Fell

My partner and I started experimenting with her wearing an app controlled vibrator. Specifically the lovense lush model. We’ve been using it for about a year now and after some technical kinks (pun intended) we have fully integrated it into this lifestyle.

I control the device through an app on my phone and my partner earns stimulation/orgasms when she overeats. She initially set the rules of the game. She was sitting at the kitchen table hand feeding herself slices of cheesecake when she said between bites that she was wearing the device snd for me to turn it on if she eats all the cheesecake. When she did I turned it on. She orgasmed multiple times and later said it was one of the best orgasms of her life.

But now we use it a bit differently. I decide when it gets turned on snd she earns it through being a good 🐷. 4000 calories by noon and she gets her first orgasm. She earns another with a major stuffing at night. Even when we are miles apart i csn activate it. We’ve joked that she’s become Pavlov’s pig because she now associates overeating with earning an orgasm.

It's called Interval Edging

All you need is:

Discipline

A timer

A stopwatch

Your favourite toy

Something to drink

Bonuslevel: clamps and a plug

Step 1 : You start out by setting a stopwatch and then edging yourself slowly but intensely until you are so close to the brink of orgasm that you are having a hard time stopping.

Step 2 : But you stop. Now you stop the stopwatch and look at how long you took.. and then take a sip of water

Step 3 - ∞ : Give yourself a minute to catch your breath. Now you set a countdown that's the length of the time you took (last round) and subtract 10 seconds. Then you start edging until the timer is over without taking any breaks. When the timer is finished you stop and take big sip of water.

And then you repeat step 3.

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Do this until you are a moaning and dripping mess and you can't trust yourself to not come with the next touch.

When you inevitably have to give up spank your raw genitals the number of full minutes (rounded up) left on the timer and say "thank you for disciplining me" with each hit

Have fun ❤️

Oh and obviously you are not allowed to go to the toilet before you finish the challenge.

This post has lived in my heart for some time now. I’ve put off writing it because every part of it feels close to the bone, and deeply personal. But I’ve received too many messages, too many quiet confessions in the dark hours of the night, from submissives and Dominants alike who are confused, hurting, or feeling broken.

So I want to say this clearly, before we go any further:

You are not broken. You are not weak. And you are not alone.

This post is for the people who have floated in bliss, and the people who have fallen and didn’t know how to ask for a hand. It’s for the ones who thought they were “too much,” or “not enough,” because they didn’t come down the way they thought they should. It’s for the caretakers who forgot to care for themselves. It’s for the ones who needed a post like this a long time ago and never found it.

So let’s talk about the journey.

Subspace: The Fall Into Surrender

Subspace is hard to describe because it lives beyond words. For many submissives, it’s an altered state that comes during or after a scene, a place of euphoria, softness, floatiness, or absolute stillness. It’s the moment your mind stops racing, your body stops bracing, and your heart opens so wide it almost aches.

It is often described as:

A warm, dreamy float

Loss of time or orientation

Heightened sensitivity or emotional openness

Dissociation (positive or neutral)

Non-verbal states

Deep peace, sometimes even spiritual

It doesn’t always look blissful. Some people cry. Some laugh. Some shake. Some can’t move or speak. Some look like they’re somewhere else entirely. And some never enter it at all and that is perfectly okay. Subspace isn’t required for a scene to be “real” or meaningful.

But for those who do go there, it can be deeply addictive. And deeply vulnerable.

Because in Subspace, you are raw. Unarmored. Wide open. You are handing over not just control, but your self. And that level of surrender requires a depth of trust that should never be taken lightly.

It’s not about being “good enough” to go there. It’s about being safe enough.

Domspace: The Still Point of Control

Domspace is less talked about, but no less profound.

It’s the place a Dominant may enter when they are completely tuned in to the moment, the energy, the responsibility, and the power exchange. It’s not about ego or bravado. It’s about presence. Precision. Connection.

When I’m in Domspace, I feel:

A trance-like sense of flow and power

Deep emotional intimacy and presence

Fierce protectiveness

A sharp awareness of my submissive’s body and signals

Grounded clarity and confidence

A high, yes, Dominants can float too

There is a stillness to it, a silence, like the eye of a storm. I feel every breath my submissive takes. I am aware of every tremble, every shift in energy. It is not a game. It is not about control for control’s sake. It’s about holding the fullness of another person’s vulnerability and offering them back to themselves, marked, but whole.

