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Views: 3732 Created: 2011.02.03 Updated: 2011.02.03

A New Experience for Laura

A New Experience for Laura

The official looking buff postcard dropped through the letter box on Wednesday morning. It was the appointment Laura had been expecting since Dr McIntyre had told her he was sending her to the hospital for investigations. They hadn’t given her much time, she thought. She was expected at 10 o’clock next morning.

Following the instructions on the card Laura presented herself at the hospital reception desk at precisely 10 o’clock on Thursday morning and was directed down a dimly lit corridor with mahogany panelled walls and a polished brown linoleum floor to F West ward. At first she thought F West was the name of the benefactor of the ward and then realised with a flash of inspiration that the F stood for Female and that there was probably an M West somewhere along the corridor.

She found a double door with F West written on the lintel and with feelings of anxiety churning her bowels pushed the swing door open and entered to find a huge white painted and brightly lit ward. It had a very high rounded ceiling which reminded her of an aircraft hangar. As she stood just inside the door wondering what, if anything, she was supposed to do, she took in the scene. On the right hand side she counted thirteen beds jutting out into the ward. On the left side the corner next to the door was partitioned off for, what she thought, must be the treatment room. It was about eleven feet long and a little wider than the length of a bed. The lowest four feet appeared to be constructed from plywood or hardboard painted white, and the top three feet were frosted glass. It was open at the top and was illuminated by a bright light suspended from the high ceiling. There was a door at the corner, also constructed from wood and frosted glass. She could see figures, fragmented by the frosted glass, moving around inside and thought it didn’t offer much privacy.

Beyond the treatment room were nine beds. The one nearest the treatment room was empty, and the next one was hidden by screens. All the other beds were occupied by patients, most sitting up.

A friendly young nurse in a drab green uniform led her to the screened bed and told her to undress and don a hospital gown, which had sleeves at the front and was open at the back.

“I’ve brought my own nighty”, she protested, but was briskly told that it was better to wear regulation clothing. She was given a large carrier bag for her clothes and was shown her locker and the coat stand where she could hang her dressing gown.

“Nothing on top of your locker, apart from the water jug and glass”, said the nurse, as she turned to leave while Laura changed into her gown. A few minutes later she returned, stuck a thermometer into Laura’s mouth and disappeared with the carrier bag.

Seeing the nurse disappear through the screens with a carrier bag full of her clothes made Laura feel very vulnerable and a little scared. Dressed only in a sheet with sleeves made escape impossible and she wondered if patients were permitted to discharge themselves. She had no idea how long she was to stay in this place and wondered if she would be institutionalised by the time she was released

The nurse returned recorded her temperature on a chart, took her blood pressure and made her pee in a bed pan; which was most embarrassing as it wouldn’t come. Eventually she managed to provide a sample and was settled on her bed, sitting up and leaning against the pillows exactly like all the other patients on the ward. The screens were removed and placed round the empty bed.

About half an hour later a lady, about the same age as Laura, carrying a small attaché case and with an anxious look on her face stood at the entrance to the ward. Laura recognised herself in the woman and knew exactly what lay in store for her. She wondered if this was the start of becoming institutionalised.

The woman introduced herself as May and they soon discovered that they were in for the same investigations. They chatted, but soon ran out of things to say. Laura tried reading the novel she had brought, but couldn’t concentrate. Time dragged. Laura found that any activity, however innocuous, caught her attention. Laura’s eyes followed the young nurse in the green uniform as she walked down to the end of the ward and reappeared carrying a bedpan covered with a linen square. The nurse drew a screen around a bed and disappeared. Laura looked at the gap below the screen and tried to guess from the position of the nurse’s feet what was going on. She wondered if all patients had to ‘go’ in a bed pan and shuddered at the thought. Peeing she could just about live with, but anything else was simply too embarrassing. The thought made her feel sick.

There were long periods when no nurses were to be seen. Once another nurse appeared; this one breathed authority. In contrast to the drab appearance of the little nurse in the crumpled green uniform, her pristine, white uniform and cap had starch written all over it. The lacquer with which she sprayed her hair made it look as stiff as a board. A silver nurse’s watch clipped to her breast added to her air of authority and Laura wondered why she had not noticed the watch the other nurse was wearing. Everything about this nurse said “I’m in charge”.

