I'd been having a few embarrassing problems since my daughter was born. I pretty much ignored them for a year because they had to do with my ­ uh ­ bottom. After a while, though, I started having blood in the toilet when I defecated, and sometimes considerable pain, too.

Finally, I went to my doctor. After blushing and stammering a lot, I explained the problem. He asked a lot of embarrassing questions, including whether or not I had a lot of sex in my ­ uh ­ bottom. Although I had read about it, I thought that it was a filthy idea ­ and I told him so, indignantly. He frowned, telling me that it was actually quite a common practice and quite enjoyable. I guess I wasn't very nice about my response, but that's not the sort of thing that a lady discusses.

Anyway, he sent me to this specialist. A proctologist, I think he said. Don't ask me what THEY do, but since I'm sitting here in the guy's waiting room, I guess I'm about to find out. I've filled out a five-page form about my eating and potty habits. There were a lot of questions that I didn't even understand. Who needs to know that much about their bottom anyway?

The nurse calls my name and ushers me into a big examination room. It almost looks like an operating room, with all the portable spotlights and stuff. "Please remove all clothing from the waist down," she said professionally. "You may place your clothing and purse on the shelf behind you. Here is a gown for your modesty, the opening goes in the back."

She turns and walks from the room. As always, I feel real awkward taking my clothes off for the examination. I hate the feeling of the cool air as it washes across my bottom and thighs. It always makes me feel somewhat obscene. Quickly, I wrap the gown around my nakedness and perch myself uncomfortably on the bench by the door.

It's only a couple minutes before the doctor comes in reading my papers. The nurse rolls some lights near a funny looking half-couch. "OK, Mrs. Harris. Please stand on this step and lean forward on the examining couch." I looked at the half couch in trepidation. The nurse moved to hold my arm and 'help' me over to the device. I know that the doctor is going to look at ­ that part of me, but do I have to bend over and expose myself even further?

The nurse didn't let me worry about it for too long. Her firm hand in the center of my back sort of 'forced' me to lie forward obscenely. She nodded once to herself and announced "We're going to use a support strap for your comfort." The doctor looked at her oddly for a moment as she pulled a strap over my lower back and cinched it tight. "Now, the table is going to move a bit to position you for the examination."

I jumped as the device started to rotate, lowering my head and raising my hips into the air. I would have jumped off of the bench if the nurse hadn't secured me to it. "What are you doing ?" I demanded, sounding shrill to my own ears.

"Relax, Mrs. Harris," the doctor said soothingly. "This is standard procedure to examine the rectal canal. "The procedure shouldn't hurt a bit. After all, we do want to find out why you are bleeding and experiencing pain during bowel movements."

"But this is so embarrassing," I whined. When the table stopped, I could feel my buttcheeks opening obscenely.

"Nonsense, Mrs. Harris," the nurse said sternly. "There is nothing to be embarrassed about. We all have the same body parts with the same functions. The anus is only a part of the digestive system that all humans share."

The doctor and nurse exchanged glances. Shaking his head slightly, the doctor turned and put gloves over his hands. The nurse smiled slightly and picked her gloves off of the instrument table. She gave the doctor a tube of something called K-Y jelly, which he liberally spread over his fingers. He moved behind me, out of my field of vision, and the nurse set her hand reassuringly on my back.

"Mrs. Harris," the doctor's voice came from the vicinity of my knees, "You are going to feel a slight pressure as I perform the examination. Please try to relax so that we can finish this as soon as possible." I felt the gown being pushed aside, and a hand pulled my bottom apart even more.

I started whimpering as soon as his hand touched my bottom, but nothing prepared me for what came next. I felt the doctor's greasy finger rubbing around my bottom hole, then suddenly, he began to work his finger inside. I shrieked in protest at the obscene violation of my bottom. The nurse's comforting hand suddenly applied more pressure to keep me prostrate as I tried to escape the probing finger.

"Mrs. Harris, are you in pain?" the doctor asked, concerned.

"Uh ­ no" I replied shakily. "But what are you doing? Don't touch me ­ uh ­ down there!"

"Mrs. Harris," he said, puzzledly, "I am doing a standard proctologic exam! What did you expect? I can't examine you from across the room!"

