A Right Pain in the Bum

Mistress Maggie allowed her sadistic, cruel side to surface once again, to elicit a little concern and a lot of dismay from her very loyal slave. Not because of the punishment I was about to receive, that was fully deserved and expected as I had been pre-warned twice, firstly when the incident happened, 'A dose of discipline from your displeased Mistress will remind you to double check facts before broadcasting’. And secondly in the calling e-mail, 'Your punishment for embarrassing me has been determined and will be carried out ahead of a steamy ordeal'. Mistress NEVER forgets or changes a punishment; no matter what you do or say you will receive the ordained amount.

No, Maggie's cruel sadistic side materialised when I was sent to the bathroom with instructions to put on my black rubber gloves, socks and shorts, and to bring the item I found there back to the Chambers for my chastisement. What I found was a cane, about two feet long and the thickness of a little finger; a veritable mean bum breaking machine. I knew it was going to hurt!

Mistress had already positioned the Horse exactly where she wanted it for maximum purchase and accuracy in her swing. I duly presented the cane to her and without thought or argument positioned myself along the bench ready to receive it. 'I have decided, twenty strokes’, she announced. Depending on the severity of the punishment Mistress may expect me to bend and take it, but on this occasion my hands were roped securely forward and my ample girth confined tightly to the punishment Horse. With the ease of the exceptional Mistress that she is, my head was swiftly inserted into a rather nice rubber hood 'to catch some of the screams and crying'. I was advised to thank Mistress after each stroke and repeat ‘Less haste more attention’, or something very similar, to remind me not to repeat the mistake in future.

I was really glad of the strong ropes, as by halfway I was turning the horse into a bucking bronco at each stroke. It was starting to place a real strain on my resolve; the only thing keeping me from screaming was the knowledge that Mistress deemed my punishment as deserved and necessary. Those of you who have played the children's game Buckaroo will understand exactly how I was feeling.

18 Thank You Mistress, more haste. . . 19 Thank you. . . 20.  OH the relief, but I did remember a final Thank you. . .  I must say Maggie is not a complete sadist, because every four or five strokes she would stop, come into my limited field of vision, and through the perforated latex hood gently stroke my head. Each time I got a perforated reminder of how stunning Mistress looks in her leather skirt and corset, topped with a stunning blouse and bottomed with the most precisely placed seams on the sheerest black nylons you could imagine; dead straight up those perfect legs. That vision also helped sustain my poor arse through its ordeal.

At the end of my punishment it was really strange. My arse, which had been on fire for twenty strokes just felt numb. I might have quipped about having a numb bum - but I didn't. I just lay there assimilating and absorbing the pain. Mistress deposited a string of anal beads right under my nose, in my post-punishment haze and with my restricted vision I thought it was a ball gag and tried to be helpful by opening my mouth wide. Wrong end fool. Those beads were destined for another orifice. With a large dollop of lube, accompanied by the kind of farting sounds you can only get when the last dredges are being squeezed from a bottle. . . 'Remind me to get some more lube, slave,’ each of the four balls were easily lodged up my numb bum hole.

Maggie cleaned away a spot of cane induced blood from my backside, before spending considerably more time cleaning that damn cane which had created 20 quite livid weals across it. The punishment I had taken today illustrates how your own personal limits can be gradually extended through suitable training. Four years ago I would have died at the thought of six strokes with a springy cane, yet here I was accepting 20 strokes with something more resembling a telegraph pole.

Punishment over Mistress relaxed back to her training persona and divested all her garments, to be replaced with a clear pair of plastic dungarees. Now, even through the perforations, that wonderful vision helped divert my attention away from my arse, which by now was just starting to warm and become less numb. Her perfect figure was clearly on display yet totally protected by the plastic and it was other areas of my anatomy that were now reacting to the charged situation.

Mistress is used to her slaves reaction, ignored the growing erection and helped me into a thick smoky black plastic catsuit. I have worn this suit before and it has been carefully modified by Maggie; she made a reinforced opening in it for her cock and balls. The latex hood that I had worn throughout my punishment ordeal was now removed, revealing a very wet and bedraggled slave. After a few hilarious jibes about the way I looked Mistress handed me a towel, with instruction to dry my hair and smarten up for some more plastic. She wanted to try out a new breathplay combination in the form of a close fitting hood and a new latex muzzle.

