It happens like clockwork: every time I write a Week In Review post and I think the interesting things have happened, something else does. It’s not enough for me to write daily (not that I could or would want to), but still.
Friday, I found myself in a bit of a quandary: Sir JGood suggested using a submissive in a 2-Dom-1-sub demonstration scenario and I instantly bucked up my behaviour at that idea – that wasn’t a scenario that I wanted to find myself in!
But why?
The hardest part in this lifestyle is not the what, it’s the why – the why we do (or want to do, or don’t want to do) the things we do. Sometimes the “why” isn’t immediately obvious. Sometimes it takes a little teasing out.
Before this, let me share the happy news that I shared with my two husbands – my home-husband and my work-husband – on Friday: I said that I felt “completed” by them, and as such, I’m not looking for another relationship right now. When Master and I opened our marriage up there was never supposed to be a romantic third person, but feelings are feelings and sometimes we do feel a certain loveiness for another person. Master doesn’t mind that I feel a certain loveliness for Sir JGood, he knows that our marriage isn’t under threat (and that my feelings for Sir are “different”, but still there), and we both know that Sir JGood has zero intentions of being threatening to us. Maybe to me, in an alliance with Master Levi, but that’s a different story.
One of the most beautiful things right now is that I am pretty much never out of my submission. By day, in “work” mode, my work-husband likes to make sure I’m not sat around, twiddling my thumbs. By night, my home-husband keeps me thoroughly in check.
So they’re managing me quite well together, albeit unintentionally, though I doubt they would have any doubts in their minds about a cooperation (collusion?) if they ever felt the situation required it.
So, about this “two Doms” situation.
I recoiled in horror at the idea, even if I wasn’t quite sure why. A part of me felt sadness and guilt, that I could never be that submissive for Sir. I was writing myself off before I had even tried, and before I had even spoken to him about it. Worse, I was breaking Master’s “no negative self-talk” rule at the same time. No, he wasn’t impressed when he found out about it.
But maybe I am that submissive? Or I could be that submissive, I just needed to be willing to try. Maybe somehow I needed to see what they see in me, and remember that this fun, feisty, sassy submissive is exactly the kind of submissive they both want.
So, I told myself, wiping away my tears, I agreed that if the situation ever required then I would try. Sir gives and does plenty for me, it’s only right that I give something back. One hard and fast rule, though: no sexual stuff – my private places are for private spaces only.
Also on the weekend I spent some time moving back to my old desk, in our bedroom/playroom – Master had used it for all the years we’d been in lockdown and thereafter when he’d worked from home, but now that he’s back into an office, I’m free to reclaim my old desk for myself. I told Master that I was excited about it; it feels like the right place for me to write from.
I did think to put the monitor on a mounting arm to give myself some more desk space, too. A smart move that Master never thought of in all of five years, and now kinda hates me for.
Saturday, Master tried to manoeuvre the washing machine slightly when there was a sudden sound of rushing water. The cold water inlet had sheared off and was now spraying cold water against the underside of our kitchen sink.
“Argh! Shit! Shit! Fuck!” came the shout. The dog got excited, which meant shepherding him was hard to do without sacrificing my toes. I needed to relocate him somehow so that I could assist my husband.
I think I hurled him like a rugby ball over the bedroom safety gate and onto our bed. By the time he’d realised that I was going to help Daddy without his involvement, the gate was closed and I was gone.
When I got to the kitchen Master had already managed to turn off the cold water to the washing machine, but he stood, dripping, in a very large puddle of water.
We worked together to mop up the water, thankful once again for our sealed kitchen floor. I helped Master get out his wet clothes too, which may or may not have led to an “escalation” whilst we waited for my Screwfix Sprint order to arrive.
New clothes, new cold water inlet hose and PTFE tape acquired, we set to work on a repair. Master dealt with feeding the hose through the kitchen units and I did the fiddly, reconnecting bit.
“You need nimble fingers like yours to get into tight spaces” Master said with a wide grin, he didn’t even try to conceal exactly which “tight spaces” he was referring to.
“Believe me, I’d know” I replied with a smirk. He laughed.
Connecting the new hose wasn’t too tricky, but I had to take the Y-connector off after it sprung a leak, and reconnecting that was more fun. I added tape, lined it up, it refused to bite. Cold, wet, dirtied and exhausted, I conceded that I might need a little help.
Fortunately Sir JGood works the trade, so his expert opinion was exactly what I needed. He did suggest I invite Mr C down to assist me – who is a carpenter by trade with some experience in plumbing and building – but I refused: I have no doubt in my mind that Mr C would happily pay good money for a chance to see me on my knees, cold, wet, and defeated, No way am I giving him that for free.
