Lassos Everywhere

Mistress Maggie has certainly been interested in dealing with bottoms these last few weeks, two weeks ago when I visited her my bum received an almighty beating for my misconduct. Today when Mistress opened the door to her Chambers it immediately looked like my bum would be receiving more of her attentions, the big clue came in the form of the strap-on dildo that heaved and smiled as I entered the Chambers.

Mistress did continue to concentrate on my bum area but without the painful consequences. I was restrained on the Clinic couch with my bum raised to the perfect height and inclination for Mistress to lube up my private space without any fuss. Her rather large dildo which had done nothing but wave at me since I arrived was then slipped inside me as Mistress proceeded to mount her slave achieving a flawless entry.

The dildo had looked pretty big when I’d been worshipping Maggie's shoes, but I must have had an equally big lust for being mounted, because the huge rod slid in with ease and kept sliding in further; gently but firmly until our bodies met. I really enjoyed being taken this way and in fact I almost enjoyed it too much as Maggie gently massaged my cock as the dildo thrust in and out.

Satisfied that my bum had been reacquainted with her sizeable toy, out came the dildo to be replaced by an inflatable one. Mistress threatened 10 pumps, but if I'm being honest I could have taken quite a few more bulb squeezes, I was feeling so good at the time. (Another comment that no doubt will come home to roost!).

I think Mistress has been watching too many John Wayne movies judging by the number of lassos she deployed on my cock and balls. One round each ball and attached to the couch extension. One round the base of my cock pulling in one direction then another and another, all stretched tightly and pulling in every way Maggie could manage. Count them. Eight are visible!

Of course from where I was sitting I couldn’t see the results of Mistress’ lassoing, but I did feel like a steer at a rodeo as I lay rock still knowing that any movement in any direction could have 'surprising' consequences.

Now that I have had chance to view my predicament, Maggie's attention to detail is clear. There is a symmetry about the cock and ball bonds that only a true expert can achieve. Even the alignment of the picture was perfect; red butt plug, red jewels of my lovely guiche and the taught diagonals of my confining ropes make a striking picture of a slave pleasing his Mistress, and I of course was very happy with the situation. What self respecting slave wouldn't be?

Maggie had completed her planned cock and ball tethering, but in one of those spontaneous moments her voice lit up and she asked. 'Do you fancy a sound slave?' A question that didn’t need any thought and I almost shouted my approval.

Maggie disappeared and returned after a short while with a freshly sterilised sound. 'It's a larger sized one that you've worn before slave'. Before I knew it and for the second time today, her desired object was greased up and without any resistance began sliding deep inside me. It felt so good and I do love it when my Mistress invades yet another of my private areas. Well, in reality, all areas are her private areas and she is free to invade wherever she wants.

The picture does provide an enlightening view of the detachable 'goal posts' that Maggie was using to hang, draw and quarter my most sensitive of areas.

And this, of course, is a picture of my perfect Mistress complete with dildo. By this time the lassos had been removed and we had returned to the Playroom ready for the final scenario of today's session. She was demonstrating how comfortable her Playroom chair was before a completely rubber covered and very appreciative slave took up semi-permanent residence on it.

The chair was repositioned underneath the central Playroom gantry and I replaced Mistress as incumbent of the chair. Maggie enclosed my head in one of her a soft nylon stockings, then beginning with my head and working downwards my total bondage encounter commenced, involving copious quantities of cling film, several stout leather straps to suspend my legs and feet, some bright yellow gaffer tape to add a little colour, a most effective and comfortable rubber gag and as a very nice finishing touch, a posture collar was secured round my neck at maximum tightness.

If you are on Flickr there is some video footage of my chair bondage HERE but may not be available on all devices.

Mistress spent some time simply putting on her long latex gloves whilst sitting on my lap. The background mood music was eerie yet strangely sensual and my Mistress continued to move like a slithery serpent all round and over her slave. That most erotic of movements could only be reciprocated by the slightest of movement and the faintest of grunts from her very keen slave, such was the designs of her bondage, the restrictions of the cling film meant I couldn't even stroke my cock and balls as Mistress Maggie had ensured my hands were firmly secured to prevent movement. An altogether surreal bondage event that I would never have dreamt being part of when I rose out of bed that morning.

I know, I am a really lucky slave.

Dear Blog, My Bum Hurts!

January was such a benign, some may say surreal start to the New Year, what with all the heavy rubber and the huge dose of DFP that I’d had, so it came as somewhat of a reality check when February's first session arrived.

As you probably guess if you have been following my training schedule with Mistress Maggie, I am not yet capable of maintaining the high standards expected from one of Mistresses slaves and one consequence of these lapses is remonstration and retribution for my wrongdoings, another consequence is that we must continue my training in order to strive for the perfection expected from my Mistress.

However, before the reckoning, normal training had to be accommodated by fitting my butt plug and performing the obligatory worship of Mistresses footwear. A good entry method for the butt plug was achieved as Maggie had me kneel down, forehead on floor and then sat on my back so she could lube and insert the plug in a relaxed manner. Then on with my ordeal, it certainly was an ordeal to start with but as our session progressed I found myself with the brightest smile possible.

Maggie said I was not allowed any rubber until I had recognised and been reprimanded for my mistakes. Three infringements were to be counted before the slate could once more be wiped clean. Coming up with a mad idea for Mistresses website; forgetting my slave collar after our last DFP session; and probably the worst indiscretion, I got the dates mixed up for Mistresses birthday and sent her husband John the Happy Birthday message, what an absolute numpty!

Ode to Mistress Maggie

(With no apologies to Don Maclean but if you wish to sing along to the tune of  'American Pie' feel free. I certainly was singing!)


But February made me shiver

  with every blow Maggie did deliver

Bad news on the flogging horse
  I couldn't take one more step of course.



I can remember that I cried

  when I felt the cane on my backside

Something touched me deep inside

  the day my buttocks fried.


With the different infringements, Maggie thought different methods of reparation would be appropriate and if a slave forgets to pick up his slave collar then of course his hands deserve a good slapping. Mistress refused to return my collar until she had demonstrated how unimpressed she was that I’d forgotten it and punishment started with a hand tawsing; 3 strokes to each hand with the two fingered tawse. I have not had any kind of hand slapping since I was at school and this punishment really hurt, yet my training obviously kicked in as I obediently stood there after the first instruction to hold my hands out flat, one palm on top of the other and to reverse the hands after each blow. My hands really began to sting yet I had no doubt they would be in place for the next blow, just as Mistress had decreed. At least I got my collar returned from behind the curtain, I felt a lot better being reunited with it, but I had to buckle it on with my red raw chastised hands.

I was then introduced to Maggie’s new flogging horse. Oh the joys of such an introduction and perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it in the DFP blog! For the most serious crime of mixing up birthdays I would be going over that very same horse, I received a hand spanking followed by a paddling with a short leather strap which had the word ‘pig’ emblazoned along it. After a short interlude Maggie continued my warm up with a beating from her double leather strap before using her cane to land six of the best on my now throbbing ass.

As it happened the long cane that Maggie intended to use proved too long for the space available, my fault for poor positioning of the flogging horse, and because of the restricted arc it made wonky marks that were not to her liking, so Maggie started again with a shorter crooked model and I got six straighter cuts as well. OUCH!

