Centenary Celebrations

In September 2011 I was fortunate enough to be taken under the wing of a lady who has turned out to be a fantastic Mistress and really good friend. And there started a fantastic journey that has reached its centenary, and that hopefully, with the agreement of Mistress Maggie, will continue for as long as I am of use to her. Today, the Centenary celebration wasn't about training, more bringing together all the hard work, repetitive exercises and in Maggie's words ‘servitude and mistreatment’. From my perspective Maggie has never mistreated her slave, more 'guided' me in the right directions with the occasional shock, crop, belt and reinforcement to mould me in the direction that she wished her slave to go.
 
Maggie had meticulously planned all the activities, as she always does, but with a little extra to commemorate the century. What I knew beforehand was . . . You will be having a day to remember, a celebration worthy of my very loyal slave. None of the planned activities are on the usual Mistress Maggie menu but likely to have you surprised, even a little scared or nervous, all designed by me for maximum enjoyment. . . ,  and that I would receive one litre of saline into my scrotal sack, meaning I would have huge balls for the remainder of the session. What I thought may happen was acting as Mistresses slave and being permitted to serve her real friends, then of course there was the totally unexpected that is ever present in Maggie's sessions. The one thing I wasn't, was a little scared. There was absolutely no reason to be as I trust Maggie and would do whatever she wished.

We started early to make sure the saline had time to infuse, as Maggie had planned activities for specific times. The session set off at an unhurried pace with me inserted into the black rubber uniform, which included my butt plug. Maggie then asked me to quote my slaves oath. No problems. Word perfect and delivered with true sincerity and honesty, a little boot worship followed and the final dressing was the leather harness. Mistress smiled as the large cock ring was secured behind my balls, we both know it can be an impossible thing to remove with inflated balls.

On time, we moved to the clinic where I was secured ready for my scrotal operation. Maggie zipped me into the white latex hood, that I must admit is rapidly becoming my favourite, comfortable to wear and a symbol of my Mistresses ownership. The two cannulas went in so easily I barely felt anything; a pin prick and they were in. A little adjustment to the valves and both were delivering a steady drip-drip-drip that I was able to monitor through my perforated eye covers.

This photo shows how strangely transformed Mistress appeared when she answered the door; the transparent hood masked her stunning good looks and raven black hair. Underneath was definitely my Mistress, but on the surface she was an anonymous temptress who after cocoa buttering my balls allowed and encouraged 1 litre of saline to expand her scrotum. She appears to derive great pleasure from gently feeling the weight and tautness of her globes and whispering. ‘You have got big balls now slave’.

Not content with fondling her balls, she wanted a spark in the life of her slave to celebrate our centenary, and out came the electrics. There was still space along my cock for the two electrodes, as Maggie had tied a tight tourniquet around the base to prevent the saline leeching along the shaft. The unit was set to program 8 level 20, its repeating crescendo just sufficient to keep me really frustrated for some time or, more precisely, a frustrated, happy slave and I could still watch the regular drips feeding the saline into my balls.

That was until Maggie zipped up the white hood; nice, no vision and very stimulating with the restricted breathing and at the same time she increased the program to level 22. I tried to utter a warning, but the culmination of these two simple actions was too much, I lost control and exploded.

I asked myself whether I erupted because I am a useless slave with poor self control, or whether Mistress planned it to save embarrassment later. Either way, I can unequivocally confirm that 1litre of saline in the ball sack does not prevent normal cock functions!

The next vision I saw was when my white hood was removed and replaced with my 'normal' working one, it was that of my stunning Mistress. I hadn't expected that she had removed her own transparent hood, she stood there helping me down from the couch looking stunning; hair beautifully back to normal, a twinkle in her eyes and that radiant smile accompanied by the occasional mischievous feel of her balls. As she led me quietly through to the Playroom she gently reassured me that I mustn't be worried about what was going to happen. I wasn't at all worried. I know and trust Mistresses judgement explicitly.

So, as the door to the Playroom opened at precisely three o'clock, I was ready for anything; even one of Maggie's friends, who was sat relaxing on the latex bed awaiting our arrival, poised with easel and sketch pad ready. We were introduced, ‘slave, meet K. K this is slave’. I also noticed the Throne was place diagonally opposite K and the Playroom rug had been folded to create a soft kneeling pad.

I will repeat, Mistress is very thorough in her planning and knows that although my spirit is always very willing my knees can occasionally be weak. I managed a quick glance towards K, but is was not my place to look. In any case, I suspect she was far more intrigued at seeing a pair of 1 litre balls attached to her still life subject. Maggie repositioned my slave lead through the slave collar, and snapped it to my balls giving them an upwards tug, whilst I knelt and just gazed at Mistress.

It felt really good as K and Maggie decided the pose and K started sketching. In the background, Maggie's husband John took photos as a permanent record of the event, which would also remind K of our position and colours for when she starts adding tints to her sketches. She concentrated on sketching Maggie first, then me, which gave Maggie a little time to relax from her strenuous pose. I, of course remained rock solid still as any obedient slave should.

The Completed Portrait

Once complete and after Maggie and K had time to review the sketches, I was invited for a quick peek. Another nice gesture and I must say K must have worn out a pencil judging by the size of the balls she had to capture. They were very good though and I look forward to seeing the finished article if Mistress will allow that.

