Not at all What I Expected!

The unusually unambiguous comments that Mistress Maggie sent to me in her calling mail had me thinking that something strange was about to happen.

What liberties a captor takes changing the shape of her captive prey.
As she makes you smell her essence, her medicine and latex presence
You must not move, just await your fate, as she finds which parts she can inflate.

The guidance in the call up mail is usually non-specific and leaves a great deal to my imagination. I usually spend the next 24 hours trying to second guess what delights my owner may have in store, but this appeared quite clear; a good dose of latex, strict and immovable bondage, aromas, a spot of bum licking (I am getting most accomplished at this most enjoyable of pastimes) and my balls to be saline inflated; I know Mistress has a penchant for occasionally enjoying her slave with huge balls so that was settled and I would be spending some time secured in the Clinic. It couldn’t be that obvious could it?

No! Things took a bizarre twist when I rang Mistress to confirm arrangements, an hour before our session time as I always do. It must be fate because I usually text, but for some reason I had to use the land-line and imagine my confusion when Mistress said she had three instructions for when I arrive:

1) Ring the doorbell
2) Remove and store my glasses
3) Turn away from the door and observe the street.

After having had 23 hours with a good idea as to what was about to happen, this curved ball really got me. At the door I did as instructed, standing nonchalantly I watched the passing traffic. A moment later I heard the door open and my collar was yanked violently backwards and I was forced face against the front porch and promptly hooded. My head was starting to spin, assisted by a liberal application of aromas from a gloved hand and I was dragged upstairs. I wasn’t even told to remove my footwear, and all the while what felt like a Taser* was forced under my chin. I know my Mistress is very capable of delivering a shock but this treatment was uncharacteristically rough and I did have a real worry that she would use the shocking implement.

I remained compliant and very docile, dropping my trousers when ordered. The gate to the cell was unlocked, I was pushed inside and told to sit down on the awaiting chair, whilst the Taser* went downwards towards my exposed balls. Sitting was a little difficult, because strapped in the centre of the wooden chair seat was a huge black dildo, placed exactly where my by now naked bum should go.

It took a few awkward attempts but eventually I was fixed firmly to the chair and I must admit that I was starting to warm to my dominant captor. I really will have to practice that same manoeuvre at home; getting my own butt plug inserted. Perhaps sticking it to the closed toilet seat might work?

Her interrogation technique was quite simple. Confuse with apparently disjointed questions, threaten the subject with the Taser and elicit the information.

‘Last time you did not know how to carry a tray and was sloppy with cleaning . . . not normal for a regular slave . . . must be working under a false identity . . . are you really Mistress Maggie's slave? . . . name slave?’

This last question should have been a simple answer but I didn’t appear to give the answer that she wanted.

‘Slave. . . jo. . . jo nep. . . Mistress Maggie’s slave . . .  ’. I even tried the birth name that my parents had given me, but to no avail.

‘OK, so you do not even know your name. Do you have any distinguishing marks?’

Ah, I was quite certain now that I could prove that I was my Mistresses property and mentioned my guiche.

Focusing on this revelation my captor discouraged further contradictions or 'lies' by securing a scarf round my mouth and ordered me out of the cage. I was told to assume a position whereby I was to kneel on the carpet, bum still naked and my trousers still round my ankles for further investigation and interrogation. The further investigation was a bit of an understatement and the further interrogation, verbally at least, was somewhat restricted by the tight knotted gag.

I may not have been able to see but I was fairly certain that it was my owner investigating the distinguishing features around my bum. Not satisfied that she had all the evidence despite a good fondle of the guiche, she applied copious quantities of lube to my bum and in went her hand to feel around for additional ID. After that I was mounted there and then; head on carpet, arse in the air and in with the strap-on phallus. Yes that is definitely my owner and I was finally able to relax a little.

My captor however was still unconvinced by my slave identity and required more persuasion. She insisted that any genuine slave of Maggie’s would not mind being kept as a latex prisoner, to confirm the truth I would be subsequently clothed in tight head to toe latex with all my senses at her disposal.

By now, the mid European accent was fading to the music that is my Mistress’s voice. Kneeling up I was ordered to remove my jeans and the other clothes that were tangled around my ankles, and the latex T-shirt that I am sometimes able to wear for arriving at the Chambers. At last I was finally able to clearly see my Mistress clad in her wonderful gold latex catsuit as I was instructed to remove the black interrogation hood. I was to wear my plum coloured latex suit and it really is a wonderful experience to be helped inside a tight catsuit by a stunningly attractive owner and to be cleaned and polished once done. It is my belief that every slave should be allowed this marvellous experience at least once.

Having already sat on the butt plug and gladly accepted the strap-on, my vacant orifice was very willing to accept its next visitor in the shape of an electric anal stimulator. By now I was so well lubed that the plug needed zipping in to keep the little bugger in place, which happily seemed to work.

Although normality was returning to my training, I was still disoriented. As my eyes began focusing properly again I glanced at my Mistresses boots, which so far I had not been instructed to honour, and I noticed the Plank leant against the wall waiting to be assembled. What was reassuring were the pillows that Maggie had temporarily attached to the Plank for her slaves comfort. On the more sinister side, this probably meant a lengthy immobilisation, but if that was the case how could I reconcile my earlier thoughts that my balls were likely to be inflated in the Clinic? I gave up trying to overthink the issues and let myself go totally under my owners spell.

