The sin of omission carries with it the same penalty as actually committing the sin. Either way, Mistress Maggie had found out that I had deceived her during my last session, by letting the air out of the inflatable gag she had strapped on me without her consent. Maggie had made the decision to reprimand her slave; touching Mistresses property is not a slaves prerogative and asking her permission is always the right thing to do. When Mistress asked me the direct question ‘Did you let your gag down?’ I had to confess as I could not lie, and I fully deserved the 10 cane strokes that she prescribed for my stupidity.
Mistress had greeted me at the door to the Chambers in head to toe tight fitting latex and the longest pair of black patent boots I had ever seen, stopping only a couple of centimetres short of her rather perfect latex covered derrière. I, for my part, had got into the latex spirit and was attired in my latex tee-shirt and shorts underneath my street clothes and, for the first time a pair of black latex gloves. Wearing the latex gloves as I walked down the street actually had me feeling rather daring, but I needn’t have been concerned, it was cold and raining and perfectly natural weather to be wearing shiny gloves. Mistress didn’t believe my luxury latex was suitable attire for a slave who deserved her cane and that a bare ass was more apt. I was sent to the bathroom with instruction to strip down, to return in only socks, gloves and collar.
Once again I was bent low presenting myself before my Mistress, awaiting the signal to put my tongue on her boot. I can only say that my obligatory footwear worship was a little overshadowed by Mistress announcing that worship would be in two parts, with the punishment that I had earned being sandwiched in-between. I put that behind me and set to work on those very long, very shiny and very tasty boots but that was only a short two minute taster, a quick lick and then over Maggie's knee for a suitable 'warm up'. It is a wonderful sensation being naked, face down, over Mistresses latex covered thighs, having your arse warmed up through spanking; the flat of her hand beating down on my ass cheeks followed by the same with her rubber soled slipper. By the time Maggie had completed the warm-up I was starting to feel that characteristic ache and warmth across my buttocks, pleased also that I had endured the lengthy spanking as a prerequisite to the caning, and oh that secret feeling of pleasure derived from being so close to Mistress - and naked to boot!
Out came the whipping horse and I was strapped down lengthways along it. Mistress had taken delivery of my new butt-plug, and with me nicely secured in the perfect uncompromising position she was keen to try it for size. ‘OK slave, lets find out which is more uncomfortable, the cane or the plug. Oh yes, and you can wear the gag that got you into trouble and you will be drugged so you cannot argue’. The plug is red and BIG!
A rubber hood was zipped on my head and the aroma inhaler system was wheeled into the room, when Maggie placed the anaesthetic mask over my nose I was to take several whiffs of the fresh aroma. Lots and lots of lube, but try as we might the little red bugger was just a bit big. Maggie wasn't going to force it and an intermediate plug was used as a stopgap. The 'big red' was put to one side until my anal muscles are ready to accept its girth; not long I hope.
The offending inflatable gag was now filling up my mouth and Maggie picking up her cane. ‘Ten strokes with a senior cane for you’, she announced. There was no way I could meddle with the gag this time; Mistress had it installed as it ought to be - in a place and fashion that pleased HER as I took the ten punishing strokes. Each time the cane came down I thought hard that I deserved the stripe and that helped steel my resolve.
Mistress was in teaching mode and insisted my bad spelling should be improved before I could be released from the horse. My gag was removed though, so I could be clearly heard practising the words I frequently get wrong. The spelling lesson was reinforced by some nice thwacks with the rubber soled slipper, as a gentle reminder that: 'waist’ is the rather large girth at my midriff and 'waste' represents items that are no longer required; today is not hyphenated to become to-day, and I am a slave not a salve. I think I can spell these now and hope Maggie was satisfied with the way I willingly accepted all of her corrective measures.
It is best to learn quick. Five years ago it took two lessons for me to learn to spell apologise, the consequences were very painful. I shall never forget the lesson: Only one ‘p’ in apologise.
Reminder to self: Make sure the crotch zip of the catsuit is closed.
In my eagerness to don my 0.8mm armoured rubber catsuit, to provide at least some protection from any further bum stripes, I was in the suit like the proverbial rat up a drainpipe. Unfortunately, when it came to closing the zip my new guiche acted as a bit of an obstacle, try as I might I could not zip up past my exposed cock and balls. No good, I had to concede and just like a baby had to beg Maggie to help me get dressed. More proof that a poor slave needs an exceptional Mistress to keep them in order. Anyway, next time, zip closed before insertion!
Once safely installed, I did get to complete the worship of those beautiful boots, and lots of it. It took a long time to cover both boots with licks and kisses as Maggie changed her pose to allow me full access to their full length, sometimes she was sitting and sometimes standing and giving me directions so that no part of her boots was untouched. Long slow licks and kisses all the way to the top of Mistresses thigh-high boots and back down the other side. Strangely, I couldn't feel the ten stripes I had taken earlier; attending to my boot tasks I had given me much more important things to concentrate on. Those thigh boots are exquisite. . .
