“I forgot I like to top,” I said a bit sheepishly after a recent date with someone I’ve hooked up with on and off. Until very recently, whenever we’d done anything kinky, I was on the bottom, but when he revealed his submissiveness, I felt like a light switch had gone off.

“You forgot?” he asked, a bit incredulous.

So maybe “forgot” is too strong of a word, but for me, I don’t have a single sexuality. Much of what I’m into is dependent on my partner, and if I’m with someone who’s naturally sadistic, it brings out my masochism and desire to please. I’ve been with my share of submissive guys and girls but only rarely does it work out as well as it did with my friend.

Planning our kinky date was also a good reminder to me that being a top can be challenging but also extremely rewarding. I wouldn’t say it comes naturally to me, but accessing the side of myself that enjoys seeing someone else squirm, beg and relish my control arouses me and gives me a confidence I don’t always have.

It’s more challenging, in some ways, than being a sub, in my experience. When I’m in a submissive role with a partner, my job is to do what they say. Get on my knees, be quiet, not wear panties? Done, done and done. But when I’m the one in charge of planning and figuring out what I want someone else to do for me, it’s tricky. First, I have to recognize that I’m never going to be the really mean domme who just enjoys tormenting someone for the hell of it. I like tormenting someone because—though they might cry out in pain—deep down I know they like it.

I would much rather praise someone for being good, for following my commands, then punish them for being bad. Maybe that’s ironic because when I’m the bottom, I like both being the bratty bad girl who doesn’t know how to listen and needs to be reprimanded and being told how good I am.

Once I had a guy tell me he wanted me to anally penetrate him with my fingers. We had somehow gone from him shoving my head into a pillow and spanking me to being on top, all in the course of an hour. “Don’t stop, even if I tell you to,” he said, totally serious.

Now, while I recognize that the very reason we have safewords is so that someone can, for example, say “Stop” or “No” when really they mean something else (and maybe “cantaloupe” is their safeword), but this guy genuinely wanted me to honor that request, to know him better than he knew himself. Considering the fact that we’d just hooked up for the first time that night, I couldn’t agree.

The best part of exploring my domme side with this new partner is hearing his fantasies and discovering some of mine. I’m fascinated that this is the first time I’m learning about his submissive side. When I asked him why he hadn’t told me earlier, he said he’d assumed I was purely a sub. I know, of course, that you can’t tell by looking at someone on the street what they’re like in bed, but perhaps you also can’t know what someone’s innermost desires are unless you ask.

We were engaging in some dirty talk, one of my absolute favorite things to do in bed (with my mouth—sorry, couldn’t resist!), and we were talking about having another girl join us. “And if she does something wrong, you can punish her,” he said.

“Would you like to watch that? Or would you like me to punish you?” I asked, not really sure what the answer would be. But that opening allowed us to start down this path that has led to a lot of new explorations.

For the first time in a long time, I bought sex toys that weren’t just for me to use myself. Walking around New York with a furry blindfold, collar and cock ring in my bag amidst assorted books and shoes and papers made me feel like I was on a mission. Sitting in a roomful of professional women listening to a lecture while sending dirty texts, including a photo that I feared might get me kicked out of the event, was thrilling.

When I headed over for our big date, I felt very purposeful. I had somewhat of a plan of what I wanted to happen, but I was also open to seeing what might unfold. It’s not always easy to tell which fantasies are meant to be played out in real life and which are best kept in the “It would be so hot if…” category.

I’m not going to share every detail of what happened, other than to say it was there were several firsts for both of us. I got off on the fact that he trusted me enough to allow me to physically restrain him, but even more I was honored that he’d shared all those kinky thoughts with me. In my opinion that’s one of the scariest leaps to make, even more than a lot of physical play, because once you tell someone you’re into whatever kink you have, there’s no way to un-tell them or say, “Just kidding.” You never know how they’ll react.

I wouldn’t want to play like that with someone if it were too one-sided, if they wanted me to do all the work because I was a domme, or disrespected me. I had bought the safeword-less guy a bottle of lube, and later, on the phone, asked him if he’d used it to masturbate. Not only hadn’t he done that, he didn’t know where it was and told me it had probably gotten thrown out. He didn’t even sound sorry!

Now, I’m disorganized and lose things all the time, but I was dismayed that he was so cavalier. He seems to want an insta-mistress who’s around for booty calls on demand, and maybe there are some girls who are into that, but I’m not.

With the guy I’m currently playing with, I appreciate that we’re engaging in an ongoing exchange that doesn’t only happen when we’re physically together. We are both thinking about what we want to try next. I’m carrying the collar for him in my bag in case we happen to cross paths. Maybe that’s what I like best about being (or rather, playing) a domme: the feeling that anything can happen.