Flight 121 Departing Shortly

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cock and Nettle Rissoles - Yumeee!

As Mistress Maggie was installing my trusty black butt plug, I allowed myself a quiet smile as she examined my arse and then commented that there were still a few visible marks across my butt cheeks. It had been two weeks since I had received punishment with her cane and I had a feeling there may be some residual memories of the twenty strokes and had kept my bum covered in the intervening fortnight. Mistress was somewhat pleased that I was still wearing her brand and I was definitely delighted to have my feelings confirmed.

The insertion of the butt plug itself presented a few humorous moments. Mistress is never economical with lubrication; today she had made the plug unusually slippery. It slipped right out from between Maggie's hands like a well oiled eel and landed fair and square on the Trample Table. Being highly polished and the base of the plug shaped like a plunger, they appeared to be mating; the table very stable, the plug wobbling slightly, pointing skywards and Mistress swaying slightly with laughter. Seizing the opportunity for more fun at slaves expense, Mistress instructed me to sit on the plug and insert it myself. More peels of laughter as the damn thing had a life of its own and kept playing tag with my bum hole. After much amusement but needing to move on, Maggie finally regained control of the plug and it was in its home in seconds.

I was wearing my black latex shorts and tee shirt as it was a rather warm day, and after some very pleasant shoe worship, Mistress had me facing her, face down on her latex clad thighs while she landed many quick blows on my back and backside with her multi-thonged whip. Mistress appeared to like the sound of her whip thwacking against rubber and spent quite some time just beating out a steady and pleasant rhythm.

Maggie knew it wasn't hurting her slave, so it must have been for her own sheer pleasure as she ordered me to bend over the latex bed in the more conventional position for receiving a thorough whipping. I could hear the whip swinging and swishing through the quiet Playroom air now that Maggie was using it at arms length and my bum began swaying in response to the kiss of the leather thongs each time they landed, leaving a warm glow.

Maggie announced that she had planned a gourmet theme for the first part of today's session . . . ‘ I will be making cock and nettle rissoles’. These consisted of tenderised meat balls, garnished and marinaded in fresh nettles then microwaved to perfection.

Oh bollocks. I should have known that nettles would appear somewhere on the menu for today. My caning two weeks ago, was due to my poor details about earlier nettle experiences. Unlike previous occasions where I surreptitiously could aim for the older and less potent nettles, Mistress was to take full control of exactly where the green garnish would be placed, and to make a real meal of the occasion her polished Trampling Platform would be used for preparing and showing off her recipe.

But first, we all know where the meat balls were to be sourced; good solid Yorkshire stock for cock and balls. A couple of bolster cushions helped raise my buttocks to the appropriate height, smart use of an old stocking wound round the base of cock and balls provided a tight seal and they were ready to be offered up to the little hole in the centre of the table. When Maggie was satisfied that her property would not escape, the two clamps were snapped shut leaving my cock and balls the centrepiece of the table, very exposed and very vulnerable.

For good measure my hands were loosely chained to the legs of the table. Maggie's caring side is never far from the surface and I gladly accepted the latex pillow to raise my head from the Playroom floor. Or was it so that I could see and kiss the high heeled tenderisers she was wearing and about to use for the meat balls?

The pair of black shoes I had been so lovingly worshipping earlier were the first to be used to trample on her meat, then a white pair with a well defined and pronounced tread pattern on their soles. 

Maggie was particularly pleased to present these for me to examine, as she described all the features and benefits of her chosen tenderising footwear. I did manage a little foot worship before Mistress put the white ‘bovver’ boots on. I am sure they had tractor tread as their soles and if not for their height, colour and weight they would make a good pair of walking boots, the sort that leave an impressive footprint on anything they come into contact with.

Grabbing the overhead ring to steady herself, Mistress made sure that both pairs came into very close contact with her cock and balls and for quite a while, her actions came into very close contact with my soul. For my part I just clung on with my tethered wrists grasping firmly onto the table top, but the table was already a very stable platform for Maggie’s trampling tenderisation process! Perhaps it was just fear or pain on my part that made me grip the table so tightly?