Maggie must have thought I was suitably contrite and I finally got to wear my red latex catsuit, but she had not forgotten my crazy suggestion of publishing the story from my DFP session on her website. My mentioning this had irritated Maggie as she has much better things to do with her valuable time, like seriously redesigning her site in order to comply with the pending UK porn laws. I was going to have my mouth washed out in the slave toilet for speaking such foolish words.

It is really quite eerie in the box with the toilet lid down. You get a glow through the tight latex but nothing else. A slave is very vulnerable in that position and before I knew it the lid was lifted, I was re-introduced to the view of Maggie’s very well proportioned and most beautiful derrière as it descended over me and delivered the most welcome ‘punishment’ you could imagine. It turned out this wasn’t the real punishment for pissing Maggie off.

After I had received her offerings and the soaked latex hood had been removed I was led to the bathroom to have my hair rinsed. Bent over the bath I received a wonderfully warm hair wash and then . . . the bloody shower was turned to freezing cold. Maggie laughed as my oohs and aah’s turned to OOHS and AARGS!

When I was marched back from the bathroom, instead of turning left back to the Playroom, Mistress turned right into the Clinic. At least I wasn’t scheduled for more cane, well not in the Clinic anyway. Instead Maggie decided it was time for a spot of dentistry, to check out my mouth for clues as to why I talk so much rubbish. The rubber smell from the anaesthetic mask she placed over my nose soon turned into wafts of aroma, that had me laying back quite relaxed and ready for my dental examination from Maggie the rubber Nurse.

Of course, as with all operations and examinations in the White Room, the environment is scrupulously clean and I received a rubber gown to make sure my working suit was out of the way.

A Jennings gag was fully deployed allowing Mistress to dive in and have a real root around with her dental instruments, keeping my tongue under control with her wooden spatula. Once satisfied that my teeth were my own and not likely to pop out during the operation, Maggie momentarily went out of vision saying she was off to mix some amalgam. Another dose of anaesthesia and Maggie started working the preparation she had just mixed into my teeth and gums. It turned out the amalgam was actually a strong tasting pasty peppermint type of mixture. Anyway, Maggie thoroughly worked the paste into each quadrant of my mouth and I must admit that despite the thorough cleaning I always give them before seeing my Mistress, my teeth felt sparklingly clean and fresh.

When the gag was removed, I was manoeuvred into an almost bolt upright position and encouraged to thoroughly rinse my mouth out with depressingly plain tap water, I had hoped for Maggie’s glorious champagne but had to suffice with the simple plain stuff. Maggie amused herself by inserting cotton pads behind top and bottom cheeks, probably to prevent any more of the ‘tongue in cheek’ comments that have a tendency to land her slave in trouble. She burst out laughing as I said ‘ffank yuuu’, sounding and looking a lot like Marlon Brando. It was nice to hear the natural laugh from my Mistress.

After all the investigative work was complete, Mistress used her optical mirror for a final look round; molars ok, incisors ok, all wadding removed, you are good to go until your next examination. Maggie, however hadn’t finished her investigating, my gown was lifted and she started concentrating on the other end. No teeth down there although my cock and balls have received the bites of clamps and clips on other occasions, for now though it was a seductive lube and tease. After a goodly dollop of lube, Mistress massaged it in methodically around my cock and balls until I had a rod like the proverbial ‘greasy pole’. Standing back with a very provocative wink and smile Maggie glided the excess lube across her beautiful bust, superb stomach and all around her breathtaking buttocks. It was fascinating to watch as her latex uniform took on that sheen of a high gloss liquid. I now knew how it was possible to achieve such a high gloss sheen.

However, achieving such a shine has major detrimental effects on the slide-ability of latex. By now Mistress had released my right hand and I reached out to stroke her super shiny bottom, an activity we both enjoy, and to my disappointment and surprise my latex glove just stuck to her lubed up dress, not literally stuck but I just couldn’t get that gentle, sliding caress that I try and achieve. I wonder if it would have been slippier with an application of lube to my glove? It is definitely strange that dry latex does not slide on water based lubrication. You learn something every day and despite the fact it made Mistress Maggie look super shiny, I think I prefer the more tactile and sensuous movement of dry glove on a lube-free derrière. Now that is something to suffer the punishment horse for.

Not at all What I Expected!

The unusually unambiguous comments that Mistress Maggie sent to me in her calling mail had me thinking that something strange was about to happen.

What liberties a captor takes changing the shape of her captive prey.
As she makes you smell her essence, her medicine and latex presence
You must not move, just await your fate, as she finds which parts she can inflate.

The guidance in the call up mail is usually non-specific and leaves a great deal to my imagination. I usually spend the next 24 hours trying to second guess what delights my owner may have in store, but this appeared quite clear; a good dose of latex, strict and immovable bondage, aromas, a spot of bum licking (I am getting most accomplished at this most enjoyable of pastimes) and my balls to be saline inflated; I know Mistress has a penchant for occasionally enjoying her slave with huge balls so that was settled and I would be spending some time secured in the Clinic. It couldn’t be that obvious could it?

No! Things took a bizarre twist when I rang Mistress to confirm arrangements, an hour before our session time as I always do. It must be fate because I usually text, but for some reason I had to use the land-line and imagine my confusion when Mistress said she had three instructions for when I arrive:

1) Ring the doorbell
2) Remove and store my glasses
3) Turn away from the door and observe the street.

After having had 23 hours with a good idea as to what was about to happen, this curved ball really got me. At the door I did as instructed, standing nonchalantly I watched the passing traffic. A moment later I heard the door open and my collar was yanked violently backwards and I was forced face against the front porch and promptly hooded. My head was starting to spin, assisted by a liberal application of aromas from a gloved hand and I was dragged upstairs. I wasn’t even told to remove my footwear, and all the while what felt like a Taser* was forced under my chin. I know my Mistress is very capable of delivering a shock but this treatment was uncharacteristically rough and I did have a real worry that she would use the shocking implement.

I remained compliant and very docile, dropping my trousers when ordered. The gate to the cell was unlocked, I was pushed inside and told to sit down on the awaiting chair, whilst the Taser* went downwards towards my exposed balls. Sitting was a little difficult, because strapped in the centre of the wooden chair seat was a huge black dildo, placed exactly where my by now naked bum should go.

It took a few awkward attempts but eventually I was fixed firmly to the chair and I must admit that I was starting to warm to my dominant captor. I really will have to practice that same manoeuvre at home; getting my own butt plug inserted. Perhaps sticking it to the closed toilet seat might work?

Her interrogation technique was quite simple. Confuse with apparently disjointed questions, threaten the subject with the Taser and elicit the information.

‘Last time you did not know how to carry a tray and was sloppy with cleaning . . . not normal for a regular slave . . . must be working under a false identity . . . are you really Mistress Maggie's slave? . . . name slave?’

This last question should have been a simple answer but I didn’t appear to give the answer that she wanted.

‘Slave. . . jo. . . jo nep. . . Mistress Maggie’s slave . . .  ’. I even tried the birth name that my parents had given me, but to no avail.

‘OK, so you do not even know your name. Do you have any distinguishing marks?’