I soon found out how I could square the circle. Mistress was going to attach me to the Plank and do the infusion to my scrotum in the Playroom. Just to be sure that I was actually Maggie's rubber slave, she decided to fit the Tusker mask. It is comfortable and only served to reinforce my earlier thoughts that I was in for a long Planking.

Firstly a good ball buttering. Not to be confused with a ball battering, the buttering is a most pleasant experience as Maggie applied cocoa butter to the scrotum to help flexibility and hopefully its ability to expand to take the waiting cargo. Meticulous precautions were taken as always, to first create then maintain the sterile environment necessary for the operation. I was supplied with more doses of her aromatic medicine, then I was warned not move as Maggie leaned forward to insert her needle into my ball sac and only then did she nonchalantly advise ‘500ml of saline today slave’. Even though I say so myself, this was going to be a ‘routine’ filling of my sac as I have previously received far more fluid. I remained still and enjoyed the occasional glimpse and feel by my Mistress as she checked her balls to make sure they were filling nicely.

Unfortunately, I lost the vision of my Golden goddess with the application of the eye shades to the Tusker mask. I was left totally blind and almost deaf to contemplate my fate as decreed by my owner. A quick pat of the balls and a barely audible 'See you later slave' and that was my life. I have absolutely no concept of the time I remained in that position. I did hear the door open, the last drops of 500ml infusion must have trickled home because I sensed that the needle was being removed followed by a gentle fondling of the balls, and the door closed and silence again.

I focused on thoughts of my Mistress and every now and then the e-stim circulating through my cock and balls created a hard erection. I concentrated on the erection which brought me quickly and clearly back to a vision of the most beautiful person I know and there was nothing else worth thinking about. I even had several ‘forbidden’ thoughts about my owner and all the while the constant pulsing of the anal electrode was working its insidious magic. I thought I had the impression of the door opening again but no sound. Did I hear the click of the camera? Was my Mistress with her slave again? I had no thoughts of anything apart from Mistress Maggie and how I could better serve her.

After the unexpected approach of my Russian interrogator, and her gradual transformation back to my wonderful owner, the final return to 'normality' was Mistress graciously granting me the benefits of some of her warm, fresh nectar. Even that had a unexpected twist, the Tusker with its integrated drinking tube provided an easy way of delivery, Mistress filled an enema bag with her golden nectar, allowing gravity to direct it down the tube and into my eager mouth. With that first glorious taste I knew I had my Mistress back 100% without any foreign influences. That final drink was so well received, but I must work on my ability to accept and swallow a continuous stream of piss rather than Mistress using the tap to regulate my intake. Or perhaps that is how Maggie likes the situation? Even in something so simple as a humble drink, she remains in total charge.

And the end results? I had been kidnapped at the door, incarcerated on a dildo strapped to a chair, drugged and interrogated, had a good rogering with pants round my ankles, roped to the Plank, balls filled with saline, senses obliterated, electro stimulated, illicit thoughts about my owner . . . Not at all what I expected, but as far as training goes it has left me even more under my owners spell and with . . .

*The Taser turned out to be a plastic replica of a Walther PPK. Ah! Shaken not stirred Mr slave!

Nippling Day

Perhaps today will go down in history as the start of a new tradition. Mistress Maggie had accumulated quite a few negative comments about the recent poor performance of my nipples, and today she would be pulling out all the stops to rectify the matter. In fact, when I had completed my normal homage to the immaculate white platform boots that covered her legs, kneeling to attention with arms behind awaiting my slave orders, Mistress presented me with a written notice of her intentions.

There was a drawback to that however, as without my glasses I had no chance of reading the notice and had to ask Mistress to narrate its contents. Suffice is to say it pointed out, in particular, the shortcomings that were evident during our last session, while the fact that I had to beg for the recitation only added to my owners displeasure.

Mistress took a little time deciding which of my latex suits I should wear for her. I have previously mentioned that I’d obtained a thinner, tighter catsuit, but Mistress had doubts about the zip openings being large enough to insert her strap-on, or even my trusty butt plug from some angles. Only one way to check the dimensions, squeeze me in and try it out. Unfortunately it’s impossible for me to get into the catsuit on my own, but I am fortunate that Maggie likes to help dress me in latex, her guiding and smoothing hands feel simply delightful and she soon had me encased in its smooth black skin.

And so Nippling Day started. First of all I was ordered to place the low bench in centre stage of the Playroom and lie down on it, making sure I had my head nice and comfortable on the latex pillow provided. It all sounds so gentile and refined, but really it was just lining up my body for Act 1.

Mistress said that because she wanted a good hard cock for her play I wouldn’t be receiving any poppers infusions, yet in order to make my nipples meet her desired standards some robust speed training was needed, and as it was likely to be uncomfortable I would have to be subdued by other methods. Initial disappointment soon gave way to a deep smile as Maggie straddled my face in her clear latex clad tights and her bottom descended onto my face. It may have subdued my breathing and repeat performances made me positively breathless, but it certainly didn't subdue other parts. Top that with a change of orientation and Maggie’s marvellous chest came into very close proximity with my hooded face, then moving in closer my features disappeared into her cleavage. That breathtaking smothering also did nothing to subdue those parts away from my nose and mouth.

The nipple zips opened and quite a lot of talc was rubbed onto each nipple. We discovered that the nipple zips on the new suit were slightly narrower than we are used to, making the application of the white little bastards Maggie had chosen, quite awkward. It took three goes to get the nipples exposed and nipped properly, worse for my nipples because with each try Maggie grabbed them and pinched them before clamping them between the nippers teeth. Once instated I wore them for a while as Maggie kindly rested her latex bottom on my face to distract me from the pain. By the time Maggie decided to knock my nipple training up a notch, my nipples were already feeling somewhat abused and sore and when the clover clamps were successfully attached I was starting to feel quite sorry for my predicament!

