One covert op, two unsuspecting men.
Thursday
In the midst of starting my Thursday, I was disturbed by a knock on the front door. It’s a little early and I’m not expecting anyone or anything, I can only guess that it must be Mr C.
Wrong — it’s the gas engineer, come to carry out our mandatory annual gas safety check. I let him in, offer my assurances that Huxley is in his crate, that he’s quite vocal but he will settle. The engineer gets to work.
He’s an old boy, approaching retirement he says. I converse with him, polite as I can be. We make general small talk, about life and work.
He doesn’t ask what I do, he’s far too busy being about himself.
But then he turns his attention to Huxley, criticising him for how vocal he can be. I offer to relocate Huxley into the bathroom for the duration of his visit but he refuses my offer. He carries on working.
“Your dog needs a kick up the butt!” he says. He tries to laugh it off as though he’s just joking, but I’m appalled.
“I don’t mean any disrespect to you or your dog, but I couldn’t deal with it” he continues. I watch him, manicured eyebrow lightly raised. I couldn’t deal with you either, buddy.
He eventually leaves, though not without making one last parting shot about “giving his ears a break”. He tells me that he shall leave me in peace and “peace from me”. It can’t come soon enough.
I let Huxley out, praise him, treat him and give him a cuddle. Mr Gas Engineer came into our home with bad vibes energy, and Huxley did good at making his feelings known. Huxley is a good dog!
But I’m not done.
You see, I’m a dog mom, and when you criticise my dog, you criticise me. I’d done all I could, or offered to do all I could. It was the gas engineer who said “no”.
So I opened up my laptop and I drafted up a complaints email to my landlord. I mentioned that my husband is a compliance administrator (Shadow praised me for that add because it shows I know what I’m talking about), though I neglected to mention that my work husband also works in building maintenance — well some people can be a bit funny about polyamory!
Master said “oof” of my email, Valkyries called me a “wordsmith”.
Well yes, I’m known to be good with my words Sir, amongst things.
When I took Huxley outside after the engineer had left, who should be there to greet me but Mr C. I am not pleased to see him — I’ve already dealt with my quota of obnoxious people for the day.
Mr C claims that Freya is really “Freya”; she’s a woman he’s just found out is living with a split personality, and “Freya” is really a lady called Lizzie. I’m stone-faced to his shocked: he really expects me to believe all of this?
I make my excuses and leave.
A little later Mum asks me how old Huxley is, so I tell her; she said that “time flies”. I told her that we had had recent discussions about “when the time comes” — what’s next for us in terms of dog breeds.
We love Huxley, but he can be a lot for us to handle sometimes. A dog that would just chill out by my feet while I work would be amazing — I won’t ignore it, but a dog that doesn’t alarm bark just because it’s windy outside? Amazing.
So I said that Shadow had selected three “top contenders” for us, based on our lifestyle: a Boxer, a Staffordshire Bull Terrier, or a Border Terrier. Mum said that it would be “bloody cruel” to keep any of those breeds in our small flat but I’m not listening.
I’ve ruled out Boxers because, lovely though they are, they’re a lot of chaotic energy, and that would be dangerous in a small flat like ours. I’ve also ruled out Staffordshire Bull Terriers because, having been bitten by one in the past, the very last thing that I need to be keeping is a dog that I’m afraid of!
So that left me with a Border Terrier, though I’ve put Cairns and Norfolks in the running too. Once a terrier mom, forever a terrier mom.
Mum did ask me once if I’d have another terrier, and I said “yes, in a heartbeat” — she thinks I’m crazy, but I thrive with the cheeky personality that only a terrier can bring. They say dogs are just like their owners, and that’s probably why I’m a terrier mom!
Still, I told Mum that I wasn’t going to argue with her — she was clearly itching for an argument, and I wasn’t going to do it.
Even in spite of that, Mum still had to try and have the last word.
I just smiled: this here says nothing about me, and everything about her. Why? Because a mature person would have accepted my decision for my family, and accepted my decision not to argue. I don’t do arguments, and her behaviour is a large part of that.
Master, too, had a bad day, so he too is in low spirits. Somehow in all of this it reminds me of the bedrock of our marriage: forget kink, we are one another’s sanctuary; we’re one another’s “home”.
Thursday evening Master surprises me. It was hard to define, but something had come over him. Something more… primal?
He has to have me, in a way that is somehow both carnal but not particularly kinky. He sinks his teeth into my collarbone and it becomes hard for my brain to make sense.
If I thought I was in for an evening of relaxing, I was wrong. He wants my mouth, but he wants to enjoy what he can do with it, rather than what I can do with it. He uses my mouth and tongue, commanding me to look at him while he does.
He pulls himself back, strokes himself a minute, and comes over my face.
If I thought he was done then, Master has other plans.
He’d only allowed me to have some of him, the rest he’d spared for my breeding.
With me bred, he goes down on me, tasting us together. I stare at him, wide-eyed in my disbelief: who is this man?!
