CHAPTER 1

“Sweetie,” I say simply. “Do I need to take you home and adjust your attitude before we finish our errands?” I hear you suck in your breath sharply. Your cheeks pink up and your eyes dart around nervously. Had anyone in the produce section heard your wife all but openly offer (threaten?) to spank you?

Friday night, 8pm. We have a few stops planned, but something is off. Something is bothering you. You are grumpy and out of sorts and grocery shopping with you is like grocery shopping with a petulant child. You just snapped at me over my choice in apples after previously fussing over something in roughly every other aisle. Something has to give. I have had enough.

“My love...” I begin again.

You sigh and softly say, “Yes, my Mistress. That is exactly what I need.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” I reply. “Let’s finish up here.”

We purchase a few more items, check out, and load up the trunk. You slide into the driver’s seat wordlessly, but the look on your face tells me something is up. I touch your face and then take your hand. “Baby,” I begin. “What’s going on? Talk to me, please.” Your words come out in a rush.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve acted. For how I’m acting. I’m not feeling good at all and I know I’m being impossible.” You cover your face with your hands. I take your huge hands gently in mine.

“What’s wrong, baby? Is it your head? Your throat?” You grimace.

“I don’t want to tell you,” you reply. “Because I’m afraid you’ll want to fix it and make it better and I do NOT want that.”

Even in the relative nighttime darkness, I can see your face blush deeply. “Baby,” I began, “Listen. I love you. I need to know what’s wrong so we can come up with a solution together, okay? You can tell me anything. Let’s address this together.”

You look at me gratefully, lovingly. “It’s just so embarrassing,” you begin. “Ugh.”

I wait for you to continue.

“Okay, so...it’s my stomach. I’m not sick or nothing. It’s just...been a few days, you know? Since I’ve been to the bathroom, I mean. And my stomach hurts and I’m just so uncomfortable. But...”

“But you knew I’d tell you that I’m going to give you an enema. Am I right? Is that it?” I ask.

“It is! I don’t want an enema! I don’t! I’ve never ever had one and I want to keep it that way!”

I give your hand a squeeze. “Listen, sweetie. It’s no big deal, okay? I’ve taken dozens of enemas in my life and I will never do ANYTHING to hurt you. Well, aside from taking the belt to you when you deserve it, but that’s a little different.”

You smile slightly and then sigh. “You’re right. You are. I don’t doubt I’ll feel better. I certainly know I need it. I’m just afraid, I guess.”

“Let’s head home,” I say. “But I need a quick drugstore stop on the way.”

You grimace and start the car. “You’re going to feel so much better, sweetheart,” I say. “You’ll see.”

CHAPTER 2

Knowing you’re already incredibly anxious about your fate, I tell you to stay put in the car while I run into the drugstore to grab the necessary supplies and you do so, grateful you don’t have to participate in purchasing the items designed to meet you so invasively soon enough. I grab a two quart combination hot water bottle/syringe, complete with both a douche and enema nozzle. I grab a small container of petroleum jelly as well, knowing that you’re going to need all the lubrication you can get. I pay for my items and walk out to the car where you look at me nervously. Even with your overwhelming anxiety, I can tell you feel miserable. I smile warmly and put my seatbelt on. “Lover,” I begin, “you are off the hook for a spanking today. I know you’re not feeling well. But that being said, I expect complete cooperation and compliance when we get home...or else your next spanking will be one you won’t soon forget. Do I make myself clear?”

“I’ll be a good boy, I promise,” you say softly. I bring your fingers to my lips and kiss them gently. God, you are so sexy, so attractive, so fuckable, so easy to love. You’re so good about being vulnerable with me. And I’m so entirely grateful.

The drive home is quiet. You pull into the garage and I can tell you’re so incredibly nervous. We bring the groceries in and you’re a mess. Your hands are trembling. You’re wildly distracted. As you’re washing your hands in the kitchen, I come up behind you. “It’s time for your enema, sweetheart,” I say. You groan and blush and I wrap my arms around you. “Go get undressed and get in bed for me.” You head off to the bedroom, strip naked, and climb under the covers. With you out of view, I fill up the enema bag with the water a bit hotter than I’d ordinarily use since it’s going to take some time to prepare you. I decide on the douche nozzle since it’s longer and you’ll feel more secure, although I know you’ll be slightly intimidated when you see it. I bleed out a tiny bit of water and make my way to the bedroom, bag in one hand and a bath towel in the other.

