Plain Stupidity

Oh what depths of stupidity can a simple slave sink to? It was only two months ago when I reported in this blog that I had received 20 hard strokes of the cane from Mistress Maggie for carelessness in web addressing. I promised at the time to learn ‘Less haste more attention’, yet here I am having to report exactly the same issues again. A week ago, I received the following from Maggie. ’I’m a bit pissed off, your web addressing is so clumsy slave.’ That was an understatement and in Harry Potter terms, I received a Howler!

Maggie knows that the simple mention of nipple clamps will set her slave wincing. To compound anxiety at being such a stupid slave, at the start of this week, Mistress allowed me a choice:

'  I am not adverse to a little bartering and propose a couple of options. How do we make you learn ‘less haste more attention?' -

a. nipple torture
b. reduced nipple torture plus 40 cane strokes

Make a choice slave, a or b . . .  '

A - I replied by email! The feeling of those 20 intense cane strokes I had taken came flooding back to me, never mind 40. I thought that ‘A’ may be the easier option to manage. Oh how wrong could I be?

I was greeted by Mistress at the door to the Chambers, as always she was a complete picture of power, grace and beauty. Dressed in a stunning black, underwired latex leotard she ushered me in, her legs were adorned with shiny black patent boots complemented by transparent seamed latex stockings, she wore long transparent gloves that gestured me to follow her undulating bottom to the Playroom. Mistress Maggie had me stand before her and chided me for my poor performance, saying ‘your nipples will be badly punished for this’, before explaining, albeit somewhat briefly, the running order for the session. In a change to normal routine, Mistress chose to perform the punishment at the end of our session, and why that decision was the best choice will unfold in the blog.

Mistress said she would like me in full black rubber and to lay my catsuit on the bed. I was then sent to the bathroom to undress and put on my latex stockings and gloves, returning in no time at all to find Mistress reclining on the padded bench awaiting some good boot licking from her slave. So I busied my tongue and set about shining her already shiny knee boots, before Mistress stood up and indicated that I should occupy the padded bench instead. I knelt there, bum raised for my butt plug to be slid home very easily.

Mistress must have liked her slave in this position, as going off at a tangent she allowed herself one of those rare off-script moments; selecting one of her many leather whips and landing fast rotating strokes on my proffered backside with it. The laughing tone in her voice suggested she was much amused. ‘I just couldn’t resist, your ass looked like it needed beating’. Maggie was happy, I was happy and the world was. . . quite a mess actually with Brexit, Nice etc, but at that point I didn't care, I was in my own little world with my owner.

Mistress helped me into my rubber catsuit and I was ready for my next adventure. We adjourned to the Clinic, and there I was tied to a chair; a small length of rope was all that was required to secure my wrists. Maggie produced a roll of standard cling film, suffice is to say that my vision of Mistress was soon transformed from crystal clear to shiny and hazy, the layers were being stretched tight round my head and smoothed into position. I was grateful to feel her finger being forced through the plastic into my mouth, allowing me a necessary breath.

Carefully onto the couch, I was strapped down with legs suspended from the ‘goalpost’ frame and a rigid posture collar strapped round my neck to ensure I was only looking forward. I love watching Maggie move around and this, together with the cling-film, curtailed that visual enjoyment, but Mistress was happy and I could still hear what was going on.

Out came the butt plug and after a couple of long drags from the aroma dispenser to help me relax Mistress vanished, returning a couple of moments later with items that she started feeding into my vacant orifice. ‘Piss ice cubes’, she proudly announced and fed them one by one into my eager cave, pushing them deep inside with a medical instrument. It was a strange feeling or rather a lack of a strange feeling. I could tell the four ice cubes were up there but there was very little discomfort normally associated with the application of ice to the human body.

As I lay there relishing the thought that Mistress had allowed some of her juices to actually be inside me, I received more excellent news in the form of that soft tinkling sound, as Mistress stood beside my left ear and emptied the contents of her bladder into a jug. The pee was quickly decanted into the large enema bag and I was informed that some very warm fluids would be joining the four piss cubes.

