Friday 19 January 2018

The Art of DFP

Mistress Maggie had declared today as a relaxing day that we were both to enjoy; a temporary amnesty from the normal rigours of my training; a day without pain or punishment; no electrical ‘encouragements’; no trips to Maggie's new whipping horse; a day where her slave would be allowed to touch her latex clad figure, in fact a day for Dressing For Pleasure. I even avoided a kick up the bum that Mistress had threatened me with for a cheeky remark in one of my mails, but I suspect that particular comment will act as a reminder to my owner for next time. Perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned that?

Had I died and gone to heaven? It sounded too good to be true and as the session progressed there were the odd discretionary diversions orchestrated by Maggie, but overall I was one ecstatically happy, albeit rather warm at times, rubber plaything for the most wonderful Mistress a slave could imagine.

It was a cold dank day when I arrived and Mistress had thoughtfully deployed two room heaters in her Playroom. On this one occasion I was invited to strip off my clothes and change into my socks, gloves and leather slave collar in the presence of Mistress and in the Playroom warmth. I have absolutely no inhibitions at anything Mistress requires me to do, and why would I? I felt relaxed and warm as I changed as instructed, although somewhat embarrassed as my cock stood quickly to attention the moment I glimpsed my owner, she appeared so serene in her black hooded latex robe and long leather boots, relaxing on her throne in the corner. I know her slave should be able to control that reaction, but short of chopping off my balls, which is perhaps another comment I should not make, Mistress will always generate that response, as she is the most sensual person I have ever met.

Back to the DFP. I was sent to the Bathroom to deposit my outer clothes out of the way. I didn't linger as it was just a tad chilly as I quickly checked my collar, made sure everything was OK and returned to knock on the door and wait, as I have been trained to do when entering any room containing my Mistress.

Ah, those long leather boots again. Mistress pointed to the tops and said the boots were very dirty after my last pitiful attempt and how I must do a better job of cleaning by generating much more saliva this time to lift off the dirt. That was divine torture, because as my licks approached the top of the boots I discovered that Mistress was once again naked under her latex gown. The rules dictate that I must restrict my licking to the footwear, but if I remember rightly, the Chambers rules do not mention that a slave cannot gaze in wonderment at Mistresses nakedness. So restricting my pleasure to the odd furtive glance I continued to work my tongue on the dirtiest patches near the tops of the boots. I am sure Mistress knew and teased her slave more by stretching the top of the boots to allow a proper clean and show off more of her bare flesh.

After the very long task of boot cleaning Maggie was happier with my performance today, and that’s when my dilemmas really started. I am not sure why because I have been a big rubber fan for a very long time, but when Mistress asked how I would like to dress for pleasure today I was totally flummoxed. I mean, expecting a slave to think about how a DFP session should progress was torture. The only item Maggie said I was to wear was a pair of tight latex pants with an anal sheath that I had never been introduced to before and the rest was my choice.

Amazing, the pants were actually plugged into the wall socket. Heated latex pants eh? Now that's a novelty. It turned out that Maggie had inserted a vibrating butt plug into the anal sheath and was making sure it was fully charged before allowing her slave to feel their delights. Dilemma one. 'Would you like something tight round your cock and balls slave?' If I said yes, would it show Mistress that I love that type of restraint? Was I being drawn into a spiders web for future sessions? Of course I said 'Yes please’, it means I get my Mistress playing with her property as she tightly attaches the leather cock and ball straps. A definite 'Yes please!'

Greased up, the anal invader was turned on and slipped easily home. A moment of amusement for Mistress when she needed a couple of probes to find the entry point and with each attempt, the pressure sensitive switch in the vibrator moved it to another program. Laughing, she giggled ‘OK, too bad. You'll have to put up with a random buzz program today slave.' It turned out to be three short bursts, one long one, then a momentary quiet time, a rather pleasant sensation that would gradually build the longer it remained in place.

More torturous questions about how I wanted to DFP. ’How about a catsuit, there are a few to choose from, one suit or two for you slave?' I have never experienced wearing both my lightweight and heavyweight suits together and thinking about it caused a delay. ‘Come on slave, call yourself a rubberist?’. Mistress knows I love rubber so the answer 'both please' was probably a fair certainty. 'Do you want a nice hood, slave?' Decisions decisions. Oh the torture. 'Yes please’, and so after this mental anguish I ended up in tight latex buzzing pants, two catsuits and a nice hood.

