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The first encounter I’ve chosen to describe is also one of the most elaborate I’ve ever done; certainly the most elaborate without any assistance. I’m not sure I’m up to doing it again, for reasons which will become apparent.....

Christine Jorgensen was a very attractive blonde submissive in a major city in the Pacific Northwest, who wanted to have a scene involving bondage, enemas, with a little pseudo-danger thrown in to “spice things up,” as she put it. We met in a coffee shop, then adjourned to my motel room, for an erotic encounter that lasted from just after lunch to the small hours of the next morning.

First, I placed her under hypnosis using the Chiasson technique (which works very well with submissives) and deepened her to a very profound level. I then used hypnotic suggestion to induce her to have an erotic dream about a wild affair with a foreign man she met while vacationing in Mexico. I then suggested that her dream really happened and represented a memory of an actual tryst that happened in the recent past. Next, I suggested that she would vaguely remember getting drunk the night before, then created hypnotic amnesia for our meeting, suggesting that when she awoke she would not know where she was, or who she was with. I also created positive hallucinations for several men in the room besides myself, who would all be strangers to her. Next, (very important for anyone who may consider trying this themselves) I suggested that her deep inner mind would be aware of the situation, and that she was not really in physical danger, but would not be aware of that at the conscious level. I also implanted a code word, “Rumpelstiltskin” which she would not consciously be aware of, but which she would recall and utilize if the situation caused her real fears about her personal safety. Finally, I suggested that when I snapped my fingers and said the word, “remember,” she would recall everything that was said to her under hypnosis, and be amused and amazed at the power of her deep inner mind.

Having completed these hypnotic suggestions, I instructed her to undress completely, lay on the bed, and cover herself with a blanket while I waited in the bathroom. After she had done so, I suggested that she would fall into a deep natural sleep, and would not awaken until I alerted her. She did so, and I placed an additional pillow under her head and shoulders, raising her head higher, then proceeded to bind her arms and ankles to the four corners of the bed, using self-adhering ace bandages and parachute cord with quick-detach carabineers. I then removed the blanket and positioned myself at the foot of her bed, pretending to search her clothing as I awakened her.

Christine awoke to find herself spread-eagled naked on a motel bed with several men staring at her. I finished “searching” her clothing, standing at the foot of the bed squarely between her legs. She asked me, “Who are you, and what are you going to do to me?” in a rather frightened voice. I informed her that she could call me “Eric” and that I was with one of those alphabet government agencies that very few people had heard of. I then told her that she would not be injured as long as she cooperated, but that we expected our questions to be answered fully and to the best of her ability. I proceeded to question her about her “fling” in Mexico, eliciting a detailed description of her lover, right down to the size of his penis and whether he was circumcised. I then informed her that he was an international terrorist, who was conspiring to smuggle a nuclear bomb into a major American city, and that we believed she was helping him, deliberately or inadvertently. (Note: This was before 9/11, when such a scenario had more of a fictitious theme.) I asked her about anything that he might have given to her, or had her transport across the border - anything that might have a microdot concealed in or on it. She denied having received anything from him, or having brought anything back with her from Mexico. I informed her that her house was being searched by a special team, even as we spoke, and informed her that unless she told us about anything she received from him, that we would have to search her externally and internally as well.

She again denied having brought anything with her, so I pulled out a small but powerful flashlight and a small magnifying glass, knelt on the bed beside her, and proceeded to “examine” her closely from head to toe, going through her head hair, looking in her eyes, ears, mouth, examining her underarms closely, checking each mole or spot with the magnifying glass. As I reached her pubic area, I examined her hair closely, parted her labia and examined her thoroughly with my finger, shining the light on what I was doing, and managing to rub her clitoris several times under the guise of being thorough. She began to become excited, despite her conscious fear and humiliation. I asked her if she was concealing anything in her vagina, and she just shook her head, crying. I told her to relax, that I would try to avoid hurting her, but that I was going to examine her internally. I then inserted my “exploratory finger” (as we used to say in the Army) into her vagina and felt it thoroughly, stopping just short of being obviously deliberately sexually stimulating. Finally, finding nothing, I informed her that she would have to be administered a douche to make sure she wasn’t concealing something. I told my phantom subordinates to watch her, while I went into the bathroom and prepared a douche solution (using the commercial preparation she had brought) filling a two-quart red bag full and hanging it with a douche nozzle on the shower curtain rod.

