North West Crop Failure

Mistress Maggie had sent me a note making it absolutely clear what joys would greet her slave during this session. ‘Your bewitching Mistress will have you bound within a bag of gold and feeling the touches of her brand new crop’.

I knew Mistress had been working on a major latex production and that it was a gold coloured rubber bondage sack, but we hadn't yet been introduced. I was really looking forward to being allowed to wear her latest creation and today would be my lucky day. The brand new crop? Obvious. I always love being guinea pig for any of Mistresses new toys, even a simple crop. If wielding a new implement on her slaves flesh gives Maggie pleasure, then I am certain I could derive pleasure from receiving her gift. I got that part quite wrong!

I don't know what went wrong with my timing, I was probably too keen to see my Mistress, but the five minute walk from the car park was managed in just a shade over three and I arrived at the chambers early. Maggie greeted me in her long red PVC boots, a black and red latex leotard, a smack across my face and a stern telling off. ‘You're two minutes early slave. I was in the middle of a cup of coffee and have barely had time to read my e-mails’.

I hoped that would be the end of the repercussions for my my poor time keeping but I really should have known better. Despite my ears still ringing from their recent boxing I could just manage to focus on the superbly formed derrière undulating just in front of my eager eyes as I followed my Mistress upstairs to the Playroom. The territory in front of my eyes is forbidden but I can still dream.

Today I returned a pair of Maggie’s used pants, a very sexy lacy pair that she had loaned to me to give me comfort at home. I felt quite proud of how I had managed to launder them; non-biological washing liquid to avoid a reaction round Mistresses delicate bits and a gentle softener to give them that fragrant scent, though nothing quite as fragrant as the ‘eau de Maggie’ that had drifted in my direction each time I held them. Pride comes before a fall and once more I had been unable to iron the little pink bow at their front, it’s not something I have practised in the past but I have a feeling, 24 feelings to be precise, that I MUST learn to iron it if Maggie is to continue allowing me the panty privilege.

After an all too short spell of boot worship, Maggie adhered to her session guidance and picked up her crop. The die was cast. 12 strokes for being early and 24 strokes for my laundry failure. Stripped down to my latex shorts I was ordered over the spanking stool and this time I wished Maggie had strapped me down. Even through my latex shorts the cropping started to hurt like hell. Concurrent sentences might have been more manageable for me, but no, I received consecutive punishments; 36 strokes in total and all predominantly to my right cheek. I was dancing around on the bench and begging for clemency by the time the final blow landed.

Things got a little less painful for a while. I was to be Maggie's pet pooch and this role I gladly sank my whole heart and soul into. Dressed in my thick latex suit complete with my doggy harness, butt plug and tail to wag, Maggie transformed me into her pet hound. This really was fun and, as I said, I got fully into the mindset of a big, black, boisterous retriever. For those of you who are fortunate to receive similar treatment, the leather muzzle is very comfortable to wear but it does somewhat restrict the air supply, so if you are bounding around like a puppy then expect a little breathlessness.

As an added part of the transformation, Maggie had the foresight to tape and splint two fingers on each hand together to make digging in her flower garden that little bit more taxing. I reiterate, Maggie plans the sessions meticulously. I scampered around the room fetching the ring that my owner tossed in various directions. I played with it. I hid it temporarily from my owner and even tossed it in the air as I padded round on all fours, then to reinforce my pet training I was taken for a walk on a lead. It was then that I momentarily returned to normality as I passed the crop that I’d been beaten with lying on the landing floor. Maggie had enjoyed herself so much cropping her slaves backside that the crop had broken. Poetic justice I thought before being brought to heel on the leash and returning once more to the obedient pet dog.

When we finished our walk I was rewarded for being a good dog by being sent to the garden area to find and dig up my bone. Not easy with the taped up paws but I set about digging up the soil like a good dog, and in my joy at being Maggie's pet pooch and finding my orange bone I completely missed what the plants were that I was disturbing in my haste. Oh the joys of being a happy pet.

