broken brained, family update, From the heart, musings of pixie heart

It’s just how we role around here!

It’s just how we roll around here!

I’ve been sat doing a lot of thinking while I’ve been packing to go away on a business trip with a kitten. But I don’t think we’re normal in this family, and I don’t just mean odd, I mean bat crap crazy and stranger than a jumper in July.

What bought this sudden realization to me? A conversation twitter about how I had pack 4 pairs of unicorn socks and 12 pairs of panties for a 2-night trip! But then I also have pack 20 collars, 3 stuffies and a massive tube of lube. I know I’m not normal, and I’m fine about, no really.

I’ve never been what you call ”normal” and from an early age I was labelled ”special”. As a little kid I thought that was a great thing to be, but as I got older I found out that ’special ’ is not such a great thing to be. I was, in fact, a very scornful thing and meant that you were different. It relegated you to the same place as black sheep, funny uncles and those sent to the sisters of mercy.

As I got older it got changed from special, to special needs and I was know to be challenging. Now I should say that my special needs, were nothing more than being dyslexic and struggling to learn my 3rd alphabet. The challenging part was a form of ADD and the fact I was from a home with 2 abusive parents. But I was seen as the problem and got told to stop making excuses and buckle down. But I simply could not do it, being normal hurt, like I was being squashed into a mould that was too small. It had round edges and I had sharp, jagged points. It led to me acting out, getting kicked out of schools and very nearly getting sent to a youth offenders place.

Luckily my nana and my priest (I know right!) saw that I was different in a good way. My Nana and father Michael went in and batted for me, somehow managing to get me one final chance. I got sent a PRU and got help and guidance. I learnt to embrace my quirks, funny habits and being different. I learned that yes I am strange, odd and special, but that can be good and beautiful things.

So fast forward to today, and sure I’m still that odd, different and quirky girl. But I’m doing good. I am succeeding, living a happy and stable life. Sure I could clean for Ireland, I freak out if I have to sit by a bin and have a break down if bird flys over my head. But every day I get up, I know I make people happy, make them smile and make their lives a little bit better. Maister always says I’m his special girl, and that makes me so happy and proud, and I’m ok with that!

broken brained, From the heart, musings of pixie heart

High cliffs.

I have a place that I go, in my mind when I become totally overwhelmed by life. Whether its

sadness, anger, pain, anxiety, or fear that send me, it’s the same place, a sort of high cliff

Inside my head. The emotions build gradually, I can see it happening, I try to stop it happening.

But as it grows, it builds faster and faster, till I can’t stop it.

Then I’m on my high cliff, all alone. It high steeply falling ledges, sharp, jagged rocks. On the

top of this high cliff, its open and the is no place to hide. the is either bright, harsh, hot

sunshine. Or Heavy rain and howling winds. Every part of my body hurts. Light and sounds

become physically painful. My tummy is in knots, I can hardly breath, with sweaty palms and

shacking from head to toe. It’s so high, I can’t see the ground or away down. The only way

down seems to be jumping.

So how do I/ we deal with this? Well maîtres would say that to heal and become whole again, is

to first break apart, and for me that is true. I need to shatter and then build myself up again.

But breaking apart is hard to do and can in its self be painful. It sometimes takes a therapy

spanking or kicking the crap out of a punch bag or someone pushing me mentally but sometimes

I need someone to talk me down. But it always ends with shattering and sobbing in whoever

saved me arms.

After breaking apart, I need to rebuild myself. Nobody can do it for me, it must come from me.

I need love, support and understanding If I need help I will ask for it. I need people in my life

that are consistent, open, and gentle. who will approach with care, but more than anything I need

people to stand by my side as I fight my way back up off the floor, and hold my hand while I do it.

Masturbation Monday

Yes, Sir

My face buried in his neck and my eyes tightly closed, I hear the bedroom door open. One moment, I am cradled and the next, I am airborne; flying like a bird, unafraid. I land at the same as time the door shuts.

I cower on the bed and look up at him, his face is pure animal lust. It is so fierce I don’t recognize him in that moment. It frightens me a little and arouses me even more. Looking down he growls, “Strip, now girl.”

“Yes, sir,” escapes from my lips with a breathy exhale. I am unsteady as I sit back on my feet. I reach for the clasp on my black lace bra, but my fingers are trembling too much. I look up at him, asking without words. I didn’t need the words.

