Still a Long Way to go

Just when I thought I was becoming adequately trained, at least in the opening ceremony of footwear worship, Mistress Maggie threw in a curved ball to disperse any complacency that may have been building. The moment I entered the door to her Chambers I was put on a lead, and I followed Mistresses glorious latex covered bottom up the stairs to arrive in the Playroom; nothing unusual there, but then Maggie guided me fully clothed to the floor and I was told to start footwear worship immediately. Maggie has a new pair of black shiny boots that go all the way to the middle of her thighs and they were definitely well worshipped by this happy slave.

’Drop your pants and over the chair slave’, where I was told I would receive three thwacks of the trident paddle. ‘To satisfy your curiosity slave’. I had seen this implement in one of Maggie's twitter feeds where she had administered 30+ strokes to a willing recipient. After 3 strokes my backside knew it had been well belted, leaving me with full admiration for the recipient of the 30+ strokes. I would have taken my hat of to him there and then if I had been wearing one.

Just as I was expecting to be sent off to the bathroom to change into my usual session uniform, Maggie threw in another curved ball by instructing me to get undressed and get into my rubber catsuit there in the Playroom, but not until I had received a hard slap on my face. ‘A friend asked me to do that’, smiled Maggie sweetly!

Now that I had been wakened up properly we moved on to the real meat of the session. Mistress told me I had been far too greedy with my consumption of aromas over the last few months, and that I would be sniffing something else today while revisiting the basics of breath play. Whilst I was sitting relaxed on the circular stool enjoying a few quiet moments in the presence of a beautiful woman, Mistress quietly and efficiently set about securing my hands tightly across my stomach. The bindings were so effective that I really couldn't move my hands in any direction and certainly not reach my nipples let alone my face.

With the rope work done, my neck was trapped in the padded stocks, which in turn were firmly attached to the suspension gantry. Some minor height adjustment was completed and I was so comfy that... hold that thought as I heard the familiar rustle of the polythene bag.

Undoubtedly I would end up with my head inside it and I could look forward to a few moments of being once more reliant on Maggie for air. However, this looked a little more serious as the stocks were opened and then closed round the bag, gripping it tightly round my neck. I have to admit I was worried when I heard the lock click in place. It looked like I was about to enjoy some s-e-r-i-o-u-s breath control. I had no escape, I was trapped inside the bag with the air slowly becoming stale.

As I begged for air I gazed at my beautiful captor and my only hope of release, but unusually she did not respond to my pleas, at least not immediately, instead I lost sight of her as she moved round the side of my steamy plastic prison and I did panic a little. Though I was unable to see her, Mistress took a huge lungful of air and blew into one of the two purpose built air vents she had cleverly constructed yesterday. Repeating the life giving infusion several times, I relaxed and accepted that I was totally dependent on my Mistresses second hand air. It is the situation I love as I trust my Mistress implicitly and I hoped she felt that I was worth receiving her air otherwise...

This wasn't just isolated breath control, this was designed to have me totally air dependent for thirty plus minutes. All the while, Maggie teased me by coming so close with her lips just when I needed more puff. Another dilemma, I would love to have been kissed, even through the steamy plastic, but Maggie cleverly left that moment until I was really begging for more air.

After perhaps two dozen life giving infusions Mistress was satisfied that my over indulgence in aromas had been balanced by this prolonged period of basic breath control. Finally I was released from the stocks. At that point I was so utterly and completely devoted to my Mistress, I felt nothing but happiness and totally at peace with my situation.

More basic elements were to be reinforced with our next exercise as Maggie announced that my nipples had also been somewhat neglected along with the breath play.

Fortunately Mistress can be kind to her slaves and now allowed me a few whiffs of aroma, to slightly ease the discomfort before starting on the nipples. My wrists were still pinioned but the aromas started to have the desired effect and Mistress knew I would not complain (well hardly complain) as first the left and then the right nipple were warmed up.

Oh boy, do we need to do more work on my nipples!

Tweezer clamps with a small weighted load were attached to each one, but two minutes later both fell off, it was like deja vu, first the left then the right. Mistress likened my nipples to lumps of lard. The next attempt was to try and secure the clamps behind surgical needles to see if they would stop them sliding off. Nope! - that didn't help and the thought that my nipples were actually made of lard started to concern me. There was only one thing for it, the trusty clover clamps.

These bloody hurt and to reinforce their effectiveness Mistress had me kneel on all fours with the clamps dangling beneath. Mistress was having fun and to enhance my enjoyment a string of four anal beads were rudely and quickly stuffed up my bum.

With the lead reattached, Maggie guided me next door and had me stand to attention with the crop in my mouth as she changed into her piss pants. I couldn't look down but I could hear as Maggie described exactly what she was doing. She certainly seemed pleased about how her piss pants looked with the new thigh boots.

Shortly after, both the clover clamps gave up the ghost and the lard finally shed even these most gripping of clamps. I do have a pair of suction nipple pumps at home and we agreed that I desperately need to practice at least once each week to de-lard the buds.

The last and final part of this session is definitely not remedial training, nor is it a punishment. I consider myself very fortunate that Mistress allows me every opportunity to consume her juices, using many and varied methods she encourages and makes her slave quench his thirst. On this occasion an inflatable, breathe through gag would become my drinking tube, and with the nipple clamps applied again my mouth was agonisingly opened ready to have the gag inserted. Not much use currently as a breath through, but excellent to feed through and Mistress did make sure the nose holes were clear for me to breathe.

I eagerly consumed every offered drop, but the flow seemed to be never ending. I watched as the level in the reservoir went down with each suck on the drinking tube, only to see and hear Mistress let loose another torrent of her precious fluids. There is something really erotic and sexually stimulating to watch and hear your Mistress peeing and then to consume the warm fresh urine. A definite treat.

Meanwhile, at the back of my mind a mischievous plan was being hatched. Once I had completely drained my drink I was hoping to blow back down the tube and inflate the piss pants around Mistress private parts, but had to settle with just licking my lips! I think Mistress knows this slave well enough to read my mind, because the second I heard the final slurp the flow was disconnected and I didn’t have the chance to try and inflate her.

Today, I have been subjected to extended breath play reliant wholly on my Mistresses air, had my nipples clamped and pierced and finally had the luxury of emptying Mistress Maggie's bladder down my throat. It was another truly remarkable session and I know I am owned by the most spectacular and beautiful Mistress I could ever have wished for, but I also know that in my aim to serve her every pleasure and requirement I still have a long road to travel.