Ah, I was quite certain now that I could prove that I was my Mistresses property and mentioned my guiche.

Focusing on this revelation my captor discouraged further contradictions or 'lies' by securing a scarf round my mouth and ordered me out of the cage. I was told to assume a position whereby I was to kneel on the carpet, bum still naked and my trousers still round my ankles for further investigation and interrogation. The further investigation was a bit of an understatement and the further interrogation, verbally at least, was somewhat restricted by the tight knotted gag.

I may not have been able to see but I was fairly certain that it was my owner investigating the distinguishing features around my bum. Not satisfied that she had all the evidence despite a good fondle of the guiche, she applied copious quantities of lube to my bum and in went her hand to feel around for additional ID. After that I was mounted there and then; head on carpet, arse in the air and in with the strap-on phallus. Yes that is definitely my owner and I was finally able to relax a little.

My captor however was still unconvinced by my slave identity and required more persuasion. She insisted that any genuine slave of Maggie’s would not mind being kept as a latex prisoner, to confirm the truth I would be subsequently clothed in tight head to toe latex with all my senses at her disposal.

By now, the mid European accent was fading to the music that is my Mistress’s voice. Kneeling up I was ordered to remove my jeans and the other clothes that were tangled around my ankles, and the latex T-shirt that I am sometimes able to wear for arriving at the Chambers. At last I was finally able to clearly see my Mistress clad in her wonderful gold latex catsuit as I was instructed to remove the black interrogation hood. I was to wear my plum coloured latex suit and it really is a wonderful experience to be helped inside a tight catsuit by a stunningly attractive owner and to be cleaned and polished once done. It is my belief that every slave should be allowed this marvellous experience at least once.

Having already sat on the butt plug and gladly accepted the strap-on, my vacant orifice was very willing to accept its next visitor in the shape of an electric anal stimulator. By now I was so well lubed that the plug needed zipping in to keep the little bugger in place, which happily seemed to work.

Although normality was returning to my training, I was still disoriented. As my eyes began focusing properly again I glanced at my Mistresses boots, which so far I had not been instructed to honour, and I noticed the Plank leant against the wall waiting to be assembled. What was reassuring were the pillows that Maggie had temporarily attached to the Plank for her slaves comfort. On the more sinister side, this probably meant a lengthy immobilisation, but if that was the case how could I reconcile my earlier thoughts that my balls were likely to be inflated in the Clinic? I gave up trying to overthink the issues and let myself go totally under my owners spell.

I soon found out how I could square the circle. Mistress was going to attach me to the Plank and do the infusion to my scrotum in the Playroom. Just to be sure that I was actually Maggie's rubber slave, she decided to fit the Tusker mask. It is comfortable and only served to reinforce my earlier thoughts that I was in for a long Planking.

Firstly a good ball buttering. Not to be confused with a ball battering, the buttering is a most pleasant experience as Maggie applied cocoa butter to the scrotum to help flexibility and hopefully its ability to expand to take the waiting cargo. Meticulous precautions were taken as always, to first create then maintain the sterile environment necessary for the operation. I was supplied with more doses of her aromatic medicine, then I was warned not move as Maggie leaned forward to insert her needle into my ball sac and only then did she nonchalantly advise ‘500ml of saline today slave’. Even though I say so myself, this was going to be a ‘routine’ filling of my sac as I have previously received far more fluid. I remained still and enjoyed the occasional glimpse and feel by my Mistress as she checked her balls to make sure they were filling nicely.

Unfortunately, I lost the vision of my Golden goddess with the application of the eye shades to the Tusker mask. I was left totally blind and almost deaf to contemplate my fate as decreed by my owner. A quick pat of the balls and a barely audible 'See you later slave' and that was my life. I have absolutely no concept of the time I remained in that position. I did hear the door open, the last drops of 500ml infusion must have trickled home because I sensed that the needle was being removed followed by a gentle fondling of the balls, and the door closed and silence again.

I focused on thoughts of my Mistress and every now and then the e-stim circulating through my cock and balls created a hard erection. I concentrated on the erection which brought me quickly and clearly back to a vision of the most beautiful person I know and there was nothing else worth thinking about. I even had several ‘forbidden’ thoughts about my owner and all the while the constant pulsing of the anal electrode was working its insidious magic. I thought I had the impression of the door opening again but no sound. Did I hear the click of the camera? Was my Mistress with her slave again? I had no thoughts of anything apart from Mistress Maggie and how I could better serve her.

After the unexpected approach of my Russian interrogator, and her gradual transformation back to my wonderful owner, the final return to 'normality' was Mistress graciously granting me the benefits of some of her warm, fresh nectar. Even that had a unexpected twist, the Tusker with its integrated drinking tube provided an easy way of delivery, Mistress filled an enema bag with her golden nectar, allowing gravity to direct it down the tube and into my eager mouth. With that first glorious taste I knew I had my Mistress back 100% without any foreign influences. That final drink was so well received, but I must work on my ability to accept and swallow a continuous stream of piss rather than Mistress using the tap to regulate my intake. Or perhaps that is how Maggie likes the situation? Even in something so simple as a humble drink, she remains in total charge.

And the end results? I had been kidnapped at the door, incarcerated on a dildo strapped to a chair, drugged and interrogated, had a good rogering with pants round my ankles, roped to the Plank, balls filled with saline, senses obliterated, electro stimulated, illicit thoughts about my owner . . . Not at all what I expected, but as far as training goes it has left me even more under my owners spell and with . . .

*The Taser turned out to be a plastic replica of a Walther PPK. Ah! Shaken not stirred Mr slave!

Never Again

Today ended the most unhappy period in my slave existence. September ranks as one of the worst months ever as I was only able to enjoy minimal contact with my owner, Mistress Maggie. A series of one off blockers: holidays, work commitments etc, all conspired to prevent me from arranging any session time resulting in a six week break in my servitude. What's more, my six year anniversary of being accepted into Mistresses Chambers happened in September and I was not able to celebrate that momentous event. Do I hear violins playing or tugging at your heart strings perhaps, or is it that I shouldn't have been so stupid to allow this congestion to build up?

Well, I am really pleased to say that the drought is over and not just with the odd few drops of pleasure but a veritable tropical downpour. Strangely enough, all the first session nerves were there as I approached the Chambers, but as soon as the front door swung gently back to reveal that most stunning and beautiful vision of Mistress in her latex, all my angst vanished. Yes we still had two world leaders contemplating nuclear war, yes we had just experienced the worst massacre in American history, and yes, Teresa had almost lost her voice at conference and been less fortunate in not losing Boris; all that vanished and I felt safe. I nervously handed over the two dozen roses I had chosen as an 'I've really missed you' statement and all the external woes went. Mistress hadn't forgotten her loyal slave and all was right with the world.

Mistress promised she had some 'undisclosed' entertainment planned and I was sent to the Bathroom to put my latex socks and gloves on, when I returned I was asked to present the 'used' panties Mistress had kindly loaned me to help me through sad September and I placed my new ribbed butt-plug on the dresser, where it merrily wobbled awaiting insertion. I was delighted that on very close inspection, the panties passed muster for their laundering; a distinct upbeat start to a wonderful month considering my last poor laundry efforts, and I was back in heaven. Mistress was wearing her long red boots that take a lot of worshipping. Long, slow licks, foot to thigh, repeating all the way round from toe to heel. Unusually, halfway through Mistress opened her thighs and ordered me to sit between them, with my neck in the gap between those rather gorgeous nylon covered limbs.

