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Christmas Bunny

Anatomy Of A Blowjob

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It always begins with lips.

Wet lips part and envelop the head, but only the head at first.  I need more moisture to go farther.

My tongue ripples against the underside, and it becomes lubricated enough to slide a little farther across my tongue.  It  presses closer to my throat with every motion.  First in, straining to fully embed, then back out again.

As I get closer and closer to the base, to engulfing the entirety, fingers come down to show me where my lips should strive to reach.

Withdrawing almost entirely, I’ll need more breath for the next press forward, and use the momentum to carry me down the length until lips kiss fingertips, twisting a little at the end to open my throat.

A moan reaches my ears and hands pull me closer.  All breath is stolen, so I relax my open mouth into the rocking hips for as long as possible.

Nature betrays me, though, and shoulders jerk slightly with my instinct for air.  After one last press, one last thrust, and the release of hands, I am sliding off of the slippery shaft until all that remains is the head again.  After a a few pants, sucking in oxygen desperately around the edges, the slide begins again.

The second full immersion is always easier than the first, since the slickness makes it go down easier.  Breathe, relax, and let the mind empty.

Hands in hair, desire burning in the eyes that meet mine on the upstroke, this is Zen.  Everything is still in that press inwards.  Each time the length is embedded more fully.

Thrusts become more regular, and I am a doll, a tool.  I exist only for His pleasure, taking mine in the moment when He is buried at full length in me so far, His body motions become my only clue that He is spilling cum down my throat.

Withdrawing and thrusting a final time to pull every last drop from Him, I raise my head in triumph, saliva glistening from nostrils to chin.

All for those glorious words.

Good girl.

Unitentional Meta-toge

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I’ve come to realize in the last few months that some of the greatest challenges of poly are the things that are completely outside of my control and the control of my nesting partner.  What is there to do when you work hard at building open communication and trust with someone only to have it quietly undone by a partner’s other partner, albeit unintentionally?

Backing up.

My current communication style is haphazard. I am honest with people until they teach me they don’t want my honesty.  They can show they don’t want it by responding to it with hostility, anger, or really any sort of defensive behavior rather than seeing it as an opportunity to work towards resolution.  Once I know someone doesn’t want me to be honest, it is often like a countdown clock ticking inevitably towards the end of the relationship in its current form.

It took time for me to break away from my need to hold truth inside.  I had so many past partners who would respond with negativity no matter how I framed my concerns or hurts.  My expression of needs became a personal insult rather than remaining a conversation.  It was easier to stay silent and keep the peace, working out my pain elsewhere, such as avoiding issues, finding time-consuming hobbies outside of a shared residence, or letting events with friends overshadow shared time with a partner.  Avoidance became my style rather than tackling issues head-on.

Santa was instrumental in helping me reframe my communication style back to a more direct yet diplomatic honesty.  He encouraged me to share all of my truths and then engaged with me in productive conversation, working to help me gain comfort with sharing.  It took months of me having to write what I felt before I could speak about it.  As His responses continued to be reasonable and he honored my honesty with compassion and conversation, I became more and more comfortable starting those conversations with words from my mouth rather than from my fingers.

I was so proud of myself when I was finally able to come to Him directly with a concern rather than writing it out first.  Unfortunately, I have continued to attempt to communicate with others around me the same way.

I say unfortunately because not everyone is ready to do that with me.  They don’t always respond positively to it.  Maybe they see my honesty as an ultimatum, maybe as an attack.  It’s hard to say how other people are feeling unless they share it with me.

The real challenges are the ones who are like me.  I can almost feel the sympathetic resonance of two notes vibrating on the same frequency when we talk.  They shy away from expressing their honest truth because it has burned them with another partner.  They have to learn to trust that I won’t put my judgement on them or let those feelings which want to deflect criticism take over.

But what if they are still with a partner who does those things?  A partner who doesn’t want total honesty?

