Flight 121 Departing Shortly

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Self Service slave Station

No matter how stoic you want to be for your Mistress, Mistress Maggie knows just which buttons to press, or in my case, how much brushing a buttock can take before having her slave beg for mercy. I wouldn't dare to comment on the rights or wrongs surrounding my punishments, after all Mistress is always right so there are no wrongs, and in this instance I had been warned that I would be punished by Maggie for any erections I had whilst undertaking some recent research for her; a task which involved me scouring over thousands of photos, mostly of ladies dressed in skimpy undies and fetish clothing.

Mistress wanted to ensure I wasn't enjoying my work and instructed me to maintain a five-bar-gate for keeping note of the number of erections I experienced during my searching. My next session would begin with punishment for any infractions, where I had allowed my mind to wander.

Fortunately, of all the pictures I poured over, only four had me aroused enough to land me in trouble. These were of my owner and created an instant rush of excitement as soon as I spotted one. So when asked, I honestly replied ‘four Mistress' and for those four I received four minutes of spanking over Maggie’s knee, first with her hand then with the hard hairbrush which Ted had been quietly guarding. That bloody bear will have to go!

Initially my stoicism stood firm. I mean, over the knee of a beautiful latex covered woman, face down on the latex bed, what rubber slave wouldn't be in heaven? As my ass became warmer and warmer my resolve began to crumble, and but for my face being buried deep in the latex bed I would have been begging for mercy earlier. Sometimes I think this slave is a bit of a wimp.

Success: Maggie was determined to help me with the fitting of my new, bigger red butt plug. It has been available for a while and forms one of our medium term objectives. After fixing her property to the high horse, copious doses of lubrication and aroma were supplied to her slave, finger stretching and dildo stretching and final success as the red butt plug was pushed all the way inside me. It’s a little tight and compact at the moment, however, the red plug or Big Red as I now think of my friend, has at last found its new home.

Failure: Big Red is obviously not yet fully acclimatised to its new environment and popped out again, indicating more expansion may be required before BR settles into its new home permanently. I will enjoy stretching out BR's new accommodation, Maggie told me I will.

After all this exercise, what was once an ordeal fitting my black plug became quite routine and it slipped easily and painlessly into the space vacated by BR. But I think it knows it's on notice to quit to make way for a bigger occupier in the not too distant future.

Onwards and upwards. Mistress had asked me to bring my red latex catsuit today and in her usual sultry way she helped me slip into it. I love that feeling as Mistress smoothes the wrinkles and makes sure her property is suitably packaged. A bright red gas mask was pulled over my head and Mistress manoeuvred me into the centre of the Playroom underneath the substantial ceiling frame.

With my breathing now under Maggie’s control I stood rigidly still, waiting for anything and everything my Mistress wished of me. Not long to wait. From under a covered mound of 'secret' equipment emerged the slave tray that I had so proudly worn on our 100th session.

The wooden tray was strapped around my waist and its supporting chains latched onto my slave collar, then a few inches at a time, the front then rear pulleys were released to lower the suspension frame to the height of my shoulders.

‘Squat slave'. Obviously I didn't go down far enough because in a firmer voice I was ordered again. 'I said squat slave’. Then it twigged, I was to squat low enough for the stocks to be slid in place and then locked around my neck.

Mistress checked if I was comfortably locked in the stocks and a couple of adjustments to the pulleys were necessary before I could confidently grunt, 'yes that's absolutely fine Mistress’. Immobilisation was almost complete, I was attached rigidly; slave, stocks, red latex hood and frame as one. Mistress took my hands and secured them together behind my back.

And there I stood and this time it wasn't a voluntary standstill, I just couldn't move. My neck was held vice like, my wrists were likewise and all I could see through my backwards tilting gas mask goggles was the occasional glimpse of Maggie's superb latex covered reflection in the wall mirror. Well, there was nothing to be done but stand still and make sure the contents of the tray were ready and stable and most importantly, do not embarrass or upset Mistress!