Now I felt even more embarrassed. "You mean you do this to people all the time? You touch their ­ um ­ bottoms and everything?"

I heard an exasperated breath from the doctor. The nurse said firmly "The anus and rectum are just parts of the body. When something goes wrong, a doctor fixes them the same as all other body parts. There is nothing wrong or 'dirty' about any part of the human body." She sounded impatient, so I just shut up and braced myself against this violation of my dignity. "I expect you to act like a civilized adult about the exam," she exclaimed sternly.

I buried my face in my hands and moaned softly as the doctor continued his filthy exam. He pressed and squeezed until I was sure I would die from mortification. Much to my horror, the exam went on and on. His finger probed deeply, until I was sure that his finger would protrude from my vagina. In fact, after a while, the moving finger caused some distinct tingling from the womb. I was still embarrassed, but secretly trembled as new sensations radiated outward from his touch. When he finally removed his finger, my bottom hole felt uncomfortably empty.

"Hmm" the doctor sounded enlightened. "Move the light over here, nurse." Without removing her hand, she moved the examination light closer. I felt its warmth radiating against my unprotected bottom. "Yes, right here." The doctor's finger traced a stinging trail from my bottom towards my ­ privates.

"Episiotomy" the nurse said distinctly.

"Looks that way. Mrs. Harris, when did you have your last baby?"

"Uh ­ 14 months ago." I answered, not sure how that had affected my - uh ­ anus.

"Uh-huh. Have you been taking fiber, like Metamucil, to soften your bowel movements?"

I vaguely remembered my OB-GYN saying something about that, but I'd just ignored him. "Uh.. no," I admitted cautiously.

"Hmm. What about the enemas that he recommended."

"The what?" I asked intelligently.

"Enemas." The doctor enunciated precisely.

"I'm not quite sure," I stammered.

The doctor chuckled. "I'm sure if you'd been taking your enemas, that you would be sure. Well, at least I know what your problem is now." The doctor moved around until I could comfortably raise my head and see him. "You were given an episiotomy to help your child's birth. The episiotomy was deep; the cut went from the birth canal to the anus. You were instructed to drink Metamucil every day and take an enema three times per week to facilitate the healing process and keep the flesh from tearing any more." He pursed his lips slightly. "We need to reinstate those procedures, and we'll add a healing cortisone cream twice per day."

"In fact, you have an obstruction now, so we'll do an enema now to facilitate cleansing." He turned to the nurse. "Mary, will you prepare a one quart standard enema while I see if we have any samples of the cortisone cream on hand?"

"Yes, doctor." She moved off to a cabinet out of my field of view.

The doctor patted my shoulder awkwardly. "Don't worry, with a little care, we'll have everything back to normal in no time." He walked over to another cabinet that held many different small boxes and tubes. "Here we go," he said. "A good supply of enema soap and a couple of tubes of cortisone cream!" He walked back towards my bottom. "How's that enema coming, Mary?"

"Ready, Doctor." She wheeled an I-V stand beside me. Hooked up to the stand was a large red bag with a long white hose attached. "Mrs. Harris, do you have an enema bag at home?" she asked.

"I'm sure I don't know," I answered truthfully. I looked at the strange apparatus with apprehension.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Harris," the doctor said calmly. "This is a very simple procedure that you'll easily be able to duplicate at home." The doctor reached over for the end of the hose and the tube of K-Y jelly. "First, you liberally apply the lubricant to the nozzle." He demonstrated, squirting a long line of jelly along the strange looking device. "Be sure to use a water soluble lubricant like K-Y, so that the lubricant doesn't irritate the bowels."

Irritate the bowels, I thought to myself. What in the world ?

"This," he said patting the bulging bag, "Contains a standard enema solution of soapy water ­ we want it close to body temperature or slightly warmer. We will introduce the solution into the bowels, where it must remain 10 or 15 minutes to soften the fecal matter."

Fecal matter, I thought. But that means that the soapy water goes ......

I jumped against the support straps as the nozzle was pushed gently into my bottom hole. Deeper and deeper, it was inserted, until I was sure that it reached past my navel. Even as I struggled against the obscene invasion, my womb trembled ­ almost pleasantly. I felt a small moistness escape from my vagina, and I sighed quietly in spite of my indignancy.

