Castration - Reality or Roleplay?

A year ago I would never have imagined that I’d have reason to write about the relief, thrill and delight I’m feeling at still being able to look forward to Mistress Maggie’s testicle torments; the delights of having my ball sac sewn together, having them stapled into one homogenous blob, or stretched beyond endurance in that over engineered wooden stretcher. Even the thought of powerful electro sensations round my balls, having them stung with potent nettles, or any number of other ball torturing activities that I might have shuddered at in the past will now bring a smile to my face, after so nearly becoming detached from my little spheres.

My sleek latex Mistress.

Mistress had given me a vague glimmer of what I could expect in my calling mail . . . your sleek latex Mistress expects her operations will have you simmering with delight as you are moved from one tight situation to another. . . Well, this slave does appreciate more than a little tightness, especially where latex is concerned, but no doubt Maggie’s reference to a tight situation would likely end up being something far more sinister.

True to her word Mistress greeted me in her sleek outfit of matching teal blue top and hot-pants, her nyloned legs had a light sheen and were on full display making her look as stunning as ever. I was a little breathless when I arrived, early as it turned out, but Mistress was keen to proceed and was half way up the stairs before I’d had time to remove my coat and shoes. Forever thoughtful, she stopped and waited for me to join her, in very close visual contact with her delightful derrière. I tried to explain that the clock in the car was slow and I thought I may be late so had needed to rush to the door of the Chambers. I needn't have bothered, Mistress is never very interested in excuses as her slaves should ensure mistakes never happen.

In the Playroom the normal routines were performed; latex gloves and socks on, everything else off and bend down at the feet of my Mistress ready to perform worship to her black, high heeled shoes. The insertion of my new ribbed butt plug was achieved with relative ease, I must admit that though the plug is a good tight fit, it could not compare with the tighter and potential life changing event which took place later in the session.

I had been entrusted to launder a pair of Maggie’s lace panties and bring them to my session, there was a slight hiccup in the pleasant flow in proceedings when I was asked to hand them over for examination. I have already had one very poor attempt at cleaning Mistresses panties and had suffered the consequences, so I had spent a lot of time carefully hand washing them in non-bio, I’d rinsed them in nice floral scented conditioner and hung them out to dry. I was pleased with the results; not so Mistress. Out came her examination light and after close scrutiny and fiddling with the stuck up corners of a tiny ribbon embellishment, she pronounced that the delicate pink bow on the front had not been ironed! Marks of seven out of ten was all I received, apart from the marks left imprinted across my backside, made by the hairbrush which Maggie admonished her slave with for his poor laundry-ship. I was disappointed with the low marks but of course there is no appeal system as Rule 6 applies: Mistress is never wrong.

With a deep breath and the pull of a zip both myself and my spanked ass were soon snugly fitted in my plum catsuit. Could this be one of the tight situations mentioned in the mail? It certainly felt nice and comfortable and tight to me, but once again my tight suit could not compare with what came later. I think I’ve lost a little weight and while Mistress gave her rubber slave a dust and polish to remove the inevitable excess of dressing talc, she said how delighted she was with how the suit now fitted.

Training was going well so far, I stood and waited for Mistress to rifle through her hood drawer in search of a latex pull on hood with perforation at eyes, and there was a little natural humour as Maggie tried to get the tight hood over my big head. Out came the cleaning towel to dry off my moist hair, and finally after the fourth attempt, a little huffing and the odd puffing the hood was on. A few minor facial adjustments and I could see adequately through the perforated eye holes, which would be the most vision I was allowed until we returned from the Clinic.

What followed marked a distinct step forward in my complete submission and acceptance of Mistresses total authority over her slave. As per the proverb: as you sow, so shall you reap, the consequences of the next part of my training were issues that I had 'wished' upon myself. The first involved my suggestion to use the facial aperture in Maggie’s new Clinic couch as a securing point for a slaves head, not in a conventional face down massage position, but allowing the rear of the slaves head to rest in the opening and be securely strapped down to make any head movement impossible. And boy, did I get the rewards for my suggestion!

The strong clear plastic straps that Mistress has made for the couch are very effective at confining the torso, while the two tan leather straps buckled tight across my forehead and mouth held my head like a vice. For want of a better word, my second ‘reaping’ came as somewhat of a surprise to say the least. A shiny medical instrument in the form of a pair of steel pliers was positioned in front of my perforated eyeholes for me to see.

‘Do you know what these are slave?’ A long time ago I had inadvertently marked a photo of an elastrator as a Flickr favourite. I really am unsure why and quickly decided it best to delete it, knowing how such an instrument could give life changing results in the hands of a sadistic Flickr viewer. Too late, the seeds were sown. Maggie must have spotted my favoured picture and thought about making the idea a reality. ’It’s an elastrator Mistress’, I suggested and her gleeful response was quite a bombshell for me. ‘Yes slave and I am going to use it to castrate you.’ You may find it hard to believe, but in that instant I really had no thoughts other than the promise I had made to Mistress. . . I promise that I will do my best to . . . willingly do whatever Mistress asks, immediately and without question.