Thank you Mistress.

WARNING: This 3min 52 sec breathplay clip has audio.

Oh, I'm an Alien

Oh, I'm an alien, 

I'm a legal alien 

I'm a Yorkshire man in... 

Mistress Maggie's Chambers in Preston.

I know it doesn't fit the Sting song but it was a helluva lot of fun being treated as an alien by Mistress and her attempts to return me to my homeland. All will become clear a little later, but to get today’s session started I needed to acquire a new skill set to help look after Maggie's needs.

Mistress prepared me for my training and a butt plug was quickly fitted, in fact that was a bit unusual as Maggie normally requires me to devote myself to shoe or boot worship before having me bend and receive the plug.

However, the command to worship her red shoes did follow and I was down on my knees once again, moving my tongue vigorously along their shiny leather uppers. The style of the shoes meant there was very little for me to clean, and so it was a relatively quick transition to climb into my working catsuit and be zipped inside a comfortable latex slave hood.

I am not normally required to wear my glasses, but on this occasion I was informed I would be undertaking a pedicure and would obviously need to see properly. With a little thought we decided to slide the temples of my glasses through the eye holes in my latex hood. With perfectly secure and well positioned glasses, Mistress guided me, my glasses and a manicure set towards the clinic.

Arranging herself on the couch Mistress slipped off her latex stockings and put her legs into the stirrups. Pedicuring her feet was pretty easy because Mistress does a fabulous job of looking after them, and I have had the privilege of doing her pedicure on a few occasions already and been trained to know what is required. A tiny bit of work with an emery board and once more they were beautifully smooth and Maggie was satisfied.

No problems there then, but painting my Mistresses toe nails - that did pose a problem, as I had never undertaken any nail painting ever. Mistress didn't help this poor slave one iota. The red paint was going on and I was progressing reasonably well on one leg, but when I started on the other, I raised her left leg into the other couch stirrup to be confronted with the most beautifully erotic sight ever.

Mistress was naked under her latex skirt and I was getting an eyeful of her perfect private parts, complete with delicate silver ring exactly in the centre of where a slave never goes. I soldiered on trying not to gaze at the most beautiful of mounds and, even though I say so myself, I did a passable paint job under extreme provocative circumstances.

Mistress wasn't finished teasing her devoted slave, with her painted toe nails still quite wet she tiptoed hurriedly towards the bathroom with me in tow, saying that she needed to pee I would serve as a suitable receptacle for her. Perched on the edge of the toilet bowl with my head back over the pan and mouth wide open, I patiently waited to receive a glorious infusion.

Mistress took her place and liquid began trickling into my mouth, and apart from a few initial drops landing on my chin, that’s where the majority fell. I was in such close proximity to that little silver ring, yet trained to know and concentrate on catching as much refreshment as possible and definitely avoid any physical contact.

With my thirst quenched and back in the playroom I was hung out to dry. Not really, but I did stand with hands clasping the overhead as Mistress wound several layers of cling film tightly round my torso and down to my knees, then lowering my arms to my side more layers of film were applied leaving my arms and hands firmly clamped down. I couldn't really see what use a pinioned slave would be to Mistress as she led me back to the clinic and carried on winding the clingfilm round me until my whole body was covered. Mistress took care positioning me down the centre of the couch, and as if I was not bound up enough already she then strapped me down.

Maggie whispered that I looked like an alien and to her amusement I said I was from planet Yorkshire.

I don't know why I said that apart from the fact that I am, but what followed was an impromptu role play whereby Nurse Maggie would help me return to my home world! I wasn't at all surprised when she indicated I was going to get a space helmet to help me on my journey, and I was soon enjoying breathing on the rarefied air inside an inflatable plastic hood. I was starting to warm to Mistresses little role play, mostly because it included getting loads of attention from my beautiful alien captor.

I have to admit that the sight of me wrapped in plastic with my plastic hood would do nothing to dissuade any impartial observers in planet Preston that Maggie, had, in fact captured an alien!

Mistress was intent on familiarising her alien with some words which are frequently used on Planet Preston while I waited to be reunited with my species. You try repeating the words rubber and latex correctly when your mouth is full of breathing tube. I did feel rather stupid as all I could manage was ‘lubber’ and ‘ratex’ before Mistress believed I needed more atmospheric exposure and fixed me inside a gas mask with aroma tube attached.

The elongated pump tube she was using meant that Maggie could dispense poppers from anywhere in the Clinic, and after several good lungfuls I was very, very relaxed and docile. That was a brilliant place to be in, because Maggie decided that we needed an antennae to help us communicate with Yorkshire and set about creating one, using my cock and balls as her construction base.

Snip, snip snip with her scissors and my cock sprang free from its plastic confines. With everything nicely sterilised, Maggie set about hooking lines to various bits. It was the least intrusive operation that I had experienced with Maggie. ‘After three slave , 1,2,3…’ Only a little prick with each hook that was inserted.

I couldn't help it, but as the first hook was pushed through my flesh I asked Mistress to stop for a moment and I think I orgasmed. Not explosive but more of a gentle, warm feeling. The feeling passed after a moment and I asked Mistress if she could possibly carry on, which she did. I put it down to the whole array of erotic experiences that had just gone, and in any event I felt fine and really couldn't miss the rest of this exciting journey.

More aromas, more piercings, eight in total and then Mistress played around with the positioning of the cords attached to the hooks, until she was happy that she had created a suitable aerial to help her alien to be located by his people.

By this stage all I felt was complete and utter dependence and devotion to my Mistress. I hardly felt any pain with the piercing and Maggie could have done whatever she wanted and I would still have been deliriously happy.

Mistress brought her electric box out, attached four electrodes to my outstretched genitals and flicked on the transmitter. With each subsequent, gradual increase in power I felt sufficiently relaxed to quip 'Almost there, Radio Cleveland coming … ‘, then with a further increase in power I could report ‘tuned to radio Whitby ...’, then after a few more ‘receiving radio Bridlington’ and as the dial slowly increased to level 25, I was screeching that ‘I can see Planet Yorkshire !!!!’ .

It was either that or pleading with my laughing Mistress that at that power I was literally about to take off!

