Christmas Bunny

Being The Gambler

June 21, 2020 By Christmas Bunny 2 Comments

One of the most challenging things about human relationships can be knowing when to walk away from them. Hell, knowing when to run can be just as difficult.

This time has been particularly challenging for relationships. I’ve seen ones that seemed solid crumble early on in the lockdown, while others I knew were shaky have held on because the people in them felt they had no other options. Finances are in trouble, sex is a struggle even on the best days, and those two things already point straight at a split or divorce without factoring in that everyone is stressed in ways many of us never anticipated.

But when is the time to go?

Well, if you’re asking yourself that, it probably already isn’t a great sign for the longevity of your relationship. When your reason becomes staying because you can’t afford not to or because of the kids or the dog, it is long past time to have gone.

Ideally a breakup should happen when people realize they aren’t compatible long-term. Unfortunately, feelings are messy and seldom so cut and dried. Love, memories of past love, and misguided honor can keep us in bad or simply ill-fitting situations longer than we should let them.

If practicality can win, a separation occurs more clinically and the ability to retain friendship remains. It happens before the disagreements become fights and the fights become unresolved issues and finally resentment. Resentment generally become a rather drawn out an expensive divorce, in my experience.

The hardest part? It isn’t admitting things aren’t working. Odds are good your best friend or your mother or someone else you’re close to already knows. You’ve told them yourself, even if it isn’t in those words. The hardest part is letting go of what you believed your life was going to look like with that person. You are letting go of your vision of your future, even if you’ve never sat down and explicitly planned it. Maybe it was a flash of you with them in a rocking chair on a porch, white-haired and laughing. Maybe it was visions of a mobile home driving cross country or living on a cruise ship.

You have to let those things go. Maybe people are finding it easier to walk away from relationships now because they are already having to let go of what they imagined their futures would look like. Letting go of a partner is just one more release among many, and the grieving can happen together.

You are exchanging your happy vision of what might be with a blank canvas. That’s really fucking scary, particularly now. But maybe there’s a better way to look at it.

You are exchanging nights of fighting in a home that feels like a war zone for nights of peace, wandering through the house in pajamas not worrying about the next fight. You are exchanging words of hostility for silence, or even better, for the possibility of words of love and support from others. You are exchanging eggshells for wood floors and peace and the possibilities ahead are endless.

You are exchanging a guarantee – misery every day or however often for a possibility of happiness in the future. The unknown is a scary place, and it can be hard to give up even a miserable present in exchange for a world you can’t imagine.

When I was a little girl, my parents wanted the best for me. They wanted me to be happy and find a partner who loved and cherished me. As I got older, that desire didn’t change. It’s what we all want for our children. I have learned to ask myself questions.

Would my parents be filled with joy at how happy I am if they could see inside my relationship? (Discounting any assumptions about bias – they don’t have to approve of the relationship, just my happiness level.) Would they feel my partner treats me well or would they want to punch my partner if they really knew how they treat me?

And most of all: do I want my children to grow up and have a relationship like this? Is that the happiness I envision for them? They will model their relationships on what they see from me. Would I want my child to stay with a partner who makes them miserably unhappy, or would I open my arms, tell them to come come, and support them pursuing happiness?

If I wouldn’t want it for someone I love, the real question is, why don’t I love myself enough not to want it for me?

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.

Manipulation, Passive Aggression & Want vs Need

June 14, 2020 By Christmas Bunny 2 Comments

Once upon a time I was following along with an interesting conversation in a chat group I belong to. It wandered to the subject of partners and scening, impact and desires, as conversations do on occasion amongst kinky folks. I wasn’t particularly engaged until something caught my eye. I shall paraphrase: “It’s most certainly a need for me. Getting pain safely from my Dominant keeps me from self harming.”

I suddenly saw red flags and heard alarm bells everywhere. First issue: this person was claiming that the endorphin rush from pain was a need rather than a strong want. Second issue: this person was placing their mental health directly on someone else’s doorstep rather than taking personal responsibility for it. Third issue: this person was creating a situation which had become manipulative – they were making their D-type feel guilty for not giving them what they wanted when they wanted it.

