Flight 121 Departing Shortly

Flight 121 will be departing shortly from Chambers Airport, but Health and Safety requires that all passengers who have not previously flown using MM airways, are to report to The Playroom training area where extensive pre-flight health checks and training are to be undertaken. Passengers will receive acclimatisation to help prevent high-altitude nausea, a little something to calm those nervous of flying, advice on what to do in the unlikely event of having to evacuate over land, and how to survive if the flight comes down over water. Your pilot and trainer for today's flight is a most experienced aviator who comes highly recommended by all those who have flown with her: Meet our pilot Mistress Maggie.

And so it began. Mistress Maggie, Pilot in Chief (PiC), Head of Training (HoT), Chief Medical Officer (CMO) being but a few of her many official titles, personally greets all her passengers in the foyer of The Chambers International Airport, IATA designation CIA. Our pilot, dressed in a most fetching yet businesslike black leather flying suit has goggles perched jauntily on the brow of her open faced latex flying helmet. In most airports, you will not be able to follow your pilot this closely and I must say, any nerves about flying are already starting to dissipate as the tight black leather trousers sway rather sensually up the stairs to the training area.

It is wise to keep the pilot happy and content otherwise who knows what might happen? I had already promised to do anything for the Pilot to ensure a happy crew, safe trip and happy landing, and now was a good time to exercise a little pre-flight worship and I started as any good passenger would, by licking and cleaning the high gloss, black, calf length patent leather flying boots that made up part of Pilot Maggie’s uniform. It never hurts to grovel at the feet of someone in total charge.

CMO Maggie, always conscious of improving the health and well-being of her charges had indicated that a new method for controlling DVT was to be trialled; the traditional method was to prescribe graduated compression stockings, but CMO Maggie wished to observe the positive effects of an overall compression suit. I was duly fitted into a tight plum coloured latex catsuit, intelligently designed with openings at appropriate locations to allow for long term wear. To avoid embarrassing evacuations at high altitude, a black butt plug was inserted sealing off my back passage. The suit was both snug and comfortable, helped by HoT Maggie assisting this novice into his compression suit, smoothing out any wrinkles and of course ensuring the crotch zip was opened for transit.


The first serious part of the training involved high altitude awareness. HoT Maggie wanted her trainee aviators to be aware of the effects of high altitude and first wound a layer of cling film round my head and upper torso to simulate high flying without Playroom pressurisation. Once satisfied that I wasn't panicking about the restricted air flow she proceeded to the more critical training, holding my head in a clear plastic bag to simulate a total blow out and no air. That may be why the butt plug was so securely seated to prevent high altitude blow outs? Anyway, I passed that test with flying colours and satisfied HoT Maggie that I had faith in her ability to safely reintroduce air without panic.

I quipped that a parachute would be a good idea if the flight was to end prematurely and to my great surprise Pilot Maggie laughed, agreeing that ‘yes’ I would be wearing a parachute 'just in case'. I was a little concerned with the parachute placement as it was securely attached round my testicles, but Maggie assured me that CMO Maggie was stretching the traditional views that a parachute should be attached to the back of a person, I was more than a little relieved when HoT Maggie indicated this was the reserve chute and would only be deployed in the event that a plane becomes inverted and you were forced to bail, it could be out the door with arse in the air and where else to attach a reserve chute but around your balls.

Before I could take off in the flight simulator, PiC Maggie fitted a latex open faced flying helmet, a breathing mask and a hose, that would be used to provide relaxants should they be required during the simulator flight. I was attached to the flying harness which in turn was chained to the roof ring, then with very little effort I was able to lift my legs and accompanied by a cheer from PiC Maggie, I was now free, floating above the Playroom. To reinforce the concept of 'free flight' my legs were attached to a spreader bar and securely attached to the waist belt so that I could happily fly without the worry of my landing gear prematurely engaging with the floor.

CMO Maggie needed to test the suitability of the inverted parachute with appropriate stress testing and gradually began adding a few weights to ensure nothing snapped. I even got to hold a couple of weights whilst the CMO attended to the parachute harness.

If I am being honest, I was a little concerned with the weight of the two items I was holding. I appreciated that the reserve parachute would have to take considerable weight in the event of it being deployed but even so, these weights would severely stretch my scrotum. Oh well, better to be prepared than surprised!

To assist with the weight acclimatisation, HoT Maggie introduced aromas through the breathing mask. A few deep breaths and the strong relaxant aroma worked, I felt both light headed and light balled as the vapour worked its magic, in fact so relaxed that I don't know if Maggie actually added the two heavy weights to the harness. I was flying and the parachute was taking the added weights easily. I hung and floated, and with more aromas was starting to really appreciate this flying lark, despite Maggie contra-rotating my body and ball weights.

Like the excellent trainer that Maggie is, she knows that positive reinforcement gets the message across almost as effectively as the stick approach, she had suggested that if I take all the weights I could be the first to see her nipple pasties. Here I was confronted by Maggie's super structure adorned with two dials but instructions not to adjust the settings. I am always amazed at how super the structure of HoT Maggie’s upper body is and try as I may, I could not fly any closer. I think the two dials are for adjusting pleasure and pain levels; a tweak on the left one resulted in more pleasure for the passenger. A tweak of the right dial resulted in the parachute getting more encouragement to part company from my balls, while the aromas continued to help calm and relax the passenger.

I had successfully completed this part of the flight simulation and PiC Maggie handed me back to HoT Maggie for the more disturbing scenarios in the training programme; the forced landings.

Assuming that we had to bail out over land, there’s the distinct possibility that you could land in some remote location only populated with hostile vegetation, possibly alone and miles from assistance, it is important not to lose control or panic in the face of suffering any adverse effects from the poisonous fauna and flora. In previous years I have already undergone similar jungle survival training, but on this occasion HoT Maggie made certain that the jungle was in control and I had no choice as to where I would land my exposed undercarriage.

The most potent pot of fresh, small leafed Urtica dioica, commonly know as stinging nettles, were placed on the low punishment bench so as to be just at the right height to go straight for the balls when Maggie started me swinging again. She had grown these plants specifically for her inflight emergency testing and had succeeded in cultivating a pot far more potent than anything I have ever experienced.

HoT Maggie set me gently swinging, I could see the undergrowth approaching and . . . absolutely nothing I could do to avoid crash landing in their midst. To make matters worse, just like a swing, I went through the nettle bush and then swung backwards so the back of my balls got a good dose as well. Maggie giggled each time I swung through the nettles, twitching a lot and grunting a little, and I am sure HoT Maggie gets far too much enjoyment from this part of the flight training program!. Fortunately, I was able to request further deep gulps of the very welcome, ball numbing aromas and despite Maggie's best efforts to break my resolve, I came through the ordeal in good spirits. I will mention that the effects are not particularly unpleasant, but unlike earlier tests, I could still feel the tingling sensations on my cock and balls for several hours.

