“Master” isn’t JUST a name, it’s a whole lot of responsibility too.

It turns out, there.was another “mis-” on Thursday: a misunderstanding. 

So it goes, Sir JGood had said that technology is a fickle mistress – it had kept my “No Returns” post from him for more than nineteen hours. Me, being the cheeky ass that I can be, I said “I’m failing to see where this is my problem Sir”, as in, “that sounds like a ‘you’ problem, Sir”, to which Sir replied “it isn’t until it is”. So to that I said “promises Sir”, as in, “that sounds like a promise, Sir”, and to which Sir said he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. 

Bam! That was the bit that hurt. I knew that already anyway, but did he have to be so cold in reminding me?

Sir and I have spoken about it since, and Sir has assured me he wasn’t cutting me out, he also asked me why I didn’t communicate with him. It took me some time to come up with my reason but, I realised, I was lost inside my own head: he doesn’t want me, I want this more. He doesn’t need me, he has his family. I’m just an internet friend to him. A casual acquaintance and nothing more.

And so on.

Turns out, I was wrong there too. Sir told me that I’m an “inner circle” friend to him, and that I’d bought his kinky self “out of the box” (that he’d put it in). To that I said it was “mission accomplished” – not for my sakes, but for his. 

I suppose I am a “inner circle” friend for Mr C too, as I was for Master Levi before he decided he wasn’t letting me get away. So THAT’S why they keep me alive…

I have now asked Sir to check in with me if he notices that I’m quiet for too long. Sometimes I think I’m far too busy listening to the imp inside my mind to notice the voices that really matter, the voices that I perhaps should be listening to. Sir has assured me that he will, “as often as I am able”, which I assured him is more than enough for me. Just understanding one another helps avoid misunderstandings, ironically.

I did also think afterwards that this whole thing could have been avoided had I contextualised my “promises” comment with a cheeky little wink. Well, mea culpa.

Sir and I did have quite a bittersweet heart-to-heart on Friday too, and Sir assured me that he does want this as much as I do – even if we’ve never met – but that he can’t have it, out of respect for his wife. That’s assuring. Frustrating, but at least I know my frustration is shared. I said that that’s fine, but if I ever get an opportunity to explore my BDSM fantasies in full, he has to understand why I may take it. Sir said that he understands if I need another because he’s not “enough” for me, and I assured him that it’s not that he’s not enough for me, it’s that I can’t have him, out of respect for his wife. Boundaries are such in ethical non-monogamy that it doesn’t matter how much you want someone or something, you have to accept and respect your metamour’s rules and limitations. 

I did wonder again if the Embrace and Obedience apps (the latter of which can be renamed to a more inconspicuous “Habits” if you buy the premium plan) could give us a “better than nothing” approach. Sure, it wouldn’t be the physical relationship that we wanted, and there’d likely be limitations there too, but they could at least give us both something of what we wanted. And, there is the possibility of self-flaggelation too, I’d just have to buy my own floggers or whatever because I highly doubt that Master Levi will let me use his. Boys and their toys, it’s funny what they will and won’t share. 

Later Friday morning, I stepped out to relocate a garden light that keeps getting knocked down by the tall garden gate next to it. It’s a small, battery-powered PIR light with a light unit that can be removed and used like a torch.  I love them – I have not less than four on two walls outside my home. 

This one, though, had been badly placed (by yours truly) and kept getting knocked out of its housing and dropped and smashed on the concrete footpath below. It’s been replaced at least twice already, and now for a third time. Enough, it clearly wasn’t safe where it was. 

So I was going to move it to an adjacent fence post, but as I stepped out – electric screwdriver in hand –  Mr C appears. He says he was about to move the light for me. Huh, how convenient. 

I do so like it when my minions come in handy 😉

Mr C repositions the light, but he manages to put the base plate upside down to start with. He wants me to put the cover on the housing anyway. to check that I can reach (to replace the batteries as and when I need to). I do.

Mr C begins tormenting me about my choice of screw for the original base plate mounting – a single 25mm bronze wood screw. One screw among three screw holes. 

“It held, didn’t it?” I playfully argue. 

