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Painting by Erica Chappuis |
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Painting by Erica Chappuis |
A day to remember
pre- |
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07:30 |
Wake up |
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You slept totally naked with dog's collar |
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The lead fixed to your bed with a heavy padlock |
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I have slept naked, as always. When I slowly return to the land of the conscious, I lie still, eyes closed, and raise my right arm to touch my partner. My hand lands on the cold bed; he is not there. I start to rise slowly. Suddenly, my neck is clenched and my head is jerked back. Shock! and I open my eyes. I see and then I remember. I am chained to the bed. Rather, I chained myself of my own accord. My hands touch my neck and I feel the dog collar, which I had not worn before and put on last night. One end of a chain is attached to the collar and the other end is affixed to the headboard of the bed with a padlock. I stroke my painful neck. Why have I done this? What is the purpose? I will explain. I gave one day of my life to a Master, my Master (henceforth to be referred to as M. or MF.) Today is his day. I have not met him. Yet, M is here with me in spirit and will strictly control my day. I have asked him to specify my every action during the day, minute by minute. I want the relentless rhythm of his orders to leave little space for initiative of my own and have me feel entirely his. M. He perceived me as masochistic. I have never thought of myself as such. A sadist? No, I am surely no follower of that ol' Marquis. Does that make me maso? No. I would say that I am slightly obsessed by that vulnerable shell that harbours -no: confines- the mind. The mind, that superior faculty residing in that lustful, base, fragile, rotting body, that Mr. Hyde to Dr.Jeckyl's mind, that inescapable other half. (I do not mean it. I love my body. But I see myself as two: my mind (=me) and my body.) Which is Master, which is slave? Does my obsession make me a masochist? I am ready to find this out. M has devised a clever, challenging set of instructions, as you will see. |
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You take the padlock and you kiss it |
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I kiss the padlock mechanically. I think of M and feel little. Other than a little stupid. I have looked forward to the experience (in trepidation, yes), but need to warm up. |
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Stay naked with your collar and your lead |
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Take a little mirror and go to the toilet |
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Keep the door largely open |
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Watch yourself pissing legs open, with the mirror |
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Close your eyes and imagine your Master watching you pissing and shiting |
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I open the padlock, release myself and slip off my bed. The leash dangles coldly along my chest, down to between my legs. I go to the bathroom and sit down on the toilet seat. I shift the leash to my back. I take the small mirror and look at my womanhood. This I have done many time before. My pubic hair is of medium length. I see my lips through the growth. I think of him. I have been watched before while peeing. Yet, although knowing I am alone, I feel ever so slightly tense and it takes taking deep breaths and genuine patience for me to relax and allow the waters to flow. I could wait forever for the 'shitting'. The morning is not my time to faecate. |
07:45 |
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09:00 |
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09:30 |
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11:40 |
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13:00 |
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14:00 |
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16:00 |
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17:30 |
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18:00 |
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later |
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20:00 |
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20:30 |
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22:00 |
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Copyright by Vanna Vechian, 1999. Reproduction allowed only for personal use.
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