Now I was un-roped and standing up with the clover clamps dangling, my disappointing nipples felt like they were being really tested. I thought Maggie was being most mischievous when she suggested I clean up my dribbles from the upholstered bench, the nippling I had received had worked up a sweat which had managed to seep out through my crotch zip. I had to scrub it thoroughly and scrub it repeatedly while Maggie began acclimatising my nipples to carrying weights. The first two small ones were tolerable but she kept gradually adding more, in the meantime I was to continue scrubbing . . . ‘Come on slave. Scrub harder!’. . . scrub, scrub, scrub, all the time the bloody weights were swinging away on my nipples and worse, I had to really concentrate to make sure they didn't drop off again (clamps not nipples). Finally the upholstery was deemed clean enough and I was instructed to put the bench back where it belonged.

For a brief moment I thought I was about to receive a little kindness. Mistress suggested I could rest the weights on the high horse, letting it take their weight. Jumping at the opportunity was a definite no no, that would have been far too painful a stunt to perform. Slow and careful was a much better option, and even then I managed to accidentally knock them against the horse, but once the weights were resting, oh what a relief. I was allowed to rest for a few minutes before Maggie latched a lead on my collar and instructed me to stand up straight and take a walk with her. A couple of circuits round the playroom following my Mistress on a close leash then told to rest the weights again, and so it went on. Rest them, stand up again and the pain was worse after the rest.

I am certain my owner knew that would happen!

Act 2 started well, or at least I thought so. Out came the ‘serving’ tray that I had proudly worn last time I served Mistresses friends. Unfortunately, this time, my owner had decided that my nipples would form an integral part of this scene and obviously her serving tray should be supported from my nipple chain, not loosely either. Maggie adjusted the chains so that when I stood up straight the chains pulled on the nipples and any extra weight that Maggie laughingly applied just added pain onto my existing discomfort. I am certain there was real joy in her voice as she sent me off to the bathroom to refill her drinking glass 'And mind you don't damage any more of my furniture’. I took it slowly making steady progress through the doorways and returned very carefully clutching the glass of water. I presented it to my Mistress only to be reprimanded. 'Slave, what is the tray for?' Sometimes I can't do anything right.

'Fetch the weights from the White Room, slave’. Off I trotted, finding two sets of weights on the windowsill I decided to take both back because if I only took one set it was bound to be the wrong one. It was excruciating but I placed both sets on the tray for the journey back to the Playroom. With hindsight, possibly one set may have been better for my nipples as with that mischievous laugh Mistress hung both pairs from the tray chains and had me move round to get used to the pressure of the heavier weights. 'Well you must have wanted all the weights as you brought them.'

Act 3 was to be played out in the Clinic. Strapped down so securely so as to make movement and resistance impossible, Mistress said she was going to re-apply the clamps that had so ignominiously fallen off last time and which then became the prime mover for this nipple torture day. First of all though we tested out the appropriateness of the rear zip. We needn't have been concerned, when opened to its maximum the zip allowed easy insertion of my trusty plug. I think we were both pleased and it does mean my owner has two black costume options for me; heavy weight or lighter and tighter.

Of course, I couldn't see the nipple clamps being used but could certainly feel their application onto my already sensitive little buds. Each one was being tightened in turn and then some fiddling; a sensation as if something was being attached and I had the uneasy feeling that the 'something' were wires. Never mind, I had other more pulling demands to concentrate on as I felt other sensations happening below. Mistress was stretching my ball sac and then applying some tight clamp. With that wicked laugh I could feel my balls being pulled away from my body and becoming a lot tighter. Despite all the other excitement of Act 3 this stretching was superb, and when additional weight was added to the ball stretching it was very pleasurable to say the least; another comment I may have been wiser not to include in the blog!

As I lay there taking in the rubber smell from the anaesthetic mask that Maggie had quietly applied, I could hear Mistress relieving herself in the plastic jug, I heard the contents being poured out and anticipated I may be drip fed her nectar through my mask and tube, as my owner frequently supplies such treats. However, nothing so thirst quenching today, her liquids had been dispensed into a bubble bottle and I was left burbling away as the electrics were pulsing away.

Yes, I can confirm that Mistresses wooden clamps held really firm, the nipple fiddling was in fact wires and that my sensitive nipples were subjected to a good prolonged jolt of pulsing electrical stimulation, a sensation that I could only have imagined without Maggie’s nipple stretching intervention. Meanwhile my balls were being increasingly stretched at the other end. As Mistress announced that she was switching her estim up to number 9, Act 3 had a big spurt of drama, I just couldn’t control myself any longer, embarrassing myself by cumming there and then. Another strange phenomena occurred at level 9, with my balls now emptied one of them managed to escape the clutches of the stretcher, earning me the name of ‘One Ball Jo’.

There was one more act to perform before the curtain finally came down. After I had been cleaned up and de-wired Mistress Maggie wanted some of her own fun and knelt in the recently vacated spot on the couch with her wonderful butt right in front of my eyes, I was directed towards it and told to clean her little bud, and clean and lick I did. Perhaps the detail to the Nippling Day finale is better left untold. But I can say that I attempt a very good job of arse licking and I think Maggie was actually enjoying this end to another exciting session and I have to say, my Mistress has the most perfect bottom that I have ever had the pleasure to lick.

