Not at all What I Expected!

The unusually unambiguous comments that Mistress Maggie sent to me in her calling mail had me thinking that something strange was about to happen.

What liberties a captor takes changing the shape of her captive prey.
As she makes you smell her essence, her medicine and latex presence
You must not move, just await your fate, as she finds which parts she can inflate.

The guidance in the call up mail is usually non-specific and leaves a great deal to my imagination. I usually spend the next 24 hours trying to second guess what delights my owner may have in store, but this appeared quite clear; a good dose of latex, strict and immovable bondage, aromas, a spot of bum licking (I am getting most accomplished at this most enjoyable of pastimes) and my balls to be saline inflated; I know Mistress has a penchant for occasionally enjoying her slave with huge balls so that was settled and I would be spending some time secured in the Clinic. It couldn’t be that obvious could it?

No! Things took a bizarre twist when I rang Mistress to confirm arrangements, an hour before our session time as I always do. It must be fate because I usually text, but for some reason I had to use the land-line and imagine my confusion when Mistress said she had three instructions for when I arrive:

1) Ring the doorbell
2) Remove and store my glasses
3) Turn away from the door and observe the street.

After having had 23 hours with a good idea as to what was about to happen, this curved ball really got me. At the door I did as instructed, standing nonchalantly I watched the passing traffic. A moment later I heard the door open and my collar was yanked violently backwards and I was forced face against the front porch and promptly hooded. My head was starting to spin, assisted by a liberal application of aromas from a gloved hand and I was dragged upstairs. I wasn’t even told to remove my footwear, and all the while what felt like a Taser* was forced under my chin. I know my Mistress is very capable of delivering a shock but this treatment was uncharacteristically rough and I did have a real worry that she would use the shocking implement.

I remained compliant and very docile, dropping my trousers when ordered. The gate to the cell was unlocked, I was pushed inside and told to sit down on the awaiting chair, whilst the Taser* went downwards towards my exposed balls. Sitting was a little difficult, because strapped in the centre of the wooden chair seat was a huge black dildo, placed exactly where my by now naked bum should go.

It took a few awkward attempts but eventually I was fixed firmly to the chair and I must admit that I was starting to warm to my dominant captor. I really will have to practice that same manoeuvre at home; getting my own butt plug inserted. Perhaps sticking it to the closed toilet seat might work?

Her interrogation technique was quite simple. Confuse with apparently disjointed questions, threaten the subject with the Taser and elicit the information.

‘Last time you did not know how to carry a tray and was sloppy with cleaning . . . not normal for a regular slave . . . must be working under a false identity . . . are you really Mistress Maggie's slave? . . . name slave?’

This last question should have been a simple answer but I didn’t appear to give the answer that she wanted.

‘Slave. . . jo. . . jo nep. . . Mistress Maggie’s slave . . .  ’. I even tried the birth name that my parents had given me, but to no avail.

‘OK, so you do not even know your name. Do you have any distinguishing marks?’

Ah, I was quite certain now that I could prove that I was my Mistresses property and mentioned my guiche.

Focusing on this revelation my captor discouraged further contradictions or 'lies' by securing a scarf round my mouth and ordered me out of the cage. I was told to assume a position whereby I was to kneel on the carpet, bum still naked and my trousers still round my ankles for further investigation and interrogation. The further investigation was a bit of an understatement and the further interrogation, verbally at least, was somewhat restricted by the tight knotted gag.

I may not have been able to see but I was fairly certain that it was my owner investigating the distinguishing features around my bum. Not satisfied that she had all the evidence despite a good fondle of the guiche, she applied copious quantities of lube to my bum and in went her hand to feel around for additional ID. After that I was mounted there and then; head on carpet, arse in the air and in with the strap-on phallus. Yes that is definitely my owner and I was finally able to relax a little.

My captor however was still unconvinced by my slave identity and required more persuasion. She insisted that any genuine slave of Maggie’s would not mind being kept as a latex prisoner, to confirm the truth I would be subsequently clothed in tight head to toe latex with all my senses at her disposal.

