Playing the Numbers on Fetlife

On Fetlife there is a term «playing the numbers». For the most part, it describes someone (usually a male) who sends a lot of identical PMs to a lot of other people (mostly female). It’s often possible to identify a so-called copy-paste on a glance. They are mostly about the sender himself, often with some kind of fantasy described (and if you are really lucky, it will be described in minute detail) and they tell you loud and clear why they contacted you; for sex and play. The way I understand it is that these males send out a lot of PMs in the hope that if they just send them to enough females, someone will give them the time of the day. They are playing the numbers.

 

The problem for these males are; they are not the only ones playing the numbers. The recipient, the female, are also playing the numbers. I know I am. I do not get the ton of PMs other dominant (and submissive) women get, and I’m guessing it’s because some of the men who want to send me a message reads that sentence where I state that I am a lesbian, and moves on. Some of the messages I get is still copy-paste where the sender hasn’t read my profile at all (except the fact that I’m a female dominant) and send me some elaborate fantasy, or a “Hi, how are you doing?”. The latter is nice enough, but what am I supposed to do with it? I do not want to talk unless given a reason, and the “hi” messages feels a lot like poking.

“Hi.” *poke* “Hi, notice me.” *poke, poke* “See me, notice me, talk to me!” *poke, poke, poke*

The other thing about the “hi” messages is that if I should answer it with a “hi” in return, the odds are that they will answer me with a proposition for sex and play. No other conversation needed. I have done that enough times to have learned my lesson. I do not answer the “hi” messages.

 

So, out of every ten messages I receive, maybe one is interesting enough to answer. And if I answer, one out of five want to have an actual conversation. The only reason that I answer as much as one in ten – because even that one message is not necessarily something really great and engaging – is that I have learned that it is the second message that counts. It may be a proposition for sex and play or it may be the start of a conversation. I won’t know before I try, but I won’t try for just any message.

 

Even those I have a conversation with often turns out to want … yes, indeed, sex and play. I’m not surprised any more. I expect it. Truth to be told; it’s okay. It’s Fetlife. Even if it’s not supposed to be a hook up site, a lot of people use it that way. You just can’t get around it. After months of being single I use it that way myself.

 

I miss playing. I miss being able to give orders and to have them followed. I miss the intimacy in a scene. I have decided to give a male servant a go, or male slave or maid or a what-have-you. Then I can at least give someone orders, someone who enjoy taking orders as much as I like giving them. So … I play the numbers on Fetlife.

 

The numbers, so far, are not good. Of the five I have had longer conversations with and agreed to meet, I have met exactly one. One in five. One in five that wanted to meet me, to the point where we made arrangement for a first meeting in public. Fortunately, that one man wants to meet me again, and I liked him and want to meet him again too, so that’s a start.

 

But playing numbers are not much fun.

Two Sadist and one Masochist Went Into a Play Space …

Co-topping. I never really thought all that hard about it before it happened to … happen. I have heard that it can be a fantasy for bottoms – two or more tops playing more or less simultaneously with the same bottom. I didn’t think much about it, one way or another, but I read about tops that found it irritating or frustrating that their bottoms wanted more than one. Not necessarily because the tops didn’t want to share at all, but because there is only so much space on one body to play with; it can be hard to have fun when another top is hugging the place!

I can’t say that I share this view. I really don’t.

From time to time I have loaned Kitty to others, but there are rules. (Aren’t there always?) The most important one is; I will be there the whole time. Unless it so happens that I don’t want to, and Kitty feels comfortable with that. The common reason for this is my own body’s sometimes lack of willingness to cooperate. As a consequence, I can’t give Kitty the beatings she wants, and that I want her to have.

While I say ‘common reason’, it really hasn’t happened that often and it didn’t happen at all before our relationship had reached a place where we both where comfortable with it. It’s actually quite fun watching your girlfriend get a beating from someone we both like and trust. From time to time I have also agreed to have her being a rope bunny for V or others. Only a time or two has any of this led to discomfort of any kind, and then it was elements in play that we could not foresee. Luckily, they were easily fixed, or forgotten.

But neither of this is co-topping.

