The Art of DFP

Mistress Maggie had declared today as a relaxing day that we were both to enjoy; a temporary amnesty from the normal rigours of my training; a day without pain or punishment; no electrical ‘encouragements’; no trips to Maggie's new whipping horse; a day where her slave would be allowed to touch her latex clad figure, in fact a day for Dressing For Pleasure. I even avoided a kick up the bum that Mistress had threatened me with for a cheeky remark in one of my mails, but I suspect that particular comment will act as a reminder to my owner for next time. Perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned that?

Had I died and gone to heaven? It sounded too good to be true and as the session progressed there were the odd discretionary diversions orchestrated by Maggie, but overall I was one ecstatically happy, albeit rather warm at times, rubber plaything for the most wonderful Mistress a slave could imagine.

It was a cold dank day when I arrived and Mistress had thoughtfully deployed two room heaters in her Playroom. On this one occasion I was invited to strip off my clothes and change into my socks, gloves and leather slave collar in the presence of Mistress and in the Playroom warmth. I have absolutely no inhibitions at anything Mistress requires me to do, and why would I? I felt relaxed and warm as I changed as instructed, although somewhat embarrassed as my cock stood quickly to attention the moment I glimpsed my owner, she appeared so serene in her black hooded latex robe and long leather boots, relaxing on her throne in the corner. I know her slave should be able to control that reaction, but short of chopping off my balls, which is perhaps another comment I should not make, Mistress will always generate that response, as she is the most sensual person I have ever met.

Back to the DFP. I was sent to the Bathroom to deposit my outer clothes out of the way. I didn't linger as it was just a tad chilly as I quickly checked my collar, made sure everything was OK and returned to knock on the door and wait, as I have been trained to do when entering any room containing my Mistress.

Ah, those long leather boots again. Mistress pointed to the tops and said the boots were very dirty after my last pitiful attempt and how I must do a better job of cleaning by generating much more saliva this time to lift off the dirt. That was divine torture, because as my licks approached the top of the boots I discovered that Mistress was once again naked under her latex gown. The rules dictate that I must restrict my licking to the footwear, but if I remember rightly, the Chambers rules do not mention that a slave cannot gaze in wonderment at Mistresses nakedness. So restricting my pleasure to the odd furtive glance I continued to work my tongue on the dirtiest patches near the tops of the boots. I am sure Mistress knew and teased her slave more by stretching the top of the boots to allow a proper clean and show off more of her bare flesh.

After the very long task of boot cleaning Maggie was happier with my performance today, and that’s when my dilemmas really started. I am not sure why because I have been a big rubber fan for a very long time, but when Mistress asked how I would like to dress for pleasure today I was totally flummoxed. I mean, expecting a slave to think about how a DFP session should progress was torture. The only item Maggie said I was to wear was a pair of tight latex pants with an anal sheath that I had never been introduced to before and the rest was my choice.

Amazing, the pants were actually plugged into the wall socket. Heated latex pants eh? Now that's a novelty. It turned out that Maggie had inserted a vibrating butt plug into the anal sheath and was making sure it was fully charged before allowing her slave to feel their delights. Dilemma one. 'Would you like something tight round your cock and balls slave?' If I said yes, would it show Mistress that I love that type of restraint? Was I being drawn into a spiders web for future sessions? Of course I said 'Yes please’, it means I get my Mistress playing with her property as she tightly attaches the leather cock and ball straps. A definite 'Yes please!'

Greased up, the anal invader was turned on and slipped easily home. A moment of amusement for Mistress when she needed a couple of probes to find the entry point and with each attempt, the pressure sensitive switch in the vibrator moved it to another program. Laughing, she giggled ‘OK, too bad. You'll have to put up with a random buzz program today slave.' It turned out to be three short bursts, one long one, then a momentary quiet time, a rather pleasant sensation that would gradually build the longer it remained in place.

More torturous questions about how I wanted to DFP. ’How about a catsuit, there are a few to choose from, one suit or two for you slave?' I have never experienced wearing both my lightweight and heavyweight suits together and thinking about it caused a delay. ‘Come on slave, call yourself a rubberist?’. Mistress knows I love rubber so the answer 'both please' was probably a fair certainty. 'Do you want a nice hood, slave?' Decisions decisions. Oh the torture. 'Yes please’, and so after this mental anguish I ended up in tight latex buzzing pants, two catsuits and a nice hood.

Unlike me, Mistress had already decided how she would like to be dressed and produced a shiny latex garment for herself. ‘Help me into my catsuit slave’. This request required absolutely no thought at all and was definitely a 'yes please' before Maggie had even finished asking. But before we got started Mistress had another thought. ‘Would you like that nice corset or a harness to keep you secure in all that latex slave?’ And then I realised, Mistress really does know me well and everything she ‘asked’ about was a foregone conclusion. I didn’t say no and so the corset was fitted round my midriff, nice and tight. I felt a little happier knowing I wasn’t really having to make decisions after all.

