I'm Too Fat - Official!

Mistress Maggie has decreed that I, one of her most loyal slaves, is too fat and once that Royal decree has been pronounced something has to be done about it, therefore -

‘Rubber nurse will be in attendance and she has a remedy which will help improve your waistline’.

Unlike Trump, this important announcement was not delivered via a tweet from Maggie, but via the call up e-mail for my 147th training session, a far more dignified and refined method of delivering bad news and, of course, far more personal.

Today was definitely a tale of two sessions. The first part, conducted in The Playroom, was not my finest hour as I know I did not please Mistress as she wished. That is not to say there weren't really high points during the first half, but I let Mistress down and I do not like having to admit that.

The preliminaries though went perfectly well; much delicious worship of Maggie’s patent knee boots, my butt plug installed without a hitch and my latex catsuit and hood glided on with no problems at all. I also delighted in being told I must wear Maggie's new Belgian gas mask, a full face mask that fitted excellently over my inner helmet. I know Mistress likes neat and tidy so the visible mask straps were a bit annoying, but with a big smile Mistress warned me that she’d be getting much more pleasure from it later.

Then the real high occurred when Mistress hung me from the ceiling in the heavy suspension harness. I had struggled with balance the last time I used it, so this time I clasped the overhead, lifted my legs off the ground and ‘et voila’ I was swinging nicely. It was then an easy task for Maggie to hitch my legs up out of the way on a spreader bar, and the position made my cock and balls very exposed and vulnerable. My breathing suddenly began to feel a little different; Mistress had attached a long hose and dildo to my gas mask and declared that I was ready for her game of ’pleasure and pain’.

Hmm, it was likely to be me that would be receiving the pain part, because I knew I was in trouble for foolishly attempting to demonstrate my devotion to Mistress in Latin.

I had translated my oath to Mistress: ‘I promise . . . to willingly do whatever Mistress asks, immediately and without question’. I had tried to be entertaining in one of our email exchanges and I had translated that to Latin, not checking that when my oath is translated back from Latin to English it returns gobbledygook! Try it and see, but I suggest you don’t try the same with Maggie as my mistake earned my balls one almighty punishment.

Swinging quite happily and gazing at my beautiful owner through the full face mask I could see everything, including the arc of her crop as it approached my cock and balls and gave them a hard smack. After each stroke with her cruel crop Maggie used her dildo, cutting off my air supply as I watched her pleasure herself and that is how her pleasure and pain game progressed.

Of course when you can see the next crop stroke coming towards you the natural instinct is to flinch, and that was my downfall. As the little hand at the end of the crop descended yet again, I twitched. In fact I struggled and I managed to get the blow right on the end of my cock. That really hurt and I should have heeded the warning to stop struggling, I was struggling for air too as the dildo was being sunk deeper inside Mistress by now.

Two strokes later I made the same stupid mistake, flinching at exactly the wrong moment made the crop connect with my balls and that really took my breath away. Nothing Maggie could have done; all my own fault; I will do better next time BUT right now I was only able to slump in the harness.

I hadn't realised just how out of breath that blow had left me until Mistress tried to pleasure herself again. Being the perfect Mistress she quickly realised I was in trouble and eased me down from the suspension, allowing me and my battered balls time to recover. That didn't take long but I could clearly see through the Belgian mask that I had disappointed the very person I try to impress, and I was determined that I would not do it again in the second part of the session which would be taking place in The Clinic.

Off came the mask and thick suit, on went the rather nice, and initially quite cool operating gown and anaesthesia hood and I was strapped down ready for part two, the waist reduction exercise.

As an aside, that rear fastening operating gown is so smooth and glides wonderfully over your skin, it also allows easy access for Mistress to perform her operations.

‘Right slave time to make that waist a little more attractive’.

Maggie set the couch at a good working height and was standing ready with her blue medical gloves on. Even through the heady smell of the medicinal aromas, I detected the 'taste' of the familiar antiseptic cleaning fluid being carefully and generously applied to the area to be operated on.

Of course, with the couch being flat I couldn't see what was happening down at chest level and in view of my earlier disappointments for Mistress, I vouched I’d lay absolutely still, but I could feel what appeared to be a series of marks being symmetrically placed either side of the breast bone.

As I said, my Mistress likes things neat and tidy and after first tidying my balls with a snug tourniquet she covered my lower body with a green latex modesty sheet. Both the sheet and ball control are experiences not to by missed by any fortunate slave!

Then slowly, methodically and very gently, Mistress started to apply her many needles. I lost count after a dozen, but who was counting? Helped by the relaxing aromas and by my determination not to disappoint Mistress again, I lay motionless. Whether it is Maggie's expertise or the aromas or a combination of the two, I barely felt anything more than a tiny pin-prick as each needle was stitched in place.

