Staple Diet

I am absolutely knackered after my most recent training session with Mistress Maggie, or as she commanded for the duration, 'Queen Maggie'. I loved every minute of the session - well, apart from a few seconds when QM removed one of the staples used for safeguarding her crown jewels on their ritual journey to the afterlife.

The scenario was laid out in Maggie’s normal inimitable oblique style in the calling mail . . .Your Mistress will be adorned in an airy costume fit for a Queen. She will be packing you up and taking you on a ritualistic journey to a previously undiscovered world, your Queen knows how important it is to keep her personal possessions well secured whilst travelling there and will play an instrumental part in making sure all parts are well protected. . .

Oh boy, was Maggie's costume very airy and certainly fit for a Queen; the skimpiest of bras, the sheerest of expensive nylons, briefs so small as to be non-existent, all in sexy black and all topped off with that most radiant of smiles as my Queen greeted me into her Queendom.

Our journey to the Playroom was certainly some right royal entrance. Following my Queen up the stairs gave me the most delightful view of her magnificent derrière, her cheeks smiling back at her slave with every undulation. I now know why certain parts of a staircase are called risers! My hands were trembling and I really had to force myself not to lean forward and plant a gentle kiss on each perfectly formed orb. I had made the tactical mistake of arriving in my latex clothes; the black calf-length stockings, tee shirt and shorts that I know Maggie likes. With the weather being unusually warm on this autumn afternoon, I was already feeling a little moist when I reached the Palace door, and the breathtaking royal procession to the Playroom did absolutely nothing to help with my rising temperature.

Changing was fortunately very quick; off with my outdoor clothes, on with my latex gloves and hurry back to give homage to my Queen. But before any worshipping I had to kneel before the throne and receive my knight-hood, well black latex hood actually, but with a little poetic licence and dreaming allowed, I momentarily became a knight in black shining armour to her Majesty.

My Queen then confused the hell out of her subject by commanding that I remove her shoes. Now to this slave that was a real quandary, as in all my previous five years of training I have learnt to worship her footwear, and strictly only her footwear. Without any shoes, how could I show my adoration for my Queen? The next command from QM had my quandary resolved in an instant. ‘You must worship my stocking feet today slave’. Oh what a command. I licked and sucked and kissed my Lieges feet, leading to additional privileges as she unclipped her suspenders, allowing her expensive stockings to slip down her legs and over her beautiful toes, instructing her slave to continue my actions on her bare feet.

Once I had proved my loyalty with much foot worship, Queen Maggie began sliding her legs back into her luxurious stockings and asked me to help reattach her suspenders. This slave still has plenty to learn, especially when it comes to dressing the monarchy.

Being most unfamiliar with suspenders, I couldn't get to grips with fastening clips and lining up seams, especially whilst wearing my trusty old zippered latex gloves, and finally had to request permission to remove them. The zip having been used on so many occasions with my Mistress became stuck, and in my haste to tug them off I split a finger. There was no other option, the gloves were consigned to history into the Playroom bin. Luckily I had an alternative pair, as I couldn’t present myself to my Queen in an untidy, underdressed fashion. And I did manage to fasten four suspenders.

The disruption was only temporary and I soon had a dildo strapped to my chest and was secured spread-eagled to the bed for her majesty’s pleasure. What a delicious sight. I could see that superb naked back inches from my face as she rode my chest. When satisfied, Mistress donned her skimpy black panties and proceeded with more royal Queening duties on her slaves rubber face. After which, I of course cleaned up her toys and just smiled.

My Queen likes to grant her subjects their wishes. This one had rather stupidly suggested that he didn’t receive sufficient attention the last time Mistress mounted her slave, when she had kindly been introducing me to a larger strap on for the first time. Not on this occasion, once the right entry angle had been established my Queen gave her loyal subject a right royal seeing to, making sure I could watch the action in the mirror, whilst I knelt in homage on the low punishment throne. For a good long time I was able to relax and enjoy the full length and girth of my Queens dildo, in fact at one point, Maggie lifted her feet off the floor and was flying like wonderwoman whilst still impaling her slave. I wiggled, Maggie giggled and we both had a good laugh.

