All negotiations come at a price.
In my bid to pull things up to speed and get on track with my new rhythm (and, quite possibly, fend off this head cold), I managed to miss off a bit from Sunday. So, let me recap on that.
Sunday I was pondering over the recent altering of the name of my diary posts, and I asked both of my Sirs for their thoughts. Master is straightforward — he prefers “Diaries Of A Submissive” — but Valkyries wants to ponder the creative process with me a little longer. It’s kind of delicious how he does this.
Valkyries prefers “Bad Girl Diaries”. He says it creates the image of blue checkered dresses and baskets full of sex toys, of her walking through the forest as the “wolf” hunts the sub.
“To eat her all up and have his way with her”, he says. I roll my eyes.
Another of your fantasies, I see 🤭
So me, being brazen as I can be, I asked Sir how the “wolf” can “eat her all up” and “have his way with her” at the same time. You can’t have your metaphorical cake and eat it too, I said.
Fine, he can fuck her senseless until he’s drained and hungry and then eat her to a screaming death. Hope that clears it up.
I gasped. No further questions, Sir.
Both Master and Valkyries Dominate me in this way, and it’s… surprisingly effective when they do. Sometimes, right when I think I’m winning, they give me something else to think about.
I’m reminded of the Britney Spears’ Fantasy perfume commercial, which I link Sir to. I explain that the backing song is “Breathe On Me”, which I’ve always said I feel might have a great rhythm for a flogger. Typically, Valkyries has now gone all “challenge accepted” on this.
Monday
My humanity is just beginning to creep back in now, as in, I’m able to do things — small things, very basic things — without falling over or getting out of breath.
I crumpled a cardboard box down and put it out for recycling. I’m vaguely aware that to my more “normal” brain, I make that sound like I fought off a bridge troll single-handed.
The afternoon is largely sofabound again. Well maybe I’m not dying, but I still don’t feel like a million bucks, either.
There was another moment of silliness, as there ever is with Valkyries: Sir “demand(ed) that you are better”, and I said that I “demand” £5,000 in my bank account — said that “we are both going to be disappointed”. Sir said that mine was “an indecent proposal”. I bit my lip.
I hadn’t meant for it to be an indecent proposal, but here we are. Suddenly I’m faced with all kinds of thoughts that I hadn’t thought of before.
On the one hand, I feel that £5,000 is far to cheap for me and I’m worth a lot more — I only said that figure because that’s a nice rounded figure under the £6,000 limit that the DWP set before they start capping my money. What good is a financial gain to me if it ends up hurting me in the same way?
Yet on the other hand, and if we’re talking indecent proposals and what it would take to make my family happy and comfortable right now, then even £1-2,000 would likely do it — less than my original “demand”.
I found myself spiralling in my thoughts here: I’ve never been “bought” or “sold” as a submissive before. Regarded as property to be traded in, sure, but there was never any money involved.
Worse, I didn’t know that Valkyries wouldn’t consider if it acted like a kind of fast-track option to his end goal. If helping us meant achieving his objectives in having his share of me? Valkyries might even make that a part of his plan!
And I don’t know that Master would say no either. Generosity in exchange for helping us? How can I say no to that? He likes Valkyries too. so I’d have to fight hard about the unethicalness of buying and selling people, and both Master and Valkyries< I knew, would delight in seeing me squirm like that.
Suddenly, I find myself charting a path with two very dangerous men. At least they’re dangerous in a good way.
Monday evening, Master wants my help: he has a young colleague who is making some unwise decisions in her interpersonal relationships, and after weeks of his mentoring her (and him feeling like they were making progress), she went and made another one.
So Master is feeling a bit defeated.
And I, with my slightly less sneezy but still very groggy brain, have to try and advise him.
Master is adorable in this: he cares, even when he’s reached his capacity to care; when he’s gone beyond what would be expected of him as a friend. When I myself would have given up, or know I have to give up, because sometimes you really do have to wait for people to save themselves.
