A Black Tape Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A few magic moments captured on video - WITH SOUND

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

A Right Pain in the Bum

Mistress Maggie allowed her sadistic, cruel side to surface once again, to elicit a little concern and a lot of dismay from her very loyal slave. Not because of the punishment I was about to receive, that was fully deserved and expected as I had been pre-warned twice, firstly when the incident happened, 'A dose of discipline from your displeased Mistress will remind you to double check facts before broadcasting’. And secondly in the calling e-mail, 'Your punishment for embarrassing me has been determined and will be carried out ahead of a steamy ordeal'. Mistress NEVER forgets or changes a punishment; no matter what you do or say you will receive the ordained amount.

No, Maggie's cruel sadistic side materialised when I was sent to the bathroom with instructions to put on my black rubber gloves, socks and shorts, and to bring the item I found there back to the Chambers for my chastisement. What I found was a cane, about two feet long and the thickness of a little finger; a veritable mean bum breaking machine. I knew it was going to hurt!

Mistress had already positioned the Horse exactly where she wanted it for maximum purchase and accuracy in her swing. I duly presented the cane to her and without thought or argument positioned myself along the bench ready to receive it. 'I have decided, twenty strokes’, she announced. Depending on the severity of the punishment Mistress may expect me to bend and take it, but on this occasion my hands were roped securely forward and my ample girth confined tightly to the punishment Horse. With the ease of the exceptional Mistress that she is, my head was swiftly inserted into a rather nice rubber hood 'to catch some of the screams and crying'. I was advised to thank Mistress after each stroke and repeat ‘Less haste more attention’, or something very similar, to remind me not to repeat the mistake in future.

I was really glad of the strong ropes, as by halfway I was turning the horse into a bucking bronco at each stroke. It was starting to place a real strain on my resolve; the only thing keeping me from screaming was the knowledge that Mistress deemed my punishment as deserved and necessary. Those of you who have played the children's game Buckaroo will understand exactly how I was feeling.

18 Thank You Mistress, more haste. . . 19 Thank you. . . 20.  OH the relief, but I did remember a final Thank you. . .  I must say Maggie is not a complete sadist, because every four or five strokes she would stop, come into my limited field of vision, and through the perforated latex hood gently stroke my head. Each time I got a perforated reminder of how stunning Mistress looks in her leather skirt and corset, topped with a stunning blouse and bottomed with the most precisely placed seams on the sheerest black nylons you could imagine; dead straight up those perfect legs. That vision also helped sustain my poor arse through its ordeal.

At the end of my punishment it was really strange. My arse, which had been on fire for twenty strokes just felt numb. I might have quipped about having a numb bum - but I didn't. I just lay there assimilating and absorbing the pain. Mistress deposited a string of anal beads right under my nose, in my post-punishment haze and with my restricted vision I thought it was a ball gag and tried to be helpful by opening my mouth wide. Wrong end fool. Those beads were destined for another orifice. With a large dollop of lube, accompanied by the kind of farting sounds you can only get when the last dredges are being squeezed from a bottle. . . 'Remind me to get some more lube, slave,’ each of the four balls were easily lodged up my numb bum hole.

Maggie cleaned away a spot of cane induced blood from my backside, before spending considerably more time cleaning that damn cane which had created 20 quite livid weals across it. The punishment I had taken today illustrates how your own personal limits can be gradually extended through suitable training. Four years ago I would have died at the thought of six strokes with a springy cane, yet here I was accepting 20 strokes with something more resembling a telegraph pole.

Punishment over Mistress relaxed back to her training persona and divested all her garments, to be replaced with a clear pair of plastic dungarees. Now, even through the perforations, that wonderful vision helped divert my attention away from my arse, which by now was just starting to warm and become less numb. Her perfect figure was clearly on display yet totally protected by the plastic and it was other areas of my anatomy that were now reacting to the charged situation.

Mistress is used to her slaves reaction, ignored the growing erection and helped me into a thick smoky black plastic catsuit. I have worn this suit before and it has been carefully modified by Maggie; she made a reinforced opening in it for her cock and balls. The latex hood that I had worn throughout my punishment ordeal was now removed, revealing a very wet and bedraggled slave. After a few hilarious jibes about the way I looked Mistress handed me a towel, with instruction to dry my hair and smarten up for some more plastic. She wanted to try out a new breathplay combination in the form of a close fitting hood and a new latex muzzle.

