(Note – this is a stream of consciousness and a peek inside the mind and soul of a Dominant in the midst of a hard Topdrop as it is happening. If the structure of the following words seems chaotically haphazard and wandering aimlessly, well, welcome to Topdrop)
My mind is so scattered right now that I don’t know how to start this post, so we’ll go with that as the opener…
For you regular Peekers™ you may have read my mentioning an amazing spanking session Leigh and I shared two nights previous.
And with that sentence I just stared blankly at the screen of my MacBook for easily a minute, my fingers hovering over the black keys like vultures waiting for words to just die so I can easily devour word count from their carcasses.
I am experiencing Topdrop. And it fucking sucks.
The fact that I am immediately chasing a 2nd cup of coffee with a cold Pale Ale isn’t probably the smartest idea right now, either.
That evening was beautiful. I wrote Leigh a love email (doesn’t sound as poetic as a love letter, does it?) With her blessing I am sharing it with all of you so that you may grasp what a special evening it was as to better understand why I dropping so hard right now:
Good morning doll,I wanted to text you, but what I am feeling and have to say cannot be done best in 140 characters bites.You were exquisite last night.As you lay there, face down on the bed with your amazing ass arched high and tight, I thought to myself “I am the luckiest bastard in the world right now.” To have someone so beautiful, so fucking gorgeous, offer not just their body to me to do with as I pleased, but to also submit to me their inner self for my safe guard. To know that they trust me enough to display themselves so vulnerably, so erotically, so open with the mindset of that which was presented was going to be the recipient of pain so delicious they would see “the pretty colors”, sparkling little stars and float away inside themselves.As I type these simple words of praise and appreciation I keep pausing to allow my hand, the same hand that blistered your sweet ass with thousands of stinging blows not 12 hours prior, to wander over the painful erection the memory of is causing me.Fuck, through these jeans won’t do. *unzipped* Freed. That’s much better.I crave spanking you. I desire to make your head spin and heart race, your soul fly and your spirit soar through administering the flat of my firm, rapid hand on your quivering ass cheeks. Feeling them grow hot with blood, blushing pink with friction and arrousal. Drinking in your submission and the ramifications of it. Pushing you, teasing you, abusing you. Listening to you whimper with my comments, the sound of your focused breathing an erotic symphony to my focused ears on where you are inside your beauty. Raking the raw flesh with fingernails and teeth. Making you do that which you secretly crave but feebly protest.Again and again and again and….well…I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.And get used to it. I vow that from last night forward you will never go a week without receiving a proper spanking, probably more like days. And that once a month we will devote an entire evening to a special scene from which you will be able to completely let go of all you know as reality and just drop into the abyss, so you may temporarily exist in a state of welt induced tears of joy, flowing as freely as that cunt of yours does when its properly aroused.I want to, no…need to give this gift of freedom to you.Thank you again for a lovely evening. I adore you, doll.Love,Scot
That is why I soared. I fucking flew. The Topspace I orbited in over one phase of the earth’s rotation was simply wonderful.
But what comes up (not a euphemism) must come down. And when you were as high as I was, thats a fucking death spiral from the heavens back into myself. And the landing?
Well, its not looking good.
Before I go any further, I feel its important to know that I am keystroking this from outside, specifically The Hammock™. Gotta love WifI and secured local networks. I can have my blog and Mother Nature too. Leigh prescribed, via text, an hour of sun and air. “For the both of us since I can’t,”she said. I protested. She won. And yes, it’s the same hammock of Swinging legend.
So, I decided to share my hand- knotted, rope-braced plummet with all of you…
It is serene. The wind is blowing just enough to cause the leaves on the maples and poplars to mimic the sound of surf on the shore. Birds sing, chirp at each other. The sky is a landscape artist’s fantasy, full of cotton ball clouds scattered amidst a pale blue sea of heaven. LOL…a squirrel even went postal on me from the safe confines of its branched domain with a litany of squeaks. Probably a good thing I am not fluent in Squirrel or I’d likely be POd from its comments. I do know its seriously upset right now.
I can relate, my nutty buddy, trust me.
Told you my mind was scattered. That’s one of the ways Topdrop manifests in me. I have extreme difficulty focusing. My train of thought gets derailed easily and often. I typically wander, looking for focus or ways to make me do the same. And when I mean wander, I mean room to room, or task to task, not just thought to thought. Its frustrating as fuck.