More relaxation from the aromas and the Bardex double balloon enema tube was in place. No discomfort whatsoever, in fact I really love how Mistress handles insertions into my bum; sufficient lubrication, gentle insertion, judicious application of relaxing aromas, she has trained me well. Not satisfied that I was receiving my fill, (big smile from me as I realised my bum capacity exceeded that of Mistresses considerable bladder), so a quick trip to the bathroom for a jug full of warm water to supplement her juices in the enema bag and. . . . just lay there and enjoy the liquid infusion. It is a very pleasant sensation to receive the warm water and pee mixture, I smiled once more because I knew I had quite a lot of my Mistress actually inside me this time. Melting piss cubes coming into contact with the warm piss and colon walls had now added to the considerable amount of liquid gurgling around inside my distended stomach.

Once emptied, the enema tube was securely clamped and plugged, and I was full of Mistresses very special golden juice, very comfortable and mentally such a turn on. I might well have had an accompanying erection, but Mistress was now fitting some very heavy equipment around cock and balls that turned out to be a metal chastity cage. More of that later.

Then things started to take a turn for the worse. Up until now there had been no attention to nipples, despite their zips being wide open and free range for Maggie. I think my nipples had retracted as far as they could in an attempt to escape their imminent punishment, but to no avail. The suction cups came out and Maggie started winding them up to create a vacuum around my freshly lubricated buds. Every few minutes, Mistress applied a few more turns of the screws and kept pulling the cups to make sure they were firmly attached and doing their job of stretching my nipples. I would have willingly told her if only she’d asked and if I didn't have a breathing tube stuck in my mouth. I could have also told her that the nipples didn't need the extra weight suspended from the ’goalpost’ frame, and that is perhaps the reason why I needed the breathing tube, to keep me quiet!

OK quick resume: bowels full of Mistresses piss, head covered in cling film, cock locked up, strapped to a gynae couch, nipples being distended and sucked out of hibernation - next came the bombshell. ‘Right. Back to the Playroom to start your nipple punishment now slave’.

Start the punishment! My nipples were already standing out like the new door chime I had rung much earlier. As Mistress was making final preparations for the move, I could vaguely see her fondling the roll of cling film and off came another length and straight across my face and importantly my aghast mouth hole. Unconcerned that I was now struggling for breaths, Mistress continued with her removal preparations. It was then I discovered why Mistress had bought standard cling film to incarcerate her slaves' head. With a single film over my mouth I sucked really hard to let Mistress know I was about to expire, this resulted in a loud pop like a balloon bursting and I had sucked an air hole for myself. Maggie just carried on untying my straps and cutting off the head shroud as if nothing had happened. I am the property of an amazing woman and true expert in getting the best out of her slaves.

Waddling back to the Playroom with the two Bardex pumps swinging between my legs the punishment part of my session was about to start. I was given some latex head gear instead: the open latex hood and the special face muzzle. Lying flat on the low punishment bench my hands were 'mitted' and strapped out of the way and my head placed inside the Stocks that were in turn hung from the overhead ring. If punishing my nipples hadn't been the order of the day, I was in the perfect position to have my Mistress sink her latex covered rump over a very eager slaves mouth. As it was, with my now extended and available nipples, Maggie set about torturing them. I use the word torture because that is exactly what she did. I knew I fully deserved whatever punishment Maggie thought was necessary and was resolved to accept it in the best way I could.

With light pinches it started off OK, but as Maggie sat on my piss extended abdomen she started work on both nipples with her sharp nails. Unlike a clamp which is a short sharp pain followed by a growing ache, Maggie's nails were relentless. Left scratch right scratch, left, right, left, left, right, right, gripping my nipples with her nails and squeezing and pulling them hard in all directions. All the time I was getting closer to that edge. I could tell I had arrived at the pain threshold because my breathing starts to go really ragged with the pain, I had to really beg ‘Mistress. No more. PLEASE no more. . . ‘. I am fortunate Mistress knows when I am 'there’, she released me and allowed a few minutes of calmness before moving me to the Throne, where a chain was used round my chest and my hands securely cuffed, my Bardex balloons dangling nicely through the central hole in the Throne. I used the brief respite to regulate my breathing and retreat as far as I could from that pain edge.

