Cock and Nettle Rissoles - Yumeee!

As Mistress Maggie was installing my trusty black butt plug, I allowed myself a quiet smile as she examined my arse and then commented that there were still a few visible marks across my butt cheeks. It had been two weeks since I had received punishment with her cane and I had a feeling there may be some residual memories of the twenty strokes and had kept my bum covered in the intervening fortnight. Mistress was somewhat pleased that I was still wearing her brand and I was definitely delighted to have my feelings confirmed.

The insertion of the butt plug itself presented a few humorous moments. Mistress is never economical with lubrication; today she had made the plug unusually slippery. It slipped right out from between Maggie's hands like a well oiled eel and landed fair and square on the Trample Table. Being highly polished and the base of the plug shaped like a plunger, they appeared to be mating; the table very stable, the plug wobbling slightly, pointing skywards and Mistress swaying slightly with laughter. Seizing the opportunity for more fun at slaves expense, Mistress instructed me to sit on the plug and insert it myself. More peels of laughter as the damn thing had a life of its own and kept playing tag with my bum hole. After much amusement but needing to move on, Maggie finally regained control of the plug and it was in its home in seconds.

I was wearing my black latex shorts and tee shirt as it was a rather warm day, and after some very pleasant shoe worship, Mistress had me facing her, face down on her latex clad thighs while she landed many quick blows on my back and backside with her multi-thonged whip. Mistress appeared to like the sound of her whip thwacking against rubber and spent quite some time just beating out a steady and pleasant rhythm.

Maggie knew it wasn't hurting her slave, so it must have been for her own sheer pleasure as she ordered me to bend over the latex bed in the more conventional position for receiving a thorough whipping. I could hear the whip swinging and swishing through the quiet Playroom air now that Maggie was using it at arms length and my bum began swaying in response to the kiss of the leather thongs each time they landed, leaving a warm glow.

Maggie announced that she had planned a gourmet theme for the first part of today's session . . . ‘ I will be making cock and nettle rissoles’. These consisted of tenderised meat balls, garnished and marinaded in fresh nettles then microwaved to perfection.

Oh bollocks. I should have known that nettles would appear somewhere on the menu for today. My caning two weeks ago, was due to my poor details about earlier nettle experiences. Unlike previous occasions where I surreptitiously could aim for the older and less potent nettles, Mistress was to take full control of exactly where the green garnish would be placed, and to make a real meal of the occasion her polished Trampling Platform would be used for preparing and showing off her recipe.

But first, we all know where the meat balls were to be sourced; good solid Yorkshire stock for cock and balls. A couple of bolster cushions helped raise my buttocks to the appropriate height, smart use of an old stocking wound round the base of cock and balls provided a tight seal and they were ready to be offered up to the little hole in the centre of the table. When Maggie was satisfied that her property would not escape, the two clamps were snapped shut leaving my cock and balls the centrepiece of the table, very exposed and very vulnerable.

For good measure my hands were loosely chained to the legs of the table. Maggie's caring side is never far from the surface and I gladly accepted the latex pillow to raise my head from the Playroom floor. Or was it so that I could see and kiss the high heeled tenderisers she was wearing and about to use for the meat balls?

The pair of black shoes I had been so lovingly worshipping earlier were the first to be used to trample on her meat, then a white pair with a well defined and pronounced tread pattern on their soles. 

Maggie was particularly pleased to present these for me to examine, as she described all the features and benefits of her chosen tenderising footwear. I did manage a little foot worship before Mistress put the white ‘bovver’ boots on. I am sure they had tractor tread as their soles and if not for their height, colour and weight they would make a good pair of walking boots, the sort that leave an impressive footprint on anything they come into contact with.

Grabbing the overhead ring to steady herself, Mistress made sure that both pairs came into very close contact with her cock and balls and for quite a while, her actions came into very close contact with my soul. For my part I just clung on with my tethered wrists grasping firmly onto the table top, but the table was already a very stable platform for Maggie’s trampling tenderisation process! Perhaps it was just fear or pain on my part that made me grip the table so tightly?

