Subspace and subdrop are well understood and widely discussed phenomena. Most any introductory BDSM site or book will contain some advice to new subs, warning them to expect it, what it feels like, ways to cope when it comes, and more advanced ones will dedicate lengthy discussion to what causes it, and ways it can be brought on more quickly, more secretly, without the presence of one's Master, etc. It's a common topic of discussion, and a reasonable consensus exists as to the general patterns and sensations of it.
What about the other side of these states? Doms, after all, do need to find themselves in a headspace suitable to play, and can experience a drop of their own after it fades away. But, while it is in general agreed that this 'domspace' and 'domdrop' do exist, there's relatively little discussion and description of it out there. There are many possible reasons for this; perhaps your average dom is less sociable, more self-reliant than most subbies, perhaps the conditions are more ideopathic than their equivalents on the distaff side.
So i'll discuss it in personal terms.
It's not easy, though, to describe what domspace feels like, particularly to people who have never experienced it. How would you go about describing the colour yellow to someone who had never had sight? How would you explain the feeling of listening to Beethoven's Ninth to someone without hearing? Language really doesn't leave me with many ways to describe it
directly, so I'm going to have to resort to abstractions for it- apologies, but you're in for a lot of allusion, similie and metaphor. I'll try to remain as lucid and prosaic as possible, but no promises.
I believe it's John Milton who spoke of 'justifying man's ways to god, and god's to man'. In many ways, that's not far from the feeling of being in my dominant world. It's a feeling like being a divinity within a mortal world, and trying to link the two together. The feeling of power, of connectedness to my pet and to the whole world around us is amazing. I can feel my senses sharpen, my thinking accelerate, like the most savage adrenaline rush, but drawn out, going and going and going with no end in sight. I feel the change in my body, too, my posture changes, my muscles tense, my breathing shifts in rhythm, my skin tingles with a galvanic response. But the most important thing is the surge of confidence, of self-belief, of pure willpower that comes on. I make descisions in an instant, and I know they're right- not because of any external validity, but through the sheer fact of having made them; my desire for them to be perfect MAKES them perfect. That feeling, of reflexive, infallible, instinctive perfection is entirely intoxicating.
There's also the confidence of knowing one's exact place within the universe, and the contentment of knowing that you're there. When I'm in my dominant space there's no doubt, because I know that my place is right where I am, in the here and the now, and that the naked pet cowering at my feet, kissing them with such reverence and devotion is simply what I, as a god among mortals, deserve. She is worshipful, passionate, beautiful, and content in her place, and it is satisfying to know that I deserve such adulation.
The lust transforms me. It's an incredibly intense feeling of desire; knowledge that any carnal indulgence I desire is open to me- possession, control, desire, the drive to take the pleasure and satisfaction that is due to me, and the power and energy that come from this feeling open my body to pleasures that I had never dreamed possible.
It is the purest feeling of being alive, without doubt, without fear, with total and utter belief in myself, and the knowledge that I deserve every perk that comes from embracing the god within me. The tempatation to hubris is, of course, intense. The temptation to abuse my power is always there. I've spoken before about the virtues I think make a good dominant- being able to hold onto those even in these moments is of paramount importance. I know, in my lucid, normal moments that I am not a god. I am not perfect. I am fallible, weak, human. The foundation of the self-respect I keep in those moments where I'm aware of that is that I've been able to keep to those virtues even when I've been drunk on dominance; that even in those moments of pure, unreflective, uncritical desire, I've held onto the things I believed and acted in the best interests of my pet.
Domspace, then. A sensation like no other- a sensation I've only barely scratched the surface of in my description. One that defies more detailed definition by its very nature.
But not one that lasts forever.
It can last a long time. It might fade from the peak, but I can stay in a mild form of it, a low-key euphoria for days afterward. Sometimes, I don't drop, just fade back slowly to normalcy. But a lot of the time, I crash like an angel thrown from paradise.
