Unfinished Business

Due to frailties and failings on my part in recent sessions, Mistress Maggie was unable to complete some of her planned activities. Only two weeks ago much needed advanced nipple play was halted due to a pain in the butt-plug, six months prior to that a prolonged bondage chair confinement was curtailed due to a pain in the neck, as a result my ass escaped a meeting with Maggie’s electric dildo. Mistress said she does not like me falling behind with my slave education and was determined to take measures to get my training back on track. We would be revisiting those abandoned scenarios today and taking the lessons again.

Anyway, before the unfinished business commenced, I had already blotted my copy-book by not having thoroughly cleaned my slave collar. Mistress made sure the collar was fastened on one notch tighter than usual to torment me for my laziness, then over the punishment stool, face down with Mistress astride my back for a good beating with the Playroom hairbrush. Who would think that an innocent item like a hairbrush could cause such carnage to a slaves resolve. The answer to that of course, is the way the brush was wielded by an expert in slave beatings. However, it was made a lot easier to bear, because in the mirror I could see the reflection of Mistress in her gold latex catsuit and feel her warmth on my bare back. An undeserved pleasure mixed with such thorough punishment, plus a promise that my collar will be so polished next time.

After warming my cheeks, preparatory widening of my asshole was to be addressed. I was instructed to retrieve the low bench and ready myself in the kneeling position with head touching the bench. The strap-on was sheathed just in front of my eyes so I knew exactly what was coming and Mistress took her place behind me, my reddened ass cheeks were separated and she mounted her slave from the rear. Nothing violent or brutal or painful. Maggie eased the tip of her rubber cock gently into my hole and within seconds of gentle inching in and out, I was thrusting backwards onto her well oiled shaft. After that my butt-plug slipped in almost inconspicuously and nestled there nicely; little chance of me complaining of pains in my butt plug today!

Earlier in the week Mistress had asked me how I was going on with my larger guiche jewellery. I had to explain the little matter of how my guiche had come out because one of my balls dropped off in the shower. No, not one of my bollocks, I mean the small silver ball that keeps my piercing in place! The piercing had not yet stretched to accommodate the thicker bar when the ball came unscrewed, and I rather stupidly removed the bar rather than re-fixing the errant ball. Try as I might I still had not managed to get the fiddly thing back in. Three days had gone by since it came out and Maggie insisted it needed putting back very soon. ‘Bring your piercing to session slave and I will reinstall it, failing that, I will have to cart you back to the piercing salon’.

Mistress will never admit defeat to a technical challenge, although it was evident that returning my guiche to its correct location was one of the more trickier challenges she had undertaken recently. However, to every problem there is always more than one solution and my Mistress, after a bout of head scratching and expletives, disappeared from the clinic to return with a much smaller bar, worked that through quite easily and the bigger bar followed without a hitch. The exercise had taken far longer than Maggie had expected but I knew from her voice that this bit of unfinished business had now been completed to her satisfaction and I felt really pleased to have my guiche back in. Note to self: keep your balls screwed tightly on!

Returning to the Playroom I donned my black latex catsuit, Mistress then set about another bit of unfinished business and the nipple clamps came out, to complete rather a sadistic part of Maggie’s curriculum that remained unlearned due to my frailties.

First the suction cups were planted on my chest to get my nipples standing proud, and once the nipples were big enough, Maggie could get a good grip on my buds. Talc was used to dry off the areola and get an even better grip and those square screw clamps were brutally attached. I became the subject of lots of security tests as Maggie yanked on the nipple clamps’ chain to check whether they were tight enough. Lots more grunts and even the odd sharp intake of breath from me as those screws kept turning, Mistress forever proving that one good turn deserves another!

Time to stand up and let those nasty clamps dangle, along with some playful 'encouragement' in the form of the Playroom vibrator. I was ordered with my back against the Cell bars where Maggie pressed on my chest to hold me there, whilst using the vibrator on my cock and balls. Her actions left me with a raging, frustrating erection and with that disarming little giggle Maggie fitted a latex apron round my waist to cover my rampant cock. In contrast, the heavyweight latex half mask that I had buckled on me was a whole lot more strict, with its long snug neck and small nostril holes it did a wonderful job of restricting my breathing.

Mistress sat on her throne and tucked into her packed lunch. The substandard polishing of my slave collar was raised again and Mistress said there was no time like the present to improve my polishing skills. ‘You can do some cleaning up while I’m having a rest slave, there’s a duster and polish on the cabinet for you.’ A lengthy period of slave cleaning was to be completed, I was supposed to work my way round the Playroom using the Mister Sheen and cloth, clean and polish all the equipment and clean the picture rail where everything was neatly hung. And there’s nothing as practical as killing two birds with one stone; Mistress receives help with her cleaning and I am rudely reminded of the high standards expected when attending to my slave collar.

My cleaning job was not as easy as it may sound. Firstly the traditional hooks used over the rail are little bastards to get back once disturbed and it was very easy to disturb them whilst removing the heavy items. Secondly, with my weight, standing on the bed, I sink and bounce and also sweat a lot with the exertions.

If you have ever tried to fix a clip wearing nipple clamps, tight mask and latex gloves whilst bouncing on a rubber bed, it is very easy to drop the hooks and of course the only place they choose to fall is down the side of the bed. I retrieve them, pulling the bed away from the wall, fumbling down the side of the bed, trying to live with the excruciating pain as I catch the nipple chain which makes me sweat even more, push the bed back and start again. The sweat becomes a distraction in itself as the salty water trickles down inside the half mask into your eyes and blurs vision even more. . . another hook chooses to fall. . . and so it goes on. Who would believe that a simple cleaning task could send a slave into such a state of rubber submission.

Mistress sighed saying that what had taken me half an hour normally takes her two minutes. My response? 'I can never be as good as my Mistress'. Hmmm. I suspect this may end up as more unfinished business.

