Reviews, Uncategorized

Reviews for roomantics.co.uk

Reviews for roomantics.co.uk

When I got an email from Roomantics.co.uk asking if I had ever thought of being a product tester, I don’t think you could have found a happier little pixie but being a good girl, I asked maîtres if I could, and having him on a good day, he said yes! It also turned out that they wanted reviews of lubes, edible and. This thrilled my darling little bear as it included bubble baths and massage oils, something she has been dying to test for ages, sort of her dream job. So, we picked out somethings we fancied testing out and waited!

Now first thing I’m going to say is not about the products, but Roomantics.co.uk as a company. Their website is fabulous and super easy to use. The customer service was awesome, and the communication was first rate. We got an email telling us are order had been shipped and when it arrived it was discretely boxed. With bubble wrapped products and nothing to bulky, meaning less stuff to go in my recycling bin! (Have you seen amazons packaging?!) the was a ding in the box, but I am putting that down to a bad postage service.

We picked out 3 products from the Dona range. Not a company I had really heard of before, but we chose the, as the stuff sounded nice and it did not have any hidden nasties in them. Me and Kitten have bad allergies and I’m diabetic so that plays in to anything we use.

The first thing we tried was …

Dona kissable body paint, in strawberry soufflé:

Good points:
• Beautiful and tastefully packaging.
• Nothing we were allergic to or to high in sugars.
• Smelt wonderful, like wild strawberry with a hint of musk and not overly sweet.
• Had a nice creamy liquid texture, and not remotely grainy.
• Not sticky at all and left no bitter after taste or clinginess in the mouth.
• A little goes a long way.
• Great on nipples, cocks, or clits.
• Flipping ace straight on a nipple if it’s been in a fridge.

Down points:

• The brush was not terribly good, but this can easily be over come by using a paint brush.
• Smelt so good, it made us all hungry.

Would we buy it again? Hell, bloody yes!

Next up was ….

Dona bubble bath, in aphrodisiac flirty scent.

img_1686

 

The good points:
• Had nothing kitten or myself are allergic to in it (*5)
• Smelt divine, like a summer berry wine with a hint of musk.
• Easy to open, pour and close again.
• A little went a long way, making it extremely good value for money.
• Soft, foamy bubble that lasted for the whole of the bath.
• It gets you clean.
• Reviews your body and mind and relaxes at the same time.
• Left my skin soft, smooth, and silky.
• Made my super tingly and turned on.

Down points:

• Made little bear hungry!
Would we buy it again? Yes!!! In fact, we have the other scent to try out as we were so impressed with this product.

We left the best till last, with….

Dona massage oil in strawberry soufflé:

img_1686

Good points:

• Nothing any of us are allergic to in it!
• Easy to open, pour and close back up even with oily hands.
• Smelt divine, like wild strawberry, with a hint of musk and a touch of smokiness. Not overly sweet or artificial.
• A little goes a long way, especially with warm hands.
• The action of sore muscles being rubbed, with strong fingers, mixed with the scent and how relaxed it left me feeling, led to me begging maîtres to use his tongue on me.
• He did after kissing all the places his fingers had been and said the was no nasty taste and it was not over oil.
• Relaxed me so much I came hard and need to be fucked for 2hours straight (thank you!)
• Maîtres said it turned me into an extremely submissive, strawberry scented, princess, who would let him do what ever he wanted to do to her! (He says a big thank you)
• The slight scent on my skin meant that if I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, I got horny all over again.
• Is now one of my favourite forms of fourplay.

Down points:

• Made us all hungry as hell.

Well that was, and here is looking forward to are next time doing reviews!

 

Hugs,

pixie x

Reviews, Uncategorized

Eroticon present – Rocks-off stardust Uinhorn

Rocks-off unicorn stardust clitoral vibrator.

I first saw and read about this little beauty on candysnatchreviews blog. It court my Attention, because …. Well unicorns are my thing. But as much as I begged I was not allowed one. Partly cos maîtser is a sadistic man and partly cos babe is keeper and buyer of any toys we get. So, when I saw it on the rocks -off stand at Eroticon, and after talking to the lovely lady. I got offered one if I would write a review (my first and yes, I know it’s a touch tardy). I should also add I did not know the lady was the epic Tabitha Rayne of the amazing ruby glow fame! I would never have been able to talk to her, I would have done a fan girl swoon and melted in a puddle in the corner of the room.

Well back to the review. At the end of Eroticon, I went and shyly asked if was still ok and got given the beautiful uinhorn. I sat hugging till it was timed to leave and then hide it in my bag on the tube ride back to my hotel. I was met at Waterloo by my Dom and the girls and we walked back to the hotel. (Really missed them so much and we had only been apart for 48 hours). Maîtres took my bag and saw the toy and he went from chilled to grumpy in about 3 seconds flat. The girls went to the bar and maîtres told them he was going to help get ready for dinner. Not saying a word to me in the lift to our room, i knew something was up, I knew it.