Sometimes I curse Don’t Ask Don’t Tell arrangements.  How can someone know I genuinely want them to be super honest with me when they have someone at home constantly insisting they not share information?  It becomes a tug-of-war.  Me saying it’s okay to share, please tell me the things, while the other partner says no, no, please don’t tell me the things.  That’s a hard line to walk.

Equally difficult are those with partners who still jump to defensive maneuvers or blaming them when they share unpleasant truths.  The lesson they receive there is the constant knowlege that they cannot be truthful without negative consequence, while I attempt to impart the opposite.  Eventually one style will have to win out, and that may not bode well for one or all of us.  Unintentional sabatoge.  Meta-toge.

It still amazes me how many people are living kinky lives and scream about communication to the heavens, yet engage in some form of dishonesty, whether it is in the form of simply not sharing information, or in holding it back.  How can a relationship be at its healthiest when there are hidden cobwebs in the corners which never see the light, and continue to grow in strength?

The only solution I see is to just keep on keeping on.  One day at a time I will do my best to be honest with people, knowing I will also stumble and make mistakes.  I will forgive those who stumble and make mistakes in their dealings with me and do my best to trust them as much as I can when those things happen.

One day at a time.  It’s what I’ve got.

About the Author

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.

Stealing Credit: I’m Proud Of You

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“I’m proud of you,” the voice of my soon-to-be-ex-husband praised me.

I stared at the phone dispassionately.  Was he really going to have the nerve to say those words to me right before our divorce was finalized?

I hung up the phone shortly afterwards, and I could feel fury begin to grow inside of me.  But why was I so thoroughly angry at one small sentence?

“I’m proud of you.”  It can come with a myriad of emotions.

When I hear it from someone who has known me through my journey, it is a compliment, a celebration of my growth and accomplishments.  They are telling me they know how far I’ve come from where I started, and that they know my struggles and the work I have put into something.  They have watched my failure and seen me turn that failure into new beginnings, into success at long last.  It is said with the love of someone who knows the struggles inside of me and accepts me despite my failings and the moments of ugliness instead of beauty, someone who has supported me along the way.  In truth, they helped me reach my goals by being there for me.  That someone who helped on my journey is proud of what I’ve overcome is a powerful and amazing thing to hear from someone I respect.

“I’m proud of you.”

When I hear it from someone who has known me but refused to acknowlege my growth it becomes a tragic irony.  What exactly does someone have to be proud of when they haven’t truly seen the struggle?  Can they really take pride in my accomplishments when they weren’t part of helping me get there?  I don’t think so.

My anger at my ex husband can be explained by his absence.  He wasn’t there to see me struggle.  He wasn’t there to watch me work hard and overcome difficulty.  How dare he take credit for having a presence in my life that helped me accomplish something?  If anything, he created emotions I had to struggle against and put obstacles in my path.  I succeeded despite rather than because of him.  An apology would have been more appropriate than taking credit for any imagined assistance given.

“I’m proud of you.”

It can be jarring to hear those words from a stranger.  Why would someone who hasn’t seen my journey be at all proud?  Is it because I am a female Maker in a male dominated craft?  That’s hardly something to be proud of me for.  It is more just a fact I accept.  Is it because I work hard to create quality?  That’s hardly something a stranger should take pride in.  Rather, they should appreciate it since it will mean their purchase will likely have a long life.

As a submissive female Maker, I often feel at a disadvantage when vending alone.  Most of the other kink vendors seem to be predominantly male, or at least it strongly seems that way.  When my male partner is in the booth with me, most people who don’t know us begin by assuming he is the builder, a misconception he quickly corrects.  It can be challenging enough to feel both respected and comfortable in those environments without feeling as though someone else has stolen some of the credit for my accomplishments.  Having someone claim pride in my accomplishments gives me the feeling that they are claiming some sort of credit for what I have worked for.  The only people who get credit for my work are my partner, who has supported and encouraged me on my path, even when it seemed silly for him to do so, and the man who patiently answered my questions and guided me on my journey, even going so far as to mail me tools and materials to help me learn from afar.  For either of them to say they are proud is a moment of blissful happiness, a celebration when I allow myself to reflect upon my journey.

