My Bakers Dozen

During one of my very pleasant email exchanges with Mistress Maggie, I had innocently strayed into that minefield that is women's emancipation and equality. I had absolutely no idea that I had inadvertently disappointed my Mistress with a derogatory remark until I received the consequences for my carelessness during this session.

Once more I was making my way to Mistress’ chambers; ambling along the pavement mulling over the meaning of life, or more precisely that part of my life relating to Maggie’s calling mail where she had indicated,

Fantastic shot of my rubber Mistress and dildo

‘Your Mistress will be in black latex ready to teach you something about roles and giving you some very big surprises.’

I thought I may be reminded of some of the various roles that Maggie expects her slaves to perform; toilet slave, plaything, pet, vehicle for venting anger etc. As for the big surprise, I pretty much knew that my surprise might come in the form of an electro dildo that Maggie had recently received. It looked rather large in the photo she had posted on Twitter, but not as large as the excess postal charge she had paid to have it delivered.

I was in buoyant mood and had put on my new latex leggings for travelling to the Chambers, eager to show them off to Maggie and get her opinion. Wanting to reimburse Maggie for the postal charge she’d had to pay I had taped a packet with the exact money in to the inside of the leggings, to give her a nice surprise as I modelled them.

However Mistress stole my thunder and took my breath away in one fell swoop. As the door to the Chambers opened, I was beckoned indoors and led to the Playroom by Mistress in full black rubber with her electro dildo ready for use. Stroking her dildo Mistress told me that it was my turn to take delivery of the dildo now and I should hand over the import duty. I was left sheepishly retrieving the taped change rather than letting Mistress find the surprise package. It was the thought that counted but it didn't achieve the smiles and laughter from my Mistress that I had hoped for.

Prominently displayed in the bathroom as I shed my outdoor clothes 

Mistress had chosen what I should wear for session and with my catsuit laid out on the bed I was dispatched to the bathroom to prepare. I noticed a sign pasted on the wall there, but I still had no inkling of the mine I had stepped on even though the words Thwack, Thwack, Thwack were prominently visible.

Returning to the Playroom where Mistress was quietly sitting, I began the worship of her black patent laced boots, the ones which end just below her beautiful knees.

These are a complex pair of boots to worship and need much careful manipulation of the tongue, with many eyelets and boot laces to navigate to ensure total coverage. Unlike the red thigh highs from my previous boot homage, long licks to the knee had to be planned with this pair so as not to bang my head on Mistress’ fearsome looking dildo.

On one of my journeys upwards towards the forbidden territory above the boots, I encountered the end of the neatly tied laces, which were quite ticklish to my nose even inside my latex hood. I gave them a clean and kiss but it didn't half tickle, and combined with the clubbing from the dildo on the top of my head I giggled. Mistress asked what on earth I was doing, but was unimpressed by my explanation that the boot laces formed part of the footwear and I couldn't explain the giggles!

Maggie pulled me in close to begin lecturing me about ‘roles’, or perceived gender roles to be more precise. Never in a month of Sundays had I imagined that the comment about roles related to a thoughtless quip I’d made about home cooking. I would like to say that we had a meaningful conversation, but it was more of a monologue from Maggie punctuated by the occasional grunt from myself, to acknowledge that my comments were insensitive and that I required remedial training in the form of a good caning.

The case had been presented, Judge Maggie had deemed it proven and passed the sentence of 12 strokes of the cane. My defence was non existent and of course sentence was accepted. Ah that is why the Thwack Thwack Thwack notice in the bathroom; alerting the victim to their fate. How's that for forward planning!

A bit like the hanged man attaching the rope to the scaffold, I had to lift and position the executioners bench myself and locate it so, 'I can achieve a good swing’. I made a half-hearted attempt to interfere with Maggie’s back swing by placing the bench under the overhead gantry, that didn't work at all and as I lay crosswise on the horse I received my punishment.

1. . 2 . . and after each stroke I had to recite 'I made a big mistake. I have to be punished’. . 7, 8 . . I made a big mistake. . 10, 11, 12 . . punished and now I could relax.

Nope. I felt the familiar ranging tap, tap, tap of the can against my buttocks and the swish of the cane in its arc towards its target and for the thirteenth time heard and felt the explosion of the mine across my backside. 'That's for being stupid with my boot laces'.

A couple of moments respite for me to return from the dead and Maggie moved quickly on to another testing situation that had me more actively acquainted with the overhead gantry.

Mistress fixed me into her stout leather harness, attached the suspension chains and finishing with hanging leg stirrups, I was hoisted up. The stirrup attachments were a masterful stroke, allowing the legs to be relatively easily raised and lowered, separated or closed together. In any event, it gave easy access to my zips!

With the rubber tusk mask fitted I was limited to breathing through a hose, but aromas could be administered easily, I could see fairly well through its small round eyes and with a head harness strapped on over the top of the mask, my head could be comfortably supported at any desired height. Unfortunately, with my head secured, all I could then see was the overhead ring in the ceiling but it felt like the perfect suspension position. I could relax and gently swing and Maggie seemed happy with her slaves orientation.

It felt a bit like being a car on a service ramp. Mistress could have my nuts tightened or nipples oiled and repaired, or even full electrical diagnostics! Perhaps I shouldn't be giving Mistress such ideas as she is inventive enough. As it was, it was my exhaust pipe that needed looking at and Maggie greased up my arse and gave it a good servicing.

Testing over, it was time for me to be moved into the White Room where, securely strapped to the couch, Mistress zipped me into an anaesthetic hood and prepared to administer more relaxing aromas. Still armed with her new dildo her treatments were being aimed at my arse, and to avoid the dangly bits getting in the way, they were bound up with plastic bandages. Mistress then took both bandaged balls in her hands and pulled them hard. Well, I suppose they have to be checked to see how dangly they are capable of becoming!