I could easily have laid down at my Mistresses feet for the remainder of the afternoon, but Maggie had other plans and true to her promise she brought out the gold latex body bag. It’s amazing how quickly a slave can be transformed from a boisterous black retriever into the King of Maggieland, but I did look rather like royalty after she had finished with me. Firstly I was fitted into the anatomically correct and most comfortable of masks. My head became an accurate latex head complete with sticky out ears. I got the impression that Mistress also likes the mask as she spent a while making sure it was smooth and all the right bits inserted into the correct mouldings before I was gently inserted into the most luxurious gold latex body bag. Maggie went on to reinforce who the boss was by securely chaining me inside the bag, out of harms way. So I did end up laid down at her feet after all.
Not just one or two but almost the whole of Maggie's chain store was deployed in her bondage. Chains round middle, legs arms, feet, in fact anywhere Maggie wanted to see a chain, and a series of padlocks held me inescapably secure. At least Houdini might have escaped their caress but I certainly couldn't. I actually feel really secure in this totally helpless state. I know I am totally dependant on my Mistress and that is exactly how I like it. I probably shouldn't say this but I was really comfortable inside this most luxurious of sacks and was quite relaxed when Mistress left me in this position for a while. I had time to admire the excellent workmanship that Maggie had put into this bodybag and thought of all the other very fortunate slaves who would benefit from its pleasant embrace.

I also had time to better admire some of the new decorations that adorned the refurbished Playroom; the stunning ceiling rose that has also received the gold treatment, the new window drapes, and ...  My thoughts were interrupted when Mistress returned and removed my rather nice hood, a pillow with a plastic covering was slid behind my head and standing above me with legs apart she aimed a stream of fine wine into my open mouth. I didn't do too well with my pee catching making Maggie warn me that unless I improve my performance she would water her plants with her golden fluid instead. I was made to watch as a plant was placed alongside me and Maggie commenced watering it with my drink. I had not realised earlier but I recognised the species now; urtica dioica. The crop being watered by Mistress was a nice, young and very potent nettle plant and I never spotted that coming as I dug up my bone!. What a waste of a good brew just to water a damn nettle plant.

The ‘touches of a brand new crop’ as mentioned in Maggie’s calling mail was about to make more sense. Ah nettling time. I had totally forgotten about the annual nettle ceremonies over the past few years and yet another decidedly devious plan had been developed by Mistress to help me enjoy the pleasures of those nasty little blighters.

Now dressed in my more typical slave attire of my black rubber catsuit, a chain was passed around my waist and attached to the overhead gantry. As the gantry was raised so my back was arched off the floor I was free to wobble in my semi-suspended state. Worse was to come. The intention was to attach nipple clamps and then sprigs of nettles to the other end of the securing rope, just at the height that the young plants would caress my nipples.

Oh I do wish my nipples were more compliant. They were powerful clamps but still kept slipping off as I swung there. Several times Maggie reattached the clamps, each time a bit tighter intensifying the pain in my nipples. In the end Maggie devised a simpler solution, lashing the nettle sprigs from a dangling cord and letting them sway back and forth, stinging my pained buds as I writhed on the supporting chain. An unforgiving predicament indeed!

However strange it may sound, the pain of the recently departed nipple clamps, the stinging of the recently watered nettles and the sprig that Maggie removed from the plant to start caressing my cock and balls with had an alarming effect. It was not long before Mistress used her Hitachi wand, making me writhe even more and forcing me to ejaculate. I had no control and this time there was no embarrassment. Maggie wanted this outcome and what Maggie wants Maggie gets; always.

I had both very painful and very pleasurable outcomes from the two types of crops I received from Mistress Maggie today, and the amusement when the new crop lost its head helped ameliorate a bit of the pain it had inflicted. I loved almost every minute and even my right buttock appeared to be smiling when I last looked in the mirror!

Next Time . . .

