Routine slave Maintenance

There are regular periods in a slaves training when both Mistress and slave have to take stock of how much has been learnt, but more importantly how much, if any, the slave has slipped backwards. I am routinely examined by Mistress Maggie and on my previous visit to the Chambers she had spotted some wayward hairs around my cock and balls, not many but sufficient for a thorough maintenance check to be deemed a priority for this session. I had tried really hard to make sure that I was hairfree, spending a considerable amount of time with the razor in the hope of escaping Maggie’s keen eye and passing her scrupulous inspection.

Boots had to be polished first and I was directed to the ground where I completed my obligatory worship and cleaning of Mistresses footwear, working my tongue in long strokes, the way Mistress likes it, bringing her black latex ankle boots to a shine that would complement her striking full rubber outfit, then as instructed I followed Mistress into her White Room for my depilation exam.

The new grey couch was already prepared in a low position with its foot rest extension in place. All I could do was lay back on it and wait and hope that I was 'clean'. Of course, Maggie’s eyes turned out to be sharper than my razor and it didn't take long for a couple of stray hairs to be located. Out came the tweezers and out came the hairs. Mistress was now on a mission, telling me that I would be suitably punished for my slovenliness, but for the moment she decided to pluck me now and punish me later. Even more pubic hairs were found, grabbed and pulled before Mistress instructed me to turn onto my stomach and started defoliating my crack. I was ashamed at my hairiness and even worse, I have to live with Mistresses promise of punishment for it, which will happen at a later date.

Seven months ago I had my first piercing, a guiche. It has healed really well and has been stretched to a point where I am now able to wear quite heavy jewellery in the hole. Mistress had chosen a final, rather fetching piece of jewellery and successfully installed it in its rightful place today, right behind my balls where it frequently reminds me who owns this slave. Then it was briefly back into the Playroom to be inserted into my thick black latex suit before returning to the Clinic for more routine maintenance checks.

Maggie sealed my head in the white zip fronted latex mask and that’s how I stayed for the majority of my White Room workout. Mistress teasingly mentioned that this part of training would be followed with a little something that I had apparently requested in my previous blog!  I am increasingly wary about any comments I make in my blog as they have that wonderful habit of resurfacing once Mistress reads them.

Maggie clearly knows the effect the hood has on this slave, I love it for its snugness, comfort and its versatility. However, on the down side I can only gaze on at my Mistress through the little perforations, never getting a complete view of my owner. It must present a funny sight for Mistress, having my head go left and right, up and down in an attempt to see her moving around me. Perhaps that amusement is why Mistress likes this wonderful hood on her slave? No doubt, at some stage in the future, Mistress will just zip me up and leave me permanently in the dark.
As proved by being remiss with my shaving, Maggie said I could not be relied on to clean myself and would need to show me how a thorough cleaning is done - insides first. Mistress was stirring something in a jug which turned out to be a warm soap enema concoction, I was told to turn on my side to receive it and one litre was sent in to clean out my colon and held in place with an inflatable bung.

Next, my bladder was to be cleaned and Maggie completed a full sterile catheter procedure to drain my bladder of its contents, which were soon filling up a bag on the couch between my legs. She covered me with a latex sheet and gave me one of her wonderful smiles. . .’Don’t think I’ve finished with you yet slave, your lung function is to be tested as well’. . . and Maggie set off again to tidy all the medical waste from the Clinic.

I was unsure what a lung function test would comprise of, but now I had been filled and plugged and drained and clamped, the final part of my overhaul in the Clinic had arrived and it wouldn’t be long before I found out. Mistress produced a rebreather bag and gas mask and this time made sure I was able to appreciate the full extent of the apparatus by both explaining what it was and slowly displaying it to me through my little perforations until she was satisfied that I was fully aware of what was about to happen. I was to have the air inlet valve closed for 1 minute. The mask was fitted and time to inhale deeply. 1, 2, 3,

. . . 58, 59 and 60 and not a second longer. Mistress opened the valve and I took a large lungful of fresh air, heavily scented with latex as it passed through the opened rebreather valve. Maggie appeared pleased with the result, I was definitely pleased that I had passed and that I hadn't panicked; always trust your Mistress.

With the testing finished it was on to my special request. Intrigued as to what treat lay in-store, Maggie carefully guided me from the couch, allowed me a few moments to adjust to the catheter and severely inflated butt plug that was still sealing in the soapy solution, then ushered me back into the Playroom. Ah! that’s what my surprise was to be - a nice restful period in the rubber bondage sack that was now hanging limply from the ceiling ring in the centre of the room.

Maggie soon had me secured in it, with its straitjacket straps keeping my arms from flapping about and, once Mistress had manoeuvred me onto the latex bed, receiving a set of straps across my legs to keep them immobile as well.

I am owned by a truly wonderful Mistress. To have read my blog and decided that she would give her slave a special treat by leaving me to relax in latex bondage.

I must admit though, that whilst laying there thinking about my recent blogs I could not recall having eulogised about such a fantasy. Yet I must have done because Mistress is always right, or perhaps she knows her property well and knows which buttons to press and which straps to tighten?

Frequently I misread my Mistresses intentions. All this luxury, the warmth radiating through the layers of thick latex, the gentle touch as my Mistress stroked my latex enclosed head; still wearing that nice white latex hood now zipped closed, were only the precursor to the treat Mistress had planned for her slave. She leant forward and said. ’You wished for this in your previous blog’.