That is neither to be taken nor given lightly.

About the Author

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.

Anxiety in Submission

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Control is an interesting topic of conversation amongst those who engage in M/s and D/s relationships.  Who has it?

Some like to argue that the power lies with the submissive, who has the ability to stop the things they do not like or want with the wave of a magic word.  If the top hears it.  Or others hear it who can guarantee its enforcement.  Assuming their pride or relationship parameters are not blocking the use of a safe word.  Accounting for all variables, is the power really theirs?

Others argue that while submissives set limits, they don’t make the choices.  They request and prefer, but do not command.  Some, who have negotiated away safe words, and in fact, who have negotiated away limits, would laugh to be told they have all the power, while they do something they would much prefer not be doing because of a command.

As with many two-sided disagreements, the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

True, the right side of the slash carries the power of limits and the responsibility of knowing when they’ve had enough.  However, the left side has the power to respect or neglect those limits and boundaries, as often their bottoms are cuffed, immobilized, bound, or in some other way placed in a situation which renders them effectively unable to physically force a top to stop should they so desire it.  The name of the game is trust, and has to be accompanied by a healthy dose of respect for the other person’s ability to know themself.  And that’s only discussing the portion of those relationships which may touch on kinky behavior.  In the cases of those who live their dynamics, the choice for the commanded to disobey may be the equivalent of risking the relationship itself.

What it all comes down to, is that in essence, we are all trying to control something, whether it be a rush of chemicals to the brain, a line attached to a limit or boundary, or even another person.  So what happens when a situation comes along which is beyond the control of either top or bottom of the slash?  For example, an emergency which effects humanity on a global scale.  Not that any of us would know anything about that, of course.

The control we exercise so carefully over our environments and our partner is seemingly meaningless in the face of the variables which no one can ever control:  life and death.  This realization may cause anxiety in those who like their world a bit more orderly.  While not every submissive I’ve ever met has anxiety issues, it does seem to be a common occurance in that population, and our current crisis may create feelings of helplessness or even panic attacks, particularly when the worry involves the permanent loss of their Dominant to factors out of their control.

I know you’ve heard it tons already, but take a break from social media and the news.  Self care is still important in a crisis.  It is physically impossible to maintain a state of heightened agitation constantly for months at a time, so settle in.  Make time to be intimate and present with partners, even if only via streaming chat options.  Put phones aside and focus.  Our need for affection, for touch and quality time and whatever speaks to each of us individually doesn’t disappear in a time like this.

Kink play may be the furthest thing from our minds right now, but sexual intimacy can often be life-affirming.

Left siders.  Have patience with anxiety and crying and need for comfort your bottom slash may be exhibiting.  Shit is super scary right now, especially for those of us who love someone in that high-risk category.  That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t encourage them to perform as many of their usual tasks as possible during a quarrantine.  Those routines can help soothe the mind.  Consider giving overly anxious partners who may need to be separated from you or who may need to venture out into high-risk areas some type of token, such as a bracelet or wrist cuff they can touch and be reminded to center themselves.

Right siders.  Give your Doms and Masters a break from your emotions if you’ve been overly anxious.  They may be scared, too, and trying to exhibit strength for you.  Let them have some space to be worried if they need it.  A hot bath, an adult coloring book from Amazon (the dirty housewife one has the added bonus of helping with dirty talk) or a little time spent on a hobby can keep the mind off of things.  Stay in the present.  When you catch yourself worrying about what’s to come, remember that we only have the ability to change this moment right now.  We can’t change next week or tomorrow or even 20 minutes from now.  So do what you can to appreciate this moment and to be as safe and careful as you can be.

If anyone finds themself struggling with mental health in this crisis or any other, please contact a professional to help you through it.  I’m listing some additional resources which may be of assistance as well.

https://www.verywellmind.com/managing-coronavirus-anxiety-4798909

https://afsp.org/taking-care-of-your-mental-health-in-the-face-of-uncertainty/

About the Author
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.

