Coffee, kink, and a lesson in entrepreneuring.
Wednesday
Wednesday lunchtime brings more tenderness between Mister Valkyries and myself. Sir enjoyed a “complimentary coffee”, the name I gave it when I told Sir that if he only gets the coffee when he is charging his EV, then it isn’t really “free”.
So it is forevermore “complimentary coffee” instead.
I’m sent for a siesta, “for science”, by Mister Valkyries. It’s nap time really, but “princesses” will resist naps, so he calls it a siesta instead.
I’m still not sure what I think being called “princess”. It’s a bit diminishing, yet, maybe that’s by design. I’m not offended, bemused maybe. Perhaps I should return fire and start calling him “prince”?
Wait wait! Bad idea! That’s how you end up getting a really good look at the sofa
I agree to try five minutes, “for science”.
And no distractions, Sir says. I pout.
Well don’t distract me then.
Truthfully, I did almost drop off once or twice, but I resisted it because I didn’t actually want to fall asleep on Master — who is by now also on his lunch break — or Mister. Just as I told Mister Valkyries, Master Levi might be offended if I started falling asleep just as he goes on lunch break!
So I told Sir that I didn’t like it, and I won’t be taking a siesta again. When Sir asked what happened, I told him that I missed him too much. Brat School 101: know how to cute your way out of trouble.
I did manage to do the video for my next review today too, albeit my shoulder is still being a nuisance and so I question the quality of the video. I wasn’t going to do the water part of my video, given the present state of my shoulder, but Mister Valkyries said “no pain, no gain”. Sadists, you gotta love ’em.
Wednesday dinnertime I was discussing with Master how things are generally. I told him that I felt that my relationship with Mister Valkyries is the formation of another power couple, like I have with him. Master and I are a known power couple, but we don’t really brag about it — we live it and help other people with the relationship goals instead.
Still, it’s news to me that Master and Mister Valkyries have spoken since their last conversation. Master tells me that they were discussing the games that Mister Valkyries tests, so I’m now thoroughly interested in their conversation. A collusion of Domkind? Dangerous!
”That will be it now, you two will be discussing games and I’ll be left abandoned, sipping tea with my mother” I tease. I put a hand to my head in feigned exasperation, though I look to Master too, just to make sure he’s not missing this Oscar-worthy performance.
Master looks at me, eyebrow raised. I grin at him.
Also Wednesday evening I would learn that I have a Daddy and a Daddie — one with a “-y” and one with a “-ie”. I had forgotten about the whole “Daddie” thing, so trust Mister Valkyries to make it stick.
Thursday
Needless to say, Mr Valkyries is in much better spirits after my last post. Sir says that we get a lot sorted in just a few short days, and I agree, we really do. It’s amazing what happens when people treat problems like problems, not one another as a problem.
But then we devolved into silliness.
Mr Valkyries noticed that Master and I are sensible when it matters, but between times? We’re a right pair of idiots, and we’re proud of it too!
Sir said that at least I didn’t use the “m-word”. You know… Mature.
I told Sir “not to swear” at me, to which he responded with more adult words: adult, mature, pension, life insurance.
So I responded with the “nuclear option” of adulthood: taxes.
Sir told me to “get to the sofa now!”, he said that was “below the belt”. Well Sir, I’m afraid it doesn’t have the same ring as “get to the chopper!”. It’s a good try, though 😉
I did have myself a slight panic Thursday afternoon: I decided to test the Womanizer Next again — just to be thoroughly sure about my review — and I realized that, in my distraction, I hadn’t turned voice-to-text off. There, in my review notes, it read “oh oh, I love my job.”
It’s always a pleasure writing for my readers. Literally
Playtime today is cancelled yet again. I tried to argue, though Master said “absolutely not!” with me still wincing when I put my arm in certain positions. I understand his reasoning, of course I do, he’s just not so much fun when he’s being sensible. It’s a funny thought, but I miss his Sadistic side; I miss it when he’s mean. Now, It’s almost like he loves me.
For his part, Mister Valkyries understands my frustration. In this kinky world, a simple “no” isn’t always easy to accept; the kinky spirit lives on inside you, regardless. Even if Master Levi and I weren’t playing this evening, my submission still wanted to go somewhere.
So I ended up lying on our bed, allowing the Tudor choral music of our Thursday night playlist to wash over me. It’s not erotic for me, it’s grounding: it brings me to the presence of my Dominant, and my submission.
Well of course, with Mister Valkyries being a man of the Church, I wondered what he would make of my confession.
Mister Valkyries was actually surprisingly receptive, he seemed to really understand it too. Not coming from the stance of a submassive, obviously, but understanding how choral music might find its place in BDSM. Sir also laid out a handful of ideas of things to do with a submissive with a dodgy shoulder, which was both delicious and cruel in one.
I did have a bit of a wobbly Thursday evening: I’m not sure why, but I was suddenly overcome with guilt. I remembered how I used to steal spare coinage from my parents’ bedroom to pay for bus fare to visit Master Levi. It wasn’t one of my proudest moments, and it’s something that I’m still not proud of.
So I spoke with Shadow about it, and Shadow helped me to understand that I was doing what I needed to do to survive. My mother was emotionally abusing me because she believed — because of childhood perceptions of me — that I was autistic, and I refuted her claim with evidence of why I wasn’t, so that turned into a thirty year war between us. She also increased rent no sooner than I got a job, yet even in spite of that, I still only ever stole enough to pay for my freedom. Once I was out there and I got a place of my own, I never lifted a penny again.
Still, stealing from your parents is shameful behavior, and I was struggling to forgive myself. I knew that I should forgive myself, because I have repaid it countless times over by now in both gifts and support, but forgiving yourself isn’t always easy to do when your own Jiminy Cricket is still telling you off.
