A Load of Little B's

I had barely started to close the door to the Chambers when Mistress Maggie's experienced hand reached out and in an instant had a leash clipped onto my slave collar. Her insistent tugging allowed just sufficient time and freedom to remove my shoes and coat and leave them tidily in the hallway, I was then close reined and tugged upstairs towards the Playroom.

Was it my imagination or was Mistress purposely drawing me even closer to her golden latex covered bottom? When she abruptly stopped well. . . I didn’t, causing my face to be nestled into her right cheek. I think that temporary pause on the stairs was of her own design, otherwise I would have earned a stout telling off. Being allowed to kiss and fawn over the most beautiful latex covered globes I could imagine so soon after arriving is a most rare thing, and an opportunity I keenly grasped.

My plum latex catsuit was laid out on the bed as Maggie had decided it would be my uniform for the day. I was dispatched to the bathroom to return in just stockings and gloves. Oh, and of course my slave collar which by now had been released from my lead. It never takes long to cast aside my outdoor clothes, I talc the gloves and socks, slip them on and report back to the Playroom clutching my butt plug which I must present to Mistress. I was soon knocking on the Playroom door for the 149th time, butt plug in hand, waiting to be ordered inside by my owner.

Mistress was comfortably seated on her throne, or come to think of it she may have been less comfortable than usual as the chair had lost its regal covering. Anyway it was strangely located in the middle of the room facing the door, providing me with a full frontal view of my beautiful owner as I entered.

Kneeling down I was ready and very willing to worship those long black boots. When left to my own devices I usually complete one boot before moving onto the second, but Maggie wanted a different technique today that got my head moving in a military march like fashion; left boot, right boot then immediately back to the left, then to the right, lick kiss and worship . . .  and on it progressed, all the while accompanied by a similar military tattoo across my backside with a tan leather whip. Maggie placed her strokes with sufficient force to maintain my attention rather but they didn't qualify as a real punishment flogging. Once the boots were polished to Maggie's satisfaction it was into my catsuit, bend over the throne for the very rapid and most pleasurable insertion of the butt plug and we were ready to proceed to the real meat of today's training.

Then a bombshell. Mistress calmly looked me in the eye and gave me a right bollocking for failing to proofread a recently published blog. The formatting was poor, sentences not finished, words missed etc. ‘Why did I have to rectify more than a dozen of your mistakes slave?’ It was no use trying to give excuses, I could only apologise sincerely for my slovenliness and for bringing Mistresses reputation into disrepute by her owning an absolutely stupid and careless slave. I expected punishment and feared the worst.

Mistress then soothingly said, ‘don't worry slave I am not going to cane you this time’. Imagine the relief, I was to be spared the cane and again I promised that I would try much harder. At the time that single act of kindness carried far more weight than receiving the cane. I was quite happy to relax secure in the knowledge that a caning was not imminent, relaxed at being ordered to lie on the bed and be secured there by my benevolent Mistress and I was even relaxed as Maggie produced a card containing small metal clamps and started applying them to my cock and balls.

The first couple went on fine; Maggie carefully positioning them. A little discomfort was felt as she shook and stretched my cock to make sure the clamps were secured as well as her slave, but comfort levels quickly vanished as more of her clamps were applied. Mistress had obviously foreseen the reaction her clamps would have on my pain levels and had sensibly put a breathe through gag into my mouth to stifle any moans that might be forced out.

Things then definitely took a turn for the worse. I wasn't going to receive the cane but Mistress was going to attach her electrics box in the same haphazard way that I had approached my Blog writing. 'Maybe one wire attached to the top here', and I felt the top clip wobble as the electrode was clipped in place, then 'maybe one on your balls at the bottom'. An ominous twitching tremor ran along my cock and balls as the second electrode was clicked in place, and then another pair were attached to the sides, just for fun.

Almost my view in the mirror.

As Mistress ramped up the power I could feel now why I wasn't receiving the cane for punishment. As the setting went up and down it felt like a circular electric shock all round my groin area. Mistress laughed as I started to shake and I think I was also starting to cry. These little B's were really starting to bite, the electrics were becoming unbearable and I was really grateful for the gag. I was dribbling like mad as the little buggers bit my cock, spat out the current and genuinely really hurt.

And then, just as Mistress gauged I had received sufficient punishment and was starting to gradually reduce the input levels I really couldn't help myself. With the raging torment still running through those menacing clamps . . . I think I was forced to climax! I say think because the overall sense was one of painful cock and balls, but I also felt that familiar warmth of ejaculation. Mistress showed no solace when she removed the little b******s either, preferring to pull on each one until it became detached rather than unclip it. She quipped that these Chinese clamps were a bit rough round the edges, but I think they were probably made by Nippon because that was exactly what the clamps did!

Why I wasn't sure if I’d just embarrassed myself was because, although my cock had deflated, I still wanted more. More of my Mistress, more training, just more of my little slot in heaven, I wasn't tired, which is a typical male reaction after orgasm and I begged Maggie to continue with the session.

Released from the bed bondage Mistress allowed me the luxury of a little recovery time by presenting her derrière for some much appreciated worship. I know Maggie likes to have her rubber bottom gently stroked with a latex covered hand, and she certainly deserves to have her cheeks kissed and licked as well. One thing I find is that once kissed and licked latex becomes less 'smooth' and less easy to gently stroke; a slave needs a sensible strategy to accomplish both. No problem. Lick and kiss one cheek and stroke the other. When my drool had had time to dry I could change cheeks and continue my worship. I am really delighted Mistress allowed this brief recovery time as far more 'relaxing' experiences were to follow.