Even after drying, a little talc was necessary to ease my chins inside the soft clingy plastic without damaging the hood. Mistress liked the look of the combination but the practicalities for long-term use soon looked less hopeful, unfortunately the nose holes did not line up as well as she would like. At least I had the pleasure of testing it out and quietly suffocating in it for a while, before alerting her that it couldn’t be worn for longer, as the airflow was simply too restricted. A lovely item the muzzle though, with adjustable head straps and rubber neck corset. So when Maggie was ready to move us into the White Room, off it came, but no doubt we will be re-introduced again in the not too distant future.

The clinic had been prepared with a definite plastic theme; a thick plastic bodybag spread out on the gynae couch being the centrepiece. Mistress interviewed me first, asking me questions about my recent cock health and performance. She said that she’d be taking care of her slaves routine piss hole maintenance today, and that it could be a messy business. Better lie on some protective plastic then. Maggie opened the bodybag’s zip all the way, I gingerly sat in the offered position which did start my caned arse stinging, and finally relaxed inside. I was strapped in and zipped up ready for Mistresses next exercise.

I was informed that my external temperature must be monitored through two little pads attached at either side of my balls. To tell the truth it felt like the tens unit, especially when Maggie turned it on to Program E, but I assume new technology can take a slaves temperature in this manner? And now for internal measurements and stretching exercises. More lube, a few choice decisions regarding the sound size and Mistress was carefully inserting ever increasing sized sounds from her Pratt kit down the inside of her cock. I took Pratt sound size 27 relatively easily but the next size up refused to slide in. With my highest sound size limit noted Maggie was satisfied with the stretching progress she had made with her slave, she indicated that in a future session we would be returning to the clinic for continued stretching of the urethra.

Yet another strange use of new technology was introduced now, by way of what was reported to be an internal thermometer. You can guess where that ended up along with its associated electrode; stuck inside my penis shaft. Oh yes, Mistress really does need to know how hot it is in there, how else does she know whether to switch her electric up or down? The electrastim sensation was set to a very unnerving level, and to add to the steamy atmosphere the zip was finally closed over my face and I started to use up the air inside the body bag. No sympathy from Mistress as she pointed out there was a suitable sized hole at cock level to let in plenty of air.

It is a strange feeling gradually consuming all the air inside the bodybag, unlike the other breath play methods that I have enjoyed with Maggie the effects are much slower to show themselves. The plastic is thick and doesn't mould itself to your face, in fact the lack of oxygen creeps up slowly and insidiously. Perhaps I should suggest Mistress installs carbon dioxide monitors inside the body bags, but then again they are not required as I trust Mistress implicitly and have agreed to go wherever she wants to take her slave.

As Maggie unhitched her plastic slave from the clinic couch she revealed that a lot more plastification awaited me, but I will have to tell you about that in a future episode, because for the first time in all my 4+ years in training Mistress changed her mind ‘ . . or maybe not’, she said. Instead we spent quiet time lounging on the latex bed, where we just chilled out in our plastic suits, talking and enjoying each others company. It is an amazing thing lying there talking and just gazing at Maggie’s smiling profile in the subdued lighting of the Playroom. I didn't change my mind though about being the luckiest slave alive; a perfect Mistress, with a laugh and smile to die for and once more, in the presence of my Mistress, I felt really alive.

Needless to say Mistress made sure her cock was kept under strict control during this time, however a lot more willpower was required when Mistress decided a little plastic face-sitting would bring the session to a suitable finale, and I was told in no uncertain terms not to embarrass myself. Slurp went the last few drops of lube inside her dungarees and Mistress mounted my face with her lubed up plastic protected rear. I get the distinct impression Mistress Maggie enjoys slipping around on the nose of her suffocating slave and the severe ache I left the Chambers with on that very lucky Friday 13th had nothing to do with a sore arse.

Mistress, if you read this, I have to remind you to get some more lube!

Post Election Blues

The day after the general election and four parties have all received a caning, resulting in three leaders resigning and one very sore arse. I was that fourth party and I received my good caning in the Playroom polling station from my returning officer Mistress Maggie for poor performances during my erection campaign. My previous blog describes how I committed errors that I knew would not go unpunished. That was to be part of today's agenda.

I was allowed a most pleasurable amount of shoe and foot worship, although as you might expect I was not allowed anywhere near the see-through plastic pants, or skimpy champagne coloured latex top that Mistress was wearing. It didn't stop me looking as I licked a long slow tongue up Maggie's insteps, around the leather straps, around her slim ankles and kissed each of the 8 toes in turn. No, Maggie has ten toes but two were hidden by the shoes. I was also given the opportunity to repair some of last sessions damage by being encouraged to re-state my promise. Again, kneeling between Maggie's thighs, I looked deeply into her eyes and correctly this time, stated my oath to my Mistress. That was a major milestone indeed and a weight off my mind.

