He makes me think, that’s his skill.

Monday evening I’m reflective, still full of appreciation for Valkyries and his help with the drill debacle. It’s been a hard two years full of false starts and senseless drama, and now? Now I have someone in my life who wants to make my life better — easier — and I his in turn. Things just work. Whatever this is, it makes sense. 

Master calls Valkyries a “useful mammal” — said affectionately — and I laugh out loud. A useful mammal? He’ll love that! 

So I let him know. I mentioned that I could “go with it” too. Like a service dog. Like a… Pet. 

I’m skating on thin ice and I know it, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t try a pirouette or three. 

Also Monday evening I wound up teaching Master Levi about the Lovehoney Forum and forum life. It was stupid in the way it came about: my phone had done a random split screen, and of the apps I had open, typically, one was the forum. 

And that confused Master, who had never seen the Lovehoney Forum user interface before. 

“I am interested in what you do. Even if I’m not really involved in it, I am still interested” he says. 

So I wound up talking him through it — through the important pages, how we become testers and so on and so forth. Even how a tester is chosen — that forum moderator Brenna doesn’t simply dish out tester toys freely, testers are in fact chosen based on products they’ve purchased in the past. I also explained that those who nab free products and don’t write reviews (or use AI to write their reviews) wind up on the naughty list — no more free testers for them! 

“How many products can you request?” Master asks. 

“It all depends. Usually as many as you want to, but bear in mind that you won’t be chosen for everything and you won’t be matched to products that you wouldn’t normally be interested in. Also, the more you ask for, probably the less chance you’ll get because it kind of looks greedy, so it’s much better just to request the products that you’d actually be interested in trying. I don’t request clit suckers anymore, for example, because I already have about five of those, but I always go for the bondage stuff when that comes up because that’s my niche.” 

I pull up a sample tester list and show Master how the deadlines look, as well as the full range of products on offer recently, and why I would discount some of them. Lingerie, for example, we don’t test — I don’t like it, and Master sees it as “pointless” (“to wrap something I’m only going to unwrap”. The way he says that is deliciously objectifying somehow.

We discuss the SVIBE Dual Couple’s stimulator listed at the moment, and Master can’t work out how it goes. Not thinking in sexy terms, for whatever reason I say that it “coasts along the top of your penis”. He’s gone — completely beside himself in belly-aching laughter.

“I can’t take it seriously now!” he says, “I look at that now and my head just goes ‘cock coaster’!”. 

I offered to vote for the aforementioned “cock coaster” but he’s not really interested in it. 

Monday night and into Tuesday, Valkyries and I are back to tormenting one another again. It all started after I threatened to send Valkyries a photo of the arm of the sofa, that he so wants to bend me over. Valkyries said it would be almost as much of a tease as my pill box — that is, the one that I keep my contraceptive pill in. 

So naturally, I sent Valkyries a photo of that instead. 

Valkyries sent me a photo of a military pillbox in reply, said that they’re highly protective too. I had to concede he had a point: when all hell breaks loose, it’s much better to be in the pillbox than outside of it. 

So I had something he wanted — my birth control pill box — and he, hypothetically, had something that I wanted — safety. 

Sure, my pill box could keep me from creating life, but his pill box could save mine and I knew it. What would be the price of my safety, and was I willing to pay it?

So we’d reached an impasse, but it’s these predicaments that I live for. 

Submission can be easy — anyone can be submissive if they want to be —  but submission like this? It’s raw, it’s deep, and it’s sometimes brutal, and most of all, it’s earned. 

It’s not fear either — I don’t fear Master Levi or Mister Valkyries. It’s reverence.

And somehow, when we reach that point, my submission is at its strongest. I slip into a soft, submissive receptive state. Not beaten, just finally and completely conquered.

So I did “go on a mission” over this, over the way that I imagined Valkyries would keep (and use) me in his pillbox, after my surrender. I imagined that he wouldn’t be soft and gentle, and in a way, I was glad. 

I cried after, though it wasn’t trauma so much as the deep attunement that Valkyries and I have. Finally. 

I woke at 9:30AM Tuesday morning, later than my alarm though still earlier than I have been getting up lately. My bedroom Google speaker is set to play Edvard Grieg’s “Morning Mood” — a nice, gentle start to my day — at 7:30AM. Sure, two hours was a bit of a lay-in, but it’s still not really bad. 

Not long after I wake, Pachelbel’s “Canon in D Major” plays. It raises a warm if painful smile: it’s the piece that Master Levi wanted for our wedding processional, if indeed the venue sound system had actually played our CD. I’d spent months practicing my steps up and down my mother’s garden path, only for it to be for nothing on the day. 

A few choruses after that, Wagner’s “Ride Of The Valkyries” plays. I roll my eyes. 

Already? I’ve only just got up!

I message Valkyries, who dubbed it a “good” speaker. For my part I wondered how far it would go if I dashed said speaker down the street like a pebble, or if my neighbours would mind. 

My drill arrived Tuesday morning, as expected, and I’m happy with it — the old battery fits perfectly and it’s got the hair-breezing torque, just like my old Makita. I give it a test spin and the chuck spins, even on the slightest press. It’s perfect. 

I sent Valkyries a photo, and he commented on my “cute” sock on the floor in the background. I had to pout about it: I am a fearsome warrior queen, I do not wear cute things! 

There is no way that I have stripey socks with dogs on them, whose “feet” are little silicone puppy pads on the soles. Zero chance.

Valkyries sent me a video of a man using a speculum to make a hotdog too, and I had to look away. Not because speculums offend me — they don’t — but because they hold… memories. From my first experience of a metal speculum and the way that forever changed my relationship with speculums and metal toys, to the impregnation-via-speculum video I once watched (and is very much etched into my memory) and the friend who invented the “Specu-vibe”. No, they don’t offend me, but they definitely intimidate me.

Valkyries, I know, is into speculum play, and I am too, but that doesn’t mean that I have to be happy about it. They’re indignifying, even if that “indignity” can be deeply erotic sometimes. 

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,

---

Enjoyed my writing? Gained something from it? Please consider giving something back by supporting me via Paypal or checking out my Amazon wishlist. I thank you for your kindness 🙂