Red Tails

I am to be punished this weekend. I have been told that I am in 'big,big trouble'. The trouble is a culmination of a number of infractions over the past couple of weeks. We have not had a chance to do any punishment due to distance and a child in the house. This weekend though we have time and space.

The biggest infraction happened today when I broke a rule and was deliberately disobedient. It doesn't really matter which rule it was, the issue is more that I consciously chose to break it. I now feel horrible. Deliberate disobedience undermines the whole concept of our DD in my opinion.

I am not a brat. Bratting would not work in our relationship. I don't need to act up to be spanked, I can simply ask or more often PT just knows when I need one either for behaviour issues or stress. To brat would be disrespectful to us both. I am not a child and PT does not deserve a bratty bottom.

Our relationship works because we are equal partners. I choose to give my obedience to PT. She chooses to accept it and take on the task of taking care of me. We agree to rules and standards of behaviour. If I break our rules then it is my role to accept and trust that she will take care of it. She trusts me to respect her and tell her when I have misbehaved and to put my punishment in her hands.

So, a considered, deliberate breaking of rules is disrespectful to her and to our relationship. PT used to say to me 'Obedience is its own reward' now I understand that and agree with that and today I let us both down. The positive side of this is that I do feel bad. I am now totally at home in my role as a Bottom. I do understand that giving PT my submission and her acceptance of it is the most intimate and trusting of relationships.

This weekend I will be spanked extremely thoroughly, PT has already told me what is going to happen, it won't be fun for either of us but once it is over I know we will both feel better, equilibrium will be restored and we will move on.

I am a Bottom who makes mistakes and takes ownership of those mistakes and faces the consequences and for that I am thankful and actually a little proud too. :)

Loki's back!

For those of us who have been missing Loki's stories, she is back!

Sapphos Brats

I recommend buying the Rigel series if you haven't already.

I read 'Chasing Rigel' this morning, it was great being back in the company 
of these familiar characters.

 Enjoy!

The Escape

So here are the beginning two chapters of my first story writing as Pixie. I actually feel a little nervous! This is not a story involving lots of spanking, certainly not near the beginning of the story. I hope you enjoy it anyway, please feel free to offer me feedback.

I would like to thank my darling PT for her editing, suggestions and constant and consistent love and discipline. Love you Sir.

Pixie plays x

Chapter 1

Pulling out into the outside lane to overtake another caravan, Sam played out the scene once again in her mind. She remembered the unreasonable fury she had experienced when her assistant had failed to produce the data she needed for the monthly staffing figures report. She could picture the look on Clare’s face as she tore into her calling her incompetent and lazy. Shame and embarrassment coursed through her, how could she have lost her cool like that and been so unprofessional? Clare had been a steadfast and reliable colleague for many years, her mistake this month was an aberration and understandable given the weight of work they had all been under recently. David had overheard the whole thing and had immediately come to Clare’s aid and ordered Sam into his office.

Sam squeezed her eyes tightly and felt the tears threatening to spill once again. She saw a sign declaring that the motorway services were in 1 mile, so pulled in to enter the slip road. The car park was moderately busy. Large saloons with suited men and women sipping take out drinks and talking animatedly on mobile phones. A few caravans parked off to the side, peopled mainly with retired folks off for a break while the kids were all still in school. Sam found a vacant spot and parked the car. She sat staring out of the windscreen breathing deeply and willing the tears away. She was tired, deep down, bone and head tired. She put her head back on the seat rest and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again it was half an hour later. She ran her hands over her face and through her short, well cut, blonde hair. She grabbed her purse, locked the car and walked into the service station. She headed straight for Starbucks and ordered a large, vanilla latte. She looked at the sandwiches but her stomach lurched at the prospect of food. Grasping the latte she walked back to the car, not being able to face sitting inside in case she ended up having to have any sort of social interaction with a stranger, hell, with anyone. She hadn’t spoken to anyone since her ‘chat’ with David.