I don't think the Yorkshire alien role play was planned, but once started Maggie improvised brilliantly and that in turn egged me on to become that alien character. It was only at level 25 when the aromas had been pushed to their limits that I had any doubts about where Maggie had taken us during this incredible session. The needle play, plastic and electro play were all planned but it was a real joy how the journey developed.

Maggie summed up the whole session brilliantly. ‘A mad but very enjoyable session.’

Thank you Mistress Maggie.

Hook, Line and Sinker

I can only describe my own tingling sensations that emerge each time I come in contact with Mistress Maggie. Today's session is a case in point where words fail me; well almost anyway, but hopefully I will be able to highlight the details of another fantastic session where I played the role of her guinea pig.

Maggie ushered me in to the Chambers to reveal herself in thigh high black leather boots, open weave tights and creasing her perfect bottom cheeks, a superb black, form fitting latex leotard.

No amount of pictures and no amount of prose can fully describe the amount of sheer animal magnetism and sexuality that exudes every pore of Maggie’s stunning, well toned body.

Was it my imagination or were those black orbs dancing in an incredibly hypnotic way as I watched her stepping up the stairs? The answer was a definite yes as Maggie came to an abrupt halt two steps from the landing and proffered her wonderful bum right in my face. I perhaps should have resisted as per my training, but I just couldn't help leaning forward and laying the gentlest of kisses on her right, rubber covered cheek. What a relief as it elicited a smile and a little giggle as I was encouraged to repeat, and I let out a sigh of contentment.

A red hood was picked for me to wear to get the session started, and once I returned from the bathroom with my basic uniform of gloves, socks and leather slave collar I set about worshipping Mistress’ superb thigh booted legs. This initial act of worship certainly sets the tone for the session and prepares my mindset for total obedience and acceptance of anything Mistress wants to do to her slave.

I was to be a guinea pig in more ways than one as I discovered when Mistress shuffled me into a brand new position for my butt plug insertion. As I knelt on the bed Mistress clasped my head between her gorgeous thighs, then leaning right over to my exposed butt she began pouring in the lube. A fluffy plug may have been the best choice for her guinea pig slave, but failing that and with very little fuss it was my regular red ribbed plug that wriggled its way up my arse and the Eagle had Landed!

A few months ago Mistress had ordered a new larger butt plug for me to try out but my bum was too small to accept it.  Today again, when we gave it another go I was still too small and so it was cleaned and put back behind the curtain until a later date. It will happen but not quite yet.

What did happen was an unexpected period of blackness. I have one or two latex catsuits of various thicknesses and colour but I know Mistress prefers me in my heavyweight black one which became my uniform for the day. From a slave's perspective it is a wonderful feeling being helped into the suit by an incredibly sexy owner and once inside my rubber skin Maggie instructed me to stand still and grasp the overhead ring. Nothing new in that, Mistress often gives my latex a dusting to remove talc smears, but today a blindfold was pulled over my eyes before Maggie began her gentle ministrations with the dusting cloth.

This produced the most sensual and erotic feelings. With my sight extinguished my mind was attentive to Maggie’s every touch, her soft hands and soft cloth gently working their magic over all my body. I was left trembling and more convinced than ever that I am owned by that perfect person as I felt a lead being attached to my slave collar. With a gentle tug on my leash and a whispered command 'follow me slave’, I was guided through the doorway, along the short corridor and into The White Room. I was perfectly relaxed being led blind to wherever Mistress wanted us to go as I trust my Mistress explicitly.
In the White Room Maggie removed my blindfold and red latex hood and without any incident fitted the thick red latex gas mask, ideally suited for aroma delivery. The one way valves work well by directing the inhale through the poppers tube and the exhale vents direct to the atmosphere. On this occasion, delivery was to be via the Gas Station and Maggie took a couple of moments to tighten tubes and test that the calming elixir was free flowing when she pumped the bulb.

In my role as guinea pig I knew I would be trying a new procedure, and once I was strapped onto the couch I was advised the full extent of where Mistress wished us to go. Her intention was to pierce my scrotum, attaching hooks and lines which would be stretched and tethered to the H-frame that was fitted to the end of the couch. First things first though and donning a pair of surgical gloves she thoroughly disinfected my cock and balls to ensure a sterile operating environment for my piercings.

Maggie told me how she had difficulty finding suitable hooks with lines and that the ‘Heath Robinson’ ones she would be using had been fashioned up by herself. There was a slight delay as Mistress had to deal with the unruly threads which had become tangled during sterilisation. But at last a few squirts of aroma had my head swimming followed by the warning of a needle. ‘A slight prick slave!’.

I felt the piercing as the first of her special hooks was successfully pushed through my scrotum and attached on the H-frame. I hadn’t squealed, but of course Mistress did require some feedback from her guinea pig after the first hook. ‘Well done slave, how are you feeling? Did it hurt? I have more hooks waiting.’ The experience was marginally more painful than a cannula or ordinary needle but nothing a good intake of aroma and a deep breath can't handle.

I was pleased with my ability to cope with the piercings especially as Mistress seemed to be enjoying the process, which is all a good slave could wish for. Once she was happy with the arrangement of the cable runs from the seven piercing hooks, Mistress declared that her new hooking procedure may be viable.

It must have been because I had behaved myself that Mistress decided on a couple more 'treats' to reward my stoicism. She deftly applied five stainless steel clip on rings to my cock. Used together they acted like a single large compression ring constricting my shaft. Mistress said that these lovely little clamps could stay there for a while to bully my cock while she did some tidying. I probably shouldn't say so but I certainly found the clamps anything but bullying, more of another pleasure delivered by my superb Mistress!

When Mistress returned, a long ribbed sound was slipped into my constricted cock, but the sound which has brought such pleasure in the past wouldn't stay in, possibly due to the compression rings or lack of support. Maggie was determined to give her guinea pig more of a treat and decided that I may look cuter with an electric sound. Out came the e-stim and I was given the task of selecting the settings that I wanted to be spoiled with on the control box. I know little about e-stim controls, ‘Program 6 level 23’ I said believing it might be a nice safe choice. In fact is was as the electrode moved deep inside my cock, however Mistress discovered that giving it a little wriggle provided a stronger connection that made her guinea pig jump, obviously that was far more enjoyable for her and so the deliberate wriggling became necessary to enhance her slaves ‘pleasure’.

