Under Control: A BDSM Love Story

I woke up Sunday morning feeling better than I could ever remember feeling. Usually I cursed the sunlight, the chirping birds, the temperature of the air, and basically anything else that existed. But not this day. This time, everything seemed so completely different; perfect and beautiful in their complex design. It was just as Hector said: only when you’ve come close to an unforeseen death can you truly begin to appreciate life. I resolved to go out and experience it.



The coastline was gorgeous during sunrise. I had been so eager to get the day started that I left while it was still dark out. On an average day I would have to force myself to even get out of bed. It struck me just how much Hector had changed me in that one session. For the first time in forever, I cried when I saw the sun come up, and they were tears of happiness.

And breakfast was the best thing I had ever tasted in my life. I chewed slowly and carefully, savoring every flavor on my tongue. For once, eating wasn’t simply a burden I had to get through as a means to an end. I was enjoying it. The sounds of tons of clattering silverware and crying children of families out to Sunday brunch didn’t bother me in the least. In fact, it was almost music to my ears as I dug passionately into my hash browns. Even the weird stares I was getting didn’t faze me.

I gotta admit, even the simple things, like brushing my teeth and taking a dump, had become magical. I couldn’t believe it. It was like some sort of miracle.



I picked up my phone, staring down at the buttons as I considered what I was about to do. Was the change in my attitude drastic enough that I could muster up the courage to do this? I took a deep breath, realizing that if I thought about it too long I would lose my nerve completely.

I quickly dialed the number and waited through the ringing, anticipating the voice on the other end.

“Hello?”

I took another deep breath, letting it out slowly and quietly. “Hello, mom.”



“Oh my gawd!” my mother squealed as she came out to me with open arms. “My baby girl, my baby girl!”

I smiled, completely blown away by the death grip of a fifty-eight-year-old woman. “Hi mom. It’s good to see you too.”

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” she sobbed, not releasing me from her clutches. I didn’t really mind.

“Missed you too, mom,” I said, my eyes welling up.

“Come inside!” she said, releasing me at last and grabbing my hand. “Come in and have a cup of coffee with your mother!”

I followed her lead into the house, closing the door behind me.



“Tell me everything,” she said as she poured me a cup of coffee from a freshly-made pot. “We have so much catching up to do.” She patted the top of my hand with her own, smiling sweetly. “It’s been so long.”

“Well,” I said, adding some cream and sugar to my cup, “I’ve been living on my own for a while now.”

“Really?” she said, looking pleased. “How long?”

“A couple of years,” I said, stirring my coffee and taking a sip. It was good enough to make me close my eyes. “Mom, that is good.”

“Oh?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Well it’s just that generic brand from the store. I’m glad you like it though.”

I gave her a thumbs up and took another sip.

“So what are you doing?” she said, taking the seat across from me at the table. “For a living, I mean.”

“Data entry,” I said simply.

“Is that like accounting or what?” she said, leaning forward in interest.

“Not really. It’s more like just typing on a computer all day.”

“Oh. Sounds boring,” she said.

I shrugged. “It pays the bills.”

She put her hand on mine and gave me a smile. “Well I’m proud of you, sweetie. You’re finally out there. You’re finally independent.”

I couldn’t help grinning at that. “How about you, mom?”

She waved her hand as though dismissing the question. “Oh, you know. Old lady things. You know my life is boring.”

“It’s no more boring than mine,” I said with a chuckle, sipping my coffee.

“Trust me,” she said, giving me a significant look. “Now, what’s really important is, are you dating anyone?

I let out an indignant sound. “Mom… you ask me that every time, and every time it’s the same answer.”

“Well I can’t help it, sweetie,” she said defensively. “I want to know when you’re gonna give me grandchildren.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know I don’t want any kids, mom.”

“A woman can dream,” she said, stirring sugar into her cup. “But I gotta know. Something’s different about you. I can’t tell what, though.” She narrowed her eyes and looked me up and down.

I fidgeted, a bit nervously. “I gained weight, mainly.”

