Mmmmm Subspace

I noticed while reading reviews that I should continue with a series of posts I’d begun some time ago. I began with my thoughts on the use of safe-words and my choice of vocabulary—submissive vs. slave etc. 

The intention was to write about consent, and consensual non-consent. Then, life and writing the series Not Even Death sort of got in the way of my best laid plans (okay, maybe the path wasn’t paved completely!) Since reading the reviews I’m doubling back to my course and thought it could be beneficial to address some things.

My work—most likely all of it—will involve a Master/slave relationship dynamic. There may be apprehension in some of the characters at different points. They may begin submissive and ultimately freely choose to become slaves (and dominants, at the end of the day, will become Masters)—all  under the leathery warmth of the M/s umbrella.

* Note: The strength to opt to submit to someone completely is not for the weak. The women I write are strong to start but find a quiet, gentle strength in submission. They also find peace and freedom by letting go. Dominants don't always embrace their role either, and trusting their submissive is paramount!

With that all said, my stories are NOT “Fifty-Shades of Grey.” No one will be saved from the BDSM life. The men will all have their balls firmly attached by the end—and not in the woman’s jewelry box. 

They are written to show the reality of what an actual (I won’t say 'twue.' Lifestylers will understand this) Master/slave relationship can look like. 

To some, it will be beautiful. To others, it may seem uncomfortable and yet…intriguing. Others may find they like their bread buttered differently—and that’s perfectly fine.

I’ve mentioned before, I paint when I write—choosing the colors that make up the scenes in my mind. I’ve also recently been told that my writing is lyrical—like a song without music (I enjoyed this one of course!) Music inspires me and when I paint/write I try to pick familiar hues to describe unfamiliar things. One of those things is my description of subspace in NotEven Death #2-Still Your Master.

•  …like a distant dream. The endorphins bouncing from synapse to synapse diffused her senses—everything was a singular euphoria. She imagined light around her—illuminating—rising in a ball around the cage.

•   Her mind was in a twinkling sea of warm luminosity—thoughts came in quick glints and gleams. Oh how I missed this place…I’m finally home again.

•   She hovered above the scene—flying—in space.

•  Her voice sounded slow—like begging through marshmallow. 

           "Come baby.” His voice managed to slice through the thick fluff and then she was gone again.

•  With each pulsation the endorphins spread rapidly, like a warm anesthesia overcoming her with peace.

•   In a blissful sphere, floating safely—she welcomed it all.

These are some of my descriptions for subspace. Whether it be a runner’s high—a really drunken night—being put under anesthesia or the heavenly intensity of a great orgasm, most of us have experienced something comparable and can relate to at least one of the descriptors (or would want to.)

When it’s something shared with a trusted partner it becomes all the more beautiful.

Reaching subspace takes skill on the part of the dominant partner. It would be foolish to ride on the back of someone’s motorcycle if they’d never ridden before and the same goes with subspace. If you’re starting new with your partner and are novices it may take time to reach space and to learn how to play safely (but there are many local communities with work-shops for this purpose.)

Subspace can also have its drawbacks and aftercare is important. Proper hydration, replenishing carbs and some TLC are part of this. Some (not all) may experience "sub-drop" or "dom-drop" in the days that follow such a high/expenditure of energy (I may touch on all three topics in depth at some point later.)

Another lingering effect—my personal favorite—is what I’ve always termed “slave space.” This, to me, is much better than the high. This is one point where I prefer the hang-over effect to the high itself.

Slave-space to me is a centering experience. Resistance falls away—light bulb moments about your service may abound—it’s like walking on fluffy clouds, the warm coziness of Christmas in your heart and mind (without the big bills!) This mind/heart set is what enables my characters to feel the freedom to obey and experience life to the fullest.

In conclusion:

My goal when I write  is to show the transformation of the heroine—through love and submission to the hero, but also to her own true nature.

To give a glimpse of things unfamiliar in a way that’s understandable for newbies.

And for those in the lifestyle to have “Ooooo I remember that!” moments.

More on the topic of consent later (you can see it in this linked blog post to some extent.) I do make it crystal clear that my characters are open to each and every thing they engage in—they want it, crave it and would rather crawl into the nearest cave without it!

~B.B.

Vocabulary list to follow. I'm also working on some stuff for book club discussions and will add them when the series is complete.

AUTHOR'S CHOICE SAMPLE- Not Even Death #2-Still Your Master

With the toy, and the audio files, she’d spent a lot of time in her cage, continuing to 

condition what he’d trained. Hearing him, feeling him and knowing he’d expect her 

to remain capable for Blaze always brought her back for more. 

​After seeing the old pictures and the dress, she needed to spend time with Markus 

more than ever. Markus and Blaze—at the same time—there really is a Santa 

Claus after all!
​ 

She crawled, naked, into the cage and found the special box that held the phallus. 

The case was smooth—black and silver—and could pass for a display box for 

fine jewelry. The silver snap in the front was ornamental and added to its simple 

elegance. She removed the silicone toy from the black satin lined box and gave it 

a reverent kiss. 
​ 
“Hello Master, thank you for this wonderful keepsake.” She spoke out loud to him, as she’d done so 

many times since his passing. She didn’t want to hazard that he could hear her and not honor him properly.

