I'm not one to take dictation, but from such a nice girl, i think i can oblige.
Oatmeal girl in a comment on this post quoted something i wrote and then asked a follow-up:
" Without realizing it, i've snapped. I'm in a completely different world. This world consists of energy, and specific postures, and correction."
the Dom's equivalent of subspace? i'm always wanting to know... again and again i ask: what did it feel like? what does it do for you?
Is there an equivalent for the dominant to subspace? Well, to be honest, i hadn't considered it before. I think this comes partially from the fact that i'd never fully confirmed the existence of subspace or headspace as it is sometimes called. I've always bristled at convention, commonly-held definitions, large generalised solutions. Like Murray Burns of A Thousand Clowns, i've railed against conformity. For this reason, i do not refer to myself as my girl's Master or Sir, nor do i refer to her as my slave or submissive. I use the term "dominant" to refer to my half of the power exchange we engage in, but not because that is my title. Following this "Rage Against the Machine", it makes sense that i hadn't verified with sound evidence the exact parameters of subspace nor claimed my own version of the submissive's hideaway.
Effusively threaded throughout my interactions with submissive girls is an achievement i've managed to experience several times. I've described it earlier here as a field of electricity that forms in a small pocket in the chest and grows, soon overtaking the body. I've never gone as far as clinically verifying the anatomy of this charge for the girl, i've simply intuited that is it for me how it is for her how it is for me. I've even witnessed altered states wherein the girl's previously chatty, demure, lady-like corporeal frame has vanished into an ether that fogs her mind with a delicate plushness. I've encountered the production of massive amounts of viscous lubrication that bubbles forth from an artesianal source inside, making this flow feel inhuman if not ungodly. I've heard whispered leathery tongues of Cyrillic chatter channeled by a girl who'd never taken a day of foreign language in her life. I still cannot say, based on the evidence of these ends to my sadistic means, that i have witnessed subspace.
Rapture causes one to react, respond, pronounce out loud a great overcoming. Rapture stimulates one to action. Ecstasy silences. It paralyzes the body with an overflow of joy, freezing the person in the moment of complete exaltation. I have experienced both, during meditation by myself and during the exploration of SM play with a submissive girl. More often than not, when i feel that current blossoming beneath my ribs as i'm marauding across the flesh of my female target, ecstasy enraptures me.
I don't believe i can speak with enough authority about other people's experiences out there to say what it is that happens to me happens to them, but for me there is a click. A very dangerous, audible and physical click where the head no longer controls the body. The circuit breaker in my mind that provides my social congenialities with enough sustaining energy gets tripped. There my "victim" sits, in the dark, uncertain of how large the beast is that looms near her, nor how hungry he is.
My voice changes. It grows deeper, quieter. My breathing also dives deeper, instead of deriving from my lungs, i seem to pull it from way deep in my diaphragm. My temples tingle and pulse. My touch feels electric. Every surface that i press with my fingertips erupts with a field of static separating it from my skin. I feel a heaviness building right at the base of my sternum, that pushes on and then into my stomach, to which my entire digestive system awakens. My cock grows emphatically hard, almost painfully so. A rush of blood engorges my entire groin, making every vein and muscle in this area swell.
But what is not obviously apparent is the harmonic of overwhelming peace that hovers above, acting as a guide through a dark unknown forest. Despite the fact that it takes rather aggressive actions on my part - whipping a leather belt across her buttocks, binding her with tight knots into a hog tie, destroying her identity by layering her under layer after layer of latex - a tranquility does emerge from her consternation. This may come from the rare connection made between two souls who have momentarily rubbed together, or it could just be a tremendous high experienced by two incredibly horny lovers. I'll not try to define (and hence negate) what it is that's happening here because i feel that there is still so much to experience which could prove my rush to definition wrong.
But, i know i'd like to think that what i experience as the dominant is not so drastically different from what she the submissive experiences. She acts as the vessel and i perform the role of the flow - the shape of the sum gets created by our individual nuances. It would make sense that we are equal halves of the same whole, our hemispheres merely a reflection of one another.