I felt the centre zip of the bondage sack slowly being opened and Mistress set to work on the real purpose of all this preparation and the fulfilment of my wish. It struck me what was about to happen as I heard that distinct sound of tape being removed from a roll, and moments later felt that tape being attached round cock and balls. It turns out that Mistress had read the following words in the last blog :-

Careful placement of more tape resulted in a complete cocoon, and you will notice that the binding was made to integrate my catheter into the homogeneous blob which was once my Mistresses cock and balls.

I can't begin to say how both exciting and frustrating it felt as Mistress straddled and stroked my stump still wearing that luxurious latex outfit. One thing is certain, even with her cock and balls severely bandaged, I am still a red blooded slave and still haven't yet learnt that I must control myself no matter what. When my genitals were finally untaped, it certainly was a relief that Mistress had already removed all the hairs round her property.

And finally, a word of caution to anyone wishing to vent a very soapy enema. After I had been extracted from my bondage and layers of latex, I was sent to the bathroom to sort out my full soapy bowels. I made the mistake of deflating the plug and attempting to remove the bulb without relieving the pressure that had built up. It would have been far more sensible to unplug the central tube first and let the pressure out in a more controlled manner, rather than a Hiroshima style explosion! - Consequently, Mistress Maggie had me spend quite a while thoroughly cleaning and disinfecting the results!

Big Red, Big One, Big Ride

As occasionally happens to commemorate special occasions, Mistress Maggie had planned something special, and we would enjoy a day out in Blackpool. I had finally and irreparably been declared 'old' by the state, having reached my 65th year and one of the last pensioners to receive my pension at sixty five. We were to take a thrill ride on the Big One, enjoy the spectacular views over the bay for about two seconds before plunging almost to death down that first, terrifying and very steep drop, take in some of the local attractions, perhaps another ride or two and end with a feast and perhaps, if I was lucky, a celebratory cake. It certainly sounded a wonderful way to celebrate with a day out with two friends.

It sounds idyllic so far, but those of you who know my Mistress or have followed this diary know that her slaves enjoyment could not possibly be restricted to these 'normal' pastimes. The day started almost normally. I stripped off and stood in front of my owner, as naked as the day I was born and set about some serious boot worship. Mistress said she had promised to whip me and whip me she would, meanwhile I was to continue with my boot worship while she raised and wielded her floggers' many tails. I couldn't recall having done anything to warrant such an onslaught but knew to accept a reddened arse without complaints because Maggie is in charge and owns the property rights.

It turns out that I had attempted to help others join my Mistress in slavery (part of my promise to my Mistress), by directing a gentleman into Maggie's tender care without realising he was across the North Sea and not readily able to travel. But, apparently he can e-mail and after what must have been a friendly exchange with Maggie she had promised him that I would receive a good thrashing for my stupidity. That is why I was now ass up infront of Mistress feeling her whip. I shall not dwell on the trials and tribulations of helping lost souls . . .

The last time I came along for my session, Maggie had successfully fitted my new butt plug, Big Red, but it had slipped out again very soon after. Maggie said that Big Red needed more help at becoming properly seated in my arsehole and would be taking the trip to Blackpool inside me. I was fitted with a very tight belt and crotch strap that would hopefully keep Big Red in place for the big rides later on. With the straps dangling Mistress led me to the White Room, where I was introduced to the newly acquired medical couch that Mistress had so proudly taken delivery of only a few days before.

Reclining and strapped down on the new couch I was  given a demonstration of a few of its magical abilities. Three buttons and electric motors everywhere, but despite all the bells and whistles I could detect a note of sadness in Mistresses voice towards the old couch that had served her well over the previous five years. But onwards and upwards and I had the first ride of the day. Click - tilt backwards click, forwards. Click - up and down. Click - recline. It was certainly versatile and would help my owner to position her slaves accurately for whatever activities were to happen but I must admit, I too had a tinge of nostalgia for the old faithful black and white couch, ousted by the all singing all dancing grey interloper. I thought for a moment this may be a sign of things to come for this old, well worn but faithful slave. Anyway, the leather crotch strap was tightened and Big Red held firm. We shouldn't have any trouble with its escape.

All was well during the drive to our destination. Big Red stayed under control, my outer casuals hiding the fact I had a huge plug securely strapped in place. That didn't last long. The next 'drive' was oh so very different; very hilly, the car and passengers all over the place, very tight corners, speeds that would make your hair curl, and all having the effect of giving Big Red a thrilling ride round my bum hole until I was finally able to get my feet back on firm ground.

As we disembarked our carriages I could feel movement down below and had to rush or rather waddle to the nearest toilets, before my Big Red friend made its way down my trouser leg and smiled at some innocent passer by. With all the roller coasting movement on the Big One, the centre strap had moved sufficiently to allow Big Red to escape. Well it had taken a hair raising, death defying ride to dislodge the butt plug and I was reasonably satisfied that my bum could accommodate BR in 'normal' circumstances.

