Nuts to Needlework

It’s not very often that I have to admit total defeat as to the meaning and intentions behind my calling notice, but for my training session today with Mistress Maggie I was at a loss.

'. . . Mistress is back in a smooth rubber mood and is in need of a lab rat. Usually I would say, ‘Oh, you’ll do’, but I am in need of a particular kind of lab rat. You will be given the predicament of demonstrating your suitability and will need to dance to stand a chance . . .'

I could understand and appreciate the first bit. Even to this stupid slave it was obvious Maggie would be taunting me in one of her latex outfits, many designed and created 'in house' and therefore unique. So far so good. Lab rat: Where could that be going? As for me dancing? I have two left feet and a brain that only functions to Maggie's tune. As I said, I was at a loss.

Enough guesswork, down to the reality of how the session progressed. Mistress was indeed dressed in black latex, tight pants and even tighter black latex top, with just enough of the upper parts of her superb breasts visible, yet with sufficient modesty to keep me salivating. Oh well, at this stage I was still in the dark and could only dream . . .  My first instruction was to engage in preparatory work and worship Maggie’s red boots, all the way up and down, up and down, my tongue accidentally licking the red latex gloves Mistress was wearing as it passed over her knee. Thwack across the backside with the cane and a light hearted warning from Maggie to concentrate on the task I had been given. Worship gave way to the installation of anal toys, I assumed the required position, ass up with my head touching the carpet. I used to worry about Mistress having to struggle to get anything up my arse, but today the fitting went easily and smoothly. Mistress pushed a new toy; a string of anal beads inside me, four hard round orbs roughly the circumference of my own plug, connected together on a semi-rigid string ensuring that they could be teased in, one orb at a time. Maggie laughed as they disappeared and laughed as she pulled each one out from deep up my colon, then in went my butt-plug to be told that was the last time it would see daylight until the end of the session. Oh well, nothing else up there then.

After fitting me into my heavy rubber catsuit came the sensual de-talcing clean, then the first major session surprise. Maggie, in her most sexy voice, told me that my scrotum was going to be stretched and that it was essential that she give me a massage before going any further. I raised an eyebrow and smiled that unknowing grin of 'what?’, Maggie raised an eyebrow and smiled that knowing grin of 'you'll find out', and massage I received. If the rest was to be like this I was in heaven.

I lay restrained spreadeagled on the bondage bed, with only my cock and balls protruding through a small gap in my zip. Mistress eased herself into the V between my legs and dipped her hand into a pot of cocoa butter saying that the butter was good for stretching balls and scrotum's. That massage was heavenly, but with the sinister words about stretching my bollocks still whispering in my ears it stopped all too quickly, and a final rubber oxballs band was applied around my smooth stretched ball sack. 'That's to stop them chaffing’. The implications of those chilling words started to cool my ardour somewhat, and I was still none the wiser about the words in Maggie’s call up mail.

Another unfamiliar piece of equipment was unveiled; a strong leather muzzle. Maggie took her time tightening each strap in turn until it became part of my face and lower jaw. I could still gaze relatively unhindered at my Mistress as she reached over for a length of Playroom rope and passed it through the crown. I was then bent forward with head on carpet, allowing Maggie free but unseen access to my dangling cock and balls. I just crouched there knowing I would do whatever Mistress wanted with little point worrying about what was to come. The room humbler was presented to my limited field of vision before Maggie disappeared behind me, sat between my outstretched legs and fitted the humbler in the traditional position. 

I was still in the dark as Maggie looped the head rope through the ceiling ring and attached the other end to the humbler. All that butter and only this amount of stretching? I suspected something else was to come, but still not sure what it may be. Maggie gave me instruction. ’Rotate clockwise - two turns’. So I did, sliding easily on the rug and dancing a twirl on all fours. A quick photo stop and 'Rotate right and keep going’. It then dawned on me that the more I rotated, the more twisted the suspension ropes became and the tighter the strangle hold on my nuts. With slaps of encouragement from a crop, I went round and round. A stop for more photos and to tidy the dishevelled rug which had become so twisted I was stumbling all over it. ‘More twisting slave. Clockwise round and round please’.

I got to the stage where I was sure my knees momentarily left the ground, which meant all my lower weight would be through my balls and humbler. Now I knew what the predicament in the calling notice meant . . . Keep rotating and stretch my own scrotum.

Maggie instructed me to keep spinning and laughed at the angle of my cock as she took another photo. She said that my dancing needed perfecting and that my version of ‘Twisting the Night Away' required much more twisting. So I did, until eventually I had to stop twisting because I was totally tangled in the twisted rug. Maggie knew I had stretched my balls and was reaching my limit. With the upwards pressure, the muzzle had worked its way from under my chin and now made a most effective blindfold. I was left for a couple of moments and was able to test just how much more I could take. The balls were certainly stretched but the butter and oxballs had done their job and my balls were still attached.

'Right slave. Anti-clockwise please’. I started unwinding far too eagerly and very quickly became dizzy, but I was too well tethered to stand any chance of falling over. Maggie understood the dilemma and relaxed the ropes to allow me freedom without further dancing. With the dancing finished half the calling notice had become clear, but why the lab-rat reference? That too would become all too clear as I was led shakily to the White Room clinic and told to sit on the steps. Mistress unzipped the by now, absolutely wringing wet helmet replacing it with a comfortable and dry gas mask. I sat quietly on the steps and gazed at Mistress as she gently towelled my face dry, applied a little talc to chin and cheeks with an 'eyes shut slave' command as she pulled the tight rubber mask over my head. I was told to make sure it was comfortable for long-term use as there would be no removal until the operation was complete. Operation! That's all I could think of as I lay back on the couch with the white straps securing me in place.

