Love, lace, and battle by Spotify beats.
It’s Sunday evening when Master makes his grand announcement:
“I’ll be honest,” he begins, “I have no idea what to get you.”
I’m confused. Get me for what?
“Sunday,” he says, answering my quizzical expression. Oh!
Sunday is our “lace” anniversary – thirteen years of marriage. Master has been as hard to shop for as apparently I have been.
“I know the obvious,” he says, “and the lovely ladies at work have been encouraging me to shop in that department. But I know you — if I buy you lingerie, the chances are you’ll throw it right back at me.”
I giggle softly. He’s probably not wrong.
“Lovehoney do lace boxers too,” I say, “but again, you’d never wear them. You don’t care for decorating the D, you care for… packaging your package.”
Master meets my phrase with a raised eyebrow and a wry smile. I blush and divert my gaze, trying hard to stifle the chuckle that so desperately wants to escape.
We’re practical people.
Somehow we ended up browsing Lovehoney’s lace boxers selection anyway, and now it’s me who delights in Master’s discomfort at the thought of an “open” boxer short. He moves on quickly, spotting the lace-up boxers. That’s his time for a joke.
“I’d need twenty minutes to get him out for a piss,” he says, “and I don’t much fancy the chances of tying my dick up in bondage, either.”
I’m gone, in fits of uncontrollable laughter.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “but that is so going in my next diary post!”
In the end, Master and I agreed that it doesn’t have to be lace, though we are both determined to at least buy one another something.
Monday morning, Valkyries repeats his assault on my mind. I’d said late Sunday that he couldn’t mindfuck me again – that my stomach was feeling better now and he couldn’t play with my mind again. Well, Monday morning, the Admiral proved me wrong.
Valkyries mentions his Kinky Fuckery Science, which probably only makes his mindfuckery worse. Now it’s not just mindfucking, it’s mindfucking with sexy science attached.
Once again I cease to know up from down, left from right. Once again Valkyries isn’t going to correct me; Valkyries likes playing with my mind.
Somewhere in my mind, I can’t help but think this all feels a bit clinical. Not the way most might imagine medicine or medical play, it’s almost hypnotic – like the calm you feel with a gentle, friendly dentist. It’s not the first time Valkyries has used his mind-bending ways to soften my resolve either, and I highly doubt it will be the last.
He had me exactly where he wanted me, damn it, and worse, I’m not even sure anymore that I wanted to escape.
An orgasm (that I didn’t really want, but the powers that be do that to a girl) later, and I’m back more on fighting form. I need replenishments, but I can source those soon enough.
Somewhere in my mind, I can hear the sarcastic ass that is Master Levi in his post-coital pride. The one that only shows up when he’s rocked my world and left me devoid of my soul.
“You seem thirsty,” he jokes.
“I wonder why,” I reply dryly. He laughs.
Valkyries did ask me after my orgasm if he and Master Levi are my kryptonite, as Master Levi once called me his kryptonite. I can say with reasonable confidence that I am likely Valkyries’ kryptonite, too.
I decided, for whatever reason, that a “no comment” answer was wise. You’ll have to work MUCH harder than that, Sir.
I wondered after: who do I really make it harder for, them or me?
I had an electrician turn up out of the blue Monday morning, and I say it was out of the blue because he was booked for lunchtime last Wednesday, yet I didn’t receive the text until closer to 4PM. I tried to call the appointments line, but with more than an hour’s hold time, I decided checking the appointment wasn’t that important — they’ll get here when they do.
When the electrician arrived Monday, I mentioned the text to him. He checked his schedule, and sure enough, it too said he had been booked in for Wednesday lunchtime — despite actually being scheduled for Monday instead.
“So by that, we’ve finished before we’ve even started” he says, looking at me with an amused expression. I laugh.
“You guys are very good at what you do, but I didn’t know you could time travel too,” I joke. He roars with laughter.
“The boys will love that!” he says.
Monday afternoon I took some time to retrain my red rose bush. The damn thing was nearly dead in its container when we moved here, so I planted it directly into the ground with best hopes for its survival, and now it tries to take over year upon year. The blooms on it are spectacular.
But it does tend to grow out, not up. So I gathered it could use a little retraining.
While I work, I can’t help but think of this “retraining” – how kinky it sounds, even if it’s not meant to be kinky. How I used cable ties to tie the rose stems to the canes, and how cable ties can be used to tie… other things.
Great! Now the poor bloody thing is in bondage.
I mentioned it to Master Levi too, who asks if I obtained consent first.
“You know the rules by now, Kitten,” he says in his Domly voice. “You’ve been in the game long enough.”
“It grew in my garden, it gave its consent,” I giggle. “Same goes for any other plant.”
I’m about to head back indoors when our upstairs neighbour comes out into our shared garden. As always, he stops for a chat.
Even if I didn’t seek a conversation with him, he starts one with me – that happens every time. It’s never about anything much, he just wants me to know all about his life.
Actually, there’s a little prelude here: Sunday morning I met his sister, who saw me and smiled at me. Not just a friendly “hi” smile, but a full, wide “I know you” smile – a friend smile. Like I was someone she knew all about.
And of course, I had to wonder if she actually did. There’s nothing going on between my neighbour and I, except possibly in his mind, there might be.
A few things happened Monday evening: the first, and perhaps the most important, is that Master is delighted to see my diary posts return to Ten Shades & Me.
“I don’t know why you read them when I can just… tell you about my life,” I say, “or you live it with me.”
“Well, you know,” he begins, “sometimes it’s good to read these things. Gives me some insight into those innermost thoughts of yours.”
I glare daggers at him. Ass.
Valkyries, too, sent me the video to “Mother Knows Best” from Rapunzel, after I shared my mother-frustrations with him. So I returned a retaliatory strike of my own: I sent him “Criminal” by Britney Spears. Said that I now had it stuck in my mind.
If mothers know best, Sir, then maybe you’re the kind she warned me about?
Valkyries asked if I will “be alright”?, a nod to a lyric from the song: Mama please don’t cry, I will be alright.
So naturally, and with all the coolness of an antihero who knows shit’s about to go down, I warned Valkyries that “perhaps it’s not me who is in danger”. Here we are, a pair of idiots in the early glow of a relationship, poking at one another via music.
Highway to the Danger Zone. These men never learn.
The other – and perhaps more tender – thing is that Master received an unexpected call on the way home from work: his father has started dating again after the passing of his wife in 1990. He wanted Master’s blessing to continue the relationship.
Master is a benevolent man; he gives his father his blessing without any question. As his father approaches his eighties, the most important thing for Master is prolonging his health and happiness.
It got us talking, though, about what we would both want if something happened to either of us. About dating after death.
We both said we would want the other to find happiness again, though we both said that we didn’t feel as though we could. What we have is special and close, you don’t just find that wherever you look.
While I cook our dinner, a profound sadness washes over me and Trisha Yearwood’s version of How Do I Live?” – from Con Air – plays in my mind. It’s not that I can’t function without Master Levi – or Mister Valkyries, for that matter – I absolutely can. I’m just not entirely sure that I would want to.
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Stay safe & have fun,
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