Ethics? Questionable. Consent? Already acquired.

Tuesday, Valkyries invented a new thing — kinky fuckery science. 

I have no idea how that ends, but I do know who Valkyries has in mind when he says it. 

Me.

That is legitimately not becoming a thing Sir, I forbid it, I say. 

Too late. So sad, too bad, he replies. 

Remember your safe word. 

Oh, God.

Kinky fuckery science has become a thing, or at least, it’s become a thing for us, for me. From breeding Saturdays to Master’s “tongue appointments” and now this: Valkyries’ kinky fuckery science. 

There’s a soft submissive shiver that escapes me any time he mentions this new idea of his. It sounds dehumanizing, and I suppose in a way, that’s because it is. It’s almost supposed to be.

The assertion of remembering safe words by my Sirs is also a testament to the way we play. They can (will?) push me to the brink of my comfort zone, and to be honest? Good, because that’s exactly where I like to go sometimes — safely, sensibly and consensually. 

I spent some time on Wednesday playing in this space, being “Subject Number Two” — the same ASMR-meets-BDSM territory that I’ve written about before, where observation, control, and consent blur into something deliciously charged. It’s been a while since I’ve been there; since I’ve felt safe enough to be there. It’s good to dip a toe into the darkest parts of me once again. 

Not that I’m sure being Subject-E wouldn’t also be fun, but you know, Valkyries did say he’s not a Dominant. So sad, too bad, nevermind 😉 

Over dinner, I asked Master to speak to Valkyries himself. Not that there’s really an issue between us, or between them, but Valkyries insists that Master Levi looks after the “keys” (to my submission), and no matter how much I insist otherwise, Valkyries holds firm. It’s not really a problem per se, but it is still mildly frustrating for me. After all, that’s not how we do things, and I need him to understand that somehow. My autonomy is kind of by design. 

If Master Levi has power over my other relationships, then by default, he kind of has power over the other Dominants in my life, too. Some Dominants are almost allergic to that idea. 

So by giving me autonomy over my relationships —  the freedom to choose who has (and perhaps more importantly, deserves) my submission — it both spares him from any power struggles between the Dominants in my life, and allows me to experience a more authentic submission. One where I’m not being told what I should be to someone — I really feel it in my bones!

And that, I am quite sure, will delightful reading to certain people.  

Master has also signed up to a new football team now, playing with a work friend in a team that meets on Mondays. A new routine that gives us back our Friday date nights, and means he no longer has to track his calorie intake. 

“In fact, bye bye” he says, showing me his phone and letting me watch him delete the MyFitnessPal app. As a former anorexic, I hate calorie-counting diets and apps. Master knows that, too.   

Wednesday evening is shower time. Master Levi is in the hallway as I walk past him. He grabs me for a quick kiss, though his hand catches in my pony as he does. 

“Hey don’t pull my hair, I might like it” I wink. 

 “Nah, if I was going to pull your hair, I’d do this” he says, wrapping his hand in my pony and pulling my head back slightly so that my gaze meets his. I gasp instinctively. 

“See?” he asks. I nod once, slowly.

“See?” he presses more sternly, more Dominantly. 

“Yes, Daddy” I whisper. He releases me. 

“Good girl” he says, slaps me on the ass and sends me for my shower. 

For whatever reason, in the shower it occurs to me the added layer that my ASMR-receptive ass adds to Valkyries’ “kinky fuckery science”. It’s not just kink anymore: done right, ASMR can put a “tinglehead” into a trance-like state, and for some people, that’s far too much fun not to play with. Especially the ones who like to play with “darker” elements of BDSM, like consensual non-consent. People like Master Levi, and Mister Valkyries. 

“Perhaps fortunately, I keep my tingliest triggers firmly under wraps” I muse to myself. 

Post-shower, I caught up on the forum again. I joked on one thread that living with my brain was like living with a “perverted symbiotic alien” sometimes. Definitely not a Venom reference, or anything. 

I was amused at my own 11PM self-deprecating humour, but my amusement was short-lived.

I’d just effectively hinted that I have an alien symbiote, and I knew exactly who was going to read that before too soon. No! Wait! It was a joke! It was a joooke!

Maybe I can go back and edi-

Too late, Valkyries had already hearted it. Shit. 

An early start Thursday put me in a great position for the day ahead, though I was distracted, twice, by conversations with my neighbours. 

Mike is into his fifties, married with kids, bald and burly and a spitting image of my younger brother — he often dresses casually in a hoodie and jeans, too. He has a nervous laugh and a friendly, warm disposition. His gentle nature brings out the gentleness in me. 

Mike had brought around a misdelivered parcel, though he also stops for a chat. 

“How are you, you alright?” He asks genuinely. He’s in no rush to leave. Oh, Mike… 

Over lunch I discussed tawses and finger floggers with Master Levi and Mister Valkyries. Master is worried about it being too painful for me, but Valkyries shops with me with an unquenchable hunger. Valkyries hunger even makes me feel a little nervous for the idea. 

After lunch I stepped into the back garden, and typically Mr C corners me there. I was asked not to disclose the details of our conversation and so I won’t, but to say that it was of a predictably sexual nature. More on the aftermath of that later. 

One detail of our recent conversations stands out to me, and dear reader, do try to keep up: Mr C’s friend’s Mum shares her name with Mr C’s girlfriend’s supposed alter ego, and his girlfriend’s alter ego has a son with a name suspiciously similar to his friend. 

Huh. Well how about that? 

Mr C did say he’d had a wild night with his partner, and he apologised if we might hear him again that night. Suffice to say, we did indeed hear sex noises last night, but only because we were the ones making them.