Life is great for this slave and yes it was fun to have my nuts hooked and stretched, perhaps because I am a masochistic pervert.

I do love acting as a test bench/guinea pig for my Mistress partly because -
I promised that I will do my best:

To love my Mistress,

To serve my Mistress,

To help others to join my Mistress in slavery.

To keep the Mistresses Law

and

To willingly do whatever Mistress asks, immediately and without question.

and partly because Mistress Maggie genuinely cares for her slaves and I feel safe being experimented on.

A Wild Time Swinging

In all my seven years with my excellent Mistress Maggie, one thing has become an annual ritual at this time of year. The plum catsuit I was instructed to bring was somewhat of a give away. Each time I wear it I seem to end up flying round the Playroom and today, once more, it was to be the Flight of the Sugar Plum Fairy.

My little green friends.

Maggie started the session by kicking me in the teeth, literally! It was when I was worshipping her low pointed shoes. I moved at the wrong time while she was crossing her legs and caught her movement full face. Of course it was my fault. Of course it didn't hurt and of course Mistress had no cause to apologise; it says so in her rule book. Rules after all are rules and I continued, undamaged, with my worship.

I was soon fitted into the suit before being assisted into the heavy leather suspension harness. Maggie paid particular attention to tight shoulder straps, tight crotch strap, tight waist strap and a tight cock strap on which she clipped a rein. Once I was attached to the overhead gantry, one by one, each foot was clamped to a spreader bar behind me and I was left happily flying. As I swung to and fro Mistress smiled that wonderful smile and said I could enjoy a wild time swinging but it would be wise to avoid any nettles, as, in the event that I got stung it was inevitable that she’d be landed with the job of sorting me out.

With momentum provided by Mistress, I was swinging freely and very happily, when, as if by magic, this pot of rather unruly stingers appeared and were strategically placed between my pinioned legs.

It is bloody hard to avoid nettles when you are being swung backwards and forwards by an attached cock lead straight into their path. Maggie was amused saying ‘I warned you to keep away from the nettles slave!’

After the initial stinging sensation the stings turned to a pleasant tingling, and I smiled at my beautiful Mistress and tried to swing even more vigorously through the little green friends. I felt like a kid again and was having an excellent swing, but I must have either swooned with pleasure or fainted, because the next thing I knew Mistress was in front of me holding a mask over my mouth, administering her magic reviving gas. It was strange, I felt no way unwell and was very eager to carry on.

Once back on the ground I was stripped of my rubber catsuit and told to give myself a good towelling down. Feeling fully refreshed and revitalised I was dusted with talcum and taken to the Clinic to have my nettle itch seen to, then with my arms crossed across my chest I was sealed into a latex upper body-bag. It was a little tight at first, I am a fat slave after all, but once in and zipped up it is most comfortable, albeit a most restrictive garment to wear. ‘It's for your own good slave, to stop you scratching your itchy cock and balls’ , said Maggie and my rubber patient look was further complimented with the addition of a stripy translucent hood.

Deep Heat cock and balls

Before I knew it, Maggie was removing all the itchy nettle spores with a piece of gaffer tape and had gently completed a full sterile catheter insertion, so that I was ready for other remedies that might be required. I know I have mentioned it before but Maggie really is good with those catheters!

Mistress moved her latex hand along my cock and balls. ‘Do they still itch slave?’ Of course I said yes, because hopefully it would mean more cock and ball treatment from a very beautiful, if perhaps a little sadistic rubber nurse. Not that it would have made any difference if I’d said no, because Maggie was clearly intent on teaching me a lesson after messing about in her nettle crop.

‘I have cream that might help with rashes’, she said. Ah! - The application of her anti-inflammatory lotion sounded very soothing. I was on a winner here, until I caught the briefest of glimpses through my latex hood and spotted what I recognised as a tube of Deep Heat. Followed by the feel of its liberal application all over my cock and balls.

That should stop me scratching.

This is a truly insidious treatment for nettle rash. What starts off as a wonderfully soothing experience slowly turns to torture as the effects of the cream gradually 'warm up' your bits. I managed increasing amounts of deep heat for as long as I could to please my nurse, but eventually the extreme hotness was becoming unbearable and I whimpered to Maggie that I couldn't cope.

Fortunately, after returning from a quick trip to the bathroom to fetch a bowl of water, a good soapy wash resulted in a rapid cooling and calming of my suffering appendage. I didn't know that you could nullify the effects by washing off the cream. You learn something every day!

As I said, Mistress really cares for her patients and wanted to help prevent me from aggravating my itchy balls by scratching them. ‘No worries’ Maggie reassured me ‘I have an alternative treatment’.

Out from the medical cupboard came the adhesive bandage. I couldn't see much if anything, but could feel Mistress doing a thorough job with the bandages producing yet another very pleasant feeling. Round and round, then a gentle squeeze, making sure the bandage was well attached and doing its job. Even a thoughtful steel band was assembled and padlocked in place round the balls, to ensure that they didn't manage to wheedle their way out of their bindings.

Nurse Maggie conducted a final inspection of my nettle affected area, and despite my cock and balls being heavily bandaged she believed I would benefit from some other precautionary measures.

What self respecting slave is going to turn down another opportunity to have his dangly, or now not so dangly bits administered to by a beautiful nurse? I almost did when I saw the size of the syringes she was preparing and her reasoning for doing so. ‘I think an antihistamine jab is in order.’ 

And so it was that my final treatment for nettle stings was administered. Three medicated syringes were inserted into my lower abdomen, their needles pointing towards my bandaged cock as Nurse Maggie slowly injected the contents.

I wish all nurses were so good and caring as I really felt no more than three small pricks as the needles went in. On the other hand Maggie had just the one prick to deal with, albeit a much larger and heavily bandaged one by now. I am most pleased to say that both nurse and her nettle stung patient were happy with the session outcome.

A rather painful unravelling of the very sticky bandage from my genitals brought the annual jamboree to a close. I was delighted that Mistress Maggie had continued the nettling ceremony, delighted that I had survived for another year and thankful that I am lucky enough to be owned by a most beautiful rubber nurse who knows how best to treat her patients.

I am already looking forward to the next event and will even attempt to cultivate a few nettles, away from sight, behind the . . .

Go With the Flow

Today I anticipated that I would be receiving a lot of Mistress Maggie's nectar, followed by a catheter and possibly a little light exercise, then perhaps be made to consume my own waste products! My calling mail from Mistress had been typically illusive.