The last bits of unfinished business were about to be addressed, as Mistress carefully manoeuvred the high backed bondage chair under the overhead gantry and one of her heavy leather waist corsets was strapped around my waist. She pulled and pulled on the straps until it could be tightened no further which gave me that wonderful feeling of being very secure. From their various locations on those miserable little picture frame clamps, Mistress collected the leather restraints suitable for strapping and buckling me to the bondage chair. Why is it that not one of the clamps came off when Maggie unloaded them? Wrist straps and diagonal chest straps, which occasionally disturbed my re-tightened nipple clamps, a wrap round each arm, straps round each ankle and I was securely fixed. My nipples, cock and balls all on display and easily accessible to their owner.

A final touch to my restriction was the addition of the Lithuanian gas mask. With a little practice you can actually play a little tune through the outlet valve as it produces it rich low pitched rumble on breathing out. Mistress appeared nonplussed with some of the tunes I was trying to trumpet, although I know Mistress occasionally appreciates a bit of music while working and has often been known to burst into song herself.

Mistress had constructed a back brace for the chair, made specifically to address the problem of neck ache whilst reclining. It is beautifully made, attached by rope to the back of the chair and absolutely perfect for preventing your head lolling backwards. The playroom was filled with the sound of rattling metal as Mistress collected the chains she would use to hold the chair and Maggie attached two stout chains and gently reclined me and the chair backwards, past 45 degrees. I got a feeling of deja-vu; a previous session had been halted at this point because of my aching neck. This time, I relaxed with my head against the new back rest and immediately knew I wouldn't have neck problems, in fact more chance of suffering too much comfort. I have oft said I have the perfect, most versatile and caring owner a slave could ever wish for.

And the finale of all Mistresses hard work was completion of the electric dildo play. One of the hidden gems of the Bondage Chair is the hole in the seat, ideally located for Mistress to access a slaves back passage and this is exactly what Maggie had in store for me. She could reach underneath to remove the butt plug and replace it with something a little more shocking. Through the misting eyepieces of the Lithuanian mask I could see a long silver object being readied for deployment, in fact Maggie made a point of showing me the invader. ‘This is the big shocking toy you missed last time slave’, and I felt something big being squeezed onto my cock then, moments later felt something even bigger being eased up my backside. I was already well stretched for this and the electrode slid in very easily.

As the electro circuits were brought online I approached that state where I knew I would embarrass myself, but I was determined to hold on because Mistress makes the decision on when or if I am allowed any orgasms. Mistress put her gas mask on and joined in with the breathing games, finally taking me over the edge as she slowly eased the giant electrode dildo in and out, then gradually increasing the frequency I could hear her words through our gas masks. ‘OK slave, all unfinished business completed, you can cum now’ and I did. No embarrassment this time, Mistress Maggie had allowed me the release that she had been building throughout our unfinished business, and I had very successfully received all the delights that I had denied myself in previous sessions.

Another perfect day in the life of a very happy and contented slave.

A Black Tape Day

I had been dying to show Mistress Maggie my new plum coloured latex catsuit, so I asked if on this occasion it was acceptable to arrive with my catsuit on. Imagine my surprise when she agreed, but not without throwing in a curved ball. ‘Yes that’s fine. Permission granted. Actually, a blindfold might look good with it, if you have one’. Maggie wanted me to arrive at The Chambers wearing a blindfold; I could see several problems with that instruction! Where would I get a blindfold within 20 minutes of leaving home? How would I drive or even walk to the Chambers in a blindfold? It certainly would attract unwanted attention from the locals. Then I had a light bulb moment. Finding an old pair of glasses I set to work with my trusty black electricians tape and scissors, and in no time I had a very effective blindfold that looked just like a pair of sunglasses. I couldn't see anything in front and had only limited vision around the edges of the frame.

Perfect. I would wait until I could see the inner door being opened and then quickly don my blacked out glasses. I felt a bit daft and I felt a bit nervous, but only until I heard that delightful giggle from Mistress and the laughter as she said, ‘come in slave’. My peripheral vision touched on a pair of golden boots and just a hint of a gold latex covered leg.

Still largely blind, I took off my coat and shoes and stood to attention awaiting my instruction. Mistress, with a smile in her voice relented, suggesting it might be safer to go upstairs without the taped up glasses. As I removed my blindfold and put it in my pocket, I had no idea that my black electricians tape was just a pre-curser to bigger things ahead, and that I’d be challenged by a lot more black tape before the day was out. Oh boy was I pleased to have my sight restored, as there in front of me stood Mistress, an absolute vision in striking gold, shortly followed by the sight of those shining golden bum cheeks ascending the stairs, which has to rank as the eighth wonder of the world.

My first duty of the day was to display my devotion with boot worship. In contrast to the smooth feeling latex that covered the rest of my Mistress, her boots were a rough textured material and I could not do my usual long licks. I wondered if Mistress knew how rough and scaly her boots were, obviously the answer to that was yes and as usual Mistress had thought of everything. ’Stick out your tongue and place it on the point of my boot slave’ and she proceeded to drag my tethered head up the length of her golden boots, again . . . again . . . and again . . . and again . . .   Cleaning those scaly lizard like boots was more like licking sandpaper, my tongue was left feeling quite sensitive after so many energetic passes up the boots. Still, I did have the lovely smell of the gold and plum latex to keep me going, I am totally useless with colour matching but I do think the plum and gold look well together, a colourful change to strict black latex as well.

Mistress likes to dress her slaves, however on this occasion I was instructed to keep my catsuit on and Mistress told me to catwalk around her Playroom so that I could show her the full potential of her tightly clad rubber plum toy. The time saved by being pre-dressed dovetailed nicely with a very tight schedule that Mistress had planned. As soon as I had pulled on my black socks and gloves I was ready to assist my Mistress and she required that her cat-suited figure be polished to a high shine. A delightful task enthusiastically undertaken with the help of Mr Sheen and a lot of gentle rubbing. In return, I was greased up and plugged up the ass with a trusty rubber butt plug.

Enough of this enjoyment, time was passing and we had to return to Maggie's plan. My wrists were tied and I was roped to the wooden chair; that simple yet so effective bondage that has held me captive on more than one occasion. Layers of wide plastic wrap were wound loosely around my head, making it fully encapsulated yet still able to breathe, for now. A specially shaped plastic cape was added and left draping over my shoulders while Maggie disappeared to retrieve a third item. The rope binding may have been simple, but I was soon to discover how incredibly effective it was when Mistress tightly wound her thin plastic wrap twice around my head, nose and mouth.