It was about now that the consequences of the very tight latex coverings were making themselves felt. As I helped Mistress into her catsuit, gently easing it up her smooth white back, and very carefully easing the zip from her derrière to the nape of her neck, I naturally felt a stirring lower down and that was it, only stirrings. The rubber coverings were so tight, I could have passed for a woman I had such a wonderfully tightly covered abdomen and groin, but an erection? - no chance whatsoever, there was definitely not enough space for one of those! In the past I have helped Mistress remove her suit at the end of a session but helping her dress for pleasure in her latex was on a totally different plane. Mistresses freshly licked thigh boots were zipped on top and I was allowed to polish her all over and enhance her shine.

With the application of the gas mask over my working hood and the aroma tube screwed in place, the last vestiges of communicating directly with my Mistress were removed, nor could I see my Mistress directly. Now inside my rubber world I had to rely on the lenses to provide my link to the real world outside. Maggie allowed a few puffs as a reward, I don’t think I had experienced this brand of aroma before but it was giving a nice relaxing feel to a surreal situation. Every now and then Maggie held her hand over the tube and smiled as the gas mask drew tightly against my air deprived face. Could our DFP get any better?

Well yes actually. Mistress decided that a few chains would be an appropriate addition to my DFP experience. And so it was. I was loosely chained to the bed and my hands chained to my corset, preventing me from reaching out to touch my wonderful latex Mistress. Try as might I could not reach her as she moved sensually around the bed. Then suddenly I couldn't even see the outside world through my goggles, as a blindfold was carefully placed over them and all contact was curtailed as Mistress left the room.

A short while later Mistress returned and she began releasing my right hand from its temporary chain, she sat down next to me and announced that she would be reading me a story from a 1980's ‘Dressing For Pleasure’ magazine. I wasn't really able to concentrate on the story being totally mesmerised by the very sound of Mistresses voice. I lay there TOTALLY enclosed in rubber and getting warmer and warmer inside my many layers of that wonderful material. I should have asked for the heaters to be turned down, but I didn't want to interrupt my Mistress and made the wrong choice by squirting another sniff of aroma to help me feel cooler, of course that did nothing other than making me more mesmerised. As the story continued I became hotter and hotter until I had to request Mistress to remove the mask to cool down.

Every cloud has a silver lining as they say, as unwittingly my request revealed a wonderful surprise. During my period of solitude Mistress had quietly changed into her hood with attached braided hair.

I was overwhelmed with how stunning she looked. If I had not asked for the mask off how long a delay would I have had before being allowed to see my exquisite Mistress?. Yet another fine DFP dilemma presented to her slave, and the silly thing was that once Maggie was aware I was hot she had absolutely no qualms about turning down the heaters.

It didn’t take long for me to once again feel comfortable in my latex layers, and although my need for cooling air had changed the ambiance of the session Mistress still had two final pleasures for her loyal slave. Maggie put on her long rubber mack and belted it tightly, then guided me into the latex bondage sack. I was strapped into the sack and laid back on the bed where Mistress gently cuddled her rubber slave and wrapped me tightly into bed. Unfortunately such hot pleasures cannot last forever and eventually the session had to end. As I stood to attention ready to have all the suits removed, Mistress allowed me to put my rubber covered arms round her and gently stroke her latex covered body. This delightful privilege would normally solicit a bulging growth down below but any reaction was suppressed totally by the multiple layers of tight latex. Perhaps, just perhaps, Mistress has found a way of controlling my unruly cock in her presence.

I always adore being in the presence of my rubber Goddess but today was a very happy and special one, having finally been permitted a lengthy touch of her latex clad figure. I received exactly what my owner had promised; Dressing in rubber for Pleasure. When I was younger, story times had never been this good and I hope we get to finish another episode of the magazine story Mistress Maggie was reading in the not too distant future.

Pumped Up and Raring to Go

If I had been tasked with concocting the perfect way to start 2018, I could not have surpassed what Mistress Maggie had planned for our first session of the new year. I knew it was going to be rubbery, very rubbery, I had gleaned that much from Maggie’s call up mail. I knew also that my Mistress would be in a very rubbery costume for the session so I arrived at the Chambers with a hop, skip and very happy jump as my finger jauntily pinged the front door bell. I had that feeling that this was going to be my best year ever.

True to her promise Maggie was very rubbery indeed; a long flowing black latex skirt, a tight basque covering her black latex covered torso, topped off with the wonderful halo of jet black hair that highlights her beautiful face. A song from Tommy briefly came to mind ‘Got a feeling 2018 is going to be a good year’. Apologies to The Who for slightly plagiarizing their title, but the sentiments fit well with the circumstances.

Maggie asked me to sit down on the latex bed and we talked about my training so far in a manner which epitomises how kind my owner really is. She guided the conversation towards asking for my thoughts on how my training was progressing? Was I happy with the direction we took in sessions? Was there anything I wished to be included in my training? . . . All questions asking her slave for feedback on my owners performance. As I gazed across the Playroom where Mistress was seated elegantly on her throne, I couldn’t think of anything constructive to say apart from, ‘Yes I am very happy with no concerns as to where 2018 and beyond may take us, and no I cannot think how to improve the already perfect sessions you create for your slave’, before making a stammered apology for abdicating responsibility which I know must place a huge burden on my owner. But I really don’t want anything to change. ‘More of the same please,’ I rather lamely quipped.

