CHAPTER 1:

“Couldn’t you just spank me instead?” you whine, your eyes pleading with me as we’re stopped at a red light.

“Well, I could. And I very much will. But it’s time to give you a little incentive to improve your behavior, my sweetheart. You are always welcome to refuse a ‘punishment’, so keep that in mind,” I replied.

We are driving home from an evening out. You had agreed to these plans, as your best friend’s wife requested our presence for a birthday celebration. However, your actions were anything but celebratory or hospitable. You were grumpy from work and it carried over to the party. Usually, a good spanking alleviates your work stress and you are very good about coming to me, implement in hand, requesting a bit of an attitude adjustment. But there was traffic on your way home and we were running late. Should’ve made ourselves a bit later so I could’ve taken you across my knees, but hindsight is 20/20, so...

“You pulled it together after I told you what awaited you at home tonight, but up until that point...your behavior was largely unacceptable. Am I wrong in saying as much?”

“No, Mistress,” you reply. “I will...I will take the punishment I deserve. I’m nervous, but I know I need to have my behavior—and my attitude—corrected.”

I tuck your hair behind your ear and squeeze your hand. “Do you remember your first and only enema last year? When you were so incredibly constipated?”

You blush wildly. “Ugh, of course I do. It was so humiliating. But you were so loving and gentle and reassuring and it made me feel SO much better.”

“What did you say to me a few evenings later?” I press.

“That...um...that an enema could certainly be an effective punishment. That it had potential.”

“And...?” I ask.

“And...um...and that I’d be interested in seeing what a punishment enema was all about. But that was before I thought you’d ever take me up on it!”

I slide my hand over your lap until I find your cock, straining to get out of your pants. You are so hard for me. So hard at the thought of what’s to come.

“It was only a matter of time, sweetheart,” I say softly. “And here we are.” Figuratively, that is, and literally. We are home. You groan as we pull up the driveway.

“We have quite the night ahead of us, lover,” I say. “Let’s go inside and get started.”

CHAPTER 2:

We enter the house and you pull off your shoes and coat. As I do the same, you take both my hands. “Thank you for this,” you say, looking deeply into my eyes. I touch your face and tell you all about how much I love you and how grateful I am for your trust in and submission to me. We embrace for a few moments and then I whisper in your ear, “now be a good boy and go get the enema bag for me. And a bar of Ivory soap from the linen closet.” I love making you hold the items designed to correct you. There is something so erotic about watching your big hands tremble as you present said items to me. You come back with both the enema bag and bar of soap, as requested.

“I guess I’ll go wait in bed,” you say meekly.

I inform you that you are to stay right here by my side, that I want you to watch me prepare your very soapy enema. I carefully measure out a quart of hot water in a mixing bowl and then lather my hands a ridiculous amount, only stopping to scrape said lather into the bowl. I rinse my hands in the soapy water and repeat the process multiple times; I then deposit the bar of Ivory straight into the bowl itself. I can almost hear your heart pounding.

The water is so white and all you can smell is Ivory. I give the water a good stir and remove the softened bar of soap. You hold the bag as I pour the contents of the bowl carefully into it, not spilling a drop. When the top is secure and the bag is firmly closed, I give it a vigorous shake. You whimper softly, knowing exactly what comes next.

“Now we can move to the bedroom,” I say sweetly. I take your elbow and lead you down the hallway.

CHAPTER 3:

Once in our bedroom, I turn to you and say “get undressed for me, lover”. You slip out of your clothes in record time and your cock is hard in spite of your anxiety. I don’t even need to tell you to get on your hands and knees for me. Your chest is on the bed, your ass up in the air.

“Be gentle?” you ask, pleadingly.

“Oh, I’ll be gentle, sweetheart. The soap, on the other hand...”

You moan into the pillow as you hear me pop open the lid of the petroleum jelly, covering the douche nozzle I’ve chosen. I take a generous glob on my finger and touch you, gently but firmly. Usually I prefer to run my fingertip around the outside of your beautiful asshole, teasing us both for a bit, but tonight I am all business. I tell you to relax and as I say those words, my finger is suddenly buried deep inside of you. You instinctively whimper, and I fuck you just a bit with my finger. Just as you begin to relax, my finger is gone and the nozzle is very much present.

“This is a punishment enema, sweetheart. It’s only one quart, but it’s very soapy and I’m holding it much higher so it flows into you faster. Also, I’m not stopping at any point and you will hold this solution seven full minutes. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Uhhhh...yes, Mistress,” you moan.

Click. You feel the water immediately and within moments, the soap is making itself VERY known. “Please,” you gasp, your thighs quivering.

“Washing all that bad behavior away, my sweetheart. Do you feel that soap? Reminding you of your poor attitude and even worse behavior tonight?”

