A History Lesson

Sometimes I wonder why Mistress Maggie puts up with such a simple soul. I was excited about a new pair of latex trousers I had recently bought for myself, and when I rang to confirm the appointment I was pleasantly surprised. Mistress told me to wear the trousers to arrive at the Chambers saying that she was looking forward to the fashion show where I would have chance to display my new garments to her. It didn’t sound too tricky, I know I am not an ideal fashion model but surely I could manage that. Hastily I packed my normal clothes and donned the trousers and a latex shirt ready for the enjoyable drive to see my owner.

The look and feel of the trousers certainly put a smile on my face as I sauntered between my car and the Chambers, but nowhere near as big a smile that erupted as Mistress opened the door, greeting me with a simply breathtaking sight. In her highest heels Mistress was standing tall, her beautifully shiny tights seeming to make her legs endless, but my broadest smile was elicited by the black latex teddy and waist nipper she was wearing accentuated by her radiant smile. She appeared pleased to see her humble and faithful servant and I was welcomed in.

Off with my coat Mistress moved her hands over my latex shirt and we had a mini fashion parade right there in her hallway, that broadened her smile even more. Then we wasted no time ascending to The Playroom where there was much more space. Mistress took a seat ready for the show and I was instructed to parade my new trousers and explain the many features and benefits of my new garments.

All I could muster was an inane comment about ‘how nice they feel’; nothing about their fit or style, nothing about the considerable number of pockets that were perfectly formed; nothing about the easy cleaning or functional zip incorporated in the garment, but just. 'They are nice to wear'. I am not surprised that Mistress was unamused by the show and probably verging on yawning. Sometimes I wonder about my suitability as a slave to my owner and frequently feel sorry for Mistress and relieved that my service hasn't been terminated.

Worship of Maggie's shoes went smoothly, partly due to their glossy patent surface. My tongue glided easily over them and it doesn't take long to cover the surface of both shoes. Meanwhile I listened in as Mistress verbally dished out hints and clues as to what was on today's agenda. Her instruction to ‘Pay good attention to my heels now slave’, interrupted her dialogue and had me quickly alter my position to tackle the task. Insertion into my rubber catsuit was swiftly achieved and I was soon having my hands bound with rope.

With my hands secured up to the ceiling ring there was no way out and anything could happen, maybe Mistress was intent on continuing my nipple training? But no, it was the unmistakeable noise of rustling plastic that gave her plan away and I quickly prepared for some challenging breathing. ‘This is a more reliable way of entertaining me slave’, she said as the plastic bag was pulled over my head, and indeed her beaming smile did reappear as my vision became misted. A second bag was put over the top and after some twisting at the neckline a securing clip was applied. Mistress moved around me although I could vaguely see her and all I could do was lessen my breaths until I could last no more, breathing so deeply that the plastic filled my mouth and I pleaded for air. Maggie waits until I am genuinely pleading before giving me what I most need, it is an intense experience and I am massively relieved when the air returns.

Perhaps today was the day Mistress gets rid of her slave? All it would take would be to leave the bags in place for a little longer. Maggie to smile that wonderful smile as my air runs slowly out and . . . fortunately not today.

After a few more very pleasant and breathless double bagging moments Maggie relented and retrieved the low padded bench, indicating for me to kneel lengthwise ready for some bum fun. ‘Slave, you need to be stretched for the new and interesting thrills I have waiting for you’, and before I knew it four large anal beads accompanied by lots of lube were disappearing eagerly into their cave – plup – plup – plup – plup –

While I wagged my tail and got used to the size of stuffing in my rear, Maggie put one of her larger strap-ons on and offered it to me for inspection, then disappearing behind me she began toying with my beads, pulling them out and pushing them home again until eventually they all plopped out and were put to one side.

Unfortunately, inserting the larger strap-on dildo didn't go quite so well. I had taken this strap-on before and although it initially slid home Mistress could tell by the noises I was making that it was uncomfortable and slid it right out again. Usually widening my legs allows easy access, but the narrow bench restricted my movement. The real problem was predominately down to my knees and how my considerable weight was resting on their wonkiest parts.

After a little chat Maggie decided that the treatments she had intended for my ass were best enjoyed on another day. Once again I had disappointed my Mistress and forced her to abandon that part of my training plan. Oh I do wish for better knees and to be able to satisfy my Mistress every time she wishes to gain rear entry, but despite a good dose of aromas, I let her down again.

An inarticulate response to the earlier question, plus a poor response to what should have been a very pleasant mount had me feeling an altogether rather pathetic slave, and I would have understood if that double plastic bagging had gone on and on . . .

Normally Maggie's lesson plans are innovative and unique. They may include reinforcing elements from earlier sessions but generally they are all refreshingly new. However, Mistress was keen to make part of the training a history lesson today. Not 1066 and all that but modern history, something her slave could directly relate to from a formative period of my life. To that end Maggie reminisced on a much earlier session that we had done together way back in November 2011, how I had been restrained to her chair with no chance of escape, my balls tethered to a broom handle below it. How I had been reduced to breathing through tubes and plunged into darkness beneath the sensual rubber sheet with my genitalia subjected to unstoppable electric sensations. Her idea was to set about replicating that little part of our history and I could vividly remember the scene she was speaking of.

I've been here before!

It could not be an exact replica as I had not even purchased my rubber catsuit at that time, but near enough. Mistress has redecorated the room during those intervening seven years, a gas mask and hose was used instead of nostril tubes giving me greater visibility, the poppers delivery is new, but all in all this was about the feeling of history. What is the same is my continued devotion to my perfect Mistress, in fact, that has changed and deepened in those seven years. My only aim now is to bring pleasure to Maggie and enjoy all my training.

Even the electrics have changed a little over time. Maggie is happier to ramp up the levels now that I am trained to to her personal liking, but the mechanism remains as I remember it. Mistress Maggie's throne hasn't changed. The hole in the centre is ideally placed for attaching tied up balls to the long broom handle as they were once again today. The bondage mitts drawing me forward against the tight leather restraints that kept me secured, probably more so than I was those seven years ago.

What didn't happen seven years ago was the method Mistress used to mock and manipulate my cock. Today she joked about it being mouselike by hiding in the hole. Actually that hole in the throne is quite large, but I must admit that all the downward pressure on my tightly roped balls does have the tendency to make my cock disappear. No amount of coaxing could tease the mouse out.

