Niggles

Niggles, demerits, black marks, punishments. . . call them what you will, but due to some thoughtless comments I had made Mistress Maggie saw fit to administer my just deserts at the start of this session. Mistress explained why I had earned the punishment and went on to offer me the choice of delivery mechanism, by either a senior cane or a three tailed tawse.

Mistress Maggie's choice for my punishment

I chose wisely I think, asking Mistress to choose which of the two nasty looking implements she believed would work best as retribution, and without hesitation she picked up the cane. So, within minutes of arriving at the Chambers and worshipping Mistresses bright red thigh boots I was hooded, and with a huge ball gag wedged in place I was supine over the Playroom horse.

Restraints were not used nor are they any longer necessary as, although occasionally deployed by my owner for visual effect and to act as a reminder of my slave status, I now do exactly as I am told. Her cane came swishing down and I lay there counting out the strokes and giving my best muffled thank you’s to Mistress for correcting her stupid, senseless slave.

I have absolutely no complaints, although at the time my backside was moaning a little as I received fifteen hard strokes.

Once Mistress had vented her anger (or so I thought), the mood changed and we moved forward to a more relaxed and far less painful part of the proceedings. Still using the horse, Mistress told me to reposition myself so that she could have full and unrestricted access to my bum. I could detect her stepping into her strap on harness, possibly preparing for some delightful fun. As I lay there waiting and wishing to be penetrated by her chosen dildo I thought about the mistake I had made, and how it was well worth a beating to clear the air, to have me realise my mistake and have Mistress back to her normal beautiful self.

My Lady in red

My fifteen stripes were no more than a mild ache as Maggie expertly guided the session to a different mindset, using large quantities of lubrication then gently sliding in . . . not the dildo but my butt plug.

The initial hand stretching and lubrication had clearly worked because the red ribbed plug slid in like a hot knife through butter. Perhaps I had misread the rattling sound and there was no strap-on? No. Maggie's sense of fun and mischief emerged and just as I was getting used to the plug, it was quickly unplugged to be instantly replaced by the whole length of Maggie’s cock.

Thinking I was about to receive another of those delicious fucks that Maggie can deliver I began to relax. But no again. Her cock was immediately removed and replaced with the plug. This alternating between plug and dildo must have been repeated four or five times until I didn't know whether I was coming or going. What I did know was that Mistress had one very happy but confused slave across her horse.

To conclude this part of the anal play ad when Maggie had finished oscillating and juggling the ass toys, she finished off by pushing a string of four large anal beads down the willing hole. These would keep me stuffed for the rest of the session. Thank goodness there is a long tail ending in a good sized ring to aid their extraction, otherwise I could have been left with a bum full of balls until nature intervened!

The last vestiges of Maggie's anger briefly surfaced and without warning she gave me another five rapid strokes with the Senior Cane. Those almost made me jump off the horse, but boy was I relieved when Mistress whispered that that was the end of my punishment and ‘lets get you into some shiny black rubber’. In addition I received the modified anaesthesia hood, more of this later, and I was ready for anything.

Mistress retrieved the leather wrist cuffs, using them to fix my arms loosely but securely behind my back. I was then instructed to back up against the Plank which was already upright and securely fixed to the Playroom’s overhead gantry. It had been quite obvious right from the boot worship, that this 7' length of Playroom equipment would be brought into  play at some stage, I mean how can you disguise a 7' solid bondage plank! Anyway, as instructed I tentatively leant back as the plank eased itself into position until it was happy to accommodate the weight of a rather large slave, and off we went.

Maggie moved about me, pulling on straps and stretching bandages tightly around me until I became at one with the Plank. Well almost, Maggie did stop to deliberate whether a knee strap was necessary and after a bit of umming and ahhing she did buckle it in place, though not too tightly. Mistress is a true expert in restraints, as, without the strap I doubt if I could have remained standing for as long as I did. With the strap, it allowed the strap to take some of the leg strain and extended my duration almost infinitely.

A very well fitted Kalis

As it was, I was very comfortable as I watched Mistress leave the room and later return wheeling in the IV stand which she brought beside me, then again she left the room closing the door behind her. From my restrained position I was perfectly happy standing, the playroom mirror had been carefully angled so I could admire my situation until my thoughts were interrupted by Maggie’s return. This time she brought in a brimming jug of what definitely looked like pee, emptying it into the rubber bag hanging from the drip stand. As my eyes wandered towards the bag and its contents I estimated over a litre of drink was now available.

Now the intricacies of the modified anaesthetic mask were fully revealed. Mistress had cunningly inserted the feeding tube up the centre of the attached hose which normally delivers aromas, meaning I could drink and be medicated at the same time. Now that is ingenious! It took a while to get started but with the taps on and a long hard suck I tasted the first trickle of fluid delivered down the drinking tube.

I was half expecting the next bit of playtime that Maggie had planned for her very willing follower, because a few days ago Mistress had announced on her Twitter feed that she had acquired a biting steel instrument called Kalis teeth; a most effective chastity device with a row of sharp teeth pointing inward into the wearers cock.

