The Aftermath: #Subdrop & Other Drama

For 19 hours, life was pretty damn good, ya know? His kisses intoxicate my senses, and I crave him in a way I can’t explain adequately.

And then it was over.

Tears pricked my eyes as my taxi pulled away from the hotel, speeding toward the airport. I hate the pain of his leaving, but I hate leaving him even more.

One of the few clear thoughts I remember having on Saturday night was that as deep as subspace was for me, subdrop would probably be bad. In my limited experience, the higher the float, the harder the fall.

I could sense the descent as I reached the airport and made it through security.  I needed to get lunch before my flight, but I looked upon the plethora of choices with little emotion. I would eat because I needed to, not because I was truly hungry.

At about that time, I checked my phone. A text from my boss. There was a problem, and I needed to read an email. Standing in the middle of the terminal, I began to shake uncontrollably as I read. An old, pervasive drama from two years ago was resurfacing. Someone in the organization was trying to get me fired again – old battles that had already been fought and lost but now with a new twist. I was labelled unprofessional and criticized for something that I did – although I wasn’t wrong OR unprofessional.

I could feel the old stress and strain building, feelings I’d thought long forgotten and well in the past. Life had finally become normal at work. I was seated for lunch and fought back tears. I messaged one of my best friends and fellow co-workers, one of the few remaining people who remembered the stress from before, when bad politics ruled our job, when what mattered most was not pissing anyone off instead of doing what was correct and professional. I couldn’t breathe. My hands shook violently. All I could focus on was that the old crap was coming back and I couldn’t, I won’t, work under those conditions again.

I sound dramatic because it was a seriously bad time. The politics of this organization go well past your typical office politics of petty fights and power trips. The people behind the attacks on my character would say anything, do anything, twist and turn any situation to cause the most chaos – anything to get their own way.

Deep in my grief over leaving Daddy, as subdrop was just beginning, I was plunged into a situation I thought was done and over.

To make a bad day just a tad bit worse, I almost missed my connecting flight home. Almost but didn’t isn’t a bad thing, although a bit stressful. However, my luggage was delayed because of the short time between my first flight landing and the second flight taking off. At the end of the flight, exhausted and fighting off tears, the last thing I wanted to deal with was missing luggage, but there I was, in a nearly empty airport being told that it would be Monday before I had my luggage back. My clothes, my make up, my laptop, all still in Miami, FL.

I still had a long drive to pick up my boys. I called Daddy and tearfully recounted my woes from the near-missed flight to the delayed luggage. By the time I was finally alone in my car, away from the uncaring eyes of strangers, I sobbed my heart out. The stress and strain of the day was too much.

I cried, off and on, for about 24 hours. I held it together when I collected the boys and while I was with them, but soon after the tears fell again. Even today, running errands, waiting on my luggage, in quiet moments I cried, fretted, and worried. Daddy could hear the strain in my voice when we spoke. I couldn’t even begin to hide the emotions from him.

He “strongly suggested” (light Dom speak for “do it”) that I relax for the afternoon with a cup of tea and a book. I was to do nothing at all besides that. It was the best medicine I could have had. By the time the afternoon was over and I needed to collect the boys from daycare and after school stuff, my head was clear, and all I could think about was the book I’d just read. In the middle of the afternoon, my luggage arrived, which certainly helped my mood, as well.

I’m grateful for Daddy for so many reasons, but the biggest is probably that he knows me so well, and often knows what I need even when I don’t. Thank God, I got my act together this afternoon. We’re under a winter storm warning here in Florida and because we don’t do snow, schools have been closed for the next two days. I can’t imagine dealing with the emotional strain AND two little boys who are about to be cooped up for the next 48 hours.

About the author

Kayla Lords

I am a sex blogger, podcaster, freelance writer, international speaker, kink educator, and all-around kinky woman. You can find me online sharing my innermost sexual thoughts and experiences, teaching other bloggers how to make money writing about sex, and helping kinksters have happy healthy BDSM relationships. I'm also a masochistic babygirl submissive with an amazing and sadistic Daddy Dom and business partner, John Brownstone. Welcome to my kinky corner of the internet!


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