She looked at me reproachfully, one hand on her hip. “That’s not what I meant. And anyway, you don’t look it at all. If anything you look like you lost weight.”

“Thanks mom,” I said, embarrassed.

“It’s your attitude,” she concluded. “Something about how you carry yourself.” She continued to stare at me appraisingly for a while before letting out a sigh. “I don’t know, I just don’t know.”

We remained silent for a bit, sipping every now and then at our coffee. When I had first arrived at my mother’s house, I had all sorts of ideas about what I was going to say and how it was going to go. Reality was nothing like it. I was starting to feel pretty awkward.

“So what have you been doing lately?” she said at last. “Been going out? Having fun?”

I shrugged. “Every now and then I get out and do stuff. I usually don’t have the time, though.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.”

“Money’s been pretty tight,” I continued, running my fingers around the mug I was holding. “And it’s been hard to get around after the accident--” My voice dropped out when I said that, and I immediately regretted having such a big mouth.

My mother’s whole demeanor changed when she heard that. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “Accident?”

“Nothing,” I said, trying to dismiss it. But the damage was done. There was no way to change the subject now.

“No, don’t give me that,” she said, clearly becoming angry. “I know it’s something serious. Tell me.”

I sighed, knowing I major-league fucked up. “Mom, it’s gonna break your heart.”

“I don’t care,” she said, her voice soft and sad.

I closed my eyes and swallowed the lump in my throat. After a moment I opened them again. “I was in a car accident.” She gasped and covered her mouth in shock, which was what I expected, so I continued. “It wasn’t very serious, but my car was totaled and I broke my leg.”

“Oh my gawd,” she said, tears coming to her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, mom,” I said. “It happened like four months ago.” I was trying to make it sound like it was no big deal, but I already knew she had a barrage of questions waiting for me.

“Well how did it happen?”

Fuck. I knew that question was coming, but I didn’t think it was the first one she’d ask. “Look, mom, it’s really not important. I’m fine, that’s all that matters.”

“I wanna know,” she demanded, an angry look on her face.

Telling her what happened was the last thing on earth I wanted to do. I knew it would hurt her more than anything in the world. But the pleading in her eyes was too much for me. I let out a sigh. “Okay.” I braced myself for her reaction. I gave her a look that begged her not to hate me forever. She watched me attentively, and I knew I had to do it. “I was driving home from work. It was late at night, and I had a rough day. There wasn’t much traffic.” I shook my head. “No, actually there was none at all. I was… upset at the time. Really upset. So upset that the next thing I knew….” I swallowed hard and I could feel my eyes starting to well up with tears. “The next thing I knew, I had crashed into a telephone pole. I don’t remember how fast I was going. Probably only thirty at the most.” I let out a wry chuckle. “I guess I’m lucky my car was a piece of shit. Otherwise I… might not be here right now.”

When I finished, I could see a look of utter despair on my mother’s face. She looked like she had just been punched in the gut, and after a moment she took a deep, shuddering sigh.

Before she could say anything, I jumped on it. “I want you to know that nothing is your fault. You understand? Nothing.”

She shook her head slowly, looking completely drained. “You tried to kill yourself….”

I lowered my head. I couldn’t deny that. It was true. “It’s nothing you said or did, mom. I need you to understand that.”

“Why… why would you do that?” she whispered, her lip trembling.

“I was….” I faltered, groping for words. “I was desperate. I am desperate. I was waiting for something to happen. And eventually… I just got tired of waiting. I took things into my own hands.”

“But,” she said, her eyes downcast, “don’t you realize… I would never forgive myself if you died?”

I nodded slowly. Of course I hadn’t thought of how anyone else would feel at the time. But now that I could see how profoundly it would affect my loved ones, I could understand why my decision was wrong. “I’m sorry, mom,” was all I could say.

She stood up slowly, making her way over to the kitchen sink and staring out the window right above it. “You’re the only person I love. You know that, right?”

