broken brained, family update, From the heart, musings of pixie heart., Poly life

Fessing up time – the bad behaviour of Pixie Heart.

So yesterday (Saturday )was a shitty day in this pixie pop’s head. I woke up feeling sick and giddy , with a very low mood and not really wanting to be around people. The day sort of just nosed dived from there really . I grumped at people, whined , stamped my feet and acted like a total brat. I refused desert at dinner and got stroppy when I was told to take a bath and go to bed early. So in the bath I got and had that ‘ahhhh’ moment , only for it to go away when I could not get in to the Loving BDSM munch. Me not thinking right, sort of went ‘ oh grate I have been blocked and everyone hates me’ (not the simply answer of they are having horrid on going tech problems) . But out of frustration, anxiety and a feeling of being totally lost, We this little pixie erupted to the vile monster I become when an anxiety attack hits me. I feel I need to mark the difference in a panic attack and and anxiety attack. Panic attacks are normally sudden , coming out of the blue and can normally end quickly, but not always . The are a lot of physical sides such as shacking , breathing heavily and feeling sick. Anxiety attacks build up over time and will normally have a different trigger. The are explosive, frightening and last a long time. They have a lot of the same physical effects of panic attacks and normally need medication to bring them under control. That may also lead to an extended depressive episode, psychotic break or a dissociative episode. Both are vile and any one who has them has my sympathy.

Anyway back to what I’m meant to be doing. I took meds, slept, woke feeling drained, tearful and repentant . I apologised to everyone I grumped at, but I also knew that the was going to be consequences for my actions, the always are and rightly so. The first part was / is to fess up and admit what I did and What rules I broke, so here we go…. (buckle up buckle up yell)

• I grumped at Maister , kitten , little bear ,babe and steve, when they offered help or support.

• I grumped at people online via email, twitter and DM , again this is very much not acceptable behaviour.

• I refused to let babe take Connie when she would not settle.

• I refused cuddles from kitten and snapped at her to leave me alone.

• I shouted at maîtser for moving knives in the kitchen without telling me. We do not use raised voices in this household and I do have the right to tell maîtser off.

• I did not tell maîtser how much weight I have lost, just that I lost weight. I know I should tell him as it can impact seriously on my health.

• I forgot to ask for sleep meds when I woke up crying in the night and refused cuddles to help calm me down.

• I scratched at the worry spot on my neck , behind my left ear and on my low back, making them bleed and open up. This is a form of self harm

• I have started swearing again. This is a basic rule break and I know very well how much Babe dislikes it.

• I put myself over 30 times a day for at least 5 days. Major problem and breaks at least 4 rules.

• Pushed myself to the point of physical and emotional exhaustion, but refused comfort form kitten and little bear.

• Skipped my nap time 4days in a row.

• Skipped my snacks, at least once a day for a week.

• Skipped a dentist and dermatologist appointment.

• Refused to take pain medication when needed .

• Refused to stay in bed when asked to rest.

• Back chatted and spoke out of turn to Babe 3 times.

• Sassed maîtser and grumped at him for telling me to take a nap

• I had things niggling on my mind, but let them fester, instead of talking to maîtser

.

So those are my crimes. It the first time ever that I have not thought hold up that’s not fair. I have been a right cow bag over the last month or so and I realise how grumpy and horrid I have been. So now for the rest of the punishment and this time maîtser has got all the Dom’s in my life to have some input in to it! As I said the first part is sitting down and writing down what I did and then listing the punishment I’m given. I put may not seem a huge thing to many people, but it is a very humbling thing to me. It is a way of showing I’m not perfect, I fuck up and the is always a price for those fuck ups. So the punishment safe as follows.

• Loss of all unsupervised free time for the next 2 weeks.

• Doctor and dentist appointments rebooked, attended , with aunt May.

• No back chat, sassing or grumping at anyone.

• No swearing what so ever. 10 for each swear word with Babes hair brush.

• Work outs 2 times a week with Steve, working on excretion , form and strength. For the next 4 weeks

• 30 mins of yoga a day, as set by babe . For the next 4 weeks.

• Swimming lessons weekly with maîtser, for the next 8 weeks.

• To drink 3 lt of water a day and to carry my water bottle at all times.

• To eat 2500 kl a day, everyday.

• To reach my 40000steps a week goal , but not exceeding it by more than 40000.