Flushed with adrenalin from the Big One ride, I agreed to my owners suggestion that a sail in Valhalla was an excellent 'follow up' adventure. Mind you, I agree to everything my Mistress suggests; that is just the way of the world. Nor had she forgotten to bring along her retractable whip for punishing anyone who fails to comply. Signs do warn you that you may get wet, so not being dressed in our latex today we all invested in plastic ponchos. What a rip off, two quid for a large plastic bag. I did my best to get into mine, it makes a change from Mistress inserting me in one, although certainly not as rewarding or for that matter as water tight!

Off we sailed taking in some very hot, windy and wet moments as the ride progressed. All was almost dry until the first major waterfall. I was sat with Maggie and the deluge cascaded over both our plastic covered heads. Maggie still dry, me very wet. That didn't last long either. By the end of the ride we were all very wet indeed, although despite John being in the front seat, he came out the dryest. It was a good job it was a warm day as we all dried quickly as we spun through the air on the Space Ships ride!

Anyway, by this time, I was in need of a drink and Mistress had that covered too. I must have mentioned that Mistress is meticulous in her planning? Well, diving into her trusty handbag, which by now was rather damp having been waterlogged on Valhalla, she brought out a drinking cup. Judging by the pale golden hue of the contents, it was either diluted orange or something far more tasty. I sipped slowly and wondered what our fellow travellers would have made of three friends casually enjoying themselves with one drinking his owners pee whilst wearing my slave collar. The collar had already attracted a few surreptitious glances but I suspect the pee pot went unnoticed.

All I know was, on this very warm day, it was cool, very refreshing and tasting of my Mistress. I was at that stage very happy and very relaxed. On the way back to Chambers, we stopped at a chippy and ate a hearty plate of fish, chips mushy peas etc, chatted away and by then I was somewhat relieved that BR had escaped. I was still aware of the tight harness under my civilian clothes, the crotch strap was a little looser but nevertheless acted as a constant reminder as to who owned me.

Back in The Clinic there were two final surprises that Mistress had planned for her slave. The first was birthday candles to celebrate the special day. If I am honest, I didn't expect my balls to be the cake but there again, Mistress always has a flair for the unusual.

I received my second ride on the electric gynae chair, accompanied by a suitable amount of aromas to help ease any pain as seven or eight needles were inserted in my 'cake'. Thank goodness it wasn't one for each year! Maggie had already tightened my cock and balls to what I assumed was the bondage board, her cord ties keeping my throbbing organ securely where she wanted it. Not too tight but enough to keep it on the straight and narrow. I could feel some other strange sensations but couldn't see what was happening, but I did hear the click click of a lighter and tensed as I got a whiff of fresh candle wax, burning fresh candle wax!

I thought now might be a good time to beg for more medicine, to take more deep breaths of aroma and to try to keep very still. There is only so long that you can fend off the inevitable and eventually I was feeling the hot wax dribbling across my hot balls. Mistress kept me moaning for several minutes and was really enjoying the celebrations. Blowing out the candles she commented on how she was happy to be burning my balls, but making them burn low enough to set light to her plastic equipment was taking things a bit too far.

Laying flat and with little visibility of my burning cake other than the lashing flames, I was curious how Mistress had managed to attach the candles without me feeling any discomfort. It turns out she had specially shaped each candle base so that it would fit into the end of the medical grade needles. I told you, Mistress thinks of everything. A water bucket had also been strategically placed near the burning candles 'just in case'.

Speaking of forward planning, I see from the photos that The bondage board had been discreetly covered in surgical tape just where any wax run off may have spilled, so as to minimise damage to its surface. I wish she had done that with my cock and balls!

And so to the second surprise. A second ride of the day on another big one. Mistress donned her larger dildo and proceeded to mount her slave with the biggest thing I have ever had stuffed up my bum. The motors were put into operation; click - tilt, click up, click down went the chair, until Maggie had the right angle of attack. Finally the big one slid home providing her slave with yet another wild and thrilling pleasure trip.

Removing her large used dildo, Mistress announced that she needed the toilet and instructed me to await her return. Not difficult as I was strapped and shackled to the new chair, but not for long. On her return I was instructed onto my knees and use my tongue to make sure her arsehole was clean. More use of the electric motors as Mistress knelt on the chair to produce a no nonsense angle for her arse licking slave, and even though I say so myself, I did a really good job and enjoyed the task immensely. Perhaps there is a use for this older model slave in this new world after all?

I would like to thank both Mistress Maggie and her husband, John, for their kindness in taking me out for one helluva memorable birthday present.

Flight 121 Departing Shortly

Flight 121 will be departing shortly from Chambers Airport, but Health and Safety requires that all passengers who have not previously flown using MM airways, are to report to The Playroom training area where extensive pre-flight health checks and training are to be undertaken. Passengers will receive acclimatisation to help prevent high-altitude nausea, a little something to calm those nervous of flying, advice on what to do in the unlikely event of having to evacuate over land, and how to survive if the flight comes down over water. Your pilot and trainer for today's flight is a most experienced aviator who comes highly recommended by all those who have flown with her: Meet our pilot Mistress Maggie.

And so it began. Mistress Maggie, Pilot in Chief (PiC), Head of Training (HoT), Chief Medical Officer (CMO) being but a few of her many official titles, personally greets all her passengers in the foyer of The Chambers International Airport, IATA designation CIA. Our pilot, dressed in a most fetching yet businesslike black leather flying suit has goggles perched jauntily on the brow of her open faced latex flying helmet. In most airports, you will not be able to follow your pilot this closely and I must say, any nerves about flying are already starting to dissipate as the tight black leather trousers sway rather sensually up the stairs to the training area.

