Maximum impact. Minimum fire,
Already my Kings are not taking me seriously — one named me “Queenie” and the other laughed, patted me on the head and flatly refused to acknowledge my title. So that’s fine.
Valkyries did redeem himself though, by calling me “Queen Of Negotiations”. So I suppose he can have a point for that.
Monday I had a lovely catch up with my colleague-in-cuffs, V, about work and family and kink. V is amazed to learn that my family know I’m kinky, and that my mother mentored my early days into BDSM. For my family and me, it’s kind of old news; we forget how novel that idea is to some people. I am indeed very blessed to have such a supportive family who support both who I am and what I do. Completely nuts, for sure, but loving and supportive all the same.
I did dub my Mum “the nutjob with mermaid hair” the other week as well, and she’s now going by that title. Frankly, it suits her well — both the title, and the hair!
I think I’ve more or less recovered from my wobble the other day, and essentially by kicking my own ass. I have to see myself the way Valkyries sees me: not just as a woman, but as a catch. I also have to try harder to do the thing that Master does and trust him.
It amuses Valkyries too that I’d threatened to violate Master with a staff on the same day that he’d mentioned a scepter to me — neither knew what the other had thought of until after my diary post. I called it telepathy, Valkyries calls it Simpatico+. So, that’s a thing now.
There was a “mission” — a masturbation — on Monday as well, that was somewhat naughty and not. I was talking to Valkyries before sleep but my mind was awash, so I took matters into my own hands while we talked. I gathered that Valkyries wouldn’t mind.
Valkyries and I don’t go on more personal “missions” together, and for reasons I won’t go into. I think if we could, well, then there’s just no telling what we might get up to!
I will say though that it was a very “successful mission”, and indeed I am very grateful that neither of my Kings are into orgasm denial 😉
Yesterday afternoon, I offered Master Levi a piece of panettone. I know that to a lot of people a panettone is just a panettone and it really holds no significance, but to me, it has a strong emotional bond. Master understands that too, which was why he was so surprised to learn that I’d bought one.
For a long time after my father’s passing, I couldn’t bring myself to buy one. There was even a year that my emotions were so strong, the thought of slicing into a panettone at Christmas felt like I was slicing into him — a thought that made me both emotional and sick.
Well, this year I finally did feel strong enough. Not completely emotionless, but stronger. Even a little nostalgic, perhaps.
So I bought a panettone, and I offered Master Levi a piece.
Before he let me slice it, though, Master hugged me to him. He understood the courage that it had taken me.
“I can hear him now” he breathes. I smile as tears fill my eyes.
“Those bloody panettones” I whisper.
“It was never one” he laughs. I shake my head in agreement.
“Never.”
Dad never asked us if we’d bought a panettone — singular — for Christmas: it was always “have you got your panettones in?”
And if you’d bought one, you could guarantee that Dad had brought more in the post-Christmas sales, and he’d be giving them away. Even before that, if you had one and he knew you liked them, he’d buy you another one.
So “panettones” became the joke, and the memory, because that’s just what my Dad did.
So I suppose that brings us to what happened on the Lovehoney Forum yesterday. And that was just hilarious.
A member had created a thread referring to white women as “vanilla cake”, and as goes on the forum when new members act in sub-par ways, several existing members let him know that his attitude wasn’t welcome — in the form of sarcastic comments.
One of them was reader and forum friend, Stacy, who requested two slices of cake “when you find it” — one each for herself and me.
Valkyries picked up on it, tormented her about asking for two slices and wanting only cake and no cream. Stacy held her own and told Valkyries that it was a slice for each of us, and that he “should have gone to Specsavers”. I laughed out loud.
I too challenged Valkyries, the “swiss-cheeser” of battleships and the lover of the HMS Ark Royal: I offered to book an appointment for him, since he offered to book me a Specsavers appointment several months ago.
Suddenly and from two women on the internet, Valkyries — who banked on psychological dominance games at one time — had just been met by Lovehoney’s very own Allied Forces. I think he knew it, too.
So I suggest he return to the table and negotiate in good faith, and we can settle our dietary differences just like how all battles are resolved eventually. After all, that’s a nice ship you have there, Sir.
Valkyries did say that Stacy was “on a slippery slope” (to joining us on the blog Discord server) too, and I warned Valkyries that it “could just be a hyperlink away”.
You know, it’s funny: a few days ago I was discussing one of my favourite John Travolta films — Broken Arrow — with Master Levi. Could I really be so clumsy as to drop a hyperlink and risk causing Valkyries a “Broken Arrow” situation of his very own?
Whoops, clumsy me 😉
Enjoyed this post? Give this post a like, share, or leave a comment below. Alternatively, click here for more of my Bad Girl Diaries posts!
Until next time!
Stay safe & have fun,
The Thoughts & Musings Of Mrs Wolfie 
Leave a comment