I returned to the bed and told her that she was going to be taken into the bathroom, and that we didn’t intend to injure her, but that she might be injured if she resisted or tried to escape. I then undid the quick releases on her bindings (although she hallucinated one of my subordinates untying her right side) and assisted her to her feet, escorting her to the bathroom with a gooseneck come-along hold. I told her to get into the bathtub, and when she complied, I tied her hands to the shower curtain rod and closed the drain. I smeared the douche nozzle with K-Y Jelly and instructed her to place one of her feet on the side of the tub. When she hesitated to do so, I told her that if she didn’t cooperate, I would be forced to call in my colleagues to hold her. I informed her that I ordinarily would have had her held down, but I thought she might be less humiliated if I conducted the procedure by myself. She nodded her head and placed her right foot up on the side of the tub. I instructed her to move her knee to the side, and she did so, exposing her vagina. I slowly inserted the douche nozzle into her, until I felt resistance, as its tip encountered her cervix. I asked her if she was OK, and she nodded. I asked her if she was ready, and she nodded again, although tears were running down her cheek. I clicked open the clamp, and the solution began flowing into her, then running out down her leg and splashing from her vagina into the tub, where it collected. As the solution flowed, I twisted the nozzle gently but firmly, moving it in and out of her to thoroughly cleanse her, and wash out any “evidence” that might have been concealed inside her.

When it was over, I withdrew the nozzle, and left it hanging. I instructed her to step out of the tub on to the bath mat, which she did. I then took a towel, hesitated, and asked her if she would like to dry herself off. She said, “Yes, please.” so I untied her hands and handed her the towel. She dried herself off under my watchful gaze, then I indicated that she was to return to the bedroom. She complied, and I instructed her to wait at the foot of the bed. I then retrieved two of the pillows that had been under head and placed them about a third of the way from the foot of the bed. I then told her to get on the bed, and she did so, starting to lay on her back again. I instructed her to turn over, and to lay with the pillows under her hips. She did so, with a frightened expression on her face, and I again bound her hands and feet to the four corners of the bed, her legs spread, with her lovely bottom elevated by the pillows. I had brought the K-Y Jelly with me from the bathroom, and now I knelt between her knees and told her, “I’m going to examine your rectum for any foreign objects. If you resist, it’ll just hurt more, and I will thoroughly examine you.” I put a gob of K-Y on my “exploratory” finger and began rubbing it around her anal bud. I then put another gob on my finger, pressed it firmly against the center of her sphincter, and said, “Now just relax. Don’t fight it.” and began pressing and withdrawing my finger, pushing it ever deeper into her anus, stopping and withdrawing to get more lubricant, until her sphincter muscles were firmly against my third knuckle. I twisted it in each direction, feeling around inside her rectum, but (of course) finding nothing of evidentiary value. I slowly withdrew my finger, placed my other hand reassuringly on her left buttock, and told her she was doing fine, and that everything would be OK if she wasn’t lying to us.

As I stood up, I told one of my “colleagues” that she could have swallowed something, so we’re going to have to check the contents of her bowels. I again told “him” to watch her, while I went back into the bathroom, let the douche water out of the drain, and rinsed out the douche bag. I prepared an enema solution by washing my hands thoroughly in a sink full of hot water, with a bar of Ivory soap. When the solution was very milky, I attached the hose to the empty bag, squished it in my right hand to expel all the air, placed the end of the hose into the enema solution, and dropped the bag onto a towel on the floor, creating a vacuum that started the solution siphoning into the bag. I kept the hose in the solution until the bag was completely full, and had, in fact, stretched until it resembled a red basketball. When the little whirlpool in the liquid disappeared, I snapped the clamp shut on the hose, and let the rest of the solution out the drain. I then attached a white nozzle with a bulged tip, with two side holes in the bulge in addition to the one in the tip (used for barium enemas) and returned to Christine on the bed.

I placed the bag to the right side of her hips, and again knelt between her knees. I lubricated the nozzle with some K-Y, and said, “Now, Ms. Jorgensen, we’re going to have to give you an enema to clean you out, and make sure you haven’t swallowed something. This won’t be pleasant, but I don’t want to hurt you. If you’ll relax, and just accept it, you’ll be fine.” I then pressed the tip of the nozzle against the center of her anus, and gently pressed, watching her sphincter muscles expand, then contract around the shaft of the nozzle as the bulge slid into her. I pushed it in a little deeper, and picked up the bag, holding it about six inches above her hips. I asked if she was ready for it, and she said, “Yes, go ahead.” I eased the clamp open and heard her gasp as the enema solution began flowing into her. I saw her clench her sphincter muscles around the shaft of the nozzle, her buttocks trembling a little. I asked her if she would like me to hold the nozzle in for her. She said “Yes, please.” so I placed my left hand on her left buttock, grasping the shaft of the nozzle, and inserting it slightly deeper into her rectum, then held it firmly in place, taking the opportunity to subtly move the nozzle to stimulate her anus.