Unlike me, Mistress had already decided how she would like to be dressed and produced a shiny latex garment for herself. ‘Help me into my catsuit slave’. This request required absolutely no thought at all and was definitely a 'yes please' before Maggie had even finished asking. But before we got started Mistress had another thought. ‘Would you like that nice corset or a harness to keep you secure in all that latex slave?’ And then I realised, Mistress really does know me well and everything she ‘asked’ about was a foregone conclusion. I didn’t say no and so the corset was fitted round my midriff, nice and tight. I felt a little happier knowing I wasn’t really having to make decisions after all.

It was about now that the consequences of the very tight latex coverings were making themselves felt. As I helped Mistress into her catsuit, gently easing it up her smooth white back, and very carefully easing the zip from her derrière to the nape of her neck, I naturally felt a stirring lower down and that was it, only stirrings. The rubber coverings were so tight, I could have passed for a woman I had such a wonderfully tightly covered abdomen and groin, but an erection? - no chance whatsoever, there was definitely not enough space for one of those! In the past I have helped Mistress remove her suit at the end of a session but helping her dress for pleasure in her latex was on a totally different plane. Mistresses freshly licked thigh boots were zipped on top and I was allowed to polish her all over and enhance her shine.

With the application of the gas mask over my working hood and the aroma tube screwed in place, the last vestiges of communicating directly with my Mistress were removed, nor could I see my Mistress directly. Now inside my rubber world I had to rely on the lenses to provide my link to the real world outside. Maggie allowed a few puffs as a reward, I don’t think I had experienced this brand of aroma before but it was giving a nice relaxing feel to a surreal situation. Every now and then Maggie held her hand over the tube and smiled as the gas mask drew tightly against my air deprived face. Could our DFP get any better?

Well yes actually. Mistress decided that a few chains would be an appropriate addition to my DFP experience. And so it was. I was loosely chained to the bed and my hands chained to my corset, preventing me from reaching out to touch my wonderful latex Mistress. Try as might I could not reach her as she moved sensually around the bed. Then suddenly I couldn't even see the outside world through my goggles, as a blindfold was carefully placed over them and all contact was curtailed as Mistress left the room.

A short while later Mistress returned and she began releasing my right hand from its temporary chain, she sat down next to me and announced that she would be reading me a story from a 1980's ‘Dressing For Pleasure’ magazine. I wasn't really able to concentrate on the story being totally mesmerised by the very sound of Mistresses voice. I lay there TOTALLY enclosed in rubber and getting warmer and warmer inside my many layers of that wonderful material. I should have asked for the heaters to be turned down, but I didn't want to interrupt my Mistress and made the wrong choice by squirting another sniff of aroma to help me feel cooler, of course that did nothing other than making me more mesmerised. As the story continued I became hotter and hotter until I had to request Mistress to remove the mask to cool down.

Every cloud has a silver lining as they say, as unwittingly my request revealed a wonderful surprise. During my period of solitude Mistress had quietly changed into her hood with attached braided hair.

I was overwhelmed with how stunning she looked. If I had not asked for the mask off how long a delay would I have had before being allowed to see my exquisite Mistress?. Yet another fine DFP dilemma presented to her slave, and the silly thing was that once Maggie was aware I was hot she had absolutely no qualms about turning down the heaters.

It didn’t take long for me to once again feel comfortable in my latex layers, and although my need for cooling air had changed the ambiance of the session Mistress still had two final pleasures for her loyal slave. Maggie put on her long rubber mack and belted it tightly, then guided me into the latex bondage sack. I was strapped into the sack and laid back on the bed where Mistress gently cuddled her rubber slave and wrapped me tightly into bed. Unfortunately such hot pleasures cannot last forever and eventually the session had to end. As I stood to attention ready to have all the suits removed, Mistress allowed me to put my rubber covered arms round her and gently stroke her latex covered body. This delightful privilege would normally solicit a bulging growth down below but any reaction was suppressed totally by the multiple layers of tight latex. Perhaps, just perhaps, Mistress has found a way of controlling my unruly cock in her presence.

I always adore being in the presence of my rubber Goddess but today was a very happy and special one, having finally been permitted a lengthy touch of her latex clad figure. I received exactly what my owner had promised; Dressing in rubber for Pleasure. When I was younger, story times had never been this good and I hope we get to finish another episode of the magazine story Mistress Maggie was reading in the not too distant future.

Friday 5 January 2018

Pumped Up and Raring to Go

If I had been tasked with concocting the perfect way to start 2018, I could not have surpassed what Mistress Maggie had planned for our first session of the new year. I knew it was going to be rubbery, very rubbery, I had gleaned that much from Maggie’s call up mail. I knew also that my Mistress would be in a very rubbery costume for the session so I arrived at the Chambers with a hop, skip and very happy jump as my finger jauntily pinged the front door bell. I had that feeling that this was going to be my best year ever.