Perfectionist that she is, Maggie applied silvery needle ends to prevent accidental jabs and improve the look. When Mistress had finally completed her needlepoint to her satisfaction I was treated to the most wonderful smile through the black latex mask, accompanied by a few more puffs of aromas in preparation for the next part. Obviously Maggie couldn't administer aromas during the operation, but that first puff and radiant smile had me once again floating and ready for absolutely anything, while the ‘Well done slave’, was music to my ears after my earlier failings.

Then a little light banter where Mistress was teasing me with the colour of ribbon she intended to use to lace and tighten my corset. I quipped pink ribbon definitely would look inappropriate and she pondered for a while on that thought, I really must learn to keep my mouth shut. However, it was a long black leather thong that was retrieved for the job, a good reliable choice, strong enough to hold my flab in.

A few more squeezes of the aroma bulb, a final check that I was OK and once more Mistress disappeared from view to begin lacing up my corset. Like a boot, the leather lace was gradually and loosely wrapped round each of he corset 'eyes' and finished with a knot. Maggie appeared very satisfied with the corset and spent some time having fun pulling at the laces.

I had noticed a shiny steel stretching device by the window when I’d entered the Clinic, Maggie had intended to deploy it on my balls for her added amusement, though in light of what had happened earlier she decided they’d had enough battering for one day and my balls would be stretched on another occasion.

Instead, Maggie would be tormenting my nipples and a large dollop of lube soon landed on one of them, closely followed by a tiny suction pump that seemed keen to suck the nipple up. Maggie was not content with the results and applied a larger suction pump over the top of it and that began sucking on the surrounding area, my other nipple was soon receiving exactly the same treatment. Surprisingly the pumps caused no discomfort, in fact through the aroma induced state I was floating in they did feel rather pleasant. Another one of those 'shouldn't have said that' comments!

I think I managed to relieve some of the disappointment that I had inflicted on Mistress in the first part of the session, she said the corset looked fabulous. High praise indeed, although all I provided was a very still and willing piece of meat on which Maggie was able to weave her magic. There was still one final thing to reinforce who is in charge, and I must say a most enjoyable climax to the session. The latex modesty sheet was folded down. ’ . . . At the count of three slave. . . One. Two . . . ‘, I managed two and a half but I am certain Maggie deliberately introduced a long pause between two and three just to finally tease her slave.

I loved the concept of being the corset rather than wearing one. I was also pleased with the suspension and will discuss a few things with Mistress that may improve the situation from her perspective. I loved the freedom and visibility of the new Belgian gas mask, and have learnt never to use Google to translate English into Latin if I want to hold on to my balls!

34 needles by the way. Mistress Maggie was counting.

Water Water Everywhere . . .

What a scorcher, and I am not only talking about the hottest day of the year. Mistress Maggie had sensibly kept her options open for today's session, but before we discussed where she wished to take the session, Maggie played a little game with her slave in the doorway to The Chambers. There is normally a 20-30 second delay once I ring the doorbell before Mistress opens the door, enough time for me to take a deep breath and compose myself, and to act as a reminder as to who exactly is in charge, in case of any doubt, Mistress is ALWAYS in charge, but today I had barely taken my finger off the doorbell before the door sprang open and I was ushered in.

This threw me completely. Was I on time? Was I late and Mistress was annoyed? Was I early again and earning more crop strokes?  Nope, I was bang on time and Maggie was just toying with her slave.

That wasn't the only surprise Maggie sprung on her bemused slave, as I was greeted by the most magnificent sight I have seen in a long time. Mistress was elegantly dressed in an off the shoulder maroon formal dress with her hair like that of a Greek goddess, diamonds on her wrist and every inch the vision of pure beauty.

My jaw dropped and I couldn't help drooling over this latex vision who was to be my tutor for the afternoon. Once my stammers had subsided I managed to compliment Maggie on how stunning she looked. I know I go on and on but I can't stop eulogising at the vision that was standing so seductively in the little entrance hallway.

The palpitations didn't stop there either, as I followed Mistress up to The Playroom her hips were swaying in the most provocative and seductive manner and I was reminded why I am totally under the spell of this Greek goddess. Mistress was wearing lower shoes in keeping with her magnificent stature, tantalizingly visible just below the hem of this delightfully alluring garment.

It was certainly a hot day yet Mistress seemed calmly cool in her gown. I was so gobsmacked by the absolute grace and beauty she exhibited that I could not help rabbitting on and Maggie let me take a couple of pictures of the stunning vision. As I fawned a little more, she answered my nosey question and Maggie indicated that the dress was one of her own rubber creations from twenty or more years ago. Despite its surprising age, the dress was in perfect condition and looked like it could have been made last week.