I never imagined that such beautiful legs could exert such pressure around the neck of a slave, as firstly she clamped her thighs tightly around it, then proceeded to press her gloved hands tightly over my mouth and nose. I relaxed my head back into her lap and sat there happy, breathless and becoming quite horny. Quite a start to my reintroduction to slave discipline.

One good thing that happened in September was the delivery of my new black latex catsuit, a thinner and more stretchy one than my heavyweight suit, but also a lot tighter. We spent quite a while coaxing me into it but once on it felt so good and different than my other latex suits, and as Mistress rubbed me down I detected a smile on her beautiful lips and it felt even better!

One short-coming with the suit design is the shorter back zip opening and Mistress didn't find it as easy to fully expose her slaves backside for the butt-plug. Not too inconvenient though, Maggie did insert ‘big red’ but only after another consequence of sad September was overcome. Through lack of use, my bum required larger doses of effort and lube, plus a lot of patience on Maggie's part before we were happy that the plug had finally reseated itself in its natural environment. Another reason for 'never again'.

Ok. Snugly plugged and rubbered to Maggie's satisfaction, the Tusk Mask that had been leering from the back of the Throne was offered for fitting. The last time this wonderful creation received face time was as a prototype and Mistress has gone on to make several improvements to it, now it was ready for me to try again. Grasp the drinking tube firmly between teeth, brace your head and. . . one, two, three, Maggie has the mask snugly fitting. And there it was, a tight gas mask, two long tusks and a very happy and contented slave, complete with modifications (mask not slave!)

Maggie and her bursting bladder were desperate to thoroughly test the functionality of the masks mouth tube feature, she had slipped on her rubber piss pants and was connecting herself to my mouth with a blue control valve. Whether Mistress was teasing or it was a genuine oversight I do not know, but when Mistress instructed 'suck slave' I sucked and puffed and puffed and sucked and. . . nothing. A guttural, sexy laugh from Maggie followed by her checking both taps resulted in a steady stream being sucked through the straw and over my frustrated taste buds. It didn’t take long for me to find a successful technique for using the feeding tube and achieve a good flow by not sucking too hard, otherwise it sat nicely in the roof of my mouth when not in use.

I knelt gazing through the tusks' small, circular windows at the reservoir between Maggie's legs, first slowly emptying then filling up again as the next consignment of nectar arrived. 'Drink it all slave. Slowly!' And as I did I was allowed to snuggle against her red booted thighs and revel in my hood being gently stroked by its owner.

The next modification to the Tusker Mask Prototype 1, was the addition of removable blanking plugs for the tusks themselves, so Maggie can decide exactly how much of her air you are allowed. On this occasion, one blanking plug was left in place, but the second tusk had a gasmask hose attached to it for aroma breathing; a stunning piece of equipment designed and created by Mistresses' very talented husband, John. This special hose allows self delivery of aromas. A quick pump or two of the bulb to make sure the aromas were being delivered and Maggie was ready to move on to something she enjoys; flogging a slave.

Mistress shackled me to the cage with my wrists in iron manacles, and holding the bulb for when I needed the calming effects of the strong aroma I was told to stick my arse out for a flogging. ‘I am not going to beat you hard’ said Maggie, before picking up her whip and turning the next thirty minutes into a most sensual flogging experience.

If you are on Flickr there is some video footage of my flogging HERE but may not be available on all devices.

Whether it was the huge relief of being back with my Mistress or the upbeat Michael Jackson tracks playing in the background, the fact that I had waltzed with my Mistress after my catsuit dressing, had had my belly filled with her nectar, perhaps it was the intoxicating puffs of aromas or probably a combination of all the above, but as Maggie started with her floggers I was so deep in 'the zone' I was feeling more euphoric with each thwack. All I wanted to do was gyrate my bum and offer it up to Mistress and her whip. I was dancing with the music, or should I say moving my bum to the beat and shuffling the feet, as dancing is not something I’m famous for, while thinking how lucky I was to have such a perfect owner wanting to flog her slave. This has got to be one of the best floggings that Mistress has ever given to me in all my six years. I was slightly sad when it had to end and I was instructed to follow her to the White Room.

Any sadness was short lived as Mistress expertly fixed me to the couch and deployed a catheter. Maggie has become a real expert, competent and confident with her catheterisation and allows some of her natural humour to emerge during the operation. That is not to say she is any less careful and clinically correct, but she can now joke about the cool gel injected down my cock, the contents of her catheter kit, or even about not knowing how to store her catheter goodies now that supermarkets charge for their plastic carrier bags! When she first started doing catheters three or so years ago she concentrated on the mechanics of 'doing it right', whereas now she instinctively knows.

I was soon draining nicely, once again gazing at my stunning Mistress as she smiled at yet another 100% successful operation. We talked a while until Mistress decided I was talking far too much and needed a ball gag. That kept me quiet until most of my pee had drained into the cath bag.

Admittedly I was talking, but in my defence it had been a long and sad September without any personal contact with Mistress and I was still excited by all that had already happened in the Chambers today, but I was happy to lay back and take in all the beauties of the Clinic, well, my Mistress really, as she busied herself tidying the sterile bags and other one-off equipment that she uses.

With the catheter drain bag attached, the easiest way to prepare me for moving was to take her trusty pair of scissors and cut away the opaque plastic drape which had served as a very effective sterile operating area during the procedure. Shame really but Maggie does not reuse such items. Always the professional and the totally correct Mistress, that's another reason why I will always return. Then tightly clutching my catheter bag Maggie led me back to the Playroom. ’Careful. You're in trouble if you dislodge the tube, slave!'

The heavy leather sleep sack was brought down from its hanger and laid out under the overhead gantry, while I was confined to the corner holding my piss-bag and looking on at the industry being displayed by Maggie. The zip at the rear of the bag was eased open. Interesting I thought as my rear was currently full with my butt plug. A fact that was short lived however, as Mistress then invited me to bend over and she swapped the incumbent for an inflatable vibrating number. A quick test assured her I was vibrating nicely and I was told to squeeze myself inside the bodybag. Arms into the internal sheaths, a wriggle to get the most comfortable position, all my tubes and plumbing had been successfully brought through to the outside of the bag and Maggie zipped, tight-laced and strapped me in there. Boy was I snug and secure and definitely had no say as to where I was going.

Heavy chains were deployed to help Mistress with the daunting task of hoisting up her 17 stone slave, one pulley at a time until I was suspended at a good height. An amusing discovery fleetingly crept in as Mistress first raised one end of the frame and then the other: I could tell which end was higher by the direction the sweat was trickling up or down my calves, a bit like a spirit level and most appropriate for such a spiritual occasion.

I laid and swayed, occasionally feeling Mistress adjusting my catheter bag or playing with the butt-plug controls, Maggie’s welcome pumps of aroma had me drifting away inside the rubber tusk mask, because by now self medication was obviously a long way in the past, and I was in heaven; totally controlled by my owner.