A breathing hose was the next item to emerge from the ‘secret’ mound of equipment and inevitably I was soon depending on it for air. A travel kettle appeared, several items of food and crockery, all lifted for me to see before being placed on my tray. Ah, the hint in the calling mail was starting to become a little clearer  '. . . Your Clinic appointment is scheduled for 4pm but self service refreshments are available while you are waiting. . .'  One item at a time, I was being transformed into the Self Service slave Station; part of the furniture in Maggie’s rubber refectory and delighted to be so. The final addition to my tray was the bubble bottle and I was the SSsS for as long as Maggie wished. It must have sounded really funny to Maggie; kettle starting to boil, slave bubbling away through the bottle, creating a unique blend of fresh carbonated water, and with really sensitive hearing she would have detected a low purring, very contented sound emanating from within the mask.

When all was set, Mistress turned on some of her favourite music, Michael Chapman, and proceeded to dance and sway in a most provocative way. I didn't catch all this sensual movement, but what I did catch had an alarming but not unpredictable effect on this red blooded, red latex'd, self service refreshment area. Despite my limited vision I could see at least another ten entries appearing on my five-bar-gate record of erections.

Thankfully, Mistress did allow me to take part in her snacking; a distinct whiff of cheese and onion crisps made its way up my breathing tube as its open end was unceremoniously dunked inside Mistresses crisp packet, while the amplified sound of her crunching noises made the smell of cheese and onion all the more tantalising, frustrating as well of course, because that was as near as I came to refreshments.

Like the good citizen she is, Maggie wouldn't just discard her rubbish. Unfortunately, the empty crisp packet was then placed safely inside my breathing tube. That caused a little consternation, but I remembered some advice from a very dear friend. 'Don't panic. . .'

After Mistress had eaten up everything from her SSsS, a toilet break was becoming necessary. Not for me of course because I may have sniffed Mistresses crisps but that was as close to food or drink that the refreshment station had come. It was Mistresses needs that required attention, and once I was freed from my vending machine duties, on went the collar and leash and I was to attend my Mistress as she relieved herself in the bathroom. Imagine the frustration watching all her golden champagne being flushed down the toilet without any being offered to her willing slave. Sometimes Mistress can be really cruel and sometimes, like on this occasion, she must be cruel to be kind. Mistress was being kindly cautious while she was taking a course of medicine prescribed by her Doctor. So, it was paper tissue duty only for her slave today.

We took a different route back from the loo and I was led through to the clinic, where I was instructed to mount the couch and manoeuvre into a very comfortable, reclining and restrained position on the couch. There are times when I really feel sorry for Mistress having such a long, large slave. I might be relaxed and comfortable with my feet in the stirrups, whereas Mistress has to hold her tummy in and squeeze round my sticking out feet to get closer access to her slave. But I can still get up to a little mischief as she squeezes past; I wriggle a latex covered foot against her chest or stomach, or whatever other bit of my owner is trying to manoeuvre past. I suspect that little pleasure may be curtailed and I really shouldn't divulge slave secrets so readily, although I have promised to be always honest to my owner and I do recognise the sacrifices that poor Mistress has to make to keep her slaves happy and pumped up, or even a Self Service slave Station maintained in good order!

Now the time for onwards and downwards had arrived. Down below, Mistress was going to make use of her newly stretched slave hole and fill me up with a rather large anal impaler. The heavy iron structure was prepared for insertion, cunningly attached between my legs and equally cunningly attached tightly to my exposed balls. Ease the impaler out, stretch the balls out; two birds, or should I say balls, with one stone. Have I mentioned before that Mistress is incredibly organised in her planning?

Ah yes, those Boston nipple pumps. The last time I was to have them one had gone missing, a lucky escape, although I did have to suffer an alternative instead. Mistress does not forget and had promised me that once she had found the pumps she would put them to good use. Hmm, well they have now turned up and I would be feeling them later. Mistress was also considering using a recently acquired metal cock device on me today, however, when she inspected it she was not convinced it was as good as advertised, she wanted my opinion and asked if I wanted her to try it out. I had personally tried a similar unit myself and found it singularly useless, it falls off unless you hold it firmly and even then it doesn't do what it says on the tin. I felt really proud and valued as Mistresses slave because Maggie considered my report and consigned the toy to the stainless steel bin with a loud and final clatter.

It was amusing, laying there in my white medical hood, with a dildo temporarily occupying BR's home, alternating between receiving aromas via the anaesthetic mask and breathing steadily through the snorkel into a rebreathe bag, being able to watch Mistress attempting to fit the Boston's. A normal person really needs three hands for this deployment, but Mistress managed well with two by holding the brass pump and the nipple cups in place with one hand, whilst operating the pump with her other. Have I mentioned before that Mistress Maggie is exceptional and not normal?  Whether it was the effect of the aromas or just the effect of the proximity of my owner, but these little Boston's were pleasant to wear and quite benign. On reflection, that comment may well come back to bite my nipples in future sessions!

