Festive Red Head

Hardly time to close The Chambers front door, take off coat and shoes and Mistress Maggie had a lead snapped onto my slave collar and leading me up the stairs in very close proximity to her black latex clad bottom. Again with some haste, I left the festive red catsuit spread out to warm on the rubber bed, changed into my red latex socks and gloves, and knocked gently on the playroom door awaiting permission to enter. Lick, kiss and caress Mistresses black court shoes as she lay supine alongside my catsuit on the latex bed; then as instructed, head down on carpet and in went the butt plug at whirlwind speed. Talc'd and inserted into the rubber suit and that was that, preliminaries over.
I could see the Plank ominously leaning against the far wall, but for now I could only guess whether it would be used.

Mistress sent me to The Clinic where I was told I would find a packet, with instructions to put on whatever was inside. I looked at the picture and the printed words and confirmed it was an electric cock cage. I opened it and emptied the contents onto a white towel that had been laid out for me. It soon became clear that I might have a bit of trouble locking it on, what with my long latex gloves on it was tricky to even grip the device.

After fumbling for a while I finally managed to disassemble the cage and attempted to snap a ring on behind my balls, however visibility down below was poor due to my fat belly. Then I sensed that Mistress was behind me with a question ’What's the delay slave?’, I explained the problems with the gloves. The solution was simple; remove the gloves. Mind you, I had to half undress to do it! My fault of course, I should have worn the gloves over the suit. Mistress had considerately thought that it would be less stimulating for her cock if I’d had to fit the cock cage by myself. Oh well, learn for next time. Instead, locking up Maggie’s jewels with padlock and key turned out to be a four handed assignment.

I don't know why, but when I read in the calling mail . . . Be prepared to be inflated for longer and higher this time. . . , I thought it referred to either inflating my ball sac again or wearing the nice inflatable hood for an extended period. I never expected to have two large bardex balloons inserted up my bum, along with the enema that Mistress emptied into my bowels and said in a low sexy voice, ‘You will hold that until the very end of your training today’.

All the while I was receiving the enema, Mistress was either massaging my abdomen to make more room for more enema, or helping me relax by administering aroma onto a pad inside the anaesthetic mask which she’d strapped to my face. That was most effective, I was enjoying feeling more and more full but unable to accommodate the ensuing erection because of the cock cage. Oh what a beautiful sensation.

As soon as Maggie determined that her slave was full enough, we moved back to The Playroom and that is where The Plank came into play. Its steel legs were attached and Mistress produced a large roll of red shrink-wrap to create a light wrap, from my knees, past my well filled bowels and up as far as my neck. Like a good slave I rotated when told to avoid giving Maggie the run-around. Mistress guided me towards the Plank where I lay down and was firmly attached to it with a lot more turns of the red plastic wrap.

I felt deeply moved (in more ways than just the enema) as Maggie produced and fitted a red plastic hood that she had crafted just for her slave. I eagerly sealed my lips around a breathe through gag as the hood was finally strapped in place. Learning from a previous experience where my rubber sock was accidentally ripped when I wore boots, Maggie remembered to put cotton socks on my feet before padlocking my legs into the most immobilising pair of bondage boots. A very warm hair dryer was played over my new red plastic skin. I felt good, tightly secure and ready for some 'unusual' suspension.

The picture shows how I ended up, but not before a little more stupidity from me and a lot more laughter from both of us.

‘Don’t wriggle or move’, was my instruction as Maggie began raising the Plank on the pulleys, unscrewing the legs so it could hang freely, first one end raised then the other.

It was at this point that my enema decided to relocate itself and I couldn’t help wriggling to accommodate it. I must have put the low suspended Plank off balance and, ever so slowly, like the Poseidon Adventure, the whole plank capsized at starboard side, until I was on my side with my breathing tube touching the carpet.

There was a moments silence and I thought what brilliant and unusual suspension. The wrap held very firm; I was still attached to The Plank; I was perfectly happy and then Maggie cracked out laughing and said ‘I told you not to move’. One thing’s for sure, I am living proof that it is still possible to laugh your head off even with an inflated gag filling your mouth! It took longer for our laughter to subside than for Maggie to return her planked slave back into a horizontal position and complete her planned diagonal suspension.

A Mistresses work on her slaves is never done. Using her fingernails Maggie picked her way through the shrink wrap to expose both nipples and groin, and switched the electric cock cage to ON. What a devilishly fiendish device that cock cage turned out to be.