Fitting it on to a flaccid cock was relatively painless and I stood against the plank thinking calming thoughts to avoid an erection as Maggie carefully wrapped the device around my cock and balls. I couldn't see fully but I heard the ominous click as a small padlock went in place, accompanied by a tingle down my spine as Maggie threatened to leave it in place at the end of the session. Now there's something for me to contemplate in the future. . . I mean how could I last between sessions without attempting to get an erection. I mean every time I think of my Mistress. . . I digress. Back to the session fun.

Forced feeding

My sense of being dominated and under total control of Mistress took a step forward as Maggie sealed my eye holes with her eye mask. This is her own design and effectively seals you in behind the perspex lenses. The seal is effective and reduces the slave to taking air through the hose, regardless of whether it’s aroma filled air or not. Mistress really is inventive and very creative in her drive to give total satisfaction and loss of control to a subservient slave like me.

The application of the air tight eye mask also heralded a change in feeding habits. Up to now I had been sucking small quantities of nectar as and when I wanted, but now Mistress was exercising more control over her subject by utilising the delivery bulb attached to the feeding pipes.

A warning from Mistress followed by a syphoning squeeze delivered sufficient fluid for a mouthful. With the airtight mask it was either swallow or wallow in spilt pee inside the helmet. So, I am wrapped in latex to the bondage board with an airtight mask delivering both liquid refreshment and aromas and my cock was totally controlled by the Kalis; could a slave wish for any better treatment from his beautiful Mistress? Of course Maggie is capable of delivering an infinite variety of pleasure giving experiences and is not averse to using her latex clad body to help frustrate and torment her slave, by rubbing smooth rubber on rubber.

Forced climax

The next activity was probably the most cruel and tormenting Maggie could use on her slave. Out came the heavyweight Playroom vibrator and with consummate ease Mistress strapped it tightly against my exposed balls and turned it on. The exquisite torture was simply wonderful and at the same time so frustrating. My cock tried to get hard but was forced back into its flaccid state by the cruel prick of the enclosing needles, but the vibrator kept doing its work on my balls and I could feel the inevitable approaching climax.

Once Mistress has decided that you are going to be forced to climax there is absolutely nothing you can do to prevent the inevitable. I tried hard by concentrating on the pain in my cock, the nice day outside . . . but every time my thoughts drifted back to my state of servitude, and just to make sure Mistress moved her perfect body against the vibrator. The close proximity of Mistress, the insidious grasp of the Kalis, my current state of sexual arousal and that was it. I did try to warn Maggie but too late.

It was really strange to be forced to cum with a soft cock enclosed in steel and balls vibrating like a humming bird, but I suppose I moved that little bit closer to being totally under control and I love it.

Sucking now on an empty tube, all the nectar had been enjoyed and I had not missed a drop.

However it wasn't quite the end of the nectar resources, as Mistress insisted that as it was my fault that she had spilt the overflowing jug on the landing and that I would be cleaning it up. Scurrying along to where Mistress Maggie pointed, I sniffed all along the skirting board but on this occasion couldn't catch Maggie's scent, so I had to give the general area a thorough clean with sponge and disinfectant until Mistress was satisfied with the job.

And finally a tribute to my own Lady In Red

. . . I've never seen you looking so gorgeous as you did tonight

I've never seen you shine so bright, you were amazing

I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side. . .

Chris de Burgh

My Bakers Dozen

During one of my very pleasant email exchanges with Mistress Maggie, I had innocently strayed into that minefield that is women's emancipation and equality. I had absolutely no idea that I had inadvertently disappointed my Mistress with a derogatory remark until I received the consequences for my carelessness during this session.

Once more I was making my way to Mistress’ chambers; ambling along the pavement mulling over the meaning of life, or more precisely that part of my life relating to Maggie’s calling mail where she had indicated,

Fantastic shot of my rubber Mistress and dildo

‘Your Mistress will be in black latex ready to teach you something about roles and giving you some very big surprises.’

I thought I may be reminded of some of the various roles that Maggie expects her slaves to perform; toilet slave, plaything, pet, vehicle for venting anger etc. As for the big surprise, I pretty much knew that my surprise might come in the form of an electro dildo that Maggie had recently received. It looked rather large in the photo she had posted on Twitter, but not as large as the excess postal charge she had paid to have it delivered.

I was in buoyant mood and had put on my new latex leggings for travelling to the Chambers, eager to show them off to Maggie and get her opinion. Wanting to reimburse Maggie for the postal charge she’d had to pay I had taped a packet with the exact money in to the inside of the leggings, to give her a nice surprise as I modelled them.

However Mistress stole my thunder and took my breath away in one fell swoop. As the door to the Chambers opened, I was beckoned indoors and led to the Playroom by Mistress in full black rubber with her electro dildo ready for use. Stroking her dildo Mistress told me that it was my turn to take delivery of the dildo now and I should hand over the import duty. I was left sheepishly retrieving the taped change rather than letting Mistress find the surprise package. It was the thought that counted but it didn't achieve the smiles and laughter from my Mistress that I had hoped for.