Maggie took a dog brush and dragged the horrible nylon bristles back and forth across my chest. Occasionally she wiped away a few spots of blood. My ordeal wasn't over, nor should it have been. I had really disappointed my Mistress and it was up to her to decide the punishment. The box of nipple clamps was put on the table. ‘Oh look, do you remember these nice custardy yellow ones for cowards? You've worn these before’. Yes and they had bloody well hurt, that was before my nipples were battered and ripped to shreds and very sore, yet strangely after a few moments recovery Mistress applied the yellow perils and I was able to absorb the pain; I deserved it and would cope with the discomfort. It didn't stop me from really pleading with Mistress as the pain grew intense, I had been granted permission to shout and cry, this punishment was justified and I had no complaints.

After two more styles of nipple clamps, I was once again approaching that edge. This time Mistress determined that enough pain had been inflicted and I was well and truly punished for my misdemeanours, perhaps now I will remember ‘Less haste more attention’. I think that’s why my owner decided to undertake punishment at the end of the session. If I was that close to my pain threshold after an early punishment I would have been of little use in the Clinic, more of a wimp and Mistress would miss out on some of her hard earned enjoyment.

Brilliant strategist is Mistress Maggie.

Two things worthy of mention occurred after the formal end of my punishment, beginning with some sumptuous recovery time on the Playroom latex bed. Maggie innocently said I would have to go home wearing the chastity device fitted in the Clinic, but when she went under cover to check it, it had disappeared; the device not her cock and balls I hasten to add. I must have a cock and balls tutored by Houdini, either that or I had relaxed and recovered so much that it had just dropped off. Then later as we were having a 'wind down' coffee, Mistress sat herself down on the sofa, gave me a cloth and Mr Sheen and I was re-acquainted with her patent boots and told to polish them. I found that action so natural and just enjoyed the act of continuing to serve my owner.

Did I have another good session? Yes another excellent one. I deserved the punishment and will really try harder to consistently please my Mistress.

Are your nipples still sore? Bloody well yes. The following morning I could barely touch the buds; not helped by Mistress stamping each nipple with the ‘I’ve been punished by Mistress Maggie’ stamp. I do love these extra bits of attention that I am granted.

Is Mistress really sadistic? Yes but only when you deserve it, or when she feels like it! 

Window of Opportunity

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Over the Hills and Far Away

Not a lot of people will have heard of the small Yorkshire settlement of Liversedge. I am from Yorkshire, yet knew nothing of the town and certainly not its valuable role in latex manufacturing. Mentioned in the Domesday book, by the 19th century the town was busy in the manufacture of woollen garments and the long tradition of clothing manufacture still continues in the 21st century, albeit in a much smaller scale, at Cathouse Clothing on a local business park in the town. That is where Mistress Maggie wanted to go, to look at some rather nice leopard print and textured latex garments that she had seen on the website.

I had been summoned to chauffeur Mistress to Liversedge, my first duty was to drop my pants and bend over the playroom horse so a Kegel electric communication device could be installed in my asshole, its associated receiver strapped on a leather belt around my waist. And with a big grin Maggie announced that the batteries had a full charge and that is what I would be receiving. Naturally, Mistress retained the remote control and gradually increased the dial until I confirmed the signal was being received and my bum starting to tingle from the inside. Maggie noted level ten and announced that would be a good level to start, if and when she wanted a little amusement at my expense.

As a Tyke, the journey back over the Pennines was short and sweet at just over an hour and 10 minutes, the time flew by with idle chatter between Mistress and slave and adhering to the strict instructions from Maggie's husband that I drive very carefully. After all, I did have a VIM on board (Very Important Mistress). Fortunately, the only sensation from the Kegel's was the top weighted ball that made its presence felt at every bend and pothole. I do wish they would fill those damn potholes on the M62.