‘Your rubber nurse has designs on taking you to theatre and will be fuelling you up so you’re ready to go’. So I think that my guess of what may happen in the session to come was quite reasonable.

That was my first mistake. I was correct in assuming that Maggie would ply me with liquor of her own personal variety, but this was supplemented by several tumblers full of tap water. Having read a tweet from my Mistress the night before, I also assumed I might be the recipient of a very deep sounding or a heavy ball weighting using the toys that she’d proudly announced she had acquired. I could see the metal ball weight gleaming on Maggie’s dresser, but that's where it stayed.

The beginning of the session was straight from my training schedules. Mistress was clothed in full latex, a long and sculpted skirt which, when unzipped revealed her natural latex stockings over a second pair of black ones, producing a mysterious sheen of amber on black. But of more immediate relevance were her black court shoes that were destined to receive my attention.

A latex mask is always part of my uniform and today I was given a mask that I cannot recall having worn before. My new persona had a small round mouth, good sized eye and nose holes, and for the first time in many sessions the mask became my identity for the remainder of my hours in the presence of my Mistress.

Mistress had obtained yet another new butt plug and brought it out from behind the curtain saying. ‘There you go, unwrap it slave’. It was about the size and shape of a large pear and I was instantly instructed to bend over to receive it. Maggie doesn't do gratuitous violence and pain, well not too often anyway, and try as we might the grenade just wouldn't even get a small penetration inside my bum-hole. People often say that things have gone pear shaped but the phrase somehow doesn't apply to my anal cavity. Many attempts to insert were tried but we were getting no nearer, and after a couple of expletives about the failings of my anus Mistress reverted to my trusty red ribbed invader; a little longer and thinner in girth but most importantly, more streamlined at the tip. Mistress was right to try the bigger plug, she is always right in her actions, but it seems my butt is more accustomed to a pointier style of plug and is not for changing yet. I always cause problems for Maggie and I am so relieved that she still puts up with this slave, imperfections and all.

I was soon snugly covered in my tight plum coloured catsuit and ready once more to become whatever my owner wanted her slave to become. Maggie had been drinking heavily since I arrived, only water of course as Mistress never consumes anything that would impair her impeccable judgement. I think that luxury may be reserved for her quiet time at weekends. Anyway, it came as no surprise when Mistress finished yet another glass of water and I was sent off to the bathroom for a refill. As I knocked and re-entered the Chambers, I was stopped at the door, instructed to drink the contents of the glass and return with another refill. Ah, part of my forewarned fuelling process. Fill, return, knock, consume and repeat twice more.

Next I was being transformed into a toilet for Mistress, being zipped into the toilet hood that is a good snug fit to reduce spillage and then snapped into position inside the toilet chamber. I was quite comfortable looking like a turd in the toilet pan, my hands were lightly roped to the eyelets on the legs of the loo giving me a little leeway to move them to the side of the seat. Gazing through the small aperture I had the occasional glimpse of my Mistress busying herself for utilising her toilet. I was just happy that Maggie was allowing me to be of service in this way.

The last time I was down the pan Mistress had closed the lid and left me for quite a while  contemplating my fate and I was also much more tightly bound and restrained. Today as Mistress sank into her most comfortable position I got a glorious view of her most beautiful derrière as it slowly descended, eclipsing most of the light. A stern warning was delivered to me, reminding me that I must consume every last drop and her toilet slave was ready and very eager for my duties.

The freedom in my wrists allowed me to put my hands in hers and with a gentle squeeze let my Mistress know that her toilet was ready, and so the first few drops emerged. There was just enough light to gaze on that magnificent trickle as it made its way to my open mouth, I could adjust my position so the stream that followed was directed straight through the small hole, round my U-bend gullet and eagerly be disposed of in the recycling plant. As Maggie released stream after stream I did detect the slightest of squeezes to my hands and that satisfying moan that is only created when a full bladder is gradually emptied. All the while I needed to remain alert as to where the next stream would flow, as each one was slightly different. How one beautifully petite Mistress could supply such volume yet in such a controlled manner, beggars belief; one of the many and wonderfully unexplained mysteries of the universe.

A few final drops seeking release down her slave had Mistress sitting down again and soon she had rid herself of the last remnants of water. I so wished I could be her bidet, flicking out my tongue to clean those last few drops away. Not permitted. I could look but not touch those private Mistress parts.

I was released and cleaned, a very full and content slave. Mistress still dressed in the splendid rubber outfit I had witnessed on first arriving then guided me to one side of the room and insisted I have a large whiff of aroma. Then, totally unexpected, she draped herself over the horse in that lithe sexy way that only my Mistress knows and made the most sensual hip movements with her latex covered bottom right before my very eyes. Maggie knows I cannot resist stroking her bottom and had deliberately set a test to see exactly how long I could resist the temptation. I moved forward and gently and very lovingly stroked that most remarkable undulating landscape. Maggie laughed. ‘5 seconds slave. You lasted a whole 5 seconds before you stroked my bottom’. Fortunately Maggie does occasionally allow me this liberty and accepted my touches with good humour.

Moving into the clinic, Maggie had me strapped securely on the couch in rapid time. You might believe Mistress had performed this on many occasions! My cock and balls were released from their latex prison and held on firm display with a leather harness that latched onto my slave collar, and a rubber tube gag was pushed into my mouth. Maggie produced a template and explained how her design would be marked on my exposed cock to form the blue print for her next piece of artistry.  ‘. . .  your cock will be decorated with needles where the marks are shown and the end of your cock will be closed off. . . .’

Now I was starting to be a little concerned because the fluid I had been told to drink earlier was now taking its toll, I could feel the peeing urge rising deep down in my stomach. My balls were neatly wrapped out of the way and Maggie proceeded with her plan; marking out her design and pushing in her needles. I could hear the needles being snapped free from their packaging and it felt like Maggie was applying sutures to my cock as well, as it happened that was not the case, but after each needle had been inserted it was twisted 180 degrees before jabbing me for a second time, an action that caused considerable pinching. As I lay there, I realised that I had guessed wrong and I would not be receiving the anticipated catheter.

Gradually the end of my cock was being sealed and that meant that my pee would be restricted. Maybe I would be left with some ability to discharge the fluids that had built up in my bladder? I hoped so because that familiar urge to relieve myself was now fast becoming a more desperate need. Another wrong anticipation!