Happy that everything was attached and inserted as planned, Mistress concentrated on my middle bit round my opened crotch zip. Always a good place for her to stick some electrodes. A urethral sound was inserted in my cock and an unusual stick-on electrode attached at the base. It may be due to the size of the rather large hospital electrode used at the base of the cock, but all the sensations were concentrated there with almost no stimulation from inside the cock and a good rhythmic dance lesson was had by all. Maggie then set about adding a bass rhythm to my anal invader as she steered it up my passageway. Long slow ins and outs of the fleshy dildo, long slow outs any ins of my secured balls, whilst all this being accompanied by a 'quick-quick-slow' rhythm round the ballroom.

Wow! Another unique and exceptional session ended all too quickly. The new aromas that Maggie used were the most potent and enjoyable I have experienced and strangely, once I had adjusted to the initial discomfort of the neck stocks, my only 'discomfort' was the inability to see enough of my owner. I mentioned this to Mistress in our post session debrief, where I may also have mentioned what an excellent and exceptional owner she is.

A rather strange bottom line is the after effect of the neck stocks. It has had a most beneficial effect on my neck muscles and I find I can move my head more easily now. Perhaps Mistress Maggie the physiotherapist might be a future addition to her medical options?

EO 19

No, not an Edinburgh postcode, and maybe a rather strange title for a blog, but it refers to the new Russian Gas mask that we were trying out during the session. For the techies, it is a Russian EO 19, NATO size three with integral filters that makes the wearer look like a Star Wars storm trooper. Anyway, more of that later in what was a most uplifting session.

Through the small semi-opaque portal in Mistress Maggie's front door I was able to glimpse a statuesque lady in what looked like an all black cape, curiosity would be satisfied in the twinkling of an eye or more precisely, the appearance of a latex covered finger round the semi opened door, beckoning me into The Chambers. There, I was greeted by my Mistress in her stunning long black latex coat and once the door had been closed behind me, and still within the confines of the small front porch, I was ordered onto my knees to worship Mistresses boots.

Mistress in EO 19

I followed Mistress upstairs and the view was just as stunning as if she had been wearing her tight latex. Her coat undulating and swishing with her every movement and I know it is not the material that mesmerises this slave, but the person inside. It is a magnificent vision all the same.

In the Playroom, Maggie insisted on trying on the new gas mask; she frequently self-demonstrates her liking for all her equipment, although this mask was a little too large for her delicate features and didn’t provide an airtight seal. Nevertheless, the contrast between the black latex of the coat and the grey of the mask does provide a striking picture. Definitely a storm trooper in this guise. After a number of deep breaths and a positive response to me asking if I could take this photo, I was dispatched to the bathroom to don my latex gloves, stockings and nothing else.

On my return, once again I was on my knees ready to perform my duties at my Mistresses feet, but this time I was instructed under the folds of that gorgeous coat and given authority to worship my Mistresses legs, way beyond the tops of her knee high glossy black boots. The contrast between the cool smoothness of the boots and her warm yet slightly abrasive fishnet tights was amazing and I would have spent hours under these folds, kissing, licking and worshipping Maggie's legs. It is strange the thoughts that enter a slaves head when so close to heaven, but my predicament had me recalling a cartoon I saw many years ago, of a lady idly talking with her friends, whilst out of sight and invisible, her slave looked to be performing similar worship. . .  as I say, strange what springs to mind.

Hooked

I would have loved to have spent longer under Maggie’s rubber coat, but Mistress allows pleasure and pain in pretty equal measures and decided it was time for me to climb into my catsuit and position myself over the the spanking bench, where I was shackled using leather cuffs and chains.

Naturally I couldn't see what was going on at the business end, although I could feel something cold, tight and probably potentially very punishing being attached round my balls. I could also feel something cold and rigid being inserted up my bottom.

