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Feelings in Poly & BDSM

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Feelings are a funny thing.

Sometimes we have them and aren’t really sure why, or can’t put it into words.  It can take some introspection to thoughtfully realize a root cause and then some work to find the right words to express those feels in a way that doesn’t assign blame to another.

Let’s all say it together:  “Feelings aren’t right or wrong, good or bad.  Feelings just are.  The part that really matters is how we each choose to respond to those feelings, since that’s the only part we can truly control.”

It’s true, though, as much as it may sound like a platitude.  I think of it more like my mantra.  When I have unexpected or confusing feelings, I remind myself that they are an automatic response to a set of stimuli rather than something I can control.  In my case, often the response is initially rooted in my abandonment issues.  Any time they have an opportunity to rear their heads, they generally take it, and quite gleefully, I’d suspect, if they could.

*You aren’t good enough,* they whisper.  *You’ll never be good enough.*  *He’s going to leave you, the only question is when, not if.*

They have a litany of my flaws, which they collect on a scroll and delight in reading to me at random moments.  They try to push me to run as a first response to any sign that someone is displeased with me, or that conflict is imminent.  They will take hiding as a second choice when I push back against running, which has meant Santa has once or twice found me curled up in a corner or tucked in a nook in the closet.

But how do I handle unknown things?  Particularly when I’ve spent a day and a half both actively trying to ascertain the root of said feelings and also quietly avoiding thinking by loudly singing along with the Dave Matthews Band station on iHeartRadio while cutting deliciously supple bullhide at my work station.

I find emotion a hindrance when attempting to find the root of feelings.  Being emotional has never given me a boost when it comes to attempting rational thought.  The first thing I have to do is set them aside, as clinically as possible.  Yes, I can still feel them if I allow myself to dwell, but that isn’t a helpful exercise.  Rather, I need to be able to form them into a lump and examine them from the outside in order to work my way to their core.

Let’s take a simple but real scenario and break it down.  It’s one that happened recently and required a lot of dissection for me to understand it.  My partner was unable to make plans with his other partner because of a statewide shutdown, so she made arrangements to spend time with him at our shared residence.  I was happy to see her when she arrived, lingered downstairs for a popsicle, then wandered to my workroom to avoid intruding on their time together.  Except I realized I had left my phone charging in the room they were in, and me barging in to get it might very well ruin an intimate moment at that point.  So I dug out my laptop, messaged my partner there (since he’d be unlikely to be looking at his phone during any fun stuff), and asked that when he had a moment, could he toss my phone out.

Whew!  Awkwardness averted.  About half an hour later, he popped out with my phone, gave me a kiss, and returned to the room.  I had been totally fine the entire time.

Then he shut the door behind him.  My stomach twisted into a knot and I felt sick.  Why on earth was I upset?  It wasn’t at all rational.  I wasn’t jealous of their time together.  I knew I needed to poke at it, but in the moment was exactly the worst time to attempt to do so.  Knowing I was emotional, but unsure why, I held my tongue.  I continued to work and listen to music, deciding there would be time.

After a time, the door opened and I was invited to come hang with them for a while, so I gave them space on the couch and pulled up a spot on the bed that wasn’t between them.  We had a lovely rest of the afternoon, just chatting and enjoying one another’s company.  I waited to share my feelings with my partner until after the visit, not wanting to create a dark cloud over their limited time together.

I explained that I’d had some feelings.  I also stated that the feeling didn’t seem, on the surface, to be jealousy, but that I’d need some time to poke at it before I was really sure what the root was.  I planned to reach out to her once I had worked through it, so I wasn’t coming at her from a place of emotion, but just keeping lines of communication open so there would be no falsehood between us, either as friends or as metamours.

Over the next two days I poked at that strange emotion I’d experienced.  Was I wrong?  Could it be jealousy?  I examined it carefully before again discarding that conclusion.  Jealous is a fear of loss, and that wasn’t an accurate assessment of my feeling in that moment.  I spent some time journaling for myself in an attempt to understand.  It was something about that door.  That was the moment.

I explored that some more.  Why would a door closing bother me so?  Well, past experience has taught me about slamming doors.  I thought back upon my relationship with my partner.  Had there been a door slammed between us before?  I couldn’t recall even one.  In fact, pursing that thought process, I couldn’t recall any door other than one for a bathroom which had been closed between us for anything other than work or necessity.  Even when we’ve had other partners, often the relationships intertwined in ways that would mean even when a door was closed, it could still be opened at any time.  This was the first moment I could recall when I was not welcomed into a room with him, and in fact, actively shut out.

New things can be difficult.  However, understanding myself and my response was important, rather than becoming emotional and creating pain for him or his other partner.  I took the time to explore my feelings without needing to resolve them immediately.  For this particular example, the only real resolution was for me to understand myself.  I wasn’t seeking a change in his behavior, I just needed him to be aware that I had discovered something about myself.  Once I’d figured it out, we discussed it again, and I told him how I felt.  He gave me some affection, and the incident was over.

I addressed it with her afterwards, explaining that I’d had the feeling, and wanted her to know, but that it didn’t require any action on her part.  Submissives can sometimes be fixers, though, and she offered some compromise solutions that I knew would actually make her uncomfortable.  It was sweet, but I declined and reiterated that no action was necessary, but that I believe hiding things like these moments from partners, and even peripheral partners, such as my meta, is practicing dishonesty.  Those things can eat away at us, and become larger and more out of control the more we push them aside.

Feelings aren’t good or bad.  They just are.  Spend some time with yourself when you’ve experienced a strong emotion and do the work to understand why you respond the way you do.  It is important we have healthy responses to the way we handle possible conflict in our kink relationships.

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 Inking

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submissive woman gets tattoo on ribs
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She could feel the nerves set in the moment her eyes opened.
Yes, He owns me, she told herself.  Yes, He has married me as part of His claiming.  Yes, He has had this body pierced because it pleases Him.
But she had always felt that ink was different.  Legal contracts can be dissolved, albeit with some difficulty.  Piercings can grow in.  Tattoo removal is a lot more challenging.
So as permanent as those things are, she had both longed for and dreaded ink since He claimed her.
Yes, there was a sense of dread.  Will this ink be bad luck?  Am I etching what could become a painful daily reminder of loss onto my skin?  What if He changes His mind?  She questioned herself unmercifully.
People do that, after all.  Leave.
So up until the moment the ink touched her skin, there was a sense that there was time to turn back.  There was time to ask Him four more times if He is sure He wants her forever before we arrived at the deserted shop for the appointment.
He didn’t disappoint her, though.  He reassured her like it was His profession.  In a way, perhaps it is.
Warm thumb brushing across her knuckles, He drew her hand to His lips.  The exhale of breath contained the quietest words, the weight of Atlas in their echo.
Mine.  Forever.
 