After his initial shock at her behaviour, David had in fact been very sympathetic and offered his understanding of the pressure of work Sam had been under and yet she had without fail, performed an outstanding job. His kind words had pierced the last of her defences and to her horror she had begun to cry. Right there, in David’s office! Not just cry; sob huge, wet, snotty, hysterical tears. Miss professional, came completely undone. Poor David had just sat there holding her hand, trying to say the right things. He had protected her from the eyes of her colleagues, keeping her in his office until she could leave for home unnoticed. Sam would be eternally grateful to him for a kindness she felt allowed her to maintain at least some dignity.

Trying to shake the images from her head she placed her coffee in the drinks holder, turned the radio onto a classical musical station, started the car and pulled back out onto the motorway. Now she was off the madness of the M6 and onto the slightly more pleasant M5, she was able to cruise smoothly. She sipped her coffee, enjoying the warmth but after several sips her stomach began to complain and cramp, too much caffeine and not enough food. “Well, shouldn’t drink and drive anyway, idiot!” her inner critic sneered at her. David had said he had no choice but to ask her to take some time off in which she could try and get her head together, have a rest. With luck, Clare would understand and not want to make any formal complaint about Sam’s behaviour.

So, here she was, heading south with a holdall thrown in the back containing just enough essentials for a few days away. She hadn’t given much thought as to where she was going. She hadn’t taken a holiday in over 5 years and then it had just been a long weekend in Yorkshire. Her only real holidays had been with her family when she was young. Then, every year the family had packed their tent and camping gear and headed off to Wales or Cornwall. Sam was headed to Cornwall now simply because it was the furthest away from Manchester, furthest away from her life, from her responsibilities; she didn’t yet realise she could not escape from herself.

She had written an email apology to Clare the day after her outburst but had not been able to bring herself to speak to her. She felt cowardly, but the thought of having to talk to her, or anyone else, literally made her shake. She looked at her hands on the steering wheel, her knuckles were white she was holding on so tightly. She made a conscious effort to try and relax her shoulders and arms; within minutes though the tension was back. She noticed that her head was beginning to throb too.  When she began to see light spots in her eyes and her nausea was increasing, she knew a migraine was inevitable. ‘Shit’ she muttered to herself. She had to get off the road before she felt its full force and was unable to drive any further. She saw a sign for Exeter services and pulled in and drove to the motel in the far corner, parking in front. She would have to get a room and sleep it off. She searched in her bag for her medication and swallowed them with the now cold coffee.

Sam woke on Sunday morning with her head still pounding. She had spent the previous night in the dark with a cold towel on her head, throwing up intermittently. An activity which proved futile since her stomach was empty, the resultant dry retching increasing the hammer at her temples. She stood up to find the room still spinning. She sat back on the bed and began to weep, overwhelmed with self-pity. Sam pulled herself together long enough to phone through to the motel reception and book herself in for another night, she then lay down and cried herself back to sleep.

When she woke the room was dark. She reached for her mobile and checked the time. 8.15pm. She lay still, to check how she was feeling. The headache was still there, she knew from experience that it may well hang around for another day or so yet but her vision was clear and the nausea had subsided, in fact she felt hungry. She walked through to the bathroom and threw cold water over her face. She looked at herself in the mirror; swollen, red eyes, sporting dark circles beneath. Her hair stuck up in every different direction. ‘I look old’ she thought as she widened her eyes, making faces to try and make the wrinkles, or what is it they call them? Oh yeah, laughter lines, disappear. She snorted at herself ‘Yep, you’ve been doing so much laughing recently, no wonder you look like hell’ as she taunted her reflection. She pulled on her jeans and shoes and went in search of food.