The benefits of this attire just kept emerging. As I have already mentioned, Maggie wore shoes to complete her outfit and seating herself down comfortably on her throne she eased them off. Even that act was most captivating as she revealed her bare feet. My training has been quite strict; confine worship to footwear. Without the footwear as a guide, I hesitated until Mistress placed her naked feet on my face and told me to lick off the perspiration created by the heat of the day. I needed no second bidding and set about cleaning, licking, kissing and generally worshipping each foot in turn.

Mistress has delicate feet as I have previously found and today they were highlighted by the reddest nail paint you could imagine. I toyed with them, trying to get both toes in my mouth at the same time and failing, but I had a most glorious view up her legs, past her latex covered thighs and beautifully sculptured bosom and finally to her right regal and beautiful face, and here I was, nibbling her nakedness and having the time of my life.

My butt plug had not been forgotten and was very easily inserted, partly due to the copious lubrication and partly due to the fact I was already perspiring. However, climbing into my thin, black latex catsuit was a whole different matter and after three abortive attempts where I just got stuck, Maggie instructed me to remove the sweaty suit and try the thick black one which is slightly larger.

Naturally Mistress was right as always, and because of the extra looseness I eased my way inside without too much trouble, wrist and ankle zips were made secure and I was in. My ensemble was topped off with a comfy latex hood and once again I was covered in my favourite coating.

Surprisingly the catsuit stayed almost cool. I was comfortable inside my cocoon but sweat and the heat took another toll.

When Mistress attempted to fit the GP5 gas mask over my inner hood, the amount of sweat made it impossible, the water was trickling everywhere and consequently my hood had to come off so I could wear the gas mask successfully on its own. It actually worked out fine because Mistress instructed me to make sure it was in place as it was staying put for a while.

That was not the end of the hood though, Maggie assured me that I would be re-acquainted with the dirty dripping thing later.

As the session progressed I occasionally found my breathing being interrupted, largely due to Mistress mischievously placing her palm over my air source, but occasionally as I allowed the end of the tube to come in contact with the latex bed. On the first jerk to free the airway, Mistress checked what was the matter and in future told me to stop moving!

The ambience did start to get a little warmer. I was receiving regular doses of aroma while electrodes were applied to my cock and balls and checked to see if they were delivering the intended current. Mistress had fixed a steel loop round the whole lot, a double ring that she slid onto my cock, and to finish a steel corona was supported on my bell end with a condom. The electro box was switched on and off a few times during installation, but finally I received a steadier warming pulse. Combined with a steady stream of aromas and the unrestricted view of my beautiful owner I was also starting to get rather excited and rather hot in more ways than one.

The lights went out when Mistress covered my eyes with a blindfold and sat with me to read the next chapter of the story that we had started in an earlier session. The gentle sound of her sexy voice, the warmth that was being generated with her sitting on the bed next to me and the continued variations of the e-stim had me drifting inexorably towards orgasm. I love to get hot in my latex and you can see from the liquid that has leaked onto the latex bed sheet how warm we were both getting. You would think with a good thick latex suit that such leakage was impossible, but of course with a through crotch zip water does escape. Water water everywhere. . .

When the chapter was over and we had finished our little discussions on some of the story’s shenanigans, Maggie decided it was time for me to experience more latex and changed the gas mask for a rebreather hood and bag. The re-breather bag is another of Maggie’s own creations with a zip to allow for insertion of various items, and after a little 'standard' rebreathing which I was quite happy with, Maggie opened the zip, stuffed the sweaty dripping hood from earlier inside it and forced me to take deep breaths on the wet rubber scent.

If you are on Flickr there is some video of the story reading, but may not be available on all devices. - Part 1 HERE and Part 2 HERE

Later a pad laced with aroma was added to the smell bag. That did it, I was totally overwhelmed with the extra sensations, I tried to give a warning to Mistress Maggie that she was about to force me to ejaculate but she already knew it. Once again she was pleased that I had absolutely no control over any of my bodily functions and I do like to be in these situations with Mistress in total control.

I was privileged to be able to help Mistress clear up afterwards, it was only fair because I had made the most watery mess you could imagine. We laughed and relaxed and cleaned and washed and I love being allowed this privilege. Mistress was absolutely right in choosing to play indoors, she had made our session less physically demanding because of the sweltering weather. The excitement, the atmosphere and the cock and balls were all electric, and once again we finished with me knowing that I have found the perfect owner, Mistress and friend.

A Few More Steps . . .

Mistress Maggie had given no hint as to the content of the exciting and truly remarkable session I was about to experience. Perhaps Mistress was purposely creating tension for her slave, if so, her plan had worked. I was left pondering what might be in store and examining a few of the ‘off the cuff’ remarks I may have made to her, which often become reality thanks to Maggie’s remarkable insight into her slaves personality. One thing was absolutely certain though, after last time when I was a couple of minutes early and had accrued an additional 24 crop circles across my right buttock, I was going to be exactly on time.