Maggie was doing a lot of rummaging inside the hole trying to find my mouselike cock, and when she did she caught it, immediately tagging it with a pair of handy electrodes and setting the stimulation levels sufficiently to have her slave jerking around.

Deja Vu!

A final inspection of her slave was completed before the lights went out. Checking out my breathing hose Mistress chose to extend it so it would not snag on my suit and cause sudden air loss. Mistress doesn't countenance accidental suffocation and her attention to safety hasn't changed in all the years I have known her, and once the second hose was attached she had absolute control over her slaves’ breathing.

And then it went black.

When I saw this image I recognised the familiar territory. It is amazing how the rubber sheet totally eliminated all light, as black as the depths of a coal mine, though a much more sensual place to be. As my time under the sheet went by my environment became warmer and filled up with the arousing rubber scent with only the sound of my breaths to keep my company. I knew my Mistress was in close proximity, I could neither see nor hear her but I could sense her presence.

Which is just as well because eventually I could feel my left hand starting with pins and needles then starting to go numb. Mistress always insists that her subjects report any discomfort, assesses the problem and where appropriate, as in this case, leaps in to sort it out. Oh I do wish that I had mentioned that wrist binding was a fraction tight when applied, but at the time I was just wanting to please.

I could have stayed in the dark forever had it not been for that useless wrist and once again I started wondering how Mistress tolerates such a decrepit specimen. And that is where the history lesson ended and that is how the perception of history can be changed through a small yet important change in the details.

I truly had no idea what Maggie’s intentions had been for her golden fluids, but following the abandonment of earlier plans when my wonky knees had curtailed my anal escapades, Mistress was left with an uncomfortably full bladder. Disappearing momentarily into the Clinic she returned with a steel bowl which conveniently fitted into the aperture on the seat of the bondage chair. There, right in front of me her crotch zip was opened, then looking me straight in my eyes her majesty sat down and released her long lasting stream of nectar into the bowl. The gentle tinkle as it caressed the stainless steel was magical and so was the flavour. The bowl and its fresh, warm contents were placed at Maggie's feet and with the merest of nod I knew exactly what was expected. I knelt forward to lap it up.

Maggie had been using me as a foot rest while I had been finishing up my drink and not a drop was wasted. Oh my, the taste of fresh Mistress is divine! Actually at last I think that may have pleased Mistress Maggie, because I was ordered to roll over like a good dog and out came the Hitachi wand complete with a nobbly cock sleeve. Mistress played with her dog with great gusto, imposing her will for one final time in this most rewarding of history lessons by forcing an orgasm from her slave.

A happy yet messy conclusion for this little mouse? dog? slave!

Glorious Start to 2019

The trip back over the Pennines to Yorkshire where Cathouse Clothing have their latex shop, was the fastest run we have ever achieved, which is just as well because a crisis occurred just as Mistress Maggie was about to insert my trusty butt plug.

Immediately before Christmas I became the proud owner of a latex double breasted black rubber trench coat, the male equivalent of that wonderful latex coat that Mistress occasionally wears, and Mistress had instructed me to wear it as we were going shopping.

'An outing to Cathouse Clothing is required. Wearing your new latex mac and appropriate black footwear you will act as chauffeur and servant as you escort your rubber macked Mistress on her shopping trip.’

As my mac provides an uninterrupted cover from neck to calf I thought nothing of wearing a second layer of latex beneath it, and put on my dark blue latex shirt and a pair of black zipped latex briefs to complete the ensemble.

In my role as chauffeur for the day I would be sharing the driving seat with my old red butt plug friend, but as I was bending over the horse ready to have it inserted, Maggie in a somewhat concerned tone had cause to ask me a question. ‘Have you split your coat slave?’ 

True enough the coat was split from waist to hem. 'Oh sh*t! Damn! blast! f**k! etc' - I was absolutely mortified.

Not only had I spent a full year saving up to purchase it, but I’d also been so excited about showing it off and taking Mistress out both dressed in our rubber trench coats. I thought I had wrecked both Mistresses trip and my new coat. No matter, in went the butt plug and Mistress instructed me to lie on the bed where she fitted a substantial magnetic weight around my balls, to keep me company on the journey, then reaching for the electrical tape she neatly wound a little tape around it. Well that wasn't coming off until Maggie said so!

With my coat spread out on a table we noticed that it was a seam that had popped. Mistress is an accomplished latex aficionado and had all the glue and tools needed to repair it, and after a short wait Mistress had the coat better than new. Boy was I relieved and happy to be properly dressed again. A little later than anticipated but at last we were able to set off and I was delighted that Maggie's husband had put on his rubbers and was able to come along for he ride.

The rest of the journey was fast and uneventful, apart from me needing to pee just before we arrived at Liversedge. That provided a slight problem because the ball weight and tight latex shorts meant the end of my cock only just reached the porcelain but oh what a relief!

We had a good look round the Cathouse store, Maggie tried a few things on and her husband bought her a very attractive skirt for her upcoming birthday. A very pleasant hour was had as we chatted with the proprietor, looked at the excellent latex clothing on display and luxuriated in that glorious rubbery smell that emanates from that lovely material. My primary function? Behave like a proper chauffeur, return garments to rails and mind Mistresses bag.



The proprietors, Caroline and Peter were so easy to talk to that closing time arrived all too quickly and we thought it appropriate to think about heading West again. We broke our journey when we spotted a little pub on the outskirts of Liversedge and popped in for a coffee.

There we were, a man and woman in almost identical black latex double breasted macs, Maggie's husband in his black latex suit and leather coat and no one seemed to turn a hair. I am sure they were aware but were too polite to stare. The lady behind the bar didn't blink at all as we ordered three coffees and we had a very pleasant chat at a corner table. I felt strangely excited sitting with my Mistress and visibly wearing my rubber in public and there was some stirring going on underneath my coat. Seven years ago never in my wildest dreams would I have believed that I’d own such a magic coat and be able to venture out with my two rubber friends without worrying about the natives. I wonder where my Mistress will take me in the future?

The drive home was just as swift as the trip East, something that I have never experienced on that stretch of the M62 but even so we still returned to The Chambers later than my usual session time and Mistress hadn't finished with her slave yet.

Leading me upstairs I was told to remove my butt plug and button up my coat. At Mistress’ hands I also enjoyed being fitted into a wonderful latex hood that I believe was new to her wardrobe and an incredible feeling to wear. I could have sworn my head looked far sleeker and much more attractive in the hood. Come to think of it, that wouldn't be too difficult.