De-nutting in progress - Do not Disturb!

Mistress wheeled her steel trolley a little nearer to the operating area and raised the couch to her comfortable working height. She kept referring to my operation, explaining what would be done, how multiple bands would be used to help speed up the process of detaching my balls, warning me that it might hurt and how I’d be gagged if I made a fuss, or screamed with the pain, before announcing that she was ready to begin and the first band was going on now.

It actually didn't hurt but felt quite snug. As extra rings were gradually added, the compression in my ball sac increased, while the area where the castration rings were being deployed gained a tighter feeling. The only bit that was even slightly uncomfortable was when one of Mistresses bands came off the elastrator prematurely, pinged across my balls and ended up somewhere on the Clinic floor, probably where my balls would end up once they dropped off. Oh well, should make for easier tidying up after the op. My cock was kept out of harms way by the clever use of a leather strap, until, one after the other, ten bands had been gently elastrated on to my ball sac. Maggie then patted my balls and indicated that all we had to do was wait. Strangely, as I lay there about to lose my balls, I could still manage a raging erection each time Mistress patted the tight sac and asked me 'Can you still feel that sensation slave?'. It’s clear that the operations Mistress had referred to in her calling mail were tight enough to have my excess body fat bulging out around her restraining straps and provided an even worse tight situation for her slaves manhood.

Maggie praised me for being brave and caressed her rubber patient, then with an air of disappointment in her voice she said that she’d changed her mind and decided not to castrate her slave, for today at least, as she gets far too much enjoyment with putting my nuts into various predicaments and laughing at the results. Hence my opening remarks about welcoming their stitching, electrocuting, nettling etc. I was to be left with a pair of fully functioning balls and each of the ten bands were teased off and consigned to the waste bucket.

If you are on Flickr there is some video footage of my castration HERE but may not be available on all devices.

Mistress may have been performing a very professional role play scenario, but from the moment I was strapped down the whole event seemed very real to me. I thought Maggie really wanted my balls as a trophy and quite frankly, I was in a mind set whereby I was ready to say farewell to them by the time she removed the bands, and desperately hoping that Maggie would still get enjoyment from playing with a de-balled slave.

Simmering with delight.

After the relief of retaining my balls, we moved back to the Playroom where the Throne, the Gas Station and the folding chair were all set out neatly by the window. What I didn't see but definitely noticed was the feeling of my butt plug being removed to be replaced with an inflating, vibrating one. Another of Mistresses little quirks had me witness what 16 pumps looked like before I was bent over the throne to have it stuffed up my royal ass and promptly pumped up to the desired proportions. The vibrator was turned on and set quaking at a magnitude which would cause fracking protestors to palpitate, I was strapped into a tight and heavy leather corset and securely bound to the bondage chair. Unusually my arms were kept free, but Mistress had made sure her restraints were buckled behind me, way out of reach with no quick chance of escape.

My full vision returned when Mistress began attending to my headgear, the Israeli gas mask she fitted on me had nice big eyes and I could watch my owner as she checked the controls on her Gas Station and brought out the breath-play hoses. A familiar noise exploded when Mistress adjusted a tap and I started to bubble my breathing through the liquid filled bottle. I was a little disappointed when the bubble bottle provided essence of tap water and not essence of Mistress; that very heady, exciting, sexy smell that I have grown to love over 5 years exposure to Mistress’ nectar. However, slaves cannot be choosers and the potion Maggie had me breathing through carried the latex smell of the tubes, mixed with the merest hint of clinical chlorine.

To a slave who had so recently thought I was to become Maggie's eunuch, I was absolutely delighted when Mistress said that she'd be joining me in the bubble bottle experience and seated herself on the folding Playroom chair. She donned her own gas mask, an identical model to mine, and attached her breathing hose to the Gas Station. At the turn of a tap, my regular bubbling was joined by the softer, gentler, quieter bubbling of my Mistress. Relaxing now on the carefully positioned chair she casually rested her feet across my lap and we sat there in our latex drinking in the bubbly atmosphere, or ‘simmering with delight’ as Mistress had so accurately put it.

And I realised why the chair and Throne had been so precisely placed. I was able to gently caress and stroke Maggie’s beautiful feet and legs in their shimmering sheer tights for a long time, but the prospect of having my hands surreptitiously stray above her rather nice knees had been removed by Mistress and her cunning bondage. I could only look on and dream about caressing her beautiful thighs. I stayed stroking and caressing her legs and looking adoringly at her superb but definitely out of bounds body for as long as my owner wished, complete with a full set of balls and happy in the knowledge my Mistress might still find an amusing use for her little sphericals. I was a happy and content slave.

I experienced quite a few extremely tight situations today and am so thankful that I left with my balls intact, ready to be toyed or sadistically manipulated by their owner on hopefully many more occasions, and that nagging question of whether it was reality or role play when Mistress Maggie was 'castrating' her slave? Either way, I moved that bit closer to total ownership and acceptance of anything my Mistress wishes to do to her slave.

