u/myunsentdiary

Something I have to go into a lot of detail about whenever I'm explaining my kinks and limits to someone is the exact kind of degradation I'm into. And honestly with time I've discovered that idk if what I prefer is even particularly degradation-y.

So what I mean is that I'll enjoy being called things like slut/whore/toy and other such things but if it's in a soft context that's more to do with ownership than anything. So when I'm describing my dos and donts, I have to always say something like "I like degradation but not in a mean way" and then I'll give examples of preferring "my little whore" said in a warm tone to something genuinely degrading like "you're a worthless whore". The former doesn't even make me feel degraded if it's done correctly, while the latter just makes me sad and takes me out of it. (I really hope I don't get dms because of this post with people calling me a slut in their opening message). With the former, if I'm comfortable and the other person is doing a good job of being a soft dom I just melt into sub space and I feel all warm inside.

So that's what makes me wonder if it just creates confusion if I say that I'm into degradation when what I mean is what I just described. Is there a better term for this? Or is this still degradation and I'm just overthinking it?

A panic attack. A trauma trigger. A sleepless night.

A call.

I had been doing so well. We had broken things off. He was no longer my boyfriend, my Dom, my situationship. We weren't anything. We never really were.

But I was spiraling. It was a rough night and I knew it. So I couldn't resist it. I threw my pride away and dialed his number and waited for- ...Oh, he picked up.

I heard his voice again: soft, deep, sleepy. Shit, was he asleep? Of course he was! I was so preoccupied with all the cortisol in my system that I didn't even realize he wouldn't be awake to pick up the phone. Except he did, and he's now asking me if I am okay.

He always has his phone on Do not Disturb when he sleeps. Did he add my number as an exception? Did he make sure he would never miss my calls? And did he do it before or after we ended things? We did say when we ended things that either of us can reach out in an emergency, including of the kind where after you allow yourself to be completely vulnerable with a guy, he completely messes with your boundaries and leaves you feeling so raw and fragile that all you could get yourself to do was put on a robe once he was out of the house.

He's asking if I'm okay. I burst into tears at the sound of his concerned and familiar voice. This reaction immediately answers his question. Not intentionally of course but I have always been a woman of brevity.

Hearing his warm voice feels like applying special ointment on a burn. Stung as an immediate reaction but I could quickly feel my pain melting away bit by bit from just having him on call.

And despite how pathetic I knew I would feel tomorrow, I only feel happy in this moment. It's exactly what I needed and I don't want anything more from him. I am cashing in good will and I can practically hear the piggy bank emptying completely. Or wait no, sorry, those are his keys. I hear his keys. Then I hear his car door, then I hear his car turn on. "I'm still here," he says, with traffic and the noise of the engine fighting his voice for dominance in the call. "I'll be there in like 7. But I'll be on the phone the whole time. Please cry as much as you need to, babygirl."

I know what he's doing. He's pretending like we're still together and nothing ever happened, like we said we would when we needed one another. He's reverting back to his old pet names for me and treating me like I'm still his. Of course he is. After all, I asked him to, without needing to say a single word, when I called him.

I continue not to utter a single word during the call. He doesn't either except for the occasional "I'm still here".

All we had promised each other was a call, and all I needed from him was just that. But he is now knocking on my door, and I am opening it. Now he is staring at me, and reaching out his hand to hold my face, as he takes a step forward and closes the door behind him with his other hand.

"You didn't have to come," I try to voice with the weakest and softest voice, the best one I can muster up. He responds "I wanted to, darling," and I proceed to melt into his arms.

He knows what I need right now, which is to not think, to be taken care of, and to be his. So he carries me into my bedroom and drags me into the bed with him, making sure he keeps my robe still wrapped around me so I don't have to be naked and vulnerable.

My face is now against his chest, and his arms are now around me. I have not felt this safe and warm since our last night together. I'm his again just for one night and more than anything I am wishing that he is feeling similarly. All I want right now, is to know that him coming over was a selfish act, rather than a selfless one.

"Now. Tell me what happened, little one." I am no longer crying as I have run out of tears to shed, nor do I have any energy left in the tank. All that's left of my crashout is soft and sleepy dry heaving against his chest, like glorified hiccups.

"Is it okay if I don't waste my time with you talking about some knob?"

"Of course it is, darling. Whatever you need, I'm yours, and I'm here. You're okay."

/This is fiction/