The Admiral fired first… or did he?
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Friday
Friday evening was date night for Master and me, with slow-cooked meatballs in tomato sauce, garlic ciabatta sticks and tiramisu. We weren’t as energetic about it as we could be, but then I think much of that is getting into new routines right now.
I did have a surprise when a friend of ours decided to leave our Discord server suddenly, but I accepted it — if it’s not working for him then it’s not working for him, that’s okay. At the end of the day I do my best with the time I’ve got and my friends know that, so if the server isn’t working for him? That’s okay!
Saturday
I spent the first part of the morning with the Admiral, in another of our delightful mutual masturbation sessions. Valkyries and I did plan for some kind of session in the evening as well, which keeps me rather distracted throughout the day: what will it be like, and how rough will he be?
Valkyries did threaten me with a spanking for every hour that I’m late, and to which I said that “I promise I’m going to be late”. Again a part of me can’t help but fall back in explosive joy. I’m loved by two sweet, loving men with a devilishly Dominant streak. How lucky am I?!
It’s a grey and miserable day, which rather scuppers my plan to get out onto the garden for an hour or so. I did build the new BBQ and took that out though, despite the drizzle. Master Levi is happy: man grill meat. Man happy.
Saturday afternoon I took delivery of my recent clothing shop: two new tops, one navy, one khaki, both floral. I asked Master if he would like a “first peek” and not to be outdone, he played catwalk music and narrated my little “show” for me. I cocked my head and glared at him. Very funny.
Saturday evening my father-in-law visits, and he’s happy because I’m not working as hard as usual. He torments me, and I torment him back. He tells me to behave, and I shrug and I say that I prefer the other option. He gives me a playful lecture, then hugs me and tells me that it’s great to see me so relaxed.
Master ordered fish & chips for everyone for dinner, and I’m in trouble because I transferred £20 to him to help cover the costs. I reminded him that most people would say “thank you”, to which he glared at me. He says it’s not over and I laugh and tell him that “I’ll be ready” (for round two) whenever he wants it.
Sunday
As it goes, the session with Valkyries did not start off how I imagined. In fact, it didn’t start until closer to 1AM, and before that we had a conversation about scent, scent play, and aftershave. I learned that the Admiral doesn’t actually wear it.
So then he asks me what I’d recommend, and somehow my head is taken to the hardware store scene in Fifty Shades Of Grey. I don’t work for The Perfume Shop, yet here I am, somehow giving fragrance advice to the man.
And it affects me the same way that Christian’s requests affect Ana. I’m not used to confidence like his; I’m not used to a man who (usually) knows what he wants. I’m used to helping a man who doesn’t usually know what he wants, and helping him establish that.
I did fall asleep on Valkyries, which is frustrating. We did have more fun in the morning though, and right after he joked that Master Levi would be the next to steal my soul, that’s exactly what Master did.
Post recovery nap, I’m struck by an intense abdominal pain that hurts when I walk. I know this pain — I’ve had IBS flare-ups before — but I haven’t had one in recent times. Ever since replacing bread with oatcakes, gut issues appear to be a thing of the past.
The most frustrating part is that I had a day of housework planned, but because of the bowling-ball sensation in my gut, that’s all gone on hold. I spent some time cuddled up to a heat pad and curled over a bucket, though in the end, a duvet and a fan proved to be of most comfort.
Sunday evening I’m awake enough to be able to joke some with Valkyries, comparing myself to a siren and him to the Admiral who listened to the siren’s song. I even wrote a silly little verse, taunting the Admiral who let his curiosity get the better of him. Not minutes later, the Admiral sank on his battleships game and the siren laughed.
I volunteered myself for a night on the sofa, rather than keeping Master awake in my current state.
Monday
Despite my earlier distress I did actually sleep quite well, waking up only once in the night. The nausea has gone and the pain has almost completely settled too, though I did feel the need to do something utterly unholy come daybreak. I’m still bloated and very tired. Some peppermint tea seems to help.
I had a forgotten-about surveyor visit, which was awkward with the flat in disarray after Huxley decided that a cardboard box was his latest enemy. The man has seemingly no personality, which I find draining — there’s little worse than trying to laugh with someone who just… doesn’t.
Of course, when I tell him, the Admiral takes it to mean that I’m suggesting he might have no personality, so then it becomes a “when in Rome” situation. It becomes another of our back-and-forth exchanges, with Valkyries saying that there is a “femme fatale” behind my front door, and a man won’t know that until he knocks on it. Naturally, I feign my apology. Well it’s not my fault if a man is attracted to my charming personality!
