Yesterday was pretty shitty. I had a beautiful blog post started and almost finished but by the evening it seemed inappropriate.

Master and I fought for somewhere between six and eight hours.

In most cases, I don’t mind airing our dirty laundry. Talking about my failings here, giving them to the rest of the world to see, sort of helps me to stay on track with working on them instead of pretending they go away after we talk about them.

I know that’s silly; I should be working on them because they are things that Master wants me to work on. And I do! But this works too. However, I feel like this failing should be something kept between Master and I. Read: It’s embarrassing as all get out. And if it was just embarrassing for me, it wouldn’t matter. I’d still put it up. But I think it would be embarrassing for Him, as well, even though it was my failing. And that is something I try to avoid.

The truth of the matter is it’s not what Master assumed it was. However, it’s similar. And my failing has hurt Him, which severely hurts me.

We try to keep our master/slave relationship separate from our romantic one. The two do not depend on each other to work. They are mutually exclusive. My love for Him has nothing to do with my slavery just as His love for me has nothing to do with His ownership of me. I can honestly say that, should I stop loving Him, I would still serve Him with the same fire and fervor that I do now. Which basically amounts to none, as late. A fact that embarrasses and humiliates me to no end. However, this issue affects them both.

Without settling the first issue, we got caught in a “Well if you did this more, I’d do that more.” conversation that I had no business participating in.

First, because, as the master, He has no obligation to meet any of my needs beyond owning me. He doesn’t have to punish me, feed me, water me, play with me. He chooses to because He knows a happy slave makes a good slave. Or in my case, a spoiled bitch.

Second, because, when it comes right down to it, as the slave, I should always be on best behavior regardless of what He’s doing. It’s a “Do as I say, not as I do.” situation completely. If He’s being a total and complete asshole and I’d just as soon kill Him as kiss Him, I should still be on my knees being Little Miss Perfect. Maybe even especially then.

He parroted back to me all the things that I’ve been saying myself and forced me to look at them in a different light. Instead of “These are things I’ve noticed about myself.” I now have no choice but to view them as things Master has noticed and is furious with. Which is a shame, really. Things would have been so much nicer if I had been able to see them myself and act on them instead of waiting for Master to point them out to me.

Sometimes I wait for legitimate reasons, although I, when not turning the reasons over and over in my head, can see why they’re stupid too. My biggest failing is not opening my mouth and asking if these things are something He wants me to be working on when I notice them. But I find myself thinking “What if He doesn’t want me to change that part of myself? Aren’t I out of line by changing them without first asking if this is something He wants? I mean… He is the Master. Shouldn’t He be telling me what He wants changed?”

And the answer is: Yes! Absolutely. But at the same time, I should be bringing these things up if/when I notice them before He says something. I should be asking if these things are something I should be working on.

Thing is, I set myself up for failure. Instead of taking one thing, figuring out the solution, then focusing on the series of actions required to “fix” it until it’s right (or at the very least better), I put together a whole slew of things I see that are “wrong” with me and try to work on all of them at once. I need to stop doing that. That’s the equivalent of, when working at the mansion, cooking dinner, cleaning the bathrooms, dusting the furniture, and calling Bingo all at the same time. While sometimes dinner can be left to it’s own devices, the residents would get pretty antsy (and probably call the DO and complain) if between every ball called I was running to swipe a rag over an end table or swab a brush around the rim of a toilet.

A lesson learned, I guess.