So this morning I was a bitch. Royally and without reason. Some would argue that a slave never has reason. Those same people would also argue that PMS is a good enough excuse for not being up to par. And while the monthly beast is just summing itself up, I am not of the mind that PMS is a good enough excuse for not being up to par. Though goodness knows I wish it was sometimes.

I apologized. And then I sat on the couch trying to figure out what the hell happened to me. More often than not, lately, I’ve been waking up in the perfect mood to kill. Haven’t killed anyone… yet… but I’ve definitely been prepared should I have to. (And that’s a joke, just in case there’s some crazed cop with no sense of humor perusing the site.)

Master sometimes mentions that when I realize I screw up I should go get whatever He’s consistently using to punish me with and bring it to Him. He says I should just shut up (I tend to make excuses till I’m blue in the face.), show that I know I’m wrong and take my punishment. Anyone who knows me knows it’s next to impossible for me to admit I’m wrong. Even when it’s in black and white in front of my face.

This morning, I found myself yelling in my head, “Just go get the damn paddle. You know you fucked up. I don’t know why you keep waking up in a bad mood but it’s sure as hell not His fault.” “And admit that I’m wrong?” “You are wrong! Stop being so damned stubborn and get the paddle.” And then my “Admit that I’m wrong?” self responded with, “In a minute.”

In a minute? What’s up with that? So my pissed off self kicked my “In a minute.” self in the ass and I got up and walked to the bedroom.

It’s weird how my “In a minute.” self didn’t say one single word after the moment I made the decision to ignore her. No “What are we doing??” or “This is stupid.” Just sat silently by and watched me pull the paddle out of the trunk, walk to His desk and kneel quietly beside Him.

I think I expected fanfare. *cue trumpets* “Congratulations, rayne! By taking initiative and showing you know you fucked up, you’ve just won first prize! Lots of praise and happiness from your owner!”

That’s when little miss “Go get the fucking paddle!” kicked me in the ass again and said “Since when do you do this shit for praise? If you’re doing this for praise, you’re in it deep.” 

I mean, sure! Part of being a slave is wanting to please. But the best shows of pleasure have nothing to do with praise. Praise is really just lip service. So why do I seem to hang on His bottom lip waiting for Him to smile and utter those words I love to hear? “Good girl.” and “I’m proud of you.” and “You make me happy.”

When I got none, I realized I deserved none. I did what I was supposed to do. And while an occasional “You’ve been really good lately.” is probably warranted, constant praise over doing what I’m supposed to do makes me feel entitled. Which brings me full circle to acting out to get the attention I’ve convinced myself I deserve. And really, what good would it have done to tell me I had done well right after I’d fucked up? How much of the “You fucked up.” part do you think I’d have heard?

Personally, I feel I’ve made progress. Generally speaking, if I don’t get the response I’m looking for when I do something I think is phenomenal improvement, I give up and revert to my original behavior. This time, I saw where I was going wrong. Now let’s just hope I stick with it… heh