First Control Yourself

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Power exchange.  It isn’t everyone’s kink.  It’s easy to feel like that is such a common flavor, it can seem like it is mixed in with everything.

But it doesn’t have to be.

Take me, for example.  I absolutely adore smackin’ dat ass.  I will happily have an hour + long aerobic workout comprised of nothing but hitting someone with stuff.

But that’s it.

I don’t want to tell them what to do, or even tie them to something, since binding still implies power in the hands of the person doing the tying.  The minute that’s on the table I nope right out.  What I give is in service, and while my inner sadist certainly enjoys it, it is nowhere near the land of In Charge.  I certainly don’t call myself a Switch, and only rarely even mention that I have done some minimal service topping.

From the bottom, though?  From there I want no power.  That’s part of why I’m so picky about scening with people.  Giving away my power is not something I take lightly. It will only only go to someone responsible that I can put a heavy amount of trust and faith in.

To be clear, I’m not discussing educational bottoming, when we are demoing flogging or teaching someone and I give them pointers to assist with their strikes.  I don’t see that as an intimate exhange, and in those cases, generally the person doing the hitting rarely hits me more than ten times or so.  What I’m talking about is when I’m consensually engaged in some sort of bdsm activity with someone I trust.

Once upon a time I had a “dom.”  I say that in lower case and with quotations because in my opinion, he was a top who also liked to bottom.  We didn’t have a contract or an official dynamic set in place, but he considered himself dominant to me.  He wanted to play at being in charge when it came to the bedroom, but the minute I wanted him to take charge of something in our regular life, he threw it back at me.  He couldn’t control his temper or any of his other emotions, and he wouldn’t even take care of simple things like contacting the cable company or the phone company to clear up an issue.  I made the money, was expected to handle any issues which arose, take care of dinner at night, and then suddenly flip a switch and become obedient in the bedroom.

Needless to say, I lost respect for him as our relationship progressed.  I discovered that while I can physically do the things we do in the shadows with someone I neither respect nor defer to, it also means spending a great deal of time in the quiet place in my head.  I didn’t trust him to take care of life, and I sure as hell didn’t trust him with my safety or my submission.  When we split up, he still thought I was a top-leaning switch because I spent so much time efficiently handling our business.

I’d had a fantasy most of my life of having a partner who embodied the masculine traits that society deems valuable while still nurturing me.  I pretty much thought it was exactly what I called it – nothing but fantasy.  No way was I going to find someone who had the inner strength I was looking for.  I wanted someone with their shit together, who knew what they wanted and how to control their temper.  I wasn’t looking for emotional outbursts, passive aggressive behavior, or broken promises, which are really just using another word for lies.

I wanted someone who could communicate and someone who understood himself, because someone who couldn’t control himself did some serious damage to me once upon a time.  Frankly, I can easily see the connection in hindsight, and the last thing I plan to do is repeat mistakes that leave scars that big.  Pass.

Want to call yourself a capital D and not just a top or a sadist?  First, learn to control yourself.  Then maybe you can take the steps to learn how to build a healthy power exchange with a person.

Perhaps.  That level of responsibility isn’t for everyone.

About the Author

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.

On Voyeurism and Jealousy

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I’m not sure exactly when I began to enjoy watching.

Thinking back now, I wonder if it was my naive 18-year-old self in her first “threesome,” which I put in quotations because it was really more the fellow with one girl while the other girl watched, with no interaction between females.  It was hardly three people participating at any one time.

6Perhaps it was watching a friend fool around with her boyfriend, finally culminating in exhibitionistic sex while I calmly watched.  Whenever it was, it took a lot longer for me to realize it was a part of me than it did for me to enjoy it.

