Post Election Blues

The day after the general election and four parties have all received a caning, resulting in three leaders resigning and one very sore arse. I was that fourth party and I received my good caning in the Playroom polling station from my returning officer Mistress Maggie for poor performances during my erection campaign. My previous blog describes how I committed errors that I knew would not go unpunished. That was to be part of today's agenda.

I was allowed a most pleasurable amount of shoe and foot worship, although as you might expect I was not allowed anywhere near the see-through plastic pants, or skimpy champagne coloured latex top that Mistress was wearing. It didn't stop me looking as I licked a long slow tongue up Maggie's insteps, around the leather straps, around her slim ankles and kissed each of the 8 toes in turn. No, Maggie has ten toes but two were hidden by the shoes. I was also given the opportunity to repair some of last sessions damage by being encouraged to re-state my promise. Again, kneeling between Maggie's thighs, I looked deeply into her eyes and correctly this time, stated my oath to my Mistress. That was a major milestone indeed and a weight off my mind.

As night follows day, retribution followed my Mistress worship. Maggie produced a short breathing tube and began to wrap my head with the small roll of clingfilm. Enough to seal the breathing tube in place as my only source of air, yet leaving my vision unimpaired. Strange how a thin, single layer of clear cling film can so effectively exclude all air yet leaves vision unhindered. Maggie had me straddle the whipping horse, tied my hands to the front rails and secured my midriff with a fluffy piece of rope. My latex shorts were eased from around my buttocks and my ass was then tight across the horse with my feet barely touching the carpet. Maggie explained that I would receive 12 strokes of the cane as an incentive to remember my slave oath. First, a little warm up, the bitter sweet approach where talcum is rubbed gently into my ass-cheeks followed by hand slaps then a hairbrush and finishing with a paddle, interspersed with the most gentlest talc massage. I dribbled quite a lot through that short mouthpiece as I struggled to remain calm for my Mistress.

Then to my amazement, Mistress untied me and ordered me to stand. Had my whimpers softened her heart? Was she not going to cane my already smarting backside? Not a chance, and deep down I knew it was a forlorn and fleeting hope. Maggie, like me, keeps her promises and with my pants down I had to bend over as far as I could ready for my 'encouragement'. Surprisingly, far enough to rest my knuckles on the carpet, (not bad for a fat, unfit 63 year old). That proved most fortunate as the twelve measured blows were slowly and precisely administered, each one rocking me forward onto those knuckles as I absorbed the pain of the cane.

1, 2, 3 . . . 11, 12 and . . . Oh shit! I forgot to thank Mistress for my corrective treatment, much to Maggie's annoyance. I received another 12 strokes in rapid sucession after which I was VERY quick to thank Mistress for teaching me a lesson.

Note to others: It’s all for your own good so be quick to thank Mistress for helping you. 

Mistress cut a large mouth hole in the cling film and once again I was instructed to repeat my slave oath. Despite my backside smarting from the 24 cane strokes, I was able to quietly and confidently repeat my promise, perfectly and without flaw. I was the proudest slave in the room when Maggie beamed her delightful smile and said 'What a good slave'.

As usual Maggie had me fetch my butt-plug, but much to my disappointment instead of sticking it in its correct location I was instructed to kiss it, demonstrate how much I loved it and quote my oath to my butt-plug. Mistress must have had a good laugh at her slave reciting an oath of allegiance to a dildo. I felt a right prick. Once done, I was to stick it, together with my shorts back into my kit bag. I much preferred the reaction from Mistress to my correct recitation. The plug just sat there quivering in my hands, most unimpressed.

Kneeling on the padded bench my smarting arse now received a little more pleasurable attention, from a new insertable electrode that Maggie wished to experiment with. (I love being a guinea pig for new devices and always offer my services to help other slaves. I feel good making the offer, however it is purely ceremonial as Maggie owns the real estate). A sperm shaped device that, like a rat up a drain-pipe, was up my backside in no time at all. Maggie ramped up the electrics on the sperm probe program to level 45 before any sensations were evident. My cock and balls were then wired up with electrodes, ready to be utilised conventionally alongside the anal connection that was now safely nestling up my bum. This was only a trial and once Maggie was satisfied that some signal was being received, we moved on.