It was time for Maggie to put her slave into total hibernation and by fitting a blindfold the last vestiges of visual contact were eliminated. I could still hear but only in a muffled way through my rubber headgear, and so I was left for a while as Mistress declared she was tired and needed a drink. I must admit that the mention of a drink gave me the urge as well, I sucked on the feeding tube, but nothing. So I simply contemplated my fate.

After an indeterminate period of long-term bondage resulting in heavenly isolation, and trying unsuccessfully to get the bum vibrator to bring me to climax, I noticed that Mistress was present again. It was my moving mouth tube that gave her away and I was finally allowed something to drink. Not quite the same vintage as my earlier drink, but it was wet and very well received.

It was only later, when we were clearing away after the session that my Mistress informed me that she had decided to have me recycle the contents of my drain bag; I knew that somehow it didn't taste quite the same. The prospect of being encouraged to recycle my own fluids was quite bizarre and I’m strangely delighted that once again I was able to fulfil my promise to my owner; obey immediately and without question. This acceptance is another step forward in my future purpose, to do whatever Mistress requires.

Once my tusk mask was removed I was treated to a final drink straight from the source. Willingly accepted of course, well how can a slave resist such fresh, warm and tasty champagne?  Mistress squatted over my eager mouth and released the remnants of her now empty bladder, and not a drop spilt. This was one helluva session and despite the old adage that absence makes the heart grow stronger - which it certainly did, I will never again willingly go through another 6 weeks of self inflicted isolation between serving sessions with Mistress Maggie.

Never again.

Podiatry, Pegging and Prototyping

Dressed in my casual latex t shirt and proudly wearing my leather slave collar once again I was making my way to the Chambers of Mistress Maggie, and giving thought as to what may be in store for me today. Maggie was a little excited about a new hood she had designed and I suspected it would be down to me to act as her test pilot; a role I love doing for my Mistress. She had e-mailed me and one or two comments suggested that her design was almost ready and would 'leave me breathless'. What I hadn't anticipated was an up close and personal encounter with the new dildo harness Mistress had ordered on our recent trip to Cathouse.

I checked my watch three times just to be on the safe side and at exactly 14:30 I rang the Chambers bell. That familiar thrill was still there, in fact a more intense thrill after all my training, also that familiar fear of where my learning might take me today were both present as I pressed the doorbell. I saw Maggie's features through the semi opaque glass panel and as the front door slowly opened I got an eyeful of the new harness, complete with a large glass dildo pointing towards me in a somewhat threatening manner. I didn't know where I should look. I love looking at my beautiful Mistress but this little blighter looked as though it was beckoning me to come in. In reality it was Maggie who was doing the beckoning and I was soon following her undulating red latex tights up towards the Playroom, while the forward facing glass monster disappeared from view.

As I was licking and kissing Mistresses red boots I did literally get an eyeful of the crystal monster. Maggie’s boots were long ones; way beyond her knees, and at the end of one of my very long licks towards the top of the boots, what should poke me in the eye but the clear dildo. It didn't hurt, but unfortunately for me, I’d made the mistake of nuzzling against the invader a little too lovingly for Mistresses liking and was soon hearing the crinkling sound of a plastic bag being unfurled. Quickly I attempted to redouble my efforts down at the foot end of the boots, but Mistress reminded me of the rules 'No contact above the footwear!’, and had me kneel between her latex thighs to have the plastic bag placed over my head.

Not a punishment as such. Mistress knows her slave loves to surrender my very breathing into her care and so the bag was tightened and held until I was pleading, converting the last vestiges of oxygen into carbon dioxide. Maggie pulled me closer and gazed into my eyes and asked ‘What do you need slave, my kiss or my air?’ Without hesitation 'Kiss please’, I gasped and I felt the warmth of her wonderful kiss through the plastic. Of course my owner didn't want to loose her slave, well not this early in the proceedings, so after a few last gasps of useless air I was allowed freedom and huge gulps of fresh Playroom air.

After that I received assistance getting into my black catsuit and a very comfortable black latex hood, which, although I didn't realise at the time, was to remain my friend for the whole of the session. Mistress was transforming me, as sometimes pleases her, into her total rubber plaything.

Completely rubberised I was now given another honour, that with her guidance Mistress allows me to perform; treatment for her feet. Mistress eased her lithe form onto the couch in her Clinic, then lounging back with her legs in the stirrups presented the foot manicure case to me. I have learnt that this can be a relaxing, sensual experience for Mistress as well as a very stimulating service for her slave! I needed to constantly remind myself that I was there to make Maggie’s feet feel beautiful and not to gaze at her radiance, or for that matter, dwell on what she might do with the monumental crystal dildo that was once again pointing at me from centre front.

The long red boots that I had just worshipped were carefully removed and put to one side. Fine emery boards had been supplied so I could work away on Maggie’s feet, smoothing away any rough skin I detected. Mistress is after all a very active lady, it’s hardly surprising her feet take a hammering, and I love being able to use my increasing podiatry skills to return them to their delicate tip top condition. Once smooth, Mistress likes her special foot lotion massaged into her feet to finish the process, 'not between the toes, slave’. A comment which I had remembered from my previous pedicure duties.

Mistress insisted I should not get foot lotion on my latex gloves and instructed me to don a pair of the Clinic's black disposable ones before applying the cream. I've never used these gloves before and struggled to stretch them sufficiently to fit my hands, but what a pleasant sensation. Once I snapped them into place they actually sealed not only my latex covered hands but also part way up the sleeve of the suit. More latex, I was loving these new gloves, but of course as soon as the foot massage was done I had to discard them, to prevent covering everything else in cream while Mistress was continuing her planned session in comfort.

With the foot treatment successfully concluded it was my turn on the couch, with my legs wide apart. I knew we were about to test not only the new dildo harness but the stretchiness and openness of my bottom, because Maggie was wearing the black Clinic gloves now and already doing a good job of making sure my opening was well lubricated. I was strapped down, not that I wanted to get away, but more of a symbolic reminder of Mistress’ authority and grandeur, before receiving the most thorough pegging I have ever received.

On at least two occasions I thought Mistress was going to allow her slave some relief, but as I have been taught, I advised my owner that . . . I think I am going to cum! . . and on both occasions an immediate stop and a plaintive frustrated voice from her frustrated slave . . . No, I am not cumming Mistress. Maggie adjusted the couch slightly to alter the angle of attack and slid her glass rod inside my eager bottom for a second pegging; fast and furious and face to face with my Mistress. Unfortunately, or perhaps very fortunate in view of how close I was to involuntary melt down, Mistress stopped, stood back admiring her handiwork and commented with a grin. ‘What a massive hole you have now slave’ and promptly sealed the opening with my butt plug and we moved back to the Playroom.

Things quickly began hotting up and I became a lot more rubbery. I was guided into a second rubber skin, by way of the all enclosing rubber bondage sack and strapped in place. Mistress helped me on to the Throne which she had carefully positioned under the overhead gantry, a roll of rubber bandages emerged from behind the Playroom blinds and she used them with very good effect to bind me to the chair.