My first adult relationship involved at least two threesomes, though it was several years later before I admitted my attraction for women.  Up until, and even after that point, each sexual encounter involving another woman was airbrushed onto permanent canvas in my brain, hung in the small gallery of fantasies and ideals that was always open for tours, even if it operates on a conservative power budget.

Related or not, I’ve never had much issue with jealousy.  My Nana told me often, “When you stop looking, you’re dead.”  That was often her justification for ogling my gymnastic coaches, who I’m sure were definitely eye candy for the bored women waiting in the lobby on their charges.  Despite my boundless insecurity, something about that mantra seem to really strike me, and I would cheerfully repeat it when partners caught me gazing lustfully at someone else.  I always made sure to reciprocate, drawing their eyes to particularly buxom and scantily clad college girls walking to class, a shapely ass on a passing shopper, or whatever their personal aesthetic tended towards.

It just didn’t occur to me to feel threatened by a random passerby.  I even followed the thought through to see if I could pluck some logic from it.  Would that partner look at the earthbound goddess, walking on her way somewhere and realize they should dismiss me in the humbleness of my exterior, only then to chase down and reproduce with this pinnacle of symmetry?  Hardly a likely scenario.  The odds were good that unless the person was truly spectacular my partner wouldn’t even remember them a week later.  Why, then, would it be worth my time to introduce divisiveness into my relationship over an act (passing admiration of another female) as natural as breathing?

My default setting is to watch, to appreciate, even to be sexually stimulated by a partner being intimate with another.  Perhaps that intimacy comes in the form of impact, perhaps in the form of intercourse.  Either way, my response is to appreciate rather than to compare.

Sexual exclusivity is not required in order to create a relationship which thrives.  If my partner desires someone besides me, there are only three options:  forego the the possibility of another; find a way to create a coexistence; or leave me altogether.  If the choice is not me or someone else, but rather finding a way to bend the situation to a workable polyamorous structure, I’d choose the more challenging path.  Most people will.  We like having our cake, but also being able to eat it.

It helps, though, that I am odd in my thought processes.  Contemplating my partner’s behavior with others is exciting, and enticing rather than a turn-off.  Many of the people I regularly interact with in the poly community do not feel the same way I do.  Perhaps they want the perks without the details, or need to regulate the incoming information because they know their level of comfort with jeaously-related behaviors.

I find no need of “don’t ask, don’t tell.”  I happen to believe it will fail in the scenarios as relationships progress.  I tend to prefer a more “tell me all the details” sort of arrangement.  The physical aspects are sexy to hear about and imagine if I am not permitted to watch directly.

Emotional voyeurism is less fun for me.  While physical aspects of relationships do not trigger a response of jealousy, having a partner develop strong feelings for someone else can still create insecurity.  Often, as imperfect mammals, that is our first response to a new situation.  It is up to us to refocus that energy where we choose, creating positivity in situations where it didn’t hold sway sway.

Ice Cream

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He had been watching her.

As the boat floated across the ocean on this transatlantic voyage, he found himself noticing a girl.  He never saw her twice the same day, and never anywhere but up on the deck near the 24 hour ice cream machines.  One day he saw her after dinner, one day at ten in the morning.  It was so very random, and odd the way she constantly grabbed his attention.

It was the way she ate her ice cream, of course.  She had the knack of twisting the chcolate and vanilla swirl into a towering height above the cheap cardboard-like cone.  Once it was a glorious spiral she would take a seat in the corner, like a naughty girl being punished… well, perhaps that part was his imagination.

Her little pink tongue would flick out and always begin in the center, then swirl around the point where cream met cone to the opposite side.  She would begin again to the left, tongue swirling over the untouched ripple until it had smoothed over the entire bottom portion.

She would work her way up, that wet little tongue darting quickly and firmly, lapping at the cold confection until her mouth finally engulfed the tortured peak.

Oh god, just watching caused his cock to swell.  He had to adjust his pants and look away, trying not to imagine that mouth following that same pattern until he exploded down her throat.

At the thought of throats, his gaze dipped to hers and he noticed a chain running around it, its only adornment a simple circle.  Was she submissive?  That thought spiralled his fantasy out of control.