I was soon captured in the tight embrace of Mistresses leather straitjacket and a chest harness was buckled on over the top. The straitjacket is a particularly wonderful garment especially when worn over all my latex. You just slide your arms easily into its overlong mittened sleeves, and once strapped in and tightened up you can forget any thoughts of getting out on your own.

It was my turn to sit on the wooden bondage chair now and immediately a couple of ropes were lashed round my ankles to prevent me moving from any location. Maggie expended quite a lot of energy tightening straps around me, but the one around my shoulders had been positioned a little high giving me the chance to have a bit of fun. Gentle wriggling and shoulder shrugging when Mistresses back was turned forced it to slipped off my arms and lay loosely round my neck.

I don't know if Maggie realised my part in shuffling the strap off the shoulders (she will do now!), but once it had been noticed it was immediately repositioned under the securing eyes as the photo shows. It certainly wasn't going to slip off again!

I could marvel at the predicament I was so fortunate to be in as the room mirror had been angled in my direction. Though of course, having a tube stuck in your mouth and half a dozen rubber bandages wrapped round your head does somewhat restrict visibility. Visual isolation does heighten the other senses and the occasional touches I received from Maggie felt electric, the latex would move and squeak a little as she stroked my head or my stirring cock area, then it went quiet and I have no concept of how long Mistress kept me in isolation, I really was enjoying my dreams and I did notice that my previously deflated cock was making its presence felt as I thought of Mistress in her gold latex suit, her wonderful sense of humour and ravishing beauty, and I was generally quite 'hard' again.

When the bandages were finally stripped away I was to have the luxury of wearing the Belgium mask again, which meant I could gaze at my beautiful Mistress as she went about her business. But not before indulging in a second bit of fun though, and a kind that Maggie noticed more quickly.

She was standing right in front of me unwinding the last of the rubber bandages, me still breathing away through the tube gag. I discovered that if you wiggle the end of the tube with a few dextrous head movements you can manoeuvrer the end of the tube then suck hard enough a slave can attach himself to his rubber Mistress and draw her in closer! I used this technique and managed to latch onto Maggie’s breast but my tomfoolery was taken in good humour. I was in heaven again and I think I saw a glint in Maggie's eyes.

And so to the final part of my breathing exercises, with my formal introduction to Mistress Maggie's portable breathing bottle, it was safely secured on my back with a harness and attached to the Belgium mask with a hose. The bottle is a remarkable piece of equipment and one that a slave could wear for a long time whilst performing normal slave duties. The wooden throne needed some minor modification in order to accommodate the back pack, simply achieved by removing two slats from the back, something I had not seen done before. Two and a bit jugfuls of tap water were brought through and loaded into the bubble bottle so the tank was full, and I was off bubbling like a Leaky Cauldron. I did mention that I prefer Mistresses nectar, but even with her extra special capacity I think two jugfuls may have extended even Maggie's capabilities.

Clearly enjoying the bubble sounds and attempting to convert them into 'music' was not sufficient for Maggie. After a while she wanted to upset my breathing by judicious application of her electric vibrator. She backed on to me and started with the vibrator, pressing it into my crotch. Then little by little she opened her crotch zip and instead of wasting time on her slave she diverted attention to herself. Sat as I was in front of the mirror, I had the most glorious view of my Mistress as she enjoyed the vibes. Her eyes partially closed, she sank deeper onto my knee and so it continued until my leg felt the flow of warm fluid and Mistress sounded particularly happy. I, in turn almost came for the second time in one session. I was certainly rock hard again when Mistress came down from her high, giving me that very sweet smile that only she can generate and offering me a very moist vibrator to suck on.

What a privilege to clean Mistresses used vibrator and that was that. I was so happy Mistress Maggie had appeared to enjoy herself and not for the first time her slave was left a little frustrated. As in every session there are first experiences aplenty. The portable bubble bottle, the removable back of the throne, a very beautiful woman pleasuring herself on her slaves knee and of course, being milked by a load of little B's with a couple of thousand volts. Life is never dull and always exciting when you commit to being one of the slaves of a wonderful and imaginative Mistress.

The treatment worked by the way. I was way more careful in my next writings.

Caution: This 1:56sec bubble bottle clip has audio

 

A Slight Change of Plan

Mistress Maggie had given her clearest steer yet in the calling mail as to what was going to happen to her slave during this session.

'Your rubber Mistress has plans to escalate your training in order to harness the best performances from her slave.'

Not so much of a riddle this time and unusually I was able to interpret her words quite simply. I was to be placed in that stout body harness and hoisted off the ground to be hung like a side of beef and used by Mistress. I had had all night to imagine myself in this predicament and was quite ready for the experience as I rang the bell to the Chambers.

But first, the preliminaries. There are occasionally preliminaries and today Mistress wanted to discuss two things with me before I could engage in the obligatory worship of her footwear and the training ‘proper’.

The first needed me to have a steady hand to take a couple of photographs for Mistresses blog. Maggie wanted a photo of her modelling her satin bondage mitts and I found my hands shaking as I had to strap my Mistress inescapably into the mitts, fortunately I have had too much excellent training to even contemplate anything other than doing the job in hand, and a very good job with excellent results even though I say so myself.

