Bucking Bronco

‘Your rubber clad Mistress will be teaching you many ways of using leather’, is what I had been advised in my pre-session mail.

The moment Mistress Maggie opened the Chambers’ front door, the first part of her calling notice was wonderfully evident and had me enchanted once again. Mistress had decided on the remarkable catsuit and corset combination that both accentuated her stunning figure yet rendered her completely untouchable. However, the tactile nature of the wonderful material was made available for the shortest of moments as Mistress paused at the top of the stairs to allow her slave to move my hands across her latex covered rear. I have fought this urge every time I have followed that stunning sculptured derrière and now Mistress was treating her slave to another unexpected delight.

I was happy as we entered the Chambers. I was happy when Mistress told me go to the bathroom, to strip naked and return wearing only my slave collar. I have no inhibitions in front of my owner and complied immediately. I was happy when Mistress selected an appropriate rubber hood for her slave, then took a length of red rope and bound my wrists securely in front; was happy when Mistress gagged me and instructed me to lean against the wall, legs apart, forehead on my tied arms. I was happy when Mistress softly whipped my buttocks, using one of her many floggers to begin teaching me the many ways she uses her leather.

The whipping lasted for some considerable time, Mistress changing her whip to give her slave a taste of their many different leathery sounds and sensations, the strokes getting steadily harder. But for the moment that rhythmic swish crack was gently warming my arse cheeks and an occasional flick of its tails perfectly aimed between my legs to lightly strike my testicles.

Altogether, I was learning that Maggie had quite a few leather whips that I had never encountered and could wield each one in a way that equalled its weight. My back and rump were receiving their share of her delivery in equal measure. I felt happy when Mistress put her arms around her slave and moved her rubber glove across the marks she was making. I was even moderately happy when Mistress upped the anti and had me take a severe leather whip to increase my leather experience, Mistress continued to take short blasts with the heavy flogger until I became strained with the exertion, holding my stance to please my Mistress was becoming difficult and my legs were trembling.

Then I got really concerned as, alongside my trembling leg, I saw the business end of a red leather bull whip as it snaked across the floor. Mistress had spotted that I was starting to sag but offered no respite, instead she suggested I stand facing her, back against the wall until I couldn’t retreat any further. A few light range finders with the whip and then excruciating pain as she found exactly the right swing, range and angles to land the whip first on one nipple then the other, I must have taken around a dozen of these. Be advised, that bullwhip really does sting, but even if I had somewhere to hide I was determined to take the whip because Mistress wanted me to. This slave can now humbly say that I am no virgin when it comes to taking a proper prolonged flogging.

Maggie declared that now I’d had my fun and she had invested considerable effort for her slave, she needed to be pampered with pleasurable attentions. We adjourned to the Clinic and there was no more leather for a while. I was to receive the privilege once again of giving my Mistress a pedicure. I love being allowed to perform this service and I know Mistress appreciates the feeling of softness after my ministrations. Maggie reclined and relaxed on the couch and the only leather content was me gently removing her leather footwear. I must say I was mesmerised by Mistress relaxing there, the tight latex still covering her body barely inches from my face. As I said, so beautiful yet so perfectly protected, not that Mistress needs protection from her slave. I am a red blooded male but first and foremost I am my Mistresses trained rubber slave; I may gaze lovingly but DON'T touch unless instructed otherwise. So I set about filing first one foot then the other, asking occasionally if Mistress was satisfied with the progress.

Mistress sounded like she purred when she said she enjoyed my efforts, each smoothed foot then needed to be kissed and licked just to be sure, and finally gently soothed with foot lotion, but - ‘not between the toes slave’. This slave also discovered a magical spot on one of her feet which when touched sent Maggie off into involuntary fits of laughter. Mistresses leather ankle boots were carefully replaced and our sojourn in the Clinic had come to an end. Reminder to ask Mistress for new emery boards if she allows me future pedicure privileges.

We have been considering that I should receive a guiche piercing and it was my turn to jump up on the couch where Mistress took a few measurements, drew a line where she wished the jewellery to sit and took a photo to show the exact location when we attend for the piercing. Perhaps, next time you may be treated to a viewing?

Back in the Playroom, Maggie helped me into my heavy black rubber suit. A new pair of zipped gloves had arrived for me and I had chance to try them on with my suit this time; a good plan and they fitted perfectly and zipped up easily. One tight fitting layer was not enough for Maggie and I was about to receive a second lesson in the use of leather. She brought down the very heavy leather bondage suit from its resting place on the cell door and feet first I was squeezed inside it. Once my arms were secure inside the internal arm sheaths there was little I could do to help incarcerate myself, relying on my Mistress to pull it over my shoulders and zip me in. My feet were left unrestrained, ‘so you can shuffle around when instructed slave’.

