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Erotica: The Recording Session

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Jamie sighed and rested her temple against her thumbs for a moment, glad the singer’s booth didn’t have a line of sight to the booth. Fucking singers, man. They all pranced in here thinking they could knock out a vocal track in under half an hour, surprised when their time stretched out closer to five hours. This one had been particularly frustrating, though they had just hit the two hour mark. She fully expected to need to put in several more today on this project, just working with this singer. She smirked slightly as she acknowledged the time, knowing her pay for the day would be quite sufficient to soothe the headache, not to mention the extra enjoyment she got from the consensual degradation they were quite literally paying her for.

She could almost do this in her sleep. Pressing the intercom button as she cringed to hear the out-of-tune pitches coming out of that girl’s mouth, she used her driest tone of voice, “I’m going to start this section over and we’re both going to pretend you never made those sounds.” She released the button momentarily for effect, then slowly levered a fingernail down on it again, “In fact, just do it twenty more times. Maybe then I’ll get some usable material.”

She smiled, queuing up the other tracks again for a few more runs, crossing her legs to enjoy the tingle she got from getting to be totally honest for a living. She made some corrections and helpful coaching suggestions between takes, since she couldn’t just give the degradation the whole time, even though her excellent reputation might be able to take the heat that might bring. After the seventh, she engaged the intercom again. “Well, look at that, you managed it in seven. Here I thought we’d need twenty. I’ve pulled the best and inserted it into the full audio file. Come on out and have a listen.” Jamie considered tossing a “good job” but after two hours and not even being through the second verse, figured it wouldn’t come off as sincere anyhow. Fair enough. It wouldn’t have been.

Barbie emerged from the booth. The name truly fit. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a body that would definitely be marketable from a producer’s standpoint. She could have dressed casually for a studio session, jeans or yoga pants, but she wore a tiny lightweight skirt that barely flared past the crease in her assumably pert derriere paired with a shirt cut low enough to emphasize her generous breasts. She also happened to be just about the sweetest client who’d ever come in for a session, with plenty of someone’s money to spend. Maybe Daddy, who knew? She had patiently put up with all of Jamie’s brusque prodding and blunt critiques, continuing to take notes and improve. She came out and took a seat on the couch for the listen-through. The pitches were all working finally, but Jamie knew the issue was something else. The song was definitely looking to sell sex, and it was a barely covered innuendo that fit the girl’s body and outfit, but didn’t seem to match her personality.

“May I ask a personal question?” Jamie inquired. At Barbie’s bubbly nod, she continued. “How are you feeling about this? I usually recommend clients produce pieces that fit their personalities, but I get the impression this one may not quite fit you. Are you sure this is the direction you’re wanting to go?”

Barbie scootched forward on the couch, exposing more of her bare legs, cocking her head slightly. “I’m not certain I understand what you mean,” she said.

Jamie felt a little uncomfortable having to explain, but pushed ahead anyhow. She opened with her characteristic straightfowardness. “This song is very sexual,” she said slowly and carefully, almost as if speaking to a child, somehow feeling as if she were explaining sex to someone who really ought to know what it is. “The energy I feel from you,” she continued, waving her hand vaguely in the air to elaborate, “is more of a bubbly, happy energy. This song lacks a major piece it needs to give it the punch you’re looking for. You need to tap into a whole different kind of energy if this is the kind of thing you’re looking to convey. It needs to drip sex, and every sound you make should be steeped in it. Breathing should sound like moans or pants, and your voice should have moments where it’s a little breathy from sexual excitement.”

Barbie’s bubbly expression shifted a bit to something Jamie couldn’t quite get a read on. Not anger, but, “So you’re saying I should be more sexual?” Barbie’s words interrupted Jamie’s attempts at reading her expression. Somehow, she’d slowed down her arm movement, seeming a bit lazier. The voice had dropped as well, sounding a little huskier.

Jamie laughed. “Well don’t waste it on me, if you’ve got it.” It sounded slightly dismissive, intentionally. “Take it to the booth and see if you can get it there.” She turned back to the sound board, making adjustments for the next take, when she caught a glimpse of Barbie in her peripherals. She was bending over next to the couch, straight legged, unbuckling her strappy sandals. It was suddenly obvious to Jamie that Barbie wasn’t wearing any panties, so she took a moment to enjoy the view of the now confirmed as pert derriere and what appeared to be a rather pinkened and aroused bare cunt. Barbie straightened slowly after slipping off her shoes, tossing her hair back and meeting Jamie’s eyes with a hint of challenge. Jamie didn’t even try to pretend she hadn’t been watching. Dismissive and degrading were clearly working for both of them.

Barbie walked back to the vocal booth, though to Jamie’s mind, walking wasn’t an entirely sufficient word to express the way she moved. It was almost a glide, but rolling hips and dragging toes somehow made breasts and ass more prominent and noticeable. She shut the door of the booth and positioned herself in front of the mic again. Jamie queued up the musical tracks and started another take, only to stop it before the first verse was done. She gleefully poked the intercom button with her middle finger. “If you’re going to do this without the slut shoes, I’m going to have to adjust your mic to the new height, otherwise the sound quality isn’t going to match. Either that, or you’re going to need to put them back on if you don’t want to sit on the stool.”

