No fish were boiled in the making of this diary.
Saturday
Early Saturday both Valkyries and I are up, “burning the midnight oil”. It’s not good for either of us: we both know we need to sleep better. I plan to revise my workload and schedule to make sure I do.
Saturday daytime started the same way Saturdays often do: with a kiss, a touch, a caress. One thing led to another, and not half an hour later, Master Levi was drained of his soul.
Of course, as these things go, an hour or two later and it’s me who has an insatiable need. I was going to masturbate and relieve my need that way, but Master has me worked out. Round two, begin.
At least we’re both drained this time.
It feels like things have changed slightly between Valkyries and I, though not in a bad way. I suggested solutions to Valkyries problems, and he calls me “logical”. Suppose that’s always been something I am? I can’t help it, it’s the leader in me. I don’t really see problems: I see challenges.
I also reinvented Valkyries’ “KFS” (Kinky Fuckery Science) after Master Levi asked me what it stood for. Knowing what could happen if he knew, I thought on a dime and came up with an alternate explanation: Kinetic Force Strategy. Master eyed me suspiciously, so I came up with a plausible description too: “it’s the modern name for a battle plan”. Somehow it works and I can heave a sigh of relief, at least for now.
Sunday
I’m down Mum’s on a semi-surprise visit. It’s not exactly impromptu, but it was only arranged a few days in advance. Of course, to Valkyries, I’m “on a diplomatic mission”. Well, if it stops him and his “hi Mum” antics!
Dropping into my home village, I can’t help but think of Valkyries, who is from “The Potteries” – Staffordshire, England. It occurs to me then that, in some sense, we’re both from scenic places – “Simpatico” really does know no bounds.
I did send Valkyries a photo of one of my favourite views: the view from Mum’s living room window, across south Wales. It’s not something I always share; not a view everyone gets to see. It’s a small part of me, sentimental and deeply nostalgic from days of watching the ships come in at the port with ny grandmother. Still, I hope to take Valkyries up into my old bedroom someday, so he can fully appreciate my favourite view in the world.
It occurs to me then too: we’re both bizarrely fascinated with boats. Again, I roll my eyes.
Dinner is goat curry for Master Levi and my brother, and pork with rice, vegetables and a hand-me-down mushroom sauce recipe for the rest of us. It’s a favourite meal of mine, so much so that I’m even now considering bulk cooking for my dinner on the Fridays when Master Levi goes to the pub. I do wish Mum seasoned her food, though. It really needed the added dash of salt and pepper.
I’m also very aware of how close my father-in-law came to a fork in the back of his hand after he tried to taste-test Master’s meal, before Master himself had tasted it and before anyone else had been served. That’s exactly the kind of behaviour that gets one uninvited from social gatherings.
I realised too, somehow and whilst I was at my mother’s, that La Sumisa has risen again, as I always knew she would. Of course, who better to captain her than the Admiral himself?
Sunday evening, Master Levi, Mister Valkyries and I are back to our group chat. It feels nice, even if those two horrors insist on winding me up. Fortunately, or perhaps un-fortunately for them, I can hold my own.
I did make a new penpal as well, D from the UK. We have things in common already, though something tells me he may also be another man who ends up joining the alliance of men who like winding Elena up. Great.
Monday
00:01 I got them both in a two-for-two strike: Master Levi first, then Valkyries. Pinch punch first of the month, no returns.
I spared them no mercy, exactly as they do to me.
Of course, that then leads to the pair of them spending a good hour before bed, trying to wind me up.
Unfortunately, the first thing to greet me when I woke up on the first day of summer was the odorous smell of dog shit — my brother had given Huxley some wet dog food in his dinner “for flavour” on SUnday, and it had disagreed with him. So, before I could do anything, cleaning out the dog’s bed had become my number one priority.
And that, twice, was the norm throughout my day. Not even just in his bed, but our bedroom floor,.and somehow the top corner of the ottoman? Some questions don’t need answers.
Unfortunately for me, it was the snap and sound of a latex glove on my left wrist that sent me tumbling and tingling in places I shouldn’t. Rational thought becomes hard: I shouldn’t like this…
After my clean-up mission, I asked “Shadow” about my glove kink. Not to get off on it, but to try and better understand it. Ideas vary, but it seems an AI too delights in winding me up. Shadow coins the term “delightfully compromised”, which, I have to admit, is not an inaccurate description for my current state of mind.
Things unfortunately did go a little awry, with Valkyries asking if I’ve “recovered” and offering me a cup of tea. It’s sweet he cares, though I remain entirely unconvinced that being “delightfully compromised” is something that a woman necessarily wants to recover from. Sometimes it’s good to let go of our thoughts and responsibilities for a little while.
So in the end, I ended up pulling away for a little while to lose myself in a “subject” roleplay video on YouTube, and have a wank. And because that, quite frankly, was the only way that I was ever going to restore my basic cognitive function.
Unfortunately, upon my return, Huxley had left me another little gift.
Tuesday
Tuesday early morning sees more silliness between Valkyries and I, with me referring to Master Levi and Mister Valkyries as my “pets” and assigning them the nicknames “Tiddles” (Master Levi) and “Rover” (Valkyries). Valkyries asks me if I’m having fun, and somehow it takes me back to my father:
“Are you having fun, Boos?”
“I am, Pops. You?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Well that’s good then, isn’t it? We’re both having fun.“
“Yes.”
The poor man. A Dominant with the ultimate brat for a daughter, and not a damn thing he could do about it.
Sometimes I hear him when I wind Domkind up too.
“Booboos, that’s not nice.”
