Author's Note: All website and profile names are fictitious.
*****
I composed my Vault profile: 'For most of my adult life I was a dom. To the outside world I am well educated, travelled, independent self employed businessman, clean and healthy, reliable and sociable, not bad looking and generally attractive to women around my own age. On the inside, I am in need of some Vault attention. I am attracted to lively, bright women, I like slim and athletic and voluptuous too'. I indicated my sexual 'activities enjoyed' as blindfolds; bondage; domination; master/slave; oral sex and sadomasochism, and that I could switch. A photo of me taken in Milan a couple of years earlier was attached. My profile name for this site was 'Trojan'.
The Vault is there mostly for bondage and sado-masochism but includes all sorts of other fetishes too. Amongst the profiles were monikers of clear intent such as Sluttybitch, SlaveCherie and Lickmycunt.
There is a section for fantasies to be posted and discussed which seemed to have no limits on violence and degradation at all. But some individuals purport a need to enact them. For example this classy fifty two year old buxom woman's profile had her status as: 'Any one for fun and kay *ine, real players?'
And then describes what she wants as; 'Yo, me new. Got my fantacies, not to chat but to fullfill. So lets play! I am very female, and very much a pet lover, plus I like pain too. Lol xx'
She added that her ideal person was: 'Men and their mans best friend'.
I don't think anyone chatting or even seriously pet friendly cared about her spelling mistakes, or her evident IQ, her message was clear and no doubt elicited responses.
I had no idea what the ratio of men to women were. Many of the most attractive and genuine profiles pleaded with male suitors to be patient as they were inundated with messages. And one lady sympathetically acknowledged there were fifty men for every woman on the site, and requested we put some effort into our opening email to catch her interest. I put a lot of effort into that one and received a lame, thanks but no thanks reply over a week later.
My profile did not generate any welcome attention, what unsolicited mail that did arrive in my inbox was from either prostitutes or scammers of various sorts. A lot of messages went through my outbox though and only occasionally I got a polite 'no thanks and good luck with your search'. Even rarer sometimes I would engage in exchanging a few messages and then she would just drop me.
The lack of recent logging on by many of the female profiles suggested that these memberships were short lived. I imagined some bored, half inebriated trollop would enrol for free one night and never or rarely return. Another group were purely into an ego boost from all the male attention, as Carol from The Affair had admitted she enjoyed reading all the mails from males. I reckon half the female profiles had no intention of actually meeting anyone and maybe half the rest were fakes, whores and internet trolls. My logic suggested the arithmetic for finding a genuine woman was appalling. If only a quarter of up to date female profiles were honestly interested in finding a partner, that meant there were two hundred frustrated men for every one of them. That pretty much explained why my carefully crafted approach mails were emphatically unsuccessful. Of course I had self-doubts too, perhaps I was aiming too high, and I predominantly targeted profiles with photos which increased the competitive environment.
There are so many dodgy people on The Vault, the administrators are constantly deleting profiles for abuse. If I review the list of 'women' who have 'Spotlighted' me, it is rare to find a single a genuine account with the other few dozen all deleted for abuse. However I was able to meet a handful of women, some of which led to one off hook-ups. In terms of disappointment the worst experience of all my online based dates was a Vault female called Pammy.
She looked beautiful in an array of professionally produced photographs of her and a young stud. She was tall, slim, busty, blonde, pretty, and into BDSM. After two messages we emailed directly and then swapped mobile phone numbers. When I called her she spoke very slowly and deliberately, with a slight tremble to her voice. It was as if she had recovered from a stroke.
We agreed to meet, and in the final telephone call to confirm the arrangements she mentioned she had been ill with cancer, and there was some scarring. I have sympathy with cancer victims and would never drop anyone just for disclosing such a trauma in their life, I would go ahead and meet her.
I booked a hotel in her area of North London. The room wasn't ready and the service at the front desk and the lobby bar where I waited patiently was negligible. When Pammy arrived she tottered into the bar on enormous high heels supporting shapely calves in white fishnet tights. She had a mass of blonde hair, bright showy makeup, wore stylish glasses, with quite thick lenses though. When she took her fur coat off she had on an expensive white dress and an exceptionally good, curvy figure. She also looked at least twenty years older than her Vault photographs.