I have only really co-topped once. Having someone to plan with, even if it was just planning then and there, was great fun. Having someone to send sly looks and big grins or laugh with when Kitty howled, was great, great fun. It was V that was my co-top that evening. Naturally, I guess.

We had planned for somethings, and other things just happened. I had packed a small bag; she had packed a bigger one. The venue provides ice-cubes and we were all set. V had brought ropes and Kitty where very soon in them. It was the first time I saw her in predicament bondage. On her toes with clower clamps on her nipples. If she put down her heels the clamps bit harder. The ice made her shiver and gasp.

(Now I’m starting to regret not writing about this earlier. Details have been forgotten and what I remember best is Kitty’s howls of pain and V and me laughing until my face hurt.)

Later on V put Kitty over a high bench and tied her to it. We proceeded with various tools; hands, wooden spoons, spatulas, paddles, the very evil stick and the thing that made Kitty cry out the most; two long zippers. (In case you do not know what a zipper is: it’s a long row of clothespins on a thread. You attach all the pins to the skin, preferably a place where the skin is delicate. When you start ripping of the tread all the pins get ripped off at once. It hurts. A lot. Hence the howls.)

While V came up with good ideas and was excellent in executing them, she also deferred to me. If this was because Kitty is my girlfriend and submissive or because I most likely know her the most or some other reason, I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I didn’t really think about it until later. (Perhaps I should ask now?) But V did. And maybe that is the reason why I don’t see the problem with co-topping? Maybe other tops bicker over place and power in the scene, and I didn’t experience that. Maybe.

All of us had a really good time.

That is not to say that Kitty didn’t have objections. Or objections are too strong a word; she wished somethings a little differently, should something similar happen again. I have taken them to heart and plan to have her refresh my memory, because sooner or later, something similar will most certainly happen again.

On this V and I agree wholeheartedly.

My First Experience as a Rope Bunny.

Even before my actual first day in the kink scene, I could not understand why so many liked rope, being tied up and tying others up. More than liked – they were completely hooked on rope. Now, bondage I could understand, but rope, this intricate and time-consuming business – not my thing. Quick bondage to prevent my submissive from moving around and to let her feel that she is, in fact, not in control – that is something else entirely.

My girlfriend have liked – or more correctly loved – rope from long before we met. Because I had no interest in binding her up, I had no trouble letting others do the deed. I was not going to take something she liked away from her. With a trusted friend, V, who likes to rig rope – there never were any problems.

Except for one. I still did not get why people so loved rope. Of course, this was a minor problem – and wholly mine. Nevertheless, I am curious of nature.

After over a year and a half in the BDSM community, that curiosity finally got the best of me and I asked V, the rigger, if she could use me as a bunny, at one time or another. She thought that was a definite possibility.

I told V that I had thought a lot about being tied up, and what it was about it that gave me the willies. Because the thought really gave me the willies, most of the time. The few times it did not, it made me curious instead. Not being able to move and not being able to get away was naturally on the top of my list. I am a control freak and it is not easy to be in control if you are tied up. Or, more accurately, it is not easy to feel in control. I am sure there are some dominants out there who like being a rope bunny and order their partner to tie them up.

V got past this worry by stating that we could try a leg first. One leg is far from a full body binding. It would most likely not give me the feeling of utter helplessness that I so much feared.

After we agreed that I could be her rope bunny at one time, I began thinking about it even more and wondered if I would ever dare to bring it up again if she did not.

In my mind, I could react in three different ways to being tied up.

Either I would freak out, as I feared. It was what I thought most possible, in my heart of hearts. (In my heart of hearts, I am a pessimist.)

Alternatively, I could end up with feeling like this: “Eh, is this what they are going on about? Why should this be so special? Could you get me out of the ropes now, please, this is boring.”

Or, I could love it and finally, totally, understand why so many love rope. (This feeling and understanding is what I wanted the most, naturally. I am pessimist, but I am also a dreamer and never without hope.)

Shades of grey is seldom present in my day dreaming scenarios.

In the Easter vacation, I was at a kink party and while looking at V tying up another woman, I tried to figure out what I felt about being tied. Not at some time or another, but then and there, with these friends. I decided that I was okay with it. Even if I freaked there was no one there to hold it against me or call me weird or stupid. Just friends.

