Sometimes peace is is no longer an option.

I had no plans to post another diary post so soon, but it’s been an eventful 30-ish hours and I’m at over 1,000 words already. I prefer not to post scroll-length posts on my blog, and so here we are. 

There were some things that I missed in yesterday’s post, that I feel are sweet and significant. First of all, Valkyries and I now know one another’s middle names  — predictably they start and end with the same letters as one another’s. I know to some people middle names aren’t a big deal, but for two people who are quite wary about how much of themselves they give away, that feels like quite a milestone to me..

Secondly, I told Master Levi that Valkyries and I have agreed we are “more than friends”, and Master gushed. This time, though, I’m not letting him off the hook. 

“How are you feeling about that?” I ask. 

“Good. Happy,” comes the reply.

“Sure?”

“Yep.”

“Good, because you matter to Valkyries just as much as I do. That man would move heaven and earth for you, for us.”

“I know,” he says. I smile and nod.

In the early hours of yesterday morning I felt a niggling ache in my stomach. I tried to ignore it but the pain grew, felt larger and heavier. I thought about the things I’d eaten on Sunday: surely that cheeky spoonful of tuna mayo wouldn’t be causing this? 

I’ll spare you the details, dear reader, but in the early hours of the morning I was curled up on the sofa with a duvet and a severe stomachache, amongst other things. The pain felt so intense that for a time I even wondered if I should dial 999. 

It didn’t feel like simple indigestion, it felt like something had popped or blocked up. 

Yesterday morning, at getting-up time, Master Levi comes out into the lounge to find me still curled up on the sofa. He gently stirs me from my light sleep. 

“Hey, why are you out here?” he asks. I make a lazy vomiting gesture with my right hand. 

“Oh god, love. Are you okay?”

“Still breathing,” I reply dryly. I feel delirious and don’t want to say too much in case I warble some complete nonsense. Apparently I did that anyway. He finds it funny and cute. 

“My stomach feels like I swallowed a bowling ball,” I explain as I try to sit up. It’s eased a little, but the pain is far from gone. 

Master has taken the day off, he “has issues too”, he says. 

“Then it’s either a bug, or something we ate” I say. I think I continued that assessment, though I think my logic remained mostly in my head.

We narrowed it down to the chicken quarters that I defrosted on Friday — that should have been fine for dinner on Sunday. I can only guess that they were already spoiled when they were frozen and we didn’t know. 

Fortunately the worst of it didn’t last long, and by yesterday afternoon, I felt significantly better. Still deliriously tired, but better. 

Valkyries teases me and I groan. I’m weak, Sir, don’t make me horny too. 

Our fun doesn’t last; Valkyries gets pulled away. It’s frustrating when that happens, but it happens. It’s not his fault. 

Dinner is unsweetened porridge with blended, peel-off applesauce, by order of Dr Shadow. I pick at it – for somebody who usually likes a little flavour, this isn’t doing much for me. 

Last night, our problems went from bad to worse: Sunday night another fence panel blew in — the one I thought I’d fixed. It was unsupported on the other side, and the fence panel is completely rotten, to boot,

Well, last night Master noticed water dripping down our kitchen wall, from what we believe is Mr C’s bathroom. So Master messaged Mr C to tell him, and I logged the repair with our landlord. 

Even if Master Levi had messaged Mr C about the leak, Mr C called me back instead. So we end up talking, but I’m not really paying attention. His call is 10% about the leak, and 90% about talking to me. 

Mr C says that “Freya” is with him and I pay it no mind – I’m more than used to his little performances by now. What makes it so funny, though, is that he pretends Freya is in the background; he pretends to talk to her and tells me what she says and does. I silently laugh at the absurdity of his show. 

An ex of mine did the “girl in the room” trick to me once too. The difference is, we were twelve at the time.

Valkyries is clear that he isn’t jealous of Mr C, says that I have him “wrapped around my finger” and I should “put him (Mr C) to use”. There’s a delicious irony in that: the man who likes to call other men his “minions” is now a “minion” of my own. 

No, I’m not mean, I’m just doing what I’m told. See? I’m a GOOD girl. 

I’m not personally a fan of exploiting people — I much prefer respectful co-operation to competition — but if someone is going to try and take advantage of me, why shouldn’t I take advantage of them in return? Frankly it takes some of the power they think they have and returns it back to where it really belongs. 

If the man can play Little Mix’s “Power” in the garden, on full volume, and think he has the power? Well, then that’s just being careless with the crown. Advertising the jewel like that is just asking for trouble — it’s a provocation in military terms. 

I remember another time, he was blasting Kenny Loggins “Danger Zone” from his outdoor radio. I didn’t ask him to turn it down, instead I simply said it’s a good song – “at the top of my most played songs,” I said – and walked away smiling.

I did wonder – again – whether Valkyries and I should move our conversations to WhatsApp, given I get WhatsApp notifications on my smartwatch. After all, there’s a vast difference between having a partner who supposedly says and does things, and having two partners who (quite literally) light up your world.

Less of a counter-attack, maybe. More a show of force.

Valkyries is happy with my choice of brand for my most recent review post too, as I knew he would be. I’d been teasing him about it, so I was happy that it hit the mark. We browsed some more of The Natural Love Company‘s products together too. I wanted to get to bed, but I sarcastically told Sir that “sure, I have time for sex toy window shopping”. 

This is how we are together, and he’s more than used to my sass and fire by now. A lot of people are.

Sir asked me about the fantasy that I had mentioned in my post though, and I blush. I’m ashamed, and I’m not sure why. It feels filthy, even if sex is anything but. 

Valkyries reminds me that he is “not a monster”; he will not force me to do or say the things I don’t want to say or do. There’s an irony here too: benevolence like his has a tendency to get compliance out of a feisty little thing like me, because who can say “no” to nice people?  

So, with a reluctant sigh, I ended up confessing the sordid nature of my thoughts. That I’d fantasised about being shared with and fingered by a stranger in a nightclub, and him being allowed to fuck me in the cold, dark back streets afterwards.

I blame Valkyries for making my thoughts a little more… raspberry ripple…  to date. 

We did have our fun again last night, and though there’s a slight misunderstanding in how the fantasy looked for me, somehow I liked Sir’s version even more. It wasn’t a stranger that got to fuck me in the back streets afterwards, it was him. And he made damn sure I wouldn’t be able to forget it.