Gloves were donned for a good finger examination followed by half a tube of slippery lubrication for another attempt at a fisting. We are not quite there yet, but some time soon and I was sufficiently opened for some deep penetration with her strap-on as a warm up to an ‘all import duties paid’ special delivery.

Taped out of harms way.

Ah, or should that be Aahhhhh! - I could finally say hello to the new electro infused dildo. More of the slippery lotion was squeezed from the tube and injected up my bum, electro pads were attached to my genitals and Maggie was ready and wired for her electro-bum experiment to begin.

With the help of aromas my anal muscles were ready. Slowly and gently the large black invader slid in, all the way to where the attached wires prevented further ingress. Then a real surprise as Mistress turned on the electrastim.

The sensation I was receiving was strange, quite tingly and so very pleasant that I could not help myself demonstrating my pleasure in an audible way. Maggie appreciates feedback on any new toys so I did write to explain my thoughts on my electro strap-on experience.

‘The sensation was a gentle tingling round the anus and you do have scope to ramp up the voltage a bit - not to cock and balls otherwise you will end up reattaching and stitching them back on!’

A nice tight and tidy set of captive balls

Probably a comment that will come back to bite and after today’s thwacking example, one that may be taken down and used as evidence . . .  Oh well, I have promised always to be honest with my Mistress so damn the consequences.

In a mood for more fun, Mistress looked at my flagging cock and balls and decided a splint would be needed for her planned sounding activity.

A splint? - Of course I couldn't see and to be perfectly honest by this stage I was in a euphoric state, nothing apart from my stunning Mistress mattered. Mistress’ imaginative mind had produced the perfect cock splint from her medical arsenal. Never in my most imaginative moments would I have thought that a speculum could be used as a splint for a sagging cock, but secured in place with a length of rope it proved to be a most useful support.

Study of my larger guiche, recently fitted by my Mistress

I barely felt the sounds as they deeply penetrated my upstanding member, Mistress kept inserting them until I had four nestling inside me, then she turned on her vibrator to make them rattle and vibrate. I could definitely feel the sensations now and I am absolutely certain that my Mistress has a sadistic streak, because only someone with those tendencies would keep her slave right on that 'edge’.

Another quick squirt of aromas, the gentlest of touches on my captive balls and I was off into dreamland again, wondering how Mistress may use her speculum next! Perhaps as an electrode to shock her slaves? Mmm, I am sure that is not a new thought to Maggie.

After all the hard work I had put in during this session, Mistress rewarded me with a long cool drink of her specially chilled wine. Maggie, with that wonderful smile that lets the slave know that he is in for a real treat, set up a drip bag filled with amber nectar (not Fosters, that tastes like piss). She looked fantastically attractive as she wheeled her IV stand around the couch to feed me.

For the last time for today at least, the aroma tube was removed from the anaesthetic mask and replaced with a drinking tube. I was just ready for my well earned refuelling and all that was offered was gratefully received.

I sucked greedily and consumed probably half of the contents before the flow stopped. Was Mistress playing a final mind game? Nope! Her chilled wine had not long been out of the freezer and all that was left in the bag was a large ice cube. I tried blowing to get some warm air to melt my drink, I tried sucking even harder. That brought back happy memories of when I had performed the same suck when Mistress was wearing her piss pants, that caused quite an amount of amusement. But to suck harder brought no extra reward for this frustrated slave today.

That brought my training for the day to a pleasant conclusion and as often happens, Mistress allows me to help with cleaning up the mess I have made. The simple tasks like floor cleaning, fetching and carrying for Maggie, help with washing all the latex, that sort of thing, we like to leave the Playroom and Clinic in good nick ready for Maggie's final clean up later on. I have learnt a lot about the scrupulous cleaning regime that Mistress Maggie adopts by helping her with the cleaning.

‘Here slave, you can take this bag of frozen piss home if you like’. A gesture that I jumped at and in a quiet moment on the Saturday night when the cube had defrosted but the contents remained chilled, I slowly sipped the remaining drink, toasted my Mistress and said a quiet thank you. I know some people prefer a G&T, but on this occasion I had the best drink in the world.

Well and Truly Stitched Up!

In total contrast to my last session where Mistress Maggie gave absolutely no hint of where the session was going, I received a positive steer in the 24 hour calling mail.

‘I have decided to kill two birds with one stone and bring my hobbies into the playroom. You shall be the first to witness me becoming re-acquainted with one of my old favourites and will be strapped down in my leather craft.’

A striped right buttock.

Not particularly enamoured with the killing reference and a fraction vague about the strapping down, I thought it best to have a re-read through Maggie’s website for clues on how her hobbies might be used, and concluded that I may well become the tailors dummy for her dressmaking. This conclusion was reinforced by one of Mistresses tweets that landed at around midday on my session date. I recommend having a look at this tweet, not because it reinforces session activity but because of the spectacularly beautiful photograph that Mistress has provided to accompany the text, and also because the same stunning red vision is exactly what greeted me when I was invited into the Chambers.

Mistress says her red catsuit is a little tight; I prefer to call the vision of my owner in her close-fitting red catsuit an image of perfection for a rubber lover. I suppose I agree though, it is tight, but definitely in all the right places!

Those long, long PVC boots are a delight to kiss, lick, suck and generally worship. One long lick can get me all the way from the heel to the middle of Mistress Maggie's thighs, no further though as those are the rules, to worship Maggie’s footwear only. But it does give me the opportunity to glide my tongue right to the very top, where I can sneak a peek at just how tight and form fitting Maggie's red catsuit actually is. Every now and then and when it was in the appropriate position, Mistress would idly flick her cane across my bare right buttock, not particularly hard but sufficient to give me four or five very nice stripes. Mistress also made good use of her chunky heels, lining them up with my backside she forced my butt plug deep inside where it stayed until our session was ended.