Once Maggie's impressive footprints had minced my cock and balls to a suitable consistency it was on to the garnish and nettle marinade. Mistress made sure it was only her slave that would benefit from the tender touch of her fresh nettles by donning another pair of disposable latex gloves. Forever unselfish and thoughtful towards her slave, she snipped the most potent leaves and put them to one side for the final garnish. I on my part was quite happy to share with Mistress the nettle delights.

The remaining young leaves were dissected into fine strips, then with her tweezers she carefully positioned the nettle pieces to any visible parts, using a little lube as glue. A thin coating of plastic wrap sealed everything nice and tightly in place followed by a thick layer sealing everything to the table and Maggie announced, 'Fifteen minutes marinading and they will be ready for cooking’. All I could do was lie back and wait for Maggie’s stinging marinade to infuse into her meatballs.

Cling film removed, the thin slivers of nettle were removed and Maggie began brushing my marinated cock and balls with cooking oil. Well, she said it was cooking oil but I could see the bottle on the table labelled ‘electrosex contact gel’. Not my job to tell a lady how to cook so I stayed quiet and hoped for the best. Two conductive electric cooking rings were slipped over my cock and wired up ready for her 'special' method of cooking. There’s nothing like a bit of seasoning and Mistress set her white 'pepperpot' electric box to a moderate level and the cooking commenced. The metal brush was also an electrode, Maggie used it to give her meat a regular basting and finished her recipe with a final sprig of nettle garnish.

I am not sure how Mary Berry would describe this method of cooking? Flash fry, seared, microwaved, but I know after being tenderised, marinated and basted, the meat balls were well cooked after ten minutes, and I was done to a twitching turn. Freshly garnished and ready to be eaten.

Mistress bent over and sank her teeth into my balls. Thank goodness for those tractor tread soles, they had done a good job at tenderising my balls and Mistress did not have to bite too hard when she finally sampled her meatball meal.

All the while I just gazed and admired the chef as she went about her cooking and eating and I was really grateful for the latex cushion and some of the views they were able to provide me with.

Ah, the remainder of the plastic scene from our last session. Just like the annual nettling, the previous plasticking wasn't going to go away. I was told to remove everything as Maggie was going to help me broaden my horizons to encompass something other than my rubber fetish. I was placed back into the plastic suit I had worn in my previous session and I felt somewhat at home with my new plasticky skin. I have often thought about Mistress using me as part of her Playroom furniture, only a short while before her cock and balls did become part of her table, well now I was to be placed in storage inside a large plastic mattress cover.

It wasn't long before I was standing under the centre ring with calves and thighs taped inside and Mistress fitting the stout supporting waist corset. My arms were arranged across my chest and I was taped inside with gaffer ready to be hung into storage. Of course effective storage involves total coverage and the inflatable hood was utilised to completely seal her property away from harm.

I think Mistress was getting a little bored just seeing her slave enjoying myself, warming nicely and swinging gently in the stout chains, so after a little dextrous rope work my pre cooked cock and balls were captured in their own tight plastic compartment; a right little handful for Mistress to have fun with. I could feel copious amounts of cold lubrication being injected in there, Mistress had prepared a lube filled hyperdermic and was syphoning its contents through a tiny hole in the plastic, before plugging in a powerful vibrator which she used to disperse it.

Her balls were given plenty of attention. The breathing tube as well received her attention, as Maggie regulated my breathing with her own exhaled breath - ah, that heavenly essence of Maggie again.

I slumped with my whole weight  against the corset and chains as Mistress Maggie leaned against her very hot, very wet and very willing slave.

Not just leaned against but Mistress said ‘I know you are loving all this plastic slave. You have permission to stay in it while you fuck my rubber clothes until you cum’. Now that command really put me in a total quandary. I had been trying very hard all session to control my urges and make sure I didn't cum, now Mistress was instructing me to do just the opposite. It is an interesting position to try any kind of fucking activity. Knees together, only balls poking proudly inside the plastic and suspended from the rafters with chain. What else could a good loyal, obedient slave do? So I followed my Mistresses instructions as best as I could and can assure you I got really hot inside my plastic cocoon and the chains were definitely necessary to hold me up in the end.