 ​ 
Laying back she continued to kiss the toy, moistening the head with a swirling tongue as she imagined 

Markus introducing her to Blaze. The scene in her mind darted around before settling in a nightclub. 

​Is this Master’s club, or Blaze’s? 

She tried to focus, blocking out unnecessary input.
​ 
They were in what appeared to be a V.I.P. room, set above the distant revelry. The wide aperture of 

her mind’s eye could see only the three of them—the distant lights flickering in a colorful haze around 

them—bathed them in a warm glow. 

She slowly explored herself, gently rubbing on her clit as she tried to get lost in her vision. 
​“Blaze, I would like you to meet my precious slave, Calico.” She sat on Markus’ lap—the faces of the

 Masters filled the frame of the picture in her mind.

​Her finger slid up and down—teasing—before introducing the toy.

She looks as succulent as you described.” The lust in his voice was unmistakable and the dangerous smile in his eyes flashed bright in the darkened loft.

​

“Oh, I assure you she is that. Aren’t you Kitten?” Markus’ hand slid easily underher short skirt, 

lifting and exposing her to Blaze. 

 She blushed, “Yes Sir, if it pleases you.” Why did I say that? That’s the wrong response!

"Please forgive her.” He chuckled. “You must be getting to her Blaze.” His amusement grew and was joined by Blaze’s deep, throaty laugh.

​Without warning—save for experience—she was prostrate over her owner’s lap. How humiliating, in front of him, of all people.

​

She took the toy from her mouth and began stroking it between her lips. The sweet seduction was just 

like Markus.
Her ass was bared, and shining like a full, harvest moon. The long dark tresses grazed the floor as 

her head rested on her Master’s shoe. In one quick twist, he’d reduced her to holes and heels.  The 

shame of it all—damn I’m so wet!

“Would you like to try another answer Kitten?” He teased as a hand landed on her upturned mounds. 

Fingers began to explore her folds—she could see in her mind—the fingers were glistening, Markus’. 

Blaze was the sole attendee of a command performance.

​
“Yes, please Sir.” She spoke from where her head rest below.

​
​His hand came down again, as the fingers displayed her further—her passion taking center stage.

“Feel free to touch her, you’ll find she’s as receptive as I promised.”

As she struggled to find the words, new fingers—longer and of larger hands—began stroking her 

already tuned instrument. His touch was adept at hitting the right chords without as much as a lesson.

 “I’m sorry Kitten I don’t think we heard you. Didn’t you have something to say?” Markus was 

enjoying her frustration. The fingers continued playing and the hand resumed spanking.  “What was 

the question again—please Sir?” With the blood rushing to her head, and the music rushing to her 

fluttering sex—she couldn’t remember a thing.
​
 “She’s really very sweet, just easily preoccupied.” The spanking ceased and more fingers joined the 

song being played in her now throbbing pussy.

Markus’ hand was at the back of her neck, fisting her hair and pulling her up.

The question Kitten—you are as succulent as I promised, aren’t you?” Before she could call the words forth, fingers were thrust into her mouth. She licked her own desire, hungry to please.

Dipping a finger to her wetness she enacted the vision, sucking her fingers as if they were his.​

When the fingers were clean, her mouth no longer full—she replied. “Yes, Sir—I am—succulent and sweet…like a juicy peach.”

​
She spoke the words out loud, and felt a surge of excitement at the admission. She reveled in being made to talk dirty. Owning her desire and wanton lust turned her into a shameless slut—she was soaked.

“See how much she loves to be controlled? How she responds when she admits exactly what she is.” 

Markus was opening her further to Blaze—showing him the sweet honey of her pleasure—an 

invitation to feast.

​ Blaze added more fingers to her hole. As both men continued to fill her, she opened to 

accommodate—imploring them—don’t stop, please—keep going!

The teasing of the toy, the sizzling scene in her mind, had her climbing—reaching for the crest—enjoying the journey. She wanted to savor every step and draw it out as long as she could. The toy teased inside with shallow penetration.

When she returned to the dream, Blaze’s cock was in his hand, pumping in a slow steady tempo. The other hand cupped his balls, stroking gently—filling them with hot, sticky yearning.

She knew he had a large cock, she’d heard the stories. The cock in her mind was exquisite—she couldn’t wait to feel him, taking every hole—hard, unyielding—completely.

​ "I want to acquaint your cock with my slave.” Markus said, taking Blaze’s shaft from his grip—continuing the pace.

She knew something like this would never have happened in real life. Still, the idea of Markus taking another man’s cock in hand—granting access to her—caused an unprecedented rush that consumed her.​

Markus was now behind Blaze—holding, stroking—preparing his entrance. He rubbed Blaze’s cockhead up and down, between the wet, pink folds. Calico was on her back holding her legs wide, tilting up—welcoming his use.

​

“Talk dirty to her…tell her what a slut she is.” Markus was guiding Blaze, revealing her secret buttons.

 The soft, spongy tip of Blaze’s cock was at her opening—she longed to beg but was quiet. She gazed 

longingly into her Master’s shining platinum eyes.