But that’s the easy part. Its the actual falling back into myself that I loath.
Much has been written about subspace. How it comes about, what it is, what it’s like, etc. Inclusive in these numerous reflections, by default, is subdrop. This is when a submissive comes back down from floating away into their subspace.
A lot of it is chemical. Endorphins and dopamine are powerful ass compounds. Forge them in the furnace of stress induced adrenaline and all the body’s self-defense chemical factories are at maximum production, pumping the owner full of these as they are flogged or spanked, etc. When the assault of the senses stops, these chemicals WHOOSH in. No wonder the sensation of flight or floating is often described when referring to subspace.
But what about the Dominant?
They drive joy and satisfaction, even arousal, from the submissive’s distress and resultant subspace. I touched on this when I wrote about subspace. They crave all the aspects of persona that the submissive MUST get rid of to create subspace. This is the power exchange incarnate.
It’s like emotional and spiritual endorphins and dopamine. And it has the same effect, only instead of a physical manifestation being required (BDSM) its a intangible one (the “aura” created as a result).
Addictive? Fuck yeah! I crave it. Not ashamed to say I need it. I am a submission vampire. I literally “feed” off Leigh’s.
Still with me? I can’t tell through the fog if any of this makes any more sense than a bad recipe. I apologize if it seems confusing, not my intent. And I am vowing to, with the benefit of time, NOT edit this at all. I want all of you to see what its like to Topdrop.
It’s actually scary, at least for me. Why? Because its the exact opposite of subspace, but in the same place. Oh, I’m falling into the abyss that is myself, what makes me Me. But without the endorphins. Or dopamine. Or adrenaline. No floaty feeling, no pretty colors, no nothing except the cold, hard, dark as ink gravity that is reality, sucking me down like black quicksand at midnight.
And there is not a fucking thing I can do about. Which is fair, in hind sight (bad spanking joke). It was my firm hand on Leigh’s amazing ass that sent us both into our respective spaces. She came down. I immensely enjoyed her fidgeting yesterday, her ass cheeks itched like mad as she sat. So in the interest of Equal Opportunity Perversion I too shall come back down. Hard. Just like my hands were on her.
Poetic justice. Balance.
It doesn’t make it any easier. Well, that’s not true. The sado masochist in me appreciates the irony.
So I lie here, twisting in two kinds of wind. One created by the sun’s rays heating the earth’s surface, the other by Leigh’s Sir’s hand heating the skin of her backside. One is physical. I can feel it on my skin. The other is spiritual. I can feel it under my skin. One is comforting, soothing, the other howling, screaming for its due.
So I fall….
It sucks. Big time. And there is absolutely nothing I can do. The irony of the fact I am, in essence, in a form of internal bondage is not lost on me. Topdrop will make me its bitch.
I remembered to forget that this topic is touchy within the BDSM community. Dominants can’t be weak. They must be the Strength of the dynamic, they’re not allowed to be vulnerable, or heaven forbid let their submissive see and experience Them in this state. Many don’t believe in it.
Its real. Oh fuck yeah, its real. Trust me. I’m feel as if I am being drained from the outside in, collapsing upon my own perverted critical mass like a kinky black hole, and not the fun kind.
I want my Leigh…
To hold her, be held. Soon. She even made mention of getting me chocolates, which gets mentioned quite a bit as a BDSM trauma recovery tool. A lot of it is the fact its simple energy, but also there is the science that chocolate, from a chemical viewpoint, shares a lot of qualities with the body’s own chemistry when experiencing what we perceive as “love.”
And… just stared at the screen with a 1000 yard stare for, oh, almost a minute. Wondering where I was, where I was going with all of this. Fuck.
Topdrop is very real.
Any submissives reading this, please keep this in mind if your Dominant seems to act peculiar post-scene. May be hours, might be days. But please don’t take Their indifference, lack of communication or, in my case, desire to over communicate and crawl inside my doll’s space and experience what she does when I hold her after beating her ass so severely she cries for no reason.
I guess it really is a power exchange. Trust. Communicate. Be. Share. Smile.
Now, if you excuse me I need to just let go and *deep breath*…fall…and let Mother Nature rock me to where I need to be until my Leigh takes her place.
With chocolate, blue eyes and her embrace 🙂