Nippling Day

Perhaps today will go down in history as the start of a new tradition. Mistress Maggie had accumulated quite a few negative comments about the recent poor performance of my nipples, and today she would be pulling out all the stops to rectify the matter. In fact, when I had completed my normal homage to the immaculate white platform boots that covered her legs, kneeling to attention with arms behind awaiting my slave orders, Mistress presented me with a written notice of her intentions.

There was a drawback to that however, as without my glasses I had no chance of reading the notice and had to ask Mistress to narrate its contents. Suffice is to say it pointed out, in particular, the shortcomings that were evident during our last session, while the fact that I had to beg for the recitation only added to my owners displeasure.

Mistress took a little time deciding which of my latex suits I should wear for her. I have previously mentioned that I’d obtained a thinner, tighter catsuit, but Mistress had doubts about the zip openings being large enough to insert her strap-on, or even my trusty butt plug from some angles. Only one way to check the dimensions, squeeze me in and try it out. Unfortunately it’s impossible for me to get into the catsuit on my own, but I am fortunate that Maggie likes to help dress me in latex, her guiding and smoothing hands feel simply delightful and she soon had me encased in its smooth black skin.

And so Nippling Day started. First of all I was ordered to place the low bench in centre stage of the Playroom and lie down on it, making sure I had my head nice and comfortable on the latex pillow provided. It all sounds so gentile and refined, but really it was just lining up my body for Act 1.

Mistress said that because she wanted a good hard cock for her play I wouldn’t be receiving any poppers infusions, yet in order to make my nipples meet her desired standards some robust speed training was needed, and as it was likely to be uncomfortable I would have to be subdued by other methods. Initial disappointment soon gave way to a deep smile as Maggie straddled my face in her clear latex clad tights and her bottom descended onto my face. It may have subdued my breathing and repeat performances made me positively breathless, but it certainly didn't subdue other parts. Top that with a change of orientation and Maggie’s marvellous chest came into very close proximity with my hooded face, then moving in closer my features disappeared into her cleavage. That breathtaking smothering also did nothing to subdue those parts away from my nose and mouth.

The nipple zips opened and quite a lot of talc was rubbed onto each nipple. We discovered that the nipple zips on the new suit were slightly narrower than we are used to, making the application of the white little bastards Maggie had chosen, quite awkward. It took three goes to get the nipples exposed and nipped properly, worse for my nipples because with each try Maggie grabbed them and pinched them before clamping them between the nippers teeth. Once instated I wore them for a while as Maggie kindly rested her latex bottom on my face to distract me from the pain. By the time Maggie decided to knock my nipple training up a notch, my nipples were already feeling somewhat abused and sore and when the clover clamps were successfully attached I was starting to feel quite sorry for my predicament!

Now I was un-roped and standing up with the clover clamps dangling, my disappointing nipples felt like they were being really tested. I thought Maggie was being most mischievous when she suggested I clean up my dribbles from the upholstered bench, the nippling I had received had worked up a sweat which had managed to seep out through my crotch zip. I had to scrub it thoroughly and scrub it repeatedly while Maggie began acclimatising my nipples to carrying weights. The first two small ones were tolerable but she kept gradually adding more, in the meantime I was to continue scrubbing . . . ‘Come on slave. Scrub harder!’. . . scrub, scrub, scrub, all the time the bloody weights were swinging away on my nipples and worse, I had to really concentrate to make sure they didn't drop off again (clamps not nipples). Finally the upholstery was deemed clean enough and I was instructed to put the bench back where it belonged.

For a brief moment I thought I was about to receive a little kindness. Mistress suggested I could rest the weights on the high horse, letting it take their weight. Jumping at the opportunity was a definite no no, that would have been far too painful a stunt to perform. Slow and careful was a much better option, and even then I managed to accidentally knock them against the horse, but once the weights were resting, oh what a relief. I was allowed to rest for a few minutes before Maggie latched a lead on my collar and instructed me to stand up straight and take a walk with her. A couple of circuits round the playroom following my Mistress on a close leash then told to rest the weights again, and so it went on. Rest them, stand up again and the pain was worse after the rest.