Prominently displayed in the bathroom as I shed my outdoor clothes 

Mistress had chosen what I should wear for session and with my catsuit laid out on the bed I was dispatched to the bathroom to prepare. I noticed a sign pasted on the wall there, but I still had no inkling of the mine I had stepped on even though the words Thwack, Thwack, Thwack were prominently visible.

Returning to the Playroom where Mistress was quietly sitting, I began the worship of her black patent laced boots, the ones which end just below her beautiful knees.

These are a complex pair of boots to worship and need much careful manipulation of the tongue, with many eyelets and boot laces to navigate to ensure total coverage. Unlike the red thigh highs from my previous boot homage, long licks to the knee had to be planned with this pair so as not to bang my head on Mistress’ fearsome looking dildo.

On one of my journeys upwards towards the forbidden territory above the boots, I encountered the end of the neatly tied laces, which were quite ticklish to my nose even inside my latex hood. I gave them a clean and kiss but it didn't half tickle, and combined with the clubbing from the dildo on the top of my head I giggled. Mistress asked what on earth I was doing, but was unimpressed by my explanation that the boot laces formed part of the footwear and I couldn't explain the giggles!

Maggie pulled me in close to begin lecturing me about ‘roles’, or perceived gender roles to be more precise. Never in a month of Sundays had I imagined that the comment about roles related to a thoughtless quip I’d made about home cooking. I would like to say that we had a meaningful conversation, but it was more of a monologue from Maggie punctuated by the occasional grunt from myself, to acknowledge that my comments were insensitive and that I required remedial training in the form of a good caning.

The case had been presented, Judge Maggie had deemed it proven and passed the sentence of 12 strokes of the cane. My defence was non existent and of course sentence was accepted. Ah that is why the Thwack Thwack Thwack notice in the bathroom; alerting the victim to their fate. How's that for forward planning!

A bit like the hanged man attaching the rope to the scaffold, I had to lift and position the executioners bench myself and locate it so, 'I can achieve a good swing’. I made a half-hearted attempt to interfere with Maggie’s back swing by placing the bench under the overhead gantry, that didn't work at all and as I lay crosswise on the horse I received my punishment.

1. . 2 . . and after each stroke I had to recite 'I made a big mistake. I have to be punished’. . 7, 8 . . I made a big mistake. . 10, 11, 12 . . punished and now I could relax.

Nope. I felt the familiar ranging tap, tap, tap of the can against my buttocks and the swish of the cane in its arc towards its target and for the thirteenth time heard and felt the explosion of the mine across my backside. 'That's for being stupid with my boot laces'.

A couple of moments respite for me to return from the dead and Maggie moved quickly on to another testing situation that had me more actively acquainted with the overhead gantry.

Mistress fixed me into her stout leather harness, attached the suspension chains and finishing with hanging leg stirrups, I was hoisted up. The stirrup attachments were a masterful stroke, allowing the legs to be relatively easily raised and lowered, separated or closed together. In any event, it gave easy access to my zips!

With the rubber tusk mask fitted I was limited to breathing through a hose, but aromas could be administered easily, I could see fairly well through its small round eyes and with a head harness strapped on over the top of the mask, my head could be comfortably supported at any desired height. Unfortunately, with my head secured, all I could then see was the overhead ring in the ceiling but it felt like the perfect suspension position. I could relax and gently swing and Maggie seemed happy with her slaves orientation.

It felt a bit like being a car on a service ramp. Mistress could have my nuts tightened or nipples oiled and repaired, or even full electrical diagnostics! Perhaps I shouldn't be giving Mistress such ideas as she is inventive enough. As it was, it was my exhaust pipe that needed looking at and Maggie greased up my arse and gave it a good servicing.

Testing over, it was time for me to be moved into the White Room where, securely strapped to the couch, Mistress zipped me into an anaesthetic hood and prepared to administer more relaxing aromas. Still armed with her new dildo her treatments were being aimed at my arse, and to avoid the dangly bits getting in the way, they were bound up with plastic bandages. Mistress then took both bandaged balls in her hands and pulled them hard. Well, I suppose they have to be checked to see how dangly they are capable of becoming!

Gloves were donned for a good finger examination followed by half a tube of slippery lubrication for another attempt at a fisting. We are not quite there yet, but some time soon and I was sufficiently opened for some deep penetration with her strap-on as a warm up to an ‘all import duties paid’ special delivery.

Taped out of harms way.

Ah, or should that be Aahhhhh! - I could finally say hello to the new electro infused dildo. More of the slippery lotion was squeezed from the tube and injected up my bum, electro pads were attached to my genitals and Maggie was ready and wired for her electro-bum experiment to begin.

