The Preacher's Wife

The Preacher's Wife

Punishment By Strict Enema

Maggie Christine

Height 5'6" Weight: 152 Hair: Brown Eyes: Green

Bust: 38 Cup: B Waist: 35 Hips: 39

Date: June 27th, 2025 Place: Mason City, IA

Last: Feb, 2025 Session No: 14 Next: Oct 2025

Theme: Punishment Enema

I spend about 8 months out of the year traveling around in my RV. Not all at once, but a number of shorter trips, all out from my home in Deming, NM, where I have a small, private business designing and building small aircraft in the gaps between trips. I have one live-in slave, "Mouse," a 32-year-old petite, and perky, blond woman. I also have a number of playtoys, spread out as I visit as I travel, sometimes as rarely as twice a year, sometimes more often, especially those closer to my home.

When I write a story like this, it's as an added humiliation to the toy starring in it. Obviously, I've changed her name, but that's about all. I might have moved her a town or two over, but not too far. The descriptions are real. This way, the toy, who knows about the story, will always wonder if anyone she knows has read it. If they have, the descriptions are recognizable enough that they'd wonder if it was their friend. Once in a while, as was the case with this story, I made the toy give printed copies to three of her friends, who had to sign it and she had to send me a picture to prove her obedience. Naturally, I only do stuff like that when it's safe, meaning the toy has friends she can show it to who won't turn her secret into gossip.

Maggie is a 44-year-old, fairly average housewife. She's also the wife of a Baptist minister, and what little work she does outside the house is all for their church. Outwardly, she's a prim and proper woman. But she has a secret, or rather a two-part secret. That's me. I visit her about three times a year to help her relieve some tension that nothing else seems to release for her. Her secret is that she likes the humiliating and uncomfortable punishments I inflict on her. The stricter the supervision she gets during them, the more aroused she becomes. The second part of her secret is that once she gets that aroused, she needs another woman to release the tension for her. The ironic part is how loudly she preaches against any form of same-gender intimacy the rest of the time. It's a big point for their church, and thus for her personally.

Her husband knows all about her secret, and so long as it's kept secret, he's willing to pay along with the condition that I don't actually have sex with his wife. It's a condition I don't mind much. My fun comes from punishing her. Mouse gets the fun of taking care of her, and then I help myself to my pet, Mouse. It took him two sessions to work up the nerve to ask me if he was allowed to watch, and naturally, I said yes. If it does anything to Maggie, it only humiliates her a little bit more.

Complicating matters, the couple has three children. I have a hard rule that no kids can be around anything, under any circumstances, not even 17-year-olds the day before their birthday. With three kids under ten in the house, it leaves me little choice but to arrive late when I come during the summer months, ensuring they're sound asleep at the far end of the house. During the school year, I've been known to appear during the day when they aren't home, which is my preference. This year I'm running a few weeks later than I wanted to. I blame Trump, since his new border policies went into place, the airspace over Deming has gotten unusually busy with low-altitude military helicopters, slowing down a series of test flights. Last night, my usually quiet airspace was visited by not one, but three, Ospreys. The V-22 tilt rotor kind. Those are not known for being quiet. (Hey, UGLY-43, I'm talking about you, jarhead!)

I know that she always has the kids in bed by nine, so I wait until ten to knock on the door. I avoid the bell fearing that it might wake the kids, one thing I do not want to do. She's not expecting me, either. That's the case about half of the times I drop by. This time, however, when she'd emailed me to confess to being disobedient by sneaking in a masturbation, I'd told her that I'd check my schedule and get back to her to arrange a time to remind her of the need for obedience. She didn't know I was traveling at the time, or that I wasn't too far away, merely over in Indiana. The best part of not having an itinerary is that I can change it by whim, and that's exactly what I did. She was expecting me to be in touch Monday with a day. Instead of waiting until Monday, I showed up on Friday night.

I watch her face fall as she opens the door. She hates seeing me, more so when she hasn't had time to get ready for it. She doesn't know what I'm going to do to punish her, but she knows she's going to hate it. She always does. She needs to in order to get fully aroused. I'd bet she knows that, too. I tell her that she has two minutes to get her husband and be at the door of my RV. I'm parked on the street in front of their house, so she doesn't have far to go. Then, without another word, I turn and walk away, leaving her standing there. I hear her take a deep breath, but by the time I'm a few steps away, she's going to get her husband.

