Musings on aftercare

It was a night like many other. I had tied him up. I had teased him. I had used him how I saw fit. I had made him the canvas for my art, my kink. I untied him and had him clean up a bit. And then, suddenly, it wasn’t a night like any other any more. I was in the bed waiting for him. Waiting for our usual post-scene ritual of snuggling and just feeling each other’s skin. He came up to the bed and… announced he was very tired and was going to go get some sleep.

To say I was astonished is an understatement. He’s usually all over me after a scene. He can’t get close enough to me. Which is fine with me since I thrive on touch. I may be quite particular about whom I want touching me, but if I want someone’s touch then it’s never too much. My shock must have shown on my face. He relented that maybe he could snuggle for a few minutes. Reluctantly. And he meant a few minutes. In under 5 minutes he was out of the bed and out the door. Never again.

I need aftercare. It isn’t always all about the one getting hit. Sometimes it’s about the one doing the hitting (or tying or teasing or humiliating or whatever) as well. For me, aftercare is as much a means of connecting with the person I’m playing with as it is a means to come back to reality. I will eventually come back to this world on my own. But I can’t connect to someone who isn’t there. And if I can’t make that connection, it can feel a lot like rejection. Rejection of what just happened. Which is, at the heart of things, a rejection of myself. What I do with my kink comes from my mind and my heart. And running off after I’ve shared my dark side and offered you a side of myself that very few people get to see makes me feel like… at best, I’ve been an experience which has run its course… at worst, I’ve shown you my vulnerable underbelly and been gutted for my trouble.

And I can now say with certainty that it feels even worse to have someone you love do this. And to feel as if your touch and your nakedness is a bother to be endured until an escape can be made. Never again. In the future, if someone doesn’t want to snuggle and reconnect with me after a scene…

I will tell them not to do me any fucking favors.


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