All that in a breath.
Inside, she had to pee four times while He and the artist finalized the design and put the stencil on twice.  She knew it was just nerves and wished she’d had something to calm them, but nothing that would have helped would have been good for the process of inking.
Because of health issues, the ink was just for her.  I carry this art for both of us, he had said.  It is a weighty thought.
She tucked one hand into the small of her back, feeling the texture beneath her fingers as thoughts raced.  There is still plenty of time to change my mind.  The thought comforted her.
Suddenly, breasts bared to the empty room, the needle was on her skin.  Her exhale was shaky as she groped for purchase with her free hand, finding Him beneath her palm.  He lovingly lifted the hand and entwined her fingers with His own.
For the next hour, her eyes seldom left His face.  There were moments of conversation she tried to focus on, but she was mostly far away.  She found her happy place until the artist reached her floating ribs, and her vision swam a little as the pain that had been humming along at endorphin-triggering levels suddenly spiked.
“Just breathe normally,” she heard in her ear.  Then a few minutes later, “Are you going pass out?”
He laughed.  He knew her pain face well.  “She’s fine,” He responded, her glazed eyes meeting His.  The artist, understanding the collar, smiled and continued.
Her eyes roamed His face.  His lips whispered for her, but she struggled to make sense of them.
Good girl and then Mine a few minutes later.  Something in His proprietous gaze made her suspect the next sex they had would be full of rough hair pulling and urgent biting, ankles held captive so He could see His new mark.
A pause came in the buzzing, and something cold touching her skin.  She mositened her lips.  “Are you done?” she asked.
The artist laughed.  “Men don’t generally like it when you ask that,” he responded.
The buzzing began again, catching the tender spots he wasn’t pleased with.  After cleaning, he gently pressed a bandage to her skin and she absently slid her soft shirt over her head, piercings obvious in its thin, draped fabric.
He took care of the details as she floated along, awash in the endorphins that made the hour bearable.
They got in the car.  “Show me,” He commanded.
She lifted her shirt obediently.
He made a sound close to growling.  He crushed her mouth to His, rough in His passion.  Mine, she heard again, only this time she felt it between her breasts and tasted it on His lips.

How To Grow A Bonsai Human

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bonsai woman submissive in glass cage
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One of the hottest things about being a top in a D/s dynamic is the moulding, shaping and training of another person in line with your will. Some young tops might come to a D/s relationship with an idea already in place of a perfect sub, a delicate pet who will never answer back, a slut who shall live to satisfy, or perhaps a submissive maid to follow all orders without hesitation. The young top has created an idea of what they think they want. This idea is more often informed by a diet of fantasy than the reality of each person being a fully formed individual with needs and wants of their own.

We need to approach prospective partners with an open mind. We need to see them for who they are as well as who they could be, not what we want to pretend they are or could be.

You have to be honest with yourself about what you need in a submissive partner. That self exploration of need has to take place before you start expecting anyone to live up to what you have imagined. We must know the difference between what we need from a partner, what we want in a relationship and what is pure fantasy. Need is that which we must have to be satisfied in a relationship, want is that which makes a relationship fun and fantasy are those things that we can indulge in at times.

The art and philosophy of Bonsai

In a D/s relationship we don’t have to find a 100% perfect fit (in fact I don’t think you could find that in any relationship), because we have the option of training a person. However, there is only so far out of someone’s normal course that you can take a person without risking breaking them. Think of it like shaping a branch on a bonsai tree, the bend must happen slowly along its length, wired into place and then allowed to grow into the shape. Trying to twist a branch 120 degrees at the trunk will only damage the branch, and maybe even cause it to snap. Patience is a must! Find a person who is at least parallel enough to your desires that you can tend them, grow them into your shape and know that it is a shape they will enjoy. If someone’s desire is to be in a DLG relationship, but you want someone who will be kept like a pet then you have a sharp divergence at the very beginning of the relationship. Perhaps over time the two of you will be able to grow together, but it is going to take a lot of time, communication and trust.

Once a D/s relationship has begun to grow we have to tend it, to help it take the shape we have planned for it. The thing to always remember is that the two of you are on the same team. The top might be setting the destination and driving the car, but you are both on the journey and want to get to the destination together.

Trust is about more than just your submissive partner trusting you to have their best interests at heart. It is the trust that you will keep your word, that they will receive the reward or punishment you say. That you won’t forget their limit, or fantasy. Sometimes it is the trust that the top is doing something because they genuinely enjoy it. There is no need to ask me if it was good for me, I wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t.

Pen to paper

There is a great deal of information to remember, and a great deal of value in the small things, especially at the beginning of a relationship. One of my top tips is to keep notes. I still do to this day, I call it my dossier. Often it will start with a yes/no/maybe list, followed by a record of any comments or experiences I believe might be of value. No one has a perfect memory so write things down, review them later. Do not be afraid of asking direct questions, ask them about their fantasies. Things they have always wanted to do but have never done. What you are looking for here is commonality of interest. Do they look for the release of not being responsible, do they have guilt over their desires and want to be forced to do something they will enjoy? All of this information will build up into an invaluable record for you.

My partner knows that I keep a written record, she finds it both comforting and concerning. Comforting because it is such a clear indication of the care I take and the seriousness with which I treat the growth of our relationship. Concerning because she knows I won’t ever forget anything, good or bad.

Don’t say it, do it!

If you say you will do something, as a reward, or consequence, they must believe it and you must mean it. If you fail to follow through then you are simply proving that you are a fantasist. Your threats cannot be believed, your promises are undelivered, everything you say is called into doubt.

In the early stages it is extremely important that you prove that you mean what you say. Make sure to carry through on threats as much as you will fulfil fantasies that they never thought they would have fulfilled. If you threaten to pull over and make them walk home then be prepared to do it.

The difference between punishment and play must be clear at all times. Punishments are very straight forward 100 blows for any infraction that I judge worthy of a punishment. She must also recognise and accept the punishment and the reason for it.

If you are playing then make sure they know it is because you are enjoying it. I will often remind my partner that I am hitting her because I enjoy it, she isn’t bad and she doesn’t deserve it. I can own my sadism, I don’t need to pretend it is my partner’s responsibility.

If you are declaring that you can provide the solid foundation for someone else to build upon then you must be that solid foundation, in all ways. We must know ourselves and be entirely true in our will. Any doubts in our mind, or theirs, will echo over and over.

We have ways of making you talk

Communication, communication and more communication. The Top must create the safe space for communication, but in return the bottom must be communicative. We are willing to take on all the responsibility for their care and development but we need as accurate information as possible from them in return. In a D/s dynamic we are both vulnerable in deeply personal ways. We ask our partners to trust us, and we must trust them in return.

