As the lights shimmer on the sleek curtain of silk that hangs from the ceiling, I perform my warm-up stances. They are my rituals – movements that anchor me to reality before I plunge into the ether. I'm Bianca, a 29-year-old aerial dancer from Milano, Italy. My dance is not an act; it's a raw, fierce expression of my spirit, a testament to my ability not just to survive, but to thrive. And somewhere in this soaring dance of mine, I find a unique dominance that turns into an undeniable freedom.
The parallels between performance and dominance became evident to me when I was exploring different facets of my sexuality. The anonymity of the internet allowed me to explore content I never thought I would be interested in. I remember stumbling across the best porn sites late one night. There was a stark display of power, control, and submission that struck me profoundly. As I watched, I realized that while the acts were intimate and sexual, they many times revolved around an intriguing interplay of dominance and freedom.
This dominance, I realized, wasn't just aggressive power but was about understanding oneself and their partner, carving boundaries and setting them aflame, and then dancing at its edges with grace. This revelation profoundly impacted my dance. The following day, facing the mirror in the studio, draped in my silks, I saw my reflection in a new light, realizing the fluidity of control within my dance. The way I dominate the silk, bending it according to my whims, twirling and spinning, asserting power over it held a curious mirroring to those late-night explorations.
The more I translated this understanding into my performance, the more I was met with a sense of liberation like never before. A freedom that was a stark contrast yet a charming consequence of my dance's new-found dominance. My performance, previously a routine, turned into a ritual; every step, every twirl started speaking volumes about my own discovery of power within me and the lighter-than-air feeling it brought.
One might think of aerial dance as an act of submission to gravity, but it is the exact opposite for me. I dominate the air, the silk, the space around me, and most importantly, my fear of falling. Yes, there's a risk, a danger that lurks beneath, but isn't it the same in practice of understanding dominance? Isn't the true essence of dominance understanding the inevitable danger and yet choosing to dance amidst it, with grace and control? Just as in those explicit videos I'd found on the best porn sites, it's not about the possible shame or degradation; instead, it's about the confidence, the power, the surrender and then, the consequent rush of freedom.
My story is not just of an aerial dancer who found solace in suspended silks. It is of a woman who found a parallel universe between her dance and her sexuality, and hence a new, profound understanding of herself. A woman who found freedom while staring down the face of control and falling in love with the dance of dominance. In body or in spirit, on the silks or on the ground, I've learnt to dance, control, surrender, and be free. And for me, that's a performance worth living. 
