With my Little Stick of Blackpool Rock

Mistress Maggie had several tasks for her slave to perform during today's session.

1. Ensure Mistresses feet were well prepared for a visit to Blackpool
2. Reminder/instruction on my behaviour whilst out with Mistress
3. Chauffeur Mistress to Blackpool
4. Visit to her favourite shop, Saints and Sinners to browse and purchase new toy
5. Picnic on the North Pier
6. Buy some sticks of Blackpool rock 
7. Buy make up and lip gloss for an upcoming photo shoot.
8. On return to chambers, address any remedial actions as a result of any infractions

Straight to the Clinic to attend to Mistresses feet. Mistress climbed rather elegantly onto the gynae couch and for the first time in my limited experience, lay back and comfortably rested her booted feet in each stirrup. Maggie certainly knows which buttons to press to gain my attention as I removed each boot. How could I fail to notice that Mistress had nothing on under her short studded leather skirt. I tried not to smile as I manicured and pampered each foot in turn and made a conscious effort when chatting to Maggie to maintain eye contact and not to gaze at forbidden territory.

With the pedicure complete, Mistress smoothly dismounted and put on a pair of tights, and finally I was allowed to replace her boots, receiving good instruction on how to seat the heel correctly within the boot.

Returning to the playroom, I was told what behaviour Mistress would expect while out with her slave; carry bags, open doors, address her as Mistress except in inappropriate, public areas when Maggie would be acceptable, reserved speech etc. When Maggie was satisfied that I had received and understood her instructions we moved on to my physical preparations. Pants down, hands against the wall, a good dollop of lube had my butt-plug inserted like a rat up a drain-pipe and then a good cropping.

I had tallied up a fair amount of indiscretions by all accounts, and as the crop repeatedly struck my ass I again received a reminder; of the instructions for the trip; to appreciate that I’m a lucky slave and not to forget to say please and thank Mistress for her attentions; as punishment for poor worship of Mistress and punishment for carrying play items into the Playroom in a crinkly plastic supermarket bag. All in all, well deserving of the good cropping.

Note to other slaves: avoid this advice at your peril. Mistress does not do cheap plastic crinkly carrier bags!

Finally a tight leather cock strap was snapped round my erection. Hmm! I think I will stick out like a sore thumb accompanying Mistress. Nothing else then apart from pulling up my casual trousers. And off we went, picking up Maggie's black PVC coat on the way, as it was hit and miss whether Blackpool would see rain today.

The drive to Blackpool was uneventful although a little unnerving at times, as Maggie tapped her riding crop on the dashboard at each minor traffic infringement, both hands on the wheel, eyes not focused on the road etc, were all picked up by Mistress.

It took a while to park near Saints and Sinners but as we made our way to the shop, I was pleased that I had heeded Maggie's advice to wear something for rainy weather. Today ended up being bright sunshine but the wind in certain parts of Blackpool can cut through you like a knife. I was wearing my black latex tee-shirt under my 'ordinary' short-sleeved shirt and it is fantastic at preventing that biting wind from getting through to my body. Naturally I wear my slave collar whenever I am with my Mistress and the ladies in Saints and Sinners are very accommodating, nice and easy to talk to and nonchalant about Mistress arriving with a slave in tow; Mistress had warned me not to be too chatty. We ended up after much searching with the only black dildo in the whole shop that Maggie was happy with and a stainless pee through wand for me.

Parking up near North Pier we ventured across to have our picnic and possibly a coffee in the Pier end cafe. I naturally was carrying the camera and sandwich box and whetted my lips as the lid was lifted, the contents looked most inviting. They were - for Maggie at least.

I had my own item to eat as Maggie produced a sealed plastic bag from her lunchbox and told me the contents were my picnic. A very moist, champagne soaked pair of Maggie's pants. Quite a mouthful and certainly effective as a gag. I didn't mind, I love essence of Mistress. Maggie tormented me further by sensually eating her rather edible looking sandwiches. The few holiday makers nearby were oblivious that I was eating a pair of Mistresses used panties, but they may have chanced to see my slave collar and may have smiled as I got a slap whenever I stopped chewing. Did they think I had perhaps said or done something to upset my beautiful companion? I didn't care.

We then had a very pleasant coffee, which might have been uneventful except I am sure I saw the waitress staring at my collar as I bought and served coffee for Mistress. Maggie and I sat and chatted. Unfortunately for me, the coffee drowned the taste of Mistress and I was very conscious that my erection flared up every time I thought of Maggie in just her tights covering her private parts.