I wasn't left so undressed for long as Mistress said that there was plenty that needed to be done and had me quickly inserted into my own red catsuit. We actually looked like twins, not identical of course; Mistress is elegant, slim, beautiful and dominant, whereas I ain’t, but we were now both fully clothed in red latex.

I was led through to the Clinic where there was even more latex laid out for me. Carefully, I was fitted into the awaiting operating suit and rubber re-breather hood. Sat upright and strapped onto the operating couch Mistress told me to just sit and breathe, as she had some things to prepared for the next phase. I did as I was told as I always do, quietly sitting and breathing in and out through the two tiny breathing holes that Maggie had provided for me. My slow breaths needed concentration to maintain sufficient ventilation, but luckily I have had practise with the hood before and was able to stay calm as I gazed through the semitransparent latex at my vision in red, busying herself and preparing . . .

The room started to reorientate as the operating couch was reclined. Momentarily I had clarity of the situation as Mistress removed the rebreather, satisfied I had received sufficient breath play for now at least. Then I progressed to a less lucid state, first to tunnel vision as the red gas mask was fitted, then more relaxed as Maggie pumped in a couple of bulbfuls of aroma and finally it all went hissy quiet.

Mistress knew one of my senses has always been available to me, because no matter what hood was used or how many hoods for that matter I could still hear what was going on. The faint footfall as Maggie moved around, the quiet opening and closing of the door, the swish of Mistresses clothing and of course instructions as to what was about to happen. That all abruptly ended. Mistress deployed her wi-fi headphones and with the click of a button all I could hear was white noise; static; the kind of hiss that you get from an un-tuned radio and loud enough to obliterate all other sounds. That is one more and probably the final sense under my Mistresses total control.

My remaining sense of sight soon joined my loss of hearing with the snugly fitting eye blanks deployed across the gas mask portholes. My total contact with reality was now reduced to the occasional gentle touch from my Mistress. It feels surreal and so so right that my owner now has the capability to have her slave under her total control.

Of course I could still feel, and as Mistress pulled my cock and balls through the zip openings to the outside of my suits I knew I was still alive. I sensed what I believed to be the creation of a sterile operating environment and I had a vision in my hiss filled mind of being in the presence of a goddess, her touch electric, and I had also in my mind a red vision and thought I must be in heaven, or hell even with all the redness, but it felt more like heaven.

I am fairly certain that Mistress approached my left ear and said something. It might have been my imagination, but whatever it was, was inaudible and so disjointed that it could have been just a dream. What definitely wasn't a dream was the manhandling and manipulation of my cock, balls and scrotum by Maggie’s hands. By now I was suspecting that if Mistress’ sutures were intended for me her needlework would be aimed at that part of my anatomy. Maggie might have mentioned my fate but I could hear nothing nor see what was about to happen.

The first stitch was gentle and barely brought me from my hissing dreamland. I tried to follow the progress wondering if I would have any cock and balls left, oh well they are Maggie's property after all, so que sera sera. Strangely, I thought of the third line of the song 'the futures not ours to see' and dreamed how appropriate it was to my present predicament. Maybe is was the medicinal aromas combined with a lack of sound and sight, but I just felt deliriously happy.

The stitching continued, interspersed with what I assume was Mistress standing back to survey the scene and plan the next couple of sutures, or she may have just popped out. I had no way of telling but I just knew Maggie would be there as she does attend and care for her slaves, especially during such taxing situations! Another short session of stitching and another short break and this time I was certain she was there because of the gentlest strokes of my groin. I wont say cock and balls because I couldn't tell what was left down there.

I could feel everything being tightened, tucked and sewn out of harms way, and I have to admit that some of the later stitches definitely made their presence known, one or two were quite painful making me jolt and howl. Still it made a welcome relief from the hissing white noise that continued to fill up my gas mask and obscure all my senses. Mistress responded to my increased pain levels by administering more aroma shots and that certainly helped me relax, until finally Mistress must have been satisfied with her procedure and the needling stopped. The hiss gently subsided to nothing and a hypnotic sexy voice whispered through the headphones something along the lines of 'you will do anything for your Mistress . . .  follow me to a rubber world’. I am certain I heard this although with the prolonged sensory deprivation I had experienced I may well have heard my own dreams.

I think my cock is in there somewhere!

It was during the latter parts of being well and truly stitched up that a strange phenomena happened. Laying there minding my own business and in the midst of a slightly painful pricking moment, slowly and without any fuss I ejaculated. Slow, quiet and of course without an erection, as by then my cock must have been stitched up inside my scrotal sac, and well, incapable of getting hard. No explosion, no sense of tiredness afterwards, but I knew it happened, I’d cum. Talk about wet dreams!

I am certain Mistress knew that might happen as I have done the same previously when I have been stapled up. Being blind there was no way I could gauge Maggie’s reaction, but with barely a pause the next needle went in and she carried on stitching as if nothing had happened. I have no idea as to where the ejaculate went or indeed if there was any, it wasn't until my hood and blindfold came off that I could ask Maggie about that strange happening and her answer only demonstrates how detached I was from what was happening in her operating area.

‘Yes, I saw you cum you messy perverted slave. I had to sponge it up and change gloves before I could carry on with my hobby!’

As Mistress removed my red hood and my eyes slowly became accustomed to the bright lights of the Clinic and the Clinic sounds became  crystal clear, I once again saw my vision in red and was able to ask about my dreams and say thank you to Mistress for all her hard work. However, as far as Maggie was concerned we had not reached the end. Pleased with her progress so far she happily announced that it was time to begin the final part of my operation.

She may not have been altogether ecstatic about the size of my remaining scrotum, so after re-fitting the rebreather hood, I was told I was to receive a boost to my ball size. Maggie really is an expert with deploying a cannula and no sooner said than done. Into my scrotum, bag of saline hung on the iv stand, connected to scrotum and a good flow of about 400ml dripped into my somewhat strange looking sac.