Now to that illusive prototype that I had been so looking forward to trialling. I must admit to looking a little strange for about ten minutes as Maggie proudly fitted her mask on me for its initial testing. A helmet with two giant tusks and a drinking tube that I was told to grab between my teeth. Maggie braced herself, presumably for what she anticipated to be a tricky fitting, however, on the count of three it was pulled over the top of my existing hood and successfully went on at first attempt, completely sealing my face inside. What an incredible feeling to have the tight mask completely engulf me in yet more rubber.

I now knew why Mistress had permanently attached my zip on hood at the start and didn't remove it; no unruly moist hair to deal with, just a splash of talc, a little tug and it was on.

Satisfied with the tight fit and ease of putting it on Mistress explained how she planned to develop the masks potential; full breath control, ability to drink, and from that I assumed prolonged wearing of the mask. Mistress does enjoy being in full control of the minions in her charge, especially rubber ones, and I could see why she was excited with the prototype. Naturally there remained work to do, but I was lucky enough to be allowed to inhale a blast of aroma through one of the tusks before I saw the hood removed and consigned out of harms way for further development.

I was already quite hot in my two layers of rubber, moreso with the headrushing aromas, they made me feel intensely warm all over and I was truly relaxed as I sat there wobbling on my rubber stuffed ass watching Mistress set up her enema equipment on the overhead gantry. Well, she isn't really going to give me an enema, I thought. Two layers of latex and me plugged securely would make that rather difficult even for my very inventive owner. Instead, Mistress casually dropped her trousers, stood right in front of me and filled a waiting jug with her nectar. Not a drop spilt (thank goodness) and a big smile behind my mask. Ahh - that's what the enema bag is for, and in my haze I could already imagine having my mouth filled with the warm golden nectar.

Sometimes slaves do get what they desire. Maggie strapped a breathe through gag into my mouth before pouring her fluids into the enema bag above me, the contents were soon running down the tube directly into my waiting mouth. In future, the drinking tube in the tusker may be used, but in the meantime the traditional gag would suffice for alternating my little drinks of nectar with little sniffs of the aroma. I got the impression that Mistress thought I was enjoying the process far too much, she opted to add a rebreather bag to make life more entertaining for herself and stressful for her slave.

I am no longer a novice to rebreathing and knew from previous experience to take long, slow breaths to get a very limited intake of fresh air through the base of the rebreather. Exhaling as much as you can forces a small amount of stale air from the bag and when you inhale a small amount of clean air is drawn in.

Mistress didn't help my concentration by adjusting the aromas, opening the drinking tube and just generally teasing her latex plaything. I managed to breath well though and more importantly I managed to finish my drink. All in all I reflected on another wonderful experience in rubber with my rubber Mistress.

With the addition of a blindfold Maggie maintained the rebreather for a little while longer. I sat and concentrated on the deep breath in, deep breath out routine until Maggie finally decided that I had received enough controlled breathing for the day, I was released from the rubber bandages, blindfold removed and eased carefully onto the latex bed to be covered in one of those very nice, very thick and totally opaque black rubber sheets for a little quiet reflection time.

I hadn't had this little luxury for a while and as I lay there in my own quiet rubber world I thought about the prospect of wearing the tusk helmet for extended periods and how exciting that might be. I thought about the rubber helmet that I had been wearing almost from the start of the session and how nice it felt to be permanently fully rubbered. I tried to wiggle my butt plug but it wouldn't budge, so I thought about watching my Mistress ramming the glass dildo rapidly in and out, but mainly I thought of Mistress Maggie and how fortunate I had been to be accepted for training almost six years ago.

I suspect I will see a lot more of the Tusk helmet once the improvements are complete, and I suspect that the comfortable latex hood and my head may become inseparable during many future training sessions, as nicely demonstrated today it made applying and removing hoods and helmets far easier for my Mistress.

Damn those Beautiful Eyes

It was oppressively hot; the summer solstice; the hottest day of the year so far. I hadn't seen my owner for three weeks and five days and flowers were the order of the day. And so I arrived, shirt sleeves and no coat despite the slight threat of thunder, but I knew there was definitely going to be a thunder storm in the Chambers because of my previously identified poor shaving. The door was opened by a vision in gold. Mistress appears a young 38, or at a pinch 40, yet on one of her profiles I thought I had read she was 50+. I know Mistress Maggie is always right because Rule 6 says Mistress is never wrong, so it is quite obvious that I had made a mistake or somehow misread the literature. She can't be over 50. Along with not making mistakes, Mistress doesn't forget anything either!

I didn't have long enough to admire her immaculately coiffured jet black hair and her radiant beauty, because I was drawn to her gold latex rear as she leashed my slave collar, keeping me on a very short rein as we ascended to the Playroom. Her face wasn't alone in radiating warmth. Try as I know I should, I couldn't prevent my nose occasionally brushing those wonderfully smooth, golden orbs, feeling her warmth and smelling that perfume that only latex can generate.

Red guiche, red plug and red arse!

A quick-change visit to the bathroom had me hooded and worshipping her black high heels just as Mistress likes; long, slow, wet licks along both shoes. I was trying to make my worship last as long as I could, hoping to distract Mistress from what I knew was coming! As I said, Mistress doesn't forget and true to her word my shaving infraction was next on her agenda.

I was taken on a walk on my lead, several times round the playroom while Mistress explained what I should expect. At least I remembered how to 'walk' to heel, close to Mistresses thigh so she can control her pet, interspersed with the odd crack from her butterfly shaped crop. Maggie explained that I wouldn't be getting a set number of lashes, nor would I receive my beating with a set implement, but instead I would receive a good lathering applied in a random fashion - just like my shaving!

And so it was that I was secured over the high horse and received the most severe beating that I have ever experienced. On quite a few occasions Mistress paused saying 'straighten up slave' and beating me some more. I lost count of how many strokes and with what implement, it did draw tears as I bucked and jerked on the horse and have to admit that I virtually lost it with the amount of pain radiating from my bottom. Mistress explained I had received random strokes with; studded paddle, beach shoe, a two finger tawse, a thick double leather strap finishing with the Delrin cane. I survived - just, but I need to apologise to Maggie for being such a wimp during my chastisement.

Who's a bright spark now?

Did I mention that it was the hottest day so far? Well my backside ended up considerably hotter and I was sweating like the proverbial oink. Whether it was the profuse sweating, the lube up my bumhole or just its wonderful flexibility, but I was soon feeling my new, ribbed, red, flexible butt plug being easily inserted where the sun don’t shine.

After a few moments to recover and with the help of a little talc, Maggie had me easily inserted in my heavyweight black rubber catsuit as well, and I was soon on the latex sheets with wrists chained to the bed ready for Mistress to continue her plan.

I was exhausted after my beating and could barely raise my head from the soft latex pillow, but I could just see Maggie doing this and that, retrieving equipment from here or there then I got a clear vision of her standing level with my exposed cock and balls and drizzling some delightfully cool liquid from a small bottle. What a wonderful Mistress I thought, on the hottest day she is cooling her slave and massaging that coolant all around the base of my shaft and balls. I have said I am owned by the perfect Mistress.

After a little firmer manipulation I realised Mistress was doing a little more than just cooling her property, and although I couldn't see the results this picture never lies. The cooling lubricant was obviously electro-conducting gel to ensure I was a good conductor for the electro chastity cage. Yes - YESSSS Mistress I am definitely getting a response!

Hot and happy.