“Need help, little one,” he asks? That smug tone, almost condescending is close.

He is already in motion then so close I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. My body betrays the sense of longing I feel and a shiver runs down my spine. I nod my reply and then I feel a sharp swat to my bottom.

“Answer using words missy,” he commands. He uses that same smug tone.  I know this will be accompanied a smug grin to match.

“Yes please, sir,” I say in a soft respectful tone. I am powerless to stop the shudder when I feel his lips press feather light kisses across the nape of my neck and collar bone. His hands slip the straps of my shoulders. He works the delicate clasp, with strong fingers and begins tracing the contours of my ribs. The bra is off my body in an instant.

“Put your hands behind your head.,” he says. That phrase sends a rush of wetness to my intimate parts. Every part of my body tenses with knowing expectation of what’s about to happen. I will myself to calm down as I place my hands on the back of my head.

“Yes sir.”

He walks to the foot of the bed reaching out his hands. He Careses the underside of each breas, slowly, intimately familiar with every line. . His fingers trace the outline of my breasts, skimming and pinching my nipples. He is on a mission to drive me insane.

I close my eyes and let out a sigh which is met with a sting and then the slow burn that I love. I open my eyes, first seeing that wicked grin on his face, then I can the familiar and not unwelcome shape of the clamp attached to one nipple. My eyes find his other hand as it attaches the second clamp to my other nipple. I suck in air through my teeth, relishing that harmony of pleasurable pain. He joins them together with a chain.

“Open,” he commands in a light tone. His look is expectant obedience as he gently pulls the chain up to my mouth.

“Yes Sir,” I utter. He places the chain in my mouth, knowing I will keep it in place. I am not allowed to pull the chain and add to the lush pain that is spreading through my body.

He walks to the dresser and takes something from the top draw. It’s the special drawer that I am not allowed to look in. He doesn’t let me see what he’s chosen. He places rough kisses on the back of my neck anda savage bite on my shoulder. Everything goes black then, leaving me to enjoy the pain in complete darkness.

“On your hands and knees, little one.”

He growls in my ear.

I shift onto my knees leaning forward onto my hands. I try not to jerk the chain that connects to the clamps as I feel a sharp sting and then a burn as his hand makes contact with my bum.

“What do you say when I give you a command girl,” he demands?

Gasping, I mumble, “Yes sir”. It wasn’t enough and I feel another strike.

“Thank you, sir.”

My punishment keep coming until he decides I’ve gotten my lesson. His fingers trace over the welts on my bum, working down between my legs and in to my sex.

“Did you enjoy that, little one? Did you learn your lesson,” he asks? I can hear the smile in his voice and know he is pleased.  His hands trace down my body, pulling my butt high in to the air. When he reaches what, he wants, he plunges his roughly into me. His thumb makes a beeline for my clit and can’t stop myself from whimpering.

My resolve fades in that instant and I let the chain fall from my mouth as I start to beg.

“Please sir, please let me come, please,” all the time knowing I can’t hold out.

His response is clear as he fucks me harder, rougher, and faster. Suddenly he pulls his fingers out pinching down on my clit and growls, “Cum little one, cum for me right now.”

He rams his fingers into me as I  squirt all over his hand, screaming out me release.

I collapse into a hot mess. I feel myself being pulled into his lap. He tells me I’m his good girl and that he loves me. I coo and snuggle into his shoulder, thinking about all the ways I can miss behave so I can get punished again and utter those two words I love saying,

“Yes sir.”

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, social

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

Masturbation Monday, Uncategorized

A lunchtime delight.

A lunchtime delight.

The house work is done, dogs are walked and feed , babies are out to lunch with their nana. The house is still and quiet, except for the hum of the washer, a slight snore from a sleeping Hound , and the overly loud ticking of the kitchen clock. I should make myself sit down and write or answer the boring emails, but I’m in the mood for teasing and misbehaving. So it is time to strip off my top, make sure my boobs are looking delightful, and take a boob selfie. (Thank you so much candysnatchreviews ????) . It gets texted to maîtser, along with a message reading ‘are you coming home for lunch? You could eat me if you want????????’ . Knowing fully well that he is in a meeting at work and what it will do to him.