Three little sticks of Blackpool rock were bought as we walked to a well known chemist, Maggie occasionally feeling my shirt and the latex underneath as I extolled its virtue as a windbreak. In the space between the chemists floors as I closely followed Mistress on the up escalator, Maggie quietly and almost imperceptibly stuck her leather clad buttock in my face and whispered 'kiss it slave’. I would have loved to linger longer but knew not to embarrass my Mistress.

Having spent a little longer than Mistress had expected choosing the make up, we were late returning and the journey back to the Playroom had to be made in haste. I had had a superb outing with my Mistress and I don't think I let her down.

I found out who one of those little sticks of Blackpool rock was for as I was chained over the Playroom horse, my butt-plug, that I had worn for the whole trip, removed and the rock inserted where no rock should go. Sticky rock does hold an element of resistance as it travels back and forth up your asshole, and only when Maggie had finished fucking me with the candy was I presented with the opportunity to have a lick on it, as Maggie removed the rock and stuck it straight in my mouth before plastic bagging me.

I was told that lesser mortals required less air as she tightened her grip of the plastic around my neck.

My hands were shackled beneath the bench, I was chained to the bench so there was absolutely nothing to do apart from suffocate and plead with Mistress that I was probably better off with the odd breath, but I had to give Mistress a promise before being granted release - to sterilise and insert my new piss plug, make sure I cum with it in when I got home, and deliver photo evidence to Mistress before the chime of midnight. (and I did as I was told).

My final activity? Mistress thought I had behaved reasonably well and treated her chauffeur to a strap-on arse fuck. Not with the newer, bigger dildo purchased today, that would require a deep clean by Maggie before being set loose on her slaves, but the traditional black one I had taken before and handle quite well now. It is a strange sensation to be fucked whilst the sickly sweet  remnants of my Blackpool rock was still around my back passage. I wonder if it had Blackpool through the centre?

One thing is certain, sweet Blackpool rock does get very sticky when it has been up your arse and my thighs were sticking together on the journey home. Another thing certain is that my hard work in training does gives Maggie the confidence to take her slave out occasionally without me embarrassing her. That privilege is not granted easily and requires a lot of hard graft from the slave and even then an outing is not something to expect. It’s simple really, Maggie is in charge and what she says goes.

I hope I didn't let my Mistress down.

Complete Genital Transformation

There were few session preliminaries today, as Mistress Maggie explained that she would be redesigning my genitalia, there was lots to do and she needed to get started.

I helped Maggie remove her new shiny black mac, putting it aside to reveal a stunning one piece clear plastic suit. I was putty in her hands, she knew I would be, and I was ready for anything. Mistress told me to hurry along and get into my latex t-shirt and gloves and to report at her feet for boot worship. Black shiny lace ups today, all the way to her knee. Maggie added a latex slave hood to my costume, I poked my tongue through the mouth hole and took as long as I could worshipping those boots, but didn't dare stray onto her plastic skin. When Maggie was happy with my attentions I was given a special red rubber suit to wear, a loose fitting suit made of the thinnest latex. A little talc and some very careful dressing had me snugly fitted inside it, finished off with several wraps of rubber bandage round my middle. ‘Can't use the tight leather corset as you will need to expand’. Maggie had hinted at an enema in my call up mail and that remark kind of confirmed it and I was ushered into the Clinic.

The very first thing Maggie did when we entered the Clinic was to enthusiastically show me her design for giving my genitals a complete transformation. She was obviously pleased with the simple yet elegant design, showing what used to be my cock and balls neatly sutured into one large homogeneous blob. Rather worryingly, she did say that I should take a moment to say goodbye to my cock. The interesting additions were in the detail. Wires leading from where the end of my cock once was and some 'seasonal vegetation' as adornment. I was excited, a little apprehensive, a little expectant but fully committed to whatever Mistress wished to do.

The final bit of the briefing brought home the magnitude of the operation that I had willingly consented to. I was to receive the enema because once I saw the results of Mistresses needlework I would want to crap myself and the enema might 'help'. A big smile from Maggie and 'You will receive at least two litres slave'. I had briefly easily held that before but at least two? Two and a half, three litres? Maggie would decide.

I was comfortable on the gynaecology couch when Maggie returned with one jug full of warm water, mixed in her magic powders to make it soapy and poured the contents into the enema bag. I was a little less comfortable when she returned with the second jug full and repeated the procedure.

Hmm . . . Quite a lot then! Get comfortable on my side, a little grease and tube up my backside and I was ready for Mistress to open the tap, and that was that. No discomfort, in fact it was quite pleasant as Maggie gently massaged my lower stomach to aid the flow, occasionally checking that her slave was still alright to continue.