As night follows day, retribution followed my Mistress worship. Maggie produced a short breathing tube and began to wrap my head with the small roll of clingfilm. Enough to seal the breathing tube in place as my only source of air, yet leaving my vision unimpaired. Strange how a thin, single layer of clear cling film can so effectively exclude all air yet leaves vision unhindered. Maggie had me straddle the whipping horse, tied my hands to the front rails and secured my midriff with a fluffy piece of rope. My latex shorts were eased from around my buttocks and my ass was then tight across the horse with my feet barely touching the carpet. Maggie explained that I would receive 12 strokes of the cane as an incentive to remember my slave oath. First, a little warm up, the bitter sweet approach where talcum is rubbed gently into my ass-cheeks followed by hand slaps then a hairbrush and finishing with a paddle, interspersed with the most gentlest talc massage. I dribbled quite a lot through that short mouthpiece as I struggled to remain calm for my Mistress.

Then to my amazement, Mistress untied me and ordered me to stand. Had my whimpers softened her heart? Was she not going to cane my already smarting backside? Not a chance, and deep down I knew it was a forlorn and fleeting hope. Maggie, like me, keeps her promises and with my pants down I had to bend over as far as I could ready for my 'encouragement'. Surprisingly, far enough to rest my knuckles on the carpet, (not bad for a fat, unfit 63 year old). That proved most fortunate as the twelve measured blows were slowly and precisely administered, each one rocking me forward onto those knuckles as I absorbed the pain of the cane.

1, 2, 3 . . . 11, 12 and . . . Oh shit! I forgot to thank Mistress for my corrective treatment, much to Maggie's annoyance. I received another 12 strokes in rapid sucession after which I was VERY quick to thank Mistress for teaching me a lesson.

Note to others: It’s all for your own good so be quick to thank Mistress for helping you. 

Mistress cut a large mouth hole in the cling film and once again I was instructed to repeat my slave oath. Despite my backside smarting from the 24 cane strokes, I was able to quietly and confidently repeat my promise, perfectly and without flaw. I was the proudest slave in the room when Maggie beamed her delightful smile and said 'What a good slave'.

As usual Maggie had me fetch my butt-plug, but much to my disappointment instead of sticking it in its correct location I was instructed to kiss it, demonstrate how much I loved it and quote my oath to my butt-plug. Mistress must have had a good laugh at her slave reciting an oath of allegiance to a dildo. I felt a right prick. Once done, I was to stick it, together with my shorts back into my kit bag. I much preferred the reaction from Mistress to my correct recitation. The plug just sat there quivering in my hands, most unimpressed.

Kneeling on the padded bench my smarting arse now received a little more pleasurable attention, from a new insertable electrode that Maggie wished to experiment with. (I love being a guinea pig for new devices and always offer my services to help other slaves. I feel good making the offer, however it is purely ceremonial as Maggie owns the real estate). A sperm shaped device that, like a rat up a drain-pipe, was up my backside in no time at all. Maggie ramped up the electrics on the sperm probe program to level 45 before any sensations were evident. My cock and balls were then wired up with electrodes, ready to be utilised conventionally alongside the anal connection that was now safely nestling up my bum. This was only a trial and once Maggie was satisfied that some signal was being received, we moved on.

Politicians weren't the only one to receive a good shafting on that day as Maggie temporarily removed the sperm electrode and rapidly rammed her strap-on into its very receptive home. I, unlike Nick, did enjoy my shafting despite still wearing my neat little clingfilm bonnet, or perhaps enhanced by wearing it? In any event, when Maggie had had enough enjoyment with her strap-on the tadpole was reinserted into its now enlarged home.

After all my hard work, a little quiet contemplation was called for and Mistress had already prepared the body bag by attaching it to the bondage bed. Off with the cling-film and I was eased into the soft plastic re-breather hood, my hands taped into plastic fist mitts, a latex ball stretcher keeping my balls hard, followed by the soft all over plastic suit that fits oh so nicely, with a suitable hole to allow the cables through - Mistress really does think of everything, and I was ready for incarceration. Mistress had me carefully lie down in the centre of the body bag, absolutely no way of running away now as my legs were zipped into a pair of leg splints, Maggie blew them up until it was impossible to bend my knees. An interesting experience to feel your legs becoming immobile. I don't know why but I assumed the leg splints were black. Afterwards I discovered they were actually zip on clear plastic. Strange how your mind assumes certain things when being so stimulated.