With the help of aromas my anal muscles were ready. Slowly and gently the large black invader slid in, all the way to where the attached wires prevented further ingress. Then a real surprise as Mistress turned on the electrastim.

The sensation I was receiving was strange, quite tingly and so very pleasant that I could not help myself demonstrating my pleasure in an audible way. Maggie appreciates feedback on any new toys so I did write to explain my thoughts on my electro strap-on experience.

‘The sensation was a gentle tingling round the anus and you do have scope to ramp up the voltage a bit - not to cock and balls otherwise you will end up reattaching and stitching them back on!’

A nice tight and tidy set of captive balls

Probably a comment that will come back to bite and after today’s thwacking example, one that may be taken down and used as evidence . . .  Oh well, I have promised always to be honest with my Mistress so damn the consequences.

In a mood for more fun, Mistress looked at my flagging cock and balls and decided a splint would be needed for her planned sounding activity.

A splint? - Of course I couldn't see and to be perfectly honest by this stage I was in a euphoric state, nothing apart from my stunning Mistress mattered. Mistress’ imaginative mind had produced the perfect cock splint from her medical arsenal. Never in my most imaginative moments would I have thought that a speculum could be used as a splint for a sagging cock, but secured in place with a length of rope it proved to be a most useful support.

Study of my larger guiche, recently fitted by my Mistress

I barely felt the sounds as they deeply penetrated my upstanding member, Mistress kept inserting them until I had four nestling inside me, then she turned on her vibrator to make them rattle and vibrate. I could definitely feel the sensations now and I am absolutely certain that my Mistress has a sadistic streak, because only someone with those tendencies would keep her slave right on that 'edge’.

Another quick squirt of aromas, the gentlest of touches on my captive balls and I was off into dreamland again, wondering how Mistress may use her speculum next! Perhaps as an electrode to shock her slaves? Mmm, I am sure that is not a new thought to Maggie.

After all the hard work I had put in during this session, Mistress rewarded me with a long cool drink of her specially chilled wine. Maggie, with that wonderful smile that lets the slave know that he is in for a real treat, set up a drip bag filled with amber nectar (not Fosters, that tastes like piss). She looked fantastically attractive as she wheeled her IV stand around the couch to feed me.

For the last time for today at least, the aroma tube was removed from the anaesthetic mask and replaced with a drinking tube. I was just ready for my well earned refuelling and all that was offered was gratefully received.

I sucked greedily and consumed probably half of the contents before the flow stopped. Was Mistress playing a final mind game? Nope! Her chilled wine had not long been out of the freezer and all that was left in the bag was a large ice cube. I tried blowing to get some warm air to melt my drink, I tried sucking even harder. That brought back happy memories of when I had performed the same suck when Mistress was wearing her piss pants, that caused quite an amount of amusement. But to suck harder brought no extra reward for this frustrated slave today.

That brought my training for the day to a pleasant conclusion and as often happens, Mistress allows me to help with cleaning up the mess I have made. The simple tasks like floor cleaning, fetching and carrying for Maggie, help with washing all the latex, that sort of thing, we like to leave the Playroom and Clinic in good nick ready for Maggie's final clean up later on. I have learnt a lot about the scrupulous cleaning regime that Mistress Maggie adopts by helping her with the cleaning.

‘Here slave, you can take this bag of frozen piss home if you like’. A gesture that I jumped at and in a quiet moment on the Saturday night when the cube had defrosted but the contents remained chilled, I slowly sipped the remaining drink, toasted my Mistress and said a quiet thank you. I know some people prefer a G&T, but on this occasion I had the best drink in the world.

North West Crop Failure

Mistress Maggie had sent me a note making it absolutely clear what joys would greet her slave during this session. ‘Your bewitching Mistress will have you bound within a bag of gold and feeling the touches of her brand new crop’.

I knew Mistress had been working on a major latex production and that it was a gold coloured rubber bondage sack, but we hadn't yet been introduced. I was really looking forward to being allowed to wear her latest creation and today would be my lucky day. The brand new crop? Obvious. I always love being guinea pig for any of Mistresses new toys, even a simple crop. If wielding a new implement on her slaves flesh gives Maggie pleasure, then I am certain I could derive pleasure from receiving her gift. I got that part quite wrong!

I don't know what went wrong with my timing, I was probably too keen to see my Mistress, but the five minute walk from the car park was managed in just a shade over three and I arrived at the chambers early. Maggie greeted me in her long red PVC boots, a black and red latex leotard, a smack across my face and a stern telling off. ‘You're two minutes early slave. I was in the middle of a cup of coffee and have barely had time to read my e-mails’.

I hoped that would be the end of the repercussions for my my poor time keeping but I really should have known better. Despite my ears still ringing from their recent boxing I could just manage to focus on the superbly formed derrière undulating just in front of my eager eyes as I followed my Mistress upstairs to the Playroom. The territory in front of my eyes is forbidden but I can still dream.