We need them to tell us they like something, to be brave enough to admit a desire or dislike. All we need is that pure data once, and after that we can be the brute who forces them, the pervert who makes them bow to our desires. That is why we must trust them, to tell us the truth so we can take the power from them safely.

Her obligation is to me, and only in exceptional circumstances to others. I do not wish to degrade that which attracted me to her in the first place. I would never want to break someone. Build them, grow them, shape them, yes, but break them, degrade them, hurt them, no.

I find it deeply erotic to have control over another person but that means I want someone who gives up that control to me, reveals their darkest fantasies, shares their vulnerabilities. I want her wild and full of confidence, but with the click of my fingers I want her to obey. I want an obedient pet, not a broken victim.

Dealing with health issues during the Plague

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submissive woman getting medical treatment.jpeg
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I received an email today, from someone I’m friendly with in my local scene. It touched me in an unexpected way, and has compelled me to share some very intimate details of my current life.

Right when the plague was starting, I embarked on something of a medical odyssey. 

I’d been bleeding vaginally for several months. Basically a period that wouldn’t end. I decided it was time to do something about it. (If this happens to you, don’t wait more than three weeks. Seriously.)

I endured a uterine biopsy that was inconclusive, because reasons I won’t bore or gross you out with. It has been continuing for three months with the taking of a daily megestrol tablet, and waiting. June 1st, tomorrow as I type this, I will endure a second uterine biopsy. It required a sonogram the Friday before.

I’m not really keen on doctors. In fact, I despise the entire medical establishment. I’m pushing through the best I can, knowing my rights as a patient and advocating for myself. I’m not the typical “submissive, do what I’m told” patient. I study things. I research things. I question things. I know things. It surprises them when I use medical terminology as easily as they do. They don’t know what to say when I tell them they’re bullshitting me. (a couple ibuprofen “significantly” reduces the discomfort of the biopsy…mhhm who the fuck you think you’re lying to?)

While the gynecologist isn’t usually a place for sick people, I’m not keen to sit in a waiting room time after time, for an hour or more. But I’m doing it. I have to if I’m going to have the procedure. I want to know if I have cancer. 

If I have cancer of the uterus, I will have to have a hysterectomy. Possibly while the plague is still raging. I’m not very keen on that either; but I’m willing to face it. I’ve wanted a hysterectomy since I was 13 years old, my periods are so excruciatingly painful.

Why am I telling you this?

Because there’s someone out there who desperately needs to go to the dentist but is afraid they’ll catch the plague. Please. If you’re in pain, make that appointment for diagnosis. Make and keep the appointments to fix the issue.

If you’ve been putting off your yearly gyno exam, please make an appointment and go. Better to go and get a negative or an early indicator than not go and next year find out you have cancer.

If you’re putting off your yearly mammo, make the appointment and go.

Don’t let the plague stop you from maintaining your health.

This will end, and there are people out there who want to see you when it does.

DTR.

This week in kink: July 5, 2020

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Interested in cock and ball torture? This article on Vice goes deep into the people who are into it, and why they love it.

VICE – The Men Who Love Getting Their Balls Absolutely Destroyed
Cock trampling and ball busting take foot fetishism a step further, into much more masochistic territory.
www.vice.com

Think phone sex is a relic of a bygone era from before sexting, video chat and Covid? Think again, and brush up on the ins and outs with this article on The Cut.

So How Do I Have Phone Sex?
Here are some practical tips for getting comfortable, choosing what to say, and having fun.
The Cut | Sangeeta Singh-Kurtz

Ever wonder what the difference is between kink and fetish? Check out one writer’s take on it, on LatestLY.

Sex Query of The Week: What is The Difference Between Kink and Fetish? | 🍏 LatestLY
While kink is an umbrella term used for all alternative sexual interests outside the mainstream ones, a fetish is a particular requirement that is necessary for an individual’s sexual arousal. Read on to know more. 🍏 Sex Query of The Week: What is The Difference Between Kink and Fetish?.
LatestLY

Have some kinky news to share? Tell us about any upcoming BDSM events, new products, dungeon openings / closings, collarings, kink in mainstream media, and anything else you think kinky folks might be interested to hear about. Send your tips through to kinkweekly@gmail.com, and it might just end up on next week’s “This Week in Kink.”

Journey of a Wayward Sub

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female sub tied suspended upside down with marks
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**This Started out as a very odd dream. When the dream ended, I was asked by my Dom to continue the story to its natural end. This is the result**

* *

We were chosen by random lottery. So, all the Doms and Masters would take their subs to this stadium and a lottery was drawn. They had a group of unowned subs. If your number was drawn (which was reflected by the registry numbers on the subs tags) then they would go to the center of the field. The sub would strip, their collar removed, and temporary cuffs and collar assigned to the camp were placed. Then the D/M would pick an unowned sub to satisfy their needs for the length of time the sub(s) was gone. The D/M was also told that if they so chose, they could choose to keep the temp sub in lieu of their chosen one.

****

They hooked leashes to our collars, one by one as we were called. 37 of us in total this time. Four males, the rest female. They waited until the stadium emptied before we were moved. I can only imagine it was to show us we were replaceable as we watched our Masters leave with our replacements. Not one of them looked back.

****

The windows were black on the bus they put us on. I thought they were tinted but as I’m moved up the steps there is no light. I’m walked over to a seat and sat. Almost tenderly they move my cuffs against the wall. Did you know they were magnetic Sir? No, you probably wouldn’t. I doubt they have ever subjected you to this kind of travel. A strap is placed across my thighs to keep me attached to the seat. I can hear one of the girls crying. She is trying to be quiet but little stops the sound from traveling. From somewhere in the dark we are warned to keep quiet or we will be gagged until we reach our destination. I miss you already Master. I wonder what lies they’ve told you about the camp. This is nothing like the propaganda they have spouted for so many years

****

Have you ever sat in complete darkness, Sir? I can hear the gravel on the road, the soft purr of the engine, my own heartbeat in my ears. We have been driving for a long time. I lean my head against the blackened windows. I need sleep. I cant change whats going to happen so attention his point the worst it could be is not waking up at all. There are no rituals to help me drift, no tenderness to ease the panic. It is simply time and darkness.

****

I don’t know how long i was in the dark. I opened my eyes to the handlers removing us one by one. I’m one of the last to be removed. He leaned in close to me, warning me to be compliant. Anything else would result in a swift correction of behavior. I stepped off the bus. My feet sunk into the deep, cold blades of grass. I blinked several times trying to clear the sleep from my eyes. We are on a large lot of land. There are trees for miles. A large two story house stands before us, the whole front is glass from roof to foundation. I’m nervous again. Two weeks is a very long time to be away.