I think that perhaps Mistress must secretly be a keen fisherwoman, by the easiness she managed to hook her slave with the giant, stainless steel gaff. Once more, the meticulous planning that Mistress applies to all her sessions was very evident. The line from the hook to the ceiling ring was perfectly vertical; the positioning of the bench obviously comes with years of experience. I could just touch the floor with my shackled hands but effectively all of my 17 stone was evenly distributed through my chest and through the ceiling hook.

My stretched balls are booted

A few turns of the screws had my balls once again heading away for a fishing holiday, whilst a few adjustments to the fishing line had my knees almost off the ground and my whole backside weight bearing down on the hook. Strange as it may seem, I even encouraged that by trying to lift my knees to apply more pressure on the hook. If you've ever thought what a tuna feels like when caught on line, you should try this. Not unpleasant at all. Well it is for the tuna but not for a captivated slave!

There were more terrible things happening in my other vulnerable areas though. Maggie had now caught my balls in her metal device and appeared to be enjoying playing with her catch; the constant tightening of the screws, the occasional twist of the balls as Maggie lovingly remarked how firm her balls had become and rather less lovingly, kicking the poor little blighters, just because she could.

Mistress was satisfied that she had stretched her balls by over 2 inches and allowed them to 'rest' for a while. If you call hanging there, hooked to the ceiling via your backside whilst your balls are heading towards the floor as resting! - Maggie has such a sweet, disarming turn of phrase at the most appropriate times.

Mistress does however have a big heart, and whilst I was 'resting' she unzipped her boots and put them to one side, she sat and relaxed for a while, allowing me to caress and kiss her beautiful toes in their fishnet enclosure. Though I have never been a fisherman, I cannot imagine a better netted catch than those feet and toes. The shackles restricted what I could caress, but after a lot of kissing the foot worship graduated to mouth filling, until I had all five toes dominating the inside of my eager mouth. As the fish hook was eased out of my bum I thank goodness there were no barbs, Mistress then quickly and quietly inserted my butt plug in the vacated hole.

Fishnet devotion

As only occasionally happens, a moment of truly unplanned amusement had spontaneous laughter ringing out in the bathroom. Mistress had clipped a stout neck chain onto my collar and was leading me to the bathroom, to prepare me for wearing the EO 19. As frequently happens, my wonky knees were giving me gyp and Maggie told me to sit down on the toilet seat. The black latex mask I’d been wearing had gathered a lot of sweat, off it came, then my head and neck cleaned, dried and talced.

Once satisfied, a quick yank on the chain indicated me to follow her back to the Playroom. Well, I would have if I could have. Instead, the plug had attached itself to the toilet seat and the suction between seat and plug was greater than the suction between bum and plug. 'Mistress’ I stammered, and as she turned to see what the problem was, there was my black butt plug on the white toilet seat, looking like a swaying tree trunk. Surely Mistress couldn't have planned for me to sit on the closed seat, could she?

Back in the Playroom, I was fitted into the very heavy leather body harness that immobilises your hands and arms down by your sides. I think this has to be the best, most inconspicuous and secure bondage yet. To the unobservant it may look like I am just standing, or lying in a relaxed position, arms to my sides. Nothing could be further from the truth, my arms were tightly strapped and there is no escaping their unyielding, unforgiving clutches.

A blind storm-trooper slave

The EO 19 gas mask came into view and was stretched over my head. It is a really comfortable fit and completely airtight, which is good news for the Russians who had to wear this model. One of Maggie's big rubber blindfolds removed any vision and I was left chained to the bed, with arms strapped to my sides and listening only to my own breathing. Another delightful situation I found myself in, with Maggie again in total charge of my functioning.

Maggie experimented a little to find out the possibilities with her EO19 mask and how best to block the air intakes; those little black vents on the storm-troopers cheeks. As it is a new mask, that sweet, suffocating spot took a while to find, but once she had it right Maggie was like a child with a new toy. What could be used to block the air now then? Firstly, there are two vents requiring  two hands to block the intakes. The mask being totally airtight allowed me to breathe out but no chance of breathing in, the inner mask became clamped tighter and tighter to my face until no air was left, then my Mistress kindly sets me free.

With no air I briefly start to panic, no need of course because what use is a dead slave to the perfect Mistress? I think my next objective is to follow the advice of Lance Corporal Jones and ‘Don’t Panic!', no matter what Mistress does to her slave.

Even so, this breathtaking method with the EO 19 does have some advantages, after all, if Mistress has both hands occupied with my air supply she has no hands left to menace my bollocks! Hmm! I am starting to appreciate this mask.