That's the feeling. I was a god. My senses walked the world in a sharpness, a clarity, unknown to mortals. I have fed on honeydew and drunk the milk of paradise. But now I'm not special. I'm ordinary, normal, boring, mortal, and even worse for having once been something more. I'm inert with a lack of energy, tired beyond belief, but usually unable to sleep, restless and without concentration. My body feels heavier than usual, my posture more stooped and downtrodden, my reflexes and movements unbearably sluggish. I'm indecisive, insecure, I doubt everything I do, feel irrational guilt and live in anxious apprehension of imminent calamity.
There are different degrees to it, of course. What I've written above is probably an extreme case, but it's what I felt up until about an hour ago. It's interesting that the degree to which I drop doesn't really bear any relation to how intensely or for how long I went into domspace. But the relationship of the sensations is clear- a feeling of being stripped of everything I felt while in space. Of losing the things that made me special, confident, euphoric. Aristotle, in his Nichomachean Ethics, wrote 'If eudaimonia, or happiness, is action in accordance with excellence, then it stands to reason then this action must be in accordance with the highest excellence within us'. That eudaimonia, that happiness, that action n accordance with the highest excellence within me is what I have- and that happiness is what I lose when I drop.
It can last for anything from about 12 hours to two or three days. There are numerous things that I use to try and pull myself out or mitigate the feeling. Long, hot showers. Physical exertion. Indulgence in favourite foods. Trying to lose myself in some activity, study, reading, gaming, music, family, movies, anything I can get my mind to settle to. But what really works, the only cure that works every time, and what works quickest is...
My rose.
Talking to her, even on the phone, reminding myself that she still loves me, still worships me, still serves me, even when I'm at my weakest and lowest, hearing her voice, her laugh, her love, feeling her arms around me, resting curled up next to her, feeling her hands on my skin, soothing, caring, loving, so warm and sweet and devoted, all these things can bring me back to myself. There's no cure, no remedy, no balm that can exceed the feeling of having one's slave to care for you, of having one's love for her reflected back. No medicine like the devotion of a loving pet. Especially if she gives you a massage and makes you a pavlova. Doms are lucky to have such wonderful creatures to care for us in our moments of crisis.
I'm just luckier than the rest of you.
I hope this has been at least marginally comprehensible. Better yet, I hope it's helped you understand a little of what it's like for us d-types. Comments? Questions? Flaming arrows?
What about the other side of these states? Doms, after all, do need to find themselves in a headspace suitable to play, and can experience a drop of their own after it fades away. But, while it is in general agreed that this 'domspace' and 'domdrop' do exist, there's relatively little discussion and description of it out there. There are many possible reasons for this; perhaps your average dom is less sociable, more self-reliant than most subbies, perhaps the conditions are more ideopathic than their equivalents on the distaff side.
So i'll discuss it in personal terms.
It's not easy, though, to describe what domspace feels like, particularly to people who have never experienced it. How would you go about describing the colour yellow to someone who had never had sight? How would you explain the feeling of listening to Beethoven's Ninth to someone without hearing? Language really doesn't leave me with many ways to describe it
directly, so I'm going to have to resort to abstractions for it- apologies, but you're in for a lot of allusion, similie and metaphor. I'll try to remain as lucid and prosaic as possible, but no promises.
I believe it's John Milton who spoke of 'justifying man's ways to god, and god's to man'. In many ways, that's not far from the feeling of being in my dominant world. It's a feeling like being a divinity within a mortal world, and trying to link the two together. The feeling of power, of connectedness to my pet and to the whole world around us is amazing. I can feel my senses sharpen, my thinking accelerate, like the most savage adrenaline rush, but drawn out, going and going and going with no end in sight. I feel the change in my body, too, my posture changes, my muscles tense, my breathing shifts in rhythm, my skin tingles with a galvanic response. But the most important thing is the surge of confidence, of self-belief, of pure willpower that comes on. I make descisions in an instant, and I know they're right- not because of any external validity, but through the sheer fact of having made them; my desire for them to be perfect MAKES them perfect. That feeling, of reflexive, infallible, instinctive perfection is entirely intoxicating.