Mistress sealed me into the clear inner pouch then the black outer cover was pulled over and I was zipped inside. The last words I heard were, 'I could leave you in here forever and no one would know’. And yes she could and in that instant I didn't care. All I wanted to do was please my Mistress. The trouble is that plastic sticks to plastic, and in order to keep the two holes in my re-breather hood clear some compromises had to be made, after a short while enclosed in the bodybag Maggie unzipped one of the layers which allowed air around my mask, then it was back to darkness again for this incarcerated slave.

I was quite relieved by the brief respite but this is one of my Mistresses many strengths. She notices when her slaves are exhibiting unusual movements and grunts, treating them as signs of unplanned stress. The result was the few breaths of air then a little more solitary.

When I was next allowed to come up for air and the bag top opened, I saw the vague image of Maggie through my steamed up plastic hood, standing close by, open the top of her plastic pants and pour in copious quantities of lube. Not just a few drops. A long slow stream as it gradually covered the whole of her lower abdomen. That slipperiness was put to excellent use as I was straddled by Mistress and her well oiled bottom sat on my eager and waiting face. I tried to lick; difficult with the hood. I tried to kiss through the two layers of plastic; almost ineffective, so I lay back and enjoyed as Maggie slid about on my nose and face, controlling my breathing with those delightful thighs and cheeks.

Truly a memorable experience. My well oiled yet plastic protected Mistress so close yet so inaccessible. I just lay there, the occasional gasp as the two plastic layers created the perfect seal and watched but mainly listened to the highly erotic sound of Maggie having fun on my face. My sole reason for existence was to concentrate my nose and face on pleasing my Mistress. 

 A final bonus as I was released from my body-bag prison was allowed, involving the by then, very oily plastic pants as Maggie eased them down to just below her knees, sat legs open, on the centre of her throne and I was instructed to put my head inside and clean them. Clean, lick and kiss I did but not before glimpsing the image of Maggie's ring snuggled in amongst the other gleaming oil covered landscape that had so recently been covered by her pants. I only had a fleeting moment to gaze and admire that silver ring. That area is, of course, off limits and forbidden territory and it would have been incredibly rude and inappropriate, not to mention downright dangerous and stupid, to comment that I had been ogling Maggie's jewels, so I got to work with my head slip sliding away inside the still warm oil filled plastic pants. Although I know that ring was off limits, I did allow myself to dream of cleaning it for Maggie. I know, as a slave I shouldn't entertain such thoughts and I am sure they will be more under control as I continue to progress with my training, but I am only a red-blooded male slave after all.

As I came up for air and another quick peek at the silverware, I commented that the oil didn't taste like GTX but I couldn't quite place the flavour. Maggie laughed at my stupidity, that always makes me feel better, and with that tinkle in her voice said it was edible oil and she might treat me to strawberry or banana flavour next time. If there was a next time of course. I am just happy with Maggie’s flavoured oil.

Back to reality. I certainly could feel the warmth in my backside from the earlier caning and could have happily worn Maggie's oil filled pants to sooth and cool my sore arse. (Somehow I don't think they would fit but the thought did). I did allow a wry smile as Maggie pointed to the tip of the cane that had broken off during my 'encouragement'. It was a small victory but one that was very significant to me. Twenty four stripes in return for 1 broken cane. A modest gain in the face of overwhelming odds but more than some political parties received at the election.

Cooking by Candle Power

By coincidence, in the morning whilst I was waiting impatiently for the time to leave home for my afternoon session with Mistress Maggie, I was on a blog extolling the virtues of the discipline Mistress had instilled into me during my training, to always present myself in well shaved, hairless form. The original reason Mistress gave was to encourage better electrical contact for the electrodes. Today provided an equally valid but different reason for hairlessness.

The session was scheduled at a nice easy pace, giving me time to admire Maggie as she moved purposefully and gracefully fitting my butt plug and selecting and fitting a tight but comfortable latex hood. Boot worship and a little personal space cleaning got the session off to a superb start. It was going to be one of those sessions Maggie so frequently delivers; humour, improvisation when required and quite simply a Mistress in absolute top form. Right from the first moment when Mistress raised the back of her skirt and instructed me to lick and clean her behind, Mistress had a smile on her cheeks and I just knew something amazing and unusual was imminent.