I bought her a drink as we waited for the non-service of the east European hotel staff to produce our room. She asked in her halting shaky way if I thought she was attractive, and did I want to be with her. I said yes I did, and she added that she had 'Some stretch marks too.'
Eventually the migrant workers behind the desk sorted out my reservation and we had the key. We took a bottle of white wine with us.
Actually the room was fine, and as we shared the wine we chatted about her husband, (why?) her four kids, her bad back, her breast cancer...
We sat on the bed, she took her glasses off and we kissed. Close up I could see how thick the makeup really was, and her green eyes didn't seem to focus, the poor thing seemed half blind.
Poor thing, well she undressed telling me as she slipped her dress off that the scarring was her mastectomy. Did I want her to keep her bra on or off, 'Most men don't seem to mind,' she added helpfully.
I said it was okay to take it off.
Facing me on the bed, she reached around behind her to unhook the black lace bra, and then lowered the shoulder straps and then the cups. Her right breast was large, full and not particularly saggy, it was fine for her age. Where the left breast should have been was some hideous looking scarring. I had seen the results of mastectomy before, but always after reconstructed surgery, but this was a shock. She looked forlorn, I felt so sorry for her. So her tights and panties came down.
Then a mass of stretch marked lose belly skin flopped out.
I wasn't callous enough to just walk out on someone, plus OG was reminding me that I hadn't had sex in weeks, and in any case she was still pretty enough. So I stripped, and we lay on the bed kissing, after a few minutes caressing her single shapely breast, I moved her to lie down on her back. Impressively the lone breast didn't particularly drop towards her armpit, it looked and felt a hundred present natural. I then moved my hand down her waist and hips - I didn't want to touch that tummy, and just as I touched between her legs she did a sharp intake of breath. I massaged near her clitoris very lightly as a teaser to get her aroused, and about three minutes of heavy breathing later she shuddered.
'Did you just cum?' I asked, and she had.
She must have orgasmed a dozen times with me during the hour of sex, and she admitted she could cum thirty, forty or more times in a day easily.
We had condommed vanilla sex, no BDSM, she lay on her back the whole time, her bad back prevented her being more active.
When she got up for the bathroom she did that straight back careful walk all back sufferers know, and watching her walk I saw a little pyramid of flesh poking out near her armpit, the vestige of what had once been another magnificent breast. She didn't walk well even barefoot and tottered to and from the bathroom.
She reminded me of a television comedy show character, an east European with too much cheap plastic surgery and a botox frozen face, explaining weakly that the mysterious drops of fluid were 'Just a little seepage.'
I did feel sorry for Pammy and although my orgasm was good and facial with a thick string of cum draped across the long fake eyelashes above one of her unblinking half blind green eyes, I had not really enjoyed her.
Then she said normally she would charge £100 but I could have this one free, but could I pay her taxi fares. It was a bit of a shock that she turned out to be a pseudo-prostitute. Thank god for the precautionary condoms, I thought.
To be honest I would not fuck her again if she paid me £100, and any empathy I had earlier dissipated rapidly, her taxi cost me £15, the train fare into London, wine, and hotel room cost me £120, compounded when the hotel double charged for the room. It was more expensive in my time, having taken a day off work.
A lesson learned: make sure the photos are recent.
Years later Pammy is still on The Vault with the same youthful photos, and no doubt still looking for tricks.
A couple of months passed uneventfully after my date with Pammy and as my subscription was up for renewal I was going to leave The Vault forever. But my luck was about to change.
Almost in a final sweep through new matches before my subscription lapsed I scrolled briefly through those with no photo. One caught my eye.
CuteLittlePixie 37F new sub seeking Mentor, Hampshire.
She stated. 'Let's start a dialogue. I'm bored of stereotypes. I'm hungry and I have a vivid, intelligent mind. I'm looking for someone with wit and discretion. And a gentleman to take me further.'
I scrolled down to read her 'activities enjoyed.'
Anal Sex, Blindfolds; Bondage; Bukkake; Chains; Collar and Lead, Defilement, Dildos, Domination, Gags, Gangbangs; Hair Pulling; Handcuffs, Master/slave, Oral Sex, Paddles, Shackles, Submission, Spanking, Threesomes, Urolagnia, Vibrators, Whips.
Bukkake leapt out of the page, and bondage was there too.