Barbie spoke her response into the microphone, requesting the adjustment. Jamie headed back and stepped into the booth with the singer, realizing the buxom blonde was an inch shorter than her without the heels. Barbie took a linger step backwards to allow Jamie space to step in to make the adjustments, brushing what Jamie suddenly realized were erect nipples casually across her arm with the movement. Jamie smirked to herself, knowing it was likely a calculated move. This session was beginning to get a lot more interesting. She made the adjustments to the equipment and stepped backwards to allow Barbie to move in and do a height check, nipples magically brushing her again. With everything lining up, Jamie headed back to the booth, hoping to utilize some of that sexual tension Barbie had started building to lay down a track they’d both be pleased with.

They took it from the top. “Look, you’re oozing sex at me now, and that’s awesome,” Jamie said bluntly into her board mic, “but I want you to channel all of that into this song. Whatever you need in your head to get it there is up to you, I’m just here to get the best performance out of you we can possibly get.”

Jamie had already hit record when Barbie responded in a breathy voice, dripping with sexual invitation as requested, “You can’t tell me you didn’t watch every second of my bare pussy when you had the chance. You can tell all those things you’ve said have me aroused.” Perfect. She’d clip that later for the unedited outro that only appeared on the album track.

Too bad the sing through was a starting point rather than the final sex-filled sound she wanted. She sighed. Clearly this one required a little more hand-on encouragement than she usually preferred. Poking the button again, she made sure to add a smidge of disdain. “Whatever you’re thinking clearly isn’t good enough. Apparently even throwing yourself at me like a common slut isn’t good enough. Now we’re going to try it my way.” She hit record on her way past, grabbed the stool and marched it back to the booth. She gestured dismissively to indicate Barbie move and placed the stool in front of the microphone.

“Sit, slut,” she commanded. Barbie’s eyes glowed almost luminously and she obediently complied. “Nipples,” Jamie said, gesturing vaguely. Barbie slid her hands up and pinched them, hard. Interesting, Jamie mused, since she wasn’t really giving much command. They were already erect, and the pinching was likely quite enjoyable to her, given her gasps and moans. “How slutty are you, really?” Jamie asked. “Do you want to show me?” Barbie moaned with full throat and pulled her shirt off, the nipples on beautiful breasts fully erect and straining. She looked up with a coy expression, fluttering eyelashes as she slid the hem of her skirt over her thighs to expose that bare cunt. She slowly spread her legs to reveal that it was even more flushed than before, swollen and dark pink, eager little clit just as erect as the nipples. Jamie could see the wetness glistening there, and a part of her longed to slide hands over the sensitive flesh. She stood watching dispassionately, though. Clearly the game was in the disinterest, and Jamie could play that game like a champ.

“Do you want to touch yourself?” she asked, sounding almost bored by the thought. Barbie breathed a yes. “Don’t you dare,” Jame snapped. She could visibly see Barbie’s cunt swell and tremble at the words. “I don’t want your filthy cunt juice on the equipment. Now let’s try it again. I’d hate to have to open the studio door and let the other execs see what a complete whore you are. Maybe if you’re good I’ll let you come afterwards.” She stalked back to the booth, leaving the vocal door open so she could see Barbie half-naked and spread on the stool.

The take was perfect. Jamie knew it would be. She didn’t tell Barbie via intercom, though. She walked back to the booth and asked what reward she wanted for being such a good girl. Turns out she got paid to sit on Barbie’s face and finger that beautiful sopping wet cunt. Ain’t showbiz grand?

Your Kink Is Not My Kink But That’s OK

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Ask any clustered group of kinksters what their rules are and you’ll get a variety of responses. Some may talk about what they restrict or their version of dungeon etiquette. One of our biggest places of disagreement lies in those details. However, there is one thing most everyone can agree on: as long as the parties involved are able to consent, kinksters should be free to do whatever “their thing” is without judgement. By able to consent, of course, that leaves three very important groups out of our kinking: anyone under the age of consent; anyone whose ability to give consent is impaired, such as by drugs, alcohol, or a disability which would impact that function; and animals, who cannot speak to give consent. Often, those who have been around a while may assume this understanding is a natural one for anyone coming into the kink community, but it is always important to clearly state these things rather than to assume others come equipped with the knowledge.

Start talking about things like SSC and the fights break out. Sure safe, sane, and consensual is a way to handle your kink business. Others will argue that half this stuff isn’t sane, so they follow RACK (risk aware consensual kink). I personally prefer RASH, an acronym a friend shared with me, which stands for risk aware, shit happens. Because it does. We’re still all pretty much on board with that consensual word.

