Mind the Drop
The Drop I Didn’t See Coming
At the beginning of this year, I made the decision to take a six week break from seeing clients and write a how-to book on BDSM. Six weeks is not a lot of time to create a first draft, but I created an aggressive schedule and wrote with devotional, almost fanatical focus. I Dommed the hell out of myself during those six weeks and it paid off – I wrote a book. February blurred into March as I edited, polished, and reshaped every chapter.
The first week in April, I hit send.
The manuscript went to an agent. She read it on the weekend, loved it, and sent me a contract a few days later. Everything was going according to plan. I was elated – but something strange happened next. She sent the book to a couple of editors, and I entered a new phase of the process: waiting. The momentum stopped. There was nothing left to do but wait.
And that’s when I started to unravel.
I wasn’t panicked. I wasn’t even particularly worried. But I was… hollow. My energy vanished. My mind, once so sharp, felt foggy and dull. Everything felt either boring or overwhelming. I kept asking myself: Where is my drive? My erotic fire? My creativity? I was exhausted and listless. I didn’t recognize myself.
When I mentioned this to my therapist, she laughed gently and said, “Oh, you have drop.”
I blinked. “What?”
Drop. That thing I teach about. That I hold my clients through. That thing I have experienced before from the Top and from the bottom.
I’d been in a prolonged, high-stakes, hormonally-charged flow state for months. Intense focus, creative tension, and high reward anticipation had pulled me into a kind of sustained topspace. And now that it was over, my body and nervous system were crashing.
That’s what this post is about. Not just the kind of drop that happens after a whip cracks or a collar comes off – but the subtler, longer arc of emotional drop that can hit when we come down from any state of intensity. Whether you’re a Dominant, a submissive, a switch, or simply human, you’ve probably felt it too.
Let’s talk about what drop really is – and how we care for ourselves when it comes.
Drop is a part of BDSM
If you’ve ever felt exhilarated after a powerful erotic or emotional experience – only to crash into a fog of fatigue, sadness, or disconnection afterward – you’ve touched the edges of what the BDSM community calls drop. It’s a phenomenon that can affect both submissives and Dominants alike, and it isn’t just about feelings. Drop is rooted in real, physiological processes that unfold when our bodies and minds come down from states of extended arousal – whether that arousal is sexual, creative, emotional, or psychological.
Let’s start with the science of the high before we explore the fall.
The Physiology of Peak States
When we enter into intense states – like a deeply immersive BDSM scene, a prolonged creative flow session, or even a transformational group experience – our bodies go through a complex hormonal and neurochemical ballet.
Cortisol and adrenaline surge during anticipation, helping us stay alert and focused. Norepinephrine sharpens our attention, while dopamine delivers that delicious rush of pleasure and motivation. In erotic or emotionally charged encounters, oxytocin and endorphins also flood the system, creating a sense of bonding, bliss, and sometimes even euphoria. Submissives may enter “subspace,” a floaty, altered state often likened to a runner’s high or meditative state. Dominants, too, may experience “topspace” – a focused, driven headspace where control feels effortless and intoxicating.
These neurochemical states are not sustainable indefinitely. Whether they last for minutes, hours, or span a phase of weeks or months during a particularly intense dynamic, the body will eventually seek equilibrium, and that rebalancing is where drop can hit.
So What Is Drop?
As stated earlier, “drop” is a BDSM term that refers to the emotional, psychological, and sometimes physical crash that can follow a short scene,or the end of a longer dynamic. While it's most commonly associated with submissives (sub-drop), dominants (dom-drop) can experience it too.
Drop is not a flaw or a failure. It’s not a sign that something went wrong. It’s the body's way of recalibrating after a period of heightened intensity. But because it can be accompanied by anxiety, sadness, physical exhaustion, irritability, or even depression, it’s important to understand and prepare for it – especially if you're new to power exchange or deep play.
Sub-Drop: When the High Fades
Sub-drop is often what people first learn about in BDSM circles. It can happen minutes, hours, or even days after a scene. Submissives coming down from the altered state of subspace may feel disoriented, weepy, physically sore, or emotionally raw.