My phone beeps 5 minutes later, and I’m not shocked to see that it’s from maîtser. But my fingers tremble slightly as I open the message, not from fear but from anticipation, want and need. It simply reads ‘on my way home, be naked and in bed. We’re not eating , your getting spanked and fucked, be ready’ . That is enough to have me making puddles in my chair.

Looking at the clock , I jump up from my chair and fly up the stairs . Stripping off my clothes and throwing in dirty clothes hamper. I grab my hair brush and drag it through the mass of unruly curls, tying them up in a high pony tail. Next I check my face, adding a little mascara, pinching my checks to add a little lush to my pale checks. (Of all things to inherit from my nana, I got her big toes, pale skin, curly red hair , and the dimples on my bum) I grab my tooth brush, giving my teeth a super quick scrub, rinsing with some mouth wash. Then it’s a little lipstick, sprites of perfume and grabbing my play collar. The purple one, plan , simply and to the point, pretty much like me!

I hear the car pull up on the drive outside, just as I reach the bed. I dive on the bed , settling back on haunches, legs spread, back straight, head held high and eyes down cast. Arms out stretched, collar in my hands. I hear the door downstairs open and slam shut behind you and then your slow delperate tread on the stairs. I have now idea how the flip it takes you so long to walk up 2 flights of stairs. I am getting more and more fidgety the longer you take, is that why you take so long?

Then the door knob to the bedroom turns oh so slowly, and the door opens, in what seems like slow motion, and in you walk. Bold as brass , cocky and full of that confidence that is so you. You walk to the side of the bed, unclasping my chain day collar, and putting it on the dresser. For a brief second I feel truly naked with no collar round my neck, but as soon as you take the collar from my trembling fingers , placing round my neck, buckling and snapping it’s padlock firmly shut, I feel as if I’m clothed again. You remove you shoes, tie, socks and shirt, and join me on the bed. Sitting with you back against the head bored, legs outstretched and wide apart. You place a pillow between them and pat the pillow. With a soft tone , you utter “come lay down little one” , motioning for me to lay across your lap and except my punishment, like a good girl.

I always love laying across your knee, it feels like home. But the fact you now lay a pillow down so my tummy has something soft and supporting it, so the baby does not get squashed. With it the fact I get to wriggle , stretch and wiggle till I’m comfortable and can feel what that does to you , well it’s yummy! “You finished my little mouse?” You say , with bemused humorous tones? Not looking up , I nod and sigh, resting my head on my arms, wait for that first slap and the beautiful sting and burn.

When it lands , its sharp and sweeter than I could of hoped for. I count each smack and remember to thank you for all of them. He keeps them coming, harder and sharp than the last, and each one excites me a little more! He finish with such a hard blow, that I know I’ll have a hell of a bruised bottom, that I will be proud to show off if ask to!

He runs his fingers over my bum, deeps between my folds, to find me wet and ready to go. “Did you enjoy that little mouse” he chuckles. I nod that I did , as he brings his fingers to my mouth for me to taste myself and hungrily clean his fingers.

All of a sudden I’m flipped off his lap and on to my back, landing with soft thud and a slight squeak. Next thing I know his back on me, only this time his gloriously naked , hard and ready for action. Planting a hard , possessive kiss on my waiting lips , and surging into me at the same time. As hard as the blow from his hand, his public bone hits my clit over and over. Knowing better than coming with out pumishtion , I claw at his back and bit down on his shoulder, praying he lets me come. I can feel how close he is and then with a roar his shouts at me to come, as his climax takes me over the edge, to my own shattering climax.

The next thing I know , he rolls on to his side snuggling me in to him , as I drift off to sleep.

I wake soon after , to the smell of hot cinnamon bagels and the feeling of my bum being rubbed. “Wake up little one, I have to get back to work. Eat this, drink your milk and rest for an hour” he says , place a kiss on my nose. I stretch , open my eyes and smile a lazy grin. With one last lingering kiss his gone, leaving me to my beagle and the wonderful after glow of my lunch time delight.

Masturbation Monday

From the heart, musings of pixie heart, Poly life, social

Twitter followers give away, with tigger’s collars!