So now that we’ve got a clear understanding of who cannot consent to our kinky fun, and that consent is key to all this, anything else goes, right? Well, sure, except I can’t tell you how often I see judgement from people coming into kink spaces. Maybe that judgement is towards a specific kink in a negative way – I see this sometimes with people dealing with littles and those who participate in ABDL. I believe that acronym stands for adult baby diaper lover, though this is not an area I specialize in, so my apologies if I have used incorrect terminology. Y’all get the gist, though. Those groups can often feel separated from the rest of the kink community because others have a preconceived notion of what that kink entails and have decided it’s “icky.” They aren’t the only ones who corner the market on receiving judgement. For a bunch of people who say we’re open-minded and accepting, kinksters can be among the judgiest of judgy bastards. Rainbow play (vomit), scat, feet, clowns, consensual non-consent (CNC), needles, a ball gag made of teeth, whatever it is, many people have something they may privately need to get a cookie when it happens at an event AND THAT’S 100% OKAY. I want to be very clear. No one should ever feel forced to watch or participate in anything that may upset, disturb, or trigger them. Again, to be clear, I use the word triggered as in a to trigger a PTSD response, not as in taking offense, though if something may be offensive, that is another good reason to step away from a scene and visit the kitchen for a cookie. Or a snack. Or go outside for a smoke. Or whatever someone needs to do to provide self care.

What isn’t okay is to stand around saying belittling things about others’ kinks, whether that’s while watching a scene in a dungeon or talking to someone on the internet. There should only be one question: is it consensual by all participants. If the answer is yes, don’t say anything if you don’t like it, just walk away. Don’t type out how abusive someone’s partner is for whatever was done in that photo on Fet. Keep that shit to yourself. You may have some kink others feel the same way about. Do you want to come to a community where you should be safe to do all those delightfully deviant things we all say we’re here for without overhearing someone say “Ew, gross” in the midst of it? I do.  I love the feeling of safety I have to be my authentic self within the kink community.  If hearing Judgy McJudgerson yuck your kinks sounds fun to you, in that case you can get that from Vanilla World™, or negotiate for someone to do that consensually. The rest of us prefer to kink in peace without a Karen telling the manager we should be removed for being icky.

PSA: This goes for polyamory, too. Stop judging others for how they set up their relationships. The only time it is your business is when you’ve been invited to be part of it, and then you have every right to choose not to engage with someone you don’t feel practices the style of poly which works for you.

Remember, people, we’re all fellow humans trying to walk paths which aren’t always well-traversed. Show grace and acceptance to others. Or, to sum up, don’t be a dick.

Here endith the lesson.

The Challenge Of Being A Pandemic Newcomer

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I think back on occasion to the challenges I encountered when I was first seeking my local kink community.  It was a different time then, and the books I’d read suggested searching for information wherever I was purchasing my kink implements.  Spoiler alert, that was a bust.  It took someone familiar with the local community, a Fetlife account and some determination much later to find my people.

I see some similarities in some of the people who have been searching for kink over the past year.  For a moment, really take a moment to image how challenging it would be to attempt to find local kinky people without munches, without events, with many of our local groups dormant and the only options as some sparse Zoom educational events, some swink events that never seemed to take a break or enact safety measures and won’t be in many folx’s risk profiles, and with the majority of kink social media divided sharply down a political line that didn’t seem to be drawn quite so determinedly some six months prior.  Even those who had a party or two under their belts were suddenly left to flounder, with no partners, no mentors, no education, and no options.  They had a hunger for their brief tastes of kink, and no options to feed that other than to take chances on dating sites and meeting strangers from Fet.

To be quite frank, that sucks. 

The others who came searching for us along the way have had an equally difficult time, though at least they only have a vague idea of what they’re missing.

My local community slipped sideways to Telegram, creating a virtual spiderweb of chats that are all run by kinky folx for kinky folx.  Of course, newcomers and veterans alike had to find it or be told it was there to go looking.  We aren’t going to advertise, for goodness sake.

As a project to keep my spirits up, I have tried to stay active in planning educational Zooms, participating in conversations which may have educational value, and writing here.  But for these newcomers, what does their path look like?  What should they do to engage their local communities as they begin to sputter back to life?

First and foremost, we each have to look out for our own self-interest.  We cannot depend on others to value our physical or mental health, and we cannot trust that someone random we’ve met at a kink event has our educational best interests in mind either.  It is up to each of us to seek knowledge.

Read.  Find books, read fet articles, read Kink Weekly articles, do searches on topics of interest.  Don’t take my word for anything, do the research.  I don’t mean read one article that took two minutes and then make a snap decision, I mean research.  One of my graduate professors insisted that 50 sources was the absolute minimum to truly cover any subject, and while I admire his enthusiasm, many of the BDSM topics I want to read about won’t have that many research opportunities, and most will be opinion rather than data, though hopefully it will be informed opinion, which is sometimes the best we get.  I’m happy to find 10 different viewpoints on any given topic.  Regardless, make sure to inform yourself.  Read about negotiations.  Read about communication.  Do self-work you encounter.  Figure out what sparks your interest and notate it.  Figure out what scares you and notate that.  Those things will quite likely change drastically, then change again once you encounter these things in the real world, but knowing what interests you is an important way to start finding what you think you are seeking.