They lined us up just inside the house. With a steely soft voice, a female ordered us to kneel. Down I went, my eyes firmly on the ground, my back straight, and my hands loosely on my thighs. I could hear the clack of heels but i resisted the urge to look. From the sound of flesh against flesh, i realize someone else didn’t.

I’ve never realized how humiliating it is to be so bare in front of anyone other than you Sir. Hands moved across my chest, up and across my shoulders. My chin was grasped and my head forced up. My mouth was yanked open. Then i was pushed to the ground. My forehead touched the floor, my ass in the air. I was told to hold myself open. I could feel their eyes burning into my skin.

All I wanted to do was run. Instead, I simply close my eyes and wait for it to be over. I can feel the cold sensation of lube before something blunt pushes against my ass. It burns. There is no finesse, no kindness in the movements. I feel so full and stretched and it hurts. I feel the pushing stop and what I can only figure is a plug stays put. I am pulled back up to my knees and then they begin to divide us into groups. There are three others in my group. They are as mute as I am. I prefer your instruction. It comes with clear, concise instruction. Here, the handlers speak so little and assume we know their thoughts. I’m not sure I am going to survive.

No one knows what happens here. They hook our leashes together again and nearly drag us through the vast house. It is a labyrinth of a house and down three flights of stairs we find our darkness. Did you tell I fear the dark Sir? Is this a punishment for a slight i am unaware I’ve committed?

One flickering bulb hangs from the ceiling with four military cots against the four corners. I half expected hooks to hang us from but the walls are bare. There is no life in this room. I expect that’s why we were brought here. To make us lose hope.

One night down Sir. Thirteen to go.

****

I miss affection. We both know how i crave your touch, your kindness, your praise. I crave it almost as much as i crave your Sadistic side. But its different here.

“Good Girl” is said almost mockingly. I was volunteered to show my talents this morning. I was singled out because I did not rise at first call. We both know how deep I sleep. Apparently that is unacceptable for a submissive.

Rule 1: I am always to be ready to serve your needs, of any kind, at any time of day.

Apparently, I am weak at what I do. I’ve been selected for private sessions with the handlers.

****

Rule 2: I will always respect my betters.

More than likely this is why I am in trouble. I’ve refused to call them anything other than Handler. They are not my Master nor my Mistress. This is, as I’ve been told quite violently, unacceptable.

I have been restricted. I’m not sure how long I have been kneeling here. I am unable to feel anything below my waist now. If not for this contraption, my body would have given out long ago.

Im watching the other slaves fight. Well, its wrestling really. But there is no mercy here.

****

Rule 3: A submissive should always be ready to shield their Dom with their body.

What this really means is that we should be able to take what ever strikes our skins without complaint.

We are toys Sir.

This is not a training ground for us. I don’t think we are ever to make it back. Will you remember me if I disappear Sir? I’ve always been willful and now it is my worst attribute.

I’ve been used more than i can count now. I fear what they are prepping us for. Is this where i will spend the rest of my days?

Should i swallow my pride and allow them to break me Sir? If it means i can go home?

I’m beginning to wonder.

Three days down–I think. After all, its hard to count the hours in the dark.

****

I haven’t walked since I’ve been here Sir. My knees are bruised and bloody from crawling. I hate it on a good day for you, I despise doing it for them. I compose these letters to You in my head but I wish I could just hear You. Just for a moment.

Will you still want me when I am so jaded and broke? Will You take your pleasure from me knowing I’ve choked and gagged on an unknown amount of men? Will You touch me knowing that even though you cannot see it, I will have been torn and bruised and brutalized simply because I would not form my lips to call another Master?

I hope so.

****

Tonight I am outside on the lawn. I’ve been here since sun up. They wont let me sleep. My arms are pulled taunt above my head, hooked to a pulley system in the tree. Occasionally they let me down to my knees but I am currently struggling on my tip toes.

There are weights on my nipples. They burn. I can feel the pull in my shoulders and my back.

They wont touch me yet. I’m still squirming too much. Once I find my center and try to zone through the pain, that’s when I will draw their attention. I will feel the crop to my pussy or too my feet to make me jump. After all, if I didn’t flinch I wouldn’t be in as much pain.

Rule 5: i will accept what i am given and be grateful for it.

Does that include getting hosed down instead of being allowed to shower Sir?

The answer is yes. It only took me six hours to concede that answer.

****

Are you proud Sir?

I look a right mess. At least, I think I do. There are tear tracks, involuntary. Sometimes the sting is too much. There are no safewords here. I think that’s why so few subs return. There were no promises in the lottery that said we come back undamaged or sane…or that we come back at all.

Did you know rule 4 is the same as one of yours?

Rule 4: No biting

You understand if you could read these words, that I made a decision. I was so tired Sir. So tired and cold and sore and sick. I was smart enough to not bite the cock as it fucked my mouth raw. I was not so gentle to his thigh when he wiped his fluids across my face. I drew blood.

Then they drew blood on me.

****

It dawns on me, a breath of life, as i lay there. The more I fight, the less likely I am to see You again. I’ve never been good at dealing with being left alone. Sometimes I wonder if I am easy to read or You have sold my secrets to the devil. As my endurance gets better, my punishments only get worse.

I’ve had no one to soothe me. No one to tether me. This isn’t play. This is cruelty. Cruelty I’ve asked for from You.

So why is it so hard to accept?

That’s easy. Because it isn’t You.

****

I can hear the crunching of leaves. My eyes pop open. They are still a distance from me. I bring my battered body up to a kneel. My hands are cuffed in front of me, chained to the base of a tree where i was left last night. Its not even dawn yet but i have managed some rest.

I keep my eyes down and my back as straight as i am able, just as i did on day one.

I’m going to try Sir. Because i want to go home.

I can see boots stop in front of me. They are black leather. I like them less than yours. And Sir, they severely needed to be shined.

“Lick them.”

My eyes close the tightly. I knew it was coming. I’ve earned not only the humiliation but they are showing me my place. Never to question. Never to hesitate.

I lean forward, trying to keep my balance. I have to strain forward. He stands just beyond my comfortable reach. Between the bonds and the position, I’m sure i will crash forward. I stick my tongue out and reach the tip of the boots. The leather is smooth yet well worn. I can taste the dirt dusted across it. I want to curl in on myself and stop this but i cant…i wont. I continue to lick–long, slow licks, shining the material to the best of my ability. As I switch boots, i feel a sharp thwack on my ass.

Its the crop. I hate when he wields it. But i don’t cry this time. He keeps the pace for a good ten minutes or so before he stops and steps away from me.

He wraps his hand in my hair ans pulls my head back to meet his eyes. “Do you have something you would like to say, slut?”

My mind is screaming at me to spit at him. To fight and scream. Instead, i cave…as i swore i never would.