John and K adjourned downstairs but Maggie had a few last minute preparations for her slave. I was to wear the wooden serving tray, secured with chains to my slave collar, then Maggie produced a black rubber apron that she’d created, I was to wear it in order to avoid embarrassment while I was undertaking my final actions for today's celebrations. I was to serve her friends with drinks and home made buns, and it would have been most inappropriate for the guests to be confronted with a huge set of slave balls at eye level.

One guest had specific dietary requirements and I was to remember not to mix them up; first serve each guest with a hot drink, then serve them with cakes, keep the kitchen tidy between visits, and any spare time stand to attention looking to service her guests' requirements. Not a lot to remember then for this slave, who was for the first time being trusted to serve Maggie's friends.

Maggie's second lady guest 'S' arrived at four and I busied myself serving, cleaning and standing to attention. Listening to these three delightful friends talking about some of the many pictures Mistress had gathered together in her Centenary Memorial Photo book. Maggie offered me the book to take home but I chose to decline, I thought discretion was the better path, and in any event, Maggie may get far more pleasure from bringing out that little black photo book for more of her friends. The ladies laughed and giggled and occasionally needed replenishment or another bun. I generally had the biggest smile on my face, watching Mistress relax and not having to worry about the behaviour of her slave.

There were three occasions where I was a little flustered. The first was when I got a slight telling off from John for not having the kitchen spick and span; that was soon rectified. The second when I almost dropped a glass that K had been drinking from; wet rubber gloves and glasses don't mix well. The third was when I blushed scarlet when Maggie and her lady friends congratulated me on 100 sessions of loyal service, singularly unexpected but greatly appreciated by a loyal and faithful slave.

And yes I did get one of Maggie's superb cup cakes that I had been serving to the guests. I was instructed to kneel in front of Mistress and her friends as she broke off pieces and fed them to her slave. Mistress told me to return the tray contents to the kitchen and return to collect a cup and paper plate that were sitting on the coffee table, but when I returned they had miraculously levitated down onto the floor. There were giggles from the ladies about this awkward task that Maggie had deliberately set. Undaunted, I was able to bend and pick both up without the anticipated contortions. The ladies laughed and Maggie smiled saying, ‘I will have to sort him out for being such a smart arse’.

I really enjoyed the fact that Maggie actually trusts me not to show her up in front of her friends. I would also like to thank K and S for being so easy going and enjoyable people to serve. If I am fortunate to be allowed to serve them again, I answer to slave or whatever Maggie says.

A final comment to slaves dreaming of a 1litre infusion. My balls were like taught balloons, not at all uncomfortable. However, there is a tendency for the saline to leak out through the vacated cannula incisions, thus creating a moist scrotum and wet pants. Luckily, I have a pair of rather nice, loose latex pants that I could wear to contain the seepage and you may wish to contemplate something suitably watertight or you may end up looking like you have pee'd yourself.

Roll on the next 100 and thank you Mistress Maggie, K, S and John for a memorable celebration.

Approaching the Ton or Sharing a Flake

No matter which way you look at the session today, it can in no way be described as ordinary or routine; not that I can ever remember having 'ordinary' or 'routine' training with Mistress Maggie. Today had a bit more edge, something intangible and expectant; that little tingle that sets your pulse racing. A feeling that came to a brief but very shuddering halt as I rang the Chambers bell. I saw the misty vision of my Mistress through the small frosted glass pane in the door, and I knew it was my rubber clad Mistress who opened it if only just a few inches, and in a calm, even cold response said ‘Sorry, you are at the wrong house’. Then the door started to close leaving me bewildered.

Before I really had time to doubt my sanity and start to panic, the door re-opened and there was my beautiful Mistress, all smiles, welcoming me in as if the previous incident had never happened. Confused, I was told to remove my shoes and she beckoned me towards the stairs, where I was invited to sit on the third step where Mistress was already seated in her stunning black latex catsuit. A cotton hanky was held over my nose and mouth and I was encouraged to take deep lungfuls of aroma as Maggie held the soaked cloth in position, ‘To help you get over your shock slave’. Mistress is always full of surprises even before having entered her Chambers.

Suitably re-assured and aroma’d I was to follow Mistress and her awesome derrière up the stairs to the Playroom. I have worshipped those beautiful black latex clad buttocks on so many occasions ascending the stairs and I know to look and don’t touch, despite Maggie gauging her slaves concentration by stopping abruptly on occasions, my nose almost making contact with the cleft between those perfect cheeks, but only nearly as I have been well trained.

As Mistress was outlining where she would take me today, her phone rang. I was immediately ordered onto all fours to provide a seat for her while she took care of the enquiry. With arms and knees locked I was a stable and comfortable telephone stool, who naturally was able to listen as Mistress in that familiar tone talked with some unidentified but very fortunate new recruit. I knelt and enjoyed being of use.

