EUREKA!!

EUREKA!!

Well, almost eureka. My discovery does include water displacement!

* * *

I am jumping for joy following a watersports session with one of my slaves.

Bubble bottle play with a GP5 mask

My slave was strapped down in my clinic being catheterised. The contents of his bladder had just begun flowing into his cath bag when he asked me a question.

“Are you going to make me drink my own piss today Mistress?”

It wouldn’t be unusual, I often do. I serve it in a glass or a dog bowl and the filthy bastard will quickly lap up the lot. But his question poised a bit of a challenge, because we were combining slaves’ catheterisation with a breathplay scene that day.

Slave was wearing a Russian GP5 gas mask and was breathing the scent from my wonderful golden nectar via a bubble bottle. And as lovely as they are, you cannot drink anything with a Russian GP5 gas mask on.

That’s when I had my eureka moment.

Unlike Archimedes who was having a splash around in a bath tub when he came up with his displacement theory, I was in the tricky position of controlling a pervert and having to think on my feet when I discovered mine.

It came to mind that towards the end of the 20th century our British forces had been issued a gas mask that came with an integrated drinking straw, and that I had the very same S10 model, which is also known as an Avon mask hanging on a hook right beside me. In no time at all I had it strapped to my slave ready for testing.

Miraculously, the drinking straw coupled perfectly with the valve on the cath bag, and slave could now sniff on my golden nectar AND drink his own piss both at the same time.

Admittedly, drinking your own piss is not for everyone. No. However, drinking my precious piss is a far more attractive and popular concept.

Me in my latex pisspants

I get an unbelievable amount of requests for watersports, a couple of my slaves practically live on the stuff, many more are gasping for their first taste of my nectar. Sometimes there simply isn’t enough of my fine tasting nectar to go around. It’s easy to understand how using some of my slaves as vessels for fermenting and recycling my golden nectar, would leave more available for others.

* * *

More research is definitely required.

* * *

Two weeks later and slave was back for more of my nectar. This time I was wearing my latex piss pants, a good alternative to a toilet and particularly useful when a nectar loving slave needs feeding. The tube from my pants was placed between his lips and he partook in a full bag of my golden fluids. He began benefitting from his drink immediately, as a slave does need to be kept hydrated when he’s cocooned like a maggot in layers of clingfilm plastic.

Once again he was masked and catheterised, with the drinking straw from the S10 making a secure connection with his drainage bag he was perfectly equipped for piss recycling. It was inevitable that given time my piss would make its journey through his body and begin collecting in his catheter bag.

Sure enough, a steady stream of golden fluid was soon appearing and filling it up. Slave needed no instruction on what to do next; the sound of sucking and swallowing went on for a while and slave was now in the process of fermenting and recycling my nectar for a second time.

So, it seems that a bag of my golden nectar, an S10 mask and a catheter kit is all I need to keep a watersports fanatic supping and recycling my piss all day.

The question is, just exactly how long can a slave survive on one bag of his Mistresses special fluids?

Cartoon by Mistress Maggie

Chic Cathouse Couture

After seeing their latest designs in animal print and textured latex online, I just had to go and visit the Cathouse Clothing shop and check them out first-hand.

Mistress wearing a Cathouse floral latex corset

My slave was ordered to drive me there, and he kindly offered to buy a new garment for me from the impressive Cathouse collection.

Caroline is the shop owner and our paths have crossed in the past. She often had a stall at the many fetish clubs I used to attend, where she sold her PVC and latex clothes and fetish accessories, sometimes putting on a catwalk show so she could show them off to their best.

A long time has gone by since we last saw each other and I’d wondered if I would still recognise her, but I did and she recognised me and it was really lovely to become re-acquainted once again.

Mistress in a chic textured latex skirt by Cathouse

Caroline must have been designing and making fetish wear for as long as I have been working as a professional Mistress. A fine example of two ladies who have worked hard and established their own successful businesses.

The Cathouse shop is a little treasure trove tucked away at the back of a business park in Liversedge, Yorkshire. The rails are packed full of fashion items made from a wide range of fetish materials and to suit all pockets. Caroline has always been enterprising with her designs, never being afraid of using prints and colour to create unique garments, and is now able to make her own textured latex sheeting, which was my primary reason for visiting.

I bought a chic pencil skirt in a baroque print and my slave bought me a tight pinching corset with a simple flower design. Both pictured here. These are gorgeous products and I think another visit to the Cathouse Clothing shop is on the cards in the not too distant future.

The Big 100

On the 8th of April 2016 it was celebration time in my chambers.