All I could think about was how, with all that stitching could my sac actually accommodate all that fluid. I had visions of me leaking like a sieve through all the suture puncture holes. That, of course didn't happen and what a strange feeling. I wanted to become erect but no chance. My scrotum was filled with saline and I loved the sensations. By now, I was a master of the re-breather and I thought how fortunate I am to have provided Mistress with a vehicle to return the art of scrotum sewing to her slaves menu and to facilitate ‘ . . . two birds with one stone. . .’ 

Standing up in front of a mirror I was allowed to admire the sheer artistry and graceful lines that had been used to create a mangina. The stitches were real stitches, nice and black with real surgical twine. My saline filled ball sac may have looked strange, but felt both weighty and fantastic. Unfortunately I was unable to return home with my inflated mangina and Mistress ordered me back up on the couch for stitch removal. I was surprised at how strong the thread is as Mistress Maggie left one tail in place for me to take out by myself. Its extraction didn't hurt but took quite a lot of tugging to remove the twine. I am glad that Mistress didn't leave me with all the stitches to remove at home!

One final comment. Waterproof pants are useful things to wear on your way home, as saline does start to leak out and can look like you have pee'd yourself! I have now tried staples and actual suturing with Mistress and they are very different sensations. Hmm, staples or stitches? I am not sure which I prefer.

One of my Balls is Missing!

It may at first appear to be an exciting resume of a part-castration. Well, nothing quite as painful or permanent as that and I must admit to being quite attached to these balls. However, this is the only activity that I was fairly certain would happen because Mistress Maggie had been particularly vague about session plans in the call up mail.

‘. . . Session plans are still being prepared. You have my permission to remain on tenterhooks. . . ‘

Maggie knows the psyche of this slave well, of course she would, I have been fortunate enough to serve now for seven years this month so the sesquicentennial celebrations last session weren't the only milestone to celebrate, and the idea that I would be 'on tenterhooks' I think would bring a wry smile across those beautiful lips.

Had it not been for my missing ball I would have entitled this blog - The longest five minutes. Sitting in the car, on tenterhooks, watching the clock click over from 14:20 to 21 to 22 ... then finally to 14:25 when I know I am on my way to another meeting with the most stunningly attractive person I could ever dream of,  let alone the privilege of serving her. Those five minutes are like an eternity. Go too early and you dawdle outside or get a telling off for being early. Go too late and you risk a telling off for being late so the only solution is arrive exactly on time, which I once again managed.

Mistress was in her stunning black latex outfit, covered from neck to boot in that wonderful material, except that on top of her lower body were a pair of thick, clear plastic pants. Their shine contrasting quite dramatically with the  sheen of the polished rubber. Whichever way you look at it Mistress was stunning and as we climbed the stairs to The Playroom I noticed a new pair of shiny boots with some very attractive brass pyramid studs down the outside. I knew I would be intimately acquainted with them shortly, which indeed I was. Slightly lower but still substantial heels, knee high, black and very pleasant to worship.

Ah! That missing ball. A few days earlier, one of the red balls that keeps my guiche piercing in place dropped off. I have no idea where or when but the first I knew of the problem was when my guiche, minus a ball, dropped down the inside of my trouser leg and clattering onto the tiles. Fortunately no one was round to hear but unfortunately, the red retaining ball had vanished. I ordered a couple of spares (just in case another ball goes walkies) and they arrived in good time for me to bring them to session. Maggie carefully replaced my temporary repair with the genuine article. At 6mm, the new one is 1mm larger than the previous bar, but Mistress was pleased with the larger replacement and it was easily inserted then both balls secured tightly to reduce the risk of further loss. (Note to self - tighten balls daily in future!)

In no time, Mistress had me and my new jewellery strapped across the horse. A bit gag was fitted and stout rope reins attached to the bridle and, as you might expect the cold glass dildo Mistress had donned during worship was soon warming as she yanked on the reins. I prefer to be called Jo rather than Dobbin, but my new temporary name seemed to amuse Maggie and I was rode like a horse until she was satisfied that my rear entry had taken the stretching it needed, ready for another attempt at retrieving the object 'hidden' in that dark place. After that my own butt plug went in easily to do its job of keeping me stretched.

On with my heavyweight latex catsuit first, then I was told to lie down on the carpet where my wrists were roped to my ankles, because Mistress was determined to have more fun riding her slave and educating me on how much I should like plastic. My face was the saddle, my nose was the pummel and of course my Mistress in her squeaky plastic breeches the rider.

Judging by that wonderful smile radiating from Maggie, I am starting to re-evaluate my material preferences, if face sitting in plastic pleases my owner so much perhaps I do like plastic rather than rubber. However, I would like to point out that despite all that delightful face full of plastic, Mistress is wearing latex underneath. The plastic pants weren't quite as pliable as other plastic Mistress has seen fit to smother me with, and despite the wonderful feeling of breath restriction I was able to wriggle and squirm to obtain a bit of air. Maybe it was that wriggling and squirming that put that wonderful smile into Maggie?

Mistress is truly imaginative and inventive in the apparatus she uses on her slaves. Even though I had moved a silver box off the horse when I had moved it to its riding position, I had no inkling what it was or what it would be used for. It is not in my remit to question such things, so I just moved it and forgot about it. Well, I was about to find out what its intended purpose was, but first I was to be intimately introduced to a new mask that I had read about in Mistresses Tweets.

Mistress has designed her eye mask well, and trivial as this may sound, having long eyelashes sometimes gives me problems opening and closing my eyelids, especially really tight hoods. Not so with this eye mask, it allowed  unrestricted eye movement and through its perspex lenses I could see everything most clearly. Hmmm! Perhaps there is something to be said about keeping eyes tight shut!

