Friday 2 November 2018

A Glimpse of Heaven

The sun was shining through the hints of Autumn, the temperature cool but not too cold. Another perfect day to serve Mistress Maggie and I almost skipped the final few metres towards her chambers through the fallen Autumn leaves.

Today I would be addressing Maggie as my Queen, as per her calling mail - 'Your throned rubber Queen intends to pump and work you hard to earn yourself some delicious pleasures'.

What a stunning sight greeted me as my Queen opened the door and allowed me to step into her Queendom. Queen Maggie looked beautiful in her full latex with a long flowing skirt, and adorning her neck was her chain of Queenship that occasionally tinkled and chimed as she moved. Being told to, I quickly left my jacket in the cloakroom and followed my Queen. Maggie always looks truly magnificent and on this occasion her garments flowed like liquid gold.

Soon she was occupying her throne where her skirt draped open in a most provocative manner, giving her subject a tantalising view of her stocking tops and tiny latex thong when I knelt before my Queen. Not much chance I’d be receiving a knighthood today, if that were the case surely Maggie would have given a clue in her calling mail, so instead I followed the normal etiquette of waiting for Mistress to signal me with her foot and bow down to worship her gold studded boots, just as I have done before.

The gold pyramid decorations along the outsides of the boots received my undivided attention, but worshipping the higher parts of the boots nearest to the forbidden stocking top territory had me somewhat distracted. Of course I continued my licking and kissing while sneaking a peek at my Queens’s latex underwear. I cannot recall anything in the Rule Book about not mentally worshipping those forbidden parts, but I do know exactly where I am allowed to physically go and always stay within the boundaries laid down by my Mistress. (I wonder if it is treason though to have such thoughts about ones ruler?)

I was not allowed to rise just yet but was told to ‘about turn kneel, head on carpet', at a suitable angle for my red butt plug to be inserted. Mistress took out a tape measure and jotted down my plug’s measurements saying, ‘you need a larger plug slave’, before pushing it in my butt and helping me into my heavy latex catsuit, a gas mask quickly followed and it looked like I might be receiving some stimuli today when a bottle of aroma was opened and attached to the breathing hose.

In the centre of the room a chain was hanging from the ceiling, I was told to hold on to it for stability while I got my butt plug moving. Mistress ramped up the music volume, pumped the aroma pump and danced round in that sensual way that I have only ever experienced in her presence; I did notice she was clutching a whip. I was to receive a flogging from my Queen as we danced; the crack of the cat echoing inside the gas mask. My heavy latex catsuit absorbed most of the power of the swinging leather, turning the strokes into gentle caresses with very little pain and lots of pleasure. My dancing Queen was aware of the desensitising effect of the thick rubber and allowed her blows to rain down from every angle, even the cat between my legs added to my delight. Mistress danced, I swayed clutching the chain, timing my movements to provide the best targets. Mistress pumped the aromas and I loved every moment.

That's for securing the catheter.
We moved quietly and quickly into the Clinic; well to be more precise, my Queen flowed sensually and I floated in a wonderful state of euphoria and there I was slid into the inflatable latex suit that had been laid out waiting for me. A wonderful garment with the sensation of ending up dressed in three slippery layers of rubber.

Again I was pleased it was a cool autumn day as the prospect of an overheating slave were still present but greatly reduced, remaining covered in the suit for a long time seemed well within my capabilities. That was just as well, because once pumped up, that was just how I remained for the remainder of the session.

The inflatable gloves and hood went on and I lay on the medical couch being pumped up until I had become a large inflated rubber slave, and there I was buckled down. Mistress insisted on a few extra pumps to my balloon head every now and then, enough to make the hood so tight that even the lightest touch sounded like a balloon being flicked. In fact that is exactly what it was. My advice to any would be 'pump heads' is to make sure you keep a firm grip on the mouth tube, because with all the extra pressure there is a tendency for the tube to force its way outwards. It takes a little practice but I have it mastered and could breathe easily. The question ‘are you still holding on to that tube slave?’ becomes a regular precaution when Mistress is nursing a pumped headed slave.

I am never strapped down for nothing and was curious as to what sort of operation I would be having today when Mistress zipped open my crotch area and my excited cock sprung out. It was a strange and pleasant sensation having my bits fully exposed while the inflatable suit pressed down firmly on my surrounding abdominal area. Before I knew it there was more inflation going on inside my bladder, because Maggie had inserted a catheter down my penis and it was time to pump a syringe full of saline into the internal bulb to ensure the tube was safely and deeply embedded in my plumbing!

I know I have said this before but my Mistress is the best nurse a patient could ever wish for when it comes to installing a catheter. The procedure is now routine but just as carefully administered with a full sterile kit of parts; her patients cock is cleaned, lubricated and desensitised, a saline syringe is prepared for inflating the bulb, a pack of white sterile gloves are opened and donned for the catheterisation itself, the saline is deployed and that’s it. Safe and secure and my bladder function controlled once again by my owner. Apart from the wonderful sensation as the tube gently slides in with a shudder of delight, the only other sense is one of complete and everlasting gratitude that Mistress is an expert in this sort of operation. A latex leg bag fitted nicely round my inflated leg, attached to the outlet pipe of the catheter and I was ready for going anywhere and no stops for 'Mistress I need the toilet!. I love it.

