Into the Dungeon and Swimming in Subspace

It’s been a few years since we first started to talk about playing with BDSM.  It came on suddenly when Austin called me one night after he had a play date with someone else (he was popular in the swing scene at the time), and told me about the strange night he had with a woman who wanted him to have complete control, and how he was surprised that he kind of liked it.

That’s when our explorations began.  There was a little more to it (see our about page), but that’s the gist of it.

Fast forward a long while.  As we explored more of our kinky selves, we wanted to have a community.  We had a swing community, a poly community, but we didn’t have a kink community.  Who do you go to for flogger advice?  Aftercare tips?  Just to fucking talk?

We knew we had a local dungeon, but had never been.  One of the things that had kept us from it was knowing sex and penetration was extremely forbidden, and sex, at the time, was a pretty big deal for our BDSM play.  It was the closing, the end, the coming down.  Of course, this was before we played as Daddy and baby girl on a more regular basis.  But at the time, it seemed like no sex was a big deal.  What a difference a little time makes, right?

On a Friday night when we both happened to be without any particular responsibilities for the evening, we decided to finally make a trip out to our local dungeon.  Even the word felt weird and scary and a little Tolkein-y.  Dungeon.  But they were hosting a BDSM 101 course for newbies, and even though we had been playing with power dynamics for a while, we had only recently started to do it more often, with certain elements and tasks permeating multiple parts of our lives outside the bedroom.

When we found the dungeon, located in behind a very normal looking door in a normal looking building, my nerves started to pull me in different directions.  Suddenly, I did not want to go in and begged Austin to take me home.  He stopped moving towards the door, took my hand, and led me back to the car.

“What’s wrong, baby?  What happened?  I thought you wanted to go?”

“I did, but…”  But…what?  I couldn’t quite figure it out.  I suddenly wanted to go but not wanted to go.  Take me home, but make me go in.  I didn’t know what I wanted to do.  I didn’t want to go further but I knew if I didn’t, I would feel disappointed in the long run.

Ah, social anxiety, we meet again.

Austin look me in the eye and took out his Daddy Dom voice.  “Baby girl, you will be sorry if you don’t go [true], and we’ve come a long way.  You are going in there.”


Now, at this point I had two choices: I knew that if I slid downward and got to a point where I really couldn’t continue, Austin would have taken me home and we’d discuss why I broke down.  Or, I could be brave, and go in.  I chose the latter.

We entered and encountered a room full of friendly people milling around the shop front, browsing fire cups and floggers, masks and plugs.  This doesn’t bother me.  I’ve been a fairly decent sex blogger on another site for 5 years.  The owner and his submissive (who wasn’t his wife, she pointed out, but they had been together for years and years) greeted us and we were directed towards two identical doors containing two identical rooms.  One was the actual dungeon.  The other was the teaching space (that was sometimes used as an extra dungeon).  We went into the teaching space and took our place among the others waiting, mostly hetero couples, a few singles, and one–what appeared to be–poly triad.

The class was fairly tame and containing information that we mostly knew (what BDSM stands for, what impact toys are, the meaning of Safe, Sane, Consensual), followed by some information about some different classes they offer, along with the history of their dungeon masters.  The DMs, it turns out, are for the most part nationally accredited or recognized in their individual fields, teach others, and keep an eye out for everyone’s safety.

After the class, we got a tour of the dungeon and signed on as members.  We asked the owner which DM we would need to talk to about flogging.  We wanted to learn to do it better, and the internet can only teach you so much.  Turns out he was the person to go to.  He lit up, left the room, and returned with a bag full of different kinds of floggers.   He handed them to us in urn and taught us how to “throw” each one.  He started by having us practice our aim on a table, so there were no mishaps while we learned.  After that, the DM offered Austin to borrow one of his floggers for the evening (we had forgotten ours, and it was new to us) so that he could test a different one.  Next thing I knew, I was leaning over a padded table, my sundress above my hips, a thong doing nothing to protect my bare ass.

The flogging started slowly, easily, almost like a massage.  The only pain so far was in my head, exasperated by being bare assed in a room full of strangers while Austin, my Daddy Dom, swung strips of leather at me, all the while being guided by the DM.  (“Follow through more.  Yes, that’s it.  Bring it a little more this way.  There you go.”)

The speed picked up, slowed down, picked up again as the falls licked the backs of my upper thighs, the sides of my butt cheeks, occasionally tickling my labia on the upswing.  The sensations went from hurting to not hurting to hurting more.  I wanted to stop but not stop.  I fell forward onto the table, my elbows finally buckling.  Austin paused, ran his fingers down my back, and leaned in close to ask me if I was OK.  I muttered a feeble “green”* and pushed myself back up.  By the time he was finished, I had lost all strength in my arms and was lying, chest on the table, feet on the floor, in a haze of feelings I had never had.

Austin helped me off the table, my knees wobbling and my feet unsteady on my wedges.  He held me and asked me if I was ok.

And I felt…good.  But weird.  But definitely good.  Austin brought me to a seating area, sat me down, held me, and waited for me to come back to earth.

As he walked me to the car, I was overcome with fits of giggles.  I mean full on, girly-girl, high pitched giggles.  I felt like my head was floating several feet above my body.  My feet didn’t seem to make solid contact with the ground.  It felt like I was outside of my own body, but in a good way.

I don’t remember much of the ride home, and I vaguely remember having pretty damn amazing sex afterwards before passing out in his arms.  I woke up the next morning immediately wanting to know what it was I had felt, and if I could do it again.  I did some research, which brought me to reading about subspace.  Oh…subspace.  That’s what that is.  I had heard others talk about it, but had never experienced it myself.

We had more sex following the adventure, harder sex, longer sex, more impact play, deeper orgasms.  We immediately made plans for the next trip to our local dungeon.

OK, it was the next day, you guys.  We went back the next day.

*The dungeon uses the “traffic light” colors.  Green is go (obviously), yellow is slow down and check in, red is stop.