I am certain my owner knew that would happen!

Act 2 started well, or at least I thought so. Out came the ‘serving’ tray that I had proudly worn last time I served Mistresses friends. Unfortunately, this time, my owner had decided that my nipples would form an integral part of this scene and obviously her serving tray should be supported from my nipple chain, not loosely either. Maggie adjusted the chains so that when I stood up straight the chains pulled on the nipples and any extra weight that Maggie laughingly applied just added pain onto my existing discomfort. I am certain there was real joy in her voice as she sent me off to the bathroom to refill her drinking glass 'And mind you don't damage any more of my furniture’. I took it slowly making steady progress through the doorways and returned very carefully clutching the glass of water. I presented it to my Mistress only to be reprimanded. 'Slave, what is the tray for?' Sometimes I can't do anything right.

'Fetch the weights from the White Room, slave’. Off I trotted, finding two sets of weights on the windowsill I decided to take both back because if I only took one set it was bound to be the wrong one. It was excruciating but I placed both sets on the tray for the journey back to the Playroom. With hindsight, possibly one set may have been better for my nipples as with that mischievous laugh Mistress hung both pairs from the tray chains and had me move round to get used to the pressure of the heavier weights. 'Well you must have wanted all the weights as you brought them.'

Act 3 was to be played out in the Clinic. Strapped down so securely so as to make movement and resistance impossible, Mistress said she was going to re-apply the clamps that had so ignominiously fallen off last time and which then became the prime mover for this nipple torture day. First of all though we tested out the appropriateness of the rear zip. We needn't have been concerned, when opened to its maximum the zip allowed easy insertion of my trusty plug. I think we were both pleased and it does mean my owner has two black costume options for me; heavy weight or lighter and tighter.

Of course, I couldn't see the nipple clamps being used but could certainly feel their application onto my already sensitive little buds. Each one was being tightened in turn and then some fiddling; a sensation as if something was being attached and I had the uneasy feeling that the 'something' were wires. Never mind, I had other more pulling demands to concentrate on as I felt other sensations happening below. Mistress was stretching my ball sac and then applying some tight clamp. With that wicked laugh I could feel my balls being pulled away from my body and becoming a lot tighter. Despite all the other excitement of Act 3 this stretching was superb, and when additional weight was added to the ball stretching it was very pleasurable to say the least; another comment I may have been wiser not to include in the blog!

As I lay there taking in the rubber smell from the anaesthetic mask that Maggie had quietly applied, I could hear Mistress relieving herself in the plastic jug, I heard the contents being poured out and anticipated I may be drip fed her nectar through my mask and tube, as my owner frequently supplies such treats. However, nothing so thirst quenching today, her liquids had been dispensed into a bubble bottle and I was left burbling away as the electrics were pulsing away.

Yes, I can confirm that Mistresses wooden clamps held really firm, the nipple fiddling was in fact wires and that my sensitive nipples were subjected to a good prolonged jolt of pulsing electrical stimulation, a sensation that I could only have imagined without Maggie’s nipple stretching intervention. Meanwhile my balls were being increasingly stretched at the other end. As Mistress announced that she was switching her estim up to number 9, Act 3 had a big spurt of drama, I just couldn’t control myself any longer, embarrassing myself by cumming there and then. Another strange phenomena occurred at level 9, with my balls now emptied one of them managed to escape the clutches of the stretcher, earning me the name of ‘One Ball Jo’.

There was one more act to perform before the curtain finally came down. After I had been cleaned up and de-wired Mistress Maggie wanted some of her own fun and knelt in the recently vacated spot on the couch with her wonderful butt right in front of my eyes, I was directed towards it and told to clean her little bud, and clean and lick I did. Perhaps the detail to the Nippling Day finale is better left untold. But I can say that I attempt a very good job of arse licking and I think Maggie was actually enjoying this end to another exciting session and I have to say, my Mistress has the most perfect bottom that I have ever had the pleasure to lick.

