I am a young married man of twenty-three, and I have a happy love life, but I do think my wife and I could add a little extra spice. I am referring to an experience I had when I was eighteen and still living with my parents. They had just bought our house from a woman who was moving to another town. Her name was Edith. She was about thirty, brunette, and sexy. My family and Edith had arranged that she would live in the house for some months while we worked on it before moving in.
One day, while preparing to paint the basement, I found a box of rubber syringes of various sizes. I knew Edith’s father, who had recently died, stored things from his drugstore here, and I didn’t know if I should throw them out or not. To make sure, I went to Edith and confronted her with my discovery. She blushed a bit but then told me to hand them over to her “because I could use them,” she said.
She showed me to the bathroom, where she produced a rather small syringe, which she said was her own personal one. She explained that she used enemas because they had a good effect on her complexion and, with a cunning smile, offered to let me have one, “although it would really feel a bit unpleasant,” as she said. I told her, “No, thanks,” and went back to work.
Some days later I was alone again with her in the house. Edith invited me to the living room. I was excited because she was a beautiful woman with a touch of maturity I certainly lacked. I got a bottle of red wine, opened it, and poured some into her glass. My hands were trembling, and I spilled some wine on her skirt. I apologized, but she wasn’t content. Edith asked me to “be a good boy and kneel down” and beg her pardon. I was surprised, so I lifted my glass to drink. “You’ll have the wine later,” she promised me in a soft voice. She then ordered me to take off my shorts and pants and kneel down. I declined. She came and gently, but with determined eyes, undressed me.
Then, for a second time, she asked me to kneel down, adding that this time there would be no forgiveness. She took me slowly by the shoulders and pushed me down. “Under these circumstances I’ll be “Madame Edith” to you and remind you to give up your resistance,” she told me in a self-confident way that caused my cock to grow to full length.
“Bend over at the waist and kiss the ground,” she said. I obeyed, reluctantly. It got worse. She went to the kitchen and came back with two handfuls of rice, on which I had to kneel from then on. I bowed deeply and received a big spot of Vaseline on my anus. Then my mistress allowed me to resume a normal kneeling position but in an “absolutely disciplined and correct way.” So, I was left waiting for things to come. Instinctively I knew what she was up to and, partly interested, partly uneasy, I sensed my excitement growing.
Finally, “Madame” entered the room in her nurse’s uniform, holding a tablet loaded with the syringes I once had discovered. She exceeded my wildest anticipations. “Now he will receive his deserved punishment for being a bad boy,” she said as she took a rather small syringe. She stood beside me. I was waiting. She was waiting. “What do you think you are forgetting?” she asked me a bit impatiently after a minute or so. I could not imagine. “You have to say ‘please,’” I was told. As I hesitated, she made me bow so that I was on all fours. “Okay, that will double your quantum,” she announced as she spread my cheeks and carefully set the nozzle against my anus. I said “please,” as I was told, and she began to tease me. My nurse inserted the black, smooth nozzle a little bit, then nearly withdrew it.
Suddenly, she grabbed my balls, squeezed them, and shoved the thing in all the way. Squeezing my balls and the red ball of the enema, she forced lukewarm water inside me and I nearly exploded. As she withdrew it, I “thanked” her and wanted to stand up. “Didn’t I say that you would get two enemas?” she asked firmly. I begged her not to apply it to me, but she took me by the neck, bent me, and administered a second, larger one with a single, harder squeeze.
I felt more and more uncomfortable with all the water in my belly, so I pleaded with her to relieve myself. I had to kiss her feet and call her “nurse,” “Madame,” and “mistress.” I then ran to the toilet. When I came back, she slowly removed her clothes except for her black garter belt, black stockings, and the small nurse’s cap on her head.
I felt a wild lust to take her and fuck her, but she took me by the ear and bent me over the table. “Now you’ll have the wine,” she said, taking the bottle and filling an irrigator with a long rubber tube and a small stopper at the nozzle. She smeared the tip of it and my anus with honey, and when it slid in, the warm feeling of the honey almost made me come. “Madame Edith” withdrew it and then began some sort of questioning, “Will you be a good boy and be obedient?” “Yes, Madame.” “Will you never again refuse an enema?” “No, Madame,” and so on, each time pushing the nozzle to the limit, squeezing my balls, and turning the tap on for just a moment. Her voice sounded huskier and sexier as she enjoyed her domineering position. I felt a tremendous orgasm nearing when she fully withdrew the instrument, grabbed my hair, laid herself on the table like a baby waiting to be wrapped, and buried my face in her dripping pussy.
I spread her legs, put the tip of my cock against her lips, and started pushing as hard as I could. She moaned and stammered that it was the right way to punish her for treating me the way she had. I hammered her cunt with all my might. We both came in earth-shaking orgasms.
I think of this experience now and then. I love my wife, and we enjoy making love very much, but there is nothing kinky about our sex. I would like her a bit domineering. Also, I crave to be given an enema. I fear this may shock her, and I don’t want to meet call-girls who act as nurses. So, what can I do? A.J.
Bearing in mind the way you enjoyed your first enema, I suggest you advertise in one of the magazines devoted to S&M. In the meantime, you can buy your own enema and administer it yourself “a sort of anal masturbation.” If you have not approached your wife on this sensitive subject, you might try to bring it up, gently and subtly.