Need vs Want

The debate over whether kink is a need or a want is one I’ve heard a lot of takes on. Ultimately, the arguments boil down to a few simple ones. On the side arguing for it being a want, needs are defined as the things our bodies require to live, such as food, water, shelter, etx. Spankings are not required to live. On the side arguing for it being a need, people point out that in order to feel totally ourselves or release stress or whatnot, these releases are required, making it a mental health need. Except I still feel that the word need is too strong. Unless someone’s brain chemistry is such that they have become addicted in a way that going without regular doses of strong endorphins could be physically harmful, I still see kink as a want rather than a need.

Which means we need to discuss the possibility of being addicted to the endorphins. I poked around the internet quite a bit before finally stumbling across an article discussing becoming addicted to endorphins, and mentioned the possibility of addiction to dopamine and oxytocin. It basically suggested seeking out safe ways to indulge in scratching that itch, such as riding roller coasters.

Personal Responsibility for Mental Health

I absolutely believe that even if somene has become addicted to endorphins, placing the responsibility for their mental well-being upon someone else is just shitty behavior. We are all each only responsible for ourselves. I say this as someone in a 24/7 Total Power Exchange. I am absolutely the only person responsible for my mental health. It is not my partner’s job to “fix” me. If I have an issue, I need to seek counseling or other professional assistance. Dropping that burden at someone else’s feet is a cop-out, and completely unfair to them. Most people sign on for a competent and functional partner rather than someone for whom they have to keep at a certain numerical score of happiness. That’s what Sims are for, not romantic partners.

Bringing Manipulative and Passive Aggressive Behaviors into Relationships

Manipulation and passive-aggression are tools for the unempowered. If someone has a relationship built on good communication, they have no need for those things.

It begins when they talk their partner into guilt that they shouldn’t rightfully bear. The couple who agreed upon an open relationship with full disclosure shouldn’t be a cover for lying. “I never really wanted this but I agreed because you caught me cheating, which I totally had an excellent reason for that I will justify, but now that you’re actually seeing someone else, you need to know how much it hurts me. So just do whatever you want and I’ll find a way to deal with the pain you put me through.”

Yeah. The genie is flashing red whilst reciting warnings of an imminent plane crash. They seem like a loving partner because they are sacrificing their needs for the other person, when what they are really doing is trying to guilt them into doing what their will.

Of course, that wasn’t their first play. The first thing they did was play on their partner’s insecurities. The manipulator points out what their partner does or has done wrong and how they could have done it better, because helping them learn means they have their partner’s best interests at heart, right? Except what they really want is for their partner to feel like they know things they don’t so they look to the manipulator for guidance. Like setting themselves up as an experienced top, and then getting angry when they hurt their bottom and they want to stop, because the bottom must not be doing something right. A loving partner would be concerned rather than angry they didn’t get their way. Or like leading a group on polyamory and choosing a partner new to that relationship style, because that way they can be the expert and everyone else is “doing it wrong.”

Most of all, manipulators make other people responsible for their emotions.

Because then, their happiness, unhappiness, anger, or whatnot is all someone else’s fault.

So please be cautious. People who don’t take personal responsibility, people who manipulate their partners – these are the kinds of people who are potentially dangerous, both to the individual and to their communities.

The Spoon Eater

May 31, 2020 By Christmas Bunny 2 Comments

It doesn’t take much, just a moment really.

The wrong interaction at the wrong time can be enough.

You see, I’m a little odd. I thought when I was younger that I was an extrovert. I wanted to be out among people, the energy of a crowd uplifting me.

Maybe it was one of the many things to get emotionally beaten out of me during my first marriage, or maybe it’s a function of aging and just feeling like I don’t need those things anymore. I don’t claim the title of extrovert anymore.

But am I an introvert? Well, I don’t know. It is certainly an easier title to claim, especially when I’m feeling like peopling is too much.

The thing is, I extrovert for a living. I go to work and I people. Some days I’m still good for more peopling by the end. Others, I may have encountered a difficult situation or one which simply requires a lot of my focus and energy, and I’ll be out of peopling spoons in three hours.

For those who aren’t familiar with talk of spoons – I think of it sometimes as mana. It is a ball of energy and every action requires a mana cast. Some cost one point, others may cost as many as five or ten. When my mana is drained, I can’t easily accomplish additional actions. I need to recharge. That may be kneeling for my Dominant, or it could require a full night’s sleep, or a hot bath or any number of things that can help me refresh and restart.