The pair are on time, knocking on my door with a few seconds to spare. Mouse opens it and tells the pair to come in. I have Mouse wearing a light pink, short-sleeved, silk, button-up blouse over denim cargo shorts, with a white leather belt and sandals today. Her medium-long, light blond hair is back in a tight tail, adding to her perky look. She points Greg, Maggie's husband, to the sofa which is almost directly across from the door and tells him politely that he's to sit there while "my Master disciplines that nasty hag." He takes his seat, but his eyes stay on his wife, except for the overly-frequent glances he keeps throwing to Mouse. That's my fault. I noticed him glancing at her before, so this time I have Mouse's blouse unbuttoned one extra button. Now, every time she moves, she's flashing her white lace bra. I'm sure he's noticed the half-cups that leave plenty of skin bared on her firm mounds, too. I meant for him to. Just because I'm not going to touch him, I avoid doing much of anything with men, doesn't mean I won't tease him. It will ensure he's good and ready for Maggie when I'm done with her.

As soon as Maggie is through the door, I have a hand on her arm and am leading her over towards the dinette. RVs aren't known for generous open spaces, but I have a large one, similar to a tour bus with slide-outs that I have out now, giving me a few feet to work with. I stop Maggie and turn her to face me. That has her facing her husband as well.

I lean against the wall casually. I'm a decade older than Maggie, at 54. I'm not especially big, either. I do have a long, mostly gray beard that makes most people think I am, or was, a biker. I've never been. But I am Jewish, and I don't cut it. "What are you waiting for, bitch? Strip down as naked as the day before you were born. Chop, chop, bitch. Give your clothes to Mouse."

None of this is new to Maggie. She knows what I mean, and she starts taking her clothes off. I don't make her do it the way I usually make toys strip; I only require her to take one thing off at a time, fold it, and hand it over to Mouse. Like any woman would, she starts with the innocuous items, her shoes and socks. Then it's every last accessory she has, even her glasses and wedding rings, before she starts removing actual clothes. She unbuttons her blouse next, letting me see a generic white bra. It's the kind of thing a woman calls everyday wear, not the sexy stuff that Maggie is obviously saving for a more intimate time with her husband. Once that's off, her loose-fitting jeans come down, revealing a pair of comfortable, but modest, satin beige panties.

While Maggie is still taking her clothes off, I scold her for the underwear. It's one of my rules that she's to always have a matching set on. It doesn't matter if she'll see me, or if I'm at a hockey game in Vancouver, her bra and panties are to be a set. Not just the same color or design, but a set. I know she has plenty of sets, too. This is the first time I've caught her breaking this rule. I'd bet she was confident I wouldn't pop by tonight, and went with something comfy. I'll remind her that's a mistake. Rules are meant to be obeyed.

Maggie is, to me, a blandly average woman. I don't mean to imply that she's unattractive, she's not. She's just neither tall nor short; neither thin nor plump; she's not narrow, but she's not wide either. She's average. She stands 5'6" tall, and weighs around 155 pounds. She measures 38 around her chest, but her breasts are a little small, at least proportionally filling out a B-cup bra. Her stomach is mostly flat. She does have a nice feminine curve at her waist, and softly flowing lines to round out her hips over lean thighs.

Maggie looks exactly like what she is. A preacher's wife; a church lady; and a soccer mom. Her face has a noticeable oval shape, but it also has smooth lines to it leaving it without any harshness or sharp angles, even at her chin. She has short, dark brown hair that's straight, but a little frizzy, and puffs out as its ends hang over the tops of her shoulders. She has bright green eyes under sparse, but long and wide, brown brows. Her nose looks to be a touch short. Her mouth is wide, but mostly flat, framed with a pair of light pink, purple-tinged, lips. At the moment, there's a slight downturn at the corners of her mouth, almost a scowl, and that brings up a pair of lines along her cheeks. There are a few more faint lines at the corners of her eyes, but those are harder to see.

Her body shows no fat. Her shoulders are lean, but not so lean that the lines of her bones are visible. Her chest and stomach are flat, her skin milky white and dotted with a few large brown freckles, some the size of peas. Her skin isn't taut with youth, but despite having lost some of its elasticity, there's no hang or sag to it. There's nothing but a flat stomach with decently firmed muscles under it, and a single, faint line across the tops of her pubes. As usual, her pubes sport a natural bush that's sparse, her skin easily showing through the black curls, except as it nears her mound where it quickly becomes especially dense, the thick fur covering her fully and hiding her mound. Her thighs are mostly lean, not carrying any extra weight, but like her arms, the flesh has a faint touch of looseness to it. Her claves, however, are shapely.