Maggie knows her slave well and set a nice rhythmic pulsing through the cage. Nipple clamps next, red ones. I have had them before but today they were extra effective and I screamed through the gag as they bit home. Maggie said that a good dose of aroma would help me accept my painful predicament. There was a port in the red hood just above my left ear and Maggie had been using it to send in breaths of air, but now used it to insert an aroma infused pad.

When 'told' I made the conscious effort to unseal my lips from the gag and take a lungful of air from inside the hood. Ah yes - it did help but the clamps still bloody well hurt.

After a while Mistress removed my rubber breathing gag and something else was pushed into my plastic mouth hole. My instant reaction was to bite down on it, unfortunately it was Mistresses thumb. Word of advice: Never bite the hand that feeds you, or thumb in this case. Up went the electrics to Program 2 level 25. I wont do that again! The pain almost matched that through the nipple clamps.

As often happens when returned to a manageable level, the electrics milked me. No choice. No option. Uncontrollable. That is probably why it is called e-stim.
I then realised Mistress was serious when she said I was going home in the cage as she took one of the keys, sealed it in an envelope for absolute emergencies only, and marked it in such I way that she’d know if it had been tampered with. I was to return on Monday to be released.

Now unwrapped and with ballet boots and suit removed we moved carefully to the bathroom. Maggie deflated the double bardex and slowly removed the enema tube. I clenched my buttocks tight shut until safely on the porcelain then all hell was let loose. I was pleased when Mistress closed the door and returned to the Playroom, leaving me to my own devices.

I will do absolutely anything for Mistress Maggie, but I do draw the line at gassing her with the results of a long held soapy enema.

If you were following my previous blog, yes I was treated to another superb mince pie and I hope you all had a very Merry Christmas and continue to enjoy reading about my excellent sessions with a truly remarkable Mistress and friend. Long may they continue.

Goodness, Gracious, Great Balls of Fire

One of the most superb, fun and enjoyment packed sessions with Magical Mistress Maggie; having its foundations laid several months ago when I favoured a Flickr photo showing a pair of saline inflated balls. Mistress had contacted me several weeks ago, saying she had seen the photo and had begun preliminary research into the practicalities of satisfying that particular fantasy. No promises yet, as it would be an entirely new procedure for Maggie to perfect, but it had my mind soaring. Mind you, I should have predicted this. After all, on her website Maggie invites you to call her ‘If you are looking for a skilled Mistress to fulfil your fantasies . . .  ‘. It’s now more than four years since I made my call, Mistress knows what makes me tick and has identified more of my inner-most subconscious desires. As always Maggie was right; she knew exactly what drives her slave.

The session started in familiar territory; my catsuit laid out to warm on the rubber bed, while I was sent to the cooler bathroom to dress in latex gloves and stockings, just the way Mistress likes me when I present myself at her feet ready to serve and worship. Maggie was wearing attractive white strappy sandals over the top of her long latex stockings. I was given permission to kiss, lick and suck all parts, including the latex, but instructed not to stray beyond the very top buckled strap.

From this oblique angle I could make out the severe bruising on Mistress's left thigh, she had briefly mentioned an injury in her calling email. I just wished I could have kissed that better, but the area was still painful and definitely out of bounds, so I concentrated on her shoes and latex feet. Mistress did comment that I looked good with the heel of her sandal sucked deep into my mouth.

Ordered under the gantry on my back, Maggie stepped on my bare chest and promenaded along her soft human platform, just so I could receive the very best impression of her shoes. My time spent cleaning them had had good purpose, as who wants to be stabbed with stilettos that haven't been cleaned. And all these extra privileges because I said I loved the shoes. Next time I'll mention what lovely wellies Mistress possesses!

Next the ceremonial insertion of slave into catsuit. The powder dusting, stretching the tight latex over my body, the sound of those zips being pulled closed and the spray with Mr Sheen. 'Eyes closed slave.' followed by the chill as the spray polish hits latex and the oh so charged polishing of my second skin. Once hooded, I am totally enclosed and transformed into Maggie's rubber slave: I love that feeling. And the final apparel for her slave today, the superbly crafted and snug fitting upper body harness that any self-respecting slave craves for.