A good view of my Queens chain of office
Returning to the Playroom I started to see some of the limitations of wearing the inflatable hood for a lengthy period. Mistress was fine, she was in the mood for some rubber relaxation and looked eerily mysterious with her feet up, gas mask on and listening to some of her favourite Buddy Guy tracks. Looking towards her clear gas mask lenses for a glimpse into her deep eyes, my own plastic lenses were severely misting and the pressure of the hood also affected what I could see as my line of sight was somewhat above the horizontal, which meant I had to lower my head to see anything in front. Come to think of it, was this my Mistresses forward planning? A bowed head to my Queen seems quite appropriate!.

I was told that I would be helping with the cleaning and was led by my collar to the bathroom to bring the sundries. A cleaning sponge, spray and a bowl of water were needed and I gathered them up and carefully followed my Mistress. I couldn't see much at all but I trust Mistress 100% and just went where the gentle tug on my collar took me. I ended up back in the centre of the Playroom, the overhead gantry was lowered and I received instruction from my Queen to clean the gantry and to 'get on with it'.

As Queen Maggie looked on from her throne I was happy with being able to serve my Liege. Most of the cleaning was done by touch as my already limited vision was steaming up even more. Feel the sponge, feel the spray, point spray and hope. It worked and I sensed all the spray went on the sponge and it was then a relatively easy matter of holding the frame with one hand and cleaning with the sponge with the other.

Fortunately Mistress had removed my inflated gloves before starting me on the cleaning duties which was just as well, because with the gloves pumped up tight I had absolutely no feeling in them and of course no grip. Earlier I actually managed a stroke of my Queen's derrière while squeezing through a doorway. I hope Mistress liked the feel of my touch because I couldn't feel a thing. Mistress is very mischievous in this area, she knows I like stroking her bottom and would lose that pleasure in the mitts.

Cleaning was hard work, as upon inspection Mistress insisted that my first time attempt at sponging her gantry was not thorough enough and parts had been overlooked. So, once again I set about feel, point, squeeze and wipe. This time I took a lot longer, visiting the bowl of water more frequently to rinse out the sponge and carried on until my Queen was satisfied that her subject had completed what she’d asked. I was then told to clear up the spray, sponge and bowl back to the bathroom and this time Maggie didn’t bother getting up to lead me! I picked up the items and tried to visualise my route. I could just see, mainly the ceiling, but had to rely on my earlier trips in my attempt to navigate my inflated self through the doors, along the corridor and to the bathroom. I did manage the trip safely, but, as you might expect and unbeknown to me, Mistress in her latex gown had followed on and was never more that a step away, just in case I ran into trouble.

I was still feeling wonderful in the inflated suit and the catheter was really starting to excite. As I moved about with the once contents of my bladder sploshing about in my leg bag, I knew I had no option should I need to pee. Mistress was able to plug or unplug my bladder in an instant by simply removing or replacing the catheter bung. I even tried to go through the action of peeing. Maggie knows that is no use, her slave would only be allowed to pee in harmony with her wishes today and there was nothing I could or would do to alter that. Strange feeling knowing you need to pee, trying to pee and... nothing!

Pleasant use of the low whipping bench
My inflatable hood was removed and I was instructed to sit on the bed while Mistress retrieved a practical piece of Playroom furniture for what she had in mind. Mistress had also taken off her gas mask leaving her beautiful face framed by an open faced latex hood, she slipped out of the room returning almost immediately with bowls of ripe strawberries and cream and placed them on the bench. Was I about to be teased again as Mistress consumed the fruit? Not impossible. The last time strawberries came into the Playroom I was all strung up and immobilised as Maggie lay down eating the fruit in the provocative manner she performs so well. No, my Queen was about to share her fruit with her loyal subject. We sat on the side of the bed and I fed my Queen a large strawb doused in cream. Mistress took two delicate bites per fruit whereas me being a pig downed my offerings in one.

Picking up cream covered strawberries wearing latex gloves can be a very messy business and we managed to get cream in places cream had no business ending up. One dollop ended on Mistress Maggie's latex covered thigh and it was a delicious pleasure cleaning that up. Dining with my Queen was a truly wonderful experience for this slave. I was in very close contact with Mistress as she swallowed her strawberries and I was so close to those beautiful lips. Again my training overruled my instincts as I so wanted to kiss those sweet lips but resisted the urge and gently wiped away the excess cream from them.

Why the title A Glimpse of Heaven? Apart from the obvious that being with my Mistress is always a glimpse of heaven, the title is also a track by the 1960's group Strawbs, ah the delights of Strawbs and cream with a beautiful Mistress, one verse being a fitting link to today’s tasty and wonderful experience:

Could you only see what I've seen 
You would surely know what I mean 
I think I must have caught a glimpse of heaven.

Friday 19 October 2018

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.

Friday 5 October 2018

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.

Friday 21 September 2018

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.

Friday 31 August 2018

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.