Maggie has breasts that look fairly large, and are with cup size being deceptive; it's not actually a size but a ratio of size compared to her chest. On top, they're slightly flat, sloping down from her chest almost with straight lines, before the lines round fully over the tips, and stay rounded at the underside. The undersides of her mounds lie back against her chest with a deep crease. Her mounds are a bit soft, and as they hang from her chest, they angle slightly outward, widening the deep V of her cleavage. They're as milky white as the rest of her skin, but dotted with a few more freckles than the rest of her. She has wide rings atop those mounds, roughly the size of the bottom of my mini-mart coffee cup. They're pink-purple, a touch on the bright side, but also lightly hued. Each ring surrounds a nipple as wide as a marble, and rising up in the shape of a half marble, but a little taller. Her nipples are stiff now, showing off their deep pink-purple color and bowl-shaped rounded tips.

Maggie stands almost dully waiting to hear what punishment I'm going to make her suffer for her sins. Masturbation is clearly forbidden to all of my toys, without my permission, and Maggie has little, if any, chance of getting permission. She has a husband to satisfy, so there's no reason for me to let her play with herself when she could be putting that pussy to better use taking care of him. On top of that, there's unmatched underwear.

Greg sits on the sofa, staring at his nude wife, and probably wondering what I'm going to do to her as well. He's silent, but I've warned him long ago that if he interrupts, he's leaving. I made him go once, and added on to Maggie's punishment since she'd obviously been a slut and overly enticed him during her punishment. If she hadn't, I reasoned, then he could have behaved and stayed. He hasn't interrupted me since.

I don't want to injure Maggie, or in her case, even leave lasting marks on her body. I don't care what she looks like when I'm done, but I want her looking exactly as she did when she walked in by morning. That limits what I can do to her. Light little marks only, the ones that quickly fade away. I pick up a ruler. They make excellent little swat sticks, not harsh enough to be called paddles, but they sting, and leave only light pink stripes that vanish in minutes.

Preparation

I start scolding Maggie for her impatience. The minute I start, I have the ruler snapping firmly against her breast. She doesn't squeal, but I do hear her suck in a sharp breath and I see the shivering flinch of a light tremor hit her. I can see the dim pink stripe erupt across her pale skin, too. So I keep scolding her while I swat her other breast. Then I swat each cheek of her bottom once. I send a fifth stroke into her thin bush, leaving its pink stripe under her fur. Then I start over, giving each place one more stroke, getting me a slightly sharper flinch and now I can hear a touch of squeal hiding in her sucking breaths. It gives me time to finish scolding her for the impatience. I remind her that were she patient, like a "good wife" should be, then she would have waited and let her husband take care of it for her, instead of sneaking off like a horny teenager and playing with herself.

As I step around Maggie, my body close to hers, I softly, but with an icy voice, tell her "I have just the thing to teach you a little patience, bitch. I think your punishment will be a nice big retention enema." I see the tremor flow over her body.

Maggie's face falls again, this time morphing into a mask of disgust and nervousness. She hates enemas, and doesn't mind showing it. Mouse already has everything I'll want set out for me in the bathroom, where it's just out of Maggie's sight. I didn't want her to see what I had planned. I didn't want her standing nervous, waiting for the inevitable. By the time I told her what was going to happen, I put a hand to her shoulder and hip to bend her forward to get it.

Maggie's bottom is similar to the rest of her body, blandly average for a soccer mom. While it's not the firm, hard, rounded bottom of a college cheerleader, it's not the least bit fat either. Her hips are curved and gently rounded. Her thighs are lean. Her cheeks have a tiny hint of flatness to them, but also hold a little rounded arc at the bottoms, as they ride from her thighs, that's most visible at the insides. They round gently as they rise and curve back to her waistline. The inside edges meet full, closing off her crack into a fine line with only the shortest, but wide, inverse V at the bottom. That's still plenty for me to see the dense thicket of her fur between her thighs under it. Her cheeks have a touch of spongy softness to them, but they have no sag or flab to them. There are no dimples or lines from weight, just a few sparse brown freckles dotting their milky skin.

Maggie obediently keeps her hands and arms at her sides as I bend her forward instead of letting them hang down with gravity. It makes the position a little awkward for her, as I want it to be. It also makes her balance a little less steady, her weight no longer centered over her feet. Mouse comes forward to help by supporting Maggie's shoulders. I bend her all the way over until her back is roughly straight. Her feet weren't fully together, but they're not separated by more than a couple of inches. It's enough that I can see her crack starting to open, more at the bottom than at the top. I can now just barely make out the ring of her asshole.