I caught a glimpse in the mirror and even though I say so myself, the image was striking. My black coated figure topped off with my smooth and tightly covered head brought to mind an image I had drooled over a while back. . . which once again raises that scary spectre of Mistress having a direct link to my thoughts.

A ball gag was buckled on me. I can only assume this was to stifle my moans of pleasure because I certainly wasn't about to complain as Maggie ordered me ‘Over the horse slave’ and asked ‘Are you hungry slave?’ Mistress knows that by this time on a Friday I am almost certainly hungry, and thirsty. Perhaps I was to receive one of her delicious mince pies or even a thirst quenching infusion of Mistresses nectar, although wearing the ball gag may prove problematical for feeding. Oh well, Mistress always has a solution.

An 8" sausage should fill you up slave!

No. It turns out Maggie had something far more filling as she arrived in my eyesight wearing a huge 8" strap-on under her mac. I was gobsmacked. Well actually, Mistress stroked the side of my head with the monster and said. ‘This will fill you up’. 

I have to say that this was by far the best option I had considered. Slowly and carefully at first Mistress entered the tip into her slave followed by long full strokes and continued to ride me for around five minutes, filling me up with her toy and forcing many a groan of delight to escape around the sides of my ball gag. I got the impression that Maggie rather liked Christening my coat with a good mount in fact in some circles this style of coat is known as a riding mack. It certainly was on this occasion.

What of the ball weight that I had worn all afternoon and caused my little peeing problems? It was comfortable to wear for all that time and was easily removed. Once Mistress had unpeeled the tape the weight could easily be slid apart and I must say for a few moments I felt naked without it. Hmmm? I wonder if a catheter and leg bag works with ball weights? Probably shouldn't have said that.

I hope Mistress had an enjoyable and relaxing rubbery day out on her trip to the shops with her latex husband and latex slave. However relaxed Mistress was I still knew who was in absolute charge.

I love 2019 already and hope for more exciting trips out as Mistress Maggie's slave and I get goose bumps every time I am privileged to be in her company.

Time in the Twilight Zone

Entering the Chambers from the bright autumnal afternoon sunshine it takes a short period of time before your eyes become accustomed to the subdued ambient light. Behind the porch way lies a quiet area where mysterious objects are hanging silently on their pegs, creating an almost surreal atmosphere that gives the Chambers the feeling of a Twilight Zone. That strange, noiseless, wonderful world of latex, plastic and leather garments, punctuated by the occasional squeak or rustle as you disturb their thoughts and slumber, draws you deeper under their spell. The low light reflects from the sentinels, and I think I can be forgiven for temporarily believing that Mistress Maggie was once more fully attired in her stunning, form fitting, latex catsuit.

As my eyes became more accustomed to the half light I began to see that what I thought was full latex, was actually Mistresses latex leotard on top of the most stunning, almost opaque black tights. I momentarily stopped to gaze at my Mistresses beautiful image that was now more clearly defined in the brighter lights of the stairway, and must have stammered out a question about her striking combination of garments because she stopped halfway up the stair, turned and smiled to acknowledge my confusion, and with an almost imperceptible nod agreed to my request to get closer to her perfectly formed derrière. The latex gloves that I arrived wearing glided smoothly and seamlessly between the two materials and the effect was truly amazing.

I was only permitted the briefest of encounters before Mistress resumed her sensuous glide to the Playroom, where I was briefed and instructed to deposit my red catsuit on the bed to get warm. Dispatched to the bathroom I was told to return as quickly as I could, attired in my collar, red latex stockings and red latex gloves. I knelt before my Mistress. Maggie’s boots were long, black and shiny with laces up the front. This time I avoided kissing the laces as I worshipped and paid homage to my owners footwear, I even managed a quick nuzzle of those remarkable tights with the tip of my nose, nothing more, but that briefest of contact confirmed these were indeed similar in texture to latex.

We briefly tried a new larger butt plug that Mistress retrieved with a flurry from behind the curtains, it went in OK but either the shape of my arse or that of the plug resulted in it gradually sliding outwards. It just wouldn't stay in place. Mistress knew it would just pop out and, although a harness might retain the little bugger, she said her preference was for an alternative to be chosen. So for the time being at least, my trusty red butt plug continues to reside in the darkest depths of my arsehole.

A hood was to be fitted and I was instructed to kneel between Maggie's legs, putting me in very close proximity of her glossy covered thighs. As the fitting proceeded, I was able to exercise my latex gloved hands a little to confirm that earlier magical feeling of those special thighs. My hood for a while would be a black pull on number with perforated eyes and mouth openings. Being a pull-on hood, we exercised caution when fitting me into my new skin, latex can tear easily if handled badly, as we both knew only too well from previous experiences and so I remained quite still as Maggie gently eased it in place.

That strange phenomena of the eye perforations once more returned me to thoughts of the Twilight Zone. I could gaze at my Mistress but the vision was much as I imagine an insect would see, clear but pixillated. Which turned out to be a most appropriate analogy as Maggie ensnared me lengthwise on the horse with her web of leather straps.

Mistress came round into my restricted vision and said I was to be stretched, and that one of her larger strap on dildos would do nicely. Once again as Mistress presented her massive toy for my inspection, the restricted view through the little perforations distorted what I was seeing and I had to move my head to take in the full extent of what was about to invade my backside. More lube and I lost sight as Maggie lined up the pole with the hole. Once again Mistress showed her caring side as she gently eased the tip of the invader into its target. She needn't have worried. With virtually no resistance, first the tip then the first inch or so then the whole lot was slowly sliding in, up to the hilt. I eagerly thrust backwards to accept as much as Maggie could give her slave and Maggie spared no time in reciprocating.

I really was disappointed when Maggie finally pulled out and re-instated my red butt plug in the vacant hole, I hope she got as much pleasure from my good f***ing as I did. There were more pleasures to follow in today's curriculum and after a few moments rest for both of us and time to remove the strap on, Maggie positioned me underneath the ceiling ring and started to red wrap my upper body with film, arms by my side but hands free next to my thighs. I thought nothing of this minor freedom and suspected that Mistress would naturally complete the full wrap later.