We were now progressing to the final part of the emergency training, that of ditching over water. To help simulate the watery grave that I would have met without the training, HoT Maggie deployed the plastic sheet, and in lieu of rain opted for a more natural alternative that not only mimicked the warm humid conditions of a equatorial crash, but reinforced how important it is to take on fresh liquids to avoid dehydration. The inclement cloud burst was prepared as Maggie removed her leather flying suit and donned a pair of zipped Wellingtons to avoid damage to herself and the plastic ocean, the storm then erupted.

HoT Maggie squatted directly over my eager mouth and I took the full force of the storm to quench my thirst. Although I was only inches from Mistresses private parts and oh so tempted to lick off the last drops, my slave training and CIA rules absolutely forbid such activity, nor would I want to upset my pilot. Once my thirst was well and truly quenched, the storm moved south and flooded the whole of my nettled area. I am not sure if it was the remnants of the aromas or the very therapeutic effects of Maggie's pee, but somehow the tingling in cock and balls temporarily diminished. Perhaps this is another of CMO Maggie's experiments to use if dock leaves are unavailable for such stinging injuries?. I was finally thoroughly drenched head to toe in storm water and wrapped in the sheet to experience the full effects of inescapable warmth and humidity.

And so I received the final tick in the box from HoT Maggie. I had successfully completed the pre-flight training and as the announcement started '. . . Flight 121 is now boarding at the Playroom boarding gate. All passengers. . . ' I wondered if Virgin Atlantic would ever introduce such a memorable check-in routine. Hmm, no competition, I know I will always enjoy flying far more with Mistress Maggie Airways.

Word to the wise for other would be aviators. When you finally emerge from your piss soaked heaven you will definitely feel the cold. Mistress insisted on me having a warm shower to help stop the shivering. Do the same if offered!

A Black Tape Day

I had been dying to show Mistress Maggie my new plum coloured latex catsuit, so I asked if on this occasion it was acceptable to arrive with my catsuit on. Imagine my surprise when she agreed, but not without throwing in a curved ball. ‘Yes that’s fine. Permission granted. Actually, a blindfold might look good with it, if you have one’. Maggie wanted me to arrive at The Chambers wearing a blindfold; I could see several problems with that instruction! Where would I get a blindfold within 20 minutes of leaving home? How would I drive or even walk to the Chambers in a blindfold? It certainly would attract unwanted attention from the locals. Then I had a light bulb moment. Finding an old pair of glasses I set to work with my trusty black electricians tape and scissors, and in no time I had a very effective blindfold that looked just like a pair of sunglasses. I couldn't see anything in front and had only limited vision around the edges of the frame.

Perfect. I would wait until I could see the inner door being opened and then quickly don my blacked out glasses. I felt a bit daft and I felt a bit nervous, but only until I heard that delightful giggle from Mistress and the laughter as she said, ‘come in slave’. My peripheral vision touched on a pair of golden boots and just a hint of a gold latex covered leg.

Still largely blind, I took off my coat and shoes and stood to attention awaiting my instruction. Mistress, with a smile in her voice relented, suggesting it might be safer to go upstairs without the taped up glasses. As I removed my blindfold and put it in my pocket, I had no idea that my black electricians tape was just a pre-curser to bigger things ahead, and that I’d be challenged by a lot more black tape before the day was out. Oh boy was I pleased to have my sight restored, as there in front of me stood Mistress, an absolute vision in striking gold, shortly followed by the sight of those shining golden bum cheeks ascending the stairs, which has to rank as the eighth wonder of the world.

My first duty of the day was to display my devotion with boot worship. In contrast to the smooth feeling latex that covered the rest of my Mistress, her boots were a rough textured material and I could not do my usual long licks. I wondered if Mistress knew how rough and scaly her boots were, obviously the answer to that was yes and as usual Mistress had thought of everything. ’Stick out your tongue and place it on the point of my boot slave’ and she proceeded to drag my tethered head up the length of her golden boots, again . . . again . . . and again . . . and again . . .   Cleaning those scaly lizard like boots was more like licking sandpaper, my tongue was left feeling quite sensitive after so many energetic passes up the boots. Still, I did have the lovely smell of the gold and plum latex to keep me going, I am totally useless with colour matching but I do think the plum and gold look well together, a colourful change to strict black latex as well.

Mistress likes to dress her slaves, however on this occasion I was instructed to keep my catsuit on and Mistress told me to catwalk around her Playroom so that I could show her the full potential of her tightly clad rubber plum toy. The time saved by being pre-dressed dovetailed nicely with a very tight schedule that Mistress had planned. As soon as I had pulled on my black socks and gloves I was ready to assist my Mistress and she required that her cat-suited figure be polished to a high shine. A delightful task enthusiastically undertaken with the help of Mr Sheen and a lot of gentle rubbing. In return, I was greased up and plugged up the ass with a trusty rubber butt plug.

Enough of this enjoyment, time was passing and we had to return to Maggie's plan. My wrists were tied and I was roped to the wooden chair; that simple yet so effective bondage that has held me captive on more than one occasion. Layers of wide plastic wrap were wound loosely around my head, making it fully encapsulated yet still able to breathe, for now. A specially shaped plastic cape was added and left draping over my shoulders while Maggie disappeared to retrieve a third item. The rope binding may have been simple, but I was soon to discover how incredibly effective it was when Mistress tightly wound her thin plastic wrap twice around my head, nose and mouth.

I have never felt so under Mistresses influence and ownership as in those few brief moments before a suitable breathing hole was formed in my tight wrapping. There was nothing I could do. The ropes held very firm and as I struggled all I could see was the hazy vision of my golden goddess in her 'Heart of Gold' catsuit; Maggie's description not mine, but a name which accurately reflects my Owner.

Now to the business end of why all the careful plastic wrapping. I was to receive a full body mummification complete with a black gaffer tape topping. Ah, that was the reason for the plastic shoulder guard; to protect my latex suit from the sticky tape. Starting with my chin and winding downwards, all of the cape was being covered and I was slowly being turned into something resembling a Rodin sculpture.

After that Maggie used the same method to tape up my feet and my legs as high as my knees; clingfilm first then the duct tape winding. We have experienced session shortening cramps on a previous tape mummification when I couldn't move my feet, but todays wrapping was a very different and comfortable type of bondage. Maggie asked me if it was too tight as she was taping and there were no complaints from her slave. With this change to my feet wrap I had the feeling this could be a very long incarceration indeed.