For tonight's lesson, I've selected a longer, but thin, nozzle. It's silicone with a thin wire inside it to keep it from curling up, and over a foot long, but no thicker than a soda straw. It won't be uncomfortable passing through her asshole, which will be a mercy to her. I've already attached about four feet of clear plastic tubing to it, thinner than the nozzle.

The first thing I do is pull on a pair of purple latex gloves. Then I get a tube of lubricating gel off the counter and squirt a drop on the tip of my first finger. I slip the fingers of my other hand into her crack and use it to nudge her cheeks a little wider apart.

Maggie's asshole is light pink, but flushed almost bright red now. It's fairly small, no wider across than a dime but surrounded by a larger swath of flesh that's also lightly colored, but leaning more to brown than pink tones. There are countless wrinkle lines in the flesh, three slightly more prominent than the rest, as her pink flesh bunches up over the firmly tensed muscle. At the very center, her tightly clenched muscle leaves a dark squiggle, shaped roughly like an irregular ">." Her husband likes hair on her mound, and around it, so I've relaxed my usual grooming standards for Maggie to allow her to look pleasing for him; the downside for me is that her fur doesn't end at the bottom of her slit; instead, there are some light hairs sparsely scattered behind it, a few into her crack, and while not on her asshole, not too far from it either. The hairs on her thighs have been shaven away, trimming her bush just inside of her panty line. With her cheeks opened, I haven't pulled anything taut, merely exposed her ring fully.

I put the tip of greased finger to her muscle and use a very slight pressure to cover the outside of it with a thin layer of grease. I can feel the quivering tremors flowing through her, and see her ring twitching as it's touched. "Maggie, hold still while I lubricate your anus for you." I hope the stressed words remind her that the grease only eases what's to come. It's not necessary; it's just to make it easier.

I press a little firmer, pushing the tip of my finger into her asshole. Her muscle is about 1/4" thick, and I only push my finger into its grasp, not through it. I twist my finger slowly, smearing a little more of the grease over the flesh squeezed in the muscle's grip as well. Then I let the tip of my finger push a little deeper, twisting it again, slowly, covering the inside rim of her muscle and the very bottom of her walls. "No wonder you can't keep your hands off your pussy, bitch, you are awfully filthy tonight. You really should try using a toilet once in a while." I don't feel anything, but I'm barely through her asshole. It doesn't matter. She believes I can tell that her butt is full already. I feel another sharp, but small, tremor flow through her body, this one of embarrassment.

I slip my finger back out, and quickly the tip of the nozzle is against the squiggle of her asshole. I hear her take a sharp and nervous deep breath, then hold it while she readies herself, not knowing what nozzle she's getting, but knowing that I have a wide range of them. I press and watch the red tube slip easily through her tight, well-greased, pink ring. Maggie lets her breath out slowly, lacing a faint "ooh" into it as she feels the nozzle slipping over her tender flesh. A second later -- I'm slipping it in as slowly as I can to make her feel it more fully -- Maggie feels the tube against the insides of her walls. Now she feels how deeply it's inside her, and inching even deeper. I know, from previous measurements, that it's just under eight inches before the tip of the nozzle bumps against the very depths of her bowels unpleasantly for her. I stop at seven inches, where I've put a little Sharpie mark on the nozzle. Since I know Maggie will try and push the nozzle back out of her bottom, I put a little strip of adhesive tape over it, securing it over her asshole inside her crack. I put a second strip over the end of it, taping that to the small of her back with the tube running up her crack, between her cheeks.

Then I stand Maggie up. I pull off my gloves, not wanting to get grease all over her. I take a moment to make sure that Maggie is standing as I want her to for this punishment, her feet now together. I make sure her arms hang loose at her sides, and her hands are opened, not balled into fists. Her head is up as well, her eyes looking straight ahead, which gives her a view along the RV that lets her see her husband watching her, but also lets her see out the front windshield to the street beyond. I know my RV well, far better than Maggie does. I've checked and I know that there is no real way anyone will be able to see anything below Maggie's neck. The front seats and dashboard are in the way, and that's on top of the height of the RV. The floor Maggie is standing in is almost five feet over the street I'm parked on. Maggie lives on a quiet residential street. There won't be any foot traffic this time of night, and probably no more than one or two cars passing by. None will be able to see anything, but Maggie will assume that they can see everything. From her vantage point, looking down to the cars, it will look that way. But to actually see Maggie, someone would need to climb up on the trunk of the car in front of me, or bring a step ladder, and I'd have to go remind them how rude that is before they got a peek.