Jo Nep, one of my long serving slaves, presented himself to me for this our 100th session, and as soon as he had recited his slave oath to me and got up off his knees, it was time to get our centenary extravaganza underway.

Slave had little idea of what was in-store, but knew he would be partaking in an event of my making, made up of a series of acitivities that are not on my normal Mistress Maggie pick list.
I hadn’t reached the centenary without having an inkling into what might give slave Jo a thrill, aside from simply being in my company of course. Something that would allow him the delight of demonstrating the success of his training seemed appropriate, along with a memento to commemorate our big session landmark. 

For session 100 my slave would be greeted with a good dose of -

SALINE, SURPRISE and SERVING THE LADIES

As is our particular like and fancy, me and slave dressed in full latex for the afternoon, and although session 100 was an excellent excuse to let our hair down, ironically we both achieved this by putting our hair up and sealing it inside a rubber hood.

SALINE - 

Some six months ago I decided that I might like to add saline infusions to my White Room medical repertoire, slave Jo has been my test subject while I have been practicing the infusions.

To help with the learning it made sense to have a goal. We agreed that it would be an achievement if I were able to successfully and safely infuse one litre of saline into Jo’s scrotum on his 100th session.

Did we do it? Yes we did.

It was an absolutely flawless scrotal infusion, resulting in a nice big weighty handful of balls, the skin tight like a drum.

With a new feather in my hat I let my lab-rat off the operating table, and although it was swinging between his legs, slave was now in possession of the biggest balloon at the party.

SURPRISE -

On to part two of the celebrations, slave on his lead was guided to the main playroom where a surprise awaited him. 

I’d commissioned an artist to come along and capture the event on canvas. After all, what could possibly be better than a portrait to commemorate our centenary.

My artist was sitting ready at her easel with pencil poised when I opened the door and led her model into the room. Acquaintances were made and slave Jo was given his modelling instructions.

‘Now slave, you are to pose for a painting. Me, you and your big balloon bollocks are to be the subject of an art composition’.

Me and my artist friend have known each other for a long time, so had plenty of chatting and catching up to do, whereas slave was to quietly kneel in the position that had been chosen for him and not move for forty minutes.

Everyone was amazed by the preliminary sketches she had done, it was easy to imagine what the finished piece would look like. My artist needed to take her sketches home, then using her photoshop skills, she could transform them into a masterpiece that would be presented to me at a later date. We could not wait to see the results. (See below for portrait)

SERVING THE LADIES -

Jo has always had a passion for latex. He’d mentioned his fetish to me in his very first email, when he wrote to introduce himself and asked for my expertise in discovering how many of his fantasies were realisable, and how far he could extend his horizons. During his time in my charge he has certainly been subjected to a vast range of experiences, but primarily, I have always nurtured his need to be a rubber slave.

I wonder if he’d ever envisaged that one day he’d be head to toe in black rubber, serving coffee and cupcakes to his Mistress and her friends, with just a flimsy latex apron protecting his modesty. The apron lightly flapping about against his large and inflated lab-rat balls, while fulfilling his duties with only a mouth gag and slave tray as accessories.

It was not my intention to overwhelm my slave; only a couple of my best friends had been invited to join us for the centenary tea party. Upbeat music was playing and a few balloons were scattered around. My rubber slave looked quite portly with his matching serving tray strapped in place. He’d been given a lot of good training on how to serve with the tray, and had taken instruction on how to make the very best tea and coffee. This fantasy may have been a long time coming, but I knew Jo was ready to serve the ladies and demonstrate some of his training with pride.

Drinks were served first, followed by disgustingly sugary cupcakes, made to a dairy free recipe so even our vegan guest could eat them.

Slave was kept really busy as we gorged on the sticky cupcakes and feasted our eyes on a coffee table book, that depicted 100 photos of Jo’s slave training.

Some photos of his delights and dilemmas needed quite a bit of explaining, so there was rather a lot of laughing and curious questions coming from the sofa.

Slave waited patiently in attendance until he was required again to serve, or clear up empty cups and plates, or keep my kitchen tidy.

As a finale to his serving duties, slave served one last cupcake on his serving tray. Who said you can’t have your cake and eat it? - You jolly well can, as slave found out when the cake and its sticky butter icing was force fed through his rubber mouth hole. 

It was a great afternoon, providing pleasurable company for some and a more momentous occasion for others.

Slave did not leave empty handed. All the hard graft that had gone into planning and executing the centenary session had created an ‘event scent’ in my panties. The perfect keepsake for slave to take home, all served up in a little zip seal bag. 

