Who's fooling who?

It has been 7 months since Mistress Cara took Ownership of me, by jointly signing an Agreement which set out both of our rights and duties. I have no rights and many duties, Mistress Cara has every right and few duties.


Since then she has been slowly but surely taking full control of my mind, body and soul.

I won’t list all the control she has again, I’ve done so previously, but they range from the inconsequential, such as having to eat brown bread, not white, to more serious, such as denying me any orgasms for months at a time.

Taken in isolation, each control measure is tolerable, even enjoyable and would allow me to live a normal vanilla lifestyle. I have enjoyed each one as it has been implemented, longed for more, at times even begged Mistress Cara to tale total control.

The cumulative effect, however, is definitely life and mind changing.

Every minute of every day I have a tangible reminder that I am merely a slave, an object owned by my Mistress.

I have always slept naked, not anymore, Mistress wishes me to sleep in my pink satin nightie.

I cannot leave my house without wearing my lacy bra and knickers. At weekends I must paint my nails bright red.

Even when at home, I have to sit down to pee, not stand up.

The most onerous control is without doubt my long term chastity and denial. Although I gave up hope of ever pleasing any woman with my pathetic little clit many years ago, I do still yearn for an orgasm, to spurt my sissy slime from my hard clit. At times this denial is unbearable, as I also have to edge my clit 2 or 3 times each day, bringing my self to the very brink before having to stop. As a result I am permanently frustrated, sometimes to the point of wanting to scream out loud.

Mostly I am so very happy to be controlled, humiliated and denied by my beautiful, kind, caring Mistress. I love submitting to her, knowing that whatever she wants I will have no option but to obey. 2 months ago Mistress announced that she wanted to have both my nipples pierced. At first I was reluctant as I had never wanted any piercings. All too easily I complied, really turned on by having to submit, against my instinct, purely to please my Mistress. My piercings have since become my proudest possession, a real symbol of her Ownership. I adore them almost as much as I adore Mistress Cara.

There are times, when I am feeling frustrated or despondent, when I fleetingly think, fuckit, have a wank, shoot my slime out, Mistress will never know. Buy some white bread, leave my bra off. How will she ever know? But she will know, instinctively, by my attitude, my texts. What would be the point of deceiving her anyway? I would only be fooling myself.

The answer is to give up all control, whatever control I have left, submit totally to my unique, awesome, powerful Mistress.

I love the everyday reminders of her control and ownership and I would be completely lost without my Mistress. I will forever be her property, her slave, even if she should dismiss me. I will never serve anyone else.

Mistress, you have me, mind, body and soul.

Last chance

I have been excommunicated, exiled by Mistress Cara for gross misbehaviour and my life now is empty, worthless, hollow.


Mistress is ignoring me completely, knowing that is the worst possible punishment for her useless ungrateful sissy.

I am in limbo, on pause. I sent Mistress a brief text each day, which is ignored. I avidly read all of her tweets and of course her excellent blog, trying to glean snippets of information. I am like a leper, an outcast, looking in through a window ay my beautiful Mistress, longing to serve her again, desperate to make amends for my recent behaviour and attitude.

Although ignored, I am, thankfully, still Owned by Mistress Cara and I am very much still under her complete control, all day, every day.

In the months that she has Owned me, she has stripped away almost all of the control that I once had over my life.

I wear lacy knickers every day; I used to wear a bra, until Mistress had my nipples pierced. Once they are fully healed I am sure I will have to wear a bra again. I have to sit every time I pee, not stand. At weekends I paint my nails bright red or pink.

I have to edge my pathetic clit 3 times every day, but am denied any form of orgasm. It has been 8 weeks since my last ruined orgasm and my attempts at milking my prostate have been less than successful. I find that the midday edging at work is so humiliating and shamefull, having to wank my little clit in the toilet. The morning and evening edgings are a mix of pleasure and frustration, leaving my clit sticky with slime and desperate to spurt my built up slime. At times I feel like screaming in frustration, tearing my hair out.

I continue to practice with my assortment of butt plugs, conditioning my tight hole so that, when she chooses, Mistress Cara can fuck me with ever larger strapons as she continues to feminise and sissify me. I can regularly take most of them, though the large pink butt plug is still very tight and painful. It is humiliating to fuck myself with them, but I do so, longing for the time when my Mistress will once again fuck me, the most amazing experience that I have ever had.

Mistress Cara has control of me in other, more mundane ways too. I am no longer allowed to eat white bread, wholemeal or granary is her choice. If I wish to have some wine at home, I have to seek her approval first. When I accompanied Mistress for a meal in a pub or restaurant she has taken to ordering my food for me, without giving me a choice. She does not care to micro-manage her slut, instead she expects me to obey her wishes every day. So I am free to choose which pair of frilly knickers I wear each day, which colour nail polish to use. The more Mistress takes control of me, the more I love it. the feeling of total submission is wonderful, what I have craved for years. Even the occasional thrashings are welcome, though the pain is intense. It is all worthwhile to see the smile on her face, to know how pleased my Mistress is when inflicting pain and humiliation on her sissy slave.

Despite still being under her control, I am in a living hell, denied the oxygen of contact with my Goddess. I would do anything to turn the clock back, to expunge my errors, to correct my attitude. I had become complacent, taking my frequent visits for granted. I had become to friendly, forgetting my real purpose, my only purpose in life is to serve my Owner in any way she pleases.

