Self Service slave Station

No matter how stoic you want to be for your Mistress, Mistress Maggie knows just which buttons to press, or in my case, how much brushing a buttock can take before having her slave beg for mercy. I wouldn't dare to comment on the rights or wrongs surrounding my punishments, after all Mistress is always right so there are no wrongs, and in this instance I had been warned that I would be punished by Maggie for any erections I had whilst undertaking some recent research for her; a task which involved me scouring over thousands of photos, mostly of ladies dressed in skimpy undies and fetish clothing.

Mistress wanted to ensure I wasn't enjoying my work and instructed me to maintain a five-bar-gate for keeping note of the number of erections I experienced during my searching. My next session would begin with punishment for any infractions, where I had allowed my mind to wander.

Fortunately, of all the pictures I poured over, only four had me aroused enough to land me in trouble. These were of my owner and created an instant rush of excitement as soon as I spotted one. So when asked, I honestly replied ‘four Mistress' and for those four I received four minutes of spanking over Maggie’s knee, first with her hand then with the hard hairbrush which Ted had been quietly guarding. That bloody bear will have to go!

Initially my stoicism stood firm. I mean, over the knee of a beautiful latex covered woman, face down on the latex bed, what rubber slave wouldn't be in heaven? As my ass became warmer and warmer my resolve began to crumble, and but for my face being buried deep in the latex bed I would have been begging for mercy earlier. Sometimes I think this slave is a bit of a wimp.

Success: Maggie was determined to help me with the fitting of my new, bigger red butt plug. It has been available for a while and forms one of our medium term objectives. After fixing her property to the high horse, copious doses of lubrication and aroma were supplied to her slave, finger stretching and dildo stretching and final success as the red butt plug was pushed all the way inside me. It’s a little tight and compact at the moment, however, the red plug or Big Red as I now think of my friend, has at last found its new home.

Failure: Big Red is obviously not yet fully acclimatised to its new environment and popped out again, indicating more expansion may be required before BR settles into its new home permanently. I will enjoy stretching out BR's new accommodation, Maggie told me I will.

After all this exercise, what was once an ordeal fitting my black plug became quite routine and it slipped easily and painlessly into the space vacated by BR. But I think it knows it's on notice to quit to make way for a bigger occupier in the not too distant future.

Onwards and upwards. Mistress had asked me to bring my red latex catsuit today and in her usual sultry way she helped me slip into it. I love that feeling as Mistress smoothes the wrinkles and makes sure her property is suitably packaged. A bright red gas mask was pulled over my head and Mistress manoeuvred me into the centre of the Playroom underneath the substantial ceiling frame.

With my breathing now under Maggie’s control I stood rigidly still, waiting for anything and everything my Mistress wished of me. Not long to wait. From under a covered mound of 'secret' equipment emerged the slave tray that I had so proudly worn on our 100th session.

The wooden tray was strapped around my waist and its supporting chains latched onto my slave collar, then a few inches at a time, the front then rear pulleys were released to lower the suspension frame to the height of my shoulders.

‘Squat slave'. Obviously I didn't go down far enough because in a firmer voice I was ordered again. 'I said squat slave’. Then it twigged, I was to squat low enough for the stocks to be slid in place and then locked around my neck.

Mistress checked if I was comfortably locked in the stocks and a couple of adjustments to the pulleys were necessary before I could confidently grunt, 'yes that's absolutely fine Mistress’. Immobilisation was almost complete, I was attached rigidly; slave, stocks, red latex hood and frame as one. Mistress took my hands and secured them together behind my back.

And there I stood and this time it wasn't a voluntary standstill, I just couldn't move. My neck was held vice like, my wrists were likewise and all I could see through my backwards tilting gas mask goggles was the occasional glimpse of Maggie's superb latex covered reflection in the wall mirror. Well, there was nothing to be done but stand still and make sure the contents of the tray were ready and stable and most importantly, do not embarrass or upset Mistress!

A breathing hose was the next item to emerge from the ‘secret’ mound of equipment and inevitably I was soon depending on it for air. A travel kettle appeared, several items of food and crockery, all lifted for me to see before being placed on my tray. Ah, the hint in the calling mail was starting to become a little clearer  '. . . Your Clinic appointment is scheduled for 4pm but self service refreshments are available while you are waiting. . .'  One item at a time, I was being transformed into the Self Service slave Station; part of the furniture in Maggie’s rubber refectory and delighted to be so. The final addition to my tray was the bubble bottle and I was the SSsS for as long as Maggie wished. It must have sounded really funny to Maggie; kettle starting to boil, slave bubbling away through the bottle, creating a unique blend of fresh carbonated water, and with really sensitive hearing she would have detected a low purring, very contented sound emanating from within the mask.

