Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Archive for the category “FetLife”

Ladies and gentlemen, my play partner

OK, so enough of this depression crap for a while. Time for fun.

Back in September 2016, in my Shadow Lane party write-up, I spoke of playing with Ulf Sayer for the first time. I had met him at a previous party and felt an immediate connection, but we didn’t have the chance to play at that time. This first scene was intense and fun; he enjoys clever bratting and I started in right away, calling him a hockey puck (he is Canadian).

Oh, and I assed his hand. šŸ™‚

He was doing videos and so forth and I thought perhaps we’d be seeing a lot more of him, but then he left the scene for a while.

Cut to last March, when I heard from him via Twitter Direct Message. He was now living in L.A. and would love to touch base. We met for coffee and talked for hours. Started texting. Then he came over for coffee… and asked if I’d like to be play partners. Oh, yes, I would. He wasn’t ready to ease his way back into the scene proper just yet, so I promised I would not mention him by name anywhere. I would just post pictures of play results.

But now he is fully returned — back on FetLife, back on Twitter, shooting again, attending parties, and I have the green light to talk about him all I want.

So what does one say about Ulf? By his own admission, he is a very silly man. Very playful, loves spanking banter. Smart and thoughtful, he’s someone I can talk with for hours (and have). He is caring and kind. Oh, and it’s way too damn easy to get into protracted nonsensical battles with him online.

For example, a while back on FetLife, he noticed that several bottoms (myself included) feel that they have earned chocolate, ice cream or other treats after a spanking. He then decreed that “brats don’t deserve treats, they deserve a spanking and nothing else” and that treats were forever banned.

Yeah, you can imagine how well that went over with the bottoms on FetLife. This quickly escalated into an epic battle known as the #WarOnTreats, #TreatsForAll, and several other hashtags. Pictures and posts ensued. Everyone talked about the various treats they had purchased and were consuming, and Ulf would scold and natter about how we should learn to like vegetables and how all the treat monsters were going to be punished.

Here he is chastising me because I bought two bags of Hershey’s dark chocolate almond nuggets. Hey, I had a two-for-one coupon. I thought I was being industrious with savings.

20180620_132139

One of my responses to this insanity was to encourage all the women involved on FetLife to take a selfie eating a treat and flipping the bird. I started the ball rolling with this one (that’s a Lindt truffle, BTW):

20180617_215008

I wish I could post all the other pictures this inspired — they were marvelous. The sisterhood is still alive and well!

Of course, I had to pay the price for encouraging all this anarchy; he had to make an example of me, in the hardest scene we’ve done to date. Ouch.

20180620_140507

By the way, my left butt cheek isn’t dented. That’s an illusion of the lamp light. I got lotion and cuddles afterward; he bought me lunch, too.

And I’m still assing his hand.

20180703_160013

Perhaps he needs to toughen his hand more instead of having so damn many implements.

20180517_145028

I did not make this face of my own volition, incidentally. I believe his words were, “Come on, let’s see that tongue, brat.”

So this is my play partner. I don’t call him my top, even though I am a bottom and he tops me. He’s my friend and we play. I saw a term on another blog that I kinda liked: SSO (Spanking Significant Other). I think this needs to be a Thing.

Here are a few random facts about Ulf:

  • He can’t spell “fascist.”
  • He has forbidden treats for bottoms, but he indulges in them himself. I have pictorial evidence of this pinnacle of Top Hypocrisy.
  • If you follow him on Twitter, be forewarned that his tweeting persona is often irreverent, blasphemous, and off-color. Then again, so is mine.
  • Some of his nicknames are Olaf, Snowman, Your Plaidness (the Canada thing), and Ulfiekins. I came up with that last one.
  • Oh, and he’s cute AF, but don’t tell him I said that.

So everyone welcome him back to the kinky family. He was missed greatly. ā™„

If not “brat,” then what?

As I expected, once the Shadow Lane party was over and the situational camaraderie dissipated, FetLife returned once more to its usual state of arguments, accusations and pontifications. I haven’t been on much, mostly to “like” pictures or wish a kinky friend Happy Birthday. But last week, I admit I got caught up a bit with one person’s essay on yet another subject that’s been done to death: Brats, and how much domly doms hate them.

