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.