Yesterday, while commenting on the topic of SubSpace and AfterCare on the Postglow blog, the sincere question of whether or not Dominants experience their own forms of subspace and, subsequently, subdrop was posed.
Yes. Yes we do.
It gave me the opportunity to reply to Suqui (the blog’s host) with my post on what its like to drop from the Top Welcome To Topdrop Live.
While typing that stream of unsubconsiousness I, with Leigh’s permission, used a love email I had sent her the morning after the scene that precluded the aforementioned drop. In hindsight (ironic choice of words given it was a spanking scene) I now realize it not only professed my feelings about her and what we shared, but also that it was a verbal snapshot of what Topspace feels like.
It bothers me that it was confined within the contents of such an otherwise depressing musing, hiding in plain sight with all the other contents of The Archives. That unless someone was interested in my ugly descent back into reality, they would never see what it was like to kiss the sky. Or how it feels to fucking soar on hurricane wings filled on the wind of emotional surrender and physical release.
So, in that she has already given her blessing to share it once, I am sharing it again. But now it will get the space it properly deserves – all its own.
So with that, the unedited love email:
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.
Thats how Topspace feels, at least to me. Your Domage may vary. See Dominants for more details. Restrictions often applied.