Approaching the Ton or Sharing a Flake

No matter which way you look at the session today, it can in no way be described as ordinary or routine; not that I can ever remember having 'ordinary' or 'routine' training with Mistress Maggie. Today had a bit more edge, something intangible and expectant; that little tingle that sets your pulse racing. A feeling that came to a brief but very shuddering halt as I rang the Chambers bell. I saw the misty vision of my Mistress through the small frosted glass pane in the door, and I knew it was my rubber clad Mistress who opened it if only just a few inches, and in a calm, even cold response said ‘Sorry, you are at the wrong house’. Then the door started to close leaving me bewildered.

Before I really had time to doubt my sanity and start to panic, the door re-opened and there was my beautiful Mistress, all smiles, welcoming me in as if the previous incident had never happened. Confused, I was told to remove my shoes and she beckoned me towards the stairs, where I was invited to sit on the third step where Mistress was already seated in her stunning black latex catsuit. A cotton hanky was held over my nose and mouth and I was encouraged to take deep lungfuls of aroma as Maggie held the soaked cloth in position, ‘To help you get over your shock slave’. Mistress is always full of surprises even before having entered her Chambers.

Suitably re-assured and aroma’d I was to follow Mistress and her awesome derrière up the stairs to the Playroom. I have worshipped those beautiful black latex clad buttocks on so many occasions ascending the stairs and I know to look and don’t touch, despite Maggie gauging her slaves concentration by stopping abruptly on occasions, my nose almost making contact with the cleft between those perfect cheeks, but only nearly as I have been well trained.

As Mistress was outlining where she would take me today, her phone rang. I was immediately ordered onto all fours to provide a seat for her while she took care of the enquiry. With arms and knees locked I was a stable and comfortable telephone stool, who naturally was able to listen as Mistress in that familiar tone talked with some unidentified but very fortunate new recruit. I knelt and enjoyed being of use.

More surprises as Mistress instructed boot worship. On this rare occasion I was still in my outdoor clothes as I set my tongue working on her shiny footwear, my licking was accompanied by real laughter from Mistress as I tried surreptitiously to check how high the boots actually went. I’ve been scolded in the past for allowing my worship to stray beyond her footwear, and today I was trying my hardest not to make it obvious that I was checking the extremities. Failed. Maggie thought the failure was most amusing and I love the sound of her laughter, particularly when I have provided the amusement. They were black patent boots to just over the knee by the way.

Boot duty completed and I was quickly dressed into what has become my ‘normal’ slave attire of latex socks, gloves, catsuit and hood, and my old friend the butt-plug; not worn for a while, hence the cotton cloth being placed over my mouth again for another intoxicating dose of aroma, it helps the anal muscles relax and accept the rubber plug. I was now ready for what was arguably one of the most arduous parts of my training since I started. No not CBT, BDSM, asphyxia, ball stretching, tight bondage, breath play or electro-play, but the simple art of carrying a tray round the Playroom in preparation for a time when hopefully I will be used for the same task in earnest.

First Maggie had to attach the tray to her slave, and we tried the waist strap at a much lower position than last time. The supporting chains needed more attention; needing to be equal on either side and hold the tray level when I was standing to attention. After a few attempts at levelling Mistress was satisfied that we had achieved a stable platform, she took note of the chain setting whilst I had the responsibility of confirming that I could serve with the tray secured in its current position. That is a BIG responsibility for a slave, having to actually make a decision and confirm that Mistress had got the settings correct.

On to my actual ‘dumb waiter’ training. It was to be as real as possible within the training environment, so I was led round the upper floor of the Chambers with my tray firmly attached, the aim to maintain its steady horizontal position and carefully move through doorways without banging anything. Maggie deposited cups, saucers and dishes in various places in various rooms, accompanied with a stern warning that these were the real McCoy and would break if I was clumsy. Hmmm no pressure then!

I received a steady stream of instructions from Maggie, she sat monitoring my progress and highlighting any techniques that needed refining. Maggie’s leather teddy bear who goes by the name of Ted took on the role of a guest for the purposes of this realistic tray training.

