I Don’t Do Aftercare Because I Never Want My Before-Care to Stop

My dominance is all-consuming. That’s by design. When we’re together I want to flood you with impacts and rope. I want to squeeze out the sadness as I grip your throat. The words I use to degrade you fill the cracks built up over a lifetime, drowning the words you use to degrade yourself.

When I’m gone, there is a me-shaped hole inside you. That chasm is dark and dangerous. I’ll never have the power to kill your hurt. The only power I have is to be the dam that impedes its path. Maybe you think after I’ve given you so much you can’t ask for more. Maybe you think because I brutally fucked you and filled you with cum, I’m finished.

There is a lot you can do to take care of yourself. You should absolutely do those things. You should take a bath. You should get a massage. You should journal or go to the gym. You should eat something that brings you joy. But there is one other thing that you can do that might be better than the rest. You can come to me. When you’ve dropped and the hurt becomes too much, your emotions won’t burden me. I won’t sit there mindlessly nodding waiting for you to finish speaking. I want my eyes to be so focused on you it feels as though my pupils are reaching inside you, searching for the meaning in your words.

For hours I got to feel big and strong. The pain I inflicted made you crumble into a pile of nothing. I watched as the numbness of subspace took over your body. Do you know how proud I was at that moment? I looked at you and saw what I pulled out. I might be the only person on earth who could do that to you. Why would you deny me the opportunity to be there when the hurt comes rushing back?

You got on a plane and flew for three hours. Our scene didn’t begin when I picked you up at the airport. It didn’t begin when we made out in the loading area or when I fingered you on the highway. The start wasn’t when I ripped your clothes off and threw you onto bed nor was it when I forced you to cum over and over. Why would it end three days later, at 6 AM when I drop you off to catch your flight? Why would it be over while you’re in the air on your way home? Why would I be finished when you’re alone in bed fighting back tears? I don’t do aftercare because I never want my before-care to stop.


Author’s note: I am proud of what I post here. Thank you for your likes, comments, and follows. Please visit my Patreon If you’d like access to writings not posted elsewhere or just to support me and the work I put out.