He got up and walked over to her, cock still hard.  The room was empty but for them.  Ice cream wasn’t particularly popular at two in the morning.  She gazed up at him from her seat with a small smile.

Without a word, he grabbed her by the hair and forced her to her knees.  Her small hands moved to the front of his pajama pants, finding the opening and pulling his cock free.  Her tongue began to trace its familiar pattern…

His fantasy was interupped by her sudden movement as she rose to her feet.  She paused at the entrance to the elevator bay and glanced back at him.

“Coming?”

Not Gone But A Little Forgotten

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I have a trigger.  I hate using that word, since it brings to mind the watered-down version of today’s culture, which seems to mean I got uncomfortable or had my feelings hurt.

No.

I mean the word as it used to be used.  A series of specific physical stimuli can create a panic response in me, to the point of a legitimate panic attack.  We discovered it by accident, as one often does with this sort of thing.

I’ve had an issue with having my neck touched for a very long time.  In fact, it is solidly on my hard limit list.  It was from a bad experience 10+ years ago.  Not long after that, I had a partner come up behind me and loop an arm around my neck and he found himself dangling across my back, the only thing keeping him from a judo throw and a potential back injury was that my blind response no longer had hold of me once the pressure on my neck was gone.  Not so when combined with other sensations.  Better to just not provoke my body’s fight response.

Early on with my current partner, I informed him of my issue.  We made the decision together to attempt to soften the aversion I held for that touch.

I want to be really clear for a moment.  None of what we attempted or accomplished was with the assistance of a counselor or therapist, and other than a basic idea of the concept of immersion therapy, and have little to no actual educational basis for our actions.  We were lucky to find some modicum of success.  Not everyone who attempts to overcome their own stuff will have the same result.  Hell, perhaps no one else will.  I cannot speak for anyone else.

We began slowly.  Over an extended period of time – days, not hours, he touched my collarbone non-threateningly for just a moment.  The next time it was a moment longer.  Once I gained some comfort with that action, we moved his hand slightly and repeated the process.  After concerted effort, we succeeded in him being able to rest his hand upon my neck fully.  After additional time had passed we were able to explore some mild breath play.

The trouble came when it combined with other sensations which could potentially be interpreted as negative.  The first time it happened I was not in a position to communicate effectively regarding my distress.  Having no idea I had a hidden landmine, we tripped it and I discovered what a panic attack was.

Well.  After a little distance and some self-analysis, I decided it was a combination of sensations which pushed me over the edge.  Having newly recognized and super fun trauma to overcome in the context of our D/s dynamic meant there were times we were going to work on it when it killed any sexual enjoyment I had been experiencing.  It was like a light switch, and where once the light shone warmly, the moment effectively flipped the switch to anxiety and a desire to flee.

But we continued.  We set up an emergency signal to indicate emotional anxiety during times when I couldn’t speak the words.  We added those individual elements back into our sexual repertoire, albeit individually and in small increments.  As we worked on those things separately, over time, we we able to get to the point of recombining them.  It took possibly a year or so by my estimation, clearly not a quick process or one without risk of explosion.

I celebrated mightily the day we were able to do those things again.  I don’t remember how – perhaps I sang some Queen and took a lap.  It wasn’t so much that I enjoyed the experience as it was the triumph of regaining the ability to do them without falling apart.  Most of my enjoyment came from that victory rather than from the ability to take pleasure in the act itself.  I hoped in time that would change and I would have my freedom from those chains.

Of course it did, just not as I hoped.  It was one thing to say the words that this would always be with me, a completely different thing to actually understand the magnitude of them.  We went through a period of time when the things which had comprised that emotional land mine were less present for us.  We avoided touching my throat because I got sick and it was swollen.  It just fell away a bit.  Somewhere along the way I backslid.  I lost some of the progress I’d made, and things we’d been able to do six months ago bring anxiety and the first rushes of panic again.  It was a hard realization that this really will be with me forever, in some sense.

