You’ll never look at Ben & Jerry’s the same again.

It’s Wednesday morning, and whilst the cogs in my brain have been spinning out of control, I realised that I’d written nothing for today. That’s unlike me; I’m usually far more organised than this. 

These past few days have been uneventful in one way, and quite eventful in another. On the home front, nothing much has happened: Master went to his second football match on Monday — on his new team — and he’s already loved. He’s happier too: no more calorie-counting. 

“I actually feel like part of a team, not a client” he says. 

The funniest part was after: I leave Master to enjoy some “team time” after the match — the team usually gets a pint of beer each in the sports bar after the match — and I try to leave him alone then as it’s good for the team spirit. Yet, even in spite of that, Master is texting me instead. I try to disengage slightly and encourage him to go socialise, and he worries that something is wrong.  

He’s a big softie, really. 

Master is on annual leave this week. It’s Wednesday today and my brain still hasn’t adjusted. 

“Expect some panic-stricken 9AM wake-ups this week” I say to him. 

“Many a true word” he laughs. 

Things have been more… intimate with Valkyries lately. I’m not sure how much I can share — how much he wants me to share — but I can’t imagine that he’s exactly a prudent man. Still, though, it’s best not to assume. 

After my post on Monday, Valkyries did say that he wants to stop my tendency to recoil, “with your help”. For whatever reason, that came across like the start of a kind of training under him for me — like this is where my training as his submissive begins. I am grateful though that he said “with your help” — it gives me agency to think about what I need to stop that recoil reflex, rather than him simply expecting me to stop it and implying consequences if I don’t. 

And think about it, I have. 

For me, the antidote to my recoil reflex is a sense of safety; it’s a sense of trust: I recoil when I no longer feel safe — not just in romantic relationships, but familial ones too. I’m notorious for quietly withdrawing my presence from places where I feel judged. 

Just briefly, there was a fantasy between us on Monday that has inspired an erotic story, perhaps even a mini-series. There are a few details that still need hashing out, and I may end up shelving the whole thing for a few days until my head (and heart) feel a little clearer. But, it’s in notes, so it’s there. 

Yesterday morning, things were intense between Valkyries and me again. Hot and fun. It flows quite naturally between us. 

Valkyries suggested sharing me with four people, or a “gloryhole scenario” with Master and himself. My arousal drops from 100 to 10 — group sex just… doesn’t do it for me.  

Never mind, then. I’ll just get up and go make a cup of tea. 

I headed to the bathroom, and when I return, Master is awake. He can tell by the look on my face that something is up. 

“Kitten… what’s wrong?” he asks, “what have I done?”

“You haven’t done anything” I say. 

“Valkyries? What did he do?” Master presses. I shake my head as if trying to clear a thought. 

“We were talking, and he was talking about sharing me with four other people, or a gloryhole situation with you and him” I begin. 

“You know I’m not like that — I’m not some cheap fucking whore.” 

“I know,” he says, “but he doesn’t.” I sigh harder and look at him. 

“First, stop being right, that’s my job” I say. “Second, I know. It’s an identity collision, and I’ve said this before — we’re from different backgrounds, sometimes they cross, other times they collide. Right here, they have collided.”

“Do you want me to speak with him?” Master offers. 

“No. Thank you, but no” I say, “that’s triangulation, and we dealt with that shit with L and N. If I’ve got beef with you, you’d expect to hear it from me. Valkyries deserves that same respect. Besides, the more bodies involved, the more messages can get mixed.” 

I needed some time to think on it, but think on it I did. It was hard for me to be mad at Valkyries, if he’d meant to hurt me — if he’d meant to debase or devalue me — then that would be one thing and I could be mad at him for that. He wouldn’t, though, and he didn’t. That’s just not who I know Valkyries to be.

In the end, I ended up telling Valkyries that being “simpatico” doesn’t necessarily mean we work as more than friends. You can be compatible with someone as just friends, and that’s perfectly okay. Adult sometimes, even. 

Valkyries tells me to “hang on”, so, I do. 

Valkyries explains “flavours” of kink, using ice cream as an analogy. I roll my eyes. Analogies? Really? That’s my job!

It is undeniably sexy, though. 

So we broke down the humble Neapolitan into its three core components, and what they symbolised for us: strawberry (ethical non-monogamy), vanilla (self-explained) and chocolate (BDSM). We added a fourth flavour too — raspberry ripple: group sex and swinging.

And in that, we realised that our “bowls” might look distinctively different: Valkyries likes raspberry ripple, I like Neapolitan (but particularly the chocolate). I know raspberry ripple exists, but I’m not sure if I like it (I do in reality, but we’re talking metaphorically here!).

But, and this is the big but, I don’t want his raspberry ripple mixed in with my Neapolitan. I like strawberry ice cream, yes, but as any good ice cream connoisseur knows, strawberry ice cream is not the same as raspberry ripple. 

Being ethically non-monogamous does not automatically mean I want a threesome. In fact — and like in my case, as a polyamorous person — my non-monogamy is not even about sex; it’s about love! 

I might consider a cheeky spoonful of raspberry ripple at some point, but I can’t say as it’s ever appealed to me. Chocolate? Though? A good, dark, chocolate? Well, just thinking about it got me all like this. 

I’m still stealing the mint choc chip, though. 100% worth it.