Switch

Chapter Art

Beth

She released me from the leg bondage and I was invited to stand. She took off my booties and I was a naked slave in collar and chain leash standing in a beautifully furnished room next to an elegant woman. I was as self-conscious as it is possible to make a person. Well, at least I thought that was true. She walked off and I followed my leash. We walked on to another magnificent room, which had a bronze statue, the focal point of the room, on a pedestal.

“Eve was created for Rodin's largest commission, The Gates of Hell . Never completed, these monumental doors (intended for a museum of decorative arts) occupied Rodin for more than the last three decades of his life, and they are the source for some of his best known sculptures, among them The Thinker and The Kiss . Eve was a popular subject at the end of the nineteenth century, generally interpreted as femme fatale: sensuous, erotically beautiful, and seductive. But this is not how Rodin treated her. His Eve is an embodiment of shame and contrition, as she half buries her head in her arms and twists away from our gaze. Far from displaying her physical charms to the (in the nineteenth century, primarily male) viewer, Eve is covering her breasts and clenching her legs — less out of embarrassment over her nakedness than in a spasm of guilt. The woman's deep psychological anguish is powerfully communicated in her tense, inward-folding pose, while the tortured, lumpy modeling of her heavy body mirrors the torture of the soul.”

Claudia Einecke

I looked it over for several minutes as the strength of the light and the position of the figure were very powerful. Once you thought you had the meaning another came to mind. At last I thought I had it. Forgetting my role I ventured, “She's in the closet, afraid to show her real self to the world suffering from their shame and judgement.”

Mrs. Westover

What an intelligent young women, or maybe you have to live in the closet to sense the meaning. My husband and I had acquired the statue for that very reason and very few of our guests have ever known. Several that did were brought to tears by the emotion. I was interested to see that my slave was also crying.

Beth

She left me alone while I gathered myself. Then she spoke in a way that truly amazed me. I was to be a model, to play a role, to be mounted on a pedestal, I was to become the twin of eve. A make-up artist arrived and touched me up.

We walked over to an area near the statue where there was a circle in the marble floor. She had me stand there and removed the collar. She stepped back and touched a button and the circle beneath me rose. When I had reached a height even with Eve the pedestal stopped. A large screen lowered from the ceiling and soon I was looking at a side-by-side image of Eve and myself. I went to work. When I had the basic position correct from the front the camera shifted and I could see a comparative side view. Next it was adjusted to the rear view, then the other side and then back to front. I was just able to peek out over my arms and see the screen. After several turns I had the physical posture but not the inner shame and guilt.

I went to work on that; thinking back to my shame as I used and hid my toys. I thought about my cover-ups anytime someone made a crude ‘whips and chains' joke. I used my feelings of loneliness, caused by never being able to share my passions. I paid special attention to that day at age fifteen when Mom had found some of my early written fantasies.

It worked.

My curator told me that she thought I was ready and left the room. She returned with about twenty people who were holding wineglasses and talking amongst themselves. When they came into close proximity they all fell silent for a good while and then the comments began. Some were about pose and lighting, some about proportion and many about intimate parts of me. Being on a pedestal and listening to all this really did work on my guilt and shame. I peeked at the screen and I really was eve. Oh yes I was infinitely more self-conscious than I had been alone on my leash.

This did not last too long. In the back of the group, were a man and women who were in their seventies. They were quietly sobbing in each other's arms. My owner told me that I could rest. I wasn't sure that I wanted to rest for that would mean unclenching and not hiding anymore. It was a very hard choice. After thinking it through for a bit I had it … I realized that I need not rest but to “come out”

I slowly came out of the posture and assumed a more erect stance. I lowered my arms and no longer hid my breasts. I let my mind wonder to the people who had shared this week with me and the confirmation of self, joy actually, that we had shared. I moved my legs apart and slowly went from frightened nymph to powerful proud women not afraid of the gaze or comments of society. Everyone had stopped talking again and after a long pause there was applause. I think it is the finest work that I have ever done.

I wanted to hold onto the moment but you could see that recognition was dawning on several of the people there. They were about to speak, say my name, and force me to acknowledge my celebrity self. This was not a transition I wanted to make.

Mrs. Westover

What a moment it had been and what art. She had been superb as Eve and even better as she came forth. Many have tried before. Some after drinking to much and some as pure acting, but no one who was an admitted Switch. The week of major stimulation and validation with others of her kind had given her the strength and personal insight that she needed.

The moment could not last. I made a mental note to pray that the high-speed recordings and pictures came out. I introduced my model and thanked her for a wonderful performance. There was more applause. Her stand was lowered and a maid gave her a robe and she left. My guests were eager with their complements. Many asked how I had managed to land such a famous star for the role. I told only one couple, the two that cried, the true story of buying her at auction.