I celebrate that I made progress in this battle, and I will overcome again.  I don’t have to think about it the way it stole my thoughts before, since it only rears up on occasion anymore.  I hope some day it will lie dormant, an emotional cancer finally eliminated by radiation.

Whether I get there or not, I will continue to fight for myself and my mental well-being, and I will continue to encourage others to find the paths they need in order to face their own landmines with courage.  In solidarity, we can all become better versions of ourselves, one day at a time, whatever the method of achievement may be.

About the Author
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.

Why I Struggle With, “Let’s Not Label This”

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I was chatting with a friend recently and we ended up on a bunny trail, unsurprisingly.

“That’s why there’s no rush to put labels on things,” she concluded her monologue as I nodded along, despite the call being audio only.

Labels are such a touchy thing.  We seem to be at a point where we are so adamant that we don’t want to get put into boxes, we forget that labeling doesn’t have to be all bad.

My DVD’s all have the title written on the outside binding.  I use those to put them in order.  The thing is, no one told me they had to be alphabetical.  Mine are organized into basic genre (General, Music / Dance, Christmas, Anime, Animated, Disney, and TV Series) and then alphabetized within the framework I provided.  If Daddy were organizing, I’m sure it would be in a very different order.

Labeling relationships can be the same way.  Wanting to put a label on (for me) doesn’t mean I am trying to turn an action flick into a comedy (except John Wick, because other than that dog thing, that movie is comedy gold).  It just means I want to know the title so I can figure out where it goes on the shelf.

Let’s take an example.  My best friend is someone who is extremely busy.  If we talk once a week, that’s a lot.  We try to have lunch a couple times a month, but it usually ends up being more like once if it happens.  I don’t question her place in my life because we have established boundaries and expectations that mean I am comfortable without having to hear from her daily without thinking she hates me and doesn’t want to be friends anymore.

I think when I ask for a label in the context of romantic relationships, it gives the wrong impression.  My goal isn’t to box someone into something they don’t want, but rather to clarify my own expectarions in regards to behavior and contact.

Are we casually dating?  Is that hugs when we see each other, maybe sex if we both feel like it?

Are we dating with some understanding of exclusivity?  Do we kiss when we see each other, hold hands, and text each other good morning?

Do we send text kisses, or hugs only?  Is vaguely suggestive teasing acceptable, or are we strictly limiting conversation to platonic areas?

What communication level should I expect?  Do we talk generally about problems, or do we know everything going on in the other’s life?

Are we friends on Facebook?  Do we acknowlege each other as a relationship there or on Fet?  When I write, is casual reference of this person acceptable, and how do I make those references without putting expectations of behavior or action on this person?

Do we have long-term goals?  Are we planning time together in the future or taking things as they come?  Is a vacation together okay to discuss or is that freak-out territory?  When is a good time to have these conversations?

I totally get that a label won’t answer those questions.  For me, however, it is a starting point for figuring out how to manage my own expectations.  Daddy often tells me my disappointment comes not from the behavior of people around me, but from them not matching my unreasonable expectations.  I’m encountering some frustrations with that being the case in some of my vanilla activities right now, and I can see His point.

I can also see reasons to be supportive of the validity of labeling, despite being able to see why it would bother people.

About the Author

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 Ethics Of Talking About Our Problems

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One of the things I love about my local community is how active the Telegram network is.  I see this as both wonderful and full of potential pitfalls.

We have the opportunity to get to know each other really well and have split off groups for specific interests – foodies, gamers, littles, pets, crafters, poly people, kink-adjacent vending, an event hub, and more additional groups than are practical for me to name.  People can join anything someone will link or add them to.  It gives the opportunity for really great in-depth conversation on a topic, or link sharing for further reading.  In many ways it has taken the place that Fetlife used to hold in my life.  It is my link to the kink community.

I also see the negative aspects.