It is wise to keep the pilot happy and content otherwise who knows what might happen? I had already promised to do anything for the Pilot to ensure a happy crew, safe trip and happy landing, and now was a good time to exercise a little pre-flight worship and I started as any good passenger would, by licking and cleaning the high gloss, black, calf length patent leather flying boots that made up part of Pilot Maggie’s uniform. It never hurts to grovel at the feet of someone in total charge.

CMO Maggie, always conscious of improving the health and well-being of her charges had indicated that a new method for controlling DVT was to be trialled; the traditional method was to prescribe graduated compression stockings, but CMO Maggie wished to observe the positive effects of an overall compression suit. I was duly fitted into a tight plum coloured latex catsuit, intelligently designed with openings at appropriate locations to allow for long term wear. To avoid embarrassing evacuations at high altitude, a black butt plug was inserted sealing off my back passage. The suit was both snug and comfortable, helped by HoT Maggie assisting this novice into his compression suit, smoothing out any wrinkles and of course ensuring the crotch zip was opened for transit.


The first serious part of the training involved high altitude awareness. HoT Maggie wanted her trainee aviators to be aware of the effects of high altitude and first wound a layer of cling film round my head and upper torso to simulate high flying without Playroom pressurisation. Once satisfied that I wasn't panicking about the restricted air flow she proceeded to the more critical training, holding my head in a clear plastic bag to simulate a total blow out and no air. That may be why the butt plug was so securely seated to prevent high altitude blow outs? Anyway, I passed that test with flying colours and satisfied HoT Maggie that I had faith in her ability to safely reintroduce air without panic.

I quipped that a parachute would be a good idea if the flight was to end prematurely and to my great surprise Pilot Maggie laughed, agreeing that ‘yes’ I would be wearing a parachute 'just in case'. I was a little concerned with the parachute placement as it was securely attached round my testicles, but Maggie assured me that CMO Maggie was stretching the traditional views that a parachute should be attached to the back of a person, I was more than a little relieved when HoT Maggie indicated this was the reserve chute and would only be deployed in the event that a plane becomes inverted and you were forced to bail, it could be out the door with arse in the air and where else to attach a reserve chute but around your balls.

Before I could take off in the flight simulator, PiC Maggie fitted a latex open faced flying helmet, a breathing mask and a hose, that would be used to provide relaxants should they be required during the simulator flight. I was attached to the flying harness which in turn was chained to the roof ring, then with very little effort I was able to lift my legs and accompanied by a cheer from PiC Maggie, I was now free, floating above the Playroom. To reinforce the concept of 'free flight' my legs were attached to a spreader bar and securely attached to the waist belt so that I could happily fly without the worry of my landing gear prematurely engaging with the floor.

CMO Maggie needed to test the suitability of the inverted parachute with appropriate stress testing and gradually began adding a few weights to ensure nothing snapped. I even got to hold a couple of weights whilst the CMO attended to the parachute harness.

If I am being honest, I was a little concerned with the weight of the two items I was holding. I appreciated that the reserve parachute would have to take considerable weight in the event of it being deployed but even so, these weights would severely stretch my scrotum. Oh well, better to be prepared than surprised!

To assist with the weight acclimatisation, HoT Maggie introduced aromas through the breathing mask. A few deep breaths and the strong relaxant aroma worked, I felt both light headed and light balled as the vapour worked its magic, in fact so relaxed that I don't know if Maggie actually added the two heavy weights to the harness. I was flying and the parachute was taking the added weights easily. I hung and floated, and with more aromas was starting to really appreciate this flying lark, despite Maggie contra-rotating my body and ball weights.

Like the excellent trainer that Maggie is, she knows that positive reinforcement gets the message across almost as effectively as the stick approach, she had suggested that if I take all the weights I could be the first to see her nipple pasties. Here I was confronted by Maggie's super structure adorned with two dials but instructions not to adjust the settings. I am always amazed at how super the structure of HoT Maggie’s upper body is and try as I may, I could not fly any closer. I think the two dials are for adjusting pleasure and pain levels; a tweak on the left one resulted in more pleasure for the passenger. A tweak of the right dial resulted in the parachute getting more encouragement to part company from my balls, while the aromas continued to help calm and relax the passenger.

I had successfully completed this part of the flight simulation and PiC Maggie handed me back to HoT Maggie for the more disturbing scenarios in the training programme; the forced landings.

Assuming that we had to bail out over land, there’s the distinct possibility that you could land in some remote location only populated with hostile vegetation, possibly alone and miles from assistance, it is important not to lose control or panic in the face of suffering any adverse effects from the poisonous fauna and flora. In previous years I have already undergone similar jungle survival training, but on this occasion HoT Maggie made certain that the jungle was in control and I had no choice as to where I would land my exposed undercarriage.

The most potent pot of fresh, small leafed Urtica dioica, commonly know as stinging nettles, were placed on the low punishment bench so as to be just at the right height to go straight for the balls when Maggie started me swinging again. She had grown these plants specifically for her inflight emergency testing and had succeeded in cultivating a pot far more potent than anything I have ever experienced.