I set my clock alarm to 14:29 and as I took the five minute walk towards The Chambers I thought of my Mistress whist repeatedly checking the time. With 20 seconds to go I pretended to be examining my phone, the sun was beating down as I dawdled along the pavement, sweltering in my new blue latex shirt that I’d been ordered to model for Mistress. Just as has happened before, no-one took any notice of this happy rubberised person, or even came close enough to detect the warm rubber smell exuding from my clothing. When my clock showed precisely 14:30 I rang the door bell.

Maggie invited me in to an eyeful of her beautiful bosom, tightly encased in semi-transparent latex. As always I immediately forget all my woes and the fact that I had been unable to serve my owner for four weeks. Then up the stairs to parade my new latex shirt for Mistress.

My butt plug had been deserted for a month, as I had  forgotten to take it home when I last visited The Chambers. Maggie soon took care of that by asking me to assume a suitable stance so me and my plug could be re-united. It was like we had never been apart, maybe a bit more lube than normal and Maggie took it easy by inserting it one bulge of the plug at a time. I definitely wasn't complaining about that, the red devil slid silently back into its resting place and I slipped not as silently into my red rubber catsuit and once again I was ready to serve as Maggie’s rubber slave.

‘Don’t neglect your worship slave. Show me how much you’ve missed me in your absence’. A remark that quickly had me on the floor, where, encouraged by her whip I attended to Mistress’ boots.

‘Thank you slave, and now for more worship and a reminder of your status’. Mistress leaned over the playroom horse and opened her crotch zip to expose her bottom, with a hard tug on a strap around my neck my tongue was parked between her bum cheeks and I was asked to proceed.

Sadly, my knees were becoming more wonky by the minute and I was unable to give Mistress the attention she deserved in the kneeling position, but that was no excuse. We finally settled on me sitting on the floor and Mistress straddling me, leaning forward; a perfect position for licking and cleaning that glorious little rosebud. My nose was nestled in the crack and I could make a point with my tongue and happily spend a lot of time licking and worshipping Maggie's perfect bottom.

The next association with Maggie's restricted area required far more self control on my part than cleaning and kissing her bottom. My head was eased into the toilet bowl hood and I knew what was expected of me. I was slid into position underneath the see-through toilet, where my hood was press-studded in place. Maggie chained my hands to my thighs and I was locked onto the toilet and the lid closed. It is a strange sensation being inside a toilet with the lid closed, anticipating the delights of what was about to be delivered yet helpless and blind as to what else might be going on in the Playroom.
  
I didn't have long to wait before Mistress raised the lid and the daylight came flooding in. Maggie sat down gently with her wonderful rear only centimetres from my eager mouth. I had learnt from our previous sessions that the most effective way of taking in the most nectar was by lining up the tip of my nose with her rosebud, that I had so eagerly cleaned a few moments before.

In that position, I was to open my mouth really wide and consume all the nectar that entered it. Mistress had been drinking heavily from the start of the session and there was a good stream that needed to be drunk. One other thing I have learned from day one of my training is absolutely no contact with Mistresses private parts - very difficult with them being in such close proximity. So with my gaping mouth open and regular swallows I worked on consuming every drop. I wasn't quite as accurate with my catching when Mistress tossed the contents of her drinking glass into her toilet. I did drink most of it but a few drops were spilt. Still it was only water and not the precious fluid.

Of course I had to be mopped up before I was allowed to enter the Clinic where Mistress fitted me with an all over hood with attached breathing mask. What a luxurious garment that hood was and such a fabulous fit. Mistress dangled a string of anal balls in front of my eyeholes saying that they were a new acquisition. In return I made a stupid quip about the mask and how it could be more airtight with clear plastic eyepieces. After a rummage, Mistress returned with a pair of tinted goggles insisting that I needed them strapped tightly over my eye holes. A stupid mistake on my part because I couldn’t clearly see the rest of the preparations any more, and I don’t think it had anything to do with the aromas that were being delivered, but from then on everything took on an eerie green tinge. Maggie was right with the goggles and they did restrict breathing exclusively through the anaesthetic mask. What was pumped in, was breathed in.

I may not have been able to see a lot but what I saw was definitely green, There were no such restrictions on my feelings although the aromas may have relaxed my anus somewhat and .I could feel the red plug being gently removed from my arse and that replacing them in my Southern passage was definitely the black string of balls. Maggie’s new balls were much larger than those I have experienced in the past and I don’t think there was much room left inside me by the time all four balls had been installed. All that was left was the little round ring on the outside for their safe retrieval.