The second preliminary was to recount my feelings and to let Mistress know of any side effects I had noticed following my previous session, when Mistress had performed my first bladder washout. No aches or pains; yes I could have taken more; yes it would have been interesting if the bladder was being filled from the top as well . . . er? - perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned that judging by the big grin it put on Maggie’s face. Perhaps I should learn to keep quiet and not open my big mouth unless instructed!

After these two extra taskettes I was ordered onto the floor on my back to clean Maggie's boots and also for Mistress to indulge in a little nipple teasing with her long stiletto heeled boots. For those who have not had the privilege of having spiky heels driven into their nipples, it can be truly excruciating. However, I was luckily placated by being allowed to wear a pair of her used panties, carefully arranged by Mistress over the parts of my face that were snivelling the most and something I haven’t been allowed for a while.

The panties weren't the only thing Mistress wanted me to wear on my head, once she had stepped down from my chest it was time to check my lungs with a prolonged spell of bagging, that really got me breathing hard on Mistress’ scent which resulted in a happy but breathless slave and a happy Mistress, as she certainly does love her breathplay. Panties and bagging in one go, what a start!

Installation into my catsuit was swift and as for my butt plug, well that went in like the proverbial rodent up a drain pipe. A well-oiled procedure and no awkwardness whatsoever. I knew some floor work was imminent as Mistress passed me the Playroom knee pads and instructed ‘put them on slave’, swiftly followed by a rubber GP-5 mask rigged for self-medication of the attached aroma reservoir.

Today I found the mask incredibly comfortable. After a count of three, the mask was pulled tightly across my face and adjusted until we were both satisfied that it was in the right position. And yes, it was exactly right and I think I could have worn it all day. It was of course helped by the relaxing effects of the aromas, but whatever the reasons I was content with my lot; a GP-5’d slave in my own little rubber world as Mistress ceremonially locked a chain around my ankle and chained me to the Playroom. I say ceremonially because wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away.

Maggie was flogging me at much less than her full power. With the medication, my head firmly on the carpet and music gently playing in the background I must admit to enjoying the experience and as Mistress proceeded, now using her dressage whip across my buttocks she stopped for a moment to say. ‘This whip always brings back fond memories of my fetish club days, because I always took it with me and it was so often needed’. A stout padded crop followed, a nine tailed whip and then a heavy leather flogger. I just relaxed and rode with the gentle stinging and thwacks that were raining down on my lower body.

With my backside and back gently warmed from the flogging Mistress moved the session along and produced the stout leather harness. I was a little surprised as I was expecting the suspension harness, but Maggie indicated that pulley system or not, she had changed her mind about lugging a huge 17 stone slave up towards the Playroom ceiling, so today she would be doing something a little lighter and I would be experiencing a little latex bed bondage.

Her chosen harness keeps the wearer quite rigid when tightly strapped, and before the wrist straps finally immobilized my arms by my side Maggie thought it would be fun if I were to dance a Highland jig and placed two dressage whips in a cross shape on the floor. I was instructed to ‘Dance slave or get the crops again’. It was actually fun and we both laughed as I commented that when my hands were finally strapped to my side I could entertain her with a Michael Flatley style of dancing. I did get my hands strapped in tight but fortunately wasn’t forced into performing an Irish jig. Maggie laughed and it was a delight to hear that sound again.

Lying immobile on the bed, Mistress started to fit me into the system mask. Last time I had difficulty accommodating the tight heavy hood, so on this occasion Maggie took much longer positioning it for the best fit, and not until I’d grunted that the mask was seated comfortably did she move onto the facial part. It never ceases to amaze me how adaptable and accomplished at problem solving my Mistress is. She has made a thin extension section for the front of the hood, an optional extension which allows extra room for slaves, who like me, have been blessed with a rather big nose. I lay there, helpless, sealed inside, just the situation a true rubber slave loves to be in. By now the aromas delivery bulb was out of reach, so once again I found myself safely under the total control of Mistress.

As Mistress played with my cock she told me that she was going to fuck me with her electric sound. A simple conductive loop was used to capture my cock and balls and the urethral electro sound was inserted. The e-stim was raised to level 40, deemed by Maggie to be an 'ideal'! sensation level for her urethral wand, and I can only say that as she worked her magic I was indeed fucked with the electric sound and at last allowed to orgasm. The system mask was far more comfortable on this occasion and I think Maggie was quite pleased that I had managed so long before wimping out.

It was an unexpected journey that Mistress had guided me through today. Not strange physically but more one where Mistress manipulated the expectations of her slave, reinforcing that she can make changes at any time and altering the advertised experience. Maggie had told me exactly what was to happen, suspension, and my mind was anticipating being hung out to dry and it changed into a totally different type of bondage. It is remarkable how Mistress altered the direction that she wanted her slave to travel as the session progressed, and knowing the thoroughness of her planning I would not be at all surprised if this ‘slight change of plan’ was fully planned and scripted. At the end of the day Mistress can and does do whatever she wants with her slave and her rules also apply. Rule 9 – Mistress may change her mind at any time and Rule 15 – The slave must be ready at all times.

Maggie’s unexpected ‘change of mind’ gave an unusual twist to an already excellent training program. The session turned out to be a much gentler one than I had anticipated and that was strangely refreshing, although I suspect it won’t be too long before I am hung up and swaying from her ceiling. And a final tip for any lucky slaves who are offered the use of knee pads, I would suggest making use of them. They can be a little cumbersome when being walked on all fours, but today the pads allowed me to comfortably kneel for a long time during my flogging without my knees causing me trouble. Mistress Maggie thinks of everything.