As soon as he closed the door he was demanding (in a nice way) to know why and where I had a new toy from and he had not okayed. Explain it was a sort of gift and I was going to write a review of it, he got a wicked glint in his eye. Smirking, he handed the unihorn over and got told to open my present. So, I slowly took it off him, with shaking hands and opened it.

But before I had even got it out of the packaging, well maîtres were behind me pushing me on the bed, on my hands and knees, being stripped of my clothes. Toy snatch from my hands, told to hold still and that he was going to test in on me. After he got it working and had played with the settings, he took it, and ran it on the first gentle setting up and down my spine. Turning it up a notch he traces it round my bum and outer lips and then round my clit. Having not played for 2 days I pretty much explode as soon as it touches my clit in very much needs climax. But that was not the end of the tourer, it never. He spent the next 45 minutes holding down, testing out the uinhorn regals, and then ramming his cock in to me and turning it up to the highest setting. I came so many fucking times I was left dazed and confused, thirdly happy and late for dinner with my mother- in. Try explaining to your Dom’s mum why you can’t stop smiling and why his looking Chocky as hell, without mentioning what you were just doing.

So, after we got home and the whole family tested the unihorn out, this is what we thought….
• Beautifully package, and not too much. (As in good for the planet)
• Stunning to look at.
• Tackle to hold.
• Babe loved the rounded tip and found it perfect to run up and down a spine or nipple
• 10 settings mean the is a setting to suit everyone.
• Powerful yet discreet.
• Can used as a warm up, while your being fucked or if you want a quick release.
Down sides….
• Could do with a few more or clearer instructions.
• Clearer way to turn it off.

So, to close, this is a great little toy that we all adored testing, that has found its permeant home in are bedside table! Highly recommend buying it.

Hugs,

Pixie x

socail

Burlesque by Posy Churchgate

Good evening ladies and gentleman. May I call your attention to the center stage this evening? Posy Churchgate has gracialy agreed to tantalize, to entertain and, to excite us this evening. I give you…

 

Burlesque

The lights are low, enveloping the diners in darkness and anonymity.  Every pair of eyes is on the stage as she weaves her way to the raised area picked out by bright ellipses from the spotlights.  Her costume is skimpy, belly-dancer exotic but the main impact is made by the intricate, bright artwork on her skin and glints from the many piercings in her ears, eyebrows, and transdermally on her torso.

We’ve all eaten a fancy meal (included in the price) and enjoyed a cocktail, along with additional drinks to calm our skittish nerves.  I’ve never been to a show like this, I hadn’t realised it would be so intimate, that we’d be so close to the stage while the dancers walked between us to get up on the dias to perform.  I’m an open minded hetero girl, but my husband and I are here for my titillation as much as his. I’ve revelled in the waitresses, wearing basques, bustiers, stockings and suspenders, who crouched down at our table to take food orders and bent coquettishly over to serve our drinks.

I’m dressed in a pretty dove grey beaded dress, while under it I’m wearing my favourite balconette bra and buttock hugging french knickers.  We travelled up to London earlier today and have already indulged in ‘afternoon delight’ at our hotel! I get extra frisky in an anonymous, tasteful hotel room so we’ve had shower sex and my husband’s used love eggs and a silicone dildo on me as I sprawled at his mercy on the rumpled sheets of the king sized bed.

The dancer’s undulations are serpentine and fluid, owing much to belly dancing techniques in in her erotically charged routine,  The myriad tiny coins jingle on her outfit and the many hoops with which she is pierced quiver as she moves her limbs looking boneless, like fronds of seaweed rippling underwater.  Her torso and arms are bright like a peacock, a decorated canopy of pictures and symbols while her make-up and attitude give her a fierce persona that both repels and fascinates me.

Other girls who had danced for us this evening had been fleshy, their soft curves voluptuous and appealing, and when they shimmied, their buttocks and breasts quivered with aftershocks of movement.  We’d been teased with their stripping routines:Shall I show you?  Perhaps not yet? Can you glimpse it from behind me? It’s all yours!  Feast your eyes on that! We had all applauded (and squeezed our thighs together) to their final reveals of tasselled or sequinned pasties on gently swaying breasts, and curvy derrieres.

Our tattooed dancer’s routine is different, she moves like a reptile, something not quite human in her fluidity.  She seems to dance for her own pleasure while doing tricks with knives and swords where we fear she might hurt herself.  She’s like a caged beast prowling the stage, posturing and flexing, her body gym hard and uber slender. She scowls at the audience, no coquettish attempt to make us love her like the two previous girls, no her aim is to be remembered and a little feared.  Surely in the wild, brightly coloured insects and reptiles are the most poisonous, giving a warning to their predators.