Perhaps the last Friday in October will go down in the calendar as the day for sorting out errant nipples, perhaps we should call it Nippling Day? I will let you know if Friday 26th October 2018 is designated for a repeat performance of that ancient tradition of Nippling a slave, providing my owner hasn't fired her slave by then.

Friday the 13th!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

The Sin Of Omission

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Window of Opportunity

It is not often that I get the unexpected privilege of being able to receive training with Mistress Maggie twice within four days. But that particular window was well and truly opened, and I jumped. In our last session we had been shopping to Cathouse Clothing in Yorkshire and normally I would be a little depressed at the end of the session, waiting for my next opportunity to serve. I certainly would have been on this occasion as my next scheduled training was not for another four weeks. However, at the last moment, I was able to book an evening session the following Tuesday. Yet again Mistress was able to bring another new experience to her slave and I arrived at 20:00 for my first ever evening session.

Maggie had warned me when I requested the extra training that I would be the ideal play thing for further testing of her newly acquired humbler, but first I was to deep clean her black shiny over the knee boots. And by deep clean, she meant deep clean. Mistress was quite clear that a lot of my saliva would be required before she considered them washed. I generated as much as I could, moving my tongue with long, slow, very wet licks in my attempt to saturate every part of both boots. Mistress inspected them with a single finger, if she touched her boots with her finger and it came away dry, then her boots were not wet enough and I had to repeat the cleaning process again.

That amount of saliva took a lot of generating and kind as always, Mistress assisted with three full mouthfuls of her own spit deposited fairly and squarely in my eager open mouth, the first mouthful accompanied by a stern warning from Maggie. ‘Don't swallow fool, it’s meant to help with the cleaning’. And so I continued long and wet, up and down, all the while managing sly glances at Mistress in her superb rubber riding gear. Another final inspection of her boots and Mistress appeared satisfied with my efforts, I was then instructed to fetch a cloth from her bottom drawer and put it to use, giving the newly washed boots a good buffing and polish.

Meanwhile my personal butt plug was sitting looking harmless on the corner of the wooden cabinet, and I suspected that it would not be too long before it was disappearing up my arse. However, Mistress reminded me that in our last encounter when we had been shopping in Yorkshire my butt plug had been neglected; I’d had electric anal beads stuffed up my arse for the shopping trip instead, then when we returned Maggie had so effectively filled my arse with her Manhandler dildo. Anyway, today I ended up on my knees, face up tight to my own butt plug and offering my humblest apologies to the plug for 'deserting it in favour of bigger toys’. Not even a thank you from the plug as Mistress finally took it and slid it into its usual backdoor location, but I am just a simple slave, who should know my place and learn not to take my butt plug for granted.

Mistress is always thinking of her slaves well-being, and when I was instructed to put the knee pads on it did mean I would be on my knees for a considerable time!

OK, down to the humbler testing. Head down arse up in the centre of the rug and zip lowered on my latex shorts, balls gathered up with an old nylon stocking and the humbler locked in place relatively easily. I now had a very robust steel humbler securely locked in place round the top of my balls. The next part, fitting the ball stretcher did not go well and I fully understood why Mistress needed more testing. It was one of those occasions where Mistress declares ‘I could do with an extra arm!’. As much as she grasped and stretched my balls the stretcher refused to line up properly and snap into position. After a bit of cursing and silent thinking time Maggie realised that it would be better to construct the humbler in a different order. I got the uneasy but delightful feeling that Mistress hadn't given up with her attempt at attaching my balls to the stretcher mechanism and next time. . .