However, Maggie put her clingfilm down and instead I got a couple of strange add ons; a couple of winds of red gaffer tape around my torso to keep everything nice and snug and a leather muzzle. I thought that was a gag but strangely it had only very limited gagging effect. Oh well, Mistress always has a good plan and a reason for everything and I would just have to wait and see where we were going. Maggie knows I love her latex bed and so I was placed down the centre of it, and with my legs hitched up to the ceiling with rope the clingfilm came out again and bound my legs together. My situation just got better and better as I discovered that the muzzle made a most effective anchorage for head chains and my feet were immobilised with similar chains to the base of the bed. I could have quite happily been left there in bondage for hours, so comfortable that I am certain sleep could have enveloped this very happy latex slave. Until of course I felt activity around my groin.

More tape was being pulled from the roll of gaffer tape and then the vibrations started. Mistress knew I had been celibate for a while and was about to prove that she does own every one of my emotions. Maggie left me to it, the only option available to me was to writhe in my pleasurable predicament, the vibrator was taped to me and the powerful vibrations just kept coming. I tried hard to resist, not sure if she wanted me to cum or whether I would be punished, but eventually I lost all control and ejaculated inside my latex catsuit. It appeared to be exactly what Maggie wanted. She wasn't annoyed, in fact she patted my groin, sexily saying, ‘Good boy, it’s been quite a while hasn’t it?’. Opening my zip she cleaned away the mess and disposed of her soiled gloves, as she donned another pair she announced, ‘First the pleasure, now the pain’. That has a most salutary effect on post orgasmic pleasure!

Maggie's safety scissors cut away the cling film bindings and I was encouraged to stretch out on the bed. In other times that would have been a luxurious experience but this time I was being spread-eagled and destined for some post orgasm torture. Chained securely to the corners I was to wear the tusk mask to facilitate aroma delivery. An oxballs cock cage device was attached and alarmingly Mistress suggested that next time a cable tie might make it more permanent! The final bits to be captured were my, by now, somewhat depleted balls, and Maggie had to engage the assistance of one of her cut down pairs of tights to gather them up and neatly secure the leather ball harness in its operational position.

The pain starts as the wheel of the stretcher is turned a few revolutions. It is definitely not like the pain of electrics which can be short sharp and immediate. This is the aching pain which starts in the root of your cock as the scrotum is stretched. At first it is quite pleasant as the most beautiful woman fondles your manhood, checking out how taut your balls are becoming and making sure the harness is in the right position for an even pull, then it turns to acceptance of the ache because that’s what her unyielding wooden ball stretcher was designed for and that is what Mistress wants.

An amusing diversion occurred when my balls, now much reduced in size following my earlier enforced ejaculation, managed to free themselves from their captivity. All in her stride, Maggie just retied the fastening even tighter, adjusted the attachments and was happy to begin the whole procedure again and successfully complete the exercises she had prescribed.

Yes, I've enjoyed this expansion in the past, but then we moved into new heights of ache as the handle was turned and turned again. I slightly bent my knees within the tight confines of the knee straps and tight chains, that provided a small amount of relief but only until Mistress made another turn of the wheel. That took me right to the edge of the ache. Once your knees are bent you daren't adjust your position on the bed again, because if they were to straighten during the move I’d really be fearing for the welfare of Mistresses balls! So endure I did. Mistress had taken us much further along the stretching routine than on previous occasions, I know that because for the first time, as I breathed in and my chest rose slightly with the inhalation the ache in my balls intensified. A bit of a dilemma, breathe or contain the ache? I settled for taking as shallow breaths as I could survive, and drifted towards dreams of my perfect owner Mistress Maggie, and how far we have travelled.

My thoughts returned to my initial experience in the hallway and the Twilight Zone. There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call The Twilight Zone and Maggie takes me there every time we meet.

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.

One of my Balls is Missing!

It may at first appear to be an exciting resume of a part-castration. Well, nothing quite as painful or permanent as that and I must admit to being quite attached to these balls. However, this is the only activity that I was fairly certain would happen because Mistress Maggie had been particularly vague about session plans in the call up mail.

‘. . . Session plans are still being prepared. You have my permission to remain on tenterhooks. . . ‘

Maggie knows the psyche of this slave well, of course she would, I have been fortunate enough to serve now for seven years this month so the sesquicentennial celebrations last session weren't the only milestone to celebrate, and the idea that I would be 'on tenterhooks' I think would bring a wry smile across those beautiful lips.

Had it not been for my missing ball I would have entitled this blog - The longest five minutes. Sitting in the car, on tenterhooks, watching the clock click over from 14:20 to 21 to 22 ... then finally to 14:25 when I know I am on my way to another meeting with the most stunningly attractive person I could ever dream of,  let alone the privilege of serving her. Those five minutes are like an eternity. Go too early and you dawdle outside or get a telling off for being early. Go too late and you risk a telling off for being late so the only solution is arrive exactly on time, which I once again managed.

Mistress was in her stunning black latex outfit, covered from neck to boot in that wonderful material, except that on top of her lower body were a pair of thick, clear plastic pants. Their shine contrasting quite dramatically with the  sheen of the polished rubber. Whichever way you look at it Mistress was stunning and as we climbed the stairs to The Playroom I noticed a new pair of shiny boots with some very attractive brass pyramid studs down the outside. I knew I would be intimately acquainted with them shortly, which indeed I was. Slightly lower but still substantial heels, knee high, black and very pleasant to worship.

Ah! That missing ball. A few days earlier, one of the red balls that keeps my guiche piercing in place dropped off. I have no idea where or when but the first I knew of the problem was when my guiche, minus a ball, dropped down the inside of my trouser leg and clattering onto the tiles. Fortunately no one was round to hear but unfortunately, the red retaining ball had vanished. I ordered a couple of spares (just in case another ball goes walkies) and they arrived in good time for me to bring them to session. Maggie carefully replaced my temporary repair with the genuine article. At 6mm, the new one is 1mm larger than the previous bar, but Mistress was pleased with the larger replacement and it was easily inserted then both balls secured tightly to reduce the risk of further loss. (Note to self - tighten balls daily in future!)

In no time, Mistress had me and my new jewellery strapped across the horse. A bit gag was fitted and stout rope reins attached to the bridle and, as you might expect the cold glass dildo Mistress had donned during worship was soon warming as she yanked on the reins. I prefer to be called Jo rather than Dobbin, but my new temporary name seemed to amuse Maggie and I was rode like a horse until she was satisfied that my rear entry had taken the stretching it needed, ready for another attempt at retrieving the object 'hidden' in that dark place. After that my own butt plug went in easily to do its job of keeping me stretched.