The Plank was now being assembled. Unfortunately, due to me being partially immobilised I had to be parked to one side and act as a bystander while Maggie did all the hard work, I could then bunny hop across to the Plank and lie down, or so I thought. Maggie said the thundering sound of my bunny hops on her floorboards might concern her husband, so we reverted to a sedate slave shuffle instead. As it happens the slave shuffle turned out to be a bonus for me, as I managed to sneak my arms round Mistress on the pretext that I was unstable with my feet bound up, once more getting my hands on her polished gold, which felt even more gorgeous through my latex gloves.

My mummy moment had finally arrived and I sat down on the centre of the bondage plank. ’Down onto the plank . . . Move down a bit . . . bit more’, until Maggie was finally satisfied her charge was in my final resting place and a soft pillow placed beneath my head. It took a while for Mistress to totally mummify her toy, occasionally needing to stretch across me to retrieve her roll of tape from the other side of the plank. I may have been totally immobile but I could still feel the warmth of her beautiful body through the layers of tape, layers of cling-film and layers of latex. For once I was pleased with my girth, as it meant Mistress had further to stretch to get her black gaffer back.

A few magic moments captured on video - WITH SOUND

Meticulous as ever, Maggie made sure every inch was covered and every bit neat and smooth until finally, I was happy just to catch glimpses of my golden goddess as she floated in and out of vision. Vision was the last to go as Maggie gently applied the final tape bindings across my eyes. I lay there approaching that serene state where I was at one with the Plank, at one with the world and happy in the knowledge that my Mistress cared enough for her slave to leave me in this position. And there I stayed for a substantial time.

I may not have been able to see my Mistress, but I could see her in my minds eye. Every now and then, I would fantasise about Mistress doing this and that and odd things to me with her toys and equipment. Totally safe inside my shroud yet totally vulnerable to whatever Mistress wished to do. She had already promised a few incisions and checks to make sure I was still working OK. All I could do was grind my hips in a totally unsatisfying, circular dance, dream of my Mistress and think of my oath to do anything Mistress wanted, immediately and without question.

I have travelled a long way along my road to understanding why I have become so devoted to and dependant on my Mistress and this session certainly provided me with more startling, amazing yet in a way disturbing enlightenment.

Mistress took her scissors and began chopping at my layers and peeling back the outer surface until all my sensitive areas were exposed. Something began happening with my once dangly bits; Mistress was emasculating my cock and balls by stapling them neatly out of harms way, which set off a spontaneous slow, prolonged release of sexual tension. I had no way of preventing the orgasm even if I wanted to, all I know is that I couldn’t help it, and it is not the first time I have reacted this way to her staples and I have been asking myself why.

Perhaps it was the way everything was compressed behind my stapled smooth abdomen, or that my manhood had been made totally useless and ineffective by their owner. Whatever the reason, I know each time I think about this issue, it really excites, thrills and amazes me how far along this road of true ownership we have come.

Mistress did suggest I could take the staples out at home if I wished. An exciting proposition, but I was not yet ready for that major step forward. Not because of potential discovery as I knew I could manage to keep our secret. No, it was the prospect of not being able to get the staples out of my balls; what would it feel like with Mistresses property safely stapled behind what must be the most effective chastity device known to a slave; how would it feel moving 'normally' with my Mistresses jewels ineffective; the feeling of my tight latex pants no longer having a rampant cock and swinging balls to fill them out but a smooth stapled area to casually stroke; the simple requirement of going to the loo; knowing just how much under the power of this magnificent lady I had become and what would it feel like, as frequently happens when I think of this incredibly sexy and sultry Mistress.

These are the reasons why I was reluctant to remove my staples at home. At this time, it was just too mind blowing to contemplate. For the moment I must concentrate hard on preventing future inevitable orgasms.

In any event, Mistress had far more stimulation to keep me entertained until the end of our session. The nipple zips in the new plum suit proved to be in exactly the right place for a pair of little nipple suckers. Maggie explained how she would use them to draw out my nipples into a more accessible size as they had become lazy and introverted. Further stimulations for an already well stimulated slave were provided in the form of eight electrodes. Yes, that is EIGHT electrodes, attached to the tens unit, which were evenly deployed across my lower body where Maggie's cock and balls once stood proud. When deployed in this configuration a previously unexplored range of stimulation was released, creating a  flowing, rippling sensation over a wide area. An unusual and exciting feeling and yet another new and amazing experience.

Apart from a growing pain in the butt plug, I could have remained in the dark, attached to the plank and totally happy to be my Mistresses property, but time marches on and the experience had to end some time. Reluctantly, for me anyway, Maggie decreed that I should be cut free from my amazing home. Mistress removed the staples and I must admit, (another of those might regret comments), I was a little disappointed at the freedom but elated by another step along my path of becoming a better slave to Mistress Maggie.

Here's to the Next Five

I have experienced five exceptional years serving my Mistress, Mistress Maggie and now, after 110 excellent sessions, I feel that I am at least a passable slave. Clearly, 'passable' is not good enough and I will continue to strive to become that perfect slave for as long as Mistress is prepared to keep me as her property. I knew Mistress had remembered the anniversary by the words in her mail.  'Mistress is making preparations for a celebration. . .' Similarly, I wanted to say a big thank you to both Mistress and husband John for the five years of a growing friendship and had picked up a nice Merlot on the way to the Chambers.

As always, one hour before my session I sent my confirmatory text. Mistress sprung a surprise and almost wrong footed her slave with her response, by announcing that we were going shopping and to park near the Chambers. I try not to be phased by things my Mistress asks of me and always ensure there’s a tank of fuel just in case. Additional instruction had also been given ‘. . . Arrive with your ball weight in place. . . ‘  This I had done along with a good effort to look smart, wearing my cream latex dress shirt and obligatory slave collar, with my weighted balls tucked tidily inside my pants.

A stunning vision answered the door. Mistress looked just as attractive in her outdoor clothes as she does in her Playroom uniforms; shiny jeans, silk blouse, gladiator sandals and a full application of red lippy. Maggie accepted my gift and I was rewarded with one of her fabulous smiles.

Session 110 began as usual with performing homage to Mistresses footwear, which can become a terribly steamy situation at times. Like today for instance. Mistress insisted that I wear a plastic bag while putting my tongue to work on her gladiator shoes. My slave collar was used to secure my head in the bag, just how Maggie wanted it, and I was told to proceed with worship. I licked as best and as long as I could, busying myself right up to the point where the oxygen ran out and I could lick no more. I could only use my last gasps to beg for air in the hope of being released. Consequently the sandals remained worshipped from afar, but that had to be the cleanest inside of a plastic bag you could imagine.