After lunch, which was eaten off a tray on her bed, the pillows were turned down and everyone was expected to take a nap. Laura lay awake staring at the high, curved ceiling wondering what she had let herself in for. Time passed by excruciatingly slowly and every minute seemed like an hour, but eventually the pillows were stacked up, patients resumed the sitting position and afternoon tea and biscuits were served.

Laura was taken to the end of the ward and shown through a door which led to a corridor with toilets on one side and a bathroom and sluice room on the other. The sluice room must be where the bed pans are kept, she thought, as she was led into the bathroom. The tiled room was filled with steam rising from an enormous white enamelled cast iron roll top bath. The nurse had half filled the bath and Laura sank into the deep, hot water luxuriating in its enfolding depth. Closing her eyes she ran her hands over her wet skin and felt her worries dissolve in the hot water. Compared to the small plastic bath at home this was luxury indeed and not to be wasted.

Four o’clock, thought Laura, only a few hours to go until visiting time. She wondered what Peter would say when she told him the only thing that had happened all day was a bath, which she could just as easily have had at home. He would think she had wasted her time.

The nurse wearing the starched white uniform came out of the treatment room and beckoned May to follow her. “I reckon it’s time for my shave and enema” said May as she slipped on her dressing gown and followed the nurse.

“Shave and enema”, repeated Laura to herself in puzzlement. This was an unexpected turn of events and she felt her body engulfed in a tinge of fear and embarrassment. It was like being a prisoner. The swing door at the entrance of the ward was not locked of course, but she knew she would not get very far on this cold, wet November day, dressed only in a sheet with sleeves that covered her front and left her back exposed. She knew she was expected to submit totally and was ashamed to feel a tingle of excitement course through her. She was in a vortex of embarrassment and submission.

Laura half turned her head so that she could see into the treatment room and tried to make sense of the ghostly shapes moving around behind the frosted glass. She saw the fragmented figure of May in her purple dressing gown moving around, she thought she saw an arm raised and the dressing gown hung on a clothes stand. It was frustrating to be able to see enough to get a hint of what was going on, but not quite enough to know. May’s disembodied figure, minus dressing gown, rose for a second and disappeared. Laura guessed that she had climbed on to an examination couch and would now be lying down. Of course she shouldn’t have been looking, nor should she have been trying to piece together the clues revealed in the frosted glass. But she couldn’t help herself. She could see the nurse who appeared to have her back to the imagined examination couch. Then the nurse turned round and seemed to be doing something in the region were May was lying. If May was right, she must be having her shave, thought Laura and imagined May lying demurely flat on her back, legs tightly closed, while the nurse removed the small triangle of curly hair from her mound.

The nurse moved back to the opposite side of the treatment room and back to May. She must be giving her the enema, thought Laura. Laura had only the vaguest idea what an enema entailed. When she was at school the local pharmacy had a small red rubber bulb syringe on display and the other girls had joked that it was an enema and explained its purpose. Laura found it difficult to believe them, but was troubled by the shape which undeniably pointed to treatment of a body cavity; ears, nose and the unspeakable bits. Could the knowledgeable girls be right?

Laura came from a very prim and proper family where intimate cavities were mentioned very rarely. When necessary the generic term bottom was used. In extremis back passage and front passage could be used, but never in front of a man. In her married life she tried to avoid nudity whenever possible, and if it was unavoidable made sure she stood upright in front of her husband. The thought of bending over and exposing her intimate parts was too obscene to think about. When her husband demanded sex it was with the lights out and under the covers.

Now, almost ten years later, the small red rubber bulb syringe loomed large in her imagination. She tried to picture the red syringe exactly as it had been all those years ago, and tried to imagine the scene behind the frosted glass as the nurse squeezed the bulb to discharge its contents into May’s back passage. She strained her eyes for any clues, but there was not much to go on. How embarrassing for May, she thought and shuddered. She felt a tingle of excitement at the thought that it might soon be her turn to submit. The nurse returned to the other side of the room. May should be out in a minute, she thought. I hope I have a chance to ask her what it was like. But there was no sign of May. The nurse returned to May’s side of the treatment room and bent over her.

Try as she might Laura could not imagine what on earth was going on. May must have been mistaken, she was having something entirely different done to her. Nothing happened though. The nurse appeared to be standing at May’s side; at least that was how Laura’s imagination created the scene from the fragmented image in the frosted glass. She lay back on her pillows. “Enemas, what utter rubbish, May has been in there for more than half an hour. I wish I knew what was happening”.