Now I was stuffed at one opening I was being prepared for a catheter at another. Mistress increased my sedation with her medicinal aromas, pumping on her bulb made her aromas enter my anaesthesia mask providing an instant heady rush and feeling of relaxation. Mistress seemed to be getting a lot pleasure from cleaning my cock end with methylated spirit, very clean and correct I know, but I wasn't convinced that surgical cleaning was required deep inside my pee hole until Mistress offered the perfect explanation, ‘It’s because I like being a cruel nurse’.

A syringe of de-sensitising lubrication found its way inside my pipe, not the whole syringe of course just its contents, and that was that for five minutes as the invasive liquid worked its way deep into my plumbing. Those five minutes were wonderful from my point of view. Mistress busied herself with keeping the clinic clean and tidy, a few more applications of aromas, but most importantly for this slave, securely belted to the couch, was the most gentlest of strokes to my head. This time through the green haze I caught a glimpse of my beautiful nurse as she came to check ‘are you alright slave?’

It was an absolute text book insertion of a catheter. No force, completely sterile and no irritation whatsoever. Mistress has become more expert with each deployment. I am delighted to have been her willing patient almost from the start, when she first performed a catheter op, and each subsequent catheterisation has just got better and better.

Ah! -  now I realised where Mistress was going. I had idly mentioned in the past that it would be a real buzz to be taken out for a walk in a latex suit, plugged and with a catheter deployed. I thought this was a pipe dream but Mistress specialises in making dreams come true for her slaves.

The next stage today covered those few more steps towards that dream becoming a reality. Maggie attached a catheter bag to my leg, released my straps and sat me up so I could reorient myself. A few minutes later I was sent off to the bathroom to replenish her glass. . . three times. I was able to walk with the bag strapped to my leg and what was really jaw dropping was Mistress mentioning that the bag could be carried on the outside so long as it was disguised. That thought nearly sent me to an embarrassing melt down there and then. The thought of going out in my catsuit with Mistress, even if it was covered by 'normal' clothing, knowing that under that normality I was plugged and plumbed in, with no control of one of my bodily functions. Everything just quietly draining into a disguised bag.

Satisfied with her trials Maggie now needed to dispose of her recycled nectar. Quite a lot had filtered through my system by now and had collected in the bag. Maggie had only ever had one intention for the twice brewed nectar, I was to re-ingest that as well.

Consuming my own pee was never an issue as Maggie removed the anaesthetic hood and replaced it with one of her own designs in a semi transparent latex. The tube through the small mouth hole terminated in a plastic mouthpiece. A most effective way of regulating the flow of whatever was directed down the pipe. Simple yet incredibly effective and controllable.

I had hoped that I would get a dessert of another transfusion of Maggie's nectar judging by the amount of water she'd consumed since the first flush. No. Mistress needed to dispose of the bagful strapped to my leg first and hooked me up to my own bag of piss. No way as tasty as the fresh vintage, but I did set about eagerly consuming my own pee because that is exactly what Mistress wanted. It was remarkably easy to drink through the new arrangement and in no time at all there was no visible pee left in her fetish clinic.

As I said, this could be the precursor to an absolutely mind blowing experience, where, if Maggie considers I have earned the privilege, I am allowed to accompany Mistress Maggie for a short trip into the wide world, rubbered, plugged and piss controlled. What an amazing thought knowing that what appears to be a relatively normal couple is a rubber pervert under the complete and absolute control of his very beautiful Mistress. Watch this space (I hope).

North West Crop Failure

Mistress Maggie had sent me a note making it absolutely clear what joys would greet her slave during this session. ‘Your bewitching Mistress will have you bound within a bag of gold and feeling the touches of her brand new crop’.

I knew Mistress had been working on a major latex production and that it was a gold coloured rubber bondage sack, but we hadn't yet been introduced. I was really looking forward to being allowed to wear her latest creation and today would be my lucky day. The brand new crop? Obvious. I always love being guinea pig for any of Mistresses new toys, even a simple crop. If wielding a new implement on her slaves flesh gives Maggie pleasure, then I am certain I could derive pleasure from receiving her gift. I got that part quite wrong!

I don't know what went wrong with my timing, I was probably too keen to see my Mistress, but the five minute walk from the car park was managed in just a shade over three and I arrived at the chambers early. Maggie greeted me in her long red PVC boots, a black and red latex leotard, a smack across my face and a stern telling off. ‘You're two minutes early slave. I was in the middle of a cup of coffee and have barely had time to read my e-mails’.

I hoped that would be the end of the repercussions for my my poor time keeping but I really should have known better. Despite my ears still ringing from their recent boxing I could just manage to focus on the superbly formed derrière undulating just in front of my eager eyes as I followed my Mistress upstairs to the Playroom. The territory in front of my eyes is forbidden but I can still dream.