Today I returned a pair of Maggie’s used pants, a very sexy lacy pair that she had loaned to me to give me comfort at home. I felt quite proud of how I had managed to launder them; non-biological washing liquid to avoid a reaction round Mistresses delicate bits and a gentle softener to give them that fragrant scent, though nothing quite as fragrant as the ‘eau de Maggie’ that had drifted in my direction each time I held them. Pride comes before a fall and once more I had been unable to iron the little pink bow at their front, it’s not something I have practised in the past but I have a feeling, 24 feelings to be precise, that I MUST learn to iron it if Maggie is to continue allowing me the panty privilege.

After an all too short spell of boot worship, Maggie adhered to her session guidance and picked up her crop. The die was cast. 12 strokes for being early and 24 strokes for my laundry failure. Stripped down to my latex shorts I was ordered over the spanking stool and this time I wished Maggie had strapped me down. Even through my latex shorts the cropping started to hurt like hell. Concurrent sentences might have been more manageable for me, but no, I received consecutive punishments; 36 strokes in total and all predominantly to my right cheek. I was dancing around on the bench and begging for clemency by the time the final blow landed.

Things got a little less painful for a while. I was to be Maggie's pet pooch and this role I gladly sank my whole heart and soul into. Dressed in my thick latex suit complete with my doggy harness, butt plug and tail to wag, Maggie transformed me into her pet hound. This really was fun and, as I said, I got fully into the mindset of a big, black, boisterous retriever. For those of you who are fortunate to receive similar treatment, the leather muzzle is very comfortable to wear but it does somewhat restrict the air supply, so if you are bounding around like a puppy then expect a little breathlessness.

As an added part of the transformation, Maggie had the foresight to tape and splint two fingers on each hand together to make digging in her flower garden that little bit more taxing. I reiterate, Maggie plans the sessions meticulously. I scampered around the room fetching the ring that my owner tossed in various directions. I played with it. I hid it temporarily from my owner and even tossed it in the air as I padded round on all fours, then to reinforce my pet training I was taken for a walk on a lead. It was then that I momentarily returned to normality as I passed the crop that I’d been beaten with lying on the landing floor. Maggie had enjoyed herself so much cropping her slaves backside that the crop had broken. Poetic justice I thought before being brought to heel on the leash and returning once more to the obedient pet dog.

When we finished our walk I was rewarded for being a good dog by being sent to the garden area to find and dig up my bone. Not easy with the taped up paws but I set about digging up the soil like a good dog, and in my joy at being Maggie's pet pooch and finding my orange bone I completely missed what the plants were that I was disturbing in my haste. Oh the joys of being a happy pet.

I could easily have laid down at my Mistresses feet for the remainder of the afternoon, but Maggie had other plans and true to her promise she brought out the gold latex body bag. It’s amazing how quickly a slave can be transformed from a boisterous black retriever into the King of Maggieland, but I did look rather like royalty after she had finished with me. Firstly I was fitted into the anatomically correct and most comfortable of masks. My head became an accurate latex head complete with sticky out ears. I got the impression that Mistress also likes the mask as she spent a while making sure it was smooth and all the right bits inserted into the correct mouldings before I was gently inserted into the most luxurious gold latex body bag. Maggie went on to reinforce who the boss was by securely chaining me inside the bag, out of harms way. So I did end up laid down at her feet after all.
Not just one or two but almost the whole of Maggie's chain store was deployed in her bondage. Chains round middle, legs arms, feet, in fact anywhere Maggie wanted to see a chain, and a series of padlocks held me inescapably secure. At least Houdini might have escaped their caress but I certainly couldn't. I actually feel really secure in this totally helpless state. I know I am totally dependant on my Mistress and that is exactly how I like it. I probably shouldn't say this but I was really comfortable inside this most luxurious of sacks and was quite relaxed when Mistress left me in this position for a while. I had time to admire the excellent workmanship that Maggie had put into this bodybag and thought of all the other very fortunate slaves who would benefit from its pleasant embrace.

I also had time to better admire some of the new decorations that adorned the refurbished Playroom; the stunning ceiling rose that has also received the gold treatment, the new window drapes, and ...  My thoughts were interrupted when Mistress returned and removed my rather nice hood, a pillow with a plastic covering was slid behind my head and standing above me with legs apart she aimed a stream of fine wine into my open mouth. I didn't do too well with my pee catching making Maggie warn me that unless I improve my performance she would water her plants with her golden fluid instead. I was made to watch as a plant was placed alongside me and Maggie commenced watering it with my drink. I had not realised earlier but I recognised the species now; urtica dioica. The crop being watered by Mistress was a nice, young and very potent nettle plant and I never spotted that coming as I dug up my bone!. What a waste of a good brew just to water a damn nettle plant.

The ‘touches of a brand new crop’ as mentioned in Maggie’s calling mail was about to make more sense. Ah nettling time. I had totally forgotten about the annual nettle ceremonies over the past few years and yet another decidedly devious plan had been developed by Mistress to help me enjoy the pleasures of those nasty little blighters.