More surprises as Mistress instructed boot worship. On this rare occasion I was still in my outdoor clothes as I set my tongue working on her shiny footwear, my licking was accompanied by real laughter from Mistress as I tried surreptitiously to check how high the boots actually went. I’ve been scolded in the past for allowing my worship to stray beyond her footwear, and today I was trying my hardest not to make it obvious that I was checking the extremities. Failed. Maggie thought the failure was most amusing and I love the sound of her laughter, particularly when I have provided the amusement. They were black patent boots to just over the knee by the way.

Boot duty completed and I was quickly dressed into what has become my ‘normal’ slave attire of latex socks, gloves, catsuit and hood, and my old friend the butt-plug; not worn for a while, hence the cotton cloth being placed over my mouth again for another intoxicating dose of aroma, it helps the anal muscles relax and accept the rubber plug. I was now ready for what was arguably one of the most arduous parts of my training since I started. No not CBT, BDSM, asphyxia, ball stretching, tight bondage, breath play or electro-play, but the simple art of carrying a tray round the Playroom in preparation for a time when hopefully I will be used for the same task in earnest.

First Maggie had to attach the tray to her slave, and we tried the waist strap at a much lower position than last time. The supporting chains needed more attention; needing to be equal on either side and hold the tray level when I was standing to attention. After a few attempts at levelling Mistress was satisfied that we had achieved a stable platform, she took note of the chain setting whilst I had the responsibility of confirming that I could serve with the tray secured in its current position. That is a BIG responsibility for a slave, having to actually make a decision and confirm that Mistress had got the settings correct.

On to my actual ‘dumb waiter’ training. It was to be as real as possible within the training environment, so I was led round the upper floor of the Chambers with my tray firmly attached, the aim to maintain its steady horizontal position and carefully move through doorways without banging anything. Maggie deposited cups, saucers and dishes in various places in various rooms, accompanied with a stern warning that these were the real McCoy and would break if I was clumsy. Hmmm no pressure then!

I received a steady stream of instructions from Maggie, she sat monitoring my progress and highlighting any techniques that needed refining. Maggie’s leather teddy bear who goes by the name of Ted took on the role of a guest for the purposes of this realistic tray training.

Maggie was seated on her throne, from whence came my first request. ’Can I have a cup of tea please?’. Off I went to find a cup and saucer and placed them on the serving tray, then on to the bathroom where I made the cup of tea, well actually I had to substitute tea for cold water from the tap, and pretend it was the real thing for this exercise, then carefully make my way without spilling any tea, across the landing and into the playroom, bend my knees so Mistress could see the contents of the tray and help herself to a cup of tea. Mistress and her teddy guest were both rather thirsty, and so it went on. Making my way between rooms, fetching and carrying and repeating the actions, all the while guarding the furniture and trying to keep the full cups and glassware from clanking and spilling. I couldn’t give any form of verbal feedback, as I was pump-up gagged like a proper dumb waiter, as is possible I may be for the centenary celebrations.

Mistress kept me at this part of my training for a long while, as practice makes perfect. By the end I was moderately proficient at my task, although I must remember to clean the tray when empty and out of sight of Maggie’s guests.

And now for something completely different. Off came the tray, out came the plug and replaced by the Kegel electro balls. My concentration was exchanged for the quiet contemplation and passive acceptance of being inserted into the bondage sack and attached to the Playroom bondage chair. I was expected to sit and roast and receive a good dose of electro-therapy via the Kegel’s, along with a couple of extra specially chosen cock and ball electrodes. That was until Maggie discovered that one of the wires to the Kegel's had become detached as I’d shuffled onto the chair.

Naturally it was my fault and as a consequence I ended up with only half my asshole being electrified, but I suspected from the smile on Mistresses face that she wasn’t altogether disappointed, the redundant wire was soon unplugged and a suitable alternative attached. Yes, it was the twin pinwheel, and from where I was sitting those wheels were more than a suitable alternative when set rolling up and down my cock!

By this time I was wearing a gas mask with rebreather bag which was inflating with a regular rhythm. From time to time Mistress came along and removed the rebreather bag, sending welcome whiffs of aroma through the port instead, then screwing the bag back in place, making her slave breathe his own air again. I was floating away, and felt totally relaxed as the latex sheet was draped over me and total darkness descended. The last time this happened with the electrics purring away, I rather embarrassed myself under the sheet, but this time I controlled my urges and eventually emerged a very excited but under control slave.

I was transplanted from my seated position to the Playroom bed. Not a mean feat, as feet were securely strapped within the sack, but one we achieved with a few hops and a final jump onto the rubber bed, where I very willingly reclined for another part of Maggie’s sadistic plan.

Lightly attached to the bed, Maggie straddled her slave with those glorious latex covered buttocks inches from my face, and proceeded to assemble her perspex ball crusher around cock and balls. I have not previously had the pleasure of being in its grasp, but I had seen Maggie’s husband John manufacturing it a while back. Naturally, I could not see it at the time but can now in the pictures.
I guessed I was also to be subdued for the CBT, as the rubber anaesthetic setup was assembled, ready to deliver the pleasure enhancing aroma to the mask that was about to be strapped firmly onto my face.

‘A few more turns slave’, and the crusher squeezed tighter. I had no responsibility but to accept her ministrations as my poor balls took on quite an unnatural shape. This I didn’t mind. I had a glorious unrestricted view of the most stunning latex covered derriere, whilst Maggie was doing to her property whatever she wanted. Flattened balls do give an insidious, growing ache. Not the sharp staccato of a needle, nor the constant prickle of the electrics, but nonetheless over a short period the squashing was just as painful. However, I did get a pleasant massage once the balls were released, enough to return my pancake shaped balls back to their natural state.