Back to the silver box. I was seated comfortably on the Playrooms folding chair, directly inside the confines of the lowered gantry. Mistress gathered some rope and started to tie me to the chair, her knots very secure in a way to keep me immobile and my head was immobilised too, in the grips of her heavy stocks. Maggie paid particular attention to fixing the right levels and angles of the supporting gantry, sufficient to make her slave static but comfortably contained. I couldn't move my head at all but of course, I could move my eyes behind the perspex lenses.

WARNING: This 45 second clip has audio

The last time Mistress had attempted to insert me into her 'standard' head box, my head was too big and we simply couldn't fit me in. This time, Maggie had crafted this from a cardboard box, maybe as a template for a future project (I suspect I shouldn't have said that) but the box fitted well. The inside of her box and lid as well were lined with a very thick layer of plastic bubble wrap. Yes, Maggie was on a mission to plasticize me.

When Mistress closed the lid, it was an effective face pad of slithery, breathtaking plastic. There was sufficient free play to breathe after a fashion and because of the eye guard I was able to look round inside the box. Although not completely dark, all I could see and taste at very close quarters was plastic, plastic and more plastic all accompanied by a nice plastic bouquet. As I said, Mistress is most inventive and what is worrying is what a box made of more substantial material would feel like with my head rigidly held inside and in total darkness.  As a prototype and proof of concept it was breathtakingly successful. As a blue print for the future, well . . .

You may also notice as I certainly did from inside my box, that Maggie had very thoughtfully placed a buzzing vibrator inside my roped hands. Mistress knows that a little bit of breath restriction, a little bit of bondage and latex, a little bit of vibration and of course a face full of plastic can play havoc with my self control. But Mistress is in charge and she navigated her slave all the way 'to the edge' but, just a moment before, the vibrator was silenced. I’m not sure if Mistress allowed my head box an orgasm, but as soon as she had finished with me she diverted her vibrator and teasing attentions to the box and it was making an awful lot of noise, that is all I can say. My whole world was reverberating with the sound the vibrations were making, nothing but buzz buzz, bloody buzz!

I should also add that my self control was further tested by Mistress getting up close and personal inside the confines of the suspension frame. With the box lid open I could clearly see Mistress through the perspex, doing the most lewd gestures with her plastic pants only a few inches away from my captive face. Oh what a slave has to put up with, but I have to admit my liking of all things plastic had been rekindled by my rather wonderful Mistress.

Note the 7 brass studs in Maggie's new boots

Medication to help me appreciate my plastic environment was not forsaken either, sitting on the shelf by my right shoulder was a little bottle of aroma that Mistress kept offering to me. Another unconventional delivery; bottle straight up my nostril, other nostril blocked and told to 'breathe deeply slave'. That hit the spot!

Maggie, determined to continue my re-acclimatisation, retrieved and fitted me into the larger of the two green hazmat suits that we have both enjoyed wearing in the past. This time it was only me that was to be isolated and still wearing my rubber suit I was quickly sealed inside it and ordered onto the bed. Mistress set her electric air-pump to ‘suck’ mode and attempted to shrinkwrap me by removing all the air from within the hazmat suit.

That was one of the few ideas that didn't work. Not for want of trying, but the zip fastener didn't readily allow a sufficient seal around the pump nozzle, leading to an air of frustration, as more air seemed to be going in than being removed. ‘OK. Let’s forget about that idea,’ said Mistress and she just tidied the pump away.

The zip was pulled up fully sealing me inside the airtight suit. It was remarkable how little spare air there was inside the sealed suit and very soon I was begging hard for a welcome influx of clean fresh air. No matter, Maggie has other methods of leaving her slave breathless and promptly laid full length on my by now spread-eagled position on the latex bed.

To bring another excellent session to a close, Maggie treated her slave to a wonderful golden shower but delivered in a most unorthodox and unexpected way. Already sealed in two layers of rubber and hazmat plastic I was now being instructed to climb into a large slightly opaque plastic bag. I was given a gas mask and hose and once the opening had been knotted to keep me in my greenhouse environment, only the end of the hose was visible to the outside world and aroma vapour was being pumped into my mask.

Maggie directed short bursts of her warm shower over various parts of my plastic covered body. I could feel that lovely warm feeling as Maggie pee'd on my face, my body, my groin and anywhere else she could direct the stream, and I was again very frustrated at all that lovely nectar bouncing off my well protected body and gathering in a large pool on the protective sheet Maggie had wisely laid on the floor. It’s a good job that Mistress has a large safety sheet because it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

The poppers delivery pipe we used was designed and created by Maggie’s husband John and is a remarkable piece of kit.

For a final, rather nice touch to bring our seventh year to a fitting climax and move forwards into year eight, Mistress peeled back the plastic as far as my shoulders and released me from my mask. Looking straight into my eyes Mistress told me to open my mouth, after the downpour I would not have believed there was anything left, but standing over my eager mouth she let out a stream of her nectar and her slaves thirst was quenched.

Was I allowed to climax. No.

Was I bothered? No. More importantly, I think Mistress had an enjoyable 7th birthday' session.

Was I converted to a plastic pervert? No not really. I already enjoy all the materials, including plastic, that Mistress Maggie allows me to experience and no matter how much plastic I was exposed to I still had my rubber clad Mistress, my rubber suit and my rubber hood and my rubber eye mask and my rubber gas mask and . . .

I think my Mistress knows, I am addicted to her and anything else is just a secondary bonus.

Sesquicentennial - Better and Better

When I first had the privilege of attending Mistress Maggie some six and a bit years ago I had no inkling of the fantastic heights that she would take me to and I really didn't think I would be fortunate to reach 150 sessions. After a few dozen or so (if I was lucky) I anticipated Mistress would lose interest in her tall, somewhat overweight slave. Initially I had expressed an interest in rubber bondage and perhaps a little anal play, other than that I really was naive as to what delights an exceptionally good Mistress could introduce me to. Yet here we are, celebrating this milestone in style with a lot of rubber, a lot of anal play, quite a few shocks from the electrics including the bonus of an electrifying sound deeply embedded where good sounds should be, deep inside and largely out of sight. I have travelled a long way and I hope and suspect Mistress has many more highways and byways to guide us down.