Oh most definitely yes. I tried to sound nonchalant but Maggie knows her slave well now and knew I was enjoying the situation. Once I had received all the fluid Maggie plugged it in and the volatile contents of my bowels were trapped to work their magic, sealed by the inflatable plug that ensured my bum was well and truly bunged up. Nothing to worry about so far. In the past I've kept enemas in for 10 minutes or so with no problems at all so what could go wrong today? 'That will stay in until I'm finished'.
Maggie helped me onto my back with legs in the chairs stirrups, she removed my plain latex hood and replaced it with another of her own design. A comfortable and nice fitting zipped, black latex little number, with an array of tubes that I had to bite down on and a generous honeycomb mesh across the eyes; generous as I could, with a little adjustment, see Maggie as she moved around the Clinic. I did see and hear Mistress stick two electrodes onto my cock, secured them with many turns of a white bandage and test out the electrics. Y. . E. . S - electrics working!

Then she was off to the bathroom to wash her hands and don her operation gloves. I also saw through the honeycomb, Mistress choosing her sewing instruments and carefully placing the PVC operating sheet over my cock and balls. 'Are you ready slave to receive your complete genital transformation?’. I had promised I would do anything for my Mistress and confirmed I was ready and willing for whatever she wished to do.

That first knotted stitch is a pain, but after that Maggie settled into her routine and slowly and steadily completed the first set of sutures. 'Slave, control your cock.' I couldn't help it, despite having my genitals sewn up, I was getting hard. I really tried to concentrate, but every time the needle went in it brought me back to the fact that my Mistress was stitching up my delicate bits and I was enjoying it! A brief interlude as the second suture was threaded and on went the sewing. I could see the concentration on Maggie's face through my hood, looking quite intense and really attractive as she persisted sewing up my bits and pieces.

Every now and then my stomach would let out a low rumble to announce it was still full, and occasionally Maggie came across a really resistant piece of scrotum, strangely always on my left side, piercing these reluctant areas was the only time the stitching really took my breath away.

It took a while for the dozen or so stitches to be completed and every so often Maggie would appear next to my head and exhale a full lungful of her precious breath down my breathing tube. I loved that little touch; a little respite for Maggie from her concentration on the sewing and that sweet taste of Mistress for me to savour.

And finally a wipe with a sterile pad concluded the stitching, accompanied by that wonderful laugh that Maggie has. Relief at another successful operation or the amusing sight she had just created? A bit of both probably. Maggie stood back to admire her craft work.

What a strange feeling. After all the time trying to keep my cock flaccid Maggie turned on the electrics and added a final touch of seasonal vegetation. A sprig of new growth, fresh, green nettles. About a year ago I had commented how I tried to avoid fresh shoots as they are the most potent. No chance this time as she stroked what remained of my ball sac with the sweet young thing and then fixed the twig neatly in place between the sutures.

I wanted an erection; my body said 'get your cock up' but the stitching said otherwise. My cock and balls were so firmly stitched up I could feel a quick throb and then my cock subsided. No pain at all. Maggie had done an expert job with the sutures, but boy was I frustrated. Maggie has finally completely tamed and controlled her slaves cock. I had never felt so owned or so perfectly content in my life.

Not everything in the garden was rosy. All this time, the soapy enema had been gurgling away. It was fine when I was lying on the couch but when Maggie said it was time for the toilet, I carefully sat up and the weight of two plus litres moved downwards and I did then need the loo. I still couldn’t see the full extent of my CGT, so it wasn't the visual impact that made me want to crap myself. Maggie manoeuvred me over the toilet pan and removed the plug, and . . . for the second time in two sessions I really caused my Mistress concern. Last time I choked as I was drinking, this time I think Mistress would have choked if she hadn't moved. What a stink! I felt more anxiety that I had subjected Mistress to such farmyardy smells. I definitely think Mistress would have benefited from wearing one of her gas masks; I know I would, as a horrible lungful of pong was creeping its way up my breathing tubes. I really must change my diet!

Needless to say, I was told to clean up any mess before Maggie would even consider removing the stitches. An interesting thing about having your cock and balls 'removed’. It doesn't stop you from peeing, although you do need to be seated as aiming is somewhat difficult - and as for writing your name in the snow, forget it.

After I’d thoroughly cleaned the bathroom, Mistress relented and said she would remove the stitches. Each one was carefully snipped, removed and consigned to the bin. A thorough clean with the antiseptic wipes, a final suture check and I was pronounced fit for release. The medical suit was removed in the playroom and I must admit to a feeling of satisfaction as I had once again brought a smile to Maggie's face.