‘Up on your knees facing me now slave’ and I was eye to eye with Mistress. The plastic bag was rustling again, then pulled over my head quite tightly and I was captured in a couple of twists of her wrist. Maggie looked at me through the plastic then planted the longest kiss squarely across my mouth, well, a kiss on the plastic across my mouth to be precise. It was a heavenly moment that I hoped would never stop, and I loved how Mistress then laughed at the red smudge across her slaves plastic face, saying ‘That's the lippy gone then!’

Whenever shopping, Mistress likes to keep this slave on his toes. No different today and I was soon legs up on the Clinic table having suitable electrodes fitted. First though, my trusty black butt plug was planted in my arsehole. 'A special treat for you today slave', or so Maggie said with that glint in her eye as she placed her cock stopper electrode right on the tip of my cock and to complete the circuit, a sticky pad on my abdomen. With a laugh Mistress remarked about the nasty shock I would feel if her circuitry came into contact with my steel ball weight, but thankfully and probably best for all concerned, she decided not to have her slave leaping about with the shopping basket and drawing any more attention to himself. Instead, a condom was used to secure the cock stopper and rolled down the full length of Maggie’s property.

I knew where this was going and it would certainly be special. The power source would be attached to my belt and Mistress would carry the remote - Hmmm! Time for a quick test then. Five taps of the remote provided a just about bearable pulse through my cock; six had me visibly wincing and would affect my gait if applied during the shopping trip; seven may be a treat for Mistress but more likely a dreaded ordeal for her slave. Maggie also went through a few of the available programs, just to remind her slave what to expect if I displeased her.

Mistress re-applied her lipstick and was ready for shopping, my primary duty to carefully chauffeur my Mistress on her trip and, of course, during our shop, provide amusement as she stroked the remote with her thumb. We went shoe shopping first, trying on several pairs. I fetched and carried and kept Maggie’s handbag safe while she tried them on and made her choice. At last I had permission to kiss my Mistresses new shoes without needing to wear a plastic bag. One kiss was all I could give being in a well known supermarket, but I believe it was received as a symbolic gesture of her slaves devotion. However, I did enjoy the thrill of openly worshipping my Mistress, even if it was only for the briefest of moments. Nobody cared, nobody even noticed, apart from me and my Mistress and the shoe purchase was in the bag.

I followed Mistress towards the food section, stopping for a moment for Maggie to activate the power box on my belt. But oops, somehow I must have dislodged something as . . . nothing. . . when tested. ‘Go to the loo slave. Go and reconnect yourself’. Fortunately the problem was quickly put to rights and I was back alongside having my Power box activated again. Four quick taps on her remote and a look at my grimacing face confirmed to Maggie that her slave was switched on.

A shopping list had been prepared and my job was to bring back all items on it: Cucumber, K-Y jelly or similar, condoms and a pack of ice cubes. The list came with strict instructions; I must not to use the self checkout lanes and I must present my wares to a real life assistant. It was difficult to concentrate with the electrics on five clicks, not knowing when Mistress would have a little remote fun with one more agonizing movement of her thumb. I persevered and as you can see, no K-Y. I asked the pharmacist but was advised. ‘You’re the second one to ask. We are out of stock. Sorry’. I braced myself for the jolt as I was taking too long. I could see Mistress relaxing just through the checkouts, smiling that delightfully innocent smile as I searched and found an alternative, her thumb hovering over her remote, but thankfully nothing more than a sinister 'hover'.

The throbbing in my cock continued as I hurried for the bag of ice cubes. I didn't like the thought of where the cubes could end up and chose the smallest bag I could find. Even so, it was enough to freeze your balls off and then some.

Going through the checkout, I knew I was in range of having a twitchy thumb setting off a twitching embarrassment. I was also very conscious of curious onlookers spotting my items as they moved along the conveyor. The lady was paid and I gave her my thanks as I packed my shopping into the red lipstick stained suffocation bag. Mistress just sat watching, smiling and seductively massaging her remote. It was a relief as we left and Maggie turned off the power pack on my belt for the short drive home.

Back in Chambers I heard the ominous chink of ice being poured into Mistresses steel bucket. A cold shiver passed through my balls and bum. I feared the worst because a lot of ice was readied, but then, as always, Mistress pulled another surprise. Two small bottles of white wine appeared, plus a couple of flutes and she sank them both into the ice bucket to cool as she helped me out of my outdoor clothes and into more appropriate indoor red latex ones. I was stood to attention as Maggie reclined on her bean bag and asked me to pour two glasses of wine. We toasted the first five years of my exceptional journey, and I spent a delightful 15 minutes finger feeding olives to my Mistress, chatting, sipping the celebratory wine and me attempting to become that 'perfect' slave. It is extremely difficult holding oiled olives in rubber gloves, yet possible because Mistress has trained me well: 'less haste more attention' resulted in very few mishaps. With a risk of repeating myself, there is nothing quite so stimulating or arousing as watching your Mistress casually relax and feeding her just as my Queen should be fed.

The bean bag was moved out of Chambers to make way for the Bondage Chair, which needed to be placed in a precise position next to the bed. I do like that secure, snug feeling of the leather corset that was strapped tight on top of my latex, then the Lithuanian hooded gas mask with restraining collar, and finally chained to maximum tightness to the chair, probably tighter than any previous chaining. I love the secure feeling this situation engenders. I could also delight in the fact that Mistress said I looked wonderful dressed like this.

Maggie double checked I was secure, then began pivoting the chair and easing it backwards until it was firmly supported by chains, which miraculously somehow had appeared between chair and overhead gantry. I had no worries as I trust Mistress implicitly, although I am still amazed that such a fine, slender figure could take the weight of this lump like slave and his bondage. And there I securely stayed, leaning back in the throne, my cock, balls and butt plug exposed by dextrous manipulation of the suits three way zip, all for my Mistresses further amusement. The clover clamps on my nipples played with my upper body sensations as my Mistress went on to play with and create havoc with my lower body parts.

The hole in the chair seat made for easy retrieval of the butt plug. Out it came and for one moment I thought I saw the cucumber pass in front of my gas-masked  eyes making its way to a new growing plot, but to my relief, I think, Maggie eased a rather large electric dildo in my now spare hole. It was at this point that the frailties of my body started to overtake the huge desires of the slave.

Because I am tall, my head was not getting support from the high backed chair and my neck was starting to really tense with the strain. This has an effect on all the other senses. The rasping, windy sounds of the Lithuanian mask changed into the more urgent sounds of a slave starting to be stressed. Mistress knows her property and after asking and confirming that I was having problems, eased me back to an upright position and removed the mask. I began to recover but Mistress knows when enough is enough for her slave and chose to release me. We sat and talked amongst other topics, about the possible need for a neck support in future similar situations.