In contrast to the stretcher, the ball crusher went on too easily and Maggie was soon enjoying applying that part of the apparatus with more than a little release of her frustration at the ball stretcher, as she tightened the crusher. Yes the damn thing has spikes on one side and a flat face on the other and yes you can guess which way the crusher was applied; the spiky side ended up against my balls and yes the spikes are sharp enough to hurt and leave visible marks on my poor, crushed balls and yes I enjoyed being guinea pig again for my Mistress.

Testing wasn't complete however, Mistress wanted to test how her slave coped with the grip and the weight of the humbler and whether it was painful to wear whilst moving. It was secured exactly where Maggie wanted it with a length of rope, and I was taken on a lead and instructed to walk at heel; a steady walk around all the upstairs carpeted areas, round the floor, out the landing, up the hall, round and about and back to the Playroom. All the while my balls in tight check and rattling against my buttocks as I crawled forward on hands and knees. In my humble opinion it is a real mean controlling machine, and that’s before having the stretcher part locked on my bollocks! It would be impossible for me to contort myself into a position to remove it myself, even if Mistress was gracious enough to hand me the keys.

Back in the Playroom, Maggie sat on her throne and employed me with even more humbler testing tasks. 'Crawl towards the cage and then crawl backwards slave, more times, I need to check how tough my new humbler is’. This also gave her the chance to gauge how effective the humbler was at close quarters. It worked, it stayed on and my balls were cruelly and permanently pushed out behind me.

The temptation was obviously too much for my Mistress as she was soon picking up her riding crop, telling me how much she had been looking forward to using it. She gave my balls several very sharp blows that echoed round the Chambers, enough to really make me wince. But what could I do, as in between the ball beating strokes Mistress allowed me to bury my latex covered face inbetween her latex buttocks or her latex thighs, along with the most gentlest of strokes to those tormented balls and whispered, ‘You did well with the testing. You will be rewarded later’.

When later came I was spread-eagled in bondage on the latex bed. With my wrists and ankles strapped firmly out of the way Mistress set about me with the vibrator and her soft rubber gloved hands. To add little more spice to my life, Maggie manacled the base of my shaft with a stout cock strap and chained it to the top of the bed post; strong chain and very tight, with the chain passing right in front of my eyes on its way to the ringbolt in the centre of the bed head. I remembered her recent article on her website, 'Can you cum’, and I was determined that I wasn't going to embarrass myself yet again. I maintained a stiff upper lip as I asked Maggie whether she wanted me to cum or not to cum - that was the question. The answer, ‘You have no choice slave’. As the Hitachi wand vibrations played on my balls they had no option but empty themselves. Mistress is clearly in charge of everything when you are worshipping her, and so it should be.

The final act. Mistress Maggie tweaked a nipple quite hard and purred. ‘These need attending to next time’.

Relief for Mistress?

After 97 sessions I have come to understand some of the moods and feelings of Mistress Maggie. I certainly know when I have disappointed her, but this week I got the impression from a couple of email exchanges that she was deeply perturbed by a couple of issues, neither of which were of my making. I had already responded 'I hope that you will use your slave to work off some of your anguish'. The brevity of her calling mail tended to confirm that something still concerned Mistress 'Slave required to help Mistress into new rubber catsuit . . . Pack black rubber.' I wracked my brains for what I might have done and for once nothing obvious sprang to mind.

When I arrived Mistress was in good spirits. We talked and Maggie outlined the order of events, I was going to pedicure her feet and then zip her into her brand new never worn catsuit which was hanging lifelessly on its hanger from the gantry. It wasn’t hanging up there on its own for too long, as Maggie helped me into my rubber suit, cuffed me to the overhead and brought a bucket and sponge to wash away any talc smears in COLD water! I was able to surreptitiously swing round a little in the fetters and gaze at her new suit hanging nearby, with no chance of release until I was fully drip dried.

Meanwhile, Maggie sat in her latex dressing gown and sheer stockings on her throne, teasing her slave with lewd and very suggestive gestures, whilst I just hung around getting considerably warmer. To speed up the drying cycle Maggie had me circling my hips and performing strenuous knee jumps until there were no water droplets to be seen.