• To write for 60mins 3 times a day working towards a word goal of 10000 a week, for the next 6 weeks.

• One story for MM, kotw, and wicked Wednesday to be written and submitted over the next 6 weeks.

• Blog post to be written about why I brake rules and why I keep getting punishment for them.

• Blog post about the 5 Parts of my body I dislike the most and why I dislike them.

• Blog post about my top 5 phobias , why I have them and how they hold me back.

• To read and comment on 5 blog post a day for the next 6weeks. Turning the my top 3 in to a #SoSS post on a Saturday, for the next 6 weeks.

• Daily public affirmations to be done and blogged about.

• CNC is enforce for the next 6weeks, and covers affection from the girls and any PDA.

• To wear what I am told every day, no back chatting. For the next 6 weeks.

• To eat what I am told when I’m told for the next 6 weeks.

• 9.30pm bed time is in force for the next 6 weeks and a 10.30 lights out is in place.

So that’s my punishment and here’s hoping the next six weeks go without a hitch. But more than anything I hope I can do better and not let maîtser or myself down again.

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

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

From the heart – broken brain update

Hello, hi , hay! So I have not been posting that much or writing much. Normally when that happens , well it’s down to life is busy or I’m working or I have important stuff happening. But not this time people. This time it’s because I don’t or haven’t seen the point. My depression is back and my anxiety levels are through the roof. I’m not coping well, I’m angry, confused and tired. I feel invisible, unliked and ugly. I am hurting , sore and had started hating myself again.

I don’t hide that I have mental health problems, well illness. But I fight it , every bloody day and for the most part I’m winning. But over the last few weeks, not so much. This has largely been bought on by my mum being sick and her death. But the have been other thing at play to. My gp changing my meds with out consulting me or my physiatrist or me, has thrown me off balance. He changed my antidepressant to normal to modified release. Meaning that in the morning I would get a massive high, a huge kick of happy , that by 2.30 pm was leaving and by 5 pm was leaving me flat and on a downward spiral. He cut my main anxiety meds from 5mg 6 times a day, to 1mg 4 times a day. Meaning my anxiety level went from liveable, to through the roof and frightened to level the house. He increased my thyroid meds from 200 mg to 350mg straight away. Meaning I got even more anxious, slept less and felt every so slightly manic. Added to this he stop my anti inflammatory med and took out 2 levels of my pain medication plan. Leaving me trying to cope on less pain medication than I need , not wanting to jump to the really high levels.

Now normally I can cope with a depressive bleep, but I have been dealing with loss and grieve, for people I loved or had very mixed and complex feelings for. Not knowing how to feel or deal with, well it all started to get to much again. I was going through the motions each day, but not feeling anything. I was numb and confused. It’s when this happens that the anxiety and ocd side of my kicks in . I also start to get paranoid and start seeing things in other people’s behaviour towards me that makes me even more paranoid and sad. People not replying to msgs , cos they are busy and stressed , to me is them saying I hate you, get out my life, your a vile bitch and I hate you. It’s not the case , but in my head it was or is. It’s like the worse form of rejection and it hurts. Then the voices start to come back, telling me I’m worthless , hopeless , ugly, vile and a waist of oxygen. Trust me they frighten the fuck out of me.

I got to Thursday last week , and I was dragging my bum out of bed , and just going through the motion of being me. To an outsider I looked like I was doing good. That’s cos I have , over the years got good at putting on a front of being good. I had to, or thought I had too. I don’t like bringing people down or being a pain. I mean I’m the sad sack , why should I bring them down with me, right. I stop a sling things, or for help or for support . I but inside, every time I see someone happy , it twists the knife and kills me a little more.

By Friday , well the pain, hurt and yucky feelings got to much. They left me feeling so sad and anxious, it becomes like a physical pain. So strong it takes you breath away and brings tears to my eyes. I was hurting so bad I started to lash out at people. Not hitting or slapping , but with spiteful words and hurtful actions. I grumped at people on twitter, I thought ill of people and refused cuddles from my darling kitten. Things came to head when uncle Fred ask me how I was doing, and I just broke in to a thousand pieces. Thankfully or sadly , depending how you look at it, he and kitten knew I was not well. The called maîtser, who came home from work. Took all my. Tech away and made me take my meds for anxiety attacks . I was tucked in bed with little bear, I cried and feel asleep in her arms.