Inflatable mask and Tower of Pain

Enough enjoyment. Off came the EO 19 to be replaced by the inflatable black rubber hood. I was still pinioned with the body harness and now Mistress only had one breathing hole to contend with. 'I wonder if I can use one of my nice round firm nipples to cover your breath hole?' The answer is a definite yes. Not that I could see anything but my thoughts ran to 'Ahh. Smothered by one of Mistress’ nipples. Way to go!'

Speaking of nipples, I do sometimes regret the perfect design of my heavy latex suit. It makes my own nipples far too accessible and the three way zip makes other body area far too accessible as well. All three zips were opened and all used to 'assist' with my ongoing training. Electrics up bum and round cock, stout sheath attached over cock, a rubber ball stretcher attached and Mistress having more fun playing with my balls again, which by now were tightly displayed and quite sensitive. To cap it all, the Tower Of Pain made another appearance. Funnily enough I hadn’t realised why my nipples were having an out-of-body episode until I saw this photo with the T.O.P bridging my chest, as I was still very pumped up and Maggie to my unending delight, appeared to be having more fun with her slave than many a slave could cope with.

With a tweek tweek here

And a ball crush there.

Here a tweek, there a crush,

Everywhere a pain pain.

Old slave Jo he had some balls, e-ow e-ow oh!

The EO 19 is now a friend and I like how it shows up nicely in the photographs. Mistress Maggie is a good friend and always has shown up very well in all photographs. I liked this session and if you have read this far, I hope you have enjoyed my blog.

Lisa - An Unassuming, Quiet Individual

After five and a bit years training, Mistress Maggie decided it was high time to introduce me to her female sub slave Lisa. Lisa is the only permanent, live in slave that Maggie keeps and has impeccable manners and a very quiet persona. I have already been introduced to Mistresses other pet, Ted but he can be a little spiky at times but Lisa is, well Lisa; totally pliable, devoted, quiet as the proverbial church mouse and prepared to do anything her owner instructs her to do. She can be a little cool, her skin can feel a little plasticky with the occasional sag here and there, age and over use has perhaps contributed to her appearance, but Lisa never ever complains. You may discern the faintest hiss as Lisa gets a little excited or perhaps a little deflated if she is frustrated, but other than that, no sounds. I will return to Lisa shortly.

Mistress greeted me in an olive latex uniform that looked alarmingly like a picture of a Russian officer topped off with a rather sinister peaked cap: One star of a field general but without the gold braid. Perhaps it should be Mistress General Maggie? That would be most suitable for this slave as, like any loyal and faithful soldier, I do exactly as ordered, immediately and without question.

Oh well, on my knees as instructed I think I provided a comfortable dais for my General to sit on whilst commanding her small Playroom army of three. In descending order of rank, Ted, Lisa and me.

When I first saw this picture, it took a long while to see past the image of my stunning General; her stylish court shoes, long nylon covered legs, gorgeous latex covered body, that absolutely wonderful bust line and of course her stunning good looks. But after that 'long while' I noticed the caricature that Mistress had commissioned for our centenary celebrations hanging on the wall just over her left shoulder, I had to break off to revisit my diary for that memorable session; the last time Mistress trusted me to serve her friends. . .  I digress. Back to Lisa who you can see quietly lying on the bed behind Mistress Maggie.

Mistress had been gradually increasing the size of my back passage and gently presenting aromas for my relaxation. She had just finished with an aroma soaked cloth when she told me I would be engaging in a military threesome this afternoon; I was required to fuck Lisa and Mistress was going to fuck me. A threesome with me as the meat in the sandwich! This had me confused; a relatively easy state for this simple slave to be in. I know that any thoughts of this type of activity on my part would have me severely chastised, yet here I was being ordered to mount Mistresses live-in love doll slave.

But first I was instructed to become more intimately acquainted with Lisa and introduce myself by cleaning and sniffing her private parts. Ah! that is where the aroma soaked pad had been deposited. It gave a slightly musty aroma to Lisa's genitalia, not unpleasant, so I set to work licking, kissing and generally introducing myself to my newly acquired friend. I could have sworn that her lady bits were located where her navel should be? It is strange the effects that a good dose of aromas can have on your senses.