HoT Maggie set me gently swinging, I could see the undergrowth approaching and . . . absolutely nothing I could do to avoid crash landing in their midst. To make matters worse, just like a swing, I went through the nettle bush and then swung backwards so the back of my balls got a good dose as well. Maggie giggled each time I swung through the nettles, twitching a lot and grunting a little, and I am sure HoT Maggie gets far too much enjoyment from this part of the flight training program!. Fortunately, I was able to request further deep gulps of the very welcome, ball numbing aromas and despite Maggie's best efforts to break my resolve, I came through the ordeal in good spirits. I will mention that the effects are not particularly unpleasant, but unlike earlier tests, I could still feel the tingling sensations on my cock and balls for several hours.

We were now progressing to the final part of the emergency training, that of ditching over water. To help simulate the watery grave that I would have met without the training, HoT Maggie deployed the plastic sheet, and in lieu of rain opted for a more natural alternative that not only mimicked the warm humid conditions of a equatorial crash, but reinforced how important it is to take on fresh liquids to avoid dehydration. The inclement cloud burst was prepared as Maggie removed her leather flying suit and donned a pair of zipped Wellingtons to avoid damage to herself and the plastic ocean, the storm then erupted.

HoT Maggie squatted directly over my eager mouth and I took the full force of the storm to quench my thirst. Although I was only inches from Mistresses private parts and oh so tempted to lick off the last drops, my slave training and CIA rules absolutely forbid such activity, nor would I want to upset my pilot. Once my thirst was well and truly quenched, the storm moved south and flooded the whole of my nettled area. I am not sure if it was the remnants of the aromas or the very therapeutic effects of Maggie's pee, but somehow the tingling in cock and balls temporarily diminished. Perhaps this is another of CMO Maggie's experiments to use if dock leaves are unavailable for such stinging injuries?. I was finally thoroughly drenched head to toe in storm water and wrapped in the sheet to experience the full effects of inescapable warmth and humidity.

And so I received the final tick in the box from HoT Maggie. I had successfully completed the pre-flight training and as the announcement started '. . . Flight 121 is now boarding at the Playroom boarding gate. All passengers. . . ' I wondered if Virgin Atlantic would ever introduce such a memorable check-in routine. Hmm, no competition, I know I will always enjoy flying far more with Mistress Maggie Airways.

Word to the wise for other would be aviators. When you finally emerge from your piss soaked heaven you will definitely feel the cold. Mistress insisted on me having a warm shower to help stop the shivering. Do the same if offered!

Self Service slave Station

No matter how stoic you want to be for your Mistress, Mistress Maggie knows just which buttons to press, or in my case, how much brushing a buttock can take before having her slave beg for mercy. I wouldn't dare to comment on the rights or wrongs surrounding my punishments, after all Mistress is always right so there are no wrongs, and in this instance I had been warned that I would be punished by Maggie for any erections I had whilst undertaking some recent research for her; a task which involved me scouring over thousands of photos, mostly of ladies dressed in skimpy undies and fetish clothing.

Mistress wanted to ensure I wasn't enjoying my work and instructed me to maintain a five-bar-gate for keeping note of the number of erections I experienced during my searching. My next session would begin with punishment for any infractions, where I had allowed my mind to wander.

Fortunately, of all the pictures I poured over, only four had me aroused enough to land me in trouble. These were of my owner and created an instant rush of excitement as soon as I spotted one. So when asked, I honestly replied ‘four Mistress' and for those four I received four minutes of spanking over Maggie’s knee, first with her hand then with the hard hairbrush which Ted had been quietly guarding. That bloody bear will have to go!

Initially my stoicism stood firm. I mean, over the knee of a beautiful latex covered woman, face down on the latex bed, what rubber slave wouldn't be in heaven? As my ass became warmer and warmer my resolve began to crumble, and but for my face being buried deep in the latex bed I would have been begging for mercy earlier. Sometimes I think this slave is a bit of a wimp.

Success: Maggie was determined to help me with the fitting of my new, bigger red butt plug. It has been available for a while and forms one of our medium term objectives. After fixing her property to the high horse, copious doses of lubrication and aroma were supplied to her slave, finger stretching and dildo stretching and final success as the red butt plug was pushed all the way inside me. It’s a little tight and compact at the moment, however, the red plug or Big Red as I now think of my friend, has at last found its new home.

Failure: Big Red is obviously not yet fully acclimatised to its new environment and popped out again, indicating more expansion may be required before BR settles into its new home permanently. I will enjoy stretching out BR's new accommodation, Maggie told me I will.

After all this exercise, what was once an ordeal fitting my black plug became quite routine and it slipped easily and painlessly into the space vacated by BR. But I think it knows it's on notice to quit to make way for a bigger occupier in the not too distant future.

Onwards and upwards. Mistress had asked me to bring my red latex catsuit today and in her usual sultry way she helped me slip into it. I love that feeling as Mistress smoothes the wrinkles and makes sure her property is suitably packaged. A bright red gas mask was pulled over my head and Mistress manoeuvred me into the centre of the Playroom underneath the substantial ceiling frame.

With my breathing now under Maggie’s control I stood rigidly still, waiting for anything and everything my Mistress wished of me. Not long to wait. From under a covered mound of 'secret' equipment emerged the slave tray that I had so proudly worn on our 100th session.