Some common symptoms of sub-drop include:
Fatigue or muscle aches
Crying without clear cause
Feelings of abandonment or unworthiness
Anxiety, guilt, or shame (especially if the scene touched on taboo themes)
A craving for reassurance or closeness
Why does this happen? Partly because the cocktail of feel-good chemicals is wearing off. Endorphins fade. Dopamine drops. Oxytocin levels may plummet – especially if physical touch and connection are suddenly absent. It's a bit like the emotional crash people experience after MDMA use, or even after childbirth: the system has been flooded with bonding and bliss chemicals, and their absence can be keenly felt.
This is one reason aftercare is such a vital practice in kink. Reconnection, rest, hydration, cuddling, and soothing rituals help support the submissive as they transition back into baseline reality. Drop can still occur even with excellent aftercare, and it’s not a sign that you did something wrong.
Dom Drop: The Hidden Crash
Dominants are often expected to be the “strong” ones – capable, collected, in control. But doms are just as human, and just as biologically wired for hormonal highs and emotional investment.
Dom-drop can be especially confusing because it often gets overlooked or invalidated. After guiding a partner through an intense experience – especially one involving pain, emotional vulnerability, or deep surrender – many dominants experience:
Emotional exhaustion
Doubt or guilt (“Did I go too far?”)
A sense of isolation or disconnection
Sadness or post-performance emptiness
Fatigue or muscle soreness (I once hypertrophied my arm after a particularly intense paddling session with a sub who had a high pain tolerance.)
Like submissives, dominants experience a neurochemical rollercoaster during scenes. The responsibility, the adrenaline, the erotic charge – all of it adds up. When it ends, so does the rush. Because Doms are often holding space for others, they may not have time to check in with themselves until after the fact.
One of the most powerful ways to manage dom-drop is to build aftercare for the Dom into your dynamic. This could include verbal appreciation, physical touch, solo decompression time, or follow-up conversations to reaffirm trust and satisfaction.
Long-Term Drop: Not Just Scene-Based
While drop is often discussed in relation to individual scenes, it can also occur after longer-term dynamics or emotionally intense periods in a relationship. When a D/s dynamic ends, or when a prolonged period of erotic or emotional intensity shifts (even if the shift is mutual or positive), both parties may experience a sense of grief, listlessness, or disorientation.
This is especially true in dynamics that unfold over months or years. Our identities, habits, and sense of self can become interwoven with our roles. Letting go of that structure, even temporarily, can feel like losing a part of ourselves.
In these cases, drop may look more like:
Lingering sadness or emptiness
Loss of motivation or erotic desire
Identity confusion (“Who am I without this?”)
Desire to re engage before emotional processing is complete
This kind of drop calls for more than cuddles and chocolate. It requires time, reflection, sometimes journaling or therapy, and space to reorient to a new normal.
Supporting Each Other Through Drop
Whether you’re a Top, bottom, switch, or voyeur, understanding drop is part of being an ethical kinkster. Knowing that the high comes with a down-phase doesn't ruin the experience, it makes it richer, safer, and more sustainable.
Here are some practices that can help:
Plan for aftercare before the scene starts. Ask what each person typically needs afterward.
Normalize drop in your community and your relationships. Talk about it like the weather: not shameful, just natural.
Check in with each other in the hours and days after play – not just physically, but emotionally.
Build rituals for reconnection: meals together, soft blankets, shared showers, voice memos, or journaling can all help.
Don’t panic if/when drop arrives. It’s not a failure, it’s part of the rhythm of play.
Final Thoughts
Drop is a reminder that intensity often has a cost, and we need to be prepared to pay the price. We can honor it as part of the full arc of erotic and emotional experience. The high, the fall, the return to center – these are all sacred parts of BDSM and kink.
Understanding drop doesn’t take the magic out of kink. It grounds the magic; making it real, sustainable, and ultimately healing. You are allowed to come down gently. You are allowed to ask for care. You are absolutely allowed to build structures that honor your highs and your lows.