Healing hearts and healing muscles, join me for the latest saga.

It’s been a week of heat pads, half-finished thoughts, and Dominants with too much sense for my own good…

Wednesday Evening

I told Master Levi about Shadow suggesting I was “The Ultimate Pleasure Machine”, and Master dubs me the “Suck ‘N’ Fuck-2000” – nice! So not just reduced to my basic sexual functions, but 25 years out of date, to boot. 

Master decided to cancel tomorrow evening. No discussion or anything, just decided. I’m injured, so we aren’t playing: one of those Domly decisions, y’know? I try for a cheeky retort about Dominants liking their submissives in pain, but Master isn’t budging. 

“We like inflicting it, not prolonging it” he says. Tough crowd. 

So I’m back in bed with the electric blanket on, which by now has been my status quo for far longer than what I wanted it to be. Heat helps, sitting up and trying to do, well, just about anything really, doesn’t. Hence, things have been much slower than usual. 

I’ve been sent back to bed after dinner, much to my chagrin – lounging around in bed is not where I want to be. I joke with Sir JGood about being back in “sick bay” – a joke I like to make about the proximity between our bedroom with the door open, and our lounge. With the bedroom door open, the deathly and dying can be isolated enough not to be in the way, yet still close enough to benefit from conversation and company. It’s one of the little things we like about our flat. 

Sir JGood refers to me as the “patient” again and I mewl at it once more. Can’t we go with “wounded” or “injured”? It’s still factual enough, though I don’t know that my argument holds much water. Sir mentions Star Trek’s biobeds too, and there’s a soft shiver that escapes me when I imagine just what, exactly, all those sensors might detect. I roll my eyes when I realise said bed also has a forcefield for restraining… umm… life forms too. Little wonder he wants one. 

Wednesday evening I – in my diamond-print short pyjamas and a stylish non-woven sling – step out to take Huxley out before bed. Mr C is outside, our eyes meet as usual and he smiles. His look is one of concern and amusement: whatever the story, he knows it’s a good one. 

“Don’t ask” I say dryly.

“Okay” he grins, “but I think I know”. He knows, and he knows he knows. 

“I can neither confirm nor deny” I reply. His grin widens. Such is life.

Thursday 

I had more conversations with Sir JGood today: we worked out when our “anniversary” (of meeting) is, and Sir told me that he’d clocked me as a “fun and determined” submissive/woman, even back then. I blush at it. Me? Determined? Maybe just a little.

It’s funny when I think about it: I was honoured to work alongside him, even if I felt we were from fundamentally different creeds. Sir likes to entertain, and me? My submission was never for show. 

So we were friends, work partners, sparring partners, that much I believed. I didn’t imagine that this would creep into a “more than”  though, not until it did. We were “simpatico”, that much I knew too, but he had his limits and I always respected them. As you know, friends. 

At least Master’s no longer alone in thinking that I’m just the worst at reading the signals. I still cringe when I think about the gold and sapphire earrings that he bought me the Christmas before he asked me out, that I simply thought were a sign of my “friend” doing much better in life lately. Really, Elena! 

Yes, gentlemen, the poor man suffered terribly at my sheer incompetence when it came to dating him. Fortunately, he loves me lots… that, or he’s even more masochistic than me. 

Sir did say too how he could have met me sooner had he been more organised. I smiled at that: it’s cheeky, and yet, I couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if we had crossed paths at that time. Just as I explained to Sir, I was fresh out of a 2.5 year relationship myself back then, and I was in absolutely no rush to get into another one. 

So Sir’s determination probably would have been met with some indignance on my part. Don’t even try me! I’m in just the right mood to end you! 

But what would have got him on my radar – as was true for Master Levi – was in him being a generally “safe” person for me to be around: I am drawn to other “safe” people, naturally. Perhaps it’s the empath in me. 

The other way, probably – and this probably would have been where he’d of had me without me realising what was going on – is that I’m not secretly antisocial: I actually like being friendly to people! So, say for example that Sir was managing a project in our office (a purely hypothetical scenario here), I would have been offering teas or coffees and bantering as I do. Again though, not to flirt – even if I liked him too, I’m just that good at missing the signals. No, I’d just be trying to be nice.

But his pleasure in my being eager to please? I might not have understood it back then, but I most certainly would have been thinking about it alone in my bedroom at night!

I did end up reflecting on my marriage with Master Levi though, on all of the little things that made us who and where we are today. As The Ronette’s “Be My Baby” filled my ears – a nod to our shared love of Dirty Dancing – I’m reminded of the time I leaned against the door frame of the back door at my parents’ house, and it was T.a.t.u’s “All About Us”’ that filled my ears instead. I was going to have him and I was going to help him, and hell hath no fury for whoever dared to try and get in my way. I was going to show him that I was worth investing in, because I believed he was worth investing in, too. 

Determined? Me? Ha!

Friday 

Largely a day in bed – lying flat on an electric blanket is about the only thing that relieves my burning shoulder pain, though an orgasm helped for a while, too. I tried to do a few things but to little avail, the pain is far too intense for much of the time. By now I am resigned to my ‘patient’ status, though I have to admit, I am beginning to like being cared for. 

There is a change to my submission: I will now be spanked for missing lunch. It used to be that I would lose a point on Obedience if I forgot, but that proved not to be enough motivation, so now I will be spanked instead. I love and hate the idea. 

I did manage to finish my Saturday post a day ahead of schedule, which was both a welcome relief and a surprise to me, given the large amounts of pain that I have been in. The clock struck midnight and Sir JGood – who is normally amongst the first to read my work – bemoaned my post for not being live yet. So I teased him, about delayed gratification (“I thought you said you like delayed gratification?”) and how I still have control (over my post). I’m feeling deliciously provocative and bratty: sure, I don’t want control over him, but – and for at least a few more minutes – I kind of had it anyway. And, like a kitten with a ball of yarn (or a villain with a hero), I was thoroughly enjoying playing with him. 