I have never felt so under Mistresses influence and ownership as in those few brief moments before a suitable breathing hole was formed in my tight wrapping. There was nothing I could do. The ropes held very firm and as I struggled all I could see was the hazy vision of my golden goddess in her 'Heart of Gold' catsuit; Maggie's description not mine, but a name which accurately reflects my Owner.

Now to the business end of why all the careful plastic wrapping. I was to receive a full body mummification complete with a black gaffer tape topping. Ah, that was the reason for the plastic shoulder guard; to protect my latex suit from the sticky tape. Starting with my chin and winding downwards, all of the cape was being covered and I was slowly being turned into something resembling a Rodin sculpture.

After that Maggie used the same method to tape up my feet and my legs as high as my knees; clingfilm first then the duct tape winding. We have experienced session shortening cramps on a previous tape mummification when I couldn't move my feet, but todays wrapping was a very different and comfortable type of bondage. Maggie asked me if it was too tight as she was taping and there were no complaints from her slave. With this change to my feet wrap I had the feeling this could be a very long incarceration indeed.

The Plank was now being assembled. Unfortunately, due to me being partially immobilised I had to be parked to one side and act as a bystander while Maggie did all the hard work, I could then bunny hop across to the Plank and lie down, or so I thought. Maggie said the thundering sound of my bunny hops on her floorboards might concern her husband, so we reverted to a sedate slave shuffle instead. As it happens the slave shuffle turned out to be a bonus for me, as I managed to sneak my arms round Mistress on the pretext that I was unstable with my feet bound up, once more getting my hands on her polished gold, which felt even more gorgeous through my latex gloves.

My mummy moment had finally arrived and I sat down on the centre of the bondage plank. ’Down onto the plank . . . Move down a bit . . . bit more’, until Maggie was finally satisfied her charge was in my final resting place and a soft pillow placed beneath my head. It took a while for Mistress to totally mummify her toy, occasionally needing to stretch across me to retrieve her roll of tape from the other side of the plank. I may have been totally immobile but I could still feel the warmth of her beautiful body through the layers of tape, layers of cling-film and layers of latex. For once I was pleased with my girth, as it meant Mistress had further to stretch to get her black gaffer back.

A few magic moments captured on video - WITH SOUND

Meticulous as ever, Maggie made sure every inch was covered and every bit neat and smooth until finally, I was happy just to catch glimpses of my golden goddess as she floated in and out of vision. Vision was the last to go as Maggie gently applied the final tape bindings across my eyes. I lay there approaching that serene state where I was at one with the Plank, at one with the world and happy in the knowledge that my Mistress cared enough for her slave to leave me in this position. And there I stayed for a substantial time.

I may not have been able to see my Mistress, but I could see her in my minds eye. Every now and then, I would fantasise about Mistress doing this and that and odd things to me with her toys and equipment. Totally safe inside my shroud yet totally vulnerable to whatever Mistress wished to do. She had already promised a few incisions and checks to make sure I was still working OK. All I could do was grind my hips in a totally unsatisfying, circular dance, dream of my Mistress and think of my oath to do anything Mistress wanted, immediately and without question.

I have travelled a long way along my road to understanding why I have become so devoted to and dependant on my Mistress and this session certainly provided me with more startling, amazing yet in a way disturbing enlightenment.

Mistress took her scissors and began chopping at my layers and peeling back the outer surface until all my sensitive areas were exposed. Something began happening with my once dangly bits; Mistress was emasculating my cock and balls by stapling them neatly out of harms way, which set off a spontaneous slow, prolonged release of sexual tension. I had no way of preventing the orgasm even if I wanted to, all I know is that I couldn’t help it, and it is not the first time I have reacted this way to her staples and I have been asking myself why.

Perhaps it was the way everything was compressed behind my stapled smooth abdomen, or that my manhood had been made totally useless and ineffective by their owner. Whatever the reason, I know each time I think about this issue, it really excites, thrills and amazes me how far along this road of true ownership we have come.

Mistress did suggest I could take the staples out at home if I wished. An exciting proposition, but I was not yet ready for that major step forward. Not because of potential discovery as I knew I could manage to keep our secret. No, it was the prospect of not being able to get the staples out of my balls; what would it feel like with Mistresses property safely stapled behind what must be the most effective chastity device known to a slave; how would it feel moving 'normally' with my Mistresses jewels ineffective; the feeling of my tight latex pants no longer having a rampant cock and swinging balls to fill them out but a smooth stapled area to casually stroke; the simple requirement of going to the loo; knowing just how much under the power of this magnificent lady I had become and what would it feel like, as frequently happens when I think of this incredibly sexy and sultry Mistress.

These are the reasons why I was reluctant to remove my staples at home. At this time, it was just too mind blowing to contemplate. For the moment I must concentrate hard on preventing future inevitable orgasms.

In any event, Mistress had far more stimulation to keep me entertained until the end of our session. The nipple zips in the new plum suit proved to be in exactly the right place for a pair of little nipple suckers. Maggie explained how she would use them to draw out my nipples into a more accessible size as they had become lazy and introverted. Further stimulations for an already well stimulated slave were provided in the form of eight electrodes. Yes, that is EIGHT electrodes, attached to the tens unit, which were evenly deployed across my lower body where Maggie's cock and balls once stood proud. When deployed in this configuration a previously unexplored range of stimulation was released, creating a  flowing, rippling sensation over a wide area. An unusual and exciting feeling and yet another new and amazing experience.

Apart from a growing pain in the butt plug, I could have remained in the dark, attached to the plank and totally happy to be my Mistresses property, but time marches on and the experience had to end some time. Reluctantly, for me anyway, Maggie decreed that I should be cut free from my amazing home. Mistress removed the staples and I must admit, (another of those might regret comments), I was a little disappointed at the freedom but elated by another step along my path of becoming a better slave to Mistress Maggie.

