Barbara and I were married nearly three years when we bought a house in a small sub-division, on a cul-de-sac with five other homes. Gradually we came to make some friends and fit in socially with the small group on the street and nearby. All went well for a long while, but then I lost my job with the computing consultancy, and started drinking more than usual.

At first, it was not so bad. I had a couple of extra beers or several drinks, grew louder, telling poor jokes and getting people sometimes upset. and Barbara would notice and take me home before I got people upset.

One evening, the whole group got together at a cocktail party to celebrate the anniversary of one of the neighbors. Barbara asked me not to drink too much as we walked over to the neighbor’s home and I promised faithfully not to make any kind of scene. As expected, I did just the opposite. I drank too much, got too loud, and came out with several off-color jokes before Barbara decided to take me home. She apologized to the host and hostess, and we walked out the front door toward our own home down the street.

Saying nothing as we walked, it was obvious she was truly pissed off. I tried to say a couple of things, but she simply started until we reached our front walk.

“Get in the house,” Barbara barked, pointing to the door, and pushing me along. I responded, walking slowly toward the door.

“Go on upstairs,” she shouted again. “Get out of my sight. Your actions tonight were embarrassing and disgusting.”

I took off my coat, draped it over the banister pole, and walked somewhat unsteadily up the stairs toward our bedroom. Once inside, I sat on the edge of the bed waiting for the inevitable shouting match which seemed to be more frequent these days. Over an hour went by with no sign of Barbara. Then, I heard steps on the stairs.

“Well,” she yelled quickly, “You sure made a complete ass of yourself this evening. Bet we never get invited back again to their house.” I did not respond, simply lowering my head to avoid eye contact with her.

“That was one of the stupidest, most infantile performances I have seen you put on. What were you thinking?” she asked, then continued, “Especially since I asked you specifically not to drink too much this evening and try to be civil.”

“I’m, uh, sorry,” I answered quietly, still not raising my head. “I didn’t mean to do it,” I added, “Everything just got to me too quickly.”

“It sure did,” she responded, lowering her voice a bit, “It got to you all right, and I’m tired of this happening every time we go out of do something. This has got to stop, and right now. It’s responsibility time.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, looking up a bit. You could see the anger in her eyes. “What happens now?”

“We’ll see,” she answered. “You just get undressed and into bed. I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and tonight is the last straw.” Barbara stormed out of the room, and I rose from the bed and started getting my clothes off, leaving them on a chair at the side of the room. I climbed into bed and rolled over, turning away from the door. Barbara was making a lot of noise in another room, and I wondered what she had in mind.

Then she returned, sitting down next to me on the side of the bed. She put her arm around my shoulders and looked over at me.

“I’m sorry, Barb,” I mumbled again. “I will try to do better.”

“Yes, you will,” she responded, and I am going to help you do it. This excusing you for your actions because you are unemployed right now is going to stop. You have to take responsibility for your actions, and I AM GOING TO HELP YOU DO THAT.” I could tell by her voice how serious she was, and it scared me.

“You know,” she continued, “for some reason, I thought of your mom as we walked home. I thought to myself, ‘what would she do?’ Then, it came to me. I remembered she said when you were particularly bad, and she knew her timeouts and other things didn’t work, one thing always did. That’s what will happen to you tonight and every time from now on when you screw up as badly as you did tonight.”

My mind raced and suddenly it hit me. Mom used to give these huge spankings with dad’s belt and then a huge, hot soapy enema that burned my butt for days afterward. They hurt for a long time.

“C’mon, Barb,“ I answered, “Not that kind of stuff, not tonight, please?”

“Yes, tonight,” she shot back. Now get undressed as I told you and I will be back shortly. Barbara patted me on the back once more and rose from the bed, leaving the room quickly and heading toward the bath. Within seconds, I could hear closets opening and closing, water running and a strong smell of soap.

******************

I lay down on the bed, awaiting what seemed to be inevitable. As I did, my mind began to wander back to my childhood, and the memories of mom poured out.

Suddenly, I could see myself at fourteen, coming in the front door to our house, and my mother waiting for me in the living room. She already knew from one of the other mothers in the neighborhood that several of the guys and myself and been smoking and drinking beer so she was getting more irate every moment until I finally arrived home.

Standing in the middle of the room, she shouted over to me, “Well, it’s about time. What have you been doing?” she yelled.

“Nothing much, Mom,” I answered. “Just out with the guys having some fun.” I tried to smile, but I knew she already knew the truth.

“Fun was it,” she said, “When is fun drinking and smoking and being loud all over the neighborhood? Get yourself upstairs and we will discuss this a lot more. You know the drill by now.”

I did know, ‘the drill’, and what was coming was not pleasant, but I resigned myself to it and started walking up the stairs to my room. She followed behind quickly.