It couldn't last and Mistress wanted some fun party games, after all, Christmas was approaching fast and what is a good party without a game of forfeit; you get a treat provided you are willing to pay the price.
Long white Playroom ropes tied my ankles and wrists, I could hop around and move my wrists but, ropes tied by an expert can be comfy yet 100% secure, and Mistress is an expert! The relative freedom wasn't to last, the novel application of the spreader bar really limited my movement, to a point where I could only struggle around on the Playroom rug. Maggie generously provided her slave with a leather muzzle which she anchored to the iron spreader, along with my wrists and ankles. Ah Christmas, once more trussed up like a turkey. Where would any slave worth his (considerable) weight be without a perfect Mistress ready to play forfeit.
The prize.’You will have my permission to worship your latex Mistress and all her curves - would you like to do that? There will be forfeits! No brainer. The chance to worship Mistress, latex and all, even trussed as I was, I would forfeit anything for my Mistress.
Of course I had to take the punishment before the prize. The first prize and forfeit; nipple clamps in exchange for bottom worship. Fair enough and agreed despite the fact the clamps were little bastards. I am sure Mistress obtains the most innocuous yet most evil clamps for her slave, and doesn’t hurry to take them off when I have completed my part of the bargain. I even managed to struggle into a semi-seated position to help my Mistress fulfil her part of the game. Oh the things I do to help my Mistress.
‘No doubt you would love to worship my latex breasts slave, but are you prepared for the costs?’ Mistress has the most superb physique and when she is tightly enclosed in latex it adds that little flavour to die for. ‘Yes please Mistress. No matter what costs. . .’
I thought it strange that Mistress announced a slight delay as she disappeared to bring some sterile shoes? Moments later she was seated beside me putting her high heels on and telling me my next forfeit. ‘You must have your little cock invaded before you can worship my breasts’. Oh well, by this time my latex hood had slithered round and I was almost blind. If Mistress gets turned on by wearing high-heels whilst stuffing her cock with something rather nice, who am I to complain? One thing is for certain, the feeling of a long hard object entering your cock and bossing it about is not a sensation that warrants a complaint, well not for this slave anyway.
It was only afterwards when I saw this photo that I really appreciated what had actually been inserted into Maggie's cock. It adds a new meaning to being 'stuck with a stiletto'! but it’s a good job the Cuban heeled boots stayed firmly in the cupboard!
In fairness to Mistress she did try and fulfil her part of the game. She straddled me from the rear and wrapped her legs around my neck where I could certainly feel the warmth of her thighs. She even approached my taped head from the front and if I hadn't been so immobilized I’m sure I would have received my prize. I mentioned the problem to Maggie and that I thought it a little unfair when I was finally cut out and . . . she laughed and laughed!
My mouth was doing a fine job of getting me into trouble today, only an ungrateful slave would make such a stupid comment about fairness. Mistress reminded me that she had kindly left my hands available to caress her latex clad thighs, and if she’d known that I was not going to use them properly she would have wrapped those up in blue tape as well. Quite obviously I needed my mouth rinsing out.
The toilet box was duly manoeuvred into the centre of the room. ‘Head in the tank. Face up slave’ and my neck was fitted into the neck hole. When the seat was closed I had time to contemplate just how lucky a slave I was. I heard zips and Mistress took her place on the toilet, she was in her thigh high boots again and pressing her heels into my nipples. Ahh, the pain!! A pain which reliably makes her slave open his mouth. ’Nice and wide and keep it open’.
Mistress opened the floodgates and all her piss was streaming down on my face, but her crotch zip provided only a narrow gap for her nectar to flow through and it was squirting in all directions, onto my face, in my eyes and well everywhere. I was told in no uncertain terms not to be such a useless slave and catch the valuable fluids like a regular toilet. A few adjustments to the zips and once again Mistress was nicely seated, with her menacing boots operating my mouth buttons again. A much steadier stream was directed into my eager mouth this time. I definitely had a very good rinsing and my thirst quenched with her tasty golden shower.
Mistress was a little pissed off with her ungainly slave and insisted that I clean up the mess that I had allowed to accumulate inside the Toilet Box. And finally, I think I did something right. I sucked, slurped and licked up every last drop of nectar that had settled behind my head. Mind you I had to take a fair beating with a riding crop while I was doing it. I even waited for the last few drops to drip from my saturated scalp and once I was confident that my drinking and cleaning was complete, I sat up with a satisfied and very satiated smile on my face.
In the mail accompanying the blog pictures I was really pleased to read the following comment from Maggie ‘. . . slave was a useless toilet but surprisingly did a great job of sucking up every drop . . .’
I was encouraged to shower afterwards and although I really enjoy being covered in Mistress Maggie’s fluids, it was wise not to return home wearing her special scent.
It was unreal for me to expect the prize of latex thigh worship, after all a slave is there to serve and provide enjoyment; but I can dream. And I did get a delicious mince pie because it is December. A bit of a tradition developing here I think.
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