True to her promise Maggie was very rubbery indeed; a long flowing black latex skirt, a tight basque covering her black latex covered torso, topped off with the wonderful halo of jet black hair that highlights her beautiful face. A song from Tommy briefly came to mind ‘Got a feeling 2018 is going to be a good year’. Apologies to The Who for slightly plagiarizing their title, but the sentiments fit well with the circumstances.

Maggie asked me to sit down on the latex bed and we talked about my training so far in a manner which epitomises how kind my owner really is. She guided the conversation towards asking for my thoughts on how my training was progressing? Was I happy with the direction we took in sessions? Was there anything I wished to be included in my training? . . . All questions asking her slave for feedback on my owners performance. As I gazed across the Playroom where Mistress was seated elegantly on her throne, I couldn’t think of anything constructive to say apart from, ‘Yes I am very happy with no concerns as to where 2018 and beyond may take us, and no I cannot think how to improve the already perfect sessions you create for your slave’, before making a stammered apology for abdicating responsibility which I know must place a huge burden on my owner. But I really don’t want anything to change. ‘More of the same please,’ I rather lamely quipped.

Our chat was drawn to a close and it was back to a new year of renewed training. I was dispatched to the bathroom to divest all my clothes and return wearing my black latex socks and gloves and of course my slave collar. Mistress was wearing long, very long leather boots under her skirt and it was heaven starting at the tip of her toes and licking all the way up past her superb calves, upwards over her knees and slowly upwards over those stunning thighs. Were these boots ever going to stop? Of course and I am well trained not to stray past the footwear so I restarted on the other boot, offering it the same amount of devotion.

Mistress let me know that she planned to have me in three layers of latex and without any ado I was ordered into my black heavyweight catsuit which had been nicely warming on the bed. With Maggie’s help I was soon covered in the first layer, but I had been given no hint of the form the other two rubber layers would take. Mistress always likes me to be well groomed, and the same applies when I am in my latex and once dressed I am to be polished or dusted. As soon as Mistress had finished with her duster a second catsuit was brought down from a hanger, its chlorinated surface was so slippery that I could just slide it on without much assistance. Well I had been promised rubbery, and was now enclosed in two glorious layers and anxiously waiting for the third one to appear, but when it did not come I suspected I must have misheard my Mistress.

Perhaps the third layer was the EO19 gas mask that I was then secured inside, with its heavy rubber smell filling my nostrils I was led through to the Clinic and securely strapped down on the couch. Maggie disappeared returning a little later with one of her catheter kits. The gloves went on and a large plastic drape unwrapped ready to be secured to my rubber suit. My cock felt quite cool being exposed through the centre hole of the drape and even cooler when Maggie started to clean it with her swabs of meths. At this point she would normally apply lubricant to my opening, but not today. Instead, Maggie then used her hands to gather up my genitals and after a period of rattling noises came the distinct sound of a ratchet device being attached behind them.

That’s when my first embarrassment of 2018 occurred, I just couldn’t control my cock. Mistress clearly made it known that she wanted a flaccid cock and with a couple of slaps told me to concentrate on making that happen, but try as I might I could not stop the pesky blighter waking up and waving at my Mistress. I tried to think of nothing; I tried counting sheep but in the end Maggie resorted to the tried and tested method of plonking a bag of frozen ice cubes on the area. Even that was only partially successful and Maggie still struggled to attach the second part of her chastity cage, until finally its lock closed around my cock and balls.

With a sigh of relief and triumph it was on to the next part of her plan, installation of the catheter. Bearing in mind I could not see the extent of my cock confinement, I wondered why it took my owner longer than normal to insert the catheter, but at last I could feel it passing painlessly down my urethra and its internal balloon pumped up. Maggie is now a real expert in this little operation and always maintains her very high hygiene standards with a proper sterile field.

Once the capture and catheterisation of my cock was completed, a pair of kegel balls were dangled in front of my gas mask lenses. ‘These will be inserted down below’ , said Mistress. My red butt plug was brought out and the kegels inserted in to my vacated backdoor hole.

My training has taught me that wherever there are kegels there will always be electric sensations, so no surprise that Mistress was soon making her slaves hips move to her
chosen pulsing rhythm, or ‘dance music’ as Mistress called it. A pleasurable predicament as well, because the more you move the more the balls jiggle and just add to the stimulation, or just until Maggie decides to add a sadistic twist to her actions.

