If you can’t take care of me properly after you beat me, then why should I let you beat me again?
I lost it on Sir last night. I am ashamed because I have been doing such a good job at controlling my impulsive responses to emotions. He gave me amazing aftercare the night of my beating. He finally gave me next day aftercare in person. Which he has never done before. But I needed more. I love a heavy scene. I love the beating, the high, and the attention. But I have to pay for it later, like many good things in life. I haven’t played with a heavy top who is capable of building me up to taking that much pain in a long time. I was shocked when I saw the marks and after posting pics of my ass on my Fet profile I scrolled through my album to compare. I have taken much heavier beatings and they were all 4 years ago. Maybe there were some from 3 even 2 years ago that I deleted when I broke up with Sir the first time. The hard line is I haven’t been beaten like that in years.
However, I am a strong woman physically, mentally, and OK not so much emotionally. But I have had lots of practice. PTSD, Depression, Drug addiction, Borderline have all taken their toll in my life. So when I get that high and do something that intimate and painful, I come down long and hard. The last four days I have done it completely on my own. But, last night I got some hard news involving my son’s treatment and I crumpled. Quickly. The thing is I can hold it together in front of people who I don’t care about…mostly. But the people I love and trust, not so much. And I am not a fun ride when I can’t keep it together. Instead of telling Sir that I was upset and what it was that had upset me. I asked him to come over and then became enraged when he said he wouldn’t. Maybe Saturday, he said.
That would be 6 days from the last time I saw him. After I have begged him to give me more time and attention. After I let him beat the living hell out of me. I told him I hated him and accused him of fucking his ex. He told me to fuck off and called me insecure. I have asked him not to call me that. It’s like beating a dead horse. He thinks he should name the problem. I don’t remember Sir ever telling me “fuck you” before. At that point any rational part of my thinking I was holding onto took off and I railed into him. Also, caught him trying to redeem himself with a little white lie.
This is what I do when I feel hurt, rejected, and abandoned. I find a man, any man too hold me and fuck me and hope it hurts him and numbs my pain. So that’s what I did. I messaged every fuckable friend in my contacts from my phone, kik, and Facebook Messenger and then made arrangements with the first one who responded. Because that is how I deal with feelings I don’t like. I don’t want to be ashamed of that, but who wouldn’t judge me for such behavior?
Part of me knows that the reason my house is messy, I am not holding boundaries with my son, and I haven’t been able to control my temper as much with Sir this week is because of sub drop. I don’t want to admit that something I love so much can have such a negative impact in my life. I also think that my partner the one who created that intensity with me should be there with me through it. I am disappointed he hasn’t been able to keep up with my aftercare needs, even if I do need more than most people. My ass still hurts. My heart hurts more.