“Describe to me what sub space is to you. What does it feel like?”
That’s what Obi Wan, my therapist/counsellor/whatever, said to me yesterday during our session. As I’ve said in the past, I like Obi Wan because he’s sex-positive and comes pre-loaded with a broad understanding of BDSM. We were having a related conversation about subbing and being in a Dom-sub dynamic and then this question came out. It was unexpected and I was at a loss for words.
“Oh come on, you’re a blogger,” he chided. How can I not have words?
Remember that scene from Sex, Lies and Videotape where Andie McDowell’s character is asked something and she just smiles coquettishly and blushes? Funny, I can’t remember what made her do that, but I felt my face warm up trying to find the words to answer his question and that’s the first thing I thought of.
Obi Wan has never said so, but I’m pretty sure he’s dominant. Our relationship is odd in that he knows everything about my sex life and predilections and relationships but all I know about him is he’s married to a woman. But in talking about it, he just comes off as dominant. Maybe he’s switch, but that’s not the vibe I pick up predominantly. There was something about being asked that particular question by a presumed dominant who’s also a sort of authority figure that made me squirm and lose my ability to create a coherent sentence. Then, as I struggled, he just sat there. Waiting through the silence.
To be clear, I didn’t feel threatened. I didn’t feel as though I were being taken advantage of. It wasn’t anything like that. This wasn’t a bad thing.
Once I found my ability to talk again, I felt myself in that doped up warm n’ fuzzy subby hazy zone. Having to describe it to him in that way triggered a mild sub space incursion. It was odd. Last time something similar happened was when I was visiting the Boston area and had lunch with Geek Domme. She didn’t put me on the spot as directly, but there were a couple of times during the meal when I had a hard time looking her in the eye. Same thing with Obi Wan. I spent a lot of time looking at the various bric-à-brac strewn around his office as I tried to form some coherent sentence structure.
Paraphrasing what I said, sub space or being submissive feels…warm. Comforting. As my sense of control slips under theirs, it’s like all the sharp edges of our interaction get knocked off. A glow appears in my chest and my limbs feel light. Somehow. Or something. If there’s some physical act involved, like putting on a chastity device or a collar or being told to strip, it happens that much faster. It’s a feeling of being somewhere I belong. Need to be. It’s hot, yes, but there’s something tangibly different between that and the basic urge to fuck. It’s much more nuanced. There’s much more texture and topography. I want to demonstrate my willingness to submit. To feel their satisfaction at it. For them to use me for their pleasure. However that happens. To feel them taking their pleasure from me.
He was paying close attention.
Then I said more about being restrained. How sometimes a non-restraint restraint – one which isn’t totally secure and involves some cooperation from me (“hold your hands above your head and keep them there” or “don’t let go of this”) – is hotter than something I can’t resist because it by itself is a form of demonstrating submission. I don’t move because they told me not to and while I might want to if I’m uncomfortable or whatever, I don’t and they know why. I talked about pain and how when it’s really humming it stops being pain and becomes something else altogether. Same circuits, different energy. And about how that can feel like floating in a bottomless pool of intense sensation. One I can’t necessarily get out of by myself.
Then he kind of sat up a bit and pulled on his pants and repositioned himself. Unmistakably the sign of a guy needing to make room in his pants. I was feeling it, too, but the steel made repositioning impossible and unnecessary.
So that was…interesting. The conversation quickly moved away from that place. I felt the mild sub buzz wear off after a few moments. The mood shifted and it was like the lights came back up.
In fact, we ended the session early. We were out of things to talk about ten minutes before the appointed time. He suggested I didn’t need to come to him anymore and he’s probably right, but I’m going to keep my appointment for two weeks from now on the books and think I’ll probably make a few more at that interval. I feel good. The reasons I went to him in the first place seem to have resolved themselves, but there’s something about ending I don’t feel comfortable with just yet.