Stepping swiftly through the obligatory preliminaries; the worship was slow and sensuous and a thrill I have described in great detail in many of my earlier blogs, on with my heavy weight latex catsuit and ushered into the Clinic where I was told to kneel with my face through the opening at the back of the chair. That opening conveniently accommodated the anaesthetic mask that was strapped to my head, ensuring I breath in any aromatic medicine my gloved rubber nurse may deem necessary.

Mistress declared that she had lost something, and as I had been fortunate enough to attend the previous week she was wondering if I had secreted the item somewhere on or in my person. She had looked everywhere in the intervening week, so the only logical conclusion was that her slave must have hidden the item in one of my frequent mischievous moments.

Oiled and lubed, Mistress was only millimetres away from being able to insert her rubber hand in my back passage, but my muscles just wouldn't quite relax to allow her hand inside to do a full reconnaissance of where the missing item may be hiding. Nope, I am just not quite stretched for a fisting yet, but undeterred Mistress inserted an inflated butt bung to aid the stretching and said that as the item was still missing we shall persist in the future until such a time as she can have a proper rummage. I did fleetingly think that perhaps Mistress wants her slave to be a proper puppet and wondered what Sooty and Sweep felt like with their owners hand up their bums.

It won't be too long before I can accept Mistresses hand fully up my backside, so watch this space! A few more breaths of the aromas. . . maybe more relaxation on my part. . . perhaps a little more lube? Who knows, but I can feel that day coming shortly.

Of course the result of all the stretching and lube was that when Mistress inserted my butt plug it went in so easily I hardly noticed its presence. So much so that it dropped right out again. A clear and recognisable sign that the new butt plug that I once considered huge is now 'ordinary’. It fills the cavity but with little stretching required.

Anyway, after a nervous titter from me and an ordinary titter from Maggie the solution was obvious, zip it away inside my thick latex catsuit and forget it for the rest of the session. That worked. The plug stayed put in its secure, dark and rubbery location.

It was a relatively easy operation to fit me inside the thick white latex body bag, although care was required to make sure my arms slid into the internal pockets and I was lying comfortably in the middle of the bag, so when Mistress finally zipped and strapped me inside I was in the best possible position, and more importantly, prepared for a lengthy session of rubber restriction and fun.

An essay in style and beauty

A little judicious fiddling with the crotch zip of the bag and a little harder fiddling with the zippers on my catsuit underneath made it possible for Mistress to bring out my cock and balls. From inside the double hood which Maggie had chosen for me to wear, I occasionally got the faintest of glimpses of my beautiful Mistress through the eye perforations, but there was nothing I could have done, even if I wanted to, to prevent her firstly playing with my exposed genitals then re-covering them in a tight black latex sheath. I must say I  love being in such a totally rubberised position for my Mistress and although I can't move much, my role is to lay as still as possible so Maggie can perform her magic. I know she enjoys her session more when her plans are not interrupted by unruly or wimpish slaves. I also get the distinct impression that Mistress also likes the situation of a totally restrained rubberised plaything.

Interspersed with the intricate work of latexing my cock and balls, Mistress allowed me more puffs of the rather pleasant aromas that she knows I like. We have tried out a few and know which brands do a reliable job of delivering the appropriate sensations. Happy with the batch used today I could easily relax and allow Maggie the freedom to finally get the sheaths on without any problems.

I don't think I mentioned how stunning Mistress looked when she ushered me into the Chambers: a wonderful essay in the Beauty of The Dominatrix. I could have stayed rubbered up in her presence for hours. Come to think of it I would stay there for as long as my Mistress wished as there is no possibility for escape.

Those who regularly follow my blog will realise that Mistress doesn't allow her slaves to remain in the state of Nirvana for too long, as that could mean far too much peace, tranquillity and enjoyment for her subject, whose sole purpose after all is to please my owner an not myself. I think I arrived in that mythical state momentarily before Mistress sought to stretch my horizons. Well actually, she wanted to stretch my balls - quite a lot.

I have never been formally introduced to Maggie’s gleaming piece of ball stretching equipment, and this picture is the first visible reference to associate with what was initially a most pleasant experience as Maggie attached its mountings between cock and scrotum.

At this point I was relaxed, happy, comfortable and pleasantly warm. I was being sorted out by the best possible Mistress a slave could want and I do believe I was closer to that idyllic transcendental state. A turn of the screw, another whiff of aroma, some beautiful soothing words from Mistress followed by a few more turns of the screw had me returning to reality.

That familiar ache in the balls started to creep in as they began to lose proximity to my cock, but still there was nothing I would wish to do to alter the situation. Of course there was something I could do to help Mistress in the next stage and did so by holding myself absolutely rigid inside the sheath whilst she attached her metal stretching device to the scaffolding erected at the base of the couch. Soon my already stretched balls were being further stretched by the addition of ropes and weights over the pulleys. Actually, once Mistress administered more of her medicinal intoxicating aroma through her anaesthetic breathplay setup, I had time to absorb the ache and I was starting to feel in the zone once more. Hmmm! Another confession that Mistress will no doubt seek to exploit!

A few more weights, a little more kindness from my Mistress, a few strokes to my sheathed cock and balls and I was floating in that space between ache and ecstasy. My mind was fully alert, as was my body although severely restrained. My thoughts were free to dwell on how lucky I am and I drifted back over the previous 150 sessions as I frequently do when I am in this relaxed state.

December 2013, our fiftieth anniversary session, Mistress and her husband John took me out for lunch in a wheelchair. . . Maggie fed me sausages. . . lucky day Friday 13th. . .

