A recent post on FetLife was asking which of the various reasons listed by the poster were applicable to acts of direct, intentional disobedience.  The Master asking the question is one that i really respect and find absolutely fascinating, so i’ve been following the thread for sometime. Of course, in true tora fashion, i answered it too, because if there’s anything i love, it’s listening to myself talk (or type, as it were).

i admitted that there have been times where hey, i’m just not perfect. *shocked gasp* i’m human property, emphasis on human. i make mistakes, i hold myself high in value, i often have thought processes contrary to His goals. Shit happens. i was honest about it, explained that while i do love, adore and live to serve Him, i still have (too much of) a mind of my own and a tongue that gets away from me. Occasionally, knowing He would be pleased is just not quite enough to get me through it.

It’s not like i routinely tell Him “Fuck off and get your own drink” or “How about i rape your ass instead, dickwad!” i respect Him. i honor Him. He is above all others in my world. That is NOT enough to make me magically stop thinking about how i feel, what i want, or how pissed i’ll get when He’s laying on the couch watching Mythbusters while i’m cleaning the kitchen and making him lunch for the next day, and His voice wafts out into the kitchen – “Make me a drink!” Yes, because i am so obviously just farting around in the kitchen, indulging my mini bubble bath fantasies and have nothing better to do.

Heh. Oops.

Anyway. The point of that was to say i am generally an obedient cunt. i do my damnedest to obey, but that doesn’t stop the imperfection that is a human from bleeding through every so often.

Also adding to my problem is that i’m dumb enough to need to keep making sure that the walls and door of my “cage” are secure and can withstand me. If i start to feel like i might actually have a say in the matter, i’ll go running full tilt to the nearest electrified fence and grab that fucker. i have got to know that i’m his slave, i am lower, i do NOT have any guaranteed say in how things are done. This, too, makes me a “horrible” slave. shrug It’s not a case of continuous power struggles. The longer we’ve been doing the O/p thing, the less often i rise up. Oddly enough, even though they are fewer and farther apart, the struggles themselves are more intense, grittier and nastier.

The giving up of one’s self is rarely a pleasant and easy process.

i know that one of His goals in owning me is a lessening of my reactive personality and an emphasis on my subservient (to Him) side. We are relatively new to this O/p thing, we’ve got time.  i’m just along for the ride, lol.

i was disappointed at most of the reactions to the question. The common theme was “What?! i never! Real slaves don’t disobey!! We all lounge about anxiously awaiting to please our masters’ every whim!!1!1″

Gawd, if we have to put an act on to underline our twoo slaviness in a forum of online personas that we will most likely never meet, what the hell? Is there nowhere a slave can open up and admit they fuck up from time to time? i have a hard time believing i am the only slave that occasionally falters!

So, what do you have to add? Are you perfect? Do you have your moments of asshattery? Tell us how you approach the concept of disobedience! Is perfection an attainable goal?Or is my Owner really cursed with owning me, as some people have implied?

(i’ve mentioned the curse of owning me to Him – He laughs and says i’m the best curse He’s come across so far.)

Yesterday, from about eleven till about three, in a word?

Suckage.

I pissed Master off royally.

So, we all know I have self-esteem problems.  And taking pictures the other day, and having them really not come out how I wanted them to, sent me into a tailspin.

I was pissy and rude and disrespectful and mean.  Shooting Him looks mean enough to kill if He dared tell me to do something other than wallow in my pity party and damn near cutting His balls off with my double-bladed tongue.  And none of my problem has anything to do with Him.

And that’s the shittiest part.  I screamed at Him over and over, “It doesn’t matter what you or other people think.  My problem isn’t what you or other people think.  My problem is what I think!” while still holding Him accountable for my problem with my attitude.

I finally shut up and listened to Him, and we worked it out like we always do.  The conversation ended up all over the place, which normally would make things explode into a ginormous, sucking black hole.  But yesterday, the flip-flopping of the conversation actually got a lot of shit handled.

We talked about how I have a ton of shit I want to do but don’t get up out of my own way to do it.  How I’m behind on some things that I really have no reason to be behind on except that I don’t sit down and do them.  About how I’m constantly allowing myself to become distracted.

We talked about the things I want to learn and do and be, and how if I continue to sit here ignoring them, they’ll never come to pass.   Read more…

And I nodded through my sobs, relief and gratitude washing over me.

I pushed a little too hard last night.  Master is no longer content to let me lead.  He’s clipped leash to collar (both literally and figuratively) and is dragging me along behind Him.

I won’t rehash the argument.  It doesn’t matter what was said.  Even if I had valid points – and I’m not even sure I did anymore – it’s kind of difficult to argue with, “I’m the master.  Not you.”

It would be so much easier if I’d remember that from the instant I get upset.

I’m still confused.  I have the right and responsibility to go to Him with problems, but I’m required to live by the “Master is always right.” creed.  I’m sure there’s a happy medium in there, somewhere, but I tend to jump from one extreme to the next.  “Oh.  You’re always right, huh? So, you don’t care if I have a problem.  You’re not interested in my happiness.”

I did say that to Him.  His response?

“You’re right.  When you’re being a cunt and ignoring my orders and disobeying my rules, I don’t give a flying fuck about your happiness.”

I kind of blinked at Him for a second.  It’s not fair for Him to be logical! That’s just fighting dirty!

He was going to release me.  It was a good long time before I could swallow my pride and ask beg Him not to.  I often say I don’t even know how to beg.  I sure figured it out in a hurry last night.

Long ago in a land not so far away (Three streets over, in fact.), when we had a spat or I was in trouble, one of the first things I would do was lick Him.  Anywhere I could reach.  Until He told me to stop or fucked me or… something.  It calmed Him down and made it easier to converse with Him.  Read more…

It’s hard coming to the understanding that a lot of the problems in your relationship and/or life are caused by you.  It’s hard letting go of the anger, hurt and pain.  The guilt eats at you.  And, if you’re like me, you do whatever you can to deflect the blame from yourself.

I mean, there’s a huge difference between the self-loathing, “Everything I touch turns to shit.” type thoughts and actually understanding that you are the cause of a lot of your problems.

It’s exponentially more difficult letting go of the things the other person did cause and just working on what you know you need to fix.  Owning your own shit and leaving the other person to theirs.  Realizing that you can’t fix them; they have to fix themselves.  Especially with the very real possibility every couple has of one party evolving without the other looming over your head.

As I’ve said before, I could go on forever with “Well if He’d stop taking His hands off the wheel…” and “If He’d only do it this way…” and “If He’d try harder to be less grumpy…” and…

The thing is, even if I wasn’t a slave it wouldn’t be my place to try to control or change Him.  That’s not the way love is supposed to work.  When you fall in love with someone, you’re supposed to fall in love with who they are.  Not who you think you can make them into. Read more…

“Training is painful.”  He said, as I sat and stared at the floor.

I blinked back the tears that were freely flowing before He got home and lifted my head.  I remember those words.

Seven years ago He said them.  Stole a line – or three – from a book.

He told me that my collar was to teach me, to control me and to bring me pain.  He said it wouldn’t always be good pain.  He said it wouldn’t always be intentional.  But He promised me that my collar would bring me pain.

Tuesday was different.

Back then, He was jumpy.  Nervous.  The training was sexual in nature.  The craving driven by our loins.

Night after night, I knelt in the kitchen while He circled me.  And night after night, He sent me to another man to be used.  Reminded of my place.

Back then I wasn’t ready.  I would have taken any nervousness on His part as weakness.  Incompetence.  Probably did.

Back then I was irrational and unreasonable. Read more…