SJP#16: Reward for Service?
“Do not be like servants who serve their masters expecting to receive a reward; be rather like servants who serve their master unconditionally, with no thought of reward.” – Antigonus of Sokho
Sometimes I feel like one of those prima donna actresses standing there with her hands on her hips and popping her gum going, “What’s my motivation?” As if I don’t know the role and need some sort of reason to submit the way that works best for us.
Master gets busy or tired or sick or just plain sick of any sort of work (I won’t pretend owning me isn’t a full-time job/hassle. I know it is.), the M/s part of our relationship will fall by the wayside and I’ll stand there all but saying, “Why should I submit? What am I getting out of it?”
I won’t lie. I absolutely expect to get something out of being a slave. I expect to get a lot of things out of being a slave. Some of them are relationship-specific. Others I’d expect from any master who might own me in the event that Master should pass on or decide to give me away or sell me.
I expect to be controlled, appreciated, fulfilled. I expect to be loved, wanted, protected. I expect to be taught, molded, trained.
I think, once upon a time, I said I had no expectations. I’m betting I was parroting something I was told in an IRC channel. Back when I was trying to be everyone else’s definition of a true slave. Back when I had my head up my ass.
It’s been really weird, lately, seeing things for what they are rather than looking at them through the cloud of self-interest that I’m so often stuck in. And because of it, I’ve been ridiculously on point in my service. My mouth got a little out of hand, but He said something and… I shut up. Again.
I think maybe I’m a pod person.
I am, absolutely, the servant expecting rewards for her service. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be. I’m pretty sure it goes against the kind of slave Master wants me to be. But if I don’t feel like He cares… If I don’t feel like He at least appreciates my service… Well, what’s the point, then?
I don’t do this for purely selfish reasons. While I enjoy my role and am happy being a slave, I chose to be a slave because it’s what He wanted. If He had wanted a submissive, that’s what I would have chosen. If He’d only wanted a bottom, I’d have been His submissive in the bedroom. I wanted to be whatever would make this man happy. I still do.
But I need to know it matters. I need to know He notices. I think everyone does to some extent. Whether they like to admit it or not.
The past couple days, Master’s been picking on me. Like I said earlier, I’ve been ridiculously on point with my service. Making sure His cup is full. Bringing Him a napkin with His plate (I forget constantly.). Making sure He has any condiments He needs. Getting dinner ready without being told. All with nary a rolled eye or huffy arm flap.
It’s been at least two weeks since He’s had to tell me what needed to be done throughout the day. And while I’m still really down on myself right now, I’m finding that life’s so much easier when things just click. When I stop fighting. When my focus is where it should be.
And I didn’t even realize my focus was off until it came back.
prompt found at SubmissiveGuide