The wooden tray was strapped around my waist and its supporting chains latched onto my slave collar, then a few inches at a time, the front then rear pulleys were released to lower the suspension frame to the height of my shoulders.

‘Squat slave'. Obviously I didn't go down far enough because in a firmer voice I was ordered again. 'I said squat slave’. Then it twigged, I was to squat low enough for the stocks to be slid in place and then locked around my neck.

Mistress checked if I was comfortably locked in the stocks and a couple of adjustments to the pulleys were necessary before I could confidently grunt, 'yes that's absolutely fine Mistress’. Immobilisation was almost complete, I was attached rigidly; slave, stocks, red latex hood and frame as one. Mistress took my hands and secured them together behind my back.

And there I stood and this time it wasn't a voluntary standstill, I just couldn't move. My neck was held vice like, my wrists were likewise and all I could see through my backwards tilting gas mask goggles was the occasional glimpse of Maggie's superb latex covered reflection in the wall mirror. Well, there was nothing to be done but stand still and make sure the contents of the tray were ready and stable and most importantly, do not embarrass or upset Mistress!

A breathing hose was the next item to emerge from the ‘secret’ mound of equipment and inevitably I was soon depending on it for air. A travel kettle appeared, several items of food and crockery, all lifted for me to see before being placed on my tray. Ah, the hint in the calling mail was starting to become a little clearer  '. . . Your Clinic appointment is scheduled for 4pm but self service refreshments are available while you are waiting. . .'  One item at a time, I was being transformed into the Self Service slave Station; part of the furniture in Maggie’s rubber refectory and delighted to be so. The final addition to my tray was the bubble bottle and I was the SSsS for as long as Maggie wished. It must have sounded really funny to Maggie; kettle starting to boil, slave bubbling away through the bottle, creating a unique blend of fresh carbonated water, and with really sensitive hearing she would have detected a low purring, very contented sound emanating from within the mask.

When all was set, Mistress turned on some of her favourite music, Michael Chapman, and proceeded to dance and sway in a most provocative way. I didn't catch all this sensual movement, but what I did catch had an alarming but not unpredictable effect on this red blooded, red latex'd, self service refreshment area. Despite my limited vision I could see at least another ten entries appearing on my five-bar-gate record of erections.

Thankfully, Mistress did allow me to take part in her snacking; a distinct whiff of cheese and onion crisps made its way up my breathing tube as its open end was unceremoniously dunked inside Mistresses crisp packet, while the amplified sound of her crunching noises made the smell of cheese and onion all the more tantalising, frustrating as well of course, because that was as near as I came to refreshments.

Like the good citizen she is, Maggie wouldn't just discard her rubbish. Unfortunately, the empty crisp packet was then placed safely inside my breathing tube. That caused a little consternation, but I remembered some advice from a very dear friend. 'Don't panic. . .'

After Mistress had eaten up everything from her SSsS, a toilet break was becoming necessary. Not for me of course because I may have sniffed Mistresses crisps but that was as close to food or drink that the refreshment station had come. It was Mistresses needs that required attention, and once I was freed from my vending machine duties, on went the collar and leash and I was to attend my Mistress as she relieved herself in the bathroom. Imagine the frustration watching all her golden champagne being flushed down the toilet without any being offered to her willing slave. Sometimes Mistress can be really cruel and sometimes, like on this occasion, she must be cruel to be kind. Mistress was being kindly cautious while she was taking a course of medicine prescribed by her Doctor. So, it was paper tissue duty only for her slave today.

We took a different route back from the loo and I was led through to the clinic, where I was instructed to mount the couch and manoeuvre into a very comfortable, reclining and restrained position on the couch. There are times when I really feel sorry for Mistress having such a long, large slave. I might be relaxed and comfortable with my feet in the stirrups, whereas Mistress has to hold her tummy in and squeeze round my sticking out feet to get closer access to her slave. But I can still get up to a little mischief as she squeezes past; I wriggle a latex covered foot against her chest or stomach, or whatever other bit of my owner is trying to manoeuvre past. I suspect that little pleasure may be curtailed and I really shouldn't divulge slave secrets so readily, although I have promised to be always honest to my owner and I do recognise the sacrifices that poor Mistress has to make to keep her slaves happy and pumped up, or even a Self Service slave Station maintained in good order!

Now the time for onwards and downwards had arrived. Down below, Mistress was going to make use of her newly stretched slave hole and fill me up with a rather large anal impaler. The heavy iron structure was prepared for insertion, cunningly attached between my legs and equally cunningly attached tightly to my exposed balls. Ease the impaler out, stretch the balls out; two birds, or should I say balls, with one stone. Have I mentioned before that Mistress is incredibly organised in her planning?

Ah yes, those Boston nipple pumps. The last time I was to have them one had gone missing, a lucky escape, although I did have to suffer an alternative instead. Mistress does not forget and had promised me that once she had found the pumps she would put them to good use. Hmm, well they have now turned up and I would be feeling them later. Mistress was also considering using a recently acquired metal cock device on me today, however, when she inspected it she was not convinced it was as good as advertised, she wanted my opinion and asked if I wanted her to try it out. I had personally tried a similar unit myself and found it singularly useless, it falls off unless you hold it firmly and even then it doesn't do what it says on the tin. I felt really proud and valued as Mistresses slave because Maggie considered my report and consigned the toy to the stainless steel bin with a loud and final clatter.