I thought very briefly that it was strange that the shaggy white rug was absent, but then my attention was required to putting on a pair of ballet boots and we moved on from the missing rug. I was allowed some banter with Mistress about using the boots' side zips and just like last time I wore them, Maggie mentioned that I wouldn't be able to run away or in fact even stand in the boots. As soon as I said "I bet I could stand" I thought I had gone too far as the comment may be construed as insolent, but Maggie insisted I stay on my knees and get ready to have my endurance well tested. 

A couple of rope belts were hitched firmly but comfortably round my waist, followed by two shorter lengths either side of the waist left dangling for later use. I was instructed to lie in the space where the rug should have been, underneath the suspension unit. It felt strange with no furry rug tickling my back. The tight nipple clamps were more than tickling my nipples. Maggie tightened them to maximum and they were not coming off. A similar pair were attached to balls and both were strung over the suspension unit and something painful was starting to happen. It got more painful as the waist ropes were attached to the suspension unit and raised enough to put a little pressure on my back. I then caught the briefest of glimpses of a simple candle attached to the strings keeping my nipples tight. Mistress most helpfully said not to worry as this was part of my endurance training and smiled sweetly as she lit the candle at both ends, then did the same with a second candle that I couldn't see suspended above my cock and balls. I wish someone would remind Maggie that burning the candle at both ends is definitely not good for a slave.

Bloody hell, that hurt. When each drop of hot wax splashed home, I shook and released another flood of molten pain. Maggie thought I wasn't wobbling enough. Too flaming right. I was trying to keep as still as possible, but to encourage her slave and to generate a bit more mirth for Maggie my waist was hoisted a few more inches off the floor. That worked. I got quite a few very hot wax showers. This was the second reason why it is good to be totally hairless when visiting Maggie. The wax coated cock, balls, nipples and chest with a thick layer that would have depilated every hair it came in contact with. It also explained why the fluffy rug was absent. Wax on a thick pile carpet is a devil to remove. I am constantly amazed by the amount of planning that goes into these sessions even the simplest detail of removing the rug had been considered.

Mistress announced that she was pleased with my performance and that I had passed the endurance test. I had been determined not to disappoint Maggie by begging her to extinguish the candles and my perseverance paid off with a most radiant smile, a well done slave and the most delightful kiss for her flambé'd slave. Mistress gave me a good stiff brushing to remove the widespread wax pools from my skin, bits of wax went everywhere, exactly where the white rug would have been.

As I said, Maggie was in absolutely sparkling form and was prepared to improvise and she invited me to join her on the landing. Pointing to the bannister Mistress instructed me to stand and use it as a ballet bar, after all I was wearing ballet boots. I struggled onto my feet making a passable attempt at standing but acknowledged Mistress was right, as always, and we agreed I would need far more practise in the boots before I could even stand let alone walk. Back on my knees I was instructed to return the ballet boots to their box, then I fetched the vacuum and made short work of cleaning the Playroom floor. Even though I say so myself, I now make a passable cleaner for Maggie.

Back to the script and on with my training. Out came my own plug and in went a larger, vibrating version. Before switching on the plug Mistress retrieved the bondage cushion and the largest plastic bag I had ever seen. The intention was to seal me inside and tie me to the cushion.

All going fine until I started sweating and I kept slip sliding away inside the bag. I don't think it was helped by the cling film Mistress used to secure the vibrators batteries. We settled for Maggie strapping hands and feet to the bag.

A lot of huffing and puffing followed as Maggie alternated between sucking air out of the bag and blowing air in so I ended up like a vac-pac then a balloon.

This amused Maggie for a while. Mistress knows exactly how much air to remove from the bag and how long I could be left before I would start to gasp and plead for a little air. After all, it would have been most inappropriate after all her hard work, if I suddenly panicked and had to be cut out! I have much faith in Mistresses abilities and trust her implicitly. That was not going to happen.

When I received this picture, I just had to include it in my blog. It shows the most gentlest of gestures from Maggie. In particular, my blown up head gently cradled between my Mistresses thighs. Obviously I could not see but I knew how close my balloon was to Maggie. I felt an overwhelming sense of peace at this point. Safely wrapped in my air-tight plastic, with my head firmly yet oh so comfortably cradled.

All the pain of the hot wax now forgotten.

This gentle moment couldn't last of course. This little unscripted gem had to end, unfortunately, as Mistress referred back to her comprehensive session plan.