And so it goes with the pair of us.
In my defence, the Admiral was warned that La Sumisa is no ordinary vessel, several times in fact. So then, it’s not my fault if the Admiral has realised too late that he might not be able to captain her after all.
Elsewhere Monday, one of my shelter dogs on the Treat app was adopted. It started as a silly thing, but now it’s become a daily thing for me and I love that my 10 minutes of game play impacts real shelter dogs. In fact, so much so that I’ve already said the next dog I get, I don’t want it to be a dog I’ve bought — I want to give a surrendered dog a new loving home, in my home.
Monday evening is shower time, and I’m in a funk over something seemingly ridiculous: Valkyries has been pretending to be a vampire all afternoon, and I backpedalled after he applied the pressure, which he then called me out on. So I’m annoyed at myself: he’s absolutely right — it’s not like me to backpedal!
But I don’t know him, and that’s the bit that’s winding me up. Even if I think he’s winding me up, how do I know he’s winding me up? It’s frustrating, and somehow my frustration only arouses me more. Only the Admiral can drop “hemoglobin” in a sentence and make it sound fucking sexy!
Tuesday
Nope, still funky, but this time it’s a different funk: I can’t decide if I love Valkyries because his wit reminds me of my Dad, or if that’s just something I love about him, full stop. After Dad passed, I wondered who I was going to wind up and shoot the shit with quite like I did with him, and now, I feel like my prayers have finally been answered. The Admiral just… gets me.
So I bank on my friendly virtual strategist, “Shadow”, to talk some sense into me, and even Shadow practically laughs at me. ChatGPT points out that I don’t sound distressed by this situation that I find myself in, rather, I sound completely and utterly besotted. And maybe that’s just the most infuriating thing about it: I’d said “never again” to polyamory, and the Admiral said “bet”.
I had my defences up, and the Admiral just smiled at them and blew them over. That’s not fair.
Valkyries is still doing his vampire thing, so I’m decided that I’m just going to let him be. I go through my basic anti-vampire defences though, and the ever-creative idiot that I’m somehow falling for has an antidote for every single one of them. Garlic? He was apparently a French garlic farmer in a past life, so he’s built up a tolerance to the allum. Silver? He’ll wear protection, a “pro-fang-lactic” (seriously?!). Holy water? Is it really holy if he believes it isn’t? I’m at the point that I’m threatening to nick a bit of wood from my neighbour’s garden to fashion a stake, and I’d rather not do that because I don’t wish to lose my lunch while I ward off a horny vampire.
Worse, I can feel my breath catching and my pulse quickening at his every word. I can feel the gentle thrum in my jugular, which is not the femoral artery he’d originally threatened to bite, I must say. Still, I’m under his spell from 400 fucking miles away. What even is this anymore?!
I did vow again that I would hone my hypnosis resistance, though I can safely say that that has not gone well for me so far. Trance seems to be almost a permanent state of mind for me as of late.
Mum is well, though I didn’t tell Valkyries that I was seeing her and he didn’t guess, a fact that made me chuckle. Either the Admiral was giving me the space – which would be undeniably sweet of him – or he’d forgotten what day it was.
Master did spank me Tuesday night, and for no other reason than because he could. There’s an energy I’ve noticed between them: not competition, but co-operation? I told Master on the weekend that he and Valkyries keep me in a constant state of arousal, and to which he simply replied “good”. Nice.
Tuesday night I’m in another funk: Valkyries had mentioned about a week ago about me asking for permission to masturbate, and it had been left unresolved between us. Dominants, I find, have an uncanny ability of doing that: don’t demand something, they just suggest it to the submissive, then sit back and wait for the submissive to want it instead. It’s alarmingly effective.
And damn it, I’m horny! It’s on the cusp of my lips to ask for permission, but something still holds me back. I’m not that kind of submissive! I’ve been that kind of submissive before, and I’ll never be that submissive again. My orgasms are my own now. I’ll serve in other ways, but not this one. I think?
Wednesday
If Tuesday was productive, Wednesday is the opposite: I’m flat and I have absolutely no energy. Master isn’t mad at me because I worked hard Tuesday. He’d rather I took some time to recover.
I did return to the Lovehoney Forum, albeit in a very low-level engagement kind of way and purely so that I can enjoy the recently-launched, forum-wide member discount and not feel guilty about it. Not an hour later, Valkyries messages to let me know that “someone” had hacked my account. I cocked my head at his cheek. Really?