Politicians weren't the only one to receive a good shafting on that day as Maggie temporarily removed the sperm electrode and rapidly rammed her strap-on into its very receptive home. I, unlike Nick, did enjoy my shafting despite still wearing my neat little clingfilm bonnet, or perhaps enhanced by wearing it? In any event, when Maggie had had enough enjoyment with her strap-on the tadpole was reinserted into its now enlarged home.

After all my hard work, a little quiet contemplation was called for and Mistress had already prepared the body bag by attaching it to the bondage bed. Off with the cling-film and I was eased into the soft plastic re-breather hood, my hands taped into plastic fist mitts, a latex ball stretcher keeping my balls hard, followed by the soft all over plastic suit that fits oh so nicely, with a suitable hole to allow the cables through - Mistress really does think of everything, and I was ready for incarceration. Mistress had me carefully lie down in the centre of the body bag, absolutely no way of running away now as my legs were zipped into a pair of leg splints, Maggie blew them up until it was impossible to bend my knees. An interesting experience to feel your legs becoming immobile. I don't know why but I assumed the leg splints were black. Afterwards I discovered they were actually zip on clear plastic. Strange how your mind assumes certain things when being so stimulated.

Mistress sealed me into the clear inner pouch then the black outer cover was pulled over and I was zipped inside. The last words I heard were, 'I could leave you in here forever and no one would know’. And yes she could and in that instant I didn't care. All I wanted to do was please my Mistress. The trouble is that plastic sticks to plastic, and in order to keep the two holes in my re-breather hood clear some compromises had to be made, after a short while enclosed in the bodybag Maggie unzipped one of the layers which allowed air around my mask, then it was back to darkness again for this incarcerated slave.

I was quite relieved by the brief respite but this is one of my Mistresses many strengths. She notices when her slaves are exhibiting unusual movements and grunts, treating them as signs of unplanned stress. The result was the few breaths of air then a little more solitary.

When I was next allowed to come up for air and the bag top opened, I saw the vague image of Maggie through my steamed up plastic hood, standing close by, open the top of her plastic pants and pour in copious quantities of lube. Not just a few drops. A long slow stream as it gradually covered the whole of her lower abdomen. That slipperiness was put to excellent use as I was straddled by Mistress and her well oiled bottom sat on my eager and waiting face. I tried to lick; difficult with the hood. I tried to kiss through the two layers of plastic; almost ineffective, so I lay back and enjoyed as Maggie slid about on my nose and face, controlling my breathing with those delightful thighs and cheeks.

Truly a memorable experience. My well oiled yet plastic protected Mistress so close yet so inaccessible. I just lay there, the occasional gasp as the two plastic layers created the perfect seal and watched but mainly listened to the highly erotic sound of Maggie having fun on my face. My sole reason for existence was to concentrate my nose and face on pleasing my Mistress. 

 A final bonus as I was released from my body-bag prison was allowed, involving the by then, very oily plastic pants as Maggie eased them down to just below her knees, sat legs open, on the centre of her throne and I was instructed to put my head inside and clean them. Clean, lick and kiss I did but not before glimpsing the image of Maggie's ring snuggled in amongst the other gleaming oil covered landscape that had so recently been covered by her pants. I only had a fleeting moment to gaze and admire that silver ring. That area is, of course, off limits and forbidden territory and it would have been incredibly rude and inappropriate, not to mention downright dangerous and stupid, to comment that I had been ogling Maggie's jewels, so I got to work with my head slip sliding away inside the still warm oil filled plastic pants. Although I know that ring was off limits, I did allow myself to dream of cleaning it for Maggie. I know, as a slave I shouldn't entertain such thoughts and I am sure they will be more under control as I continue to progress with my training, but I am only a red-blooded male slave after all.

As I came up for air and another quick peek at the silverware, I commented that the oil didn't taste like GTX but I couldn't quite place the flavour. Maggie laughed at my stupidity, that always makes me feel better, and with that tinkle in her voice said it was edible oil and she might treat me to strawberry or banana flavour next time. If there was a next time of course. I am just happy with Maggie’s flavoured oil.

Back to reality. I certainly could feel the warmth in my backside from the earlier caning and could have happily worn Maggie's oil filled pants to sooth and cool my sore arse. (Somehow I don't think they would fit but the thought did). I did allow a wry smile as Maggie pointed to the tip of the cane that had broken off during my 'encouragement'. It was a small victory but one that was very significant to me. Twenty four stripes in return for 1 broken cane. A modest gain in the face of overwhelming odds but more than some political parties received at the election.