It was amusing, laying there in my white medical hood, with a dildo temporarily occupying BR's home, alternating between receiving aromas via the anaesthetic mask and breathing steadily through the snorkel into a rebreathe bag, being able to watch Mistress attempting to fit the Boston's. A normal person really needs three hands for this deployment, but Mistress managed well with two by holding the brass pump and the nipple cups in place with one hand, whilst operating the pump with her other. Have I mentioned before that Mistress Maggie is exceptional and not normal?  Whether it was the effect of the aromas or just the effect of the proximity of my owner, but these little Boston's were pleasant to wear and quite benign. On reflection, that comment may well come back to bite my nipples in future sessions!

Happy that everything was attached and inserted as planned, Mistress concentrated on my middle bit round my opened crotch zip. Always a good place for her to stick some electrodes. A urethral sound was inserted in my cock and an unusual stick-on electrode attached at the base. It may be due to the size of the rather large hospital electrode used at the base of the cock, but all the sensations were concentrated there with almost no stimulation from inside the cock and a good rhythmic dance lesson was had by all. Maggie then set about adding a bass rhythm to my anal invader as she steered it up my passageway. Long slow ins and outs of the fleshy dildo, long slow outs any ins of my secured balls, whilst all this being accompanied by a 'quick-quick-slow' rhythm round the ballroom.

Wow! Another unique and exceptional session ended all too quickly. The new aromas that Maggie used were the most potent and enjoyable I have experienced and strangely, once I had adjusted to the initial discomfort of the neck stocks, my only 'discomfort' was the inability to see enough of my owner. I mentioned this to Mistress in our post session debrief, where I may also have mentioned what an excellent and exceptional owner she is.

A rather strange bottom line is the after effect of the neck stocks. It has had a most beneficial effect on my neck muscles and I find I can move my head more easily now. Perhaps Mistress Maggie the physiotherapist might be a future addition to her medical options?

EO 19

No, not an Edinburgh postcode, and maybe a rather strange title for a blog, but it refers to the new Russian Gas mask that we were trying out during the session. For the techies, it is a Russian EO 19, NATO size three with integral filters that makes the wearer look like a Star Wars storm trooper. Anyway, more of that later in what was a most uplifting session.

Through the small semi-opaque portal in Mistress Maggie's front door I was able to glimpse a statuesque lady in what looked like an all black cape, curiosity would be satisfied in the twinkling of an eye or more precisely, the appearance of a latex covered finger round the semi opened door, beckoning me into The Chambers. There, I was greeted by my Mistress in her stunning long black latex coat and once the door had been closed behind me, and still within the confines of the small front porch, I was ordered onto my knees to worship Mistresses boots.

Mistress in EO 19

I followed Mistress upstairs and the view was just as stunning as if she had been wearing her tight latex. Her coat undulating and swishing with her every movement and I know it is not the material that mesmerises this slave, but the person inside. It is a magnificent vision all the same.

In the Playroom, Maggie insisted on trying on the new gas mask; she frequently self-demonstrates her liking for all her equipment, although this mask was a little too large for her delicate features and didn’t provide an airtight seal. Nevertheless, the contrast between the black latex of the coat and the grey of the mask does provide a striking picture. Definitely a storm trooper in this guise. After a number of deep breaths and a positive response to me asking if I could take this photo, I was dispatched to the bathroom to don my latex gloves, stockings and nothing else.

On my return, once again I was on my knees ready to perform my duties at my Mistresses feet, but this time I was instructed under the folds of that gorgeous coat and given authority to worship my Mistresses legs, way beyond the tops of her knee high glossy black boots. The contrast between the cool smoothness of the boots and her warm yet slightly abrasive fishnet tights was amazing and I would have spent hours under these folds, kissing, licking and worshipping Maggie's legs. It is strange the thoughts that enter a slaves head when so close to heaven, but my predicament had me recalling a cartoon I saw many years ago, of a lady idly talking with her friends, whilst out of sight and invisible, her slave looked to be performing similar worship. . .  as I say, strange what springs to mind.

Hooked

I would have loved to have spent longer under Maggie’s rubber coat, but Mistress allows pleasure and pain in pretty equal measures and decided it was time for me to climb into my catsuit and position myself over the the spanking bench, where I was shackled using leather cuffs and chains.

Naturally I couldn't see what was going on at the business end, although I could feel something cold, tight and probably potentially very punishing being attached round my balls. I could also feel something cold and rigid being inserted up my bottom.

I think that perhaps Mistress must secretly be a keen fisherwoman, by the easiness she managed to hook her slave with the giant, stainless steel gaff. Once more, the meticulous planning that Mistress applies to all her sessions was very evident. The line from the hook to the ceiling ring was perfectly vertical; the positioning of the bench obviously comes with years of experience. I could just touch the floor with my shackled hands but effectively all of my 17 stone was evenly distributed through my chest and through the ceiling hook.

My stretched balls are booted

A few turns of the screws had my balls once again heading away for a fishing holiday, whilst a few adjustments to the fishing line had my knees almost off the ground and my whole backside weight bearing down on the hook. Strange as it may seem, I even encouraged that by trying to lift my knees to apply more pressure on the hook. If you've ever thought what a tuna feels like when caught on line, you should try this. Not unpleasant at all. Well it is for the tuna but not for a captivated slave!

