Meg resumed her rough vibrator massage of my troubled paunch for a few minutes, then laid the instrument aside, announcing, "I'm going to get my bag from the living room; there's something in there that will work much better." She exited the bathroom, wide rear swaying lasciviously.

"I wonder what she has in mind," Ellie remarked, approaching the cross to pat my belly affectionately. "Do you still feel nauseous?" she inquired.

"No, but my belly aches something fierce." Tears slid down my cheeks as I moaned from the intensity of the gut-buster I was being forced to retain.

"It'll all be over soon, sugar," she comforted, massaging my middle gently. Just then Maegan/Princess Dread reentered the bathroom, carrying a leather tawse which she slapped repeatedly against the palm of her left hand.

"This'll make that solution travel a little higher into his guts, and also help him get his hardon back," she announced. She approached the tub as Ellie/Queen Satana resumed her chore cleaning and rinsing the equipment we'd been using. The short blonde began rubbing the tawse in slow circles in a counterclockwise motion that covered the expanse of my swollen abdomen, then, without warning, lifted it up and brought it down sharply against the center of my belly. "That's for ogling my tits and ass at work," she declared. "You're lucky I'm your superior and not vice-versa, or I'd have slapped you with a sexual harassment suit months ago." She delivered a second sharp blow to my crampy stomach, exclaiming, "And this is for not respecting your wife's emotional fragility during her pregnancy." Another blow and she concluded, "And this one's to remind you that your ass, your asshole, your bowels, your penis, your testicles, your nose, your tongue, and your heart are all ours to do with as we please, both during our pregnancies and for the rest of your life." She began a slow, rhythmic, methodical paddling of my dangerously stressed abdomen as Ellie began running hot water to fill the monstrous ten-quart bag for the beginnings of my colonic, not stopping until my wife came over, drew the tawse from her right hand, and took her into a tender hug.

Just then, the doorbell rang. "Meg, why don't you answer it? It's probably your boyfriend anyway." Before the shorter woman could leave, Ellie requested, "But help me get him upright and off this cross first, okay?" Quickly they unlocked the swivel, spun me rightside up, and unbuckled the shackles at my ankles and wrists, then Maegan sashayed off to greet her man. "I want you to stand over the toilet in a half-squat while I pull the plug, then I'll massage your gut with the vibrator so this stuff exits your body thoroughly," Queen Satana directed.

"God, it hurts so bad," I exclaimed, feeling a stretching motion as she began easing the long plug from my rear. Finally, my fannysocket was unblocked, and Ellie guided me carefully to the seat as I was almost too weak to maneuver. My expulsion was instantaneous and furious, and the room spun as a giant fart wracked my gut and massive cramps ensued.

"Don't try to force it," she cautioned, adding, "just let it flow out naturally.

What happened instead is that a virtual Niagara of crampy liquid agony exploded from my rear, the stickiness of the molasses splashing up against my widespread buttocks. With a sigh, I slumped against the toilet tank as Ellie began a comforting abdominal massage with the vibrator, sans sandpaper plate. I belched in my agony and nausea, fearing that I would explode or experience the complete ejection of my viscera before my torment was ended. My forehead, shoulders, chest, and abdomen were covered by a sheen of sweat, so Ellie laid aside the vibrator and moistened a washcloth with cool water, scrubbing me soothingly as I worked toward the completion of my evacuation.

"You'll probably feel excessively gassy and crampy even after you've expelled however much of this as you can. That'll mean that you will welcome the absolute filling of your colon with several gallons of salt water to restore your electrolytes and flush all that nasty stuff out of your belly." She began kneading my still-swollen midsection gently with her left hand as she continued the vibrator work with her right.

A few minutes later, Princess Dread returned to the bathroom leading her boyfriend/slave by a chain leash attached to a leather collar around his neck. All that he wore was a leather g-string, which didn't hide the cord and power unit of a vibrating buttplug installed in his ass. "Steve here is going to watch you get your rinse while we're starting the same treatment we gave you on his woefully empty backside and belly." She whacked him hard across the middle with a riding crop she'd picked up from somewhere, then positioned him on the table that she and Ellie had treated me on.

"You're gonna love it, Steve," I quipped just before Ellie gave me a sharp right into my midsection, effectively knocking the wind out of me and causing me to groan in agony. “Gotta make sure all that nasty stuff’s out of you so the rinse will be more effective,” she explained, relenting in her fisticuffs to my middle and kneading my belly sensuously.

Once I was finished, she wiped me carefully with bath tissue and same moist washcloth, flushed away the paper, and positioned me on the bathroom floor in the Sims position (left side, legs spread apart). Filling the ten-quart bag with 105o water, she attached a 60FR colon tube of one-inch thickness to the hose, hung it on the shower curtain rod, and began easing the tube inside my opened back passage.

Meanwhile, Maegan was inserting a inflatable nozzle into Steve’s behind, inflating it, and opening the clamp on the hose from the six-quart bag so that the solution of Castile soap, glycerine, and steaming water would begin its journey into his unsuspecting insides. I gurgled contentedly as I felt the warm of my rinse penetrate me and fill my awareness with its hydraulic caress.