Maggie explained that I was to have surgery and asked if I had ever received stitches. 'Not that I can remember Mistress'. After Maggie once more confirmed that I was happy to continue she mentioned ‘It’s a shame that you never had stitches, you won't have the pleasure of remembering how horribly painful they are . . .  another first then . . .  without anaesthetic as well . . .  spread out like a lab rat for the operation’. At least I was to be allowed a little aroma to help me relax in preparation for my op; a long rubber hose was produced and screwed onto the front of my gas mask, connecting me to the gas stations’ aroma system. Through the limited vision of the gas-mask I was just able to see Mistress preparing a hypodermic. A little squirt to prime the needle and then Maggie disappeared from sight and a moment later asked if I was still all right to continue? Affirmative and then 'just a little prick now'. I wasn't sure if that was reference to my cock and balls or the fact that within a second, I felt the needle enter my cock just below the top and I actually felt the contents being injected inside the foreskin. A really strange feeling and not unpleasant as the liquid spread out inside. *See Footnote* At that point I was at peace knowing that I was receiving exactly what I wanted. Total and absolute control and ownership by Mistress Maggie; free to do to her lab-rat whatever she wished, knowing that I was at a point where I would consent to anything.

Another formality as Maggie again sought authority to continue. Not necessary, but Maggie wanted me to be sure. My cock and particularly my pre-stretched scrotum were through the red rubber operating sheet and the aroma dispenser neatly tucked under its flap. The time had come. Maggie arranged some instruments on her trolley and I was told to keep still as she took her suture pack, extracted the needle and in went the first stitch. Maggie's first stitch as well on a real live lab rat. She purred that she had practised on synthetic flesh on numerous occasions, but now felt ready to practise her stitches on a real life lab-rat and perfect her techniques. I would have thanked her for choosing me, but the very sharp prick as the curved needle entered my scrotum somewhat took my breath away.

It was a while before Maggie was satisfied with her first stitch, her motions accompanied with mutterings about '. . . next time I'll use a white sheet . . .   can't see the suture against a red background. . .  now where’s the other end gone. . .'  I just lay there concentrating on her instructions to keep my cock flaccid. Normally when Mistress says that and handles my balls, I find it really difficult to keep it under control, but today no such problem. Perhaps it was the contents of the hypo?  *See Footnote* Was it some form of muscle relaxant? or was it just the enormity of my operation that prevented an erection?

After the first stitch, the second was much easier for Maggie. Still a little slow for an accomplished seamstress but altogether more effective, the stitch completed without any sign of frustration from Maggie. The third went in easier still, and the disturbing thing from my perspective was that I think Maggie was starting to enjoy her needlework. A little song floating out from somewhere out of sight, followed by another pump of the aroma and a cheery 'you alright up there?' The sutures were sufficient for three large stitches and Maggie wasn't prepared to stop there - she had got the lab-rat sewing bug! How could I say no as she patted my balls and asked if I was ready for another three? Retrieving a second sterile suture pack from the store cupboard, Maggie made short work of the next three stitches; in fact, the last one was in and out so quickly that I asked where the second part of the stitch was, only to be told in a rather pleased sounding voice 'all done’.

I wasn't sure exactly what had been stitched to where, and it wasn't until I saw the pictures that I realised why my scrotum needed to be stretched and tenderised. I had totally lost my ball-sack and most of my penis had been stitched inside the scrotum. No wonder Maggie was laughing as she posed for the final pictures.

What a transformation in Mistress Maggie. I detected a note of pride in her voice as she described her needlework and even detected a note of satisfaction with her lab-rat for allowing her to perfect her sewing skills on a real live rat. What next. 'Shall I leave the stitches in? That should stop you playing with yourself. . .  Mistress relented, carefully cutting and removing each of the six stitches in turn and placed them on a tray, saying once again 'Next time I'll use a bloody white pvc sheet!' Next time! Oh well such is the life of a lab rat and now the calling notice made complete sense.

OK, what did it feel like to have my scrotum sewed? No more irritation than when I had 26 needles stuck down the length of my shaft. In fact there were far less insertions although one or two made me jump. The occasional brief sharp prick as the curved needle encountered a little more resistance from a tough bit of scrotum but nothing more. The act of drawing the thread through the stitch was totally painless; the nylon slipping easily through, following the needle easily and smoothly. I had the sensation that my scrotal sack was becoming much tighter. I laughed at my own predicament as Maggie mused that her artistry looked like a mole or a rat and was relieved when she refrained from tattooing a nose and eyes on the end of my foreskin just to make it look more rat-like. I was absolutely delighted that Maggie was happy with her handy work and relieved that Maggie did relent and remove the sutures.

Would I go through it again? Absolutely. If Mistress feels the need for more needlework or tapestry work, although Maggie has perfected her technique and certainly does not need further practise. Anyway, when I enter the chambers, I do become the property of Mistress Maggie, so what’s a little extra tapestry or needle work between Mistress and her slave?

And how did Maggie get the idea of sewing up my balls?  I was the architect for my own operation. Some time ago I had favoured a Flickr picture depicting exactly what Mistress produced with my balls; a photo of a gentleman with his ball sack sewn together. Maggie has a habit of producing what you wish for, so be warned, your wildest fantasies may well become your wildest reality.

________________

*Footnote* I had been chatting via e-mail with Mistress after the session just to clarify some of the minor details of  the session when this mail arrived from Mistress Maggie:

'...I sit here with the corners of my mouth more than slightly raised, as I found your report on the injection I gave you most enlightening, and I am guessing that you still have had no bad reaction to the jab. But then, why would you have any side effects resulting from the contents of an empty syringe? Those two little dots on your cock head show where the needle went in and where it came out at the other side. Any injection you had last Friday was a total figment of your warped lab-rat imagination, your devious Mistress just took you on a merry dance!...'

