Guides For Couples

“Do Women Enjoy Power in Sex?”

When I first read Shere Hite’s Report on Love, Passion, and Emotional Intimacy, I felt as if she’d quietly entered my mind and written down what I’d never dared to say aloud.

“For some women,” Hite wrote, “sexual fantasies are not about hurting men but about reclaiming the right to shape their own desire.”

Her research posed a daring question:
Do women actually enjoy playing with power in bed?

My Private Fantasy, Her Public Truth

I’ll admit it. Sometimes, in my fantasies, I imagine being in control — not because I want to dominate him, but because I want to feel unapologetically free in my own desire.

After reading Hite, I realized I wasn’t an exception.
Many women she interviewed described “playing with power” as a way to flip a cultural script — to experience what it feels like to own their erotic energy in a world that has long asked them to soften it.

Those imagined moments of power don’t come from cruelty.
They come from curiosity. From a wish to see what happens when a woman stops being an accessory to desire and becomes its author.

It Was Never About Him

Hite’s words echoed in me:

“When women imagine control, they are rarely fantasizing about demeaning men — they are imagining the freedom of an unbound self.”

That line hit me deeply.

My fantasies were never really about him.
They were about me.
My rhythm. My curiosity. My right to feel — without editing myself for anyone’s comfort.

Every time I allowed myself to explore that idea, it felt like I was reclaiming territory that had always belonged to me but had been fenced off by shame.

When Play Became Intimacy

The real turning point came when I finally shared one of those fantasies with a partner.
I expected hesitation. Maybe even discomfort.

Instead, something unexpected happened: he relaxed.

Shere Hite once noted that many men actually enjoy moments when women take the lead — not because it feeds submission, but because it releases the pressure of performance.

That night, the “game” became something else entirely.
It wasn’t a contest. It was a conversation — a dialogue of touch, trust, and discovery.
It was the first time I realized that power, when shared, can create not distance, but closeness.

Self-Pleasure: My First Playground

Before I could bring that side of myself into a relationship, I had to find it alone.

Through self-pleasure and adult toys, I learned to ask questions I’d never asked before:

• What does my desire sound like when no one’s judging it?

• What happens when I lead my own pleasure instead of waiting to be invited?

Hite once wrote,

“A woman’s fantasy life is the language of her erotic self.”

Exploring alone was how I began learning that language.
It wasn’t just physical; it was emotional literacy — a way of understanding my body’s yes, my no, and my maybes.

The Cultural Weight of “Good Girls”

Like so many women, I grew up hearing that “good girls don’t think that way.”

But after reading Hite, I realized that good was never the goal.
Wholeness was.

Wholeness means being able to say yes, no, more, or different — without apology.
It means holding both tenderness and power, softness and strength.

When women embrace that duality, sex stops being a moral test and becomes a playground for self-discovery.
And in that space, shame dissolves.

The Hidden Gift of Erotic Curiosity

What I once called “fantasy” now feels more like exploration — not rebellion, but a form of learning.

Power dynamics, when approached with respect and curiosity, can deepen trust.
They reveal hidden layers of intimacy:

• The joy of surrender, when it’s chosen.

• The thrill of control, when it’s safe.

• The beauty of switching roles and learning empathy from both sides.

In that sense, sexual play isn’t about hierarchy.
It’s about truth.
It allows two people to express sides of themselves that everyday life keeps quiet.

Adult Toys as Tools of Freedom

For me, sex toys became more than accessories — they were instruments of autonomy.
They taught me how to listen to my body’s language before inviting anyone else into it.

They helped me practice control, release, rhythm, and patience — all without judgment.

When I eventually brought that confidence into partnered sex, the entire dynamic shifted.
I wasn’t performing anymore.
I was participating.
Fully.

From Shame to Freedom

If you asked me now whether I like playing with power in bed, I’d say yes — but not for the reasons people might assume.

It’s not about control. It’s about authenticity.
It’s about claiming the right to express every side of myself — curious, assertive, tender, mischievous, and deeply human.

When I bring that whole self into intimacy, the “game” disappears.
What remains is honesty — the most powerful kind of love there is.

Final Thoughts: What Shere Hite Helped Me Understand

Hite’s work gave me — and millions of women — permission to stop translating desire into something palatable.

She showed that erotic imagination is not deviance.
It’s data.
It tells us what we need, what we crave, and what safety feels like.

And sometimes, it tells us that the truest pleasure isn’t about dominance or submission.
It’s about freedom — the freedom to be fully, shamelessly, and consciously alive.