Next time Mistress Maggie presents such an exciting and scary opportunity I hope I am able to grasp it with both hands; metaphorically grasp it, as will become apparent later in my report. But to start with I was greeted by my Mistress in a fantastic diaphanous latex outfit, teamed with a most prominent glass dildo which was twinkling in my direction. Beneath the clear invader were the long, very long white boots that climb all the way up those statuesque legs, almost, but not quite, to the base of her glass sparkler.

It was my birthday so I had decided to bring a surprise to the party; finally plucking up the courage to wear my latex clothes with no covering coat this time, I made my way to the Chambers. The day was warm, and despite very heavy traffic and one or two passing pedestrians no one appeared interested in a happy chappy with a slave collar sauntering down the road like a rubber pervert, carrying my session bag and a big smile. I really needn’t have been worried, though I probably won’t repeat such a show as I think Maggie may have been a little concerned about attracting attention on her doorstep. Even so my surprise made her smile and she had a good feel at my warm latex.

I always get that familiar buzz as I follow the most beautiful derrière up the stairs to The Playroom. Today Maggie’s bottom was framed by the neat rows of ruffles that embellished her skimpy rubber shorts. Once upstairs I was told to remove my latex, the only item of rubber I was allowed were my knee length stockings, nothing else. Not the catsuit or even the gloves, although I was temporarily allowed to keep my shirt. Why? - because Maggie declared that today was going to be plastic fantastic.

I used to be drawn primarily to latex until Mistress helped me realise that it is her that is the aphrodisiac and not the material, though I must admit to still having a preference for Mistress in all her various latex garments.

Maggie attempted a new method of footwear worship, seated down in front of her throne I was instructed to shuffle backwards into the V of her legs. What a start! With the warmth of my Mistress in the nape of my neck, stroking my hair in a wonderful manner, I could have relaxed there all day. The only drawback was that with Maggie's thighs clamped round her slave I was unable to turn my head far enough to do justice to my position. Unfortunately the delight had to end all too quickly and I was instructed to move to the more conventional position and to proceed with the boot worship, which I duly attended to as my Mistress wished.

Kneeling upright again, I barely had time to lick my lips before the sound of crinkling plastic came from a freshly opened bag and my head was soon enclosed inside. There is nothing like a good bagging to make you feel glad to be alive, and I had the added bonus of being able to gaze adoringly at my captor with her sparkling glass dildo, which seemed to have forgotten which bit of anatomy it was intended for and took the liberty of poking me in the eye!

More plastic, this time containing a small celebratory birthday tipple poured from a rather nice bottle of red. We then relaxed with a toast and enjoyed the wine. I have had 6 birthdays now in the company of my Mistress; that is 6 years where I have really felt alive and I wished for the next 6 years in heaven and the next 6 . . .

Maggie roped me to the horse very lightly and mounted me with the glass dildo, gently inserted and accompanied with a soft whisper of ‘happy birthday slave’ I was being ridden to heaven. There was no necessity for the ropes, I would willingly have remained prone, but I do feel more owned by Mistress when I am wearing restraints, particularly whilst being mounted. Most enjoyable.

Feeling a little underdressed in only my birthday suit and latex stockings we adjourned to the White Room, where the room had already been prepared for the plastic fantastic. Spread out on the couch was the thick plastic body bag that I have lovingly occupied in the past, and that very nice clear plastic hood with the two breathing holes.

Once comfortably fitted and secured inside the hood I climbed aboard and was sealed and strapped into my new home for the rest of the afternoon. I love that hood. It restricts breathing but allows sufficient air supply, every breath is worth it if only for its distinctive plastic bouquet, more importantly I get a very clear vision of my Mistress as she moves around the Clinic preparing my next pleasurable experience.

Mistress set up a breathing circuit for her patient and held an anaesthetic mask over my mouth, the aroma accompanied by sweet verbal encouragement from Maggie sent me into a deep relaxed state. She removed my butt plug replacing it with a Bardex enema pump . . . Ah, an enema was coming my way. ‘Are you allergic to peppermint slave?’ she asked and I confirmed that I wasn’t. Mistress then mixed up a solution and filled up a huge syringe making sure that its contents were infused right where the sun don’t shine.

