Chalk and Cheeze

Chalk and Cheeze. That is the only way I can describe the contents of my Christmas session with Mistress Maggie. Mistress gave absolutely nothing away in her calling mail. Not even a glimmer of the delights to come. It was really strange as I was going through my pre-training routine; light lunch shower etc. Normally I tend to focus on some hint and try to work out a possible scenario, mind you, I am always wrong because Maggie knows her property well and produces the exact wording that will confuse her dumb slave. Help! This time, nothing. I can't begin to describe the thoughts that were racing away inside those tiny brain cells.

It was with just a little more excited trepidation that I poked out my finger and rang Mistresses door bell; one ring only and don't be tempted to push it a second time. Mistress, as usual, only kept me waiting a short while before some of my worries were dissipated with the vision of a true Goddess, her figure partially hidden by the front door, yet fully hidden from the innocent gaze of anyone who chanced to be passing. But I got the full stunningly attractive view of Mistress in her tight short black latex dress and wonderfully patterned legwear. This was starting to look a lot like Christmas!
As I followed my owner up the stairway to heaven I did give a smile, as I had noticed two feint talc marks on those otherwise perfect latex covered orbs that I have come to love and admire. Only the slightest of smudges where Mistress must have smoothed her dress, but oh how I wish it had been me that had put them there. A problem indeed: If I tell Mistress about the smudges I run the risk of incurring black marks against me. If I say nothing and Mistress finds out then I am damned for being negligent. Honesty as always is the best policy and Mistress asked me to wipe the marks away with a cloth. No second bidding, on to her gorgeous bottom and give it a gentle polishing. ‘That will be enough now slave’. Admittedly I had been taking my time and Mistress promptly put a stop to my polishing before explaining that I would be rockin around the Christmas tree and helping with tree decorations for the first half of my session.

After suitable worship to Mistresses court shoes my bum was plugged and I was told to climb into my catsuit, and yes, unlike last time when I got myself in a twist, I remembered to do up the crotch zip. A comfortable latex hood was zipped on my head but no gloves were allowed, as they may hamper the delicate handling of the Xmas baubles.

I was given an introduction to the six foot assembled tree before receiving my first task, to untangle the two strings of Christmas lights and test them out. Mistress had made sure I was well insulated from any short circuits by dressing her slave in head to toe rubber uniform, thankfully such protection was not really required because all of the bulbs lit up and ready to go. Round and round the tree I went, decorating it with the first string of lights. My first effort definitely did not fill Mistress with tidings of comfort and joy, the lights were not evenly spread; lots of lights twinkling at the top of the tree and not much happening down the bottom, Mistress suggested she would fix that problem later! For the moment, off came the lights and with Maggie’s help they were soon installed more evenly.

Mistress was keeping a tally of my decorating performance and added another counting mark to my list of errors. What concerned me were the black marks that were already chalked up; accidentally taking the base from its socket, several branches coming unhinged, the occasional bauble that ended up on the floor, things like that, until eventually I was satisfied that the fairy could be mounted on top of the tree, then all that was required was to step back and await approval from my Mistress.

John, Maggie's husband, who had put the tree together and watched with some anxiety as I started to destroy his creation took charge of the final moving and positioning of the tree.

After a final inspection, the tree lights were turned on and Maggie’s face magically lit up with a smile. I think she was pleased with my tree trimming abilities. It felt really natural and festive being able to help my friends in this way and an added privilege to be welcomed to serve in their home. Call it cheesy but I loved that ordinary domestic scene of slave following Mistresses instruction and helping decorate their tree. Even useless slaves have their uses and I was able to rejuvenate some abandoned baubles by taking charge of making new hanging ribbons for them and a place on the Christmas tree.

During my last few sessions I believe I have been a disappointing wimp of a slave, so I was delighted when Mistress wanted a record of her slave having done something right, a photo was to be taken for the archives. It was smiles all round as I posed with my owner in front of our completed yuletide efforts. What was a lot more sinister were the words Mistress whispered to me as I stood grinning like a Cheshire Cat. ‘It's a shame that such a festive occasion as dressing the tree should fall on the same day my dog is to be castrated.’

That did take the glow somewhat off the situation. I have acted as Mistresses pet dog before and I really hoped to hang on to my balls. I gulped and started thinking of excuses why I should retain my testicles but each argument came to and abrupt cul-de-sac with the promise I had made to Maggie, 'To willingly do whatever Mistress asks, immediately and without question.' If that wasn't enough to worry about Mistress casually mentioned that I’d earned myself eight chalk up marks for my clumsy errors.

We took our leave of John, or more precisely, Maggie ordered me to follow her back into her Chambers to begin the operation. On the way upstairs, Maggie mentioned that I would be castrating myself and that thought did not fill me with any sense of calm!