Friday the 13th!

Today dispelled any antipathy towards Friday 13th by turning out, yet again, to be an excellent day for my training with Mistress Maggie. Maggie looked striking in her black latex catsuit, her heels were so high that she must have been a whole four inches taller than I am used to and she was able to look me straight in the eye as she ushered me in.

We started with the worship of those deliciously tall boots and for the first time I was blindfolded for the task. My whole body and soul concentrated on long slow licks and kisses to the right boot, where some dusting powder had been spilled and I’d been instructed to put the matter right.

After licking off all the powder I was to help Maggie change her boots for something easier to dance in. Maggie said that last week she’d had such a great time dancing and flogging me to the music that she wanted a repeat performance. Once again I was rubbered up in my black catsuit and given a gas mask with the aroma hose so I could puff vapour when required. This led to another sensuously liberating flogging accompanied by some sexy tracks on Maggie's music machine. No shackles this time, just free movement and swinging my ass to the rhythmic thwacks that Mistress delivered to my back and buttocks, the tails of her whip catching my balls and anywhere else Maggie wanted.

Today, I also experienced probably the deepest and most penetrating mounting ever. Again I was allowed to self medicate the strong aromas whilst face down over the mounting horse. Without any restraints I was in a position to glimpse my stunning owner in the Playroom mirror and I watched as Maggie strapped on a large white dildo. Being a little apprehensive about its size I did what any self respecting pervert would do; I allowed myself a few extra puffs to help relax the passage for the impending invasion. The flash of shiny black rubber completely covering my owner contrasting against her beautiful face and huge dildo did nothing to steady my erection, while Maggie parading the monster under the round glass portals of my gas mask only served to exacerbate my anxiety and. . . another puff was called for.

Mistress spent a delightful length of time stroking her lubricant onto her toy. There was no resistance as Mistress gently eased it inside me and set my arse rattling with vibrations, that was a surprise and the first of a few thrills this white monster had to offer. I was really enjoying dancing on this dildo and as I thrust back to meet my Mistress I felt the urge to either pee or cum. Strange, I just couldn't tell which. The phallus was so deeply embedded it may well have been tickling my bladder, or Maggie had just hit my special spot. Of course the only way to be certain is to wear a catheter whilst being mounted. Hmm - I suspect I shouldn't have written that!

Today, after my exceptional rear-ending, my own butt plug slid in remarkably easily and there it stayed, securely zipped inside my heavy weight rubber suit as my arms were forced into leather arm binders, secured behind and I was prepared for a series of treats and tortures. Mistress bagged her slave, literally, as the clear latex sack that Mistress calls her ‘suffo bag’ was teased over my head and tied in place. There must have been air getting in somewhere round the neckband, because although it’s a challenging hood I found that with concentrated slow breathing I didn't suffocate; that really would have been confirmation that Friday 13th should be avoided! Instead, I could just see through the golden haze as Mistress floated, ghostlike, in front, dispensing my next puff of aroma. An aroma soaked pad was introduced under the neck tie and I managed a few really good lungfuls before Mistress removed her hand and resealed my fate. She moved her fingers across my rubber face, stroking my lips and looking through the latex bag as if offering me a kiss, I know a slave should not expect such a pleasure and when I tried my best to reciprocate it was to no avail. Mistress moved backwards leaving me un-kissed and very frustrated.

My bondage predicament was tended to next, becoming more strict as ropes were fixed between my harness and the stout ceiling ring, then Maggie pulled as hard as she could to secure me to the Playroom. I was loving the restraints and I had one hell of an erection by now which had Maggie amused and even more amused when she produced the black rubber apron and tied it round my waist. I couldn’t imagine why I might need an apron, being in such a tied up position it would be hard to do any jobs, but I was quickly re-assured. Maggie patted my cock and balls, ‘to preserve your modesty slave’. Red rag to a bull. She knows I am a rubber fetishist and all that did was increase the size of my now hidden cock.

Today, no problems with the red rebreather hood, probably because my owner had removed my inner helmet. When we tried six weeks ago Maggie had been disappointed with my rebreathing performance and we had proved that using the red rebreather and inner hood is not practical and my breath control training had to be postponed. It was a big relief then, that when I took a deep breath and exhaled the hood ballooned exactly as it should. The rebreather can be rather a dilemma for a slave, especially when Mistress rather provocatively showed off her superb latex covered bottom in front of me, as you have brief limited vision only when exhaling. What a way to worship those beautiful black orbs, in very restricted view for far less then half your life and my hands secured behind to prevent them straying. Mistress knows I love to caress her buttocks; blindfolded, rebreather or any way I can manage, but that was not going to happen either.

Maggie tightened the body harness and securing ropes a little more and I wasn't going anywhere, unlike my earlier taste of freedom when I was over the horse. A cool sensation passed over my chest as Maggie opened my zips and exposed my nipples to the playroom air. She pinched and pulled them hard before deciding to get rid of the sweat that had accumulated on them by drying them off with towel and talc. ‘That will give these clamps a better grip’ she announced. I did manage a small glimpse of the clamps through my breathing holes; large black things, and I was soon taking very deep breaths through my rebreather as Maggie started to screw one of her evil clamps on my left nipple. From where I was kneeling (on knee pads by the way) the nipple was receiving a very tight grip indeed, until the clamp dropped off. ‘OK slave, lets try that again!’

