drop kick

I don’t drop often and have never dropped as badly as I did earlier this week… my mood swings were so sudden and severe that they made me feel as if I was coming unhinged. Each day the mood swings became a little more frequent and of longer duration, my mental state a little murkier in the better moments. By Wednesday, my concentration was showing signs of strain and my only comfort was that in a few short hours I would finally be able to spend some much needed time with my Ma’am. So you can imagine how I felt when I received Ma’am’s text informing me that she would have to work and that I would be spending the evening alone. It was like a sucker punch and the emotional pendulum I’d been riding tossed me off into a sea of petulance and misery.

Despite not having seen me in a couple of days, Ma’am was well aware of what I had been going through. She knew that our aborted plans would likely have a detrimental effect on me and decided an intervention was in order. So she reminded me of how much she loves me and then stepped in and took control of my evening. Brief conversations provided instructions, tasks and an assignment to be completed – all designed to ensure that I took care of myself, to redirect my focus and to give me an opportunity to be of service. They were simple things when looked at individually. But combined into a greater whole, they achieved a significance and power which somehow managed to help me to reclaim my center and emotional balance. By the time I’d completed my first task, I could already feel the hold of the drop slackening. And by the time I took myself off to bed, the erratic excess emotion that had plagued me for days seemed to be just a memory.

On Thursday, Ma’am and I spent a pleasant and somewhat unusual evening together. We talked comfortably for hours about all manner of things and connected on level we hadn’t yet reached as Ma’am and girl. As the hour turned late, I noted with a playful pout that I had hoped the evening would include a beating. It wasn’t long before I was laid out over Ma’am’s lap, jeans and panties half-mast, fairly purring from the enthusiastic attention of Ma’am’s hands and her tawse. Amazingly enough, my too resilient bottom still bears her marks today – something Ma’am was mightily pleased with as they generally fade very quickly.

drop

My professional life has gone into chaos – I’ve been working way too many hours and it’s been a demoralizing month or so where it seems almost everything that should be under control is not. The powers that be have been tinkering with the infrastructure again and just about everyone is overwhelmed by the volume of work and underwhelmed by management’s response to our plight. To say I’m a bit stressed is an understatement.

Predictably, the stress has been bringing out both submissive and masochistic tendencies that I’m sorry to say haven’t been able to have much free reign during this period. I’ve been craving discipline, a harsh hand and tighter control. Unfortunately, life and work have been getting in the way of my time with Ma’am. Pair that with an unfortunate misunderstanding with Ma’am during our last session and an inadvertent rebuff a couple of nights ago and you have very fertile ground for the emotional hijacking known as sub-drop.

I’ve been fighting it since Saturday evening but it’s a persistent boomerang that keeps coming back. Some moments I’m perfectly fine but others I’m plagued by a pervasive sadness and terrible thoughts that Ma’am is either no longer interested in me or not fully committed to our D/s relationship (both which I know not to be true in more logical moments). Last night it got so bad that I had to get out of bed in fear that the tears that were trembling just under the surface would wake her… the same tears that threatened to overtake me on my lunch break as the miserable emotions inside me tried to convince me that Ma’am had actually intended to reject me on Saturday evening.

Right now all I want is to curl up next to Ma’am’s feet and feel the soothing touch of her hands in my hair. Or be pulled across her lap and feel the bite of her hands coming down upon my naked ass. But I won't see her until tomorrow night...and thinking and yearning for this only makes the sadness more acute.

Sub-drop is an insidious and terrible thing - a form of torture that not even the most hardcore masochist can enjoy. And I am definitely not a hardcore masochist.