Her last, longest, sword swallowed (well, held in her throat and then removed for the audience to admire) she darts off the stage to loud applause and the compare is up again, warning those of us sitting at the front that: we’re all pregnant now, so sexy was that last dancer!

Now’s the time for the audience to let loose.  A playlist of disco music begins so drinkers move to the bar while many of the diners get up on the tiny stage to dance.  Never before have these people shaken their booty with such abandon, or shimmied up against their friends or lovers with so much pent-up desire.  Everyone who has watched the show feels less inhibited, all imagine they have something to prove with their dancing. The majority of us are rampant and horny.

My husband and I get up to leave:  the slick in my knickers wants him to rub and fuck me in our hotel room, bending me over to take me from behind, and the tingling ache in his cock is happy to oblige.  Afterwards we will flop into our comfortable turned-down bed and hopefully we’ll have time for another memorable fuck tomorrow, before a delicious breakfast.


Posy Churchgate has been writing erotica since 2016, and often shares it on her own blog Posychurchgate@blogspot.com.  Posy wants to expand to different genres and styles of erotic writing and reviewing and plans to become a contributor to various other sites.  

Happily married and heterosexual, Posy embraces experimentation within her relationship, including something she has experienced in every scenario she creates.  “I’ve discovered that my libido is much like a muscle, use it or lose it!” Posy jokes, “so I’m ensuring I give my libido a regular work out to keep a spring in my step!”
You can follow Posy on Twitter @PosyChurchgate or contact her directly posy.churchgate@gmail.com

broken brained, From the heart, musings of pixie heart.

Sunday morning.

I never thought motherhood was going to be easy or a free ride, no I knew it would be hard as hell at times. But for me it’s been great, for the most part. I love my little girls, they are one of the best things I’ve done with my life. But what nobody warned me about is just how exhausting they can be. It feels like I have been running on empty for years not days. It would seem they are both teething, so are grumpy and snarky in the day time. But at night , or should I say the early am they turn into insomniacs , who seem to think their feet are really funny and need to chat to mummy about it, and when they have told my about their toes, tiny, chubby ankles and how they can fit their sisters toes in their mouths, they doze off , with soft snores. But when I lay them in their cots to sleep and turn to leave them, one farts, waking themselves up, shrieking with fright, and waking their sister up. So it’s back to cuddles, chats and calming them down. Not the sort of all nighter I had in mind.

It’s after one of our early am chats that maîtser found me asleep on a bean bag this morning. I love the fact that I have rules to follow about everything, but if my daughters need me they can be over looked. But as well as that I love that maîtser and I have CNC in place, and not just the sexy kind. No I mean the loving kind. The kind that means I get woken up with a kiss, taken down stairs and made to eat what ever is but in front of me. Then hustled in to a hot shower, then a warm fluffy towel, then clean clothes and then tucked in to bed , with a stuffie and orders to sleep. And because I’m his good girl, and mildly exhausted , I have no problem with that at all.

But when the sexy side of our CNC decides I have slept and rested for long enough, and he gathers me up in to his arms, roughly foundling my breast, and biting down hard on my neck. Well not only do I know it’s time to wake up, but I’m going to get used in the most delightful way. When his hand travel down over my rib cage, the curve of my hip, dipping under the waist band of my yoga pants and roughly caressing them down my legs, with my panties, bunching at my knees. I tense and pretend to struggle a little , so his hand will go round my throat and he growls in my ear to behave, to hold still, that I’m his and he will do as he wants with me, it leaves my with no doubt he loves me.

When his other hand plunges in to My folds, and pulls my leg up and back over his, I know what’s coming, his marking me as his, making sure I know damned well that I’m his. Biting my neck, he pulls his hand from me, and I feel him unbuckle his belt and push open the fly. Then his hand is guiding his cock inside me, and he starts fucking me . It’s deliciously harsh, fast and hard. It’s not the beautiful love making, but it’s what I need. It is pure feeling, want and need.

Gently he flips me on to my tummy, pulling my bum and hips up, still fucking me. His hands move to the small of back and my neck, pushing it firmly in to pillow. He fucks me so fiercely , that it is nearly painful. Then his hand come round and under me, find my clit with his thumb , circling it with a determined ferocity that is startling. His close I can feel, and I know that if I struggle and whimper a little , he will love what he is doing to me even more, so I do. That is all it takes , and he looses his control , and so do I. Cumming so hard I think I must of blacked out a little.

