A battle in the mind, as well as the body.
Saturday
9:30AM I wake to thoughts of bondage and power exchanges, and of my captor’s fingers buried deep inside my pussy. I squirm, resist. This isn’t right! I’m a respectable and respected woman!
I gasp awake, flustered, confused and highly aroused. The fever dreams have begun.
I managed to get out of bed, though “getting up” consists of letting Huxley out, feeding him… and passing back out on the sofa. I’m not even aware I’ve passed out until Master wakes me.
“Have you taken anything?” Master asks.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“My last breath, a few times” I reply. Master laughs.
“You’re not dying” he says, “take a Lemsip.”
“Where am I taking it?” I ask. Master raises an eyebrow.
“Rectally if you don’t curb your attitude, packet included” he warns. I gasp involuntarily.
“Whatever happened to mercy for the dead and dying?” I ask.
“You’re not dying!” he exclaims.
“And, Miss Bedside-On-The-Battlefield, I’m just repaying the same tough love you gave me when I first got ill last week.”
“I was loving towards you!” I argue. Master’s eyebrow flickers a touch higher.
“Well then you have a bloody funny way of showing it!”
Master fetches cold cure capsules, my water bottle and a blanket. He presents me with the water bottle and capsules, flicks the TV on, pulls me against him and wraps me in the blanket. He doesn’t allow me to relax until I’ve taken some water and medication.
“If you’re going to die on me, do it quietly there” he says.
“And I love you too” I reply.
I do feel bad for Valkyries, who has to endure my longer silences while I recover. Even in spite of that, I’m still my usual witty self when I’m awake.
Master says I could have had my head on a guillotine during the French Revolution, and I’d likely still have been sassing off the executioner. He’s probably not wrong there.
New reader and forum friend Stacy recommended my blog to another forum member, which was really sweet. I have big love for her for that.
Still though, I can’t help but torment Valkyries. About him having “competition” now.
Valkyries asks why it’s a competition. I sigh. It’s not, Sir, I’m just ribbing you.
My usual cold-induced medical thoughts take hold and I smile. Ahh, there you are. Welcome back.
Whenever I have a cold or flu, my mind seems to insist that it would be completely down for an IV. Likes the idea of it, even, if it means I don’t have to get out of bed.
I’ve often wondered about that thought, but now, and backed by AI, I can dig a little deeper into it.
Shadow’s conclusion is logical and unsurprisingly mundane: I’m not drinking enough fluids.
I’m putting all of my energy into fighting the illness, I don’t want to sit up and drink. Why sit up and drink when I could just be… you know… systematically hydrated instead?
It also comes down to care: I normally look out for others, but right now, I need someone/s who’ll look out for me.
Sunday
I woke at 6:30AM, flustered and breathless once more. It’s no use; I have to masturbate.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder when the NHS might have ever recommended orgasms to people with respiratory diseases — I don’t think that’s a standard procedure.
My orgasm, when it happens, is abrupt and intense. I fall asleep for another two hours and wake again, calmer and a little more human this time.
I managed to stay awake more on Sunday, though I did doze off for a while against Master’s shoulder. Master clearly thought I was the Oracle Of Great Ideas: he puts his head back, and be dozed off for an hour too.
I feel deathly again, and Master orders me to take some more capsules. My typing is messy, and Valkyries orders me back to bed.
I suggested that the pair of them are “colluding” already. Valkyries says that they have “ulterior motives”.
I know what he means, and some deep, dark, part of me likes it. Loves him even, because he’s deep, dark and twisted like me. Like us.
Valkyries means my breeding: means the pair of them will keep me “drugged to the nines” and in bed for my breeding. I’m against it and not; I wouldn’t suggest anyone actually drugs someone!
On the flipside, however, it was once a kind of fantasy of mine: to be almost drugged into compliance.
The key for me is that I’d still want to be awake and aware enough to feel pleasure, have orgasms and know that I’ve had sex — it’s no fun if you aren’t aware of it!
Master and I have played around with this once before, at least to some extent: I was very sleepy — too sleepy to really be engaged in sex.— but wanting it anyway, as I knew Master was. So I told him to “take whatever you want”, and he did.
That night woke something in us both. Something deep, dark and deprived, but also deliciously pleasurable.
Sunday evening I created some Pins on Pinterest. I show Valkyries one of them; I’m proud of it.
Valkyries asks if I like a man with a “No.1” shave on his beard. Whether I like it “itchy on the clitty”.
Oh God, oh God, Oh God! Okay, cool, calm, composed. What to say? We got this.
If Valkyries knows…, my ego said. My id frogmarched her out of the room and bolted the door behind her.
Later Sunday evening, Sir and I are back to sparring again — over who the “entertainer” is, and who is the entertained. Somewhere in my mind I imagine us locked in this showdown in a late night hot tub, the steam from the water rising in the battle arena between us.
Valkyries maintains that I am the entertainment. I smile sweetly: nope, I’m the one being entertained.
It’s cute watching him try to stir a reaction in me. He tries so hard, bless him, but it’s all in vain.
His performance is adorable. His efforts? Futile.
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Until next time!
Stay safe & have fun,
The Thoughts & Musings Of Mrs Wolfie 
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