Perhaps the last Friday in October will go down in the calendar as the day for sorting out errant nipples, perhaps we should call it Nippling Day? I will let you know if Friday 26th October 2018 is designated for a repeat performance of that ancient tradition of Nippling a slave, providing my owner hasn't fired her slave by then.

Friday the 13th!

Today dispelled any antipathy towards Friday 13th by turning out, yet again, to be an excellent day for my training with Mistress Maggie. Maggie looked striking in her black latex catsuit, her heels were so high that she must have been a whole four inches taller than I am used to and she was able to look me straight in the eye as she ushered me in.

We started with the worship of those deliciously tall boots and for the first time I was blindfolded for the task. My whole body and soul concentrated on long slow licks and kisses to the right boot, where some dusting powder had been spilled and I’d been instructed to put the matter right.

After licking off all the powder I was to help Maggie change her boots for something easier to dance in. Maggie said that last week she’d had such a great time dancing and flogging me to the music that she wanted a repeat performance. Once again I was rubbered up in my black catsuit and given a gas mask with the aroma hose so I could puff vapour when required. This led to another sensuously liberating flogging accompanied by some sexy tracks on Maggie's music machine. No shackles this time, just free movement and swinging my ass to the rhythmic thwacks that Mistress delivered to my back and buttocks, the tails of her whip catching my balls and anywhere else Maggie wanted.

Today, I also experienced probably the deepest and most penetrating mounting ever. Again I was allowed to self medicate the strong aromas whilst face down over the mounting horse. Without any restraints I was in a position to glimpse my stunning owner in the Playroom mirror and I watched as Maggie strapped on a large white dildo. Being a little apprehensive about its size I did what any self respecting pervert would do; I allowed myself a few extra puffs to help relax the passage for the impending invasion. The flash of shiny black rubber completely covering my owner contrasting against her beautiful face and huge dildo did nothing to steady my erection, while Maggie parading the monster under the round glass portals of my gas mask only served to exacerbate my anxiety and. . . another puff was called for.

Mistress spent a delightful length of time stroking her lubricant onto her toy. There was no resistance as Mistress gently eased it inside me and set my arse rattling with vibrations, that was a surprise and the first of a few thrills this white monster had to offer. I was really enjoying dancing on this dildo and as I thrust back to meet my Mistress I felt the urge to either pee or cum. Strange, I just couldn't tell which. The phallus was so deeply embedded it may well have been tickling my bladder, or Maggie had just hit my special spot. Of course the only way to be certain is to wear a catheter whilst being mounted. Hmm - I suspect I shouldn't have written that!

Today, after my exceptional rear-ending, my own butt plug slid in remarkably easily and there it stayed, securely zipped inside my heavy weight rubber suit as my arms were forced into leather arm binders, secured behind and I was prepared for a series of treats and tortures. Mistress bagged her slave, literally, as the clear latex sack that Mistress calls her ‘suffo bag’ was teased over my head and tied in place. There must have been air getting in somewhere round the neckband, because although it’s a challenging hood I found that with concentrated slow breathing I didn't suffocate; that really would have been confirmation that Friday 13th should be avoided! Instead, I could just see through the golden haze as Mistress floated, ghostlike, in front, dispensing my next puff of aroma. An aroma soaked pad was introduced under the neck tie and I managed a few really good lungfuls before Mistress removed her hand and resealed my fate. She moved her fingers across my rubber face, stroking my lips and looking through the latex bag as if offering me a kiss, I know a slave should not expect such a pleasure and when I tried my best to reciprocate it was to no avail. Mistress moved backwards leaving me un-kissed and very frustrated.

My bondage predicament was tended to next, becoming more strict as ropes were fixed between my harness and the stout ceiling ring, then Maggie pulled as hard as she could to secure me to the Playroom. I was loving the restraints and I had one hell of an erection by now which had Maggie amused and even more amused when she produced the black rubber apron and tied it round my waist. I couldn’t imagine why I might need an apron, being in such a tied up position it would be hard to do any jobs, but I was quickly re-assured. Maggie patted my cock and balls, ‘to preserve your modesty slave’. Red rag to a bull. She knows I am a rubber fetishist and all that did was increase the size of my now hidden cock.

Today, no problems with the red rebreather hood, probably because my owner had removed my inner helmet. When we tried six weeks ago Maggie had been disappointed with my rebreathing performance and we had proved that using the red rebreather and inner hood is not practical and my breath control training had to be postponed. It was a big relief then, that when I took a deep breath and exhaled the hood ballooned exactly as it should. The rebreather can be rather a dilemma for a slave, especially when Mistress rather provocatively showed off her superb latex covered bottom in front of me, as you have brief limited vision only when exhaling. What a way to worship those beautiful black orbs, in very restricted view for far less then half your life and my hands secured behind to prevent them straying. Mistress knows I love to caress her buttocks; blindfolded, rebreather or any way I can manage, but that was not going to happen either.

Maggie tightened the body harness and securing ropes a little more and I wasn't going anywhere, unlike my earlier taste of freedom when I was over the horse. A cool sensation passed over my chest as Maggie opened my zips and exposed my nipples to the playroom air. She pinched and pulled them hard before deciding to get rid of the sweat that had accumulated on them by drying them off with towel and talc. ‘That will give these clamps a better grip’ she announced. I did manage a small glimpse of the clamps through my breathing holes; large black things, and I was soon taking very deep breaths through my rebreather as Maggie started to screw one of her evil clamps on my left nipple. From where I was kneeling (on knee pads by the way) the nipple was receiving a very tight grip indeed, until the clamp dropped off. ‘OK slave, lets try that again!’