Anyway, after these preliminaries, Mistress turned me over and expertly rolled a condom down my cock and told me to slide it  inside Lisa’s hole. As I mentioned, with the target somewhere around her midriff it was a strange angle of attack, but I eventually managed full penetration to be rapidly followed by Mistress and her strap-on achieving full penetration of her chosen target and that really got me thrusting. It must have been a bizarre sight; the gasmasked Lisa underneath with her privates lined up, myself and my fully loaded weapon in the middle fulfilling my temporary role as ‘naval orificer’, and my Mistress General Maggie bringing up the rear giving me orders not to shoot anything. ‘You do not cum. This is for the girls enjoyment!’

So I didn't. It was difficult to control, but I was relieved when both Mistress and Lisa appeared to have had their fill without any embarrassment on my part. I was surprised that Mistress then ordered me to strip naked and, after quickly tying my hands to the overhead ring, set about oiling up her slave. Now that was exciting! Her gloved hands rubbing the Playroom lube all over my body before inserting me into the grey plastic suit. I have happily worn this suit before, it has a short opening at the crotch which was used to access the wires to the inflated anal vibrator that Mistress had just inserted. The vibrator was set quite high and then I was sealed inside the green hazmat suit as well. Quite a lot of plastic then but no way to adjust the magnitude of the tremors that were now seismically affecting my back passage.

I was marched to the Clinic by General Maggie and ordered to mount the couch, not mount in the biblical sense of course; I had done all the mounting with Lisa, but as I lay there, Mistress attached a breathing mask to my face and zipped the whole lot inside the hazmat suit. The only way I could take in air was by drawing it down a length of plastic hose that emerged from behind my head. Maggie had once again excelled in her planning and every now and then, allowed whiffs of aroma to travel into my sealed environment.

Lisa wasn't the only one to be pumped up today. Just like Lisa I was about to become an inflatable plastic play toy for Maggie’s amusement. Mistress returned to the clinic in her lovely green hazmat suit and as I lay there I wondered what she was attaching to my legs. I soon found out when she switched on her electric pump and they blew up like balloons. Now I was rigid in more ways than one, as I could not bend my legs with the fully inflated leg splints.

Just when I thought I was pumped up quite enough Maggie unzipped my hazmat hood and removed my breathing mask, giving me a clear vision of my plastic Mistress. Something else was about to be pumped when she slipped my head into the inflatable plastic hood. We had a little discussion concerning the length of the breathing tube and a little adjustment was made to perfect it, and once I acknowledged that I was comfortable, Maggie huffed and puffed and completely blew my head up.

I lay there with a fat head, fat legs, the vibrator still pulsing away in my bum and the final straw, Maggie rested her Hitachi wand in my navel with its powerful vibrations set on maximum to really torment her slave. This time I really couldn't stop myself. As Maggie soothed my swollen head safely clothed inside her own hazmat suit, I gazed back at my stunning owner, so near yet so totally untouchable I just had to let myself go.

I wasn't on my own in letting my fluids flow. Back in the Playroom I took my place on the plastic covered bed and Mistress secured me down in a spread-eagle fashion. I was to be rehydrated after my taxing assignment in the hazmat suit and Mistress had plans to thoroughly quench my thirst. I then got a somewhat filtered view of what a real woman's anatomy looks like, Mistress stood in control above me pressing her used panties into my face, then fitted them across my eyes and nose and let out a stream of her juices for me to drink.

Although I am partial to a cup of filter coffee at times, I don't think I have ever had the pleasure of filtered champagne. Not that Maggie’s champagne needs any filtering, it is always perfect no matter how it is served, but I did have the benefit of being able to take the very wet panties home for future consumption and laundering.

And where was Lisa having been evicted from her bed? - Oh, just drying and hanging around. I did feel a little sorry for her as she had taken on a somewhat deflated, dejected look, which probably wasn't helped by the lengthy gas mask exercise she'd had to endure. However, it seems that it wasn't the aroma affecting my sense of direction, have a look where I was mounting Lisa for yourself.

Lisa - hanging around after having been thoroughly cleaned

I am pleased Mistress Maggie has introduced me to Lisa and I know my place in the Playroom pecking order.