Maîtser knew what to do, he always does. He came home from work, checked my tech and meds . (I used to hide things that upset me and I have some times stopped taking my meds when I’m poorly). He phoned my cpn and got him to do a home visit. They looked and saw what had happened with my meds , and my cpn phoned and dealt with my gp and my meds. They got my an appointment to see my head doctor for Monday and agreed on a plan for the weekend. Basically I had to do as I was told, rest and let myself be looked after. I think not having to think about stuff and being looked after was really what so needed. I went to bed on Friday, took my sleep meds and slept for 13 hours straight. I spent Saturday playing with my dogs, watching Disney films and cuddling my babies. Sunday I wrote a little, went out for a roast dinner, played with my babies , cuddled kitten and wrote a little more.

Well Monday morning hot hear, and I was a terrified again. I still had in my head that I was having some sort of phycotic break or something worse and that oil was going to be made to stay in hospital. Aunty May came with me, even coming In with me (I seriously thank the nhs needs great aunties as a way to help look after people with mental Health problems) . After 20 mins of chatting and looking at things, the verdict was in. I’ve not gone mad, or lost the plot or need to stay in hospital. What is wrong with me then? My mother died, my dr changed my meds, triggering a depressive blip and I could not cope with it. Simple! We have made a plan on how to deal with this. It involves medication, therapy , hard work and time. But I have a plan, and when I have a plan , well it sort of makes me see I can and will get better.

But I have also had to realise some pretty hard truths, that really have hurt to come to. The are people who I have hurt, and they may not want me around for a while. That some people may not want me as a friend or in theief lives. That people sometimes only have time for the happy , funny and silly pixie. My behaviour has made me open to critasism and reproach . That some people say one thing and mean another. That I am only human and myself, and that even if they say not , that is not enough or what they want. That others are more their. Up of tea . And even though it should not matter , that my bad mental health, is not something they want to deal with or have in their world. I have to except this and move on but it hurts like hell and it is the thing I’m struggling to except, and will take a long time to deal with or get used to not being enough, but I’ll get their. It is hard to except , it hurts and is going to for a long time. But I guess the is worse things than losing people you thought were friends and liked you. It just hurts and makes me feel invisible.

Well that’s the end to this mental health ramble . Self pity and whining will be kept to a mom I promise and normal pixie is back soon, just not yet.

Hugs,

Pixie

From the heart, musings of pixie heart., socail

Things I don’t believe in….

Things I don’t believe in….

Ok, ok I know I seem to be doing down beat blog posts this week, I know ! But this is less down beat than the tittle would have you think, ok? It kind of came to me this morning, laying in bed after a rather lovely morning fuck. Maîtser was humming one of ‘are songs’, Dream by Gabriel , and as I snuggled in close and started drifting back to sleep and my own dreams, I was hit by thoughts of my nana. I have been thinking a lot about her recently, with my own mother coming to the end of her own life. I was really close to my nana, and she taught me so, so ,so many things. Like how to clean house, how to take care of babies and how cook for 14 people without breaking a sweat. But I also remember all her ‘funny’ ways of looking at the world. To an outsider looking in, she was a very simple creature. A country girl, a wife, a mother and housewife. But she also was a feminist, peace protester and loved learning. The 3 things I remember her saying the most often were, always have a dream , nobody is perfect, and I just want them (her family) to be happy. This got me thinking about how she always refused to believe anything was perfect, and then on to the things I don’t believe in. So I thought I would write about them.

Perfection and paragons – ok so this kind of a stolen one from my nana (sorry nana!). But I really don’t believe anyone or anything is perfect, I just don’t. Growing up in a very strict Orthodox (Russian) / Catholic household we learned the bible forwards, backwards, upside down and standing on are heads. So I knew the words ‘he, who has not sinned cast the first stone’ really well. My nana used that to stop arguments, and my daddy coming down to hard on us, when we did something wrong. But my belief goes a little deeper than the bible . I also think that it is impossible for things to be perfect. They may seem it or look it, but if you dig a little deeper the is always a flaw or an imperfection. I also think that some of the most beautiful things and people in the world have imperfections. In fact , those imperfections , make them so much more wondrous. Don’t get me wrong I always aim for as good as humanly is possible, but by excepting things having flaws, it save heaps of time and a hole lot of worry.