We finished with a long discussion about our 100th celebrations; Mistress has some special plans that have not been disclosed to me. And as a wonderful parting gesture to session 99 Maggie unwrapped that all important Cadbury’s 99 chocolate flake, which we shared as we cleaned around. I promised not to let Mistress Maggie down or embarrass her during whatever she has planned for our next, the centenary celebrations.

Relief for Mistress?

After 97 sessions I have come to understand some of the moods and feelings of Mistress Maggie. I certainly know when I have disappointed her, but this week I got the impression from a couple of email exchanges that she was deeply perturbed by a couple of issues, neither of which were of my making. I had already responded 'I hope that you will use your slave to work off some of your anguish'. The brevity of her calling mail tended to confirm that something still concerned Mistress 'Slave required to help Mistress into new rubber catsuit . . . Pack black rubber.' I wracked my brains for what I might have done and for once nothing obvious sprang to mind.

When I arrived Mistress was in good spirits. We talked and Maggie outlined the order of events, I was going to pedicure her feet and then zip her into her brand new never worn catsuit which was hanging lifelessly on its hanger from the gantry. It wasn’t hanging up there on its own for too long, as Maggie helped me into my rubber suit, cuffed me to the overhead and brought a bucket and sponge to wash away any talc smears in COLD water! I was able to surreptitiously swing round a little in the fetters and gaze at her new suit hanging nearby, with no chance of release until I was fully drip dried.

Meanwhile, Maggie sat in her latex dressing gown and sheer stockings on her throne, teasing her slave with lewd and very suggestive gestures, whilst I just hung around getting considerably warmer. To speed up the drying cycle Maggie had me circling my hips and performing strenuous knee jumps until there were no water droplets to be seen.

Mistress thought best to have her pedicure done in the White Room, she could lie back and relax on the couch with her feet up and rely on her slave to have her feet looking and feeling fabulous and fit for a queen.

And so I was led to the White Room where I gently eased off her shoes, parking them neatly against the wall as Maggie slipped off her stockings and handed me the tools required for pedicure.

With one leg in each stirrup, Mistress gave me instructions as to which small outcrops of hard skin needed attention and I got busy with an emery board. To help ensure I did a good job I was to forego the usual rubber gloves and would need to wear my glasses. They actually stayed in place on the outside of the open faced hood; yet another first in my training.

I am a red blooded slave and required considerable self-control as the latex dressing gown Mistress was wearing gently parted, once again revealing that Mistress was naked underneath. As well as red blooded I am trained and I took the sensible way out; positioned myself facing away from her nakedness and set to work gently pedicuring each of her beautiful feet. I had come into intimate contact with them earlier but only as I licked and cleaned every inch of fabric that were her black, shiny platform shoes. Now I could hold them, smooth them and generally worship them in the raw but I had a job to do.

Glasses required!

This is one activity I know Mistress likes and one that I am becoming passable at. After a long and gentle rubbing with the emery I cleaned each foot with my tongue to check for smoothness before asking Mistress if she was satisfied with my work. This time when she spoke I didn't make the mistake of looking where I shouldn't and gazed straight at her face, as she confirmed I was doing a good job and directed me to small areas that required a little more of my attention.

The next instruction set me shaking. I was to use two long wooden cotton buds, one to clean and the second to polish her intimate diamond ring. She held the ring as I wiped and polished the little gem with the buds. I am sure the trembling of my hands was transmitted down the bud but I persevered and finally completed the special task to Maggie's satisfaction and her slaves severe frustration!

We returned to the Playroom and I was instructed to glove up. Maggie said she needed the toilet and it would be best to go before dressing in her new catsuit. I was to be her convenience and promptly marched to the bathroom where I was to position myself over the toilet pan, face up so I could act as her nice, soft, warm rubbery toilet seat. And so it was Mistress squatted, ordered ‘open mouth' and released a warm stream straight into it. Not full flow, a controlled outpouring, followed by 'swallow’. I was just pleased that Maggie might have found another method of tension release, using her slaves eager mouth to relieve herself. I needed the thirst quenching, then Mistress who insists on a spotless bathroom had the convenience of using me to clean up spillages, but that is a slaves job after all.

It was then time to pour Mistress into her new catsuit. The suit is a lot thinner than mine and because of that required more care when easing Mistress inside her second skin. Despite Maggie having chlorinated the suit we both agreed a little talc the first time wouldn't go amiss. One leg slithered home, then the second leg, a little powder and each arm slipped in, once more making Mistress take on the vision of one of my fantasies; my rubber Mistress. The final act I had to perform was to ease the long zip all the the way up past her buttocks, past her waist, and finally up her back to her slender neck. All the while, the suit tightened and Maggie and her second skin became one.

Out came the bondage chair again into the middle of the Playroom, and I was parked on it and tied rather unceremoniously by several lengths of rope to the various eyelets around its frame, my neck collar also was secured to the back of the chair minimising any forward head movement.