Naturally, after being well rammed with the larger dildo my butt plug slipped in easier than a corgi down a rat-hole. Mistress will probably be getting me a new bigger plug, although I was a little alarmed when my Queen idly mentioned that her wrist was about the same size as the strap-on dildo. Ahh, does that mean my arsehole may soon be receiving a Royal wave?!!

Back to my Royal Audience; I had been sweating heavily, quite natural when you think what had just happened and Maggie needed me perfectly dry for the next part of my journey. A good towelling first, then a little variety performance by way of dancing around naked in front of the Playroom fan, much to my Queen’s amusement, and I was dry.

I followed my Queen into the White room where a white rubber ceremonial garment was laid out across the couch. My Queen explained how I was to be prepared for passing to the afterlife and I was only allowed one belonging, which was now securely anchored up my bum. I eased into the sleepsack from the side of the bench and received the matching white hood that I had so eulogised about in previous sessions. The hood was zipped tight, the suit zip was drawn, the straps were tightened and I thought, if now is that time for my Queen to send me on my journey across the Styx, I will make the journey happily knowing I am serving my Mistress and my Queen.

A feeling of euphoria and inner peace crept over me, helped by the incense that my Queen encouraged me to inhale, or of course, it could just be that I have promised to my Queen that I will willingly do whatever she wishes, immediately and without hesitation. Actually I would have struggled to even flinch being so seriously immobilised in the thick rubber encasement, even my arms were cleverly secured with internal sleeves inside the bag. Either way I felt totally relaxed with my bondage situation.

Queen Maggie whispered to me, reminding me that my personal object was safely stored inside my back passage ready for the journey. I was instructed that I would also be carrying my Queens possessions with me on my travels and that the time had arrived to perform the ritualistic wrapping of her belongings in readiness for the journey, and I knew she meant her crown jewels.

Some unease crept in as I felt the double zip that had been parked around my toes being eased upwards. A little separation to allow access and I could feel the cooler air surround Mistresses cock and balls as she lifted them to the outside of the bodybag.

Mistress advised me that for ritual safe keeping, the Queens possessions (her cock and balls), must be concealed inside a pouch made of animal skin, and as the only animal skin around was my own, then she would create a pouch using my scrotum.

To begin, a massage was completed using cocoa butter; my Queens hands and finger nails pulling and tugging the skin around her property until the cream had sufficiently softened the area, making it more pliable. My scrotum was then stretched over my cock and balls and joined at centre with clamps.

I thought I was to be stitched up as in a previous operation. Well yes and no - this time my Queen was keen to try out a medical skin stapler. The first two staples were practice ones and discarded, but after that around ten staples were deployed in a row, each one becoming easier to apply as she gained in confidence.

By the time the last three metal sutures were punched in, my Queen was delighted with the results of her newly honed skills, and through the perforations of my latex hood I could see that wonderful smile associated with a job well done.

From my perspective and probably helped by use of the aromas, I felt very little discomfort and certainly much less than the manual stitching I had received twelve months earlier. I couldn't help myself, and although impossible to get any form of erection, I embarrassed myself with an orgasm.

I could feel my liquid creating what I thought was a considerable mess as it squeezed its way out of QM’s finely stitched animal skin pouch. My Queen was surprised and amused by my eruption and quickly recorded the event for posterity.

A little electro-play never hurt anyone, or so my Queen stated, and may even add some excitement to my journey into the afterlife. A tubular electrode was pushed inside, down behind the staples where her cock used to be. To complement and complete the circuit QM put on her electric glove. Believe me when I say that slaves, electrodes, gloves and particularly the metal stitches definitely hurt when joined together, I would have jumped out of my skin if my Queen hadn’t stapled it so tightly together. A power reduction down to 8-10 on the frying scale was definitely called for and even then I was sweating profusely.