“Thank you Sir for allowing me to clean your boots.”

He drops my head and left me kneeling there alone.

Then the tears start.

****

I’ve been allowed inside Sir. Its the first time in three days. I am halfway through my time here. I’ve had no human interaction with anyone other than the Handlers. I see the others, performing various acts, but I am kept segregated. It wears on me.

The plug they placed in me has been replaced with beads. They stretch me less but they also move with me more. I feel them with every movement.

So far, today has been my easiest. I am spending my day sucking cock. As much as I despise this place, my mouth still waters at being allowed to lick and suck.

I am kneeled over a small device. It looks like a black cushion but in the center is a vibrator. It sits against my clit. I am free of bonds and am to show my understanding of rule 6.

Rule 6: A submissive shall exert a firm level of self control in any circumstance.

I keep my hands behind my back, my right hands holding my left wrist. I start licking the cock in front of me. Soft, light licks to the head. I circle my tongue around and gently nudge the tip of my tongue against the slit. I flatten my tongue and push firmly against the shaft until I reach the balls. I gently suck on them. It is a weird sensation that i love.

I let them go with a pop and move back to the tip. I suck firmly before sliding down to take the entire cock in my mouth. I make sure to keep my teeth covered. I’m taking my time. We will see who gives in first.

I’m in a very unique spot Sir. The bead have been replaced with the plug again. Its rubber and feels thicker than the first. There is a vibrating egg in my pussy and a dildo in my mouth to keep me quiet. I am bent over a cold metal table. It reminds me of an autopsy table. It is shiny enough that i can see movement behind me but not clear enough to see what he is holding. My hands are pulled taunt above my head and secured to the table legs. Strapped to my thigh is a vibrating wand. It sits right at the edge of my clit. It teases me and my juices are running down my legs. I’ve been here a while now. My body shivers from the sensations. My pussy is throbbing and I desperately want to cum. But I need more Sir. I need pressure. I need pain. I-I n-need….permission.

****

My body tensed with the first swing. I was distracted Sir. So as soon as I felt the wood hit my cheeks and drive the plug into me, I knew what this lesson was.

Rule 7: A submissive should always be attentive when engaged with their Dominant.

I had allowed my mind to wander. I feel so full and the vibrations are overwhelming. I can feel how swollen my clit is. I tried to push back but that earned me a second and third whack. I couldn’t even cry out with my mouth stretched and full as it was.

Four. Five. Six.

It hurts. It hurts so bad. The plug keeps shifting inside me. My body is sweating with the effort of trying to relax. I know that every flinch and tensing only makes it hurt more.

Seven. Eight.

My ass burns and the skin feels hot. There are tears running down my face and a puddle of drool on the table below me. I’m trying to breathe, to relax, to pay attention.

Nine.

Ten.

Fuck.

I feel the egg pulled from my pussy and without hesitation, a cock pushed into me. My ass burns from the friction and my pussy is so sensitive. My tummy is pushing into the edge of the table. I’m expecting to see bruises tomorrow.

He pushed deep in me and stopped. Fully seated, I suddenly felt the wand pushed firmly against my clit. I could feel myself contracting around his cock, my stomach clenching. I screwed my eyes tight and tried to hold back.

Self control.

Self control.

“Cum.” and all my control disappeared.

****

I’ve never been one for the silence. I have trouble being alone. The longer I am there, alone with only my thoughts, the worse it gets. First I start they fidget. Little movements that only your sharp eyes catches. Then my eyes shift and my hands clench. My breathing becomes more shallow and I start to wonder. I wonder what I did wrong. The silence is always a punishment.

Here, though, it is a way of living. I can hear the cries of the other submissives. I can hear their training. I can hear the chaos. But, in my room, a solitary spot at the far end of the grounds, away from the actual house, I no longer connect to the sound. I zone through it.

So, I’ve taken to talking to myself. I’ve taken to reflecting on life…and training. I write these imaginary letters to you Sir, knowing you will never see them. I talk to you to keep me warm in the nights. This has been far from easy.

I’m trying. I wonder often if you would be ashamed of my actions those first few days. I am ten days in now and it took seven for me to stop fighting. Does that mean I have wasted this opportunity? Does that matter when neither of us chose to send me here? I wonder if you would still proudly claim I was yours knowing how I struggled. After all, it took months for you to tame me. Here, I’ve done it in a fraction of the time.

My submission is important to me. It took everything I had to lay it before you and offer myself. I figure that’s why I’m fighting so hard. I didn’t choose to submit to the handlers. It was a choice that was taken from me. But I’ve come to the realization that there are things I can be taught, from others, that can improve my submission to you.

So, as I sit here in the dark, humming a lullaby to soothe the fear, I’ve finally accepted why I am here…and what it will take to go home.

****

This is torture Sir. I thought You were Sadistic but they have proven there are others who are worse.

Rule 8: A submissive should be able to complete any task assigned without distraction.

Have you ever listened to a song on repeat because it speaks to you or comforts you or simply because you enjoy it? I have. There are many instances where I can listen to a single song for weeks. I have never, however, been subjected to them while working.

They are playing Disney songs Sir. My guilty pleasure. I’ve been told I am to tune them out. The volume is loud enough I can feel the Lion King thumping in the floor boards. I cannot sing along. I cannot dance.

I am to tune it out.

The task is relatively simply Sir. I am to clean the house. Its almost comforting. Of course, as I’ve been yet allowed to stand, everything is washed with a washcloth, toothbrush, and bucket. So, not my favorite.

Every so often one of the handlers comes in. Sometimes it is to purposefully track mud across my clean floors. Sometimes it is do be serviced. Most of the time it is to be distracting.

Poking and prodding me. Crops, paddles, hands…the implements change, the distraction doesn’t.

I have a deadline for when it is to be done by. I have no timer or clock to keep me on track. That’s part of the challenge.

After all, I am a service oriented submissive at home. If I am abiding by the rules, I shouldn’t need a clock to get everything done in time.

Right Sir?

****

I failed Sir. I was unable to complete my tasks on time. I tried. I pushed myself but I failed. I want to tell you it was because of all the interruptions but that is only an excuse.

I’m disheartened. Even without you here, I feel like I’ve disappointed you.

Rule 9: A submissive will accept that failure happens and endeavor to learn from it.

Rule 10: A submissive will never give excuses for her shortcomings. She will own up to her mistakes without hesitation and accept the corrections given.

I’ve been writing these rules for hours.

I cried Sir. I cried when they told me I had failed. I am guessing that I was not meant to finish the tasks. I was set up to fail so I would learn to accept it and move on.

Rule 11: Apologies are only meant to be given with heartfelt regret and a clearly stated reason as to why.

The more I have to recite these rules, the more I expect you to appear. I feel like you are watching Sir. I feel like you are feeding them my deepest fears, my darkest insecurities, and my biggest failures.