This guy really let it fly, with a long, scroll-down post, basically taking all bottoms who aren’t purely submissive and painting them with the same broad brush — they’re obnoxious, they’re destructive, they’re nasty, they’re demanding and manipulative, they care only about themselves, etc., etc., blah blah blah. Oh, and how put upon the poor tops are, having to tolerate their behavior.

“Dominant” is not spelled “D O O R M A T,” he exclaimed.

No, it isn’t. In your case, pal, it’s spelled A S S H O L E.

Look, I know about the kind of brats he’s talking about. Yes, they can be annoying, destructive, manipulative. I have news for this guy, though. These particular bottoms aren’t brats. They are narcissists. Some of them are borderline psychotic. And yes, they are to be avoided. But to paint all playful, provocative, spirited and clever bottoms into the same corner with the nut cases is egregiously unfair.

I confess, I couldn’t resist adding my own comment. (The posting has received 140 comments so far, spanning the spectrum from “Hear hear!” to “Screw you.” This was my contribution:

Not all brats are destructive, willful monsters. And not all tops hate bottoms with a bit of spirit.

But it’s OK. We get it. Some Doms don’t want to have to make the effort to engage in a battle of wits with a clever provocateur. Some Doms don’t want to hear any words other than “yes, sir.” And the only time an Uber-Dom wants to see a sub’s tongue sticking out is when she’s about to suck his dick.

Don’t like brats? By all means, avoid them. But there’s no need to malign them so thoroughly.

(snicker) I waited with bated breath for the fallout on that one. But it didn’t come, amazingly. One person commented “Well said,” and another called me a “fabulous wordsmith.”

This post, however, is not about good brats vs. bad brats and who hates them and who loves them. This is about the term itself: Brat. The very word conjures up negative images. Spoiled kids, whining and stamping their feet. Defiance, childishness, acting out, tantrums, generally unpleasant behavior.

But what if a bottom doesn’t fit into the quiet, acquiescent, submissive mode that this Uber-Dom prefers? Is she (I’m using the feminine pronoun here for simplicity, but this can include male bottoms too) doomed to accept the opposite moniker of brat? What if she just likes to tease a bit, play, challenge? What if she is clever and funny, rather than obnoxious?

Yeah, I hear you. Labels suck. But they exist, and they’re here to stay, like it or not. So my issue is, people like me need a different name, a different category. Because being lumped in with the brats doesn’t work, and it’s automatically assumed (by some), if we call ourselves “brats,” that we’re going to be “snotty little shits” (one of the many colorful descriptions the post writer used).

Granted, I’ve done and said some pretty awful, bratty things on video. But anyone with common sense knows that the situations in videos and stories are exaggerated to make the bottom deserving of the punishment, and so the viewers/readers will root for the top. However, in my real-life play, I challenge, but I don’t insult. And I won’t be playful with a top unless I sense that he enjoys it.

Here’s a random example of my “bratting.” Years ago at a party, my friend Andy wanted to cane me in one of the suite parties, but he’d left his canes in his room. So he borrowed one from a gentleman named Ben, who had cheerfully offered it up. After our scene (which drew a crowd; this was back in the days when people actually gathered round and watched party scenes), Andy handed me the cane, pointed to Ben across the room and said, “Go bring this back to the nice man, and say ‘thank you, Ben.'” Slowly, I ambled across the room, several pairs of eyes upon me, and when I reached Ben, who was grinning in anticipation, I said, loudly and clearly: “Up yours, Ben.”

Yes, that’s my bratting style. Hardly fits into that nasty picture painted by the brat hater. Bratting is also a matter of degrees. I’ve been known to toss implements across the room. Hardly submissive, I know. But it’s not like I tossed them out the window, into the Dumpster, or into the fireplace. I’m playful. I’m not destructive.