Obviously I could no longer self medicate and I asked Mistress if there was any way to receive a little more dosage. Maggie produced a cotton pad again with a little more aroma and held it just in front of my half dozen rebreather holes. Ah! Worked a treat, I received a heady dose of the strong scent as the clamp was being screwed in place again. It was at this point that I realised I had probably requested one too many puffs of the potent product and, despite being held in a tight grip by one nipple and certainly most firmly by the ropes, I felt myself swaying and perhaps just a little out of control.

Today, I took one puff too many and Mistress, ever vigilant to her slaves condition, recognised the issue before I did. I had been stupid and over eager with my medication and Maggie carefully and calmly removed the red rebreather. I looked forward at my Mistresses glorious all black rear that was so tantalisingly close to my freed face, and I leaned forward in the hope of stealing a closer look at that most glorious of profiles - that's when it really hit me. As I moved forward the strength in my thighs gave way and I sagged into the rope restraints. I was never in any danger, my owner had her property secured. The spreader bar was removed which freed up my arms and legs, she administered oxygen to me from the Playroom emergency bottle before loosening the suspension ropes and gently guided me onto my side. Recovery was swift and within moments I was keen to resume my training, but Maggie insisted I take a little longer to ensure my full recovery.

As I lay there recovering, Mistress was jotting down a few notes about the electro nipple clamps she had attempted to apply on my 'useless nipples’. I suspect those clamps were not used to their full potential today and I have this uneasy feeling that the notes she made will surface for our next session.

Today was a marvellous Friday the 13th. Once the waft of oxygen had fully regenerated my senses, my ankles were bound and my wrists roped up behind me. Maggie then removed my sight once more. This time no immediate breath play, just blinded as Maggie strung me up to the ceiling ring in a noose, then began pulling on her rope to apply some constriction.

They say the concept of hanging induces orgasm, but I think that in this instance it was more to do with Mistress fondling my cock and balls through the chlorinated rubber apron while threatening to throttle me harder if I didn’t cum. As it was I couldn't see but I could certainly feel the knot tighten on a couple of occasions as Maggie encouraged relief. Then all of a sudden my hood was removed and I was presented with the wonderfully mysterious sight of my owner, but not my owner. A figure in a Pierrot mask and black rubber gown had taken her place and had been deciding my fate. Little had I known that I had been hitched to the roof and seductively massaged by a soulless executioner. I tried to gaze into those unfathomable eyes and I tried to steal a kiss. The eyes were black with so much depth and the lips were solid and lifeless. Now that is something surreal for Friday 13th.

Today, I have tried an alternate approach to my blog presentation and formatting but there is no alternative to Mistress Maggie as far as I am concerned. In the words of the song, Simply the Best and as for Friday 13th, bring on the next one. I'll be here.

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.

Castration - Reality or Roleplay?

A year ago I would never have imagined that I’d have reason to write about the relief, thrill and delight I’m feeling at still being able to look forward to Mistress Maggie’s testicle torments; the delights of having my ball sac sewn together, having them stapled into one homogenous blob, or stretched beyond endurance in that over engineered wooden stretcher. Even the thought of powerful electro sensations round my balls, having them stung with potent nettles, or any number of other ball torturing activities that I might have shuddered at in the past will now bring a smile to my face, after so nearly becoming detached from my little spheres.

My sleek latex Mistress.

Mistress had given me a vague glimmer of what I could expect in my calling mail . . . your sleek latex Mistress expects her operations will have you simmering with delight as you are moved from one tight situation to another. . . Well, this slave does appreciate more than a little tightness, especially where latex is concerned, but no doubt Maggie’s reference to a tight situation would likely end up being something far more sinister.

True to her word Mistress greeted me in her sleek outfit of matching teal blue top and hot-pants, her nyloned legs had a light sheen and were on full display making her look as stunning as ever. I was a little breathless when I arrived, early as it turned out, but Mistress was keen to proceed and was half way up the stairs before I’d had time to remove my coat and shoes. Forever thoughtful, she stopped and waited for me to join her, in very close visual contact with her delightful derrière. I tried to explain that the clock in the car was slow and I thought I may be late so had needed to rush to the door of the Chambers. I needn't have bothered, Mistress is never very interested in excuses as her slaves should ensure mistakes never happen.

In the Playroom the normal routines were performed; latex gloves and socks on, everything else off and bend down at the feet of my Mistress ready to perform worship to her black, high heeled shoes. The insertion of my new ribbed butt plug was achieved with relative ease, I must admit that though the plug is a good tight fit, it could not compare with the tighter and potential life changing event which took place later in the session.

I had been entrusted to launder a pair of Maggie’s lace panties and bring them to my session, there was a slight hiccup in the pleasant flow in proceedings when I was asked to hand them over for examination. I have already had one very poor attempt at cleaning Mistresses panties and had suffered the consequences, so I had spent a lot of time carefully hand washing them in non-bio, I’d rinsed them in nice floral scented conditioner and hung them out to dry. I was pleased with the results; not so Mistress. Out came her examination light and after close scrutiny and fiddling with the stuck up corners of a tiny ribbon embellishment, she pronounced that the delicate pink bow on the front had not been ironed! Marks of seven out of ten was all I received, apart from the marks left imprinted across my backside, made by the hairbrush which Maggie admonished her slave with for his poor laundry-ship. I was disappointed with the low marks but of course there is no appeal system as Rule 6 applies: Mistress is never wrong.