Rule 9 came to mind: Mistress may change her mind at any time. Perhaps Mistress could use rule 9 now and pick something a little more seasonal for dealing with my nuts. Roasting my chestnuts on an open fire, or decking the balls with boughs of holly suddenly seemed very attractive options when compared with a looming castration.

I was relieved, to say the least, when I was spread-eagled to the Playroom bed. Surely an operation of such magnitude would require the clinic, wouldn't it? However, my celebrating was a little premature because Mistress had warned that I would be in a position to castrate myself, and to do that she would be deploying her fearsome stainless steel humbler.

Since my last encounter with her steel humbler, Mistress has gained a lot more confidence and become far more competent at fixing it tightly in place. Maggie straddled my outstretched thighs and firstly applied the weight, pulling on my balls until they could be neatly locked away inside it, more ball pulling and the humbler bar itself was on. All the while Maggie used her fingernails, drawing them along the length of my cock and vulnerably tight balls, I fleetingly thought that she may use her nails as scalpels and actually de-nut me herself. No, her plan was set and she was to continue with the humbler; the scratching and pulling were merely a distraction.

Screws began turning and my balls began moving further and further away. ‘Let me get this machine tight enough then your balls might simply drop off of their own accord’. Now I was beginning to understand how her pet dog would end up de-nutting himself! Maggie seemed to get great delight from her continued scratching and squeezing of my nuts and the formal 'stretching' process hadn’t even begun. I got the odd glimmer of that glorious smile and that wonderfully scary laugh as she cruelly menaced with my balls. I certainly wasn't going to complain as I could see Mistress was simply having a wonderful Christmas time, and if torturing the bollocks off her rubber dog gives her a festive buzz, then so be it.

A good separation between humbler and ball stretcher had been achieved, ‘Ah, more than a good rulers width’ was the size report. Maggie then began applying her ball crusher with its spiked side pressing into my balls and proceeded to tighten those nuts as well. A little more stretching resulted in a little more spiking; an agonising catch 22 predicament for her slave. I wish Maggie would use a metric ruler, they seem far narrower!

From earlier experiences using the metal humbler we have learned that it’s possible to stand me up slowly, or at least have me in a crawl position where I can spread my legs really wide, the whole humbler can then be manoeuvred into its correct, rearward attitude. One slip here and I really could castrate myself, so very careful contorting does it. I think secretly Mistress was pleased that I had managed to get the humbler into the correct position without removing her balls, as I know she gets pleasure from severely torturing them occasionally. Where would the joy be in using a crop on a pair of removed balls in a Petri dish?

Maggie had certainly stepped my humbler training up to a higher level, the position of those screws are instrumental to the obedience of the dog. The spikes were cruelly biting into my balls, the screws were inexorably stretching my balls, every movement had me suffering, but things could be a whole lot worse if I stepped out of line. The good news is that we proved that my guiche piercing and stretched balls can peacefully coexist, well perhaps peacefully is not quite the right word, more I could tolerate their coexistence. And ‘Early next year I think we will fit a more larger squat bar in place of the training guiche’. Excellent, some of my future seems set and it does appear that my attached balls may well play a part in that future. I am very pleased to wear whatever size guiche Mistress decides on and I will wear it with pride.

Meanwhile, back to the here and now. I suddenly grew a tail and pointed ears so I could be led onto the balcony on all fours in true doggy fashion. It was one very steady and very slow walk but still the most difficult walk any pet could take, intensely worrying as well when my balls had been threatened with castration and we were heading towards the clinic! Whew, instead Maggie took a diversion and parked me next to the bannister and tethered me, a bit like you would tether a horse to a hitching post.

It was now that Mistress decided that the chalked up slate would be wiped clean. Not exactly wiped but hit hard, with the crop Mistress was carrying. And no, not across my backside, that was nicely protected underneath .8mm of rubber. No, straight on my aching, overstretched and already painful balls. Maggie had been trying to encourage her pet dog to make appropriate doggy sounds and those eight slaps really had me baying like the Hound of the Baskervilles and whining for her to please stop. I suppose I should consider myself very lucky that Mistress did actually remove the spiked bar before slapping my balls. Be thankful for small mercies. I think the stainless steel bowl was to catch my balls in the event of an accidental removal. I did say Mistress is really thoughtful towards her slaves.

I cannot stress enough how much relief it was to have the humbler finally removed. As I lay back on the rubber bed Mistress teased my cock with a little gentle stroking treatment. Despite my urgent desire to have relief as we were dressing the tree, now I was offered the opportunity, I just froze. My balls and my mind were in such disarray with the near death de-balling experience that I disgraced myself again and could not perform as ordered. What was more worrying, Mistress said we may need to re-address the castration as clearly the balls are not a lot of use attached, there was certainly a mention of that damned stapler making its reappearance some time in the new year.

Despite suggestions of further operations, I wouldn't have it any other way with Mistress Maggie. After all, a promise is a promise and she is Mistress of all she surveys and I hope you all have had a merry Christmas. I have already received my presents from Maggie.