So here’s my question: Can we come up with a term that describes the brats whoĀ aren’t really brats? The bottoms who fall between the polarities of must-to-avoid, disrespectful little twits and fully compliant submissives? I like the termĀ “provocateur,” myself. Even the word itself is clever. However, I know it’s a bit of a mouthful, and for simplicity’s sake, I’d rather come up with something shorter. But what? A synonym for provocateur is “challenger,” but that too is awkward.

I’m serious, kids! Language is always in flux, and kink terminology is too. There are always new terms being introduced. Let’s come up with a term for “clever, non-destructive, non-manipulative, respectful and sensible brats.” You know, the ones that make a top want to spank them, not wring their neck.

Thoughts? Put your creative caps on and let me know.

In other news, life goes on. My computer is finally fixed, but my landline is on the fritz again, after being fixed not two weeks ago. John’s ongoing issues at work are worrisome, but my own work is keeping me busy, which is good. No news with my stepmother; I had emailed her asking if she needed anything, but she didn’t reply. And I have another birthday coming up, with all the usual ambivalent feelings. Meh. First world problems. I am stuck here all day waiting for AT&T, so I guess I should get back to work. I will be seeing Steve tomorrow, and he plans to take me out for a birthday lunch. šŸ™‚ There should be a spanking or two in the plans as well.

Because I sure as hell need one. Or two.

Social media, spankos, and me

It’s not secret that I’m a bit of a social media addict. I currently have nearly 15,000 tweets on Twitter (I’m not proud of this, BTW). I enjoy Twitter; it’s a fun way to stay connected with everything that’s going on, and I’ve made some interesting friends on there. I stay out of the flame wars and enjoy the hashtag games. But of course, it’s limited. You can’t exactly be profound in 140 characters. And oftentimes, as I’ve said before, it feels like the 21st-century techno version of talking to yourself.

Then there’s Facebook. Vanilla land, although there are many spankos on there. I straddle two fences there. I use Erica Scott, as I do pretty much everywhere. But because I have many vanilla friends on there, or spanko friends under their vanilla names, I avoid spanking talk and photos. Oh, there’s hinting and playing at it. But I’m discreet. What do I like about FB? I love to play Scrabble and Words With Friends. I like looking at my friends’ pictures. I’m a sucker for all the cute animal videos. I like keeping up with the authors of spanking e-books, as I copy-edit several of them. But I can only hang around there so often. The political and religious stuff is hot and heavy there and I find myself getting angry. I realize that underneath my anger is a lot of fear over what the hell is happening to us and what’s going to happen, but I can’t fix that and immersing myself in it is not good for me and my depressive tendencies.

Aaaaand then there’s FetLife. From which I’m still deactivated, and have been for about a month now. It feels a little strange, like there’s a hole in my online life. But I feel like in many ways, going there was like beating a dead horse. It simply wasn’t what it used to be: a fun place to connect with all my kinky friends, talk about spanking, share thoughts and fantasies and memories, make new friends. FetLife currently has millions of members; I was member number 16,919. So we go way back.

There’s a lot I don’t miss on FetLife. For example:

  1. “[Our party] is the best/most well attended/most inclusive party and has the most cool kids and spanking models!” “No, [party B] is!” “No, [party C] is!” “[Your party] sucks!” “No, yours does!” “No, yours!” “You suck!” “No, you do!”
  2. Dick pics, twat shots and wide-open back door pictures where you can practically count the feet of intestines.
  3. Endless pontificating from the handful of “experts” who could post the Gettysburg Address and have it land on Kinky and Popular.
  4. Stuff like “[A well-known top] is awesome, and if you don’t like him, then fuck you!” Worship of false idols.
  5. The never-ending barrage of accusations — an almost daily report of whose consent got violated. There was an epic flame war over a woman who claimed her consent was violated at a private spanking party. Why? Because the host jokingly referred to her as “naughty.” I kid you not. This one did this, this one said that… and the result is when someone really is raped/violated, it’s not taken seriously.
  6. Inappropriate comments and insults on women’sĀ pictures. I say “women” because I honestly haven’t seen them on men’s photos, but I’m sure those exist too. Treating the spanking models like they’re sexy life-sized dolls there for your entertainment, rather than like the real people they are.
  7. “Which celebrity would you like to spank/be spanked by?” “What’s your favorite implement/position/word for bottom?” “Is spanking sexual?” being brought up and discussed for the 11,527th time in a new thread.
  8. Flaming, bullying and sock puppetry. So many fakes that one never really knows who and what is real.