Maggie was acquainted with the owner at Cathouse and spent a little time on pleasantries. I just stood and rode with the Kegel balls that Mistress had kindly activated by remote control when entering the shop. But it was soon down to the serious business of browsing. You can imagine we were both in heaven with the range of latex textures and coloured samples waiting to be made into hundreds of sensational garments. We spotted a latex corset that suited Maggie down to the ground (well not quite that long). A quick flick of the remote button and her slave was jumping high enough to reach it off the highest rail, and the garment was quickly purchased. After further browsing and a chance conversation with the owner, a textured black latex skirt emerged. I could tell Maggie liked it, and I thought it absolutely amazing or maybe it was how Maggie sensationally showed it off as she tried it on. It was a no brainer; a beautiful garment on a beautiful Mistress that fitted her so well.

The second purchase was in the bag, and that unfortunately was that. We had spent just an hour shopping and it was time for the trip home to Lancashire, but a coffee stop was necessary before too long.

Nothing interesting about a coffee stop you say. Well no and yes. Maggie had been persuaded to wear the new latex skirt for her journey home, she looked so glamorous seated on the high stool waiting for her coffee to be delivered. It was difficult to take my eyes off her, but then it always is. The skirt was the icing on the cake or rather on her now tightly enclosed legs and thighs.

Then a little surprise. As we got back in the car, Maggie pointed me to a secluded spot in the corner of the car park and told me to park there. She told me how happy she was with my driving and the lovely gift I had bought for her, and had a little reward that she knew I would like.

A hanky was produced from her handbag, before I knew it I was subdued with aroma and captured in a plastic bag. Slowly and calmly she started to suffocate her slave. My pleas for air fell on stony ground, Maggie just said no and twisted the plastic a bit more.

I just gazed at Maggie through the misting plastic and felt totally relaxed, completely devoted and very happy at that moment. Maggie wanted this and so did I. By the time she’d finished the plastic was as tight against my face as Mistresses new latex skirt was across her thighs.

After a few minutes to catch my breath chauffeuring duties were resumed. The rest of the journey was uneventful but incredibly slow due to it being rush hour. We arrived back at Chambers just after six, Maggie had a Clinic session planned for me and I was soon strapped down naked, legs up wide on the clinic couch. The nice white latex hood was fitted and she proceeded to flash fry my nipples, cock, balls and anywhere else that made her laugh with the glowing sparks from her violet wand.

The Kegel balls were removed and, judging by this photo, Maggie used a cut down Samurai sword to impale my bum. This has got to be the biggest thing I have ever had up there, helped on its way by Mistress holding her medicated hanky over my nose again.

Imagine the opposing sensations; I was being wonderfully mounted and stretched with a hand held dildo, whilst at the same time having bits of me punished with intense shocks from the wand. I didn't know whether I was coming or going.

The afternoon had reached a natural end and Maggie made sure I didn't come, but I did go home with another huge smile and a huge bulge after another hugely enjoyable session chauffeuring my Mistress on our expedition home to Yorkshire.

And a note to John. I drove very carefully and apologise if Mistress Maggie now has two more exceptional items to find space for in her ‘overcrowded’ latex wardrobe. The batteries in the Kegel are now flat and in serious need of a major re-charge!

Cock and Nettle Rissoles - Yumeee!

As Mistress Maggie was installing my trusty black butt plug, I allowed myself a quiet smile as she examined my arse and then commented that there were still a few visible marks across my butt cheeks. It had been two weeks since I had received punishment with her cane and I had a feeling there may be some residual memories of the twenty strokes and had kept my bum covered in the intervening fortnight. Mistress was somewhat pleased that I was still wearing her brand and I was definitely delighted to have my feelings confirmed.