Although she has not yet dismissed me outright, I am by no means in the clear, I am still terrified that, after weeks of excommunication, she will summarily disown me.

I am left not knowing what to do. If I send texts and tweets I may anger her more, she clearly wants nothing to do with me at present. If I don’t send them, she may conclude that I am sulking or, worse, that I am not bothered by my enforced exile. I am at my wits end, desperate to grovel and beg forgiveness, desperate to serve the most amazing, wonderful, powerful dominant Mistress imaginable.

Shortly after writing this, I received a text from Mistress Cara.

It seems that she may be prepared to allow me one last chance to serve her, to be Owned by her, but under much stricter conditions than before.

She has not said for definte yet, but I am hopeful of a reprieve.

I cannot begin to describe how relieved I am, how grateful. How desperate I will be to prove myself to my wonderful, kind, caring Mistress. It is true to say that she is my life, my world revolves around her. I am completely besotted by her and devoted to her. I must never ever fail her again.

Exiled, Excommunicated.

It seems that my in-built self destruct button may have finally gone nuclear. 


For several weeks my behaviour has been appalling, causing Mistress Cara to become extremely angry and disappointed with me.

I had taken time off at the start of this week to spend 2 days serving her, hoping to begin to rebuild her trust and confidence in her sissy slave.

Monday started well enough, I arrived at her house at the appointed time and began to wash the dishes while Mistress chatted and prepared to go into town. I drove her the short distance to the local shopping centre, listening attentively to her every word and trying to be as respectful as possible.

We parked the car and walked to the piercing parlour where just 5 weeks previously mistress Cara had had my nipples pierced. Today it was her turn, she had decided to have her navel pierced, together with a more intimate piercing. The same friendly girl assistant was on duty and quickly took Mistress into the treatment room while I waited. After only a few minutes the deed was done and Mistress Cara emerged with a pleased look on her beautiful face. She confessed to being in some pain so we walked slowly to have a reviving cup of coffee while she told me all about it.

We then made our way slowly back to the car and I drove to a favourite pub for a much needed lunch. My good intentions began to unravel, as a careless, thoughtless remark once again upset my Mistress. It was only meant as an inoffensive comment but I should have thought carefully before speaking. The damage was done. After lunch I drove Mistress home. She was in some pain from the double piercing and in any event was tired of her useless sissy already. I carried out some more household tasks before being sent home in the early evening.

The day had not gone as I had hoped, despite my best intentions I had once again upset my beautiful, kind Mistress. As a demonstration of her kindness and patience she had allowed me to return the next day as planned.

Feeling ever more determined, on Tuesday I again called on her at the appointed time. I was expected to give a thorough spring clean to her house, another area in which I had become far too lax lately. As always I washed the dishes first then took Mistress a cup of coffee. We discussed some planned events to which Mistress was eagerly looking forward, and to which she had graciously invited me. Once again, I opened my mouth and put my foot in it. As soon as I spoke I realised I had once again made a terrible mistake. I had completely misjudged Mistress Cara’s intentions and wishes and as a result she was simply furious.

I hastily excused myself and began to clean and tidy, hovering and cleaning the bathroom. It was too late, the damage was done. Mistress called me downstairs and in an icy voice ordered me to leave at once. I could hardly speak to beg for forgiveness, could hardly hold back the tears of shame and anger at myself. It would have done no good, again Mistress ordered me to leave. I hastily left and made my way home, distraught beyond measure.

I could scarcely see my way home through the tears welling up. Worse was to come, when I was at home I receivedl a text from my beloved Mistress saying was considering dismissing me from her service. I sobbed my heart out, though it was no more than I deserved. Mistress has dismissed other slave for far less, why should I expect any different treatment. My behaviour of late has been appalling, becoming over friendly and casual in my manner. I have only done the bare minimum of housework, just enough to get away with.

I adore and worship my Mistress, and always will. She has made me so happy, submitting to her, being humiliated and cuckolded on a daily, continual basis. She has allowed me unprecedented access to her private life, such a rare and cherished honour. Yet I still want more, loose sight of the fact that I am her slave, her property, nothing more. In fact I am just that, nothing. A pathetic useless being, not a man, not a woman either. A freak of nature, who can never satisfy a woman, and who longs to be fucked in the arse by my beautiful Mistress.

Mistress Cara only keeps me as her property because it amuses her to do so. Or rather did amuse her. Now I am living in real terror of being finally dismissed, sent away for all time. It is a very real prospect.

At present I am in limbo, on freeze frame, my life on hold while Mistress decides my fate.

It is horrible, the worst punishment imaginable.

Mistress Cara ignores me completely, knowing how it hurts me. No texts, no tweets, nothing, yet I am expected to send brief, daily texts, knowing they will be ignored. It sounds easy, but believe me, it is not. I know I will have to endure this for days, weeks probably. Only then will Mistress decide my fate. She has done this to other slaves, most simply disappear even before being formally dismissed and are never heard from again.

I must endure.

I must show my true devotion and submission to my amazing, unique Mistress. I deserve all of this and more. There are no words to express my shame and regret, they would fall on deaf ears anyway. Mistress is in no mood to listen to pathetic excuses from a pathetic sissy.

I spend every minute of every day hoping, hoping.