Object

Once I was a backrest/cushion as two people used me as support while they fucked.

Once I was a table, and an ash tray, and a foot rest, all at the same time.

And, of course, I am a Cabin Bitch.

Tonight I demo-bottomed for an objectification and humiliation/degradation class. It was a pleasant change of pace from my usual VD fair: avoiding couple-y television at home alone.

I was an end table, supporting first a piece of paper and later a tray with candy. When I wasn't a table, I sat in a chair, palms on my thighs, head bent, neutral expression on my face.

When I wasn't in use, I sunk into myself. I felt the weight of my body, my hands against my legs, my back stiffening from my neck's lowered angle. I studied the floor, taking in the sloppy floral pattern of the blue and gold carpet.

I found it easy to not laugh. I wasn't a human; I was an object. Objects don't laugh. (Well, to be honest, it was easy to not laugh except for when DeepEnd cracked jokes. Then I had to bite the inside of my lip to stop myself from smiling. Even end tables have their limits.)

I didn't see faces. I didn't even register how many people attended the class until, at the end, when we were asked why we liked objectification.

Why?

Why do I like being an end table? An ashtray? A Cabin Bitch?

Because even as you are treating me like shit, you are paying attention to me. I am a closet narcissist. I want people to notice me. Secretly, because it is hard to admit it, I want to be the center of attention. When I'm someone's footrest, or their cup holder, or just patiently waiting, I am theirs. Even as they converse with others, I am still in their mind's eye. I am theirs, even if only for my moments of service.

Because I love rising to challenges, love beating people's expectations, love pushing myself further than even I expect myself to go. If you request it, even if it is impossible, I will try. And if it is possible, I will make it happen. Yes, I can carry all those bags and walk them to the barn. Yes, I can balance that rock glass on my back. Yes, I can support both sets of feet on my back and eat ash that you've flicked into my mouth. I can do that and much more, please.

Because when I sink into my role, the rest of the world melts away. I stop worrying about work or bills or family or drama. I stop thinking beyond the moment, beyond the feel of my body, beyond the task I'm assigned or the role I must perform. It becomes a meditation. I am just...now.