Slave Men: Objects & Furniture
Mistress Owen never learns slave men’s names. The men are property. Chattels are not individuals. Objects to use. Things she can throw away.
All male chattels shave their bodies. They present uniform bald smooth exteriors. In her presence the inferior creatures crawl. Some spend most of their days on hands and knees.
Heads bowed, each man yearns to see Mistress Owner’s face. Mistress Owen looks a man in the eyes only while hurting him. Hurt men she does. Nothing is more soothing than masculine anguish.
Having his skin ripped and shredded with her whip is a fair exchange for a glimpse of her haughty, beautiful face. A treasure he will hoard in memory. Glorying in the contempt her eyes held as she looked at him.
The men cherish the sharp, hard, cruel tone of her commands. She rarely speaks to a male. But drops notes on the floor. The nearest servitor scurries to it. Then quickly complete the instructions.
They know she has lovers. But not whether they are men. Men who are their superiors. Or if she beds her own gender. Or both. The unseen lovers enter and leave via a passage free of inferiors.
The picture shows her current chair slave. She calls him, Chair. There were earlier Chairs. Others will follow. The human furniture slaves’ purpose is identical. Mistress Owner, indifferent to their arrival and departure, cannot tell one from the other.
Objectified, dehumanized, deprived of personhood, only by the total erasure of self can a man serve Mistress Owen.