The mirror (by cassie)

There is a woman walking down the street. She is in a chic neighbourhood, looking at expensive shops. It is late afternoon, the shops are closed.
There is something about her. The way she walks, confident, her stride is full of purpose. She seems to know where she's going, she has a destination.

Suddenly she stops, takes her time while looking at some underwear displayed at the other side of the glass. She carries herself proudly: shoulders back, chest out, head held high. While standing in front of the shop window she turns sideways, as if to look at herself. What does she see? Black riding boots, jeans tucked inside. A black blouse and black jacket, a french silk scarf round her long slender neck, in the colours of red and yellow. A red Italian ostrich leather handbag hangs from her elbow and she wears her dark Jackie O. style sunglasses on her head. Keeps her blond hair from falling into her face... Everything about her is timeless, feminine, with an elegant restraint that brings the best out of a woman.

She is satisfied with what she sees and moves on to the next shop. The sun has almost set...she'd better hurry...and she sets off, holding onto something shiny with her hand, right under her chin.

Another time, another place:

The Villa's living room. A fireplace, two big comfortable sofas with golden and dark green cushions, a big coffee table in between with books on it. One of them is open, showing Olga posing for Bettina. Olga does everything Bettina says, sometimes innocent, sometimes bewildered, sometimes just curious. But nobody is paying attention to them.

Because there is a woman kneeling on the wooden floor. The straps of her black cotton dress have fallen from her shoulders but she is unable to pick them up. Her wrists are tied to her ankles and she is bending forwards. There is something that looks like a tattoo under the left ankle cuff. Through the straps of the harness gag one can see from her face that she is unhappy, uncomfortable, maybe even in a little bit of pain. Is she stiff from remaining in this position for so long? Has she been whipped, caned or flogged? Is she carrying something inside her that is painful?

She lets out a long sigh as if resigning herself to her fate, drops her head, and as her ponytail falls from her shoulders, a shiny stainless steel chain becomes visible round her neck. In this position, so easily thrown out of balance, she remains perfectly still.

The Domina is standing right behind her. Tonight she is wearing a white silk blouse and a gray pencil skirt, just below the knee. She is barefoot, no boots, no shoes, no stockings.

"So" says the Domina in a stern voice, "I hear you've let your Master down. Is that true?"
"Yes, Ma'am" the woman says through the gag. Her words are only comprehensible to those who know what to expect...
"And in what way is he punishing you?" asks the Domina
"i really need to pee. And he won't let me. But i really need to..." says the woman in a mixture of saliva and tears, barely audible.
"Well" says the Domina, "you can be of service to me. Aren't you a slave?"
"Yes,... Ma'am,... i am" says the woman, almost sobbing.
"Good!" says the Domina and without another word places her right foot on the woman's back making her fall forwards, left cheek on the floor. With slow and confident moves she then lifts her skirt to her slender waist and lets go of the contents of her bladder over the back, neck and head of the helpless, awkwardly kneeling slave.

Well trained as the bound and gagged woman is, she keeps her position, her cheek still touching the wooden floor, in a puddle of yellow liquid. The Golden Shower stings in her eyes but makes her feel warm inside, useful, used, something. Shivering slightly, her black dress clinging to her back and with the tiny droplets hanging from her hair, the slave can now only wait for her Master...and hope he releases her soon, real soon...

And now i turn to you, readers of this post. And, since you found your way to this blog and my gracious host Vesta, there must be something special about yourselves as well. Let me guess:

you're just curious, maybe you ended here by mistake. You may have heard something about Domination and submission but you're not really into it. That's fine.

you consider yourself to be Dominant but you are alone. Or the sub you would like to have as yours isn't in a very subbie mood most of the time. It happens.

you could be the proud Master/Mistress of a slave. In real life or on line. You may see your slave every day in your own home or on the web cam every other night. But you still are the Master/Mistress. Excellent.

or maybe you are a switch. Then you are lucky, you get to feel both sides of the flogger.

you could be a man or woman that likes to be dominated in the bedroom. Very erotic but your submission only goes as far as the bedroom door. Great also!

you could be the "s" in a D/s relationship. Your submission fulfills your need to obey and be controlled. You may also need to be corrected once in a while. Nothing wrong with that.

you could be one of those girls or boys that call themselves a 24/7 real life slave, owned by a caring Master/Mistress and your only purpose is to serve and make Him or Her happy. You may have a contract, perhaps even wear a collar all the time. Good!