Upon opening the door, I see you in our bed, curled up so fetchingly. Your back is to me, but as you turn to look at me, your eyes go straight to the bag and your heart all but stops. “No way! I can’t take all that!” you sputter. “It’s too much!”

I smile and reassure you that you will be perfectly fine in my very capable hands. You open your mouth to argue, but eye the belt hanging on the back of our bedroom door and quickly close it. I took the belt to your soft skin just the week before and the memory is sill so present in your mind. You deserved it, of course, as I never discipline you unfairly. You came to me that day with tears already in your eyes and that belt in your hands, asking for both punishment and forgiveness (both of which I granted). You are much harder on yourself than I am, but I do so love to see you “put back in your place”. It was one of the only times you’ve ever begged me to spank you to tears and I did—I spanked you past the point of where you were kicking your legs and begging and went straight to you crying freely on the bed. Sweeping you into my arms, I held you until the tears stopped and then sucked your cock relentlessly until you filled my mouth and poured down my throat. Memories. But no time to wax poetic. I have an enema to give.

CHAPTER 3

I arrange a few pillows and drape a towel over them, still holding the bag. I pat the pillows, signaling you to position yourself over the top of them and you do, slowly, looking at me with silently pleading eyes. “I’ll be gentle, sweetheart,” I say. “So gentle. And we’ll go so slow. I promise. Come on, up on your knees like a good boy for me.” You roll onto your stomach hesitantly. I spread your legs slightly and you raise up onto your knees. Not being able to resist you in this position, I sigh appreciatively and gently touch your balls, your cock. Already hard for me despite your enema-induced anxiety, you truly are the perfect submissive. You moan softly at my touch, spread your legs wider and arch your back, your perfect asshole now completely in my view. If I wasn’t wet before (which I was, of course), I sure am now. I reach for the container of petroleum jelly and you shudder when you hear it open.

“I’m not ready,” you moan into the mattress.

“You’re ready,” I reply, gently but firmly.

Taking a healthy glob of lubricant on my finger, I open you just a bit wider and start gently massaging the outside of your asshole. We’ve been here before many a time, and you relax for me, inviting me in. I slip just the tip of my finger in...and then a bit more as you gasp. Your body grasps my finger tightly. “Relax, lover,” I say softly. “I know you’re not feeling good but if I have to spank you, I will.” You wordlessly respond by pushing out a bit for me, and my finger travels further inside. I feel around for a moment and say, “Baby. You really, really need this enema. You are SO full. No wonder you’re so uncomfortable.” Before you can respond, my lubrication efforts have been fulfilled and the nozzle is pushing up into you. I slide it in as deeply as I can. You’re quivering slightly now and the sight of you so vulnerable and submissive for me is SO arousing. I just want to fuck your ass with this nozzle, with my fingers, with my strap on. I explain to you that I’ll go slow but you need to take the full bag for me like a good boy. You mumble that you understand and I lean toward you and plant kisses down your spine. You make it so hard for me to stay focused on the task at hand.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’m holding the bag low so the enema fills you slowly. It will be just a bit cold but at first but it will warm up quickly. I’ll stop as needed but you *will* take this whole bag for me.”

“Yes, mistress,” you whimper into the mattress, arching your back so submissively.

“I’m going to open the clamp now, so you’ll hear a click and then feel the surge of the water, okay?”

Without giving you a chance to respond, you hear a loud “click” and react to the water almost immediately. Your hands clutch the sheets. You remain motionless for a moment, panting slightly. A few minutes in, your resolve weakens. “Stop!” you cry out. I click the clamp shut and gently rub your back. “Only about half way done, sweetheart,” I say sympathetically. I love watching you struggle under my control but I know this is a lot for you to process. “Please,” you beg, “I’m too full. I can’t take any more.”

“Sorry, lover,” I reply. “But you’re taking ALL of it. Do I make myself clear?”

You want to fight it but know better than to willfully disobey me. “Yes, my mistress!” you gasp. Without warning, I open the clamp and you feel the water filling you up. So many sensations you’re experiencing right now. You feel loved and cared for and adored and aroused and submissive and humiliated and punished and chastised and ashamed. A forty-something year old man, ass up in the air, being filled by two quarts of water for a good cleaning out. Your asshole clenches the nozzle tightly. You don’t want to lose a drop. The humiliation is more than enough already. You feel so full, SO full. Too full. Your relief is palpable when I tell you the bag is empty...palpable but short lived.