Vet.  Get to know people.  Ask questions.  When I say vet, figure out what that means to you.  To me, that means finding experienced community members I trust and asking questions.  It means watching and seeing what kind of person someone is.  To others, it is a more or sometimes less involved process.  Don’t take it lightly, from either the bottom or the top side.  There are people you’ll wish you’d avoided of all genders and kink identities.  If you can weed those out on the front end, it can save heartache, pain, and potentially even trauma you may wish you could have avoided.  If you’re going to meet someone in private, for goodness sake, please have safe calls lined up with a friend ready to call the police if things go sideways.  Your safety is your responsibility and it is important to not treat it lightly.  Pretend you are making arrangements for someone you love dearly to meet someone.  How can you set that up as safely as possible so they will return to you unharmed (or in your case, as unharmed as you want to be)? 

Find group leaders locally and ask them how to access educational events.  If you can’t find any locally, search Fet for digital offerings.  They are becoming more common, and range from subjects such as poly and jealousy to demonstrations of different kink skills, to social meetings with assigned topics of discussion.  Regardless of how long you’ve been in the community, these events are great opportunities to learn.

Find out if any local groups are offering safe options for meetups.  Are they offering parties for vaccinated folx?  Are they enacting safety measures you feel are within your risk profile?  If not, are there other towns or larger cities nearby who might have better options? 

Are there experienced kinksters who can offer advice or information on their specialty areas?  My partner and I have taken a newcomer under our collective wings and are training him in impact play, leatherworking, and teaching him general kink skills and communication.  He sarcastically calls himself “the most experienced newbie ever.”  To be fair, he probably is at this point.  He was writing articles on impact implements last week and laughing at all of his practical knowledge outweighing his physical experience.

Opportunities are out there.  There are chances to learn and grow for all of us right now, regardless of how active our local communities are choosing to be.  Maybe those come in the form of individual relationships, and maybe they come as digital learning, but we can find them if we seek in the right places.  The trick, as it always has been from back when I first came seeking, is in the knowing where to look.

The Awakening

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***All pieces of erotica are fiction. We NEVER condone anything that is not safe and consensual.

She came to in a bit of a fog. Opening her eyes in the half-light, she reached up idly to scratch her nose, snapping to attention when her hand disobeyed the command and she realized it was bound to her side. She felt the panic attack kind of fear begin to swell and heard a deep voice resonate out of the shadow.

“Well hello, there, little one,” the voice intoned, “here I thought you might sleep the day away.” The bass voice spoke teasingly, with a hint of familiarity, as if he knew her intimately already, faint wisps of a drawl in some of his vowels. She tried to place the voice – surely she’d heard it before somewhere. Surely a man calling her ‘little one’ had to have spoken to her before enough to tickle her memory. Maybe work…the thought began, suddenly evaporating mid-stream as he stepped into the light.

Surely she would have remembered a man such as this. He towered above her, broad shouldered in the half-light, looming over her as she lay in a nest of cushions and blankets. How had she not noticed that either? She was beginning to seriously question her powers of oberservance, given how little she seemed to notice until it was forced upon her. Was she dressed? Panic began its rise again, fading some when she realized she was still dressed in her pajamas. Or, at least they felt like her pajamas, she mentally amended herself, her baseline emotion still complete terror at having woken somewhere other than the bed she fell asleep in.

A large hand reached out as if to touch her securely bound ankle, hesitating for a moment before making some adjustments to her bindings, flicking a rope here and there. She felt her bladder stir and desperately hoped he was arranging for her to use a restroom. She became aware of whatever he was doing, as he began to tug at various ropes connecting her limbs to his hand. He slowly and gently arranged her into a sitting position all without ever touching a finger to her body. She felt like the oddest, most lifelike puppet all of the sudden, and had an odd thought that it must be peaceful to be a puppet, with no bills, no cares, just to be taken out to serve a purpose and then put away. The thought chilled her, and she glanced at her captor nervously. She had not spoken since her awakening, and was afraid to break the still peace with the gutteral utterance of voice.

Manipulating her bindings as if he were an expert puppetmaster, he directed her towards a small room in the corner. She opened her mouth to ask, hesitating when she saw him loop the ropes in his hands across some metal braces on the wall and pass them to himself through an opening at the top of the braces.

“You will use taps to communicate your needs,” he said coldly. The fear in her stomach warned her not to disobey. He pointed to a chart on the wall detailing a system of knocking and stomping designed to indicate basic function. “When my eyes are upon you,” he continued, “you may use head gestures to respond to questions. Is that understood?” She nodded slowly, fear asking her how many others had taken this test and failed, and what might have become of them.

Sunday Morning

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Eyelashes fluttering, she snapped to consciousness with a hand stroking down her body. Legs parting automatically, as was the rule, it took a moment of focus to realize why the hand which dipped between her legs to find moisture felt not quite right.

That’s right, she remembered suddenly. She’d gone to sleep last night with a woman curled between them, warm and sated, all three falling deeply into the kind of sleep that only aerobics followed by orgasm could bring. She turned her head to get lost in hair that swirled around the both of them, to see the curve of feminine lips above her. Passion took hold and she reached out in turn, burying fingers in the other woman’s hair as she begged their Master for permission to ride the wave of pleasure, the poured over the edge as if the waterfall had taken her.

