the sea


 I remember when it wasn’t as easy for me to understand my own submission. I was learning what it meant, I was confused about all the feelings I found inside myself. I knew, I always knew there was something missing. It was almost as if I wore a mask only I couldn’t see through it. There was this person inside of me that I truly wanted to get to know only I had been told to not love her, to not look at her or talk to her by the very people who should have protected and nurtured me. Surely she was damaged. I was shown how to reject her and treat her badly, to hurt her. Looking back now all of that makes me sad. I soon realized I could look at myself with warm eyes, with love even and didn’t have to continue to push her away.

I am not sure where finding my submission fits into my journey of self discovery. It is really only one part of what makes me whole. I used to not think as much about it. I suppose I didn’t realize I was seeking or trying to discover what was behind the mask. I became quite skilled at escaping myself almost as if I was eluding the truth of who I really was. I would watch her skip through the doorway just ahead of me, just out of reach. And I wanted so badly to reach her, to touch her. At the same time I was desperately trying to embrace facets of myself ….only there were days where I only wanted to escape. I struggled against what I really needed. I could never see myself the way others saw me..I am better at that now.

My thoughts, my feelings, my desire to feel things on a deeper level disturbed me. I remember being very young and realizing there were thoughts in my head that I couldn’t share with my girlfriends. Romance and boys meant nothing to me…I wanted a dark knight. A protector…a strong lover who could take from me what he needed and not be afraid to hurt me. I questioned why I wanted to be hurt. I questioned why when a man touched me did I not feel the soft caress across my skin, it was superficial and I needed something more. I looked for something more and I found Mark. Mark changed everything and I will always hold him in my heart for the gifts he gave me…one gift in particular.  I think from the very first time he touched me, and this was years ago, I began the gradual lifting of the curtain that had fallen so heavy across my true desires. I learned from him that all I felt inside was alright…there were others like me, people who danced a bit on the edge of the fire. He showed me the fire.

It was only after I tasted that heat did I begin to realize all that I was. And that is was OK. My true essence was evident in all that I desired. I was shown, albeit briefly, a heightened realm of human emotion. It was a power exchange, pain, love, one that spoke and quenched a true mutual need. My mask was being dismantled…and there was a slight shift where my fascade was exposed. It wasn’t scary anymore. There was clarity, there was direction, there were days where my steps were sure-footed. I was so newly out of my childhood. Still innocent in my thinking and naive in my actions but I knew somehow that what he demanded and what I naturally offered was real. And although our time together so many years ago was brief it made a lasting impression on my life so that when we were finally reunited it all came back.

It was a new beginning. It was a time where I was able to make some major decisions on where I wanted and needed my own life to go. He guided me through the end of a relationship and gave me the courage to follow some dreams I had for myself, dreams I had put on hold for too long. His guidance gave me direction and the direction helped me to grow. His guidance eventually led me to Richard.

Richard. 🙂

My first meeting with him was magic. Unexpected magic. I ran head first into the pleasure that his hands and eyes offered me.  He started me on the journey to where I was able to see almost all of my life experiences as positive. Letting go of the sad one…..as I handed them to him to share in my pain. Holding tight to the good ones that will forever hold a place of honor in my heart. And teaching me that all of them shaped me into the person I am today. I tried, even with him, to escape some of my life moments. He didn’t let that happen. I found in the safety of his arms and in the warmth of his love I could not escape myself, I didn’t have to.  There is a place that he and I form together that is safe. He holds my head against his chest…right beneath his heart and when I am there all of my whispers can be shared.  I have shared so much. He has too. We do not judge each other. I surrender to him. I have more to share.

As I ran towards the pleasure I left so much pain behind. I have learned from him that only in true surrender can I find peace within myself. I have learned to see what is true, what is real and what to discard and let go. I have not only surrendered my body and my heart to Richard I learned that by surrendering the past I could find the present. I could revel in it and capture all of life’s moments…to hold on to pleasure for as long as possible. I have learned that there will always be struggles but they will not always be struggles of the soul. I also know that I won’t face them alone as long as I have Richard. I know the sky can still open up on me. I know that one day I will face great pain when Richard and I part ways. I also know that when the tears dry and the sky folds back in on itself the clouds will part leaving behind a healing sunshine. The brightness of the blue will not remind me of the tears I shed at our parting but of the color of the ocean we swam in together and the color of the sky that sheltered us. I will remember that all I had with him was good. Like a blue rapture….and everything blue can rarely survive for long outside the heart and outside the memory.

