Well, I am really pleased to say that the drought is over and not just with the odd few drops of pleasure but a veritable tropical downpour. Strangely enough, all the first session nerves were there as I approached the Chambers, but as soon as the front door swung gently back to reveal that most stunning and beautiful vision of Mistress in her latex, all my angst vanished. Yes we still had two world leaders contemplating nuclear war, yes we had just experienced the worst massacre in American history, and yes, Teresa had almost lost her voice at conference and been less fortunate in not losing Boris; all that vanished and I felt safe. I nervously handed over the two dozen roses I had chosen as an 'I've really missed you' statement and all the external woes went. Mistress hadn't forgotten her loyal slave and all was right with the world.
Mistress promised she had some 'undisclosed' entertainment planned and I was sent to the Bathroom to put my latex socks and gloves on, when I returned I was asked to present the 'used' panties Mistress had kindly loaned me to help me through sad September and I placed my new ribbed butt-plug on the dresser, where it merrily wobbled awaiting insertion. I was delighted that on very close inspection, the panties passed muster for their laundering; a distinct upbeat start to a wonderful month considering my last poor laundry efforts, and I was back in heaven. Mistress was wearing her long red boots that take a lot of worshipping. Long, slow licks, foot to thigh, repeating all the way round from toe to heel. Unusually, halfway through Mistress opened her thighs and ordered me to sit between them, with my neck in the gap between those rather gorgeous nylon covered limbs.
I never imagined that such beautiful legs could exert such pressure around the neck of a slave, as firstly she clamped her thighs tightly around it, then proceeded to press her gloved hands tightly over my mouth and nose. I relaxed my head back into her lap and sat there happy, breathless and becoming quite horny. Quite a start to my reintroduction to slave discipline.One good thing that happened in September was the delivery of my new black latex catsuit, a thinner and more stretchy one than my heavyweight suit, but also a lot tighter. We spent quite a while coaxing me into it but once on it felt so good and different than my other latex suits, and as Mistress rubbed me down I detected a smile on her beautiful lips and it felt even better!
One short-coming with the suit design is the shorter back zip opening and Mistress didn't find it as easy to fully expose her slaves backside for the butt-plug. Not too inconvenient though, Maggie did insert ‘big red’ but only after another consequence of sad September was overcome. Through lack of use, my bum required larger doses of effort and lube, plus a lot of patience on Maggie's part before we were happy that the plug had finally reseated itself in its natural environment. Another reason for 'never again'.
Ok. Snugly plugged and rubbered to Maggie's satisfaction, the Tusk Mask that had been leering from the back of the Throne was offered for fitting. The last time this wonderful creation received face time was as a prototype and Mistress has gone on to make several improvements to it, now it was ready for me to try again. Grasp the drinking tube firmly between teeth, brace your head and. . . one, two, three, Maggie has the mask snugly fitting. And there it was, a tight gas mask, two long tusks and a very happy and contented slave, complete with modifications (mask not slave!)
I knelt gazing through the tusks' small, circular windows at the reservoir between Maggie's legs, first slowly emptying then filling up again as the next consignment of nectar arrived. 'Drink it all slave. Slowly!' And as I did I was allowed to snuggle against her red booted thighs and revel in my hood being gently stroked by its owner.
The next modification to the Tusker Mask Prototype 1, was the addition of removable blanking plugs for the tusks themselves, so Maggie can decide exactly how much of her air you are allowed. On this occasion, one blanking plug was left in place, but the second tusk had a gasmask hose attached to it for aroma breathing; a stunning piece of equipment designed and created by Mistresses' very talented husband, John. This special hose allows self delivery of aromas. A quick pump or two of the bulb to make sure the aromas were being delivered and Maggie was ready to move on to something she enjoys; flogging a slave.
If you are on Flickr there is some video footage of my flogging HERE but may not be available on all devices.
Whether it was the huge relief of being back with my Mistress or the upbeat Michael Jackson tracks playing in the background, the fact that I had waltzed with my Mistress after my catsuit dressing, had had my belly filled with her nectar, perhaps it was the intoxicating puffs of aromas or probably a combination of all the above, but as Maggie started with her floggers I was so deep in 'the zone' I was feeling more euphoric with each thwack. All I wanted to do was gyrate my bum and offer it up to Mistress and her whip. I was dancing with the music, or should I say moving my bum to the beat and shuffling the feet, as dancing is not something I’m famous for, while thinking how lucky I was to have such a perfect owner wanting to flog her slave. This has got to be one of the best floggings that Mistress has ever given to me in all my six years. I was slightly sad when it had to end and I was instructed to follow her to the White Room.