Don't you find it really strange what tricks your mind can be duped into playing on you when you are deep in the zone and completely under your Mistresses power? It also seems that Mistress controls my mind as well as all my body when I arrive in the chambers.

Perhaps it means I am becoming a better slave?

Post Election Blues

The day after the general election and four parties have all received a caning, resulting in three leaders resigning and one very sore arse. I was that fourth party and I received my good caning in the Playroom polling station from my returning officer Mistress Maggie for poor performances during my erection campaign. My previous blog describes how I committed errors that I knew would not go unpunished. That was to be part of today's agenda.

I was allowed a most pleasurable amount of shoe and foot worship, although as you might expect I was not allowed anywhere near the see-through plastic pants, or skimpy champagne coloured latex top that Mistress was wearing. It didn't stop me looking as I licked a long slow tongue up Maggie's insteps, around the leather straps, around her slim ankles and kissed each of the 8 toes in turn. No, Maggie has ten toes but two were hidden by the shoes. I was also given the opportunity to repair some of last sessions damage by being encouraged to re-state my promise. Again, kneeling between Maggie's thighs, I looked deeply into her eyes and correctly this time, stated my oath to my Mistress. That was a major milestone indeed and a weight off my mind.

As night follows day, retribution followed my Mistress worship. Maggie produced a short breathing tube and began to wrap my head with the small roll of clingfilm. Enough to seal the breathing tube in place as my only source of air, yet leaving my vision unimpaired. Strange how a thin, single layer of clear cling film can so effectively exclude all air yet leaves vision unhindered. Maggie had me straddle the whipping horse, tied my hands to the front rails and secured my midriff with a fluffy piece of rope. My latex shorts were eased from around my buttocks and my ass was then tight across the horse with my feet barely touching the carpet. Maggie explained that I would receive 12 strokes of the cane as an incentive to remember my slave oath. First, a little warm up, the bitter sweet approach where talcum is rubbed gently into my ass-cheeks followed by hand slaps then a hairbrush and finishing with a paddle, interspersed with the most gentlest talc massage. I dribbled quite a lot through that short mouthpiece as I struggled to remain calm for my Mistress.

Then to my amazement, Mistress untied me and ordered me to stand. Had my whimpers softened her heart? Was she not going to cane my already smarting backside? Not a chance, and deep down I knew it was a forlorn and fleeting hope. Maggie, like me, keeps her promises and with my pants down I had to bend over as far as I could ready for my 'encouragement'. Surprisingly, far enough to rest my knuckles on the carpet, (not bad for a fat, unfit 63 year old). That proved most fortunate as the twelve measured blows were slowly and precisely administered, each one rocking me forward onto those knuckles as I absorbed the pain of the cane.

1, 2, 3 . . . 11, 12 and . . . Oh shit! I forgot to thank Mistress for my corrective treatment, much to Maggie's annoyance. I received another 12 strokes in rapid sucession after which I was VERY quick to thank Mistress for teaching me a lesson.

Note to others: It’s all for your own good so be quick to thank Mistress for helping you. 

Mistress cut a large mouth hole in the cling film and once again I was instructed to repeat my slave oath. Despite my backside smarting from the 24 cane strokes, I was able to quietly and confidently repeat my promise, perfectly and without flaw. I was the proudest slave in the room when Maggie beamed her delightful smile and said 'What a good slave'.

As usual Maggie had me fetch my butt-plug, but much to my disappointment instead of sticking it in its correct location I was instructed to kiss it, demonstrate how much I loved it and quote my oath to my butt-plug. Mistress must have had a good laugh at her slave reciting an oath of allegiance to a dildo. I felt a right prick. Once done, I was to stick it, together with my shorts back into my kit bag. I much preferred the reaction from Mistress to my correct recitation. The plug just sat there quivering in my hands, most unimpressed.

Kneeling on the padded bench my smarting arse now received a little more pleasurable attention, from a new insertable electrode that Maggie wished to experiment with. (I love being a guinea pig for new devices and always offer my services to help other slaves. I feel good making the offer, however it is purely ceremonial as Maggie owns the real estate). A sperm shaped device that, like a rat up a drain-pipe, was up my backside in no time at all. Maggie ramped up the electrics on the sperm probe program to level 45 before any sensations were evident. My cock and balls were then wired up with electrodes, ready to be utilised conventionally alongside the anal connection that was now safely nestling up my bum. This was only a trial and once Maggie was satisfied that some signal was being received, we moved on.

Politicians weren't the only one to receive a good shafting on that day as Maggie temporarily removed the sperm electrode and rapidly rammed her strap-on into its very receptive home. I, unlike Nick, did enjoy my shafting despite still wearing my neat little clingfilm bonnet, or perhaps enhanced by wearing it? In any event, when Maggie had had enough enjoyment with her strap-on the tadpole was reinserted into its now enlarged home.

After all my hard work, a little quiet contemplation was called for and Mistress had already prepared the body bag by attaching it to the bondage bed. Off with the cling-film and I was eased into the soft plastic re-breather hood, my hands taped into plastic fist mitts, a latex ball stretcher keeping my balls hard, followed by the soft all over plastic suit that fits oh so nicely, with a suitable hole to allow the cables through - Mistress really does think of everything, and I was ready for incarceration. Mistress had me carefully lie down in the centre of the body bag, absolutely no way of running away now as my legs were zipped into a pair of leg splints, Maggie blew them up until it was impossible to bend my knees. An interesting experience to feel your legs becoming immobile. I don't know why but I assumed the leg splints were black. Afterwards I discovered they were actually zip on clear plastic. Strange how your mind assumes certain things when being so stimulated.