Because the bag was so very full, the pressure of the liquid flowing into her was higher than normal, and she began breathing heavily, squirming, and exhibiting signs of distress. I took my hand from her buttock and closed the clamp for a few seconds, then returned it to her bottom, massaging it gently, until she relaxed. I again opened the clamp but kept the bag very low so that she wouldn’t have trouble accepting most of the roughly two and a half quarts that the pressure-filled bag held. As the bag emptied, I held it a bit higher, then higher still, until it was about two feet above her bottom.

Finally, when the bag was almost empty, she cried out “Please, please stop! I can’t take any more!” I promptly snapped the clamp closed, put down the bag, pressed a dry washcloth against her bottom, just under the nozzle, and withdrew the nozzle. I told her that she would be required to hold the enema for at least ten minutes, in order for it to work thoroughly. In tears, she begged me to please, please let her go just a little, so I made her wait two more minutes, then untied her and escorted her to the toilet. As she sat, I tied her hands to the towel rack above the sink, so that she was not uncomfortable, but would be unable to touch herself or flush the toilet (eliminating “evidence”). She fought to wait until I left the bathroom to expel, but had to let go and expel as I was finishing securing her hands. There were tears of humiliation in her eyes as I left the bathroom.

After fifteen or twenty minutes her voice again broke, as she said she thought she was done, and could she wipe herself? I returned to the bathroom, rolled off some toilet paper, and instructed her to stand up and bend over. I then wiped her and told her “Stay there.” I got a washcloth and ran some warm water over it, then cleaned her bottom with it, drying it with a hand towel. I untied her hands and escorted her back to the bedroom.

At that time, she said, in a low voice, “You aren’t really enjoying this, are you?” That shocked me because in truth, I was having mixed feelings about the scene we were doing. It was starting to resemble things I’d done for real, back in the day (albeit without the sexual overtones) and was starting to cause me to revive old thought patterns that I wasn’t entirely sure I was comfortable with. I asked, “What do you mean?” She said, “It seems like you’re really a decent guy, and you’re doing what you think you have to. You’re not simply humiliating me because you want to.” I realized then, that she was still “in the scene,” and was still reacting to the posthypnotic suggestions I’d given her. I told her, “No, I’m not; but the lives of thousands, possibly millions of Americans depend on my doing my job and eliminating the threat to this country that you may be intentionally or unintentionally a part of.” She said, “I understand that,” and I said, “Good. Now lay face down on the bed again and spread your hands and legs. It will be necessary for us to administer you another, larger enema to make sure that anything you might have swallowed comes out.”

She knelt on the foot of the bed, but then turned to me and said, “Please, you won’t have to tie me. I’ll be a good girl. Just, I want you to do it, Okay?” I told her, “All right, just wait there. You can cover up with the blanket if you want to, just keep your hands where we can see them, Okay?” She turned and sat on the foot of the bed, pulling the bedspread around her, and said, “Thank you.”

I asked my “colleague” in the bathroom if they were done searching the toilet yet, then said, “Okay.” I knew she had “heard” him answer in the affirmative. I then went into the bathroom and flushed the toilet, and prepared a second enema for her, using very warm tap water to which I added four McDonald’s salt packets, to prevent it from being absorbed by her colon. I rinsed the bag in the tub, and again pressure-filled it from the sink by dropping it on the floor, letting the water siphon into it, until it would hold no more. I then affixed a large blue balloon retention-nozzle to the end of the hose and placed an inflation device consisting of a plastic-enclosed sponge on the end of the small air hose attached to the nozzle. I picked up the apparatus and returned to the bedroom with it.

Christine was still sitting on the end of the bed, clutching the bedspread around her. Her eyes widened as she stared at the nozzle in my hand. I told her, “It won’t be as bad as it looks, trust me.” I then instructed her to turn around and kneel at the foot of the bed. She let the bedspread slip from her and did as instructed. I took the pillows that had been under her hips before, turned them over, and put them in front of her face, telling her to spread her knees about shoulders-width apart and put her head and shoulders down on the pillow. She complied, and once again her beautiful bottom was laid bare in front of me. I quickly put the bag down on the bed between her legs, and got the tube of K-Y.

Before I lubed the nozzle, I said, “Ms. Jorgensen, I don’t need to examine you again, but you may find that this enema nozzle slips in easier if I lubricate you as well as it. If you would like me to, I will, but I won’t if you’d rather I not be inside you again.” She said, “Go ahead, if you think it’ll make it easier. I don’t mind.” With that I lubed my finger again and smeared some around her anal bud. I told her, “Just relax, and let it happen,” then began probing gently, then more firmly at the center until the tip of my finger was slipping easily into and out of her anus. I added some lube, and probed ever further into her, twisting my finger and sliding it in and out, until she was thoroughly lubricated. In more ways than one; I saw a crystalline drop of her own lubrication slowly and viscously drip from her vagina onto the enema bag between her legs.