Oh, but… I do miss things too. Such as:

  1. The way the community couldĀ band together when someone is in need. A couple of years ago, a beloved long-time member of the scene had a massive heart attack and nearly died. He was incapacitated and couldn’t pay a lot of his immediate bills. A GoFundMe (or something similar, I can’t recall for sure) was organized for him, with a goal of $10,000. That was surpassed in just two days. I think they ended up with about $17,000 for him. Another member had serious complications with a high-risk pregnancy and ended up giving birth prematurely — she too nearly died. A collection was taken up for her as well.
  2. Fun, silly, playful stuff, friends enjoying each other. One of my favorites: when our friend Piper was “grounded” from FetLife and a bunch of us were pleading with her top to “free” her and let her come back. Some of us evenĀ taped little videos of our pleas, including yours truly. I actually sang.
  3. Post-party discussions about our favorite memories.
  4. My wall filled with greetings on my birthday.
  5. Unexpected messages/comments that brightened my day.
  6. Connecting with my friends and feeling “a part of.” Right now, I feel disconnected and sad. I feel unmissed and insignificant. But then again, they are probably feeling like I abandoned them. I read a depressing meme on Facebook recently: Something along the lines of “If your disappearance didn’t affect your friends’ lives, then your existence probably didn’t either.” Ugh. Not what I needed to see.

So where does one go to connect online with other kinksters? Is that a place that simply doesn’t exist anymore? Is it all about photos and hookups and parties and little else? Part of me wants to go back to FetLife; another part says, “Why?” I know I don’t want to just yet, not when the national party season is in full swing. I’m not going to any of them and I don’t need to read about them.

It’s all part of the “where do I go from here” thing I’ve been dealing with. I had a sense of belonging for a very long time, something I spent most of my life without. Now, I am questioning where I belong. With John, of course. With Steve. In video archives. But where else? That’s a rhetorical question — I’m not expecting any answers. The spanking community is and has been important to me for a long time, and I want to continue to be a part of it, to contribute to it. I’m just not sure how.

Anyway. Enough of this meandering. I have to go get a pedicure. Tomorrow, I’m going with John to his high school’s 40-year reunion and he wants to show off his “hot girlfriend.” (Looking at my sloppy self at the moment and thinking “WTF??”). I don’t think he needs me there, really. He has a good job, a good career, two residences, and will probably be the only guy there who is still fit and trim and has hair. But what the hell… it’s just a couple of hours. I won’t know anyone there, but I’ll smile and nod and fake my way through it. Like I did for years and years at his family events, of which we have been relieved, thank you very much. And I’ll get to go home with the best guy there. ā™„

Have a great weekend, y’all.

Back, sort of

So, yeah. Two and a half weeks ago, I went dark. Life’s stresses had piled up and knocked me out of balance, and the final straw was when Steve went for a job interview in Santa Barbara, a hundred miles away. In my fragile mind state, I instantly projected that he was going to take the job (because the man has to work), move away, and that would be the end of our times together. I went deep into my inner bomb shelter and stayed there, only surfacing to function as needed. Because no matter how bad I feel, I still function.

I stopped blogging, and I temporarily deactivated my FetLife profile. I couldn’t stand all the BS there, all the bickering and back-biting, the comparisons of parties, the consent police, the pontificating of the know-it-alls, the insensitivity and unkindness, the misguided worship. I worked. I tweeted some, but not much. I didn’t tell Steve what I was thinking/feeling. The only person I talked to was John, because he wouldn’t let me withdraw from him. He was very sweet, sending me little email messages every day, trying to cheer me up. He was the only one who could make me laugh.