A very professional role play or a change of heart? That is the nagging question that only time will resolve.

Pampering for Mistress

I have just experienced an excellent and relaxing session with Mistress Maggie. Today was all about pampering my owner after a long and arduous couple of weeks for her, and what a surprise was in store for her slave. It had been a while since Maggie had been shopping at Cathouse and she decided it could be her treat for the day, while for me it meant a trip back to Yorkshire and a session that was virtually pain free! Yes, I know I shouldn't say something that can so easily be reversed, but today turned out to be two friends enjoying a drive across the Pennines and enjoying each others company.

There was never any doubt about who was in charge; Maggie is always that, but of course, I wouldn't be one of Mistress Maggie's slaves if I didn’t expect some of the unexpected and Maggie wanted to gently remind me that I would still be under training and close scrutiny all the time we were out. ’Trousers down. Bend over the horse slave’ and I was duly fitted with the pair of Kegel balls and wired to the remote receiver that Maggie carefully attached to my belt, in full blinking view to those in the know. Mistress carried out a few tests to ensure the Kegels were working and to established what remote control levels she could safely deploy, and I detected a note of pleasant surprise as she gradually ramped up the volume into the red zone of her control box before I began wincing and twitching.

The second surprise was a leather cock and ball collar to which Maggie attached one of her playroom leads. I was given a thorough walking workout on it to make sure that it was on tight enough, before she announced that a new lead would be more of an adventure and that we could pick one up just round the corner. ‘Looks like I will have to fiddle inside your Y-fronts to attach the new lead’ she laughed. I smiled in anticipation of my Mistress with her hand on her cock and balls attempting to attach a lead in public. Wow that will be a buzz!

We left, to all appearances two good friends going for a day shopping, but I quickly received my first training reminder. ‘In here slave’, as Maggie directed me into the local pet shop. We navigated to the section containing retractable dog leads, all displayed inside a lock up security cabinet, and were quickly joined by a charming and very professional salesman. We were discussing the retractable leads; small, medium or large dog size when the salesman innocently looked round for the pooch and asked ‘What size dog do you have?’ Without batting an eyelid, Mistress nonchalantly motioned at me and said ‘It’s for him. I'll need a discreet model, something small, and black please’. The gentleman barely flinched and I thought I had better go along with this and asked about the amount of lead that was left dangling when fully retracted. For those in the know it’s about 12", but I had to say something. We paid and on request, the gentleman kindly took it from its plastic carton so we could use it immediately. I must admit, much to my relief, Mistress made no attempt to attach the lead to either my slave collar or cock collar as we headed back to the car. Once again, I say thank you to that salesman for being a true professional, although I bet he had a tale to tell at tea time.

The journey across the Pennines to Liversedge was pleasant, talk and laughter interspersed with an incredibly sexy crackle from Mistresses black PVC mac. If you have never experienced that crackle and creak of a sexy woman gently moving in a PVC mac, be warned, it can be most distracting and I had promised Maggie's husband that I would take extra special care of my VIP. I concentrated hard on my driving, managing a sideways admiring glance at my shiny stunning owner whenever it was safe to do so. Thank goodness for red traffic lights. I am certain Mistress knows the pronounced effect she always has on me!

Outside Cathouse I half expected to have our new lead attached and be led into the shop, but no. I think my Mistress was far too excited about examining the superb range of leather and latex hoods, dresses, corsets, stocking etc to be bothered with dragging a slave dog around on a lead. Happy enough to turn on my power pack though and have it blinking away on my belt, clicking her remote control rather obviously every now and then.

I pottered around the shop whilst Mistress was occupied with the merchandise and then trying on a dildo harness that had caught her eye to ensure comfort and fit. As I continued to potter around and chat to Caroline the owner, an induced stiffness began happening in my trousers. It was obvious that Mistress was up to mischief behind the dressing room curtain, because the signal to my Kegel balls was slowly creeping up into the very active red zone. Caroline is easy to talk to, but not wanting to make her concerned I had to try really hard to control my wincing.

Maggie had decided that she liked the harness but I could see she was a little perplexed about the ring size as it would only take a smaller size dildo. As I listened intently, I had one of those very rare lightbulb moments and suggested my idea to both Caroline and Mistress. After a little more discussion the craftsman was called, and yes, it was feasible to have detachable rings. I felt pleased to have helped but quickly reminded that my Mistress is in charge with another burst in the red zone.

Maggie ordered the latex strap-on harness with the interchangeable rings and a pair of custom made stockings. Some fingerless latex gloves were spotted and their purchase eagerly made. I was delighted that Mistress was able to wear them immediately as a memento of yet another excellent trip to an excellent fetish manufacturer.

