Memoir – Becoming a submissive wife
Although we had been experimenting with kink for a while, finding the illusive subspace that others spoke of didn’t seem so easy. It wasn’t that we were chasing it exactly, more that back in those times of comparisons and finding my labels and discovering who I was and what this D/s thing was all about, I wanted what the others had. I wanted to be a real submissive; I wanted to go to subspace. I had read about it, I had been told about it, but I had not ever experienced it. Now I add in here a disclaimer, like with all things D/s lifestyle, that I have made subspace my own. I cannot say this is what others experience as their space, but this it what I have to come to the conclusion is my experience of it.
I add in this disclaimer simply because even when I found this thing that I now term as subspace, it didn’t match what I had been led to believe. I did not fly, I did not soar over mountains, and I did not leave this world behind to float in a alternative place. I wasn’t zoned out afterwards or unable to talk, although I was clumsy and floppy and a little bit useless. I realise that I am not exactly selling this, but believe me, it does get better so please read on. Although I did none of the things outlined above, I did experience a something that felt all consuming, all encompassing and highly addictive. It felt like pure unadulterated pleasure, and I wanted more!
Despite having followed the theory in the books and the advice from the other lifestylers we knew, in the end my experience did not come from pushing my limits and boundaries with pain, although we even purchased a stopwatch to try the scientific approach to harnessing the endorphin highs. HL is nothing if not thorough and committed to the projects he takes on, and this was no exception. So after more than one toe curling cane session where I took it harder and harder to no avail, I had pretty much given up. I understand now why pain is not my route, but this was going back in time and I still had lots to learn about myself.
It was a surprise then, when my route turned out to be from extreme pleasure rather than extreme pain. I suppose what I now know is that to feel the extremes you have to push at the extremes and everyone’s route will vary as their edges vary too. And so I entered unwittingly into the forced orgasm scene that would be the route to yet another discovery – that of my own version of the illusive thing know as subspace. For those of you who are not familiar with how forced orgasms work, you can find out more by reading this post and find out more about a forced orgasm scene here.
I can remember lying there and not really knowing what to expect. I didn’t understand how HL was going to force these orgasms anyway but he had me strapped down on his play bench and I couldn’t move much at all. I felt vulnerable to a degree but I wasn’t afraid of an orgasm. I also didn’t think that it would be possible for me to have lots and lots which is what he said was his plan. I had come more than once before but there had always been breaks in between. Perhaps I hadn’t thought about it enough but I quickly began to enjoy the build up to the first, slowly letting go a bit and relaxing into the feelings and the sensations that he created for me.
The first orgasm was usual enough. He sort of teased me, drawing it out a bit, and told me, “Not yet. Just wait a little.” It always adds to it, the drawing it out, and he edged me closer then pulled me back a little each time, adjusting the pressure of the wand that he was using. When it finally came to the point that I felt I couldn’t hold out much longer he paused again. “If you want to come you can,” he said, “but I have to remind you that once you do, this will not stop until I decide that you have had enough. There will be no release from this.” I knew that there was something in his tone but it was something that I loved, something that I had sought. I asked him to make me come.
In the throws of an orgasm, who really cares about anything more than riding the high and enjoying the waves of rapture that wash over you and run through and around you anyway? Ecstasy is a state of frenzy. It is overpowering in its ability to turn people from a rational clear thinking individuals into abandoned pleasure seekers who aren’t going to think about the what comes after. But there is always an after, and as I lay there twitching and moving as the ripples of the climax slowed to random shudders, I realised what my after was going to mean. The wand didn’t stop. Excruciating in how strong it seemed on my heightened senses, it was pleasure of a different kind. It was tormenting, intolerable, and yet, tolerate it I did as I writhed and twisted and shouted “no!”
What I had to do to manage was probably the thing that others experiencing subspace from impact can do and I can’t. I slowly tried to disengage my brain from my body. I was unable to move in a literal sense, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t move my attention away slightly from what I was feeling. I don’t suppose that this explanation makes much sense but it is how it felt for me. Almost like a dissociation, a desensitising, although I was still completely aware. What this did was mean that I could endure the over-stimulation of an area that was already so very very sensitive. I can’t tell you how long it took, but I went with this until I felt a noticeable shift.
My body changed and began to respond in a way which was clearly beyond my control. All orgasms work like this really and your body takes over and your mind sort of stops, but this was an even more obvious version of that. It was like I was feeling things which I hadn’t processed; my body was working more quickly than my mind. It had taken over my thoughts, leap-frogged them, and it was in control. And HL was in control of my body, which he chose to remind me at that point. He encouraged me and told me what would happen. He said he knew I was going to come and that I should just let go. So with that, I did, although it is not possible to say really what I let go of. My body? My mind? My self?
As time progressed and I became more and more vague and less and less aware of time and indeed my own place within it, this process continued. With each orgasm I gave up more and more of myself, a slow letting go of things I didn’t even know I held on to. I could hear his voice and that became my grounding, my root. I listened and he kept me with him although the words were just like a caress over my skin as they didn’t seem to lodge in my brain to be understood or to have a purpose. In fact it felt like my only purpose was to be present in that moment, experiencing those feelings and existing purely for this and for him.
In the background I can remember hearing someone making noises but I had no real comprehension that they came from me. I felt a sense of complete abandonment and although the sensations that drove me were coming from my body, it felt that I was no longer there in a corporeal sense. I don’t know why or when it ended but it did and I lay in the haze of what I was feeling. My body literally buzzed and it didn’t feel static in any way. He must have untied me and moved me to the bed somehow and when he touched me finally it was like fire. My longing for him in a physical sense wasn’t something that I had realised but my body responded as if it had found a missing part.
I know that some people say that it is dangerous to have sex with someone in subspace and that aftercare needs to come straight away, but those were some of the people whose method had not worked for us up until that point anyway. Our play is very sexual and although not always, it does usually end in that way. For me, it somehow completed things. I felt that I was adsorbed into him and became part of him in a physical sense. I was greedy and needy and so far past myself as to not feel anything apart from him, and that moment, and what we were able to be together.
I decided to take part in Mrs Fever’s summer writing project which involves writing memoir. This is the seventh part to my memoir about becoming a submissive wife. The prompt this time was space, and although it might have made sense to right about my headspace, understanding that has been a gradual thing rather than a specific memory to share, so I chose to write about my first experience of subspace instead. If you would like to know more about this project then follow the link and head over to Mrs Fever’s site.
To read the other parts to my memoir, please follow this link:
Becoming a submissive wife