Slowly and regretfully, I removed my finger from her rectum, wiped it on a Kleenex, then lubricated the balloon nozzle. I positioned it gently against the center of her anal bud, and said, “Just relax, and let it slip in.” I increased the pressure on the nozzle until the tip parted her sphincter and slid inside her, followed by a good four inches of the shaft. I then picked up the inflation device and squeezed it hard. The nozzle moved slightly further into her rectum, and I heard her gasp a little. I asked, “How does that feel?” and she said, “Like I’m really full.” I picked up the bag and lifted it about a foot and a half above her bottom, then told her, “This will fill you up quite a bit faster than the first one, but it shouldn’t be uncomfortable because you should be pretty empty by now.” She nodded, and I again said, “Tell me when you’re ready for it.” She hesitated a moment, then said, “Okay.” I snapped the clamp open, feeling the liquid rush from the bag, and again heard her sharp intake of breath.

When the bag started to lose its taut roundness, I lifted it a little higher, until it was almost three feet above her bottom. The bag was emptying rapidly, and when it was about three quarters gone, she said, “Can you slow it up a little, please. It’s coming really fast and I’m getting really full.” I lowered it to about two feet above her hips and let the remaining liquid drain into her. This time she managed to take the whole bag, some two and a half quarts. When the bag was empty, I snapped the clamp shut and told her that she would have to wait ten minutes before she would be allowed to expel, and that I would leave the nozzle in place to help her hold it in. She just nodded.

This time, she was able to hold the enema for the full ten minutes, so I told her it was time for her to relieve herself. I said that we would leave the nozzle in place until we got into the bathroom, then helped her off of the bed and onto her feet, following her into the bathroom holding the empty enema bag and hose, still attached to the nozzle in her rectum. I told her to squat over the toilet, then I released the clamp on the balloon nozzle, and withdrew it quickly from her rectum. She immediately sat on the toilet, and made no effort to hold back expelling, while I put the enema apparatus in the sink, and again bound her hands to the towel rack.

I returned to the bedroom as she continued expelling, and quietly arranged for a computerized “wake-up” call in half an hour. In about ten minutes she was finished expelling, and called out, “Eric, I think I’m done again. Would you please help me?” I went into the bathroom, again got some toilet paper, and she stood up and bent over without my asking. I wiped her bottom, and again used a warm washcloth to clean her up. I returned her to the bedroom and motioned for her to sit on the bed. I again quizzed her about anything she might have gotten from her lover in Mexico, and she again denied having received anything from him or having brought back anything for him.

About that time the phone rang, and I “answered” it, said, “Good, then we have it. We don’t need to detain her any longer.” I told her that the team searching her house had just retrieved her mail, which contained a letter from her lover asking her to mail a postcard for him. Under the stamp on the postcard was a microdot containing the information we were seeking, and from the content of his letter, it was obvious that she knew nothing of the plot. I then opened the door briefly, “dismissing” my other agents. She asked what was going to happen to her now, and I told her that she would shortly be free to go. I told her that it wouldn’t do any good for her to go to the police, because our agency didn’t exist, and she would never see any of us again, anyway. She stood up and approached me, reaching up and touching my cheek. She said that she understood why we were doing this, and that she really appreciated how I had gone out of my way not to hurt her any more than was necessary. She ran her hands down my chest and said that she would like to be nice to me, in return, and asked if I really had to go right then.

At that point, I realized that she was still operating under the conscious desire to avoid being injured or killed, even though she knew she was safe at the subconscious level. Although I knew she would have found the “danger-sex” to be especially exciting, I’ve worked too many real rape cases back in the day to ever be comfortable engaging in any pseudo-rape role-playing, even though my partner might desire it. I stepped back from her, said, “One, Two, Three, Remember!” and snapped my fingers. At once, an amazed look came over her face, and she sat down on the bed, saying, “Wow! Just Wow!”

She stood back up, approached me, and said, “You know, you’re a pretty amazing guy.” and began unbuttoning my shirt. She didn’t stop there, either, and as she lowered my pants to the floor, well, her lips were very soft and her mouth was very warm. Suffice it to say that she was very pleased with her fantasy, and we spent the rest of the night together. By morning, she had my semen in both ends of her digestive tract.

My beautiful Christine. I wonder where you are. I wonder if you think about me, once upon a time, in your wildest dream!