On our return journey a hiccup with my monitoring the satnav had me taking a slight deviation which meant we missed our quiet coffee stop where last time Maggie had expertly bagged me in the car park. M62 Westbound at 16:00 on a Friday is a nightmare and the journey took far longer than either of us hoped. Conscious that Mistress would appreciate a light snack and a coffee, we stopped at Birch Services and out popped the retractable dog lead from Maggie’s handbag. I was denied the pleasure of having Mistress fiddling in my pants to attach my lead and was told to clip it on myself. The leather cock and ball strap had remained firmly in place, allowing Mistress to walk me confidently to our destination along the grassy verge around the perimeter of the car park, then towards the entrance to the services with me led by a lead emerging from the flies of my pants. I admit I was a little relieved when Maggie handed me the lead at the entrance and said to stick the handle in my pocket.

We sat, had a coffee and shared a hot sausage sandwich, Maggie in that very sexy coat, me trying my hardest not to get an obvious erection at the sight and sound of my beautiful owner and talked and laughed a lot more. Because of the congestion, Mistress realised there would be no time for Playroom activities when we returned to Preston. Quietly she leant forward and reminded me that she controls if and when I can cum and now might be a nice time to do so. She instructed me to walk to the toilets and I had ten minutes to bring myself off before the Kegels, which were currently feeding my ass with some particularly nice sensations, would be once again pushed into the red zone. As it happened it only took a few minutes, what with the accumulated stimulus of that crinkly mac, the earlier Kegel red zoning, the excellent time round Cathouse, being led to the services by my cock collar, but above all being in the wonderfully relaxed company of my owner and good friend. Then the embarrassing realisation that I had picked the cubicle with no toilet paper!

Once more, Mistress Maggie had introduced new, unimagined experiences for me to serve her with. I have never had a dog lead attached to my cock before and I certainly have never been sent to public toilets to masturbate before. Of course there was never any chance of my refusing. Mistress and I both knew that. The outcome was inevitable. And yes of course I thoroughly washed my hands as Mistress is a stickler for good hygiene.

One interesting fact as we returned to the Playroom to de-Kegel, Maggie commented on how sensible my Y-fronts were if I were to have the collar and lead attached again. I got the impression from the gleam in her eyes that if I am told to wear Y-fronts I’m in for some very interesting walkies. I am a really fortunate slave that after 125 sessions I believe my Mistress can trust me not to disgrace myself or more importantly, embarrass my owner, and that is partly what my extensive training has been about. Most importantly, I think Mistress Maggie enjoyed being pampered on our shopping trip.

Damn those Beautiful Eyes

It was oppressively hot; the summer solstice; the hottest day of the year so far. I hadn't seen my owner for three weeks and five days and flowers were the order of the day. And so I arrived, shirt sleeves and no coat despite the slight threat of thunder, but I knew there was definitely going to be a thunder storm in the Chambers because of my previously identified poor shaving. The door was opened by a vision in gold. Mistress appears a young 38, or at a pinch 40, yet on one of her profiles I thought I had read she was 50+. I know Mistress Maggie is always right because Rule 6 says Mistress is never wrong, so it is quite obvious that I had made a mistake or somehow misread the literature. She can't be over 50. Along with not making mistakes, Mistress doesn't forget anything either!

I didn't have long enough to admire her immaculately coiffured jet black hair and her radiant beauty, because I was drawn to her gold latex rear as she leashed my slave collar, keeping me on a very short rein as we ascended to the Playroom. Her face wasn't alone in radiating warmth. Try as I know I should, I couldn't prevent my nose occasionally brushing those wonderfully smooth, golden orbs, feeling her warmth and smelling that perfume that only latex can generate.

Red guiche, red plug and red arse!

A quick-change visit to the bathroom had me hooded and worshipping her black high heels just as Mistress likes; long, slow, wet licks along both shoes. I was trying to make my worship last as long as I could, hoping to distract Mistress from what I knew was coming! As I said, Mistress doesn't forget and true to her word my shaving infraction was next on her agenda.

I was taken on a walk on my lead, several times round the playroom while Mistress explained what I should expect. At least I remembered how to 'walk' to heel, close to Mistresses thigh so she can control her pet, interspersed with the odd crack from her butterfly shaped crop. Maggie explained that I wouldn't be getting a set number of lashes, nor would I receive my beating with a set implement, but instead I would receive a good lathering applied in a random fashion - just like my shaving!

And so it was that I was secured over the high horse and received the most severe beating that I have ever experienced. On quite a few occasions Mistress paused saying 'straighten up slave' and beating me some more. I lost count of how many strokes and with what implement, it did draw tears as I bucked and jerked on the horse and have to admit that I virtually lost it with the amount of pain radiating from my bottom. Mistress explained I had received random strokes with; studded paddle, beach shoe, a two finger tawse, a thick double leather strap finishing with the Delrin cane. I survived - just, but I need to apologise to Maggie for being such a wimp during my chastisement.

Who's a bright spark now?

Did I mention that it was the hottest day so far? Well my backside ended up considerably hotter and I was sweating like the proverbial oink. Whether it was the profuse sweating, the lube up my bumhole or just its wonderful flexibility, but I was soon feeling my new, ribbed, red, flexible butt plug being easily inserted where the sun don’t shine.

