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

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., 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

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, socail

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., Poly life, socail, Uncategorized

The undercover little

The undercover little!

I identify as a little and sort of came out as little about about 18 months ago, but I’m not what people think of when they think of a ‘little’. I’m not in to onesies, sippy cups, or pacifiers. Not that the is anything wrong with that, it’s just not my thing. But I have found that as time has worn on I have started to have my own littleismas. From the way I talk, to bouncing up and down when I get excited, to what I eat and the things I do for fun. But one of the first things that kind of changed was my way of dressing . Now don’t get my wrong , I don’t wear child like cloths or in your face little, but the have changes are very stubble changes and they have made me a lot more comfortable in my own skin.

Thinking about the way I dress and how it changed , I can see the time that things changed, was when maîtser came in to my life (😘). I was kind of dressing for comfort, ease and without wanting to stand out. Maîtser kind of got me taking pride in my appearance and the way I dress. I guess you could say I start to dress in away that pleased him. He also put in to my rules , ones for how he wanted me to dress . One is that I am to wear girlie bras and panties, with a camie in the winter (he likes me to keep warm as much a posable). He also likes my dressing in a feminine manner and when ever possible wear dresses. Most days he will give me a choice of 3 outfits, and ask me to pick which one I want to wear. The biggest rule I have though is that I am to dress in a lady like manner, never overly sexy or showy , unless maîtser is with me.

Two areas that I always like to keep ‘little’ are my feet and my hair. I have collection of silly sock, with things like my little pony, pushine and unicorns on them. They alway make me happy, feel a little bit little and like I have a piece of maîtser with me. I never wear high heals , unless I’m going dancing . Instead I wear flat Mary-jane’s or ballet pumps, and sneakers or boots if I’m working. I always , also have painted toe nails, normally purple or pink. As for hair , well I have shoulder length hair , with a wispy fringe. I either wear it down and naturally curly or have it up. Either in pig tails, a pony tail or braided. I have My girlie bands and pretty ribbons for my hairs too! Babe will quit often do my hair for me and hair favourite way she does it is down and curly, with a ribbon holding it back. She also dies it pretty colours as well .

I guess I now have my ‘little‘ uniform, it’s kind of a realign against the norm sort of a look. I have never really followed fashion, which is wired as I work for a fashion house for. Long time. As a teenager and in to my early twenties I was a kind of skater girl / emo / rocky chick sort of a girl. Lol my god son says I was queen of emo, before it was fashionable.(his 19) but sines I have embraced my little side more, that look has changed a lot. I’m now more of a punky, princess with a shy side. But I also have my little , little bits . I have pin badges, earrings and a whole host of unicorn t-shirts.

I guess for me it’s been a sort of finding my fit sort of a thing. You uwould not be able to guess I’m a little , unless you knew what a little was, and not really then. Maîtser says I have become his punky little princess, comfy in her own skin, and unapologetically me!

Hugs,

Pixie x

Ps- all the talk of the undercover little has got me and kitten thinking of setting up a little craft shop on Etsy , but more of this later!

Masturbation Monday, musings of pixie heart., Poly life, socail

That time in the carpark, For Sir Beasty.

We, as a family are high protocol, but we are quite relaxed about them a lot of the time. However, the are 3 places that maîtriser does not allow practical to be relaxed at all, the bedroom, clubs, or the gym.

The Boss Man is a little bit of a gym rat and takes really good care of himself. In turn he expects us girls to take care of ourselves. When we are at the gym we are to do are workout or training. Quietly, correctly and without drawing to much attention to are selves. Phones are allowed, but on silent and no taking of selfies.
Well imagen if you will a day when this little pixie was feeling a little bit brassy (shout out to Kayla Lords and John Brownstone for my new favourite word!). I had thrown a strop, well as good as I can throw a strop about not wanting to go to the gym and wanting to stay home and cuddle.
The Boss Man was having none of that, nope he dragged my whiny butt to the gym and told me to quite stropping or else. So, I did, but I decide to send boob pics to Sir Beasty. Something I can do if I ask maîtriser first, but I didn’t ask!

Well 5 minutes later my phone pinged loudly and then rang even louder. I squeaked, jumped, and dropped my phone. Scrambling to pick it up and turn it off. I managed to kick over my water bottle that just happened to have the cap of and the contesens went all over the floor.