Even after drying, a little talc was necessary to ease my chins inside the soft clingy plastic without damaging the hood. Mistress liked the look of the combination but the practicalities for long-term use soon looked less hopeful, unfortunately the nose holes did not line up as well as she would like. At least I had the pleasure of testing it out and quietly suffocating in it for a while, before alerting her that it couldn’t be worn for longer, as the airflow was simply too restricted. A lovely item the muzzle though, with adjustable head straps and rubber neck corset. So when Maggie was ready to move us into the White Room, off it came, but no doubt we will be re-introduced again in the not too distant future.

The clinic had been prepared with a definite plastic theme; a thick plastic bodybag spread out on the gynae couch being the centrepiece. Mistress interviewed me first, asking me questions about my recent cock health and performance. She said that she’d be taking care of her slaves routine piss hole maintenance today, and that it could be a messy business. Better lie on some protective plastic then. Maggie opened the bodybag’s zip all the way, I gingerly sat in the offered position which did start my caned arse stinging, and finally relaxed inside. I was strapped in and zipped up ready for Mistresses next exercise.

I was informed that my external temperature must be monitored through two little pads attached at either side of my balls. To tell the truth it felt like the tens unit, especially when Maggie turned it on to Program E, but I assume new technology can take a slaves temperature in this manner? And now for internal measurements and stretching exercises. More lube, a few choice decisions regarding the sound size and Mistress was carefully inserting ever increasing sized sounds from her Pratt kit down the inside of her cock. I took Pratt sound size 27 relatively easily but the next size up refused to slide in. With my highest sound size limit noted Maggie was satisfied with the stretching progress she had made with her slave, she indicated that in a future session we would be returning to the clinic for continued stretching of the urethra.

Yet another strange use of new technology was introduced now, by way of what was reported to be an internal thermometer. You can guess where that ended up along with its associated electrode; stuck inside my penis shaft. Oh yes, Mistress really does need to know how hot it is in there, how else does she know whether to switch her electric up or down? The electrastim sensation was set to a very unnerving level, and to add to the steamy atmosphere the zip was finally closed over my face and I started to use up the air inside the body bag. No sympathy from Mistress as she pointed out there was a suitable sized hole at cock level to let in plenty of air.

It is a strange feeling gradually consuming all the air inside the bodybag, unlike the other breath play methods that I have enjoyed with Maggie the effects are much slower to show themselves. The plastic is thick and doesn't mould itself to your face, in fact the lack of oxygen creeps up slowly and insidiously. Perhaps I should suggest Mistress installs carbon dioxide monitors inside the body bags, but then again they are not required as I trust Mistress implicitly and have agreed to go wherever she wants to take her slave.

As Maggie unhitched her plastic slave from the clinic couch she revealed that a lot more plastification awaited me, but I will have to tell you about that in a future episode, because for the first time in all my 4+ years in training Mistress changed her mind ‘ . . or maybe not’, she said. Instead we spent quiet time lounging on the latex bed, where we just chilled out in our plastic suits, talking and enjoying each others company. It is an amazing thing lying there talking and just gazing at Maggie’s smiling profile in the subdued lighting of the Playroom. I didn't change my mind though about being the luckiest slave alive; a perfect Mistress, with a laugh and smile to die for and once more, in the presence of my Mistress, I felt really alive.

Needless to say Mistress made sure her cock was kept under strict control during this time, however a lot more willpower was required when Mistress decided a little plastic face-sitting would bring the session to a suitable finale, and I was told in no uncertain terms not to embarrass myself. Slurp went the last few drops of lube inside her dungarees and Mistress mounted my face with her lubed up plastic protected rear. I get the distinct impression Mistress Maggie enjoys slipping around on the nose of her suffocating slave and the severe ache I left the Chambers with on that very lucky Friday 13th had nothing to do with a sore arse.

Mistress, if you read this, I have to remind you to get some more lube!