Mistress sealed me into the clear inner pouch then the black outer cover was pulled over and I was zipped inside. The last words I heard were, 'I could leave you in here forever and no one would know’. And yes she could and in that instant I didn't care. All I wanted to do was please my Mistress. The trouble is that plastic sticks to plastic, and in order to keep the two holes in my re-breather hood clear some compromises had to be made, after a short while enclosed in the bodybag Maggie unzipped one of the layers which allowed air around my mask, then it was back to darkness again for this incarcerated slave.

I was quite relieved by the brief respite but this is one of my Mistresses many strengths. She notices when her slaves are exhibiting unusual movements and grunts, treating them as signs of unplanned stress. The result was the few breaths of air then a little more solitary.

When I was next allowed to come up for air and the bag top opened, I saw the vague image of Maggie through my steamed up plastic hood, standing close by, open the top of her plastic pants and pour in copious quantities of lube. Not just a few drops. A long slow stream as it gradually covered the whole of her lower abdomen. That slipperiness was put to excellent use as I was straddled by Mistress and her well oiled bottom sat on my eager and waiting face. I tried to lick; difficult with the hood. I tried to kiss through the two layers of plastic; almost ineffective, so I lay back and enjoyed as Maggie slid about on my nose and face, controlling my breathing with those delightful thighs and cheeks.

Truly a memorable experience. My well oiled yet plastic protected Mistress so close yet so inaccessible. I just lay there, the occasional gasp as the two plastic layers created the perfect seal and watched but mainly listened to the highly erotic sound of Maggie having fun on my face. My sole reason for existence was to concentrate my nose and face on pleasing my Mistress. 

 A final bonus as I was released from my body-bag prison was allowed, involving the by then, very oily plastic pants as Maggie eased them down to just below her knees, sat legs open, on the centre of her throne and I was instructed to put my head inside and clean them. Clean, lick and kiss I did but not before glimpsing the image of Maggie's ring snuggled in amongst the other gleaming oil covered landscape that had so recently been covered by her pants. I only had a fleeting moment to gaze and admire that silver ring. That area is, of course, off limits and forbidden territory and it would have been incredibly rude and inappropriate, not to mention downright dangerous and stupid, to comment that I had been ogling Maggie's jewels, so I got to work with my head slip sliding away inside the still warm oil filled plastic pants. Although I know that ring was off limits, I did allow myself to dream of cleaning it for Maggie. I know, as a slave I shouldn't entertain such thoughts and I am sure they will be more under control as I continue to progress with my training, but I am only a red-blooded male slave after all.

As I came up for air and another quick peek at the silverware, I commented that the oil didn't taste like GTX but I couldn't quite place the flavour. Maggie laughed at my stupidity, that always makes me feel better, and with that tinkle in her voice said it was edible oil and she might treat me to strawberry or banana flavour next time. If there was a next time of course. I am just happy with Maggie’s flavoured oil.

Back to reality. I certainly could feel the warmth in my backside from the earlier caning and could have happily worn Maggie's oil filled pants to sooth and cool my sore arse. (Somehow I don't think they would fit but the thought did). I did allow a wry smile as Maggie pointed to the tip of the cane that had broken off during my 'encouragement'. It was a small victory but one that was very significant to me. Twenty four stripes in return for 1 broken cane. A modest gain in the face of overwhelming odds but more than some political parties received at the election.

Red Rubber Reflections

It is with some embarrassment that I have to report three indiscretions during today's training and will use this medium as a public apology to Mistress Maggie from me for allowing these mistakes and errors to creep into service to my Mistress.

Maggie greeted me in a black fishnet body, tightly pinched at the waist, with black latex stockings and rubber boots; the cut of the body framing her cheeks as I followed her up the stairs. Noticing that the seams around her buttocks were just a fraction short of symmetrical I was tempted to adjust the imbalance, fortunately I quickly refocused, remembered my place and kept my hands under control. I am so glad that I did, otherwise that would have been four, not three errors.

I was instructed to report to the Playroom wearing my black latex gloves and new black latex stockings, I was also required to wear my red lighter weight catsuit, best for the warmer weather we were experiencing, then Maggie fitted me with the hood from the system mask. On its own, the hood is really comfortable to wear for extended periods. Then my first error which involved my worship of Mistresses footwear, and my tongue control, or lack of it. Quite a natural mistake for a lifelong, simple, latex loving perv to make. On my knees, kissing, licking and worshipping the rubber footwear, I am easily mesmerised and it was difficult to differentiate between the boots and the latex stockings, and my tongue found its way into forbidden territory. I was fortunate that it only resulted in 'Boots only slave'.

Ordered into a kneeling position between Mistresses thighs, oh I do love that position, Maggie had an innocent look on her face. She looked straight into my eyes and asked me to repeat the oath I had made to her in the earlier days of my training. To my everlasting shame, I mumbled out what I thought was the wording and had to confess it wasn't quite right. Now Maggie was having fun at my expense and asked 'innocently' if I might like to have another go. Same sentiments came out but different wording. Mistress, smiling this time because she knew her slave was really squirming, suggested a third and yes you guessed, yet another different rendition again. I was embarrassed and humiliated at this my second mistake. I promised Mistress that I would attend to relearning my slave oath as soon as I got home. Maggie quietly laughed and nodded her agreement.

Things then started to get better from the mistakes perspective and if it wasn't for the third one, I may have got out of session without total humiliation. My butt plug slipped in easily; a testimony to Mistresses training and persistence working on my anus over the preceding months and that brought a smile at least to my cheeks after having already clocked up two errors.

We moved to the Clinic and once strapped down, Maggie consulted her schedule and proceeded to the more meaty parts of the session. Maggie said that my ass training would be moving up a notch and an unforgiving steel butt plug needed to be inserted. A ball gag was strapped on to stop any complaints while Maggie completed her operations. Out came my butt plug, to be replaced by a bi-polar shiny metal one. It plopped in place easily, helped by earlier stretching of my own plug. Being metal and quite a heavy plug, it needed something to keep it in otherwise, gravity and my own sphincter muscles would have it consigned to the floor. Maggie had anticipated the issue and produced a leather harness which she fastened up between my ass cheeks, then a short rope tightly tied between harness and the D-ring on my slave collar.