Any sadness was short lived as Mistress expertly fixed me to the couch and deployed a catheter. Maggie has become a real expert, competent and confident with her catheterisation and allows some of her natural humour to emerge during the operation. That is not to say she is any less careful and clinically correct, but she can now joke about the cool gel injected down my cock, the contents of her catheter kit, or even about not knowing how to store her catheter goodies now that supermarkets charge for their plastic carrier bags! When she first started doing catheters three or so years ago she concentrated on the mechanics of 'doing it right', whereas now she instinctively knows.I was soon draining nicely, once again gazing at my stunning Mistress as she smiled at yet another 100% successful operation. We talked a while until Mistress decided I was talking far too much and needed a ball gag. That kept me quiet until most of my pee had drained into the cath bag.
Admittedly I was talking, but in my defence it had been a long and sad September without any personal contact with Mistress and I was still excited by all that had already happened in the Chambers today, but I was happy to lay back and take in all the beauties of the Clinic, well, my Mistress really, as she busied herself tidying the sterile bags and other one-off equipment that she uses.
With the catheter drain bag attached, the easiest way to prepare me for moving was to take her trusty pair of scissors and cut away the opaque plastic drape which had served as a very effective sterile operating area during the procedure. Shame really but Maggie does not reuse such items. Always the professional and the totally correct Mistress, that's another reason why I will always return. Then tightly clutching my catheter bag Maggie led me back to the Playroom. ’Careful. You're in trouble if you dislodge the tube, slave!'
The heavy leather sleep sack was brought down from its hanger and laid out under the overhead gantry, while I was confined to the corner holding my piss-bag and looking on at the industry being displayed by Maggie. The zip at the rear of the bag was eased open. Interesting I thought as my rear was currently full with my butt plug. A fact that was short lived however, as Mistress then invited me to bend over and she swapped the incumbent for an inflatable vibrating number. A quick test assured her I was vibrating nicely and I was told to squeeze myself inside the bodybag. Arms into the internal sheaths, a wriggle to get the most comfortable position, all my tubes and plumbing had been successfully brought through to the outside of the bag and Maggie zipped, tight-laced and strapped me in there. Boy was I snug and secure and definitely had no say as to where I was going.Heavy chains were deployed to help Mistress with the daunting task of hoisting up her 17 stone slave, one pulley at a time until I was suspended at a good height. An amusing discovery fleetingly crept in as Mistress first raised one end of the frame and then the other: I could tell which end was higher by the direction the sweat was trickling up or down my calves, a bit like a spirit level and most appropriate for such a spiritual occasion.
I laid and swayed, occasionally feeling Mistress adjusting my catheter bag or playing with the butt-plug controls, Maggie’s welcome pumps of aroma had me drifting away inside the rubber tusk mask, because by now self medication was obviously a long way in the past, and I was in heaven; totally controlled by my owner.
After an indeterminate period of long-term bondage resulting in heavenly isolation, and trying unsuccessfully to get the bum vibrator to bring me to climax, I noticed that Mistress was present again. It was my moving mouth tube that gave her away and I was finally allowed something to drink. Not quite the same vintage as my earlier drink, but it was wet and very well received.
It was only later, when we were clearing away after the session that my Mistress informed me that she had decided to have me recycle the contents of my drain bag; I knew that somehow it didn't taste quite the same. The prospect of being encouraged to recycle my own fluids was quite bizarre and I’m strangely delighted that once again I was able to fulfil my promise to my owner; obey immediately and without question. This acceptance is another step forward in my future purpose, to do whatever Mistress requires.
Once my tusk mask was removed I was treated to a final drink straight from the source. Willingly accepted of course, well how can a slave resist such fresh, warm and tasty champagne? Mistress squatted over my eager mouth and released the remnants of her now empty bladder, and not a drop spilt. This was one helluva session and despite the old adage that absence makes the heart grow stronger - which it certainly did, I will never again willingly go through another 6 weeks of self inflicted isolation between serving sessions with Mistress Maggie.
Never again.
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