Rules are made to be obeyed…. and twisted occasionally too.
Last night I found myself on the edge of the precipice; I was happily tormenting both of them, not knowing potentially what was in store.
Sir had asked about my next writing (my “Truly Scrumptious” post) in the wake of me posing Shae’s questions to him, and I tormented him some about whether I was or was not going to be posting that evening: I might, or I might not. I could, or I could not. I had the power, I had the choice, and I was enjoying it. Especially after Sir had threatened not to let me believe I “have the upper hand” (I had said that my lounging naked in bed whilst my Dominants work is not a “me” problem), right now I had the upper hand, and there really was nothing he could do.
Or so I thought.
I asked Sir again who is really captive to who, and Sir suggested we ask Master Levi. I shook my head quickly and discouraged the idea. No! Let’s not do that!
So Sir told me that I “had my answer”, and indeed, yes, I do – for as much fun as I get to have, I am firmly under their control.
Most of the time.
Master knows what I’m like, and so and as such, my tormenting others (but especially Dominants) is kind of old hat to him. I know Mr Valkyries enjoys it too.
I do torment my family and friends though, and if you knew my father, you’d know exactly where I get it from.
I’ll recap quickly: my father himself was a Dominant, and he was a torment too. Growing up I, understandably, didn’t know anything about my parents’ private proclivities, but as I came of age, I came to understand that my father was indeed a Dominant. That never amounted to anything weird between my father and I, as much I hope would be obvious, but I did used to torment Dad regardless. And he I, in turn.
As a case in point, I was recalling to Master on Monday how my father thought he was funny for installing some bug on my laptop that would autorun and play Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” (a song he knew I loathed) anytime I booted up my laptop. So whilst his PC was left unattended one day, I hijacked it and I ravished it. Dad’s password was easy to work out – he thought he was smart, but I was smarter. With a few basic details already saved in my memory, I was able to work him out and I was in.
From there and in as few as ten minutes, I found him a glitzy Barbie desktop, I set his homepage to Barbie.com and adorned his cursor with a cute, flowery chaser. I turned his theme to pink so that all his icons and taskbar had a rosey hue to them. By the time I was finished, Dad had undoubtedly the Barbiest PC in Britain.
He wanted a war? He got one.
Fortunately Dad found it hilarious. So hilarious in fact, he had to call our mother just to see.
Another example: Dad once asked for a “model blonde and a Porsche on the driveway” for his birthday… so I left him a blonde fashion doll and a Hot Wheels Porsche on the driveway. Well he got what he wanted, didn’t he?

So like I say, Master knows that I torment people (but especially Dominants, who often pick on sweet little old me), and me winding people up is not news to him. In fact, I think he’d be more shocked if they came to him and said I hadn’t wound them up: he’d either want to know what was wrong with me, or what mystical secret they’d unlocked!
Master does have “the golden rule” though, which states that if I wind a Dominant up too much, they are free to impose whatever punishment on me they see fit, so long as it’s reasonable, respects my hard limits, won’t cause me any lasting harm or take up too much of my time. My guess, however, is that that only applies to active Dominants, rather than retired ones. So sad, too bad, nevermind 😉
So Sir had asked me what Master would say, and I immediately rescinded. I mean, I wasn’t going to beg him not to involve him – I wouldn’t want to give him that idea – but I at least hoped he wouldn’t.
Master notices my mood change. I’d gone from chatty and engaged, to more pensive.
“What?” he asks. I shake my head quickly.
“No, what?” he presses. I run my tongue over my teeth. How the fuck do I say this?
“I was winding Sir JGood up a bit” I admit, hopeful that that will do.
“Okay…” he encourages. He’s watching me, I wish he wouldn’t.
“I suggested that, as the author of my blog, I have control. That he is captive to me”. Master raises an eyebrow.
“Is that right?”.
“I mean it’s not wr-”
“Is that right?” he presses again. I bite my lip and shake my head.
“No, Sir” I aquiesce.
“Correct” he says, “you control…”
“I control my blog, Sir.”
“Good, and you don’t control…”
“You, Sir.”
“Or other Dominants” I hastily add.
“Good!”
“… Except for when they read my blog” I grin.
Master sighs.


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