Ella Jacobs – author

When I say aftercare, you probably think about cuddling and intimacy right after a scene. But aftercare is so much more than an hour or two of comfort after a good beating.

When I was still relatively new to the lifestyle, I had a first time scene with a guy I barely knew. It was in the safe space of a club—points for that—but we hadn’t really negotiated boundaries. Now, I’m not one for long contracts and setting meticulous boundaries, but you have to spend some time going over limits and expectations—getting to know each other, really—before delving into something so intense as BDSM together. But I was new and eager and the guy was completely green.

The scene itself went well. More than well, in fact. Our chemistry was off the charts, and he was rough and naturally sadistic in the gruff way I like. He’d hit me with a cane, harder than most first-time sadists would dare, and when I screamed and said it hurt, he’d tell me in a mean voice, “I don’t care.” So hot!!! I was completely under his sadistic spell. It was probably the best scene I’ve had before meeting my master.  

But—yes, there’s a but—it was also the first time I felt the not so fun aftereffects of rough play.

Letting someone beat you and tell you they don’t care that you hurt tampers with your confidence and strength. If that someone isn’t there to tell you he does care afterward, your ground wobbles and you risk falling hard.

The guy did hold and comfort me after we played. But after we parted that night, I got nothing but a brief message saying it had been great. That was like a bandaid on a gaping wound. He didn’t even ask how I was feeling, and I really needed that kind of attentiveness after being treated like I was nothing.

I felt lost and alone with all these intense emotions swirling in my manhandled body. His marks were a constant reminder of what he’d done—of him. And I needed to know that it meant something, marking me like that. That I wasn’t just a punching bag.

Luckily, I had some good friends in the lifestyle that I could talk it over with, and that helped. But I think luck played as much a part. Thinking back on it, I’m a bit amazed that it didn’t hit me harder. I might as well have fallen into a deep sub drop, and that would have been a shitty thing to be alone with.

Not long after this experience, I met my master and would learn what a severe sub drop felt like.

Now, aftercare and reactions can be a tricky thing. My master did everything he could to ensure my wellbeing both before, during, and several days after a scene. But that didn’t stop me from dropping low.

The first times we played went without a hitch. I was happy and excited about this new play-relation, my stomach all fluttery. But as we delved deeper into the rough waters of BDSM, I, too, would sink deeper in the aftermath.

The drop would hit one or two, even three days later. I often made it home before it happened, lucky as I was—or maybe it’s like when your body holds back the flu symptoms until you have time for them… And then the crash would come out of the blue. Like a freight train without warning lights.

I would feel this empty pit in my stomach, lonely and hopeless, without knowing why. I would cry like I’d been dumped over text, and everything felt hollow and meaningless.  

In my novice mind, the drop seemed completely unjustifiable, and I didn’t want to be a nuisance to my new Dom, complaining about depressing feelings. So I didn’t tell him. But we had already established a good text-communication, so it wasn’t difficult to reach out with some trivial text just to get in touch. Luckily, he saw straight through me and demanded that I tell him what was going on. So I did.

I would lie on my bed sobbing, hugging my pillow with one arm, my phone in the other hand.  

Texting was by no means an easy fix, and it was really hard that we weren’t able to see each other after a scene at that time. But still, knowing that he cared made all the difference, and I would rise out of the drops a little stronger than when I fell in.

So no, aftercare isn’t just for a single night.

Human emotions and reactions are complex and tricky. Reactions may set in long after the scene has ended, and so, the Dom must be on standby long after the scene has ended—in whatever way life deems possible.

So, what’s the takeaway from all this? Well, there are two.

First, don’t dive headfirst into rough play with a new partner. Ease into it. Like all the good Doms I know would say, it’s better to go too slow than too fast.

Second, know that subdrop may hit no matter how hard you try to prevent it. In BDSM, you play with stark, volatile emotions, and they may rear their ugly heads when you least expect it.

When this happens, both you and your Dom have a responsibility, which is the same: Take care of you!

For your part, start with reaching out to your Dom—text, call, mail, it doesn’t matter. Just reach out. Even better, tell him how you feel. If he’s a Dom worth his title, he’ll be all ears and give you all the support you need to get through those rough emotions. Next, go buy a tub of ice cream, slink under the covers, and watch your favorite movie. Give it time.