On with my heavyweight latex catsuit first, then I was told to lie down on the carpet where my wrists were roped to my ankles, because Mistress was determined to have more fun riding her slave and educating me on how much I should like plastic. My face was the saddle, my nose was the pummel and of course my Mistress in her squeaky plastic breeches the rider.

Judging by that wonderful smile radiating from Maggie, I am starting to re-evaluate my material preferences, if face sitting in plastic pleases my owner so much perhaps I do like plastic rather than rubber. However, I would like to point out that despite all that delightful face full of plastic, Mistress is wearing latex underneath. The plastic pants weren't quite as pliable as other plastic Mistress has seen fit to smother me with, and despite the wonderful feeling of breath restriction I was able to wriggle and squirm to obtain a bit of air. Maybe it was that wriggling and squirming that put that wonderful smile into Maggie?

Mistress is truly imaginative and inventive in the apparatus she uses on her slaves. Even though I had moved a silver box off the horse when I had moved it to its riding position, I had no inkling what it was or what it would be used for. It is not in my remit to question such things, so I just moved it and forgot about it. Well, I was about to find out what its intended purpose was, but first I was to be intimately introduced to a new mask that I had read about in Mistresses Tweets.

Mistress has designed her eye mask well, and trivial as this may sound, having long eyelashes sometimes gives me problems opening and closing my eyelids, especially really tight hoods. Not so with this eye mask, it allowed  unrestricted eye movement and through its perspex lenses I could see everything most clearly. Hmmm! Perhaps there is something to be said about keeping eyes tight shut!

Back to the silver box. I was seated comfortably on the Playrooms folding chair, directly inside the confines of the lowered gantry. Mistress gathered some rope and started to tie me to the chair, her knots very secure in a way to keep me immobile and my head was immobilised too, in the grips of her heavy stocks. Maggie paid particular attention to fixing the right levels and angles of the supporting gantry, sufficient to make her slave static but comfortably contained. I couldn't move my head at all but of course, I could move my eyes behind the perspex lenses.

WARNING: This 45 second clip has audio

The last time Mistress had attempted to insert me into her 'standard' head box, my head was too big and we simply couldn't fit me in. This time, Maggie had crafted this from a cardboard box, maybe as a template for a future project (I suspect I shouldn't have said that) but the box fitted well. The inside of her box and lid as well were lined with a very thick layer of plastic bubble wrap. Yes, Maggie was on a mission to plasticize me.

When Mistress closed the lid, it was an effective face pad of slithery, breathtaking plastic. There was sufficient free play to breathe after a fashion and because of the eye guard I was able to look round inside the box. Although not completely dark, all I could see and taste at very close quarters was plastic, plastic and more plastic all accompanied by a nice plastic bouquet. As I said, Mistress is most inventive and what is worrying is what a box made of more substantial material would feel like with my head rigidly held inside and in total darkness.  As a prototype and proof of concept it was breathtakingly successful. As a blue print for the future, well . . .

You may also notice as I certainly did from inside my box, that Maggie had very thoughtfully placed a buzzing vibrator inside my roped hands. Mistress knows that a little bit of breath restriction, a little bit of bondage and latex, a little bit of vibration and of course a face full of plastic can play havoc with my self control. But Mistress is in charge and she navigated her slave all the way 'to the edge' but, just a moment before, the vibrator was silenced. I’m not sure if Mistress allowed my head box an orgasm, but as soon as she had finished with me she diverted her vibrator and teasing attentions to the box and it was making an awful lot of noise, that is all I can say. My whole world was reverberating with the sound the vibrations were making, nothing but buzz buzz, bloody buzz!

I should also add that my self control was further tested by Mistress getting up close and personal inside the confines of the suspension frame. With the box lid open I could clearly see Mistress through the perspex, doing the most lewd gestures with her plastic pants only a few inches away from my captive face. Oh what a slave has to put up with, but I have to admit my liking of all things plastic had been rekindled by my rather wonderful Mistress.

Note the 7 brass studs in Maggie's new boots

Medication to help me appreciate my plastic environment was not forsaken either, sitting on the shelf by my right shoulder was a little bottle of aroma that Mistress kept offering to me. Another unconventional delivery; bottle straight up my nostril, other nostril blocked and told to 'breathe deeply slave'. That hit the spot!

Maggie, determined to continue my re-acclimatisation, retrieved and fitted me into the larger of the two green hazmat suits that we have both enjoyed wearing in the past. This time it was only me that was to be isolated and still wearing my rubber suit I was quickly sealed inside it and ordered onto the bed. Mistress set her electric air-pump to ‘suck’ mode and attempted to shrinkwrap me by removing all the air from within the hazmat suit.

That was one of the few ideas that didn't work. Not for want of trying, but the zip fastener didn't readily allow a sufficient seal around the pump nozzle, leading to an air of frustration, as more air seemed to be going in than being removed. ‘OK. Let’s forget about that idea,’ said Mistress and she just tidied the pump away.

The zip was pulled up fully sealing me inside the airtight suit. It was remarkable how little spare air there was inside the sealed suit and very soon I was begging hard for a welcome influx of clean fresh air. No matter, Maggie has other methods of leaving her slave breathless and promptly laid full length on my by now spread-eagled position on the latex bed.

To bring another excellent session to a close, Maggie treated her slave to a wonderful golden shower but delivered in a most unorthodox and unexpected way. Already sealed in two layers of rubber and hazmat plastic I was now being instructed to climb into a large slightly opaque plastic bag. I was given a gas mask and hose and once the opening had been knotted to keep me in my greenhouse environment, only the end of the hose was visible to the outside world and aroma vapour was being pumped into my mask.

Maggie directed short bursts of her warm shower over various parts of my plastic covered body. I could feel that lovely warm feeling as Maggie pee'd on my face, my body, my groin and anywhere else she could direct the stream, and I was again very frustrated at all that lovely nectar bouncing off my well protected body and gathering in a large pool on the protective sheet Maggie had wisely laid on the floor. It’s a good job that Mistress has a large safety sheet because it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

The poppers delivery pipe we used was designed and created by Maggie’s husband John and is a remarkable piece of kit.