The bag is high and only half full, but watching you claw at the sheets has me wishing I could watch this moment for hours. “Ohhhh, the cramping,” you moan. I stroke your back for a moment and then start fucking your incredible ass with the nozzle. Not too much and very gently, but I can see that you’re struggling a bit for me. Good. You’ve needed this for a long, long time and we both know it.

The soapy water churns inside you and just when you’re about to beg me to stop, the bag empties and I announce we have finished.

“Your seven minutes starts now,” I announce.

“I can’t...please...I won’t make it,” you moan.

I pick up my hairbrush (forever next to our bed) and tell you that I plan on painting your perfect ass the deepest shade of pink while you hold that enema for me.

“Please!” you beg. “Spank me after instead! I can’t hold this! A spanking on top of this would be too much!”

I know you know your safe word and I pause for just a moment to see if you will use it. When all you do is moan for me, the brush lands hard on your perfect ass. I spank you more slowly than I usually do, because I’m determined to make this punishment very effective—and very well remembered. You’re gritting your teeth as the soap is busy correcting your insides and my brush is doing a number on your outside. You’re clenched so tightly on that nozzle. You are perfect in every way and your submission is so beautiful and arousing.

You are struggling for me now. Your body wants that soapy water OUT; my hairbrush is landing on your soft skin with just enough force to remind you that you’re being punished—thoroughly and completely disciplined, inside and out. The sounds escaping your lips are perfect. So submissive. So apologetic for your behavior. So delicious.

Finally, your seven minutes is complete. I tell you I’m going to remove the nozzle and I spread your cheeks to watch you struggle to hold your very soapy enema. You moan and whimper and I remove the nozzle so very slowly. I help you to your feet and tell you to take your time in the bathroom. The door barely closes behind you before I hear your groaning and the sounds of you releasing your enema.

CHAPTER 4:

I smile as I walk past and head into the kitchen. I clean the bag thoroughly and fill it this time with two full quarts of plain water with a little baking soda. I know you aren’t thinking about another enema, but I plan on getting all that soap out of you. I bleed out the hose and return to our bedroom. You call to me that you’re going to shower; I ask you to come into the bedroom first. You enter, looking tired, embarrassed, and very well punished. You see the bulging bag and immediately protest. “But I’ve already been punished!” you plead. I open my arms to you and pull you to my body. “Sweetheart,” I begin, “no arguing, please. We need to get all that soap out. This is a plain water enema and will be much more gentle. I do expect you to take the whole bag for me, but I’ll go slowly. Your punishment is over. This is just a necessary final step.”

“I’m so sore. I can still feel the stinging of the soap,” you whimper. “Please, please go slow and be gentle?”

I assure you I will as I know the havoc a soap suds enema can produce. As I’m reaching for the petroleum jelly once more, you’re in my favorite position: ass high in the air, legs slightly spread, chest to the bed. I tell you that you need to take this whole bag for me or I’m going to have to start over, and you promise you will.

I’m so gentle in lubricating you that I can feel your body start to relax. “Here comes the nozzle again,” I say as I gently push it inside you. “Nice and slow, sweetheart,” I begin. “I will be so gentle.”

Click. The bag is low so the water enters you slowly. Your cheeks still show a healthy blush from the spanking you received, but the punishment is over. I touch your back gently, my hand gliding over your sweet skin. I am so gentle in my touch and you relax under my hand. I want you to feel entirely cared for now, so my focus is touching you gently, lovingly. Small cramps pain you here and there, but once I take your cock in my hand, it’s like an electric shock to your body. You are SO hard for me again.

The two quarts has emptied into you and you feel a sense of urgency, but no violent cramping like the soapy enema produced. I tell you that you can expel this enema after you cum for me. You desire the orgasmic release but fear losing even a drop of your enema before you’re safely on the toilet. But before you can object, my hand is working your cock as I gently twirl the nozzle. I could keep you in this position forever, but as I increase the speed of my strokes, I slowly start fucking your perfect asshole so gently with the nozzle. “Be a good boy and cum for me, lover,” I say, and before I even finish that sentence...you’re exploding in my hand. I love to torture you just a tiny bit when you’re so sensitive post-orgasm, but I’m not going to press my luck while you’re holding two quarts of water for me. I gently remove the nozzle, clean you off, and send you back to the bathroom. I clean up from our adventures that evening and am warm and naked in bed for you. I hear the shower turn on and know that you’re probably mostly empty now. You emerge 20 minutes later, looking grateful and exhausted. I open my arms and you climb into them. You make three more trips to the bathroom as we spend the next hour discussing this evening’s discipline. Your asshole is still tender from the soap and repeated expulsions and just before we drift off to sleep, I massage some petroleum jelly around the perimeter and just a bit on the inside to soothe you from the ordeal. You pull me into your arms and I curl up on you, so grateful for the love and intimacy we share...