"Now," the doctor said calmingly. "You'll feel a slight pressure as the liquid enters."

I gasped as I felt the liquid rush into my bowels. I began to feel like I had to go to the bathroom and started to struggle in earnest now.

"That's enough, Mrs. Harris," the nurse said abruptly, pressing my upper body back down onto the table. "You are not being hurt. You are going to have to repeat this procedure three times per week to start the healing process. If this episiotomy remains open much longer, you could have severe consequences." I squirmed again, and the nurse's other hand landed sharply on one buttock, almost like a spank, and she held me still, forcefully. "You need to relax. An enema can be a pleasant experience if you do."

I snorted in denial, even though my vagina was growing moister by the minute. "I don't know how anyone could relax with this filthy, obscene procedure going on," I exclaimed loudly. I started to feel more urgent cramping now. "Let me up, I must use the restroom."

"You're not going anywhere," the nurse said menacingly. "You're going to lay here like a good girl and let the enema do its work." She patted my bottom cheek as the doctor removed the nozzle from my now clenched bottom. I squirmed uncomfortably at the unaccustomed feelings in my bowel. And, I realized belatedly, in my ­ uh ­ female organs as well. As I lay there with my bottom over my head, I not only felt stirrings in my vagina, but both of my nipples tightened as well. The longer I waited, the more intense these naughty feelings grew, and soon, I moaned at the overwhelming sensations. "Just relax, Mrs. Harris," the nurse said calmly. "Just two minutes left."

"I'm going to go and talk to Mr. Harris for a minute," the doctor said quietly. "Will you be OK Mary?"

"Sure." The nurse said cheerfully, as I squirmed against the assault on my senses. She patted my bottom gently. "We'll be just fine. You go talk to him."

After another minute or so, the nurse rotated the table to its upright position. She unbuckled the support strap and helped me to my feet. Since my knees had gotten somewhat shaky, she held my elbow as I minced my way to the restroom. "Take your time, dear." She said as she closed the door.

I rushed over to the toilet and sat quickly as a stream of water started leaking out of my bottom. I whimpered as I relaxed and let the water rush out. Deep in my vagina, the shuddering built to an earth-shattering orgasm, even as the water continued to flow. Slowly, I came back to myself as I breathed deeply. Surprised at the intensity of the experience, I mentally stashed the feelings away with the other forbidden evils of my dirty mind. I rushed to clean myself, and hurried back into the examination room.

The doctor was back with a strange little smile on his face, as though he was holding a secret. When he saw me, he gestured back to the examination table. "OK, We'll apply a little of this cream, then you can head on home."

My face reddened again as I bent back over the examination table. The doctor spread my bottom cheeks apart. "Now, you'll want to apply this cream three times per day. Use about a half inch ribbon," he demonstrated by squirting the cream onto his index finger. "Then, you need to gently massage the cream onto the outside and slightly inside the anus." He rubbed the cream firmly against the sphinctster, then pushed his finger into my bottom and rubbed in a gentle circle around the entire interior of my anus. I shivered as my nipples unexpectedly hardened and my clitoris tingled. He removed his finger, and I caught myself just before I sighed aloud. It was a real comfort when I was told that I could finally replace my clothes. The doctor and nurse said they'd wait for me in the doctor's office.

When I arrived, freshly clothed, to the office, I found them earnestly talking to my husband. As I walked into the office, the doctor smiled. "OK, Mrs. Harris. Your husband has your prescriptions. I expect to see a vast improvement in your condition when you come back here in two weeks."

"Come back?" I exclaimed in horror. "You mean we have to do this again?"

My husband smiled and patted my arm. "Don't worry honey," he said with a gleam in his eye. "I'll be right behind you to help you every step of the way!"

On the way home, we stopped at the drugstore to pick up my prescription. To my embarrassment, my husband also got a huge enema bag and a large tube of K-Y jelly. Not only that, but he even talked to the pharmacist for about ten minutes about enema methodologies. I'm sure I blushed all the way to my toes by the time they finished. He was so disgustingly enthusiastic about the whole concept that I had to say something when we got to the car.

