A History Lesson

Sometimes I wonder why Mistress Maggie puts up with such a simple soul. I was excited about a new pair of latex trousers I had recently bought for myself, and when I rang to confirm the appointment I was pleasantly surprised. Mistress told me to wear the trousers to arrive at the Chambers saying that she was looking forward to the fashion show where I would have chance to display my new garments to her. It didn’t sound too tricky, I know I am not an ideal fashion model but surely I could manage that. Hastily I packed my normal clothes and donned the trousers and a latex shirt ready for the enjoyable drive to see my owner.

The look and feel of the trousers certainly put a smile on my face as I sauntered between my car and the Chambers, but nowhere near as big a smile that erupted as Mistress opened the door, greeting me with a simply breathtaking sight. In her highest heels Mistress was standing tall, her beautifully shiny tights seeming to make her legs endless, but my broadest smile was elicited by the black latex teddy and waist nipper she was wearing accentuated by her radiant smile. She appeared pleased to see her humble and faithful servant and I was welcomed in.

Off with my coat Mistress moved her hands over my latex shirt and we had a mini fashion parade right there in her hallway, that broadened her smile even more. Then we wasted no time ascending to The Playroom where there was much more space. Mistress took a seat ready for the show and I was instructed to parade my new trousers and explain the many features and benefits of my new garments.

All I could muster was an inane comment about ‘how nice they feel’; nothing about their fit or style, nothing about the considerable number of pockets that were perfectly formed; nothing about the easy cleaning or functional zip incorporated in the garment, but just. 'They are nice to wear'. I am not surprised that Mistress was unamused by the show and probably verging on yawning. Sometimes I wonder about my suitability as a slave to my owner and frequently feel sorry for Mistress and relieved that my service hasn't been terminated.

Worship of Maggie's shoes went smoothly, partly due to their glossy patent surface. My tongue glided easily over them and it doesn't take long to cover the surface of both shoes. Meanwhile I listened in as Mistress verbally dished out hints and clues as to what was on today's agenda. Her instruction to ‘Pay good attention to my heels now slave’, interrupted her dialogue and had me quickly alter my position to tackle the task. Insertion into my rubber catsuit was swiftly achieved and I was soon having my hands bound with rope.

With my hands secured up to the ceiling ring there was no way out and anything could happen, maybe Mistress was intent on continuing my nipple training? But no, it was the unmistakeable noise of rustling plastic that gave her plan away and I quickly prepared for some challenging breathing. ‘This is a more reliable way of entertaining me slave’, she said as the plastic bag was pulled over my head, and indeed her beaming smile did reappear as my vision became misted. A second bag was put over the top and after some twisting at the neckline a securing clip was applied. Mistress moved around me although I could vaguely see her and all I could do was lessen my breaths until I could last no more, breathing so deeply that the plastic filled my mouth and I pleaded for air. Maggie waits until I am genuinely pleading before giving me what I most need, it is an intense experience and I am massively relieved when the air returns.

Perhaps today was the day Mistress gets rid of her slave? All it would take would be to leave the bags in place for a little longer. Maggie to smile that wonderful smile as my air runs slowly out and . . . fortunately not today.

After a few more very pleasant and breathless double bagging moments Maggie relented and retrieved the low padded bench, indicating for me to kneel lengthwise ready for some bum fun. ‘Slave, you need to be stretched for the new and interesting thrills I have waiting for you’, and before I knew it four large anal beads accompanied by lots of lube were disappearing eagerly into their cave – plup – plup – plup – plup –

While I wagged my tail and got used to the size of stuffing in my rear, Maggie put one of her larger strap-ons on and offered it to me for inspection, then disappearing behind me she began toying with my beads, pulling them out and pushing them home again until eventually they all plopped out and were put to one side.

Unfortunately, inserting the larger strap-on dildo didn't go quite so well. I had taken this strap-on before and although it initially slid home Mistress could tell by the noises I was making that it was uncomfortable and slid it right out again. Usually widening my legs allows easy access, but the narrow bench restricted my movement. The real problem was predominately down to my knees and how my considerable weight was resting on their wonkiest parts.

After a little chat Maggie decided that the treatments she had intended for my ass were best enjoyed on another day. Once again I had disappointed my Mistress and forced her to abandon that part of my training plan. Oh I do wish for better knees and to be able to satisfy my Mistress every time she wishes to gain rear entry, but despite a good dose of aromas, I let her down again.

An inarticulate response to the earlier question, plus a poor response to what should have been a very pleasant mount had me feeling an altogether rather pathetic slave, and I would have understood if that double plastic bagging had gone on and on . . .