Maggie was seated on her throne, from whence came my first request. ’Can I have a cup of tea please?’. Off I went to find a cup and saucer and placed them on the serving tray, then on to the bathroom where I made the cup of tea, well actually I had to substitute tea for cold water from the tap, and pretend it was the real thing for this exercise, then carefully make my way without spilling any tea, across the landing and into the playroom, bend my knees so Mistress could see the contents of the tray and help herself to a cup of tea. Mistress and her teddy guest were both rather thirsty, and so it went on. Making my way between rooms, fetching and carrying and repeating the actions, all the while guarding the furniture and trying to keep the full cups and glassware from clanking and spilling. I couldn’t give any form of verbal feedback, as I was pump-up gagged like a proper dumb waiter, as is possible I may be for the centenary celebrations.

Mistress kept me at this part of my training for a long while, as practice makes perfect. By the end I was moderately proficient at my task, although I must remember to clean the tray when empty and out of sight of Maggie’s guests.

And now for something completely different. Off came the tray, out came the plug and replaced by the Kegel electro balls. My concentration was exchanged for the quiet contemplation and passive acceptance of being inserted into the bondage sack and attached to the Playroom bondage chair. I was expected to sit and roast and receive a good dose of electro-therapy via the Kegel’s, along with a couple of extra specially chosen cock and ball electrodes. That was until Maggie discovered that one of the wires to the Kegel's had become detached as I’d shuffled onto the chair.

Naturally it was my fault and as a consequence I ended up with only half my asshole being electrified, but I suspected from the smile on Mistresses face that she wasn’t altogether disappointed, the redundant wire was soon unplugged and a suitable alternative attached. Yes, it was the twin pinwheel, and from where I was sitting those wheels were more than a suitable alternative when set rolling up and down my cock!

By this time I was wearing a gas mask with rebreather bag which was inflating with a regular rhythm. From time to time Mistress came along and removed the rebreather bag, sending welcome whiffs of aroma through the port instead, then screwing the bag back in place, making her slave breathe his own air again. I was floating away, and felt totally relaxed as the latex sheet was draped over me and total darkness descended. The last time this happened with the electrics purring away, I rather embarrassed myself under the sheet, but this time I controlled my urges and eventually emerged a very excited but under control slave.

I was transplanted from my seated position to the Playroom bed. Not a mean feat, as feet were securely strapped within the sack, but one we achieved with a few hops and a final jump onto the rubber bed, where I very willingly reclined for another part of Maggie’s sadistic plan.

Lightly attached to the bed, Maggie straddled her slave with those glorious latex covered buttocks inches from my face, and proceeded to assemble her perspex ball crusher around cock and balls. I have not previously had the pleasure of being in its grasp, but I had seen Maggie’s husband John manufacturing it a while back. Naturally, I could not see it at the time but can now in the pictures.
I guessed I was also to be subdued for the CBT, as the rubber anaesthetic setup was assembled, ready to deliver the pleasure enhancing aroma to the mask that was about to be strapped firmly onto my face.

‘A few more turns slave’, and the crusher squeezed tighter. I had no responsibility but to accept her ministrations as my poor balls took on quite an unnatural shape. This I didn’t mind. I had a glorious unrestricted view of the most stunning latex covered derriere, whilst Maggie was doing to her property whatever she wanted. Flattened balls do give an insidious, growing ache. Not the sharp staccato of a needle, nor the constant prickle of the electrics, but nonetheless over a short period the squashing was just as painful. However, I did get a pleasant massage once the balls were released, enough to return my pancake shaped balls back to their natural state.

We finished with a long discussion about our 100th celebrations; Mistress has some special plans that have not been disclosed to me. And as a wonderful parting gesture to session 99 Maggie unwrapped that all important Cadbury’s 99 chocolate flake, which we shared as we cleaned around. I promised not to let Mistress Maggie down or embarrass her during whatever she has planned for our next, the centenary celebrations.

Relief for Mistress?

After 97 sessions I have come to understand some of the moods and feelings of Mistress Maggie. I certainly know when I have disappointed her, but this week I got the impression from a couple of email exchanges that she was deeply perturbed by a couple of issues, neither of which were of my making. I had already responded 'I hope that you will use your slave to work off some of your anguish'. The brevity of her calling mail tended to confirm that something still concerned Mistress 'Slave required to help Mistress into new rubber catsuit . . . Pack black rubber.' I wracked my brains for what I might have done and for once nothing obvious sprang to mind.

