doms who are patient and knowledgeable about kink dynamics. A Dom who prioritizes safety and boundaries is a major green flag.”
My introduction to submission—which most folks in the BDSM community would say is an act of extreme trust—found me when I was in one of the most vulnerable periods of my life. I was in the flurry of my early 20s, mid-way through a divorce from a young marriage and fresh off a cross-country move and coming out as bisexual. Luckily, I found a healthy Dom/sub dynamic with a long-time friend that developed naturally as we played together, talked about our interests, and practiced aftercare. We were able to trust each other and learn together, him never having been a true Dominant, and me never having submitted to anyone, but longing to.
“A healthy Dom/sub relationship has open communication and clear boundaries. Both the sub and Dom fully know and understand their roles, and there’s space for adjustment and change,” Dames explains.
Another thing to consider: Like in Babygirl, certain Dom/sub play dynamics can be about an emotional release, not just a physical one. For me, being submissive hasn’t always been about getting fucked (or fucked in the way you’d imagine). It’s been about being forced to feel and confront, let go and accept all parts of myself. Submitting to my Dominant has given me the power—not the other way around.
The health and stability of my kink relationship—and of all kink relationships—hinges on mutual consent and boundaries, about which relevant conversations should be ongoing. Both parties should share things they’re interested in trying, and establish hard limits and no-gos, Dames adds. For example, early on, I told my Dom I was interested in rope play, power exchange, and flogging, while my no-gos were more along the lines of blood play and being fully restrained. Over time, these have evolved, just as my Dom’s needs and wants have, and they should be crystal clear if you’re trying kink IRL.
Additionally, either party can withdraw consent at any time, and they should both be willing to talk things out. By addressing what isn’t working, and whether or not it's something worth trying to fix, your whole relationship can benefit, not just the kinky part of it.
The characters in Babygirl are nuanced and complicated, and kink is too. At one point in the film, Romy’s character divulges that she grew up in a cult, and when admitting her affair to her husband, she said she felt like something was always “wrong” with her. But let’s get one thing straight: Kink is not strictly informed by trauma—nor is it “wrong.” Many folks who haven’t experienced trauma are kinky, and many who have aren’t—the two don’t always go hand in hand.
But the fact remains that for many folks who want to explore dominance and submission, it can feel scary to share those desires with a partner, or even admit them to yourself. During my first marriage, I often tried to talk to my ex about my kink but was often met with judgment and shame. In Babygirl, Romy never explicitly talks to her husband (Jacob, played by Antonio Banderas) about hers, but tries to introduce it (albeit poorly) by asking him to have sex with her with a pillow over her face. He says it makes him feel like a villain, which sends Romy into a shame spiral. Neither party had bad intentions, it was just poor communication, which Dames says can be common for kinky people in non-kinky relationships.
The trick to avoiding this, she says, is to lead with curiosity. Try asking your partner what fantasies they're interested in exploring, and then share your own. Give them room to digest what you’re asking for. Both of you should keep an open mind and try to find a friendly middle ground—it's okay to start small. Even something as simple as dirty talk can lead to deeper conversations.
If I’d never dared to tell my friend what I wanted early on, he never would have become my Dom, and it probably would’ve been years before I’d gotten to know this part of myself—one that’s brought me so much joy and healing. Through submission, I’ve been able to accept my sexuality and explore the deep kinks I buried out of shame. In my previous marriage, I often felt like I was too sensitive, or “too much,” both in and out of the bedroom. I could never truly let myself go and embrace my desires. But my Dom gives me the space to just be, and submitting to him makes me feel like I’m in control, not the other way around. I invite his dominance. “Daddy, tell me what to do.”
So, while Babygirl clearly wasn’t depicting a healthy Dom/sub dynamic, I’m glad that it’s got us talking about the pleasures and rewards of safe and consensual BDSM. Now, when I think back to that winter night in my studio, I'm grateful for the girl who was brave enough to voice her desires, and for the experiences that have healed me since.