Master is unshaken: he takes himself back from me, and my soul with it.
Suffice to say, I slept very well Thursday night.
Friday
I started Friday with a mandatory freshen-up shower. Well, actually I started Friday with an unforgettable-sex follow-up orgasm, then an I-smell-like-hot-sex, freshen up shower.
Just as I turned my attention to what I hoped would be a more productive Friday, Mr C knocks on the door.
It turns out, Master had dropped one of his earphones on his way to work, and now I get a free twenty-minute commentary on Mr C’s existence. Again I have to assert my busy-ness several times, but I eventually managed to break away.
Friday was good, productive — I got finished ahead of schedule. It feels good to be free to enjoy my weekend.
Friday evening, I step out to run some after-sunset gardening errands. Once again, Mr C corners me for another lengthy chat.
I lean against the wall, the security light above us blinking on and off each time one of us moves. In the dark of a winter night, it’s oddly romantic in its own way.
It occurs to me in that moment how little I may have done to successfully turn this man off from me. I’d thrown my body warmer on because it’s cold out in late November, but the navy blue made my eyes sparkle like pools of turquoise, and the fluffy grey faux fur trim somehow sat next to my long brown hair in a way that looks simply adorable. I wasn’t trying for adorable, yet I’d somehow managed it anyway.
Mr C tells me about some issue with a guy “Freya” cares for at work — how he wants her, gets jealous of him (Mr C) and keeps “popping boners” around her, and trying to get “Freya” to touch them. I look at him, unimpressed: none of this screams “hot girlfriend” to me; all of it screams “safeguarding issue”.
Whilst I get talked at, I keep looking down the street. Master will come around the corner anytime now, won’t he? How long does it take him to get home?
I forgot it was a Friday night, and Master was having after-work drinks with some colleagues.
Saturday
There was a thing that happened Friday night. Not a big thing, just a small one, but still uncomfortable.
Master’s colleague, Roxie, had called him her “safe haven”. I’m uneasy about that; Master is my safe haven, and I don’t share that too easily. Not with anyone.
I think it’s residual from our relationship with N: she wasn’t good for him, and I could see that, but N also latched herself onto Master very quickly. There were times N tried to manipulate Master when he was with me, and others when she spoke to Master in a confrontational manner. Master won’t stand for anger from his submissives — he tried to redirect her to healthier, more respectful communication styles, but N just saw herself as attacked.
“I was ready to deal with her myself for the way she spoke to you” I say.
“She thought I was her favourite Dom? I tell ye what, after the way she spoke to you, I would have been over there and I would have given her a bloody spanking that she didn’t want, and wasn’t ready for”. Master laughs.
But in Roxie I see some of that same energy, and it’s got my hackles up. Master is such a lovely guy, he’ll do anything for anyone. I don’t want to see him hurt again.
Roxie isn’t in any way romantic, and I have been assured of that now. Roxie is about half Master’s age — he’s more “work Dad” to her than “work husband”. She’s even asked him to look after her on Friday at their Christmas party, while she goes after another work colleague — Master is very much in the “friend” zone!
But again, her using such flowery language had got my hackles up, and thus I needed to make my feelings known.
There was another, probably bigger thing Saturday, that is both tender and funny.
Master ordered a large, tray-style meal deal for his lunch on Friday. He had so much food, he had “bowel issues” — and he’d bought some leftover food home to share.
For his gluttony, Valkyries nicknamed him “Augustus Gloop”.
So I, jokingly, said that that wasn’t very nice. I threatened to tell Master what his “friend” had said, unless, of course, we could reach some kind of “settlement”.
Sir accused me of “blackmail”, I shrugged it off. All is fair in love and war, Valkyries.
Sir asked me to name my price, and I — not wanting anything in particular but being an idiot all the same — I said that he had to message Master, tell him what a good girl I was and how he agrees that my “Good Girl” perfume suits me to a tee. Sure, it was a bit cheeky of me, but I didn’t feel it was anything too extreme.
I’m giggling, Master is suspicious. I say it’s “nothing”, because it is “nothing”, at least for now.
Although, it COULD be something.
Valkyries invites me to sit with him and explain what my goal is here. I refuse: that’s strategy.
Things, unfortunately at that point, took a turn for the worse.
Sir accused me of trying to use him to get a spanking from Master, and I told him that’s not it, at all — I told him that he “wound(ed) me with your accusations of lowbrow bratting.”
No, my real strategy was the infamous politico-military strategy of divide and conquer. You see, Master and Valkyries get along well — exceptionally well — so well in fact that thoughts of my possible future under them both (no pun intended, although…) have already swum through my mind.
With my blackmail, I was trying to sow just a little discord into their alliance. Nothing too dramatic; they both know I’m not that way inclined, and I’d hate to see their friendship actually fracture for real. Still though, I can’t be making my possible fate too easy for them!