When all was set, Mistress turned on some of her favourite music, Michael Chapman, and proceeded to dance and sway in a most provocative way. I didn't catch all this sensual movement, but what I did catch had an alarming but not unpredictable effect on this red blooded, red latex'd, self service refreshment area. Despite my limited vision I could see at least another ten entries appearing on my five-bar-gate record of erections.

Thankfully, Mistress did allow me to take part in her snacking; a distinct whiff of cheese and onion crisps made its way up my breathing tube as its open end was unceremoniously dunked inside Mistresses crisp packet, while the amplified sound of her crunching noises made the smell of cheese and onion all the more tantalising, frustrating as well of course, because that was as near as I came to refreshments.

Like the good citizen she is, Maggie wouldn't just discard her rubbish. Unfortunately, the empty crisp packet was then placed safely inside my breathing tube. That caused a little consternation, but I remembered some advice from a very dear friend. 'Don't panic. . .'

After Mistress had eaten up everything from her SSsS, a toilet break was becoming necessary. Not for me of course because I may have sniffed Mistresses crisps but that was as close to food or drink that the refreshment station had come. It was Mistresses needs that required attention, and once I was freed from my vending machine duties, on went the collar and leash and I was to attend my Mistress as she relieved herself in the bathroom. Imagine the frustration watching all her golden champagne being flushed down the toilet without any being offered to her willing slave. Sometimes Mistress can be really cruel and sometimes, like on this occasion, she must be cruel to be kind. Mistress was being kindly cautious while she was taking a course of medicine prescribed by her Doctor. So, it was paper tissue duty only for her slave today.

We took a different route back from the loo and I was led through to the clinic, where I was instructed to mount the couch and manoeuvre into a very comfortable, reclining and restrained position on the couch. There are times when I really feel sorry for Mistress having such a long, large slave. I might be relaxed and comfortable with my feet in the stirrups, whereas Mistress has to hold her tummy in and squeeze round my sticking out feet to get closer access to her slave. But I can still get up to a little mischief as she squeezes past; I wriggle a latex covered foot against her chest or stomach, or whatever other bit of my owner is trying to manoeuvre past. I suspect that little pleasure may be curtailed and I really shouldn't divulge slave secrets so readily, although I have promised to be always honest to my owner and I do recognise the sacrifices that poor Mistress has to make to keep her slaves happy and pumped up, or even a Self Service slave Station maintained in good order!

Now the time for onwards and downwards had arrived. Down below, Mistress was going to make use of her newly stretched slave hole and fill me up with a rather large anal impaler. The heavy iron structure was prepared for insertion, cunningly attached between my legs and equally cunningly attached tightly to my exposed balls. Ease the impaler out, stretch the balls out; two birds, or should I say balls, with one stone. Have I mentioned before that Mistress is incredibly organised in her planning?

Ah yes, those Boston nipple pumps. The last time I was to have them one had gone missing, a lucky escape, although I did have to suffer an alternative instead. Mistress does not forget and had promised me that once she had found the pumps she would put them to good use. Hmm, well they have now turned up and I would be feeling them later. Mistress was also considering using a recently acquired metal cock device on me today, however, when she inspected it she was not convinced it was as good as advertised, she wanted my opinion and asked if I wanted her to try it out. I had personally tried a similar unit myself and found it singularly useless, it falls off unless you hold it firmly and even then it doesn't do what it says on the tin. I felt really proud and valued as Mistresses slave because Maggie considered my report and consigned the toy to the stainless steel bin with a loud and final clatter.

It was amusing, laying there in my white medical hood, with a dildo temporarily occupying BR's home, alternating between receiving aromas via the anaesthetic mask and breathing steadily through the snorkel into a rebreathe bag, being able to watch Mistress attempting to fit the Boston's. A normal person really needs three hands for this deployment, but Mistress managed well with two by holding the brass pump and the nipple cups in place with one hand, whilst operating the pump with her other. Have I mentioned before that Mistress Maggie is exceptional and not normal?  Whether it was the effect of the aromas or just the effect of the proximity of my owner, but these little Boston's were pleasant to wear and quite benign. On reflection, that comment may well come back to bite my nipples in future sessions!

Happy that everything was attached and inserted as planned, Mistress concentrated on my middle bit round my opened crotch zip. Always a good place for her to stick some electrodes. A urethral sound was inserted in my cock and an unusual stick-on electrode attached at the base. It may be due to the size of the rather large hospital electrode used at the base of the cock, but all the sensations were concentrated there with almost no stimulation from inside the cock and a good rhythmic dance lesson was had by all. Maggie then set about adding a bass rhythm to my anal invader as she steered it up my passageway. Long slow ins and outs of the fleshy dildo, long slow outs any ins of my secured balls, whilst all this being accompanied by a 'quick-quick-slow' rhythm round the ballroom.