I am not proud of my poor achievements in the laundry stakes. Those who have followed this blog will remember a very happy outing to Blackpool where Mistress fed me a meal of her moist panties. I was sent home with instructions to launder them, which I did, before returning them to their plastic envelope and storing them safely in my perv bag.

When Mistress, out of the blue, asked for their return I thought nothing of it, as I knew I had hand washed them. I mounted them on a piece of stiff cardboard inside an envelope and posted them to Maggie. To my eternal shame, they weren’t laundered to the high standards expected by Mistress and this session was to include a lesson in hand washing. Handling a bar of soap is not easy with latex gloves on, but Mistress was insistent I use hot water combined with gentle soaping, then a lot of rinsing. I was back and forth between sink and playroom, holding up the panties for inspection several times, until Mistress pronounced she was satisfied that I knew how to wash a pair of her panties. It was strange how the panties had taken on the smell of the cardboard, but by the end they smelt like freshly laundered lingerie. A lesson well learnt and should Mistress ever entrust me with a similar activity, she has my promise that I shall be washing and rinsing those panties many times before returned them to her.

Maggie moved the low bench beneath the suspension frame and had me lie on it, with ankles strapped high onto the overhead frame and wrists secured beneath the bench. She stood towering above me waving a huge syringe. For a fleeting moment I thought Maggie was going to inject my scrotum from this position. Instead she sat down, making herself comfortable on my lower abdomen, directed her heels back into my flabbergasted mouth and demanded her slave begin licking. Her syringe was fully loaded with liquid, Mistress pointed it at me and let out a squirt warning me what happens to slaves who don’t lick heels properly. I instinctively opened my mouth to receive the thin stream of liquid, faintly golden coloured through the clear body of the syringe, the taste instantly recognisable as essence of Maggie. Then back to licking those white heels.

As Mistress adjusted her position from abdomen to chest, she turned to present those perfectly rounded fishnet covered buttocks to within inches of my eager gaze. Mistress outlined the procedure that was about to happen to me, and asked if I had any reservation at all about her inserting a cannula into my ball-sac and infusing a quantity of saline into the scrotum. I listened intently but I had already gathered as much information as I could from the Internet, and what Maggie outlined was exactly the 'best practise' advice that was available. In any case, my balls and scrotum are owned by Maggie to do with as she pleases and I have complete and utmost trust in my Mistresses abilities. I must say, it gave me a real thrill to know that Maggie is going to perform a brand new procedure, and it made me feel a little special knowing that I was trusted enough to be her genuine guinea pig for the operation.

I was taken to the Clinic and eased onto the gynae couch where Mistress finally fitted my butt plug, an unusual harness was deployed to hold it firmly in place which was pulled up between my legs securing my balls, cock and midriff to the couch. It felt like the base of my cock was in a steel clamp but the pictures show it as the tan coloured restrainer. I could tell Mistress was just a little anxious about the imminent new venture, as once again she asked if I was happy to proceed and once more I reassured her. Excited yes, worried no.

We were ready to begin. Off came the black hood to be replaced by the white latex re breather; controlled slow in and slow out deep breaths have proved to be the best way of managing this model. Occasionally, and only when I was breathing out, I could see what was happening through the air hole, but thereafter all events were effectively blind. First of all a nice sensation as Maggie massaged a generous dollop of cocoa butter into cock and scrotum. Maggie had produced a clear set of instructions and I could hear her reading them out loud. One: Put on gloves and apply an aseptic field. Out came the sterile cover and carefully placed over my abdomen. Two: Hang saline bag high on the IV stand. . .  It was great to hear this running commentary, not because I couldn't see but because I knew Maggie was following each step in minute detail, and I love to hear her voice, particularly when 'blind'.

And so it went on. Sterile gloves; antiseptic wipes; extract tube; check for kinks; (I thought the only kink was the one lying on the couch!). A minor hitch had Maggie quoting a few chosen expletives. Adjusting the flow regulator wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed, my cock and balls ended up receiving an unplanned wash down with sterile saline solution, and the tubing had made contact with the floor.

After a few extra notes of annoyance and exasperation Maggie opened a new sterile tube. Only to be expected, as Maggie is meticulous in her adherence to a sterile environment. I did try to say that the odd hiccough was inevitable when trialling a new procedure. This comment did not help at all so I lay still and concentrated on my breathing.