Collapsing on top of me , he pulls himself from me , flopping on to his side, panting . Leaving me laying there , stunned and used. I get a hard swat to my arse and in commanding tone he says ‘up , I want feeding’ and with that he is up and off downstairs . I hurriedly collect myself , pulling my clothes back on and smoothing down my hair. Not bothering to clean myself up, loving the feeling of how utterly used and marked his made me feel. I run down stair to carry on taking care of his needs , the way he has done for me.

And why do I do this, cos I love, trust and adore him , as he does me.

Pixie x

broken brained, From the heart, musings of pixie heart.

Phobias I have and how they hold me back.

This is a post that maîtser asked me to write as part of my punishment and I have been dragging my feet on writing it. Not in a bratty way or cos I don’t want to. But phobias are something I hate, don’t understand and feel ashamed about having them. I mean I’m 37 for Christ sake, being frighten of stuff Is stupid, and still I have them! Now I’m also going to point out something here that pees me off a wee bit, and that is what is and isn’t a phobia. Or more like what Is a phobia and what Is a fear. Fears are things we are frightened of , that could hurt as or do us harm, such as snacks or pain. A phobia is something that frightens, but is totally irrational, like clowns or buttons. I have a lot of phobias , so Im going to keep it to the top 5, so here we go…..

Seagulls, pidgins and crows- first up I am going to say it used to be all birds , but I have done a fair bit of work on getting over this one. I guess it stems back to when I was a little kid and got pooped on by a bird on a school trip, and the entire class, teachers and all laughing at me. It kind of escalated from there, ending at me not being able to go to places with loads of birds. I would get paralysed with fear or freak out and have to run away. I got over this slowly with the help of my friend Scott, who was training as a therapist and wanted a willing victim to try dispensation therapy on. Little steps , often was the way we did It. I now love feeding the ducks, or going to bird world or watching the birds on my garden. I only really have a problem with seagulls and pidgins now, as they are big, dirty and fly over my head. (Fear of being pooped on) . Crow are entirely a different thing, I have nightmares about dying and crows picking at my dead body. I think that comes watching csi I when drunk. Now if any of these birds come in the garden I either let the dogs out to bark at them or draw the curtain.

Deep water – ok so this Is not like deep water in a swimming pool. No I mean like in an ocean or lake. Somewhere I can’t see the bottom. I think It’s the not knowing what is down there. I don’t like things that make me go ‘ewwww’ . It kind of led to a little bit of a fear of water for a while and I got fixated on the idea that I was going to drown. But maîtser has work super hard with me on this, by helping to be come more confident in water and teaching me how to swim stronger. But I don’t think I’ll be going on any cursises any time soon.

Being sick in public – again this used to be of being sick at all , but now if Is can get some place discrete I’m ok . Now it’s just the thought of puking In front of people that really freaks me out now. If I can shut a door and get it over and done , we’re good. I don’t know where this comes from or why I have it, but I have for as long as I remember.

Eating in public – I am and pretty much all my life been a plus size lass. But as a kid I was tiny , both In height and weight. I got picked on In nursery school , and one boy called me fat and ugly. I have hated my face for as long as I remember, but I could do nothing to change that. But I could control my weight and when and what I ate. So I refused to eat at nursery or when out with my family. I would only eat fruit and veggies at home, with an occasional yoghurt. This went on for 2 months, till my nana talked me in to eating a little more. But I still could not eat In public places or round people o did not know . It got worse as I got older and I would have to eat at home all the time. It was restrictive and damaging, but the only way I could eat without having a full on panic attack. It got so bad my nana made me speak to the GP about it and I got CBT and therapy for it. I started to get better with my eating. But still to this day I find It really hard. It led in to comfort eating in the safety of my room, to not being able to eat round people I have just met and all sorts of other things. Lol where I sit to eat in public takes me for ever and maîtser says if I do eat in front of you , well that’s how you know I like you. But having babies has strangle help. I don’t want them to have hang ups, so I’m really am working on this. One way round it and something I am super proud of is , that if I know I’m going to be out at lunch time, I pack a sandwich and then get a drink and fries from McDonald’s, sit down and eat lunch. It’s not much but it’s a start.

Germs / unclean places / bins / public toilets – this is by far my worst phobia . I have health problems and I get sick a lot. Germs can kill , and over the years it has got worse. It’s not just a feeling of yucky and blah! But more of a huge panic and freezing up, and freak out and I can’t cope, sort of feeling. I got so bad that being sat near a bin would freak me out, I could not go in the bus station or pee when out. I would have to shower if someone coughed on me and people spitting made me wrench. I would wash my hands all the time and I carried hand sanitiser all the time. But I knew I need to work on It, so I did. It was hard work, and I’m by no means over it, but it’s loads better. I also don’t want It to impact on my girls so Im still working on it. I will get past It.