Regardless of what you are or what you consider yourself to be, your reaction to the humiliation of the female slave mentioned above will be different than the reaction of other persons reading here. You may love it or hate it. You may think it is unworthy of a human being to be treated that way or you may find the idea of warm piss running down your back arousing. You may find the punishment of the slave too harsh or you may feel your hands itching, wanting to reach for that plaited riding crop and give her a few extra swats since she's kneeling with her ass up anyway.

Or, on the other hand, you may want yours (or yourself) to be like the first woman i mentioned: settled, self-confident, mature in her manners, elegant in her dress, nothing submissive about her. Just a woman radiating happiness and satisfaction, making her look beautiful.

Now look at yourself in the mirror. Can you see yourself standing there? Do you like what you see? Can you identify with any of the characteristics of the women i described earlier? Before you answer, stop and think for a while. Are you really looking at yourself with your own two eyes? or are you using the eyes of others?

Do you measure the effect of your Dominance by your sub's bow?
Do you measure your submissiveness by the strength of your Dom's control?
Your Mastery by the way your slave speaks or dresses?
The degree of your enslavement by how many misdemeanors you can get away with unpunished?
Your torturing skills by how much pain the bottom can handle?
The kinkiness of your fantasies by what you see on the net?

i don't have the answer. But i don't have to look very far. The answer is within each one of you.

All i can say that there is no BDSM bible. No book that one Must read, no protocol that one Must follow. No sub is exactly as masochistic as a Dom is sadistic. No slave has exactly the same need to be owned in exactly the same way the Master wants to own him/her. None of these relationships is symmetrical. They are complimentary. Remember, it is your own image you see in the mirror, not your owner's or your pet's. It is just yourself. And it should be enough to make it work.

Bondage and Discipline and Dominance and submission and Sadism and masochism have changed a lot since the old, plain, slightly underground s/m days. But they still have a gift to give: a sense of achievement, an elevation of the self through pain, humiliation and submission or through exquisite and precise Dominance and overwhelming, liberating sadism.

Only when we are strong enough to let go of our ego, be it Top or bottom, will we be able to see ourselves through the eyes of others and find it sublimely rewarding. Only after having given our body and soul to the "other", to do with them as he or she pleases, can we look in our heart and see that our darkest fears are gone. We are nothing and all, full and empty at the same time, our souls a vehicle for passion, our bodies a vehicle for pain.

Until you are ready to completely let go, there are two things you can do: either look in the mirror again, harder this time, or turn around and walk away. Then this thing is not meant for you.

To Master, the light and love of my life.

Your cassie

Introducing Cassie

It has been a great joy for me to meet people by way of my blog and it is with pleasure that I introduce Cassie, a very dear friend, as a guest writer. Cassie is a woman who is submissive. Her mother tongue is not English, although I’m sure you will agree, she is totally fluent in the English language. I know Cassie would love to read your comments and I invite you to do so or to ask her any questions you may have. This is a really lovely, heartfelt piece of writing and I hope you enjoy it and much as I have.



MR. CHAIRMAN

It is late in the evening. We arrive at the congress hall right on time. As our coats are taken away, i take a minute to get used to the bright lights and the music humming in the background. There are many people in the lobby, elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen, holding their invitations, waiting to be shown to their seats.

"Ah, Mr. Chairman!" i hear somebody behind me say. A tall man introduces himself to You and, placing his hand on Your back, leads You away while gesturing and discussing tonight's proceedings. Then i can't see You anymore, You have been swallowed by the crowd.

i just stand there, feeling lost and lonely. i look around. What should i do?
"Mrs. Chairman, Mrs. Chairman, this way please! Let me show you to your seat!" Startled, i turn around. A man and a woman are looking at me and smiling.
"Please, this way" says the woman and gently touches my elbow. "Follow me. Your table is table number 2." The man, dark blue suit, white shirt, blue tie, leads the way through the crowd. He pulls a chair back and invites me to sit. My heart sinks when i see that both chairs on either side of mine are occupied. Instinctively i look around to find You. Please help me, join me, i don't want to spend the whole evening with strangers, but i can't find You. Reluctantly, i thank the young couple that had taken me to my seat and introduce myself to my neighbours to be for the next hours.
"Good evening, how do you do?" i say and smile, "i am .... " and do my best to look bright and happy and soon we engage in what would be considered by most to be a pleasant conversation.