Mistress had thoughtfully deposited more of her nectar into an enema bag and was now wheeling it towards me on the drip stand. Carefully picking up her pipes it was attached to my tube gag and being pumped into my mouth. When half of it was drunk I had to shamefully decline her fluids, not because I didn't desire more of that heavenly liquid but I had a big fear of embarrassing myself in the Clinic. I was so desperate to pee and it wasn't helped at all by Maggie frequently massaging my abdomen with her rubber gloved hands. I could just see that glint in her eyes as she stroked and asked 'innocently' if I needed to relieve myself.

Maggie insisted there would be no toilet visits for her patient until her needlework and cord work round my balls were finished to her satisfaction. It may have sounded like I was hooting down my tube gag, but by this time I was pleading with Mistress Maggie to go to the loo. Finally satisfied with her artwork, she released the straps and helped me gingerly off the couch. I was escorted towards the bathroom with the leather harness dangling between my legs.

During the slow waddle to that smallest of rooms, we both agreed that due to the unforeseen nature of what was about to happen it would be wise for me to pee in the bath.

As I stood in the bath I was experiencing that feeling of pleasure just before you relieve yourself. The anticipation of that stream releasing the pressure in your bladder; ah the delights of a good, long, bladder emptying pee. I wonder if Maggie got that same pleasurable feeling before relieving herself in her willing toilet?

I waited intently for permission from Mistress. ‘ Right, you'd better pee then slave.’ I felt that initial sense of relief as I felt my bladder start to empty then. . . nothing. Maggie had done her damnedest to make it difficult for me and what I thought may be a restricted slow flow turned out to be no flow at all.

What a frustration. No matter how hard I tried to pee, nothing. By now I was aware that Mistress had used needles to seal the end of my cock, and thankfully not sutures, but the effect was the same. Although I couldn't see the results of my abortive pee attempt, I imagine my foreskin would be expanding like a balloon with all that pee pressure building behind. It must have been a really pathetic specimen that stood before his Mistress. I couldn't pee. I was most uncomfortable and I have to be honest, I begged Maggie to let me have the simple delights of relief. Just a few drips had seeped out and trickled in a a very small pool in the bath. Mistress was highly amused but at last relented and released her absolute control of my bodily functions. Quickly the two foreskin needles were taken out and then. . . talk about a tsunami. Whereas Mistress Maggie was able to control her flow, my fluids came out uncontrollably, and thank goodness we had taken the decision to have me in the bath, although I did have to paddle in my own puddle of pee.

Another wonderfully unpredictable session with my beautiful owner, Mistress and friend. Long may they continue.

Well and Truly Stitched Up!

In total contrast to my last session where Mistress Maggie gave absolutely no hint of where the session was going, I received a positive steer in the 24 hour calling mail.

‘I have decided to kill two birds with one stone and bring my hobbies into the playroom. You shall be the first to witness me becoming re-acquainted with one of my old favourites and will be strapped down in my leather craft.’

A striped right buttock.

Not particularly enamoured with the killing reference and a fraction vague about the strapping down, I thought it best to have a re-read through Maggie’s website for clues on how her hobbies might be used, and concluded that I may well become the tailors dummy for her dressmaking. This conclusion was reinforced by one of Mistresses tweets that landed at around midday on my session date. I recommend having a look at this tweet, not because it reinforces session activity but because of the spectacularly beautiful photograph that Mistress has provided to accompany the text, and also because the same stunning red vision is exactly what greeted me when I was invited into the Chambers.

Mistress says her red catsuit is a little tight; I prefer to call the vision of my owner in her close-fitting red catsuit an image of perfection for a rubber lover. I suppose I agree though, it is tight, but definitely in all the right places!

Those long, long PVC boots are a delight to kiss, lick, suck and generally worship. One long lick can get me all the way from the heel to the middle of Mistress Maggie's thighs, no further though as those are the rules, to worship Maggie’s footwear only. But it does give me the opportunity to glide my tongue right to the very top, where I can sneak a peek at just how tight and form fitting Maggie's red catsuit actually is. Every now and then and when it was in the appropriate position, Mistress would idly flick her cane across my bare right buttock, not particularly hard but sufficient to give me four or five very nice stripes. Mistress also made good use of her chunky heels, lining them up with my backside she forced my butt plug deep inside where it stayed until our session was ended.

I wasn't left so undressed for long as Mistress said that there was plenty that needed to be done and had me quickly inserted into my own red catsuit. We actually looked like twins, not identical of course; Mistress is elegant, slim, beautiful and dominant, whereas I ain’t, but we were now both fully clothed in red latex.

I was led through to the Clinic where there was even more latex laid out for me. Carefully, I was fitted into the awaiting operating suit and rubber re-breather hood. Sat upright and strapped onto the operating couch Mistress told me to just sit and breathe, as she had some things to prepared for the next phase. I did as I was told as I always do, quietly sitting and breathing in and out through the two tiny breathing holes that Maggie had provided for me. My slow breaths needed concentration to maintain sufficient ventilation, but luckily I have had practise with the hood before and was able to stay calm as I gazed through the semitransparent latex at my vision in red, busying herself and preparing . . .

The room started to reorientate as the operating couch was reclined. Momentarily I had clarity of the situation as Mistress removed the rebreather, satisfied I had received sufficient breath play for now at least. Then I progressed to a less lucid state, first to tunnel vision as the red gas mask was fitted, then more relaxed as Maggie pumped in a couple of bulbfuls of aroma and finally it all went hissy quiet.

Mistress knew one of my senses has always been available to me, because no matter what hood was used or how many hoods for that matter I could still hear what was going on. The faint footfall as Maggie moved around, the quiet opening and closing of the door, the swish of Mistresses clothing and of course instructions as to what was about to happen. That all abruptly ended. Mistress deployed her wi-fi headphones and with the click of a button all I could hear was white noise; static; the kind of hiss that you get from an un-tuned radio and loud enough to obliterate all other sounds. That is one more and probably the final sense under my Mistresses total control.

My remaining sense of sight soon joined my loss of hearing with the snugly fitting eye blanks deployed across the gas mask portholes. My total contact with reality was now reduced to the occasional gentle touch from my Mistress. It feels surreal and so so right that my owner now has the capability to have her slave under her total control.