After a few moments to recover and with the help of a little talc, Maggie had me easily inserted in my heavyweight black rubber catsuit as well, and I was soon on the latex sheets with wrists chained to the bed ready for Mistress to continue her plan.

I was exhausted after my beating and could barely raise my head from the soft latex pillow, but I could just see Maggie doing this and that, retrieving equipment from here or there then I got a clear vision of her standing level with my exposed cock and balls and drizzling some delightfully cool liquid from a small bottle. What a wonderful Mistress I thought, on the hottest day she is cooling her slave and massaging that coolant all around the base of my shaft and balls. I have said I am owned by the perfect Mistress.

After a little firmer manipulation I realised Mistress was doing a little more than just cooling her property, and although I couldn't see the results this picture never lies. The cooling lubricant was obviously electro-conducting gel to ensure I was a good conductor for the electro chastity cage. Yes - YESSSS Mistress I am definitely getting a response!

Hot and happy.

'Today slave you are going to be my rubber play toy’. . . off came my working mask and on went the heavier, tighter system mask, which certainly helped with my transformation. I lay there manacled and enjoying the situation immensely, apart from when Mistress used her remote control to vary the electronics, that made me enjoy the situation far too much and I groaned a request to Maggie, may I cum?

‘Of course not, you are my play toy’, and off went the electrics for a while leaving a most frustrated slave. I lay there perspiring but very happy. I could hear and get occasional glances of Mistress preparing the bondage Plank and placing the heavy leather sleep sack on top of it. Once ready I was instructed to ease myself onto the Plank, distribute my vast bulk evenly along it and shuffle until I was comfortably inside the sack.

Quiet, you fool!

To say it was warm inside was somewhat of an understatement, but I think I could still manage to drop off to sleep if allowed. No chance. A quick, heavy burst of the electrics every now and then accompanied by whiffs of aromas, applied using the feeding cup up one nostril method, guaranteed I remained wide awake.

You may have gathered that I have a tendency to talk too much and dare I say, waffle a little. I can't help it when I am in my owners company. Mistress knows that I waffle and shortly after I suggested that she cannot possibly be 50, Mistress used another of the system masks’ components to shut me up, but only after she had laughingly asked if I would like to accompany her when she goes to have her birth certificate altered. I love her sense of humour.

I gazed up at Maggie, who by now had brought her high stool to the head of the plank, she sat with her headphones on enjoying some music on her iPod, she swayed rhythmically and very evocatively, letting out a big smile each time she sent another electric blast into my cock cage and up my cock shaft.

This went on for some time before she casually slid down her crotch zip and started caressing herself, inches from my eyes. I looked longingly at my Mistress knowing that was definitely forbidden territory for a simple slave and then gazed into her eyes that were dreamily half closed as she continued to finger her pussy. Those eyes have helped captivate this slave and countless other lucky men. You could just drown in their unfathomable depths.

Enough! At last Mistress stepped down from her stool, re-zipped and seated herself comfortably on a very eager face. By now I was acutely aware that I was swimming inside the sleep sack but Maggie was also aware of the situation and had been plying me with regular sips of water through a rubber straw, not as good as the real McCoy but very welcome all the same. I needn't have fretted, Mistress was to treat me to some proper fluid intake and donned her piss-pants.

Another pillow to assist with my drinking position, another inflatable system gag but this time with a drinking tube attached, and I was about to receive my much sought after infusion from a very full piss reservoir. Not all at once. Mistress knows my limitations and turns her flow tap on and off to provide me with a couple of gulps at a time, as I suck to receive the most welcome drink you could imagine. A little warm if I am honest, but wow, a superb vintage. I have to admit that there was so much available and although in a reasonable drinking position, I could not consume all my wine and Mistress ended up having to waste part of her outpouring. ‘Pity, as I have a particularly full bladder today’ she said. She certainly did and I am certain that when I am in a more upright position, I would not waste even one drop.

Mistress had said I was to be her rubber play toy, however, when she removed the electric chastity device from me I detected a note of disdain, obviously brought on by the sight of the horrible shrunken thing that fell out of it. Maggie said that a vac pump would be an appropriate thing to use on it, an 'encourager' to draw a little size back into her pathetic cock. Mmm, perhaps I might finally be allowed some relief from all my pent up tension?

No chance. Mistress was not going to permit any orgasms. She lubed the area to get a good airtight seal and pumped up the cock and kept pumping ‘. . . even if it’s going hurt, because big cocks are more fun to play with.’ Five minutes later, still pump, pump, pump. . .

It didn't hurt but I was still throbbing with pent up frustration. I know I should not think of my owner Mistress Maggie in such terms but I cannot help myself even after years of training, that I find her stunningly attractive. At least I can withhold an orgasm now. . .

Er. Until I got home of course!