I bring out the enema itself, a 500-ml syringe that Mouse filled with "pee." It's not really pee. It's distilled water that I got on a 2-for-1 sale at Pepper's Market in Deming, with several drops of food coloring to get a good deep golden coloring to it, and some salt stirred in for that realistic taste. Maggie believes me when I tell her "a filthy bitch like you doesn't deserve a clean enema, so I've prepared a nice, disgusting piss enema for you." I make sure that Maggie has to see me connect the tubing to the syringe. With the clear tubing circling around her waist line, she has no doubt what the tubing is connected to at the other end.

Enema

"I'll expect you to be patient while I take my time flooding your butt with this whore piss, bitch," I begin telling Maggie what she's going to have to do. And letting her know that this isn't going to be quick. "You will stand exactly as I have put you until I tell you otherwise. There will be no crying, either, bitch. I'm not in the mood to hear you whine about how impatient you want to be." Maggie understands that "no crying" includes whining and making other noises. She's going to anyway, she always does, but it makes a good excuse to punish her a little more.

"Well start with 100 milliliters," I tell her. Maggie has no doubt that she's going to end up with all of the water inside her. She's done this a few times before. I know that she's wishing I'd just give it all to her and get on with it, too. That's why I've decided to give it to her slowly. Giving her what she doesn't want is the way to best arouse her.

I push the plunger slowly, taking a good minute to squirt the first 100-ml into her. The instant she feels the warmed drops splattering against the deepest part of her bowels, Maggie shudders hard. She starts breathing deeply and slowly, controlling her breaths while she stands still. For now. 100-ml isn't a lot; it's about the size of a generic disposable enema from Walgreens. It will take a minute or so to have it's full urging effect on her.

While the water is sitting inside Maggie, steadily making her urge to empty grow more powerful, I pick up my riding crop. I have a close eye on Maggie, watching for her to move anything, and knowing it won't be long until she does. The enema is only a small part of the punishment. Behaving it for it is more of the punishment, as is the utterly degrading relief she'll get at the end.

Maggie's breaths take on faint little "Ooh" tones as she tries to control her breathing. She stays still, the enema not yet large enough to be too uncomfortable for her. Standing up straight, however, is not the most comfortable position to get an enema in, either. Bending at the waist would straighten her bowels up and let Maggie be more comfortable as she fills. I keep her up. This is a punishment after all, so I figure it should be as uncomfortable for her as possible.

I have 400-ml left in the syringe. When she loaded it, Mouse made certain that it was full with no air bubbles or anything else but water in it. I let Maggie stand for a full minute. Then I press the plunger again, giving her another 50-ml of the water before setting it down again. It's still not much, the larger disposable saline enemas are over 200-ml, but with her bowels having just adjusted to the first 100, the additional is unwelcome enough that Maggie feels her urge double as it floods into her.

Her asshole clenches tight to hold the water back from leaking out. Her breaths start getting a little faster. Her fingers twitch, telling me that she feels the urge to ball them up already.

A slightly harder shudder flows over Maggie. It's far from what I'd call powerful, but it's enough for me to notice the movement at her hips. I snap my crop against her cheek, searing a light pink spot onto it. The crack isn't loud, but it's plenty for everyone to hear it. It makes Maggie flinch hard, almost jumping forward, as she feels the light burning on her skin and the little sting shooting deeper into the muscle of her cheek. Her mouth opens wide to squeal, but she holds it back. I see her eyes shifting around anxiously searching for anything. "I said stand still, bitch! That was for the impatience. No one wants to see your fat ass jiggling around like some whore on the prowl."

And that tells Maggie just how bad her punishment is going to be. As she stands there, she tries to imagine how bad it's going to get, knowing that she'll end up with the entire syringe inside her, and knowing that I'll cheerfully whip her for even the smallest movement, forcing her to stand statuesquely still for her punishment. The idea alone is enough to start her muscles tensing up a little.

I wait for a full minute after the end of her second squirt before I pick up the syringe to give her a third. I give her another 50-ml, somewhere around the volume of a whiskey shot. She feels it like a flood this time, tensing her muscles tightly and clenching her jaw. I watch as, over the next few seconds, I see her face scrunching up and her brows rising. I see her toes curl against the floor under them, lifting the balls of her feet a hair off the floor. That, I decide, is worthy of a pink spot atop each foot. I give them to her with two quick strokes of the crop. It's not a good place to be whipped. The tops of her feet are bony, and she feels the sting worse there. I see her flinch with each. "Feet flat on the floor, bitch. Stop being such an impatient slut!"