As much as I love my people individually, the possibility still exists for someone to be unnecessarily dogpiled.  It can happen for any number of reasons, and the people who jump in to share often mean well.  But to the person on the other end, it can feel pretty hurtful.  The irony is that it usually seems to be in response to something offhand or lighthearted.  The nuances of tone aren’t conveyed in text, and that can be a big part of some of those challenges.  Additionally, even in what seems to be a pretty healthy kink community, people won’t always see eye to eye about details, or sometimes even generalities.  It can be an age issue, or generational, or sometimes about past experience.  We all have different stuff we draw from to base our conclusions upon, and those do not always mean we will agree, even when we can often find common ground.

Yet the issue that most concerns me is when people discuss their relationship problems.  Maybe they are talking about a current partner, just venting a bit, or seeking advice from what they see as a safe space.  Maybe they are hurting after a breakup and sharing a little too much.  Maybe they are using those chatrooms to garner support for themselves over someone else they want to stay out of their space (heaven forbid they see that as it is – attempts to push someone else out of the kink community).

The question I ask myself becomes a study in nuance.  Where is the line between someone sharing about a partner none of us know and trashing one everyone knows is or was attached to them?

Is it how visible the partner is?  Or how visible they are as a couple?  Or if one of them is particularly popular as a top or bottom or an educator?  Is it the details shared?  Is it the number of people they share to?  Is it when they are talking about a former partner or meta who is also present in that chat?  Is it when they are talking about someone who isn’t present?  Where do we draw the line for when we see it as okay for people to share and when it is inappropriate?

I can tell you where I see that line.  If I am in a room with more than one person I see as a close friend talking about something I haven’t yet discussed with my partner or partners, I have crossed it.  Bouncing things off of one friend is a private conversation.  Adding people to that makes it a public conversation, and any time that happens before someone talks to their partner about an issue is something that can hurt someone.  I can’t imagine talking publicly about an issue with Daddy prior to bringing it up with Him.  If he were to read about a problem I was having with him on Fet or Telegram, or in screenshots (because we all know that happens – don’t think someone won’t run and tattle), He would not only be hurt, he’d be upset with me for breaking his trust that way.  Relationships are an exercise in trust.  We trust one another to be honest, and if I’m bitching about him behind his back, I have clearly not been honest about my feelings about something.

If it’s about an ex, unless you are prepared to share in the most general and unidentifiable of ways or your exes are not part of the community, don’t do it in a public forum.  It’s just tacky.  Even then, best to just talk to a friend.  We probably all know who the last person was you dated, and if we didn’t, someone will likely private message to make sure we do now.  Don’t forget that the screenshot will be happily delivered to said ex, so they’ll know exactly how shitty you are, too.  Plus that whole “if they talk about their exes like that, they’ll talk about me,” business, and believe me, even in a huge city, word gets around.  Fast.  Telephone, tellafriend, Telegram.  It’s super speedy now.  Maybe only seconds of delay.  Eventually the only game in town will be to prey on the new folks, because no one else will come near the drama you promise any potential partners.  There’s a huge difference between identifying a former partner with details or specifics and asking for general advice, such as posing a question about how others handle jealousy in their relationships and waiting for feedback.  Those places are where I see the line, and may not be where others see it.

Which all leads to another question.  Where do we draw the line as spectators?  Is our responsibility to tell someone who is oversharing that they would be better off discussing that with the person directly?  Or just sit uncomfortably and witness them whipping up the sympathy?

I don’t have the answers.  I know what I’ve done in the past, and how I think people should conduct themselves, but I think when contemplating issues of what is right, what is the most ethical action, it is important for that to come not just from my sense of morality, but from the voices of others to help balance my more black and white views.

So I encourage others to think about these things and ask themselves how they feel about them.  How would we all feel if we were having personal details of our relationships shared in public forums by partners or past partners without our knowlege or consent?

I don’t know many people who would enjoy that.  I say, let’s all be the better people, and set a new standard of behavior, letting respect for others be our guide.

About the Author

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.