“Okay, sweetheart. All done! You took that enema like such a good boy for me. I’m so proud of you. Ill leave the nozzle in for now. I just set my timer for five minutes for you to hold it for me and—“

“Five minutes?! I can’t! I can’t hold it five minutes!”

I assure you that you can and you will and you push your ass up higher into the air shifting your weight from one side to another to try to ease the pressure. I distract you by running my tongue over your balls. It works, but god...you are SO tightly clenched around that nozzle. I start sliding the nozzle in and out and moving it gently up and down. I want to play with you like this in a much less gentle way, but I don’t push my luck.

The timer goes off and you’re immediately struck by the realization that all this water...is going to have to come OUT. Your face is tomato red. I tell you I’m about to remove the nozzle and your asshole quivers a bit at the thought.

CHAPTER 4

Since you are SO full and I’m afraid of you passing out, I tell you that I’m going to remove the nozzle, march you into the bathroom, and stay with you for a bit to keep an eye on you. Even with five minutes of water softening you up, the release is going to be uncomfortable to say the least. You are horrified by the prospect of this and beg me to reconsider. No such luck. The nozzle comes out and I help you to your feet. You are unsteady in your steps and I walk you gingerly into the bathroom. You plead with me for privacy, but the second you sit down on the toilet, you can’t hold it any longer. Water starts spraying out of you. I’m standing before you and you wrap your arms around me as you’re seated, your face against my soft tummy, your arms holding on to me so tightly. Your body wants the water out so as you push, you feel the urgency to expel, and your asshole begins to stretch so very wide. “It hurts so much,” you whimper into me, clutching me to your body. I stroke your hair gently and lovingly while you release. Your face is beet red by this point, and your cock is harder than ever. I rub your back softly. Your humiliation is almost tangible, you are more vulnerable than ever before...and more beautiful than ever, too. Once I’m sure you’re going to be okay, I leave you to finish up and I take the enema bag to the kitchen to clean it before I hang it up to dry. I hear the toilet flush numerous times, and then the shower turn on. I strip off my clothing and climb into bed, pulling the covers up around me. You walk into the room, naked and magnificent, and I can tell that you need some time in my arms. I wordlessly hold my arms open and you climb in, curling up in my embrace. I know you’re embarrassed beyond words, and as I tilt your face toward mine, your eyes are already full of tears. “I’m sorry,” you say softly, “I really am. I should’ve told you. I feel better. Sore. Embarrassed. But better. But I need you to spank me now. Please?” I hesitate, you continue. “I know you said you weren’t going to spank me. But I deserve it. I really do. I could’ve been honest and I wasn’t. Instead, I’ve just been disagreeable and bratty. And I really want you to. Please?”

I run my fingers through your hair and kiss your lips. “Go get my hairbrush, lover,” I say. You scamper off the bed and soon return, hairbrush in hand. I sit up and silently put my hand out; you place the brush gently in my hand. I don’t have to say a word as you drape yourself across my knees, already gripping a pillow. I run my hand down your back, over the delicious curve of your ass. I love spanking you and I love your beautiful submission. I warm up your skin with my hand, watching it pink up under the repeated impact. “Ready, sweetheart? I ask, as I reach for the hairbrush. “Yes, my mistress. I’m ready,” you say softly. Brush in hand, the impact lands against your skin repeatedly. The pink gives way to red and your moaning turns to whimpers. We once had the discussion where we established that asking for discipline meant you were looking to be DISCIPLINED and not just aroused. And I am nothing if but a thorough, dedicated disciplinarian. I’m looking to have you left feeling entirely absolved tonight.

I can tell you’re near your breaking point so I give you five rapid smacks on each bright red cheek. I already know you’re crying before I hear it.

I pull you into my arms and hold you and caress you, telling you how much I love you. Although I haven’t nursed a baby in many years, your mouth finds one of nipples and latches on, sucking gently but insistently. Your ass is stinging and sore, and you are seeking comfort from me. My fingers glide through your hair and I wrap you in my arms. Maybe we’ll make love, maybe we’ll fall asleep, but for now I’m just enjoying the closeness of our bodies...