"How dare you embarrass me like that in the store!" I demanded furiously. "Have you no decency at all!"

He turned to me with an angry glint in his eye. "Embarrass you? I was discussing a medical procedure with a professional. The doctor explained just how serious your condition could get if we don't treat it properly. I for one, am going to make damn sure that it gets treated properly ­ whether you approve or not." He turned back to attend to his driving, so I just stewed all the way home.

After lunch, Jack told me to go rub on my medicine like the doctor told me. I glared slightly at him, but picked up the tube and took it to the bathroom with me. I opened the box and looked at the instructions, but the obscene pictures made me uncomfortable. Finally, I just used the toilet and left the restroom.

About a half-hour later, Jack came out of the bathroom with the tube in his hand and his brow furrowed angrily. "I thought you went in to use this," he said flatly.

I stammered "Of course I did."

His eyes narrowed. Wordlessly he unscrewed the lid and showed me the intact seal inside. I swallowed at the anger in his eyes at my deliberate lie. He grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me into our room. "When you get medical procedures to follow, I expect you to follow them. I'll show you just how easy it is."

He sat on our bed. Holding the tube in front of him, he said, "First, you break the seal." He did that efficiently. "Next, you pull down your pants and panties." He reached over and grabbed the waistband of my shorts, then yanked them to my knees.

I made an ineffectual grab as my panties were lowered as well. "You do NOT want to play that game right now," he said firmly. "There are other things that can happen to bared bottoms. Step three, you bend over." With that, he bent me double and leaned me across his knees. I blushed further, feeling like a bad girl about to get a well-deserved spanking. "Now, you squeeze some of this cream onto your fingertip. Open your bottom-cheeks, like so" he demonstrated efficiently. Embarrassed, I moved to escape the prying hands.

SMACK!!

The force of the slap on my bottom caused me to drop fully across his lap. "Don't even THINK of leaving before we're done. This is necessary for your own good. If I have to blister your fanny before you decide to let my put the cream on, I will." I was reaching behind me and rubbing ruefully at the stinging handmark on my butt. "Good!" he exclaimed. "Since your hand is already back here, YOU can hold your butt-cheeks apart."

When I didn't jump to do his bidding, his voice turned somewhat dangerous. "Well, I suppose that I could spank you until you do it ­ and I GUARANTEE you will do it."

"No .. no I'll do it," I whispered quickly, surprised - and a bit intrigued - by my husband's sudden forcefulness. I reached behind me and slowly pulled my bottom apart for him.

"Much better," he said happily. "Now all that's left is to rub on the cream." The cold cream made me flinch a little when it first touched my bottomhole. He gently rubbed it around, causing a little flutter in my 'girl parts'. When he gently pushed his finger into my bottom, my nipples hardened and the flutter became a little more distinct. He took his time, rotating his finger around much more than the doctor had. He even moved his finger in and out a couple of knuckles worth, causing me to gasp with the unexpected ­ pleasant ­ sensations. Just when I was wondering if he would ever stop, he did, slowly pulling his finger from my bottom. He patted my upthrust butt gently. "Good girl. You see, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Embarrassed again, I scrambled off of his lap. He grinned widely as I bent over to retrieve my pants and panties. Blushing madly, I nearly ran from the room.

That night, before bed, he did it again.

I actually managed to apply the medicine myself all three times the next day. My husband was his kind and polite self, and things were back to normal. Saturday, my folks picked up the kids to take them to a local carnival and my hubby and I were left alone to entertain ourselves.

Jack and I had some very enjoyable 'adult' time for a couple of hours, but then the realities of the weekend chores started to intrude. We washed the dishes together and started laundry. Things were going real well, until he mentioned that he had to go to the hardware store for the rest of the materials for the bookcases he was building. Well that wasn't so bad, the bad part was when he told me to use the time he was gone to give myself the enema. I blushed and stammered as I tried to respond to such a rude suggestion. He frowned slightly and told me that I could always wait until he got back so he could help me with the procedure. Suddenly, I bristled and told him that I was quite capable of doing THAT myself. I swear that I heard him chuckle as he turned away.

