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The Most Beautiful Nightmare You'll Never Have…
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Writings from Mistress Cara Sutra

Happy New Year, Bitches and slaves

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Been a while since I wrote anything here, as I have a fuck-ton of other online spaces and a fuck-ton of real life duties to attend to. However I am happy to report that Christmas 2015 was fantastic – and a very Happy New Year was welcomed in.

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Ambassadors and the Odour of a slave

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Each and every erotic trigger, each and every glimmer of arousal remind me of her. A certain feminine stance, a tight fitting dress, pants or leggings accentuating the female form, certain perfumes, kinky (and not so kinky) boots, high heels all draw my thoughts and worship towards her. They don’t have to be, and are often not, the type of clothes she would wear, the feminine form does not have to resemble her, it does not have to be a perfume she wears, it is sexual arousal itself that is the key.

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Sometimes I forget

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I have grown used to the constant reminder that is my cage.. It has become part of me and I hardly notice it. It’s familiarity and the fact that it has minimal effect on me, should merely serve to emphasise the truth it defines.

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Training

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By her definition we are not men. Our submission and weakness contradicts her definition of a man. So, the Mistress and woman to whom I have given myself, the woman I adore and respect, despises me for my weakness and does not regard me to be a man.

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