Our chat was drawn to a close and it was back to a new year of renewed training. I was dispatched to the bathroom to divest all my clothes and return wearing my black latex socks and gloves and of course my slave collar. Mistress was wearing long, very long leather boots under her skirt and it was heaven starting at the tip of her toes and licking all the way up past her superb calves, upwards over her knees and slowly upwards over those stunning thighs. Were these boots ever going to stop? Of course and I am well trained not to stray past the footwear so I restarted on the other boot, offering it the same amount of devotion.

Mistress let me know that she planned to have me in three layers of latex and without any ado I was ordered into my black heavyweight catsuit which had been nicely warming on the bed. With Maggie’s help I was soon covered in the first layer, but I had been given no hint of the form the other two rubber layers would take. Mistress always likes me to be well groomed, and the same applies when I am in my latex and once dressed I am to be polished or dusted. As soon as Mistress had finished with her duster a second catsuit was brought down from a hanger, its chlorinated surface was so slippery that I could just slide it on without much assistance. Well I had been promised rubbery, and was now enclosed in two glorious layers and anxiously waiting for the third one to appear, but when it did not come I suspected I must have misheard my Mistress.

Perhaps the third layer was the EO19 gas mask that I was then secured inside, with its heavy rubber smell filling my nostrils I was led through to the Clinic and securely strapped down on the couch. Maggie disappeared returning a little later with one of her catheter kits. The gloves went on and a large plastic drape unwrapped ready to be secured to my rubber suit. My cock felt quite cool being exposed through the centre hole of the drape and even cooler when Maggie started to clean it with her swabs of meths. At this point she would normally apply lubricant to my opening, but not today. Instead, Maggie then used her hands to gather up my genitals and after a period of rattling noises came the distinct sound of a ratchet device being attached behind them.

That’s when my first embarrassment of 2018 occurred, I just couldn’t control my cock. Mistress clearly made it known that she wanted a flaccid cock and with a couple of slaps told me to concentrate on making that happen, but try as I might I could not stop the pesky blighter waking up and waving at my Mistress. I tried to think of nothing; I tried counting sheep but in the end Maggie resorted to the tried and tested method of plonking a bag of frozen ice cubes on the area. Even that was only partially successful and Maggie still struggled to attach the second part of her chastity cage, until finally its lock closed around my cock and balls.

With a sigh of relief and triumph it was on to the next part of her plan, installation of the catheter. Bearing in mind I could not see the extent of my cock confinement, I wondered why it took my owner longer than normal to insert the catheter, but at last I could feel it passing painlessly down my urethra and its internal balloon pumped up. Maggie is now a real expert in this little operation and always maintains her very high hygiene standards with a proper sterile field.

Once the capture and catheterisation of my cock was completed, a pair of kegel balls were dangled in front of my gas mask lenses. ‘These will be inserted down below’ , said Mistress. My red butt plug was brought out and the kegels inserted in to my vacated backdoor hole.

My training has taught me that wherever there are kegels there will always be electric sensations, so no surprise that Mistress was soon making her slaves hips move to her
chosen pulsing rhythm, or ‘dance music’ as Mistress called it. A pleasurable predicament as well, because the more you move the more the balls jiggle and just add to the stimulation, or just until Maggie decides to add a sadistic twist to her actions.

It was at this point I made what I thought was an innocent reference to my total acceptance of Mistresses actions. The lead in conversation explains.

Mistress - 'Do you want to pee slave?’
slave -  ‘No thank you Mistress’
Mistress - ‘No thank you. Ah, you can still be polite even when I am punishing you can’t you?
slave - ‘Are you punishing me Mistress?...

I was trying to convey I accept anything and everything she wishes, so how could it be punishment?

That was the most stupid response I could have made, because the electrics were quickly ramped up from 24 to 48 and THEN I was in no doubt at all that I was being punished. Mistress laughed. My ass was on fire, my hips dancing wildly and I was singing out in pain, vowing once more not to make stupid quips when being trained. If Mistress says she is punishing you, just accept it! The raised electrics had played havoc with the caged cock, I could feel the tight restraints of the steel holding in what was trying to be a growing erection. How come a high voltage experience results in a raging erection?

Mistress warned me that the clinic was about to get very noisy as she plugged something into the shoulder of my catsuit. Ah! I was wearing her new inflatable suit and that was soon confirmed as a very noisy pump leapt into life right next to my left ear. It then dawned on me that I had been enclosed in three layers of latex all along and not just two as I had believed, and thank goodness for the E019 gas mask, the thick rubber of the mask toned down the buzz to a pleasant hum. As my shoulders gradually began to bulk out, Maggie eased the tight restraining bands to allow more air to circulate and before long I was able to feel a swelling round my stomach; not tight but sufficient for me to run my rubber covered hands over a larger than normal gut.