My submission does not define me anymore than the clor or the shape of my eyes do. It is but a part of me. A special part of me that was constructed early on I think by people I don’t want to credit with anything positive. I won’t explore that too much. It is what I do with it. It is how I define it, not how it defines me. I won’t be defined. I define it by giving it away. I define it by sharing it with Richard. By giving it to him and by letting him take it all. By feeling that strong current between us and going with it…have you ever felt that current? That magnificent, fantastic charge between two people who truly connect. Divine. I wonder sometimes where it comes from….and then where does it go when our hearts slow and we drift off to sleep? The red sparks that come off of my body when he touches me…when he hurts me…where do they go?

I reflect bravely tonight. I have just left the ocean…I sit here with sand still on my feet and pounding still in my ears. I am called to the ocean, I always have been. Tonight I sat on the shore of the Pacific for the second time in my life. I reflected on so much and tried so hard to find some answers. I found I was distracted….enchanted with this new ocean after spending so much time on the Atlantic. I hear a song in the crashing waves, a song that plays back anytime I need it to. A song that I can dance to and no one can turn it off or stop me from spinning. A cleansing rhythm that I crave just like I crave the strength that Richard gives me. Like him, it resounds through me. Like the warm sand I sink into his embrace and leave all the fears behind. I am never scared in the ocean. I will swim as far out as I can and give it all up to the pounding of the water around me. A lullaby, my own lullaby…maybe I never had that..may be when I needed it I never had it. I have it now.  I hear one in the spirit of the sea and it is lulling to me. It is restorative and grounding..I need it, it is part of me. I hear it in my sleep. Like Richard’s voice. I hear it in my sleep and answer it’s call.

19 thoughts on “the sea

  1. The power within the red sparks will go wherever you or Richard choose to direct it. There is a great magic to be found in the intensities you share.
    I dreamt of you last night. You are a powerful Goddess Pixie. You are wise in the ways of spirit. As we ascend our fears we enter the kingdom of Heaven, I will meet you there.

  2. Pixie,
    I too had trouble confronting my own submission and the feelings it was stirring in my heart… my round, firm kidneys… and the outer edges of my quivering lungs. Society can be so judgmental when you try to show them this other person, this conjoined twin sharing more than 50% of your spinal cord. They throw change at you and ask if you date people separately. It’s so much easier to just buy a large microfiber, breathable, but waterproof overcoat and hide this other person, this very real part of yourself that makes you not like everyone else and sometimes eats more than half of your lunch… and yet you can’t break free, nor would you because this person is so important and a really good scrabble buddy.

    You really struck a chord with me. Where does the reluctant realization of my own submission combine with the intoxicating lure of my self discovery? Why do I let what I think other people will think if they were to ever know what I’m thinking when I’m alone… so alone with my most intimate thoughts, affect those things that I so desperately want, no need, to think while I reach for, caress and explore the delicate, intricate, fascinating folds of my most intimate self? If only there was a web cam for the soul, I would broadcast this intimate exploration just to be free… just so that everyone could experience the raw beauty of my folds.

    The first time a true submissive is allowed to truly submit is truly magical. Up until that time I had thought that my true essence was that of the large dying long-horn bull of cultural oppression which was lying over the pit of my desire. A pit that my first true Dom filled with the white-hot coals of pleasure, pain, dominance and sweet submission… and in the process, the pit of desire… the sea of hot coals… the dead long horn produced an environment where we dined on the roast beef scorn of society feeling content after our dark session even if we had way too many leftovers.

    The second true Dominant is in many ways the sacred pitchfork that turns the compost of nitrogen-rich submission… not treating the past as refuse but cherishing the dark matter as the very thing that will bring the next season’s yield of the corn of passion, the wheat of love and the versatile soybeans of D/s. The tricks I used before… the things that worked so well with my first guide and mentor, did not work with the new One. Could there be more? I wondered as we continued out exploration of my folds? I’ve seen the reality, the complexity of the layers… white sour cream pain, brilliant red salsa of love, seductive green guacamole of rich submission… repeated and then pierced by the corn chip of His dominance, smearing the colors and blurring the lines to the point that I see the whole picture… all of myself as the smear of celestial condiments that I truly am.

    Really, if the shape and color of your eyes defined you… where would that leave your nose? I have felt that current… the kind of current that can only be felt when one is truly brave enough to dismantle the electrical outlet of self with both hands without turning off the breaker of true dominance and submission. What is left after such a jolt? What goes in the place of the old self?… The GFCI of a different kind of love that should be tested at least monthly by pressing the red button of D/s.