With a deep breath and the pull of a zip both myself and my spanked ass were soon snugly fitted in my plum catsuit. Could this be one of the tight situations mentioned in the mail? It certainly felt nice and comfortable and tight to me, but once again my tight suit could not compare with what came later. I think I’ve lost a little weight and while Mistress gave her rubber slave a dust and polish to remove the inevitable excess of dressing talc, she said how delighted she was with how the suit now fitted.

Training was going well so far, I stood and waited for Mistress to rifle through her hood drawer in search of a latex pull on hood with perforation at eyes, and there was a little natural humour as Maggie tried to get the tight hood over my big head. Out came the cleaning towel to dry off my moist hair, and finally after the fourth attempt, a little huffing and the odd puffing the hood was on. A few minor facial adjustments and I could see adequately through the perforated eye holes, which would be the most vision I was allowed until we returned from the Clinic.

What followed marked a distinct step forward in my complete submission and acceptance of Mistresses total authority over her slave. As per the proverb: as you sow, so shall you reap, the consequences of the next part of my training were issues that I had 'wished' upon myself. The first involved my suggestion to use the facial aperture in Maggie’s new Clinic couch as a securing point for a slaves head, not in a conventional face down massage position, but allowing the rear of the slaves head to rest in the opening and be securely strapped down to make any head movement impossible. And boy, did I get the rewards for my suggestion!

The strong clear plastic straps that Mistress has made for the couch are very effective at confining the torso, while the two tan leather straps buckled tight across my forehead and mouth held my head like a vice. For want of a better word, my second ‘reaping’ came as somewhat of a surprise to say the least. A shiny medical instrument in the form of a pair of steel pliers was positioned in front of my perforated eyeholes for me to see.

‘Do you know what these are slave?’ A long time ago I had inadvertently marked a photo of an elastrator as a Flickr favourite. I really am unsure why and quickly decided it best to delete it, knowing how such an instrument could give life changing results in the hands of a sadistic Flickr viewer. Too late, the seeds were sown. Maggie must have spotted my favoured picture and thought about making the idea a reality. ’It’s an elastrator Mistress’, I suggested and her gleeful response was quite a bombshell for me. ‘Yes slave and I am going to use it to castrate you.’ You may find it hard to believe, but in that instant I really had no thoughts other than the promise I had made to Mistress. . . I promise that I will do my best to . . . willingly do whatever Mistress asks, immediately and without question.

De-nutting in progress - Do not Disturb!

Mistress wheeled her steel trolley a little nearer to the operating area and raised the couch to her comfortable working height. She kept referring to my operation, explaining what would be done, how multiple bands would be used to help speed up the process of detaching my balls, warning me that it might hurt and how I’d be gagged if I made a fuss, or screamed with the pain, before announcing that she was ready to begin and the first band was going on now.

It actually didn't hurt but felt quite snug. As extra rings were gradually added, the compression in my ball sac increased, while the area where the castration rings were being deployed gained a tighter feeling. The only bit that was even slightly uncomfortable was when one of Mistresses bands came off the elastrator prematurely, pinged across my balls and ended up somewhere on the Clinic floor, probably where my balls would end up once they dropped off. Oh well, should make for easier tidying up after the op. My cock was kept out of harms way by the clever use of a leather strap, until, one after the other, ten bands had been gently elastrated on to my ball sac. Maggie then patted my balls and indicated that all we had to do was wait. Strangely, as I lay there about to lose my balls, I could still manage a raging erection each time Mistress patted the tight sac and asked me 'Can you still feel that sensation slave?'. It’s clear that the operations Mistress had referred to in her calling mail were tight enough to have my excess body fat bulging out around her restraining straps and provided an even worse tight situation for her slaves manhood.

Maggie praised me for being brave and caressed her rubber patient, then with an air of disappointment in her voice she said that she’d changed her mind and decided not to castrate her slave, for today at least, as she gets far too much enjoyment with putting my nuts into various predicaments and laughing at the results. Hence my opening remarks about welcoming their stitching, electrocuting, nettling etc. I was to be left with a pair of fully functioning balls and each of the ten bands were teased off and consigned to the waste bucket.

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

Mistress may have been performing a very professional role play scenario, but from the moment I was strapped down the whole event seemed very real to me. I thought Maggie really wanted my balls as a trophy and quite frankly, I was in a mind set whereby I was ready to say farewell to them by the time she removed the bands, and desperately hoping that Maggie would still get enjoyment from playing with a de-balled slave.

Simmering with delight.

After the relief of retaining my balls, we moved back to the Playroom where the Throne, the Gas Station and the folding chair were all set out neatly by the window. What I didn't see but definitely noticed was the feeling of my butt plug being removed to be replaced with an inflating, vibrating one. Another of Mistresses little quirks had me witness what 16 pumps looked like before I was bent over the throne to have it stuffed up my royal ass and promptly pumped up to the desired proportions. The vibrator was turned on and set quaking at a magnitude which would cause fracking protestors to palpitate, I was strapped into a tight and heavy leather corset and securely bound to the bondage chair. Unusually my arms were kept free, but Mistress had made sure her restraints were buckled behind me, way out of reach with no quick chance of escape.