Routine slave Maintenance

There are regular periods in a slaves training when both Mistress and slave have to take stock of how much has been learnt, but more importantly how much, if any, the slave has slipped backwards. I am routinely examined by Mistress Maggie and on my previous visit to the Chambers she had spotted some wayward hairs around my cock and balls, not many but sufficient for a thorough maintenance check to be deemed a priority for this session. I had tried really hard to make sure that I was hairfree, spending a considerable amount of time with the razor in the hope of escaping Maggie’s keen eye and passing her scrupulous inspection.

Boots had to be polished first and I was directed to the ground where I completed my obligatory worship and cleaning of Mistresses footwear, working my tongue in long strokes, the way Mistress likes it, bringing her black latex ankle boots to a shine that would complement her striking full rubber outfit, then as instructed I followed Mistress into her White Room for my depilation exam.

The new grey couch was already prepared in a low position with its foot rest extension in place. All I could do was lay back on it and wait and hope that I was 'clean'. Of course, Maggie’s eyes turned out to be sharper than my razor and it didn't take long for a couple of stray hairs to be located. Out came the tweezers and out came the hairs. Mistress was now on a mission, telling me that I would be suitably punished for my slovenliness, but for the moment she decided to pluck me now and punish me later. Even more pubic hairs were found, grabbed and pulled before Mistress instructed me to turn onto my stomach and started defoliating my crack. I was ashamed at my hairiness and even worse, I have to live with Mistresses promise of punishment for it, which will happen at a later date.

Seven months ago I had my first piercing, a guiche. It has healed really well and has been stretched to a point where I am now able to wear quite heavy jewellery in the hole. Mistress had chosen a final, rather fetching piece of jewellery and successfully installed it in its rightful place today, right behind my balls where it frequently reminds me who owns this slave. Then it was briefly back into the Playroom to be inserted into my thick black latex suit before returning to the Clinic for more routine maintenance checks.

Maggie sealed my head in the white zip fronted latex mask and that’s how I stayed for the majority of my White Room workout. Mistress teasingly mentioned that this part of training would be followed with a little something that I had apparently requested in my previous blog!  I am increasingly wary about any comments I make in my blog as they have that wonderful habit of resurfacing once Mistress reads them.

Maggie clearly knows the effect the hood has on this slave, I love it for its snugness, comfort and its versatility. However, on the down side I can only gaze on at my Mistress through the little perforations, never getting a complete view of my owner. It must present a funny sight for Mistress, having my head go left and right, up and down in an attempt to see her moving around me. Perhaps that amusement is why Mistress likes this wonderful hood on her slave? No doubt, at some stage in the future, Mistress will just zip me up and leave me permanently in the dark.
As proved by being remiss with my shaving, Maggie said I could not be relied on to clean myself and would need to show me how a thorough cleaning is done - insides first. Mistress was stirring something in a jug which turned out to be a warm soap enema concoction, I was told to turn on my side to receive it and one litre was sent in to clean out my colon and held in place with an inflatable bung.

Next, my bladder was to be cleaned and Maggie completed a full sterile catheter procedure to drain my bladder of its contents, which were soon filling up a bag on the couch between my legs. She covered me with a latex sheet and gave me one of her wonderful smiles. . .’Don’t think I’ve finished with you yet slave, your lung function is to be tested as well’. . . and Maggie set off again to tidy all the medical waste from the Clinic.

I was unsure what a lung function test would comprise of, but now I had been filled and plugged and drained and clamped, the final part of my overhaul in the Clinic had arrived and it wouldn’t be long before I found out. Mistress produced a rebreather bag and gas mask and this time made sure I was able to appreciate the full extent of the apparatus by both explaining what it was and slowly displaying it to me through my little perforations until she was satisfied that I was fully aware of what was about to happen. I was to have the air inlet valve closed for 1 minute. The mask was fitted and time to inhale deeply. 1, 2, 3,

. . . 58, 59 and 60 and not a second longer. Mistress opened the valve and I took a large lungful of fresh air, heavily scented with latex as it passed through the opened rebreather valve. Maggie appeared pleased with the result, I was definitely pleased that I had passed and that I hadn't panicked; always trust your Mistress.

With the testing finished it was on to my special request. Intrigued as to what treat lay in-store, Maggie carefully guided me from the couch, allowed me a few moments to adjust to the catheter and severely inflated butt plug that was still sealing in the soapy solution, then ushered me back into the Playroom. Ah! that’s what my surprise was to be - a nice restful period in the rubber bondage sack that was now hanging limply from the ceiling ring in the centre of the room.

Maggie soon had me secured in it, with its straitjacket straps keeping my arms from flapping about and, once Mistress had manoeuvred me onto the latex bed, receiving a set of straps across my legs to keep them immobile as well.

I am owned by a truly wonderful Mistress. To have read my blog and decided that she would give her slave a special treat by leaving me to relax in latex bondage.

I must admit though, that whilst laying there thinking about my recent blogs I could not recall having eulogised about such a fantasy. Yet I must have done because Mistress is always right, or perhaps she knows her property well and knows which buttons to press and which straps to tighten?

