Journal Prompt

lunaKM asks, "Have you ever been given a ’slave name’ or had your name changed by someone else? What emotional effect did it have on you, if any? Does your sense of self/identity tie in strongly with your name?"


Sorta, but it wasn't in any way connected to D/s or slavery or lifestyle. When we first met, Beloved decided that my given name was too long and he shortened it to two syllables. I didn't mind...I had always kind of assumed that there weren't any real variations to my name, so I was rather delighted with the invention. I was introduced to all of his family and friends with the new name.

My family had a different and completely dissimilar nickname for me. Early on, when I moved in with Beloved out of teenage defiance against my father, I had the courtesy to give my family the landline (in age before cell phones were SOOOOOO common!). Problem was, they would call asking for me by THEIR nick...and Beloved's family replied they had the wrong number and no one by that name lived there!

Oiy...that was a bit of a mess!

But 15 years later, the majority of our non-lifestyle friends know me by the name Beloved bestowed on me. My family still calls my by my childhood nickname. It's all good.

"Pixie" really came from a photograph taken on October 31 2004.


I don't know who first called me pixie, but it stuck. Over the years, especially since Beloved and I started into D/s, the name and use of the name has gotten tied into certain expectations and behaviors. If Beloved says, "Pixie", it is an automatic response and surrender in my head. He garners my full attention with the one word.