For a final, rather nice touch to bring our seventh year to a fitting climax and move forwards into year eight, Mistress peeled back the plastic as far as my shoulders and released me from my mask. Looking straight into my eyes Mistress told me to open my mouth, after the downpour I would not have believed there was anything left, but standing over my eager mouth she let out a stream of her nectar and her slaves thirst was quenched.

Was I allowed to climax. No.

Was I bothered? No. More importantly, I think Mistress had an enjoyable 7th birthday' session.

Was I converted to a plastic pervert? No not really. I already enjoy all the materials, including plastic, that Mistress Maggie allows me to experience and no matter how much plastic I was exposed to I still had my rubber clad Mistress, my rubber suit and my rubber hood and my rubber eye mask and my rubber gas mask and . . .

I think my Mistress knows, I am addicted to her and anything else is just a secondary bonus.

Chorley

Chorley, a quiet friendly Lancashire town is situated on the main West Coast main line, but more crucially it’s just a direct bus ride from Mistress Maggie's Chambers.

There was barely a ripple of interest from the Chorlians as I walked dutifully behind my Mistress with only the occasional glance at the slave collar I was proudly wearing. Hardly surprising really, because I was with a very beautiful friend who naturally attracts admiring glances. One or two may have been envious of my status, who wouldn't be, however, I did have two encounters with the locals concerning my collar. I have more to share about those encounters later along with an explanation as to why we found ourselves in Chorley.
I was really excited about the direction Mistress was to take for today's session, as she had made it quite clear in the calling mail that ‘. . . you should arrive in a roomy pair of trousers, and I can confirm that my intentions are to dominate you outdoors for part of your session. Ensure that you are also well hydrated when you arrive . . .’

In a previous session we had talked about how it would be a real buzz for me to be taken out in my latex suit, with my bum plugged and a catheter deployed. A scenario which looked like it was about to happen from the words in the calling mail, and I became both nervous and excited that Mistress might trust me with such a duty. However, when I contacted Mistress to say I’d be arriving for my session soon, what I thought was certain became rather more doubtful '. . . Wear a black short sleeve t shirt and black latex shorts to arrive . . . We’re not going out in the car.'

As always, I could rely on my Mistress to keep me guessing!

It was another very warm summer day and I arrived at The Chambers in the black latex clothes I had been instructed to wear with my baggy trousers on top. My latex shorts were already feeling quite moist. Even if we were to venture out in Mistresses husbands car, I would certainly need a plastic membrane to protect my seat, a thought that turned out to be quite unnecessary.

It had been obvious from the moment Maggie opened the door that I was likely in for a treat, as she had her piss pants on and I was hoping I knew where their contents would end up. With my outdoor clothes stripped away I set about worshipping Mistresses thigh length, black leather boots and I really tried not to be distracted by the rubber drain tube that was dangling between them. My butt plug was to be inserted next; Mistress has done a really good job of stretching my bum and the large red plug slid in easily before I was 'walked' on my lead, via the toilet to The Clinic.

I received the system mask, then strapped to the couch I was prepared for catheterisation. The catheter went in so quickly that I was amazed when Maggie said I was now plugged at both exits and had already begun tidying up her used sterile items ready for disposal.

Mistress showed less haste when is came to throwing the plastic drape away though and decided to tease her patient with it instead. As I lay there Maggie placed the drape over my nose, it has the kind of intoxicating plastic smell that any true plastic fetishist simply cannot resist. My natural instinct was to breath deeply on its strong and wonderful aroma, making it way too easy for Maggie to suffocate her slave with the drape. I was helpless and could be teased until I was quite breathless. The opening lines of 'Take my breath Away' floated into my head as Maggie continued to enjoy her plaything.

A breath through gag was then attached to the system mask; one which is ideal for drinking through. I had done as I was told and arrived well hydrated, even so I was about to receive considerably more liquid refreshment! Mistress is really thoughtful in her delivery. The nectar isn't released all at once, a good thing because the flow Maggie is capable of producing could totally overwhelm a slave, not to mention probably drown him. A good healthy head of fluid was visible in her piss pants and Mistress regulated the flow of my piss drink to a sensible level. Suffice is to say, I had a wonderful long drink of Mistress’ fresh, rehydrating fluids.

Mistress then uncovered another surprise. ‘A rubber catheter bag slave. It can be worn inside or outside your trousers. Which do you want?’

I was starting to question my bottle and stammered ‘inside please’. The leg bag was brand new and after a little surgery to shorten the drain tube it was strapped to my left thigh. Once the clamp was removed I experienced that familiar feeling of trickling pee. I had absolutely no control of when to pee and that was a little disconcerting! After a few adjustments Maggie thought it better to tape the exit tap closed to prevent any accidental leakage and the final question concerned what I should wear. Although I was confident about wearing the latex t-shirt in public the amount of sweat it had already generated was a bit of a concern. Mistress would have a very wet slave by the end of the journey so we settled on normal clothes and my slave collar and we were ready to depart.

‘We are going to catch the bus to Chorley.’ Mistress announced. A good ride of almost an hour, and once we had arrived at our destination we could check how much pee had flowed into the latex bag. The bus journey was very pleasant, we sat on the back seat where we talked about a number of perv subjects and other friendly musings, and I gazed at how amazing my Mistress is. All the while I suspected that the bag was gradually filling, but it posed no problems.

By the time we arrived and we stood up to disembark, the catheter bag was definitely feeling more weighty and there was a considerable bulge appearing under my slack trousers. But not to worry, anyone noticing would see a beautiful woman and a bulge in her companions trousers, quite natural really, but I suspected my highly visible slave collar would divert attention.

We sauntered around Chorley market, I bought Mistress a very nice bracelet from one of the local shops and finally walked into a local coffee shop fairly close to the bus station where two coffees were drank at our leisure. The coffee shop was busy with an easy and relaxed environment, although buying a suitable snack proved impossible because they had run out of buns. Mistress and I talked some more and Mistress exchanged some words and a smile with a lady sitting at the next table.

Meanwhile, my rubber cath bag was still filling and creating an even bigger bulge inside my trousers and I was conscious that it might be full. I needed to ask Maggie if I was allowed to use the toilets to attempt to empty it. Mistress gave permission and clear instructions on what I should do and off I trotted, upstairs to find the toilets.