Monday morning traffic was pretty busy as Sam made her way back to the M5 and then onto the A30. After acquiring a sandwich from the service station shop the previous evening, she had listened to a book on her ipod and fallen back to sleep. When she woke in the morning she felt substantially better. A shower and another sandwich, cup of tea and a couple more painkillers and she felt like she could make the rest of her journey. Half way down the A30 Sam stopped at a petrol station to fill the tank. When she got out of the car she was struck by the freshness of the air and the surrounding quiet. The garage was surrounded by moorland. A slight breeze blew and white clouds moved gently across the sky. She took in a deep breath and then another. She had decided to head to Truro and maybe stay in a hotel around there. She imagined how horrified her mother would have been with the idea of taking off without having a plan and a place to stay already booked. Her mother used to begin packing for their summer holidays three weeks in advance! Sam valued spontaneity now in her personal life even if she was extremely organised and planned in the work place. If she had been honest with herself she was perhaps a little too haphazard in her personal life, maybe even a little neglectful of herself at times.

After paying for the petrol Sam began the last leg of her journey through to Truro. As she entered the city she could see the cathedral off to her left. It was quite a beautiful back drop to the city which would be little more than a town in the North. She had never driven around the city before. Her mother and father had been in the front seats last time she came here. Sam and her brother would have been squabbling in the back after the long journey down. She found a car park easily enough, locked her car and walked into the main street.

 

Sam began to march up the street in search of a tourist information centre. She was too busy to notice that other people were wandering at a more sedate pace, that the street was pretty much traffic free and overhead seagulls could be heard. It was a far cry from the frenetic activity of Manchester. However, you can take the girl out of Manchester but it seems you cannot take Manchester out of the girl. Sam’s usual purposeful quick stride was unaltered by the leisurely atmosphere of this unique place. Spotting a sign for the information centre she headed through its doors.

A young, cheerful looking woman stood behind the counter in the empty office. She greeted Sam with an upbeat ‘Good morning, can I help you?’ Sam was momentarily stumped. She hadn’t really thought about what exactly it was she wanted. She had thought a hotel was the answer but now the thought of dealing with more receptionists, maids and so on made her feel huge anxiety. She wanted to be somewhere that no-one would bother her.

‘I need somewhere to stay, somewhere quiet’ she said uncertainly. She paused and looked anxiously at the woman and repeated ‘really quiet’.

If the information officer, whose name badge declared she was called Meghan, thought this an unusual request she showed no sign of it.

‘Just for yourself?’ Meghan enquired. Sam nodded feeling conspicuous, a sad, single, mad woman running away from home.

‘May I ask what kind of place? A hotel, Bed and Breakfast? Maybe a cottage? We have some good deals on at the moment with it being off season.’

A cottage? Sam hadn’t  considered that. The more she thought about it the more appealing it seemed. She could get in supplies and not even have to open the door if she didn’t feel like it. She felt the woman watching her as she struggled with the simple decision.

‘A cottage, yes, that would be great, just for a couple of days though.’ Sam said firmly as if needing to assure this woman that she had no intention of taking anything like a real holiday.

‘Well the shortest let is usually at least 3 to 5 nights but to be honest the rates are so low at the moment even if you pay for a week and leave early it will still be less expensive than a hotel, if that is what you want.’ explained Meghan gently, sensing that her customer was uneasy.

‘OK, Yes that’s fine’ money was that last thing on Sam’s mind. One benefit for having devoted her life to work was that she was financially very secure. ‘I just need somewhere small and quiet’

‘Actually, we have had an owner on the phone this morning asking us to try and find someone for her small, one bedroom barn conversion.’

‘A one bedroom barn conversion? Must have been a small barn’ Sam muttered.

Meghan laughed ‘Well it is actually an annexe to the larger conversion. The owner lives in the attached home so she is on site if there are any problems.’ Seeing Sam frown, Meghan quickly added ‘Don’t worry she won’t bother you unless you need her, she is an artist so likes quiet herself.’ Satisfied she would be alone, Sam agreed to stay at Sea Crest Barn.