With all that liquid loss, my Monarch, ever thoughtful for her subjects, placed a sipping tube between my lips and produced a nice fresh pot of nectar to sustain her subject during the remaining part of my journey. At this point Mistress asked on a scale of one to ten, where ten was excruciating and one being relaxed, how I was feeling being snuggled up in my embalmed state, cock and balls well and truly secured and cooked. I have to admit, despite the staples and the electric treatment and the butt plug etc that I responded with a one to two rating. I could quite happily have drifted off to oblivion or at least a nice sleep.

To complete this account of my transitional journey, I should warn you that at times my discomfort level hit ten when the stitches were being removed. Unlike normal sutures where that is the less testing part of the operation, using the supplied sterile staple remover hurt like hell; my Queen declared that it should not hurt that much, but there were no instructions in the stapler pack and she would need to fathom out the correct technique.

I took really deep breaths and exhaled as each staple was removed, and at my request my Queen agreed to drop the retrieved staples directly into the stainless steel bowl. A small point, but the soft tinkle of steel on steel reassured me that the pain had been worth the effort and another staple had been removed. Mistress did suggest that she’d leave the staples in situ if it was too painful: I endured the level 10 pain, although the thought of being left in that stitched up state was strangely thrilling. Talking afterwards, I suggested that a double dose of aroma would have been most beneficial to me at that stage!

There was so much to report on during another successful trip with my Queen at the helm. I believe that Queen Maggie was pleased with her mechanical suturing instrument and yet again I was delighted to be my Queens guinea pig. I enjoyed the concept of Maggie as a Queen, but to me she will always be my Mistress Maggie.

Red Mistress to Green Goddess

Mistress Maggie opened the door and my jaw dropped. Maggie looked a vision in a very tight red latex two piece, her hair was an unexpected red colour and was cascading in waves over her shoulders. I was told to come in.

She motioned me toward her very sensual red lips and I thought I was going to receive one of those rare, heavenly, welcoming kisses that Maggie occasionally bestows on her slave. I was wishing so hard that I never noticed her hand go straight to the jugular and take hold of my slave collar, which she used to pull me in closer until I was within millimetres of her lips. Maggie withdrew having clipped on a leather leash, she was laughing and I was once more completely under her spell.

I had cleaned my wellington boots with a scrubbing brush that morning and brought them along as instructed. I must have looked particularly ungainly climbing the stairs, with the large welly box under one arm and my session bag on the other, but this was probably a good thing as I had an overwhelming urge to touch Maggie’s tightly clad bottom as she guided me aloft on the lead.

The calling mail had stated: Mistress needs your assistance with shifting some heavy stuff . . . and, as a simple slave, I thought I had a good idea as what was required when I entered the Playroom and saw the heavy Playroom bed, neatly covered in plastic and halfway from the wall. I wondered where Maggie was moving it to?

Oh well, that would have to wait as I was sent to the bathroom to return wearing my usual uniform of gloves and socks. What an amazing view I had as I lay on my back cleaning Mistresses black shoes. Gazing upwards past Mistresses tightly clad latex legs I became mesmerised by the red haired beauty that was smiling down at me. As I continued sucking and kissing first one heel then the other, Maggie matter of factly commented that I was cleaning away Scottish dust that had accumulated on her heels during her recent trip to Glasgow, I couldn’t help myself and responded by taking the heel out of my mouth and saying 'Och aye the noo' in an appalling attempt at a Scottish accent. It made Maggie smile and I was happy with that, and of course I immediately got back to work licking the Scottish dust off her heels, all the while being encouraged verbally by Mistress and physically with the regular and even thuds across my groin from her heavy Amsterdam whip.