I was feeling quite warm and grateful of the peppermint’s cooling properties, a little of the cordial had trickled down my cheeks and collected in a cool pool at the base of my spine. It certainly wasn’t going anywhere in the watertight plastic body bag and the liquid soon warmed as my treatments progressed.

I could have stayed all afternoon like that; breathing in and out carefully and gazing at my beautiful Mistress as she liberally applied cocoa butter on all of her slaves available body parts, rubbing it in with her warm hands. Maggie zipped up the bodybag to seal everything in, flicked the room heater up to high and started playing her industrial strength hair dryer all over my plastic covered torso. Today had just climbed quite a few degrees warmer.

Encouraged by the results of the warming on her subject, Maggie began to stir the mix with her violet wand, making sparks jump from my saturated skin. I think other forms of electrical 'enjoyment' for her simmering pot were considered but she opted for the wand as a simple, safe, sensible and sane way of bringing her slave closer to the boil.

Unfortunately, I had to lose the plastic hood because the aroma mask and breathing holes just wouldn't play together, so staying with the plastic theme Maggie simply bound my head with clear plastic bondage tape with a loose flap across the mouth. Now that worked a treat and it allowed comfortable use of the anaesthetic mask while administering gradual doses of aroma. The mask was obviously attached to a rebreather bag because when Maggie told me to ‘take deep breaths slave’ I could hear the breathy noises as I breathed deeply.

So long as you breath in and out quite slowly, the rebreather allows sufficient air to keep you going indefinitely, yet it is torture of the most delicious kind. You have to concentrate on breathing while Mistress goes about her other tasks that certainly do not aid concentration. Maggie has trained her slave well and I had no problem maintaining a steady rhythm despite more heat, more massaging and more peppermint.

Mistress covered me up in an extra layer of green plastic now and began heating it up with her hairdryer. By now I’d had another two huge syringe fulls of the peppermint enema and the aromas were having a wonderfully calming and relaxing effect. I realised then what Mistress meant in her somewhat ambiguous calling email - 'I thought I might take you for a swim for your birthday. Your rubber Mistress will be keeping an eye on you as you float away and manage the extra water at the deep end.' 

Despite the continuous efforts to really heat me up, with a combination of the cooling peppermint, soothing body butter and relaxing aromas, I felt absolutely wonderful. Too lazy to actually swim anywhere, but more than happy to float in all the juices.

Operation time, and I really didn't feel the staples being punched into my groin area. I wont say cock and balls because by the time my Mistress had finished with them they had ceased to exist.

Picking up another syringe she injected a good dose of lubricating jelly behind the staples and into the operation area. Mistress was dissatisfied with her stapler, it had only dispensed a few staples before it went faulty, she was genuinely disappointed and threatened to send it back. I know that when they work properly she finds a stapler far more user friendly than the sutures she previously used.

Oh well, that's progress and Maggie likes to keep abreast of all new methods of entertaining her slaves. Speaking of which, Maggie did stand very close and began stroking my pinioned cock, baring those wonderful breasts to taunt me with their beauty. That really was torture. How do you normally react when such a wonderful vista is presented? I am a hot blooded male and I would normally start to get an erection. Erection with what and where was it going? So I tried my hardest to look, admire and stay comfortable within the staples.

As we were coming to a close Maggie asked if I wanted to remove the staples myself. Imagine, making my way home wearing my nice tight pair of latex briefs covering what used to be my manhood. That thought is so exciting yet so disconcerting. Would it hurt once the aroma had worn off? What would happen when I received the photos with the staples still in situ? How do I pee? Would I be able to walk and drive home because I didn't fancy having to remove the staple half way home! I opted for the cowards way out and asked Mistress to remove them. At the time, that was a good move with no pain or discomfort, but I am seriously contemplating a different decision next time Mistress Maggie staples up her cock and balls. Next time. . . .