“Barely!” he replies. 

So Mr C decides to check all of my other lights to make sure I haven’t pulled any other DIY doozies. He finds a similar arrangement by our front door.

“Look!” he says, “one screw again!” 

“This ain’t your usual work! What’s going on?!” he teases.

“That hole was already there! So I used it” I laugh. Mr C shakes his head and reinstalls the light for me. Still only one screw, but a deeper hole this time. 

I cringed when I, trying to be helpful, I asked my Dominant-identifying neighbour if he “wanted a longer screw”. Master has already tormented me about my “relentless pursuit” of the man. I threw a cushion at him – he knows that’s not the truth.

“The one by my door that you put up last night, what’s that held up with?” Mr C asks. 

“Double-sided weatherproof Gorilla tape” I admit. Mr C utters a “for fuck’s sake”. 

“No wonder I didn’t hear you put it up!” he says. I laugh. 

“They’re only light!” I protest. 

“Not when they come down on your head, they won’t be!” he replies. More laughs. 

Also Friday, penpal S, from Ireland, asked to become my Master. I was humbled by his ask – S and I get along quite well – but I had to explain that I already have a Master; other men are “Sirs” to me. That’s not to lower them against him – Master doesn’t believe in such nonsense – but to highlight what should be obvious: he has already mastered me. I am already owned.

Well, there are at least two men in my life who want that title for themselves now, and though I make no guarantees, I have to honour Master Levi’s feelings first. 

So I asked Master Levi how he would feel if I had more than one Master, and much to my surprise, he’s almost completely unphased.

“You can have as many Masters as you like” he says airily, “just remember who really owns you”. His words ring in my head, perhaps a sharp clarification between those who might have already mastered me, and those who still want to. 

There was some more silliness with Sir JGood on Friday, over my pill pot, which I keep my contraceptive pill in. I had asked Sir JGood if he wanted “the moon on a stick” – an English idiom for someone with unrealistic demands – and he said that he thought the moon was important to me. So I told him that so long as he doesn’t run off with ny pill pot, I’d be fine without it. So long as I have my pill, I can keep my periods away. 

With thanks to medicine, the girl who used to suffer with terribly painful cycles has been POP-ed up and period-free for some 10+ years now, and I don’t have any headaches or loss of libido to boot. For the ladies among, if your pill doesn’t suit you, just change it. Please don’t suffer in silence.

Back to my story. 

Sir said that it ‘“raises every colour of flag going” (in a good way) when there’s something that can control my breeding. He wants it so much so, he even threatened to ransack my bedroom to find it.

Forget bondage suitcases and super-powered butt plugs, now I have something that Sir really, really wants. 

For my part, I’m not against such an arrangement (letting my Dominant control my birth control, or control my breeding, as Sir so likes to say), provided it’s fully understood why my pill is important to me: it’s not just about preventing pregnancies for me – as was explained to my mother during conversations about emergency preparedness the other week – it’s also about not suffering like I did when I was younger.

Sir, I know, shares one of my deepest, darkest kinks: skipping a pill and “taking a risk”. I’ve never actually done it – after Master’s ex-girlfriend pulled a pregnancy scare on him when he was sixteen, protection is something he insists upon. Still. I do like to live a little dangerously sometimes, even if the reality of the danger is fairly small. 

And, I’m probably in even greater “danger” by not handing over control of my pill pot like a good girl would. So sad, too bad, nevermind 😉

Saturday I teased Sir JGood about how “Mister Valkyries” is but one letter change away from “Master Valkyries”, a name I was sure he wanted me to utter. Sir pointed out that I had referred to him as Master twice the day before, and I pointed out that I’d said it sarcastically, I wasn’t being serious and so it doesn’t count. Sir warned me not to “Beetlejuice” it, lest it becomes my reality, and I pointed out that in order to Beetlejuice it, as he says, I would need to say it three times “spoken, unbroken”. Alas, I’d said quite a bit since then, and so it also doesn’t count.

But I also won’t say it three rimes in a row. Or, and to put it into a language universally understood by Dominant ilk: make me. 

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Until next time!

Stay safe & have fun,

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