My full vision returned when Mistress began attending to my headgear, the Israeli gas mask she fitted on me had nice big eyes and I could watch my owner as she checked the controls on her Gas Station and brought out the breath-play hoses. A familiar noise exploded when Mistress adjusted a tap and I started to bubble my breathing through the liquid filled bottle. I was a little disappointed when the bubble bottle provided essence of tap water and not essence of Mistress; that very heady, exciting, sexy smell that I have grown to love over 5 years exposure to Mistress’ nectar. However, slaves cannot be choosers and the potion Maggie had me breathing through carried the latex smell of the tubes, mixed with the merest hint of clinical chlorine.

To a slave who had so recently thought I was to become Maggie's eunuch, I was absolutely delighted when Mistress said that she'd be joining me in the bubble bottle experience and seated herself on the folding Playroom chair. She donned her own gas mask, an identical model to mine, and attached her breathing hose to the Gas Station. At the turn of a tap, my regular bubbling was joined by the softer, gentler, quieter bubbling of my Mistress. Relaxing now on the carefully positioned chair she casually rested her feet across my lap and we sat there in our latex drinking in the bubbly atmosphere, or ‘simmering with delight’ as Mistress had so accurately put it.

And I realised why the chair and Throne had been so precisely placed. I was able to gently caress and stroke Maggie’s beautiful feet and legs in their shimmering sheer tights for a long time, but the prospect of having my hands surreptitiously stray above her rather nice knees had been removed by Mistress and her cunning bondage. I could only look on and dream about caressing her beautiful thighs. I stayed stroking and caressing her legs and looking adoringly at her superb but definitely out of bounds body for as long as my owner wished, complete with a full set of balls and happy in the knowledge my Mistress might still find an amusing use for her little sphericals. I was a happy and content slave.

I experienced quite a few extremely tight situations today and am so thankful that I left with my balls intact, ready to be toyed or sadistically manipulated by their owner on hopefully many more occasions, and that nagging question of whether it was reality or role play when Mistress Maggie was 'castrating' her slave? Either way, I moved that bit closer to total ownership and acceptance of anything my Mistress wishes to do to her slave.

A very professional role play or a change of heart? That is the nagging question that only time will resolve.

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!

EO 19

No, not an Edinburgh postcode, and maybe a rather strange title for a blog, but it refers to the new Russian Gas mask that we were trying out during the session. For the techies, it is a Russian EO 19, NATO size three with integral filters that makes the wearer look like a Star Wars storm trooper. Anyway, more of that later in what was a most uplifting session.

Through the small semi-opaque portal in Mistress Maggie's front door I was able to glimpse a statuesque lady in what looked like an all black cape, curiosity would be satisfied in the twinkling of an eye or more precisely, the appearance of a latex covered finger round the semi opened door, beckoning me into The Chambers. There, I was greeted by my Mistress in her stunning long black latex coat and once the door had been closed behind me, and still within the confines of the small front porch, I was ordered onto my knees to worship Mistresses boots.

Mistress in EO 19

I followed Mistress upstairs and the view was just as stunning as if she had been wearing her tight latex. Her coat undulating and swishing with her every movement and I know it is not the material that mesmerises this slave, but the person inside. It is a magnificent vision all the same.

In the Playroom, Maggie insisted on trying on the new gas mask; she frequently self-demonstrates her liking for all her equipment, although this mask was a little too large for her delicate features and didn’t provide an airtight seal. Nevertheless, the contrast between the black latex of the coat and the grey of the mask does provide a striking picture. Definitely a storm trooper in this guise. After a number of deep breaths and a positive response to me asking if I could take this photo, I was dispatched to the bathroom to don my latex gloves, stockings and nothing else.

On my return, once again I was on my knees ready to perform my duties at my Mistresses feet, but this time I was instructed under the folds of that gorgeous coat and given authority to worship my Mistresses legs, way beyond the tops of her knee high glossy black boots. The contrast between the cool smoothness of the boots and her warm yet slightly abrasive fishnet tights was amazing and I would have spent hours under these folds, kissing, licking and worshipping Maggie's legs. It is strange the thoughts that enter a slaves head when so close to heaven, but my predicament had me recalling a cartoon I saw many years ago, of a lady idly talking with her friends, whilst out of sight and invisible, her slave looked to be performing similar worship. . .  as I say, strange what springs to mind.

Hooked

I would have loved to have spent longer under Maggie’s rubber coat, but Mistress allows pleasure and pain in pretty equal measures and decided it was time for me to climb into my catsuit and position myself over the the spanking bench, where I was shackled using leather cuffs and chains.

Naturally I couldn't see what was going on at the business end, although I could feel something cold, tight and probably potentially very punishing being attached round my balls. I could also feel something cold and rigid being inserted up my bottom.

I think that perhaps Mistress must secretly be a keen fisherwoman, by the easiness she managed to hook her slave with the giant, stainless steel gaff. Once more, the meticulous planning that Mistress applies to all her sessions was very evident. The line from the hook to the ceiling ring was perfectly vertical; the positioning of the bench obviously comes with years of experience. I could just touch the floor with my shackled hands but effectively all of my 17 stone was evenly distributed through my chest and through the ceiling hook.

My stretched balls are booted

A few turns of the screws had my balls once again heading away for a fishing holiday, whilst a few adjustments to the fishing line had my knees almost off the ground and my whole backside weight bearing down on the hook. Strange as it may seem, I even encouraged that by trying to lift my knees to apply more pressure on the hook. If you've ever thought what a tuna feels like when caught on line, you should try this. Not unpleasant at all. Well it is for the tuna but not for a captivated slave!