Chapter 2

Driving down a long and winding single lane mud track, Sam hoped that she wouldn’t meet any traffic coming in the opposite direction. Her Honda civic was great to drive on motorways but reversing down these tracks with the ever present danger of crashing into one of Cornwall’s apparent hedges which were actually stone walls covered in foliage, was not something she was ready to try yet. As the lane narrowed even further, Sam began to wonder if she was lost. Then, on the right hand side she saw a large, oval stone painted with the words ‘Sea Crest Barn’ and a small gap in the hedge. Sam made the tight right hand turn and was surprised to enter a large, flat, open gravel space surrounded by fields and beyond that the most breath-taking view of the blue green sea topped with white foam waves. Sam gasped as she brought the car to a halt and got out.

As she stood taking everything in; the view, the air, the stillness, the only sounds she could hear were the distant waves and seagulls overhead. The winter sun was shining in the blue, cloudless sky. The slight breeze was cool but not unpleasantly so. Sam could smell the salt of the sea and the damp earth surrounding her. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. For a moment she was lost in the quiet and in the memories evoked by the scent of Cornwall; of childhood, of her parents, of times when she played and laughed. A sob caught in her throat. The beauty was overwhelming. When had she last noticed anything so wonderful?

Lost in her reverie, she did not notice the dark, curly haired woman dressed in jeans and a denim tunic standing outside the barn. Amanda was watching Sam with interest and saw the younger woman enjoying the view, no, more than enjoying, in fact she felt that she was intruding on a moment that was very personal and intimate. She looked away from Sam, wanting to give her privacy. She was used to guests loving the view but occasionally she would see someone deeply affected by it in a way that she could only describe as spiritual. When this happened it would give her a small thrill that someone else appreciated just what a special place Sea Crest was and Amanda silently said thanks again to whatever power had allowed her to call this her home.

After some minutes, Sam turned to look at the house and saw her host standing, looking off into the opposite direction. Feeling slightly embarrassed she took a deep breath and prepared herself for the ordeal of speaking to her. As Sam walked over to her, the woman smiled and held out her hand. ‘Hi, I’m Amanda Naughton you must be Samantha?’ Sam reached out and took the offered hand registering her warm, strong, grip as they greeted one another.  Amanda said ‘It is a fantastic view isn’t it?’ Sam smiled and nodded in agreement. ‘Yes it is lovely.’ She said but didn’t offer anything further and she avoided making eye contact with Amanda. It was taking Sam all of her strength just to stand there. She felt vulnerable, as if this stranger could see her anxiety. Sam could not understand her fear, what was wrong with her? She was finding it hard to breath and her heart rate increased. She began to sweat. She asked quickly ‘So where do I go? Is this the house?’ she gestured towards a small door at the end of the building. Sensing that Sam did not want to chat, Amanda became business like. She handed Sam the key.

They walked briskly into the house together. Amanda began to point out the relevant features and how the heating and hot water worked but Sam couldn’t hear her. A loud buzzing seemed to be coming from inside her own head. She began to breathe even more rapidly, feeling dizzy and sick. She wanted Amanda out of the way. She needed to ask her to leave ‘Please.’ she began before she blacked out and fell towards the floor.

Amanda was shocked. Sam was so pale and sweaty, she heard a very weak ‘Please’ before the  pretty, blonde woman crumpled like a rag doll in front of her. Amanda managed to catch her before she hit the floor and had no trouble lifting her onto the sofa. She placed cushions under her feet to raise them and went to the kitchen for a wet towel to put on Sam’s brow. She felt for her pulse and found that it was racing. That was pretty much as far as her first aid training would take her. She wasn’t sure what to do next. An ambulance? As she hesitated, Sam opened her eyes. ‘Oh God what happened?’ she groaned.  Amanda knelt beside her and put her hand on Sam’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. ‘You passed out. How are you feeling? Should I get you a doctor?’ Before Amanda could ask anything else or Sam could respond, the prone patient leant over the edge of the sofa and vomited.