Once Maggie's impressive footprints had minced my cock and balls to a suitable consistency it was on to the garnish and nettle marinade. Mistress made sure it was only her slave that would benefit from the tender touch of her fresh nettles by donning another pair of disposable latex gloves. Forever unselfish and thoughtful towards her slave, she snipped the most potent leaves and put them to one side for the final garnish. I on my part was quite happy to share with Mistress the nettle delights.

The remaining young leaves were dissected into fine strips, then with her tweezers she carefully positioned the nettle pieces to any visible parts, using a little lube as glue. A thin coating of plastic wrap sealed everything nice and tightly in place followed by a thick layer sealing everything to the table and Maggie announced, 'Fifteen minutes marinading and they will be ready for cooking’. All I could do was lie back and wait for Maggie’s stinging marinade to infuse into her meatballs.

Cling film removed, the thin slivers of nettle were removed and Maggie began brushing my marinated cock and balls with cooking oil. Well, she said it was cooking oil but I could see the bottle on the table labelled ‘electrosex contact gel’. Not my job to tell a lady how to cook so I stayed quiet and hoped for the best. Two conductive electric cooking rings were slipped over my cock and wired up ready for her 'special' method of cooking. There’s nothing like a bit of seasoning and Mistress set her white 'pepperpot' electric box to a moderate level and the cooking commenced. The metal brush was also an electrode, Maggie used it to give her meat a regular basting and finished her recipe with a final sprig of nettle garnish.

I am not sure how Mary Berry would describe this method of cooking? Flash fry, seared, microwaved, but I know after being tenderised, marinated and basted, the meat balls were well cooked after ten minutes, and I was done to a twitching turn. Freshly garnished and ready to be eaten.

Mistress bent over and sank her teeth into my balls. Thank goodness for those tractor tread soles, they had done a good job at tenderising my balls and Mistress did not have to bite too hard when she finally sampled her meatball meal.

All the while I just gazed and admired the chef as she went about her cooking and eating and I was really grateful for the latex cushion and some of the views they were able to provide me with.

Ah, the remainder of the plastic scene from our last session. Just like the annual nettling, the previous plasticking wasn't going to go away. I was told to remove everything as Maggie was going to help me broaden my horizons to encompass something other than my rubber fetish. I was placed back into the plastic suit I had worn in my previous session and I felt somewhat at home with my new plasticky skin. I have often thought about Mistress using me as part of her Playroom furniture, only a short while before her cock and balls did become part of her table, well now I was to be placed in storage inside a large plastic mattress cover.

It wasn't long before I was standing under the centre ring with calves and thighs taped inside and Mistress fitting the stout supporting waist corset. My arms were arranged across my chest and I was taped inside with gaffer ready to be hung into storage. Of course effective storage involves total coverage and the inflatable hood was utilised to completely seal her property away from harm.

I think Mistress was getting a little bored just seeing her slave enjoying myself, warming nicely and swinging gently in the stout chains, so after a little dextrous rope work my pre cooked cock and balls were captured in their own tight plastic compartment; a right little handful for Mistress to have fun with. I could feel copious amounts of cold lubrication being injected in there, Mistress had prepared a lube filled hyperdermic and was syphoning its contents through a tiny hole in the plastic, before plugging in a powerful vibrator which she used to disperse it.

Her balls were given plenty of attention. The breathing tube as well received her attention, as Maggie regulated my breathing with her own exhaled breath - ah, that heavenly essence of Maggie again.

I slumped with my whole weight  against the corset and chains as Mistress Maggie leaned against her very hot, very wet and very willing slave.

Not just leaned against but Mistress said ‘I know you are loving all this plastic slave. You have permission to stay in it while you fuck my rubber clothes until you cum’. Now that command really put me in a total quandary. I had been trying very hard all session to control my urges and make sure I didn't cum, now Mistress was instructing me to do just the opposite. It is an interesting position to try any kind of fucking activity. Knees together, only balls poking proudly inside the plastic and suspended from the rafters with chain. What else could a good loyal, obedient slave do? So I followed my Mistresses instructions as best as I could and can assure you I got really hot inside my plastic cocoon and the chains were definitely necessary to hold me up in the end.

I have been nettled before; I have worn the corset before; I have been plastic wrapped before, in fact I have enjoyed nearly all the elements before, but yet again, this was a totally unique and wonderful experience with Mistress Maggie. You do sweat a lot inside a plastic bag on a warm day but I love every minute of my time with my Mistress. 