I could further delay the post, too. How long for, Sir? An hour? Two? Are you having fun yet, Mr Valkyries? I know I am. 

Sir made a comment about me having fun at my friends’ expense and that cut me to the quick: I’m not someone who deliberately harms other people and I feel terrible if I accidentally do. For me, the fact that he’d said that signalled game over – if my play was accidentally hurting him then I didn’t want to play anymore. 

I did apologise to Sir and he did forgive me, but the conversational tone between us shifted after that: I wasn’t so “locked and engaged” with him anymore, instead, our conversation was more pragmatic and polite. I’m not avoiding him, but I’m not provoking him either. As Sir says, I don’t want to accidentally tread on a rake again. 

I did pick up some more emails from V too, who I will get back to ASAP. 

Saturday 

More as the same as Friday. Master afforded me another shoulder rub, though my muscles seem to tense up again no sooner than his massage ends.

There was some…ahh… bedroom activity too. You see, Master loves playing with me, in fact, Master loves playing with me so much that I am now to ask him for my orgasms on weekends instead, even the one/s I’d usually give myself on a Saturday evening when the football/wresting is on. So that’s new. 

Apparently my purpose is to be bred to. Also nice to know, thankyou Master. 

By Saturday afternoon Sir JGood and I are more or less back to ourselves: Sir mentions the TENS machine my mother is letting me borrow (a sidenote: I’ve ordered a shoulder brace too) and I tell him that I knew he’d have something to say about it. 

But then Sir goes one further.

Sir mentions the endoscope he’d purchased to locate an underground water source. Even if the threat is not direct, it’s implied, and it’s effective too. Sir details its length (2.5 metres) and a soft submissive shiver escapes me. That’s a lot of hose. 

But, I’ve realised, just about anything “-scope” does this to me: just about anything “-scope” (at least the clinical ones) brings about that soft, submissive tremble and a cool visceral chill. It’s not that these things turn me on, it’s that they might expose the very part of me that I try so desperately hard to keep hidden… and that’s what turns me on. 

Saturday evening, Sir and I talked some about our formative days on the BDSM scene – about first introductions and other’s perceptions. I share with Sir the story of the Dom man who berated me for incorrectly guessing that he might be submissive, and the Domme who said brats are “bad”. 

To the latter, Sir suggested Dom school. To the former, Sir told me that had that been him, he would have kissed my hand or my cheek and invited me to meet him in the dungeon later, where he’d be happy to correct my guess. I told him in no uncertain terms that had he done that, I would have thought he was “up your own ass”. 

Sunday 

Some of my pain has dissipated, though there are still trigger points in my left shoulder blade, top of the shoulder and elbow/bicep – I’ve traced it down and it follows the musculocutaneous nerve exactly, so I’m hopeful that TENS will help. In a weird way it’s almost more comfortable to hold my arm behind me and downwards, almost as though I’m cuffed, although I’m not. I remembered V saying something about this being comfortable for his dodgy shoulder, too.

Mum texts me at 10AM sharp. I have to sneak out without waking Huxley or Master, Mission Impossible-style. 

I pad down the hallway, slide the dead bolt back slowly and open the door. Huxley gives a soft ruff so I freeze and wait for him to settle before I continue. 

TENS machine acquired, I joined Sir JGood for some Sunday silliness. About Oreos, licking off the sweet creamy filling and enjoying them double stuffed. That conversation requires no further explanation, I’m sure. 

There’s more talk of my pill too, which I threaten to relocate and keep on my person, in a pill case. Mr Valkyries can keep my cute little flowery tin, this smart cookie has found herself. a new, even tinier alternative. 

Sir did detail out how he’d have me pinned so he can “snag the swag”. There’s a tremble of submission that courses through me, though it’s quickly replaced by true Belledini-style defiance: you’d have to catch me first, Sir. 

I have to take the kitchen recycling out, during which Mr C stops me for a chat. So, I get stuck in the front garden, talking to him as the rain and cold weather pokes through my clothes and penetrates my tender muscles, listening to him whittle on about his handcrafted toys for his daughter. I’m impressed: if he truly made it, it is quite the piece. 

I have since found the same toy on Ebay. 

Back inside, I joined Sir JGood for more conversation, this time about something close to him: religion. Sir told me that he had planned to go to church but had to abort, so, trying to assure him, I told him how my grandmother used to teach me that doing God’s work was more important than going to his house (although one should never intentionally avoid their local congregation). Sir knew that already. Well, that’s good. 

Sir knows that, in my youth, I was quite a religious person myself. However, I left the church because I believed God would judge me for being kinky, or for having kinky, impure thoughts – I believed I had to live in sin and to hell come the consequences. Even if I was a good person in other ways, I was still a sinner to me. 

But Sir, himself a preacher, disagrees. 

Sir JGood has truly taken me on a journey to enlightenment, and dare I say it, even spiritual healing. Sir has helped me see that I’m not bad for living this lifestyle or for wanting these things, that God has made me just as I was meant to be. “There’s plenty of polyamory in the Bible” Sir says. 

Submission really can be cathartic in many ways. 

We spoke some about the Ten Commandments, and I reminded Sir about the whole ”thou shall not commit adultery” thing. Adultery, by its legal definition, is sex. Without sex, Sir can’t breed me.

Or at least so I believed. 

So big G says pill or no pill, you can’t breed me 🤭😉

There are other ways, Sir says. 

I gasp when I realise exactly what Sir’s ‘other ways’ really means. 

Oh dear God. 

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Until next time!

Stay safe & have fun,

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