Drop 

 

It’s been five days, and I’m still processing. 

Five days of pretending I’m okay. That I don’t hurt all over. That my heart isn’t in this weird state of limbo. Still processing. 

I’m not a processor. I’m a rip off the bandaid type. If it’s gonna hurt make it hurt fast and over quickly. Don’t stretch out the agony for hours. 

Last week was one of my favorite parties, one I’ve written about here before. Master’s Den. It was also the marking of a year since I started going to parties as James’s +1. We didn’t get together until May.. But we were becoming at last year’s Master’s Den: Revelry. And it was exciting. I looked forward to it with great anticipation, as always. 

The evening itself went rather well. I did my best in the posture contest that was held (I won it last year, trying to catch James’s attention) and while I didn’t win I did have fun. I enjoy high protocol in controlled amounts. Yes, I’m 24/7… But 24/7 high protocol would be too much for both Master and myself. It would also stifle both our personalities. James is very much a sarcastic goofball at times and I’m too much of a sassy brat to be a formal slave all the time. At events like Master’s Den, it gives us both our fix of the protocol before we return to our regularly scheduled programming of, “Fuck you, Master is not a safe word”. 

We scened towards the end of the night, as we tend to do. At one point I looked at the clock in the social area, nervous. Before I said a word, Master followed my gaze. “Don’t worry.” He said.  “I know what time it is. We’re okay. I promise.”

Master is hard on me… And this would be the second week in a row that we would be doing an intense scene. I’m done at the end of our scenes. I tend to pass out in his lap during aftercare for a few minutes, letting my body recharge and my muscles relax. He makes me scream bloody murder… and will often end scenes at Master’s Den parties in particular by making me scream in pleasure. 

It had been discussed ahead of time that sexual play would end the scene. I settled onto the St Andrew’s cross, legs spread, arms wrapped around the center. I’m so damn short that my head barely clears the center of the cross, and I will hold myself there and brace myself against the wood itself when Master lands some particularly hard blows. 

I was lost in the scene, in the haze of it. Master was making me feel so good and so bad all at once. I screamed, I jumped, I went up on tiptoe.. And then he would claw at my back, or touch my shoulders, or run his hands ever so gently over my body and I would settle again. I would brace myself for taking more, wanting more. To add to the pleasure of this little voyeur I had a clear view of my best friend and her Master doing aftercare in the fishbowl above the Citadel’s social area. Their version of aftercare was him fucking her and eating her out post scene… And it was hot. I let myself gaze hazily at them while my Master pushed my body in his wonderfully wicked way. 

Gradually, I became aware here and there of people trickling out of the party. Master was still hitting me. I watched my friend leave. The dungeon became more quiet, or so it seemed. Master was still hitting me. I heard a cheer and had a far away thought about that cheer usually signaling the end of the party. 

Master was still hitting me. 

The DM came up to us at 1 a.m. to tell us that the party was over and we had to stop playing. My body was humming. I had reached that point of catharsis where I could take anything. I was just short of floating, and wanted to get there so badly. I ached for touch, for the pleasure that had been promised to me… And was shocked when I saw my Master slowly begin to put away his toys. 

We’ve stayed after at parties before. Often, actually. I can only spend the night at some parties but James is a frequent guest of the Citadel. Even though the scene ended… I didn’t expect the scene to end. 

I didn’t drop. I crashed in a way I never have before. I collapsed against the cross, sobbing, with the facts hitting me both at once that not only was I not going to get sexual play I wasn’t going to get aftercare either. And scenes with James are not light. I NEED aftercare after. I need to calm down to be able to function. I needed the reconnection with the man I love… That moment of curling up in his arms and hearing each other’s hearts beating. 

I went from the cross to clothes, feeling shattered and a new kind of sadness I hadn’t expected to feel. My Master had… Disappointed me. He had let me down in a way that caused harm. For the first time since I’ve met the man over two years ago I found that I didn’t trust him… And that knowledge was crushing. 

I told him what happened wasn’t okay… When I could speak again. It was embarrassing to me, having such little control over my body. I couldn’t stop sobbing or shaking to the point where one of the party hosts  came over to check on me while I was putting on clothes. That’s not her job, and it’s never been necessary before. My Master is honestly a very good top. I’ve watched him scene with others many a time. He’s normally very careful. 

He’s also very… Human. Time got away from him. He didn’t mean to cause harm. But he did. And I told him that it wasn’t okay… That it couldn’t happen again. But talking at the end of the night did little good. He hasn’t gotten a full meal in his system since the start of the party.. And because of this he hadn’t taken his pain medication for his back. Since starting a new job he’s had severe back pain to the point of barely being able to speak… He hadn’t told me that he had to put off taking the meds and was in pain. He hadn’t wanted to ruin the evening, he told me, and he knew how much this party meant to me. 

In trying to do good, he did harm. Sometimes humans make human mistakes. He had wanted to give me an amazing evening that ended in an intimate connection. Instead, I crashed. The next day I was in so much pain… I couldn’t physically work. I took the day off. 

The physical pain mattered very little compared to the emotional, however. He wasn’t there. He hadn’t been there to catch me the evening before, and as I continued to fall and his responses to my texts didn’t come I felt deserted. Alone. In pain. And let down. 

Days passed like this, with the tightness in my chest. My subby friends heard what happened and did their best to support me. They distracted me. They took me out on nights when I was free and made a fuss about making sure I had fun and smiled. 

They weren’t my Master though. 

It has been five days since I crashed, and finally there is some resolution to the ache in my heart. To the feeling of loneliness and betrayal that made me feel for sure that he no longer wanted me in service to him. 

The mind does very strange things during a drop. 

We went to one of our favorite date spots, where you can rent a private room with a hot tub and a sauna for 20 bucks an hour. You can strip down to nothing and do all you want in privacy once the door is closed behind you. 

It’s been almost a year since James and I began. He knows me very well by now… Knows my looks. My body movements. Knows what me being very quiet means. Slowly, gently, he asked me what was wrong. 

Why is it so painful to say that your Master disappointed you? That he hurt you? We talked through the whole evening. What he had originally intended to do. What ended up happening. How he happened. How he felt during it and what was going on in his head vs the same in mine. It was horribly hard. I was finally able to verbalize how abandoned and alone I had felt… How unwanted. 

He pulled me into his arms like I was glass, surrounding me like I had wanted him to do days ago, and apologized in a voice that broke. And then he finally gave me the aftercare and play that I had been craving. He held me. He kissed me. He pushed me between his legs to suck his cock and pulled me back up by my hair to growl into my ear that I was his. And finally, slowly, I felt myself breathing again. It was okay. We were okay. I was okay, and I felt safe kneeling in front of him again. 

Masters and Dominants are humans, same as slaves and submissives. Sometimes they fuck up. More often than not they berate themselves internally more than their slave could ever do externally. To own someone is a responsibility any Master worthy of that title takes very seriously. James was well aware when we met up that day that he had fucked up. That damage was done.

I’m not saying that we’re 100% perfect again. Neither of us can pretend that drop didn’t happen. But we are worlds better than where we were before… And bit by bit, he puts in the effort and repairs even more. 

And I am his. 

Yours, as always 

-Rene 

Ps: this was an extremely difficult entry to write and get though. I thought it was important to talk about, but it took over a week for me to find the words to complete it. The drop happened a week and a half ago, so the time frame is a little off… And yes, my Master continues to make it up to me. 

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