Some of the things that drain my mana, or use my spoons, I can predict, because they made appointments and I know by now how it will go. Others are a surprise, like my car battery dying suddenly a few months back, which threw my day into chaos, ending with me crying in a Sam’s parking lot because the person who had committed to giving me a jump took so long I missed the time the automotive department closed, resulting in me being told they basically gave zero fucks that my car was stranded in their parking lot. Turns out other people didn’t care either, and they all looked the other way as they hustled to their cars, pretending they didn’t see me.

Needless to say, I had no spoons left for a trip out to drop off new prototypes with people I’d promised them to, despite my sadistically gleeful desire to get them in the hands of my testers.

Good news is that my spoons (or mana) recharge fairly quickly. A little down time with Daddy and some hugs and I’m usually at least able perform basic normal functions, if not be able to put on my extrovert hat and play hostess or go to a scheduled event.

But sometimes shit’ll happen that drains my spoons for their use in a specific situation or event. I call those things spoon eaters. It might be Daddy getting upset about the kitchen being messy, then I feel reluctantly adverse to going grocery shopping. It might be us having a misunderstanding about a specific event or what his intentions may be for it, and then me not wanting to attend because the thought of doing so makes my stomach feel as though it has been tied in knots. It’s like conflict completely drains any excitement and energy I had focused on that activity and I would rather do just about anything else as an alternative.

He used to mistake it for passive aggression – like I didn’t get my way, so I just didn’t want to do something. But it isn’t that. It is a sick feeling in my stomach over the thought of doing that thing. I still can, sure, but the liklihood of me enjoying it or participating in anything more than a quietly timid manner is somewhere around 5%. Not good odds, is what I’m saying. The Spoon Eater had a meal, and if I get my way, I will stay home quietly on the couch, self-soothing with leatherwork, beating myself up for any point of interaction leading to the Spoon Eater’s arrival when I felt I’d committed a misstep.

I suppose I can be grateful that at least it isn’t staying home having shower arguments. Real life never ends up going the way those do.

I have found that the current situation we all find ourselves in has a huge effect on the way I handle conflict or stress. I see similar struggles in the people around me. Relationships that had some communication issues which seemed as if they could be overcome back in February suddenly became hostile, issues insurmountable. I see people snapping at others for things they would have let pass three months ago, taking their aggressions out wherever they can.

All of these things can make motivation feel like a struggle. It may mean I am less functional for a day and need to concentrate on self care. I see a hundred “todays” stretching out before me, all thoughts of future events burned to the ground. When today is too much, it may mean I need time to think of other things, read a book, or do what I can to unwind.

Anyone can feel as though they are running low on spoons or mana. It is important that we all do our bests to treat others with compassion. We need to learn to walk away from arguments or situations we know will drain us for the things we want to do. And above all, we need to be kind to ourselves when we struggle, not having unreasonable expectations in a trying time.

About the Author

What’s In A Name?

May 24, 2020 By Christmas Bunny 2 Comments

You know what they say about saying never. Well, I swore I would never call a man Daddy. For the majority of my relationships that felt right to me.

“Who’s your Daddy?”

Was met with my standard response which never failed to amuse me:

“bunny’s father.”

When Santa and I opened up our relationship to kinky play and it subsequently evolved into a (then) bedroom only D/s relationship, I queried him as to his preferred title. He didn’t have one in particular he demanded, so he gave me a few choices. Daddy was on the list, and I passed that by without a second thought. I’m not one of those littles I read about. That’s not for me. Master was right out, at least then. I had some seriously negative associations there. The only logical choice was Sir, as far as I was concerned, so that’s where it landed.

I didn’t count on the way our relationship stripped me bare of pretense, forced me to be honest with myself above all else, and passed that straight on to him. Journaling. Seriously the best tool, which I have definitely said many a time before.

We had been playing with some bondage and impact. His teeth marked me as he nipped at shoulders, arms, breasts and I felt the delicious wash of sensation of his variance of pressure that never fails to excite me.

“Do you like that?” He growled at me in that sex voice he has.

“Harder, please,” mine got all breathy, as it does.

“Harder, what?” He said with an eyebrow up.

“Harder, please, Sir,” I responded properly.

But it didn’t fit. It didn’t fit how I thought of him, how we were together. He nurtures me, protects me, cares for me, defends me. He values my emotional and physical well being. While those things can definitely be characteristics of regular D types, Sir just wasn’t feeling right. He felt it, too.

“Try Daddy,” He encouraged.