It was at this point I made what I thought was an innocent reference to my total acceptance of Mistresses actions. The lead in conversation explains.

Mistress - 'Do you want to pee slave?’
slave -  ‘No thank you Mistress’
Mistress - ‘No thank you. Ah, you can still be polite even when I am punishing you can’t you?
slave - ‘Are you punishing me Mistress?...

I was trying to convey I accept anything and everything she wishes, so how could it be punishment?

That was the most stupid response I could have made, because the electrics were quickly ramped up from 24 to 48 and THEN I was in no doubt at all that I was being punished. Mistress laughed. My ass was on fire, my hips dancing wildly and I was singing out in pain, vowing once more not to make stupid quips when being trained. If Mistress says she is punishing you, just accept it! The raised electrics had played havoc with the caged cock, I could feel the tight restraints of the steel holding in what was trying to be a growing erection. How come a high voltage experience results in a raging erection?

Mistress warned me that the clinic was about to get very noisy as she plugged something into the shoulder of my catsuit. Ah! I was wearing her new inflatable suit and that was soon confirmed as a very noisy pump leapt into life right next to my left ear. It then dawned on me that I had been enclosed in three layers of latex all along and not just two as I had believed, and thank goodness for the E019 gas mask, the thick rubber of the mask toned down the buzz to a pleasant hum. As my shoulders gradually began to bulk out, Maggie eased the tight restraining bands to allow more air to circulate and before long I was able to feel a swelling round my stomach; not tight but sufficient for me to run my rubber covered hands over a larger than normal gut.

It was time to move back to the Playroom, the restraints had been unbuckled I was to carefully alight from the White Room couch. Reaching just a little too far with my leg to make contact with the floor, I suffered the most agonising cramps in my left leg. It made level 48 feel like being tickled. Fortunately, Mistress took immediate remedial action and massaged the calf gently until the cramps subsided, insistent that she would not proceed until I promised that I was fit to continue. Maggie is sadistic at times but definitely not a complete sadist; thoughtful and kind spring to mind and it certainly reinforces why I am devoted to my owner.

Maggie’s orders determined that the electrics, which were now thankfully reduced to a more normal level 21, would remain pulsing and the plugged catheter and cock cage were there ‘permanently’ as we traversed the short distance between the White Room and Playroom.

Not content that my lower appendage was now rendered useless and incapable of being pumped up any further, more inflation was required by Mistress. The pump was plugged in again and the catsuit inflated to a much larger size, applying pressure to all parts of her rubber slave. The matching inflatable hood and mittens followed rendering me a balloon man, I was left to acclimatise myself to my new inflated predicament, unable to touch anything with my round ball hands, unable to move freely with my round ball body and my senses deprived by my round ball head.

I have experienced this rather pleasant latex hood previously, at lower pressures it has stayed in place without too much fuss, Maggie's plans today necessitated fixing my slave collar tightly over the hoods neck band to keep it securely in place, even so, with the great pressure applied, the hood eyes were eventually pointing skywards and the breathing tube required a very firm grip between my teeth. It is possible that an attachment similar to a divers mouthpiece may prove beneficial and I will mention this to my owner.

I was lightly strapped to the cell bars and Mistress amused herself with her little game of ‘inflate and frustrate’. Armed with her hitachi vibrator my imprisoned cock was at her mercy. Talk about frustrated. My sausage literally took on the shape of a sausage in a far too tight skin and the catheter just hung there. I have come to the conclusion that Mistress Maggie is an expert in frustrating her slaves. Another of her endearing qualities.

Once we had deflated all the inflatables, removed all the rubber and … well, that was it. As an act of obedience and submission I was sent home with instructions to keep the catheter and cage on until Monday. Now that was a thrill to leave the Chambers in this state, I loved the concept and was resolved to do exactly as asked. Unfortunately, after a fitful nights sleep I awoke in the early hours of Saturday, having dreamed the most deliciously erotic dreams about my Mistress, with what would have been a super hard and large cock, wanting a pee and desperate for relief from the continuous compression. I succumbed, and at about 06:30 used the keys to free the cage and the syringe that Mistress had loaned me for emergencies to deflate the catheter.

I have already informed Mistress Maggie of my failure and we agree long term caging is probably not our scene and after the excruciating agony of a really compressed cock I take my hat off to those who report that they spend weeks stuck in chastity. The cage was one I had not worn before and unlike the other devices I have tried, its ratchet tightly round my balls made it immovable without the keys. I must admit to regretting having to remove both items as it provided a real sense of long-term ownership. I know, I am a really lucky slave and a Happy New Year to everyone.