This is tailored to my rebellions.

Are the Handlers really that good or are You there Sir?

Three days to go. Maybe then I will find out if my suspicions are correct.

****

I have the worst balance Sir. I suppose I am meant to be graceful and ornate, skilled enough to make it through a crowd of people for service without being noticed. I am always to be on call and ready to serve.

Have you ever tried to walk on your knees Sir? To shuffle forward at a moderate pace while trying to hold tray service?

I am tightly holding a pipe like tube in my mouth. It is connected to a tray with drinks on it. Both my arms are out at my sides with my palms up, also holding trays, though these have food on them.

I am to stay still. I am to move only if told. Every shift in my position brings the items closer and closer to spilling.

This is torture.

****

Rule 12: A reward is earned and is never an expectation.

Did you know Sir that the more interest i show in something the less i get it?

I’ve expressed to you multiple times how I love to use my mouth. I’ve learned here that the love I have does lessen slightly with boot worship but is not wholly unbearable. I’ve also learned that I have a slight fondness related to rimming but my ultimate love lies with oral. Be it man or woman, i love the feel, the taste, everything. I enjoy sucking lightly on a woman’s clit while you watch, hearing her moan like a whore. I like swallowing you whole and tasting your cum on my tongue.

When I close my eyes and imagine being home, it is easier to perform those same actions here.

However, my enthusiasm for it, compared to my overall behavior, had the privilege stripped from me.

Even the gags changed. Now I have my mouth pulled open with a metal O ring. It does not allow my tongue anywhere to lick or suck.

I am impulsive Sir. I tried to lick one of the Handlers as they came by. I got one swipe in before the back of his hand connected to my face.

No words were uttered. They weren’t needed. I knew I was in the wrong. My whole body dropped in acceptance. I’ve only made the wait longer. I’ve only made the privilege harder to earn.

I am learning Sir. It just doesn’t seem to be fast enough.

****

It has been a long two weeks Sir. They have us all lined up outside on the lawn. This is the first time I have seen other subs since that first night. We are kneeling as expected.

Even me Sir. My eyes are down, my back is straight, and my palms are up, resting lightly on my thighs. I’ve not needed to be gagged in two days.

There are only a few of us here. I’m not sure what happened to everyone. Only one of the males remains and there are probably less than ten females left, including me.

I’ve been difficult Sir. I know that. But I’ve learned my rules and my lessons.

I was so afraid of losing myself. Of losing my personality. I didn’t want to be a doormat again. I had trouble separating my submission from myself.

But, being here, has brought me away from those fears. I ache from the depth of my lessons. My eyes have cried more than I thought possible. But I’ve learned the most important rule so far.

Rule 13: A submissive does not need to understand a Dominant’s decision to trust that it is for the best

****

Its dark Sir. The sky is beautiful out here. There are no other souls for miles and you can see the stars so clearly. It never dawned on me what I was missing back home.

I spend most of my time inside and I never realized it. Though, that is neither of our faults really. Between the fact that I cannot leave your property unaccompanied and the sun down curfew, i would never be able to see such sights in town.

Do not think I am unhappy Sir. You are both a kind and caring Master and I enjoy my days with you. I accept what i have and am grateful for it. But I will hold this moment close to my heart for a fair length of time. This is a freedom and beauty that cannot be replicated with so many people around.

The blindfold is being slipped on. Its not as frightening as it was on day one. In fact, it mostly feels heavy. I’ve been without clothes or adornments for so long now that it is uncomfortable, but not unbearable.

I hope this means I get to go home soon.

I miss you.

I hope you can say the same.

****

They have removed our collars Sir. They have removed all our adornments. My wrists and ankles are bare.

I have missed my own cuffs and collar. I have missed the comforting weight of them. Even though these last two weeks i’ve worn foreign marks of ownership, they felt wrong. But being without any feels worse.

We were told why they were taken. This is our final test. They expect perfect obedience on the way home. They expect absolute silence–a time of reflection.

Then, when we arrive back to the place in which we were taken, we would present ourselves for inspection.

Then, and only then, will we find if our Dominants have decided to take each of us back.

I’m worried.

My body is painted in foreign colors and marks. I know I am a masochist. I also know that the marks normally on my body are ones you know well. You take care that I stay undamaged.

My body is littered with more blue and purple than any of the other subs. You can see the marked up skin where my collar and leash were rubbing from being yanked so often. You can see the rope burns on my wrists and ankles that were previously covered by my cuffs.

These are the marks of a fighter. These are the marks of someone who spent most of the last fourteen days in trouble.

I wont need to say a word when I kneel before you. You will know in a moment what happened.

I wonder though….do I get in extra trouble for damaging your property by my bad decisions?

****

I knelt forward for my final inspection at this camp. The last of the devices are removed. I feel empty Sir. Then again, that has more to do with me being slutty than having the beads removed.

My body throbs, in a good way. I can feel the pulsing between my legs. I am preparing to suffer Sir. Heat is coming and I have yet to know if I am suffering alone this time.

We are loaded onto the bus, one by one. Our eyes remained darkened. I wonder if they fear we will know their location. It seems a futile fear. I doubt anyone wants to come back. I know I wish to be as far from here as possible.

The reason has changed from the first nights. First I wanted to leave because I feared that being away from you would have you forget me. Then, it was because of the restrictions. I’ve always asked you to be stricter and then when it was laid before me, I rebelled.

Now, I simply don’t want to need to be here anymore.

We were drawn by lottery. A lottery that very few survive.

As the bus comes to a slow stop, the gravel crunching under the weight of the tires, I am ready as I will ever be.

Fear is fluttering in my stomach. My nerves are vibrating with nervous energy. I breathe long, slow breaths. It is time.

I walked down the steps of the bus and forward until I am told to stop. I can hear the others. Their Dominants and Masters are talking to the handlers in low tones.

One girl is crying. I cannot see why but her sobs are heart wrenching. I hear another humming softly. I can only hope it is a happy song.

The sounds begin to quiet again. A single snap and I am on my knees. I close my eyes when I feel hands on my face. Slowly the blindfold is removed. I blink rapidly towards the ground so I can see again.

Its still dark. I’m not sure why that surprises me but it does.

I can see your boots Sir. All i want to do is lay my head on them and beg you to take me home. I want to beg you to hug me and kiss me. I want to beg for you to touch me in any way.

I don’t move.

I can hear the handler start to speak and you silence him.

“I can see how her time has gone.” Your voice is steady and low but hard to read.

My heart sinks.

Your hand touches me hair and combs through it gently. Your fingers trail down my face and place pressure under my chin until I am looking at you. I’m biting my lip to stay silent. I can feel the tears on my lashes.