Wow! Another unique and exceptional session ended all too quickly. The new aromas that Maggie used were the most potent and enjoyable I have experienced and strangely, once I had adjusted to the initial discomfort of the neck stocks, my only 'discomfort' was the inability to see enough of my owner. I mentioned this to Mistress in our post session debrief, where I may also have mentioned what an excellent and exceptional owner she is.

A rather strange bottom line is the after effect of the neck stocks. It has had a most beneficial effect on my neck muscles and I find I can move my head more easily now. Perhaps Mistress Maggie the physiotherapist might be a future addition to her medical options?

EO 19

No, not an Edinburgh postcode, and maybe a rather strange title for a blog, but it refers to the new Russian Gas mask that we were trying out during the session. For the techies, it is a Russian EO 19, NATO size three with integral filters that makes the wearer look like a Star Wars storm trooper. Anyway, more of that later in what was a most uplifting session.

Through the small semi-opaque portal in Mistress Maggie's front door I was able to glimpse a statuesque lady in what looked like an all black cape, curiosity would be satisfied in the twinkling of an eye or more precisely, the appearance of a latex covered finger round the semi opened door, beckoning me into The Chambers. There, I was greeted by my Mistress in her stunning long black latex coat and once the door had been closed behind me, and still within the confines of the small front porch, I was ordered onto my knees to worship Mistresses boots.

Mistress in EO 19

I followed Mistress upstairs and the view was just as stunning as if she had been wearing her tight latex. Her coat undulating and swishing with her every movement and I know it is not the material that mesmerises this slave, but the person inside. It is a magnificent vision all the same.

In the Playroom, Maggie insisted on trying on the new gas mask; she frequently self-demonstrates her liking for all her equipment, although this mask was a little too large for her delicate features and didn’t provide an airtight seal. Nevertheless, the contrast between the black latex of the coat and the grey of the mask does provide a striking picture. Definitely a storm trooper in this guise. After a number of deep breaths and a positive response to me asking if I could take this photo, I was dispatched to the bathroom to don my latex gloves, stockings and nothing else.

On my return, once again I was on my knees ready to perform my duties at my Mistresses feet, but this time I was instructed under the folds of that gorgeous coat and given authority to worship my Mistresses legs, way beyond the tops of her knee high glossy black boots. The contrast between the cool smoothness of the boots and her warm yet slightly abrasive fishnet tights was amazing and I would have spent hours under these folds, kissing, licking and worshipping Maggie's legs. It is strange the thoughts that enter a slaves head when so close to heaven, but my predicament had me recalling a cartoon I saw many years ago, of a lady idly talking with her friends, whilst out of sight and invisible, her slave looked to be performing similar worship. . .  as I say, strange what springs to mind.

Hooked

I would have loved to have spent longer under Maggie’s rubber coat, but Mistress allows pleasure and pain in pretty equal measures and decided it was time for me to climb into my catsuit and position myself over the the spanking bench, where I was shackled using leather cuffs and chains.

Naturally I couldn't see what was going on at the business end, although I could feel something cold, tight and probably potentially very punishing being attached round my balls. I could also feel something cold and rigid being inserted up my bottom.

I think that perhaps Mistress must secretly be a keen fisherwoman, by the easiness she managed to hook her slave with the giant, stainless steel gaff. Once more, the meticulous planning that Mistress applies to all her sessions was very evident. The line from the hook to the ceiling ring was perfectly vertical; the positioning of the bench obviously comes with years of experience. I could just touch the floor with my shackled hands but effectively all of my 17 stone was evenly distributed through my chest and through the ceiling hook.

My stretched balls are booted

A few turns of the screws had my balls once again heading away for a fishing holiday, whilst a few adjustments to the fishing line had my knees almost off the ground and my whole backside weight bearing down on the hook. Strange as it may seem, I even encouraged that by trying to lift my knees to apply more pressure on the hook. If you've ever thought what a tuna feels like when caught on line, you should try this. Not unpleasant at all. Well it is for the tuna but not for a captivated slave!

There were more terrible things happening in my other vulnerable areas though. Maggie had now caught my balls in her metal device and appeared to be enjoying playing with her catch; the constant tightening of the screws, the occasional twist of the balls as Maggie lovingly remarked how firm her balls had become and rather less lovingly, kicking the poor little blighters, just because she could.

Mistress was satisfied that she had stretched her balls by over 2 inches and allowed them to 'rest' for a while. If you call hanging there, hooked to the ceiling via your backside whilst your balls are heading towards the floor as resting! - Maggie has such a sweet, disarming turn of phrase at the most appropriate times.