There were more terrible things happening in my other vulnerable areas though. Maggie had now caught my balls in her metal device and appeared to be enjoying playing with her catch; the constant tightening of the screws, the occasional twist of the balls as Maggie lovingly remarked how firm her balls had become and rather less lovingly, kicking the poor little blighters, just because she could.

Mistress was satisfied that she had stretched her balls by over 2 inches and allowed them to 'rest' for a while. If you call hanging there, hooked to the ceiling via your backside whilst your balls are heading towards the floor as resting! - Maggie has such a sweet, disarming turn of phrase at the most appropriate times.

Mistress does however have a big heart, and whilst I was 'resting' she unzipped her boots and put them to one side, she sat and relaxed for a while, allowing me to caress and kiss her beautiful toes in their fishnet enclosure. Though I have never been a fisherman, I cannot imagine a better netted catch than those feet and toes. The shackles restricted what I could caress, but after a lot of kissing the foot worship graduated to mouth filling, until I had all five toes dominating the inside of my eager mouth. As the fish hook was eased out of my bum I thank goodness there were no barbs, Mistress then quickly and quietly inserted my butt plug in the vacated hole.

Fishnet devotion

As only occasionally happens, a moment of truly unplanned amusement had spontaneous laughter ringing out in the bathroom. Mistress had clipped a stout neck chain onto my collar and was leading me to the bathroom, to prepare me for wearing the EO 19. As frequently happens, my wonky knees were giving me gyp and Maggie told me to sit down on the toilet seat. The black latex mask I’d been wearing had gathered a lot of sweat, off it came, then my head and neck cleaned, dried and talced.

Once satisfied, a quick yank on the chain indicated me to follow her back to the Playroom. Well, I would have if I could have. Instead, the plug had attached itself to the toilet seat and the suction between seat and plug was greater than the suction between bum and plug. 'Mistress’ I stammered, and as she turned to see what the problem was, there was my black butt plug on the white toilet seat, looking like a swaying tree trunk. Surely Mistress couldn't have planned for me to sit on the closed seat, could she?

Back in the Playroom, I was fitted into the very heavy leather body harness that immobilises your hands and arms down by your sides. I think this has to be the best, most inconspicuous and secure bondage yet. To the unobservant it may look like I am just standing, or lying in a relaxed position, arms to my sides. Nothing could be further from the truth, my arms were tightly strapped and there is no escaping their unyielding, unforgiving clutches.

A blind storm-trooper slave

The EO 19 gas mask came into view and was stretched over my head. It is a really comfortable fit and completely airtight, which is good news for the Russians who had to wear this model. One of Maggie's big rubber blindfolds removed any vision and I was left chained to the bed, with arms strapped to my sides and listening only to my own breathing. Another delightful situation I found myself in, with Maggie again in total charge of my functioning.

Maggie experimented a little to find out the possibilities with her EO19 mask and how best to block the air intakes; those little black vents on the storm-troopers cheeks. As it is a new mask, that sweet, suffocating spot took a while to find, but once she had it right Maggie was like a child with a new toy. What could be used to block the air now then? Firstly, there are two vents requiring  two hands to block the intakes. The mask being totally airtight allowed me to breathe out but no chance of breathing in, the inner mask became clamped tighter and tighter to my face until no air was left, then my Mistress kindly sets me free.

With no air I briefly start to panic, no need of course because what use is a dead slave to the perfect Mistress? I think my next objective is to follow the advice of Lance Corporal Jones and ‘Don’t Panic!', no matter what Mistress does to her slave.

Even so, this breathtaking method with the EO 19 does have some advantages, after all, if Mistress has both hands occupied with my air supply she has no hands left to menace my bollocks! Hmm! I am starting to appreciate this mask.

Inflatable mask and Tower of Pain

Enough enjoyment. Off came the EO 19 to be replaced by the inflatable black rubber hood. I was still pinioned with the body harness and now Mistress only had one breathing hole to contend with. 'I wonder if I can use one of my nice round firm nipples to cover your breath hole?' The answer is a definite yes. Not that I could see anything but my thoughts ran to 'Ahh. Smothered by one of Mistress’ nipples. Way to go!'

Speaking of nipples, I do sometimes regret the perfect design of my heavy latex suit. It makes my own nipples far too accessible and the three way zip makes other body area far too accessible as well. All three zips were opened and all used to 'assist' with my ongoing training. Electrics up bum and round cock, stout sheath attached over cock, a rubber ball stretcher attached and Mistress having more fun playing with my balls again, which by now were tightly displayed and quite sensitive. To cap it all, the Tower Of Pain made another appearance. Funnily enough I hadn’t realised why my nipples were having an out-of-body episode until I saw this photo with the T.O.P bridging my chest, as I was still very pumped up and Maggie to my unending delight, appeared to be having more fun with her slave than many a slave could cope with.

With a tweek tweek here

And a ball crush there.

Here a tweek, there a crush,

Everywhere a pain pain.

Old slave Jo he had some balls, e-ow e-ow oh!

The EO 19 is now a friend and I like how it shows up nicely in the photographs. Mistress Maggie is a good friend and always has shown up very well in all photographs. I liked this session and if you have read this far, I hope you have enjoyed my blog.