you feel like your are capable of everything after you have sleeping pills under your veins and tongue and comfortably interfere with your circulation
I would definitely write something about anti-BDSM, having my characters all broke in the process, ended up in a "wanted" style cult but they would regain senses before long to realize that the only ethical way of staying functional is learning to bend harder next time. They would have to shout out pretty loud "fucks" to each other, crawl back from underground holes where they were coffined by bone-cold sheets, and tore down their uniform-like shrouds.
Go back to their office, the private Luthor "hall" high above Metropolis, back to their cubicle with dustbins overflown on the Lonely Planet, back to their secret cave for reluctant submission to a list of can't-let-gos. And does the third character really matter? Who trains who and who does not want to lose control (honestly, is there any ), he is long past that period, fully grown and agony borne. Then become enterpremiers and social workers civil fighters and reporters scholars and policy makers try proactively to mold the world just as positive as how negative your chances seem.
Or be Gods and heroes meta humans and giant cranes and bulldozers. Even after humans die these continue to make a difference, no need for machins to take our training of any kind. But they the characters have sacrificed integrities unknown to themselves, only emerged after the BDSM, and have obsorbed darkness that will suffice to revise them into mixures of their old selves and their perfect opposites. Just in order to keep them going and serve people right, for hell's sake. It means that, too many have already died and we are being irresponsible talking about losing someone we could still save, a popular synonym for normalize. Lets' hope for a system that only cracks when everyone cracks simultaneously, or it just renders little quivers from time to time as if no immigration is needed, not for sure.