I have been nettled before; I have worn the corset before; I have been plastic wrapped before, in fact I have enjoyed nearly all the elements before, but yet again, this was a totally unique and wonderful experience with Mistress Maggie. You do sweat a lot inside a plastic bag on a warm day but I love every minute of my time with my Mistress. 

A cautionary tale though; anyone who is privileged to receive a good caning, remember that even after two weeks, your badges of honour may still be visible and your ass still sore.

Complete Genital Transformation

There were few session preliminaries today, as Mistress Maggie explained that she would be redesigning my genitalia, there was lots to do and she needed to get started.

I helped Maggie remove her new shiny black mac, putting it aside to reveal a stunning one piece clear plastic suit. I was putty in her hands, she knew I would be, and I was ready for anything. Mistress told me to hurry along and get into my latex t-shirt and gloves and to report at her feet for boot worship. Black shiny lace ups today, all the way to her knee. Maggie added a latex slave hood to my costume, I poked my tongue through the mouth hole and took as long as I could worshipping those boots, but didn't dare stray onto her plastic skin. When Maggie was happy with my attentions I was given a special red rubber suit to wear, a loose fitting suit made of the thinnest latex. A little talc and some very careful dressing had me snugly fitted inside it, finished off with several wraps of rubber bandage round my middle. ‘Can't use the tight leather corset as you will need to expand’. Maggie had hinted at an enema in my call up mail and that remark kind of confirmed it and I was ushered into the Clinic.

The very first thing Maggie did when we entered the Clinic was to enthusiastically show me her design for giving my genitals a complete transformation. She was obviously pleased with the simple yet elegant design, showing what used to be my cock and balls neatly sutured into one large homogeneous blob. Rather worryingly, she did say that I should take a moment to say goodbye to my cock. The interesting additions were in the detail. Wires leading from where the end of my cock once was and some 'seasonal vegetation' as adornment. I was excited, a little apprehensive, a little expectant but fully committed to whatever Mistress wished to do.

The final bit of the briefing brought home the magnitude of the operation that I had willingly consented to. I was to receive the enema because once I saw the results of Mistresses needlework I would want to crap myself and the enema might 'help'. A big smile from Maggie and 'You will receive at least two litres slave'. I had briefly easily held that before but at least two? Two and a half, three litres? Maggie would decide.

I was comfortable on the gynaecology couch when Maggie returned with one jug full of warm water, mixed in her magic powders to make it soapy and poured the contents into the enema bag. I was a little less comfortable when she returned with the second jug full and repeated the procedure.

Hmm . . . Quite a lot then! Get comfortable on my side, a little grease and tube up my backside and I was ready for Mistress to open the tap, and that was that. No discomfort, in fact it was quite pleasant as Maggie gently massaged my lower stomach to aid the flow, occasionally checking that her slave was still alright to continue.

Oh most definitely yes. I tried to sound nonchalant but Maggie knows her slave well now and knew I was enjoying the situation. Once I had received all the fluid Maggie plugged it in and the volatile contents of my bowels were trapped to work their magic, sealed by the inflatable plug that ensured my bum was well and truly bunged up. Nothing to worry about so far. In the past I've kept enemas in for 10 minutes or so with no problems at all so what could go wrong today? 'That will stay in until I'm finished'.
Maggie helped me onto my back with legs in the chairs stirrups, she removed my plain latex hood and replaced it with another of her own design. A comfortable and nice fitting zipped, black latex little number, with an array of tubes that I had to bite down on and a generous honeycomb mesh across the eyes; generous as I could, with a little adjustment, see Maggie as she moved around the Clinic. I did see and hear Mistress stick two electrodes onto my cock, secured them with many turns of a white bandage and test out the electrics. Y. . E. . S - electrics working!

Then she was off to the bathroom to wash her hands and don her operation gloves. I also saw through the honeycomb, Mistress choosing her sewing instruments and carefully placing the PVC operating sheet over my cock and balls. 'Are you ready slave to receive your complete genital transformation?’. I had promised I would do anything for my Mistress and confirmed I was ready and willing for whatever she wished to do.