That worked a treat. As I stretched back onto the couch, the rope tightened against the harness, forcing the electrode to remain in its correct location. The ball-gag I was sporting was a real mouth filler and I could still feel the tightness in my jaw when writing this blog. Despite the size, I managed to accommodate the gag comfortably and it effectively silenced any moans resulting from the estim that followed. Maggie explained that she would be using program 2 at a manageable pulse level and directing the signal up my bum, and was most insistent that I controlled myself with a warning that ‘No climax allowed slave!’.

Maggie briefly left the clinic and returned wearing a plastic apron. More attention to the meat of the session saw Maggie expertly, painlessly and smoothly, first insert a sound into my now very erect cock. Once satisfied that the erection would not hinder the passage, proceeded with equal professionalism and care to deploy a balloon catheter, check that it was secured and clamped off and all in the twinkling of an eye and felt like a couple of seconds. Wow. Amazing! Maggie is an expert yet still maintains her rigid safety and cleanliness precautions by constantly referring to her own 'Sterile Procedures' from the Mistress Maggie Operations Manual. As the recipient, I was surprised when Maggie announced. 'There it's in. Back to the Playroom now'. I was just starting to enjoy the feeling of Mistress gently fondling my cock to ease the catheter in place. Oh well, I'm here to please Maggie not enjoy myself for too long periods.

Chained and cuffed on the Bondage chair and carefully positioned over the central hole, the strapped-in anal electrode was losing its signal. The movement getting off the Gynae couch, walking through to the Playroom and trying to shuffle into the right position had taken its toll. Despite knowing it was still in place, I had to confess to Maggie that the stimulation to my bum had faded. Up went the dial and still virtually no effect. I could have taken the cowards way out and over exaggerated the sensations but what's the point. I have promised to be honest to Mistress and in any event, when she did eventually find out, I would really experience her wrath.

Not a problem to Maggie, and determined to give her slave a nice shocking experience, she disconnected the wires to the anal electrode and placed two further ones round my cock. Now, those electrodes were most effective! Still Mistress insisted that I did not cum as she applied a rather different rhythm. Program 8 is a real pain in the penis, it builds up to a crescendo then abruptly stops. Builds up and stops. All the while I had to concentrate on stopping a climax. Maggie suggested thinking of the forthcoming erection, sorry perhaps she said election. That certainly focuses the thoughts away from excitement although there is a lot of cock and bull about.

Mistress zipped a gas mask with re-breather to the front of the system mask. I have tried this breathing setup before, but like before I had to admit defeat after a short while, so far my maximum seems to be about five minutes. The hood on its own is really comfortable for extended periods but when the front mask is zipped in place it compresses my cheek bones and they were really starting to ache. So Mistress Maggie removed the mask to be replaced with the trusty breathe through gag.

I was then treated to the amazingly sensual sight as Maggie prepared for ‘feeding time’, retrieved a measuring jug, opened the fishnet body and produced half a pot full of pee. There, straight in front of me as I sat chained to the chair. All I did was drool, looked goggle eyed and heard the magic sound as Mistress produced my drink. It didn't take long for the liquid to be decanted into the water bottle and hung from the waiting IV stand and then attach the tube from bottle to my feeding gag.

With another twinkle in her eyes, Maggie smiled and gave me the choice. ‘Nice warm drink or shall we increase the dial by 5 notches?’ I opted for the warm drink as, by that stage I was somewhat thirsty, and received a few pumps to ensure it was flowing right and that I was drinking happily and . . . the supply was turned off and the e-stim turned up those 5 notches. Hmmm. Some choice? I was left frustrated and thirsty for a while until the tap was reopened and after a few more pumps of encouragement I finished the lot. Mistresses pee had cooled considerably and a very pleasant cold refreshment was now passing down my feeding tube, that really hit the right spot. I was disappointed when I sucked up those final drops.

Next my head was transformed, off with the system mask and my head sealed inside two plastic bags. Mistress likes to watch me as I gasp for air and twisted the opening securely round my neck, no chance of extra air entering. Another tease as Mistress approached and eased her superb breasts from the teddy and offered them to my eager eyes with ‘Would you like a closer look slave, there will of course be a forfeit’. The perfect blindfold? But only if I agreed to increase the e-stim another five notches. No pain no gain. I couldn't really argue with that one, and there was so little air left in my bag now, just enough for me to plead a ‘yes please’. As I received my smothering and the electrics were notched up, again the strict instructions for 'no orgasm, or else!' This was getting somewhat frustrating to say the least. Oh well back to Cameron, Clegg, Milliband . . . in between gasps for air.

The magic of the inflatable plastic hood came next. I have benefited from it before and Maggie blew it up really hard this time. The pressure was almost enough to prevent me from opening my eyes. Only almost, as I gazed at Maggie re-attaching the drain bag to my catheter. The next option was a little more difficult to decide as the remnants of my bladder contents emptied into the bag.

This time the catheter drain bag was attached to my feeding pipe and the same mischievous offer. 'Drink or increase by 5 steps?. Your choice.' I was to drink my own pee. I have agreed to do whatever Maggie requires so I took Maggie's preferred option and opted to drink my own waste material. The lot, until the drain bag was completely drained. At least the e-stim stayed where it was, for now at least. It was strange yet pleasant, drinking her fluid that by now had passed through my system to emerge in my own drain bag, I gazed into her eyes and tried to convey my total acceptance of her as my owner. Actually the pee was quite palatable and Maggie encouraged me to drink it all, so I did.