Well that is a little bit of an Insight into an anxious brain and what happens if Its left unchecked.

Hugs,

Pixie x

musings of pixie heart.

boobs behaving badly ….. for Ben and floss

Boobs behaving badly… for Ben and floss Ok I / we are a family who love boobies! We quit often have little arguments over who has the best boobies. (Does not every family) but sometimes boobs misbehave, with hysterical results. A lot of times things happen on are girl dates. Like the time Kitten and I went to a-trampoline park . I got carried away , was wearing the wrong bra, bounced to hard and my boob flopped out in front of a group of teenage boys. Or the time (when drunk) little bear and babe went to the loo ,but the was a massive cue , so they shared a cubical . Turning backs while the other peed. Little bear then decided to try and open the door with very little room to wiggle . Well she had at the time very big boobs (she had a breast reduction) and the door got wedge between them and her and babe got sort of trapped . After 15 minutes of trying to get free, a lot of giggles and help from some lovely ladies, some one went and got the pub manger and 2 doorman , to help take the door off , so they could get out. Needless to say we never went back to that pub. It’s not just when out boobies behave badly either , no happens at home too! I have always loved wearing skimpy slip style nighties, that make my small boobs look nice in (big head). I have before now woken up to the ups driver banging my front door, run down the 2flights of stairs, open the door , to find said drive turning bright red and avoiding eye contact . After signing for my parcel and saying thank you, I have come inside , looked In a mirror only to find my right boob had popped out. I should add that I have also answered door to the same ups driver in a shirt and panties, holding a very big kitchen knife In one hand and terrible scowl. Being poly and open , we play a lot at home. Cos well we like kinky fun and screwing , a lot . We’ ve had countless times that people have court an eyeful . The worst has to be when babe had kitten tied to a chair and was pouring wax on her tits, and the post man came through the garden gate, seeing what was going on , and tripped over. We now have a sign to remind us to pull the blinds! Naughty boobs or their owners run in my family. My sisters boob nearly came out her dress at her wedding. We have countless pics of family event with nipple showing through dresses. I have a very vivid memory of my nana trying bras on In M&S , and forgetting to pop her bra back on , leaving it hanging in the dressing room. In her defence she had dementia at the time and she was in M&S . But by far the most embarrassing boob gaff goes to aunty May. After mass one Christmas and a lot of sherry , she invited are priest and the younger priest back to dinner . After dinner and more sherry, she decided she needed a little lay down. We heard a lot of grumbling and moans coming from the guest room , followed a ‘sweet baby Jesus , merry, Joseph and all the saints in heaven” and a load thud. We all ran to the guest room , but the young priest made It there first. Opening the door , thinking aunty May had fallen over . Only to find aunty May tangled up in her blouse and bra , boobs out and stuck. She had tried to get her bra off with pout undoing it or taking her blouse of first! The shame off it! I would like to add this is why I don’t drink sherry, it makes even the mildest people into totally idiots. Well that’s us and are boobie tales shame!

family update, From the heart, musings of pixie heart., socail, Uncategorized

come back to me when your ready.

It must be one of the most heart-breaking things I have ever had to do, sit back, and watch someone I love, tear themselves to pieces, their heart breaking and their hole world crashing around them. I could run in and try to save them or fight away their demons for them. But that is not what they need or what they want.
I want to say it will be ok, it gets better, and it hurts less, with time. But who am I to know or think I have any idea what it feels like to them. True I know what pain feels like. I have had the emotional pain that was so sharp it took my breath away, that took over my life, aching so bad, and never going away. But telling some one to trust you when they just don’t trust anything, is not what they need. They need to learn to trust again in their own time and at their own pace.
I want to hold them and love them as hard as I can. But that would make them feel suffocated and restricted. They need space and time to heal themselves, to relearn how to be them and find what they need to be. So, I love them as fiercely as I can, from a far. Waiting for them to come to me when they are good and ready.
I remind myself of how I was when me heart was broken in tiny pieces and I thought I would never get my happy or self-back. I need to scream, cry and rage. I needed space, time, and compassion. I needed people to just carry on loving me for me. No judging, not telling me what to do or feel. I did not need someone to pick me up off the floor, but all the piece back in the right place and hold me together. I had to do that myself, I need to do that, and I need some to hold my hand, and to catch me when I fell again. I needed to fight my own demons, with someone stood by my side, encouraging me. it had to come from me.
So, I sit and watch, sitting on my hands. Loving, watching, and waiting for them to need me. but letting them come to me when they need me and asking for what help they need, when they need it.

 

For my Darling Emit, who without his courage and inspiration , I would be lost.

 

Hugs,

Pixie.