Mistress does however have a big heart, and whilst I was 'resting' she unzipped her boots and put them to one side, she sat and relaxed for a while, allowing me to caress and kiss her beautiful toes in their fishnet enclosure. Though I have never been a fisherman, I cannot imagine a better netted catch than those feet and toes. The shackles restricted what I could caress, but after a lot of kissing the foot worship graduated to mouth filling, until I had all five toes dominating the inside of my eager mouth. As the fish hook was eased out of my bum I thank goodness there were no barbs, Mistress then quickly and quietly inserted my butt plug in the vacated hole.

Fishnet devotion

As only occasionally happens, a moment of truly unplanned amusement had spontaneous laughter ringing out in the bathroom. Mistress had clipped a stout neck chain onto my collar and was leading me to the bathroom, to prepare me for wearing the EO 19. As frequently happens, my wonky knees were giving me gyp and Maggie told me to sit down on the toilet seat. The black latex mask I’d been wearing had gathered a lot of sweat, off it came, then my head and neck cleaned, dried and talced.

Once satisfied, a quick yank on the chain indicated me to follow her back to the Playroom. Well, I would have if I could have. Instead, the plug had attached itself to the toilet seat and the suction between seat and plug was greater than the suction between bum and plug. 'Mistress’ I stammered, and as she turned to see what the problem was, there was my black butt plug on the white toilet seat, looking like a swaying tree trunk. Surely Mistress couldn't have planned for me to sit on the closed seat, could she?

Back in the Playroom, I was fitted into the very heavy leather body harness that immobilises your hands and arms down by your sides. I think this has to be the best, most inconspicuous and secure bondage yet. To the unobservant it may look like I am just standing, or lying in a relaxed position, arms to my sides. Nothing could be further from the truth, my arms were tightly strapped and there is no escaping their unyielding, unforgiving clutches.

A blind storm-trooper slave

The EO 19 gas mask came into view and was stretched over my head. It is a really comfortable fit and completely airtight, which is good news for the Russians who had to wear this model. One of Maggie's big rubber blindfolds removed any vision and I was left chained to the bed, with arms strapped to my sides and listening only to my own breathing. Another delightful situation I found myself in, with Maggie again in total charge of my functioning.

Maggie experimented a little to find out the possibilities with her EO19 mask and how best to block the air intakes; those little black vents on the storm-troopers cheeks. As it is a new mask, that sweet, suffocating spot took a while to find, but once she had it right Maggie was like a child with a new toy. What could be used to block the air now then? Firstly, there are two vents requiring  two hands to block the intakes. The mask being totally airtight allowed me to breathe out but no chance of breathing in, the inner mask became clamped tighter and tighter to my face until no air was left, then my Mistress kindly sets me free.

With no air I briefly start to panic, no need of course because what use is a dead slave to the perfect Mistress? I think my next objective is to follow the advice of Lance Corporal Jones and ‘Don’t Panic!', no matter what Mistress does to her slave.

Even so, this breathtaking method with the EO 19 does have some advantages, after all, if Mistress has both hands occupied with my air supply she has no hands left to menace my bollocks! Hmm! I am starting to appreciate this mask.

Inflatable mask and Tower of Pain

Enough enjoyment. Off came the EO 19 to be replaced by the inflatable black rubber hood. I was still pinioned with the body harness and now Mistress only had one breathing hole to contend with. 'I wonder if I can use one of my nice round firm nipples to cover your breath hole?' The answer is a definite yes. Not that I could see anything but my thoughts ran to 'Ahh. Smothered by one of Mistress’ nipples. Way to go!'

Speaking of nipples, I do sometimes regret the perfect design of my heavy latex suit. It makes my own nipples far too accessible and the three way zip makes other body area far too accessible as well. All three zips were opened and all used to 'assist' with my ongoing training. Electrics up bum and round cock, stout sheath attached over cock, a rubber ball stretcher attached and Mistress having more fun playing with my balls again, which by now were tightly displayed and quite sensitive. To cap it all, the Tower Of Pain made another appearance. Funnily enough I hadn’t realised why my nipples were having an out-of-body episode until I saw this photo with the T.O.P bridging my chest, as I was still very pumped up and Maggie to my unending delight, appeared to be having more fun with her slave than many a slave could cope with.

With a tweek tweek here

And a ball crush there.

Here a tweek, there a crush,

Everywhere a pain pain.

Old slave Jo he had some balls, e-ow e-ow oh!

The EO 19 is now a friend and I like how it shows up nicely in the photographs. Mistress Maggie is a good friend and always has shown up very well in all photographs. I liked this session and if you have read this far, I hope you have enjoyed my blog.