Her front was suddenly hit by cooler air and she opened her eyes to see their Master pull their partner to the edge of the bed, using firm grips on her hair and her own positioning as leverage. He tipped their girl’s head over the edge of bed, sliding his cock between her eager lips. His gaze fell on her and she scrambled to place herself between their girl’s spread thighs. Placing her thumbs on their girl’s outer labia, she pushed to reveal the erect clitoris beneath. She wiggled closer on her stomach and buried her face between their girl’s thighs, taking a moment to enjoy the musky scent of all three of them blended together from last night before closing her eyes again and delicately lapping at the engorged flesh. As she pleasured their girl with mouth and hands, Master stroked in and out of her mouth, pausing when she struggled to breathe, gagging at times. Their girl wrapped her arms around His thighs, pulling him to her more enthusiastically as she began to approach her climax.

As He stroked and she licked, their girl imagined she was a flame burning between them, existing as nothing but an object for pleasure, and she screamed around the cock buried in her throat as she came, pulling Him closer and over that same waterfall with her, passion releasing down her throat. Disengaging, He stroked her her and the hair of his other partner as she crawled towards them. Rearranging themselves, they piled back onto the bed to lazily doze in the half-light of the morning, drifting back to sleep.

‘Easy like Sunday morning,’ was the last coherent mutter between them, their morning a happily haphazard tangle of bare limbs, blankets and stuffies. Breakfast could wait when there was love to be shared.

How To Effectively Cope With Jealousy

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We all know how this works with medical issues. If I have a cough, I could take some over the counter medication or cough drops and treat the symptom. However, that cough may be related to allergies, or asthma. It could be related to pneumonia, or covid. Treating the symptom is only going to get me so far when the underlying issue is still at work in my body, causing problems.

So why is that when people experience “negative” emotions they assume that’s where the problem stops? “Oh, I’m just jealous. Everyone feels that way sometimes.”

Just jealous? Why are you experiencing that emotion?  

Jealousy, like any other emotion, is merely the end result of a chain that starts somewhere in the brain and ends with a feeling. The question, as always, is where does it start, and how do we address the root cause?

There can be two ways to get there. The obvious one people give in to, is allowing their jealousy (or other feeling they don’t enjoy) to turn to anger at feeling bad and to throw that anger at their partner until what they are really upset about finally tumbles out from between their lips, if they get that far. My recommendation instead of choosing the destructive route is to take some time for introspection. Rather than allowing myself to act on a feeling of jealousy or frustration, irritation or anger, I spend time with it. I love it and caress it and talk to it for a while. Sometimes I even name it George. I ask it to show me what was bothering it, the way I would any friend who came to me with a problem. It is usually happy to accommodate my gentle coaxing in a way that doesn’t alienate my partner.

Because that’s really what all of this is about, isn’t it? Better, more positive communication, yes?  

Perhaps the root isn’t that my partner is spending time with someone else, perhaps it is because the time we’ve spent together seems less like quality time and more like two people on their phones. Perhaps I’m upset because I’m not feeling special, or maybe I’m even mistaking one emotional response for another. When envy is the feeling of wanting what someone else has and jealousy is the feeling of being afraid to lose what you already have, they are easily mistaken for one another. Throw in the concept of “fear of missing out” and that’s quite a tangled ball to unravel before getting the heart of things. Some people can’t go through this process alone, so for them I always suggest they have a kink / poly aware counselor help them untangle where those feelings are coming from.  

The important part is where you communicate these things to partners. Don’t freeze them out or pretend everything is okay. Let them know you’re working through stuff and you’ll let them know when you figure it out. Don’t take forever to do that, of course, or they will no longer trust your process. Continue to be affectionate while you sort out your shit. There’s no reason to punish them for your feelings. Once you’ve figured out what you need or desire in order to improve the situation, to address the root, be sure to do that in clear concise language, avoiding language which blames your partner. If you hadn’t – if you didn’t – when you make me feel. BZZZZZZZT! Nope. Try positive statements, such as I would like more attention, I’m feeling like I haven’t seen much of you lately, I want to feel important to you.

It can be easy to assume a feeling is its own issue as a standalone, but how often is that actually true? It is important for us to understand ourselves in order to effectively communicate that within the context of a relationship. The better we get at determining where these roots begin, the easier it will become to address those things before they begin to become bigger problems.

Christmas bunny has been exploring kink since she was legal to do so.  Her serious writing started in college, where she accidently got some of her papers published in educational journals.  She has recently expanded her writing to include her kink journey.  She began writing in the physical realm, but shed some of her inhibitions and began sharing those entries with others.  She now keeps an active blog of her personal growth and her relationship with her Master / Daddy Dominant and writes helpful educational posts on a variety of subjects.

