Burning Out (Close to The End)

    Miss Margo Note:  I wrote this on the 10th, I believe, but I didn’t publish it.  I was too shy and I also felt ashamed to admit that I relapsed and had to go to the hospital.  It’s an honest blog post, though, and not a bad piece of writing, and it documents my thoughts and feelings at the time, so I think it’s worthy of publication.  I still have a lot more to write about my last days at the dungeon and what I’m doing now.  Don’t worry, this blog is not going anywhere and I have no intentions of stopping it.  I actually have plenty of other tales of Dungeon Drama and Crazy Dommes to write about, now that I’m out of there and don’t have to worry about one of the mean girls finding this blog and shanking me in the locker room. 

                                                    *                                               *                                           *

  This is the truth.

        It’s 5 AM and I’m sitting on the couch in the locker room at the Studio.  I’ve been here since 11 AM yesterday.  I am wide awake and I hate it here, but I’m afraid to go back to my apartment for some reason.  I will have to go back soon to care for my animals and do what needs to be done. 

        I did five sessions while I was here this time and made approximately $1800.  I need to count the money, but I don’t want to look at it now.  It’s in my purse in my locker.

       It is my most profitable day here.  

       It is also one of my last.

       Something has changed in my mind.  I don’t know what happened, but I just can’t cope with this shit anymore.  The last session I had this morning was with a coked-out Englishman.  He was a nice, polite (one thing I have to say about the English–they are barbarians when they drink, but otherwise, they have excellent manners) fellow who wanted me to pretend to be his mother, even though he was at least 15 years older than me.  I got dressed up like Hillary Clinton.  He pretended to be about 14 years old, and a sullen, defiant brat.  I took him to see another Mistress, who played a “doctor,” to consult with her about his behavioral problems.  

        We “drugged” him and then “decided” to fix him by strapping him down to a table and giving him a sex change operation.  He would be better if he was a girl.  The client had an entire script written out.  We pretended to amputate his genitals, while he begged “Mummy” not to let it happen.

        How do you think that made me feel…?  I know it’s just pretend, but fuck, man, that is some sick shit and I didn’t feel good doing it.  I know I am responsible for the consequences because I participated of my own volition.  Nobody held a gun to my head.  I didn’t want to do it, but I did it as a favor to my friend, the “doctor,” who didn’t think any other Mistress in the Studio tonight had the talent and fortitude to do the session correctly with her.  

       That’s a compliment to my acumen, but it’s also a testament to how far I’ve fallen down the fucking rabbit hole.  “MISS MARGO CAN HANDLE THE WORST OF THE WORST!”

 I’d already had four other sessions, two of them where I was submissive.  Underneath my Hillary Clinton outfit, bruises were springing up like mushrooms after a Spring rain.   My skin hurt(s).  I didn’t have time to process the beatings in my mind.  I don’t give a fuck about physical pain and I never have, but there is something strange about being in a room with a total stranger who wants to hurt you.  I didn’t use to perceive it, but something happened, and now I’m sensitive to it. 

       I find my father wherever I go.

       I relapsed last week and went on a bender.  I hated it and I was miserable.  When I stopped, I threw up constantly and then had a seizure when I was alone in my bedroom.  It terrified me and I went to the ER.  I walked there at 5 AM.  

       I can’t finish this.  I thought that I could, but I can’t.

7 thoughts on “Burning Out (Close to The End)”

  1. The the old saying, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and wiser. I don’t know? Please make a good decision for yourself today and then make another one tomorrow…

    keep writing, i’ll keep reading and wishing great things for you! ss

  2. Regarding the future of the blog, I hope you just write what you want to write. Don’t feel you have to revisit the dungeon days, as much as many of us like those posts. Like me, I think your readers came for the SM and are staying for the emotional honesty. Whatever you write will be of interest.

  3. Dear Miss Margo

    I suspect that quite a few of us are following these harrowing posts, with great sympathy and with admiration for your honesty. Like most of your followers, I suspect, I started reading your blog because I’m one of these dreadful perverts looking for titillation (a strangely old-fashioned word).

    But I am also a recovering alcoholic. One of the things I discovered rather to my surprise in recovery was how different the world looked – how much less hostile and evil it appeared. It’s none of my business, but I think there’s nothing shameful about a relapse, nor is there necessarily anything wrong in playing fucked up scenarios, in a safe place. This sounds to me like a rock bottom, when everything in the world looks desperately bleak. But that’s not the end of things, just the beginning. You’re obviously young, clever, physically fit and rather wise. I think you’ll get better.

    …aaaand I also remember how irritating it was being patronised by recovering alcoholics, when I was in my early days, so I’d better leave it at that. At least you’re welcome to slap this one around the face for being so annoying!

    I hope you get well, and start to feel better, especially about yourself (as you should). I suspect a lot of people do.


  4. Dear Miss Margo,

    I am so sorry to hear of your latest setback.
    It all sounds horrifying. Be well.


  5. Dear Miss Margo,

    I have been meaning to write you a fan letter for a while, but your blog is one of my favourites on the whole wide internet. You are a gifted and insightful writer, and I have learned from you. I wish you the absolute best in your recovery. I am proud to be one of your 8 readers (of course it is many more), and I hope you are OK.


  6. Hi Margo

    “Then we went back to the lounge to watch the World Cup”

    Sounds like life has been treating you the way Germany treated Brazil.

    You don’t have a thing to be ashamed about regarding your relapse. You are out of the studio so something good has come of it. I hope this doesn’t sound too harsh, but you have been insane for some time now if you use Einstein’s definition of insanity as doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. You have broken the rut you have been in for so long. We humans are nothing if not creatures of habit.

    Take care of yourself.


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