After what seemed an inordinate length of time, the nurse returned to the other side of the room, and a few minutes later the figure of May appeared rather shakily in the frosted glass as she sat up on the examination couch. The arm went up, the purple dressing gown came off the hook on the coat stand, the door of the treatment room opened and May appeared. Her face was ashen, she was tight lipped and looked neither to the right nor left as she walked with an unnatural gait to the toilet at the end of the ward. Laura noticed that the eyes of everyone on the ward followed May’s progress.

I hope she gets back in time to tell me what to expect, thought Laura. But there was no sign of May. The nurse was moving about, looking as if she was tidying up, thought Laura. At least that seemed a reasonable explanation. Try as she might, Laura could not take her eyes off the frosted glass, knowing her turn was bound to come. As the nurse went about her business Laura became more and more anxious. At last the ghostly figure moved towards the door.

Having seen May, Laura knew the routine and caught the nurse’s eye almost before she was out of the door. Quickly she slipped on her dressing gown and followed the nurse.

Just as she had imagined the treatment room had an examination couch along the frosted glass partition at the entrance to the ward. There was a work surface on the opposite wall, with a sink. Wall cabinets were above and cabinets below. There was a coat stand at the foot of the examination couch just inside the door. On the work surface Laura noticed a kidney dish with a safety razor in it, a small bowl full of hot water, shaving soap and a shaving brush. But the thing that took Laura’s breath away was an enormous jug, which to Laura’s mind must have held at least 4 pints. It was filled to within an inch from the top with a dark green liquid. Laura’s senses were assailed by a strange, bitter sweet smell that she had never encountered before. It seemed to emanate from the green liquid. Around the base of the jug was coiled a red rubber tube about three feet long. There was a bulb, similar to the one she had seen on the bulb syringe in the pharmacy, but this one was open at both ends, and fitted into the tube about 9 inches from one end. At the other end the tube was blocked and rounded, with an opening at the side. This end of the tube was very narrow, about as wide as a pencil. It was obvious that the bulb acted as a pump to move liquid through the tube. With mounting horror Laura understood its purpose.

“Surely they aren’t going to put all that………..There isn’t enough room…………It won’t fit………..It can’t be done”, thought Laura, unable to comprehend what she saw.

She turned to the nurse and said in a strangled voice “You aren’t going to, you know. I’m too small, can’t you see there isn’t room for all that liquid”.

The nurse ignored her and said, “Everything off and up on the couch”.

Trembling with fear Laura hung her dressing gown and robe on the coat stand and climbed onto the couch. She felt the smooth cold plastic on her back as she stretched out chastely on her back, legs held tightly together. She couldn’t stop staring at the huge jug of green soapy liquid. The nurse, having donned a pair of surgical gloves, worked up a stiff lather on the triangle of hair and shaved it as smooth as a hard boiled egg. Then, without the aid of shaving soap, she ran the razor in straight lines from top to bottom over Laura’s tummy. Then she did the tops of the thighs down to the knees.

“Bend your knees, I want your ankles to touch your bottom, ok, and let your knees fall apart as wide as you can. You can put your hands behind your knees to hold them up, ok?”

This was unexpected and hugely embarrassing. The nurse worked up a stiff lather along the right labia and shaved the area, then she shaved the left labia and finally the inside of the thighs were shaved without the benefit of soap. Laura was acutely aware that her private places were obscenely exposed to the scrutiny of world under the bright hospital lights, especially so when her labia were stretched in preparation for the kiss of the razor. There really was nowhere to hide.

The nurse said “can we have you on your side facing the wall, knees bent right up to your chin, arms bent, hands in front, ok” Laura curled herself into the foetal position and was mortified to feel cold air on her anus as the nurse’s smooth gloved fingers edged her buttocks apart. She felt the scrape of the safety razor on her most private and intimate place.

As she lay on her side with hips and knees bent to the limit she felt acutely aware of the view her back and brazenly exposed private parts presented. Everything was the wrong way round. The Laura that usually faced the world was curled around itself and her face was pressed against the partition wall. For the first time in her life she was literally back to front and was extremely embarrassed. Now the body parts that are never mentioned were stretched open and fully displayed. Involuntarily the anal muscle tightened as if her body were trying to suck the centre of attention into the abdominal cavity and out of sight. She saw the irony in the obscene exposure of her most intimate and private parts in juxtaposition to the nurse in her pristine, white, starched uniform with its wide black belt pinching in the waist and the silver watch at her breast. She is so well dressed, thought Laura, she would not be out of place at a formal function.