“It’s not my fault, Pops, I was raised this way. It’s not my fault I can spar with one hand behind my back now.”
He’d know I had him, too.
Valkyries did say that he’s a scientist, though, and it causes that tiny little gasp of uncertainty in me. I have no intention on being “delightfully compromised” again quite yet.
Wednesday
Valkyries is AWOL, which is… unusual: the Admiral is normally around by 12PM. I dropped him a message at 2PM, still nothing. Is he okay?
I try to maintain rationale, but my mind doesn’t want to be rational about it. There are occupational hazards in the Admiral’s line of work, and I’m not down as a next of kin, which means that if something has happened to him, I’m probably going to be the last to know about it. That saddens and infuriates me: we need more rights for poly partners.
I said something to Master Levi about my husbands, then I went down a complete rabbithole: one is legally my husband, but the other is “not technically” my husband, and likewise, I am “not technically” his wife. So then, if we ever did decide it, we would have to have a “not technically” wedding, since neither of us are technically free to marry (and since polygamy/polyandry isn’t legal in the UK). And what ever might that look like?!
Oh, wait. Weddings and warships. Of course!
Fortunately I was reunited with the Admiral around 6PM, who had had a busy day and had stayed off of Discord to avoid being “dickstracted” by me. It makes me giggle — am I really that dickstracting?
The Admiral teases me about missing him, and I denied it. Cried with relief when I learned that he was okay and was just avoiding being dickstracted by me, then had to listen to “Strange Magic” because my heart knew then it was in real trouble, but absolutely didn’t miss him. Nuh uh, no way!
A little later, Valkyries and I ended up in one of our stupid debates about the innocence of the Disney Pixar lamp, with Valkyries insisting Disney has a dark side and the lamp has a trampling kink, and me arguing its innocence. The Admiral, known for “putting warheads on foreheads” and “ventilation holes” in boats, is suddenly concerned with the dark side of Disney? Okay then.
In my defence, I have warned Valkyries about “playing courts” with me before, and I do have a reputation for being “ferocious” when I set my sights on something. But my dear sweet Admiral insisted on cross-examining me on the innocence of the aforementioned lamp, and so it should come as no surprise to him that I called into question the prosecution’s own fascination with the lamp’s alleged deviant behaviour. Perhaps that will serve as a warning the next time the Admiral wants to “play courts” with me: I haven’t lost a case yet.
Elsewhere, I learned that this thing that I enjoy — that I had joined my beloved kinky fuckery “scientist” in studying — falls under the definition of “hypnosis”. So that’s what it is? Interesting.
Thursday
Thursday morning I woke to see one of my bronze corydoras floating belly up on the surface of the tank. I felt sad and helpless: no matter what I do, corydoras never seem to last long in my tank.
Then, as I approached with the net, it uprighted itself and swam off. What the?!
So I had to ask Google, and the AI asked what temperature my tank was at, and a quick check revealed it was operating at 30.6°C — way above comfort for any of my tank inhabitants. They weren’t surviving; they were being boiled alive.
I had to swap my old heater out last week, but what I’d failed to do was make sure the replacement was set up properly. Cue the mass panic to rescue my aquatic friends from heat stress and a heat-related death.
The first step was to set the new heater to where it should be, a considerably cooler 24°C. After that I performed a (scheduled) filter clean and a 25% water change with slightly cooler, dechlorinated water, then I left the lid off and aimed a fan at the tank and floated a couple of mini ice blocks to help bring the temperature down even further. It was probably the first time a tropical fish has ever seen an iceberg, but here we are.
By 5PM, my tank was operating at 25.1°C and all four of my corydoras had returned to their typical, non-stop grazing. Crisis averted. All souls saved.
Friday
I enjoyed a night of passion with the Admiral, metaphorically at least — mentally present, physically apart. The beauty of our relationship is that it no longer feels like cheating when I enjoy an orgasm with the Admiral: I love both of my husbands, and both of them love me.
Friday morning, I can’t shake the thought that “I was never the problem”. Maybe that’s not strictly accurate — I was never the whole problem, but for too long I’d been made to feel as though I was.
And now that I have two partners who love and respect me? I’ve begun to realise how easy I am to get along with, how low my demands are, and how “dysfunctional” and “toxic” I’m not. I’m easy to love, but if I’m mistreated, I’m not easy to keep.
Friday lunchtime, I stepped out to investigate a noise and the neighbour notices me and stops for a chat. He asked how I am and pointed out that he he hadn’t seen me all week, which threw me for a loop. How am I? I don’t honestly know. I’m so used to answering an “alright?” with a “not bad”!
But sir noticed my absence? For one, I haven’t actually been absent — I haven’t been in the back garden, because I jhave been working indoors instead. For two, why is he monitoring my whereabouts anyway?
Friday afternoon I had to try and avert another disaster: Mum wanted for us both to go swimming but, realising that she would have to pay the full entry rate, she wanted to try and haggle free entry as my “carer”. I suggested she see if she couldn’t qualify for a concession herself, given her surgery last year, and I offered to pay for her entry as my “carer” with my PIP money (since that is in part what PIP is for), but I absolutely refused to be a part of her interrogating a poor member of staff. Neither of those options were good enough – Mum wants the “perks” that come with being considered my “carer”.
And it’s… actually quite embarrassing for her, but also quite painful for me. It reminds me of how she fought tooth and nail to keep me under her roof, because me moving out meant a substantial loss in household income. Me moving out meant she would have to go out and get a job.
And she has a job now, and she loves it, but that’s not the point. It seems my mother will do anything to save herself a couple of pounds, even at the cost of her own dignity.
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Stay safe & have fun,
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