'Today slave you are going to be my rubber play toy’. . . off came my working mask and on went the heavier, tighter system mask, which certainly helped with my transformation. I lay there manacled and enjoying the situation immensely, apart from when Mistress used her remote control to vary the electronics, that made me enjoy the situation far too much and I groaned a request to Maggie, may I cum?

‘Of course not, you are my play toy’, and off went the electrics for a while leaving a most frustrated slave. I lay there perspiring but very happy. I could hear and get occasional glances of Mistress preparing the bondage Plank and placing the heavy leather sleep sack on top of it. Once ready I was instructed to ease myself onto the Plank, distribute my vast bulk evenly along it and shuffle until I was comfortably inside the sack.

Quiet, you fool!

To say it was warm inside was somewhat of an understatement, but I think I could still manage to drop off to sleep if allowed. No chance. A quick, heavy burst of the electrics every now and then accompanied by whiffs of aromas, applied using the feeding cup up one nostril method, guaranteed I remained wide awake.

You may have gathered that I have a tendency to talk too much and dare I say, waffle a little. I can't help it when I am in my owners company. Mistress knows that I waffle and shortly after I suggested that she cannot possibly be 50, Mistress used another of the system masks’ components to shut me up, but only after she had laughingly asked if I would like to accompany her when she goes to have her birth certificate altered. I love her sense of humour.

I gazed up at Maggie, who by now had brought her high stool to the head of the plank, she sat with her headphones on enjoying some music on her iPod, she swayed rhythmically and very evocatively, letting out a big smile each time she sent another electric blast into my cock cage and up my cock shaft.

This went on for some time before she casually slid down her crotch zip and started caressing herself, inches from my eyes. I looked longingly at my Mistress knowing that was definitely forbidden territory for a simple slave and then gazed into her eyes that were dreamily half closed as she continued to finger her pussy. Those eyes have helped captivate this slave and countless other lucky men. You could just drown in their unfathomable depths.

Enough! At last Mistress stepped down from her stool, re-zipped and seated herself comfortably on a very eager face. By now I was acutely aware that I was swimming inside the sleep sack but Maggie was also aware of the situation and had been plying me with regular sips of water through a rubber straw, not as good as the real McCoy but very welcome all the same. I needn't have fretted, Mistress was to treat me to some proper fluid intake and donned her piss-pants.

Another pillow to assist with my drinking position, another inflatable system gag but this time with a drinking tube attached, and I was about to receive my much sought after infusion from a very full piss reservoir. Not all at once. Mistress knows my limitations and turns her flow tap on and off to provide me with a couple of gulps at a time, as I suck to receive the most welcome drink you could imagine. A little warm if I am honest, but wow, a superb vintage. I have to admit that there was so much available and although in a reasonable drinking position, I could not consume all my wine and Mistress ended up having to waste part of her outpouring. ‘Pity, as I have a particularly full bladder today’ she said. She certainly did and I am certain that when I am in a more upright position, I would not waste even one drop.

Mistress had said I was to be her rubber play toy, however, when she removed the electric chastity device from me I detected a note of disdain, obviously brought on by the sight of the horrible shrunken thing that fell out of it. Maggie said that a vac pump would be an appropriate thing to use on it, an 'encourager' to draw a little size back into her pathetic cock. Mmm, perhaps I might finally be allowed some relief from all my pent up tension?

No chance. Mistress was not going to permit any orgasms. She lubed the area to get a good airtight seal and pumped up the cock and kept pumping ‘. . . even if it’s going hurt, because big cocks are more fun to play with.’ Five minutes later, still pump, pump, pump. . .

It didn't hurt but I was still throbbing with pent up frustration. I know I should not think of my owner Mistress Maggie in such terms but I cannot help myself even after years of training, that I find her stunningly attractive. At least I can withhold an orgasm now. . .

Er. Until I got home of course!

The Sin Of Omission

The sin of omission carries with it the same penalty as actually committing the sin. Either way, Mistress Maggie had found out that I had deceived her during my last session, by letting the air out of the inflatable gag she had strapped on me without her consent. Maggie had made the decision to reprimand her slave; touching Mistresses property is not a slaves prerogative and asking her permission is always the right thing to do. When Mistress asked me the direct question ‘Did you let your gag down?’ I had to confess as I could not lie, and I fully deserved the 10 cane strokes that she prescribed for my stupidity. 

Mistress had greeted me at the door to the Chambers in head to toe tight fitting latex and the longest pair of black patent boots I had ever seen, stopping only a couple of centimetres short of her rather perfect latex covered derrière. I, for my part, had got into the latex spirit and was attired in my latex tee-shirt and shorts underneath my street clothes and, for the first time a pair of black latex gloves. Wearing the latex gloves as I walked down the street actually had me feeling rather daring, but I needn’t have been concerned, it was cold and raining and perfectly natural weather to be wearing shiny gloves. Mistress didn’t believe my luxury latex was suitable attire for a slave who deserved her cane and that a bare ass was more apt. I was sent to the bathroom with instruction to strip down, to return in only socks, gloves and collar.

Once again I was bent low presenting myself before my Mistress, awaiting the signal to put my tongue on her boot. I can only say that my obligatory footwear worship was a little overshadowed by Mistress announcing that worship would be in two parts, with the punishment that I had earned being sandwiched in-between. I put that behind me and set to work on those very long, very shiny and very tasty boots but that was only a short two minute taster, a quick lick and then over Maggie's knee for a suitable 'warm up'. It is a wonderful sensation being naked, face down, over Mistresses latex covered thighs, having your arse warmed up through spanking; the flat of her hand beating down on my ass cheeks followed by the same with her rubber soled slipper. By the time Maggie had completed the warm-up I was starting to feel that characteristic ache and warmth across my buttocks, pleased also that I had endured the lengthy spanking as a prerequisite to the caning, and oh that secret feeling of pleasure derived from being so close to Mistress - and naked to boot!

Out came the whipping horse and I was strapped down lengthways along it. Mistress had taken delivery of my new butt-plug, and with me nicely secured in the perfect uncompromising position she was keen to try it for size. ‘OK slave, lets find out which is more uncomfortable, the cane or the plug. Oh yes, and you can wear the gag that got you into trouble and you will be drugged so you cannot argue’. The plug is red and BIG!

A rubber hood was zipped on my head and the aroma inhaler system was wheeled into the room, when Maggie placed the anaesthetic mask over my nose I was to take several whiffs of the fresh aroma. Lots and lots of lube, but try as we might the little red bugger was just a bit big. Maggie wasn't going to force it and an intermediate plug was used as a stopgap. The 'big red' was put to one side until my anal muscles are ready to accept its girth; not long I hope.

The offending inflatable gag was now filling up my mouth and Maggie picking up her cane. ‘Ten strokes with a senior cane for you’, she announced. There was no way I could meddle with the gag this time; Mistress had it installed as it ought to be - in a place and fashion that pleased HER as I took the ten punishing strokes. Each time the cane came down I thought hard that I deserved the stripe and that helped steel my resolve. 