Hearing and seeing all this, the boss man sauntered over, clad in his grey sweat pants, pleasingly tight blue t-shirt, and trainers. Looking pissed off beyond belief and with a wicked glint in his eye. He snatched my phone out of my hand, scowled through it, and shoved it back at me with a growl. Turning and walking off, but not before he said, ‘you’re working out with me now little one’. Words that send fear straight to my heart when I misbehave and we are at the gym. I grab up my things and scurry after him, and then the punishment starts. He makes me not only run, but do my legs and core work out, demanding perfect form and execution. by the time his was done with me, I’m a sweaty mess and not in a good way. He snarls in a low growl to get showed and changed and meet him in the foyer in 10 mins. Then his gone and I haul ass to get showered and ready in 10 minutes.

I just about managed to get done with my shower and changed in the allotted time. Still doing up the last two buttons of my dress, I find him stood chatting and smiling, in the lobby with big Steve. He was his normal warm and loving self. Giving me a hug and kiss on the head. He takes hold of my hand and for a minute I thought I was safe, that my punishment was over. How wrong could I be. As soon as we are out the building, he sped up his pace and his happy demine disappears. When we get to the car I stop and wait for the car door is opened, but all he does is was snatch my bag from my hand and throws them in the trunk with his own. Slamming it shut he, turns around, grabs me round the waist pulling me to him and turning at the same time so I have my back to him. Biting my neck and pulling my dress open, he tells me what a bad girl I’ve been. Roughly manhandling my boobs, he drags me from the side of the car to rear, forcing me to bend over trunk, face down, butt up!

The next thing I feel is the cool spring breeze on my bare bum as he rips my panties off and pulls my dress up over my rear. Then Comes a growl and I’m told to count. Next is the shock, jolt and sting of his hand meeting my bare skin. He has a way of spanking me that not only stings and leaves a lovely bruise, but also shocks and send a shudder to my core.

The slaps rain down on me, one after the other, and all the time I count allowed, knowing to well if I cry out or stop counting, I’ll just end up with more. I end up getting 15 on each cheek, and as always with spankings I’m turned on. Adding to the excitement and pleasure is my love of playing in in public spaces, and well I was a very wet little mouse. Knowing this you he decides to check that I’m not enjoying it too much. He roughly sticks his fingers in my dripping wet cunt and tells me how much of a bad girl I am. One hand pushdown on my neck and the other continues to fuck my hungry pussy.

Then he stands up and growls ‘open’ and kicks my feet apart. If I did not know what was coming, I hear him undoing his belt and drawing down his fly. I feel him moving closer, his hand on my bum, the heat coming from his groan. But his first thrust is so sharp and sudden that it is almost painful, and it causes me to half scream, half gasp in pleasure. One of his hands goes on my neck, holding me down. The other pulls me closer to him and then holds my hip to keep me in place. Each thrust is hard and deep, and painfully slow. Then he gives an extra hard thrust, that draws a scream from deep inside me.

It’s then I hear a door opening and music flittering out from the Italian restraint that is below the gym. I hear a shocked gasp and feel a rumbling laugh from the Boss Man. I turn my head, to the side and my eyes meet with that of a shocked looking man from the rest ant. It is then that it hits me full force, I’m be fucked, bent over the trunk of a car in a carpark, that although is not on a busy main road. The are train going by, as well as cars and busses. Knowing that anyone can see us, and we could get in to a heap of trouble, makes me gasp and clench his cock tighter and makes me wetter than ever.

He keeps my head turned and tells me to watch the guy from the restraint. His fucking becomes harder, if that is possible and god help me, but I start fucking him back, wanting to put on a show. The guy watching is clearly liking what he is seeing. I let my moans turn to screams as I watch him rubbing his cock through his trousers. I start to beg to bellowed to come, but the boss man tells me to hold it. His close, I can feel him swell inside me. I start clenching and adding a twist of my hips as I fuck him back.

With a shout of ‘good girl’ he comes with savage thrust and then he shouts’ come for me little one, now’ and that is just what I do. I scream as I’m hit with a climax that makes me see stars, feel like I’m being split in half and loose all sense of what is going on around me.

 

When I come back down to earth I relies that Boss man is laid on top of me, with all his weight on top of me, squashing me a little, in a totally delouse way. Sweating and panting, he stands up, pulling my dress down to cover my well fucked cunt and glowing bum. He pulls me upright and in to a demanding kiss. Bundling me in to the car, waving at the guy who had been watching us. I now I’m going home to face some more punishment in the bed room and the shower, but that’s for another time 😉

 

http://masturbationmonday.kaylalords.com/masturbation-monday-182/

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

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, socail, 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