Plans required me to move from lying on the cushion to sitting on the low stool that Maggie moved to a convenient position close by. This almost created my first and only natural disaster of the session. I felt the most excruciating cramps starting in my calves as I stood up. Fortunately, as I flopped quickly and painfully on to the bench with a groan of agony the cramps went, just as quickly as they had started. Maggie as always was concerned with her slave experiencing any pain she had not orchestrated, relaxed as I reassured her I was now fine for the final part of training. It was touching afterwards that Mistress again showed her gentler side by e-mailing me about her concerns over my cramp as she thought I may have understated how much pain I was actually in. I had been honest with Maggie during the session. It is a lot safer that way.

The final part of the session involved a topic dear to most English people. The weather. I was advised that I needed a little climactic conditioning in an environment more suited to England following my recent holiday abroad. Ah, the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.

With me comfortably seated, the sweat coated plastic slid easily round my torso to provide a huge ruff of plastic round my neck that Maggie used to good advantage to save spillage of the predicted heavy shower. I could  make out through the already misting plastic that Mistress was preparing a jug or two of nice warm liquid and I looked forward to a good drink as I was already sweating.

Maggie had no plans for her slave to drink as she produced and filled a pink, yes fixated with pink, watering can bought just for her slave. Once again, she can be a real softy towards her slaves and did I see the funny side as Maggie spread the top of the plastic and would insist on saying things like "hows the rain, petal" and "you all right in there flower?" as she watered away. Sometimes Maggie's sense of humour goes over my head but in this case it was the warm pee that trickled from the can that went over my head. I did catch a few welcome drops but the intention was to increase the humidity inside the bag.

Maggie created a low pressure weather system by pumping out some of the air and then sealed me inside, with instructions that I was to last 10 minutes without embarrassing myself. The conditions were decidedly warm and humid inside and as the plastic misted up, helped by the warm wine, I began to be once again acclimatised to the Season of Mists . . .

Did I last those 10 minutes? Maggie thrust the room vibrator in my slippery hands and alternated between helping me press it into my groin and then into her groin; the air was getting thin, breathing was increasingly difficult and it was like peering through a thick mist. I could only see Maggie when really close as she gave me a gentle kiss through my steamy weather bag. Yes 10 minutes of endurance training was passed; just!

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 Little Quiet Contemplation

Like a naughty school boy, I was stood in the corner facing the cell wall whilst Mistress Maggie went about her Mistress work, polishing her own latex attire.

I am not sure Ofsted would approve. Me in full latex suit, rubber hood and secured against the cell door with stout straps. Rubber gag and blindfold made sure I wasn't going to complain. In any event, what did I have to complain about? I had just received an all over polish and been parked and secured against the cell door. It gave me time to think about my Mistress and what I had done right and more importantly anything that I had done wrong.

When released I could see that Mistress had been busy with a shining spray as her latex costume now had a mirror shine. I was to worship Mistress. All over her tight latex ski-pants, up and down her long boots, working my tongue around her corset buckles, in fact anywhere an eager slave was allowed to worship.

At the end, an electrode was secured and sealed on my balls inside the catsuit with a whisper from Mistress that "your cock will soon be getting very hot!"

Mistress and I had talked a few sessions back about an inflatable latex hood I had seen online, the bit that really excited me were the integral perspex eye holes that would make it airtight. What a surprise when Maggie announced that the exact same hood had arrived through her letter box very recently and I was going to wear it.

Or was I? "Shall I, shan't I let slave wear it?"  Mistress teased a little. "Would a little plastic bag treatment over the head be more appropriate? Gasp for breath then beg to wear the new hood, slave?"

I felt the softness as the gunmetal latex was gently rubbed against my cheeks and all the while, I was securely roped at shoulders elbows wrists and knees.

I thought the red ropes on black latex a nice touch as it was Valentines day after all. As it was the first hood wearing, Maggie decided, wisely as always, not to pump the hood to its maximum. That could wait for another day.

Meticulously planned as always. Mistress moved me from sitting to lying in the body-bag and the ropes required no adjustment. I was secure and I now understood why "your cock will soon be getting very hot!" Not quite a microwave, definitely not an oven but the body bag, combined with the electrics bubbling away on cock and balls certainly began to warm things up inside the bag. I was at the mercy of Mistress and her fiendish remote control. Just to be sure I was 'enjoying' my little bagged rest, Maggie 'allowed' me to wear a couple of nipple clamps; red of course to compliment the ropes and the colour of my bloody nipples after those vicious little blighters had done their work.

Ofsted rating of the Mistress Maggie Training Establishment? An outstanding provider of course.