It was time to move back to the Playroom, the restraints had been unbuckled I was to carefully alight from the White Room couch. Reaching just a little too far with my leg to make contact with the floor, I suffered the most agonising cramps in my left leg. It made level 48 feel like being tickled. Fortunately, Mistress took immediate remedial action and massaged the calf gently until the cramps subsided, insistent that she would not proceed until I promised that I was fit to continue. Maggie is sadistic at times but definitely not a complete sadist; thoughtful and kind spring to mind and it certainly reinforces why I am devoted to my owner.

Maggie’s orders determined that the electrics, which were now thankfully reduced to a more normal level 21, would remain pulsing and the plugged catheter and cock cage were there ‘permanently’ as we traversed the short distance between the White Room and Playroom.

Not content that my lower appendage was now rendered useless and incapable of being pumped up any further, more inflation was required by Mistress. The pump was plugged in again and the catsuit inflated to a much larger size, applying pressure to all parts of her rubber slave. The matching inflatable hood and mittens followed rendering me a balloon man, I was left to acclimatise myself to my new inflated predicament, unable to touch anything with my round ball hands, unable to move freely with my round ball body and my senses deprived by my round ball head.

I have experienced this rather pleasant latex hood previously, at lower pressures it has stayed in place without too much fuss, Maggie's plans today necessitated fixing my slave collar tightly over the hoods neck band to keep it securely in place, even so, with the great pressure applied, the hood eyes were eventually pointing skywards and the breathing tube required a very firm grip between my teeth. It is possible that an attachment similar to a divers mouthpiece may prove beneficial and I will mention this to my owner.

I was lightly strapped to the cell bars and Mistress amused herself with her little game of ‘inflate and frustrate’. Armed with her hitachi vibrator my imprisoned cock was at her mercy. Talk about frustrated. My sausage literally took on the shape of a sausage in a far too tight skin and the catheter just hung there. I have come to the conclusion that Mistress Maggie is an expert in frustrating her slaves. Another of her endearing qualities.

Once we had deflated all the inflatables, removed all the rubber and … well, that was it. As an act of obedience and submission I was sent home with instructions to keep the catheter and cage on until Monday. Now that was a thrill to leave the Chambers in this state, I loved the concept and was resolved to do exactly as asked. Unfortunately, after a fitful nights sleep I awoke in the early hours of Saturday, having dreamed the most deliciously erotic dreams about my Mistress, with what would have been a super hard and large cock, wanting a pee and desperate for relief from the continuous compression. I succumbed, and at about 06:30 used the keys to free the cage and the syringe that Mistress had loaned me for emergencies to deflate the catheter.

I have already informed Mistress Maggie of my failure and we agree long term caging is probably not our scene and after the excruciating agony of a really compressed cock I take my hat off to those who report that they spend weeks stuck in chastity. The cage was one I had not worn before and unlike the other devices I have tried, its ratchet tightly round my balls made it immovable without the keys. I must admit to regretting having to remove both items as it provided a real sense of long-term ownership. I know, I am a really lucky slave and a Happy New Year to everyone.

The Twelve Ways of Mistress

🎄 Mistress Invites you to her Pantomime of Pervery 🎄

for adults only

Expect laughter, music, spectacle and lots of personal participation during this fun filled festive feast of a show.

Relive the adventures of Mistresses slave in training as she takes this traditional Christmas tune and distorts it almost beyond recognition. 

⬳⟿

The above extract from my calling mail gave me the distinct impression that Mistress Maggie was in festive mood and that I would be taking part in some Christmas entertainment. I arrived outside the Chambers with a spring in my step, a smile on my face, a bottle in hand for my Mistress and her husband, and ready for anything. Oh! I forgot, I was also carrying my perv bag complete with my red catsuit, black accessories and freshly polished black Wellington boots - just as instructed. I had a strong suspicion that once again I was to become a Christmas Santa Claus for my Owners amusement.

Mistresses thrill seeking show began as soon as I knelt at her feet to lick and worship her boots. There I was, innocently licking her red thigh high boots, up and down, long and slow and over her knee towards her glorious leather covered thighs, when I think I caught a glimpse of a naked Mistress underneath her latex skating skirt. Actually I wasn’t mistaken, but I know the rules and knew my job and so continued to concentrate on the cleaning rather than stare at my beautiful Mistress. It can be a hard and risky job being Mistress’ boot cleaner!

As expected I was soon inserted into the red catsuit and looking like Santa. Well, kind of like Santa, only I had to wear a gas mask instead of a sack. Maggie announced that her session plans would be presented to the tune of a well known carol, then retrieving her hymn sheet and singing to the tune of ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’ she outlined the session. I was asked to confirm understanding and acceptance of the actions in each of the verses, which was easy of course, as I have solemnly promised to willingly do whatever Mistress asks (or sings), immediately and without question. Mistress picked up her iPod and selected some easy music to get started . . .

And so to the Christmas Party.

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas my Mistress Planned for me:

12
Bouts of Spanking
OTK, in the lap of my Mistress. Who could ask for anything more? Plimsolls, slippers, paddles, hand slaps and hairbrushes all left their own rosy glow.