Mistress thought best to have her pedicure done in the White Room, she could lie back and relax on the couch with her feet up and rely on her slave to have her feet looking and feeling fabulous and fit for a queen.

And so I was led to the White Room where I gently eased off her shoes, parking them neatly against the wall as Maggie slipped off her stockings and handed me the tools required for pedicure.

With one leg in each stirrup, Mistress gave me instructions as to which small outcrops of hard skin needed attention and I got busy with an emery board. To help ensure I did a good job I was to forego the usual rubber gloves and would need to wear my glasses. They actually stayed in place on the outside of the open faced hood; yet another first in my training.

I am a red blooded slave and required considerable self-control as the latex dressing gown Mistress was wearing gently parted, once again revealing that Mistress was naked underneath. As well as red blooded I am trained and I took the sensible way out; positioned myself facing away from her nakedness and set to work gently pedicuring each of her beautiful feet. I had come into intimate contact with them earlier but only as I licked and cleaned every inch of fabric that were her black, shiny platform shoes. Now I could hold them, smooth them and generally worship them in the raw but I had a job to do.

Glasses required!

This is one activity I know Mistress likes and one that I am becoming passable at. After a long and gentle rubbing with the emery I cleaned each foot with my tongue to check for smoothness before asking Mistress if she was satisfied with my work. This time when she spoke I didn't make the mistake of looking where I shouldn't and gazed straight at her face, as she confirmed I was doing a good job and directed me to small areas that required a little more of my attention.

The next instruction set me shaking. I was to use two long wooden cotton buds, one to clean and the second to polish her intimate diamond ring. She held the ring as I wiped and polished the little gem with the buds. I am sure the trembling of my hands was transmitted down the bud but I persevered and finally completed the special task to Maggie's satisfaction and her slaves severe frustration!

We returned to the Playroom and I was instructed to glove up. Maggie said she needed the toilet and it would be best to go before dressing in her new catsuit. I was to be her convenience and promptly marched to the bathroom where I was to position myself over the toilet pan, face up so I could act as her nice, soft, warm rubbery toilet seat. And so it was Mistress squatted, ordered ‘open mouth' and released a warm stream straight into it. Not full flow, a controlled outpouring, followed by 'swallow’. I was just pleased that Maggie might have found another method of tension release, using her slaves eager mouth to relieve herself. I needed the thirst quenching, then Mistress who insists on a spotless bathroom had the convenience of using me to clean up spillages, but that is a slaves job after all.

It was then time to pour Mistress into her new catsuit. The suit is a lot thinner than mine and because of that required more care when easing Mistress inside her second skin. Despite Maggie having chlorinated the suit we both agreed a little talc the first time wouldn't go amiss. One leg slithered home, then the second leg, a little powder and each arm slipped in, once more making Mistress take on the vision of one of my fantasies; my rubber Mistress. The final act I had to perform was to ease the long zip all the the way up past her buttocks, past her waist, and finally up her back to her slender neck. All the while, the suit tightened and Maggie and her second skin became one.

Out came the bondage chair again into the middle of the Playroom, and I was parked on it and tied rather unceremoniously by several lengths of rope to the various eyelets around its frame, my neck collar also was secured to the back of the chair minimising any forward head movement.

I sat there for five minutes or so with only the sound of rustling plastic in the next room for company, until Mistress returned and double bagged me with clear plastic which was tightened at my neck with a convenient piece of latex bandage. It was at this time I realised I wasn't 100% recovered from my recent cold. I would normally lap it up, but instead I really struggled and my begging began far too early. Maggie attentive as always to a dying slave curtailed that part and moved on to her needle point play. Eight sterile needles to be precise. Four in each nipple.