Appear strong when you are weak, and weak when you are strong – Sun Tzu, The Art Of War
Sir blinked first, even if he accused me of “jumping the gun”. Before then I had just been “tormenting Valkyries” — as is practically my status quo by now — but Sir messaged Master and showed him my “blackmail”.
So then I had to explain everything.
Master isn’t offended at being called Augustus Gloop, as I knew he wouldn’t be — he too sees the funny side. Valkyries didn’t know that though, and hence, the mere threat of my tattletelling was enough to make him sweat.
Valkyries and I did agree to drop our little game at that point. It was supposed to be fun, but right here, it was clear that it had become something it was never supposed to be.
Valkyries’ mood, bless him, completely nosedives — he worries that he’s damaged our friendship irreparably. I assure him that’s not the case: he’s misjudged me and my intentions, but he didn’t mean to hurt me. Neither of us meant to hurt the other.
We absolutely can recover from this. Right now, it just needs a little bit of time.
I told Sir that I knew there wasn’t a malicious bone in his body, and there’s really not. I forgive him easily; we’re back to ourselves in no time.
But I leave him with one last, golden-rule-backed parting shot.
And Valkyries?, I ask.
Yes Belle?
Next time I brat you, handle me yourself 😜
Sunday
Sunday morning is full of more spiciness for Master and me. This time I managed to engage my brain before I engaged my hand and not squeeze the head of Master’s stiff cock like I was honking a clown’s nose. I was mortified when I realised that my previous, affectionately-intended flesh-squeeze was far from affectionate for him, and that Master’s “wrist” was not really his wrist at all.
No, this time I changed my plan.
“Good morning” I say, tracing my fingers leisurely over Master’s bulge. He stiffens and flinches under my touch.
“You know, it would be rude of me to hop out of bed now and leave you with this” I say. Master smiles.
“It would” he murmurs.
“It really would. So, how — in that wicked little mind of yours — am I going to make a man give me a whole other reason to change the bedsheets?”
Master frees himself from his boxers. He pushes my head down with his free hand.
“Suck it. Make it wet” he commands. I smile. Good morning to you too, Sir.
Master loves a blowjob, but he especially loves them wet and messy and slow. When I collect my saliva on my tongue and allow it to drip from my lips onto his erect cock, his eyes roll inside his head.
I lick him clean, suck, repeat, add more saliva, lick, suck, deep throat, swallow and moan. The poor man doesn’t know what I’ll do next. I’m not sure that he cares.
“Make it wet” he commands again. He pushes me down onto him so that my throat-saliva coats his cock. He pulls me off and smiles as I gasp for air.
“Beautiful, now ride it” he commands. I don’t need to be told twice.
Master feels good anyway, but beneath me he’s incredible. He sits up slightly, placing his hands on my hips. I sit up, take my t-shirt off, untie my hair.
“I know how you like me” I smile.
“God, yes” he breathes. His hands and lips find my breasts and massage and suckle them. I continue to grind against him as he enjoys my body.
“Kiss me” he commands, “I’m going to fucking fill you”. Master pulls me down onto him as I feel him explode deep inside me. I shudder and whimper in my own orgasm against his lips.
We lay together for a while, spent and satisfied. We fall asleep in one another’s arms.
“Good morning, the redux” I smile when we wake.
“No, this time we’re getting up the normal way” Master says. I laugh.
“Spoilsport” I tease with a wink.
Sunday is another day of domestic errands, though I talk to Valkyries while I do some garden work. We talk about the forum, and fans. I tease Sir about being my devoted fan — it’s not wrong.
We talk advent calendars too, and we both learn that while we often arrange advent calendars for the others in our lives, we ourselves often go without.
Well, that just won’t do.
My first thought is to find something naval themed, owing to Sir’s love of battleships and our naval banter. There’s a kid’s advent calendar with toy ships (and planes. guns, tanks etc) but that’s not what I’m really after. None are the HMS Ark Royal.
So I aborted that idea, and I shopped more broadly instead. There has to be something that Valkyries would like.
I found a Twinings tea advent calendar — Valkyries loves his tea!
So I got that ordered, gift wrapped, Sir’s address plugged into Amazon. I acted like nothing was amiss.
But there’s more.
Tomorrow is 1st December, and I have to pinch-punch those two again. Have to. Neither of them will suspect me of planning anything.
I created Operation: Jack Frost — an alarm set to 23:59. Silent alarm; vibration only. The only notification that it’s time to step off is the near-silent buzz of my smartwatch.
Of course, the key to covert operations is not to act suspicious. Strictly normal conversation; whatever Master and Valkyries want to talk about. They can’t be suspecting anything.
At 23:59, my watch buzzes and I smile. My heart thumps in my chest — even if I’m technically safe, this situation feels remarkably dangerous to me. It’s time for me to roll out, into a battle that I may not be ready for.
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Until next time!
Stay safe & have fun,
The Thoughts & Musings Of Mrs Wolfie 
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