11
Pounds of Ball Weights Dangling
That is a lot of excess weight for a slave to carry between his legs but I suppose Santa should know how to handle big loads. Once acclimatised to the weight, I was led off to tour the Chambers with weight dangling merrily below. Back in the Playroom, Mistress partook in a glass of water.




10

Minutes of Dancing
With the music turned up I was swinging my ass and gas mask hose to a raunchy Madonna song. There is only one person who oozes more raw eroticism than Madge and I am owned by her. Oh yes, and Mistress took a sip of water.






9
Tails a Flogging
Amazing how tight my red catsuit can be across the buttocks when I am sticking my arse out further, inviting my Mistress to enjoy herself more with her cat o’ nine tails. After the whip, Mistress took another sip.






8
Electrodes Pulsing
Cleverly placed around my groin and stomach to produce really unusual and frustrating ripple sensations. Nothing I can do when my hands are tied up and Mistress is busy drinking more water.






7
Crooked Cane Strokes
I counted eight. Maggie said the extra one was deserved because I wriggled. No wonder I wriggled with a senior crooked cane playing on an already warmed up landscape. Mistress kept me over the whipping horse and drank a full glass of water.






6
Inch of her Strap-On
Hehe! and a vibrating one as well. Mistress must have been parched and had another sip of her water.






5
More Anal Toys
Taking advantage of my widened opening I was invaded and pumped up with an inflatable dildo. Quickly followed by the manhandler, most of a gloved hand, the powerful vibes of the Hitachi wand, finishing with the steel anal hook that Mistress so kindly attached to the overhead gantry. With me nicely hitched up out of the way Mistress began drinking, again!






4

Ho! Ho! Ho!

Horse Rides Round the Room
Not my finest event. The wonky knees restricted the horsing around to a walk round the track. Even then I fell at the start of the third furlong. Horse riding was never my strong point and I think I disappointed my Mistress. What’s that phrase? - you can lead a horse to water but Mistress drinks it all up?






3
Suffocation Bags
My Santa decorated head was captured inside three poly bags for some very noisy plastic breath control. The only thing wrong with three bags together, apart from not being able to breathe of course, was not being able to feel the Christmas kiss that Mistress gave me through the three layers. I could only watch her luscious warm lips as they approached, whilst gasping hard and dreaming of their touch. I envied Mistresses water glass as she took a few more sips.






2
Kicks up the Bum
I received quite a few more than two kicks up the rear, the important thing was that Maggie did seem to be enjoying it. ‘I didn’t put the boots on for nothing slave’. Perhaps she had a bad experience with Santa when she was younger? Or more likely she just fancied kicking the crap out of a very willing slaves backside. Anyway, who’s counting?




and



A Belly Full of Maggie’s Fine Pee
After all that water intake, quite a lot had to flow out. I was really fortunate that Maggie allowed me to be one of the first users of her new toilet box; a stunning piece of equipment. With my head nestled inside the latex toilet pan one thirst quenching stream of very fresh, warm, mulled Maggie wine was eagerly consumed by her slave. Oops! I did manage to get a little drop of wine on the beard, but hopefully I think I got away with it!

*  *  *

Today I was really privileged to be part of a well planned and well executed celebration of 133 previous sessions with my Mistress. The amount that she managed to seamlessly cram into the time available was amazing. The Christmassy session contained many of my 'favourites’, some of my owners favourites I hope, plus some new experiences like the new toilet and the 11lb ball weight. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

This blog is the 100th I have published about my slave escapades, and without the help of my owner, Mistress and friend I would not have been able to enjoy life as I do now. I will also thank Maggie's husband John for being patient, because I know I am demanding of Maggie's time, and finally;

I would like to wish everyone who has read my blogs a very Merry Christmas and a happy 2018. I hope you have been able to have as happy a 2017 as Mistress Maggie has provided for me.

My Dilemma

It was Monday, my nose was streaming like a tap and I really felt worse for wear. If I felt like this on Friday I knew I may have to disappoint my owner by missing my scheduled appointment. What to do? Cancel and miss out on a much needed fix of pervery and probably piss off Mistress, but if I did do that it may enable Mistress Maggie to rebook one of her other slaves. Or should I fight the cold and keep my appointment. I was determined to see my owner and it was only a cold after all. I can shake it off. I must shake it off.

By Thursday when the calling mail arrived, I knew I had made the right decision. I was in much need of some training time and I needed to see and serve my Mistress; what I didn’t need was letting her down or worse still, giving her my cold. The details of what Maggie intended for me in the session were unusually scant, giving me nothing to muse over, so I just fantasised in general about Maggie. When I arrived Mistress greeted me at the door wearing undergarments that were about as scanty as her calling mail; a vision in tight, pink trimmed latex. Following Mistress up the stairs in her high heels and little latex shorts, I had that familiar temptation to accidentally bury my nose into those wonderful bottom cheeks. But I know that unless I am invited, it’s not my place to stick my nose where it shouldn’t be and quickly regathered my thoughts and stepped back into line.