Any unpleasant after effects? None at all. I do have a huge smile writing this blog though.

Painful? A little, but only occasionally and certainly bearable.

Exciting? Oh yes. Mistress once again proved she has total control over her slave.

Would I repeat it? Of course but only if Maggie wants more practise or has the urge for a stitch-up.

Did I enjoy it? Of course. It made Maggie happy and it was another new experience under my belt!

Absolutely Rubbery

In contrast to my previous session where I was at a loss as to the direction it may take, today's calling note from Mistress Maggie was quite explicit . . . A session based on your favourite material awaits you, and a summery latex Dominatrix will be leading the way. Your fetish for latex will be tested; I will be deciding the amount of latex you are allowed whilst noting the amount it takes to excite you. My bet is that it only takes a little latex slither to put a big smile on your face. . . The exact route down the highways and byways of the Playroom were still left to my imagination but the final destination was clear. Maggie's slave would once more be transformed into her rubber plaything. I walked the short distance from my car, proudly wearing my slave collar, already with a smile on my lips. The sun was shining, the weather warm and I knew I was in for a rubbery and warm treat today. Mistress does like to spoil her slaves at times and that always puts a smile on my face.

True to her word (as always), Maggie greeted me in her black latex bra and skimpy panties; most summery and of course cool for Mistress, the end of her crop poked a couple of inches round the opening front door, and that quiet and sensual welcoming voice 'Come on in slave' ushered me inside. In an instant, a leash was attached to my collar and I was given a frisking by Mistress. I detected a slight note of disapproval as she discovered I was not wearing any rubber underneath, accompanied by a comment,’Some rubber fetishist you are’. I love to arrive in as much rubber as I can, but today circumstances had prevented it. I was then led up the stairway on a very short leash, very difficult to maintain any space between myself and my Goddess as she pulled on my slave collar for me to hurry up.

Maggie confirmed the outline of the session. Rubber, rubber and if Maggie feels like it, even more rubber. To start I was dispatched to the bathroom with instruction to return in my rubber opera gloves and socks, on leaving the room I noticed a white towel strategically placed over the top of the Playroom door. Was this going to be a surprise? Did it hide some sinister device that Maggie would magically produce half way through the session? I didn't ask. It wasn't my place to question and I trotted off to return as instructed bringing my butt plug. Maggie was wearing one of her many pairs of black patent shoes that seriously limited the range that I could worship. No chance of getting past the ankles then, but I did manage to stray an inch or so onto her instep. That has given me a positive reaction in the past with a long slow lick and kiss of the instep, but it does leave my backside very vulnerable as Maggie teasingly runs her crop backwards and forwards over my very exposed crack and cheeks, but I do find Maggie's feet oh so attractive.

Without further ado, I felt a finger slip into the back of my collar and I was guided to the rubber covered bondage bed in the centre of the Playroom. Kneeling by the side with my head and chest on the bed the implied 'stay' command was evident, so stay I did. After a couple of movements behind me Maggie sat comfortably astride my back, I could feel the warmth of her thighs and the thin rubber of her pants as she settled down, and felt the cool dribble of lube as it slipped down the valley between my cheeks. This was a new way of inserting my butt plug. A little gentle massage, a few rubber gloved finger insertions then my plug was inserted - no problems despite the unusual orientation. Maggie really knows how to insert a butt plug.

'Not enough rubber' was Maggie's comment. I wonder if that is in Mistresses rule book? I don't think so but I do know Rule 4   – The slave cannot possibly know all the rules. I was dispatched to retrieve my catsuit and waddled off with my newly inserted anal friend letting me know I was stuffed. The ambiance of the Playroom was enhanced with some relaxing yet strangely exciting mood music that Maggie had selected on her mp3 player. I meant to ask what it was but I was too busy being fitted in my catsuit and snugly fitting anatomical hood. I do like it when Mistress inserts me into the cat-suit; one of those really sensual moments. Once rubbered, Mistress lay me down on the low padded bench and I was securely roped in place. Thoughtful as ever, Maggie retrieved the latex covered cushion from the bondage bed and gently raised my head and placed the pillow under my neck.

Maggie looked down from above and wagered that she could now get me salivating with only a small amount of latex 'in the right place’. Slowly and deliberately she lowered her latex covered panties onto my latex covered head. Absolutely right in her assessment. A very thin layer of latex strategically covering Mistress had me drooling and dribbling, as in between the frequent gasps for air I attempted to lick and kiss that very intimate of garments. I ended up with '. . . a big smile on your face.' I really do appreciate being used as Mistresses rubber toy; an experience everyone should try. The only bit of me left exposed was cock and balls that Maggie had extracted through the crotch zip. I could feel myself pulsating to the rhythm not only of the music but Maggie as she moved into various positions across my face.