A cautionary tale though; anyone who is privileged to receive a good caning, remember that even after two weeks, your badges of honour may still be visible and your ass still sore.

A Right Pain in the Bum

Mistress Maggie allowed her sadistic, cruel side to surface once again, to elicit a little concern and a lot of dismay from her very loyal slave. Not because of the punishment I was about to receive, that was fully deserved and expected as I had been pre-warned twice, firstly when the incident happened, 'A dose of discipline from your displeased Mistress will remind you to double check facts before broadcasting’. And secondly in the calling e-mail, 'Your punishment for embarrassing me has been determined and will be carried out ahead of a steamy ordeal'. Mistress NEVER forgets or changes a punishment; no matter what you do or say you will receive the ordained amount.

No, Maggie's cruel sadistic side materialised when I was sent to the bathroom with instructions to put on my black rubber gloves, socks and shorts, and to bring the item I found there back to the Chambers for my chastisement. What I found was a cane, about two feet long and the thickness of a little finger; a veritable mean bum breaking machine. I knew it was going to hurt!

Mistress had already positioned the Horse exactly where she wanted it for maximum purchase and accuracy in her swing. I duly presented the cane to her and without thought or argument positioned myself along the bench ready to receive it. 'I have decided, twenty strokes’, she announced. Depending on the severity of the punishment Mistress may expect me to bend and take it, but on this occasion my hands were roped securely forward and my ample girth confined tightly to the punishment Horse. With the ease of the exceptional Mistress that she is, my head was swiftly inserted into a rather nice rubber hood 'to catch some of the screams and crying'. I was advised to thank Mistress after each stroke and repeat ‘Less haste more attention’, or something very similar, to remind me not to repeat the mistake in future.

I was really glad of the strong ropes, as by halfway I was turning the horse into a bucking bronco at each stroke. It was starting to place a real strain on my resolve; the only thing keeping me from screaming was the knowledge that Mistress deemed my punishment as deserved and necessary. Those of you who have played the children's game Buckaroo will understand exactly how I was feeling.

18 Thank You Mistress, more haste. . . 19 Thank you. . . 20.  OH the relief, but I did remember a final Thank you. . .  I must say Maggie is not a complete sadist, because every four or five strokes she would stop, come into my limited field of vision, and through the perforated latex hood gently stroke my head. Each time I got a perforated reminder of how stunning Mistress looks in her leather skirt and corset, topped with a stunning blouse and bottomed with the most precisely placed seams on the sheerest black nylons you could imagine; dead straight up those perfect legs. That vision also helped sustain my poor arse through its ordeal.

At the end of my punishment it was really strange. My arse, which had been on fire for twenty strokes just felt numb. I might have quipped about having a numb bum - but I didn't. I just lay there assimilating and absorbing the pain. Mistress deposited a string of anal beads right under my nose, in my post-punishment haze and with my restricted vision I thought it was a ball gag and tried to be helpful by opening my mouth wide. Wrong end fool. Those beads were destined for another orifice. With a large dollop of lube, accompanied by the kind of farting sounds you can only get when the last dredges are being squeezed from a bottle. . . 'Remind me to get some more lube, slave,’ each of the four balls were easily lodged up my numb bum hole.

Maggie cleaned away a spot of cane induced blood from my backside, before spending considerably more time cleaning that damn cane which had created 20 quite livid weals across it. The punishment I had taken today illustrates how your own personal limits can be gradually extended through suitable training. Four years ago I would have died at the thought of six strokes with a springy cane, yet here I was accepting 20 strokes with something more resembling a telegraph pole.

Punishment over Mistress relaxed back to her training persona and divested all her garments, to be replaced with a clear pair of plastic dungarees. Now, even through the perforations, that wonderful vision helped divert my attention away from my arse, which by now was just starting to warm and become less numb. Her perfect figure was clearly on display yet totally protected by the plastic and it was other areas of my anatomy that were now reacting to the charged situation.