Once in the Playroom it seemed a good time to tell Maggie about my earlier cold and how I hoped to be able to achieve anything and everything asked of me despite being probably only 85% recovered.

The session commenced with an enjoyable period of shoe worship, under Maggie’s instruction I was to concentrate on cleaning the uppers of her shoes only, and that there would be plenty of time to attend to her fine heels later. In the meantime I would once again be transformed into my owners private rubber slave and was ordered into my full heavyweight catsuit, socks and gloves. Standing fully rubberised awaiting my orders I could see Mistress arranging a plastic bag, a sign that I would likely be having some breath training today. I did not have to wait too long for an intense bagging, Mistress had me kneel between her gorgeous thighs and watched as I slowly used up the air and finally had to beg for her to relax her grip on my breathing. All the while I was gazing at my owner through the plastic and wondering if this was the last heavenly vision I would see. Ah, some angel!.

Moving to the White Room I was to lay on the couch, putting my backside in a most convenient position for Maggie to unzip me and stuff my red butt plug friend inside me, she then began fastening the PVC straps that would keep me secured during my treatments. No problems with my butt plugs entry, but I did receive problems from Maggie’s shoe as she appeared to delight in using the protruding red end of my dildo for target practice. She must have been a footballer in the past because each kick was unerringly accurate and quite firm!. Right on target on the red end and I think she scored with every kick. It is a good job there is a sizeable flange on the plug otherwise it could have ended up somewhere behind my rib-cage.

Mistress had plans for further breathtaking fun for her slave, a modified gas mask suitable for rebreathing was the order of the day, and once fitted snugly, the aroma pumping hose was screwed on the front. New aromas this week, supposed to be more mellow if the label is anything to go by! I’m not sure, but I think I prefer the one I was allowed last time.

There was no mention from Maggie as to what operations she was about to do, but what happened next and confirmed by the photos, was something I have dreamed about for some time. With all the rubbery noises and ball tightening that was going on down below I sensed that my owner was attempting to recreate a picture I had favoured on Flickr, whereby a gentleman had his cock and balls tightly enclosed in thin, tight black latex. It was strangely haunting imagining my cock and balls in a similar condition, a thought that I believed could only be a dream, never to be fulfilled.

Well, never underestimate the power, creativity and ingenuity of my first class Mistress. She has the ability to make a lot of dreams come true and this dream was now being made into reality. Turning my genitals into a black rubber bundle took Maggie quite a while, much adjustment needed, use of plan B and even plan C, some very tender and occasional rough handling of my cock and balls and ingenious use of her black stockings, until she was finally pleased with her creation. Maggie still hadn’t given any indication of how she had adorned her property, but I just knew. I could definitely feel the interesting pressure her handiwork had provided and couldn’t wait for the pictures.

Mistress put on a pair of latex opera gloves and came to check me out, to see if I was OK with the gas mask. Oh yes, and quite a few squirts of the aroma bulb had me chilled out and relaxed, which was quite fortunate as Mistress wanted to broaden other horizons and whispered in that incredibly sexy voice that is generally the precursor to some hard work on my part, that she was going to attempt to insert a whole hand up my backside.

The aromas had worked well and my sphincter felt ready to accommodate Mistresses hand. The chair was adjusted to the right height to suit her arm movements, then with lots of lubrication and a thorough, penetrating, and rather pleasant anal massage Maggie was keen to get started with her slaves first real fisting attempt.

She gently and firmly rotated her fist, pushing a bit more and topping up the lube I could feel my hole stretching, her fingers were easily sliding in and out . . . in and out . . .  but she couldn’t manage to get her thumb knuckle past my sphincter. Maggie did not force the issue, rather, she patted my strapped stomach and said, ‘well done slave’.

Never mind, I had a big asshole by now and just by chance Maggie had a massive manhandler, a dildo with operating handle, that offered no resistance and slipped in easily. Once more the depth and stimulation was such that I couldn’t tell if I wanted to pee or spurt. Maggie made good use of the huge invader and I must admit to liking the sensations quite a bit!

To complete my anal exercises and fill the space that had been made available by the manhandler and attempted fisting, a string of anal beads was inserted. They popped in easily as well and all that was left protruding was the ring pull to aid extraction. They are very comfortable to wear and could easily have been left up there without any discomfort or anyone knowing, although the smile they put on your face might act as a giveaway.

The rebreathe gas mask I had been wearing was now used for its true intended purpose. Mistress explained that my rebreathing ability was to be advanced and she would be keeping a check on the clock, the hose was removed and a 6L rebreathe bag screwed on in its place. ‘Last time slave you managed 1 minute, today we will try for 1:15.’  Well, 1:15 came and I was feeling fine and when asked ‘do you want to go on?’ I nodded and grunted. So on we went, rebreathing my own air; 1:30, 1:45, grunt and yes, until we passed 2 minutes and Maggie called a halt with another ‘well done slave’.


I was rewarded for my rebreathing improvement and Maggie opened the zip on the re-breather bag and popped some aroma inside it. I was then given permission to caress her wonderful latex clad bottom, a pleasure made even more mesmerising with the medicinal properties of the aromas.