When I arrived Mistress was in good spirits. We talked and Maggie outlined the order of events, I was going to pedicure her feet and then zip her into her brand new never worn catsuit which was hanging lifelessly on its hanger from the gantry. It wasn’t hanging up there on its own for too long, as Maggie helped me into my rubber suit, cuffed me to the overhead and brought a bucket and sponge to wash away any talc smears in COLD water! I was able to surreptitiously swing round a little in the fetters and gaze at her new suit hanging nearby, with no chance of release until I was fully drip dried.

Meanwhile, Maggie sat in her latex dressing gown and sheer stockings on her throne, teasing her slave with lewd and very suggestive gestures, whilst I just hung around getting considerably warmer. To speed up the drying cycle Maggie had me circling my hips and performing strenuous knee jumps until there were no water droplets to be seen.

Mistress thought best to have her pedicure done in the White Room, she could lie back and relax on the couch with her feet up and rely on her slave to have her feet looking and feeling fabulous and fit for a queen.

And so I was led to the White Room where I gently eased off her shoes, parking them neatly against the wall as Maggie slipped off her stockings and handed me the tools required for pedicure.

With one leg in each stirrup, Mistress gave me instructions as to which small outcrops of hard skin needed attention and I got busy with an emery board. To help ensure I did a good job I was to forego the usual rubber gloves and would need to wear my glasses. They actually stayed in place on the outside of the open faced hood; yet another first in my training.

I am a red blooded slave and required considerable self-control as the latex dressing gown Mistress was wearing gently parted, once again revealing that Mistress was naked underneath. As well as red blooded I am trained and I took the sensible way out; positioned myself facing away from her nakedness and set to work gently pedicuring each of her beautiful feet. I had come into intimate contact with them earlier but only as I licked and cleaned every inch of fabric that were her black, shiny platform shoes. Now I could hold them, smooth them and generally worship them in the raw but I had a job to do.

Glasses required!

This is one activity I know Mistress likes and one that I am becoming passable at. After a long and gentle rubbing with the emery I cleaned each foot with my tongue to check for smoothness before asking Mistress if she was satisfied with my work. This time when she spoke I didn't make the mistake of looking where I shouldn't and gazed straight at her face, as she confirmed I was doing a good job and directed me to small areas that required a little more of my attention.

The next instruction set me shaking. I was to use two long wooden cotton buds, one to clean and the second to polish her intimate diamond ring. She held the ring as I wiped and polished the little gem with the buds. I am sure the trembling of my hands was transmitted down the bud but I persevered and finally completed the special task to Maggie's satisfaction and her slaves severe frustration!

We returned to the Playroom and I was instructed to glove up. Maggie said she needed the toilet and it would be best to go before dressing in her new catsuit. I was to be her convenience and promptly marched to the bathroom where I was to position myself over the toilet pan, face up so I could act as her nice, soft, warm rubbery toilet seat. And so it was Mistress squatted, ordered ‘open mouth' and released a warm stream straight into it. Not full flow, a controlled outpouring, followed by 'swallow’. I was just pleased that Maggie might have found another method of tension release, using her slaves eager mouth to relieve herself. I needed the thirst quenching, then Mistress who insists on a spotless bathroom had the convenience of using me to clean up spillages, but that is a slaves job after all.

It was then time to pour Mistress into her new catsuit. The suit is a lot thinner than mine and because of that required more care when easing Mistress inside her second skin. Despite Maggie having chlorinated the suit we both agreed a little talc the first time wouldn't go amiss. One leg slithered home, then the second leg, a little powder and each arm slipped in, once more making Mistress take on the vision of one of my fantasies; my rubber Mistress. The final act I had to perform was to ease the long zip all the the way up past her buttocks, past her waist, and finally up her back to her slender neck. All the while, the suit tightened and Maggie and her second skin became one.

Out came the bondage chair again into the middle of the Playroom, and I was parked on it and tied rather unceremoniously by several lengths of rope to the various eyelets around its frame, my neck collar also was secured to the back of the chair minimising any forward head movement.

I sat there for five minutes or so with only the sound of rustling plastic in the next room for company, until Mistress returned and double bagged me with clear plastic which was tightened at my neck with a convenient piece of latex bandage. It was at this time I realised I wasn't 100% recovered from my recent cold. I would normally lap it up, but instead I really struggled and my begging began far too early. Maggie attentive as always to a dying slave curtailed that part and moved on to her needle point play. Eight sterile needles to be precise. Four in each nipple.