Even without the laces fully cinched in and tightened, it is heavy, hot and restrictive inside the double layers of the leather sleep-sack, and made all the more tighter by liberal use of stout leather straps, these were hoisted tight producing a very satisfactory, safe and immovable status for this slave to find myself in. I was briefly tethered in a standing position in a way I could gently sway like a skittle without toppling.

My hood was exchanged for an unusual looking gas mask and I was given instruction. I was to shuffle forward to the repositioned horse where Maggie guided me into a bending position along it. The horse rocked and creaked as it took my considerable weight along its back. My situation became clearer as Mistress said she wanted to explore features and benefits of the leather bondage sack that had not been previously explored. It seemed that something unusual and exciting was afoot as Mistress placed her hand over the gasmask filter and I received the first of many strong inhalations of aromas.

Strange I thought, as Mistress normally uses her medicine for anal relaxation in preparation for mounting her slave, but trussed up inside this secure leather seemed an odd way to access my backside. Maggie clarified exactly what she was going to do next. ‘Right slave, now I have you where I want you I wish to find out whether this rear zip serves any useful function, today I will be fucking your ass while you remain incarcerated in the bag’.

The leather bondage bag has unseen treasures and one of them is the rear zip that Maggie mentioned. It was slowly forced up exposing my severely confined arse to a cooler draft, same with my catsuit. This looked like another fun situation Maggie had engineered for her slave. I, of course had no say in the matter nor could I move inside the tight leather as Mistress thoroughly lubed up my arse, attached her strap on and moved into position. Another sight of Maggie’s hand over my filter and we were off on the ride of our lives. The aromas and lube had worked their magic as the dildo found its mark. I think Mistress was delighted and really started humping my leather covered rear, helped by encouraging slaps across my leather rear.

The horse was going well, it was rocking with the ride and making galloping sounds now. Maggie was definitely more than a little excited by her success with her new found access and her thrusting increased, I moaned and was delighted my Mistress was once more taking me this way and also appearing to be having a wonderful time.

. . . CRACK . . . The extra effort Maggie was putting into my arse was transmitted to the horse and I could literally feel the earth move for me and Maggie. Naturally Mistress stopped. ‘What was that slave?’. I mumbled through the gas mask that I thought it was a front leg or maybe this horse really was a bucking bronco! Maggie dismounted, investigated and agreed we should play safe and ease myself off the horse. At first I moved slowly as I was a little unsteady from both the knee trembling and the aroma, but when there was a further loud creak from the horse I have never moved so fast and stood upright instantly in my leather cocoon.

In went the butt plug and I was instructed to hobble to the cage where I was firmly strapped to the bars for Mistress to reveal a further secret of the leather bag. It’s nipple flaps were ripped away to be replaced with biting clamps, the clamps would not normally hurt too bad, but were being fixed in the same places where Maggie's earlier ministrations with her bullwhip had already bitten. Is there no end to the secrets of this Black Magic suit? My breathing became severely restricted by Mistresses choice of hood, having only a series of narrow tubes to take in air, and this is how I was left. My nipples hurt, but through the mask perforations, I could catch glimpses of my stunning owner as she went about making her playroom neat and tidy, giving her pathetic slave an occasional passing tweak of the pegs and a radiant, lovely smile. 

To conclude the session I was finally released from the leather and told to take a seat on the awaiting bondage chair. I was in desperate need of a drink and on queue, Mistress set up my feeding station. Nothing so simple as a nice tube attached to Mistress, I had to be more ingenious to receive my liquid refreshment.

I was secured, and with the pinwheel adjusted on my posture collar, my chin was pointing skywards. A strange glass dropper arrangement was suspended just over my head, its contents a familiar light amber colour. The idea was, that with a little effort I would be able to catch the droplets of nectar and satisfy my thirst. 'How about a little blindfold to make life more interesting slave?'

I must admit to being a little mischievous, as I’d worked out that by rocking the chair I could get my mouth in the ideal position to catch most of my drink without taking punishment from the nasty chin spike. I could hear the concern in Maggie's voice as she thought I was going to tip the chair over backwards, reminding me that ‘there aren't any supporting chains this time’. No doubt when Mistress reads my blog she may smile at my ingenuity at rocking the chair, but I will ultimately get into trouble for my mischief.

I was soaked by the time I arrived at the ideal position and it was a good job that Mistress had a full bladder, as quite a lot of pee ended up in my hair, down my back, trickling down the inside of my suit, in fact all over me and I loved every minute of every drop. The plastic bag that Mistress fastened me in for the final act, steamed up quickly with both my breath and the warm pee residues, leading to a particularly sultry and lengthy breathplay scene.