Of course I could still feel, and as Mistress pulled my cock and balls through the zip openings to the outside of my suits I knew I was still alive. I sensed what I believed to be the creation of a sterile operating environment and I had a vision in my hiss filled mind of being in the presence of a goddess, her touch electric, and I had also in my mind a red vision and thought I must be in heaven, or hell even with all the redness, but it felt more like heaven.

I am fairly certain that Mistress approached my left ear and said something. It might have been my imagination, but whatever it was, was inaudible and so disjointed that it could have been just a dream. What definitely wasn't a dream was the manhandling and manipulation of my cock, balls and scrotum by Maggie’s hands. By now I was suspecting that if Mistress’ sutures were intended for me her needlework would be aimed at that part of my anatomy. Maggie might have mentioned my fate but I could hear nothing nor see what was about to happen.

The first stitch was gentle and barely brought me from my hissing dreamland. I tried to follow the progress wondering if I would have any cock and balls left, oh well they are Maggie's property after all, so que sera sera. Strangely, I thought of the third line of the song 'the futures not ours to see' and dreamed how appropriate it was to my present predicament. Maybe is was the medicinal aromas combined with a lack of sound and sight, but I just felt deliriously happy.

The stitching continued, interspersed with what I assume was Mistress standing back to survey the scene and plan the next couple of sutures, or she may have just popped out. I had no way of telling but I just knew Maggie would be there as she does attend and care for her slaves, especially during such taxing situations! Another short session of stitching and another short break and this time I was certain she was there because of the gentlest strokes of my groin. I wont say cock and balls because I couldn't tell what was left down there.

I could feel everything being tightened, tucked and sewn out of harms way, and I have to admit that some of the later stitches definitely made their presence known, one or two were quite painful making me jolt and howl. Still it made a welcome relief from the hissing white noise that continued to fill up my gas mask and obscure all my senses. Mistress responded to my increased pain levels by administering more aroma shots and that certainly helped me relax, until finally Mistress must have been satisfied with her procedure and the needling stopped. The hiss gently subsided to nothing and a hypnotic sexy voice whispered through the headphones something along the lines of 'you will do anything for your Mistress . . .  follow me to a rubber world’. I am certain I heard this although with the prolonged sensory deprivation I had experienced I may well have heard my own dreams.

I think my cock is in there somewhere!

It was during the latter parts of being well and truly stitched up that a strange phenomena happened. Laying there minding my own business and in the midst of a slightly painful pricking moment, slowly and without any fuss I ejaculated. Slow, quiet and of course without an erection, as by then my cock must have been stitched up inside my scrotal sac, and well, incapable of getting hard. No explosion, no sense of tiredness afterwards, but I knew it happened, I’d cum. Talk about wet dreams!

I am certain Mistress knew that might happen as I have done the same previously when I have been stapled up. Being blind there was no way I could gauge Maggie’s reaction, but with barely a pause the next needle went in and she carried on stitching as if nothing had happened. I have no idea as to where the ejaculate went or indeed if there was any, it wasn't until my hood and blindfold came off that I could ask Maggie about that strange happening and her answer only demonstrates how detached I was from what was happening in her operating area.

‘Yes, I saw you cum you messy perverted slave. I had to sponge it up and change gloves before I could carry on with my hobby!’

As Mistress removed my red hood and my eyes slowly became accustomed to the bright lights of the Clinic and the Clinic sounds became  crystal clear, I once again saw my vision in red and was able to ask about my dreams and say thank you to Mistress for all her hard work. However, as far as Maggie was concerned we had not reached the end. Pleased with her progress so far she happily announced that it was time to begin the final part of my operation.

She may not have been altogether ecstatic about the size of my remaining scrotum, so after re-fitting the rebreather hood, I was told I was to receive a boost to my ball size. Maggie really is an expert with deploying a cannula and no sooner said than done. Into my scrotum, bag of saline hung on the iv stand, connected to scrotum and a good flow of about 400ml dripped into my somewhat strange looking sac.

All I could think about was how, with all that stitching could my sac actually accommodate all that fluid. I had visions of me leaking like a sieve through all the suture puncture holes. That, of course didn't happen and what a strange feeling. I wanted to become erect but no chance. My scrotum was filled with saline and I loved the sensations. By now, I was a master of the re-breather and I thought how fortunate I am to have provided Mistress with a vehicle to return the art of scrotum sewing to her slaves menu and to facilitate ‘ . . . two birds with one stone. . .’ 

Standing up in front of a mirror I was allowed to admire the sheer artistry and graceful lines that had been used to create a mangina. The stitches were real stitches, nice and black with real surgical twine. My saline filled ball sac may have looked strange, but felt both weighty and fantastic. Unfortunately I was unable to return home with my inflated mangina and Mistress ordered me back up on the couch for stitch removal. I was surprised at how strong the thread is as Mistress Maggie left one tail in place for me to take out by myself. Its extraction didn't hurt but took quite a lot of tugging to remove the twine. I am glad that Mistress didn't leave me with all the stitches to remove at home!

One final comment. Waterproof pants are useful things to wear on your way home, as saline does start to leak out and can look like you have pee'd yourself! I have now tried staples and actual suturing with Mistress and they are very different sensations. Hmm, staples or stitches? I am not sure which I prefer.

I'm Too Fat - Official!

Mistress Maggie has decreed that I, one of her most loyal slaves, is too fat and once that Royal decree has been pronounced something has to be done about it, therefore -

‘Rubber nurse will be in attendance and she has a remedy which will help improve your waistline’.

Unlike Trump, this important announcement was not delivered via a tweet from Maggie, but via the call up e-mail for my 147th training session, a far more dignified and refined method of delivering bad news and, of course, far more personal.

Today was definitely a tale of two sessions. The first part, conducted in The Playroom, was not my finest hour as I know I did not please Mistress as she wished. That is not to say there weren't really high points during the first half, but I let Mistress down and I do not like having to admit that.

The preliminaries though went perfectly well; much delicious worship of Maggie’s patent knee boots, my butt plug installed without a hitch and my latex catsuit and hood glided on with no problems at all. I also delighted in being told I must wear Maggie's new Belgian gas mask, a full face mask that fitted excellently over my inner helmet. I know Mistress likes neat and tidy so the visible mask straps were a bit annoying, but with a big smile Mistress warned me that she’d be getting much more pleasure from it later.