Miracles – now this is going to sound mad, coming from someone who thought she could not have children, who had non identical twins girls. But the reason I don’t believe they were a Miracle, is simply the fact that non identical twin girl do happen. Mine are not a one off, the are a fair few around. I also don’t think people ending up millionaires from winning the lottery isn’t a miracle, for the same reason. I also hate, more than words , when people say to me, ‘oh it’s a miracle you turned out so well” or “ it’s a miracle your still alive” . Everything I have or have gotten in my life has either come from a lot of hard work, or a great deal of hardship and loss. I have the great fortune to of inherited, a pretty large amount of money, when I was younger. But I only have that due to losing my god mother to breast cancer. I have had 3 really good jobs and I am respected in the fields I have worked in. But again I worked really hard to get there.

Respect your elders and betters – No, no, no! this is just not true. I believe that you should respect everyone, without exception. But people can lose that respect, and telling me I need to respect them, just because they are older or in a ‘better’ position than me. oh and while we are the subject of respect I completely disagree with the idea that respect needs to be earnt. Bull squirt! Respect should be given to everyone freely without exception. But as I said, I also believe that respect can be lost, and it can be lost very easily, and then it has to be earnt back.

Sorry is the hardest word to say – Again to me this is Bull squirt! Sorry is really easy to say. What is hard , is saying sorry and really meaning it from the bottom of heart, or that you were wrong, when you are wrong. My ex said sorry every time he beat me or sexually abused me, was he sorry no. sorries that are hollow and meaningless are in fact an insult to the person receiving them, or at least they are to me.

Swearing show how unintelligent people – Well then Mastier is stupid! (No his not, I’m not saying that maitsier) . So many super clever people I know swear like dockside navy. Steven Hawkins swore. Swearing is actually good for you. it’s a great way to relieve stress and realise happy endorphins .(ok can I may of made that part up)

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger- again, wrong on so many levels. Not wanting to make things about me, but things that have nearly killed me (yes I mean kill me!) have in-fact had the apiarist effect. Physical health stuff has left me with arthritis, lung damage and poor hearing. My ex beat so badly that I have had 6 operations to fix what he broke. Sexual assault and rape left me so frightened and depressed that I tried to take my own life. It also gave me ptsd, extreme anxiety attacks and full of triggers. But all this has left me with a need to slowly rebuild myself. It taught me to be open, caring and forgiving , as well as making me pretty mentally tough and determined to live. So I guess it is a-least a little true.

So that is what I don’t believe in, but I do believe in loads too ! So to close I will leave you with my grandads and mr Walt Disney’s saying “you gotta have a dream to make a dream come true”

Hugs,

Pixie

Dreams, by Gabriel

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

The little things that mean so much.

Over the weekend I was struggling with some stuff. My sisters were being spiteful and unhelpful. My body decided to not like me and cause me to be in shit load of pain. (I had to take oral morphine on Friday night). MY work load is crazy busy, with only being 2 weeks till Crufts. Adding to the stress was my mother being vile and falling off the waggon, again! All this left me feeling low and very tearful. Luckily, I have great support at home and we found ways round all of it. I also with permission reached out to people on twitter. It was Saturday night Sunday morning, that I read a tweet by @Girly_Juice about how her Daddy had ordered her a pizza, as she was too emotionally discombobulated to figure out how to get food and feed herself. (we have all been there). It was a lovely, caring and extremely romantic thing to do, and proves he is a great Daddy. It also made me think about all the things that my family do for me that show how much they love me. yes, they are big some pretty big thing, like going to treatment with me or going to therapy with me or stepping in when everyday life overwhelms me. But the things that mean the most, are the little things. I said to maîtriser that I was grateful for all the little things that he and the girls do to help me or to show me I’m loved. He liked this a great deal, deciding that I should make a list of 5 things for each of the family, as a kind of giving back and mindfulness task for me. So here goes!

