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A step in the right direction?

September 18th, 2008

So Master and I are both sick now. And we’re cranky. And we’re tired. And… it’s painful.

Yesterday, I came home from work and He asked what I wanted for dinner. I… pretty much ignored Him after making one suggestion I knew He’d say no to. To say He was perturbed would be putting it lightly. But I was busy, damn it! Trying to catch up the club we both admin on dA. And He. wasn’t. helping.

I asked Him a question and when He didn’t respond the way I wanted Him to, I began to slam things around and stomp my feet. I was, in short, acting like a child. He responded in kind sending me to His room “until I tell you to come out.” Let the punishment fit the crime, I guess.

The weird thing? I didn’t even go away angry. I went away confused.

Usually when I’m mad already and He doesn’t like my behavior and punishes me (especially by corporal means) I just get madder. I feel wronged and abused and neglected and misunderstood (not that any of those things matter… it’s just how I feel). Until I stop being a bitch and actually see things the way I should have looked at them to begin with.

Yesterday I was completely calm. And I thought, “It’s about time.” And I went and sat on the floor in the bedroom and scribbled in my journal about how childish I was and how I was afraid He was going to come into the bedroom and make me forget that I was sorry I misbehaved (that whole feeling wronged and getting madder thing)and how I would probably let my mouth get the better of me. I wasn’t even sure I was allowed to do anything but sit somewhere but I wanted proof that immediately after I realized I was fucking up I also knew what I’d done wrong and I was sorry. Just in case I did stupidly let my mouth get the better of me. So I could say I’d done right originally. Until He made me madder.

How fucking petty am I?

But I at least thought my intentions were good. At the time.

He came in the bedroom and said something. I don’t remember exactly what it was. And I started out “Yes, Master” and “No, Master”ing Him. Until I could feel my irritation at being scolded about something I’d already scolded myself about rising. Then, in an even tone and without a hint of sarcasm, I said something to the effect of, “I meant to apologize for acting like a child when you came in here. But you started talking and I didn’t have a chance.”

I’m not sure why He paused. Probably sheer shock that I could even behave that maturely. I don’t often admit I’m wrong at home. Without being shown (sometimes violently) why I’m wrong, that is. And even then, sometimes, I concede only to soothe the beast. I admit I’m wrong privately, after. Generally speaking, though, that only happens with the few parts of slavery I’m still fighting tooth and nail. Yes, it is possible to be a slave and still fight parts of it. And sometimes… when it doesn’t seem to shatter the very ground we walk on… sometimes I think Master enjoys grabbing the ram (I’m an Aries, not a Taurus!) by the horns and holding on for the ride. Knocking me down after is fun.

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