What’s been said cannot be unsaid. choose your words carefully.

Unfortunately, peace did not hold in our household. Not for the same reason, but for a different one. 

Friday, one of Master’s younger female colleagues accused him of stalking her, then called him a “creep”. Master immediately set a boundary with her; he pointed out that the label could be damaging for his reputation in the workplace, especially as everyone knows he is a married man. She said that it was a joke, and he was “too sensitive”. 

Before Friday, the twosome had been friendly. Nothing untoward between them: Master is perfectly happy at home and from what I understand (and given I don’t actually know her), the girl is twenty years younger than him, quite troubled and in a relationship of her own anyway. Master had been more of an advisor than a potential boyfriend to her, and Master, being the absolute softie (shh!) that he is, had been happy to take on that role. 

At least until now. 

I’m not quite sure what happened, but I do know that she blew up again at him later in the day. Master messaged me for advice and I suggested he tell her that it was best they stopped talking privately. She agreed. 

Good. Sorted. 

Or so I thought. 

Saturday morning she messaged him on Whatsapp about some work drama. He responded and I exploded. 

“I thought you two weren’t talking privately anymore?”

“This is about work.”

“It’s not about work, it’s about office-based drama. She is breadcrumbing you with gossip to see if you’ll reply, and you did, so now she knows she still has access to you whenever she wants it”. Master is stunned silent. 

“This is why I encourage you not to add work people on Whatsapp and social media,” I continue, “it sets a boundary, and boundaries keep you safe.”

There was more to the exchange, but the long and short of it was that I said I’m no longer happy to meet Master’s colleagues (if they already think he’s creepy, he doesn’t need me adding another layer to that idea) and Master accused me of trying to control his social life. The latter lands like a gut-punch. 

I needed the bathroom, but I wound up sat on the toilet in a flood of tears. I know how being controlled feels, my mother used to control me. I don’t want to control him, I want to protect him.

When I return from the bathroom, Master looks at me. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“Fine” I mouth.

“I heard” he says softly. I glare at him, sit on the bed and turn to face him. 

“There’s something I want you to know” I begin. My voice cracks as tears roll down my cheeks once again.

“If you really think I want to control you, I’ll be gone, out of your hair today” I squeak.

“I will end this marriage today, and you won’t hear from me again until the papers arrive. I know how it feels to be controlled, because of what I grew up with. Controlling you is the very last thing I want to do.” 

“You’re not controlling. Here” he says, pulling me to him. 

“You’ve cut me to the core, you’ve made me question myself. Your ‘controlling’ comment did to me what Riley’s ‘creep’ comment did to you. You’ve made me question my whole identity, as a person.”

“I know” he says. “I’m sorry.” 

I’m not exactly sure what happened, but Master must have sought some advice whilst I was elsewhere because after my tirade, he suggests putting his colleagues on a ‘restricted’ list on Facebook and not messaging Riley — his colleague — first. 

“Yes to the restricted list, no to not messaging Riley first. That’s not going far enough.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s not how breadcrumbing works. Not messaging her first is a good step that protects you, sure, but if you reply to messages from her then you’re still giving her the attention that she craves. Mute her and delete the conversation. No blocking drama and no breadcrumbs.”

“That’s an idea“ Master breathes. I smile. 

I have since backtracked somewhat on meeting Master’s team: I’ll meet his manager — who is apparently “one of our people”  — but I still refuse to meet the whole team. Frankly I don’t feel as though I could do a Q&A with Riley without shredding her to pieces anyway, not after what she called my husband. Us submissive wives can be very protective sometimes. 

Elsewhere, Valkyries has had too much fun with his Kinky Fuckery Science. By now we’ve discussed hypothetical, definitely-not-aimed-at-you scenarios that are very far from PG. MFM threesomes and reclaiming sex, namely. 

There has been more to say about how our relationship has gone to date. 

Valkyries has developed a fascination with the word “interesting”, and it’s something of a bugbear of mine. “Interesting” is distant: it’s cold, it’s neutral, it’s observant. It’s bizarrely powerful too — I feel it tingle along my neural pathways, even from 400 miles away.

I can feel the power slipping from me, and I’d resist it, if I could identify what I was resisting against. 

Do I even want to resist it? Maybe I can stay here for a little while… 

Maybe — and to quote the franchise that King Valkyries perverted — maybe resistance really is futile. 

We ended up in something of a debate ourselves on Sunday. Nothing mean — the difference between “teaching” and “training”. 

It all started over lock-picking, of all things. As it goes, I don’t have any secret criminal past-times, but I have had to bust our file box open on more than one occasion. 

So I’m not an experienced lockpick, but I have done it before. 

I said that Valkyries would have to teach me his skills, and Valkyries said it would be training. I pushed back and said that it would be teaching, as teaching can be a side-by-side sharing of skills between friends (I’ve taught plenty of people how to fish before now, for example), whereas training is a top-down, teacher-student dynamic. Again Valkyries held firm, even pointed out that I’d said I was against training. He suggested I was indecisive. 

Well, maybe his “training” COULD be fun?

Once again the devil has me stymie. I see no way out either, save for my inevitable (albeit highly pleasurable) surrender. 

One last thing: I did pinch punch Valkyries yesterday, at the stroke of midnight, and after he got me at the start of December last year. Valkyries — the “swisscheeser of battleships” — was proud of getting me, so I just had to make sure he knew I too am a force to be reckoned with 😉