PPI

No, nothing to do with Payment Protection Insurance, but a title that came to mind following something Mistress Maggie said to me; she had called me a Pee Powered Individual. But before we flow into that area I was really concerned that Mistress Maggie may be tired of her faithful but ageing slave and may cast me aside into that abyss which is Room 101, never again to worship my Mistress. All I could do to prevent this catastrophe was to promise to willingly do whatever Mistress asked, immediately and without question.

Today, I was to bring all my red rubber fetish clothes. I had even taken the liberty of arriving in my nice pair of red shorts. I’m getting more bold with wearing rubber, it is now quite common for me to wear either my red, black or smoky black shorts under my everyday clothes - apologies, I digress. Divested of my outer garments and naked except for latex gloves and socks I was reminded of my submissive position, I returned to the Playroom where I lay prostrate on the floor and proceeded to clean, tongue polish and generally worship Mistresses slingback patent shoes.

Maggie was guiding my efforts with the tip of her riding crop and I knew any infractions would earn an immediate crack, but her crop did not need to be deployed in anger as Maggie has trained me well, her slave must attend to her shoes until she is satisfied, which can be quite a feat when Maggie is in her figure hugging black latex catsuit which always drives me to distraction.

With the help of a little powder I was slipping into the red catsuit. Once on, I was to stand and bend over the Playroom throne with my legs apart. Mistress opened my crotch zip, donned yet another pair of safety gloves and slipped her finger into my bum. More lubrication and the same again, her finger moving slowly in and out and round about, my excited passage feeling quite relaxed and very willing to take my little anal friend and the butt-plug was soon pushed into place and zipped snugly out of sight.

Mistress seated herself on the black rubber bed, beckoned me over and described how she would like me to worship her latex curves, a privilege that would keep me busy for some length of time, and she said I would clearly benefit from a lesson in managing without air. Out came a large plastic bag, pulled over my face and gathered tightly round my neck until I had had my lesson and was gasping for breaths, pleading with Mistress for air.

Mistress discarded the bag and relaxed on the bed, first on her back then on her front, and I was instructed to lick, kiss and caress every part of her black latex second skin. With my earlier reservations about remaining a useful slave still in the back of my mind I set about doing exactly what Maggie wished. My licks and kisses started at the top, making their way over Maggie’s latex covered breasts and down to her stomach, she used her arms and legs to draw me in as I continued to massage her latex with my tongue. Up and down and back up each of her superbly formed legs as Mistress gracefully positioned them for my best attention.

I think I was making a little progress easing Mistresses tensions, as every now and then Maggie would give an involuntary twitch, or an almost imperceptible sigh could be heard amongst the noisy sounds of rubber rubbing on rubber. Then suddenly Mistress told me to move aside so she could stand up. At times like this I am to freeze, remaining exactly where I am until told otherwise, although I was sorely tempted to turn towards the sounds of my Mistress in her latex, who had made her way through the door and was now returning with an item from the Clinic. ‘Hold this for me slave’, she said handing me the yellow enema bag. Maggie carefully unzipped her crotch zip and used the bag to catch the contents of her full bladder. I watched and listened to the music of the softly tinkling fluid as it was guided into the receptacle, and I could just sense essence of Mistress with a hint of rubber as I smiled inwardly thinking I may get a taste of the bags contents later.

There was a temporary adjournment as Maggie returned to the Clinic taking the bag and its contents with her, then back on the bed and back to the rubbery delight of licking, cleaning and caressing those oh so perfect thighs. Maggie turned over and I was finally able to make intimate contact with those glorious black globes that I so eagerly follow but daren't touch, up the stairs to the Playroom. Boy, was I in heaven for quite a while there. I did get the impression Maggie was enjoying herself; I knew I was, but of course we run to Maggie's time and it was time for a change and a little suspension.