Now dressed in my more typical slave attire of my black rubber catsuit, a chain was passed around my waist and attached to the overhead gantry. As the gantry was raised so my back was arched off the floor I was free to wobble in my semi-suspended state. Worse was to come. The intention was to attach nipple clamps and then sprigs of nettles to the other end of the securing rope, just at the height that the young plants would caress my nipples.

Oh I do wish my nipples were more compliant. They were powerful clamps but still kept slipping off as I swung there. Several times Maggie reattached the clamps, each time a bit tighter intensifying the pain in my nipples. In the end Maggie devised a simpler solution, lashing the nettle sprigs from a dangling cord and letting them sway back and forth, stinging my pained buds as I writhed on the supporting chain. An unforgiving predicament indeed!

However strange it may sound, the pain of the recently departed nipple clamps, the stinging of the recently watered nettles and the sprig that Maggie removed from the plant to start caressing my cock and balls with had an alarming effect. It was not long before Mistress used her Hitachi wand, making me writhe even more and forcing me to ejaculate. I had no control and this time there was no embarrassment. Maggie wanted this outcome and what Maggie wants Maggie gets; always.

I had both very painful and very pleasurable outcomes from the two types of crops I received from Mistress Maggie today, and the amusement when the new crop lost its head helped ameliorate a bit of the pain it had inflicted. I loved almost every minute and even my right buttock appeared to be smiling when I last looked in the mirror!

Dear Blog, My Bum Hurts!

January was such a benign, some may say surreal start to the New Year, what with all the heavy rubber and the huge dose of DFP that I’d had, so it came as somewhat of a reality check when February's first session arrived.

As you probably guess if you have been following my training schedule with Mistress Maggie, I am not yet capable of maintaining the high standards expected from one of Mistresses slaves and one consequence of these lapses is remonstration and retribution for my wrongdoings, another consequence is that we must continue my training in order to strive for the perfection expected from my Mistress.

However, before the reckoning, normal training had to be accommodated by fitting my butt plug and performing the obligatory worship of Mistresses footwear. A good entry method for the butt plug was achieved as Maggie had me kneel down, forehead on floor and then sat on my back so she could lube and insert the plug in a relaxed manner. Then on with my ordeal, it certainly was an ordeal to start with but as our session progressed I found myself with the brightest smile possible.

Maggie said I was not allowed any rubber until I had recognised and been reprimanded for my mistakes. Three infringements were to be counted before the slate could once more be wiped clean. Coming up with a mad idea for Mistresses website; forgetting my slave collar after our last DFP session; and probably the worst indiscretion, I got the dates mixed up for Mistresses birthday and sent her husband John the Happy Birthday message, what an absolute numpty!

Ode to Mistress Maggie

(With no apologies to Don Maclean but if you wish to sing along to the tune of  'American Pie' feel free. I certainly was singing!)


But February made me shiver

  with every blow Maggie did deliver

Bad news on the flogging horse
  I couldn't take one more step of course.



I can remember that I cried

  when I felt the cane on my backside

Something touched me deep inside

  the day my buttocks fried.


With the different infringements, Maggie thought different methods of reparation would be appropriate and if a slave forgets to pick up his slave collar then of course his hands deserve a good slapping. Mistress refused to return my collar until she had demonstrated how unimpressed she was that I’d forgotten it and punishment started with a hand tawsing; 3 strokes to each hand with the two fingered tawse. I have not had any kind of hand slapping since I was at school and this punishment really hurt, yet my training obviously kicked in as I obediently stood there after the first instruction to hold my hands out flat, one palm on top of the other and to reverse the hands after each blow. My hands really began to sting yet I had no doubt they would be in place for the next blow, just as Mistress had decreed. At least I got my collar returned from behind the curtain, I felt a lot better being reunited with it, but I had to buckle it on with my red raw chastised hands.

I was then introduced to Maggie’s new flogging horse. Oh the joys of such an introduction and perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned it in the DFP blog! For the most serious crime of mixing up birthdays I would be going over that very same horse, I received a hand spanking followed by a paddling with a short leather strap which had the word ‘pig’ emblazoned along it. After a short interlude Maggie continued my warm up with a beating from her double leather strap before using her cane to land six of the best on my now throbbing ass.

As it happened the long cane that Maggie intended to use proved too long for the space available, my fault for poor positioning of the flogging horse, and because of the restricted arc it made wonky marks that were not to her liking, so Maggie started again with a shorter crooked model and I got six straighter cuts as well. OUCH!

Maggie must have thought I was suitably contrite and I finally got to wear my red latex catsuit, but she had not forgotten my crazy suggestion of publishing the story from my DFP session on her website. My mentioning this had irritated Maggie as she has much better things to do with her valuable time, like seriously redesigning her site in order to comply with the pending UK porn laws. I was going to have my mouth washed out in the slave toilet for speaking such foolish words.