Your hand runs across my throat before you pull back and reach into your pocket.

I see it. My collar.

You place it around my neck with practiced ease and slip the leash into its ring.

You tug me to my feet and give me a soft hug. Your lips brush my ear and you tell me everything I’ve ever needed to learn in one sentence.

“Rule 14: Whether on or off, my collar is always there.”

THE END

About the Author

My name is Joji.  I am 29 years old currently and I have been in and around the kink community about 15 years.I am a collared submissive to Magick42.  I am also a Daddy to a wonderful babygirl, and have been for more than three years now and I find it very fulfilling.  I am being mentored in and being taught electroplay.  I am a masochist at heart and thoroughly love impact play, especially caning.  I enjoy reading anything I can get my hands on and am a die hard Harry Potter and Doctor Who fan.  I am also the secretary for a group in Idaho called Moscow S.P.A.R.K.E (Simply Providing Another Route to Kink Education).  It is our mission to teach safe practices to those new to the community and give them a safe haven to ask questions and learn without judgement.  We accept all kinks and all we ask in return is respect between all our members.

The Gift Of Acceptance

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Tied up and reflecting on independence and freedom
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When I was 26, my mother died.
When I was 27, my grandfather died.
And yesterday, at the age of 31, I lost my father 21 hours after our last text message saying “I love you.”
But, I don’t want to tell you about his death.  I don’t want to fill these pages with tear stains and unintelligible sobbing.
I want to tell you the greatest thing he ever did for me.
He accepted me.
The man I still called Daddy was a man who took care of not only his son, but two daughters who weren’t his by blood.
Of course, he’d chastise me for saying that.
We were his.  There was never any difference between us.  He told me that often enough.  He treated my sister and I, and both our spouses, as his kids.  When they asked how many he had, the answer was always five.
I learned about kink when I was barely a teen.  It spoke to me in a way that nothing else had.  I read stories and blogs from a variety of submissives and slaves and it resonated with me.  The more I learned, the more I wanted to know.
But, I needed a friend.  I needed someone I could talk to about it.
My daddy was that friend.
So, a few years after I discovered this world, I nervously fumbled my way through what I’d found and how I felt.
He listened.
Without judgement, he asked me questions.  He told me to be safe.
He laughed and then told me he had no desire to know about my sex life.
This is the same man who bought me my first pair of police grade handcuffs and my first cat o nine tails.
I was utterly shocked.  My dad was a straight laced man who still blushed at dirty jokes.
But, he wanted me to feel accepted.  He said he would always get me what I asked for if it was within his means.
I broke that pair of handcuffs about six years after I got them.  I got handcuffed and we lost the key.  So, with a fork, a butter knife, and a whole lot of bruising, I bent them enough to free myself.
On a side note, I don’t recommend losing the key.
For Christmas a couple years ago, As he does every year, he asked me what I wanted.
I told him nothing.
He called me on my bullshit.
I said the only things I wanted weren’t things I was going to ask him for.
He told me to send him the links.
So, I did.
That Christmas, I received a pair of black handcuffs and matching leg irons. I also received the money to buy the internal violet want attachments I wanted.
Weird, isn’t it?
I never thought so.
Though, seeing the face of my partners when I got what I asked for, was a picture worth taking.
**** **** ****
We, as humans, spend our lives noticing all the ways we are different.  We live in fear that we will be cast out for being different.
We shy away from coming out, in any way, that could be seen as deviant.
That fear often turns to anger.
We push people away, we hide ourselves behind a wall of indifference, and we pretend.
We pretend nothing can hurt us.  We pretend it doesn’t hurt when people walk away.
We accommodate people’s ignorance.
I’ve been fired from a job for being gay.  So has my wife.  I’ve been asked by my sister in law to not be affectionate with my wife at her wedding because it will upset guests.  I’ve been told I’m not Queer because I have an attraction to men and women.
I’ve hurt myself even more.
I’ve taken my depression, my anxiety, and my fear out on my own skin.  I have the silver lines of anger in my thighs.  I’ve starved myself.  I’ve scratched my skin to the point of bleeding.  I’ve cleaned until my hands were numb and I couldn’t stand.
I’ve hurt myself in more ways than I can even count.
And, there in the darkness, was one man.  A man who always had a hug for me.  A man who let me sleep on his couch when I showed up late at night, upset.  A man who sat there and talked about sci-fi and high fantasy to take my mind off whatever was bothering me.  A man who answered the phone whenever I called, even if he was at work.
He didn’t scold me for my depression.  He didn’t mock my anxiety.  He simply told me that if medication was helping, then I needed to listen to the doctor.
For a man who hated hospitals, and doctors, he always made sure we went.
He didn’t condemn me when I fell off my meds.  He didn’t lecture me.  He didn’t pressure or push me.
He supported me.  He accepted me.  Mistakes and all.
Above everything a father teaches their child, their are two pieces that have made me a stronger individual and helped my journey of self.
1) Whatever you are into is secondary. Always greet someone with a smile.  Just because I disagree with your choice, doesn’t mean I can’t still love you.
2) Be proud of who you are.  Never bow your head to those undeserving.  Trust with everything you have, but never accept a violation of that trust.
–It took me years to understand those teachings.  Hell, I’m still learning them.
When these lessons were reenforced by my partners, and made priority by my Master, I knew I was home.
His acceptance taught me what home meant.
Home is never just a place to sleep.  Home is the people who hold you up.  Home is the ones who answer the phone at 3am because you just needed to talk.  Home is those who know that whatever mistakes you make, you are still worth loving.
I wouldn’t be where I am without such acceptance.
In a community full of trauma survivors, I count myself among the lucky few who had a beautiful man who stood behind me.
Even though I have to explain that he really was my dad, he will always be Daddy to me.
About the Author
My name is Joji.  I am 29 years old currently and I have been in and around the kink community about 15 years.I am a collared submissive to Magick42.  I am also a Daddy to a wonderful babygirl, and have been for more than three years now and I find it very fulfilling.  I am being mentored in and being taught electroplay.  I am a masochist at heart and thoroughly love impact play, especially caning.  I enjoy reading anything I can get my hands on and am a die hard Harry Potter and Doctor Who fan.  I am also the secretary for a group in Idaho called Moscow S.P.A.R.K.E (Simply Providing Another Route to Kink Education).  It is our mission to teach safe practices to those new to the community and give them a safe haven to ask questions and learn without judgement.  We accept all kinks and all we ask in return is respect between all our members.

Reconciling After Bad Behavior

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Writing a journal in a kinky world
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Being part of a community with all kinds of kinks means I am bound to come into contact with people who are less than savory.  I will also, sadly, likely give someone untrustworthy my trust.

Have, actually.  More than once.  Which presents a dilemma.