I then had the delightful first experience of being fitted into Maggie's new catsuit. It’s a lighter weight and tighter one than my own and fastens with shoulder zips; a very snug fit for me and once those shoulder zips were closed, a deliciously tight experience. No time to lounge around enjoying the new suit though, and I had to kneel on the low punishment bench to have my butt plug inserted. Maggie spent considerably longer than normal lubricating and stretching my anus and commenting ’Feel that, I can get three and a half fingers in there’. I am not sure that Maggie has half a finger, I must have missed that.

In an earlier session Mistress had said she wanted more practice in fitting her 'Ball Stretching Toy', Maggie's title for her evil stainless steel humbler, not mine, and that time had arrived. The 'improvement' this time was that I was to receive the full 'benefits' from her Toy; ball stretcher and ball spikes would be fitted and operational, doing their CBT thing with my nuts. Rubber bandages were brought out and used to restrain me to the low punishment bench during the fitting, a loose and somewhat symbolic binding but effective all the same.

Mistress set about nutting and bolting the various sized metal pieces around my nether regions, occasionally consulting her diagram to make sure all parts were being assembled in the right order. I just lay there passively on my back, thinking the only toy that the Humbler could be likened to is the boys' favourite, meccano. It also finally dawned on me that the heavy stuff that I would be shifting was nothing to do with the bed at all, but rather, the heavy steel humbler device that Maggie now had fully locked and bolted to her slaves cock and balls.

You will notice an interesting conundrum. The humbler was most easily fitted by Mistress with me lying on my back, only to be told to sit up once the rubber bandages were released. Maggie then twisted and turned the Toy through my VERY wide spread legs until she was satisfied that her slave was correctly orientated with the BST. Toy indeed!

Once roped on, the leash was attached, I was allowed knee pads to protect my wonky knees, and we were off for 'walkies’.

A couple of turns of the screws to tighten the stretching and crushing and to make sure I was really 'enjoying' my exercise and off we trotted, round the room, off to the bathroom and . . . bollocks - I couldn't get the knee pads to stay on properly. This is not the easiest problem to resolve when you are fixed in a kneeling position and I really was in the dog house. But Mistress had this problem sussed; she knows how to get a bad dog ’walking on’.

Mistress walked ahead and draped her wonderful ass over the bannister. ‘You are a very bad dog. Come over here now and sniff your Mistresses ass, then if you can rear yourself up onto those hind legs of yours you can use your rubber paws to caress my wonderful bottom’.

My doggy ears pricked up, I was not going to miss out on such a wonderful invitation and I hurriedly limped and bounded across to where Maggie was leaning. No humbler was going to stop this doggy raising up and fulfilling his duty and I gently stroked and caressed her tightly latexed rear. In my earlier training I was far too afraid and thought it a great affront for a slave to contemplate such a sensual activity let alone be allowed to participate. Now, provided I have approval, I love the feeling of latex gloves on latex bum. Performed gently and with feeling my actions have Mistress purring and gently undulating those glorious globes, a truly wonderful experience for a slave, and Mistress, I really am sorry for my sloppiness with the knee pads.

This is the pose I presented to my owner back in the Playroom. I was then to adopt a similar pose on the low padded podium and Mistress did what any Mistress does with their pet; show it who's boss. First of all I was given a bone to chew; accurate description as it was a large, flesh coloured dildo that Mistress made me eat and almost swallow to let me gauge its size and then, in front of me, rolled a protective condom in place. I knew where that monster was now going.

That's why Mistress earlier declared a three and a half finger insertion. The dildo was larger than I normally accommodate, and as usual Mistress was very careful breaking new ground. Her strapon actually entered me really easily and despite, or perhaps because the humbler was still stretching and spiking my sensitive balls, the experience was exquisite. Maggie mentioned how the dildo was wider but a little shorter than before, nevertheless, she delivered several long, slow and very sensual strokes commenting on how pleased she was with the progress we had made since she first made inroads into that previously virginal ass; reminiscing on the moment when she first inserted her finger into my passage - Well, its dimensions are all a tribute to her own work, as Mistress owns that orifice exclusively along with the rest of me. My only comment was that Mistress allowed me too few long, slow strokes; perhaps all she needed to reinforce who is top dog in this relationship, or maybe didn't want her slave to embarrass himself by having too much fun? I think Mistress is pleased with her progress educating my back passage, I certainly am.