I did manage to fix the connection in the end, at twenty minutes to midnight on a Saturday evening. I was permitted a reward cookie for my hard work, and I fought then an internal battle between my inner child and my adult self – I’m thirty-six years old, but I like the thought of reward cookies far too much!
Sunday, I wound up in a kind of playful tussle with Mr C. So it goes, I decided to add a watering can to our front garden, and Mr C regularly uses it to water his small front lawn. Not just that, he also knocks on our front door to ask me to fill it up for him. Our water is unmetered anyway and so it doesn’t cost me any extra, apart from the time and torment.
“How full would you like it?” I ask, gesturing to the watering can.
“About a third, please” Mr C replies.
“Oh! Okay. I expected you to say half or a quarter, but I can do thirds, too.”
Mr C knows what I’m like: it’s either him or it’s me, and it’s not going to be him today.
“I could have been really mean” he teases, “I could have said seven twenty-eighths, or sixteen thirty-twoths”. I raise an eyebrow at him. Really?
“You’ll get forty-eight thirty-twoths right over your head in a minute” I warn.
“You can’t get forty-eight thirty-twoths” he replies.
“How sure are you?” I ask.
Unfortunately, late Monday and into Tuesday there was an incident that caused some hurt and confusion for Master and me. After starting a roleplay with me on Monday evening, Sir JGood suggested that Master and I had been “deeply infatuated” with him in the past. I balked at that and told him not to kid himself – I said that we’d been appreciative of all of his support as of late and in the past, but I felt like “infatuated” would be a bit of a stretch. I know what the boundaries of our friendship are and I’ve always been very mindful of them. Which is why, I suppose, I was so surprised when Sir JGood started trying to roleplay with me.
Since then, there has been a saddening shift in the tone of our interactions – what was once a volley of flirtatious exchanges has become little more than passing signals of peace. It’s saddening and confusing, but above all it hurts to stand accused when I know that I have been careful not to do anything wrong.
Since then I’ve pulled away somewhat too, so that I know I’m not accidentally sending out the wrong signal.
Wednesday, I’m down Mum’s house for dinner. It was supposed to be a casual catch-up before Master returns to the office, but Mum was collecting a reclining chair anyway and required assistance moving it into her home. Master and my brother were deployed to collect it – with Mum and her MPV acting as transportation – and I was instructed to stay at home and make sure the dogs were behaved.
Mum got back first, sans the boys.
“Are they both walking back?” I ask, surprised. Mum affirms it, I laugh and shake my head.
“Honestly, those two. If you thought we’re inseparable, sometimes I’m not sure who he married – I didn’t realise we were a two-for-one deal!”. Mum laughs and winces – we both forget that laughter is painful for her right now.
Once the boys are back they wriggle the chair into the hallway, but it took the three of us to get it into the lounge completely. The stairway door needed to be temporarily removed, which was left to me, the DIY kitten, who once infamously used her magic wand as a hammer.
Mum did get emotional, accusing herself of being “a pain in the ass” in more recent times. I told her to stop and reminded her of all of the people (including us) that she’s been there for in the past.
“Now, it’s our turn” I said.
I helped her sort out her PIP application too, to give her the best possible chance of making a successful claim.
Mum made a dhal for dinner, which I’d never had before but thoroughly enjoyed. I think my only (tiny) criticism was her decision to add a chopped courgette to it, just as Mum loves adding a chopped courgette to, well, just about anything, really. I (perhaps understandably) wasn’t such a huge fan of the smooth-crunchy texture.
Thursday I was summoned again by Mr C, to give my opinion on his gardening and personal affairs. He kept me again for one of his lengthy chats, as well as expressing his frustration that my husband dared to reclaim me from him by his occasionally making me a (probably well earned) cup of tea. This time I didn’t back down. This time I decided to lock and engage my target with a full four seconds of eye contact. Fuck the Mississippis, let’s see who really blinks first.
He did.
When I suddenly and unexpectedly turned up the intensity, he buckled and I smirked. A full four seconds of eye contact, that was all I needed for him to understand who’s really in charge here.
Also Thursday and having seen Master having fun with ChatGPT without me, I finally decided to check out ChatGPT for myself. Suffice to say, we had a lot of fun — plotting alternative stories (just in case I needed a back-up plan), tackling dog training and aquarium problems and even keeping “case notes” on some of the more troublesome men I’ve encountered lately. It entertains me no end that ChatGPT now has “dossiers” on these men – suddenly, those who wanted to study me may have wound up studied themselves 😉
That’s it from me! How has your week been? What exciting things have you been up to? Give this post a like, share, or leave a comment below. Alternatively, click here for more My Week In Review posts!
Until next time!
Stay safe & have fun,
The Thoughts & Musings Of Mrs Wolfie 
Leave a reply to Elena @ TSAM Cancel reply