All of a sudden I realized: I am a piece of glass.



I never really understood objectification mainly because I never actually considered it before. It had never gotten my panties wet. It was off my radar.

Sure I’d seen pictures of a woman being used as a footstool or a man as a table. Interesting, but not for me. And sexual objectification, being used as a “tool” or “toy” for sexual pleasure, was only a tad ahead on my radar.

So how have I come to realize that objectification is not just a fetish for me but a summation of the entire functioning of both self and marriage?

It rooted in Master/slave.

When making a transition from D/s to M/s a transition in our wording happened too. I began using phrases like “I am owned” and “I am a possession” and “I belong to another person.” I meant them.

When I tried to explain how we as a couple work, what it means for us to live this way, it became easiest to explain as if I were an inanimate object being handed for another to own. Easiest cause it’s truest, of course.

My go-to became, “So… I’m like a beautiful piece of glass that has been handed into somebody else’s care.” It resonated with the person listening, allowed them to have a visual of our marriage. Sometimes “slave” creates a vision of a doormat and it couldn’t be more different for us. Master would never step on me. I am delicate, and prized, and beautiful.

The more I used this example, the more it resonated with me.

I’ve become this object.

Nobody is more surprised than me.

I am a piece of glass.

I am delicate, and prized, and beautiful.

I wear my heart on my sleeve; I show my soul. I am transparent.

I am easily broken. I need protection. From my environment. From myself.

If I handed myself over to the wrong hands: I’d be easily mishandled and irrevocably destroyed.

In the right hands, the hands of a Master: I’d become something far better than I’d ever dreamt possible.

In the hands of a Master, over time and work and skilled practice, he’s all of a sudden crafted me into a prism.

Mostly I’m still just me, a simple piece of glass, only sleeker than I was before being owned; rarer. I’ve been given to an Owner that keeps me close to him. Not just a possession but the very most special possession he has ever owned. He’d give his life to keep me safe. He protects me at all costs.

I am at my best existence when I do as is intended: when I silence myself in his presence, still myself until he moves me on his accord, and act as this object.

When I can do that, Master lifts me to the sun and uses his skill, his absolute knowledge of the thing he’s created, and shifts me just so.

Only then can I reveal my real beauty.

My true colors can finally shine.


Kind Regards,

Mrs. Darling

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