Maîtriser:
• Lunch time phone call, that always starts with ‘How’s my girl?”
• Sitting with me to do help me with my homework on Tuesday nights and Sunday afternoons.
• Works from home for on Thursday, to look after the babies, so I can go to college.
• Sits with me while I do Lego or crafts, writing and talking to me.
• Deals with all my finances, so I don’t have to and, so I don’t need deal with family members asking for finical help.
Babe:
• Will wash ad dry my her when I’m stressed.
• Encouraged and help me plan written and verbal pitches for course ideas.
• Goes to Doctor appointments with me.
• Make my ‘little’ dinners and lunches.
• Will sit with me when I’m freaking out and helps me figure out why and helps me calm down.
Kitten:
• Always willing to cuddle in bed or on the sofa.
• Always has words of comfort when I’m stressed
• Has stood up to my sisters when they are being super mean.
• Lets me fuss over her when she’s poorly.
• Will sit with while I have a bath and make me giggle about stuff.
Little Bear:
• Always able to make me giggle not matter how crap feel.
• Let me tech her how to cook and clean house.
• Act silly and asks me to explain things.
• Lets me fuss over her and always asks if I can do things with her.
• Put me as her next of kin.
So, there it is. To be fair I could have come up with hundreds for them, but I think he wanted me to really think about them carefully. What it makes me see that I really do love the bunch of nutters!

From the heart, Poly life

I’m a little, but….

What springs to mind when you think of a ‘Little’? Cute little girls and boys, in rompers, with dippers, Sippy cups and pacifiers? Brats, throwing temper tantrums? Submissive baby girls and boys with their Dominate care givers? Well you would be right and wrong, because like with all kinks the title ‘Little’ is not a one fits all title. The are the, stereotypes and for me I never thought that I fit any of them. But after talking to people and doing a little reading up on it, I came to a shocking discovery about myself, I have a little side, however I had kept it so well hidden from myself and others, that to look at me you would never know!

I guess looking back on things I just did fit in to the serotypes I had in my head. I mean I’m not a baby girl or a brat. I’m not into age play, I don’t want to call my Dom daddy and I don’t like being treated like a child. I don’t want a Sippy cup or pacifier, nor do I want dippers and onesies. I’m not a girlie girl, more of a tomboy. I raced motor bikes, boxed, and played rugby. I have always been the grown up one, take care of other people and keep everything running smoothly.

But after reading some great articles and talking to some fabulously stereotypical littles, I did a bit of a 360 on the little idea. When I talked to Maîtriser about it, I admitted to him and myself that I thought I might be a little, just not your normal run of the mill little. A pixie type little, different and unique like every other little or person in the world. So, we talked some more and researched a lot more together and we found are fit. We decided to try adding in a care giver / little aspect to are dynamic. Little by little and see how it went.

One of the first things Maîtriser had me do was sit down and make a list of things I felt made me a little. Top of the list was my love of colouring books and Lego, my love of unicorns and fairies, my love of Disney and Pixar films. Then I came to my habits o being shy and getting over excited by things. The was my hate of having to be in charge, the fact I love him ‘looking after’ me and that if left to my own devices in will getting in to some sort of trouble.

With this list we decided to make a few changes to day to day life. First thing we did, at home was bring all the things I did in privet, that I classed as ‘Being little’, out in the open. I learnt that it was ok to sit and colour or do Lego. We also added a few rules like a bedtime, holding hands when outside and being given weekly spending money. It was also around this time that I asked Maîtriser to take over my finance and gave him a little more control over my day to day life. We also discovered that I have a love of thing like kinky sleepovers, love being called princess and having my cloths picked out for me.

That was 18 months ago, and I will now proudly say ‘I’m a little’. I have found it to be a very freeing thing, but I keep it hidden from the outside world. I have found that I’m not in to age play, adult baby thing or being bratty. I also don’t see myself as a typical baby girl. What I have found with my little space is that it is the place I go when I’m stressed or not coping with the big bad world. It is a place I get to be me and breath. It’s when Maîtriser takes over the thinking for me and looks after me. it’s full of lights, laughter, and cuddles. It’s a place I can be free and silly. But above all it’s unique and everything I never knew I needed.

bdsm, From the heart, musings of pixie heart., Uncategorized, wicked wednesday

His voice. 