I sat there for five minutes or so with only the sound of rustling plastic in the next room for company, until Mistress returned and double bagged me with clear plastic which was tightened at my neck with a convenient piece of latex bandage. It was at this time I realised I wasn't 100% recovered from my recent cold. I would normally lap it up, but instead I really struggled and my begging began far too early. Maggie attentive as always to a dying slave curtailed that part and moved on to her needle point play. Eight sterile needles to be precise. Four in each nipple.

My nipple zips had been slowly opened and Maggie methodically assembled all her nipple jabbing necessaries in a silver dish, which she placed on a table to my left. Gloved up, Maggie showed me the first needle before lining it up with my nipple, saying ‘I am going to push this through now, are you ready?’. The right hand ones were a nightmare, I had forgotten how to ride the pain. Taking a deep intake of breath just as Mistress was attaching the nipple needle did not seem to be working, resulting in more intake, and by the time the fourth one went in I almost lost it. My breathing became ragged, the voices in my head were telling me I really shouldn't have breathed in at that moment and I was generally in a sorry state.

Mistress agreed a time out to allow me to settle and realising the problem said 'deep breath in, and after I count 3 you will receive the next one’. That is of course the correct way. I paused with full lungs and at the count of three, slowly exhaled as the pain subsided; easy when you know how.

I would not be escaping without a rubber hood either, a double walled white rubber hood was brought into play. I had seen the hood earlier in the week when we chlorinated the item, but at that stage I could neither visualise how it fitted or what it would feel like. I got an answer to both questions. Maggie fitted the hood whilst I sat as still as I could so as not to disturb my nipple furniture. Mistress thought I looked hilarious in the hood with the front flapping like elephant ears and thought it even more amusing as she sealed me inside the two layers. Another of those 'I will regret this moment' but the hood felt really comfortable and even with me flapped inside, I could draw in sufficient air to allow me to wear the hood for a long time without any problem. The good thing was that Maggie was starting to laugh at her slave again. Perhaps the blues were lifting?.

My tightly gripped cock was now released from the catsuit. The relief from the tight compression was immediate and Maggie smiled again and I knew things were about to become more 'playful' as another length of white Playroom rope was secured tightly round my balls and a lead snapped on but left dangling for later. I was sat breathing easily in the sealed mask, Mistress was caressing her balls and gathering them with the rope and everything was rosy and I could have stayed there for the remainder of the afternoon but in reality, release from the hood and chair came far too quickly, but we always work to Maggie's schedule not mine.

I soon discovered that what I thought was a lead to my balls was actually a piece of bungee. Maggie had stopped to admire her stunning catsuit in the Playroom mirror, I spotted a smear of talc on her left cheek and naturally grabbed a towel and was about to give her buttocks a good rub. Surprise! - my balls had been secured by bungee cord to the Playroom bed, Mistress cruelly inched away from me with instructions to go ahead and clean her buttocks, then moved further away still, saying 'kiss my lovely latex ass slave.' 

Despite the almost overwhelming urges, don't eagerly leap forward otherwise your balls get a real snap with the bungee. Best to gently ease forward so the gradual pressure stretches the cord (and balls) slowly, and ‘et viola’, a slave can kiss his Mistresses latex clad cheeks whilst balls are being pulled in the opposite direction. My biggest bungee challenge was tidying up the play space and pushing Maggie’s throne back into its rightful place in the corner, as Maggies balls just wanted to bungee over to the Playroom bed to which they were still firmly attached.

I detected that Maggie must have some residual feelings of frustration which needed working off, as she strapped me to the punishment horse and used several of her implements on my tightly latexed arse: the delrin cane, a stout yellow handled cane and a senior cane, quite a good workout with that one. Then a few strokes with a red whip, but the loudest and longest lasting sounds were made with the Amsterdam whip; very loud thudding sounds of leather firmly striking latex. Maggie didn't spare the Amsterdam but even the hardest cracks leave little impression, in contrast the canes definitely leave an impression on my buttocks even through the thick latex. Maggie shifted her stance and attacked back, balls, thighs and anywhere else the Amsterdam could reach and I think I finally tired her arm as the session drew to its natural conclusion.

I hope Maggie got some pleasure by really laying into my arse with the canes and whips, and quite frankly if Maggie got relief from whatever was concerning her, my job was done.

Was it a good session? Yes definitely. I think I might have helped Mistress Maggie get rid of some of the frustrations that may have been bugging her, and judging by the huge smile on both her and her husband Johns face, as he caressed the smoothness of his wife still wearing the tight latex catsuit as we said our good nights, reinforced how relaxed she now was and I left her in excellent spirits.

How Far can they Grow?

If there is one thing I have learnt in my 4 years of training it’s that Rule 13 – Mistress Maggie expects her slave to read minds at all times - is one of the most difficult rules to adhere to. Today was a case in point. In the last session I was certain Mistress had shown signs of disapproval when I arrived wearing only the latex tee-shirt, and other 'normal' clothes of course! So this time, when Maggie instructed me to bring latex tee-shirt, socks and shorts, I wore the lot under my normal street clothes. My mind reading did not win her approval and I got told off, as Mistress made it clear that she likes to take full control of my dressing actually in session.