With the hydraulic gynae couch lowered so I could step off safely, we moved gently and carefully back to the Playroom for more of Maggie’s planned activities. Possibly the combination of standing up, aromas and the fact that I was less than 100% fit had me totally knackered, and I mean mind numbingly debilitated. Mistress was concerned, as she always is for her playthings, the mask was removed, followed by all of the rubber cock and ball ornamentation and I was told to lay down to recover. It is amazing how much energy is sapped trying to please your Mistress, but I think the main contributor to my coming to a halt was my lack of fitness. I still think I made the right choice to attend rather than rearrange my appointment yet still needed to apologise to my owner for having let her down.

After a grateful swig of water, recovery was swift and I was able to resume worshipping my Mistresses footwear. She lay down on the low bench and raised up one of her gorgeous and incredibly shapely legs to my very eager mouth. ‘I would like stylised worship of my heels today slave. Lick them just like a pussycat would’. I never tried to lick like a cat before, so I just moderated my usual long slow licks a little, moving along the high heels and curling my tongue up at the end of each stroke, first one foot then the other, then both heels were presented together. Maggie was smiling at me and it was a hard task to avoid staring at her very tight lingerie that was only a couple of feet away from her slaves catlike mouth. That was a lovely end to the session and I may have mentioned this before, but I do think Mistress Maggie has the most beautiful pair of legs a slave could wish for. Don’t you agree?

My dilemma had been resolved. I would have liked to be 100% fit for my owner but I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to serve for any reason, if I could possibly avoid it.

Not at all What I Expected!

The unusually unambiguous comments that Mistress Maggie sent to me in her calling mail had me thinking that something strange was about to happen.

What liberties a captor takes changing the shape of her captive prey.
As she makes you smell her essence, her medicine and latex presence
You must not move, just await your fate, as she finds which parts she can inflate.

The guidance in the call up mail is usually non-specific and leaves a great deal to my imagination. I usually spend the next 24 hours trying to second guess what delights my owner may have in store, but this appeared quite clear; a good dose of latex, strict and immovable bondage, aromas, a spot of bum licking (I am getting most accomplished at this most enjoyable of pastimes) and my balls to be saline inflated; I know Mistress has a penchant for occasionally enjoying her slave with huge balls so that was settled and I would be spending some time secured in the Clinic. It couldn’t be that obvious could it?

No! Things took a bizarre twist when I rang Mistress to confirm arrangements, an hour before our session time as I always do. It must be fate because I usually text, but for some reason I had to use the land-line and imagine my confusion when Mistress said she had three instructions for when I arrive:

1) Ring the doorbell
2) Remove and store my glasses
3) Turn away from the door and observe the street.

After having had 23 hours with a good idea as to what was about to happen, this curved ball really got me. At the door I did as instructed, standing nonchalantly I watched the passing traffic. A moment later I heard the door open and my collar was yanked violently backwards and I was forced face against the front porch and promptly hooded. My head was starting to spin, assisted by a liberal application of aromas from a gloved hand and I was dragged upstairs. I wasn’t even told to remove my footwear, and all the while what felt like a Taser* was forced under my chin. I know my Mistress is very capable of delivering a shock but this treatment was uncharacteristically rough and I did have a real worry that she would use the shocking implement.

I remained compliant and very docile, dropping my trousers when ordered. The gate to the cell was unlocked, I was pushed inside and told to sit down on the awaiting chair, whilst the Taser* went downwards towards my exposed balls. Sitting was a little difficult, because strapped in the centre of the wooden chair seat was a huge black dildo, placed exactly where my by now naked bum should go.

It took a few awkward attempts but eventually I was fixed firmly to the chair and I must admit that I was starting to warm to my dominant captor. I really will have to practice that same manoeuvre at home; getting my own butt plug inserted. Perhaps sticking it to the closed toilet seat might work?

Her interrogation technique was quite simple. Confuse with apparently disjointed questions, threaten the subject with the Taser and elicit the information.

‘Last time you did not know how to carry a tray and was sloppy with cleaning . . . not normal for a regular slave . . . must be working under a false identity . . . are you really Mistress Maggie's slave? . . . name slave?’

This last question should have been a simple answer but I didn’t appear to give the answer that she wanted.

‘Slave. . . jo. . . jo nep. . . Mistress Maggie’s slave . . .  ’. I even tried the birth name that my parents had given me, but to no avail.

‘OK, so you do not even know your name. Do you have any distinguishing marks?’

Ah, I was quite certain now that I could prove that I was my Mistresses property and mentioned my guiche.

Focusing on this revelation my captor discouraged further contradictions or 'lies' by securing a scarf round my mouth and ordered me out of the cage. I was told to assume a position whereby I was to kneel on the carpet, bum still naked and my trousers still round my ankles for further investigation and interrogation. The further investigation was a bit of an understatement and the further interrogation, verbally at least, was somewhat restricted by the tight knotted gag.