That first knotted stitch is a pain, but after that Maggie settled into her routine and slowly and steadily completed the first set of sutures. 'Slave, control your cock.' I couldn't help it, despite having my genitals sewn up, I was getting hard. I really tried to concentrate, but every time the needle went in it brought me back to the fact that my Mistress was stitching up my delicate bits and I was enjoying it! A brief interlude as the second suture was threaded and on went the sewing. I could see the concentration on Maggie's face through my hood, looking quite intense and really attractive as she persisted sewing up my bits and pieces.

Every now and then my stomach would let out a low rumble to announce it was still full, and occasionally Maggie came across a really resistant piece of scrotum, strangely always on my left side, piercing these reluctant areas was the only time the stitching really took my breath away.

It took a while for the dozen or so stitches to be completed and every so often Maggie would appear next to my head and exhale a full lungful of her precious breath down my breathing tube. I loved that little touch; a little respite for Maggie from her concentration on the sewing and that sweet taste of Mistress for me to savour.

And finally a wipe with a sterile pad concluded the stitching, accompanied by that wonderful laugh that Maggie has. Relief at another successful operation or the amusing sight she had just created? A bit of both probably. Maggie stood back to admire her craft work.

What a strange feeling. After all the time trying to keep my cock flaccid Maggie turned on the electrics and added a final touch of seasonal vegetation. A sprig of new growth, fresh, green nettles. About a year ago I had commented how I tried to avoid fresh shoots as they are the most potent. No chance this time as she stroked what remained of my ball sac with the sweet young thing and then fixed the twig neatly in place between the sutures.

I wanted an erection; my body said 'get your cock up' but the stitching said otherwise. My cock and balls were so firmly stitched up I could feel a quick throb and then my cock subsided. No pain at all. Maggie had done an expert job with the sutures, but boy was I frustrated. Maggie has finally completely tamed and controlled her slaves cock. I had never felt so owned or so perfectly content in my life.

Not everything in the garden was rosy. All this time, the soapy enema had been gurgling away. It was fine when I was lying on the couch but when Maggie said it was time for the toilet, I carefully sat up and the weight of two plus litres moved downwards and I did then need the loo. I still couldn’t see the full extent of my CGT, so it wasn't the visual impact that made me want to crap myself. Maggie manoeuvred me over the toilet pan and removed the plug, and . . . for the second time in two sessions I really caused my Mistress concern. Last time I choked as I was drinking, this time I think Mistress would have choked if she hadn't moved. What a stink! I felt more anxiety that I had subjected Mistress to such farmyardy smells. I definitely think Mistress would have benefited from wearing one of her gas masks; I know I would, as a horrible lungful of pong was creeping its way up my breathing tubes. I really must change my diet!

Needless to say, I was told to clean up any mess before Maggie would even consider removing the stitches. An interesting thing about having your cock and balls 'removed’. It doesn't stop you from peeing, although you do need to be seated as aiming is somewhat difficult - and as for writing your name in the snow, forget it.

After I’d thoroughly cleaned the bathroom, Mistress relented and said she would remove the stitches. Each one was carefully snipped, removed and consigned to the bin. A thorough clean with the antiseptic wipes, a final suture check and I was pronounced fit for release. The medical suit was removed in the playroom and I must admit to a feeling of satisfaction as I had once again brought a smile to Maggie's face.

Any unpleasant after effects? None at all. I do have a huge smile writing this blog though.

Painful? A little, but only occasionally and certainly bearable.

Exciting? Oh yes. Mistress once again proved she has total control over her slave.

Would I repeat it? Of course but only if Maggie wants more practise or has the urge for a stitch-up.

Did I enjoy it? Of course. It made Maggie happy and it was another new experience under my belt!

