Part 1 of 2

Standing in the corner waiting for you to come in and give me "the rest of my punishment", as you put it, had my emotional levels running on high. Just hearing you say the word, "punishment", for some reason, always made my cock throb involuntarily, while the feelings of a misbehaving school boy getting a well-deserved comeuppance were unavoidable for me.

My bum cheeks were still on fire from the hairbrush spanking you gave me 15 minutes ago and my poor bum hole was still stinging from the soap treatment it received. It was a relief to get rid of the enema you made me hold in while you spanked me and I thought about how you said this was only the beginning of our morning together and how this was going to happen every Thursday. A scary proposition, to say the least. I thought about how much I hated that soap treatment and how it would be prudent to try much harder to stay in position for my future spankings.

And I was pretty sure I was already going to feel my poor, spanked bum every time I sat down, for the next few days. I thought about the need for good behavior during the next week and I reasoned how maybe you wouldn't be so hard on me if I was well behaved this week.

And, obediently standing there with my nose buried in the corner, I though about you and your love for supervising large, soapy enemas and how you enjoyed embarrassing me with them. That giant balloon nozzle you had me order - I hate that thing - and you always insist I use it. I knew today would be no exception.

The sound of the back door opening and closing signaled you were in the house, but you left me there to stew, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, you returned to the bedroom.

"My my... look at my little boy standing in his 'bad boy corner' - and look at that red bum! I did a good job, I see!" You walked over and grabbed a tender, hot cheek in each hand, squeezing and spreading and pulling upward and the down, this way and that. It was embarrassing and it reminded me again of how extra sensitive the hairbrush had made them.

Then you spread them wide open and exclaimed exclaimed, "And, oh... your hole's all puckered-up and ready for more, by the looks of it. Are we all clean and ready for the rest of your weekly discipline?"

"Yes. I'm very clean. But I really think I've had enough discipline." I truly did not want to continue. The emotions and feelings it evoked were overwhelming. It was so embarrassing to have my wife of so many years to be treating me on this level. And my bum had already suffered enough.

"I'll tell you when you've had enough, mister. I'm in charge here, do you understand?" You had my cheeks spread with the thumb and index finger of one hand, as I felt your hand-cream-covered middle finger of your other hand begin to enter my poor tortured bum hole.

In seconds, still in the corner, I was up on my tip-toes, feebly trying to evade your finger, as I uttered the response you were waiting for. "Yes ma'am."

"Good. And during these weekly discipline sessions, you are to be on your best behavior, understand?" Without waiting for my answer, you continued to deeply pump your finger in and out as you lectured me.

"There is to be no complaining or disobedience whatsoever, understand?" In and out, you pumped your finger as you laid down the law.

"And don't you dare try to persuade me to give you less than you deserve. That will cost you.

"Now, it's only 9:30 - we've got lots of time. At 10:00 you are going to get a 3-quart soapy enema - which you are going to hold for 10 minutes while I supervise. We're going to be using the big balloon nozzle, which I will be inserting once you show me how you can stretch yourself with 4 fingers. And after the balloon is all pumped up, I'm going to open the flow full-blast for 10 seconds every minute - until you have 3 quarts inside. Whether you like it or not!

"But first, I'm going to inject a cup of hot, garlic oil. I want you to go out into the kitchen and heat up the oil to 103 degrees and bring it to me. Did you make that big nozzle fit like I told you to?" You were talking about how yesterday you had me cut down the point on the kitchen squeeze bottle so that the fat, 8 inch pink nozzle could be attached without leaking. It only took me 3 minutes of measuring, cutting and duct tape before it was ready to go.

"Yes. I fixed it up yesterday, just like you said." I felt myself blush, still with my face in the corner and you behind be with your finger still slowly pumping in and out of my poor, tortured bum.

"Good boy. O.K go get it ready and bring it back to me. Make sure you put a 1/4 teaspoon of cayenne in it to help you to remember to be a good boy this coming week." Oh geez!

When I got back a few minutes later, hot oil enema in hand, you were waiting for me, sitting on a armless chair positioned in the middle of the room. You had changed your clothes into a skirt and blouse; your legs were crossed and you looked very sexy. You held your wooden hairbrush in your lap.