Then the real high occurred when Mistress hung me from the ceiling in the heavy suspension harness. I had struggled with balance the last time I used it, so this time I clasped the overhead, lifted my legs off the ground and ‘et voila’ I was swinging nicely. It was then an easy task for Maggie to hitch my legs up out of the way on a spreader bar, and the position made my cock and balls very exposed and vulnerable. My breathing suddenly began to feel a little different; Mistress had attached a long hose and dildo to my gas mask and declared that I was ready for her game of ’pleasure and pain’.

Hmm, it was likely to be me that would be receiving the pain part, because I knew I was in trouble for foolishly attempting to demonstrate my devotion to Mistress in Latin.

I had translated my oath to Mistress: ‘I promise . . . to willingly do whatever Mistress asks, immediately and without question’. I had tried to be entertaining in one of our email exchanges and I had translated that to Latin, not checking that when my oath is translated back from Latin to English it returns gobbledygook! Try it and see, but I suggest you don’t try the same with Maggie as my mistake earned my balls one almighty punishment.

Swinging quite happily and gazing at my beautiful owner through the full face mask I could see everything, including the arc of her crop as it approached my cock and balls and gave them a hard smack. After each stroke with her cruel crop Maggie used her dildo, cutting off my air supply as I watched her pleasure herself and that is how her pleasure and pain game progressed.

Of course when you can see the next crop stroke coming towards you the natural instinct is to flinch, and that was my downfall. As the little hand at the end of the crop descended yet again, I twitched. In fact I struggled and I managed to get the blow right on the end of my cock. That really hurt and I should have heeded the warning to stop struggling, I was struggling for air too as the dildo was being sunk deeper inside Mistress by now.

Two strokes later I made the same stupid mistake, flinching at exactly the wrong moment made the crop connect with my balls and that really took my breath away. Nothing Maggie could have done; all my own fault; I will do better next time BUT right now I was only able to slump in the harness.

I hadn't realised just how out of breath that blow had left me until Mistress tried to pleasure herself again. Being the perfect Mistress she quickly realised I was in trouble and eased me down from the suspension, allowing me and my battered balls time to recover. That didn't take long but I could clearly see through the Belgian mask that I had disappointed the very person I try to impress, and I was determined that I would not do it again in the second part of the session which would be taking place in The Clinic.

Off came the mask and thick suit, on went the rather nice, and initially quite cool operating gown and anaesthesia hood and I was strapped down ready for part two, the waist reduction exercise.

As an aside, that rear fastening operating gown is so smooth and glides wonderfully over your skin, it also allows easy access for Mistress to perform her operations.

‘Right slave time to make that waist a little more attractive’.

Maggie set the couch at a good working height and was standing ready with her blue medical gloves on. Even through the heady smell of the medicinal aromas, I detected the 'taste' of the familiar antiseptic cleaning fluid being carefully and generously applied to the area to be operated on.

Of course, with the couch being flat I couldn't see what was happening down at chest level and in view of my earlier disappointments for Mistress, I vouched I’d lay absolutely still, but I could feel what appeared to be a series of marks being symmetrically placed either side of the breast bone.

As I said, my Mistress likes things neat and tidy and after first tidying my balls with a snug tourniquet she covered my lower body with a green latex modesty sheet. Both the sheet and ball control are experiences not to by missed by any fortunate slave!

Then slowly, methodically and very gently, Mistress started to apply her many needles. I lost count after a dozen, but who was counting? Helped by the relaxing aromas and by my determination not to disappoint Mistress again, I lay motionless. Whether it is Maggie's expertise or the aromas or a combination of the two, I barely felt anything more than a tiny pin-prick as each needle was stitched in place.

Perfectionist that she is, Maggie applied silvery needle ends to prevent accidental jabs and improve the look. When Mistress had finally completed her needlepoint to her satisfaction I was treated to the most wonderful smile through the black latex mask, accompanied by a few more puffs of aromas in preparation for the next part. Obviously Maggie couldn't administer aromas during the operation, but that first puff and radiant smile had me once again floating and ready for absolutely anything, while the ‘Well done slave’, was music to my ears after my earlier failings.

Then a little light banter where Mistress was teasing me with the colour of ribbon she intended to use to lace and tighten my corset. I quipped pink ribbon definitely would look inappropriate and she pondered for a while on that thought, I really must learn to keep my mouth shut. However, it was a long black leather thong that was retrieved for the job, a good reliable choice, strong enough to hold my flab in.

A few more squeezes of the aroma bulb, a final check that I was OK and once more Mistress disappeared from view to begin lacing up my corset. Like a boot, the leather lace was gradually and loosely wrapped round each of he corset 'eyes' and finished with a knot. Maggie appeared very satisfied with the corset and spent some time having fun pulling at the laces.

I had noticed a shiny steel stretching device by the window when I’d entered the Clinic, Maggie had intended to deploy it on my balls for her added amusement, though in light of what had happened earlier she decided they’d had enough battering for one day and my balls would be stretched on another occasion.

Instead, Maggie would be tormenting my nipples and a large dollop of lube soon landed on one of them, closely followed by a tiny suction pump that seemed keen to suck the nipple up. Maggie was not content with the results and applied a larger suction pump over the top of it and that began sucking on the surrounding area, my other nipple was soon receiving exactly the same treatment. Surprisingly the pumps caused no discomfort, in fact through the aroma induced state I was floating in they did feel rather pleasant. Another one of those 'shouldn't have said that' comments!

I think I managed to relieve some of the disappointment that I had inflicted on Mistress in the first part of the session, she said the corset looked fabulous. High praise indeed, although all I provided was a very still and willing piece of meat on which Maggie was able to weave her magic. There was still one final thing to reinforce who is in charge, and I must say a most enjoyable climax to the session. The latex modesty sheet was folded down. ’ . . . At the count of three slave. . . One. Two . . . ‘, I managed two and a half but I am certain Maggie deliberately introduced a long pause between two and three just to finally tease her slave.

I loved the concept of being the corset rather than wearing one. I was also pleased with the suspension and will discuss a few things with Mistress that may improve the situation from her perspective. I loved the freedom and visibility of the new Belgian gas mask, and have learnt never to use Google to translate English into Latin if I want to hold on to my balls!

34 needles by the way. Mistress Maggie was counting.

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!