Obviously I could no longer self medicate and I asked Mistress if there was any way to receive a little more dosage. Maggie produced a cotton pad again with a little more aroma and held it just in front of my half dozen rebreather holes. Ah! Worked a treat, I received a heady dose of the strong scent as the clamp was being screwed in place again. It was at this point that I realised I had probably requested one too many puffs of the potent product and, despite being held in a tight grip by one nipple and certainly most firmly by the ropes, I felt myself swaying and perhaps just a little out of control.

Today, I took one puff too many and Mistress, ever vigilant to her slaves condition, recognised the issue before I did. I had been stupid and over eager with my medication and Maggie carefully and calmly removed the red rebreather. I looked forward at my Mistresses glorious all black rear that was so tantalisingly close to my freed face, and I leaned forward in the hope of stealing a closer look at that most glorious of profiles - that's when it really hit me. As I moved forward the strength in my thighs gave way and I sagged into the rope restraints. I was never in any danger, my owner had her property secured. The spreader bar was removed which freed up my arms and legs, she administered oxygen to me from the Playroom emergency bottle before loosening the suspension ropes and gently guided me onto my side. Recovery was swift and within moments I was keen to resume my training, but Maggie insisted I take a little longer to ensure my full recovery.

As I lay there recovering, Mistress was jotting down a few notes about the electro nipple clamps she had attempted to apply on my 'useless nipples’. I suspect those clamps were not used to their full potential today and I have this uneasy feeling that the notes she made will surface for our next session.

Today was a marvellous Friday the 13th. Once the waft of oxygen had fully regenerated my senses, my ankles were bound and my wrists roped up behind me. Maggie then removed my sight once more. This time no immediate breath play, just blinded as Maggie strung me up to the ceiling ring in a noose, then began pulling on her rope to apply some constriction.

They say the concept of hanging induces orgasm, but I think that in this instance it was more to do with Mistress fondling my cock and balls through the chlorinated rubber apron while threatening to throttle me harder if I didn’t cum. As it was I couldn't see but I could certainly feel the knot tighten on a couple of occasions as Maggie encouraged relief. Then all of a sudden my hood was removed and I was presented with the wonderfully mysterious sight of my owner, but not my owner. A figure in a Pierrot mask and black rubber gown had taken her place and had been deciding my fate. Little had I known that I had been hitched to the roof and seductively massaged by a soulless executioner. I tried to gaze into those unfathomable eyes and I tried to steal a kiss. The eyes were black with so much depth and the lips were solid and lifeless. Now that is something surreal for Friday 13th.

Today, I have tried an alternate approach to my blog presentation and formatting but there is no alternative to Mistress Maggie as far as I am concerned. In the words of the song, Simply the Best and as for Friday 13th, bring on the next one. I'll be here.

Never Again

Today ended the most unhappy period in my slave existence. September ranks as one of the worst months ever as I was only able to enjoy minimal contact with my owner, Mistress Maggie. A series of one off blockers: holidays, work commitments etc, all conspired to prevent me from arranging any session time resulting in a six week break in my servitude. What's more, my six year anniversary of being accepted into Mistresses Chambers happened in September and I was not able to celebrate that momentous event. Do I hear violins playing or tugging at your heart strings perhaps, or is it that I shouldn't have been so stupid to allow this congestion to build up?

Well, I am really pleased to say that the drought is over and not just with the odd few drops of pleasure but a veritable tropical downpour. Strangely enough, all the first session nerves were there as I approached the Chambers, but as soon as the front door swung gently back to reveal that most stunning and beautiful vision of Mistress in her latex, all my angst vanished. Yes we still had two world leaders contemplating nuclear war, yes we had just experienced the worst massacre in American history, and yes, Teresa had almost lost her voice at conference and been less fortunate in not losing Boris; all that vanished and I felt safe. I nervously handed over the two dozen roses I had chosen as an 'I've really missed you' statement and all the external woes went. Mistress hadn't forgotten her loyal slave and all was right with the world.

Mistress promised she had some 'undisclosed' entertainment planned and I was sent to the Bathroom to put my latex socks and gloves on, when I returned I was asked to present the 'used' panties Mistress had kindly loaned me to help me through sad September and I placed my new ribbed butt-plug on the dresser, where it merrily wobbled awaiting insertion. I was delighted that on very close inspection, the panties passed muster for their laundering; a distinct upbeat start to a wonderful month considering my last poor laundry efforts, and I was back in heaven. Mistress was wearing her long red boots that take a lot of worshipping. Long, slow licks, foot to thigh, repeating all the way round from toe to heel. Unusually, halfway through Mistress opened her thighs and ordered me to sit between them, with my neck in the gap between those rather gorgeous nylon covered limbs.

I never imagined that such beautiful legs could exert such pressure around the neck of a slave, as firstly she clamped her thighs tightly around it, then proceeded to press her gloved hands tightly over my mouth and nose. I relaxed my head back into her lap and sat there happy, breathless and becoming quite horny. Quite a start to my reintroduction to slave discipline.

One good thing that happened in September was the delivery of my new black latex catsuit, a thinner and more stretchy one than my heavyweight suit, but also a lot tighter. We spent quite a while coaxing me into it but once on it felt so good and different than my other latex suits, and as Mistress rubbed me down I detected a smile on her beautiful lips and it felt even better!