Commemorative 100th session portrait of Mistress Maggie and slave Jo

Keeping Fit

Since the weather has become finer this year, I have been able to get out at the weekends again and give my legs some proper walking exercise.

It did nothing but rain up to Valentines day this year, which meant that I was stuck indoors relying on my rotating ‘twistboard’ and my usual squatting workouts for keeping my bottom and thighs nicely toned and exercised.

These are easy enough exercises to do between sessions and even whilst listening to the telly, and if you ever have the good or bad fortune of being taken over my knee for a spanking, or used as my facesitting cushion, you’d be in a better place to appreciate the results that my regular workouts have on my thighs and bum, as I use them to keep you firmly in your place.

Mistress in satin pants at Helmshore Mills

Although I say it myself, I’m in pretty good shape for a woman of fifty seven.

Back to the walking then. My legs have been kept fit taking me to some lovely places, one of the most recent being Helmshore Mills Textile Museum in the scenic Rossendale Valley. There’s quite a beautiful walk there which follows the path of the River Ogden, it’s not at all challenging and I would recommend it to anyone who can find the thirty minutes to give it a try.

John had brought his camera in the hope that he’d be able to take shots inside the museum and we took a few pictures of me in my stretchy satin pants as well.

The set of six pictures are now posted on Flickr in an album called ‘Lancashire Mills’. The photo opposite gives a suggestion as to what you can expect, or if you prefer you can view the full album here.

It’s my intention to revisit Helmshore Mills again this year, along with Queen Street Mill in Burnley and the Museum of Lancashire which is just along the road from my home in Preston. These are my most favourite Lancashire museums, but sadly all three are earmarked for closure in September 2016 when they will lose council funding.

I have been supporting the campaign to keep these museums open, apart from being wet weather friends they also contain outstanding collections and functioning mechanical artefacts: the Silverdale Viking hoard, a steam driven weaving shed, the waterwheel powered stocks, a life-size exhibit of life on the front lines in a WW1 trench, to name just a few. As yet, things are not looking too hopeful for these gems. I will miss all these and the knowledge of the passionate people who run them when they are gone.

A Playroom DIY Project

I am just about to begin a DIY project that will help improve my playroom space. I need a good way to organise my toys and particularly my ever expanding collection of latex hoods.

I hope to transform a piece of inexpensive pine furniture which I found at a charity shop into an antique style chest of drawers that’s in keeping with my other pieces of playroom furniture.

Before

A dark oil wood stain, cast iron handles and a decorative applique have all been purchased to jazz up my wooden chest. I am quite good at DIY, it should not take me too long to have it complete, and I reckon it will be finished and looking good in my playroom in just a matter of days. 

At last I can look forward to having a dedicated space where I can store my latex hoods.

After

Here's the finished result. I think it looks right at home in my play space.

Dutch Adventures

 

Me wearing my plastic mac in Amsterdam

I thought I wouldn’t be having a holiday this year, but good fortune came my way and I managed to escape for a few days to the city of Amsterdam, where I enjoyed some overdue relaxation time and unrushed sightseeing.

Before you ask - No. I did not bring back any tulips. I can rely on my generous slaves to bring those for me. Instead I brought back a whip and some nice photos of me in my newest shiny raincoat.

The full set of photos showing me in my glossy mac are now available to view on Flickr in an album called 'Plastic Mac Fantastic'. If you'd like to see them just click here.

It’s the second time me and John have been to Amsterdam. In 1981 we went there for our honeymoon, a candlelight cruise seemed a most romantic thing for a newly wed couple to do, so we boarded a canalboat and took advantage of the guided documentary to discover the highlights as we floated round the city, finally alighting in Amsterdams’s famous Red Light District.

This time we just hopped into a cab and visited the Red Light District in daylight, our first port of call being the DeMasK latex boutique, where we were spoiled by the lovely smell of warm rubber as soon as we opened the door. They have a superb collection of fashionable and extravagant designs on two floors, we were made to feel very welcome and were invited to browse the rails at our leisure.

Several shops later and my credit card started twitching; a particular whip had caught my eye, a weighty and very beautiful one with lots of suede lashes. It was no good, I could not resist and had to make it mine. If only I’d bought my whip a day earlier I could have used it to give a cheeky tour guide a good thrashing, only I ran into a spot of trouble at the Gassan Diamond Factory. Perhaps I'd best explain -

My new suede whip

Before we could enter the factory we were organised into small groups and given a sticky badge to show that we’d paid. I stuck my sticky badge on my left breast, on seeing this the tour guide peeled another from his sheet and stuck it on my right breast.