I know that it is impossible that Mistress would ever want to be my valentine, but with valentines day just a few days away I presented Mistress with my gift of red roses. I also handed her a set of electro balls that I had bought from MEO, which I hoped Maggie may enjoy using on her slaves. Thorough as ever, it did not take long for her to open them up and whizz them off to the clinic for testing. They were wired up to her electrastim unit and she placed them on her arm to check that both ports were conducting correctly. Maggie jumping about crying 'oo-ah-ah-ow-ow-ow' was clear confirmation that the device was fully functional, then back to the playroom for dressing.

Mistress required me to don a few extra items to complete my uniform for the day. Firstly, the heavy weight leather harness with the 3" ring that sits behind cock and balls, my zipped latex gloves, and a rubber hood that Maggie chose from her new dark wood storage chest.

Oh yes, and lets not forget the set of smiley lips as Mistress likes her slaves smiling at all times!

I was ordered over Mistresses knee to work off a few de-merits I had incurred by being tardy with my last Flickr pics. It is hugely enjoyable to be face down on her lap with her strap-on sword fighting with my own, by now quite erect blade, as a good spanking was administered from her studded leather strap on my bare cheeks. I could wriggle on her clear latex leggings, grind a little on her upturned knees and I could even get a good view of her black nurse themed boots. Unfortunately, I couldn't see her magnificent bare breasts that had been so tantalisingly exposed when I arrived, but my red latex lips kept smiling.

A short crawl into the Clinic and up onto the gynae couch, I was instructed to position my bum over the end and make my calves comfortable in the raised stirrups, where legs were tightly strapped and wrists rather less tightly cuffed to the couch frame. Maggie decided that I would be given the pleasure of testing the MEO balls next. They proved a little awkward to install in my lying position with the harness strapped tightly across my butt, but finally both balls were pushed home and paired with two large electrodes that she'd clamped round my pole. In fact you might say I now had a bi-polar pole, and then again you might not! With all the electrastim wired to the right places Maggie was satisfied we could move to the main Clinic event; giving my balls 700ml of saline.

In went one cannula, connected by drip feed to a saline bag on the IV stand and away it went, dripping quite steadily. The second proved altogether more problematical and time consuming to rectify. I couldn't do anything to help my Mistress and I could tell she was very cross with the equipment. Finally the problem was isolated to a faulty line and when a new one was deployed everything was perfect. The relief in Mistresses voice was clear to hear, she soon relaxed and started humming again as the second line started drip, drip, dripping saline into the ball sack. You will see Maggie has neatly taped the cables out of harms way and taped the cannula's to make sure they didn't move during my electro-dancing. Its a good job I keep Maggie's balls hair free because that tape is very sticky. We did lose a lot of time and I should apologise to Maggie's husband John for delaying his tea.

On went the electrics. I’d quietly hinted at trying program five, but Maggie thought program five was altogether far too boring so after a while she generously switched to program nine, gradually raising the level on each channel to 26. A strange sensation with most of the stimulus around the crown of the shaft, but every now and then I felt sensations deep inside my anal passage. A very interesting sensation indeed. It kept Maggie amused as I aided the distribution of the infusing saline by dancing my hips around to the P9 pulse, and she kept feeling her growing balls. Like last time, I couldn’t really tell that my balls were ballooning in size. Certainly no unpleasant feelings, and I really liked the attention they were receiving from their owner.

After 250ml from each bag, Maggie replaced the empties and smiled as a further 100ml from each new bag was allowed to drip into my, by now, quite large scrotum. Mistress seemed very pleased with the size of her balls, the electrics were removed and I was about to become even more intimately acquainted with the strap-on that had been waving incongruously at me from the moment the Chambers door was opened. Lubed up, the strap-on went in very easily, full length and absolutely no problem, like a rat up the proverbial drain-pipe. I wonder if my hugely inflated balls affected Maggie's enjoyment? It certainly enhanced mine as the dildo was repeatedly thrust in to its maximum and clattered against my saline filled sack. This time I didn't need the smiley mask.

The straps were released and Mistress left the clinic, giving instruction for me to spend the next ten minutes tidying up the remnants of the infusion, while she disappeared into the Playroom to prepare for the next part of my training. That was the first time I caught a glimpse of Mistresses hugely inflated balls and Wow! I even managed a gentle massage just to see what it felt like. Hmmm! Very nice even though I say so myself.

Back in the Playroom I was asked to kneel before my Mistress. She fitted me with a leather muzzle, making sure the straps were pulled extra tight, and an iron neck collar was locked in place with a heavy padlock. I stood enabling chains to be added, attaching collar to the corners of the overhead gantry, followed by my wrists receiving similar chains. I couldn't see much, but I could hear lots of rattling which turned out to be an adjustable spreader bar. Maggie roped the iron bar at ankles and next thing I was being impaled with a dildo, I could feel the bar being inserted into my well used and still well lubed backside; adjusted so as not to fall out no matter what and loose enough for me to bend legs and push it in further; knees bend, arm stretch ra ra ra!