It is really quite eerie in the box with the toilet lid down. You get a glow through the tight latex but nothing else. A slave is very vulnerable in that position and before I knew it the lid was lifted, I was re-introduced to the view of Maggie’s very well proportioned and most beautiful derrière as it descended over me and delivered the most welcome ‘punishment’ you could imagine. It turned out this wasn’t the real punishment for pissing Maggie off.

After I had received her offerings and the soaked latex hood had been removed I was led to the bathroom to have my hair rinsed. Bent over the bath I received a wonderfully warm hair wash and then . . . the bloody shower was turned to freezing cold. Maggie laughed as my oohs and aah’s turned to OOHS and AARGS!

When I was marched back from the bathroom, instead of turning left back to the Playroom, Mistress turned right into the Clinic. At least I wasn’t scheduled for more cane, well not in the Clinic anyway. Instead Maggie decided it was time for a spot of dentistry, to check out my mouth for clues as to why I talk so much rubbish. The rubber smell from the anaesthetic mask she placed over my nose soon turned into wafts of aroma, that had me laying back quite relaxed and ready for my dental examination from Maggie the rubber Nurse.

Of course, as with all operations and examinations in the White Room, the environment is scrupulously clean and I received a rubber gown to make sure my working suit was out of the way.

A Jennings gag was fully deployed allowing Mistress to dive in and have a real root around with her dental instruments, keeping my tongue under control with her wooden spatula. Once satisfied that my teeth were my own and not likely to pop out during the operation, Maggie momentarily went out of vision saying she was off to mix some amalgam. Another dose of anaesthesia and Maggie started working the preparation she had just mixed into my teeth and gums. It turned out the amalgam was actually a strong tasting pasty peppermint type of mixture. Anyway, Maggie thoroughly worked the paste into each quadrant of my mouth and I must admit that despite the thorough cleaning I always give them before seeing my Mistress, my teeth felt sparklingly clean and fresh.

When the gag was removed, I was manoeuvred into an almost bolt upright position and encouraged to thoroughly rinse my mouth out with depressingly plain tap water, I had hoped for Maggie’s glorious champagne but had to suffice with the simple plain stuff. Maggie amused herself by inserting cotton pads behind top and bottom cheeks, probably to prevent any more of the ‘tongue in cheek’ comments that have a tendency to land her slave in trouble. She burst out laughing as I said ‘ffank yuuu’, sounding and looking a lot like Marlon Brando. It was nice to hear the natural laugh from my Mistress.

After all the investigative work was complete, Mistress used her optical mirror for a final look round; molars ok, incisors ok, all wadding removed, you are good to go until your next examination. Maggie, however hadn’t finished her investigating, my gown was lifted and she started concentrating on the other end. No teeth down there although my cock and balls have received the bites of clamps and clips on other occasions, for now though it was a seductive lube and tease. After a goodly dollop of lube, Mistress massaged it in methodically around my cock and balls until I had a rod like the proverbial ‘greasy pole’. Standing back with a very provocative wink and smile Maggie glided the excess lube across her beautiful bust, superb stomach and all around her breathtaking buttocks. It was fascinating to watch as her latex uniform took on that sheen of a high gloss liquid. I now knew how it was possible to achieve such a high gloss sheen.

However, achieving such a shine has major detrimental effects on the slide-ability of latex. By now Mistress had released my right hand and I reached out to stroke her super shiny bottom, an activity we both enjoy, and to my disappointment and surprise my latex glove just stuck to her lubed up dress, not literally stuck but I just couldn’t get that gentle, sliding caress that I try and achieve. I wonder if it would have been slippier with an application of lube to my glove? It is definitely strange that dry latex does not slide on water based lubrication. You learn something every day and despite the fact it made Mistress Maggie look super shiny, I think I prefer the more tactile and sensuous movement of dry glove on a lube-free derrière. Now that is something to suffer the punishment horse for.

The Twelve Ways of Mistress

🎄 Mistress Invites you to her Pantomime of Pervery 🎄

for adults only

Expect laughter, music, spectacle and lots of personal participation during this fun filled festive feast of a show.

Relive the adventures of Mistresses slave in training as she takes this traditional Christmas tune and distorts it almost beyond recognition. 

⬳⟿

The above extract from my calling mail gave me the distinct impression that Mistress Maggie was in festive mood and that I would be taking part in some Christmas entertainment. I arrived outside the Chambers with a spring in my step, a smile on my face, a bottle in hand for my Mistress and her husband, and ready for anything. Oh! I forgot, I was also carrying my perv bag complete with my red catsuit, black accessories and freshly polished black Wellington boots - just as instructed. I had a strong suspicion that once again I was to become a Christmas Santa Claus for my Owners amusement.

Mistresses thrill seeking show began as soon as I knelt at her feet to lick and worship her boots. There I was, innocently licking her red thigh high boots, up and down, long and slow and over her knee towards her glorious leather covered thighs, when I think I caught a glimpse of a naked Mistress underneath her latex skating skirt. Actually I wasn’t mistaken, but I know the rules and knew my job and so continued to concentrate on the cleaning rather than stare at my beautiful Mistress. It can be a hard and risky job being Mistress’ boot cleaner!