Unfinished Business

Due to frailties and failings on my part in recent sessions, Mistress Maggie was unable to complete some of her planned activities. Only two weeks ago much needed advanced nipple play was halted due to a pain in the butt-plug, six months prior to that a prolonged bondage chair confinement was curtailed due to a pain in the neck, as a result my ass escaped a meeting with Maggie’s electric dildo. Mistress said she does not like me falling behind with my slave education and was determined to take measures to get my training back on track. We would be revisiting those abandoned scenarios today and taking the lessons again.

Anyway, before the unfinished business commenced, I had already blotted my copy-book by not having thoroughly cleaned my slave collar. Mistress made sure the collar was fastened on one notch tighter than usual to torment me for my laziness, then over the punishment stool, face down with Mistress astride my back for a good beating with the Playroom hairbrush. Who would think that an innocent item like a hairbrush could cause such carnage to a slaves resolve. The answer to that of course, is the way the brush was wielded by an expert in slave beatings. However, it was made a lot easier to bear, because in the mirror I could see the reflection of Mistress in her gold latex catsuit and feel her warmth on my bare back. An undeserved pleasure mixed with such thorough punishment, plus a promise that my collar will be so polished next time.

After warming my cheeks, preparatory widening of my asshole was to be addressed. I was instructed to retrieve the low bench and ready myself in the kneeling position with head touching the bench. The strap-on was sheathed just in front of my eyes so I knew exactly what was coming and Mistress took her place behind me, my reddened ass cheeks were separated and she mounted her slave from the rear. Nothing violent or brutal or painful. Maggie eased the tip of her rubber cock gently into my hole and within seconds of gentle inching in and out, I was thrusting backwards onto her well oiled shaft. After that my butt-plug slipped in almost inconspicuously and nestled there nicely; little chance of me complaining of pains in my butt plug today!

Earlier in the week Mistress had asked me how I was going on with my larger guiche jewellery. I had to explain the little matter of how my guiche had come out because one of my balls dropped off in the shower. No, not one of my bollocks, I mean the small silver ball that keeps my piercing in place! The piercing had not yet stretched to accommodate the thicker bar when the ball came unscrewed, and I rather stupidly removed the bar rather than re-fixing the errant ball. Try as I might I still had not managed to get the fiddly thing back in. Three days had gone by since it came out and Maggie insisted it needed putting back very soon. ‘Bring your piercing to session slave and I will reinstall it, failing that, I will have to cart you back to the piercing salon’.

Mistress will never admit defeat to a technical challenge, although it was evident that returning my guiche to its correct location was one of the more trickier challenges she had undertaken recently. However, to every problem there is always more than one solution and my Mistress, after a bout of head scratching and expletives, disappeared from the clinic to return with a much smaller bar, worked that through quite easily and the bigger bar followed without a hitch. The exercise had taken far longer than Maggie had expected but I knew from her voice that this bit of unfinished business had now been completed to her satisfaction and I felt really pleased to have my guiche back in. Note to self: keep your balls screwed tightly on!

Returning to the Playroom I donned my black latex catsuit, Mistress then set about another bit of unfinished business and the nipple clamps came out, to complete rather a sadistic part of Maggie’s curriculum that remained unlearned due to my frailties.

First the suction cups were planted on my chest to get my nipples standing proud, and once the nipples were big enough, Maggie could get a good grip on my buds. Talc was used to dry off the areola and get an even better grip and those square screw clamps were brutally attached. I became the subject of lots of security tests as Maggie yanked on the nipple clamps’ chain to check whether they were tight enough. Lots more grunts and even the odd sharp intake of breath from me as those screws kept turning, Mistress forever proving that one good turn deserves another!

Time to stand up and let those nasty clamps dangle, along with some playful 'encouragement' in the form of the Playroom vibrator. I was ordered with my back against the Cell bars where Maggie pressed on my chest to hold me there, whilst using the vibrator on my cock and balls. Her actions left me with a raging, frustrating erection and with that disarming little giggle Maggie fitted a latex apron round my waist to cover my rampant cock. In contrast, the heavyweight latex half mask that I had buckled on me was a whole lot more strict, with its long snug neck and small nostril holes it did a wonderful job of restricting my breathing.

Mistress sat on her throne and tucked into her packed lunch. The substandard polishing of my slave collar was raised again and Mistress said there was no time like the present to improve my polishing skills. ‘You can do some cleaning up while I’m having a rest slave, there’s a duster and polish on the cabinet for you.’ A lengthy period of slave cleaning was to be completed, I was supposed to work my way round the Playroom using the Mister Sheen and cloth, clean and polish all the equipment and clean the picture rail where everything was neatly hung. And there’s nothing as practical as killing two birds with one stone; Mistress receives help with her cleaning and I am rudely reminded of the high standards expected when attending to my slave collar.