Oh I do wish I was physically better equipped for my Mistress, but unlike Mistress Maggie who appears to be younger every time we meet, the inevitable onslaught of age does take a slight toll on this, otherwise very willing slave and I do love my sessions with my perfect Mistress.

Red Mistress to Green Goddess

Mistress Maggie opened the door and my jaw dropped. Maggie looked a vision in a very tight red latex two piece, her hair was an unexpected red colour and was cascading in waves over her shoulders. I was told to come in.

She motioned me toward her very sensual red lips and I thought I was going to receive one of those rare, heavenly, welcoming kisses that Maggie occasionally bestows on her slave. I was wishing so hard that I never noticed her hand go straight to the jugular and take hold of my slave collar, which she used to pull me in closer until I was within millimetres of her lips. Maggie withdrew having clipped on a leather leash, she was laughing and I was once more completely under her spell.

I had cleaned my wellington boots with a scrubbing brush that morning and brought them along as instructed. I must have looked particularly ungainly climbing the stairs, with the large welly box under one arm and my session bag on the other, but this was probably a good thing as I had an overwhelming urge to touch Maggie’s tightly clad bottom as she guided me aloft on the lead.

The calling mail had stated: Mistress needs your assistance with shifting some heavy stuff . . . and, as a simple slave, I thought I had a good idea as what was required when I entered the Playroom and saw the heavy Playroom bed, neatly covered in plastic and halfway from the wall. I wondered where Maggie was moving it to?

Oh well, that would have to wait as I was sent to the bathroom to return wearing my usual uniform of gloves and socks. What an amazing view I had as I lay on my back cleaning Mistresses black shoes. Gazing upwards past Mistresses tightly clad latex legs I became mesmerised by the red haired beauty that was smiling down at me. As I continued sucking and kissing first one heel then the other, Maggie matter of factly commented that I was cleaning away Scottish dust that had accumulated on her heels during her recent trip to Glasgow, I couldn’t help myself and responded by taking the heel out of my mouth and saying 'Och aye the noo' in an appalling attempt at a Scottish accent. It made Maggie smile and I was happy with that, and of course I immediately got back to work licking the Scottish dust off her heels, all the while being encouraged verbally by Mistress and physically with the regular and even thuds across my groin from her heavy Amsterdam whip.

I then had the delightful first experience of being fitted into Maggie's new catsuit. It’s a lighter weight and tighter one than my own and fastens with shoulder zips; a very snug fit for me and once those shoulder zips were closed, a deliciously tight experience. No time to lounge around enjoying the new suit though, and I had to kneel on the low punishment bench to have my butt plug inserted. Maggie spent considerably longer than normal lubricating and stretching my anus and commenting ’Feel that, I can get three and a half fingers in there’. I am not sure that Maggie has half a finger, I must have missed that.

In an earlier session Mistress had said she wanted more practice in fitting her 'Ball Stretching Toy', Maggie's title for her evil stainless steel humbler, not mine, and that time had arrived. The 'improvement' this time was that I was to receive the full 'benefits' from her Toy; ball stretcher and ball spikes would be fitted and operational, doing their CBT thing with my nuts. Rubber bandages were brought out and used to restrain me to the low punishment bench during the fitting, a loose and somewhat symbolic binding but effective all the same.

Mistress set about nutting and bolting the various sized metal pieces around my nether regions, occasionally consulting her diagram to make sure all parts were being assembled in the right order. I just lay there passively on my back, thinking the only toy that the Humbler could be likened to is the boys' favourite, meccano. It also finally dawned on me that the heavy stuff that I would be shifting was nothing to do with the bed at all, but rather, the heavy steel humbler device that Maggie now had fully locked and bolted to her slaves cock and balls.

You will notice an interesting conundrum. The humbler was most easily fitted by Mistress with me lying on my back, only to be told to sit up once the rubber bandages were released. Maggie then twisted and turned the Toy through my VERY wide spread legs until she was satisfied that her slave was correctly orientated with the BST. Toy indeed!

Once roped on, the leash was attached, I was allowed knee pads to protect my wonky knees, and we were off for 'walkies’.

A couple of turns of the screws to tighten the stretching and crushing and to make sure I was really 'enjoying' my exercise and off we trotted, round the room, off to the bathroom and . . . bollocks - I couldn't get the knee pads to stay on properly. This is not the easiest problem to resolve when you are fixed in a kneeling position and I really was in the dog house. But Mistress had this problem sussed; she knows how to get a bad dog ’walking on’.

Mistress walked ahead and draped her wonderful ass over the bannister. ‘You are a very bad dog. Come over here now and sniff your Mistresses ass, then if you can rear yourself up onto those hind legs of yours you can use your rubber paws to caress my wonderful bottom’.

My doggy ears pricked up, I was not going to miss out on such a wonderful invitation and I hurriedly limped and bounded across to where Maggie was leaning. No humbler was going to stop this doggy raising up and fulfilling his duty and I gently stroked and caressed her tightly latexed rear. In my earlier training I was far too afraid and thought it a great affront for a slave to contemplate such a sensual activity let alone be allowed to participate. Now, provided I have approval, I love the feeling of latex gloves on latex bum. Performed gently and with feeling my actions have Mistress purring and gently undulating those glorious globes, a truly wonderful experience for a slave, and Mistress, I really am sorry for my sloppiness with the knee pads.

This is the pose I presented to my owner back in the Playroom. I was then to adopt a similar pose on the low padded podium and Mistress did what any Mistress does with their pet; show it who's boss. First of all I was given a bone to chew; accurate description as it was a large, flesh coloured dildo that Mistress made me eat and almost swallow to let me gauge its size and then, in front of me, rolled a protective condom in place. I knew where that monster was now going.

That's why Mistress earlier declared a three and a half finger insertion. The dildo was larger than I normally accommodate, and as usual Mistress was very careful breaking new ground. Her strapon actually entered me really easily and despite, or perhaps because the humbler was still stretching and spiking my sensitive balls, the experience was exquisite. Maggie mentioned how the dildo was wider but a little shorter than before, nevertheless, she delivered several long, slow and very sensual strokes commenting on how pleased she was with the progress we had made since she first made inroads into that previously virginal ass; reminiscing on the moment when she first inserted her finger into my passage - Well, its dimensions are all a tribute to her own work, as Mistress owns that orifice exclusively along with the rest of me. My only comment was that Mistress allowed me too few long, slow strokes; perhaps all she needed to reinforce who is top dog in this relationship, or maybe didn't want her slave to embarrass himself by having too much fun? I think Mistress is pleased with her progress educating my back passage, I certainly am.