Removal of the 'toy' was remarkably easy and painless compared to the fitting, yet quite a relief I may add. After de-roping the harness, I was instructed to manoeuvre the Humbler to the front and lie back down and I was free in a matter of minutes. Removal of our latex wasn't quite as straightforward, our clothes had collected a lot of moisture. Anyone who is witness to the joys of heavy activities, no matter how pleasant, whilst sealed in a heavy latex catsuit, will appreciate just how much liquid can accumulate. As a precaution, Maggie insisted we both stand on a fresh towel and carefully help each other undress, a few moments in front of the Playroom fan and we were dry enough to proceed to Maggie's next planned activities.

The second part of the session was totally different; a plastic fetishists dream. Mistress has very recently become the proud owner of two vinyl 'radiation suits' and I now knew why I was to bring my boots. A proper 'nuclear survival' scenario was being created by my teacher. This inaugural run would also serve to see what improvements, if any, were necessary for the suits to operate successfully in the highly charged nuclear environment of Planet Playroom. We have learned from earlier sessions where PVC or latex clad feet have been involved, that ordinary socks are a necessity for getting the wellies on successfully and for minimising risks to the fabric. All four feet went into their respective boots and the gloves that are sealed onto the suits, well they fitted like the proverbial glove.

Maggie transformed the Playroom into a sultry, dark, sensual cave with the bed already being laid with clinically cool, green vinyl sheeting. The lighting was dimmed to be replaced with lanterns accompanied by a superb choice of mood music played to reinforce the realities of a post Brexit nuclear winter. The photo auto-flash could well have been another nuke; another reason to be with my owner taking hazmat precautions.

One improvement was immediately evident, to me at least. With the twin back zips snugly closed, I may have been protected from radiation poisoning but would die long before that took effect, as the suit is completely airtight. It is another superb experience to be slowly suffocating inside the strong plasticky smelling suit, whilst having an excellent view of my stunning owner through the clear plastic hoods. Mistress wisely left the top part of her hood open. Various options for preventing accidental suffocation were discussed, perhaps a mask with tube through the rear zip opening might suffice and even attached to a re-breather bag or bubble bottle. . . hmm. These decisions will be left to my Mistress to decide, her slave can only dream of the delights that await and Maggie was pleased with once more exercising her power over her slave.

Not content with watching her slave slowly expire, Mistress, decided to secure me in bondage. I quipped that the bed shackles would not fit round my boots, only to be spread-eagled with black rope to the bed corners. I really should know better than uttering such stupid comments! My vinyl environment was strong enough to take a few knocks, yet flexible enough to feel superb when zipped inside, and even better when my vinyl clad owner began sliding on top of her slave, finally moving into a straddle position right over my frustrated groin. She gazed into my soul, grabbed both sides of the loose plastic hood and gradually tightened the clear plastic across my face.

I think if I was going to die in a nuclear holocaust, this has got to rank as the top option for expiry. Lovingly gazing at my Mistress as she gently encourages all hope of survival to expire . . . then, just as I am starting to happily head to oblivion, the welcome influx of fresh air. It is so frustrating as Maggie knows that I love her being completely in charge of my breathing and really milks it; suffocating me, straddling my groin, the excited frustration growing each time Mistress repeats the de-breathing of her slave.

On a humorous note, when I complimented Mistress on looking like the Green Goddess, I received a playful rebuke for likening her to an old green fire engine, (look it up if you've never heard of a Green Goddess Fire Engine). I did try to explain I was likening her to the fit and rather luscious Diana Moran, who exercised her way through the BBC breakfast programme in the mid 80's. I was then treated to my own exercise routine from my own Green Goddess - Diana eat your heart out and you are officially deposed as my number one Green Goddess exercise queen.