An hour later Amanda was in her own house making herself a cup of tea. She had been a little shaken by Sam’s fainting spell or whatever it was. She had refused a doctor and apologised time and again for messing up the rug. Luckily Amanda had a strong stomach, having worked numerous summers in various caring roles. She had quickly cleaned up the rug, made Sam comfortable and got her to drink some water. She had stayed with her until some colour returned to her face and had left when Sam had insisted, obviously wanting to be alone. Amanda had been reluctant to go, concerned in case she passed out again. So much for getting a tenant who wouldn’t be any trouble!

She walked through the house to a room with an outside wall made entirely of glass. The winter sun streamed in and illuminated her large work table which was strewn with papers which were filled with sketches. Amanda picked up the work she had been engaged in all morning. It was a commission to sketch an owner’s beloved dog from a photograph. It was not her passion but it brought in some money which was sorely needed. She sipped her tea and considered every aspect of the shading. Once finished, it would be hard to tell the pencil drawing from the photograph, her work was so lifelike.

During the academic year she taught part time at the local college but she did not get paid during the summer months so she had to make as much money as she could whenever she could to get her through. The mortgage on the house was small as she and her sister had inherited it from an aunt and Amanda had only to pay her sister for her half. Joanne was a senior Civil Servant in London, she had had no interest in living in Cornwall or even visiting for holidays, so had happily agreed to let her sister buy her out. Amanda sometimes wondered if they really were blood relatives, they were so different, but she had been glad to have this place to herself. She loved the isolation and a view which changed every day. It was only a ten minute walk to a cliff path, which, although steep, was a safe way down to the beach below. Tourists rarely found their way to the small, secluded patch of sand and Amanda often had the place to herself, well, her and her faithful mutt, Silver. The curly, grey haired dog was six now and they had been together since he was eight weeks old. At the moment he was stretched out by the window in the sun. He lifted his head when Amanda entered the room and wagged his tail before flopping his head down and going back to dreamland.

Next door, Sam was still lying on the sofa feeling devastated. She was so embarrassed. She felt as though she was humiliating herself at every turn. Simply speaking to someone had become something beyond her. It was ridiculous, she was used to leading a national team, public speaking came naturally to her; as soon as she put on her suit she was Samantha Johnson, Equality Director. She was respected and she knew she intimidated many although she tried hard not to, her sheer passion and strength of will left others in awe.  Now, she lay here, alone, feeling ill and not having a clue what was happening to her and unable to do anything but cry or sleep. What the hell Amanda must think of her, Sam shuddered. She pulled the blanket Amanda had given to her, further up to her chin and closed her eyes. At least when I am sleeping I don’t have to think and with that she began snoring quietly.

Amanda finished her tea and looked out of the window. The sun was beginning to sink; it would be dark soon. She should check on Sam, but didn’t want to pry. She wasn’t sure what to do. Usually she just let her guests get on, without any interference from her, but Sam was alone and she was ill or something. She whistled to Silver, ‘Come on boy let’s catch the last daylight’. He got up and stretched and trotted over to Amanda’s side. The two of them made their way outside and began to walk along the cliff path. Silver went to the beach path but Amanda decided this evening’s walk would be a little shorter. For reasons she could not quite identify she did not want to be too far away from her new tenant.

New story

Pixie is writing! I have a new story coming up about a woman who is not living the life that she wants but she doesn't yet realise it. I'm enjoying writing it so hope it will be something you will enjoy reading. Check back in a week or so and I will have the first chapter up. :)

Welcome

Welcome to the land where this Pixie dwells.

Pixie does try hard to be good but sometimes her mischievous ways lead her into trouble. Luckily she has a Tamer who curtails unwanted behaviour with a flick of her paddle, her cane or her hair brush on Pixie's tail.

Pixie also likes to write and share her work with her online friends.

I hope you will come and play here once in a while, Pixie and her Tamer will be glad to see you!