My nipple zips had been slowly opened and Maggie methodically assembled all her nipple jabbing necessaries in a silver dish, which she placed on a table to my left. Gloved up, Maggie showed me the first needle before lining it up with my nipple, saying ‘I am going to push this through now, are you ready?’. The right hand ones were a nightmare, I had forgotten how to ride the pain. Taking a deep intake of breath just as Mistress was attaching the nipple needle did not seem to be working, resulting in more intake, and by the time the fourth one went in I almost lost it. My breathing became ragged, the voices in my head were telling me I really shouldn't have breathed in at that moment and I was generally in a sorry state.

Mistress agreed a time out to allow me to settle and realising the problem said 'deep breath in, and after I count 3 you will receive the next one’. That is of course the correct way. I paused with full lungs and at the count of three, slowly exhaled as the pain subsided; easy when you know how.

I would not be escaping without a rubber hood either, a double walled white rubber hood was brought into play. I had seen the hood earlier in the week when we chlorinated the item, but at that stage I could neither visualise how it fitted or what it would feel like. I got an answer to both questions. Maggie fitted the hood whilst I sat as still as I could so as not to disturb my nipple furniture. Mistress thought I looked hilarious in the hood with the front flapping like elephant ears and thought it even more amusing as she sealed me inside the two layers. Another of those 'I will regret this moment' but the hood felt really comfortable and even with me flapped inside, I could draw in sufficient air to allow me to wear the hood for a long time without any problem. The good thing was that Maggie was starting to laugh at her slave again. Perhaps the blues were lifting?.

My tightly gripped cock was now released from the catsuit. The relief from the tight compression was immediate and Maggie smiled again and I knew things were about to become more 'playful' as another length of white Playroom rope was secured tightly round my balls and a lead snapped on but left dangling for later. I was sat breathing easily in the sealed mask, Mistress was caressing her balls and gathering them with the rope and everything was rosy and I could have stayed there for the remainder of the afternoon but in reality, release from the hood and chair came far too quickly, but we always work to Maggie's schedule not mine.

I soon discovered that what I thought was a lead to my balls was actually a piece of bungee. Maggie had stopped to admire her stunning catsuit in the Playroom mirror, I spotted a smear of talc on her left cheek and naturally grabbed a towel and was about to give her buttocks a good rub. Surprise! - my balls had been secured by bungee cord to the Playroom bed, Mistress cruelly inched away from me with instructions to go ahead and clean her buttocks, then moved further away still, saying 'kiss my lovely latex ass slave.' 

Despite the almost overwhelming urges, don't eagerly leap forward otherwise your balls get a real snap with the bungee. Best to gently ease forward so the gradual pressure stretches the cord (and balls) slowly, and ‘et viola’, a slave can kiss his Mistresses latex clad cheeks whilst balls are being pulled in the opposite direction. My biggest bungee challenge was tidying up the play space and pushing Maggie’s throne back into its rightful place in the corner, as Maggies balls just wanted to bungee over to the Playroom bed to which they were still firmly attached.

I detected that Maggie must have some residual feelings of frustration which needed working off, as she strapped me to the punishment horse and used several of her implements on my tightly latexed arse: the delrin cane, a stout yellow handled cane and a senior cane, quite a good workout with that one. Then a few strokes with a red whip, but the loudest and longest lasting sounds were made with the Amsterdam whip; very loud thudding sounds of leather firmly striking latex. Maggie didn't spare the Amsterdam but even the hardest cracks leave little impression, in contrast the canes definitely leave an impression on my buttocks even through the thick latex. Maggie shifted her stance and attacked back, balls, thighs and anywhere else the Amsterdam could reach and I think I finally tired her arm as the session drew to its natural conclusion.

I hope Maggie got some pleasure by really laying into my arse with the canes and whips, and quite frankly if Maggie got relief from whatever was concerning her, my job was done.

Was it a good session? Yes definitely. I think I might have helped Mistress Maggie get rid of some of the frustrations that may have been bugging her, and judging by the huge smile on both her and her husband Johns face, as he caressed the smoothness of his wife still wearing the tight latex catsuit as we said our good nights, reinforced how relaxed she now was and I left her in excellent spirits.