As I heard him drive off, I morosely took the bag full of supplies with me into the bathroom. Dumping the bag onto the top of the counter, I grimaced at the unfamiliar boxes that tumbled out. With trembling fingers, I opened the box that contained the enema bag and equipment. Using two fingers, I dumped the whole apparatus into the sink and washed it thoroughly with hot soapy water. As soon as I was sure that it was clean and rinsed completely, I hung the bag on the shower curtain rod.

Blushingly, I read the instructions for use of the 'bag' and 'nozzle'. They even had some perfectly obscene pictures showing how to do the process to yourself and others. Shaking my head, I picked up the box of soap that the doctor had given me. A small bottle of something called 'castille soap' fell out into my hand with the small instruction booklet. Trying to ignore the purpose of the soap, I mixed the solution like the booklet recommended. Testing the temperature of the mixture, I was suddenly brought back to reality. I was supposed to put this stuff in my ... bottom. Hands shaking even more, I spread K-Y jelly on the nozzle.

"No way!" I said aloud, shaking my head. I was not going to do this. They couldn't make me do this. In a fit of inspiration, I turned to the shower and pushed aside the curtain. Perfect. I could dump this stuff down the shower and nobody would be the wiser. I aimed that perfectly horrible nozzle at the shower drain and reached up to unclamp the valve. I giggled a little as the soapy water jetted out to spray on the wall. Pretending I was male, I moved the hose closer to my crotch and aimed the flow towards the drain, when suddenly the flow stopped. Irritated, I looked towards the clamp and saw this big, hairy paw protecting it.

I let out a little shriek and started moving away, until I recognized that the 'paw' was actually Jack's hand.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked quietly.

Blushing and stammering, I told him that he had no right to sneak up on me like that. He lifted his eyebrows slightly in warning, but I blundered right on. "Jack, you know I don't like it when you come into the bathroom when I'm in here. Besides, you scared me, what if I'd hurt you or something."

"What were you doing with the enema solution?" Jack asked quietly, ignoring my tirade.

"Uh .. nothing," I said, unable to meet his eyes.

"The doctor explained that you had to do this twice to three times per week until the episiotomy incision healed up like it should."

I was getting real tired of this. "That doctor can't make me do this. It's disgusting and dirty and .. well, I just won't."

Jack looked at me with his lips clenched. "Listen, you need to do it. The incision....."

"No!" I interrupted, angrily. "It's my body, and I'm not going to do it. The doctor can't make me do it and you won't either. Nobody's going to touch my butt."

Something snapped in Jack. "We'll see about that," he muttered as he grabbed my arm.

"What!!??" I shrieked as he dragged me across the bathroom and shut the toilet lid. "Let go of me!"

"We're going to have a little discussion first," Jack said sternly sitting down.

"I will not talk about this!" I started loudly until he suddenly bent me, face down, across his knees. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!?"

"Getting ready for our discussion," Jack said more calmly as he lifted my nightshirt up over my hips. When I felt his hands in the waistband of my panties, I shrieked again.

"Let me go, you bastard!" I shouted as he pinned my reaching hand to my lower back.

"Tsk-tsk, such language," he chided as he slowly pulled my panties down to my knees. Furiously, I fought him until..

SMACK!!

I howled as his palm slapped hard against my bottom. "Don't you touch me," I yelled, frantically.

Whack!!

"Oww! You son of a bitch, let me .."

SMACK!!

"I can see we're going to have to adopt a stronger vocabulary!" Jack said reaching over me to the counter. "Let's see if this makes my point!" he continued over my screaming tirade. My eyes went wide as I saw him lift my hairbrush over his head.

"No, don't!" I yelled in vain as he snapped the brush towards my bared bottom.

CRACK!!!

I yelped as the hairbrush smacked hard. The pain ricocheted through my body, before it settled into an unbelievable burn on my right bottom cheek. Before I could even get enough breath to say anything, he smacked me again. Smiling a bit at the resultant howl, he nodded as he raised his hand another time. Again and again, Jack cracked the brush against my stinging bottom. Before I knew it, I heard myself sobbing and begging him to stop. He ignored my pleas and kept pounding the smooth back of the hairbrush against my welted flesh.

"Please Jack! Please" I sobbed. "Owww! No more ­ no more! Aiiiiiee! Stop! Ohhhh! PLEASE!!! Yowwwww! I'll be good! Wahhhhh!"