Removal of the 'toy' was remarkably easy and painless compared to the fitting, yet quite a relief I may add. After de-roping the harness, I was instructed to manoeuvre the Humbler to the front and lie back down and I was free in a matter of minutes. Removal of our latex wasn't quite as straightforward, our clothes had collected a lot of moisture. Anyone who is witness to the joys of heavy activities, no matter how pleasant, whilst sealed in a heavy latex catsuit, will appreciate just how much liquid can accumulate. As a precaution, Maggie insisted we both stand on a fresh towel and carefully help each other undress, a few moments in front of the Playroom fan and we were dry enough to proceed to Maggie's next planned activities.

The second part of the session was totally different; a plastic fetishists dream. Mistress has very recently become the proud owner of two vinyl 'radiation suits' and I now knew why I was to bring my boots. A proper 'nuclear survival' scenario was being created by my teacher. This inaugural run would also serve to see what improvements, if any, were necessary for the suits to operate successfully in the highly charged nuclear environment of Planet Playroom. We have learned from earlier sessions where PVC or latex clad feet have been involved, that ordinary socks are a necessity for getting the wellies on successfully and for minimising risks to the fabric. All four feet went into their respective boots and the gloves that are sealed onto the suits, well they fitted like the proverbial glove.

Maggie transformed the Playroom into a sultry, dark, sensual cave with the bed already being laid with clinically cool, green vinyl sheeting. The lighting was dimmed to be replaced with lanterns accompanied by a superb choice of mood music played to reinforce the realities of a post Brexit nuclear winter. The photo auto-flash could well have been another nuke; another reason to be with my owner taking hazmat precautions.

One improvement was immediately evident, to me at least. With the twin back zips snugly closed, I may have been protected from radiation poisoning but would die long before that took effect, as the suit is completely airtight. It is another superb experience to be slowly suffocating inside the strong plasticky smelling suit, whilst having an excellent view of my stunning owner through the clear plastic hoods. Mistress wisely left the top part of her hood open. Various options for preventing accidental suffocation were discussed, perhaps a mask with tube through the rear zip opening might suffice and even attached to a re-breather bag or bubble bottle. . . hmm. These decisions will be left to my Mistress to decide, her slave can only dream of the delights that await and Maggie was pleased with once more exercising her power over her slave.

Not content with watching her slave slowly expire, Mistress, decided to secure me in bondage. I quipped that the bed shackles would not fit round my boots, only to be spread-eagled with black rope to the bed corners. I really should know better than uttering such stupid comments! My vinyl environment was strong enough to take a few knocks, yet flexible enough to feel superb when zipped inside, and even better when my vinyl clad owner began sliding on top of her slave, finally moving into a straddle position right over my frustrated groin. She gazed into my soul, grabbed both sides of the loose plastic hood and gradually tightened the clear plastic across my face.

I think if I was going to die in a nuclear holocaust, this has got to rank as the top option for expiry. Lovingly gazing at my Mistress as she gently encourages all hope of survival to expire . . . then, just as I am starting to happily head to oblivion, the welcome influx of fresh air. It is so frustrating as Maggie knows that I love her being completely in charge of my breathing and really milks it; suffocating me, straddling my groin, the excited frustration growing each time Mistress repeats the de-breathing of her slave.

On a humorous note, when I complimented Mistress on looking like the Green Goddess, I received a playful rebuke for likening her to an old green fire engine, (look it up if you've never heard of a Green Goddess Fire Engine). I did try to explain I was likening her to the fit and rather luscious Diana Moran, who exercised her way through the BBC breakfast programme in the mid 80's. I was then treated to my own exercise routine from my own Green Goddess - Diana eat your heart out and you are officially deposed as my number one Green Goddess exercise queen.

We were nearing the end of another superb session and Maggie asked if I fancied a coffee? I playfully answered ‘No thank you. I'd prefer to stay here’. I had not expected Mistress to say OK and wander off to get a coffee for herself, closing the door behind her. She took ages, it was possible that she would not come back, leaving me all alone to wallow in vinyl and reflect on another session.

This slave now has a dilemma. I adore latex both me wearing and with Mistress wearing, I now think these vinyl suits equal the latex appeal, well almost anyway. I will equally enjoy whichever suit Mistress chooses for her slave to wear but on balance, I love stroking Mistresses buttocks in her tight latex. There is something mesmeric about standing, sitting, lying, being tied down and still be able to gently caress that superb form. I will make a mental note to stroke Mistresses latex clad buttocks on every occasion that presents itself.

Yet another brilliant session with a brilliant Mistress and I now know what to do in the event of nuclear fallout; go to my Green Goddess, Mistress Maggie's safe haven.

Plain Stupidity

Oh what depths of stupidity can a simple slave sink to? It was only two months ago when I reported in this blog that I had received 20 hard strokes of the cane from Mistress Maggie for carelessness in web addressing. I promised at the time to learn ‘Less haste more attention’, yet here I am having to report exactly the same issues again. A week ago, I received the following from Maggie. ’I’m a bit pissed off, your web addressing is so clumsy slave.’ That was an understatement and in Harry Potter terms, I received a Howler!

Maggie knows that the simple mention of nipple clamps will set her slave wincing. To compound anxiety at being such a stupid slave, at the start of this week, Mistress allowed me a choice:

'  I am not adverse to a little bartering and propose a couple of options. How do we make you learn ‘less haste more attention?' -

a. nipple torture
b. reduced nipple torture plus 40 cane strokes

Make a choice slave, a or b . . .  '

A - I replied by email! The feeling of those 20 intense cane strokes I had taken came flooding back to me, never mind 40. I thought that ‘A’ may be the easier option to manage. Oh how wrong could I be?

I was greeted by Mistress at the door to the Chambers, as always she was a complete picture of power, grace and beauty. Dressed in a stunning black, underwired latex leotard she ushered me in, her legs were adorned with shiny black patent boots complemented by transparent seamed latex stockings, she wore long transparent gloves that gestured me to follow her undulating bottom to the Playroom. Mistress Maggie had me stand before her and chided me for my poor performance, saying ‘your nipples will be badly punished for this’, before explaining, albeit somewhat briefly, the running order for the session. In a change to normal routine, Mistress chose to perform the punishment at the end of our session, and why that decision was the best choice will unfold in the blog.