The longer I stayed withdrawn, the more I was convinced that it didn’t matter. People’s lives went on and I was a blip on the radar. In the overall scheme of things, we are all microscopic bits, destined for oblivion and being forgotten. Such is the insidious nature of depression… it fills one’s head with the worst of lies, the cruelest beliefs.

A week ago Tuesday, Steve came over, and we talked about his finding work. He told me he didn’t want to move away, and that somehow, he would find something in the Los Angeles area, even if he had to take a job at Costco. That I was not going to lose him. That I could be sad and depressed and scared about anything else, but this was one thing I did not have to fret over. We’re going on four years, and he’s not going anywhere.

We didn’t play. All I did was cry while he held me.

Another week passed. I functioned.

Then last Tuesday, Steve was here again. We talked for a long time, and then decided to play. It had been three weeks, and I’ve had this ongoing sciatica business, so I was a little concerned. But once we got into it, I felt myself start to shift, to get into it. To feel. He lectured me while he spanked. “Do you know that you have people who love you?” I wanted to say “no,” but 1. I knew that wasn’t true, and 2. I knew he’d spank a whole lot harder if I did. “Yes, you do, and don’t forget it.” My thighs got a little attention too.

I thought I might cry. But no tears came.

We moved into the bedroom and he collected some implements. What followed took me to the very edge of my limits. He deliberately hit the same spots over and over until I thought I’d go through the ceiling. By the end, I was writhing, struggling to stay still, pleading, “Steve, please. Please. Please.”

But I still didn’t cry.

He took some pictures, and then got me some ice packs, which felt wonderful. But I still hadn’t achieved that emotional release. Perhaps I was simply cried out, after the past couple of weeks.

After a while of coming down, Steve asked, “Do you need your toy?” Translation: do I need to get off with my vibrator. At first, I thought no. My libido hibernates during depression. But then I thought, eh, why not. Couldn’t hurt, right? Besides, he likes to watch me do it.

I guess I needed it more than I knew, because the first orgasm happened very quickly. But then I kept going. Steve, watching me, said, “You have another one in you, don’t you.” He can tell, just by looking at me, by reading my body.

Then it happened. The second wave rose, but along with it, I felt a tidal wave of grief. The two sensations crested, peaked and intertwined until I couldn’t tell one from the other. I snatched a nearby pillow, shoved it over my face, and screamed. And as the waves kept crashing, I bawled. I hollered. Tears poured. I guess I wasn’t cried out after all.

Somewhere in the emotional haze, I could hear Steve. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Let it all out, give it to me. I’m here. I’ve got you.” I clung to him like a life raft in churning water next to a sinking ship, my eyes shut, my mouth open. I cried, and cried, and cried. And it wasn’t pretty or sexy. It was red-faced and noisy and drippy and mascara-smeared.

It went on and on. Every time I’d start to wind down, he’d say something like, “Do you know I care for you? Do you know that I want to protect you?” and I’d start up again.

He kept saying “Thank you” to me. I was too far gone to ask, “What for? I didn’t do anything.” He was the one who needed thanking, for being here, for providing a safe haven for my anguished release. But I knew what he meant. He was thanking me for my trust in him. For giving him my deepest vulnerability. Only two people in my life can see me come apart to this degree: Steve and John.

Later, after I’d finally calmed: “How are you feeling?” “Drained,” I replied. I was so tired. My eyes were swollen and scratchy. But I felt cleaner, clearer. I knew I was on my way out of this latest visit to the abyss.

Anyway. It’s Friday. The problems and worries haven’t gone away. I’m still feeling kind of sad and tired. But that awful blackness has receded.

I’m on the fence about reactivating to FetLife. It’s kind of nice taking a break from it. Steve gave me the password to his account, so I logged in under his name to see what was going on. Same old, same old. I did notice that dear, sweet Joe had posted a status about how he missed me and wished I’d come back. He’d also texted me after I disappeared, which did my heart good. At least someone noticed, I thought. I looked to see if anyone had commented to his status… yeah. Two people. (sigh) So no, I’m in no hurry to return.