In between the stretching, my mind drifted forward to our hundredth anniversary. . .  Hugely inflated balls. . . my portrait captured and now displayed for all to see on the Chambers wall. . . tea making and serving Maggie's friends. . . precise instructions so as not to embarrass my Mistress. . .  Now, back to the present, I feel at home and honoured that Mistress and her husband had spent so much time in the previous anniversary preparations.

We had already agreed before this session that Maggie would not be making quite such elaborate plans for the sesquicentennial, yet my Mistress possesses a remarkable natural ability to make every session electrifyingly special.

Despite the tightness of the white latex hood and the fact that Maggie occasionally zipped the front flaps shut, I could still hear sounds reasonably well, and I detected the familiar sound of Maggie ripping open one of her sterile packages and heard her announce that I was to receive a sound. Not just a sound but a sparkling sound.

Even with the copious lube there was still too much resistance to the number 8. Maggie never forces such issues, if it wont slide in under its own weight it is immediately removed. Not so with the number 7. That one was happy to slide in all the way and once more I experienced that little shudder of delight as it plumbed the depths. That little shudder turned into a steady, or more specifically a constantly varying charge, as Maggie played with the buttons on the e-stim. Maggie certainly knows which buttons to press with this slave!

Only to the edge but no further. Mistress kept me moaning for quite a while but those few moments to force a climax were denied. I was frustrated but I knew Mistress is in control. That wasn't quite the end of this latest milestone session. No celebration is complete without a celebratory drink and this 150th session was no exception. Mistress wheeled her IV stand closer, attached a funnel and feeding tube and decanted a good quantity of fresh house wine. Needless to say I consumed all of it, perhaps a little selfish I know, but a good quantity of Maggie Nouveau is the best possible drink a slave could wish for.

And what for the future? Mistress Maggie willing, I will eventually be reporting on our 200th session, but I would like to thank my owner from the bottom of my heart for giving me so many happy memories already in my slave life.

But we still haven't found what we were looking for.

A Load of Little B's

I had barely started to close the door to the Chambers when Mistress Maggie's experienced hand reached out and in an instant had a leash clipped onto my slave collar. Her insistent tugging allowed just sufficient time and freedom to remove my shoes and coat and leave them tidily in the hallway, I was then close reined and tugged upstairs towards the Playroom.

Was it my imagination or was Mistress purposely drawing me even closer to her golden latex covered bottom? When she abruptly stopped well. . . I didn’t, causing my face to be nestled into her right cheek. I think that temporary pause on the stairs was of her own design, otherwise I would have earned a stout telling off. Being allowed to kiss and fawn over the most beautiful latex covered globes I could imagine so soon after arriving is a most rare thing, and an opportunity I keenly grasped.

My plum latex catsuit was laid out on the bed as Maggie had decided it would be my uniform for the day. I was dispatched to the bathroom to return in just stockings and gloves. Oh, and of course my slave collar which by now had been released from my lead. It never takes long to cast aside my outdoor clothes, I talc the gloves and socks, slip them on and report back to the Playroom clutching my butt plug which I must present to Mistress. I was soon knocking on the Playroom door for the 149th time, butt plug in hand, waiting to be ordered inside by my owner.

Mistress was comfortably seated on her throne, or come to think of it she may have been less comfortable than usual as the chair had lost its regal covering. Anyway it was strangely located in the middle of the room facing the door, providing me with a full frontal view of my beautiful owner as I entered.

Kneeling down I was ready and very willing to worship those long black boots. When left to my own devices I usually complete one boot before moving onto the second, but Maggie wanted a different technique today that got my head moving in a military march like fashion; left boot, right boot then immediately back to the left, then to the right, lick kiss and worship . . .  and on it progressed, all the while accompanied by a similar military tattoo across my backside with a tan leather whip. Maggie placed her strokes with sufficient force to maintain my attention rather but they didn't qualify as a real punishment flogging. Once the boots were polished to Maggie's satisfaction it was into my catsuit, bend over the throne for the very rapid and most pleasurable insertion of the butt plug and we were ready to proceed to the real meat of today's training.

Then a bombshell. Mistress calmly looked me in the eye and gave me a right bollocking for failing to proofread a recently published blog. The formatting was poor, sentences not finished, words missed etc. ‘Why did I have to rectify more than a dozen of your mistakes slave?’ It was no use trying to give excuses, I could only apologise sincerely for my slovenliness and for bringing Mistresses reputation into disrepute by her owning an absolutely stupid and careless slave. I expected punishment and feared the worst.

Mistress then soothingly said, ‘don't worry slave I am not going to cane you this time’. Imagine the relief, I was to be spared the cane and again I promised that I would try much harder. At the time that single act of kindness carried far more weight than receiving the cane. I was quite happy to relax secure in the knowledge that a caning was not imminent, relaxed at being ordered to lie on the bed and be secured there by my benevolent Mistress and I was even relaxed as Maggie produced a card containing small metal clamps and started applying them to my cock and balls.

The first couple went on fine; Maggie carefully positioning them. A little discomfort was felt as she shook and stretched my cock to make sure the clamps were secured as well as her slave, but comfort levels quickly vanished as more of her clamps were applied. Mistress had obviously foreseen the reaction her clamps would have on my pain levels and had sensibly put a breathe through gag into my mouth to stifle any moans that might be forced out.

Things then definitely took a turn for the worse. I wasn't going to receive the cane but Mistress was going to attach her electrics box in the same haphazard way that I had approached my Blog writing. 'Maybe one wire attached to the top here', and I felt the top clip wobble as the electrode was clipped in place, then 'maybe one on your balls at the bottom'. An ominous twitching tremor ran along my cock and balls as the second electrode was clicked in place, and then another pair were attached to the sides, just for fun.

Almost my view in the mirror.