We were nearing the end of another superb session and Maggie asked if I fancied a coffee? I playfully answered ‘No thank you. I'd prefer to stay here’. I had not expected Mistress to say OK and wander off to get a coffee for herself, closing the door behind her. She took ages, it was possible that she would not come back, leaving me all alone to wallow in vinyl and reflect on another session.

This slave now has a dilemma. I adore latex both me wearing and with Mistress wearing, I now think these vinyl suits equal the latex appeal, well almost anyway. I will equally enjoy whichever suit Mistress chooses for her slave to wear but on balance, I love stroking Mistresses buttocks in her tight latex. There is something mesmeric about standing, sitting, lying, being tied down and still be able to gently caress that superb form. I will make a mental note to stroke Mistresses latex clad buttocks on every occasion that presents itself.

Yet another brilliant session with a brilliant Mistress and I now know what to do in the event of nuclear fallout; go to my Green Goddess, Mistress Maggie's safe haven.

A Normal Day for a Latex Slave

Another 'normal' day attending the Mistress Maggie slave training school here in the North West.

Normal in the sense that Mistress heard me ring her bell and answered the door to the Chambers, looking stunningly attractive as usual; today wearing a black and white nurses outfit. That tight sexy corset may be disapproved of in Holby City, but it certainly gained my attention and approval.

Normal in the sense that despite 106 training sessions with my Mistress, I still get incredibly excited as I follow closely behind those latex clad buttocks as we make our way upstairs to the Playroom.

Normal as I am instructed to change from my outdoor clothes into the latex gloves and socks that Mistress likes.

Normal as I am proudly wearing my leather slave collar, and finally, normal because as usual I have no idea where Mistress wants to take her slave today. That normal familiar thrill of having promised to - Willingly do whatever Mistress asks, immediately and without question, sets my heart racing. And knowing I will do everything I can to keep that promise.

Bending low before my Mistress I showed my normal devotions with long slow worship of the tall platform shoes she was wearing. Standing splendid, Maggie played her cat o' nine tails across my bare back and side, across my buttocks and occasionally down the cleft between my cheeks; tantalisingly tickling my balls through my open legs with the gentlest of flicks. Nothing painful, but sufficiently irregular to maintain my utmost attention to the cleaning job in hand, or I should say mouth, as I was eagerly licking those shoes in an attempt to further perfect my cleaning technique.

In response to her enquiry, I delved in my 'perv bag’ to retrieve a pair of panties that Mistress had asked me to return to her; the very same pair of soiled panties that Mistress had presented to me on my 100th session way back in April. I had to enjoy the scent and flavours at home, placing them back into their zip seal bag each time I’d worshipped them, then return the beautiful item when Mistress demanded. As normal, her panties must be freshly laundered, and this time preferably with a fresh laundry aroma. Previously I had not laundered them properly and I wouldn’t make that mistake twice; I had cleaned them and double cleaned them so they smelled 'as new’. I was relieved when Maggie inspected them, this time appearing happy with my laundering and not needing to pick up her cane.

As normal, with very little ceremony and lots of lube, Mistress took the opportunity to install my butt plug in its rightful place and helped me into my black latex catsuit. I followed her into the Clinic where I was to become her rubber patient. I received Mistresses ‘bandage hood’, a hood I remember Mistress making specially for silencing her White Room patients; a latex hood with long neck, tied in place with the attached long, white latex bandages that create a very effective seal across the small mouth hole. As normal, Mistress then made sure her slave was comfortable with the judicial placing of the Clinic pillow.

Now, I would normally expect Mistress to securely strap me to the gynae couch, but on this occasion she was even more mischievous than normal. Knowing how much I like to stroke her latex clad buttocks whenever they are in range, she whispered that she would very much like it if I could perform that little luxurious task and my right hand would be left unrestrained and free to caress her glorious globes whenever they swayed my way.

What an absolute tease Mistress can be. There I was with a big smile under the bandage, my right arm free of all fetters and ready to stroke the bum of my rubberised catheter nurse.

