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.