Last night, I was off; I was sullen and quiet. I’m on dinner duty again, but I’m not really cooking. More, I was dousing diced chicken in cornflour like some rueful response to its sacrifice.

Master notices me.

“It’s okay, it’s chicken. Unfortunately it probably didn’t have a very good life, it probably doesn’t have chicks that are going to miss it, but at least it didn’t know it’d end up diced and floured” he teases. “But seriously, what’s up?”

I smile weakly and shake my head.

“No” he says, lifting my chin and looking into my eyes, “what?”

“I’m fine,” I say, “it’s not us,” I add as an assurance.

“Valkyries?” he whispers, “what’s going on?”. I let out a heavy sigh.

“If he was an ass, like, if he was a bad person, or he did something bad, then I could just say ‘you fucked up’ and that would be that. But it’s not that. He says he’s a Dominant, or he used to be a Dominant, and I crowned him my other King — as you well know — firmly believing that he could be my other King. But ever since then? He’s been pretty much all about that: all about the title, and not actually about being my other King.”

“Frankly it’s not giving Dominant — it’s giving delusions of grandeur” I say. Master tries hard to stop a laugh.

“So what’s the solution?” he asks, regaining his composure.

“Well, obviously I have to tell him that he’s great and all, but I only see him as a friend” I sigh. Master grimaces.

“The friend zone,” he teases, “every man’s dream destination”. I whump him lightly in the stomach.

“You’re not helping me” I smile.

As it was I wrote a diary post on the Embrace app prior to this post, so that my feelings didn’t come as such a surprise to Valkyries, and he did respond to me at lunch time. I must say, and after so many trials and tribulations, how wonderful it is to have a partner who just… communicates.

And nicely! No manipulation. No mind games. Just straight up talks with me.

Valkyries said he’d been holding back to avoid hurting me, which came as a bit of a surprise to me — I’m not sure what made him think he might hurt me, but I do know Master did that with me at one time, too. Just as I said to him: I’ve been thrown halfway across the room before now, I’m not averse to a little (physical) pain.

I quite enjoy it, in fact. It makes me feel alive.

Great, now I can’t help but think of this Family Guy scene!

I’m still not over Valkyries calling me “Mrs Martial Arts” the other day, by the way. That, Sir, is a provocation, and provocations require an appropriate response.

Also last night, Master bought me churros with Biscoff sauce, totally out of the blue. I’m touched by his gesture — he knows I love my churros.

“Where did you get these from?” I ask, “not that I need to know my supply lines, or anything” I grin. Master chuckles.

“There’s a street vendor in town” he says.

“Wolf! You bought these back on the bus for me? You didn’t need to do that!”

“I know,” he says, “but I wanted to.”

“Well I thank you, but really. I love you, with or without churros.”

“I know,” he says, “I love you too.”

“Here!” I say, thrusting the tray of churros and Biscoff sauce into his chest, “you must have a churro!”

“A mandatory churro” he says, “I never thought I’d see the day.” I grin.

“Right?” I ask, “and now, and just so you know, mandatory churros are now a thing.”

“They’re mandatory” I emphasise.

Later last night, and after dinner, I painted myself into a corner. With my British Slowly pen pal “L” who, for simplicity’s sake, I shall now simply refer to by his name, Liam.

Liam wrote to me about three days after I returned to Slowly. His first letter was full of an energy that I just know to be my kind of human — witty and sometimes dark, but still soft and squidgy in the middle. We hit it off right away; back and forth banter laced with genuine care.

Liam didn’t really know too much about my work, but he did at least know what I do for work. Liam was always respectful, careful not to ask lewd questions that might upset me.

I got bogged down one day and went unexpectedly quiet on Liam, he panicked and sent me a follow-up letter. We got talking again, and the banter resumed again. I also linked Liam to my former Bad Girl Diaries posts, citing that, if I go quiet, I’ve likely written something on my blog.

Liam read some of them, and suffice to say, he… enjoys my work.

So since then, our friendship has shifted. Liam now knows things to be true of me, that I didn’t know to be true of him: Liam is also of a Dominant disposition, and I’m submissive.

Great.

Well, as goes for me and my tendency to spar with Dominant types, I’ve been giving Liam a boatload of sass. Yesterday I sarcastically called him “Lord Liam”. Sarcasm, you know? It was a joke!

Nope. Liam likes that one, just as Valkyries quite likes his “King” title. Oh bother.

“Daddy, I may need your help” I say, cuddling up to Master.

“What’s up?” he asks.

“Well… you know how I can be really sarcastic and witty sometimes?”

“Mmhmm. Yes, yes you can.”

“Well… I called my pen pal — who is also apparently of a more Dominant disposition — Lord Liam, as a joke! Only, he now rather likes it.”

Master chuckles heartily.

“Tough shit,” he says, “you know my rule. You get yourself into trouble? You can get yourself out of it.”

“Good luck,” he adds.

Shit.