We had finished our school scenario playtime together and I was slowly gathering my clothing to get dressed, chatting with Modu as I casually moved around the room. I caught him looking at me as I was leaning over to pick up my bra, he was admiring my breasts. I looked down at them and saw how gravity pulled at them, making them look distorted and strange as I leaned over. Embarrassed, I cupped my hands over them to hide them as I blushed and turned around, mumbling something about hating my saggy boobs. With all the Modu has seen of me, why did I still feel the need to hide my body? Especially when he was looking at me admiringly and was clearly pleased at what he saw.
In a sudden rush, he got up from the couch, grabbed me by the hair, and led me to the corner of the room. This move surprised me, as I was deep in thought and my back was turned to him. He had my attention now! Tightening his grip on my hair and pulling my head up, I noticed we were standing in front of a large round mirror on the wall. "Look in there, what do you see?" he demanded.
Ugh, I was topless and exposed in front of the mirror. I could barely look at myself, My face turned red and I tried to squirm away. He repeated his demand, making me look again. "You and me" I said.
"I see a beautiful woman", he said. "Don't you?" I still couldn't look. "I want you to tell me that you are a beautiful woman", he whispered firmly in my ear, his eyes locked on mine in the mirror's reflection. This was painful. I had happily endured spankings, hair pulling, pinches and scratches that evening, but that was all physical pain... and quite minor in comparison to this emotional wound that he was prodding. Tears started to well up in my eyes. I am a strong woman, reasonably confident in my work and life, so why is making a simple statement such as this so difficult? The words stuck in my throat as tears started to trickle down. I think I managed to speak, but the grip on my hair and the growl coming from behind me let me know that my delivery was unconvincing.
Modu loosened his grip, seeing that this was actually painful for me, and tried another approach. He softened his touch, stroked my skin slowly, and followed my curves with his fingertips as I watched the reflection. "How could you not see beauty here?" he asked. I shifted my gaze to watching him, as he looked at me. "I am ashamed to be so exposed", I answered. "There is no shame here, in this place. It is safe here", he said.
It's not that I necessarily hate my body, although I do feel some dislike for it, sometimes. The saggy, flabby bits frustrate me and make me feel self conscious at times. But overall, I feel fairly comfortable in my skin. But feeling sexual about it is a different story. And feeling as if I am being looked at in a sexual way by others is especially difficult. I had conditioned myself to a life of prudishness, shamefully hiding under baggy clothes and cutting myself off from anyone who might express the slightest perceived desire for me. I spent many years in my marriage being told I was looking or behaving slutty, for the most innocent of outfits or behaviors. The most casual flirting was cause for days of arguments and a tiny bit of cleavage or unexpected nipple erection showing through my clothing in front of others was cause for harsh judgement. That hell is over and I have many partners and friends who encourage me to express my sexuality now. I am working on reclaiming the term "slut", even! But those emotions are still very real and very painful.
Perhaps this scene in front of the mirror has some basis in behavioral therapy. Maybe it is a form of exposure therapy where I am directed to expose myself to the things that are problematic in my life, slowly and with guidance, in order to work through them. I think this is what I have been seeking with BDSM. It is very challenging and difficult, but very rewarding. By the time Modu and I said goodnight and I left for my drive, I had spoken aloud and with confidence that I was beautiful and sexy, and I think I believed it. I also watched myself orgasm in the mirror, by my own hand, as a final treat. While I left the house with tears dried on my face, I was happy and felt a confidence that I rarely feel. Perhaps I will be able to stop avoiding the scary Mirror soon, and take another good look at the beauty within.