I may not have been able to see but I was fairly certain that it was my owner investigating the distinguishing features around my bum. Not satisfied that she had all the evidence despite a good fondle of the guiche, she applied copious quantities of lube to my bum and in went her hand to feel around for additional ID. After that I was mounted there and then; head on carpet, arse in the air and in with the strap-on phallus. Yes that is definitely my owner and I was finally able to relax a little.

My captor however was still unconvinced by my slave identity and required more persuasion. She insisted that any genuine slave of Maggie’s would not mind being kept as a latex prisoner, to confirm the truth I would be subsequently clothed in tight head to toe latex with all my senses at her disposal.

By now, the mid European accent was fading to the music that is my Mistress’s voice. Kneeling up I was ordered to remove my jeans and the other clothes that were tangled around my ankles, and the latex T-shirt that I am sometimes able to wear for arriving at the Chambers. At last I was finally able to clearly see my Mistress clad in her wonderful gold latex catsuit as I was instructed to remove the black interrogation hood. I was to wear my plum coloured latex suit and it really is a wonderful experience to be helped inside a tight catsuit by a stunningly attractive owner and to be cleaned and polished once done. It is my belief that every slave should be allowed this marvellous experience at least once.

Having already sat on the butt plug and gladly accepted the strap-on, my vacant orifice was very willing to accept its next visitor in the shape of an electric anal stimulator. By now I was so well lubed that the plug needed zipping in to keep the little bugger in place, which happily seemed to work.

Although normality was returning to my training, I was still disoriented. As my eyes began focusing properly again I glanced at my Mistresses boots, which so far I had not been instructed to honour, and I noticed the Plank leant against the wall waiting to be assembled. What was reassuring were the pillows that Maggie had temporarily attached to the Plank for her slaves comfort. On the more sinister side, this probably meant a lengthy immobilisation, but if that was the case how could I reconcile my earlier thoughts that my balls were likely to be inflated in the Clinic? I gave up trying to overthink the issues and let myself go totally under my owners spell.

I soon found out how I could square the circle. Mistress was going to attach me to the Plank and do the infusion to my scrotum in the Playroom. Just to be sure that I was actually Maggie's rubber slave, she decided to fit the Tusker mask. It is comfortable and only served to reinforce my earlier thoughts that I was in for a long Planking.

Firstly a good ball buttering. Not to be confused with a ball battering, the buttering is a most pleasant experience as Maggie applied cocoa butter to the scrotum to help flexibility and hopefully its ability to expand to take the waiting cargo. Meticulous precautions were taken as always, to first create then maintain the sterile environment necessary for the operation. I was supplied with more doses of her aromatic medicine, then I was warned not move as Maggie leaned forward to insert her needle into my ball sac and only then did she nonchalantly advise ‘500ml of saline today slave’. Even though I say so myself, this was going to be a ‘routine’ filling of my sac as I have previously received far more fluid. I remained still and enjoyed the occasional glimpse and feel by my Mistress as she checked her balls to make sure they were filling nicely.

Unfortunately, I lost the vision of my Golden goddess with the application of the eye shades to the Tusker mask. I was left totally blind and almost deaf to contemplate my fate as decreed by my owner. A quick pat of the balls and a barely audible 'See you later slave' and that was my life. I have absolutely no concept of the time I remained in that position. I did hear the door open, the last drops of 500ml infusion must have trickled home because I sensed that the needle was being removed followed by a gentle fondling of the balls, and the door closed and silence again.

I focused on thoughts of my Mistress and every now and then the e-stim circulating through my cock and balls created a hard erection. I concentrated on the erection which brought me quickly and clearly back to a vision of the most beautiful person I know and there was nothing else worth thinking about. I even had several ‘forbidden’ thoughts about my owner and all the while the constant pulsing of the anal electrode was working its insidious magic. I thought I had the impression of the door opening again but no sound. Did I hear the click of the camera? Was my Mistress with her slave again? I had no thoughts of anything apart from Mistress Maggie and how I could better serve her.

After the unexpected approach of my Russian interrogator, and her gradual transformation back to my wonderful owner, the final return to 'normality' was Mistress graciously granting me the benefits of some of her warm, fresh nectar. Even that had a unexpected twist, the Tusker with its integrated drinking tube provided an easy way of delivery, Mistress filled an enema bag with her golden nectar, allowing gravity to direct it down the tube and into my eager mouth. With that first glorious taste I knew I had my Mistress back 100% without any foreign influences. That final drink was so well received, but I must work on my ability to accept and swallow a continuous stream of piss rather than Mistress using the tap to regulate my intake. Or perhaps that is how Maggie likes the situation? Even in something so simple as a humble drink, she remains in total charge.

And the end results? I had been kidnapped at the door, incarcerated on a dildo strapped to a chair, drugged and interrogated, had a good rogering with pants round my ankles, roped to the Plank, balls filled with saline, senses obliterated, electro stimulated, illicit thoughts about my owner . . . Not at all what I expected, but as far as training goes it has left me even more under my owners spell and with . . .

*The Taser turned out to be a plastic replica of a Walther PPK. Ah! Shaken not stirred Mr slave!