Today I returned a pair of Maggie’s used pants, a very sexy lacy pair that she had loaned to me to give me comfort at home. I felt quite proud of how I had managed to launder them; non-biological washing liquid to avoid a reaction round Mistresses delicate bits and a gentle softener to give them that fragrant scent, though nothing quite as fragrant as the ‘eau de Maggie’ that had drifted in my direction each time I held them. Pride comes before a fall and once more I had been unable to iron the little pink bow at their front, it’s not something I have practised in the past but I have a feeling, 24 feelings to be precise, that I MUST learn to iron it if Maggie is to continue allowing me the panty privilege.

After an all too short spell of boot worship, Maggie adhered to her session guidance and picked up her crop. The die was cast. 12 strokes for being early and 24 strokes for my laundry failure. Stripped down to my latex shorts I was ordered over the spanking stool and this time I wished Maggie had strapped me down. Even through my latex shorts the cropping started to hurt like hell. Concurrent sentences might have been more manageable for me, but no, I received consecutive punishments; 36 strokes in total and all predominantly to my right cheek. I was dancing around on the bench and begging for clemency by the time the final blow landed.

Things got a little less painful for a while. I was to be Maggie's pet pooch and this role I gladly sank my whole heart and soul into. Dressed in my thick latex suit complete with my doggy harness, butt plug and tail to wag, Maggie transformed me into her pet hound. This really was fun and, as I said, I got fully into the mindset of a big, black, boisterous retriever. For those of you who are fortunate to receive similar treatment, the leather muzzle is very comfortable to wear but it does somewhat restrict the air supply, so if you are bounding around like a puppy then expect a little breathlessness.

As an added part of the transformation, Maggie had the foresight to tape and splint two fingers on each hand together to make digging in her flower garden that little bit more taxing. I reiterate, Maggie plans the sessions meticulously. I scampered around the room fetching the ring that my owner tossed in various directions. I played with it. I hid it temporarily from my owner and even tossed it in the air as I padded round on all fours, then to reinforce my pet training I was taken for a walk on a lead. It was then that I momentarily returned to normality as I passed the crop that I’d been beaten with lying on the landing floor. Maggie had enjoyed herself so much cropping her slaves backside that the crop had broken. Poetic justice I thought before being brought to heel on the leash and returning once more to the obedient pet dog.

When we finished our walk I was rewarded for being a good dog by being sent to the garden area to find and dig up my bone. Not easy with the taped up paws but I set about digging up the soil like a good dog, and in my joy at being Maggie's pet pooch and finding my orange bone I completely missed what the plants were that I was disturbing in my haste. Oh the joys of being a happy pet.

I could easily have laid down at my Mistresses feet for the remainder of the afternoon, but Maggie had other plans and true to her promise she brought out the gold latex body bag. It’s amazing how quickly a slave can be transformed from a boisterous black retriever into the King of Maggieland, but I did look rather like royalty after she had finished with me. Firstly I was fitted into the anatomically correct and most comfortable of masks. My head became an accurate latex head complete with sticky out ears. I got the impression that Mistress also likes the mask as she spent a while making sure it was smooth and all the right bits inserted into the correct mouldings before I was gently inserted into the most luxurious gold latex body bag. Maggie went on to reinforce who the boss was by securely chaining me inside the bag, out of harms way. So I did end up laid down at her feet after all.
Not just one or two but almost the whole of Maggie's chain store was deployed in her bondage. Chains round middle, legs arms, feet, in fact anywhere Maggie wanted to see a chain, and a series of padlocks held me inescapably secure. At least Houdini might have escaped their caress but I certainly couldn't. I actually feel really secure in this totally helpless state. I know I am totally dependant on my Mistress and that is exactly how I like it. I probably shouldn't say this but I was really comfortable inside this most luxurious of sacks and was quite relaxed when Mistress left me in this position for a while. I had time to admire the excellent workmanship that Maggie had put into this bodybag and thought of all the other very fortunate slaves who would benefit from its pleasant embrace.

I also had time to better admire some of the new decorations that adorned the refurbished Playroom; the stunning ceiling rose that has also received the gold treatment, the new window drapes, and ...  My thoughts were interrupted when Mistress returned and removed my rather nice hood, a pillow with a plastic covering was slid behind my head and standing above me with legs apart she aimed a stream of fine wine into my open mouth. I didn't do too well with my pee catching making Maggie warn me that unless I improve my performance she would water her plants with her golden fluid instead. I was made to watch as a plant was placed alongside me and Maggie commenced watering it with my drink. I had not realised earlier but I recognised the species now; urtica dioica. The crop being watered by Mistress was a nice, young and very potent nettle plant and I never spotted that coming as I dug up my bone!. What a waste of a good brew just to water a damn nettle plant.

The ‘touches of a brand new crop’ as mentioned in Maggie’s calling mail was about to make more sense. Ah nettling time. I had totally forgotten about the annual nettle ceremonies over the past few years and yet another decidedly devious plan had been developed by Mistress to help me enjoy the pleasures of those nasty little blighters.