There's also the confidence of knowing one's exact place within the universe, and the contentment of knowing that you're there. When I'm in my dominant space there's no doubt, because I know that my place is right where I am, in the here and the now, and that the naked pet cowering at my feet, kissing them with such reverence and devotion is simply what I, as a god among mortals, deserve. She is worshipful, passionate, beautiful, and content in her place, and it is satisfying to know that I deserve such adulation.
The lust transforms me. It's an incredibly intense feeling of desire; knowledge that any carnal indulgence I desire is open to me- possession, control, desire, the drive to take the pleasure and satisfaction that is due to me, and the power and energy that come from this feeling open my body to pleasures that I had never dreamed possible.
It is the purest feeling of being alive, without doubt, without fear, with total and utter belief in myself, and the knowledge that I deserve every perk that comes from embracing the god within me. The tempatation to hubris is, of course, intense. The temptation to abuse my power is always there. I've spoken before about the virtues I think make a good dominant- being able to hold onto those even in these moments is of paramount importance. I know, in my lucid, normal moments that I am not a god. I am not perfect. I am fallible, weak, human. The foundation of the self-respect I keep in those moments where I'm aware of that is that I've been able to keep to those virtues even when I've been drunk on dominance; that even in those moments of pure, unreflective, uncritical desire, I've held onto the things I believed and acted in the best interests of my pet.
Domspace, then. A sensation like no other- a sensation I've only barely scratched the surface of in my description. One that defies more detailed definition by its very nature.
But not one that lasts forever.
It can last a long time. It might fade from the peak, but I can stay in a mild form of it, a low-key euphoria for days afterward. Sometimes, I don't drop, just fade back slowly to normalcy. But a lot of the time, I crash like an angel thrown from paradise.
That's the feeling. I was a god. My senses walked the world in a sharpness, a clarity, unknown to mortals. I have fed on honeydew and drunk the milk of paradise. But now I'm not special. I'm ordinary, normal, boring, mortal, and even worse for having once been something more. I'm inert with a lack of energy, tired beyond belief, but usually unable to sleep, restless and without concentration. My body feels heavier than usual, my posture more stooped and downtrodden, my reflexes and movements unbearably sluggish. I'm indecisive, insecure, I doubt everything I do, feel irrational guilt and live in anxious apprehension of imminent calamity.
There are different degrees to it, of course. What I've written above is probably an extreme case, but it's what I felt up until about an hour ago. It's interesting that the degree to which I drop doesn't really bear any relation to how intensely or for how long I went into domspace. But the relationship of the sensations is clear- a feeling of being stripped of everything I felt while in space. Of losing the things that made me special, confident, euphoric. Aristotle, in his Nichomachean Ethics, wrote 'If eudaimonia, or happiness, is action in accordance with excellence, then it stands to reason then this action must be in accordance with the highest excellence within us'. That eudaimonia, that happiness, that action n accordance with the highest excellence within me is what I have- and that happiness is what I lose when I drop.
It can last for anything from about 12 hours to two or three days. There are numerous things that I use to try and pull myself out or mitigate the feeling. Long, hot showers. Physical exertion. Indulgence in favourite foods. Trying to lose myself in some activity, study, reading, gaming, music, family, movies, anything I can get my mind to settle to. But what really works, the only cure that works every time, and what works quickest is...
My rose.
Talking to her, even on the phone, reminding myself that she still loves me, still worships me, still serves me, even when I'm at my weakest and lowest, hearing her voice, her laugh, her love, feeling her arms around me, resting curled up next to her, feeling her hands on my skin, soothing, caring, loving, so warm and sweet and devoted, all these things can bring me back to myself. There's no cure, no remedy, no balm that can exceed the feeling of having one's slave to care for you, of having one's love for her reflected back. No medicine like the devotion of a loving pet. Especially if she gives you a massage and makes you a pavlova. Doms are lucky to have such wonderful creatures to care for us in our moments of crisis.
I'm just luckier than the rest of you.
I hope this has been at least marginally comprehensible. Better yet, I hope it's helped you understand a little of what it's like for us d-types. Comments? Questions? Flaming arrows?