“Get in there and get those clothes off,” she barked. “I’ll be right back and we will have a discussion about your behavior. She walked out toward the bathroom and I started to undress for what I knew was going to be a painful punishment. It was always the same; a big, hot soapy enema with her huge red bag, and my father's belt on my ass.

“Are you getting your clothes off?” she yelled from the bathroom.

“Yes, Mom, I am,” came my reply.

“Good, then get across your bed and I will be right in there to take care of you.” I heard the water running, the familiar soap smell, and then the sound of her taking dad’s belt off the hook on the back of the door. A few steps and she was back at the door to my room. I lay across the bed on my stomach, looked back, and saw her standing with the big, red enema bag in one hand and the belt in the other.

“Get your eyes to the bed,” she added, hanging the enema bag on the clothes hook on the door. I had just turned when the first whack with dad’s belt came down on my ass.

“Oww,” I yelled in pain. That hurts.”

It is going to hurt even more before I am through,” came her answer, with two more quick whacks with the belt, one on each ass cheek. I tried to reach back, but she grabbed my hands and held them to the side. Two more hard whacks followed, then several more. My ass was on fire.

“Please stop,” I howled, tears starting to form. “Please stop, I’m sorry.”

“You sure will be by the time I’m finished,” responded Mom, whacking me several times more. Every swat of that belt was agony. I tried to be tough, but that quickly broke down into sobbing into my bed linens. After what must have been over 20 whacks, she finally stopped.

“Stay where you are,” I heard, “Don’t move an inch.” I felt her reaching for my ass and separating my red cheeks. Just the touch was agony all over again. Then, I felt her finger, covered with something, moving around at my hole, then plunging inside. I flinched.

“Try to relax,” she said. “It’s only my finger getting some Vaseline up there so it won’t hurt as much.”

She moved her finger inside for a minute or two, then withdrew it, and almost immediately, I could feel the enema tube sliding in, and the water starting to rush into my bowels. The water was very hot and the soap burned as it entered and started flowing up into my guts. As I lay there with her finger moving around, my dick started to get erect. Thank God I was lying on my stomach and she could not see it.

“Try to relax,” she said again. “You will be getting this whole bag so get ready. Nothing like a big enema to make a point when someone did something wrong. Your father gets the same thing when he acts stupid, so deal with it.” I started to feel cramps, but tried as well as I could to not say anything and just lay there feeling the enema going into me.

**************

“OK, asshole,” I could hear in the background as the fog lifted and I came back to the present. It was Barbara, and she was back in the bedroom. My mom dream faded as her voice grew louder

“You know,” she said, “When your mother told me about your punishments as a kid, I sorted them away. She even gave me your dad’s belt and enema bag as a gift. That’s what I will use today. I turned, and sure enough, she had a big red bag and the wide belt in her hands, just like in my dream. I knew I was in for real trouble.

“Get those clothes off, and down on your stomach on the bed,” she ordered, just like mom. “Actually, if I could, I would invite her over to let her punish you. Tonight, I will have to do. Do it, NOW!”

I rushed to get out of my clothes and lay face down on the bed. As I did, she dropped the enema bag on the beg. I could hear it slosh around and smell the strong soap. It took only seconds for her to get me in the position she wanted before the belt swished in the air and came down hard on my ass cheeks.

Barbara’s smacks were much harder and more painful than I ever remembered from mom. Once she started, she blistered my ass in just seconds with some smack after another with the well-worn belt. I quickly began to cry out, asking her to stop, but all that went on deaf ears. She kept on striking me, one cheek then the other until my bottom was burning.

“Please, stop,” I asked through my tears. Finally, she did stop, and dropped the belt on the bed, grabbing at the same time the jar of Vaseline and scooping out a large amount. She approached me von the bed, pushed aside one of the ass cheeks, and ran the glob of lube up my ass with her middle finger.

“That hurts,” I mumbled through my sobbing.

“Good, maybe you are beginning to learn,” came the answer. She continued to move her finger in and out of my ass until it seemed everything was loose, and I might crap. She stopped and quickly took the large enema nozzle and ran that up where her finger had been, at the same time raising the bag high above me. I could feel cramps almost immediately as the hot, soapy water surged into me.

“Hot enough for you?” Barbara asked. “I can make the next one even hotter and soapier if needed.” The water gushed in and the bag quickly deflated. I had massive cramps. Finally, it seemed to slow down, then stop. She left the nozzle in me, dropped the bag, and started to use the best on me again.

“You will hold that until I tell you,” she snarled, obviously liking what she was doing. “Make another scene in the future and it will be even worse. I might even get a dildo and begin fucking your ass if that is what it will take to get you to calm down and stop acting like a fool. What do you think of that?”

Maybe the next time, I will bring your mom over to watch or even help. You need a massive change in attitude and, if this is the only way to do it, you are in for big trouble from now on.”

[Continuing]