The scolding begins to arouse Maggie. I notice her nipples pulling tighter as they stiffen to their hardest, pulling up little rippled ridge lines in her rings as they do. I see her body start to shiver lightly as well. I let her get away with the involuntary reaction. I don't let her get away with her breasts moving, even if it is shiver-induced. As soon as I see the soft mounds move, not even jiggling yet, both get a light swat on the tip of the nipple. Maggie sucks a sharp breath in as each stroke lands, scrunching her face up tighter with a little pain showing now. She lets her breath out, and gives me a pleading look as she endures the sting in those mounds. With her large rings, the crop doesn't leave a visible pink spot this time.

I keep the same pace administering her enema, timing off one full minute from when I put the syringe down, to when I go to pick it up again. I press the plunger slowly, taking about half of a minute to push the next 50-ml into her. She now has a few milliliters more than the larger disposable enemas would give her. And she still has only half of the enema she's getting, which is about half of what she could hold inside her if she really tried. It's plenty to make her exceedingly uncomfortable, though, and not enough to risk any injury no matter how much was already inside her bottom.

I hear Maggie's breaths starting to take a ragged tone, as if she's forcing herself to breath deep while her lungs try to pant hard. I see her trembling slightly as the shivers flow over her body. Her bottom wiggle, and she gets a swat to it. It gets a flinch from her, and a look on her face, but that's all it does. She keeps quivering, and quickly earns another stroke to her other cheek. And then another.

I tease Maggie, asking her "aw, does the filthy little slut feel impatient now?"

"Yes, Master. This filthy whore really needs a bathroom right now, Master!" Maggie's voice is a bit deeper, and raspier, than usual, telling me that she's aroused. I glance anyway and can see the sparkle of her watery wetness clinging in the thick fur over her lips. Maggie has a wide slit, but it's filled with the wrinkly tips of her loose folds. At the back, over her tunnel, her folds protrude slightly. Those are so lightly pink they almost look to be the same color as the skin on the outside of her lips, minus the fur. I can see those folds glistening brightly as well now, too.

I snap my fingers, "Mouse!" As soon as I do, Maggie shudders and I have to swat her breasts for that. This time I put the swat on the top of them, where it hurts a little less but leaves the faint pink crop print. She gasps and flinches with a crisp tremor as each lands.

Mouse is immediately standing in front of Maggie. Mouse is what I call "sub-sexual." She's definitely attracted to men, but what really attracts her is having the choice of her partner made for her and imposed upon her. She find far more interesting than any man or woman would be.

"Mouse, Maggie is being a very dirty slut during her punishment," I tell Mouse in a teasing voice. I can see the nervousness in Maggie's eyes as she wonders, and fears, what I might do next. "Entertain this slut like the filthy whore is truly is."

Mouse knows exactly what I want her to do. I briefed her before we arrived, so that as I denigrated Maggie, Mouse would know the cues were her instructions as well. "Oh, yes, Master, it will be my pleasure to entertain this repulsive old whore!" Mouse sounds excited, and I know she is. I've just made the choice for her.

Mouse looks Maggie in the eyes. "now you be a good little whore for your enema and stay still, Maggie. I'll take such sweet care of you!" Mouse softly puts her hand to Maggie's bare hip, then tenderly caresses her way around, and down through her bush, until her hand finds Maggie's moist mound. Mouse wiggles her finger against the tips of Maggie's folds, finding the hard nub of Maggie's pea sized clit. Mouse's finger begins teasing it with soft and slow strokes that drag it out, making Maggie feel the constant slow motion that torments the throbbing ache that it so slowly builds in her.

"UHH" Maggie lets out a throaty moan as she feels Mouse being to tease-masturbate her. She shudders as well.

It forces me to snap at her "Maggie! You're being the most disgusting dyke whore!" as I slap her face. "Shut up, bitch." then she gets a couple of strokes to her cheeks for the shuddering squirms.

Maggie breathes faster deep breaths now, the raspiness of her throat making a little sultry "uh" in each. Her eyes are wide, her face tight, as she looks out at Mouse's perky grin.

I give Maggie squirt number five, bringing the total volume to 300-ml. Maggie groans loudly as the water floods slowly into her, now stretching her bowels uncomfortably as her walls are pulled taut. The pressure inside her grows overly uncomfortable, the water pushing hard against the inside of her asshole as it tries to find a way out instead of stretching her insides like a water balloon. Pulled tightly, the nerves of her bottom tingle with sparks that shoot up her spine and to her brain.