Without further ado, Mistress belted a sturdy serving tray around my body, another of her DIY projects I think, chains were used to hook it onto my neck collar and keep it level. Mistresses tea was deposited for safe keeping squarely on the tray. I could barely see the tray, but it buggered up the knee bending 'exercises’, because the tray tilted with every move and I was in danger of spilling its contents. There was nothing to do except stay bolt upright and rigid like a piece of furniture.

Maggie settled back onto the Playroom bed and opened a paperback book. I did have a good view of her as she lay there casually reading, turning the pages, the lovely sound of rubber on rubber whenever she shifted on the bed, whilst I stood there rigid and happy to hold the tray steady. A couple of chapters later and Maggie was obviously feeling hungry, she closed her book and stood up, one by one all my securing chains were stripped away leaving my arms free. I was to take charge of the tray and serve Mistress her tea.

Initially I had to rely on Maggie's instruction to get it right; back a bit, left side up a bit, to keep the tray roughly level as I fumbled for the plate of sandwiches. I could see enough to remove the clingfilm and watched as Maggie enjoyed her meal.

Ah, strawberries for afterwards. Once again, I had to remove the clingfilm, despite the muzzle I could smell the fragrance of ripe juicy fruits which I topped off with pouring cream. Same routine, off with the clingfilm and pour over the strawberries. Mistress loves strawberries and proceeded to consume them in the most provocative manner, that only she can achieve. I do serve the most incredibly frustrating and evocative Mistress.

Unlike Maggie's normal obsession with cleanliness, she allowed two smears of cream to land on her breasts. Well more precisely, Mistress took a dollop from the strawberry bowl and smeared the cream in the most suggestive manner across the top of each breast with the back of her spoon. Oh the frustration. Nothing I could do and I knew nothing I would do until instructed otherwise, and in any event I was muzzled and had to hold the tray firm. So I did what any good slave should do, stood to attention and just looked on, waiting my next instruction.

In rapid succession the tray was unchained, I was unmuzzled and told in no uncertain terms that I was a bad slave to allow Mistress to have cream in the wrong places and was told to clean up the area immediately. Oh did I clean up the affected areas. I have never consumed cream from such fine alabaster as Mistresses breasts. Smooth, firm and incredibly tasty. That was one cleaning job that I really did not want to end, but I am proud to say that I think I did a really good job removing every morsell of that cream.

Session time was coming to a close, but Mistress did not let me go without taking a last look and feel at her HUGE balls again. I was allowed a few moments relaxation on the latex bed while Maggie checked my new inflated measurements. 13.5 inches circumference today.

Undressing was a tad troublesome: the harness first, then off came the shorts, hood and tee-shirt. Ah yes, back to that 3" cock ring. Mistress had said that it may be interesting getting it off with my balls inflated, and it was. Quite a squeeze getting my huge balls through it, in fact Maggie detached the ring from the harness and suggested I take it home and remove it when my balls had shrunk back to normal. However, with a lot of gentle easing I did manage to remove the ring before leaving the chambers, so it’s been cleaned and safely returned to the harness.

Where to next? We are approaching our 100th session and we agreed that Mistress Maggie will give an infusion of 1 litre in that session. If you have followed the blog you will know that I have been Maggie’s guinea pig for this procedure and the build up has been gradual, 250ml, 450ml and today 700ml. So I know 1 litre will be fine, but that should provide the biggest set of dogs bollocks Mistress has ever handled. I hope Maggie is as excited as I am as she will own balls the size of a small football. As to my audition as serving tray, much more practise is required and watch this space.

Footnote:- By Sunday night Maggie's cock and balls were virtually back to normal. All the saline had been absorbed and you would never know that her balls had been so hugely inflated as I stroke the deflated sack and look forward to the litre infusion.

BDSM Fundamentals

The calling mail indicated . . . I will take you back to the fundamentals of BDSM, where you will be bowing at my every command. . .  and so Mistress Maggie summoned her very willing acolyte to continue my slave training with my exceptional Mistress.

Bowing began immediately as I went down on my knees presenting myself at Mistresses feet. I was asked to give her boots a thorough tonguing to give them a deep clean; my first mistake. I thought Maggie was wearing ankle boots; this mistake attracted heavy slaps as encouragement to worship the full length of her knee length boots. I don’t know how I could have missed that. I usually grab any excuse to do long flowing worship up Maggie's stunning legs. The boots Maggie wore did a good job of matching her latex stockings and I really thought they were ankle length and my worship and cleaning had to stop at ankle boot level. I am, after all, only a stupid slave, and now a stupid slapped one.

After helping me into my rubber catsuit, I was hooded, butt plug inserted, and Maggie told me to lie on the rubber bed where I was 'eased' into the Gates of Hell cock cage and told to maintain an erection. At that point, maintaining an erection was the least of my worries. Mistress then got to work tying me into a simple rope harness, which provided the foundations for the next stage, chair bondage.

The folding Playroom Chair was already in position, with cock and balls exposed and arms behind, I was loosely secured. The black steel leg spreader was roped at ankles to relentlessly spread my legs, well that is what a leg spreader does, and then attached to my bound wrists. That was effectively providing the only real attachment to the chair. I could move, but I wouldn't and didn't as I was plunged into a state of real mental torture. Mistress used a leather blindfold to rob my vision and rubber gag to pump up my cheeks. Maggie knows how I love watching her move seductively round her prey, but I was only able to feel her fingertips as she teased my nipples with strokes and pinches or just stroked my latex suit. For me, the torture of the blindfold is just as real a torture as the nipple clamps I was about to experience.