Therefore, when V had let the other woman loose I asked her if I could be her rope bunny during the party. She said that we could try it at once. I got out of my skirt and over to her on the mattress. I have seen enough rope scenes to know that a tight skirt is not the right thing if you are going to be a rope bunny. I laid down on my back and V begun to tie my left leg, heel against backside.

And … I was gone.

She could not have gotten half way up my bent leg before I floated off on a cloud.

I have nothing to compare it to … I was just … gone.

I was not indifferent and I certainly did not freak out.

I loved it.

I loved the feeling of the rope. I loved the way V tied me up and the way she repositioned me so she could tie the other leg too. I loved the music in the background.

I was on a happy, little cloud, but I was still aware, if only barely. I can remember hearing people talk, but not what they talked about; only that it was too loud at one point. I can remember V and my girlfriend talking to me and to each other, and that I answered, but I cannot remember what. I think they asked how I was doing several times, which does not surprise me. I was very doubtful to the whole affair only minutes earlier.

When V had done both my legs, she asked if she should tie my hands too. I focused enough to think how I felt about it, before I said yes. Having my legs bound was so much not a problem; I could not believe it would be a problem having my hands bound too. It would probably feel even better.

It did.

For a while the only thing anyone could get out of me, was small moans. It felt so good.

Time disappeared completely. I still do not know where it went or how much of it that got away.

Even on my little, fluffy cloud I felt my limbs begin to protest against being in the same position. I think I told V that she had to let me loose. I have doubts as to how coherent I was at that point, but V did understand what I wanted and began taking the ropes off.

It took a good, long while for me to land after the rope high. Truth to be told, I think it took days to completely wear off. At first I could not talk, I could not hold a cup and I could not sit up on the mattress. I felt so weak and full off fluff and I did not mind the least. I just mumbled, moaned and laughed. My girlfriend laid down beside me, petted me and laughed with me. I was so high and so happy.

Even now, over a week later, I still do not understand what happened or exactly how it could happen. If I should try to describe the experience with other words than me on a happy, fluffy cloud, I would say that it was a bit like a deep mediation combined with a good, warm massage. At least, I imagine something like that. I was so relaxed, mentally and physically, both during and after being tied up.

I think my intense reaction to being tied up have several sources. The major one is that as a control freak I seldom, if ever, let go of the control of my life and my surroundings, not completely or for long. To let go so utterly must have felt kind of heady in and for itself. As to how I could let go like that when I expected to freak out more than anything … I think that has to do with the feeling of safety, warmth and amity in the room. There was nothing to fear, on any level or in any shape. And of course, I feel that I know V and I trust her to look after me when I am in her ropes. Having my girlfriend there did not hurt either.

Summa summarum: The fact that I felt safe made it possible for me to turn of my head in a way I am rarely capable of.

I have never had my movements so restricted and I have never felt so free and at peace.

It was glorious.

A Dominants Perspective on Feeling Safe

My impression is that a feeling of safety is a necessity to make submissives (and dominants) want to play, but when this feeling of relaxation and safety is developed, it persists through humiliation, pain, tears and even fear. If consent is not violated, of course.

To feel safe is paramount for both submissives and dominants before, during and after play, but it is also my impression that what makes a submissive feel safe is not necessarily what makes a dominant feel safe. And of course, there will always be differences between people, even if they use the same label.

Feeling safe when bound tight with ropes does not make much sense for me, but I know of several who feel safe that way.

Feeling safe with a hand or two around my throat does not make much sense either.

To give up all my power to someone else, even someone I trust, is not safety, for me.

I have other safety triggers, so to speak.

Lying in bed with my girlfriend with a leg over her legs, my face snuggled against her neck and a hand at her throat makes me feel loved and safe, because she trusts me and feels safe that way. Being the big spoon with my arms around her is also a good place to be.

It makes me feel safe when she tells me that something is wrong during or after play. She takes responsibility and help me take care of her, and of us. She does not want to hurt me by letting me hurt her.

To have one hand in her hair or a hand around her jaw, or even better both, makes me feel both powerful, relaxed and safe.