But of course, despite theĀ emotional excess, there must be pictures. You’ve slogged through all this touchy-feely stuff, so here’s the fun part. I’m posting this one so you can see my most excellent socks (and Steve’s feet):

DCIM100GOPROGOPR9978.

 

And here I am with ice packs “strapped on” by my underwear:

DCIM100GOPROGOPR9992.

 

Again, for all those who commented and dropped me private messages, thank you. I appreciated it, even though I was non-reactive.

Have a great weekend, y’all.

This made me giggle

So I thought I’d share it with all of you for your ownĀ Friday giggle.

You all know by now that I have an ongoing love-hate relationship with FetLife. I have backed off from the site a great deal in recent times, not reading or posting as much as I used to. But I still check it out, because I know there are good things to be found there if I keep my eyes open.

The other day, I was taking a work break and perusing the FetLife feed, in hopes that among the dick pics and twat shots, the endless accusations of consent violation, the arguing and sniping, and the same topics being discussed over and over and over, I might find a fun nugget or two. Then I noticed that friends were loving a piece of writing called “Why I Am A Bad Sub.”

I groaned inwardly at the title. My first thought was that if I clicked on it, I’d see a long and rambling tale of woe and remorse (and most likely total fiction) about how a submissive had egregiously failed her Master/Daddy and how she needed to be punished, followed by a string of comments making suggestions on how to carry out said punishment. Ā But since so many people seemed to be loving it, I was curious. So I opened the page.

There was the title, “Why I Am A Bad Sub.” Followed by:

“Because fuck you, that’s why. #sorrynotsorry”

I couldn’t help it; I laughed and laughed and laughed. It was so unexpected. I don’t know who this woman is, but I like her. She reminds me of someone, but I can’t quite come up with who it is. šŸ˜€

Apparently others liked it too; she got 746 loves on it.

That’s all. Just stopping by to pass that on. Have a great weekend, y’all.

According to Erica: How to enter the scene and find play partners

Back in November when we did Love Our Lurkers Day, one of my de-lurkers asked, “How do you get into the scene and find a top?” I replied that I would delve into that in a separate post in the future. Then December came with all its holiday distractions and health issues and so forth, and writing went to the back burner. Now, since I didn’t end up seeing Steve this week after all (hopefully next week), and I’ve finished my work early, I thought I’d finally tackle this topic. (Grab a beverage. This is looooong.)

Please keep in mind — this is all subject to individual opinions and experiences. I am posting only according to my own. Yours may vary.

First, getting into the spanking scene. Lucky you, you’re living in the Internet age; literally everything out there is at your fingertips, waiting to be discovered and perused. Now you just have to do the search and put yourself out there. Sure, easy, right? (insert sarcastic face here)

Social media is very helpful. As much as it is loaded with minefields and can have a bit of a bad rep sometimes, for newbies I would suggest joining FetLife, which is like Facebook for kinky folks. Yes, it can be overwhelming — there are millions of members, and myriad kinks, some that will no doubt scare the bejesus out of you. And yes, there are some pictures that may give you nightmares for the rest of your natural life. But if you keep your focus on spanking, that will weed out a lot of what’s not needed.

Because you cannot search FetLife without joining, create a name and a profile. Fill out the profile; it doesn’t have to be epic, just an intro to who you are and what you’re seeking, your likes, dislikes, whatever. I also recommend putting up photos. They don’t have to be of your face, or even of you. However, if you put up a picture of a spanking scene you like, be sure, whenever possible, to credit where it came from, who it is, etc. If you don’t know, then put something in your caption like “Source unknown: anyone know?” Nothing pisses people off more quickly on FL than posting other people’s photos without proper credit.

After that, you can start looking around the site, finding friends, joining groups, etc. The search function can help you narrow things down. For example, when I plugged in “Spanking Los Angeles,” I got this:

fetlife

I know this is tiny, sorry. But it says that there are 10 groups and 28 events, as well as listing members who have both spanking and Los Angeles in their profile. You can start there, looking up events, munches, etc. in your area. Of course, if you live in a well-populated large city, you’ll have more choices than if you live in the middle of nowhere. But people do often travel to meet friends and go to functions, so there is hope.