1000 Twitter followers give away, with tigger’s collars!

So a few weeks ago I was taking a stroll round Etsy , looking for a birthday present for my daddy (my father). When I stumbled across the most beautiful folio case ever, In lilac and baby blue. That takes a A4 pad of paper , with little pockets and clips for my pen and pencils. The downs side , well the fact that It cost almost £100! I can’t get my head round spending that much on myself or would I. So I took it to maîtser and asked if the was away to ‘earn it’. Him being my wonderful , fun Dom he came up with a list of tasks and challenges for me to work, with the end reward being the folio case. One of the goals was to get my twitter following from 666 to 1000. Well We’ve changed a few, due to work load , my mother illness and her passing and finding out we have baby number 3 on the way! But the twitter one stayed the same. The closer I got to the big the 1000 mark ,the more I wanted to do something to say thank you to lovely people who followed me. But I wanted It to be something very pixie-ish. Not being able to post unicorns to people, the next biggest pixie-ish thing I. Outdoor think of was my collar, and when I think collar , I think tigger’s collars! So I quite boldly, well for me asked tigger if I could give a gift voucher for her online store away, and it was met with a massive yes!

I have been a massive fan of tigger’s collar for a long time. They are beautifully made, with love and care . They are quality , leather , vegan leather or pvc based . With fabulous ready to wear options, that sing to my little, submissive side. Put by far the best bit is the build your own option! I have 3 of them, and I would wear them 24/ 7 if I could , but I can’t really wear my princess collar or spiked one to mass on Sunday, but I would if I could! With tigger you can pretty much email her and say can I have it x, y and z?and she will pretty much be able to make you , your dream collar. Then the is the arrival of your collar. Dear lord, all I will say is it’s like a birthday, Christmas and all your treats in a discrete little box In the post. Lol master says that every sub / little / kitten / princess should get to open a tiggers’s collar at one point in their life. Lol.

So fast forward to now, and I have 1000 followers and we have a give away! So what / how is going to work? Well I’m posting a tweet, saying to enter like this tweet to enter, names will be noted and after 10days, it will be closed , names go in a hat and a very lucky winner will be drawn! The is also going to be 3 small prizes of pixie post for 3 little’s as well , to sort of celebrate the birth of the undercover little! So let’s get this started!

Pixie x

Ps -this Is being posted by kitten , as pixie pops is poorly, but really wanted to get this going!

From the heart, musings of pixie heart, social

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

Eroticon, family update, From the heart, musings of pixie heart, Poly life, social

Where in the world is Pixie Heart?

So, I have been posting and been around, but not really been ‘Around ‘of late. By that I mean I have been a little distant, a little distracted and felt a little bit outside of things. It’s not the nicest of feelings in the world, hell it’s horrid, but it has been kind of unavoidable really.

Why? I hear you cry. Well for one I have been rushed off my feet getting ready for Crufts. I’m not only working and teaching at the event this year, but all my dogs are there too. Don’t get me wrong it will be amazing, it is amazing every year, but it’s a planning and logistical nightmare. My boss has been epicly helpful and said that the babies can work on the stand. Basically, they are going to be strapped to different people in their carries and used to itemise people to come say hello. Which they are going to love as they love having chats and meeting people!

Then we come to the Elephants in the room. The big nasty that is Cancer has struck my family. My Uncle Keith had been struggling with chest infections and breathing difficulties for the last couple of months and his GP finally sent him for a chest x-ray. It sadly showed that he had tumours on his lungs. Well after scans and biopsies, it turns that the is nothing that can be done. It is a very aggressive cancer, it has spread, and he has a matter of months left. Then the is my mother’s cancer. We had thought she was going to beat it, but sadly not. The treatment is not working, the is nothing else that will work, and she has 3 to 6 months left. Now I may seem a little like I don’t really care about the fact they are both going to die. I do, I care very much, but I don’t see the point in sitting round wailing over it. Cancer is a bastered of an illness, it has taken a lot of people I love. It kills people slowly and painful. The best thing I can do is stay strong, keep going and be there when people need me. I have a life and people who need me to keep going, not crumble in to a ball and give up.

I have a lot of good things in pipe line. For all the stress it brings I am looking forward to crufts. I get to see my friends and shop for my dogs! Then the is Eroticon the weekend after. Lol I’m treating it as a holiday. No husband, babies, dogs, or house work for a weekend, in London, on my own! Truthfully, I’m terrified, but I’m going if it kills me. It will be good for me on so many levels, I just have keep moving the worry and doubts I have about myself and my abilities. Lol the Boss man said if I get through it on my own I get 20 reward stickers. The 5 days leading up to Eroticon I am teaching secturely dog handlers. which is always fun!

