Subspace

Before I had ever experienced a D/s relationship, before I had ever felt a belt across my exposed ass, before I became a slave to my Master, I had read plenty of stories about what this kind of life would entail…and I knew that I wanted it. I knew that, one day, I hoped to find a loving, patient and yet firm and demanding master who was worthy of my complete submission. To find the one who could own, command, abuse, restrain, collar, adore, and love me...to be able to turn myself over fully to another. When the women/slaves in the stories that I read wrote about finding their respective masters, I knew that this was a possibility for me, albeit a remote one. Yet there was often a part of their stories that gave me cause to question their genuineness – the mention of subspace.

I had always regarded subspace as a myth, something that clever submissives used to end a torture session or to top from the bottom in a rather surreptitious manner. How could it be possible to stop feeling the pain of a belt, cane or hand on your already tender ass? How could you not feel the stinging slaps on your bruised and clamped breasts? How could you make the pain go away and, even better, feel like you were floating in a pleasant, safe medium in which everything else disappears yet your submission remains in sharp focus? Impossible. Simply impossible. Until I went there. Well, until we went there, I should say.

I have been to subspace four times so far (no passport necessary). The very first thing that I realized about subspace was that I could never go there alone. I needed Daddy to take me there, to take me to the place that I could not get to by myself. The first time that Daddy took me there, he did so with his bare hand across my ass. I had never endured a spanking like this one before, and even though he had whipped me with a belt on a prior occasion, nothing could prepare me for the burning sting that his hand would inflict.

I twisted, I screamed out, I pulled away, I got terribly wet, I cried…and then I stopped. I knew that Daddy was still beating me, but my body let go under the successive blows. What had initially hurt me so terribly was now just a dull thudding. My body relaxed, I stopped squirming, my eyes glazed over and stopped darting around the room. For the first few seconds, I thought that I had somehow passed out but yet had remained semi-conscious. It was then that I realized that Daddy had taken me to subspace. So…it really did exist. By the time I had figured out where I was and what was happening, Daddy was in front of me, holding my head in his hands and bringing me back to him.

Coming back from subspace is almost as pleasurable as being in subspace itself because the connection between Master and slave is at its strongest point in that moment. Daddy had me tethered to him and never let me go the entire time…and when he pulled me back, all I could do was cry… Tears of fear from what I had just experienced and from the intensity of what we had done, tears of physical and mental exhaustion, tears of happiness and joy at finally being able to let go. I let go at the hands of my Master, my Daddy, my owner, and my partner. By letting go, it felt as though I occupied a (sub)space between the conscious and the unconscious, the present and the future, the living and the dead. Although unsettling, I doubt there is any experience that is more rewarding or fulfilling than that.

Daddy has taken me to subspace three more times since then and he’s beginning to experiment with the power of suggestion while I’m there. I had always assumed that subspace (even when I wasn’t sure of its existence) was an end in and of itself, yet Daddy is showing me that subspace can be the means to some very powerful and desirable ends. Intense pain. Writhing. Screaming. Heat. I’m so close, Daddy. More belting. Harder. Rhythmic. Floating. Peace. Whispers in my ear… “Baby girl, your Daddy just put you in subspace. Now Daddy is going to make you cum harder than you’ve ever cum in your entire life. Focus on my voice… Get ready for your orgasm, baby girl… NOW!!!” The orgasm, in all of its pain, ecstasy, pleasure, and release washes over me… I am unable to stop it, even if I wished to do so. My Master has me right where he wants me; he has never owned me more completely than he does at this moment. As the orgasm continues to rip through me, Daddy starts to bring me back. I am instantly turned into a quivering wreck of a slave, sobbing on his chest and unable to control myself. He holds me close, never letting go, reminding me that I belong to him and that he will always take care of me… The tears slow as I drift into a necessary and extremely pleasant sleep – being reborn is an exhausting process. It is also one that has just begun…