Mistress said she would like me in full black rubber and to lay my catsuit on the bed. I was then sent to the bathroom to undress and put on my latex stockings and gloves, returning in no time at all to find Mistress reclining on the padded bench awaiting some good boot licking from her slave. So I busied my tongue and set about shining her already shiny knee boots, before Mistress stood up and indicated that I should occupy the padded bench instead. I knelt there, bum raised for my butt plug to be slid home very easily.

Mistress must have liked her slave in this position, as going off at a tangent she allowed herself one of those rare off-script moments; selecting one of her many leather whips and landing fast rotating strokes on my proffered backside with it. The laughing tone in her voice suggested she was much amused. ‘I just couldn’t resist, your ass looked like it needed beating’. Maggie was happy, I was happy and the world was. . . quite a mess actually with Brexit, Nice etc, but at that point I didn't care, I was in my own little world with my owner.

Mistress helped me into my rubber catsuit and I was ready for my next adventure. We adjourned to the Clinic, and there I was tied to a chair; a small length of rope was all that was required to secure my wrists. Maggie produced a roll of standard cling film, suffice is to say that my vision of Mistress was soon transformed from crystal clear to shiny and hazy, the layers were being stretched tight round my head and smoothed into position. I was grateful to feel her finger being forced through the plastic into my mouth, allowing me a necessary breath.

Carefully onto the couch, I was strapped down with legs suspended from the ‘goalpost’ frame and a rigid posture collar strapped round my neck to ensure I was only looking forward. I love watching Maggie move around and this, together with the cling-film, curtailed that visual enjoyment, but Mistress was happy and I could still hear what was going on.

Out came the butt plug and after a couple of long drags from the aroma dispenser to help me relax Mistress vanished, returning a couple of moments later with items that she started feeding into my vacant orifice. ‘Piss ice cubes’, she proudly announced and fed them one by one into my eager cave, pushing them deep inside with a medical instrument. It was a strange feeling or rather a lack of a strange feeling. I could tell the four ice cubes were up there but there was very little discomfort normally associated with the application of ice to the human body.

As I lay there relishing the thought that Mistress had allowed some of her juices to actually be inside me, I received more excellent news in the form of that soft tinkling sound, as Mistress stood beside my left ear and emptied the contents of her bladder into a jug. The pee was quickly decanted into the large enema bag and I was informed that some very warm fluids would be joining the four piss cubes.

More relaxation from the aromas and the Bardex double balloon enema tube was in place. No discomfort whatsoever, in fact I really love how Mistress handles insertions into my bum; sufficient lubrication, gentle insertion, judicious application of relaxing aromas, she has trained me well. Not satisfied that I was receiving my fill, (big smile from me as I realised my bum capacity exceeded that of Mistresses considerable bladder), so a quick trip to the bathroom for a jug full of warm water to supplement her juices in the enema bag and. . . . just lay there and enjoy the liquid infusion. It is a very pleasant sensation to receive the warm water and pee mixture, I smiled once more because I knew I had quite a lot of my Mistress actually inside me this time. Melting piss cubes coming into contact with the warm piss and colon walls had now added to the considerable amount of liquid gurgling around inside my distended stomach.

Once emptied, the enema tube was securely clamped and plugged, and I was full of Mistresses very special golden juice, very comfortable and mentally such a turn on. I might well have had an accompanying erection, but Mistress was now fitting some very heavy equipment around cock and balls that turned out to be a metal chastity cage. More of that later.

Then things started to take a turn for the worse. Up until now there had been no attention to nipples, despite their zips being wide open and free range for Maggie. I think my nipples had retracted as far as they could in an attempt to escape their imminent punishment, but to no avail. The suction cups came out and Maggie started winding them up to create a vacuum around my freshly lubricated buds. Every few minutes, Mistress applied a few more turns of the screws and kept pulling the cups to make sure they were firmly attached and doing their job of stretching my nipples. I would have willingly told her if only she’d asked and if I didn't have a breathing tube stuck in my mouth. I could have also told her that the nipples didn't need the extra weight suspended from the ’goalpost’ frame, and that is perhaps the reason why I needed the breathing tube, to keep me quiet!

OK quick resume: bowels full of Mistresses piss, head covered in cling film, cock locked up, strapped to a gynae couch, nipples being distended and sucked out of hibernation - next came the bombshell. ‘Right. Back to the Playroom to start your nipple punishment now slave’.

Start the punishment! My nipples were already standing out like the new door chime I had rung much earlier. As Mistress was making final preparations for the move, I could vaguely see her fondling the roll of cling film and off came another length and straight across my face and importantly my aghast mouth hole. Unconcerned that I was now struggling for breaths, Mistress continued with her removal preparations. It was then I discovered why Mistress had bought standard cling film to incarcerate her slaves' head. With a single film over my mouth I sucked really hard to let Mistress know I was about to expire, this resulted in a loud pop like a balloon bursting and I had sucked an air hole for myself. Maggie just carried on untying my straps and cutting off the head shroud as if nothing had happened. I am the property of an amazing woman and true expert in getting the best out of her slaves.

Waddling back to the Playroom with the two Bardex pumps swinging between my legs the punishment part of my session was about to start. I was given some latex head gear instead: the open latex hood and the special face muzzle. Lying flat on the low punishment bench my hands were 'mitted' and strapped out of the way and my head placed inside the Stocks that were in turn hung from the overhead ring. If punishing my nipples hadn't been the order of the day, I was in the perfect position to have my Mistress sink her latex covered rump over a very eager slaves mouth. As it was, with my now extended and available nipples, Maggie set about torturing them. I use the word torture because that is exactly what she did. I knew I fully deserved whatever punishment Maggie thought was necessary and was resolved to accept it in the best way I could.

With light pinches it started off OK, but as Maggie sat on my piss extended abdomen she started work on both nipples with her sharp nails. Unlike a clamp which is a short sharp pain followed by a growing ache, Maggie's nails were relentless. Left scratch right scratch, left, right, left, left, right, right, gripping my nipples with her nails and squeezing and pulling them hard in all directions. All the time I was getting closer to that edge. I could tell I had arrived at the pain threshold because my breathing starts to go really ragged with the pain, I had to really beg ‘Mistress. No more. PLEASE no more. . . ‘. I am fortunate Mistress knows when I am 'there’, she released me and allowed a few minutes of calmness before moving me to the Throne, where a chain was used round my chest and my hands securely cuffed, my Bardex balloons dangling nicely through the central hole in the Throne. I used the brief respite to regulate my breathing and retreat as far as I could from that pain edge.