As Mistress ramped up the power I could feel now why I wasn't receiving the cane for punishment. As the setting went up and down it felt like a circular electric shock all round my groin area. Mistress laughed as I started to shake and I think I was also starting to cry. These little B's were really starting to bite, the electrics were becoming unbearable and I was really grateful for the gag. I was dribbling like mad as the little buggers bit my cock, spat out the current and genuinely really hurt.

And then, just as Mistress gauged I had received sufficient punishment and was starting to gradually reduce the input levels I really couldn't help myself. With the raging torment still running through those menacing clamps . . . I think I was forced to climax! I say think because the overall sense was one of painful cock and balls, but I also felt that familiar warmth of ejaculation. Mistress showed no solace when she removed the little b******s either, preferring to pull on each one until it became detached rather than unclip it. She quipped that these Chinese clamps were a bit rough round the edges, but I think they were probably made by Nippon because that was exactly what the clamps did!

Why I wasn't sure if I’d just embarrassed myself was because, although my cock had deflated, I still wanted more. More of my Mistress, more training, just more of my little slot in heaven, I wasn't tired, which is a typical male reaction after orgasm and I begged Maggie to continue with the session.

Released from the bed bondage Mistress allowed me the luxury of a little recovery time by presenting her derrière for some much appreciated worship. I know Maggie likes to have her rubber bottom gently stroked with a latex covered hand, and she certainly deserves to have her cheeks kissed and licked as well. One thing I find is that once kissed and licked latex becomes less 'smooth' and less easy to gently stroke; a slave needs a sensible strategy to accomplish both. No problem. Lick and kiss one cheek and stroke the other. When my drool had had time to dry I could change cheeks and continue my worship. I am really delighted Mistress allowed this brief recovery time as far more 'relaxing' experiences were to follow.

I was soon captured in the tight embrace of Mistresses leather straitjacket and a chest harness was buckled on over the top. The straitjacket is a particularly wonderful garment especially when worn over all my latex. You just slide your arms easily into its overlong mittened sleeves, and once strapped in and tightened up you can forget any thoughts of getting out on your own.

It was my turn to sit on the wooden bondage chair now and immediately a couple of ropes were lashed round my ankles to prevent me moving from any location. Maggie expended quite a lot of energy tightening straps around me, but the one around my shoulders had been positioned a little high giving me the chance to have a bit of fun. Gentle wriggling and shoulder shrugging when Mistresses back was turned forced it to slipped off my arms and lay loosely round my neck.

I don't know if Maggie realised my part in shuffling the strap off the shoulders (she will do now!), but once it had been noticed it was immediately repositioned under the securing eyes as the photo shows. It certainly wasn't going to slip off again!

I could marvel at the predicament I was so fortunate to be in as the room mirror had been angled in my direction. Though of course, having a tube stuck in your mouth and half a dozen rubber bandages wrapped round your head does somewhat restrict visibility. Visual isolation does heighten the other senses and the occasional touches I received from Maggie felt electric, the latex would move and squeak a little as she stroked my head or my stirring cock area, then it went quiet and I have no concept of how long Mistress kept me in isolation, I really was enjoying my dreams and I did notice that my previously deflated cock was making its presence felt as I thought of Mistress in her gold latex suit, her wonderful sense of humour and ravishing beauty, and I was generally quite 'hard' again.

When the bandages were finally stripped away I was to have the luxury of wearing the Belgium mask again, which meant I could gaze at my beautiful Mistress as she went about her business. But not before indulging in a second bit of fun though, and a kind that Maggie noticed more quickly.

She was standing right in front of me unwinding the last of the rubber bandages, me still breathing away through the tube gag. I discovered that if you wiggle the end of the tube with a few dextrous head movements you can manoeuvrer the end of the tube then suck hard enough a slave can attach himself to his rubber Mistress and draw her in closer! I used this technique and managed to latch onto Maggie’s breast but my tomfoolery was taken in good humour. I was in heaven again and I think I saw a glint in Maggie's eyes.

And so to the final part of my breathing exercises, with my formal introduction to Mistress Maggie's portable breathing bottle, it was safely secured on my back with a harness and attached to the Belgium mask with a hose. The bottle is a remarkable piece of equipment and one that a slave could wear for a long time whilst performing normal slave duties. The wooden throne needed some minor modification in order to accommodate the back pack, simply achieved by removing two slats from the back, something I had not seen done before. Two and a bit jugfuls of tap water were brought through and loaded into the bubble bottle so the tank was full, and I was off bubbling like a Leaky Cauldron. I did mention that I prefer Mistresses nectar, but even with her extra special capacity I think two jugfuls may have extended even Maggie's capabilities.

Clearly enjoying the bubble sounds and attempting to convert them into 'music' was not sufficient for Maggie. After a while she wanted to upset my breathing by judicious application of her electric vibrator. She backed on to me and started with the vibrator, pressing it into my crotch. Then little by little she opened her crotch zip and instead of wasting time on her slave she diverted attention to herself. Sat as I was in front of the mirror, I had the most glorious view of my Mistress as she enjoyed the vibes. Her eyes partially closed, she sank deeper onto my knee and so it continued until my leg felt the flow of warm fluid and Mistress sounded particularly happy. I, in turn almost came for the second time in one session. I was certainly rock hard again when Mistress came down from her high, giving me that very sweet smile that only she can generate and offering me a very moist vibrator to suck on.

What a privilege to clean Mistresses used vibrator and that was that. I was so happy Mistress Maggie had appeared to enjoy herself and not for the first time her slave was left a little frustrated. As in every session there are first experiences aplenty. The portable bubble bottle, the removable back of the throne, a very beautiful woman pleasuring herself on her slaves knee and of course, being milked by a load of little B's with a couple of thousand volts. Life is never dull and always exciting when you commit to being one of the slaves of a wonderful and imaginative Mistress.

The treatment worked by the way. I was way more careful in my next writings.

Caution: This 1:56sec bubble bottle clip has audio