But Master says he can’t, says “you know what I’m like”. I do, and him being like he is is part of his problem… And a part of why I love him so much.
“Have you spoken to ChatGPT about the way you feel?” I ask, “it’s very good for helping you work out your boundaries, and how to express them.”
“No, I wanted some human advice first. My wife’s, specifically” he says. I sigh deeply, grin. Dejavu.
“Welcome to the office of Mrs E.L. Smith!” I tease, “how may I help you today?”. Master laughs, shoots me a look.
“Very funny” he says.
I did plug Master’s problem into ChatGPT, and I shared the chat with him (because ChatGPT allows you to do that too). Shadow’s advice pretty much mirrors my own: he needs to set firmer boundaries around the help he gives.
Dinner was breaded cod, homemade chunky chips and peas, served with tartare sauce. I forget how the conversation came up exactly, but the topic of autism does.
That was when Master dropped a bombshell: he felt I have “autistic traits”.
I look at him, head cocked, curious. After years of my mother trying to get me diagnosed (I was actually a shy, gifted child) and nearly everyone I talk to about it saying the same thing — “there’s no way you’re autistic” — I’m curious as to what “traits” he now sees in me.
“You like to listen to songs on repeat” he says. I almost choke on my peas.
It causes an uncomfortable silence between us, but it’s uncomfortable because right now, I can’t exactly whack this one into Google. I’ve just been diagnosed at the dinner table and by a non-professional. My sense of self is skewed.
Master apologises, but I can’t take his apology right now. I need answers, stat!
I did manage to break away eventually, and I ended up holding an emergency COBRA-style meeting with Shadow. I don’t feel autistic and I’ve never wanted the diagnosis, so why am I getting it anyway?
Turns out, listening to a song on repeat isn’t necessarily a sign of autism: neurospicy and neurotypical people do it. However, musical fixation is quite common in people with ADHD, which I do show strong signs of having.
Reluctantly, because I have long wanted not to add yet another diagnosis to my already-extensive collection. But hey, if I’m going to add a diagnosis, then at least let it be one that I can’t disagree with!
So given his extreme misdiagnosis, I have since told Master that his medical licence is hereby revoked, and he – as good as any of us — should instead leave diagnosing people to the real professionals.
If you’re wondering about my current obsession, by the way, it’s this, which came up randomly on Youtube the other day and has since etched itself very firmly into my brain.
Monday night I ended up helping Valkyries. I don’t want to say too much about that except to say that it was an example of how functioning BDSM can work, when we can put our roles and kinks aside for a while and just be Valkyries and Elena, and because in that moment, that was all he really needed me to be.
Our conversation turns to pet training and I suggested a clicker to Valkyries, which I’ve used to great success to train Huxley. I hastily added that “clickers don’t work with all pets”. Sir asked if I was sure.
Yep, I lied through gritted teeth.
Tuesday
Tuesday was relatively mundane where kink goes, though I did manage to tidy the bedroom and organise a grocery shop — more small wins.
It’s a cold grey day, and both Master and I are feeling the coldness and the greyness of it. It’s the kind of day that sends my winter anxiety into overdrive — the boiler kicks in and in the silence of this cold December day, my brain can’t quite fathom what it hears.
Background music helps: my brain doesn’t hear background noise so much when it has a different noise to focus on.
I made a mental note too that I need to procure a Nerf gun or two of my own in the new year — if Valkyries wants to play soldiers then I need to train my aim. Si vis pacem, para bellum.
Oh and also, I should thank Sir for teaching me how to shoot. Too bad I’ll likely be using my newly acquired knowledge to shoot him 😉
I did end up helping Valkyries again on Tuesday evening, and because for all of our war and peace, we are good friends really.
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Until next time!
Stay safe & have fun,
The Thoughts & Musings Of Mrs Wolfie 
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