Ps –  give you Take me Home, By Jess Glynne.

family update, From the heart, Poly life, Question time., socail

Lean on me.

Lean on me.

This is a little bit of a gushy post, I’m just warning you. For anyone who follows my blog or me on twitter, you will know that I’m not well. My depression and anxiety have got really bad, and I have had to ask to go get more strutched help. I’m going to do day treatment for a few weeks. 3 days a week, 5 hours a day, cos I can’t go on feeling like this. I need help, big time. Yes I am strong and I will get through this , but I need help. Lucky I have a wonderful family and amazing friend on twitter who have been a godsend.

But I have been thinking a lot of late about who are real friends and who I trust . Sure I have friends enough, but I sometimes they are not always able to cope when my health, whether physical or mental is bad. I mean, like now, when having a mental health crisis, I would not want to be round me at times, so I don’t see why others should suffer the shit I put them through. I mean it has take everything for me to learn to trust maîtser and the girls fully. I feel so unworthy of their love and care at times. But they let me love them and care for them, so I let them do the same for me.

I then got to thinking about a really special friend that I have. Who, unlike most of my friends, started out as my friend, away from my family, who knew me when I was my ex. Who stood by me with through the shit I went through and did not flench when he found out I had told him lies, when I was sick and tried to end my life. Well ok he got really pissed off at me and nearly walked away, but he , unlike a lot of ‘friends’ took the time to find out what happened, to actually talk to me. He is my Sir Beasty, my darling man , Aedan O’Healy .

He from are first meeting was someone I just clicked with. Both with Irish roots, Miss spent youths and a love of swearing and food. (Although he hates marmite, but I forgive him that). It was very odd that from the start I trusted him, felt at ease around him and could be myself. He made it clear that he liked me for me, plain and simply. He was not after things or wanting , he was just a friend. When things got really bad with my ex , he was the one I tried to open up to. He was the person I admitted I had issues with my mum. I swear I could of told him I was a marshmallow covered in cheese, and he would of gone “cool, and?” I did not need to pretended I was happy or ‘normal’ .

When I tried to take my life, I remember speaking to him a few hours before hand , and trying so hard to tell him I What I had planned to do. But I was so far down the road of self loathing and hating myself, well I just couldn’t , I tried. I really did, but …. Ok not going there. But a few weeks of not speaking to anyone and being hidden away in hospital, trying to piece my life back together , thinking nobody from my old life would give me a second chance or even try talking to me . Well he messaged me , I think through Facebook, at like 4 am. It was not a pleasant conversation to have , but he made answer his questions, to talk and confided in him. It took so much to do that, but he made me, kind of admitting what I did and facing someone head on was a massive help. And him being truly amazing he , again did not flinch. After I got it all out , he said that he would forgive me, but I had to be upfront, open and truthful about everything from that point on. When I said I didn’t think I could and that it was to hard. I got a curt reply of “life is fucking hard p, you can’t give up on it” . So from that point on I decided to meet life head on and not flinch from what ever shit came my way. And although I had days I was a total bitch, a hot mess and set backs, he stood by my side, not trying to save me or put me back together how I was. But he encouraged me to just be me and fuck what anyone else thought.

He’s been their every step of the way in my recovery. From listening to whine about how shit my life was, to me fulling apart over being me, to losing it over not being able to do what I used to do. He was the person who, when I got together with maîtser, told me it was ok to love and want to spend your life with someone. He was the one I said that I was in love with maîtser first too. He did tease the hell out of me as well and kept call maîtser my boyfriend. (You big Irish knob).

One of the things I love about him is his empathy and his ability to know when something is wrong, even when I don’t . His also shown me it is ok to be sensitive and not to be ashamed of having emotions . If I’m upset he will let me cry, if I’m angry he lets me rage and if I need to full apart he will hug me a little tighter, till I can heal myself back together. He is one of the few people who can talk me down of high cliffs , when I don’t know how I got there or how to get down. He is one of three men I fully trust in this world.

But by far the best and most wonderful thing he has given or taught me is how to take my thoughts and emotions, and turn them to words. He taught me to write , take pride in my stories , and to keep at it. He has never once gone, p this is shit. He finds positive sin everything I write and do as a writer. He was the one I went to and said I wanted to write and blog about sex. Unlike maîtser, who said yes but let’s think about it. He said ‘ I think it’s fucking awesome idea, and what’s more I’m going to help you.” Not to say he has always positive stuff to say, but he is always straight with me , sometimes a little blunt. It was him saving about my spelling, grammar and punctuation, that led me to having a English teacher, something that I love so much. He pushes me to make time to sit down and concentrate on the words, saying to try and not use greats, happy, or said to often in piece I write. He is also the voice in my head say “turn the fucking spell check on” . He stepped up when I was freaking out about writing stuff and acted as my editor, an arxengmnt that works well

The oddest thing about are friendship though is , even though he knew I was D/s , he never went ‘oh so am I” or “oh I have a kinky side. But are friendship is and has from the start, had a bit of a D/s side. I have called him ‘Sir’ for, like 4 weeks in to being friends, it just seem odd and uncountable to call him Aedan. He could also tell me to settle down , shush or behave, and I just did and still do. When I got with Maîtser , with in 3 weeks he was given permission to tell me to be good and behave. He is affectionately know as my tech and writing Dom!