Ah yes. My third misdemeanour in the trilogy of errors. I left my slave collar in the corner as we were cleaning up afterwards. Mistress has already let me know and I have yet to suffer the consequences of that lapse of memory. Altogether, I feel I let my Mistress down in some areas yet she still allows me to return for my essential training. I really am fortunate to have such an understanding and forgiving Mistress.

My oath? That is private between myself and my Mistress but it goes a little further than the House Rules that I think I have documented elsewhere on this blog.

Latex Asset Management

In every successful enterprise, time has to be regularly set aside to perform administrative tasks such as cleaning, record maintenance, health checks, setting acceptable performance standards, appraisals and the likes that help keep the organisation at the top of the tree. That time had arrived and the CEO, Mistress Maggie outlined that a full inventory of all the assets and liabilities owned by Playroom Inc would be undertaken, recorded and generally maintained as well as those activities that the best CEO's expect from their slave workers.

And so I arrived at Maggie's front door to be greeted by Mistress in her short see-through latex skirt and bra set that barely hides her skimpy red latex pants and superb figure, topped off with a nurses formal head dress and bottomed by a shiny and very long pair of white PVC boots that reach above the knee. I already knew that there was a lot to be cleaned and worshipped with those boots. Maggie hooked her finger through my collar and helped to guide me upstairs resulting in very close proximity to those very skimpy pants. I was determined I would help the audit and paid particular attention to the rear of my Mistress as she climbed, dragging her property behind.

Just when I thought I had finally mastered the opening ceremony, I was thrown another curved ball. Oh well it keeps me on my toes or more precisely, on my knees. I returned from the bathroom dressed in my short-sleeved black latex tee-shirt, matching shorts and knee length stockings and collar, knocked and entered expecting Mistress to be in her normal position, resting on the CEO's throne ready for me to clean those rather delicious looking thigh boots. Nope, not today. I was told to wear the room knee pads as I would be on my knees for lengthy periods. (Many CEO's expect their slaves to be on their knees in their presence!), the lead was attached and I was taken for a short walk, on all fours, round the Playroom and into The White Room where I was parked against the wall and told to 'stay'.

When instructed to come, not literally as that would have been inexcusable at that stage in the proceedings, I turned to be greeted by Mistress relaxing on the gynae chair, boots gently swinging over the edge and I was told to give them a really good clean. Another trait of an exceptional CEO is that they require their minions to be good boot-lickers. Oh boy was I a good licker. Long slow licks up one side then the same on the other, not forgetting to spend time on the soles and heels. With crop in hand to encourage proper cleaning, Mistress guided me to parts of the boots where she wasn't fully happy with my efforts. I was perfectly happy with this as I got to lick, clean and kiss a long way up Maggie's rather superb legs.

Tip: a lot of grovelling goes a long way when directed to the person in charge. On the other hand, be very careful that you don't overstep the mark and stray into areas reserved as the CEO's private space.

To encourage her slave, Maggie attached the nose lead to my septum. I volunteered to sort out the position of the clamp to ensure a firm connection with my nose. (Where would the best CEO's be without a team of very dedicated worker slaves to perform all these intricate tasks?) Anyway, take note, if you are too much of a creep and you do this job really well, you will be attached very firmly to the clamp and chain and will be led by the nose in whatever direction Mistress wanted. Sound familiar? being led by the nose by the Boss?

Take it from one who now knows, a correctly placed nose clamp can be excruciating when pulled and brings tears to your eyes. So don't get pulled if you can avoid it. Mistress kept the chain just tight enough to keep my tongue aligned with the top of her boots and my eyes focused on her thin red latex panties.

After a wonderfully long spell of Mistress worship, the nose clamp was thankfully unscrewed and I was given a mop and told to go to the bathroom, wet it and return after I had soaped the mop, presumably to finish the boot cleaning? Obedient worker slaves do as they are told and I am no different. Off I trotted, selected the antiseptic soap and returned with a big smile on my latex face; accomplished as ordered. That smile was very quickly removed as I was told to open wide and Mistress proceeded to clean out the inside of my mouth following its use as a boot cleaner. It has been a long time since I was threatened to 'wash your mouth out with soap and water'. The mop was actually a scrupulously clean hand mop of the type used to clean dishes and not the floor mop! I did suggest afterwards that Maggie might like to get some lemon scented/tasting soap. That didn't go down too well.

Moving down the 'to do' list, and the next task was record maintenance. Maggie needed to be lent on the couch in order to write the entries on her pro-forma. Every CEO has a pro-forma and clipboard, it goes with the territory.

While Mistress leaned over the couch with her bottom in the air and with her skirt raised, making notes and asking questions, I was instructed to look after one of the more valuable company assets, and to put my tongue to work licking Maggie’s ass-hole clean. Maggie asked the questions: Full name? Weight? Height? Sexual preferences? which I thought a little odd with my nose and tongue cleaning away so far up her asshole. I answered in between cleaning and I thought the CEO allowed herself a little self indulgence as there were absolutely loads of questions, some of the later ones appeared a little 'spur of the moment' whilst I was ordered to continue my ass licking and cleaning.

Even though I say so myself, I think I am now an accomplished ass-licker although I must admit none of my previous bosses took it quite so literally.  Perhaps a little more self indulgence by Maggie? Mistress secured the facial dildo across my mouth, adjusted herself on the couch, removed the thin red line and . . . well er . . . lets just say that my CEO showed me a hole that needed fixing.

Asset health checks were next on the agenda and Maggie undertook the routine procedures to ensure her slave was up to scratch; thermometer, stethoscope, blood pressure, ball squeezing etc and once satisfied that I had been looking after her property externally I was to receive an internal examination. Not a simple finger in the bum hole but a full blown rectal probe.