Third Annual Nettling Event

Ushered over the threshold by Mistress Maggie in a simple yet stunning latex skirt and top, I could just see the shape of her perfect breasts straining against the tight olive green of her top; quite secure and totally out of bounds but incredibly sexy and frustrating. Maggie let out a knowing laugh as I followed her up the stairs to the playroom. Knowing that her slave would be looking at her finely shaped and perfectly formed rear as the movement of her legs and hips set the rear zip of the skirt undulating in the most provocative snake-like manner; knowing that her sheer black tights and high-heeled court shoes would soon be the objects of worship by her slave and knowing that her slave knew that all that I viewed was off limits, unless Mistress decreed otherwise.

Being a slave of little brain but general good powers of observation, I guessed that today would be my annual introduction to the nettle crop because before I had composed myself after following Maggie's rear, there was a neat line of three plant pots containing good, healthy nettle plants lined up neatly on top of the low punishment bench.

With wrists cuffed to the headboard of the rubber bed, Mistress indulged in a little preliminary breath play to get the juices flowing with a convenient plastic bag. I know Maggie gets enjoyment from my gasps and I try on each occasion to go a little further before I beg for air. The opening was held in a long tight grip under my chin as Mistress outlined the session, demanding confirmation that I understood her instruction. I confirmed with a grunted gasp. "Yes! Air please"

As I said the nettles looked healthy enough to me but Mistress said she was disappointed with the quantity of good nettles this year, not enough bees visiting her nettle patch, but with my pollination expertise a bigger and better crop could be expected in 2015.

On went the small spreader bar securely strapped between the thighs and my wrists attached to the bar. I was now unable to stand upright and could only manage to waddle. Mistress was quite clear with the instruction; "Land the bee on each nettle plant to complete the pollination"; to be repeated until Mistress was satisfied her plants were successfully fertilised. Before I went off half-cocked, Maggie reminded me she had to attach the insect, same spiky painful clamp as last year, then the short length of bungee cord conveniently anchored to the playroom bed.  The bungee was sufficiently slack so as not to stretch the tackle too much more. “I think you know what to do don’t you slave? Now off you go.”

I am pleased to say I managed the task and by the end I was showing Mistress that I could do it both ways. Straddle the nettle bench with my back to Mistress and then with a little more huffing and puffing and bungee stretching, straddle the bench facing Mistress. It solicited some great laughter and presented Maggie with an alternate angle for viewing her hapless slave. I certainly wasn't going to complain about having to spring from plant to plant, having cock, balls, lower abdomen and worst of all the inside of my knees stung to billy-o by what turned out to be a most virulent strain of nettles. I was determined to show Maggie that I had progressed since last years event.

After the nettling, Mistress led me into the clinic where the couch was laid flat. I had not seen this configuration before so, once again something new and exciting was on the cards. I was not wrong. When instructed to carefully get on the couch I slid on from the side and laid there waiting for my next instruction. With a little exasperation in her voice Maggie said I was to kneel on the couch rather than lie on it - stupid slave. Three or four cracks with the leather slapper reminded me of that fact and of course Rule 13. Mistress expects her slave to read minds at all times!

Out came my trusty plug and with the help of a mask and aromas placed over my nose in went 'something' with an inflatable plug attached. Mistress has used the black latex pump up before so nothing new there then. Well yes there was something new. It was in reality a Bardex style inflatable double bulb catheter that Maggie was inserting into my very willing and accommodating arsehole. The unit remained flaccid but Maggie was careful to bring both bulbs through my legs as I finally was instructed to gently turn and lie on my back. I laid there unsecured whilst she fitted a cock cage to help keep me under control and prevent recurrence of previous premature accidents. At which point on went the gas mask over the top of my latex mask that I was still wearing. Maggie, as usual, was concerned about her slaves safety and insisted that I confirmed that I was able to breathe with both mask and hood. In fact, if anything, it was easier because the hood tightened as the gas mask went on and made for a good airflow. I grunted "Fine. No problems”. Mistress screwed on a corrugated hose and had me relax with more aroma, this time dispensed through the gas station.