One short-coming with the suit design is the shorter back zip opening and Mistress didn't find it as easy to fully expose her slaves backside for the butt-plug. Not too inconvenient though, Maggie did insert ‘big red’ but only after another consequence of sad September was overcome. Through lack of use, my bum required larger doses of effort and lube, plus a lot of patience on Maggie's part before we were happy that the plug had finally reseated itself in its natural environment. Another reason for 'never again'.

Ok. Snugly plugged and rubbered to Maggie's satisfaction, the Tusk Mask that had been leering from the back of the Throne was offered for fitting. The last time this wonderful creation received face time was as a prototype and Mistress has gone on to make several improvements to it, now it was ready for me to try again. Grasp the drinking tube firmly between teeth, brace your head and. . . one, two, three, Maggie has the mask snugly fitting. And there it was, a tight gas mask, two long tusks and a very happy and contented slave, complete with modifications (mask not slave!)

Maggie and her bursting bladder were desperate to thoroughly test the functionality of the masks mouth tube feature, she had slipped on her rubber piss pants and was connecting herself to my mouth with a blue control valve. Whether Mistress was teasing or it was a genuine oversight I do not know, but when Mistress instructed 'suck slave' I sucked and puffed and puffed and sucked and. . . nothing. A guttural, sexy laugh from Maggie followed by her checking both taps resulted in a steady stream being sucked through the straw and over my frustrated taste buds. It didn’t take long for me to find a successful technique for using the feeding tube and achieve a good flow by not sucking too hard, otherwise it sat nicely in the roof of my mouth when not in use.

I knelt gazing through the tusks' small, circular windows at the reservoir between Maggie's legs, first slowly emptying then filling up again as the next consignment of nectar arrived. 'Drink it all slave. Slowly!' And as I did I was allowed to snuggle against her red booted thighs and revel in my hood being gently stroked by its owner.

The next modification to the Tusker Mask Prototype 1, was the addition of removable blanking plugs for the tusks themselves, so Maggie can decide exactly how much of her air you are allowed. On this occasion, one blanking plug was left in place, but the second tusk had a gasmask hose attached to it for aroma breathing; a stunning piece of equipment designed and created by Mistresses' very talented husband, John. This special hose allows self delivery of aromas. A quick pump or two of the bulb to make sure the aromas were being delivered and Maggie was ready to move on to something she enjoys; flogging a slave.

Mistress shackled me to the cage with my wrists in iron manacles, and holding the bulb for when I needed the calming effects of the strong aroma I was told to stick my arse out for a flogging. ‘I am not going to beat you hard’ said Maggie, before picking up her whip and turning the next thirty minutes into a most sensual flogging experience.

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

Whether it was the huge relief of being back with my Mistress or the upbeat Michael Jackson tracks playing in the background, the fact that I had waltzed with my Mistress after my catsuit dressing, had had my belly filled with her nectar, perhaps it was the intoxicating puffs of aromas or probably a combination of all the above, but as Maggie started with her floggers I was so deep in 'the zone' I was feeling more euphoric with each thwack. All I wanted to do was gyrate my bum and offer it up to Mistress and her whip. I was dancing with the music, or should I say moving my bum to the beat and shuffling the feet, as dancing is not something I’m famous for, while thinking how lucky I was to have such a perfect owner wanting to flog her slave. This has got to be one of the best floggings that Mistress has ever given to me in all my six years. I was slightly sad when it had to end and I was instructed to follow her to the White Room.

Any sadness was short lived as Mistress expertly fixed me to the couch and deployed a catheter. Maggie has become a real expert, competent and confident with her catheterisation and allows some of her natural humour to emerge during the operation. That is not to say she is any less careful and clinically correct, but she can now joke about the cool gel injected down my cock, the contents of her catheter kit, or even about not knowing how to store her catheter goodies now that supermarkets charge for their plastic carrier bags! When she first started doing catheters three or so years ago she concentrated on the mechanics of 'doing it right', whereas now she instinctively knows.

I was soon draining nicely, once again gazing at my stunning Mistress as she smiled at yet another 100% successful operation. We talked a while until Mistress decided I was talking far too much and needed a ball gag. That kept me quiet until most of my pee had drained into the cath bag.

Admittedly I was talking, but in my defence it had been a long and sad September without any personal contact with Mistress and I was still excited by all that had already happened in the Chambers today, but I was happy to lay back and take in all the beauties of the Clinic, well, my Mistress really, as she busied herself tidying the sterile bags and other one-off equipment that she uses.

With the catheter drain bag attached, the easiest way to prepare me for moving was to take her trusty pair of scissors and cut away the opaque plastic drape which had served as a very effective sterile operating area during the procedure. Shame really but Maggie does not reuse such items. Always the professional and the totally correct Mistress, that's another reason why I will always return. Then tightly clutching my catheter bag Maggie led me back to the Playroom. ’Careful. You're in trouble if you dislodge the tube, slave!'

The heavy leather sleep sack was brought down from its hanger and laid out under the overhead gantry, while I was confined to the corner holding my piss-bag and looking on at the industry being displayed by Maggie. The zip at the rear of the bag was eased open. Interesting I thought as my rear was currently full with my butt plug. A fact that was short lived however, as Mistress then invited me to bend over and she swapped the incumbent for an inflatable vibrating number. A quick test assured her I was vibrating nicely and I was told to squeeze myself inside the bodybag. Arms into the internal sheaths, a wriggle to get the most comfortable position, all my tubes and plumbing had been successfully brought through to the outside of the bag and Maggie zipped, tight-laced and strapped me in there. Boy was I snug and secure and definitely had no say as to where I was going.