‘B-a-d b-o-y’, I said. ‘Don’t you dare’.

His reply. ‘I’m so terribly sorry. It was my fantasy’.

‘You have fantasies, then ring this number’, I said, promptly handing him my business card.

His mistake had not gone un-noticed, the group gathered round, they wanted to see who the bad boy was and to see what I’d given him. My chastising words were reinforced as other ladies in the group sniggered at him whilst having their fun at calling him a bad boy as well, leaving him rather ridiculed.

We spent a full afternoon looking at modern art at the Stedelijk Museum, Rodin sculptures and Andy Warhol paintings amongst them. My absolute favourite was a piece called ‘Akwarel’ inspired by Dutch artist Henk Peeters, it was simple, symmetrical and big enough to cover a whole wall. I couldn’t really make it out from a distance, but when I got up close I discovered that it was made up of lots of plastic bags, 528 of them, all hung up in rows and each one half filled with water.

Close up of 'Akwarel' at the Stedelijk Museum

Well, normally it only takes one plastic bag to give me a thrill. I like a transparent one, preferably with a slaves face inside and pulled tight at the neck. It seems that me and Mr Peeters have discovered our own ways of creating pleasure with plastic, although Mr Peeters method is way more unique and less risqué than mine.

Thursday, despite being another wet one turned out to be a great day. Our Dutch adventures took us to The Hague, our sole intention to see the works of M.C. Escher, graphic artist extraordinaire. We took the train, just 40 minutes there and 40 minutes back, passing through Holland’s countryside, spotting the occasional colourful flower field, a native enjoying the oasis of their personal garden allotment, or a windmill through the windows of our double decker carriage.

John has wanted to see the Escher exhibition for as long as I can remember. He was not disappointed, all of Escher’s best and largest pieces were on display, including lithographic prints, drawings, sketches, and several of his intricately carved and chiseled printing blocks. The exhibition has its permanent home inside a former Royal Palace, where Queen mother Emma of the Netherlands used to spend the winter months. The exuberant and quirky 19th century decor is still in place, sporting large glass light-shades that really grab your attention as you move from one large room to the next examining the Masters’ remarkable work. I banged my head on a huge hanging vase, it swung a bit but thankfully didn’t break. Anyway, we both thought the Escher museum was fantastic, in fact both the Escher Museum and the Stedelijk Museum have earned my highest 5* Mistress Maggie pleasure rating.

All in all, the above activities combined with some good grub, night time bars and live music made for a happy holiday. I’m back in my chambers again, and already a few lucky bottoms have had a taste of my new swinging whip.

Six of the Best from Bruges

I have added a new album to my Flickr photos and called it ‘Bruges’.

There are six photos in all which show some of the highlights from my three day trip to the city. It was hard, but for once I managed not to give my slaves a moment's thought for a full three days.

Best to pack sensible clothes, I thought. Flimsy dresses and high heels would not have worked well on this trip as this picturesque medieval city is carpeted in cobbles and the temperature was bitterly cold, my photographer struggled to press the shutter button with his iced up finger.

Long boots and PVC for me at the Gruuthusemuseum

The canal-side hotel I’d chosen was spacious and warm with lots of classic Flemish character and charm. The fact that I had to strangle the night porter only added an extra thrill to my stay, but I hadn’t expected to be locked out of my hotel after my night on the town. Taking a pair of long red leather gloves to his neck and providing some verbal instruction to his wobbling head soon taught him a lesson in hospitality.

So it was three days of checking out what Bruges is famous for. Chocolate, canals and beer. I became more steadily adventurous with my choice of beer as the days progressed, discovering that chocolate beer and honey beer are both remarkably nice to drink. I followed the tourist trail soaking up the fantastic architecture, museums and exhibitions on the way. I took a canal boat, kissing my husband under every bridge, tradition says that lovers will be granted eternal love and bliss if they do, but it was also a memorable way to celebrate our wedding anniversary. I bought the famous Belgian chocolates as gifts for family and friends and enjoyed good food. Although I am not desperately into art, the early renaissance paintings at the Groeningemuseum kept me engaged for ages and were the highlight of my trip.

The hotel bathroom was the only thing that prevented me from escaping work completely, it’s black and white chequered floor being the same as my White Room back home. Eurostar got me there and back in good time and I returned to an explosion of interest in longer sessions and confinements.

For more photos of me in my shiny PVC and thigh boots visit my Flickr album here.