It’s like poke the sadist … only different.
Not so long ago, Master and I used to fight. Bad. I would get seriously out of control, and at times, He would literally have to put me in my place to shut me up. But that required me actually cooperating when He did it to avoid seriously hurting one or both of us.
Back then I couldn’t figure out what was going on, and I’m not sure even now I fully understand the emotions behind my reaction. But I’ve got a hunch, and I have Kaya to thank for it. Mostly.
I’m not the type of person to hit first. A playful swat here. A mosquito-bite-like punch there. But to haul off and hit someone first? No way. Not a chance. There’s not been a single time in my life that I’ve ever hit first. Well, unless you count the time I threw my glass at my ex.
But I’ll sure as fuck goad someone I want to hit into hitting me first. Every single fight I’ve been in, except for the ones I put myself in to protect someone, has started that way. I think that’s a very small part of the way I respond to Master when we argue the way we did a few months ago. I’m goading Him, with the hope that He’ll hit me, so that if I get the balls to hit Him back, I’ll feel justified. Hey, buddy, don’t blame me! You hit me first! As if that would ever be a good enough reason to break the “Do not ever raise a hand to your owner.” rule.
After the time I threw my glass, I promised myself that I’d never be the initiator of our violent episodes again. I’d somehow convinced myself that if I didn’t throw the first punch, I wasn’t responsible for anything that happened after that. I was just defending myself! Who could blame me for that?
But the reality is my ex would have let me walk away. Once I started fighting back, any time I was able to get out of his reach, and try to leave, he’d let me. Or he’d leave first. The only thing my fighting back did was make an already volatile situation worse. The only purpose it served was letting him know I wasn’t going to take the shit lying down anymore … but I’d still take the shit.
I think I felt threatened, for some reason, and wanted Master to feel the way I felt. So I did it the only way I knew how without breaking the “no hitting” rule. I denied Him my docility and willing compliance, and tried to get Him to give me a reason to fight back.
He never did, by the way. He’s too levelheaded for my tricks. He reads me like a book. He can see when I’m coiled like a rattler, my tail all a flicker. And He knows how to sneak by my defenses, snatch me up, and milk my sacs dry before I know what happened. That’s probably a good thing. Because I’m not sure I’d walk away from hitting Him back. Which is more temptation than I know what to do with.