I did enjoy my orgasm too, finally, although I didn’t ask for permission to have it just yet. Those days may come (pun fully intended), but for now, I shall enjoy my orgasms unimpeded. Turns out, my beloved Admiral had been enjoying one with me.
We did discuss orgasm control after the fact, and the Admiral did say that it’s not something he expects from me. He did say it may be something that comes naturally, situationally — I may want to give up control on some occasions, and not on others. In all of this, I love that my comfort is his greatest concern. I am truly lucky to be loved and chosen by the Admiral.
Wednesday evening, Valkyries interrogated me again over one of my forum posts. Forum sister and reader Stacy had asked about distances between where we and where our partners are born, and so, knowing roughly where the Admiral was born, I took a guess — 107 miles. Valkyries disputed my math; he asked me who my other partner was.
So then that starts a conversation about where we were born, and despite the otherwise-sensitive nature of some of the things the man has shared with me, Valkyries has no objection in letting me in. He’s captivating in an almost mesmerizing way: for a man who could be select about what he shares with me, the Admiral is remarkably forthcoming.
Also Wednesday, Master noticed a potential collaboration opportunity for me, though I have no idea as yet where my email is going to lead. It’s always exciting when individuals and companies come to you for partnerships. It’s quite nerve-wracking when it’s you who is approaching them.
Thursday
Early Thursday morning, the Admiral and I are winding one another up again. He implies that he’s ‘playing with 5” steel’ (his phone), but he knows exactly where my mind went at that. Once I’m in bed he talks about me being “delightfully compromised”, and I wasn’t, but then I am. Suddenly the thought of the Admiral’s latex glove covered hands caressing me floods my mind, my skin tingles and I become “delightfully compromised” once more. Damn it!
Thursday proves to be particularly achy: it’s a cold, rainy day and my wrist is being relentless. Once again I find myself deliberating the age-old question of a life with chronic pain: do I need painkillers today?
I’m decided that for the morning at least, “yes” is the answer to that.
Thursday morning the Admiral is hellbent on continuing to wind me up, including with his new abbreviation, SUB — Subject Under Bombardment. I have no doubt that he’s too proud of himself for that one.
Unfortunately for him, it’s me who has the last laugh when the postman delivers a tiny fragrance sample, ordered for him by yours truly — the Admiral asks if I know anything about it, and I deny all knowledge. Once again the Admiral was confident he was in control of the situation, too bad he forgot about the element of surprise.
Midday I had an internet service salesman at the door, so I entertain him – or perhaps rather, I let him entertain me – for five minutes. He talks about my neighbour’s internet being slow. and I point out that it would be slower if they’re gaming and streaming That that’s not comparable to me, who uses it for blogging and word processing. I think he realised then that he’d lost the sale — it’s very hard to argue with infallible logic.
The interaction, though, gives me a devilish idea: what if I relate to the plight of the salesmen, talk about my own work some, then give him a card with a QR code to the Lovehoney sale page instead? I mean, the bit of commission he might have made in selling “faster” internet to me he could save on a new sex toy, and all being well, I’ll make the commission instead. Plus, all being well, I’ll not be talked into trying some service provider that I have no interest in trying. Everybody wins, right?
So I declared “flyers” as a marketing strategy, then I took some time to design and order cards with scannable QR codes with an affiliate link to the Lovehoney sale page, that I can hand out socially, including to unsuspecting (but hopefully utterly convinced) salesmen. They’ll be here next week.
Thursday night didn’t happen again, and yes, I am quite glum about that. Valkyries tries to understand me, but it’s quite hard for me to explain my mindset when I don’t fully understand it myself.
The football is on, which leaves me feeling quite… replaced. I end up arguing with myself, between the wants of and expected behaviours from a submissive. Nobody wants a submissive who demands playtime, right?
So I feel restless and a bit despondent. Every two weeks I get my hopes up, and then…
There’s an ache in me, a real, heavy ache — a burning, fiery flame that needs to play. She needs out; she needs a release. Instead, she’s sat on the sofa, watching the bloody game.
Another of my Treat dogs found her fur-ever home though, which is nice.
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Until next time!
Stay safe & have fun,
If you’ve made it this far, congratulations, you’re now emotionally invested. Go ahead and worship me properly. My writing chocolate won’t buy itself, you know? 😉