Maggie then proceeded to fold me inside the heavyweight plastic sheet so carefully laid on the couch prior to the session. Once again, an illustration of the planning and attention to detail Maggie deploys when arranging sessions for her slaves. The sheet was gradually folded round me and as a bit more was covered, on went body straps at strategic parts; ankles thighs legs, torso etc. but always leaving access to cock and balls. Very thoughtful of Maggie as next in my dressing instructions were a pair of flexible electrodes around balls and base of cock. The electrics were set to a slow regular rhythm. Enough to harden but not enough to cause embarrassment.

Throughout the rest of my time strapped to the couch the gentle pulsing motion of the electrics was maintained. Maggie occasionally varied the power but the rhythm never varied. It was like experiencing a slow wank that was never going to get me where I needed to go. Maggie was back twiddling the gas station valves and my gas mask pipe transferred to the bubble system, Maggie joined me in the gas station thrills by donning and connecting her own smaller gas mask to the machine. I sucked and bubbled through the bubble bottle. Maggie sucked and bubbled through the bottle and all in all we had a delightfully bubbly time. No aromas at this stage as Maggie keeps a clear head and authority at all times. I did suspect that the airflow was biased in Maggie's favour as it seemed I needed more puff per bubble.

Maggie removed our masks and replaced mine with the rather nice clear plastic re-breather hood. At last I could see a little more of the Clinic and more importantly, of Maggie still in black skirt and tight olive semi see-through top. A little more aromas via the small breather holes, a few adjustments to the power, the straps were tightened and we were off on another adventure. And then time for something new as I was introduced to the Bardex when both bulbs were inflated and Maggie said I was to take and hold 750 mls. "Hayley Mills, Boundary Mill, Black Dyke Mills . . ." I quipped and fortunately Maggie found that amusing and not insolent. I have comfortably taken larger enemas but Maggie wanted her slave to retain the bellyful of liquid she was busy mixing and would be plugging the outlet pipe to stop any leakage. Strapped inside the green plastic cocoon I was in no position to hop off the couch and run to the bathroom anyway. She did offer 2 litres when I queried the volume but I thought it sensible to exercise slave discretion at this point. Mistress said best not to be too ambitious and that 750 mls was duly sufficient and safe to get me started with my new plugged and inflated Bardex experience.

It was really strange and on reflection perhaps I could have accepted the larger volume. At first the liquid seemed to be making very slow progress down the enema pipe, neither of us could be really sure that the soapy solution was actually entering my colon until the bag gurgled and spluttered and was finally empty. That was it. 750 mls in and sealed. Clean soapy solution was all captured, together with her slave inside one very nice plasticky bundle. Every now and then Maggie would stroke my captive cock, or add an extra pump to the Bardex inflatables, tighten the restraining straps a little more, mischievously stroke my abdomen to flirt with the enema. All part of the service of course.

On with a different black gas mask and on to the next delights, an extended period of controlled breathing, Maggie screwed a rubber rebreather bag on to the top of her gas station, a quick check that I was OK with the reduced air supply then everything went black, my heavy breaths masked out any other sound in the clinic and once again Mistress had her slave firmly in her clutches awaiting her next attentions.

After the period of dark solitude wearing the bug eyes, Maggie finally released the cock cage. I was given strict instructions to hold any natural reactions to the added freedom as Mistress pulled on a pair of wrist gloves, then oiled and massaged me. “Yes” I said. I was trying not to embarrass myself, again, and we agreed I had controlled myself far better than earlier sessions. Mistress told me to hold for 30 seconds until relieved and started to count backwards as she continued to titillate. 30, 29, 28, 27, 26 . . . Bollocks failed again! However I am getting nearer being totally controlled by Maggie.

I have to confess, I was embarrassed when Mistress removed the Bardex with me sat on the loo and I was told to go expel the contents. 750 mls came out like an express train and the cacophony of sound must have been heard next door and I am sure sounded more like 75 litres. On the positive side I did receive a nice compliment from Maggie about how smooth I had managed to get my bum cheeks for an easy insertion of the plug. I felt really pleased with that one small compliment. I had tried hard to be smooth for Maggie and the extra effort had not gone unnoticed.

I know. I am a really lucky slave.