For some Dominants, it feels euphoric. For others, it’s somber, focused, sacred.

And yes, it is just as real as Subspace. But unlike Subspace, which often requires letting go, Domspace requires holding steady. And that takes a toll.

Which brings us here.

The Crash: Subdrop & Domdrop

Let me say this plainly:

What goes up must come down. And the higher the space, the harder the drop.

Subdrop and Domdrop are real, valid, and sometimes intense. They are the body and mind’s response to intense emotional and physical stimuli followed by a sudden release.

Let’s break them down.

Subdrop: The Aftermath of Surrender

When the scene ends, when the body stops pulsing with endorphins, when the adrenaline fades, when the oxytocin begins to level out, Subspace dissolves. And what’s left behind can feel like a crash after a sugar rush.

It might look like:

Sudden sadness or crying

Feeling empty, alone, or unloved

Guilt or shame about the scene

Anxiety, insecurity, or panic

Exhaustion, shakiness, or chills

Wanting reassurance but not knowing how to ask

Needing connection but withdrawing instead

It can feel like your Dominant doesn’t love you anymore. Like you did something wrong. Like you're spiraling.

You didn’t. You’re just crashing. And this is not to scare you, but to create awareness of feelings that might arise after a scene.

It's also important to add that Subdrop can be especially difficult for those who already battle depression, anxiety, trauma, or dissociation. It doesn’t mean the scene was bad. It means it was powerful. And your body is recovering from that.

Domdrop: The Hidden Descent

Now let’s talk about the side no one warns you about.

Domdrop.

It can sneak up on you. Or crash over you like a wave when you’re least expecting it. And unlike Subdrop, which people are more familiar with, Domdrop often goes unnoticed, even by the Dominant themselves.

Because we're supposed to be the steady ones, right? The rock. The anchor. The one who always knows what to do. Except... what happens when we give all of ourselves in a scene, and no one notices we’re hurting after?

So here is some indications of what a Domdrop can feel like:

Guilt or regret, even when the scene went well

Emotional numbness or withdrawal

Self-doubt or questioning your worth as a Dominant

Feeling unseen, unappreciated, or invisible

Emotional crash: sadness, shame, loneliness

Fatigue, insomnia, restlessness

Needing reassurance, but feeling like you’re not allowed to ask for it

I’ve had scenes where I held someone with such intensity, such emotional power, that afterward I couldn’t move. I sat in silence for hours, questioning myself, shaking, waiting for someone to check on me. And when no one did? The drop was worse than anything I’ve ever experienced physically. I’ve also dropped so hard I left a scenes and vomited. Which was equally painful for myself as my partner. I’ve also spent weeks hating myself for scenes that were beautiful, but still left me feeling unworthy, invisible, or ashamed.

Because a Dominant who deeply cares will always ask: Did I do right by them? Did I go too far? Did I take care of what was given to me? And when there’s no response, (no feedback, no aftercare) we sit with those questions. Sometimes for days.

So let me say this, clearly and gently: Dominants deserve aftercare too. Dominants deserve to be held too. Dominants feel. Deeply. And that feeling does not make them less, only more.

Aftercare: The Healing We Come Home To

Aftercare is not optional. It is not a bonus. It is not something you “earn.”

It is an act of love. Of repair. Of sacred return.

Aftercare says, “I saw all of you, and I still see you. I still want you. You are safe. You are loved.”

It can look like:

Cuddling, holding, skin-to-skin grounding

Warm blankets, soft clothes, body heat

Words of praise, affection, reassurance

Space to talk about the scene, or gentle silence

Hydration and snacks

Caring for marks, kisses on bruises, gentle rubs

Quiet rituals: brushing hair, singing, poems, shared breath

Simply... being present. Not rushing. Not pulling away.

Aftercare also happens after aftercare. It may come days later. A text. A call. A gentle, “How are you feeling now?” That matters.

And it doesn’t just belong to one role. A submissive may need to be held. A Dominant may need to be reassured. There is no hierarchy to need. There is only care. Or the absence of it.

So write your needs down beforehand. Say them aloud. Say, “This is what helps me come back.” And never let anyone dismiss your needs or make you feel guilty for needing something soft after something hard.

If You Take Anything Away From This…

Let it be this:

Intensity without care is harm. Power exchange without presence is dangerous. What you give is sacred, and what you receive should be treated as such.

