The Most Beautiful Nightmare You'll Never Have…
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Ambassadors and the Odour of a slave


14 June 2015



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.

Even the most loyal of male partners will normally have eyes for others. Their wives and partners accept that. There are accepted tolerances.  To some a twinge of arousal, in others an erection and even the secretion of pre-cum, some may even tolerate wanking. This is despite the fact that intimacy and penetrative sex are very much part of their relationship.The shop may be open and the goods inside available and delicious, but the partner of a male will tolerate a little window shopping elsewhere, to a greater or lesser extent.

Chastity has an effect on the male. His Mistress becomes the embodiment of sexual arousal. All sexual arousal, from wherever and whoever, focuses the slave and his sexual submission towards the key holder, his Goddess. There are shop windows everywhere but they all belong to just one shop, the door to which remains firmly closed.

In the case of the chastity slave, other beautiful sexy women are ambassadors for the key holder and mere catalysts in nurturing his loyalty, worship and obedience to his Owner.

The Odour of a slave

There is a slight but undeniable odour. A slight hint of the sea and fish. It is neither pleasant nor unpleasant but there is no escaping it. A genius is not required to analyse the cause of its existence. Even in short term chastity the source of the odour will soon constantly, if very slowly, be replenished. When locked in medium and long term confinement the perpetual regeneration is more certain. Its source is generally visually discreet, although occasionally more pronounced when the key holder teases and taunts or her ambassadors play their part. No amount of cleaning will remove it. It may mask temporarily but the odour will soon invariably regenerate.

Its source is irrelevant. It is not the odour of any substance but it is the odour of a slave, especially the odour of a slave in chastity. Like many aspects of this dynamic it forms part of yet another vicious inescapable cycle. The odour reminds me, although I rarely need reminding, of who I am and my self imposed, inescapable torment. It reminds me that I am a slave of her, my Owner, my Goddess and of course the consistent trickle of the perfume that induces that odour will flow more freely. There are of course, times when her interjection, her tease and arousal turn the trickle into a torrent. The speed of replenishment, a trickle or torrent, does nothing to break the cycle and at all times the reservoirs remain brimming and desperate for release. The odour remains and is enforced, that circle, yet another unbreakable circle is complete.

The cage, the torment and the odour are just three of many things that ensure the slave knows who he is. There is nothing transitional or part time about the chastity slave. He is a slave, her slave, at all times. By contrast she has a full life and her slave, her chattel a mere element of it. That is as it should be and very much part of the Femdom/male slave dynamic.

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