Back in the days of AOL dominance, there were chat rooms and groups and bulletin boards where people could post. Those went by the wayside a long time ago, unless there are some holdouts I don’t know about. Even the written blog is giving way to the Tumblr photo blogs. But still, there are ways to connect. You have to start somewhere, so FetLife is my best guess. If others have suggestions, please feel free to add them in your comments.

Once you’re there, read away. Check out the groups. Send friend requests and notes of intro to people you like. Be as open and friendly as you can be, while still maintaining your safety and privacy. Don’t give out personal information too quickly (your full name, email address, phone number, etc.). Women especially — befriend other women, so you can bounce things off them, have them to give you possible references, etc. I know we’ve all heard about the Mean Girls on these sites, and they do exist. But I’ll like to think that for the most part, we look out for one another.

It takes a leap of courage to take things offline and to physically attend a munch or a gathering. I would suggest, if they are available to you, go to munches first, which don’t involve play, just socializing in a restaurant or other public place, so there’s no pressure. When you’re new, listen a lot. Gather as much information from as many sources as you can. Be a sponge. There is much to learn. If you go to a munch and don’t care for it, try a different one. Pick out someone who appeals to you and ask them if they know other places to recommend. It’s all about connection and networking. The Internet does make it a lot easier, but also a great dealĀ more complex. Be as patient as you can. If you’re seeking spanking and you end up at a munch that is more BDSM oriented, don’t fret. If you mention what you’re into, there are bound to be some people who know something or another about where you can home in on a group more specific to your desires. As I’ve mentioned before, when I was new, I went to a lot of BDSM functions and parties before finding the spanking parties.

OK, so you’ve waded in, looked around, perhaps make a few friends/connections. Now, how do you find a top? The first word that comes to mind is carefully. Very, very carefully. (For the sake of simplicity, I’m going to phrase the following as woman seeks man. Please swap out the pronouns in your mind as you read if it helps.)

Best case scenario: You go to a local munch, meet Mr. Wonderful, chat him up, meet one on one for coffee, and things click. Or you make some new friends who introduce you to Mr. Wonderful, vetting him in the process (although you still should do your own vetting). Hey, a woman can dream, and some people are lucky that way. But if not, then once again, you have to put yourself out there and take some leaps of faith. Carefully.

There used to be a lot more sites where people could put up a personal spanking ad, but now, they seem to have dwindled. There is a site called Spanking Personal Ads, which I can’t personally vouch for, but it looks to be pretty thorough and easy to navigate. When you write a profile for an ad site, be as specific as you need to be. State very clearly what you’re seeking… and what you’re not. Hate to say it, but on these sites, you’ll be more successful if you post a picture of yourself. Again, it doesn’t have to be your face, or you can pixelate/blur your face. But a potential playmate is going to want to know what you look like. Or, at the very least, write “photo available upon request” in your profile.

Females tend to be inundated as soon as they join one of these sites. Pick through the correspondence carefully — be prepared that some of it will be icky. But there may be gems as well.

Another potential site is good old Alt.com. Granted, I’ve posted more than my share of insults of that site over the years. Because it encompasses a lot of hard-core kink, you’ll see a whole lot more than spanking in there. You’ll see more dicks than a urologist. And I’d say 80% of my Correspondence Hall of Shame entries came from there. BUT. Again, patience. There are good people in there, too, and it doesn’t hurt to post a profile. Don’t pay for a membership; you can have a free one. Granted, it’s limited — you can’t contact people directly; you can only respond if they contact you. But it’s still worth a try. After all, I met Steve on Alt.com. I also met ST before him on Alt, and despite the way things ended between us, ST was a wonderful top.

When you start corresponding with men on these sites, I can’t emphasize this enough: Listen to your gut instincts. If someone is too pushy, tries to get you on the phone or to meet in person too quickly, if they are rude or crude, or if they simply give you an off vibe and you have no idea why, pay attention to that. Don’t try to talk yourself into something that doesn’t feel right, because you think you should, or because they try to coerce you. Newbies often fall into this trap — I did. Fortunately, I was never seriously hurt or abused, but I had my share of bad scenes and experiences, ones that could have been avoided. Always trust your gut.