The changes I made with the help of the boss man at the start of the year have finally started to make them selves know so to speak. I’m happier and less stressed. I’m sleeping better and coping with some of the crap that life throws at me. my health, is getting better and I’ve stopped freaking out if I get a sniffle or cough. My writing schedule is working amazingly well and I’m making time to write more than I thought I would. It is amazing that by giving the boss man more control and having a heap more structure in my day, how much happier it makes me and the more settled I become. I had some say recently that they don’t know how I cope with being in something that is so high protocol and that the rules I have are too restrictive for me to feel truly happy. but it is in fact the other way around for me. Without the protocols, rule, and structure, I feel lost, anxious, and deeply unhappy. What I have would not work for may people, but it does work for me.

Well that turned in to a rant rumble, but hay hum!

Pixie x

From the heart, musings of pixie heart, Poly life, social, Uncategorized

Me and my Collar.

Me and my Collar.
Collar within the BDSM and D/s scene can have many different meanings. From Protection and safety, to ownership and control, to love a devotion. They can be worn all the time, only when playing and sometimes only when with a the dominate. They can be a simple chain necklace, or a fancy ribbon collar to a more traditional leather buckle collar.

I am admittedly a little bit of a collar addict, as I love that I can have a different look or style of collar for different occasions. But I have 3 main types of collar I wear. Firstly, I have my day collar, that is worn most of the time. It is a simple silver chain that is joined in the front with a large sliver O-ring and a smaller silver on ring. The large O-ring represents Maîtriser and the smaller one is me, the are linked together like we are. I’m not allowed to take this off, unless it is a medical emergency. Next are what we call ‘Bedroom collars’. They are the ones I sleep in and wear if we are playing in the bedroom. They are simple ribbon and webbing collars that have a d-ring at the from and to larger ones at the back, that are used to close the collar, either with ribbon or a padlock. Maîtriser or Babe will change my day collar to my bedroom collar at bedtime and then back to my day collar when I get up in the morning. Lastly, I have my play collars. These are leather buckle collars. They are worn when ever we are playing outside the bed room, go to clubs, are around other kink friendly or when Maîtriser says he wants me to wear on. They all have locking buckles so one of my heart padlocks locks me in to them. The is a d-ring at the front that has one of my tags on it. My tags simply read Mouse, my pet name from Maîtriser. They don’t have owned or property of on them, as Maîtriser says he like people to know that I’m his willing submissive and that it was 100% my choice. 3 of my leather collars have spikes on then, this is my way of saying ‘yep I’ll talk to you but touch me without mine and maîtriser permission and I’ll bite!’ I also have a collection of charms and bells that I lave for my bedroom and play collar. The charms are to sort of change the look for my mood. The bells are for when I get in a strop and start stomping round. I get told to not make the bells jangle and in doing that calms me down. Although I do love the jingle it makes when I get fucked hard!

I have a few rules around my collars as well. They are:
• The only people allowed to change my collar are Maîtriser, Babe or Sir Beasty.
• I’m allowed to remove my collar if I must have treatment, scans, or medical emergency.
• I’m allowed to choose what collar, tag, charms, or bells I want to wear on my collar, but maîtriser must ok my choice and but the collar around my neck.
• I must not allow people to touch my collar without asking me and maîtriser first.
• When I’m having my collar changed I am to kneel and hold my hair out of the way.
• I can have an agree upon other change my collar or help me change my collar if maîtriser or babe are not with me.

My collar/s mean a lot of things to me. The are a sign of my submission, that I have a Dom and belong to him. It’s a sign that I am loved, protected, and cared for. It is some thing that brings me great joy and a sense of pride in myself. It makes me believe I am strong and that I am safe to be who I am. It is something that brings me a sense of calm and peace, and I draw strength from it. Lol my boss, who is kink friendly and knows I’m collared says, he can see how much my collar having has help me and how much it means to me. by the fact that when I stand up to teach or give a speech my hand goes straight to my collar.

Well that is little bit about my collars and what they mean to me. hope you enjoyed it!
Pixie x