I'm Not Convinced You're Hot Enough

It was Friday and my first session of the new year was only one hour away and I knew that Mistress Maggie would be awaiting my confirmation. In an effort to reaffirm that I was her property and how my attendance was solely dependent on my Mistresses agreement and nothing else, I began typing my text message . . .   ‘May I still attend at 1430 please?’

First mistake of 2017. Mistress clearly was not in the mood for my grovelling approach, especially as she had taken time to write to me yesterday with a firm reminder to present myself for further training. Mistress deemed that some discipline was needed for my stupidity and careless choice of words and I was immediately confronted with my just desserts. I took my place over Maggie’s knee to receive a warm up hand spanking followed by a right roasting with a series of implements, those slapping slippers and leather slappers came raining down until my backside felt red hot, but not hot enough by all accounts.

Maggie continued with her interrogations. ‘What's all this may I attend rubbish? . . . I was expecting a confirmation, not a question that’s been answered . . . Are you trying to tell me something slave? . . . Don’t you want to continue your training slave? . . .’  a half inch thick wooden bum blisterer was put to work to assist with  generating some sensible replies. I must confess that I got a thrill from being prone across Mistresses latex covered thighs, a comment I will no doubt pay for in the future. I then received a little plastic bagging whilst my Mistress outlined the rest of the session to me through the misting plastic. ‘Your red scorching bum is only the start, I have even more hot ways coming, enough to give you a thirst’.

After that I was fitted into my black catsuit and the session was moved to the White Room. The heating had been set at a cozy level, so the latex hospital gown I was given to wear and the large latex drape that was covering the couch were already nice and warm. I was told to lay down with my legs raised up and Maggie brought in some white ropes and did a good job of securing me down, neatly roping up my balls out the way of my backside, she then set up her Gas Station to administer therapeutic aromas.

Mistress has so many gas masks at her disposal, but decided the large lenses of an S10 would give me the best view of the proceedings, and with my head raised up it was fitted on over the top of my latex mask to create an excellent seal. A corrugated hose connected slave to Gas Station and I was sent on a high, as Mistress took charge of the pump and started squeezing the aroma through the pipework to subdue me. I smiled because this configuration is generally the precursor to some anal play with my Mistress.

My hands which had been left hanging were now to be prevented from wandering as they were inserted into leather fist mittens and the sound of metal snap fasteners indicated the end of my freedom. I checked, and yes, I was securely attached to the couch, a cruel fate because Mistress knows I dream of stroking her superb latex clad buttocks whenever I can.

The pumped aromas were starting to take effect on my arsehole. I had already been fitted with my regular butt plug earlier, but now my muscles were nice and relaxed it was time for it to be removed and a pair of electric Kegel balls installed instead; there was a sensation of cold metal being tightened around cock and balls which also turned out to be electrodes. When Mistress was satisfied I was wired up correctly she squeezed the aroma pump a few times, ‘a little more medicine for you'  and the electric pulses were turned on. ‘Slave, are you feeling hot yet in all that rubber?’.

What could I say? I was starting to warm up; not at the boiling stage but sufficient to feel pleasantly warm. I grunted a 'No Mistress' through the S10. Mistress gave me and my rubber layers a stroke to feel my temperature for herself. ’Well, I’m not quite convinced that is hot enough for you. You need more rubber, and also, I am now going to switch up your electrodes to make things a little more steamy!'

And up the electrodes went. Not high enough to force an explosive eruption, more a gradual build up of seismic pressure that would eventually violently erupt. A bit like Vesuvius and on went a another layer of latex in the form of the Clinics clear rubber sheet. Yep, I was definitely starting to warm up by now but I was loving the situation even more.

It was then that I started to think about Christmas and how the turkey might have felt. No, I hadn't completely lost the plot, it was Maggie’s liberal use of the hairdryer that caused me to think that way! She was now seriously raising my temperature levels with her high power hair dryer all over my exposed bits and rubber covered bits. It got me thinking what it must feel like being in a fan oven and naturally, being early January, I could still visualise the turkey cooking and browning away in . . . the fan oven. I said I hadn't lost it! Anyway, what could I do? My orifice was stuffed with fancy pulse stuffing and all I could do was lie back and roast.

The electrodes were continuing to deliver their thrill building pulses when Mistress decreed some larger ass play would amuse her; off she went to put on a strap-on. Of course, the Kegel balls needed to be removed to make way for the invader, but I hardly had chance to take a breath before her strap-on was inserted. Maggie kindly described which dildo she was wearing and how she intended to use it. Due to my prone position I was unable see as the strap-on found its way into my hole, but I could certainly feel it as the first inch or so was eased in then the whole of the rest sank deep inside me and gave me a good long fucking. I certainly know my place when Maggie mounts me and we both know who is the leader of this pack and it ain’t me!

The aromas had worked, the butt plug had worked, the Kegels had worked in loosening my arsehole and the dildo slid in and out effortlessly as Maggie pounded my insides. Slow slow, quick quick slow. I was really disappointed when the dildo was finally pulled all the way out and the electric Kegels were re-instated. It is hard to believe that when Mistress first took my cherry, it was a one finger job and quite tight. Now I can take big toys and still hunger for more.

In fact, thinking back to when I was fortunate to be taken in hand by my owner, there were many challenges I would never have believed possible. For instance, who would have thought that one day I would willingly accept needles through my nipples without anything more than a murmur. Yet, without any warning my Mistress wished to insert needles in my nipples right now.

The warm rubber sheet and my gown were rolled up and tucked under my chin, my nipple zips were opened and my nipples revealed then subsequently pulled and extended. On the count of three a needle was pushed through each one in an operation that took less than two minutes. Mistress said she was pleased that I hadn't flinched with the needles, or even good enough to have earned some rewards. A deep breath when instructed helps to absorb the pain and this happy slave once more was fulfilling my promise to willingly do whatever my Mistress asks, immediately and without question.

The nipple needles were there to stay, I was covered up in the gown and rubber sheet again and Maggie did another temperature check by fondling her latex covered slave, declaring ‘I am still not convinced you are hot enough’.