Kink Safety: Zoom & Telegram Precautions

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Even as some states are lifting lockdown restrictions, there are some digital aspects of the pandemic I hope stick around. Telegram has been an awesome way to connect my local community, and this time has spawned a web of chat rooms with a variety of subject focuses, as well as chats for various local groups to just talk about their day or discuss random kink topics.  Additionally, while there is no substitute for trying things in person, I have attended some truly excellent kink educational events via Zoom over the past year.  For classes ranging from consent and negotiations to first aid for BDSM, all the way to a class on face needles, the Zoom camera gave me access to a much better view of some of the up-close details I wasn’t often able to see when attending class in a dungeon.  Additionally, it has meant I could attend classes held in other communities with the click of a button, despite being hundreds of miles away. 

Unfortunately,  these new accounts and technological connections also give additional opportunities for kinksters to slip up and disclose more personal information than intended.  My goal is to help walk y’all through some small privacy precautions that will hopefully keep you from flashing full names to the kink world at large.

I often see newcomers join Telegram making a couple of key mistakes.  The first is using their name rather than choosing a screen name.  The “name” option is your display name, not the @tag people will use to search you.  If you plan to use it for vanilla purposes, you can choose something innocuous.  If not, I suggest disabling search functions so contacts in your phone who are already users of Telegram or who join later won’t run across your kinky self chatting up a storm. 

So here’s how.  Under settings, go to the “privacy and security” tab.  Under phone number, check “Nobody”  can see you and only people you add to Telegram as contacts can search you that way.  Under the main tab, turn off the function to sync contacts from your phone, as well as the one to suggest frequent contacts.  I also advise selecting the option to delete already synced contacts if it has done this without you realizing it.  For phones, you can edit your display name by clicking the three dots on an Android phone.  Choose a display name that isn’t your vanilla first and last name.  As an additional suggestion, consider listing your preferred pronouns.

For Zoom, prior to joining a meeting, make sure any identifying information you don’t want to share is edited first.  To change your display name from your full legal name, go to the “My Account” tab.  Click on “edit” and change your name.  IMPORTANT:  Don’t forget to change it back.  My family knows what I do for a living and wouldn’t blink an eye if I joined a chat as Christmas bunny, but if my fet name were 69slutpuddle69, I suspect my family might have something to say.  My employer might have even more to say. 

Alternatively, have a separate kink email address and Zoom account that you log into for kink events.  Again, don’t forget to log out, or just make sure not to click the check box asking if you want to stay logged in.  It requires thought and consideration to protect yourself digitally.  While mistakes can happen, it is important to be deliberate and careful if you want to avoid accidentally outing yourself.

When I host Zoom events for kinksters, I always watch the waiting room tab so that if someone forgets, I can edit their name for them to an innocuous first initial.  You can usually edit your own name during a Zoom meeting my clicking on the three options dots on the right hand corner of your own video screen, or through the participants window when it is pulled up.

Unfortunately, not everyone who hosts a meeting will have experience doing so, and the delay in response time means more minutes passing with your full name exposed to people you didn’t intend to share that with. 

Please, please, please take the time to learn how to be safer online, whether or not these digital mediums continue to flourish in the future.

Christmas bunny has been exploring kink since she was legal to do so. Her serious writing started in college, where she accidently got some of her papers published in educational journals. She has recently expanded her writing to include her kink journey. She began writing in the physical realm, but shed some of her inhibitions and began sharing those entries with others. She now keeps an active blog of her personal growth and her relationship with her Master / Daddy Dominant and writes helpful educational posts on a variety of subjects.

The More Things Change

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We are mere weeks away from the middle of March, when one year ago, we shuttered our kink groups for “a few weeks” and retreated to our home to work until this passed us by.  In some ways it can be difficult to truly comprehend the length of time which has passed.  In others, it seems like time has slowed to a crawl, leaving us with more than we know what to do with.  Fun fact that recently occurred to me:  we will all have celebrated a birthday in the midst of this pandemic by the time things begin their slow crawl back to normal.  I will celebrate at least two by then, having had my first very early on in isolation.

It can be odd to think back upon how different my life is in this moment from the way it looked over a year ago. 

My life in Kink was flourishing.  We were attending our local dungeon at least twice a month to participate in scenes, either together, with others, or both.  I was actively volunteering my time to assist with other monthly events, and my leatherworking events and production had found a nicely chugging rhythm which complimented my regular work.  We’d found a balance and life was a content thing for us.  My partner was getting to know someone new and she and I were becoming friends. 

As spring break hit where I live, concerns grew here.  I implemented a new policy for client illness, in an attempt to keep my high risk partner safe, finally moving to an online only style of meeting in my business.  Many of my clients dismissed my concerns, letting me know they’d be back in a few weeks when things calmed down.  I quietly knew it would be longer, but my sense of foreboding didn’t prepare me for what was to come at all.  I worried a lot about money in ways I hadn’t before.  I was fortunate that online shopping drove more business to my leatherworking, though that began to demand more of my time and attention, which put strain on my hands.