Mouse "helps" Maggie be quiet and save herself another face slap by immediately putting her lips to Maggie's and kissing her. Mouse enjoys kissing women, and she doesn't hesitate to slip her tongue into Maggie's mouth and explore it, letting Maggie feel the delicate femininity caressing inside. It does not help Maggie. It increases Maggie's arousal, getting a hard shudder from her. I use my left hand to swat Maggie's bottom with the crop while I'm still pushing the plunger, and that makes Maggie moan out both uncomfortably, and erotically. Mouse ignores it and keeps kissing her, keeping Maggie's arousal blooming fast.

I watch as Maggie's bottom tightens up, her cheeks clenching together hard. Her legs and arms are tight as well. I catch her balling her hands into fists as she tries to control her body. I swat her hands, searing smarting pink splotches onto the backs of them as I scold her for it, and remind her that she's to behave now. Patiently. I can almost hear her silent groan. I can see the sensual shivers flowing sharper and sharper over her as Mouse not only kisses her, but masturbates her teasingly, and now caresses her with her other hand as well. Mouse finally breaks the kiss, letting Maggie pant fast, deep, raspy "UH" breaths. The relief stirs a hard shudder that her gets Maggie another stroke to her bottom.

Mouse knows better than to stop masturbating Maggie. She shifts her hand, moving so that she get the tip of her finger into Maggie's pussy and feel the fiery heat burning in that sloppy-wet tunnel. She can feel the spongy firmness of her walls as they instinctively squeeze around her finger, too. She puts the flat of her palm against Maggie's clit, ensuring that keeps getting teased as well. She rocks her hand, stroking her finger in and out of the tunnel while her palm gets the stony-like hard nub of Maggie's clit.

As I begin Maggie's sixth squirt, bringing the volume up to 350-ml, Mouse puts her lips to Maggie's stinging nipples and, alternating back and forth between them, gives them several tender kisses, her delicate tongue skillfully swirling around the hard nubs with each kiss. It's too hot for Maggie to stand, and she shudders powerfully each time Mouse's tongue tortures her with its sweetness. Each shudder moves her hips enough that I swat her bottom, refreshing the sharpness of the light sting. That makes her try to still her body, tensing her muscles to the point they strain hard. The tension only makes her feels the enema more, and that discomfort makes the urge more powerful, pushing her to want to squirm hard, which she has to fight.

Before the next squirt, I have to swat Maggie's bottom twice more. I have to swat her thighs for tensing so much that it starts to lift her feet. I have to swat her hands for balling her fists up. And I have to slap her face, a little harder this time so that I leave a pink handprint on it, for moaning. I scold her for the obscene sluttiness as well.

The seventh squirt will being the volume up to 400-ml. That's "too much" pressure inside Maggie's bottom. It makes her urge overpowering. It starts a few light cramps in stomach muscles, low down behind the fur on her pubes. As those ripple, instinct makes Maggie want to double forward and bring her hands to her stomach. I don't allow that. She gets a swat to her stomach, reminding Mouse why I told her to stand back from Maggie, not to hug the woman. It gets her a swat to her arms as well, for almost moving them. And a swat to the backs of her hands for trying to ball her fists up.

Mouse keeps masturbating Maggie. Maggie keeps enjoying that. I have no doubt that Maggie feels the lightly throbbing, powerful ache, no longer blooming, but now exploding in intensity as it fills her pussy. I'd bet that urge is just as powerful as the one that has her bottom straining. The only difference is that now her pussy drips a couple of drops of her wetness, while her asshole stays clenched vise-tight to hold it's drips back. I know she can feel the tautness of her walls and the over-full sensation. All of it makes her want to move her body. My crop makes her keep it still, and that makes her nerves urge her even more strongly. They don't like being ingored.

I give Maggie the eighth squirt, bringing the volume to 450-ml, almost the full half-liter (16.9 ounces) enema. It has her jaw clenched tightly shut, her muscles stiff from head to toe. She quivers sharply, her body more seeming to vibrate than shiver. The goosebumps not cover about half of her ample breasts. The breasts that jiggle slightly as the first shuddering tremor hits her like a tsunami. I swat her nipples for jiggling. It stings sharply, like little needles piercing into them, but, wither her rings so flushed, the pinkness doesn't show. It makes it harder for me to judge how pink they really are, or if anything will show for long. So, when they jiggle again in a second, I bring the crop up to swat the soft, oft-neglected, undersides of her mounds. It's a light swat, but it still tosses the soft mounds up a little, jiggling them more.

