A bite of carrot cake and a taste of control.

This post is really just a quick demonstration of a submissive holding and demonstrating their power in a relationship. It comes in light of my recent post and conversations with some readers, about a Dominant’s superiority, a submissive’s inferiority and power exchanges, generally. However you play, I think this post perfectly captures where the power really lies, or should lie. 

Yesterday morning I delivered a digital “pinch-punch” – an old, British monthly good luck tradition – digitised to reach both of my husbands who weren’t within striking range. For our overseas readers, normally the pinch-puncher would give the pinch-punched a light, playful pinch and a gentle punch to the upper arm whilst saying the phrase “pinch, punch, first of the month, no returns”. However and perhaps quite predictably, I have seen some young lads try to almost break one another over the game.

Still, both were taken aback by my audacity. After all, we Brits can be quite competitive in our bid to be the pinch-puncher, rather than the pinch-punched.

Let it be said that under normal conditions, I am lethal when it comes to pinch-punching people. 00:00:04 on a Tuesday morning? Your ass is mine, and I will lie in wait like a panther stalking its prey. Zero mercy. 

But when neither of them are around me, well, a girl has to get a little creative. 

Both of them have vowed revenge, which means to say that we will probably have to agree some “rules of engagement”: are “incapacitation strikes” (striking if the other one is still asleep) fair game, or is there an agreed time after which it’s each man for himself? I wouldn’t want to be accused of cheating 😉

I’m not afraid of their threats of revenge, by the way. They also wouldn’t want me to feel threatened by them, and vice versa. Not in the literal sense, anyway. 

Lunchtime, Sir JGood makes it part of his “revenge” to torture me with lunch, with lentil soup and carrot cake. He promises to describe it to me, and save me a “bite” of carrot cake, since “that’s what you like to do” (biting people who provoke me). 

I refuse to react. He wants me to react, and I do anyway (especially for carrot cake, I said I hated him and I kind of meant it for the minute) but I’m not going to let it show. Fuck that! I’m not going to let him know he’s got to me! 

So I try to stay as stoic as possible, and Sir eventually ceases his provocations. Sir realised there “will be a price to pay”, and “not just at the till”.

Of course, he’s not wrong. 

I considered a retaliatory strike with a photo of my homemade soup, the recipe for which I’d been meaning to share with him (but was now keeping as a tool for our negotiations).

But then I remembered, he forgets what’s in my possession, that Sir really wants to get his paws on. 

He wants to tease? Ah, but I could have so much fun, and nine days is an awfully long time to wait.

I could send him photos. Just the box, or maybe the locks. Just a “bite”, as he says.

It’s fun to torture people, isn’t it, Mr Valkyries? 😉 

Of course, I know that my power rush will be short-lived, and my capitulation shall be both inevitable and thoroughly enjoyable. Yet, even in that, I still hold the power in just one word. 

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