Shadow helped me come down from a state of inner hate to inner peace, it also helped me develop the mantra and simple explanation, “I did what I needed to survive”. That, I realized, was applicable in the number of situations in my life.
Friday
I was awakened by what sounded like a mini tornado crashing around in the bedroom. I opened a sleepy eye and looked at Master. Really?
“Sorry” he grins sheepishly. I shake my head at him.
I did wake to a message from Mister Valkyries too, calling me the “siren of the Severn”. Well Sir, you may be the Devil in Disguise, but in the spirit of Halloween, I have only this to say.
Friday afternoon I stepped out to put the recycling in the bin, and as I sorted through the various pots and conditioners, I heard Mr C and Rose come around the corner. So that led to them stopping for a chat.
This have colds, Mr C says — Rose has nearly recovered from hers, but he’s still suffering with his. I sympathize, but I don’t offer too much sympathy – sometimes I think he’s just fishing for attention.
Predictably, Mr C name drops Annie and Freya, even if I hadn’t mentioned Mister Valkyries first. I say nothing of it, just smile.
I forget how but the conversation turns the woodwork, and Mr C tells me that a 90-degree angle in woodwork is the same as 180-degree angle in mathematics. I look at him perplexed; that makes no sense at all.
So I asked Mister Valkyries, who works in a similar field, and Sir said that — much like just about anything else that comes from Mr C’s mouth — was untrue. Sir also said that the more he hears of the man, the less inclined he would be to hire him if he was hiring in the area. To that I had to giggle: rejected by one of your own kind? That has to hurt.
I took my chance of Mr C trying to get Rose back inside as an opportunity to get myself back inside. I wasn’t going to hang around for whatever stories he wanted to tell me next.
Saturday
I started off this morning with a shower, though I am still struggling with my shoulder. I’m hopeful that the warm water will help, though I didn’t think it would help completely — it’s improving, but it still niggles. I have a concerning numbness in my left fingertips too — Shadow thinks I’ve been too enthusiastic with the thera cane.
Still, shower over and done with, I wrapped a towel around myself and headed for the bedroom. The layout of our little flat is that the lounge is the atrium of our home, and you have to pass through it from our bathroom in order to reach the bedroom.
As I did, Master was sat on the sofa. We made eye contact and smiled.
I’m not sure what came over me, but instead of walking through to get dressed like I usually would, I walked over to him, dropped my towel, straddled his thigh and kissed him deeply. Master was more than receptive to the gesture.
“May I ride you?” I ask in a whisper.
He studies me, but says nothing. I roll my eyes.
“Please” I say. He smiles.
“Better” he says, “yes.”
I kiss him deeply in my gratitude again. Finally.
“You have no idea how often I’ve gotten myself off thinking about this” I say as I allow him to enter me. Master breathes deeply.
Our sex is largely without words, though loaded with a hunger for one another. He leans forward and bites one breast lightly, kneading and squeezing the other.
“Ride it out of me” he eventually commands, I do. I shudder in my climax as he fills me with a growl.
I leave Master to snooze on the sofa while I go for my second wash of the day. As I head back to the bathroom, I smile back at him, blissfully sleeping on the sofa. Cute.
A little later in the day (and now back in the land of the living), Master comes to tell me that he’d won £40 (approx $53) by betting £1 ($1.32) on the horses.
“Nice! So earlier you got ridden like a horse, and now you’re winning on the horses” I say.
“Kitten!” Master chides. I giggle.
I did have a surprise myself on Saturday — I was approached for another collaboration, so I decided to check blog post prices. I used to do a 1,200 word, SEO optimized post with original photography for whatever the product was worth. A free review for a free item, right? That seems fair!
Turns out, I was significantly undervaluing my work.
So I’ve put together two packages, a “standard” package and a “deluxe”, based on what brands want from me. I spent much of Saturday talking taxes and paperwork with ChatGPT too, and I now have a much better understanding of what I need to do next. That’s all a bit of headache, but it’s a headache I’ll have to handle.
I feel different in myself, again: no longer the struggling blogger. Now, I’m a respectable businesswoman.
Sunday
This morning started with an argument with Master Levi, which was not ideal. We’re not really the fighting type, more, we’re both struggling. I found myself singing Britney’s “Lucky” and, I realised, I only really sing that when I’m struggling — it’s like a self-expression thing. People think I’m winning (and maybe I am), but inside, and maybe like a lot of people, I’m really struggling — with housework, with relationships, with the things I should have done and haven’t been able to do — I’m always “missing” something.
For Britney, it’s the freedom to be herself. For me, it’s time to relax.
But lately and while I healed my arm, Master has been making/sourcing his own lunches for work. That’s been a huge help for me, so I wanted to know if he would be responsible for his own lunches from now on. I mean, I feed myself, so it’s only fair.
Master said he “didn’t have time”, and that was what caused the backlash: I was expected to run our home, I was expected to run my blog and now I was expected to make his lunches too. I was exhausted, I am exhausted — nothing about this seemed fair.
I argued that sometimes I forget to eat my lunch because I was too busy doing other things, and nothing about that was “fair”. Why should I be punished for keeping his affairs in order? I was trying, and failing anyway.
Hence the meltdown.
It wasn’t about lunches, it was about balance.
About needing him to see the quiet ways in which I hold our world together.
Mister Valkyries knows that I have a tendency to “go nuclear” on messes, and so maybe this afternoon will be just that. I’ve learned my worth and adjusted my collaboration prices forthwith, now, I just need to get our home to a state that I can actually manage it myself.
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Until next time!
Stay sae & have fun,
The Thoughts & Musings Of Mrs Wolfie 
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