Heavy chains were deployed to help Mistress with the daunting task of hoisting up her 17 stone slave, one pulley at a time until I was suspended at a good height. An amusing discovery fleetingly crept in as Mistress first raised one end of the frame and then the other: I could tell which end was higher by the direction the sweat was trickling up or down my calves, a bit like a spirit level and most appropriate for such a spiritual occasion.

I laid and swayed, occasionally feeling Mistress adjusting my catheter bag or playing with the butt-plug controls, Maggie’s welcome pumps of aroma had me drifting away inside the rubber tusk mask, because by now self medication was obviously a long way in the past, and I was in heaven; totally controlled by my owner.

It was time for Maggie to put her slave into total hibernation and by fitting a blindfold the last vestiges of visual contact were eliminated. I could still hear but only in a muffled way through my rubber headgear, and so I was left for a while as Mistress declared she was tired and needed a drink. I must admit that the mention of a drink gave me the urge as well, I sucked on the feeding tube, but nothing. So I simply contemplated my fate.

After an indeterminate period of long-term bondage resulting in heavenly isolation, and trying unsuccessfully to get the bum vibrator to bring me to climax, I noticed that Mistress was present again. It was my moving mouth tube that gave her away and I was finally allowed something to drink. Not quite the same vintage as my earlier drink, but it was wet and very well received.

It was only later, when we were clearing away after the session that my Mistress informed me that she had decided to have me recycle the contents of my drain bag; I knew that somehow it didn't taste quite the same. The prospect of being encouraged to recycle my own fluids was quite bizarre and I’m strangely delighted that once again I was able to fulfil my promise to my owner; obey immediately and without question. This acceptance is another step forward in my future purpose, to do whatever Mistress requires.

Once my tusk mask was removed I was treated to a final drink straight from the source. Willingly accepted of course, well how can a slave resist such fresh, warm and tasty champagne?  Mistress squatted over my eager mouth and released the remnants of her now empty bladder, and not a drop spilt. This was one helluva session and despite the old adage that absence makes the heart grow stronger - which it certainly did, I will never again willingly go through another 6 weeks of self inflicted isolation between serving sessions with Mistress Maggie.

Never again.

(I) Like Watching Paint Dry

I had almost completed the cleaning and worshipping duties of Mistress Maggie's black court shoes, the slender ones where, with a surreptitious movement of the tongue I can just tickle her instep, when she announced that we must move on due to a tight timetable today. This in itself was unusual because Mistress is normally incredibly generous with her session time, in fact if British Rail ran to similar relaxed timetables, it would be in a right pickle. But I always obey my owner, so putting my tongue away I quickly knelt to attention at her feet, bare naked apart from my red socks and gloves.

I could only imagine what Maggie had in store for me, as usual she had kept me in a puzzled state of suspense. Other than instructing me to bring my red latex kit bag to session and warning me that it may be necessary to open a window today, I’d been given no real clues in her calling mail. Maggie asked me to lean forward so she could hood me, and once again on went the easy to wear, black, full rubber hood that I had spent so much happy time in during the previous session. The contents of my red kit bag were laid out and lightly talced for ease of dressing, my bum was stuffed with a big red butt plug and Maggie zipped me into my tight fitting red catsuit. Why red? All will become clear.

We relocated into the White room where Maggie strapped me to the couch; secure but not tight. For a moment I thought my cock and balls would be subjected to some of Mistress’ devious punishments, because she was unzipping my genital area making sure I was fully exposed, but to my surprise she announced I would be receiving a shave. Before I knew it Maggie had assembled her stainless steel operators tray at the foot of the couch, donned a plastic apron and was wielding her razor.

Strange I thought, as I had already paid a lot of attention to my depilation, because I have learned that missing a few stray pubes can result in one helluva justified chastisement. It is a most sensual experience, lying there with your owner expertly lathering up your cock and balls with soap and water, then gently working her disposable razor round both shaft and balls.

I was pleased that Mistress hadn’t detected any omissions in my shaving, but she did reaffirm that I needed to be absolutely hair free, and finishing with the razor she continued to rub me dry with a towel and gave my cock and balls a liberal dosing with talcum powder. The area was then deemed as prepared, apart from a little light lotion which Maggie carefully smoothed over the dried, shaved, talc'd area.

Now it all started to fit; why the red suit, why the thorough shave, dry and oil, and even why in the calling mail Mistress indicated she may need to open the window. That bit had me really mystified, until Maggie brought out a plastic bottle and started mixing liquid latex; red liquid latex, although sitting there in the bottle it did definitely look pink!

Liquid latex technology appears to have improved since I tried latexing the inside of a pair of old jeans many, many years ago and long before I was privileged to meet my Mistress. At that time it did smell quite pungent but now, as Maggie mixed the chemicals we could not detect any notably bad odours so the window in the Clinic remained shut. Now it was my turn to wear a plastic apron, but unlike Maggie’s mine had a hole in the middle for my shaved area to poke through, rather appropriate really, as my cock looked like a poker after all the attention it had received.

Maggie decided to paint the underside of my balls first and in order to get a good hands-free view a little cock support was needed. A clamp and a length of rope held my cock to my collar, which did a fine job of keeping everything in place while she painted on the latex and used her hair-dryer to help it set, you get an odd feeling as the liquid latex begins shrinking and adhering to your skin. Maggie mentioned she had tried the liquid latex on her arm, hence why the thorough shave. ‘You will appreciate the shave I’ve done for you when we come to rip the latex off you later’.