Frequently I misread my Mistresses intentions. All this luxury, the warmth radiating through the layers of thick latex, the gentle touch as my Mistress stroked my latex enclosed head; still wearing that nice white latex hood now zipped closed, were only the precursor to the treat Mistress had planned for her slave. She leant forward and said. ’You wished for this in your previous blog’.

I felt the centre zip of the bondage sack slowly being opened and Mistress set to work on the real purpose of all this preparation and the fulfilment of my wish. It struck me what was about to happen as I heard that distinct sound of tape being removed from a roll, and moments later felt that tape being attached round cock and balls. It turns out that Mistress had read the following words in the last blog :-

Careful placement of more tape resulted in a complete cocoon, and you will notice that the binding was made to integrate my catheter into the homogeneous blob which was once my Mistresses cock and balls.

I can't begin to say how both exciting and frustrating it felt as Mistress straddled and stroked my stump still wearing that luxurious latex outfit. One thing is certain, even with her cock and balls severely bandaged, I am still a red blooded slave and still haven't yet learnt that I must control myself no matter what. When my genitals were finally untaped, it certainly was a relief that Mistress had already removed all the hairs round her property.

And finally, a word of caution to anyone wishing to vent a very soapy enema. After I had been extracted from my bondage and layers of latex, I was sent to the bathroom to sort out my full soapy bowels. I made the mistake of deflating the plug and attempting to remove the bulb without relieving the pressure that had built up. It would have been far more sensible to unplug the central tube first and let the pressure out in a more controlled manner, rather than a Hiroshima style explosion! - Consequently, Mistress Maggie had me spend quite a while thoroughly cleaning and disinfecting the results!

Big Red, Big One, Big Ride

As occasionally happens to commemorate special occasions, Mistress Maggie had planned something special, and we would enjoy a day out in Blackpool. I had finally and irreparably been declared 'old' by the state, having reached my 65th year and one of the last pensioners to receive my pension at sixty five. We were to take a thrill ride on the Big One, enjoy the spectacular views over the bay for about two seconds before plunging almost to death down that first, terrifying and very steep drop, take in some of the local attractions, perhaps another ride or two and end with a feast and perhaps, if I was lucky, a celebratory cake. It certainly sounded a wonderful way to celebrate with a day out with two friends.

It sounds idyllic so far, but those of you who know my Mistress or have followed this diary know that her slaves enjoyment could not possibly be restricted to these 'normal' pastimes. The day started almost normally. I stripped off and stood in front of my owner, as naked as the day I was born and set about some serious boot worship. Mistress said she had promised to whip me and whip me she would, meanwhile I was to continue with my boot worship while she raised and wielded her floggers' many tails. I couldn't recall having done anything to warrant such an onslaught but knew to accept a reddened arse without complaints because Maggie is in charge and owns the property rights.

It turns out that I had attempted to help others join my Mistress in slavery (part of my promise to my Mistress), by directing a gentleman into Maggie's tender care without realising he was across the North Sea and not readily able to travel. But, apparently he can e-mail and after what must have been a friendly exchange with Maggie she had promised him that I would receive a good thrashing for my stupidity. That is why I was now ass up infront of Mistress feeling her whip. I shall not dwell on the trials and tribulations of helping lost souls . . .

The last time I came along for my session, Maggie had successfully fitted my new butt plug, Big Red, but it had slipped out again very soon after. Maggie said that Big Red needed more help at becoming properly seated in my arsehole and would be taking the trip to Blackpool inside me. I was fitted with a very tight belt and crotch strap that would hopefully keep Big Red in place for the big rides later on. With the straps dangling Mistress led me to the White Room, where I was introduced to the newly acquired medical couch that Mistress had so proudly taken delivery of only a few days before.

Reclining and strapped down on the new couch I was  given a demonstration of a few of its magical abilities. Three buttons and electric motors everywhere, but despite all the bells and whistles I could detect a note of sadness in Mistresses voice towards the old couch that had served her well over the previous five years. But onwards and upwards and I had the first ride of the day. Click - tilt backwards click, forwards. Click - up and down. Click - recline. It was certainly versatile and would help my owner to position her slaves accurately for whatever activities were to happen but I must admit, I too had a tinge of nostalgia for the old faithful black and white couch, ousted by the all singing all dancing grey interloper. I thought for a moment this may be a sign of things to come for this old, well worn but faithful slave. Anyway, the leather crotch strap was tightened and Big Red held firm. We shouldn't have any trouble with its escape.

All was well during the drive to our destination. Big Red stayed under control, my outer casuals hiding the fact I had a huge plug securely strapped in place. That didn't last long. The next 'drive' was oh so very different; very hilly, the car and passengers all over the place, very tight corners, speeds that would make your hair curl, and all having the effect of giving Big Red a thrilling ride round my bum hole until I was finally able to get my feet back on firm ground.