I guessed I may experience another encounter with her hot hairdryer, and so I did, but not before Mistress had cleared away all her electrodes and smothered all my exposed bits with cocoa butter, gently massaging the butter into my skin. Now that did nearly embarrass me. Imagine, the soft massaging motion of a beautiful woman working on and around your groin; massaging gently and even easing the zips a little higher to expose even more of my excited quivering flesh. And then back to the Christmas theme of basting the turkey, Mistress once more turned on the hair dryer, fanning and directed its heat over the recently buttered areas and my rubber covering. By now I was getting genuinely hot!
 
Ah! At last Mistress declared that I may have been sufficiently warmed up, pricked, poked, gassed, basted, stuffed and even hot enough to have developed a thirst. I was kindly asked if I would like a drink ‘oh, yes please Mistress’. First though and because of all the various items that had found their way up my arse, Mistress said I should be cleaned internally and at the same time be rehydrated by absorption. After that if there was any liquid left I could have my drink.

I am not convinced that filling my back passage with fluid actually helps hydration, but as always, Maggie knows best and there is no better and easier way but for her to produce the warm, fresh fluids needed to clean out that orifice.

Once again I could hear the feint splash as a jug was being filled. I tried to look but the bondage inhibited my line of sight, so I had to be content with a description of what was happening. At least Mistress did bring the inflatable butt plug into my vision to ask if six pumps would keep the plug in? Yep, six pumps looked quite satisfactory through the round windows of the S10. Thank you for that Mistress! In went the nectar enema. Not particularly taxing because Mistress reserved some of her piss as a thirst quencher, but enough for me to once more relish that feeling that Mistresses fluids were now safely plugged inside her slave.

Finally I got to quench my thirst with what was left over from my enema as I took a sip on the presented tube. By this time my champagne had cooled and it turned out to be the most refreshing drink I had received for a long time. 2017 was actually turning out a lot better than my initial mistake with the text would have suggested. I think Maggie was moderately pleased with our progress in this first session after the break, and I was allowed down off the couch ready to learn about my rewards.

‘Slave, I am pleased with your progress, you have been very well behaved today and have earned yourself the privilege of licking my heels’. The enema was still gurgling about in my stomach as I took my place at her booted feet.

Naturally and as always, I had shown my devotions at the start of the session, when I had thrown myself at those thigh boots had given them considerable tonguing attention, right down to the open toes and Mistresses clearly visible red varnished toenails. Now I was allowed the delight of cleaning and consuming her high heels.

In each heel went and I actually smiled to myself that I was able to accommodate the whole length of Maggie's heels without gagging. I also had an added bonus; that I could gaze up those superbly crafted legs, past the tops of those boots, past those sacred and superbly latex enclosed thighs, past Mistresses tightly latex covered bottom, past her superb latex covered breasts with their nipple zips still, unfortunately, firmly closed, lingering a little on the striking three pronged necklace that provided the only colour to the severe black, and finally coming to rest on the most beautiful Mistress I could ever imagine.

I think I had almost pleased my Mistress during the session because as a final reward, I was allowed to pay homage to my Mistresses latex covered thighs. An area that is normally out of bounds and subject to punishment if I were to stray past the tops of her boots. It was a hard decision but what could an obedient slave do. Dive straight in. I gently caressed and licked her thighs with long slow movements. I must say her latex covered thighs are stunning, smooth and warm. Heat was radiating from my Mistresses abdomen and my own temperature was certainly starting to rise again. I loved every short moment that I was allowed in such proximity to that permanently excluded area.

Then it was all over. I had received my rewards for being a passable slave and it was off to the bathroom to deflate the enema bung and let the liquid flow. This is the only time I feel embarrassed in my Mistresses company. Next time I think I will suggest Mistress Maggie wears her newly completed Steampunk mask. As for the signs for 2017, if the rest of the year flows like this first session, this slave will continue to be in heaven and I will be able to serve my owner in whatever way she sees fit.

I will also revert to 14:30 arrival confirmed. Trying too hard to say how my slave existence depends wholly on my Mistress sometimes lands me in trouble!

Chalk and Cheeze

Chalk and Cheeze. That is the only way I can describe the contents of my Christmas session with Mistress Maggie. Mistress gave absolutely nothing away in her calling mail. Not even a glimmer of the delights to come. It was really strange as I was going through my pre-training routine; light lunch shower etc. Normally I tend to focus on some hint and try to work out a possible scenario, mind you, I am always wrong because Maggie knows her property well and produces the exact wording that will confuse her dumb slave. Help! This time, nothing. I can't begin to describe the thoughts that were racing away inside those tiny brain cells.

It was with just a little more excited trepidation that I poked out my finger and rang Mistresses door bell; one ring only and don't be tempted to push it a second time. Mistress, as usual, only kept me waiting a short while before some of my worries were dissipated with the vision of a true Goddess, her figure partially hidden by the front door, yet fully hidden from the innocent gaze of anyone who chanced to be passing. But I got the full stunningly attractive view of Mistress in her tight short black latex dress and wonderfully patterned legwear. This was starting to look a lot like Christmas!
As I followed my owner up the stairway to heaven I did give a smile, as I had noticed two feint talc marks on those otherwise perfect latex covered orbs that I have come to love and admire. Only the slightest of smudges where Mistress must have smoothed her dress, but oh how I wish it had been me that had put them there. A problem indeed: If I tell Mistress about the smudges I run the risk of incurring black marks against me. If I say nothing and Mistress finds out then I am damned for being negligent. Honesty as always is the best policy and Mistress asked me to wipe the marks away with a cloth. No second bidding, on to her gorgeous bottom and give it a gentle polishing. ‘That will be enough now slave’. Admittedly I had been taking my time and Mistress promptly put a stop to my polishing before explaining that I would be rockin around the Christmas tree and helping with tree decorations for the first half of my session.

After suitable worship to Mistresses court shoes my bum was plugged and I was told to climb into my catsuit, and yes, unlike last time when I got myself in a twist, I remembered to do up the crotch zip. A comfortable latex hood was zipped on my head but no gloves were allowed, as they may hamper the delicate handling of the Xmas baubles.