At last Mistress investigated the horse and the relief in her voice was audible when she declared that the securing nuts holding the legs had worked loose; hardly surprising after fifteen years of hard use and its most recent pummelling. A few turns of the wing nuts once more had the bucking horse less likely to give her a heart attack. We were able to laugh about the situation afterwards as we both imagined the horse collapsing, ending up in a heap and Maggie still firmly reaming my arse with her strap-on.

One thing remains certain, I will always try to endure everything and anything Mistress Maggie asks of me. After all, that is the promise I made when I vowed to be one of my Mistresses loyal followers. I was allowed a wonderfully relaxing bath after our taxing session and I know I have the most caring and thoughtful Mistress that I could ever wish for. Long may she reign.

Here's to the Next Five

I have experienced five exceptional years serving my Mistress, Mistress Maggie and now, after 110 excellent sessions, I feel that I am at least a passable slave. Clearly, 'passable' is not good enough and I will continue to strive to become that perfect slave for as long as Mistress is prepared to keep me as her property. I knew Mistress had remembered the anniversary by the words in her mail.  'Mistress is making preparations for a celebration. . .' Similarly, I wanted to say a big thank you to both Mistress and husband John for the five years of a growing friendship and had picked up a nice Merlot on the way to the Chambers.

As always, one hour before my session I sent my confirmatory text. Mistress sprung a surprise and almost wrong footed her slave with her response, by announcing that we were going shopping and to park near the Chambers. I try not to be phased by things my Mistress asks of me and always ensure there’s a tank of fuel just in case. Additional instruction had also been given ‘. . . Arrive with your ball weight in place. . . ‘  This I had done along with a good effort to look smart, wearing my cream latex dress shirt and obligatory slave collar, with my weighted balls tucked tidily inside my pants.

A stunning vision answered the door. Mistress looked just as attractive in her outdoor clothes as she does in her Playroom uniforms; shiny jeans, silk blouse, gladiator sandals and a full application of red lippy. Maggie accepted my gift and I was rewarded with one of her fabulous smiles.

Session 110 began as usual with performing homage to Mistresses footwear, which can become a terribly steamy situation at times. Like today for instance. Mistress insisted that I wear a plastic bag while putting my tongue to work on her gladiator shoes. My slave collar was used to secure my head in the bag, just how Maggie wanted it, and I was told to proceed with worship. I licked as best and as long as I could, busying myself right up to the point where the oxygen ran out and I could lick no more. I could only use my last gasps to beg for air in the hope of being released. Consequently the sandals remained worshipped from afar, but that had to be the cleanest inside of a plastic bag you could imagine.

‘Up on your knees facing me now slave’ and I was eye to eye with Mistress. The plastic bag was rustling again, then pulled over my head quite tightly and I was captured in a couple of twists of her wrist. Maggie looked at me through the plastic then planted the longest kiss squarely across my mouth, well, a kiss on the plastic across my mouth to be precise. It was a heavenly moment that I hoped would never stop, and I loved how Mistress then laughed at the red smudge across her slaves plastic face, saying ‘That's the lippy gone then!’

Whenever shopping, Mistress likes to keep this slave on his toes. No different today and I was soon legs up on the Clinic table having suitable electrodes fitted. First though, my trusty black butt plug was planted in my arsehole. 'A special treat for you today slave', or so Maggie said with that glint in her eye as she placed her cock stopper electrode right on the tip of my cock and to complete the circuit, a sticky pad on my abdomen. With a laugh Mistress remarked about the nasty shock I would feel if her circuitry came into contact with my steel ball weight, but thankfully and probably best for all concerned, she decided not to have her slave leaping about with the shopping basket and drawing any more attention to himself. Instead, a condom was used to secure the cock stopper and rolled down the full length of Maggie’s property.

I knew where this was going and it would certainly be special. The power source would be attached to my belt and Mistress would carry the remote - Hmmm! Time for a quick test then. Five taps of the remote provided a just about bearable pulse through my cock; six had me visibly wincing and would affect my gait if applied during the shopping trip; seven may be a treat for Mistress but more likely a dreaded ordeal for her slave. Maggie also went through a few of the available programs, just to remind her slave what to expect if I displeased her.

Mistress re-applied her lipstick and was ready for shopping, my primary duty to carefully chauffeur my Mistress on her trip and, of course, during our shop, provide amusement as she stroked the remote with her thumb. We went shoe shopping first, trying on several pairs. I fetched and carried and kept Maggie’s handbag safe while she tried them on and made her choice. At last I had permission to kiss my Mistresses new shoes without needing to wear a plastic bag. One kiss was all I could give being in a well known supermarket, but I believe it was received as a symbolic gesture of her slaves devotion. However, I did enjoy the thrill of openly worshipping my Mistress, even if it was only for the briefest of moments. Nobody cared, nobody even noticed, apart from me and my Mistress and the shoe purchase was in the bag.