“Do you accept the offer to enjoy my slave?”

“Fuck yes; I want your sweet little slut!” Blaze said—throwing back his inky black mane— in closed-eyed ecstasy.

​
“You can use her as you please, that is something else she responds quite well to. The less control she 

has, the more she’ll respond.” Markus said, burying Blaze into her wetness up to the ridge. He was 

teasing all of them, controlling the scene.

Calico pushed the toy in a bit further, just past the ridge at the base of the tip. The lube from her wicked lust coated the toy and saturated the bedding beneath her ass.


She’s yours to enjoy—take her at will.” Markus was now behind her head, holding her legs up and open. The force of his grip pulled her back and up—divulging everything—inviting anything.

She could feel the orgasm building, as she continued to climb. She could see the top and knew it wouldn’t be long before she lost all control.​ Hold out as long as you can Kitten, pace yourself. He was everywhere!​

Blaze began to slowly thrust into her—each time going all the way—his tight, full balls playing a song against her skin as he hit bottom. 
​ She moved the toy in the same way he fucked her—slamming in all the way—slow, seductive—forceful.

Markus continued holding her open—still—bound. She couldn’t move to meet the thrusts— she 

squeezed tightly, trying to stroke his cock with her pussy. But the momentum was his alone and she 

could only accept what he gave as it was given. His teasing hardness was wondrous torture—and the 

look in his eyes left her awestruck. With a perfect rhythm he worked her up, the tempo 

building—raising her to the heights.

 “Do you want to show me how grateful you are for my attention Kitty, show me how great I make you 

feel?” He coaxed her to the edge.

 Looking up to Markus, then to Blaze—waiting for permission.
​
 “Tell him Kitten, tell him how appreciative you are.” Markus commanded.

 “Yes…please Sir…I am so grateful…please let me show you Sir.” She begged for release—for 

freedom to express her gratitude.

​“Markus, she is very eager to please—you were right—I’ll enjoy her immensely.”

 He continued as she barely held her footing on the edge of the cliff. Her body shook, her back tried 

to arch in Markus’ hold.

“Please, Sir…please…May I come? Oh please?” She knew she couldn’t hold out much longer, she 

couldn’t disobey and yet she was restrained and couldn’t move to resist.

 “Please, Sir…I don’t want to come without permission….I beg you.”Calico pleaded with her body, 

her eyes—her urgent pleas.

​“Show me Kitty—take every inch of my cock and coat it with your gratitude.”

He began plunging harder, deeper and faster—his song was nearing climax—carrying her with it.

 “Thank you Sir…Oh thank you…” She managed through clenched teeth. Tears filled her eyes and a 

primal sound escaped her soul as she pulsed on his shaft in glorious release. The pulsing beat of her 

orgasm continued, joining his rhythm—milking him with the intense grip of her passion.

​ Suddenly she was pulled by her hair to her knees, in front of the ready to explode cocks of both men. 

As she rode out the end of her solo orgasm, she continued thrusting….dreaming of the joint pleasure of 

the Masters. She sucked the toy clean—kissed it and said, “Thank you for my life Sir…thank you for 

remaining here…still.”

 After a few moments she crawled out of the cage and took the toy to the bathroom for washing. In her 

trance like state she remembered.

 “Oh no, I forgot the boots!” She squealed.
​
 Cleaning the toy could wait—she had a task to complete.

​
​

​

Excerpts from Not Even Death-STILL Your Master

As the music filled her, its pulsating, heavy bass line—Blaze’s rhythm—caressed her insides. She clamped down tightly, wanting to feel it all—every note, every chord—he was playing her as skillfully as he played his bass.

 

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The music inside kept building and the fire in his eyes burned on, searing her soul. I can make it, I know I can! The bridge was approaching—she could make it that far. He didn’t ease up and she got close enough to feel the heat of the flames of release. Oh, Markus please let me make it! Master, please!

Finally, when she could take no more the pace decreased, the last cadence of the refrain melted away and she was safely on the bridge.

Meet Blaze-TEASER for Not Even Death 2-STILL Your Master

MEET BLAZE

Blaze St. Sebastian. His name had presence just sitting there all by itself. Attach the rest of the man to it, and she’d definitely be toast! She could never discern what was more awe inspiring about him—when there was just so much to choose from. His impressive stature was obviously, well—impressive. 

The broad shoulders covered in intricate tattoos were the perfect shelf for the long, still jet, black hair. His long lean legs wrapped up like a beautifully kinky gift in black leather were the perfect trail leading to his boots—oh how she could kneel in front of those for days. 

All the wonders of Blaze were worthy of note, but all that glorious manliness paled in comparison to her favorite parts. Always tied for first place were his incredible face and his well-deep, blade-sharp dark and dirty—mind. 

His face looked to have been chiseled by angels and demons—in tandem for one day—for one colossal and unblemished project. His eyes were the perfect color of the water surrounding her beloved gazebo, and in them a fire raged amidst the tides. His lips were full and flawless and looked so delicious when he spoke. Oh God, his voice, how could I forget that voice? Oh hell, leave it to a man named after two saints to make me want to sin so… fucking… much!