Mistress was in teaching mode and insisted my bad spelling should be improved before I could be released from the horse. My gag was removed though, so I could be clearly heard practising the words I frequently get wrong. The spelling lesson was reinforced by some nice thwacks with the rubber soled slipper, as a gentle reminder that: 'waist’ is the rather large girth at my midriff and 'waste' represents items that are no longer required; today is not hyphenated to become to-day, and I am a slave not a salve. I think I can spell these now and hope Maggie was satisfied with the way I willingly accepted all of her corrective measures.

It is best to learn quick. Five years ago it took two lessons for me to learn to spell apologise, the consequences were very painful. I shall never forget the lesson: Only one ‘p’ in apologise.

Reminder to self: Make sure the crotch zip of the catsuit is closed.

In my eagerness to don my 0.8mm armoured rubber catsuit, to provide at least some protection from any further bum stripes, I was in the suit like the proverbial rat up a drainpipe. Unfortunately, when it came to closing the zip my new guiche acted as a bit of an obstacle, try as I might I could not zip up past my exposed cock and balls. No good, I had to concede and just like a baby had to beg Maggie to help me get dressed. More proof that a poor slave needs an exceptional Mistress to keep them in order. Anyway, next time, zip closed before insertion!

Once safely installed, I did get to complete the worship of those beautiful boots, and lots of it. It took a long time to cover both boots with licks and kisses as Maggie changed her pose to allow me full access to their full length, sometimes she was sitting and sometimes standing and giving me directions so that no part of her boots was untouched. Long slow licks and kisses all the way to the top of Mistresses thigh-high boots and back down the other side. Strangely, I couldn't feel the ten stripes I had taken earlier; attending to my boot tasks I had given me much more important things to concentrate on. Those thigh boots are exquisite. . .

It couldn't last and Mistress wanted some fun party games, after all, Christmas was approaching fast and what is a good party without a game of forfeit; you get a treat provided you are willing to pay the price.

Long white Playroom ropes tied my ankles and wrists, I could hop around and move my wrists but, ropes tied by an expert can be comfy yet 100% secure, and Mistress is an expert! The relative freedom wasn't to last, the novel application of the spreader bar really limited my movement, to a point where I could only struggle around on the Playroom rug. Maggie generously provided her slave with a leather muzzle which she anchored to the iron spreader, along with my wrists and ankles. Ah Christmas, once more trussed up like a turkey. Where would any slave worth his (considerable) weight be without a perfect Mistress ready to play forfeit.

The prize.’You will have my permission to worship your latex Mistress and all her curves - would you like to do that? There will be forfeits!  No brainer. The chance to worship Mistress, latex and all, even trussed as I was, I would forfeit anything for my Mistress.

Of course I had to take the punishment before the prize. The first prize and forfeit; nipple clamps in exchange for bottom worship. Fair enough and agreed despite the fact the clamps were little bastards. I am sure Mistress obtains the most innocuous yet most evil clamps for her slave, and doesn’t hurry to take them off when I have completed my part of the bargain. I even managed to struggle into a semi-seated position to help my Mistress fulfil her part of the game. Oh the things I do to help my Mistress.

‘No doubt you would love to worship my latex breasts slave, but are you prepared for the costs?’  Mistress has the most superb physique and when she is tightly enclosed in latex it adds that little flavour to die for. ‘Yes please Mistress. No matter what costs. . .’ 

I thought it strange that Mistress announced a slight delay as she disappeared to bring some sterile shoes? Moments later she was seated beside me putting her high heels on and telling me my next forfeit. ‘You must have your little cock invaded before you can worship my breasts’. Oh well, by this time my latex hood had slithered round and I was almost blind. If Mistress gets turned on by wearing high-heels whilst stuffing her cock with something rather nice, who am I to complain? One thing is for certain, the feeling of a long hard object entering your cock and bossing it about is not a sensation that warrants a complaint, well not for this slave anyway. 

It was only afterwards when I saw this photo that I really appreciated what had actually been inserted into Maggie's cock. It adds a new meaning to being 'stuck with a stiletto'! but it’s a good job the Cuban heeled boots stayed firmly in the cupboard!

The third and final prize was latex thigh worship. By this time my head was nodding agreement to anything Mistress declared as the forfeit. It started out well with a pair of Mistresses tights stretched over my head. I could swear I could detect essence of Mistress as the gusset snuggled in place over my mouth and nose. Hmmm. ‘I am going to immobilise your head with gaffer tape. Blue tape alright slave?’ Blue tape it was and blue gaffer came out from behind the curtain. It produces a really strange sound as the tight tape zips across your ears, a really LOUD tearing sound as the tape unrolls. On, on, on it went. A strip here, another strip there, gentle, smoothing hands every now and then to produce a smooth finished head and then. . . bollocks. The taping was so effective, I couldn't move my head. How the hell was I to worship Mistresses thighs.

In fairness to Mistress she did try and fulfil her part of the game. She straddled me from the rear and wrapped her legs around my neck where I could certainly feel the warmth of her thighs. She even approached my taped head from the front and if I hadn't been so immobilized I’m sure I would have received my prize. I mentioned the problem to Maggie and that I thought it a little unfair when I was finally cut out and . . .  she laughed and laughed!

My mouth was doing a fine job of getting me into trouble today, only an ungrateful slave would make such a stupid comment about fairness. Mistress reminded me that she had kindly left my hands available to caress her latex clad thighs, and if she’d known that I was not going to use them properly she would have wrapped those up in blue tape as well. Quite obviously I needed my mouth rinsing out.

The toilet box was duly manoeuvred into the centre of the room. ‘Head in the tank. Face up slave’ and my neck was fitted into the neck hole. When the seat was closed I had time to contemplate just how lucky a slave I was. I heard zips and Mistress took her place on the toilet, she was in her thigh high boots again and pressing her heels into my nipples. Ahh, the pain!! A pain which reliably makes her slave open his mouth. ’Nice and wide and keep it open’.

Mistress opened the floodgates and all her piss was streaming down on my face, but her crotch zip provided only a narrow gap for her nectar to flow through and it was squirting in all directions, onto my face, in my eyes and well everywhere. I was told in no uncertain terms not to be such a useless slave and catch the valuable fluids like a regular toilet. A few adjustments to the zips and once again Mistress was nicely seated, with her menacing boots operating my mouth buttons again. A much steadier stream was directed into my eager mouth this time. I definitely had a very good rinsing and my thirst quenched with her tasty golden shower.

Mistress was a little pissed off with her ungainly slave and insisted that I clean up the mess that I had allowed to accumulate inside the Toilet Box. And finally, I think I did something right. I sucked, slurped and licked up every last drop of nectar that had settled behind my head. Mind you I had to take a fair beating with a riding crop while I was doing it. I even waited for the last few drops to drip from my saturated scalp and once I was confident that my drinking and cleaning was complete, I sat up with a satisfied and very satiated smile on my face.

In the mail accompanying the blog pictures I was really pleased to read the following comment from Maggie  ‘. . . slave was a useless toilet but surprisingly did a great job of sucking up every drop . . .’

I was encouraged to shower afterwards and although I really enjoy being covered in Mistress Maggie’s fluids, it was wise not to return home wearing her special scent.

It was unreal for me to expect the prize of latex thigh worship, after all a slave is there to serve and provide enjoyment; but I can dream. And I did get a delicious mince pie because it is December. A bit of a tradition developing here I think.