I hate working away from home. The 12-hour days spent setting up the class room, the question that I have had to answer a 1000 time before, then the packing away, only to come back and start all over in the morning. The worst part is the drive to the budget chain hotel, to my bland, generic room and a long evening of tv and myself deal with. But tonight is going a little better than most nights, as I have my darling kitten with me, we have permission to play and we have a call from maîtriser to look forward too!
We are under orders to be fed, bathed and in pj’s by the time he calls at 8 pm. So that’s how we come to be perched on the end of the bed, with Kittens phone between us, counting down the seconds till he rings weirdly it’s his voice I miss the most, after the way he feels when I cuddle him. It has the ability to make my do as I’m told one minute, to make me smile the next and wet and horny the next. It can calm, arouses and command all at the same time. His thick French accent, with a hint of Italian and your occasional slip of the tongue that tells of your time spent living in the west country.
Lost in a slight day dream I nearly jump out of my skin when kittens phone starts to blare out his ring tone of ‘all my friends’ By Dermot Kennedy starts to play. I think kitten must have been thinking the same as me, as her sacking hand reaches for the phone and she slide the lock screen and hits the answer button and then speaker. ‘Hello’ she says in a small voice that is very much her being shy and nervous.
Then comes his voice in a thick droll and steady as always, ‘Hello kitten, hello mouse, how are both my little ones? Have you been behaving? Have you been good girls for me?’ It’s with these word that I’m lost, I breath out a sigh I did not know I had been holding in. My shoulder hunch as I relax, letting all the stress of the day go and let the feeling of being safe and love, wash over me. God how I have missed him.
Kitten and I turn to face each other with the phone between us. sitting crossed legged on the bed, tucking feet underneath. We chatter away about what we have been doing and how are days have been. Having turned to face Kitten I feel a little distracted, but then I always do when it comes to Kitten. She is so damn beautiful it takes my breath away. Shifting a little, my knee bumps hers, I look up at her big brown eyes and blush. ‘So how did your course go little mouse?’ I hear coming from the phone, but It barely registers in my fuddled little brain.
‘hmmmm. Yes, what was that’. which is met with a shocked look on kitten’s face and stony silence from the other end of the line. Then clearing of his throat and ‘Mouse what did I just ask you?’. I panic and try I recall what he said, but I just can’t. I know not to umm or ahhh about thing or try to stall when asked something. So, I chose to fess up.
‘I don’t know, I was too busy looking at Kitten and thinking about doing stuff to her’. Blushing like flip and looking down at my lap. Again, I hear him clearing his throat and then a chuckles ‘what a sort of things mouse? Were they naughty things? Have they made you wet little one? Kitten be a good girl and check for me.’
She is up on her knees and moving towards in an instant. She pushes me back on the bed, her hand pulling my panties to the side, slipping inside, and plunging in to me. slowly running her cold finger up and down, then circling my clit. As quickly as she started her check, she abruptly removes finger, and brings it up to her mouth. ‘she is wet maîtriser, she smells yummy. please can I taste her maîtriser?’
‘As you asked so nicely, yes you may Kitten, but listen to me, I want to hear you make her moan and whipper, and then when I tell you Ruin her for me kitten. Do you understand? ‘ . I move myself up the bed, pulling me t-shirt off and hooking my thumbs in the waist band of my panties, dragging them down over my hips. Kitten is on her knees and curling up the bed towards me, the look in her eyes makes me whipper. I hear maîtriser chuckle and the sound of a zip being pulled down. Oh, dear god now I know what he’s doing at the other end of the line. I have blinding vision of him stroking his cock.
Next thing I know kitten is between my legs, having pulled my panties all the way off and tossing them on the floor. Maîtriser tells her to go slow, teasing, and gentle. His gentle tone is telling me to play with my nipple rings, to lose myself in the feeling and that I can stroke my kitten if I want. My eyes close and I just feel. her fingers, her tongue and the sound of maîtriser voice, its start to become a growl. His close, I can picture his hand moving faster and feel his grip become firmer.
Kitten has reached my clit and is lapping at it like her namesake. then I hear the words ‘Now kitten, make her come now!’ That’s when she sucks my clit between her teeth, biting lightly and pushing her tongue flat against my clit. I can’t keep it in any longer, I come undone, scream out her name and then all feel is bliss. I hear grunts coming and the throaty growl.
When I come down of the celling, when my breathing calms, I looked down and see kitten kneeled between my legs, a happy smile on her lips, then her tongue licks the moisture from her lips. A muffled noise breaks the silence. We sit up looking for kitten’s phone, that has become tangled up in the sheets and pillows.
‘that’s my good kitten, well done little one’ comes the voice on the other end. ‘Good girl mouse, you sound so beautiful when you come’ Smiling from ear to ear I roll on to my tummy and kiss kitten. I can taste myself on her lips. Then I hear ‘now mouse I want you to return the favour to kitten, and then I want you to turn the lights out and go to sleep, do you understand’
‘Yes maîtriser, we do.’ We say in unison. A reply of ‘good girls, Good night my sweet little ones’
‘Good night maîtriser, we love you’ we say. Then we hang up and I turn to kitten and promptly return the favour.