I felt tears streaming down my cheeks, and I nodded even though I knew she wasn’t looking at me.

“It hurts me so bad that you could do something like that,” she murmured, hanging her head in sadness.

“I’m going to therapy now,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m getting some really good help.”

She turned to look at me. “Really?”

I nodded. “My psychologist says I’m making lots of progress.”

She smiled; a sweet, sad expression. “I’m glad. I hope you don’t tell her too many things about me.”

I grinned and looked down, trying my best not to blush. It wasn’t because I felt bad for talking to a stranger about my family life. It was the fact that the stranger was a man. I decided that what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. “Don’t you worry, mom. You’re always the hero of my stories.”

She gave me a playfully pouty look and came back to her seat, sinking down into it. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Mostly I just came here to tell you that I’m fine,” I said, finishing off my coffee. “I know how much you worry about me.”

“You got that right,” she said. “I really wish you would keep in touch more often.”

“I will, mom.”

“Now,” she said, standing up and making her way over to the countertop, where her purse was sitting. She started riffling through it, found something, and made her way back over to the table. “I want you to have this,” she said, handing over a credit card.

I shook my head. “Aw, mom… no.”

“Please take it,” she said, waving her hand toward me. “I can’t stand the thought of you taking the bus everywhere.”

“Really, it’s no problem--”

“Please,” she said, her face adamant.

I shook my head, even as she pressed the card into my hand.

“It’s not much,” she said, nodding toward the card. “It has a two-thousand dollar spending limit.. You can use that to make a down-payment on a new car.”

“I can’t take your money, mom,” I said, feeling guilty as fuck.

“Nonsense,” she said, her mouth snapping shut. “That’s what family is for. And besides, you never know what freaks are on the bus.”

I stared at her, my heart overflowing with love and sadness. I wasn’t sure if this was her way of guilt-tripping me or what. Either way, I didn’t argue any further. I guessed the best thing to do was let her have her way after all I had put her through. I never did use the money, though.



“Thanks for everything, mom,” I said, my words muffled against her shoulder as she squeezed me to her once again.

“I only wish I could do more,” she said, patting my back.

Finally when I pulled away, I gave her a reassuring smile.

“You’ll keep in touch, right?” she said, her eyes full of hope and pleading.

I nodded. “Of course I will.”

“Good,” she said, giving me one last smile.

As I walked away to the bus stop, my mother stood in the doorway of her house, waving goodbye to me. And although it had been a difficult reunion, I was glad I had gone there all the same. For the most part, it was a perfect day.



Until I arrived home.

There was a message waiting for me on the answering machine, which right away signaled to me that there was something wrong. I never get messages.

As soon as I had set down my purse and kicked off my shoes, I pressed the play button.

“Hello, Dee?” came the uneasy voice of Dr. Martin. “I’m sorry to have missed you, but this is very urgent. If you could call me back as soon as possible, that would be great. My number is….”

He rattled it off uncharacteristically fast, and I had a hard time determining if he was even speaking English. After replaying it a few times, I managed to get it down into a real phone number. I was hesitant to call, however. What if he just wants to get me to come back to his group? That was something I was not willing to do. But I gave it some thought. Today I had done something I would never have been able to do before. I had the strength to admit something that had been buried in my heart, and I admitted it to the person I was afraid of telling it to the most. It was time to carpe diem. I picked up the phone and dialed the number.

“Hello?” came Dr. Martin’s voice.

“You called?” I said coldly.

“Oh, thank God it’s you, Dee,” he said, sounding very weary. It was very strange, and I immediately knew that something really was wrong.

“What’s the problem?” I said, dropping the stern pretense.

“You have to come to come to the CHMC,” he said, his voice somewhat panicked.

“Why, what happened?” I asked, beginning to get frustrated.

“It’s Jenny, from the group,” he said, his voice becoming quiet. “She tried to kill herself. I know she seemed to really like you and so I thought you ought to know--”

But I didn’t bother listening. I hung up the phone, put my shoes on, grabbed my purse, and was out the door.