There were more terrible things happening in my other vulnerable areas though. Maggie had now caught my balls in her metal device and appeared to be enjoying playing with her catch; the constant tightening of the screws, the occasional twist of the balls as Maggie lovingly remarked how firm her balls had become and rather less lovingly, kicking the poor little blighters, just because she could.

Mistress was satisfied that she had stretched her balls by over 2 inches and allowed them to 'rest' for a while. If you call hanging there, hooked to the ceiling via your backside whilst your balls are heading towards the floor as resting! - Maggie has such a sweet, disarming turn of phrase at the most appropriate times.

Mistress does however have a big heart, and whilst I was 'resting' she unzipped her boots and put them to one side, she sat and relaxed for a while, allowing me to caress and kiss her beautiful toes in their fishnet enclosure. Though I have never been a fisherman, I cannot imagine a better netted catch than those feet and toes. The shackles restricted what I could caress, but after a lot of kissing the foot worship graduated to mouth filling, until I had all five toes dominating the inside of my eager mouth. As the fish hook was eased out of my bum I thank goodness there were no barbs, Mistress then quickly and quietly inserted my butt plug in the vacated hole.

Fishnet devotion

As only occasionally happens, a moment of truly unplanned amusement had spontaneous laughter ringing out in the bathroom. Mistress had clipped a stout neck chain onto my collar and was leading me to the bathroom, to prepare me for wearing the EO 19. As frequently happens, my wonky knees were giving me gyp and Maggie told me to sit down on the toilet seat. The black latex mask I’d been wearing had gathered a lot of sweat, off it came, then my head and neck cleaned, dried and talced.

Once satisfied, a quick yank on the chain indicated me to follow her back to the Playroom. Well, I would have if I could have. Instead, the plug had attached itself to the toilet seat and the suction between seat and plug was greater than the suction between bum and plug. 'Mistress’ I stammered, and as she turned to see what the problem was, there was my black butt plug on the white toilet seat, looking like a swaying tree trunk. Surely Mistress couldn't have planned for me to sit on the closed seat, could she?

Back in the Playroom, I was fitted into the very heavy leather body harness that immobilises your hands and arms down by your sides. I think this has to be the best, most inconspicuous and secure bondage yet. To the unobservant it may look like I am just standing, or lying in a relaxed position, arms to my sides. Nothing could be further from the truth, my arms were tightly strapped and there is no escaping their unyielding, unforgiving clutches.

A blind storm-trooper slave

The EO 19 gas mask came into view and was stretched over my head. It is a really comfortable fit and completely airtight, which is good news for the Russians who had to wear this model. One of Maggie's big rubber blindfolds removed any vision and I was left chained to the bed, with arms strapped to my sides and listening only to my own breathing. Another delightful situation I found myself in, with Maggie again in total charge of my functioning.

Maggie experimented a little to find out the possibilities with her EO19 mask and how best to block the air intakes; those little black vents on the storm-troopers cheeks. As it is a new mask, that sweet, suffocating spot took a while to find, but once she had it right Maggie was like a child with a new toy. What could be used to block the air now then? Firstly, there are two vents requiring  two hands to block the intakes. The mask being totally airtight allowed me to breathe out but no chance of breathing in, the inner mask became clamped tighter and tighter to my face until no air was left, then my Mistress kindly sets me free.

With no air I briefly start to panic, no need of course because what use is a dead slave to the perfect Mistress? I think my next objective is to follow the advice of Lance Corporal Jones and ‘Don’t Panic!', no matter what Mistress does to her slave.

Even so, this breathtaking method with the EO 19 does have some advantages, after all, if Mistress has both hands occupied with my air supply she has no hands left to menace my bollocks! Hmm! I am starting to appreciate this mask.

Inflatable mask and Tower of Pain

Enough enjoyment. Off came the EO 19 to be replaced by the inflatable black rubber hood. I was still pinioned with the body harness and now Mistress only had one breathing hole to contend with. 'I wonder if I can use one of my nice round firm nipples to cover your breath hole?' The answer is a definite yes. Not that I could see anything but my thoughts ran to 'Ahh. Smothered by one of Mistress’ nipples. Way to go!'

Speaking of nipples, I do sometimes regret the perfect design of my heavy latex suit. It makes my own nipples far too accessible and the three way zip makes other body area far too accessible as well. All three zips were opened and all used to 'assist' with my ongoing training. Electrics up bum and round cock, stout sheath attached over cock, a rubber ball stretcher attached and Mistress having more fun playing with my balls again, which by now were tightly displayed and quite sensitive. To cap it all, the Tower Of Pain made another appearance. Funnily enough I hadn’t realised why my nipples were having an out-of-body episode until I saw this photo with the T.O.P bridging my chest, as I was still very pumped up and Maggie to my unending delight, appeared to be having more fun with her slave than many a slave could cope with.

With a tweek tweek here

And a ball crush there.

Here a tweek, there a crush,

Everywhere a pain pain.

Old slave Jo he had some balls, e-ow e-ow oh!

The EO 19 is now a friend and I like how it shows up nicely in the photographs. Mistress Maggie is a good friend and always has shown up very well in all photographs. I liked this session and if you have read this far, I hope you have enjoyed my blog.