If the man is local and wants to meet, I recommend doing so in a public place first. Some people meet for a meal, but I prefer coffee, so that food isn’t a distraction and I can concentrate on the person. Anyone who gives you resistance about meeting in public first? NEXT!

You may have a lot of these coffee dates. One of the reasons I had many in my earlier days was not just for safety’s sake, but I wanted to see if there was in-person chemistry before I committed to anything. No matter how great someone seems online, you really don’t know what they’re like until you see them up close and personal. Sometimes what works online falls flat in person. If this is the case, be kind, but let them know (gently) that you don’t think you’re a match. I never commit to playing with anyone (even at a party) until I’ve met them first. (Yes, I learned this from mistakes I’ve made.)

But say you click. Say the in-person chemistry is even better than online. You want to play with this guy, and the feeling is mutual. This is where you take the leap of faith, where you take the risk. Where you really, really have to listen to your instincts. Because you are about to make yourself vulnerable.

I don’t have to tell you about the bad things that can happen; you’ve heard them all. They’ve happened to people I know. It breaks my heart and makes me furious every time I hear bad stories, because I know they cause damage and reluctance and suspicion, and end up hurting the good players out there. I cannot blame women who have had bad experiences for giving up; it’s terrifying. And some may argue, with validity, that some fun spanking play isn’t worth risking your life for. But… damn. There’s so much good stuff, so many joyous experiences to be had, so many truly wonderful people to know. Please, please, if possible, don’t let the bad turn you away from the good.

Common sense is key. Don’t invite someone into your home, or go to their home, without a good solid feeling that they are trustworthy. (Do as I say, not as I do, with this one. Yup, I’ve had a couple of men come over in the past when I hadn’t met them publicly first. I was lucky that the experiences were awesome and hot. But it was still stupid of me.) Some women like to set up what’s known as a “safe call” — they let a friend know what they’re doing, and either the friend calls to check on them, or they agree to call the friend to let them know that they’re OK (and if the friend doesn’t hear from them, they call 911). I personally have never done this, but it adds an extra layer of safety.

Remember — you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Even if you’ve gone through the vetting and the talking and the planning and the stating of limits and he’s finally with you, you can get a bad vibe at the last minute. Don’t hesitate to call things off if you do. I have. Had a guy come over once — we’d emailed, exchanged photos, met for coffee, clicked. But when he arrived and we started to play, he immediately pulled my cheeks apart and made a crass comment about my winking eye. I ended the scene right then and there and told him goodbye.

If the guy does nothing wrong, but the scene just doesn’t do it for you, then honor that. It’s not fun for either of you if it’s not working. Please don’t be discouraged if you have some dud meetings, or dud scenes. They happen. Move on to the next possibility and keep your eyes, mind and heart open. Through experimentation, you will learn how to balance healthy precaution with trust.

All this may sound like a lot of work, with no guarantee for return. But speaking for myself, after nearly 20 years, I’d say it’s all worth it. The joys and pleasures of finding good play partners far outweigh the inconveniences of weeding through the masses to find them. And having friends, a social circle of people who get you, get your kink, is priceless.

I could go on and on, and I’ve probably forgotten half of what I wanted to say. But for now, I’d say this is enough. Again, please feel free to ask more questions, or add your own input to this.

Oh, and on a personal note that has nothing to do with any of this: In the Spanking Blogg’s Lifetime Achievement Award for Spankees, I won third place. First place is the amazing Amber Pixie Wells, and 2nd place is Leia-Ann Woods. I’ve met both and they are lovely. Congratulations, and thank you to everyone who voted forĀ me. I really am honored by this, considering that I got such a late start. I mean, I got into the scene and started doing videos and so forth at an age where many are retiring already. What a ride it’s been. It’s nice to feel appreciated. šŸ™‚

Have a great weekend, y’all.

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: