Outer Limits

There is nothing wrong with your screen. Do not attempt to adjust the picture. Mistress Maggie is controlling transmission. If Mistress wishes to make it louder, she will bring up the volume. If Mistress wishes to make it softer, she will tune it to a whisper. Mistress will control the horizontal. Mistress will control the vertical. Mistress can roll the image, make it flutter. Mistress can change the focus to a soft blur or sharpen it to crystal clarity. For the next hour or so, sit quietly and Mistress will control all that you see and hear. We repeat: there is nothing wrong with your set. You are about to participate in a great adventure. You are about to experience the awe and mystery which reaches from the inner mind to – The Outer Limits. That is the strange sensation I experienced when I received the calling mail -

'Tomorrow your rubber Mistress will be training you in the essentials of Egyptology.'

Nothing strange so far you may think, but if I tell you that in the period since my last session I had almost exclusively been browsing the internet for mummification videos, purely for research I hasten to add, when my calling mail arrived from my Mistress I really wondered if she had a direct Wi-Fi link into my brain. How come after two weeks research on mummification does my owner produce the exact scenario I’ve been viewing?

Even more macabre was Maggie's matter of fact explanation of where she intended to take me;

1. Remove breath from slave with plastic
2. Conduct medical autopsy
3. Mummify slave with film and rolls of electrical tape
4. Insert sound, check if slave has arrived in heaven

. . . and possibly leave me for eternity for some archaeologist to discover in a few centuries time.

What is this strange form of mummification? Electrical tape wasn't around for the Egyptian mummies so it must be early 21st century? Oh well we'll gently cut it here and . . .

Back to the inner mind and something not quite so surreal. Mistress had adorned her legs in a pair of laced long black thigh boots and I spent a very happy time worshipping those perfect legs. Down to the heels, a long slow lick punctuated by as many kisses I could fit in and down again. It wasn't long however before Mistress needed to progress her slave towards the outer limits of her Egyptian plan.

The plastic bagging was to make sure I was as near mort as she could manage without actually losing her slave. I know it is going to come back to haunt me but I do like to gaze at my owner as she allows the oxygen in my little pod to depreciate, there is no benefit in being greedy with the available air so slowly does it, and its always a comfort to know that Mistress will stay by my side as I begin to struggle for breaths.

Somewhat of a dilemma for her victim today. With my wrists tightly secured to my balls there were only two ways to go, well three if Mistress really wanted to dispose of her slave, but two realistically; beg for air or rip my balls off trying to free myself from the situation. As a consequence of Mistress relenting in response to my desperate pleas for freedom, I managed to keep my balls and was ready for item 2 from the list, the autopsy. If Mistress wants me to play dead, then play dead I will.

Laid out on the slab I was instructed in no uncertain terms not to move. Mistress carefully positioned a towel across my abdomen and explained to me what was about to happen in her autopsy; swabs, hair follicles, nail slivers etc but what was alarming was she proceeded to mark out my chest area ready for looking at my internal organs. Momentarily that threw me. Maggie wouldn't open up her slave... would she? That thought, however fanciful and far fetched caused real havoc for this 'cadaver' and I think you may be able to detect the onset of rigor mortis under the towel. Well that was my excuse as Nurse Maggie giggled a little and reminded me that I must keep still!

This was starting to get way too real. Imagine what impact it had on my already unruly cock when she pulled back the towel, eased back my foreskin, clamped it in place with a pair of clamps and then started to gently swab all round, both inside and out for the first DNA sample. ‘Keep STILL slave!’ became a virtually impossible request as my manly bits were being man handled by my beautiful pathologist Mistress.

I of course could rarely see how beautiful Mistress was looking, because the clear latex hood I was wearing for the autopsy was anything but clear. The small holes at eye level were a few millimetres off line and all I could manage was an occasional glimpse of Mistress through one small hole, that treat was restricted too when the pillow supporting my head was placed under my back instead, apparently to give a more realistic dead pose. With her pair of tweezers Mistress then removed a hair follicle sample from under my left arm pit, placing it in a petri dish to be checked for disease. Note to self; make sure I clean off all body hair before my next session.

The final piece of the postmortem was to take a small piece of toe nail. This caused some amusement because unknown to Maggie, it had only been two days prior to my autopsy that I had visited the podiatrist and had all my nails trimmed. Nevertheless, where there’s a will there’s a way and Maggie moved her scissors from one toe to the next until she finally cut off a suitable sliver to add to her sample collection.

Once satisfied that she had poked, picked, snipped and tidied up her 'cadaver’, Mistress shoved an inflatable and vibrating plug up my bum to aid my passage into the afterlife, and announced that it was time to preserve her slave for posterity. To ensure my lithe, slim, muscular, young body would remain in as near perfect condition as it was, the plan was for three layers of mummification. In reality I think Mistress was more likely to call my body fat, old, unfit . . . but as always I can dream.

Back in the mummification room we positioned the bondage plank which would become my final resting place, and I was squeezed into my heavyweight latex catsuit. A quick yet effective wrap of cling film was applied just in case the tape and latex were incompatible and so Mistresses slave was about to become Mistresses mummy.

A beautifully smooth mummy and a beautifully smooth Mistress.

With a broad sweep of her arm Maggie showed me the rolls of electrical tape that she would be using and in the same motion invited me to sit for the first lengths of tape to be applied. As I had seen in my research, these were over the shoulder to around the nipple line. Strip after strip of the inch wide tape was applied in a methodical and incredibly precise layering until it looked like I was wearing silver armour.

The winding continued. This time round my substantial girth. Each layer being accurately positioned to overlap the previous binding, smoothed out, no gaps and getting tighter.

Two things happened during this phase of the mummification. The first occurred when Maggie began a full head mummification, but my personal limitations with the narrow electrical tape round the neck became apparent. Mistress gave it a good try out, but it was proving unrealistic for me to have my neck taped for an extended amount of time. Maggie realised that too tight a neck would result in either her slave becoming an actual cadaver, or at best being uncomfortable to the extent that I would have to beg for release before the taping was completed. Being an incredibly practical Mistress, Maggie already had a plan B and produced the lovely pewter latex hood, worn with my slave collar this combination provided a very passable colour-matched head covering for her mummy.

The second happened whilst I was sitting on the edge of the bed, quite happily enjoying the torso mummification. Because the tape was narrow I had to sit still and upright for longer than my body would allow, as Mistress turned away to get another roll of tape her unsupported slave gradually keeled over like a capsizing ship and ended on my back draped over the very comfortable latex bed. After two hefty blows with a whip I was soon back up to a sitting position, but as I have said in the past, my owner knows when I am struggling with an exercise and helped me onto the plank to finish off my legs, feet etc

Oh what a change in comfort levels once I was prone on the plank. They say a good stout plank is good to ease backache and it certainly was, plus I got a latex pillow on which to rest my head. Once again I was really happy to lay there as Maggie wound round and round my legs then taped my body to the plank. Whilst taping my torso she leaned over me to pass the tape under the plank and each time I could feel the warmth of her sensual body through the insulation tape, the only bit of me that could move grew just a little with each pass. I was being meticulously wrapped, each layer being carefully placed and carefully smoothed until totally and tightly secured to the plank and finally laid to rest.

Unlike gaffer tape mummification which I have done with Mistress in the past, electrical insulation tape has slightly more give. It offers tightness, moulds more smoothly and has a super lustrous shine. Mistress walked around me viewing her new mummy, passing her warms hands over the odd wrinkle here and there and adding short pieces of tape to the smallest exposed areas, all the time checking that her mummy was OK in this very tight situation. And oh boy was I alright!

A seasonal touch to a well insulated slave.

Some time went silently by before Maggie re-appeared and I started to feel that distinctive touch around my groin as she gently cut the tape and freed my cock and balls. Her mummy was to be bejewelled with bright steel items that would accompany me and hopefully bring me joy in the afterlife. I sensed some tight binding being wound around my scrotum, then the heavy ball weight that I had spotted sparkling on her counter during my last session came out to play. The weight was soon attached, ‘you can take this one for being nosey’ said Mistress, and her actions left my balls in the tightest of embraces. Not quite finished though. Another steel item that Mistress had displayed in her tweets, alongside the ball weight, was one very very long curved and ribbed sound.

The picture doesn't give any impression as to how long the sound actually is, but as I lay there luxuriating in my heavy binds and feeling Mistress gently inserting its tip, my cock just seemed to suck it in. All Maggie needed to do was hold it upright and the whole length; ribs, curved end and a foot of solid medical grade steel was gobbled up by a very hungry cock. As Maggie gently eased it in and out I exploded around the sound. I strained in my tape heaven but all I could do was enjoy that sensation and let out a very contented series of moans. ‘And that's for being nosey as well!’ Mistress had planned the mummification as my Christmas present and had even added a seasonal embellishment of snow flakes on her very happy and very controlled mummy.

I may regret saying this but I think I would like to experience the full weight of the magnetic ball weight in a 'normal' upright position, when working in the Playroom or dangling from the rafter ring or suspended from the overhead frame, or even next time Mistress Maggie allows me the privilege of accompanying her on a trip to the wide world.

Thank you Mistress for another wonderful year of new experiences and servitude to the most perfect owner, and for taking me to those Outer Limits.

N.B. - 6 rolls of narrow electrical tape were required to mummify me.

Go With the Flow

Today I anticipated that I would be receiving a lot of Mistress Maggie's nectar, followed by a catheter and possibly a little light exercise, then perhaps be made to consume my own waste products! My calling mail from Mistress had been typically illusive.

‘Your rubber nurse has designs on taking you to theatre and will be fuelling you up so you’re ready to go’. So I think that my guess of what may happen in the session to come was quite reasonable.

That was my first mistake. I was correct in assuming that Maggie would ply me with liquor of her own personal variety, but this was supplemented by several tumblers full of tap water. Having read a tweet from my Mistress the night before, I also assumed I might be the recipient of a very deep sounding or a heavy ball weighting using the toys that she’d proudly announced she had acquired. I could see the metal ball weight gleaming on Maggie’s dresser, but that's where it stayed.

The beginning of the session was straight from my training schedules. Mistress was clothed in full latex, a long and sculpted skirt which, when unzipped revealed her natural latex stockings over a second pair of black ones, producing a mysterious sheen of amber on black. But of more immediate relevance were her black court shoes that were destined to receive my attention.

A latex mask is always part of my uniform and today I was given a mask that I cannot recall having worn before. My new persona had a small round mouth, good sized eye and nose holes, and for the first time in many sessions the mask became my identity for the remainder of my hours in the presence of my Mistress.

Mistress had obtained yet another new butt plug and brought it out from behind the curtain saying. ‘There you go, unwrap it slave’. It was about the size and shape of a large pear and I was instantly instructed to bend over to receive it. Maggie doesn't do gratuitous violence and pain, well not too often anyway, and try as we might the grenade just wouldn't even get a small penetration inside my bum-hole. People often say that things have gone pear shaped but the phrase somehow doesn't apply to my anal cavity. Many attempts to insert were tried but we were getting no nearer, and after a couple of expletives about the failings of my anus Mistress reverted to my trusty red ribbed invader; a little longer and thinner in girth but most importantly, more streamlined at the tip. Mistress was right to try the bigger plug, she is always right in her actions, but it seems my butt is more accustomed to a pointier style of plug and is not for changing yet. I always cause problems for Maggie and I am so relieved that she still puts up with this slave, imperfections and all.

I was soon snugly covered in my tight plum coloured catsuit and ready once more to become whatever my owner wanted her slave to become. Maggie had been drinking heavily since I arrived, only water of course as Mistress never consumes anything that would impair her impeccable judgement. I think that luxury may be reserved for her quiet time at weekends. Anyway, it came as no surprise when Mistress finished yet another glass of water and I was sent off to the bathroom for a refill. As I knocked and re-entered the Chambers, I was stopped at the door, instructed to drink the contents of the glass and return with another refill. Ah, part of my forewarned fuelling process. Fill, return, knock, consume and repeat twice more.

Next I was being transformed into a toilet for Mistress, being zipped into the toilet hood that is a good snug fit to reduce spillage and then snapped into position inside the toilet chamber. I was quite comfortable looking like a turd in the toilet pan, my hands were lightly roped to the eyelets on the legs of the loo giving me a little leeway to move them to the side of the seat. Gazing through the small aperture I had the occasional glimpse of my Mistress busying herself for utilising her toilet. I was just happy that Maggie was allowing me to be of service in this way.

The last time I was down the pan Mistress had closed the lid and left me for quite a while  contemplating my fate and I was also much more tightly bound and restrained. Today as Mistress sank into her most comfortable position I got a glorious view of her most beautiful derrière as it slowly descended, eclipsing most of the light. A stern warning was delivered to me, reminding me that I must consume every last drop and her toilet slave was ready and very eager for my duties.

The freedom in my wrists allowed me to put my hands in hers and with a gentle squeeze let my Mistress know that her toilet was ready, and so the first few drops emerged. There was just enough light to gaze on that magnificent trickle as it made its way to my open mouth, I could adjust my position so the stream that followed was directed straight through the small hole, round my U-bend gullet and eagerly be disposed of in the recycling plant. As Maggie released stream after stream I did detect the slightest of squeezes to my hands and that satisfying moan that is only created when a full bladder is gradually emptied. All the while I needed to remain alert as to where the next stream would flow, as each one was slightly different. How one beautifully petite Mistress could supply such volume yet in such a controlled manner, beggars belief; one of the many and wonderfully unexplained mysteries of the universe.

A few final drops seeking release down her slave had Mistress sitting down again and soon she had rid herself of the last remnants of water. I so wished I could be her bidet, flicking out my tongue to clean those last few drops away. Not permitted. I could look but not touch those private Mistress parts.

I was released and cleaned, a very full and content slave. Mistress still dressed in the splendid rubber outfit I had witnessed on first arriving then guided me to one side of the room and insisted I have a large whiff of aroma. Then, totally unexpected, she draped herself over the horse in that lithe sexy way that only my Mistress knows and made the most sensual hip movements with her latex covered bottom right before my very eyes. Maggie knows I cannot resist stroking her bottom and had deliberately set a test to see exactly how long I could resist the temptation. I moved forward and gently and very lovingly stroked that most remarkable undulating landscape. Maggie laughed. ‘5 seconds slave. You lasted a whole 5 seconds before you stroked my bottom’. Fortunately Maggie does occasionally allow me this liberty and accepted my touches with good humour.

Moving into the clinic, Maggie had me strapped securely on the couch in rapid time. You might believe Mistress had performed this on many occasions! My cock and balls were released from their latex prison and held on firm display with a leather harness that latched onto my slave collar, and a rubber tube gag was pushed into my mouth. Maggie produced a template and explained how her design would be marked on my exposed cock to form the blue print for her next piece of artistry.  ‘. . .  your cock will be decorated with needles where the marks are shown and the end of your cock will be closed off. . . .’

Now I was starting to be a little concerned because the fluid I had been told to drink earlier was now taking its toll, I could feel the peeing urge rising deep down in my stomach. My balls were neatly wrapped out of the way and Maggie proceeded with her plan; marking out her design and pushing in her needles. I could hear the needles being snapped free from their packaging and it felt like Maggie was applying sutures to my cock as well, as it happened that was not the case, but after each needle had been inserted it was twisted 180 degrees before jabbing me for a second time, an action that caused considerable pinching. As I lay there, I realised that I had guessed wrong and I would not be receiving the anticipated catheter.

Gradually the end of my cock was being sealed and that meant that my pee would be restricted. Maybe I would be left with some ability to discharge the fluids that had built up in my bladder? I hoped so because that familiar urge to relieve myself was now fast becoming a more desperate need. Another wrong anticipation!

Mistress had thoughtfully deposited more of her nectar into an enema bag and was now wheeling it towards me on the drip stand. Carefully picking up her pipes it was attached to my tube gag and being pumped into my mouth. When half of it was drunk I had to shamefully decline her fluids, not because I didn't desire more of that heavenly liquid but I had a big fear of embarrassing myself in the Clinic. I was so desperate to pee and it wasn't helped at all by Maggie frequently massaging my abdomen with her rubber gloved hands. I could just see that glint in her eyes as she stroked and asked 'innocently' if I needed to relieve myself.

Maggie insisted there would be no toilet visits for her patient until her needlework and cord work round my balls were finished to her satisfaction. It may have sounded like I was hooting down my tube gag, but by this time I was pleading with Mistress Maggie to go to the loo. Finally satisfied with her artwork, she released the straps and helped me gingerly off the couch. I was escorted towards the bathroom with the leather harness dangling between my legs.

During the slow waddle to that smallest of rooms, we both agreed that due to the unforeseen nature of what was about to happen it would be wise for me to pee in the bath.

As I stood in the bath I was experiencing that feeling of pleasure just before you relieve yourself. The anticipation of that stream releasing the pressure in your bladder; ah the delights of a good, long, bladder emptying pee. I wonder if Maggie got that same pleasurable feeling before relieving herself in her willing toilet?

I waited intently for permission from Mistress. ‘ Right, you'd better pee then slave.’ I felt that initial sense of relief as I felt my bladder start to empty then. . . nothing. Maggie had done her damnedest to make it difficult for me and what I thought may be a restricted slow flow turned out to be no flow at all.

What a frustration. No matter how hard I tried to pee, nothing. By now I was aware that Mistress had used needles to seal the end of my cock, and thankfully not sutures, but the effect was the same. Although I couldn't see the results of my abortive pee attempt, I imagine my foreskin would be expanding like a balloon with all that pee pressure building behind. It must have been a really pathetic specimen that stood before his Mistress. I couldn't pee. I was most uncomfortable and I have to be honest, I begged Maggie to let me have the simple delights of relief. Just a few drips had seeped out and trickled in a a very small pool in the bath. Mistress was highly amused but at last relented and released her absolute control of my bodily functions. Quickly the two foreskin needles were taken out and then. . . talk about a tsunami. Whereas Mistress Maggie was able to control her flow, my fluids came out uncontrollably, and thank goodness we had taken the decision to have me in the bath, although I did have to paddle in my own puddle of pee.

Another wonderfully unpredictable session with my beautiful owner, Mistress and friend. Long may they continue.

Time in the Twilight Zone

Entering the Chambers from the bright autumnal afternoon sunshine it takes a short period of time before your eyes become accustomed to the subdued ambient light. Behind the porch way lies a quiet area where mysterious objects are hanging silently on their pegs, creating an almost surreal atmosphere that gives the Chambers the feeling of a Twilight Zone. That strange, noiseless, wonderful world of latex, plastic and leather garments, punctuated by the occasional squeak or rustle as you disturb their thoughts and slumber, draws you deeper under their spell. The low light reflects from the sentinels, and I think I can be forgiven for temporarily believing that Mistress Maggie was once more fully attired in her stunning, form fitting, latex catsuit.

As my eyes became more accustomed to the half light I began to see that what I thought was full latex, was actually Mistresses latex leotard on top of the most stunning, almost opaque black tights. I momentarily stopped to gaze at my Mistresses beautiful image that was now more clearly defined in the brighter lights of the stairway, and must have stammered out a question about her striking combination of garments because she stopped halfway up the stair, turned and smiled to acknowledge my confusion, and with an almost imperceptible nod agreed to my request to get closer to her perfectly formed derrière. The latex gloves that I arrived wearing glided smoothly and seamlessly between the two materials and the effect was truly amazing.

I was only permitted the briefest of encounters before Mistress resumed her sensuous glide to the Playroom, where I was briefed and instructed to deposit my red catsuit on the bed to get warm. Dispatched to the bathroom I was told to return as quickly as I could, attired in my collar, red latex stockings and red latex gloves. I knelt before my Mistress. Maggie’s boots were long, black and shiny with laces up the front. This time I avoided kissing the laces as I worshipped and paid homage to my owners footwear, I even managed a quick nuzzle of those remarkable tights with the tip of my nose, nothing more, but that briefest of contact confirmed these were indeed similar in texture to latex.

We briefly tried a new larger butt plug that Mistress retrieved with a flurry from behind the curtains, it went in OK but either the shape of my arse or that of the plug resulted in it gradually sliding outwards. It just wouldn't stay in place. Mistress knew it would just pop out and, although a harness might retain the little bugger, she said her preference was for an alternative to be chosen. So for the time being at least, my trusty red butt plug continues to reside in the darkest depths of my arsehole.

A hood was to be fitted and I was instructed to kneel between Maggie's legs, putting me in very close proximity of her glossy covered thighs. As the fitting proceeded, I was able to exercise my latex gloved hands a little to confirm that earlier magical feeling of those special thighs. My hood for a while would be a black pull on number with perforated eyes and mouth openings. Being a pull-on hood, we exercised caution when fitting me into my new skin, latex can tear easily if handled badly, as we both knew only too well from previous experiences and so I remained quite still as Maggie gently eased it in place.

That strange phenomena of the eye perforations once more returned me to thoughts of the Twilight Zone. I could gaze at my Mistress but the vision was much as I imagine an insect would see, clear but pixillated. Which turned out to be a most appropriate analogy as Maggie ensnared me lengthwise on the horse with her web of leather straps.

Mistress came round into my restricted vision and said I was to be stretched, and that one of her larger strap on dildos would do nicely. Once again as Mistress presented her massive toy for my inspection, the restricted view through the little perforations distorted what I was seeing and I had to move my head to take in the full extent of what was about to invade my backside. More lube and I lost sight as Maggie lined up the pole with the hole. Once again Mistress showed her caring side as she gently eased the tip of the invader into its target. She needn't have worried. With virtually no resistance, first the tip then the first inch or so then the whole lot was slowly sliding in, up to the hilt. I eagerly thrust backwards to accept as much as Maggie could give her slave and Maggie spared no time in reciprocating.

I really was disappointed when Maggie finally pulled out and re-instated my red butt plug in the vacant hole, I hope she got as much pleasure from my good f***ing as I did. There were more pleasures to follow in today's curriculum and after a few moments rest for both of us and time to remove the strap on, Maggie positioned me underneath the ceiling ring and started to red wrap my upper body with film, arms by my side but hands free next to my thighs. I thought nothing of this minor freedom and suspected that Mistress would naturally complete the full wrap later.

However, Maggie put her clingfilm down and instead I got a couple of strange add ons; a couple of winds of red gaffer tape around my torso to keep everything nice and snug and a leather muzzle. I thought that was a gag but strangely it had only very limited gagging effect. Oh well, Mistress always has a good plan and a reason for everything and I would just have to wait and see where we were going. Maggie knows I love her latex bed and so I was placed down the centre of it, and with my legs hitched up to the ceiling with rope the clingfilm came out again and bound my legs together. My situation just got better and better as I discovered that the muzzle made a most effective anchorage for head chains and my feet were immobilised with similar chains to the base of the bed. I could have quite happily been left there in bondage for hours, so comfortable that I am certain sleep could have enveloped this very happy latex slave. Until of course I felt activity around my groin.

More tape was being pulled from the roll of gaffer tape and then the vibrations started. Mistress knew I had been celibate for a while and was about to prove that she does own every one of my emotions. Maggie left me to it, the only option available to me was to writhe in my pleasurable predicament, the vibrator was taped to me and the powerful vibrations just kept coming. I tried hard to resist, not sure if she wanted me to cum or whether I would be punished, but eventually I lost all control and ejaculated inside my latex catsuit. It appeared to be exactly what Maggie wanted. She wasn't annoyed, in fact she patted my groin, sexily saying, ‘Good boy, it’s been quite a while hasn’t it?’. Opening my zip she cleaned away the mess and disposed of her soiled gloves, as she donned another pair she announced, ‘First the pleasure, now the pain’. That has a most salutary effect on post orgasmic pleasure!

Maggie's safety scissors cut away the cling film bindings and I was encouraged to stretch out on the bed. In other times that would have been a luxurious experience but this time I was being spread-eagled and destined for some post orgasm torture. Chained securely to the corners I was to wear the tusk mask to facilitate aroma delivery. An oxballs cock cage device was attached and alarmingly Mistress suggested that next time a cable tie might make it more permanent! The final bits to be captured were my, by now, somewhat depleted balls, and Maggie had to engage the assistance of one of her cut down pairs of tights to gather them up and neatly secure the leather ball harness in its operational position.

The pain starts as the wheel of the stretcher is turned a few revolutions. It is definitely not like the pain of electrics which can be short sharp and immediate. This is the aching pain which starts in the root of your cock as the scrotum is stretched. At first it is quite pleasant as the most beautiful woman fondles your manhood, checking out how taut your balls are becoming and making sure the harness is in the right position for an even pull, then it turns to acceptance of the ache because that’s what her unyielding wooden ball stretcher was designed for and that is what Mistress wants.

An amusing diversion occurred when my balls, now much reduced in size following my earlier enforced ejaculation, managed to free themselves from their captivity. All in her stride, Maggie just retied the fastening even tighter, adjusted the attachments and was happy to begin the whole procedure again and successfully complete the exercises she had prescribed.

Yes, I've enjoyed this expansion in the past, but then we moved into new heights of ache as the handle was turned and turned again. I slightly bent my knees within the tight confines of the knee straps and tight chains, that provided a small amount of relief but only until Mistress made another turn of the wheel. That took me right to the edge of the ache. Once your knees are bent you daren't adjust your position on the bed again, because if they were to straighten during the move I’d really be fearing for the welfare of Mistresses balls! So endure I did. Mistress had taken us much further along the stretching routine than on previous occasions, I know that because for the first time, as I breathed in and my chest rose slightly with the inhalation the ache in my balls intensified. A bit of a dilemma, breathe or contain the ache? I settled for taking as shallow breaths as I could survive, and drifted towards dreams of my perfect owner Mistress Maggie, and how far we have travelled.

My thoughts returned to my initial experience in the hallway and the Twilight Zone. There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call The Twilight Zone and Maggie takes me there every time we meet.

A Glimpse of Heaven

The sun was shining through the hints of Autumn, the temperature cool but not too cold. Another perfect day to serve Mistress Maggie and I almost skipped the final few metres towards her chambers through the fallen Autumn leaves.

Today I would be addressing Maggie as my Queen, as per her calling mail - 'Your throned rubber Queen intends to pump and work you hard to earn yourself some delicious pleasures'.

What a stunning sight greeted me as my Queen opened the door and allowed me to step into her Queendom. Queen Maggie looked beautiful in her full latex with a long flowing skirt, and adorning her neck was her chain of Queenship that occasionally tinkled and chimed as she moved. Being told to, I quickly left my jacket in the cloakroom and followed my Queen. Maggie always looks truly magnificent and on this occasion her garments flowed like liquid gold.

Soon she was occupying her throne where her skirt draped open in a most provocative manner, giving her subject a tantalising view of her stocking tops and tiny latex thong when I knelt before my Queen. Not much chance I’d be receiving a knighthood today, if that were the case surely Maggie would have given a clue in her calling mail, so instead I followed the normal etiquette of waiting for Mistress to signal me with her foot and bow down to worship her gold studded boots, just as I have done before.

The gold pyramid decorations along the outsides of the boots received my undivided attention, but worshipping the higher parts of the boots nearest to the forbidden stocking top territory had me somewhat distracted. Of course I continued my licking and kissing while sneaking a peek at my Queens’s latex underwear. I cannot recall anything in the Rule Book about not mentally worshipping those forbidden parts, but I do know exactly where I am allowed to physically go and always stay within the boundaries laid down by my Mistress. (I wonder if it is treason though to have such thoughts about ones ruler?)

I was not allowed to rise just yet but was told to ‘about turn kneel, head on carpet', at a suitable angle for my red butt plug to be inserted. Mistress took out a tape measure and jotted down my plug’s measurements saying, ‘you need a larger plug slave’, before pushing it in my butt and helping me into my heavy latex catsuit, a gas mask quickly followed and it looked like I might be receiving some stimuli today when a bottle of aroma was opened and attached to the breathing hose.

In the centre of the room a chain was hanging from the ceiling, I was told to hold on to it for stability while I got my butt plug moving. Mistress ramped up the music volume, pumped the aroma pump and danced round in that sensual way that I have only ever experienced in her presence; I did notice she was clutching a whip. I was to receive a flogging from my Queen as we danced; the crack of the cat echoing inside the gas mask. My heavy latex catsuit absorbed most of the power of the swinging leather, turning the strokes into gentle caresses with very little pain and lots of pleasure. My dancing Queen was aware of the desensitising effect of the thick rubber and allowed her blows to rain down from every angle, even the cat between my legs added to my delight. Mistress danced, I swayed clutching the chain, timing my movements to provide the best targets. Mistress pumped the aromas and I loved every moment.

That's for securing the catheter.

We moved quietly and quickly into the Clinic; well to be more precise, my Queen flowed sensually and I floated in a wonderful state of euphoria and there I was slid into the inflatable latex suit that had been laid out waiting for me. A wonderful garment with the sensation of ending up dressed in three slippery layers of rubber.

Again I was pleased it was a cool autumn day as the prospect of an overheating slave were still present but greatly reduced, remaining covered in the suit for a long time seemed well within my capabilities. That was just as well, because once pumped up, that was just how I remained for the remainder of the session.

The inflatable gloves and hood went on and I lay on the medical couch being pumped up until I had become a large inflated rubber slave, and there I was buckled down. Mistress insisted on a few extra pumps to my balloon head every now and then, enough to make the hood so tight that even the lightest touch sounded like a balloon being flicked. In fact that is exactly what it was. My advice to any would be 'pump heads' is to make sure you keep a firm grip on the mouth tube, because with all the extra pressure there is a tendency for the tube to force its way outwards. It takes a little practice but I have it mastered and could breathe easily. The question ‘are you still holding on to that tube slave?’ becomes a regular precaution when Mistress is nursing a pumped headed slave.

I am never strapped down for nothing and was curious as to what sort of operation I would be having today when Mistress zipped open my crotch area and my excited cock sprung out. It was a strange and pleasant sensation having my bits fully exposed while the inflatable suit pressed down firmly on my surrounding abdominal area. Before I knew it there was more inflation going on inside my bladder, because Maggie had inserted a catheter down my penis and it was time to pump a syringe full of saline into the internal bulb to ensure the tube was safely and deeply embedded in my plumbing!

I know I have said this before but my Mistress is the best nurse a patient could ever wish for when it comes to installing a catheter. The procedure is now routine but just as carefully administered with a full sterile kit of parts; her patients cock is cleaned, lubricated and desensitised, a saline syringe is prepared for inflating the bulb, a pack of white sterile gloves are opened and donned for the catheterisation itself, the saline is deployed and that’s it. Safe and secure and my bladder function controlled once again by my owner. Apart from the wonderful sensation as the tube gently slides in with a shudder of delight, the only other sense is one of complete and everlasting gratitude that Mistress is an expert in this sort of operation. A latex leg bag fitted nicely round my inflated leg, attached to the outlet pipe of the catheter and I was ready for going anywhere and no stops for 'Mistress I need the toilet!. I love it.

A good view of my Queens chain of office

Returning to the Playroom I started to see some of the limitations of wearing the inflatable hood for a lengthy period. Mistress was fine, she was in the mood for some rubber relaxation and looked eerily mysterious with her feet up, gas mask on and listening to some of her favourite Buddy Guy tracks. Looking towards her clear gas mask lenses for a glimpse into her deep eyes, my own plastic lenses were severely misting and the pressure of the hood also affected what I could see as my line of sight was somewhat above the horizontal, which meant I had to lower my head to see anything in front. Come to think of it, was this my Mistresses forward planning? A bowed head to my Queen seems quite appropriate!.

I was told that I would be helping with the cleaning and was led by my collar to the bathroom to bring the sundries. A cleaning sponge, spray and a bowl of water were needed and I gathered them up and carefully followed my Mistress. I couldn't see much at all but I trust Mistress 100% and just went where the gentle tug on my collar took me. I ended up back in the centre of the Playroom, the overhead gantry was lowered and I received instruction from my Queen to clean the gantry and to 'get on with it'.

As Queen Maggie looked on from her throne I was happy with being able to serve my Liege. Most of the cleaning was done by touch as my already limited vision was steaming up even more. Feel the sponge, feel the spray, point spray and hope. It worked and I sensed all the spray went on the sponge and it was then a relatively easy matter of holding the frame with one hand and cleaning with the sponge with the other.

Fortunately Mistress had removed my inflated gloves before starting me on the cleaning duties which was just as well, because with the gloves pumped up tight I had absolutely no feeling in them and of course no grip. Earlier I actually managed a stroke of my Queen's derrière while squeezing through a doorway. I hope Mistress liked the feel of my touch because I couldn't feel a thing. Mistress is very mischievous in this area, she knows I like stroking her bottom and would lose that pleasure in the mitts.

Cleaning was hard work, as upon inspection Mistress insisted that my first time attempt at sponging her gantry was not thorough enough and parts had been overlooked. So, once again I set about feel, point, squeeze and wipe. This time I took a lot longer, visiting the bowl of water more frequently to rinse out the sponge and carried on until my Queen was satisfied that her subject had completed what she’d asked. I was then told to clear up the spray, sponge and bowl back to the bathroom and this time Maggie didn’t bother getting up to lead me! I picked up the items and tried to visualise my route. I could just see, mainly the ceiling, but had to rely on my earlier trips in my attempt to navigate my inflated self through the doors, along the corridor and to the bathroom. I did manage the trip safely, but, as you might expect and unbeknown to me, Mistress in her latex gown had followed on and was never more that a step away, just in case I ran into trouble.

I was still feeling wonderful in the inflated suit and the catheter was really starting to excite. As I moved about with the once contents of my bladder sploshing about in my leg bag, I knew I had no option should I need to pee. Mistress was able to plug or unplug my bladder in an instant by simply removing or replacing the catheter bung. I even tried to go through the action of peeing. Maggie knows that is no use, her slave would only be allowed to pee in harmony with her wishes today and there was nothing I could or would do to alter that. Strange feeling knowing you need to pee, trying to pee and... nothing!

Pleasant use of the low whipping bench

My inflatable hood was removed and I was instructed to sit on the bed while Mistress retrieved a practical piece of Playroom furniture for what she had in mind. Mistress had also taken off her gas mask leaving her beautiful face framed by an open faced latex hood, she slipped out of the room returning almost immediately with bowls of ripe strawberries and cream and placed them on the bench. Was I about to be teased again as Mistress consumed the fruit? Not impossible. The last time strawberries came into the Playroom I was all strung up and immobilised as Maggie lay down eating the fruit in the provocative manner she performs so well. No, my Queen was about to share her fruit with her loyal subject. We sat on the side of the bed and I fed my Queen a large strawb doused in cream. Mistress took two delicate bites per fruit whereas me being a pig downed my offerings in one.

Picking up cream covered strawberries wearing latex gloves can be a very messy business and we managed to get cream in places cream had no business ending up. One dollop ended on Mistress Maggie's latex covered thigh and it was a delicious pleasure cleaning that up. Dining with my Queen was a truly wonderful experience for this slave. I was in very close contact with Mistress as she swallowed her strawberries and I was so close to those beautiful lips. Again my training overruled my instincts as I so wanted to kiss those sweet lips but resisted the urge and gently wiped away the excess cream from them.

Why the title A Glimpse of Heaven? Apart from the obvious that being with my Mistress is always a glimpse of heaven, the title is also a track by the 1960's group Strawbs, ah the delights of Strawbs and cream with a beautiful Mistress, one verse being a fitting link to today’s tasty and wonderful experience:

Could you only see what I've seen 

You would surely know what I mean 

I think I must have caught a glimpse of heaven.

My Bakers Dozen

During one of my very pleasant email exchanges with Mistress Maggie, I had innocently strayed into that minefield that is women's emancipation and equality. I had absolutely no idea that I had inadvertently disappointed my Mistress with a derogatory remark until I received the consequences for my carelessness during this session.

Once more I was making my way to Mistress’ chambers; ambling along the pavement mulling over the meaning of life, or more precisely that part of my life relating to Maggie’s calling mail where she had indicated,

Fantastic shot of my rubber Mistress and dildo

‘Your Mistress will be in black latex ready to teach you something about roles and giving you some very big surprises.’

I thought I may be reminded of some of the various roles that Maggie expects her slaves to perform; toilet slave, plaything, pet, vehicle for venting anger etc. As for the big surprise, I pretty much knew that my surprise might come in the form of an electro dildo that Maggie had recently received. It looked rather large in the photo she had posted on Twitter, but not as large as the excess postal charge she had paid to have it delivered.

I was in buoyant mood and had put on my new latex leggings for travelling to the Chambers, eager to show them off to Maggie and get her opinion. Wanting to reimburse Maggie for the postal charge she’d had to pay I had taped a packet with the exact money in to the inside of the leggings, to give her a nice surprise as I modelled them.

However Mistress stole my thunder and took my breath away in one fell swoop. As the door to the Chambers opened, I was beckoned indoors and led to the Playroom by Mistress in full black rubber with her electro dildo ready for use. Stroking her dildo Mistress told me that it was my turn to take delivery of the dildo now and I should hand over the import duty. I was left sheepishly retrieving the taped change rather than letting Mistress find the surprise package. It was the thought that counted but it didn't achieve the smiles and laughter from my Mistress that I had hoped for.

Prominently displayed in the bathroom as I shed my outdoor clothes 

Mistress had chosen what I should wear for session and with my catsuit laid out on the bed I was dispatched to the bathroom to prepare. I noticed a sign pasted on the wall there, but I still had no inkling of the mine I had stepped on even though the words Thwack, Thwack, Thwack were prominently visible.

Returning to the Playroom where Mistress was quietly sitting, I began the worship of her black patent laced boots, the ones which end just below her beautiful knees.

These are a complex pair of boots to worship and need much careful manipulation of the tongue, with many eyelets and boot laces to navigate to ensure total coverage. Unlike the red thigh highs from my previous boot homage, long licks to the knee had to be planned with this pair so as not to bang my head on Mistress’ fearsome looking dildo.

On one of my journeys upwards towards the forbidden territory above the boots, I encountered the end of the neatly tied laces, which were quite ticklish to my nose even inside my latex hood. I gave them a clean and kiss but it didn't half tickle, and combined with the clubbing from the dildo on the top of my head I giggled. Mistress asked what on earth I was doing, but was unimpressed by my explanation that the boot laces formed part of the footwear and I couldn't explain the giggles!

Maggie pulled me in close to begin lecturing me about ‘roles’, or perceived gender roles to be more precise. Never in a month of Sundays had I imagined that the comment about roles related to a thoughtless quip I’d made about home cooking. I would like to say that we had a meaningful conversation, but it was more of a monologue from Maggie punctuated by the occasional grunt from myself, to acknowledge that my comments were insensitive and that I required remedial training in the form of a good caning.

The case had been presented, Judge Maggie had deemed it proven and passed the sentence of 12 strokes of the cane. My defence was non existent and of course sentence was accepted. Ah that is why the Thwack Thwack Thwack notice in the bathroom; alerting the victim to their fate. How's that for forward planning!

A bit like the hanged man attaching the rope to the scaffold, I had to lift and position the executioners bench myself and locate it so, 'I can achieve a good swing’. I made a half-hearted attempt to interfere with Maggie’s back swing by placing the bench under the overhead gantry, that didn't work at all and as I lay crosswise on the horse I received my punishment.

1. . 2 . . and after each stroke I had to recite 'I made a big mistake. I have to be punished’. . 7, 8 . . I made a big mistake. . 10, 11, 12 . . punished and now I could relax.

Nope. I felt the familiar ranging tap, tap, tap of the can against my buttocks and the swish of the cane in its arc towards its target and for the thirteenth time heard and felt the explosion of the mine across my backside. 'That's for being stupid with my boot laces'.

A couple of moments respite for me to return from the dead and Maggie moved quickly on to another testing situation that had me more actively acquainted with the overhead gantry.

Mistress fixed me into her stout leather harness, attached the suspension chains and finishing with hanging leg stirrups, I was hoisted up. The stirrup attachments were a masterful stroke, allowing the legs to be relatively easily raised and lowered, separated or closed together. In any event, it gave easy access to my zips!

With the rubber tusk mask fitted I was limited to breathing through a hose, but aromas could be administered easily, I could see fairly well through its small round eyes and with a head harness strapped on over the top of the mask, my head could be comfortably supported at any desired height. Unfortunately, with my head secured, all I could then see was the overhead ring in the ceiling but it felt like the perfect suspension position. I could relax and gently swing and Maggie seemed happy with her slaves orientation.

It felt a bit like being a car on a service ramp. Mistress could have my nuts tightened or nipples oiled and repaired, or even full electrical diagnostics! Perhaps I shouldn't be giving Mistress such ideas as she is inventive enough. As it was, it was my exhaust pipe that needed looking at and Maggie greased up my arse and gave it a good servicing.

Testing over, it was time for me to be moved into the White Room where, securely strapped to the couch, Mistress zipped me into an anaesthetic hood and prepared to administer more relaxing aromas. Still armed with her new dildo her treatments were being aimed at my arse, and to avoid the dangly bits getting in the way, they were bound up with plastic bandages. Mistress then took both bandaged balls in her hands and pulled them hard. Well, I suppose they have to be checked to see how dangly they are capable of becoming!

Gloves were donned for a good finger examination followed by half a tube of slippery lubrication for another attempt at a fisting. We are not quite there yet, but some time soon and I was sufficiently opened for some deep penetration with her strap-on as a warm up to an ‘all import duties paid’ special delivery.

Taped out of harms way.

Ah, or should that be Aahhhhh! - I could finally say hello to the new electro infused dildo. More of the slippery lotion was squeezed from the tube and injected up my bum, electro pads were attached to my genitals and Maggie was ready and wired for her electro-bum experiment to begin.

With the help of aromas my anal muscles were ready. Slowly and gently the large black invader slid in, all the way to where the attached wires prevented further ingress. Then a real surprise as Mistress turned on the electrastim.

The sensation I was receiving was strange, quite tingly and so very pleasant that I could not help myself demonstrating my pleasure in an audible way. Maggie appreciates feedback on any new toys so I did write to explain my thoughts on my electro strap-on experience.

‘The sensation was a gentle tingling round the anus and you do have scope to ramp up the voltage a bit - not to cock and balls otherwise you will end up reattaching and stitching them back on!’

A nice tight and tidy set of captive balls

Probably a comment that will come back to bite and after today’s thwacking example, one that may be taken down and used as evidence . . .  Oh well, I have promised always to be honest with my Mistress so damn the consequences.

In a mood for more fun, Mistress looked at my flagging cock and balls and decided a splint would be needed for her planned sounding activity.

A splint? - Of course I couldn't see and to be perfectly honest by this stage I was in a euphoric state, nothing apart from my stunning Mistress mattered. Mistress’ imaginative mind had produced the perfect cock splint from her medical arsenal. Never in my most imaginative moments would I have thought that a speculum could be used as a splint for a sagging cock, but secured in place with a length of rope it proved to be a most useful support.

Study of my larger guiche, recently fitted by my Mistress

I barely felt the sounds as they deeply penetrated my upstanding member, Mistress kept inserting them until I had four nestling inside me, then she turned on her vibrator to make them rattle and vibrate. I could definitely feel the sensations now and I am absolutely certain that my Mistress has a sadistic streak, because only someone with those tendencies would keep her slave right on that 'edge’.

Another quick squirt of aromas, the gentlest of touches on my captive balls and I was off into dreamland again, wondering how Mistress may use her speculum next! Perhaps as an electrode to shock her slaves? Mmm, I am sure that is not a new thought to Maggie.

After all the hard work I had put in during this session, Mistress rewarded me with a long cool drink of her specially chilled wine. Maggie, with that wonderful smile that lets the slave know that he is in for a real treat, set up a drip bag filled with amber nectar (not Fosters, that tastes like piss). She looked fantastically attractive as she wheeled her IV stand around the couch to feed me.

For the last time for today at least, the aroma tube was removed from the anaesthetic mask and replaced with a drinking tube. I was just ready for my well earned refuelling and all that was offered was gratefully received.

I sucked greedily and consumed probably half of the contents before the flow stopped. Was Mistress playing a final mind game? Nope! Her chilled wine had not long been out of the freezer and all that was left in the bag was a large ice cube. I tried blowing to get some warm air to melt my drink, I tried sucking even harder. That brought back happy memories of when I had performed the same suck when Mistress was wearing her piss pants, that caused quite an amount of amusement. But to suck harder brought no extra reward for this frustrated slave today.

That brought my training for the day to a pleasant conclusion and as often happens, Mistress allows me to help with cleaning up the mess I have made. The simple tasks like floor cleaning, fetching and carrying for Maggie, help with washing all the latex, that sort of thing, we like to leave the Playroom and Clinic in good nick ready for Maggie's final clean up later on. I have learnt a lot about the scrupulous cleaning regime that Mistress Maggie adopts by helping her with the cleaning.

‘Here slave, you can take this bag of frozen piss home if you like’. A gesture that I jumped at and in a quiet moment on the Saturday night when the cube had defrosted but the contents remained chilled, I slowly sipped the remaining drink, toasted my Mistress and said a quiet thank you. I know some people prefer a G&T, but on this occasion I had the best drink in the world.

Well and Truly Stitched Up!

In total contrast to my last session where Mistress Maggie gave absolutely no hint of where the session was going, I received a positive steer in the 24 hour calling mail.

‘I have decided to kill two birds with one stone and bring my hobbies into the playroom. You shall be the first to witness me becoming re-acquainted with one of my old favourites and will be strapped down in my leather craft.’

A striped right buttock.

Not particularly enamoured with the killing reference and a fraction vague about the strapping down, I thought it best to have a re-read through Maggie’s website for clues on how her hobbies might be used, and concluded that I may well become the tailors dummy for her dressmaking. This conclusion was reinforced by one of Mistresses tweets that landed at around midday on my session date. I recommend having a look at this tweet, not because it reinforces session activity but because of the spectacularly beautiful photograph that Mistress has provided to accompany the text, and also because the same stunning red vision is exactly what greeted me when I was invited into the Chambers.

Mistress says her red catsuit is a little tight; I prefer to call the vision of my owner in her close-fitting red catsuit an image of perfection for a rubber lover. I suppose I agree though, it is tight, but definitely in all the right places!

Those long, long PVC boots are a delight to kiss, lick, suck and generally worship. One long lick can get me all the way from the heel to the middle of Mistress Maggie's thighs, no further though as those are the rules, to worship Maggie’s footwear only. But it does give me the opportunity to glide my tongue right to the very top, where I can sneak a peek at just how tight and form fitting Maggie's red catsuit actually is. Every now and then and when it was in the appropriate position, Mistress would idly flick her cane across my bare right buttock, not particularly hard but sufficient to give me four or five very nice stripes. Mistress also made good use of her chunky heels, lining them up with my backside she forced my butt plug deep inside where it stayed until our session was ended.

I wasn't left so undressed for long as Mistress said that there was plenty that needed to be done and had me quickly inserted into my own red catsuit. We actually looked like twins, not identical of course; Mistress is elegant, slim, beautiful and dominant, whereas I ain’t, but we were now both fully clothed in red latex.

I was led through to the Clinic where there was even more latex laid out for me. Carefully, I was fitted into the awaiting operating suit and rubber re-breather hood. Sat upright and strapped onto the operating couch Mistress told me to just sit and breathe, as she had some things to prepared for the next phase. I did as I was told as I always do, quietly sitting and breathing in and out through the two tiny breathing holes that Maggie had provided for me. My slow breaths needed concentration to maintain sufficient ventilation, but luckily I have had practise with the hood before and was able to stay calm as I gazed through the semitransparent latex at my vision in red, busying herself and preparing . . .

The room started to reorientate as the operating couch was reclined. Momentarily I had clarity of the situation as Mistress removed the rebreather, satisfied I had received sufficient breath play for now at least. Then I progressed to a less lucid state, first to tunnel vision as the red gas mask was fitted, then more relaxed as Maggie pumped in a couple of bulbfuls of aroma and finally it all went hissy quiet.

Mistress knew one of my senses has always been available to me, because no matter what hood was used or how many hoods for that matter I could still hear what was going on. The faint footfall as Maggie moved around, the quiet opening and closing of the door, the swish of Mistresses clothing and of course instructions as to what was about to happen. That all abruptly ended. Mistress deployed her wi-fi headphones and with the click of a button all I could hear was white noise; static; the kind of hiss that you get from an un-tuned radio and loud enough to obliterate all other sounds. That is one more and probably the final sense under my Mistresses total control.

My remaining sense of sight soon joined my loss of hearing with the snugly fitting eye blanks deployed across the gas mask portholes. My total contact with reality was now reduced to the occasional gentle touch from my Mistress. It feels surreal and so so right that my owner now has the capability to have her slave under her total control.

Of course I could still feel, and as Mistress pulled my cock and balls through the zip openings to the outside of my suits I knew I was still alive. I sensed what I believed to be the creation of a sterile operating environment and I had a vision in my hiss filled mind of being in the presence of a goddess, her touch electric, and I had also in my mind a red vision and thought I must be in heaven, or hell even with all the redness, but it felt more like heaven.

I am fairly certain that Mistress approached my left ear and said something. It might have been my imagination, but whatever it was, was inaudible and so disjointed that it could have been just a dream. What definitely wasn't a dream was the manhandling and manipulation of my cock, balls and scrotum by Maggie’s hands. By now I was suspecting that if Mistress’ sutures were intended for me her needlework would be aimed at that part of my anatomy. Maggie might have mentioned my fate but I could hear nothing nor see what was about to happen.

The first stitch was gentle and barely brought me from my hissing dreamland. I tried to follow the progress wondering if I would have any cock and balls left, oh well they are Maggie's property after all, so que sera sera. Strangely, I thought of the third line of the song 'the futures not ours to see' and dreamed how appropriate it was to my present predicament. Maybe is was the medicinal aromas combined with a lack of sound and sight, but I just felt deliriously happy.

The stitching continued, interspersed with what I assume was Mistress standing back to survey the scene and plan the next couple of sutures, or she may have just popped out. I had no way of telling but I just knew Maggie would be there as she does attend and care for her slaves, especially during such taxing situations! Another short session of stitching and another short break and this time I was certain she was there because of the gentlest strokes of my groin. I wont say cock and balls because I couldn't tell what was left down there.

I could feel everything being tightened, tucked and sewn out of harms way, and I have to admit that some of the later stitches definitely made their presence known, one or two were quite painful making me jolt and howl. Still it made a welcome relief from the hissing white noise that continued to fill up my gas mask and obscure all my senses. Mistress responded to my increased pain levels by administering more aroma shots and that certainly helped me relax, until finally Mistress must have been satisfied with her procedure and the needling stopped. The hiss gently subsided to nothing and a hypnotic sexy voice whispered through the headphones something along the lines of 'you will do anything for your Mistress . . .  follow me to a rubber world’. I am certain I heard this although with the prolonged sensory deprivation I had experienced I may well have heard my own dreams.

I think my cock is in there somewhere!

It was during the latter parts of being well and truly stitched up that a strange phenomena happened. Laying there minding my own business and in the midst of a slightly painful pricking moment, slowly and without any fuss I ejaculated. Slow, quiet and of course without an erection, as by then my cock must have been stitched up inside my scrotal sac, and well, incapable of getting hard. No explosion, no sense of tiredness afterwards, but I knew it happened, I’d cum. Talk about wet dreams!

I am certain Mistress knew that might happen as I have done the same previously when I have been stapled up. Being blind there was no way I could gauge Maggie’s reaction, but with barely a pause the next needle went in and she carried on stitching as if nothing had happened. I have no idea as to where the ejaculate went or indeed if there was any, it wasn't until my hood and blindfold came off that I could ask Maggie about that strange happening and her answer only demonstrates how detached I was from what was happening in her operating area.

‘Yes, I saw you cum you messy perverted slave. I had to sponge it up and change gloves before I could carry on with my hobby!’

As Mistress removed my red hood and my eyes slowly became accustomed to the bright lights of the Clinic and the Clinic sounds became  crystal clear, I once again saw my vision in red and was able to ask about my dreams and say thank you to Mistress for all her hard work. However, as far as Maggie was concerned we had not reached the end. Pleased with her progress so far she happily announced that it was time to begin the final part of my operation.

She may not have been altogether ecstatic about the size of my remaining scrotum, so after re-fitting the rebreather hood, I was told I was to receive a boost to my ball size. Maggie really is an expert with deploying a cannula and no sooner said than done. Into my scrotum, bag of saline hung on the iv stand, connected to scrotum and a good flow of about 400ml dripped into my somewhat strange looking sac.

All I could think about was how, with all that stitching could my sac actually accommodate all that fluid. I had visions of me leaking like a sieve through all the suture puncture holes. That, of course didn't happen and what a strange feeling. I wanted to become erect but no chance. My scrotum was filled with saline and I loved the sensations. By now, I was a master of the re-breather and I thought how fortunate I am to have provided Mistress with a vehicle to return the art of scrotum sewing to her slaves menu and to facilitate ‘ . . . two birds with one stone. . .’ 

Standing up in front of a mirror I was allowed to admire the sheer artistry and graceful lines that had been used to create a mangina. The stitches were real stitches, nice and black with real surgical twine. My saline filled ball sac may have looked strange, but felt both weighty and fantastic. Unfortunately I was unable to return home with my inflated mangina and Mistress ordered me back up on the couch for stitch removal. I was surprised at how strong the thread is as Mistress Maggie left one tail in place for me to take out by myself. Its extraction didn't hurt but took quite a lot of tugging to remove the twine. I am glad that Mistress didn't leave me with all the stitches to remove at home!

One final comment. Waterproof pants are useful things to wear on your way home, as saline does start to leak out and can look like you have pee'd yourself! I have now tried staples and actual suturing with Mistress and they are very different sensations. Hmm, staples or stitches? I am not sure which I prefer.