The suspension frame was lowered from the ceiling and the heavy harness attached to the frame with stout chains. Mistress had her strapon pointing right at me, ‘OK, I will be making sure you are well stretched today, get ready to be raised to a good height for some anal abuse’. With a thoughtful touch she allowed me to wear a head harness, I was all strapped in and I was off flying with ankles chained to the other side of the frame. I just lay back and enjoyed being lifted to whatever height Mistress wanted me at. Note for the next time Mistress wants me in red latex; she did remark that it appears that whenever I am flying from her rafters I am always wearing my red catsuit. Perhaps it’s a red rubber flying suit? but I will check the blogs to see if that is the case.

What is the case is that Mistress was in a mood for giving her slave a good dildoing, and boy was it good. Long deep and powerful thrusts interspersed with short bursts of cock stimulation had me knee bending in the chain suspension to allow Mistress to penetrate even more deeply. I am sure I could feel the retaining ring of the dildo against my ass cheeks as it went all the way in. Mistress had me in a most vulnerable position, and over the course of the next hour or so she must have repeated this action about half a dozen times; fucking my ass each time she passed, whilst teasing my cock with occasional strokes and vibrations with a silver vibrator. Maggie gave her slave the best and longest riding that I have experienced and use of the frame and leather harness in this context is definitely one to recommend.

At one point I could feel Mistress inserting something into my cock. It had been a long time since Mistress had treated me to this pleasurable sensation and I wasn't sure if it was an electrode or one of her many sounds. Whatever it was, it was a most pleasant sensation. When Maggie next left the room I couldn’t help but have a little feel and discovered it was a sound, but as I was gently massaging my swollen member it dropped out. I pleaded ignorance when Maggie returned and mumbled, 'It just dropped out’. I suspect if Maggie reads this it might just drop right back in there but held a little more securely!. Fortunately it was tethered and the red rope stopped it from clattering to the floor. Maggie just stuck it back in my cock hole and started fucking me again, as the suspension moved to and fro with her thrusts, the metal sound slid up and down my urethral passage.

Once Maggie was satisfied with her reaming, she set about soothing, cooling and filling my overheating arsehole. I received the second dose of PPI as the contents of the previously filled enema bag were wheeled into the Playroom on a drip stand and promptly fed into a very willing and receptive orifice. My ass must have been wide open as Mistress was pleasantly surprised at the speed the enema was infused. 'It's gone in already’, she said and an inflatable bung was deployed to keep it there. I wasn't surprised at all as in the past I have taken 2 litres from Mistress with little or no discomfort. As good as Mistress Maggie's pee reservoir is, I am sure it doesn't run to two litres. What I didn’t know is that I had more PPI surprises to come and there was more pee in reserve.

After all my hard work (lol) Mistress lowered the frame. I, however was feeling very happy with everything I had received and  somewhat mischievous. As Maggie lowered the frame with her back to me I noisily closed my legs, deliberately making the chains clink and rattle and the metal suspension frame reverberate with the sudden noise. Maggie, startled by all the sudden unexpected grating noises instantly turned to check, as an exceptional Mistress would, that nothing untoward had happened to her slave. I suspect I shouldn't have teased my Mistress like that as I was quite safe, but I was feeling so good by that stage that a little fun never does anyone any harm. Hmmm! No doubt that will come back to haunt me.

Mistress donned her rubber piss pants and allowed me a long slow warm drink. The nectar itself is a wonderful privilege granted by Mistress, but I was at the perfect angle to watch my drink being naturally dispensed into the 'holding tank' and then willingly gulp down my treat as the tap was slowly opened, to allow a little through at a time. Like a good PPI slave I relished every drop and am delighted to report that there were no spillages at all. I think Mistress was pleased with her delivery mechanism.

So pleased that she raised the frame again and changed her focus to the other end of her slave where she played with her cock. It felt engorged, very sensitive and the steel sound was still installed. Mistress manipulated the sound, playfully rubbing handfuls of lube along my cock, and you can guess the rest. Mistress certainly knows how to milk a slave when she chooses. My best efforts to restrain myself were to no avail because once Mistress has decided something, it happens. I am helpless and unable to resist anything my Mistress wants or does and I am definitely NOT complaining.

I am more relaxed about my future servitude and Mistress Maggie not wanting to immediately discard her property. I have achieved my wish not to be cast into room 101 and have been granted session 102. I know, I am a fortunate PPI slave.

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.