An interesting experience to say the least. I found a cubical, dropped my pants, removed the safety tape from the tap, pointed it down the pan and. . . Whoosh. . . A veritable Tsunami shot down the porcelain. If you have ever filled a balloon with water and then let it go, that is the type of reaction my catheter bag created. It is a good job I had a firm hold of the hose otherwise I could have flooded the whole place with pee.

I returned without the bulge and satisfied that the catheter and bag worked a treat. There is nothing a slave can do once catheterised but trust the equipment. You can't stop the flow, you have no control and even the butt plug is there to stay. It is most liberating to know you are outwardly 'normal' yet still under total control of your Mistress and because of Maggie's thoroughness, totally safe and dry.

Next it was Maggie's turn to visit ‘the ladies’ and after just a few minutes she had returned to the table. The reusable flask that she had been drinking from throughout our journey was once more placed on the table, she began decanting its contents into a fresh coffee cup that she must have collected on the way. The drink was offered to me and believing it was an extra drink to keep me hydrated and the bag filling up, I eagerly accepted. I expected cool clear water, but no, it was better than that. Mistress presented me with a cup of warm nectar which of course was drained in a thrice.

And that I thought was the end of the adventure as Maggie announced ‘Time for home’. Except on the way out, a gentleman sitting on a low bench having a few beers with his mates noticed and commented on my collar. Maggie instantly hooked her finger through it and eased me towards the gentleman asking if he wanted to read the inscription on the medal - ‘slave in training’. Seamlessly he hooked his finger into the ring, dragging me further forward and said, 'Give us a blow job then’. I was in absolute turmoil wondering how Mistress wished me to react. I am her property but there was only a grin and no instruction from her. ‘I can’t I'm taken’ I stammered, and fortunately was immediately released.

The outline of the filling cath bag is just visible above my left knee.

The man laughed as we went on our way and suggested Maggie should ‘take good care of this one!’ Mistress seemed amused and unconcerned about my encounter. I still don't know if Mistress had anticipated this when she drew me towards the fellow, or whether she was as surprised as I was? In any event, I am owned and Maggie can do whatever she wishes with her slave.

On a lighter note, as we had been unable to buy a bun we stopped to purchase a sandwich for Maggie. The young girl serving us also commented that she liked my collar, but this time I managed to save myself from landing in any mischief; I smiled and said thank you. That was the end of the contact and the lady didn't ask me for a blow job.

The return bus journey was enjoyable but relatively uneventful, although I could feel my bag filling again. However, when we stood up to get off I felt the retaining strap pop open and I had to leave the bus holding the tube through my trouser pocket. Once again, all the public would see was a man alighting from a bus in the company of a very attractive lady with a bulge in my trousers. Most natural.

As we sauntered back to The Chambers I told Maggie about the strap and once indoors I could gently let the bag slide to its natural position, there from just beneath the hemline of my baggy trousers was the tip of the drain tap smiling back at us. Off to the bathroom then, Mistress bringing her syringe to deflate my catheter before removal. The rubber catheter bag needed emptying and thoroughly cleaning, and that I thought was the end, but Mistress had other plans and I was dragged back into her Playroom to complete my slave duties for the day.

I was ordered to strip with the exception of the butt plug of course, I was naked as the day I was born. Mistress picked a latex hood from her plentiful collection and strapped on her dildo harness, complete with her large flesh coloured dildo Mistress was ready for her slaves attention. I was finally ordered to give my Mistress a blow job. No doubts or reservations this time and with the right encouragement from Maggie and a warning as to where else she intended to put it I set about mouthing the dildo. I could only manage about half into my mouth and I really hoped that the movements were giving some pleasure to my Mistress. I have tried so many things with Mistress but this was a new lesson for this slave, as Maggie had never encouraged me before in this direction. I was handed a Durex and told to put it on her dildo.

Maggie ordered me onto all fours where she could easily pop the long stay resident butt plug out of my backside. I was instructed to sit on her knee and pleasure the dildo she was wearing. Yet another wonderful new experience.

The whole length of Maggie's shaft was taken easily and eagerly up my bum hole. I sat and wiggled and tried to get it deeper embedded and groaned quite a lot. Once more I hoped Maggie was having some fun because her slave certainly was. The position allowed Maggie to snake her free hands around me and grasp my cock and balls. That is a most explosive position!. . . except it wasn't. Just as I was about to warn Mistress that I was about to involuntarily ejaculate, she abruptly stopped and withdrew her energetic dildo. That was that. Another demonstration as to who is in total charge of all my emotions, orifices and experiences during my all too brief a time serving Mistress Maggie.

As to my experience in Chorley. It was a real buzz and I only hope I didn't let my Mistress down. The natives appear down to earth and friendly. I know I am a really fortunate slave and will do whatever my Mistress asks, although I am still unsure I’d have given that gent his blow job outside Chorley market if I had been so instructed, but then again I do trust my Mistresses judgement 100%.

Next Time . . .

Next time Mistress Maggie presents such an exciting and scary opportunity I hope I am able to grasp it with both hands; metaphorically grasp it, as will become apparent later in my report. But to start with I was greeted by my Mistress in a fantastic diaphanous latex outfit, teamed with a most prominent glass dildo which was twinkling in my direction. Beneath the clear invader were the long, very long white boots that climb all the way up those statuesque legs, almost, but not quite, to the base of her glass sparkler.

It was my birthday so I had decided to bring a surprise to the party; finally plucking up the courage to wear my latex clothes with no covering coat this time, I made my way to the Chambers. The day was warm, and despite very heavy traffic and one or two passing pedestrians no one appeared interested in a happy chappy with a slave collar sauntering down the road like a rubber pervert, carrying my session bag and a big smile. I really needn’t have been worried, though I probably won’t repeat such a show as I think Maggie may have been a little concerned about attracting attention on her doorstep. Even so my surprise made her smile and she had a good feel at my warm latex.

I always get that familiar buzz as I follow the most beautiful derrière up the stairs to The Playroom. Today Maggie’s bottom was framed by the neat rows of ruffles that embellished her skimpy rubber shorts. Once upstairs I was told to remove my latex, the only item of rubber I was allowed were my knee length stockings, nothing else. Not the catsuit or even the gloves, although I was temporarily allowed to keep my shirt. Why? - because Maggie declared that today was going to be plastic fantastic.

I used to be drawn primarily to latex until Mistress helped me realise that it is her that is the aphrodisiac and not the material, though I must admit to still having a preference for Mistress in all her various latex garments.