It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy when she kneels by my feet and put her head in my lap. Or when she sits in front of my chair so I can lean forward and embrace her, and maybe give her some cuddly pain.

To have one or both hands around her throat does not only feel good to me, it feels safe. She has given herself up to me, and I find a sense of well-being in that.

Sometimes putting my collar on her makes me feels safe. In a particularly stressful situation some months back I got up, found her collar and put it on her, so I would have control over a part of my life – her. It made me feel better.

All this is not to say that I never feel safe when I am the little spoon or when I have my head in her lap – I do, no doubt about it. However, I think these examples are good illustrations as to how dominants and submissive have different ways to feel safe, as well as similarities.

This is just my perspective, of course.

Wonderful Vulnerability

Before yesterday, I didn’t understand why having someone that was vulnerable towards me could be a good thing. Why should someone be vulnerable? What did I get out of it and what could she possibly get out of it? We could do everything we wanted without her being vulnerable – and wasn’t it better that way?

We really can do whatever we want, and whatever I want, without her being especially vulnerable, but yesterday’s session was … a bit magical.

The beginning wasn’t promising at all. I had a headache that was on its way from bad to worse and that kind of pain makes me unhappy and slow. On the other hand, I knew that it would be a while before I would have her with me again and I wanted some private time with her. Private time is not the same as playtime; we could just have cuddled and talked. It was my decision to do otherwise. I had one thing I wanted to use on her and another thing I wanted to try for the first time. Because of this, it was playtime.

In lack of a better description – the energy exchange began almost immediately. It was like turning on a switch. I was her dominant and she was mine to do as I pleased. I don’t think it has been like that for me, ever before. We could both feel it – a closeness, an intimacy, which has been with us in the past, but maybe not like this. No, not quite like this.

Between my orders and my giving her pain, there was hugging, petting, stroking and kissing. We were in our own little bubble, our own space, where only we existed. It was like floating. Floating on her expressions, her whimpers and moans, her softness and her kisses. We have had similar experiences, or I have at least felt almost like this before, but not quite this strongly. As I said, it was a bit magical. (I wonder if it was domspace I was in?)

At one point she said in a low voice that she liked being vulnerable to me. That she felt so safe with me that her vulnerability was something she wanted to give me. If I ever have gotten a bigger compliment from anyone, I can’t remember it. My breath caught in my throat, I could feel tears threatening and I leaned forward and hugged her. Hugged her hard while we both struggled to get our emotions under control.

I believe her vulnerability was a big part of making that session so special, so intimate. It wasn’t anything I thought about then and there, at least not before her quiet words. I simply noticed, on some level, her openness, her susceptibility, and I took what she offered me, and used it. Both of us where very satisfied with the outcome.

When I think back on yesterday’s session and on the playtime’s before I can see that I more than once have put her in slightly vulnerable situations and liked it. I just haven’t really thought through what I have liked about it and why.

Now I know; I like it when she is vulnerable towards me and I like it a lot. Vulnerability in my partner is wonderful.

Later that evening when we both had gotten home, I called her and we talked a bit more. One of the things that she mentioned was that during that session I was more in control than before, I was more confident in myself and what I wanted and what I wanted her to do, and not do.

Therefore, the question is this; did her vulnerability make me take more charge of the session, or did the fact that I was more confident with myself and with being in charge make her more vulnerable?

I really don’t know. I only know that it takes two to tango and that I truly like this dance of power exchange.

Fuck Toy

I don’t remember when I first began to think about the idea of a fuck toy. I don’t remember why or how the idea arrived in my head and my fantasies, nor do I particularly understand why it remained, why it became one of those fantasies that I wanted to explore. I just know that it did.

I do know that the notion had spun inside my head for a while before I acted on it.

I remember the first time I treated my girlfriend as my fuck toy and little else. Without explaining anything or telling her what to expect, I told her to undress while I stayed clothed. Already there it felt like something exciting and fun. To fuck her and almost pretend that I was detached from what I did to her and what she felt was sexy. To feel, hear and smell her reactions while she did exactly what I told her and simply accepted what I wanted to give … it was beyond sexy.