Tiring of this, or perhaps it was Maggie's caring sharing nature, she had me fitted with the opaque hood. I have experienced this before and I knew I was in for some very welcome fluid intake. I could only distinguish golden coloured shadows through the hood but I detected Mistress had returned wearing her piss pants and connected the tube to the mouth piece, the tap turned on and I began to enjoy a good feed, a gentle swallow then a breath, swallow then a breath, until I lost my rhythm and Maggie’s pee went up my nostrils. But it was Maggie who suffered the worst. What a stupid slave I then became. In my panic I blew into the tube, my drink was diverted back into Maggie’s piss pants, it cascaded down her legs and collected in her shoes. Maggie had the hood off in an instant but I was really ashamed because I could see anxiety in her face that no slave should inflict on their Mistress. It took a few moments to release the ropes then I got a real ear blasting.

‘You stupid slave. Look at all that drink you have wasted. Toilet NOW, so I can relieve myself.’ (Not the exact phrase but I certainly got the sentiment.) So I was dragged off to the toilet, finger through collar and instructed to lick clean Mistresses legs and feet as she relieved herself on a more useful loo. I certainly wasn't going to grumble at that outcome. It was one of those unforgettable and relaxed moments that a slave occasionally receives from Mistress, followed by instruction to scrub up the mess I’d made and take a good spanking with a hairbrush. That was a little less memorable!

'More rubber slave.' Out came the butt plug and in went an inflatable rubber plug with added dimensions. Several pumps later, plus a quick tug to make sure it was not coming out and its vibrator was turned on and left whilst Mistress helped me into her full length body suit. I now had on gloves, socks, thick rubber catsuit and the thick rubber enclosure suit, all strapped tightly round my already rubbery body with stout leather bondage straps. I was eased onto the bondage bed and Maggie set to work on my cock and balls after first teasing the pump and wires for the vibrator through the strategically placed hole in the sack. Maggie really does think of everything. Topping off her rubber bagged slave with a rubber inflatable helmet; mouth hole only, therefore totally blind.

'More rubber slave.' This was not a question as Maggie first attached electrodes and secured them in place with a condom; very effective at preventing accidents to the circuitry. Then the heavy rubber sheath and ball sack were attached, effectively sealing her slave in multiple layers of rubber. I heard through the pumping up of the hood that it was her intention to make me squirm, and would set the electrics to program 2 with eight taps of the level button. Maggie had said at the outset that she intended to determine '. . . the amount it takes to excite you. . . '  Well I can report that it didn't take very long at all: with the stimulating electrics, vibrating inflated butt-plug and all that rubber it was all too quick to get this slave squirming with excitement. I tried really hard not to embarrass myself but had absolutely no control as I was electrically milked.

As any slave knows you are there for your Mistresses pleasure, not your own and Maggie was still getting enjoyment from her rubber plaything. I took a few more pumps at both ends and then felt a little jiggling as the nipple zips were pulled open and both my nipples were left exposed. Maggie treated her slave to having my nipples alternately sucked, pinched, nibbled and tongue teased. I was starting to get erect again. I really will try and master that art because the little swelling in my cock did seem to amuse Maggie.

Was that it? Had Mistress finally had her enjoyment from her rubber plaything when she removed the rubber helmet to replace it with a blindfold? I was left to stew in my juices but was still receiving stimuli from the flowing vibrations and electro-pulses.

Mistress had not quite finished with her slave. Yet more rubber. When Maggie removed the blindfold I was greeted by the stunning sight of Mistress in her long black rubber trench-coat. Simply outstanding. I have had the privilege to accompany Maggie on one of our all too rare shopping trips with her wearing this stunning outfit and it certainly turns heads. However, on this occasion the only garment it covered was the thin black latex band. I caught a last brief glimpse of that as Maggie took a seat on my face again, later covering me with the slippery rubber bed sheet, and still in her mack she slithered on my rubber covered body to complete her own session objectives. Mistress knows that her slave is a truly devoted rubber lover and what it takes to push me over the top, but most of all she knows her slave is owned by her and not the rubber.

Oh yes, I finally did ask Maggie what was the significance of the white towel on the Playroom door? Nothing sinister at all and purely to reduce red reflection from the camera flash. You can read too much into some things. Mistress does think of everything.

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.