Laura tried to see what the nurse was doing, but found her line of vision to the jug of soapsuds that so fascinated her blocked by the nurse. Then the nurse turned slightly to the right. Laura could see that she held the coiled syringe in her left hand with three inches of the catheter protruding vertically above. In her free hand she held a tube with KY Lubricating Gel written on the side and squeezed two beads of the transparent substance on to the tip of the catheter. There was now no doubt what was in store.

Once again Laura felt cold air on her anus as cool surgically gloved fingers teased her globes apart. She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt ice cold lubricating gel touch her anus, immediately followed by the rounded end of the catheter pressing against the tightly closed sphincter. She gasped as she felt the firm slap of the nurse’s rubber gloved hand on her bottom. Momentarily she felt the heat of the pain and heard the injunction to bear down into her bottom and relax. The ring of muscle gave way under the relentless pressure of the round end of the catheter and she felt strangely hollow down there as the thin rubber tube was eased in. Laura groaned with embarrassment as unwanted little tremors coursed through her body and her vagina filled with a warm slippery wetness which oozed out in a slick film on the super smooth shaved labia. She prayed that the nurse wouldn’t notice the musky smell of her excitement.

The nurse gave no sign that anything might be out of order, and Laura lay in the foetal position as instructed. She relaxed and wondered how it would feel to be filled with liquid when to her horror and utter dismay she felt warm liquid oozing out around side of the catheter in her behind.

“Nurse, I absolutely need the toilet. Please nurse, its coming, I can’t hold it, I really can’t. Hurry please”

The nurse ignored her cries. Laura, curled up on her side, felt a cramp more intense than anything she had felt before. She used every shred of willpower to concentrate on one thing, to squeeze her anus so tightly round the catheter that nothing could escape. This was a totally new experience and she found it almost impossible to concentrate so single mindedly on that ring of muscle in her behind. Further pleas for mercy were now out of the question as all her energy was devoted to this single purpose. She felt the pressure build slowly, but surely to the point where she knew an accident was imminent and redoubled her efforts in a super human effort to avoid disgracing herself, when all of a sudden she felt the pressure in her rectum ease very slightly and her stomach expand a little as the liquid moved further inside. Laura took heart in the fact that she had prevented the inevitable and was convinced that if she had been less strong the soapy water would have shot across the room, so great was the pressure.

The nurse alternately gently and methodically squeezed and released the red rubber bulb forcing the green liquid into Laura’s rectum. If Laura had been able to see the jug she would have been dismayed to note that most of the liquid was in the jug at the time she had her first severe cramp. Further cramps followed in waves and were in turn followed by the release of liquid into the abdomen. Each cramp seemed a little worse than the one before as Laura felt her stomach swell and grow heavy with the weight of the green soap solution. It took almost twenty minutes of gentle squeezing on the bulb to transfer all the liquid from the jug. When the jug was empty the nurse clamped the catheter leaving it in situ and disconnected the syringe, leaving Laura lying on her side to retain the injection for a further ten minutes, timed to the second on the nurse’s silver watch.

While Laura lay there with the clamped catheter poking out of her bottom the nurse set about cleaning her equipment. Waves of cramps tested Laura’s resolve to the limit. She sweated so much that even the hair on her head was damp.

Finally she felt the nurse’s fingers ease her buttocks apart and felt a tug on the catheter as it was slowly withdrawn. She noticed that she had gripped it so tightly that it was stuck to her anus which was pulled out slightly before giving way, very nearly leading to a catastrophe. With a great effort of willpower she managed to dress and get to the toilet without having an accident only to find to her amazement that the injection did not shoot out as soon as she touched the toilet seat. In fact she had to bear down quite hard to set things in motion. When the dam burst it felt as though the whole injection had been expelled in one rush, but Laura had to suffer further cramps and expulsions before she was empty.

Afterwards she felt wonderfully light headed, clean and completely empty. She was proud that she had the strength to achieve what had seemed to be impossible. When Peter came to see her the first thing she said was “I’ve had an enema”.[

Peter was nonplussed and replied, “Isn’t that were they, you know”.

Laura realised there is an insurmountable gulf between those who have experienced an enema and those who have not and quickly changed the subject.

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