My cleaning job was not as easy as it may sound. Firstly the traditional hooks used over the rail are little bastards to get back once disturbed and it was very easy to disturb them whilst removing the heavy items. Secondly, with my weight, standing on the bed, I sink and bounce and also sweat a lot with the exertions.

If you have ever tried to fix a clip wearing nipple clamps, tight mask and latex gloves whilst bouncing on a rubber bed, it is very easy to drop the hooks and of course the only place they choose to fall is down the side of the bed. I retrieve them, pulling the bed away from the wall, fumbling down the side of the bed, trying to live with the excruciating pain as I catch the nipple chain which makes me sweat even more, push the bed back and start again. The sweat becomes a distraction in itself as the salty water trickles down inside the half mask into your eyes and blurs vision even more. . . another hook chooses to fall. . . and so it goes on. Who would believe that a simple cleaning task could send a slave into such a state of rubber submission.

Mistress sighed saying that what had taken me half an hour normally takes her two minutes. My response? 'I can never be as good as my Mistress'. Hmmm. I suspect this may end up as more unfinished business.

The last bits of unfinished business were about to be addressed, as Mistress carefully manoeuvred the high backed bondage chair under the overhead gantry and one of her heavy leather waist corsets was strapped around my waist. She pulled and pulled on the straps until it could be tightened no further which gave me that wonderful feeling of being very secure. From their various locations on those miserable little picture frame clamps, Mistress collected the leather restraints suitable for strapping and buckling me to the bondage chair. Why is it that not one of the clamps came off when Maggie unloaded them? Wrist straps and diagonal chest straps, which occasionally disturbed my re-tightened nipple clamps, a wrap round each arm, straps round each ankle and I was securely fixed. My nipples, cock and balls all on display and easily accessible to their owner.

A final touch to my restriction was the addition of the Lithuanian gas mask. With a little practice you can actually play a little tune through the outlet valve as it produces it rich low pitched rumble on breathing out. Mistress appeared nonplussed with some of the tunes I was trying to trumpet, although I know Mistress occasionally appreciates a bit of music while working and has often been known to burst into song herself.

Mistress had constructed a back brace for the chair, made specifically to address the problem of neck ache whilst reclining. It is beautifully made, attached by rope to the back of the chair and absolutely perfect for preventing your head lolling backwards. The playroom was filled with the sound of rattling metal as Mistress collected the chains she would use to hold the chair and Maggie attached two stout chains and gently reclined me and the chair backwards, past 45 degrees. I got a feeling of deja-vu; a previous session had been halted at this point because of my aching neck. This time, I relaxed with my head against the new back rest and immediately knew I wouldn't have neck problems, in fact more chance of suffering too much comfort. I have oft said I have the perfect, most versatile and caring owner a slave could ever wish for.

And the finale of all Mistresses hard work was completion of the electric dildo play. One of the hidden gems of the Bondage Chair is the hole in the seat, ideally located for Mistress to access a slaves back passage and this is exactly what Maggie had in store for me. She could reach underneath to remove the butt plug and replace it with something a little more shocking. Through the misting eyepieces of the Lithuanian mask I could see a long silver object being readied for deployment, in fact Maggie made a point of showing me the invader. ‘This is the big shocking toy you missed last time slave’, and I felt something big being squeezed onto my cock then, moments later felt something even bigger being eased up my backside. I was already well stretched for this and the electrode slid in very easily.

As the electro circuits were brought online I approached that state where I knew I would embarrass myself, but I was determined to hold on because Mistress makes the decision on when or if I am allowed any orgasms. Mistress put her gas mask on and joined in with the breathing games, finally taking me over the edge as she slowly eased the giant electrode dildo in and out, then gradually increasing the frequency I could hear her words through our gas masks. ‘OK slave, all unfinished business completed, you can cum now’ and I did. No embarrassment this time, Mistress Maggie had allowed me the release that she had been building throughout our unfinished business, and I had very successfully received all the delights that I had denied myself in previous sessions.

Another perfect day in the life of a very happy and contented slave.