Once upon a time, there was a dom who didn’t believe in consequences. They were sent down to earth by a vengeful fairy godmother who wanted to punish him unjustly. If he harmed his sub, he thought her injuries were meted out by the universe without rhyme or reason. The law of cause and effect was for other people, so he resented her the way a giant might resent a beanstalk for breaking when he chopped it down.
He resented her wounds for removing his freedom to play exactly as he chose.
He resented the doctor’s bills, therefore he left those to her.
He resented her for her lost earnings because he expected her to contribute to the lifestyle he preferred.
He resented her for the new limits she put in place to keep herself safe.
He resented her for treating D/s as though it wasn’t a game.
When its effects weren’t a game, he vanished, only returning when her body and mind had healed. When she slowly began to distrust him, he naturally resented her for that, too.
Like a baby who thinks he can’t be seen if he covers his eyes, he thought ignoring the gradually rising chaos could make it unhappen. If his sub’s suffering got in the way of his wilful ignorance, he called her “unsubmissive.” He, however, was a sparkling example of dominant perfection. He could whip her until she turned blue. He could shout and strut. What more was there to know about power exchange?
And so he kept racking up harm upon harm: poisoned apples… pricked fingers… dark enchantments. He hated the fact that his many errors drew attention to his inexperience, which caused him shame. To fix that shame, he taught his sub never to mention his mistakes. Wasn’t her health her responsibility anyway? And so he raged and he railed until he lost her entirely.
But that loss wasn’t a consequence of his behaviour either, so he felt he’d been punished unjustly. The last time they saw him, he was furious and alone, consequences raining down on his head like a falling sky