I was given an introduction to the six foot assembled tree before receiving my first task, to untangle the two strings of Christmas lights and test them out. Mistress had made sure I was well insulated from any short circuits by dressing her slave in head to toe rubber uniform, thankfully such protection was not really required because all of the bulbs lit up and ready to go. Round and round the tree I went, decorating it with the first string of lights. My first effort definitely did not fill Mistress with tidings of comfort and joy, the lights were not evenly spread; lots of lights twinkling at the top of the tree and not much happening down the bottom, Mistress suggested she would fix that problem later! For the moment, off came the lights and with Maggie’s help they were soon installed more evenly.

Mistress was keeping a tally of my decorating performance and added another counting mark to my list of errors. What concerned me were the black marks that were already chalked up; accidentally taking the base from its socket, several branches coming unhinged, the occasional bauble that ended up on the floor, things like that, until eventually I was satisfied that the fairy could be mounted on top of the tree, then all that was required was to step back and await approval from my Mistress.

John, Maggie's husband, who had put the tree together and watched with some anxiety as I started to destroy his creation took charge of the final moving and positioning of the tree.

After a final inspection, the tree lights were turned on and Maggie’s face magically lit up with a smile. I think she was pleased with my tree trimming abilities. It felt really natural and festive being able to help my friends in this way and an added privilege to be welcomed to serve in their home. Call it cheesy but I loved that ordinary domestic scene of slave following Mistresses instruction and helping decorate their tree. Even useless slaves have their uses and I was able to rejuvenate some abandoned baubles by taking charge of making new hanging ribbons for them and a place on the Christmas tree.

During my last few sessions I believe I have been a disappointing wimp of a slave, so I was delighted when Mistress wanted a record of her slave having done something right, a photo was to be taken for the archives. It was smiles all round as I posed with my owner in front of our completed yuletide efforts. What was a lot more sinister were the words Mistress whispered to me as I stood grinning like a Cheshire Cat. ‘It's a shame that such a festive occasion as dressing the tree should fall on the same day my dog is to be castrated.’

That did take the glow somewhat off the situation. I have acted as Mistresses pet dog before and I really hoped to hang on to my balls. I gulped and started thinking of excuses why I should retain my testicles but each argument came to and abrupt cul-de-sac with the promise I had made to Maggie, 'To willingly do whatever Mistress asks, immediately and without question.' If that wasn't enough to worry about Mistress casually mentioned that I’d earned myself eight chalk up marks for my clumsy errors.

We took our leave of John, or more precisely, Maggie ordered me to follow her back into her Chambers to begin the operation. On the way upstairs, Maggie mentioned that I would be castrating myself and that thought did not fill me with any sense of calm!

Rule 9 came to mind: Mistress may change her mind at any time. Perhaps Mistress could use rule 9 now and pick something a little more seasonal for dealing with my nuts. Roasting my chestnuts on an open fire, or decking the balls with boughs of holly suddenly seemed very attractive options when compared with a looming castration.

I was relieved, to say the least, when I was spread-eagled to the Playroom bed. Surely an operation of such magnitude would require the clinic, wouldn't it? However, my celebrating was a little premature because Mistress had warned that I would be in a position to castrate myself, and to do that she would be deploying her fearsome stainless steel humbler.

Since my last encounter with her steel humbler, Mistress has gained a lot more confidence and become far more competent at fixing it tightly in place. Maggie straddled my outstretched thighs and firstly applied the weight, pulling on my balls until they could be neatly locked away inside it, more ball pulling and the humbler bar itself was on. All the while Maggie used her fingernails, drawing them along the length of my cock and vulnerably tight balls, I fleetingly thought that she may use her nails as scalpels and actually de-nut me herself. No, her plan was set and she was to continue with the humbler; the scratching and pulling were merely a distraction.

Screws began turning and my balls began moving further and further away. ‘Let me get this machine tight enough then your balls might simply drop off of their own accord’. Now I was beginning to understand how her pet dog would end up de-nutting himself! Maggie seemed to get great delight from her continued scratching and squeezing of my nuts and the formal 'stretching' process hadn’t even begun. I got the odd glimmer of that glorious smile and that wonderfully scary laugh as she cruelly menaced with my balls. I certainly wasn't going to complain as I could see Mistress was simply having a wonderful Christmas time, and if torturing the bollocks off her rubber dog gives her a festive buzz, then so be it.

A good separation between humbler and ball stretcher had been achieved, ‘Ah, more than a good rulers width’ was the size report. Maggie then began applying her ball crusher with its spiked side pressing into my balls and proceeded to tighten those nuts as well. A little more stretching resulted in a little more spiking; an agonising catch 22 predicament for her slave. I wish Maggie would use a metric ruler, they seem far narrower!

From earlier experiences using the metal humbler we have learned that it’s possible to stand me up slowly, or at least have me in a crawl position where I can spread my legs really wide, the whole humbler can then be manoeuvred into its correct, rearward attitude. One slip here and I really could castrate myself, so very careful contorting does it. I think secretly Mistress was pleased that I had managed to get the humbler into the correct position without removing her balls, as I know she gets pleasure from severely torturing them occasionally. Where would the joy be in using a crop on a pair of removed balls in a Petri dish?

Maggie had certainly stepped my humbler training up to a higher level, the position of those screws are instrumental to the obedience of the dog. The spikes were cruelly biting into my balls, the screws were inexorably stretching my balls, every movement had me suffering, but things could be a whole lot worse if I stepped out of line. The good news is that we proved that my guiche piercing and stretched balls can peacefully coexist, well perhaps peacefully is not quite the right word, more I could tolerate their coexistence. And ‘Early next year I think we will fit a more larger squat bar in place of the training guiche’. Excellent, some of my future seems set and it does appear that my attached balls may well play a part in that future. I am very pleased to wear whatever size guiche Mistress decides on and I will wear it with pride.

Meanwhile, back to the here and now. I suddenly grew a tail and pointed ears so I could be led onto the balcony on all fours in true doggy fashion. It was one very steady and very slow walk but still the most difficult walk any pet could take, intensely worrying as well when my balls had been threatened with castration and we were heading towards the clinic! Whew, instead Maggie took a diversion and parked me next to the bannister and tethered me, a bit like you would tether a horse to a hitching post.