As expected I was soon inserted into the red catsuit and looking like Santa. Well, kind of like Santa, only I had to wear a gas mask instead of a sack. Maggie announced that her session plans would be presented to the tune of a well known carol, then retrieving her hymn sheet and singing to the tune of ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’ she outlined the session. I was asked to confirm understanding and acceptance of the actions in each of the verses, which was easy of course, as I have solemnly promised to willingly do whatever Mistress asks (or sings), immediately and without question. Mistress picked up her iPod and selected some easy music to get started . . .

And so to the Christmas Party.

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas my Mistress Planned for me:

12
Bouts of Spanking
OTK, in the lap of my Mistress. Who could ask for anything more? Plimsolls, slippers, paddles, hand slaps and hairbrushes all left their own rosy glow.





11
Pounds of Ball Weights Dangling
That is a lot of excess weight for a slave to carry between his legs but I suppose Santa should know how to handle big loads. Once acclimatised to the weight, I was led off to tour the Chambers with weight dangling merrily below. Back in the Playroom, Mistress partook in a glass of water.




10

Minutes of Dancing
With the music turned up I was swinging my ass and gas mask hose to a raunchy Madonna song. There is only one person who oozes more raw eroticism than Madge and I am owned by her. Oh yes, and Mistress took a sip of water.






9
Tails a Flogging
Amazing how tight my red catsuit can be across the buttocks when I am sticking my arse out further, inviting my Mistress to enjoy herself more with her cat o’ nine tails. After the whip, Mistress took another sip.






8
Electrodes Pulsing
Cleverly placed around my groin and stomach to produce really unusual and frustrating ripple sensations. Nothing I can do when my hands are tied up and Mistress is busy drinking more water.






7
Crooked Cane Strokes
I counted eight. Maggie said the extra one was deserved because I wriggled. No wonder I wriggled with a senior crooked cane playing on an already warmed up landscape. Mistress kept me over the whipping horse and drank a full glass of water.






6
Inch of her Strap-On
Hehe! and a vibrating one as well. Mistress must have been parched and had another sip of her water.






5
More Anal Toys
Taking advantage of my widened opening I was invaded and pumped up with an inflatable dildo. Quickly followed by the manhandler, most of a gloved hand, the powerful vibes of the Hitachi wand, finishing with the steel anal hook that Mistress so kindly attached to the overhead gantry. With me nicely hitched up out of the way Mistress began drinking, again!






4

Ho! Ho! Ho!

Horse Rides Round the Room
Not my finest event. The wonky knees restricted the horsing around to a walk round the track. Even then I fell at the start of the third furlong. Horse riding was never my strong point and I think I disappointed my Mistress. What’s that phrase? - you can lead a horse to water but Mistress drinks it all up?






3
Suffocation Bags
My Santa decorated head was captured inside three poly bags for some very noisy plastic breath control. The only thing wrong with three bags together, apart from not being able to breathe of course, was not being able to feel the Christmas kiss that Mistress gave me through the three layers. I could only watch her luscious warm lips as they approached, whilst gasping hard and dreaming of their touch. I envied Mistresses water glass as she took a few more sips.






2
Kicks up the Bum
I received quite a few more than two kicks up the rear, the important thing was that Maggie did seem to be enjoying it. ‘I didn’t put the boots on for nothing slave’. Perhaps she had a bad experience with Santa when she was younger? Or more likely she just fancied kicking the crap out of a very willing slaves backside. Anyway, who’s counting?




and



A Belly Full of Maggie’s Fine Pee
After all that water intake, quite a lot had to flow out. I was really fortunate that Maggie allowed me to be one of the first users of her new toilet box; a stunning piece of equipment. With my head nestled inside the latex toilet pan one thirst quenching stream of very fresh, warm, mulled Maggie wine was eagerly consumed by her slave. Oops! I did manage to get a little drop of wine on the beard, but hopefully I think I got away with it!

*  *  *

Today I was really privileged to be part of a well planned and well executed celebration of 133 previous sessions with my Mistress. The amount that she managed to seamlessly cram into the time available was amazing. The Christmassy session contained many of my 'favourites’, some of my owners favourites I hope, plus some new experiences like the new toilet and the 11lb ball weight. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

This blog is the 100th I have published about my slave escapades, and without the help of my owner, Mistress and friend I would not have been able to enjoy life as I do now. I will also thank Maggie's husband John for being patient, because I know I am demanding of Maggie's time, and finally;

I would like to wish everyone who has read my blogs a very Merry Christmas and a happy 2018. I hope you have been able to have as happy a 2017 as Mistress Maggie has provided for me.

Castration - Reality or Roleplay?

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

My sleek latex Mistress.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

De-nutting in progress - Do not Disturb!

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

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

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

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

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

Simmering with delight.

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

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

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

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

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

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