Normally Maggie's lesson plans are innovative and unique. They may include reinforcing elements from earlier sessions but generally they are all refreshingly new. However, Mistress was keen to make part of the training a history lesson today. Not 1066 and all that but modern history, something her slave could directly relate to from a formative period of my life. To that end Maggie reminisced on a much earlier session that we had done together way back in November 2011, how I had been restrained to her chair with no chance of escape, my balls tethered to a broom handle below it. How I had been reduced to breathing through tubes and plunged into darkness beneath the sensual rubber sheet with my genitalia subjected to unstoppable electric sensations. Her idea was to set about replicating that little part of our history and I could vividly remember the scene she was speaking of.

I've been here before!

It could not be an exact replica as I had not even purchased my rubber catsuit at that time, but near enough. Mistress has redecorated the room during those intervening seven years, a gas mask and hose was used instead of nostril tubes giving me greater visibility, the poppers delivery is new, but all in all this was about the feeling of history. What is the same is my continued devotion to my perfect Mistress, in fact, that has changed and deepened in those seven years. My only aim now is to bring pleasure to Maggie and enjoy all my training.

Even the electrics have changed a little over time. Maggie is happier to ramp up the levels now that I am trained to to her personal liking, but the mechanism remains as I remember it. Mistress Maggie's throne hasn't changed. The hole in the centre is ideally placed for attaching tied up balls to the long broom handle as they were once again today. The bondage mitts drawing me forward against the tight leather restraints that kept me secured, probably more so than I was those seven years ago.

What didn't happen seven years ago was the method Mistress used to mock and manipulate my cock. Today she joked about it being mouselike by hiding in the hole. Actually that hole in the throne is quite large, but I must admit that all the downward pressure on my tightly roped balls does have the tendency to make my cock disappear. No amount of coaxing could tease the mouse out.

Maggie was doing a lot of rummaging inside the hole trying to find my mouselike cock, and when she did she caught it, immediately tagging it with a pair of handy electrodes and setting the stimulation levels sufficiently to have her slave jerking around.

Deja Vu!

A final inspection of her slave was completed before the lights went out. Checking out my breathing hose Mistress chose to extend it so it would not snag on my suit and cause sudden air loss. Mistress doesn't countenance accidental suffocation and her attention to safety hasn't changed in all the years I have known her, and once the second hose was attached she had absolute control over her slaves’ breathing.

And then it went black.

When I saw this image I recognised the familiar territory. It is amazing how the rubber sheet totally eliminated all light, as black as the depths of a coal mine, though a much more sensual place to be. As my time under the sheet went by my environment became warmer and filled up with the arousing rubber scent with only the sound of my breaths to keep my company. I knew my Mistress was in close proximity, I could neither see nor hear her but I could sense her presence.

Which is just as well because eventually I could feel my left hand starting with pins and needles then starting to go numb. Mistress always insists that her subjects report any discomfort, assesses the problem and where appropriate, as in this case, leaps in to sort it out. Oh I do wish that I had mentioned that wrist binding was a fraction tight when applied, but at the time I was just wanting to please.

I could have stayed in the dark forever had it not been for that useless wrist and once again I started wondering how Mistress tolerates such a decrepit specimen. And that is where the history lesson ended and that is how the perception of history can be changed through a small yet important change in the details.

I truly had no idea what Maggie’s intentions had been for her golden fluids, but following the abandonment of earlier plans when my wonky knees had curtailed my anal escapades, Mistress was left with an uncomfortably full bladder. Disappearing momentarily into the Clinic she returned with a steel bowl which conveniently fitted into the aperture on the seat of the bondage chair. There, right in front of me her crotch zip was opened, then looking me straight in my eyes her majesty sat down and released her long lasting stream of nectar into the bowl. The gentle tinkle as it caressed the stainless steel was magical and so was the flavour. The bowl and its fresh, warm contents were placed at Maggie's feet and with the merest of nod I knew exactly what was expected. I knelt forward to lap it up.

Maggie had been using me as a foot rest while I had been finishing up my drink and not a drop was wasted. Oh my, the taste of fresh Mistress is divine! Actually at last I think that may have pleased Mistress Maggie, because I was ordered to roll over like a good dog and out came the Hitachi wand complete with a nobbly cock sleeve. Mistress played with her dog with great gusto, imposing her will for one final time in this most rewarding of history lessons by forcing an orgasm from her slave.

A happy yet messy conclusion for this little mouse? dog? slave!