When Mistress was finally satisfied with bag and regulated saline flow, it was time to insert the cannula into the scrotum. That was the least painful injection I have ever experienced. Although I was told I might feel one, there was barely a prick as the needle went in, then no pain whatsoever. The tube was attached and finally I heard a contented sigh that suggested Maggie was feeling happier.

As she attempted to use a piece of medical tape to secure the cannula to my balls, that hint of exasperation returned again. Medical tape and saline drenched scrotum are not happy companions and the meditape wouldn't stick. A couple more expletives until Mistress realised that the needle was secure without tape and she finally relaxed. I could hear her moving round, checking the cannula was still safely inserted, checking her slave was OK and it was then down to gravity as the saline slowly filled my sac.

There was very little sensation to suggest that my scrotum was gradually expanding. I felt occasional movement as the sac eased to accept its added load, but no discomfort at all. In fact, if it hadn't been for Maggie's positive comments about her now owning a much bigger set of balls, I wouldn't know they were being inflated.

Every now and then, Maggie would grab and comment on them becoming a bigger handful; that was definitely a nice feeling as Mistress cupped and measured her slaves growing ball-sac. The circumference at the start was 7.5 inches and after saline 11.5 inches; quite a presentable increase for our first attempt. It took around 20 minutes for my saline infusion and Maggie estimates that after spillages 190ml of saline was injected into my ball sac. 

I gathered Maggie was pleased with her procedure, as she spontaneously tied a rope round my inflated balls and guided me downstairs to show off her achievement to her husband. I’m not convinced he was that interested, but Maggie did insist on having me do a celebratory dance to Gerry Lee Lewis's ‘Great Balls of Fire’. It could have been worse as the alternative was 'I am Saline' by Rod Stewart!  I do love her sense of humour and mischief and although I dance like Eeyore, the dangling rope looked like it was enjoying itself. Certainly where it was attached to was enjoying the moment. Thanks John for not laughing, too much, at my saline filled ball sac.

Back to the playroom for a little breath play. Maggie positioned me once more on the low bench but this time seated with legs astride. It is at this point that I should mention to any slaves fortunate to have their balls inflated, that it’s essential you remember that your scrotal sac is considerably larger than you may be used to, and best to concentrate when sitting down. I manhandled my balls out front and then eased myself down.

The heavy stocks were locked round my neck and attached by rope to the overhead; a little movement of each pulley and I was sitting rigid, save for a little play backwards and forwards. The rope allowed the wooden stocks to slide along the heavy metal frame. Quite deliberate and once again Mistress shows her expertise when designing how to restrain her slaves.

This session wasn't going to be allowed to end without a bout of 'simple' slave suffocation. Out came a large plastic bag and after a few wafts to fill it with life giving air, it was placed over my protruding head and tied firmly in place. I smiled at Maggie as she whispered, 'You have a lot of air in there slave so it will take a long time before you suffocate.’ I sat and breathed and tried to reduce my metabolism in order to prolong the pleasure. I could see Mistresses smile as she watched me slowly disappearing in my own mist and running out of air. A large self-contained electro pad was attached to my swollen scrotum, then Maggie produced the vibrator that I remember her buying on one of our visits to Saints and Sinners in Blackpool; a powerful, purple headed, mains powered little number, these menacing toys playing on my balls at the same time destroying any attempts at staying calm. Mistress was quite clear that I was not allowed to disgrace myself, and that I should spend some time later, on my own, investigating and reporting on the performance of my bigger balls. I do as I'm told so with difficulty, contained my excitement.

I did investigate them later and can confirm a few things;

1)  It feels great to walk with big balls swinging free. A bit like a ball weight of 190gms but all over your abdomen (that is also 190cc of increased scrotum capacity)

2) You need baggy trousers to accommodate the bigger ball sac

3) Afterwards your cock and balls work perfectly and fully function in all departments

4) This operation has drawn me far closer to my Mistress and I really loved the experience

5) Unfortunately, by the following morning, inflation signs had almost disappeared although I 'knew' they were still bigger

6) Mistress suggests using an anti wrinkle cream as she does not want her property marred by stretch marks

Another fantasy converted to reality by my owner and finally, I was given one of Maggie's home made exquisite mince pies. Not only the best Mistress, she also produces the best home made mince pies a person could want. The only negative point from this otherwise excellent session was the fact that I could only have one mince pie, so I booked another session before Christmas in the hope there might be one left.