As you might guess, ALL the while Maggie was inserting the catheter, her bum and my arm were swinging on opposite sides of the operating table. I might as well have had my right arm lopped off for all the good it was doing caressing those latex buttocks. Hmm! maybe it's best not to suggest that, it being my wanking arm and knowing how well equipped and devious she is!

However, despite its stout securing strap, I did get my left hand into a position to manage an occasional stroke, and my efforts kept me sufficiently sidetracked, to prevent me noticing that the catheter had been clinically and cleanly installed. Maggie really is good at that operation.

Normally, Mistress would immediately attach the drainage bag and my bladder would begin releasing its contents, giving a little relief from that growing urge to pee. Nope, the outlet was firmly bunged with a catheter plug, me and my bladder were to be kept waiting for the growing necessity to relieve myself. Mistress continued with her operations, the butt plug needed to come out to be quickly replaced by the electrified Kegel balls, and once Maggie was satisfied that I was receiving my stimulation in the form of a good belt of northern electricity, we returned to the Playroom for my insertion into the vacuum bag. Politicians make much about the Northern Power House, let me tell them Mistress has been operating it successfully for years!

It was obvious right from the start of the session that the vacbed would be used, as it was already assembled on the floor when I arrived and even this stupid slave can discern an object so black and so large. But it was still a real thrill to hear Maggie giving me an explanation of what was to come.

A quick check that I understood both her intentions and her safety rules, a simple mask providing cover for my mouth and nose and I was ready. A big dollop of lube was spread along the opening to assist with sealing the vacuum, then I was instructed to carefully climb inside my rubber womb.

Mistress made sure the small breather tube attached to the mask was secure in the vacbed’s breathing hole, my mouth remained unobstructed and I was still able to communicate with Mistress. The electric levels were turned up to set my bum balls throbbing, and with the catch bag attached my inflated bladder finally got relief from the nagging urge to urinate. Not much but oh what a relief. As normal, Mistress forever considerate for her slave's well-being, placed a comfortable cushion under the nape of my neck. The whirr of the vacuum pump completed incarceration. It is an incredible feeling to feel the gradual removal of the air and then it comes all of a rush as the last vestiges are sucked out and you become immobile.

Mistress then told me that she was to advance my breath training whilst in the vacbed, I would have to rely on a re-breather bag as a lifeline for a while, but I managed on the three litre bag quite nicely. Long slow breaths now and I was really starting to enjoy being immobile, totally enclosed in tight rubber and I know Mistress likes the rhythmic breathing sound as it indicates that I am alive and untroubled. With my latest training, I think I could have maintained that steady rhythm for hours. I wonder if you can actually sleep in that situation? The downside is that my visibility was restricted to a very dull dark grey haze of the rest of the world, and worse that I could only see shadows of my Mistress as she floated around, occasionally checking that her slave was OK and doing Mistress things to her encapsulated plaything.

My other senses compensated and I knew there was going to be a change to my breathing, as Maggie announced that she would enjoy replacing the re-breather bag with her personal dildo toy, and I could share her enjoyment via a hosepipe attached to my incarcerated face. I could almost taste Mistress as she pleasured herself.

I could also see the little points of light, created by Mistress when she let her nectar flow around my mouth and eyes, giving strange sparkles of twinkling light, as her fluids refracted the Playroom light through the otherwise dull grey of the vacuum bag. For a fleeting moment I thought of the night sky and millions of twinkling stars. Funny where your mind drifts when you are in heaven.

And that was that. I couldn't do anything inside the bag, but I gain huge enjoyment knowing that I have played even a small passive part in my Mistress enjoying her slave.

Was this a 'normal session'? Yes, but only to the extent that normality means that nothing is taken for granted; Normal that Mistress Maggie always surprises me with the variety of her training, and normal that I leave another session knowing I am even more under the control of a superb Mistress.

Another normal day in Mistress Maggie's Training School.

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’.