I've mulled over lots of fantasies, and if I had that magic wand I know what one of my wishes would be:
I'd like to live in a house nearby a university, a cozy little place a bit secluded in a sleepy section of town. The idea would be to set up the basement in just such a way, an attractive little clinic of sorts: all the rooms would be used as different chambers, small simple furnishings - cabinets, sinks, nice big exam tables, a few specially equipped bathrooms...
...it would become my own private enema clinic! I would discreetly get the word out, and cultivate a special kind of clientele: young gals from the university, I had in mind something besides hot babes and sorority chicks; naw, the kind of lasses who'd visit my clinic would be more the shy, somewhat plainish-janeish type, we all know her: the philosophy student, first time away from home, sweet, unassuming, maybe hasn't found her niche yet - never has big weekend plans, has difficulties moving in social circles, yet the type of gal with a tender disposition, a tiny frail figure - strange/cute appearance, some with the gentle smile, or the sullen and dark-eyed, the slightly moody...you get the idea!
Simplicity would be the main thing offered on my menu of services. Just cultivate the right level of trust, inspire the girls and get their little heads softly buzzing with ideas and visions - tap right into the areas of their unfullfilled longings!
I'd imagine them wandering down the street to my house, manoeuvring back behind to the low basement entrance: a cool Friday evening, they've brought along a change of clothes and some pajamas, per instructions.
Once past the threshold, there's that first moment of meeting and greeting, then they'd be taken by the hand and guided back to the inner sanctum where I'd prepare them for the evening: some caring help, a touch on the shoulder, clothing unbuttoned with soft little reassurances; the room is nice and dim, no strong lights; and they'd be gently lifted up onto a nice padded table, their skin oozing down into the relaxing cushiony surface, sheets feeling soft against their flesh.
A dimmer switch would be turned up slightly, the girls would see tables and sinks, a cart nearby loaded with bottles, swabsticks, jars of this and that; tissues, gauze strips and pads, plus many other things; then the shivers would start, and little squeaky moans; lying there just in their underwear, several minutes pass in anticipation while I check on others in nearby rooms.
The evening would drag on slowly, hours passing with no real sense of time - silent, still, nary a clock ticking! And so it would commence: some gentle sweet words, fingers gently grazing against soft cotton and silk; shaken-down thermometers, and down come those pannies: squeaks, squeals...ssssssshhhhhhh! And then that special moment when the sticky tip is touching the soft little brown spot - a firm hand and down it goes, plunging, prodding...a gasp and maybe a little tear or two...yet a warm woozy sensation starts throbbing down below, somewhere.
Just the beginning, and things would flow along; scents and vapors filling the room, tissues crumpled, fannies wiped, suppositories sorted and arranged on a tray; bulb syringes fitted with special tips, lotions applied, special pads placed under pelvises; a hand is held, a reassuring squeeze, toes drumming on the padded table; a tiny eye-dropper filled with a special substance held just above a twitching opening: little drops fall - ping! ping! splash!
Some gentle sobs, some gentle rubs. Bags are filled, nozzles dangle downward, special diapers standing by in case they're needed. More lotion applied, a little baby powder - little intermissions, used just for some gentle rectal massages, long fingers probing in and around - exquisite rhythms, little pussies are getting very VERY wet!
Halfway through the evening, and the first real enemas are given; swooshes and gurgles, slimy rods and probing pipes; wiggles and moans, trembling, twitching, thrusting bodies, strong hands needed; butt-plugs and diapers, soaked towels, naughty little spills and crying - girls picked up and carried to the toilet, dark little rooms with no lights; expelling and flushing, wiping and soothing, ready for the next portion of care and treatment.
And on and on and on. Exhausted bodies, tired and spent, breathing softly as they're made ready for sleep - the last wipe, the last check, bedtime suppositories are given; a few more bulb squeezings and one last temp.
Padded white dy-dees fitted on, covers drawn up, quivering bodies; longing looks, teary reddish eyes - some ask for something more. Possibly a back rub. Or one last rectal rub. Or a little more from that bulb with the cream in it...
...good night little princesses! I'll come in to check on you.
And so lights out.
* * *
I know I'll never make this a reality.
But somebody sure as hell should!
😎