Wicked Wednesday

musings of pixie heart., socail, Uncategorized

Looking back.

I don’t really looking back at things in my past, a lot of them are painful and some are, still just to raw and hurt way to much. My childhood was pretty harsh. with a mother who chose not to be there, a daddy who was ill and being painfully shy. my teens seemed to go by in a blur of fighting, bullying , getting kicked out of schools and ill-health. When i got to adulthood i was with the same guy for a most of it. he was abusive (to say the least) and it led to and contributed to the anxiety disorder and serve depression i already suffered from.

But my life has not been al doom and gloom. As a kid both my perants worked full-time jobs. Me and my sisters were pretty much raised by my Daddy’s mum, my Nana. who was just the most amazing woman i have ever known. She was kind , caring, sweet and funny . She always let me be myself and encouraged me to do stuff that made me happy, Cos that is all she wanted , to see her family happy. She also had am amazing way of helping me calm down when i got angry or anxious. i have a form of ADD, but only found out this a few years ago. but my Nana saw how frustrated and anxious i would get. When i was angry she would send out to my granddah’s work shop and he would give me off cuts of wood, a hammer and nails. i would sit and bash nails till i either calmed down or till i had tears streaming down my checks . then i would get cuddled and hugs from my Nana. if i was anxious she made me do something really easy to do , but that i need to think about what i was doing. Cleaning grandahs boots and shoes, cleaning the silver , ironing sheets , folding towel or scrubbing the floors. Sound like free child labour , but it allowed me to calm down and belive it or not i still do it to this day. Ha the Boss man knows I’m not doing good if i ask to clean his boots or if it’s ok to do some ironing. .

I also have some pretty awesome memories of university . It’s where i meet Kitten and Babe. It’s where i first openly lived as bi-sexual and that in its self is an amazing thing to be able to do. It is where i found my love of pin-up style and all thing burlesque . it is where i developed my love of london. I was for the first time in my life away from home without my sisters or my mother or my daddy. I love my sisters and daddy to death , but they can be a little sifulling. when i think of uni, it is full of bright colours and loud music, laughter and happiness . It was full of friends and i loved freely .

it is when i discovered the fetish scene. I was young to be on the ‘scene’ at only just 19 and i was shocked and amazed by what i saw. people from every walk of life. In all shapes, sizes and colour. I also met Kitten’s Dom, who took me under his wing , looked out for me and also would sit and explain things to me. I had a huge crush on him, but kept quiet as i had a boyfriend. but i did have him as a friend and what a friend he was.

Well fast forward the years and after the bad stuff happened Kitten, Babe and their Dom swooped in to look after me. i was really not in a good place , but all three of them took care of me and loved me so hard, it helped me put me back together again. when i got back to feeling like me, i remembered the crush i had on the Frenchman and they all came flooding back , only a hundred times harder times. to cut a long story short we kind of got together . First on a D/s level, to help with control issues and a need to for me to feel owned and loved. it was everything i needed at the time.

Then came the physical side of it. I had so many hang up, issues and bad memories from my ex. It was so hard to not focus on them. That is when he came up with a canning plan. Instead of looking back on bad stuff, we would look forward and make new memories. A new me and a new us. so that is what we did and is what we are doing.

We have a new tradition of on the anevesy of us becoming a couple. We had gone for a walk by a local pond that is deserted most of the time. he gave me my collar, i gave him a blow job and we had a very nice fuck. i had to walk back to the car in a very short skirt and a vest , with no panties or bra on. Then the is the memoir of are first christmas together as a poly family. We kind of had 3 that year one at the start of december that we spent with are community. We then had are actually christmas day with are families. But then a few days later we had are family christmas as a poly families. It was spent in jammies, watching films, and cuddling.We took the dogs out for a long walk, i cooked a roast and we did presents!

So now i do look back, but only a few years. Since i have had the Boss man and the girls in my life , things have just gone from strength to strength for me. I’m now running 3 business, i teach people and i can fully support myself. i have embraced my bi-sexual , poly and submissive side. i have become i wife and a mother, two things that make me feel whole. put above all i feel love and love back as hard as i can.

I wrote this and it should of been posted for wicked wednesday , but my Wi-fi palyed up and refused to let me post this till now! Put i thought i would post it anyway!

Hugs,

Pixie x x x x

Wicked Wednesday