My nipple zips had been slowly opened and Maggie methodically assembled all her nipple jabbing necessaries in a silver dish, which she placed on a table to my left. Gloved up, Maggie showed me the first needle before lining it up with my nipple, saying ‘I am going to push this through now, are you ready?’. The right hand ones were a nightmare, I had forgotten how to ride the pain. Taking a deep intake of breath just as Mistress was attaching the nipple needle did not seem to be working, resulting in more intake, and by the time the fourth one went in I almost lost it. My breathing became ragged, the voices in my head were telling me I really shouldn't have breathed in at that moment and I was generally in a sorry state.

Mistress agreed a time out to allow me to settle and realising the problem said 'deep breath in, and after I count 3 you will receive the next one’. That is of course the correct way. I paused with full lungs and at the count of three, slowly exhaled as the pain subsided; easy when you know how.

I would not be escaping without a rubber hood either, a double walled white rubber hood was brought into play. I had seen the hood earlier in the week when we chlorinated the item, but at that stage I could neither visualise how it fitted or what it would feel like. I got an answer to both questions. Maggie fitted the hood whilst I sat as still as I could so as not to disturb my nipple furniture. Mistress thought I looked hilarious in the hood with the front flapping like elephant ears and thought it even more amusing as she sealed me inside the two layers. Another of those 'I will regret this moment' but the hood felt really comfortable and even with me flapped inside, I could draw in sufficient air to allow me to wear the hood for a long time without any problem. The good thing was that Maggie was starting to laugh at her slave again. Perhaps the blues were lifting?.

My tightly gripped cock was now released from the catsuit. The relief from the tight compression was immediate and Maggie smiled again and I knew things were about to become more 'playful' as another length of white Playroom rope was secured tightly round my balls and a lead snapped on but left dangling for later. I was sat breathing easily in the sealed mask, Mistress was caressing her balls and gathering them with the rope and everything was rosy and I could have stayed there for the remainder of the afternoon but in reality, release from the hood and chair came far too quickly, but we always work to Maggie's schedule not mine.

I soon discovered that what I thought was a lead to my balls was actually a piece of bungee. Maggie had stopped to admire her stunning catsuit in the Playroom mirror, I spotted a smear of talc on her left cheek and naturally grabbed a towel and was about to give her buttocks a good rub. Surprise! - my balls had been secured by bungee cord to the Playroom bed, Mistress cruelly inched away from me with instructions to go ahead and clean her buttocks, then moved further away still, saying 'kiss my lovely latex ass slave.' 

Despite the almost overwhelming urges, don't eagerly leap forward otherwise your balls get a real snap with the bungee. Best to gently ease forward so the gradual pressure stretches the cord (and balls) slowly, and ‘et viola’, a slave can kiss his Mistresses latex clad cheeks whilst balls are being pulled in the opposite direction. My biggest bungee challenge was tidying up the play space and pushing Maggie’s throne back into its rightful place in the corner, as Maggies balls just wanted to bungee over to the Playroom bed to which they were still firmly attached.

I detected that Maggie must have some residual feelings of frustration which needed working off, as she strapped me to the punishment horse and used several of her implements on my tightly latexed arse: the delrin cane, a stout yellow handled cane and a senior cane, quite a good workout with that one. Then a few strokes with a red whip, but the loudest and longest lasting sounds were made with the Amsterdam whip; very loud thudding sounds of leather firmly striking latex. Maggie didn't spare the Amsterdam but even the hardest cracks leave little impression, in contrast the canes definitely leave an impression on my buttocks even through the thick latex. Maggie shifted her stance and attacked back, balls, thighs and anywhere else the Amsterdam could reach and I think I finally tired her arm as the session drew to its natural conclusion.

I hope Maggie got some pleasure by really laying into my arse with the canes and whips, and quite frankly if Maggie got relief from whatever was concerning her, my job was done.

Was it a good session? Yes definitely. I think I might have helped Mistress Maggie get rid of some of the frustrations that may have been bugging her, and judging by the huge smile on both her and her husband Johns face, as he caressed the smoothness of his wife still wearing the tight latex catsuit as we said our good nights, reinforced how relaxed she now was and I left her in excellent spirits.