And to go with this all , he is one of the sweetest, charming , epic friends a girl could have. He always has my back, pushes me and makes me want to be the best me I can be. He will let me full apart, but won’t take any shit from me. I can grump at him, but he lets me know I no uncertain terms , when I’m out of line.

But, above all he has given me back the faith in myself, makes me feel proud of myself and looks out for me. He lets my lean on him , when I need to, and will lean on me when he needs it. So, Sir Beasty, I love you, whole bunches, you big Irish knob!

Hugs,

Pixie, aka Doris.

Ps – I give you Lean on me , the Bill Withers.

From the heart, musings of pixie heart.

Staging a comeback.

So, I feel like I need to write about this, it feels like the elephant that is in the room, and it is bothering me. I know I seem to be blogging gloomy crap right now. I don’t mean to, I really don’t, I just have stuff in my head that seems to want to make its way out. I would try and stop it, but if I don’t let it out, well it hurts and that hurt gets so bad it is like the worst heartbreak and physical pain all mixed together. What is this elephant that I have running around my head? Well I don’t hide the fact that I tried to kill myself, but I do avoid talking about it and I know how unconfutable it makes people feel when I talk about it. But I need to so, here goes…
First up I want to set a couple of things straight. When I was in my late teens and early twenties, I tried to end my life a few times. the were half assed attempts, done when I was backed in to a corner and out of anger. They were never about needing attention or wanting to hurt other people. Nor was I being selfish, wallowing in self-pity and defiantly not about other people. It was very much about me and how bitterly I hate myself. I also Self harmed by cutting myself, again this was not done for attention or as a cry for help. It was a way of dealing with anger and self-loathing that I felt, I chose to turn that back in on me, instead of lashing out on people I loved. However, the last time I tried to kill myself, well I meant that to work.
It happened about 8 weeks after the whole break up shit with my ex happened. Looking back, I can see I was sick, really sick. My body was doing a great job healing from the rape and beating that had been infected on me. But my mind, well that was not doing so good. I was numb, I felt nothing or everything all at once. But I grew up believing that mental illness and suffering with it was a sin, something to be hidden and never spoken about publicly. So, I hid the depression, the panic, the tears, and pain. Over the years I have learnt really well to stamp down on things that hurt and not to get upset in front of people.
The days and weeks that followed, were getting harder and harder to deal with. It was around 2 weeks after this that my brain really shut down. I was barley sleeping, eating, and drinking and maxed out on my meds. So, to cope, my brain decided to switch of, shutting down. I started to lose time, I would look at the clock and then when looked back a few minutes later, 2 hours would have passed. I’m here to say when you lose track of time and space like that, it is almost the most frightening thing in the world.
It got worse and worse, and I got the point of having to do something about it. I could have gone and spoken to someone, no I should have gone and spoken to somebody about it. But I the only thing I came up with was suicided. I knew I had an infection, but instead of getting help with it I hid it from those around me. I told people I needed space and I got it. Had a month’s supply of all my meds. I picked a night when I knew I would be on my own, I sat down with a bottle of vodka, took my pills, walked up the stairs to the bedroom I had nearly died in, lay down and waited for everything to stop.
What I had not counted on was my friends knowing something was not right (Thank the gods for my Darling Kitten), my sisters being very nosy and me forgetting to get my house key back off my Daddy. I was found just in time, but I was in bad shape and very nearly did not pull through. But my body, had other ideas and it decided to keep fighting. I don’t remember much about the first few days in hospital. I remember my sisters and daddy crying, Aunty May turning up and refusing to leave my bedside. I remember kisses on my nose from Kitten, my and being held by a gruff old bear that maitster. I remember my priest coming and saying preys.
When I was out of danger, well that is when things got tough. I want no more than to go home. But that was not going to happen. I was weak as flip, and my head was all over the shop. I was given 2 options by my sisters and doctors either voluntary stay in hospital and coverless and get help from professionals, or they would section me. no brainer really.
I was moved to a pulmonary and cardiac rehab centre, as I had fucked my lungs with the infection I had. so that became my home for the next 2 months. It was in the first few weeks that I put in some very hard work to get my head together. I was speaking to 3 counsels’ and a clinic therapist. I had to see my Cpn twice a week and was reviewed weekly by doctors. I was a mess. It was this time that mistier kind of came back into my life, or in to my life, depending how you look at it.
I have always said, we have been D/s before we even knew it. I was in hospital, angry at been treated like a child, when he came to visit. I ranted about how unfair it all was, and you no what he did?? He listens to what I said and when I finished, he decided to set me straight. He told me that people thought I was going to die, that I had acted foolishly, that I had lost their trust and that I was now acting like a brat. It was the first time anyone had been that open and honest with me in weeks. It made me break down in tears, and boy did I cry!
When I calmed down he asked me what I wanted to do. I said go home, hug my dogs, and get better, and most of all I wanted to be treated like a grown up again. So, he offered to help me. but the were rules and I had to do the hard work of fixing myself, he was not going to do it for me. That was when my ear pricked, everyone had been saying you need to do this or that and he was the first person who asked me what I wanted to do. So, I jumped at his offer. That’s when I got my first 3 rules from maitser . they were, no more lies, no hiding things and I had to keep talking to him.