A Greener Approach to Breathplay

I wonder if the organisers of the Olympic Games had any concept that their security measures would be recycled to provide Mistress Maggie with the means of keeping her slave panting for attention? The football at Old Trafford, like many other Olympic venues used copious quantities of large plastic bags for security checking, and strangely as I was being frisked, my thoughts turned momentarily to Maggie and the possible use of the bag in my training. During the football foreplay I carefully undid the knot in the top of the bag and stored it away for later. Recycling at its best.

I detected a smile as I donated the bag at the start, then certainly a big grin as Maggie eased my head and upper body inside the Olympic souvenir. I had already donned my tight black latex catsuit and received my new red butt-plug and was ready to entertain Mistress with my gasping and begging for air. With a little tugging, pulling, stretching and coaxing, Maggie was able to securely pinion my arms inside the bag to form an almost perfect seal across my rather rounded stomach. Hmmm. I hadn't thought about that when I so gleefully presented Mistress with my offering. A token satin wrist bondage completed the dressing.

One thing is for certain, Maggie was able to leave me bubbling away inside the bag for far longer, and the exhaled air created my own sauna environment as you can see from the moist hair and steamed up bag.

The next part was expected by me and planned meticulously by Maggie. I had rather rashly volunteered to bring in some flora from my garden in the shape of 'cultivated' nettles.


I carefully dug them up, potted them and left them to grow before I got the summons to bring them to Mistress as part of my training today. (Reminder to self for future. Kill off all nettles in the garden). Nettles are actually notoriously difficult to cultivate requiring good rich soil to flourish and prefer undisturbed roots, so any slaves contemplating cultivation, be warned, it's not an easy horticultural exercise.

For the second time this nettling season I was instructed to launch my exposed cock and balls into a thick bush and despite what it looks like, I was not humping the plant. One of the problems with my artificially propagated plants is that I got unpredictable growth patterns, ending up with one long appendage and two shorter ones. I was attempting to avoid catching the long one full in the stomach whilst caressing the shorter twigs as Maggie had so sweetly instructed. ( I shouldn't give away trade secrets, but aim for the older growth as that doesn't sting as much.)

When I was a lad and got stung with nettles, we were told to rub the affected area with dock leaves to take away the pain. No such luck. No rubbing and Maggie just laughed that endearing laugh, when she gets the results she had planned for.

And for the penultimate part of today's session: I was to core and prepare a bowl of strawberries for my Mistresses consumption. I knew this was scheduled as Maggie had let me know the general content of training with the previous evening calling e-mail:

' . . . Your duties will include entertaining and feeding her Majesty. I am still loving strawberries, make sure you bring tasty sweet ones or else. Her Majesty will be choosing one of her loyal subjects to share her juices with, you could well be a candidate if you're not caught up in a ceremony on the Olympic throne or tending the royal garden'.

OK if you think it an easy task, you want to try doing it with your wrists shackled, attached to the very heavy iron neck collar, mouth zipped shut and eye holes barely open on the thick latex hood. It is indicative of Maggie's care for her charges that I was allowed to wear the posture collar underneath the iron collar, although it was a little cruel to zip the mouth shut. Everyone knows that cooks have to sample the produce just to be certain it is fit for purpose of course. Oh well if there was something wrong, Maggie would no doubt let me know. (If anyone reading this is placed in a similar situation, take extra care of the heavy clanking chains against the porcelain of the basin. A good clanking could end in a good beating.) So it was not that easy a task.

As instructed, I stood to attention whilst Mistress relaxed on the bed and teasingly ate each red orb with a long sensuous caress. Maggie knows exactly what effect that action has on her devoted slaves. It is certainly visible and much better than a dock leaf being rubbed on nettle stings.

I did get a welcome drink though.

Urtica Dioica - Nettled Nuts

Mistress Maggie likes to win. The games that she plays with her slaves tend to be weighted in her favour and today's session was no different.

It all started rather pleasantly with Maggie doing a spot of face sitting in her leather leggings whilst informing me of the exciting challenge she had planned for her slave today. I love Maggie's rear at such close quarters, you get to experience the privilege of another beautiful method of slave suffocation.