    I see so much significance in your trip to the Pacific. The Atlantic is so much smaller, but the lobsters are so much larger. It’s where humans learned to navigate huge vessels to other continents. Yet it was the Pacific where humans learned to navigate small craft over enormous distances. Taking a step back, both the Pacific and the Atlantic are one united body of water. These two ‘oceans’ are merely the definitions created by small minded explorers who couldn’t truly comprehend the enormity and vastness of the world we live in. I think this mirrors your journey so well… so poetically… that I’m moved with my own tides of emotion that not only wash up beautiful, intricate shells of pleasant memory, but also boatloads of rotting, smelly kelp of past despair which seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see but disappeared eventually.

    I wonder what will come next for you? Will you find a new ocean only to find it to be the same body? Or will it seem like something else, something exotic? something tame? Will there be layered condiments nearby?


  3. “My submission does not define me anymore than the clor or the shape of my eyes do. It is but a part of me.”

    i have to ask, pixie…when you came to this realization, did it hurt? Because it hurt me, for a moment…i thought that i was somehow loosing that part of me, or putting it in a place of less importance of my life.

    For a long time, i was defined by my submission, and i never really realized how much so until i realized that i am not submission, but that submission is me.

    i’m no longer hurt by it…i think, like you, i feel a greater sense of wholeness, of what my purpose and destiny is. Submission has become less of a thing….and more of a quality.

    Anyway….yay for wholeness-ocean-goodness. =)

  4. What a beautiful spirit you have pixie. So strong and alive yet you have been wounded somehow, have you not? Maybe long ago but there are still scars. You are an amazing writer. Your journey is breathtaking to watch unfold. Thank you.

  5. Dear Pixie,

    1.) You submission does not have to have been created by anything negative. I had the most positive of childhoods (was spoiled rotten, doted upon, never abused … or even really disciplined!) and I am still a submissive, still always wanted to be this way. I remember wanting this since I was about 5 years old, so being a submissive does not have to come from anything … you could just be born that way!

    2.) Where are you, now? If you’re in the San Francisco Bay Area, I’d love to meet you in person! I think you have my email, but if you don’t let me know….

  6. As usual, a very powerfully emotional well thought out and comprehensive and insightful post. i think you are just simply divine!

    “…My submission does not define me anymore than the color or the shape of my eyes do. It is but a part of me…” What a poignant point! Yes.

    i am afraid of the ocean. i don’t like not being able to see the bottom. i will swim out there anyway, hyperventilating and following along, but i am terrified and fighting away fear all the way along. This build character and strength; and it is also a metaphor for how i view the submission i give to DL and how i feel before, during, and after laying my head at his feet.

    Well done, darling!

  7. Pixie,

    You’re time at the ocean sounds wonderful. “I hear a song in the crashing waves, a song that plays back anytime I need it to. A song that I can dance to and no one can turn it off or stop me from spinning.” This sentence filled my heart with envy!


  8. Pixie,

    I stumbled on your site today, and suddenly 2 hours evaporated as I was sucked into your world. Lovely. Your journey is intoxicating. Really. Please keep sharing.

  9. breathtaking beautiful pixiepie. the scope of your writing and the depth of your emotions are wonderul to read.

  10. P.S. Having now read a few million words of your blog, I have a question. You refer often to the age difference between Richard and yourself. Just how old are you two? Or, if that’s too specific a question, how big is the gap?

  11. Hi Caliban,
    We have been asked that question before…without giving a specific number I will say the age difference as far as numers go is pretty significant. I prefer it that way…for me in this type of relationship I wouldn’t have it any other way. We also acknowledge that if I was closer to him in age our story may play out a bit different. I don’t think about all that too much anymore.

    To quote Richard..he once said to a reader that I am of legal age and he is not yet in a wheelchair…lol. I think that sums it up nicely. 🙂 No..really, our age difference is perfect.
    Welcome to my world..I am glad you are catching up.

  12. Pixie,
    On the whole age difference thing. I think an age difference especially when the man is older is wonderful. My Master is almost two and half decades older than me, and we really don’t ‘feel’ the age difference that much. And we’re lucky for that.

    But personally, I couldn’t imagine myself being with someone (D/s or vanilla) that wasn’t significantly older than me. I just take one look at the guys my own age and they scream immaturity!

    We’re both lucky that we have what we have.


  13. and i take a look at guys MY own age and they don’t stir me at all.

    the man who owns and loves me is 22 years younger. and yet there is no question as to his dominance over me, his power, his control. so much of it is in the head, anyway.

    sometimes i feel self-conscious about my age, such as when i notice the change in the texture of the skin on my hands. but he doesn’t seem to care, just as he dismisses my concerns over being lumpy rather than svelte. he rejoices at having more ass to spank.

    yes, we are all indeed lucky to have what we have. and that what we have works. we don’t have to understand why.

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