To help with ease of entry, Mistress gave me several long whiffs of one of the variety of inhalers that I have previously requested and used. 'Deep breaths' were whispered into my ear and I complied. Long deep inhalation with Maggie administering via the halothane inhalation mask that frequently appears to be set up in the White Room. I could feel the warmth as Maggie lent over to secure the mask. A warm hearted CEO. That must be a first, but then again this particular CEO introduces her slave to new experiences all the time.

Speaking of warm hearted, despite the fact I was in my 'spring rubber' I was still generating a lot of heat inside and the drawback of wearing rubber shorts is that the sweat has an easy route down the leg and onto the floor. This provided a timely warning to other slaves if you are wearing latex socks in the Clinic. Sweat on the floor can make it slippery. The CEO is aware of this but you have the corporate Health and Safety responsibility as well.

To replace these fluids, Mistress firstly took a drink of cool water and dribbled it straight into my mouth followed by Mistresses own contribution of a little spittle. Then as an added bonus, produced a funnel full of pee and allowed me to drink it through the attached tube and teat. This was obviously an unplanned treat for one of her workers as normally Maggie is drinking all through session to top up her own fluid levels. Full marks to Mistresses innovation as it would be impossible for me to take the fluid normally being strapped to the couch.

Once the inhaler had time to work and loosen my anal muscles, Mistress proceeded to give me a most pleasant and prolonged internal examination. First I felt her glove slide in opening me up and making way for the purple strap on, the one with the slightly upturned end, for greater sensitivity. The final part of the asset check; to ensure Maggie’s cock and balls were functioning correctly. Some firm HOM (hand over mouth) smothering, a promise from Mistress that her hand will stay there until I perform, plus a little product manipulation and . . . Yes her cock and balls definitely function as you would expect for organs that have been so stimulated.

Management style hasn't changed over the many years. You have to be good at licking boots, do as you are told without question, led around by the nose, develop the skills of being a good ass-licker and then be screwed by the boss. What has changed is the standard of CEO, mine is now in a different league to other mere mortals and now I am thoroughly enjoying all these with my CEO and have no intention whatsoever of changing ownership.

Latex, Latex and more Latex

Today, as the title suggests, was to be a latex themed session. Mistress Maggie knows her slave is partial to a bit, or rather a lot, of latex and was going to treat her slave today. Now, you will already know if you have read my blog that Mistress doesn't confine her activities to just what her slaves 'like'. Not at all. After all I am there to be trained towards becoming the 'perfect' slave to a perfect Mistress and the old adage that there is 'No pain, No gain' should be emblazoned across The Playroom wall.

Mistress greeted me at the front door and ushered me in. I was half expecting a hood straight on in the hallway, but fortunately I was allowed unrestricted views of my stunning Mistress. The skimpy, tight, figure hugging latex briefs with an attached dildo wagging in my direction as Maggie moved, cat-like around her prey. I recognised the figure hugging tight pewter coloured latex top that so accentuates her superb figure and as we progressed upstairs I was treated to a back view that was equally as stunning. By the time I reached the top of the stairs I was ready once again to do absolutely anything for my Mistress.

The Playroom revealed The Plank securely attached, almost vertically, to the overhead gantry. No attempt at disguise; no towel over the equipment to heighten the mystery. That would have been difficult with The Plank being 7 foot long and a foot wide of highly polished wood. At least I wasn't going to be made to walk the plank; too steep for that. I listened very attentively as I always do to the outline of the session, latex and endurance were the overriding words that I heard but, I knew the 'no pain no gain' mantra would surface at some point.

I returned from the bathroom dressed in opera gloves and my new ankle length toe socks. A separate little 'piggy' for each toe. Mistress had instructed me to bring them but I took the decision to attend wearing them under my normal socks. It can be a bit of a struggle if you are putting them on under pressure. Two toes in the same socket, left sock on right foot etc, so I was able to return to Mistress dressed, in no time at all. Mistress as always, called me in, in response to my knocking and was sitting serenely on her throne waiting for her slave to start proceedings and worship her feet. A simple but attractive pair of black high heels accentuated with white soles. Strange combination but very attractive from my vantage point. Mistresses shoes did mean I was restricted to feet only, as I am not allowed to stray from the footwear unless guided by Mistress. I was really going to be pampered today and was treated to an extended allowance of foot worship; the occasional stroke of her leg with the side of my head hoping Mistress wouldn't tell me off but always obeying the rules of only contact with mouth, lips and tongue on her footwear.

Even though my thick black latex suit is chlorinated, it does glide on more easily with a spot of talc and I must say the sensation of being polished and cleaned by Mistress is another one of those serene, relaxing moments. Legs apart, arms to side as Maggie plays the soft cloth all over your latex clad body. The ripples as she touches your sensitive areas . . . I digress. Back to session.

I was to wear a 'toga'. Not an ordinary, simple Roman one unless the Romans made heavy weight black latex togas and come to think of it, not really a 'toga' either. It was a huge, thick chlorinated black latex sheet, doubled up to make it extra thick. It was entertaining and amusing to watch as Mistress imposed her will on a very mobile, slippery and quite heavy sheet and then wrapped it tightly round my chest. I did my bit by holding one edge in place under an arm as Mistress stretched it tightly round chest and torso, to be fixed with a long length of black Playroom rope just below my nipple line. Mistress checked that she could get to my nipple zips. Ah, the no pain no gain theme.

Then the hood. A really stretchy, really comfortable, perfectly fitting black latex little number. No zip required, with perforations at eyes and mouth. I could see and I could breath comfortably. The view of my Mistress was like gazing through a honeycomb and for a fleeting moment I thought the Queen Bee was about to devour one of her drones. I was manoeuvred back to the plank and gingerly lent backwards. I needn't have worried. Maggie is thorough in her planning and safety is always a high priority. There was a little sway as The Plank adjusted to my weight then settled until it felt safe and solid. I was there with back to plank and the whole of my front from chest downwards, a smooth black, shining rubber sheet. I was beginning to feel the heat but today I was going to get a lot, lot warmer.