Soon, I was making no sense at all. The butt blistering continued and all I could do is howl and try to squirm to avoid the spanks. I felt my legs kicking out with each fiery crack, but Jack didn't stop. I tried to twist away, he just grasped me tighter and the spanks got even harder. Finally, all I could to is cry.

I don't know how long I laid across Jack's lap before I realized that he had stopped spanking me. When I realized it was over, I tried to stand. Only to discover that I was still firmly being held in position.

"Now", Jack said firmly, "Are you going to listen to me?" When I didn't respond, he gave me a half dozen firm smacks across my blistered ass-cheeks. After a minute or so, he tried again. "Are you ready to listen?"

"Yes! Yes!" I howled, anxious to avoid more swats to my burning bottom.

"Much better!" he said calmly. "The doctor says that your episiotomy has not healed properly because you ignored your OB-GYN's instructions. He also told me that if you don't get this healed soon, he may have to put you on a colostomy bag and bypass your anus until it is healed. Would you rather get an enema, or be forced to carry your excrement around with you in a bag because you don't want your butt touched?"

I hadn't realized that it was that serious. "It's that bad?" I whispered up from the floor.

"Yes it is. Another couple of months, the infection could have required hospitalization."

"Oh." I said intelligently. "I guess I can do the ­ uh ­ enema." I admitted quietly.

"Good decision." Jack shifted his grip in me slightly as he reached for something. I squirmed until I could see him squeezing some K-Y jelly on his finger. I tried to protest, but he ignored me and started rubbing the lubricant on my bottom-hole. Soon, he had me squirming more as he slowly pushed his finger past the opening and massaged the greasy stuff inside my anus. The fire in my buttocks and the finger slowly pumping in and out of my bottom triggered some intense feelings elsewhere as well. My bottom gyrations became less frantic and more- well ­ sensual as Jack continued his gentle movements. A low, guttural moan escaped my lips as, knuckle by knuckle, the finger slowly withdrew. Jack's free hand gently patted my stinging bottom as he chuckled slightly.

I wasn't left free to contemplate his chuckle for long, however. He reached back across me to retrieve the enema nozzle from where I'd dropped it into the tub. I gasped as the cold plastic slowly entered my rectum. Jack seemed to want the nozzle in exactly the right place before he began, because he worked the nozzle in and out several times as I tried to regain my composure. Soon, I could stand it no more, and, seemingly of its own accord, my bottom started rising to meet the nozzle's thrusts. I whimpered slightly as my nipples crinkled and my vagina spasmed with the assault on my bottom.

Finally, he was satisfied with the nozzle position, and released the clamp. Primed as I was, this time the experience was much more sensual than in the doctor's office. I moaned with pleasure as the fluid rushed into my bowels. My bottom writhed obscenely, and I felt my own juices leak from my pussy in response to the stimulation. Since I was, in fact, being forced to undergo this 'procedure', my body fully relaxed and accepted it with enjoyment. I was actually kind of glad that Jack still held me firmly, because even though the sensations were VERY pleasant, I still thought those feelings were 'bad'.

After an eternity, Jack slowly withdrew the tube from my bottom. When I again tried to get up, he said "Relax. You've got to let this set for about five minutes, so you might as well do it here." He chuckled. "Besides, I like the view."

Blushing again, I capitulated.

"You really do have a nice bottom," Jack said while rubbing those cheeks softly. "I've loved looking at it since the day we met. If you only knew how many times I've just wanted to sit there, playing with it caressing it." While he spoke, he rubbed his hand around on my still stinging bottom. When I tried to squirm, he tightened his grip on my wrist, then continued to let his other hand wander. I moaned as his fingers roamed between my legs to my exposed pussy. "Ohhh!" he said as if discovering treasure. "Now how did this ever get so wet?" he wondered aloud. "You had better watch out or you may just end up enjoying this!" he chided, gently. "Well," he said in a normal voice. "Time's up."

For a second, I didn't understand when he finally released my wrist. Then suddenly, before he could change his mind, I jumped off of his lap. He stood like a true gentlemen, then, grinning, lifted the lid so that I could use the toilet.