Well that was 6 years ago, and oh how things have changed. I have gone from stupid, frightened little girl.to a strong woman, who knows her own mind and who will fight her own corner. I went from friend, to lover, to submissive, to girlfriend, to fiancé, to wife and landed at mother. I now have everything I never knew I wanted or needed. I’m finally truly myself.
But it has been tough. The have been times that I have fallen, but it has been me who has myself up off the ground, every time. I have had set backs, blips and melt downs. It has been hard work, putting me back together. I have people who help me and who are routing for me and will hold my hand when I need them to. but I did not do this for them. Nope, I did it for me. it has made me stronger than I ever thought I could be, it has made me, who I needed to be. And it has made me so determined to never ever go back to be a victim, ever again. I always get offend if some one calls me a victim of domestic abuse or rape. I’m no victim, I’m a saviour, and that has turned me in to a warrior.
So that is my ramble about how I made my come back. It has left me feel stronger, calm, and happier than I thought it would. And before you ask, yes, the epic, depressing post will hopefully be ending soon, promise!
Hugs,
Pixie x

broken brained, From the heart, musings of pixie heart.

Raw.

Raw.

I sit, numb and bleeding. I feel the tears rolling down my check , on to my t-shirt, but I make no noise. I don’t remember how I got here , or why I’m crying, or what is hurting the must. Is it cut arm my arm or the ache in my heart. I remember picking up the razor and pushing in tonmy skin, the burn I felt as if sliced in to the flesh, and the sense of calm that I felt as I saw the blood running out of me.

I remember the physical pain I felt with him. The pushing , that turned to shoves, that led to kicks, that led to me cowering on the floor. Him towering above me, anger burning in his eyes, fist clenched. I remember the slaps that turned to punches. Never leaving a mark on my face or any place people would guess how I got them. I remember the occasional slaps, turn to daily punches , that led to beatings so bad I could not move properly days.

I remember the mental pain he could inflict. The little put downs that turned to viscous name calling. How his words could maim and injury much more than a fist could any day. I remember the ways he controlled everything, losing friends, contact with my family. I remember the fear, pain and terror I felt, when he lashed out with those vile words. How it felt to believe them and the sense of total worthlessness. I remember the sobs that would rise up through my body , after he told my I was scum, stupid or disgusting.

I remember the fear and disgust I felt from the aggressive coercion to take part in or perform sexual acts that I did not want. I remember the deep feeling of shame , disgust at myself and the hopeless resignation I felt after the sexual violence. The searing pain and the loss of blood after fishing’s went wrong. The look of pure madness on his face when I told him no. The terror of being held down and raped, over and over again. The belief that I was not going to live till the morning. The look in my fathers eye when I had to tell him what he did to me, that will never, ever leave me till my dying breath.

And still , I rose again , to fight on , to live another day.

But some times, like now, all the memories come flooding back. Sitting in my mind and festering. Till they have to come out, some how. Yes they are less painful, not so bright, fading each day. But they are still there and on days like this the still feel raw, jagged and bright. They had to come out, and though I know the cutting is wrong, I chose that , over hurting those I love.

So as I sit, watching the blood and tears dripping to the floor. I remember it may feel raw for awhile. But with time it will fade to a faint scare, never truly leaving me, but becoming a scare, left to remind me, that I too, will rise again.

I wrote this after a meeting with my therapist a couple of years ago. I never thought I would ever think of , let alone hit the publish button on this. It is a real part of me and is as the title says, pixie laid raw at your feet.

Thank you for reading,

Hugs,

Pixie x