We are all human. Messy. Soft. Glorious in our complexity. And scenes, when done well, can be life-changing.

But only if we take responsibility for what happens after.

I’ve seen the most beautiful parts of people in the hours after the ropes come off, the paddle is set down, and the tears have dried. I’ve whispered praise to trembling partners. I’ve kissed bruises like prayers. I’ve fallen apart and had someone pull me into their arms before I could speak.

These connections are powerful. And they deserve to be protected, before, during, and especially after.

And if anyone tells you aftercare isn't needed? Run. That's a huge red flag!

Aftercare is sacred and non-negotiable. Care is where the bond deepens. Care is where we build trust. Care is where we bring each other home.

you were so loud, so mouthy, whining about how bad you needed me, how desperate you were to be touched.

but now look at you

tied up and trembling, grinding against my thigh like it’s the only thing keeping you sane.

what happened to all that confidence?

too much for you now?

can’t handle a little overstimulation?

i haven’t even taken your panties off, baby, and you’re already soaking through them.

already crying a little because i won’t let you finish.

you keep bucking your hips like i’ll give in.

like i’ll finally rub your clit just right.

but you don’t deserve that.

not yet.

not after the way you acted.

“stay still,” i say against your ear, fingers gripping your thighs tighter as you squirm.

you whimper, try to press closer.

i slap the inside of your thigh, not hard, just enough to make you freeze.

“i said still.”

then i go back to it.

soft circles.

light brushes with my fingertips and the edge of a soft toy.

barely touching, never enough.

over and over.

you beg, voice wrecked, hips twitching.

“please,” you whisper.

“please, i need it.”

i just smile and kiss the corner of your mouth.

“should’ve behaved earlier, sweetheart. now you get to lie there and take exactly what i give you.”

I need them to kiss my forehead and tell me how good it looks as it expands across my lap, each swallow now of desperation as I feel the pressure in my gut build. I need them to tut and tsk as the threads of my shorts begin to strain and pop as my thighs fatten, spreading across the chair and eventually hanging off the sides as the wood begins to creak. I need them to play with the developing rolls that make themselves seen as my gut swells to my knees, looking like I've swallowed a beach ball, then an exercise ball, then a bean bag, and further still.

For the last few days I’ve been playing around with an idea.

What if I had access to a pumping machine? 

It consists of a long rubber tube, a tank, and a foot pump, not unlike a bicycle pump. 

The tank is full of solid lard, or melted butter, or perhaps even cake batter shake. 

I’m seated beneath the machine, with the pump next to my right food. I can easily operate it with a forceful stomp. I cannot stop imagining snaking the tube down my throat. It chokes me slightly, but I get used to it. My lips struggle to contain saliva that spills out as the tube rests inside me.

There is a rubbery taste and texture, not unlike a mouthguard or a bottle. It’s a bit squishy, but stout. 

I press the pump. It shoots solid lard quite suddenly down the tube and into my belly. The long hose stiffens for a second, I cough and stutter, maybe even a heave. Then it’s over. 

One pump makes me comfortably full, like I am satiated. A bit woozy perhaps and certainly distended, but not so full I cannot function. 

A second pump almost instantaneously fills me to my greatest desires. So full I cannot stand without immense difficulty. So full I cannot manage any breathing beyond short, labored panting. So full my gut is noticeably swollen. So full I am having trouble thinking straight. So full I am starting to feel sluggish, tired, lethargic. 

I taste nothing but plasticky rubber, my own drool, and maybe the occasional lardy burp. There is no mess, no leaking, no waiting, no swallowing. The whole operation is only 1-3 minutes. This gives me plenty of time to lug my prize somewhere where we won’t be disturbed. 

How many times a day would I use the pump? I can easily envision myself pulling out the long tube. Struggling to get up from the chair and stumbling to my bed. Pinned by my extensive filling. Passing out and digesting it all over a few hours. 

Would I walk right back over? A little heavier, a little dumber, a little hungrier? 

Would I use the pump enough to make it take 3 pumps? 4? When would I stop? 

What if someone else was there to manage the pump? What if they kept pumping? What if they too, wanted to sit in the chair with the tube? What if I just kept pumping?

What if I get really fat? 

I’m so terrified by my answers to these questions. Access to this pump would ruin my life. I need this pump. My gut needs this pump. 

I’ve thought about this for days, almost a week. I’m embarrassed.