The insertion of the butt plug itself presented a few humorous moments. Mistress is never economical with lubrication; today she had made the plug unusually slippery. It slipped right out from between Maggie's hands like a well oiled eel and landed fair and square on the Trample Table. Being highly polished and the base of the plug shaped like a plunger, they appeared to be mating; the table very stable, the plug wobbling slightly, pointing skywards and Mistress swaying slightly with laughter. Seizing the opportunity for more fun at slaves expense, Mistress instructed me to sit on the plug and insert it myself. More peels of laughter as the damn thing had a life of its own and kept playing tag with my bum hole. After much amusement but needing to move on, Maggie finally regained control of the plug and it was in its home in seconds.

I was wearing my black latex shorts and tee shirt as it was a rather warm day, and after some very pleasant shoe worship, Mistress had me facing her, face down on her latex clad thighs while she landed many quick blows on my back and backside with her multi-thonged whip. Mistress appeared to like the sound of her whip thwacking against rubber and spent quite some time just beating out a steady and pleasant rhythm.

Maggie knew it wasn't hurting her slave, so it must have been for her own sheer pleasure as she ordered me to bend over the latex bed in the more conventional position for receiving a thorough whipping. I could hear the whip swinging and swishing through the quiet Playroom air now that Maggie was using it at arms length and my bum began swaying in response to the kiss of the leather thongs each time they landed, leaving a warm glow.

Maggie announced that she had planned a gourmet theme for the first part of today's session . . . ‘ I will be making cock and nettle rissoles’. These consisted of tenderised meat balls, garnished and marinaded in fresh nettles then microwaved to perfection.

Oh bollocks. I should have known that nettles would appear somewhere on the menu for today. My caning two weeks ago, was due to my poor details about earlier nettle experiences. Unlike previous occasions where I surreptitiously could aim for the older and less potent nettles, Mistress was to take full control of exactly where the green garnish would be placed, and to make a real meal of the occasion her polished Trampling Platform would be used for preparing and showing off her recipe.

But first, we all know where the meat balls were to be sourced; good solid Yorkshire stock for cock and balls. A couple of bolster cushions helped raise my buttocks to the appropriate height, smart use of an old stocking wound round the base of cock and balls provided a tight seal and they were ready to be offered up to the little hole in the centre of the table. When Maggie was satisfied that her property would not escape, the two clamps were snapped shut leaving my cock and balls the centrepiece of the table, very exposed and very vulnerable.

For good measure my hands were loosely chained to the legs of the table. Maggie's caring side is never far from the surface and I gladly accepted the latex pillow to raise my head from the Playroom floor. Or was it so that I could see and kiss the high heeled tenderisers she was wearing and about to use for the meat balls?

The pair of black shoes I had been so lovingly worshipping earlier were the first to be used to trample on her meat, then a white pair with a well defined and pronounced tread pattern on their soles. 

Maggie was particularly pleased to present these for me to examine, as she described all the features and benefits of her chosen tenderising footwear. I did manage a little foot worship before Mistress put the white ‘bovver’ boots on. I am sure they had tractor tread as their soles and if not for their height, colour and weight they would make a good pair of walking boots, the sort that leave an impressive footprint on anything they come into contact with.

Grabbing the overhead ring to steady herself, Mistress made sure that both pairs came into very close contact with her cock and balls and for quite a while, her actions came into very close contact with my soul. For my part I just clung on with my tethered wrists grasping firmly onto the table top, but the table was already a very stable platform for Maggie’s trampling tenderisation process! Perhaps it was just fear or pain on my part that made me grip the table so tightly?

Once Maggie's impressive footprints had minced my cock and balls to a suitable consistency it was on to the garnish and nettle marinade. Mistress made sure it was only her slave that would benefit from the tender touch of her fresh nettles by donning another pair of disposable latex gloves. Forever unselfish and thoughtful towards her slave, she snipped the most potent leaves and put them to one side for the final garnish. I on my part was quite happy to share with Mistress the nettle delights.

The remaining young leaves were dissected into fine strips, then with her tweezers she carefully positioned the nettle pieces to any visible parts, using a little lube as glue. A thin coating of plastic wrap sealed everything nice and tightly in place followed by a thick layer sealing everything to the table and Maggie announced, 'Fifteen minutes marinading and they will be ready for cooking’. All I could do was lie back and wait for Maggie’s stinging marinade to infuse into her meatballs.