Maggie took a dog brush and dragged the horrible nylon bristles back and forth across my chest. Occasionally she wiped away a few spots of blood. My ordeal wasn't over, nor should it have been. I had really disappointed my Mistress and it was up to her to decide the punishment. The box of nipple clamps was put on the table. ‘Oh look, do you remember these nice custardy yellow ones for cowards? You've worn these before’. Yes and they had bloody well hurt, that was before my nipples were battered and ripped to shreds and very sore, yet strangely after a few moments recovery Mistress applied the yellow perils and I was able to absorb the pain; I deserved it and would cope with the discomfort. It didn't stop me from really pleading with Mistress as the pain grew intense, I had been granted permission to shout and cry, this punishment was justified and I had no complaints.

After two more styles of nipple clamps, I was once again approaching that edge. This time Mistress determined that enough pain had been inflicted and I was well and truly punished for my misdemeanours, perhaps now I will remember ‘Less haste more attention’. I think that’s why my owner decided to undertake punishment at the end of the session. If I was that close to my pain threshold after an early punishment I would have been of little use in the Clinic, more of a wimp and Mistress would miss out on some of her hard earned enjoyment.

Brilliant strategist is Mistress Maggie.

Two things worthy of mention occurred after the formal end of my punishment, beginning with some sumptuous recovery time on the Playroom latex bed. Maggie innocently said I would have to go home wearing the chastity device fitted in the Clinic, but when she went under cover to check it, it had disappeared; the device not her cock and balls I hasten to add. I must have a cock and balls tutored by Houdini, either that or I had relaxed and recovered so much that it had just dropped off. Then later as we were having a 'wind down' coffee, Mistress sat herself down on the sofa, gave me a cloth and Mr Sheen and I was re-acquainted with her patent boots and told to polish them. I found that action so natural and just enjoyed the act of continuing to serve my owner.

Did I have another good session? Yes another excellent one. I deserved the punishment and will really try harder to consistently please my Mistress.

Are your nipples still sore? Bloody well yes. The following morning I could barely touch the buds; not helped by Mistress stamping each nipple with the ‘I’ve been punished by Mistress Maggie’ stamp. I do love these extra bits of attention that I am granted.

Is Mistress really sadistic? Yes but only when you deserve it, or when she feels like it! 

Over the Hills and Far Away

Not a lot of people will have heard of the small Yorkshire settlement of Liversedge. I am from Yorkshire, yet knew nothing of the town and certainly not its valuable role in latex manufacturing. Mentioned in the Domesday book, by the 19th century the town was busy in the manufacture of woollen garments and the long tradition of clothing manufacture still continues in the 21st century, albeit in a much smaller scale, at Cathouse Clothing on a local business park in the town. That is where Mistress Maggie wanted to go, to look at some rather nice leopard print and textured latex garments that she had seen on the website.

I had been summoned to chauffeur Mistress to Liversedge, my first duty was to drop my pants and bend over the playroom horse so a Kegel electric communication device could be installed in my asshole, its associated receiver strapped on a leather belt around my waist. And with a big grin Maggie announced that the batteries had a full charge and that is what I would be receiving. Naturally, Mistress retained the remote control and gradually increased the dial until I confirmed the signal was being received and my bum starting to tingle from the inside. Maggie noted level ten and announced that would be a good level to start, if and when she wanted a little amusement at my expense.

As a Tyke, the journey back over the Pennines was short and sweet at just over an hour and 10 minutes, the time flew by with idle chatter between Mistress and slave and adhering to the strict instructions from Maggie's husband that I drive very carefully. After all, I did have a VIM on board (Very Important Mistress). Fortunately, the only sensation from the Kegel's was the top weighted ball that made its presence felt at every bend and pothole. I do wish they would fill those damn potholes on the M62.

Maggie was acquainted with the owner at Cathouse and spent a little time on pleasantries. I just stood and rode with the Kegel balls that Mistress had kindly activated by remote control when entering the shop. But it was soon down to the serious business of browsing. You can imagine we were both in heaven with the range of latex textures and coloured samples waiting to be made into hundreds of sensational garments. We spotted a latex corset that suited Maggie down to the ground (well not quite that long). A quick flick of the remote button and her slave was jumping high enough to reach it off the highest rail, and the garment was quickly purchased. After further browsing and a chance conversation with the owner, a textured black latex skirt emerged. I could tell Maggie liked it, and I thought it absolutely amazing or maybe it was how Maggie sensationally showed it off as she tried it on. It was a no brainer; a beautiful garment on a beautiful Mistress that fitted her so well.

The second purchase was in the bag, and that unfortunately was that. We had spent just an hour shopping and it was time for the trip home to Lancashire, but a coffee stop was necessary before too long.

Nothing interesting about a coffee stop you say. Well no and yes. Maggie had been persuaded to wear the new latex skirt for her journey home, she looked so glamorous seated on the high stool waiting for her coffee to be delivered. It was difficult to take my eyes off her, but then it always is. The skirt was the icing on the cake or rather on her now tightly enclosed legs and thighs.

Then a little surprise. As we got back in the car, Maggie pointed me to a secluded spot in the corner of the car park and told me to park there. She told me how happy she was with my driving and the lovely gift I had bought for her, and had a little reward that she knew I would like.

A hanky was produced from her handbag, before I knew it I was subdued with aroma and captured in a plastic bag. Slowly and calmly she started to suffocate her slave. My pleas for air fell on stony ground, Maggie just said no and twisted the plastic a bit more.

I just gazed at Maggie through the misting plastic and felt totally relaxed, completely devoted and very happy at that moment. Maggie wanted this and so did I. By the time she’d finished the plastic was as tight against my face as Mistresses new latex skirt was across her thighs.

After a few minutes to catch my breath chauffeuring duties were resumed. The rest of the journey was uneventful but incredibly slow due to it being rush hour. We arrived back at Chambers just after six, Maggie had a Clinic session planned for me and I was soon strapped down naked, legs up wide on the clinic couch. The nice white latex hood was fitted and she proceeded to flash fry my nipples, cock, balls and anywhere else that made her laugh with the glowing sparks from her violet wand.

The Kegel balls were removed and, judging by this photo, Maggie used a cut down Samurai sword to impale my bum. This has got to be the biggest thing I have ever had up there, helped on its way by Mistress holding her medicated hanky over my nose again.

Imagine the opposing sensations; I was being wonderfully mounted and stretched with a hand held dildo, whilst at the same time having bits of me punished with intense shocks from the wand. I didn't know whether I was coming or going.

The afternoon had reached a natural end and Maggie made sure I didn't come, but I did go home with another huge smile and a huge bulge after another hugely enjoyable session chauffeuring my Mistress on our expedition home to Yorkshire.

And a note to John. I drove very carefully and apologise if Mistress Maggie now has two more exceptional items to find space for in her ‘overcrowded’ latex wardrobe. The batteries in the Kegel are now flat and in serious need of a major re-charge!