I looked at him shyly. I did a lot of things shyly then. “Harder please, Daddy,” my voice dropped to almost a whisper by the end, but it came out.

Have you ever been working on a 5000 piece puzzle and gotten stuck on a certain piece? It might be a little oddly shaped and might have colors that don’t seem to match any one section. You try it everywhere there is an obvious hole, and it doesn’t fit. Over and over, across that puzzle it doesn’t fit anywhere. Then you see a hole that it clearly doesn’t fit into but you’re running out of places to put it and the damn thing has to go somewhere. So you try it anyhow, and somehow, like puzzle magic, it fits, connecting those huge chunks that were floating about needing anchoring. Once it’s in, if looks like it has always belonged there, and the strange wash of colors suddenly make sense in a way they hadn’t before.

That was how this moment felt for me. For us, really. It is one of those defining moments that will stay with me.

He looked at me intensely, eyes almost glowing with love and desire, and He kissed me the same way. He kissed me passionately, with a single-minded focus, pinning me beneath him to join our bodies.

It took a little time to realize that was how our relationship had truly evolved, and that I needed to accept and embrace some things about myself which had always been present. This is who we are.

I call him Daddy.

But the thing is, that isn’t his only name.

When we are alone, or at a kink friendly event, he can be Daddy without reservation for me. When he gives me a command I need to acknowlege, I have enough Southern in me for him to be Sir. When it is an order I definitely am not excited about, I remind myself that this is the path I chose, and the good outweighs the bad. Those moments, I address him as Master, as I need the reminder. And when I call out to him in public or refer to him in conversation, he is Santa, as it has become a term of respect, and his title, as odd as that may seem to others.

Yet I am not the only one who calls him an honorific. Others have called him Sir, and Daddy, and definitely Santa, though none have called him Master, that I know of. Another partner addressing him by his title, even when used as a form of affection, gives me zero pause. I actually find it cute when other women address him that way. I know many submissives who have difficulties with their D-types being called Sir or Daddy by others, and I can understand the concern. For some, it is akin to having a pet name, a deeply intimate connection with a partner be used by an outsider. I just can’t view it that way. His name is his name is his name. How someone else addresses him has no effect on the relationship I have with him.

Much like any form of address, we’re all looking to make those verbal connections, and I cannot fault his other partners for seeking those things. What I call him is a term of respect and affection. I’ve learned instead that the real sticking point for me is what he calls them in return.

About the Author

But Submissives Aren’t The Dangerous Ones, Right?

May 16, 2020 By Christmas Bunny 2 Comments

Consent violations.

We dread hearing about the next one to happen in our community. Those poor submissives and bottoms have really got to look out for predators in the community, stick together.

But what happens when the violator isn’t the top?

What if a bottom withholds pertinent information from a top because they want to punish or out of a selfish desire to get what they want? We don’t even have to make the violation sexual for it to be a serious enough breech of trust to state that the submissive is unsafe.

I’d go so far as to say dangerous.

I know of one, in fact. Honestly, it chills me hearing about the next person they are going to scene with through the grapevine, knowing what I know about how much they hurt an amazing, well-respected top.

It’s funny how often bottoms will do intensive work to vet a top for scening, yet not once have I ever been approached by a top to vet a fellow submissive or bottom, or been asked about their character or experience. Vetting shouldn’t be a one-way street, with only the tied or impacted checking for danger. Tops are risking things, too, though risk to a top is more often psychological. What we do is in direct opposition to the societal standards most of us had instilled from young ages, and hiding information from a top to hurt them isn’t teaching them a “lesson,” but rather impacting them with harm more lasting than any bruise I’ve ever received from impact.

If you’re going to tie someone, suspend someone, or give them impact, don’t you want to know they haven’t lied to or violated the trust or consent of others they’ve interacted with?

That seems the very least you can do to protect yourself as a top.

About the Author

Anatomy Of A Blowjob

May 10, 2020 By Christmas Bunny 2 Comments

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

May 10, 2020 By Christmas Bunny 2 Comments

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

Stealing Credit: I’m Proud Of You

May 3, 2020 By Christmas Bunny 2 Comments

“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

Anxiety in Submission

April 19, 2020 By Christmas Bunny 2 Comments

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

First Control Yourself

March 29, 2020 By Christmas Bunny 2 Comments

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

Most of all, manipulators make other people responsible for their emotions.

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