As we disembarked our carriages I could feel movement down below and had to rush or rather waddle to the nearest toilets, before my Big Red friend made its way down my trouser leg and smiled at some innocent passer by. With all the roller coasting movement on the Big One, the centre strap had moved sufficiently to allow Big Red to escape. Well it had taken a hair raising, death defying ride to dislodge the butt plug and I was reasonably satisfied that my bum could accommodate BR in 'normal' circumstances.

Flushed with adrenalin from the Big One ride, I agreed to my owners suggestion that a sail in Valhalla was an excellent 'follow up' adventure. Mind you, I agree to everything my Mistress suggests; that is just the way of the world. Nor had she forgotten to bring along her retractable whip for punishing anyone who fails to comply. Signs do warn you that you may get wet, so not being dressed in our latex today we all invested in plastic ponchos. What a rip off, two quid for a large plastic bag. I did my best to get into mine, it makes a change from Mistress inserting me in one, although certainly not as rewarding or for that matter as water tight!

Off we sailed taking in some very hot, windy and wet moments as the ride progressed. All was almost dry until the first major waterfall. I was sat with Maggie and the deluge cascaded over both our plastic covered heads. Maggie still dry, me very wet. That didn't last long either. By the end of the ride we were all very wet indeed, although despite John being in the front seat, he came out the dryest. It was a good job it was a warm day as we all dried quickly as we spun through the air on the Space Ships ride!

Anyway, by this time, I was in need of a drink and Mistress had that covered too. I must have mentioned that Mistress is meticulous in her planning? Well, diving into her trusty handbag, which by now was rather damp having been waterlogged on Valhalla, she brought out a drinking cup. Judging by the pale golden hue of the contents, it was either diluted orange or something far more tasty. I sipped slowly and wondered what our fellow travellers would have made of three friends casually enjoying themselves with one drinking his owners pee whilst wearing my slave collar. The collar had already attracted a few surreptitious glances but I suspect the pee pot went unnoticed.

All I know was, on this very warm day, it was cool, very refreshing and tasting of my Mistress. I was at that stage very happy and very relaxed. On the way back to Chambers, we stopped at a chippy and ate a hearty plate of fish, chips mushy peas etc, chatted away and by then I was somewhat relieved that BR had escaped. I was still aware of the tight harness under my civilian clothes, the crotch strap was a little looser but nevertheless acted as a constant reminder as to who owned me.

Back in The Clinic there were two final surprises that Mistress had planned for her slave. The first was birthday candles to celebrate the special day. If I am honest, I didn't expect my balls to be the cake but there again, Mistress always has a flair for the unusual.

I received my second ride on the electric gynae chair, accompanied by a suitable amount of aromas to help ease any pain as seven or eight needles were inserted in my 'cake'. Thank goodness it wasn't one for each year! Maggie had already tightened my cock and balls to what I assumed was the bondage board, her cord ties keeping my throbbing organ securely where she wanted it. Not too tight but enough to keep it on the straight and narrow. I could feel some other strange sensations but couldn't see what was happening, but I did hear the click click of a lighter and tensed as I got a whiff of fresh candle wax, burning fresh candle wax!

I thought now might be a good time to beg for more medicine, to take more deep breaths of aroma and to try to keep very still. There is only so long that you can fend off the inevitable and eventually I was feeling the hot wax dribbling across my hot balls. Mistress kept me moaning for several minutes and was really enjoying the celebrations. Blowing out the candles she commented on how she was happy to be burning my balls, but making them burn low enough to set light to her plastic equipment was taking things a bit too far.

Laying flat and with little visibility of my burning cake other than the lashing flames, I was curious how Mistress had managed to attach the candles without me feeling any discomfort. It turns out she had specially shaped each candle base so that it would fit into the end of the medical grade needles. I told you, Mistress thinks of everything. A water bucket had also been strategically placed near the burning candles 'just in case'.

Speaking of forward planning, I see from the photos that The bondage board had been discreetly covered in surgical tape just where any wax run off may have spilled, so as to minimise damage to its surface. I wish she had done that with my cock and balls!

And so to the second surprise. A second ride of the day on another big one. Mistress donned her larger dildo and proceeded to mount her slave with the biggest thing I have ever had stuffed up my bum. The motors were put into operation; click - tilt, click up, click down went the chair, until Maggie had the right angle of attack. Finally the big one slid home providing her slave with yet another wild and thrilling pleasure trip.

Removing her large used dildo, Mistress announced that she needed the toilet and instructed me to await her return. Not difficult as I was strapped and shackled to the new chair, but not for long. On her return I was instructed onto my knees and use my tongue to make sure her arsehole was clean. More use of the electric motors as Mistress knelt on the chair to produce a no nonsense angle for her arse licking slave, and even though I say so myself, I did a really good job and enjoyed the task immensely. Perhaps there is a use for this older model slave in this new world after all?

I would like to thank both Mistress Maggie and her husband, John, for their kindness in taking me out for one helluva memorable birthday present.