Friday 19 October 2018

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.

Friday 5 October 2018

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.