Now dressed in my more typical slave attire of my black rubber catsuit, a chain was passed around my waist and attached to the overhead gantry. As the gantry was raised so my back was arched off the floor I was free to wobble in my semi-suspended state. Worse was to come. The intention was to attach nipple clamps and then sprigs of nettles to the other end of the securing rope, just at the height that the young plants would caress my nipples.

Oh I do wish my nipples were more compliant. They were powerful clamps but still kept slipping off as I swung there. Several times Maggie reattached the clamps, each time a bit tighter intensifying the pain in my nipples. In the end Maggie devised a simpler solution, lashing the nettle sprigs from a dangling cord and letting them sway back and forth, stinging my pained buds as I writhed on the supporting chain. An unforgiving predicament indeed!

However strange it may sound, the pain of the recently departed nipple clamps, the stinging of the recently watered nettles and the sprig that Maggie removed from the plant to start caressing my cock and balls with had an alarming effect. It was not long before Mistress used her Hitachi wand, making me writhe even more and forcing me to ejaculate. I had no control and this time there was no embarrassment. Maggie wanted this outcome and what Maggie wants Maggie gets; always.

I had both very painful and very pleasurable outcomes from the two types of crops I received from Mistress Maggie today, and the amusement when the new crop lost its head helped ameliorate a bit of the pain it had inflicted. I loved almost every minute and even my right buttock appeared to be smiling when I last looked in the mirror!

Next Time . . .

Next time Mistress Maggie presents such an exciting and scary opportunity I hope I am able to grasp it with both hands; metaphorically grasp it, as will become apparent later in my report. But to start with I was greeted by my Mistress in a fantastic diaphanous latex outfit, teamed with a most prominent glass dildo which was twinkling in my direction. Beneath the clear invader were the long, very long white boots that climb all the way up those statuesque legs, almost, but not quite, to the base of her glass sparkler.

It was my birthday so I had decided to bring a surprise to the party; finally plucking up the courage to wear my latex clothes with no covering coat this time, I made my way to the Chambers. The day was warm, and despite very heavy traffic and one or two passing pedestrians no one appeared interested in a happy chappy with a slave collar sauntering down the road like a rubber pervert, carrying my session bag and a big smile. I really needn’t have been worried, though I probably won’t repeat such a show as I think Maggie may have been a little concerned about attracting attention on her doorstep. Even so my surprise made her smile and she had a good feel at my warm latex.

I always get that familiar buzz as I follow the most beautiful derrière up the stairs to The Playroom. Today Maggie’s bottom was framed by the neat rows of ruffles that embellished her skimpy rubber shorts. Once upstairs I was told to remove my latex, the only item of rubber I was allowed were my knee length stockings, nothing else. Not the catsuit or even the gloves, although I was temporarily allowed to keep my shirt. Why? - because Maggie declared that today was going to be plastic fantastic.

I used to be drawn primarily to latex until Mistress helped me realise that it is her that is the aphrodisiac and not the material, though I must admit to still having a preference for Mistress in all her various latex garments.

Maggie attempted a new method of footwear worship, seated down in front of her throne I was instructed to shuffle backwards into the V of her legs. What a start! With the warmth of my Mistress in the nape of my neck, stroking my hair in a wonderful manner, I could have relaxed there all day. The only drawback was that with Maggie's thighs clamped round her slave I was unable to turn my head far enough to do justice to my position. Unfortunately the delight had to end all too quickly and I was instructed to move to the more conventional position and to proceed with the boot worship, which I duly attended to as my Mistress wished.

Kneeling upright again, I barely had time to lick my lips before the sound of crinkling plastic came from a freshly opened bag and my head was soon enclosed inside. There is nothing like a good bagging to make you feel glad to be alive, and I had the added bonus of being able to gaze adoringly at my captor with her sparkling glass dildo, which seemed to have forgotten which bit of anatomy it was intended for and took the liberty of poking me in the eye!

More plastic, this time containing a small celebratory birthday tipple poured from a rather nice bottle of red. We then relaxed with a toast and enjoyed the wine. I have had 6 birthdays now in the company of my Mistress; that is 6 years where I have really felt alive and I wished for the next 6 years in heaven and the next 6 . . .

Maggie roped me to the horse very lightly and mounted me with the glass dildo, gently inserted and accompanied with a soft whisper of ‘happy birthday slave’ I was being ridden to heaven. There was no necessity for the ropes, I would willingly have remained prone, but I do feel more owned by Mistress when I am wearing restraints, particularly whilst being mounted. Most enjoyable.

Feeling a little underdressed in only my birthday suit and latex stockings we adjourned to the White Room, where the room had already been prepared for the plastic fantastic. Spread out on the couch was the thick plastic body bag that I have lovingly occupied in the past, and that very nice clear plastic hood with the two breathing holes.