Mistress is used to her slaves reaction, ignored the growing erection and helped me into a thick smoky black plastic catsuit. I have worn this suit before and it has been carefully modified by Maggie; she made a reinforced opening in it for her cock and balls. The latex hood that I had worn throughout my punishment ordeal was now removed, revealing a very wet and bedraggled slave. After a few hilarious jibes about the way I looked Mistress handed me a towel, with instruction to dry my hair and smarten up for some more plastic. She wanted to try out a new breathplay combination in the form of a close fitting hood and a new latex muzzle.

Even after drying, a little talc was necessary to ease my chins inside the soft clingy plastic without damaging the hood. Mistress liked the look of the combination but the practicalities for long-term use soon looked less hopeful, unfortunately the nose holes did not line up as well as she would like. At least I had the pleasure of testing it out and quietly suffocating in it for a while, before alerting her that it couldn’t be worn for longer, as the airflow was simply too restricted. A lovely item the muzzle though, with adjustable head straps and rubber neck corset. So when Maggie was ready to move us into the White Room, off it came, but no doubt we will be re-introduced again in the not too distant future.

The clinic had been prepared with a definite plastic theme; a thick plastic bodybag spread out on the gynae couch being the centrepiece. Mistress interviewed me first, asking me questions about my recent cock health and performance. She said that she’d be taking care of her slaves routine piss hole maintenance today, and that it could be a messy business. Better lie on some protective plastic then. Maggie opened the bodybag’s zip all the way, I gingerly sat in the offered position which did start my caned arse stinging, and finally relaxed inside. I was strapped in and zipped up ready for Mistresses next exercise.

I was informed that my external temperature must be monitored through two little pads attached at either side of my balls. To tell the truth it felt like the tens unit, especially when Maggie turned it on to Program E, but I assume new technology can take a slaves temperature in this manner? And now for internal measurements and stretching exercises. More lube, a few choice decisions regarding the sound size and Mistress was carefully inserting ever increasing sized sounds from her Pratt kit down the inside of her cock. I took Pratt sound size 27 relatively easily but the next size up refused to slide in. With my highest sound size limit noted Maggie was satisfied with the stretching progress she had made with her slave, she indicated that in a future session we would be returning to the clinic for continued stretching of the urethra.

Yet another strange use of new technology was introduced now, by way of what was reported to be an internal thermometer. You can guess where that ended up along with its associated electrode; stuck inside my penis shaft. Oh yes, Mistress really does need to know how hot it is in there, how else does she know whether to switch her electric up or down? The electrastim sensation was set to a very unnerving level, and to add to the steamy atmosphere the zip was finally closed over my face and I started to use up the air inside the body bag. No sympathy from Mistress as she pointed out there was a suitable sized hole at cock level to let in plenty of air.

It is a strange feeling gradually consuming all the air inside the bodybag, unlike the other breath play methods that I have enjoyed with Maggie the effects are much slower to show themselves. The plastic is thick and doesn't mould itself to your face, in fact the lack of oxygen creeps up slowly and insidiously. Perhaps I should suggest Mistress installs carbon dioxide monitors inside the body bags, but then again they are not required as I trust Mistress implicitly and have agreed to go wherever she wants to take her slave.

As Maggie unhitched her plastic slave from the clinic couch she revealed that a lot more plastification awaited me, but I will have to tell you about that in a future episode, because for the first time in all my 4+ years in training Mistress changed her mind ‘ . . or maybe not’, she said. Instead we spent quiet time lounging on the latex bed, where we just chilled out in our plastic suits, talking and enjoying each others company. It is an amazing thing lying there talking and just gazing at Maggie’s smiling profile in the subdued lighting of the Playroom. I didn't change my mind though about being the luckiest slave alive; a perfect Mistress, with a laugh and smile to die for and once more, in the presence of my Mistress, I felt really alive.

Needless to say Mistress made sure her cock was kept under strict control during this time, however a lot more willpower was required when Mistress decided a little plastic face-sitting would bring the session to a suitable finale, and I was told in no uncertain terms not to embarrass myself. Slurp went the last few drops of lube inside her dungarees and Mistress mounted my face with her lubed up plastic protected rear. I get the distinct impression Mistress Maggie enjoys slipping around on the nose of her suffocating slave and the severe ache I left the Chambers with on that very lucky Friday 13th had nothing to do with a sore arse.

Mistress, if you read this, I have to remind you to get some more lube!