I am not sure how the topic ever came up but I had, rather naively mentioned in a previous session that I thought nettles were good for a garden, attracting a wide array of insects.

Maggie is very astute, incredibly perceptive and a very good listener. Nothing escapes her sharp hearing, incidentally if you are given the opportunity, Maggie has really attractive and wonderfully sensitive ears and lobes and a little lick may get a slave several brownie points. Alternatively it may get you a good hiding . . . I digress again.

Maggie had picked up that I was anything but a green fingered entomologist, nonetheless I would be assisting her with some gardening by attracting some insects into her nettle patch (hence the title Urtica dioica). An amusing little game, for Maggie at least, involving more strenuous participation from her slave. On went the straight-jacket and tight hood, and I was ordered on to the rubber bed to have a leather strap and ring tightened round my balls.

Maggie attached an insect using a rather severe clamp right on the end of my cock. To win the game I had to land four different winged insects in the pot of nettles conveniently situated in the far corner of the Playroom, I also had to identify each of the insects. Sounds easy apart from the likely stinging of cock and balls if I misjudged the flight path. Yep, too easy for Maggie, sitting gracefully on her throne thumbing through her copy of the ‘Observers Book of British Insects’. A piece of bungee cord was hooked on to my balls, that required stretching if I were to land the insects successfully. OK, a little more difficult for slave now!

At this point I thought that Maggie had gone OTT but I was determined to do my best just to show how well Maggie had trained me. I was to lunge into the nettle pot and land the bug, return to Maggie and identify the pesky critter.

Stretching the bungee was very distracting and I am sure that is why I struggled. Imagine, getting close with a smile on your face, knowing exactly where you wanted your landing gear to go then having to stretch bungeed balls. It was like trying to land a plane in a severe side wind. Cock and balls all over the place and inevitable you end up in the middle of the nettles and not where you were aiming. I think the insect featured here is the lesser spotted, silver back butterfly from Maggie's own collection.

Once identified, Mistress would kindly zap the bug with her electric tennis racket, then the same again . . .  Hmmm! - I started with a butterfly and when I finished with a bee, I had completed the tasks and thought I had won. I probably technically did but when I look back, I had my cock clamped, balls stretched, both nettled and lower regions electrically zapped on several occasions whilst Mistress was able to sit back laugh a lot at my antics and enjoy my efforts.


As I said, Maggie likes to win and I think in the cold light of day as I lay trussed on the carpet afterwards getting over stinging my cock and balls, that Maggie definitely won that one. The leather straight-jacket is a wonderfully comfortable yet totally secure creation that Maggie designed and made of the finest leather. The pale tan straps contrast nicely with the black leather and exposed skin. This is definitely another Maggie experience not to miss. The red cock and balls are my own creation, with a little stimulation from a mischievous Mistress and Urtica dioica.

For those of you who may get the opportunity to experience having your cock and balls nettled, the main barrier to enjoying the experience is that childhood fear. We were all stung as children and know they hurt like hell. In reality, in the midst of a good session, the nettles do sting but not excessively. You have other sensations to worry about and, unless you really are allergic to nettle stings, I found I had little problem with the minor discomfort. As you would expect Maggie had checked that beforehand without alerting me to the fact that cock and balls were about to be nettled. Anyway, I had more important issues to keep me occupied, isolated in my leather dreamworld, giving Mistress the right amount of privacy while she changed into her rubber nurse outfit ready for the next part of the session.


Into the clinic to check that my man-flu had cleared up, and not satisfied that I was bug free rubber nurse decided that a spot of aroma therapy would be necessary, delivered through one of her specially adapted gas-masks. The bright sparks of her violet wand were put to work on my nettled parts killing off the last vestiges of any bugs remaining from the Playroom, and there was I thinking that all bugs had already been removed after my nettling!

By the time I was returned to the playroom, I was declared fully fit and no nettle rash whatsoever. Mistress did allow me to lick clean her latex pants as I had been a good slave during my training. I must say, Maggie was magnanimous in defeat allowing such a privilege, as technically I did win the ball stretching games and it was one hell of a valuable prize for a slave to be granted!