Anxiety took over where contentment had reigned.  I had to take over any in-person interactions with others.  Panic attacks after grocery store visits became the norm, as I avoided anyone without a mask, and shunned stores which did not require masking regulations to be enforced.  Living in Texas, the compliance percentage was low those first few months, and I made do with a cotton mask made by a friend, drying out baby wipes to act as a filter inside of it.  Somehow, we stayed safe. 

When reopening businesses demanded my daughter begin coming into contact with clients again, my partner I and moved out entirely, sharing residential space with an elderly high-risk relative after disclosing the nature of my leatherworking.  She said she didn’t want to know anything, but as the weeks passed and she watched me work, curiosity got the better of her, and I found myself explaining aspects of kink and impact to her.  Those were conversations I certainly couldn’t have imagined.   Even after masks began to be proven effective and we moved home, that closeness has remained.  We send meals over to her and check in with her regularly to ensure she isn’t lonely. 

These changes have forcefully molded my relationship.  There are things my partner has had to rely more heavily on me for that still make me uncomfortable.  Having moved from a schedule where he left in the morning for work and I got up and did leatherwork, then drove to my office to handle things there for a few hours before we both returned home around the same time, things look very different now.  I am now required to prepare his breakfast and actually eat something while he begins work.  I’m convinced I’ll never actually master his preference in the way his eggs are cooked.

Usually around that time my apprentice arrives, and the three of us settle into our respective duties in one large office area.  My partner works his regular job, with his personal laptop available for when I have administrative questions about the leatherworking, his desk nudged up to the apprentice’s.  The apprentice works on building up stock or on specifically chosen projects.  Sometimes we put our heads together and start working on new designs.  He and I volunteered for vaccine trials together, and schedule those appointments so we can ride together and hit up leather stores on the way back. 

Our local dungeon is closed for large events, though still available for private rentals.  We don’t get there very often, though.  We went once in August of last year, once in October, and have plans to go again tonight.  Having a full house means the spanking bench in our room hasn’t been used since it was finished, because I’m too noisy for him to be comfortable with that.  Our kink is mostly limited to some biting, breath play and rough sex.  It’s tough, because I feel like that part of me is really struggling to be fulfilled.  Yes, we’ve talked about it.  Unfortunately, life is being difficult about those things currently.  There’s only so much we each can do. He isn’t getting as much sex as he’d like because it’s a struggle to work around my high anxiety levels and I’m not getting beaten as much as I’d like to because our house is full of people that contribute to my anxiety.  It’s a circle.

We spend all of our time together.  We’re lucky we like each other still.  I’ve seen a lot of relationships fall apart from the stress that’s driving the world right now.  We’re still solid as it gets, despite my mental health struggles.

What will things look like on the other side?  I have no idea.  To be honest, I’m afraid to look too much past tomorrow.  I do my best to support our local dungeon and continue to communicate with my partner and my girlfriend, and keep moving forward into whatever the day brings.

Building A Flogger

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When I began building floggers, I didn’t have the benefit of learning from anyone how to do it.  I spent time searching out various tutorials, print and video, and got frustrated.  What I had in my head wasn’t what I was seeing anywhere.  Much like when I cook, I had to take what I saw as the best parts of lots of different recipes, keeping the necessary ingredients while making the taste my own.

Locals in our community have opportunities to craft implements with me on occasion, when I’ve offered a course, complete with leather, tools and guidance.  I always promise them their first will turn out light years better than mine did – some goodwill sweatpants cut into strips and glued on a piece of dowel.

How I build

I start by deciding what I want my flogger to feel like (see my prior articles for more information about that).  Suffice to say, the amount and texture of the leather I use will depend greatly on what I’ve decided.

Once I’ve decided what the feel should be, I examine my larger piece of leather to determine where the size piece I have chosen will best fit.  Sometimes the size of the larger piece will force my hand, if it has limitations.  

Once I have cut my piece or pieces away from the larger hide, I often switch my focus to the handle.  Braiding works best in multiples of four, so if I’m going to braid the handle I need to find leather scrap long enough to cut into strips that will braid well.  If I’m stitching, I measure with a great deal more exactness, cutting a rectangle the precise size I will need to fully cover my handle.  Waxed thread works best with leather, though I will occasionally wax my own so I can customize my options a little better.

Handle complete, I create the section of falls.  I know some people will use a piece of leather the length of their handle, then split falls off, but I prefer about an inch of overlap from the base of the handle rather than wrapping the full length.  I measure twice down the row, marking my future cuts with tailor’s chalk.  It turns out chalk works well on most leathers, since it just rubs off easily.  I advise students to measure from the same side when they mark, to avoid slanted cuts if the body of their piece is uneven.

Once falls are marked and cut, I use glue on the band of the fall section and wrap it around the base of the handle.  For most, upholstery tacks finish that portion.  Some may want to upgrade to knotwork over their fall section, but that’s done more easily with a video tutorial.  There are some excellent ones on YouTube, though I personally find Viper’s video tutorial to be the best out there.  I believe he has them for sale in his etsy shop.

