I lose sight of one of the most fundamental things in my life on a regular basis:
Ultimately, I’m a slave by Master’s definition and if that means that I’m a ‘crap slave’ or not even in the slave category according to my and/or other people’s definitions, so be it.
That’s what I’ve been pondering this last week after having a chat with Master and having him tell me, once again, what I had forgotten. It’s not that I set out to conveniently forget the simply fact that he is trying to drill into me: I’m a slave according to him and that’s all that matters. I also don’t go out of my way to toss his ideas aside in favour of my ideas. It’s just that because his definition and my definition are so far apart that I’m fighting all the time to retrain my brain to accept an idea that is completely alien to me.
For some reason I have always had a set of ‘targets’ or ‘minimum requirements’ that I believe makes a slave. My minimum requirement list contains everything from ‘has a slave marking’ to ‘endures pain’ and everything in between. And while I obviously don’t meet all the requirements on my list, I feel that as long as I meet a reasonable amount of the targets, I earn the right to wear the slave badge.
Without the list I really don’t have a way to separate the ‘slaves’ from the rest of the flock and to me, who needs a label for everything and who is an all or nothing girl, without knowing what badge I can pin to my chest, I lose all sense of direction.
It’s also important to me that I earn the badge and don’t just wear it for the fun of it. So when I’m not meeting a certain number of criteria on my ‘slave minimum requirement list’, I feel an immediate need to take off the badge and step down from my soap box.
But of course, all of those points are my thoughts on the matter. They are my ideas, my beliefs, my take on what makes a slave and what doesn’t. In his eyes, I’m his slave and property regardless of what I say or do and if he has a problem with me, he’ll take steps to fix me. I don’t drift from being a slave to not being a slave according to my pain threshold of the week or how moody I am, in the world according to Master, I am his slave. period.
Maybe I’m too honest. Maybe I’m too anal. I don’t know why I start feeling like a fraud and wanting to remove the word ‘slave’ from my vocabulary, but I do. Master says I’m a perfectionist and that I will always, always angst about whether I’m good enough. Perhaps he is right and all I need to worry about is whether I’m good enough in his eyes.
His slave. His property. His rules.
P.S During an interrogation session the other night Master said to me “All your holes belong to me” and I was *this* close to totally losing it laughing because all I could think of was “All your base are belong to us” (read about it here if you’re not a geek gamer and have no idea what I’m talking about.)