Maggie attempted a new method of footwear worship, seated down in front of her throne I was instructed to shuffle backwards into the V of her legs. What a start! With the warmth of my Mistress in the nape of my neck, stroking my hair in a wonderful manner, I could have relaxed there all day. The only drawback was that with Maggie's thighs clamped round her slave I was unable to turn my head far enough to do justice to my position. Unfortunately the delight had to end all too quickly and I was instructed to move to the more conventional position and to proceed with the boot worship, which I duly attended to as my Mistress wished.

Kneeling upright again, I barely had time to lick my lips before the sound of crinkling plastic came from a freshly opened bag and my head was soon enclosed inside. There is nothing like a good bagging to make you feel glad to be alive, and I had the added bonus of being able to gaze adoringly at my captor with her sparkling glass dildo, which seemed to have forgotten which bit of anatomy it was intended for and took the liberty of poking me in the eye!

More plastic, this time containing a small celebratory birthday tipple poured from a rather nice bottle of red. We then relaxed with a toast and enjoyed the wine. I have had 6 birthdays now in the company of my Mistress; that is 6 years where I have really felt alive and I wished for the next 6 years in heaven and the next 6 . . .

Maggie roped me to the horse very lightly and mounted me with the glass dildo, gently inserted and accompanied with a soft whisper of ‘happy birthday slave’ I was being ridden to heaven. There was no necessity for the ropes, I would willingly have remained prone, but I do feel more owned by Mistress when I am wearing restraints, particularly whilst being mounted. Most enjoyable.

Feeling a little underdressed in only my birthday suit and latex stockings we adjourned to the White Room, where the room had already been prepared for the plastic fantastic. Spread out on the couch was the thick plastic body bag that I have lovingly occupied in the past, and that very nice clear plastic hood with the two breathing holes.

Once comfortably fitted and secured inside the hood I climbed aboard and was sealed and strapped into my new home for the rest of the afternoon. I love that hood. It restricts breathing but allows sufficient air supply, every breath is worth it if only for its distinctive plastic bouquet, more importantly I get a very clear vision of my Mistress as she moves around the Clinic preparing my next pleasurable experience.

Mistress set up a breathing circuit for her patient and held an anaesthetic mask over my mouth, the aroma accompanied by sweet verbal encouragement from Maggie sent me into a deep relaxed state. She removed my butt plug replacing it with a Bardex enema pump . . . Ah, an enema was coming my way. ‘Are you allergic to peppermint slave?’ she asked and I confirmed that I wasn’t. Mistress then mixed up a solution and filled up a huge syringe making sure that its contents were infused right where the sun don’t shine.

I was feeling quite warm and grateful of the peppermint’s cooling properties, a little of the cordial had trickled down my cheeks and collected in a cool pool at the base of my spine. It certainly wasn’t going anywhere in the watertight plastic body bag and the liquid soon warmed as my treatments progressed.

I could have stayed all afternoon like that; breathing in and out carefully and gazing at my beautiful Mistress as she liberally applied cocoa butter on all of her slaves available body parts, rubbing it in with her warm hands. Maggie zipped up the bodybag to seal everything in, flicked the room heater up to high and started playing her industrial strength hair dryer all over my plastic covered torso. Today had just climbed quite a few degrees warmer.

Encouraged by the results of the warming on her subject, Maggie began to stir the mix with her violet wand, making sparks jump from my saturated skin. I think other forms of electrical 'enjoyment' for her simmering pot were considered but she opted for the wand as a simple, safe, sensible and sane way of bringing her slave closer to the boil.

Unfortunately, I had to lose the plastic hood because the aroma mask and breathing holes just wouldn't play together, so staying with the plastic theme Maggie simply bound my head with clear plastic bondage tape with a loose flap across the mouth. Now that worked a treat and it allowed comfortable use of the anaesthetic mask while administering gradual doses of aroma. The mask was obviously attached to a rebreather bag because when Maggie told me to ‘take deep breaths slave’ I could hear the breathy noises as I breathed deeply.

So long as you breath in and out quite slowly, the rebreather allows sufficient air to keep you going indefinitely, yet it is torture of the most delicious kind. You have to concentrate on breathing while Mistress goes about her other tasks that certainly do not aid concentration. Maggie has trained her slave well and I had no problem maintaining a steady rhythm despite more heat, more massaging and more peppermint.

Mistress covered me up in an extra layer of green plastic now and began heating it up with her hairdryer. By now I’d had another two huge syringe fulls of the peppermint enema and the aromas were having a wonderfully calming and relaxing effect. I realised then what Mistress meant in her somewhat ambiguous calling email - 'I thought I might take you for a swim for your birthday. Your rubber Mistress will be keeping an eye on you as you float away and manage the extra water at the deep end.' 

Despite the continuous efforts to really heat me up, with a combination of the cooling peppermint, soothing body butter and relaxing aromas, I felt absolutely wonderful. Too lazy to actually swim anywhere, but more than happy to float in all the juices.

Operation time, and I really didn't feel the staples being punched into my groin area. I wont say cock and balls because by the time my Mistress had finished with them they had ceased to exist.

Picking up another syringe she injected a good dose of lubricating jelly behind the staples and into the operation area. Mistress was dissatisfied with her stapler, it had only dispensed a few staples before it went faulty, she was genuinely disappointed and threatened to send it back. I know that when they work properly she finds a stapler far more user friendly than the sutures she previously used.

Oh well, that's progress and Maggie likes to keep abreast of all new methods of entertaining her slaves. Speaking of which, Maggie did stand very close and began stroking my pinioned cock, baring those wonderful breasts to taunt me with their beauty. That really was torture. How do you normally react when such a wonderful vista is presented? I am a hot blooded male and I would normally start to get an erection. Erection with what and where was it going? So I tried my hardest to look, admire and stay comfortable within the staples.

As we were coming to a close Maggie asked if I wanted to remove the staples myself. Imagine, making my way home wearing my nice tight pair of latex briefs covering what used to be my manhood. That thought is so exciting yet so disconcerting. Would it hurt once the aroma had worn off? What would happen when I received the photos with the staples still in situ? How do I pee? Would I be able to walk and drive home because I didn't fancy having to remove the staple half way home! I opted for the cowards way out and asked Mistress to remove them. At the time, that was a good move with no pain or discomfort, but I am seriously contemplating a different decision next time Mistress Maggie staples up her cock and balls. Next time. . . .