The handle strap is next, and I often cut the strap, end cap circle and covering wrap all at once.  Some people think the end strap is for your wrist.  I’ll agree to disagree with those folks.  I build mine shorter, clearly hanging straps, though I can make them longer for those who request that.  This top section can also be covered with knotwork for those who prefer, or finished with tacks as well.

The one thing I emphasize is that the devil is in the details.  My wraps start from the same side of the handle.  I position hanging loop straps equidistant from what I determine is a centerline on the handle.  I make sure diamonds in braided handles line up, and stitching is in a straight line rather than wandering.  

When my students finish, I warn them about set times for their glue.  Test swings are one thing, but attempting a full scene with an implement whose glue hasn’t finished curing can lead to things shifting or even coming apart.  They don’t always listen, but at least I gave them the information.

I believe building implements for one’s own bag is a skill everyone can learn.  What I have noticed, however, is that those who spend the time to try it once begin to appreciate the pricing of handcrafted implements a little more.  They come to understand the time and effort which goes into the creation of each piece.  

Christmas bunny has been exploring kink since she was legal to do so.  Her serious writing started in college, where she accidently got some of her papers published in educational journals.  She has recently expanded her writing to include her kink journey.  She began writing in the physical realm, but shed some of her inhibitions and began sharing those entries with others.  She now keeps an active blog of her personal growth and her relationship with her Master / Daddy Dominant and writes helpful educational posts on a variety of subjects.

Starting The New Year Right

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Interestingly enough, their polycule involved the men as metas.  Both women were submissive to the men, yet together things just work well between them.  The men liked each other quite well, which meant group vacations and dinners worked nicely, the men having their time with the girl each was dating, with the girls holding hands between them.  They were excited to ring in the new year together.

The men had decided on whips, Lacy’s Master whipping her front surgically, while Maggie’s Daddy placed his strikes neatly along her upper back and ass cheeks.  By the end, both women were crying, punctuated by sharp screams.  The men chuckled and wandered off to the kitchen to pour champagne to toast the changing of the year while Maggie crawled on all fours over to her nude and recently striped girlfriend.  She playfully licked Lacy’s nipple.  “Want me to lick your boo boos?” she teased.

Lacy slapped Maggie’s ass, not terribly hard, but hard enough to make her hiss.  Both girls began to laugh, curled around one another on the floor.

The men returned shortly, passing out glasses.  The girls only got a splash, just enough to toast with.  None of them were fans of mixing alcohol with endorphins, but they didn’t want to miss the possibility of good luck for the next year, particularly with as rough as the past year had been.

The seconds ticked by and the men claimed their kisses at midnight, the women acknowledging their dominance first, then turning to kiss one another after.  They all understood the relationship structure quite well.

The four of them stayed awake a while longer, laughing, talking, and watching fireworks over the water, then the men excused themselves to their separate room, leaving the women the rest of the house to themselves.

Normally neither of them was particularly aggressive, but the men had taken care of the warm-up for them.  Nestled on the couch together, Lacy deftly adjusted a leg and slid into Maggie’s embrace, who responded by wrapping her legs around Lacy.  They kissed passionately, happy to have the time together. 

Maggie kissed her way down to Lacy’s striped and perky breasts, avoiding the lash marks.  She rolled one of Lacy’s nipples into her mouth.  She grazed the pierced nipple with her teeth before working it just the way she knew Lacy liked it.  Lacy’s head fell back as she moaned, reaching for her partner to maintain their connected touch.  Lacy tucked a strand of Maggie’s hair behind her ear, then slid that same hand teasingly down the side of her neck, the outer curve of her breast, and down to her spread thighs.

Lacy’s fingers touched wetness and she moaned again in response.  Maggie hummed her pleasure, opening her thighs slightly wider for exploration.  Lacy pressed her fingers into Maggie’s wet cunt, delighting in just how much wetness pooled there.  She slid a glass carrot in to replace her fingers.  “How’s that, baby?” she murmured.  Maggie nodded breathlessly as she hummed again.  

“I want to taste you,” she whispered in response, nudging Lacy to her untouched back, sliding off the edge of the couch to position between Lacy’s legs.  She lowered her mouth to Lacy’s clit, sliding a finger in just as easily as the carrot had slid inside of her.  “You’re so wet,” she breathed, sliding fingers against Lacy’s g-spot.  “I want to make you cum,” she said shyly, licking at the engorged clit and feeling glass between her own thighs.

She worked hand and mouth until Lacy squirted her orgasm, squeezing that dildo rhythmically as her desire for Lacy combined with the continued rubbing sensation triggered her own orgasm.  She climbed back onto the couch, feeling sleep pull at her.  

They’d already arranged the sectional into a bed shape, stuffies and all, and nestled together they drifted to sleep, content in their own little world.

Christmas bunny has been exploring kink since she was legal to do so.  Her serious writing started in college, where she accidently got some of her papers published in educational journals.  She has recently expanded her writing to include her kink journey.  She began writing in the physical realm, but shed some of her inhibitions and began sharing those entries with others.  She now keeps an active blog of her personal growth and her relationship with her Master / Daddy Dominant and writes helpful educational posts on a variety of subjects.