Cling film removed, the thin slivers of nettle were removed and Maggie began brushing my marinated cock and balls with cooking oil. Well, she said it was cooking oil but I could see the bottle on the table labelled ‘electrosex contact gel’. Not my job to tell a lady how to cook so I stayed quiet and hoped for the best. Two conductive electric cooking rings were slipped over my cock and wired up ready for her 'special' method of cooking. There’s nothing like a bit of seasoning and Mistress set her white 'pepperpot' electric box to a moderate level and the cooking commenced. The metal brush was also an electrode, Maggie used it to give her meat a regular basting and finished her recipe with a final sprig of nettle garnish.

I am not sure how Mary Berry would describe this method of cooking? Flash fry, seared, microwaved, but I know after being tenderised, marinated and basted, the meat balls were well cooked after ten minutes, and I was done to a twitching turn. Freshly garnished and ready to be eaten.

Mistress bent over and sank her teeth into my balls. Thank goodness for those tractor tread soles, they had done a good job at tenderising my balls and Mistress did not have to bite too hard when she finally sampled her meatball meal.

All the while I just gazed and admired the chef as she went about her cooking and eating and I was really grateful for the latex cushion and some of the views they were able to provide me with.

Ah, the remainder of the plastic scene from our last session. Just like the annual nettling, the previous plasticking wasn't going to go away. I was told to remove everything as Maggie was going to help me broaden my horizons to encompass something other than my rubber fetish. I was placed back into the plastic suit I had worn in my previous session and I felt somewhat at home with my new plasticky skin. I have often thought about Mistress using me as part of her Playroom furniture, only a short while before her cock and balls did become part of her table, well now I was to be placed in storage inside a large plastic mattress cover.

It wasn't long before I was standing under the centre ring with calves and thighs taped inside and Mistress fitting the stout supporting waist corset. My arms were arranged across my chest and I was taped inside with gaffer ready to be hung into storage. Of course effective storage involves total coverage and the inflatable hood was utilised to completely seal her property away from harm.

I think Mistress was getting a little bored just seeing her slave enjoying myself, warming nicely and swinging gently in the stout chains, so after a little dextrous rope work my pre cooked cock and balls were captured in their own tight plastic compartment; a right little handful for Mistress to have fun with. I could feel copious amounts of cold lubrication being injected in there, Mistress had prepared a lube filled hyperdermic and was syphoning its contents through a tiny hole in the plastic, before plugging in a powerful vibrator which she used to disperse it.

Her balls were given plenty of attention. The breathing tube as well received her attention, as Maggie regulated my breathing with her own exhaled breath - ah, that heavenly essence of Maggie again.

I slumped with my whole weight  against the corset and chains as Mistress Maggie leaned against her very hot, very wet and very willing slave.

Not just leaned against but Mistress said ‘I know you are loving all this plastic slave. You have permission to stay in it while you fuck my rubber clothes until you cum’. Now that command really put me in a total quandary. I had been trying very hard all session to control my urges and make sure I didn't cum, now Mistress was instructing me to do just the opposite. It is an interesting position to try any kind of fucking activity. Knees together, only balls poking proudly inside the plastic and suspended from the rafters with chain. What else could a good loyal, obedient slave do? So I followed my Mistresses instructions as best as I could and can assure you I got really hot inside my plastic cocoon and the chains were definitely necessary to hold me up in the end.

I have been nettled before; I have worn the corset before; I have been plastic wrapped before, in fact I have enjoyed nearly all the elements before, but yet again, this was a totally unique and wonderful experience with Mistress Maggie. You do sweat a lot inside a plastic bag on a warm day but I love every minute of my time with my Mistress. 

A cautionary tale though; anyone who is privileged to receive a good caning, remember that even after two weeks, your badges of honour may still be visible and your ass still sore.

A Right Pain in the Bum

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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