I am not responsible for someone else’s actions.  My warning or lack thereof is unlikely to change anything other than the way the object of warning sees me – as suddenly a meddlesome shittalker, determined to undermine some innocent person for my own reasons, to satisfy my own agenda.

Yet if I have had a notably negative experience with a person in the community, who am I to approach others about it?

The thing is, I often see two roads when it comes to things we see as consent violations. The first is denial or dismissal. The second is scorched earth. We really have no community consensus on how to proceed.

Is that the best way to handle things? The first is problematic, as by not speaking up, this person who doesn’t have the ability to comprehend that their actions caused pain is likely to repeat those actions (as I’ve seen), with the unspoken blessing of all those who turn a blind eye.  Such as me.

The second solution is problematic as it drives this person out of the scene, leaving them to prey upon members who may be less connected or outside of it, often leaving those other people without the resources or support that could have helped them.

How do we find a middle ground?

How do we implement a system that will identify people who are potentially dangerous and keep people safe while also allowing them to learn from their mistakes and become better aware of others, better negotiators, better people?

Can we genuinely help people understand and rehabilitate and where do we draw the line if they cannot acknowlege the damage they do or if it seems they don’t care?

Are there cases where we can see people benefiting from community involvement as learners, participants, but being careful to exclude them from leadership and the hazards that can bring?

Even after people behave badly, isn’t the goal to help them learn from their mistakes and become better people?  It seems we are often very long on memory and very short on forgiveness.  While I don’t have the answers to these questions, I believe we have to consider them within our own communities, have the hard conversations, and make decisions about how to handle these situations.  Sadly, we never know when we may need to have already done so.

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.

Kink In The Time Of Covid

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submissive woman tied in shibari looking pensive and lonely
via stock.adobe.com

I would be hard pressed to find something less sexy than a global pandemic. Between heightened emotions, tremendous fear, heartbreaking tragedy and social isolation, we have been thrown into a world that is not only unfamiliar, but unwelcoming. The very ground that we walk on has collapsed and we are experiencing a version of life that no one could have prepared for. Whether we are single or partnered, this shift has resulted in significant changes to our erotic and sexual lives. Relationships that were once solid are now rocky, sex lives that were once full and exciting are now dull and for many, expression and practice of kink is now stifled. 

With dungeons closed, play parties halted and general human to human contact at a minimum, it is increasingly harder for kinky folks to feel connected in a meaningful and fulfilling way. Shifts in the hierarchical structures and foundations of many D/s relationships are leading to an increase in relationship tension and overall emotional and sexual dissatisfaction. What I have witnessed in the last few months both personally and professionally is a shift in all interpersonal relationships but none more powerful than those where kink plays a major role. 

While much of what people are feeling can be traced back to the financial, physical, and emotional strain that the lock downs have had on our well being, there is a piece that remains virtually hidden from the typical discourse about life in the time of Covid. The “how are yous” and “how are you holding ups” are usually meant to gauge how an individual is coping and the typical, perhaps unconscious, intent of those questions is to open the door to complain about the stressful state of our current lives. What is missing from so many conversations are the questions about how their relationships are being impacted, particularly those that exist in a hierarchical structure. 

When we sit and reflect on what makes so many D/s relationships successful, it is that they are often rooted in a firm, negotiated and agreed upon arrangement of how each individual will play, work, and exist within the structure. In times of crisis, these arrangements get shaken up, with roles sometimes needing to shift to accommodate for the change in circumstances. Typically a crisis is short lived, sometimes even anticipated. Often, when a crisis hits, there is an idea of when things will return to “normal” and most importantly, when a crisis hits, we are often surrounded by a social circle, whether that be family, friends, work colleagues or a community, where members lives are relatively unaffected by our crisis allowing for us to lean on outside support to process and move forward. Experiencing collective trauma does come with a beautiful side effect of deep understanding of others and an ability to empathize on a level far greater than what is typical for people.  However, collective pain also means that we cannot receive the level of support that we may need due to the empty emotional tanks that are existing within the folks in our social circle. 

During the lockdown, shifts have occurred both within D/s relationships where partners are cohabiting as well as in relationships where partners live apart.  The common shifts that I have seen recently are shifts in work life, increased job stress, financial insecurity, changes in childcare roles, lack of privacy and for many, the overall inability to see partners due to the restrictions on social gatherings. With all of these changes occurring in and out of the home, it is unsurprising that relationships are beginning to suffer. For some, the impact has been minimal but for others, this has resulted in more tension and conflict in the relationship than ever before. 

So, as we navigate this unknown world with these new relationship challenges for kinky folks, how can we protect and nurture the valuable D/s structures in which our relationships are held up by? I believe that it starts by really understanding what has shifted and the consequences of that shift. Formulating a plan to work on the relationship challenges can only exist if we are able to get to the root of the problem. If a couple is continuously fighting about a certain topic, is it really that topic that is the problem? We need to seek the bigger picture to understand what is happening and therefore how we can start to change it. 

This is the time for high levels of curiosity. Approaching the relationship with curiosity allows for less tension and blame when the sources of the problems begin to arise. In addition, it is a time for creativity to be implemented into relationships in order to keep the flame burning but more importantly, it is a time to reflect on what has been holding the relationship up. What has kept your relationship strong? Is it the clear cut hierarchy that allows for stability? It is the amount of time spent with your partner that gives you security? When we dig deeper we can find that it is typically the loss of the foundation that is the catalyst for the problems that follow and when we find the source we can usually find our way back. 

Once we begin to understand the source of the struggle, it is time to move into the repair and healing phase. Honest, raw, and vulnerable conversations are the key to relationship shifts and fortunately, kinksters are exceptionally good at expressing their needs. Negotiation is fueled by authenticity and I would venture to say that taking those negotiation skills and applying them outside of the D/s dynamic would allow for an environment to be created that could make play even more fun, exciting, and ultimately intimate. When we are so consumed by the turmoil around us, it is easy to lose space, both emotionally and physically, for the relationship. 

In challenging times like these, we need to approach our relationships a bit differently. For dyads who do a bi-weekly or monthly check in, perhaps they need to do it once a week. For folks who are away from their partners, implementing new rituals can be a great way to stay connected. Let’s not forget that even in times that are tough, we can use play to minimize anxiety and cultivate closeness. The scenes may be different and they may occur in a different space but the intent remains the same. While the world may be temporarily closed, the room for exploration and growth remains open. Step into that space and reignite the flame because after this terrible time is over, the flame may be burning brighter than it ever was before. 

About the Author

Elyssa Rice is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist specializing in the Kink and Alternative Lifestyle community. She is a writer, lecturer and advocate for sexual empowerment and sexual freedom. She has a private practice in Los Angeles, CA and is dedicated to shifting the narrative about both the mental health and Kink community.