This was why the tight timetable. Not to finish earlier, but to apply and dry many thin layers of the latex on and around my cock and balls. After each application came a blow with the Playroom hair dryer until the sticky substance had dried, changing from the pink to a final red colour. As a safety precaution Maggie fitted a condom over the tip of my cock to avoid any bad reactions. The painting continued; a thin coat followed by a good warm blow, working all the time around and over the condom until Maggie was satisfied with her artistry and her latex paint was used up. She performed a touch test on her finely painted masterpiece and said that it required a good blowing to dry it completely. Yes, Mistress then finished me off, well almost literally, with a prolonged blow job. . . from the hair dryer!

After that the liquid latex was allowed some natural drying time. Ahh - I was just happy laying there watching my Mistress float about in her latex, nicely snug and secure, latex covered and waiting for the paint to dry. I liked the quiet. However, Mistress wasn't too happy about waiting with nothing to entertain her and had devised a few interesting distractions for her slave. For instance, I could use the time to improve my breath control and out came the red rebreather helmet that I have easily worn on a few occasions, in fact Maggie commented that due to the masks limited air holes I would only be able to see her as I breathed out and the hood was in its expanded state.

That was a comment I had made myself a long time ago in another blog, it shows that my owner does know her slave, but what hadn't been anticipated was the interaction between the latex hood that was now becoming a permanent and welcome accessory and the red latex of the rebreather. Try as I might I couldn't get the bag to inflate, when it did the two hoods clung together and I was really struggling.

Whizzing the hood off quickly Mistress abandoned the experiment and went off muttering something about incompetent slaves, but she soon returned again waving a small item for my attention, and sounding unfazed she placed it on my face. 'A nice, used pair of my panties for you slave'. That in itself was fine; essence of Maggie is always a turn on, but not content with a little gusset sniffing Mistress produced a large plastic bag, eased it over my head and making sure the panties were appropriately placed she pulled the bag down over my shoulders. Because of my position on the couch, it produced a very effective seal around my shoulders and I was left thinking about fragrant panties, gazing at my wonderful owner through the bag and slowly starting to gasp for air. Well! That certainly took my mind off the drying latex.

A close glance at the photo shows the excellent results of a red sheathed latex cock and balls. A brilliant result for the inaugural painting and I do like acting as my owners Guinea Pig. You can see the only bit of my skin that was left exposed to the Clinic air. The photo gives an excellent study of my guiche and the red jewels that keep it securely in place. Yes red jewels.

Maggie hadn’t quite finished with my cock and balls yet and when she fetched her scissors I became quite concerned. 'I need to chop off the end', she announced. After all her hard and patient work, would it all end with Mistress chopping off my end?

I gulped. My thoughts rolled back to the castration I narrowly avoided recently and I wondered if the red latex was to camouflage any blood. . . I really shouldn't worry about Mistresses cock and balls so much. Maggie’s plans for my latex covered member only involved chopping the end off the condom. Once snipped, Mistress delighted in producing a couple of Rosebud sounds and gently inserting them deeply down my cock.

I am fairly certain Mistress would have fitted several more, I have easily accommodated 4 or 5 in the past, however, I had to be honest with my owner and announced that I was close to cumming. Not yet. After a couple of flicks to really rattle my libido the sounds were just as gently removed, leaving me frustrated yet relieved that I had managed to control myself. Only just though.

I still have a long way to go with controlling my natural urges, or perhaps I am exactly at the stage my Mistress wants. She controls my breathing, my hearing, all my bodily functions are in her hands including the ability to make me ejaculate. I think she was happy with what we had achieved and we adjourned back to the Playroom. As I mentioned, Mistress was on a tight schedule watching the paint dry and some things she had wished for today would need to wait until another day. In the meantime, me and my by now very red hot poker were sent to bed in the Playroom for a little more ‘watching paint dry time’.

Mistress chose to double hood me, a red rubber gas mask was added to augment my breathing, then spread-eagled on the bed I was left to contemplate how fortunate I am to have my Mistress as my owner. You can see the results of my contemplations. I have a huge red erection and no relief.

As I lay there, frustrated and rasping through the gas mask Mistress added a further layer to my frustrations by tucking me under the black latex bed sheet. Maggie teased me for a few moments and moved her hands over the latex layers and I spontaneously combusted. ‘Way too premature slave’, said Mistress, but I simply couldn't help it. Without direct stimulation Mistress had manipulated my senses to such a degree that I just came.

Lost in that post-orgasm euphoria, listening to the gentle music playing in the background, I lay there in the dark, until Maggie pulled back the top of the sheet. I could see her swaying seductively to the music and I do believe she too was enjoying the moment.

All good sessions must come to an end and as usual I offered to stay around and help with the tidying up. Quite a lot of sweaty latex had accumulated during the session that all needed washing and hanging to dry.

In the midst of all the cleaning Maggie said she desperately needed the toilet and quickly dashed to the loo, but as is her excellent bladder control she stopped mid flow, realising that she need not use the toilet when her eager slave is on hand to drink it, she called me over and ordered me on to my back on the bathroom floor, where she carefully squatted just above my mouth and told me not to spill any. ‘Absolutely Ma’am, instruction understood Ma’am’. Quite a finale to watching the paint dry and I know Mistress Maggie was well pleased with her slave, consuming her urine and not spilling one drop.