I followed Mistress towards the food section, stopping for a moment for Maggie to activate the power box on my belt. But oops, somehow I must have dislodged something as . . . nothing. . . when tested. ‘Go to the loo slave. Go and reconnect yourself’. Fortunately the problem was quickly put to rights and I was back alongside having my Power box activated again. Four quick taps on her remote and a look at my grimacing face confirmed to Maggie that her slave was switched on.

A shopping list had been prepared and my job was to bring back all items on it: Cucumber, K-Y jelly or similar, condoms and a pack of ice cubes. The list came with strict instructions; I must not to use the self checkout lanes and I must present my wares to a real life assistant. It was difficult to concentrate with the electrics on five clicks, not knowing when Mistress would have a little remote fun with one more agonizing movement of her thumb. I persevered and as you can see, no K-Y. I asked the pharmacist but was advised. ‘You’re the second one to ask. We are out of stock. Sorry’. I braced myself for the jolt as I was taking too long. I could see Mistress relaxing just through the checkouts, smiling that delightfully innocent smile as I searched and found an alternative, her thumb hovering over her remote, but thankfully nothing more than a sinister 'hover'.

The throbbing in my cock continued as I hurried for the bag of ice cubes. I didn't like the thought of where the cubes could end up and chose the smallest bag I could find. Even so, it was enough to freeze your balls off and then some.

Going through the checkout, I knew I was in range of having a twitchy thumb setting off a twitching embarrassment. I was also very conscious of curious onlookers spotting my items as they moved along the conveyor. The lady was paid and I gave her my thanks as I packed my shopping into the red lipstick stained suffocation bag. Mistress just sat watching, smiling and seductively massaging her remote. It was a relief as we left and Maggie turned off the power pack on my belt for the short drive home.

Back in Chambers I heard the ominous chink of ice being poured into Mistresses steel bucket. A cold shiver passed through my balls and bum. I feared the worst because a lot of ice was readied, but then, as always, Mistress pulled another surprise. Two small bottles of white wine appeared, plus a couple of flutes and she sank them both into the ice bucket to cool as she helped me out of my outdoor clothes and into more appropriate indoor red latex ones. I was stood to attention as Maggie reclined on her bean bag and asked me to pour two glasses of wine. We toasted the first five years of my exceptional journey, and I spent a delightful 15 minutes finger feeding olives to my Mistress, chatting, sipping the celebratory wine and me attempting to become that 'perfect' slave. It is extremely difficult holding oiled olives in rubber gloves, yet possible because Mistress has trained me well: 'less haste more attention' resulted in very few mishaps. With a risk of repeating myself, there is nothing quite so stimulating or arousing as watching your Mistress casually relax and feeding her just as my Queen should be fed.

The bean bag was moved out of Chambers to make way for the Bondage Chair, which needed to be placed in a precise position next to the bed. I do like that secure, snug feeling of the leather corset that was strapped tight on top of my latex, then the Lithuanian hooded gas mask with restraining collar, and finally chained to maximum tightness to the chair, probably tighter than any previous chaining. I love the secure feeling this situation engenders. I could also delight in the fact that Mistress said I looked wonderful dressed like this.

Maggie double checked I was secure, then began pivoting the chair and easing it backwards until it was firmly supported by chains, which miraculously somehow had appeared between chair and overhead gantry. I had no worries as I trust Mistress implicitly, although I am still amazed that such a fine, slender figure could take the weight of this lump like slave and his bondage. And there I securely stayed, leaning back in the throne, my cock, balls and butt plug exposed by dextrous manipulation of the suits three way zip, all for my Mistresses further amusement. The clover clamps on my nipples played with my upper body sensations as my Mistress went on to play with and create havoc with my lower body parts.

The hole in the chair seat made for easy retrieval of the butt plug. Out it came and for one moment I thought I saw the cucumber pass in front of my gas-masked  eyes making its way to a new growing plot, but to my relief, I think, Maggie eased a rather large electric dildo in my now spare hole. It was at this point that the frailties of my body started to overtake the huge desires of the slave.

Because I am tall, my head was not getting support from the high backed chair and my neck was starting to really tense with the strain. This has an effect on all the other senses. The rasping, windy sounds of the Lithuanian mask changed into the more urgent sounds of a slave starting to be stressed. Mistress knows her property and after asking and confirming that I was having problems, eased me back to an upright position and removed the mask. I began to recover but Mistress knows when enough is enough for her slave and chose to release me. We sat and talked amongst other topics, about the possible need for a neck support in future similar situations.

Oh I do wish I was physically better equipped for my Mistress, but unlike Mistress Maggie who appears to be younger every time we meet, the inevitable onslaught of age does take a slight toll on this, otherwise very willing slave and I do love my sessions with my perfect Mistress.

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.