"Ooh... that looks good!" You were referring to the kitchen squeeze bottle with the large, pink nozzle attached.

I just sighed. You reached out and took it from me and stood it up on the floor beside the chair. Uncrossing your legs, you gently guided me over your lap. My erection was squeezed between your thighs as you secured my right arm up behind my back and locked my legs with yours. I wasn't getting away, even if I really, really needed to. Once again, I was trapped.

"First you're going to get a warm-up with my brush - then you're getting the oil. You need to remember to make mature decisions - not little boy decisions. O.K. here goes. Now you stay still!"

Whack whack whack whack whack you spanked my poor bum without further warning. It was just as bad as the first spanking. It hurt like hell and I wiggled and squirmed to no avail. This time, you started on my upper thighs and moved up to about hole-high, before moving down over the same path on the other side. You gave me the spanking of a lifetime - and one I would feel for days to come.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, it was over. This time, I had tears - but that didn't seem to matter to you, as you dropped the hairbrush onto the carpet and reached for the enema.

Holding me in position, you said very matter-of-factly, "O.K. that bum looks red enough - now I can give you your enema." I felt the fat nozzle push against my hole, which offered little resistance. In no time, all 8, fat inches of the pink invader were buried deep inside of me. I felt stuffed. You held me in place and explained that, from now on, you'll only be administering my enemas between hot, red, freshly-spanked cheeks. (I would later feel the full impact of that statement.) And then, you squeezed the squirt bottle, hard.

I felt the hot, spicy oil shoot deep up inside of my body and I immediately had the urge to jump up and let it out. But that wasn't going to happen. You held me still, as you removed the long nozzle completely, then, after checking the level of the contents, announced, "Just a little more." You re-inserted it all the way and squeezed hard again. The oil shot into me just like the first time, followed by a little burst of air.

I was so embarrassed to be over your lap and having you shoot oil onto me like that was horrifying. Plus the oil was hot and the cayenne and garlic made it burn even more. And the nozzle was too big. The whole thing was awful. You said that was just exactly how effective discipline was supposed to be.

Finally, it was over and you removed the nozzle and released your grip on me.

"Up you go. That's it. Now stand there and listen." You stroked my erection slowly, as you explained what was going to happen next.

"For the next 20 minutes or so - until 10:00 - I want you to wrap your genitals tightly with a tensor bandage and sit your bare bum down on sandpaper at the computer, so you can set up your calendar. From now on, we're going to be giving you a spanking and a big, soapy enema every Thursday morning and I want that described on the calendar. You will also record the events of today in a blog - but you can start that tonight. For now, on your calendar, I want you write out the repercussions for moving out of position when you're getting a spanking, as well as a weekly routine - just like what's happening today. Think about the details of what's happened so far and record them on the calendar, so we don't miss any details next week.

"I also want you to use your vivid imagination to think about the details of the most embarrassing 3-quart, soapy enema, possible - with my involvement, of course - and record it on your calendar, so we can follow it every week. And I mean, embarrassing - don't you dare leave anything out. I want details on shaving your bum, the stretching with fingers, the insertion of the balloon nozzle, using mirrors, bum up in the air, all that kind'a stuff. Don't leave out any details - including the most embarrassing & effective spanking, first. Remember - all enemas are now between freshly-spanked cheeks. O.K off you go."

What a horrible 20 minutes, that was. It might have been the longest 20 minutes of my life! My tightly-wrapped cock and balls were aching and throbbing, my bum cheeks were on fire from all the spanking - and were further made uncomfortable pressed into the rough sandpaper. The hot, spicy oil inside my body wanted to come out, badly and I was writing my own doom. It all added together to make the day's discipline much more intense, physically and psychologically.

Knowing there was another spanking coming, almost had me in tears - that hairbrush stung like 100 bee stings - and now, being forced to describe the details of a most embarrassing enema and spanking yet to come, was indescribably horrifying!

Yet, there I sat, obediently writing, trying to not miss anything, knowing there was no way out. I knew the feelings washing over me were all discipline-related - exactly as you intended - and there and then I resolved to do exactly as you instructed for the next 3 months, regardless of how bad it got.

And it was about to get bad.