By now, the mid European accent was fading to the music that is my Mistress’s voice. Kneeling up I was ordered to remove my jeans and the other clothes that were tangled around my ankles, and the latex T-shirt that I am sometimes able to wear for arriving at the Chambers. At last I was finally able to clearly see my Mistress clad in her wonderful gold latex catsuit as I was instructed to remove the black interrogation hood. I was to wear my plum coloured latex suit and it really is a wonderful experience to be helped inside a tight catsuit by a stunningly attractive owner and to be cleaned and polished once done. It is my belief that every slave should be allowed this marvellous experience at least once.

Having already sat on the butt plug and gladly accepted the strap-on, my vacant orifice was very willing to accept its next visitor in the shape of an electric anal stimulator. By now I was so well lubed that the plug needed zipping in to keep the little bugger in place, which happily seemed to work.

Although normality was returning to my training, I was still disoriented. As my eyes began focusing properly again I glanced at my Mistresses boots, which so far I had not been instructed to honour, and I noticed the Plank leant against the wall waiting to be assembled. What was reassuring were the pillows that Maggie had temporarily attached to the Plank for her slaves comfort. On the more sinister side, this probably meant a lengthy immobilisation, but if that was the case how could I reconcile my earlier thoughts that my balls were likely to be inflated in the Clinic? I gave up trying to overthink the issues and let myself go totally under my owners spell.

I soon found out how I could square the circle. Mistress was going to attach me to the Plank and do the infusion to my scrotum in the Playroom. Just to be sure that I was actually Maggie's rubber slave, she decided to fit the Tusker mask. It is comfortable and only served to reinforce my earlier thoughts that I was in for a long Planking.

Firstly a good ball buttering. Not to be confused with a ball battering, the buttering is a most pleasant experience as Maggie applied cocoa butter to the scrotum to help flexibility and hopefully its ability to expand to take the waiting cargo. Meticulous precautions were taken as always, to first create then maintain the sterile environment necessary for the operation. I was supplied with more doses of her aromatic medicine, then I was warned not move as Maggie leaned forward to insert her needle into my ball sac and only then did she nonchalantly advise ‘500ml of saline today slave’. Even though I say so myself, this was going to be a ‘routine’ filling of my sac as I have previously received far more fluid. I remained still and enjoyed the occasional glimpse and feel by my Mistress as she checked her balls to make sure they were filling nicely.

Unfortunately, I lost the vision of my Golden goddess with the application of the eye shades to the Tusker mask. I was left totally blind and almost deaf to contemplate my fate as decreed by my owner. A quick pat of the balls and a barely audible 'See you later slave' and that was my life. I have absolutely no concept of the time I remained in that position. I did hear the door open, the last drops of 500ml infusion must have trickled home because I sensed that the needle was being removed followed by a gentle fondling of the balls, and the door closed and silence again.

I focused on thoughts of my Mistress and every now and then the e-stim circulating through my cock and balls created a hard erection. I concentrated on the erection which brought me quickly and clearly back to a vision of the most beautiful person I know and there was nothing else worth thinking about. I even had several ‘forbidden’ thoughts about my owner and all the while the constant pulsing of the anal electrode was working its insidious magic. I thought I had the impression of the door opening again but no sound. Did I hear the click of the camera? Was my Mistress with her slave again? I had no thoughts of anything apart from Mistress Maggie and how I could better serve her.

After the unexpected approach of my Russian interrogator, and her gradual transformation back to my wonderful owner, the final return to 'normality' was Mistress graciously granting me the benefits of some of her warm, fresh nectar. Even that had a unexpected twist, the Tusker with its integrated drinking tube provided an easy way of delivery, Mistress filled an enema bag with her golden nectar, allowing gravity to direct it down the tube and into my eager mouth. With that first glorious taste I knew I had my Mistress back 100% without any foreign influences. That final drink was so well received, but I must work on my ability to accept and swallow a continuous stream of piss rather than Mistress using the tap to regulate my intake. Or perhaps that is how Maggie likes the situation? Even in something so simple as a humble drink, she remains in total charge.

And the end results? I had been kidnapped at the door, incarcerated on a dildo strapped to a chair, drugged and interrogated, had a good rogering with pants round my ankles, roped to the Plank, balls filled with saline, senses obliterated, electro stimulated, illicit thoughts about my owner . . . Not at all what I expected, but as far as training goes it has left me even more under my owners spell and with . . .

*The Taser turned out to be a plastic replica of a Walther PPK. Ah! Shaken not stirred Mr slave!