Mood music was quietly playing and in my sightless state I drifted towards lyrics from Tommy* (well almost anyway).

I'm your wicked Mistress Maggie

I'm glad you won't see or hear me

As I fiddle about

finger fiddle about. . .

Wicked Mistress Maggie applied nipple clamps and was hell bent on testing which ones would make me gasp the most, helped by the plastic bag of course, and when Maggie deemed it necessary, 'another half turn' of the nipple screws increased both the grip and the gasping. Before applying the first set of nipple clamps, Mistress had gently applied a little talc round each exposed bud and I thought how nice Maggie is to her slaves. Hmmm! De-greasing the nipples to provide better grip for those pesky little nipple clamps!. As I said, Maggie plans for everything.

Then a real surprise and treat, although not unprecedented. Maggie climbed inside the plastic bag and appeared to enjoy a little shared restricted breathing with her slave. I tried not to breathe too heavily as I wanted Mistress to remain in such intimate close proximity for as long as possible. I savoured her warm closeness as we gasped, cheek to cheek inside the warming bag. I could taste the air from inside Mistress as she breathed in and out and held the bag tightly shut against both our imprisoned necks.

The difference of that dynamic being that when Maggie had gasped enough, out she emerged with a warm moist glow on her cheeks, whilst I was left increasingly excited, frustrated and feeling a very warm glow inside the bag.

When finally I was let out of the plastic, an O-gag was forced into my mouth and secured with a tight head harness and Mistress used this to yank my head back and produced several large doses of spittle, each accurately deposited down the centre of the gag. I have promised to do anything for my Mistress and these deposits were like little globules of honey as Mistress shared her saliva with her slave.

Leonard Cohen was now moaning quietly away in the background but I couldn't help thinking of another couple of lines from Tommy*.

. . . But tied to that chair you won't go anywhere


There's a lot I can do to a freak. . .

Mistress said I was not gasping enough and would be progressing onto another head trip that would have me open my mouth wider and out came the latex suffocation hood. I was first introduced to this hood during my second saline infusion and there is not a lot of room inside for spare air, but this time Maggie slackened the neck tie to allow just sufficient in for it to be worn for a longer period.

Tension and frustration were really starting to build by this stage, regular nipple clamp tightening continued and once again Maggie's clever planning and attention to detail was evident. Rather mischievously, she attached a vibrator to my slave collar with a short length of playroom rope, switched it on and let it dangle. By judicious bowing and careful aim I could make contact with my lower bits and rattle on the Gates of Hell! Incidentally, contacting a vibrating vibrator on the cock rings plays a most unusual tune as well as rather nice sensations.

Yet more mental torture. I was to follow my orders and bow to Mistress on command. This meant two possible predicaments: Sitting upright, I could just make out Mistress through a haze of amber light through the latex suffocation hood, but the vibrator was then too high to stimulate, or I could bow forward to make contact then only view Mistresses boots through my restricted position and get more pain from the nipple clamps.

I am unsure how many times Maggie commanded me to bow, but I soon learned that it was best to obey quickly, as my left cheek was attracting a lot more unwarranted attention, earning a heavy slap or two whenever I reacted too slowly.

One final change of head and cock gear resulted in Maggie fitting me with the s10 gas mask, along with electrodes to replace the Gates of Hell, but not before I received two very welcome gulps of refreshing, cool water from Maggie, delivered directly into my mouth by my Mistress. She drank but didn’t swallow instead, at very close quarters, touching my lips, spat the cool liquid directly through the opening in my hood and into my mouth. A most efficient method of giving a slave a drink and not a drop was spilled.

I do wish Maggie wouldn’t ask her stupid slave to make decisions about my training. 'What program on the e-stim slave?'. How the hell do I know? I'm only a simple slave and do as I'm told. Two I blurted out and two it was. Perhaps next time I'll be bold and use the untested programs five or even program nine!

Generous to a fault Maggie also changed the nipple clamps. By this time my nipples hurt like hell but at least Maggie appeared amused by my discomfort and I got further visual stimulation through the s10 as Mistress donned her own gas mask hood. What a strangely exciting sight as what was once my stunningly attractive Mistress was transformed into a stunningly attractive alien, and an alien who was in control of the e-stim box to boot.

Program Two started gently, sending a consistent pattern through my genitals for quite a while, then I could feel the pulse being massively ramped-up by Maggie and I was left to wriggle and stew for a couple of minutes whilst my alien Mistress watched her tortured subject from the comfort of the Playroom bed. Mistress decided that it was time to bring the session to a close and she stood next to me and positioned the e-stim controller so I could see the display through the s10. The display showed a bright number 40 and we quietly watched the number changing as Maggie turned the dial and gradually reduced it to zero. I was left shaken, stirred, nipple tortured and thoroughly frustrated with all the unfulfilled excitement.

Even after three days, I can stroke my sensitive nipples, recall another excellent session and raise a storming erection. Mistress Maggie is real good at this slave training job.

* For the uneducated: Tommy is a rock classic by the Who.