Afterwards I felt a bit like a cat that had found a perfect spot in the sun and was warm, relaxed and very satisfied with life and everything in it.

I knew I wanted to do it again, soon.

Later my girlfriend told me that I had taken her by surprise that day. (Which I liked a lot, of course.) She hadn’t believed that I was interested in doing something like that, maybe not even capable of liking it. She said that she hadn’t believed it of me when we began to get to know each other, at least. Then again, neither had I.

Now the term fuck toy is almost an endearment in my vocabulary and I like to remind her that she is mine.

Cuddly Pain and Trust

A couple of days ago, at a kinky gathering, I was cuddling with my girlfriend. It had been a week since the last time I saw her and I had a hard time keeping my hands of her. Hugging, stroking, kissing, running my hands through her hair, squeezing her hand, kissing her neck and cheek, pinching, biting and pulling her hair … Wait a minute, that’s not cuddling!

At one point I recognized what I was doing; I was giving her pain and cuddling at the same time. It was almost like I had been doing it on autopilot, not really aware, but having a good time nonetheless. I enjoy her sounds of contentment as much as I enjoy her sounds of pain. A hug there – a pinch here. A kiss on the cheek – a bite on the neck. The usual. The thing is; it kind of has become the usual. Not to say that we never cuddle without any pain, we do (I think), but cuddling and pain goes hand in hand, so to speak. Personally, I think they do great together.

When I realized what I was doing, I also realized that we hadn’t discussed whether my girlfriend was okay with it or not. At no point had she protested or asked me to stop, but still, I had to ask, to be sure. My girlfriend assured me that she was okay with the cuddly pain and of course she would tell me if she wasn’t. Her one reservation was that there would be no cuddly pain in vanilla situations and I readily agreed.

I have quite often come across writings that state that the bottom must trust the top before any play take place. The bottom must trust the top to respect his or hers boundaries, he or she must trust the top to release them at the end (if there is bondage), not to harm them and to help them if anything should go wrong. I wholeheartedly agree at all points and then some.

Something that doesn’t get as much attention is the fact that the top must trust the bottom just as much. A top must trust the bottom to tell him or her everything that might have an impact on the play and to be honest about his or her health, physical as well as mental and emotional. The top must trust the bottom to give feedback and to stop the play if anything should go wrong or feel wrong, and he or she must trust that the bottom won’t turn against the top should a mishap occur.

I have believed that being the bottom would have to be the scariest thing, what with the helplessness and all, and that trust had to be paramount for the sake of the bottom. I have felt that being in control in a scene is daunting too, but a bit less so. Now I’m not so sure. I doubt that I would be as relaxed if I didn’t trust my girlfriend and I wouldn’t be able to go from stroking to pinching and from kissing to biting without a thought if I wasn’t convinced she would tell me to stop if she disliked it.

I trust my girlfriend. I trust her to tell me if something is wrong, if something is too much, too little or simply not right. I trust her the same way I hope she trust me, to speak up for herself when needed. Even so … I’m not able to stop worrying. I worry that I might do something wrong, and not only with the cuddly pain; I worry about the all kinds of pain and pleasure in addition to the small dose of D/s we have dabbled with. I worry that I do or push too much, too little or in the wrong places or circumstances. In short, I worry – which is nothing new. What’s new is the fact that I give someone pain, I hurt her and I like it (a lot) and that’s worth worrying about. (Not that I like it, that’s not the issue here.) So now there’s a small, nagging part of me that goes: What if she doesn’t tell you if she’s had enough, what then, hmm?

Luckily the small, nagging and very annoying part doesn’t get a lot of room. Partly because I know my girlfriend quite well now, and partly because my girlfriend is very good at giving feedback; no matter what I do to her, her noises tells me how she feels about it. I might miss a hint now and again or misinterpret a sound, but if I’m in doubt I ask. (Right now I will most likely piss her of by asking is she’s okay, long before I drive her off by doing something really wrong. Not that I really believe that either of those will happen.)

While I wait for my doubts to shut up (and yes, it’s likely to be a very long wait) I will indulge in a bit more of cuddly pain with my girlfriend and take one day at a time.

And for the record, cuddly pain is so a term – as of now.