It was now that Mistress decided that the chalked up slate would be wiped clean. Not exactly wiped but hit hard, with the crop Mistress was carrying. And no, not across my backside, that was nicely protected underneath .8mm of rubber. No, straight on my aching, overstretched and already painful balls. Maggie had been trying to encourage her pet dog to make appropriate doggy sounds and those eight slaps really had me baying like the Hound of the Baskervilles and whining for her to please stop. I suppose I should consider myself very lucky that Mistress did actually remove the spiked bar before slapping my balls. Be thankful for small mercies. I think the stainless steel bowl was to catch my balls in the event of an accidental removal. I did say Mistress is really thoughtful towards her slaves.

I cannot stress enough how much relief it was to have the humbler finally removed. As I lay back on the rubber bed Mistress teased my cock with a little gentle stroking treatment. Despite my urgent desire to have relief as we were dressing the tree, now I was offered the opportunity, I just froze. My balls and my mind were in such disarray with the near death de-balling experience that I disgraced myself again and could not perform as ordered. What was more worrying, Mistress said we may need to re-address the castration as clearly the balls are not a lot of use attached, there was certainly a mention of that damned stapler making its reappearance some time in the new year.

Despite suggestions of further operations, I wouldn't have it any other way with Mistress Maggie. After all, a promise is a promise and she is Mistress of all she surveys and I hope you all have had a merry Christmas. I have already received my presents from Maggie.

The Sin Of Omission

The sin of omission carries with it the same penalty as actually committing the sin. Either way, Mistress Maggie had found out that I had deceived her during my last session, by letting the air out of the inflatable gag she had strapped on me without her consent. Maggie had made the decision to reprimand her slave; touching Mistresses property is not a slaves prerogative and asking her permission is always the right thing to do. When Mistress asked me the direct question ‘Did you let your gag down?’ I had to confess as I could not lie, and I fully deserved the 10 cane strokes that she prescribed for my stupidity. 

Mistress had greeted me at the door to the Chambers in head to toe tight fitting latex and the longest pair of black patent boots I had ever seen, stopping only a couple of centimetres short of her rather perfect latex covered derrière. I, for my part, had got into the latex spirit and was attired in my latex tee-shirt and shorts underneath my street clothes and, for the first time a pair of black latex gloves. Wearing the latex gloves as I walked down the street actually had me feeling rather daring, but I needn’t have been concerned, it was cold and raining and perfectly natural weather to be wearing shiny gloves. Mistress didn’t believe my luxury latex was suitable attire for a slave who deserved her cane and that a bare ass was more apt. I was sent to the bathroom with instruction to strip down, to return in only socks, gloves and collar.

Once again I was bent low presenting myself before my Mistress, awaiting the signal to put my tongue on her boot. I can only say that my obligatory footwear worship was a little overshadowed by Mistress announcing that worship would be in two parts, with the punishment that I had earned being sandwiched in-between. I put that behind me and set to work on those very long, very shiny and very tasty boots but that was only a short two minute taster, a quick lick and then over Maggie's knee for a suitable 'warm up'. It is a wonderful sensation being naked, face down, over Mistresses latex covered thighs, having your arse warmed up through spanking; the flat of her hand beating down on my ass cheeks followed by the same with her rubber soled slipper. By the time Maggie had completed the warm-up I was starting to feel that characteristic ache and warmth across my buttocks, pleased also that I had endured the lengthy spanking as a prerequisite to the caning, and oh that secret feeling of pleasure derived from being so close to Mistress - and naked to boot!

Out came the whipping horse and I was strapped down lengthways along it. Mistress had taken delivery of my new butt-plug, and with me nicely secured in the perfect uncompromising position she was keen to try it for size. ‘OK slave, lets find out which is more uncomfortable, the cane or the plug. Oh yes, and you can wear the gag that got you into trouble and you will be drugged so you cannot argue’. The plug is red and BIG!

A rubber hood was zipped on my head and the aroma inhaler system was wheeled into the room, when Maggie placed the anaesthetic mask over my nose I was to take several whiffs of the fresh aroma. Lots and lots of lube, but try as we might the little red bugger was just a bit big. Maggie wasn't going to force it and an intermediate plug was used as a stopgap. The 'big red' was put to one side until my anal muscles are ready to accept its girth; not long I hope.

The offending inflatable gag was now filling up my mouth and Maggie picking up her cane. ‘Ten strokes with a senior cane for you’, she announced. There was no way I could meddle with the gag this time; Mistress had it installed as it ought to be - in a place and fashion that pleased HER as I took the ten punishing strokes. Each time the cane came down I thought hard that I deserved the stripe and that helped steel my resolve. 

Mistress was in teaching mode and insisted my bad spelling should be improved before I could be released from the horse. My gag was removed though, so I could be clearly heard practising the words I frequently get wrong. The spelling lesson was reinforced by some nice thwacks with the rubber soled slipper, as a gentle reminder that: 'waist’ is the rather large girth at my midriff and 'waste' represents items that are no longer required; today is not hyphenated to become to-day, and I am a slave not a salve. I think I can spell these now and hope Maggie was satisfied with the way I willingly accepted all of her corrective measures.

It is best to learn quick. Five years ago it took two lessons for me to learn to spell apologise, the consequences were very painful. I shall never forget the lesson: Only one ‘p’ in apologise.

Reminder to self: Make sure the crotch zip of the catsuit is closed.

In my eagerness to don my 0.8mm armoured rubber catsuit, to provide at least some protection from any further bum stripes, I was in the suit like the proverbial rat up a drainpipe. Unfortunately, when it came to closing the zip my new guiche acted as a bit of an obstacle, try as I might I could not zip up past my exposed cock and balls. No good, I had to concede and just like a baby had to beg Maggie to help me get dressed. More proof that a poor slave needs an exceptional Mistress to keep them in order. Anyway, next time, zip closed before insertion!