Once comfortably fitted and secured inside the hood I climbed aboard and was sealed and strapped into my new home for the rest of the afternoon. I love that hood. It restricts breathing but allows sufficient air supply, every breath is worth it if only for its distinctive plastic bouquet, more importantly I get a very clear vision of my Mistress as she moves around the Clinic preparing my next pleasurable experience.

Mistress set up a breathing circuit for her patient and held an anaesthetic mask over my mouth, the aroma accompanied by sweet verbal encouragement from Maggie sent me into a deep relaxed state. She removed my butt plug replacing it with a Bardex enema pump . . . Ah, an enema was coming my way. ‘Are you allergic to peppermint slave?’ she asked and I confirmed that I wasn’t. Mistress then mixed up a solution and filled up a huge syringe making sure that its contents were infused right where the sun don’t shine.

I was feeling quite warm and grateful of the peppermint’s cooling properties, a little of the cordial had trickled down my cheeks and collected in a cool pool at the base of my spine. It certainly wasn’t going anywhere in the watertight plastic body bag and the liquid soon warmed as my treatments progressed.

I could have stayed all afternoon like that; breathing in and out carefully and gazing at my beautiful Mistress as she liberally applied cocoa butter on all of her slaves available body parts, rubbing it in with her warm hands. Maggie zipped up the bodybag to seal everything in, flicked the room heater up to high and started playing her industrial strength hair dryer all over my plastic covered torso. Today had just climbed quite a few degrees warmer.

Encouraged by the results of the warming on her subject, Maggie began to stir the mix with her violet wand, making sparks jump from my saturated skin. I think other forms of electrical 'enjoyment' for her simmering pot were considered but she opted for the wand as a simple, safe, sensible and sane way of bringing her slave closer to the boil.

Unfortunately, I had to lose the plastic hood because the aroma mask and breathing holes just wouldn't play together, so staying with the plastic theme Maggie simply bound my head with clear plastic bondage tape with a loose flap across the mouth. Now that worked a treat and it allowed comfortable use of the anaesthetic mask while administering gradual doses of aroma. The mask was obviously attached to a rebreather bag because when Maggie told me to ‘take deep breaths slave’ I could hear the breathy noises as I breathed deeply.

So long as you breath in and out quite slowly, the rebreather allows sufficient air to keep you going indefinitely, yet it is torture of the most delicious kind. You have to concentrate on breathing while Mistress goes about her other tasks that certainly do not aid concentration. Maggie has trained her slave well and I had no problem maintaining a steady rhythm despite more heat, more massaging and more peppermint.

Mistress covered me up in an extra layer of green plastic now and began heating it up with her hairdryer. By now I’d had another two huge syringe fulls of the peppermint enema and the aromas were having a wonderfully calming and relaxing effect. I realised then what Mistress meant in her somewhat ambiguous calling email - 'I thought I might take you for a swim for your birthday. Your rubber Mistress will be keeping an eye on you as you float away and manage the extra water at the deep end.' 

Despite the continuous efforts to really heat me up, with a combination of the cooling peppermint, soothing body butter and relaxing aromas, I felt absolutely wonderful. Too lazy to actually swim anywhere, but more than happy to float in all the juices.

Operation time, and I really didn't feel the staples being punched into my groin area. I wont say cock and balls because by the time my Mistress had finished with them they had ceased to exist.

Picking up another syringe she injected a good dose of lubricating jelly behind the staples and into the operation area. Mistress was dissatisfied with her stapler, it had only dispensed a few staples before it went faulty, she was genuinely disappointed and threatened to send it back. I know that when they work properly she finds a stapler far more user friendly than the sutures she previously used.

Oh well, that's progress and Maggie likes to keep abreast of all new methods of entertaining her slaves. Speaking of which, Maggie did stand very close and began stroking my pinioned cock, baring those wonderful breasts to taunt me with their beauty. That really was torture. How do you normally react when such a wonderful vista is presented? I am a hot blooded male and I would normally start to get an erection. Erection with what and where was it going? So I tried my hardest to look, admire and stay comfortable within the staples.

As we were coming to a close Maggie asked if I wanted to remove the staples myself. Imagine, making my way home wearing my nice tight pair of latex briefs covering what used to be my manhood. That thought is so exciting yet so disconcerting. Would it hurt once the aroma had worn off? What would happen when I received the photos with the staples still in situ? How do I pee? Would I be able to walk and drive home because I didn't fancy having to remove the staple half way home! I opted for the cowards way out and asked Mistress to remove them. At the time, that was a good move with no pain or discomfort, but I am seriously contemplating a different decision next time Mistress Maggie staples up her cock and balls. Next time. . . .