Forever thoughtful for her slave, Mistress applied the penultimate part of my dressing; the black leather wrist mitts that so effectively make your hands into useless stubby stumps and assist the slave to keep his hands out of mischief. Maggie is always thinking of ways to assist her slaves to become a better object or plaything to her. The final item was a high posture collar. I have worn this in the past and today I was really relaxed as it was buckled tightly in place. I was just able to gaze at Mistress as she prepared the final items to keep her slave happy. I was expertly, quickly and comfortably roped to the plank at elbows, wrists and ankles. Nothing else required. The arms were useless and the legs were not going anywhere. To exaggerate my predicament Mistress was saying how cool she was in her skimpy latex shorts and top and quite deliberately taunting her slave. I knew I was getting a little warm inside my rubber and was about to get much hotter! Mistress made it quite obvious that she was concerned that I was not warm enough and without waiting for my reply turned up the Playroom heater a couple of notches. How very thoughtful.

On went the blindfold and that was that. Maggie left me and I have no idea as to how long. I was totally in the dark, heating up nicely and in complete silence. I think I heard the Playroom door open and close against the carpet. I strained to hear another sound but nothing. Did I hear a slight movement as Mistress checked her slave? Did I detect the faint movement of air in the Playroom? Was I on my own? Nothing actually mattered as I could visualise my Mistress and I would  stay there just because Mistress wanted me to. I was getting warmer and warmer and the act of leaning against the plank was generating quite a lot of sweat inside my rubber prison and I was loving every minute knowing that I would be released when or if Mistress wanted to release me otherwise I would stay just where I was.
I did hear the door open quietly and the blindfold came off. The vision I could once more see through my honeycomb was, exactly as I remembered before my enforced solitude. As to how long. Still no idea, and anyway, time was irrelevant. All that mattered was being there still at Mistresses beck and call. I was de-planked and allowed a moment to lie on the floor at Maggie's feet to recover from the heat ordeal, wet inside but peaceful.

Peace and tranquillity never last long when you are training and Maggie soon had me hogtied with another length of black rope. No ordinary hog tie and no let up from the all embracing latex 'toga'. Knees up, sheet wrapped round enclosing legs and feet and then attached to arms. I began to get this nagging doubt again that a little more 'no pain no gain' was about to come my way. Maggie moved about three feet away, showed me a very attractive nylon covered leg and then suggested I might like to 'get over here’. No second bidding required and I set off . . . and of course stopped because I was trussed up like a turkey. Not to be denied the opportunity of more contact with my Mistresses shoeless feet, I struggled and grunted and wobbled and slithered and sweated until I was right next to those red painted toe nails. I did manage to poke the very end of my tongue through the mouth honeycomb and was just able to make contact with her nylon covered feet. If I wasn't sweating before, I was now but it was well worth the superhuman effort.

Content with my effort at addressing her toes, Mistress released me from the hog-tie and scooped the hem of the 'toga' over my head, pinioning my arms across my chest and enclosing my head inside a very heavy weight latex sack. It was a very strange and somewhat unnerving experience. I have willingly endured the same treatment with a clear plastic bag for quite a long period, perhaps because I can see Mistress, but with the blackness of the inside of the rubber sheet, the air seemed to be used up far quicker than in a plastic bubble. It was like being in a cave miles underground, unable to see anything and your oxygen running out and I think I panicked a little. Mistress had me out in no time but I was a little embarrassed that I was such a wimp particularly as I was totally enclosed in my favourite latex.
No sooner was I released from my sack, I was on the bed, zip opened and butt plug removed. A very rare enforced slight change of plan. Mistress was going to deploy the pump up butt-plug but try as she may the damn thing appeared to be seated but as it was inflated, out it popped and we just couldn't get it to do as it was told. Fortunately Mistress saw the funny side and did not punish me for the embarrassed laughter as each time it just plopped out. I think it was because I was lying rather ungainly on my side, unable to present Maggie with a good entry angle for the balloon.

Nothing phases Mistress and I was strung back up onto the plank with a quick change of hood as I was starting to swim inside the honeycomb mask with all the sweat I was generating. Hmmm the pump up gag still encouraged me to expel bodily fluids as I tried desperately hard not to look down and dribble all over Mistress as she busied herself exposing cock and balls, securing the 'toga' out of the way and, rather uncomfortably, attaching clamps to my balls and roping them to The Plank.

I don't think Maggie appreciated the prospect of slave drooling all over her nice pewter coloured latex top and removed the pump up gag and replaced it with the spider gag. It didn't stop my drooling but it was all down the front of my suit and not all over Maggie. It also gave her free access to my nipples which were given a right good going over. Sharp finger nails, even sharper teeth and my poor little buttons were starting to feel like over used rotary dials. I was surprised afterwards that I had any nipples attached by the amount of treatment they received. However, I was determined to grin and bear it because Maggie appeared to be getting quite a bit of enjoyment from making her slave squirm which in turn, tightened up the ropes attaching my balls to the plank which it turn . . . bit of a vicious circle developing here. I like pleasing my Mistress, Mistress likes teasing her slave which jiggles my balls which in turn further encourages Maggie to pay more attention to my nipples which in turn . . . and so it went on.

It wasn't quite the end as Maggie is determined to keep my ass hole nice and open for her future use and enjoyment. I was strapped face down on the low padded bench and finished off with another good dildoing. What a day. Has my ordeal in rubber diminished my liking for the material? No way. I love the feeling. Has my endurance training enhanced my devotion to a superb Mistress? Yes way. I had several times during today's session where I could just relax (sort of) and luxuriate in the image of a superb Mistress and friend.