A waiter fills my glass with wine but i can't touch it. i sit with my back straight, palms spread on the table and then the lights dim and the music fades. A woman wearing a suit the colour of peppermint, her blond hair flowing freely down her back, takes hold of the microphone, welcomes us and introduces You:
"Tonight I have the honour to... " and the audience start applauding.
You enter the stage. Navy blue jacket, light blue shirt, tie, beige chino's. You shine with self-confidence and i look up thinking how age has done You good: Your hair which now has streaks of gray, Your happy blue eyes, Your new glasses. How well they suit You. Placing the papers in front of You, You begin Your speech.
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening and thank you. Tonight I would like to..."

Minute by minute Your voice is growing stronger. There is rhythm in Your narration, Your words fill the room and people nod and sigh in agreement to what You are saying. Sometimes You pause, look up and scan the hall, as if to emphasise one of Your points.

i find myself staring at You in quiet admiration. This is Your moment, the stage belongs only to You. Had we been outside, all the stars would shine on You, nature would have stood still to hear You speak. i hold my breath as i focus on your face. How can i show You how much i love You? i am mesmerized.

As Your speech is nearing its end i see a group of men and women getting restless, wanting to grab Your attention, shake Your hand and take You to their table as soon as You are finished. They won't let You join me, sit next to me and chase away the loneliness...i won't be able to steal a tiny moment of Your time to tell You how i feel...

Tears well in my eyes. i want to get up and shout "He's mine! He's mine! i washed and pressed His trousers and shirt, i took His jacket and tie to the cleaner's, i, kneeling, polished His shoes with all of my love, i felt the sting of His belt only hours ago... i take care of Him and He takes care of me..."

i am almost crying. Seeing You up there, i feel so much a part of You, i am overwhelmed. my hand trembles. i reach for my neck, looking for the collar, looking for the ring to stick my fingers in. It's not there. i find a black velvet ribbon instead. The black velvet ribbon You had ordered me to wear round my neck as we were getting dressed a few hours earlier.
"This is going to be your collar for tonight. Remember that".
"Yes Master. Thank you".

As i touch the soft material i feel warm and secure, i bow my head and comforting thoughts fill my heart: i am His, i am His...
i no longer pay attention to the speech, i hear it but i am not listening. All i can think of is
"i am His, i am His, ...i am Yours".

Suddenly, a loud applause interrupts my reverie. You have finished, people are congratulating You, having their picture taken while shaking Your hand. The music sets in, the lights brighten. The woman who introduced You gives You a gift, You thank everyone politely and then she takes You to another table. You sit down, pour everybody some wine and lift your glass for a toast. Soon You are in the middle of a conversation.

From where i'm sitting i can see You. Silently, i crave for Your attention, oh please turn Your head, please look this way, i'm here, Your woman is here, waiting for You to lay your eyes upon her, even if it is just for a brief moment, a brief moment full of love.

The woman and man next to me have finished eating, their plates are almost empty.
"Aren't you hungry?" the lady wants to know. "Why aren't you eating? Is it not to your liking?"
"No,no, it's fine" i say. My voice is thick. "i'll eat in a moment" and try to change the subject enquiring about the origins of her dress and handbag. The band is playing love songs. Most of the guests have eaten and some are moving around the hall, glass in one hand, talking to friends and colleagues. Two couples are slow dancing, embracing each other tightly. If only You asked me to dance...

i turn my head to look Your way once more. As i look up, i find myself staring into Your eyes. i freeze. You raise your glass to me and Your eyes smile with love and kindness, saying "eat and drink now, you're Mine. I am proud of you". Spoken words are not necessary. i nod and whisper "Thank You Master, i am proud of You".

i take a deep breath and take a sip of the wine. i feel it relax my muscles instantly. The tears subside. Only then do i realize how tense i had been. i finally put my heels on the floor and take a moment to adjust my uncomfortable underwear. i start to eat my cold dinner but i don't really care...everything seems to have finally fallen into place...i am His. i have been His all along...

"Mrs. Chairman?" Someone is tapping me on my shoulder, "please join your husband for some pictures. He is waiting for you right over there", says one of the waiters and points in the direction of the stage.
"Oh, yes, thank you, i will" and i get up excusing myself and head for the stage where i see a group of photographers and journalists waiting. i am still on my way to Him when the cameras start shooting...

....

The handsome middle aged man in the picture is Master. The woman behind Him is a slave. His.

....

To Master, the light and love of my life.

Your cassie