Once safely installed, I did get to complete the worship of those beautiful boots, and lots of it. It took a long time to cover both boots with licks and kisses as Maggie changed her pose to allow me full access to their full length, sometimes she was sitting and sometimes standing and giving me directions so that no part of her boots was untouched. Long slow licks and kisses all the way to the top of Mistresses thigh-high boots and back down the other side. Strangely, I couldn't feel the ten stripes I had taken earlier; attending to my boot tasks I had given me much more important things to concentrate on. Those thigh boots are exquisite. . .

It couldn't last and Mistress wanted some fun party games, after all, Christmas was approaching fast and what is a good party without a game of forfeit; you get a treat provided you are willing to pay the price.

Long white Playroom ropes tied my ankles and wrists, I could hop around and move my wrists but, ropes tied by an expert can be comfy yet 100% secure, and Mistress is an expert! The relative freedom wasn't to last, the novel application of the spreader bar really limited my movement, to a point where I could only struggle around on the Playroom rug. Maggie generously provided her slave with a leather muzzle which she anchored to the iron spreader, along with my wrists and ankles. Ah Christmas, once more trussed up like a turkey. Where would any slave worth his (considerable) weight be without a perfect Mistress ready to play forfeit.

The prize.’You will have my permission to worship your latex Mistress and all her curves - would you like to do that? There will be forfeits!  No brainer. The chance to worship Mistress, latex and all, even trussed as I was, I would forfeit anything for my Mistress.

Of course I had to take the punishment before the prize. The first prize and forfeit; nipple clamps in exchange for bottom worship. Fair enough and agreed despite the fact the clamps were little bastards. I am sure Mistress obtains the most innocuous yet most evil clamps for her slave, and doesn’t hurry to take them off when I have completed my part of the bargain. I even managed to struggle into a semi-seated position to help my Mistress fulfil her part of the game. Oh the things I do to help my Mistress.

‘No doubt you would love to worship my latex breasts slave, but are you prepared for the costs?’  Mistress has the most superb physique and when she is tightly enclosed in latex it adds that little flavour to die for. ‘Yes please Mistress. No matter what costs. . .’ 

I thought it strange that Mistress announced a slight delay as she disappeared to bring some sterile shoes? Moments later she was seated beside me putting her high heels on and telling me my next forfeit. ‘You must have your little cock invaded before you can worship my breasts’. Oh well, by this time my latex hood had slithered round and I was almost blind. If Mistress gets turned on by wearing high-heels whilst stuffing her cock with something rather nice, who am I to complain? One thing is for certain, the feeling of a long hard object entering your cock and bossing it about is not a sensation that warrants a complaint, well not for this slave anyway. 

It was only afterwards when I saw this photo that I really appreciated what had actually been inserted into Maggie's cock. It adds a new meaning to being 'stuck with a stiletto'! but it’s a good job the Cuban heeled boots stayed firmly in the cupboard!

The third and final prize was latex thigh worship. By this time my head was nodding agreement to anything Mistress declared as the forfeit. It started out well with a pair of Mistresses tights stretched over my head. I could swear I could detect essence of Mistress as the gusset snuggled in place over my mouth and nose. Hmmm. ‘I am going to immobilise your head with gaffer tape. Blue tape alright slave?’ Blue tape it was and blue gaffer came out from behind the curtain. It produces a really strange sound as the tight tape zips across your ears, a really LOUD tearing sound as the tape unrolls. On, on, on it went. A strip here, another strip there, gentle, smoothing hands every now and then to produce a smooth finished head and then. . . bollocks. The taping was so effective, I couldn't move my head. How the hell was I to worship Mistresses thighs.

In fairness to Mistress she did try and fulfil her part of the game. She straddled me from the rear and wrapped her legs around my neck where I could certainly feel the warmth of her thighs. She even approached my taped head from the front and if I hadn't been so immobilized I’m sure I would have received my prize. I mentioned the problem to Maggie and that I thought it a little unfair when I was finally cut out and . . .  she laughed and laughed!

My mouth was doing a fine job of getting me into trouble today, only an ungrateful slave would make such a stupid comment about fairness. Mistress reminded me that she had kindly left my hands available to caress her latex clad thighs, and if she’d known that I was not going to use them properly she would have wrapped those up in blue tape as well. Quite obviously I needed my mouth rinsing out.

The toilet box was duly manoeuvred into the centre of the room. ‘Head in the tank. Face up slave’ and my neck was fitted into the neck hole. When the seat was closed I had time to contemplate just how lucky a slave I was. I heard zips and Mistress took her place on the toilet, she was in her thigh high boots again and pressing her heels into my nipples. Ahh, the pain!! A pain which reliably makes her slave open his mouth. ’Nice and wide and keep it open’.

Mistress opened the floodgates and all her piss was streaming down on my face, but her crotch zip provided only a narrow gap for her nectar to flow through and it was squirting in all directions, onto my face, in my eyes and well everywhere. I was told in no uncertain terms not to be such a useless slave and catch the valuable fluids like a regular toilet. A few adjustments to the zips and once again Mistress was nicely seated, with her menacing boots operating my mouth buttons again. A much steadier stream was directed into my eager mouth this time. I definitely had a very good rinsing and my thirst quenched with her tasty golden shower.

Mistress was a little pissed off with her ungainly slave and insisted that I clean up the mess that I had allowed to accumulate inside the Toilet Box. And finally, I think I did something right. I sucked, slurped and licked up every last drop of nectar that had settled behind my head. Mind you I had to take a fair beating with a riding crop while I was doing it. I even waited for the last few drops to drip from my saturated scalp and once I was confident that my drinking and cleaning was complete, I sat up with a satisfied and very satiated smile on my face.

In the mail accompanying the blog pictures I was really pleased to read the following comment from Maggie  ‘. . . slave was a useless toilet but surprisingly did a great job of sucking up every drop . . .’

I was encouraged to shower afterwards and although I really enjoy being covered in Mistress Maggie’s fluids, it was wise not to return home wearing her special scent.

It was unreal for me to expect the prize of latex thigh worship, after all a slave is there to serve and provide enjoyment; but I can dream. And I did get a delicious mince pie because it is December. A bit of a tradition developing here I think.