Maggie is so tensed that it's hard to see her flinch with the swats now. Her breaths have grown overly ragged as she sucks in a sharp fast breath, then strains hard, slowly letting a deep, sultry "uhm" out. Her bottom wiggles three times, each earning her a slightly harder swat, leaving a bright, but light, pink splotch on her cheek. Her formerly-milky white cheeks now glow almost a solid pink shade, the swats having covered all of their skin. I'd bet her cheeks are stinging about as badly as if she were sitting on a cushion of pins, too. I know her bowels are strained to the point she is certain that they're going to explode inside her. She gets another swat on her stomach, this one at the hairline of her pubes, as she starts doubling over again. As she straightens back up, grimacing as hard as she can, I see a bit of wetness in her eyes. I see her pussy still slowly, but steadily, dripping onto Mouse's hand, too.

As I give Maggie the final squirt, I can hear her moaning a deep "UHM" even though, the instant the water starts flowing onto her, she holds her breath. She quivers sharply, too. Her pussy drips steadily onto Mouse's hand, while Mouse, feeling nothing, goes on teasing Maggie hard, but carefully to ensure Maggie doesn't get to cum this soon.

Maggie thinks that she's barely even feeling what Mouse is doing to her. Her body is feeling it, the ache powerfully strong in her pussy as it steadily leaks wetness onto Mouse. The nearly unbearable fullness in her bottom overwhelms her brain, urging her to stop fighting herself and let it explode from her now. To not even bother running for a toilet, just to let go. Maggie resists, clenching her asshole to its full squeezing tightness, clamping it like a vise around the silicone tube through it. Her walls burn lightly from the strain of their thin muscles being pulled too tightly. The water shoves hard against her asshole. Her muscles, the ones of her bowels that move things along them, cramp behind her pubes in protest. All Maggie wants is to let the enema out.

Even though the syringe is empty, I leave Maggie standing there, and I let Mouse go one so sweetly teasing her. Mouse is exceedingly well skilled at teasing. I've taught her, and she pays close attention to the one she's teasing. She can draw it out indefinitely, keeping the woman just short of cumming. That's what she's doing now. I couldn't let Maggie cum now, no matter how generous I was feeling. She'd lose control and mess my floor. Orgasms, especially when given to her by a woman, relax her body fully as she goes over the edge.

I keep swatting her body, making her stay still while the enema makes her as uncomfortable as she's ever felt, and Mouse makes her want to beg for an orgasm. I've decided that she's going to wait at least five agonizing minutes like this.

I do something new, and ask Greg if he'd care for a closer look. I'm not sure if he'll accept or not. He is male, and few men find two ladies touching each other to be anything more than erotic, however he's also rather openly anti- everything same-gender. Then again, he was gawking, while trying hard not to be seen looking, as Mouse kissed Maggie. He acts reluctant, but stands and takes the few steps over, coming up behind Mouse. He glances at his wife's naked body, seeing for the first time up close the quivering tremors racing through her. I point out her pussy dripping on to Mouse's hand. He avoids looking at the one thing that started Maggie's explosive arousal, the little tube still in her bottom.

There's no missing the tight scrunching grimace on her face, or her clenched jaws. She'd shut her eyes, but that's not allowed, so she makes them stay open showing us the wetness blooming there. She barely breathes, taking slow breaths that she seems to be struggling to make her lungs take, then exhaling them quickly. I don't doubt that it's unpleasant for her to breath. As she does, her diaphragm moves down, reducing the space below it that her over-full bowels have already laid claim to. It makes the rest of her insides, especially her bladder and womb, push against her hard bowels, and she feels that as a doubling of the urgency straining to burst out of her. Her milky flesh is even beginning to flush slightly pink.

She flinches hard as I swat her bottom again, scolding her for shaking her butt at her husband like a gutter whore. The only response I get is a little more tension on her face, bringing out the two wrinkle lines at the corners of her mouth even more. I keep swatting her body as anything moves. Even her stomach, and now I have to swat her back as well. Maggie can't stay still, despite her best effort to, with the enema straining so strongly. It gives me the perfect excuse to keep swatting her.

I notice that Greg keeps his eyes on Maggie, mostly her pussy. He avoids the sight of her face, which I admit is a horrific mask. I would have thought he'd have avoided the sight of her pussy, too, at least with Mouse petite and delicate, obviously very feminine, hand there. But he doesn't. He does avert his eyes often: every time he sees the crop moving to swat something. It tells me what interests him and what does. I suggest that he touch her body as well, and warn him to keep his touch light. He reluctantly tries it and immediately observes how hard her muscles feel. He explores her body with his hands, feeling that all of her muscles are just as tight. It takes him a moment, and three swats for Maggie, before he realizes that caressing his wife is making her shudder more and get more swats. He stops touching her.

I time her, making sure she doesn't cheat me out of one second of misery. It is her punishment.

Relief

"Would you like to be taken potty now, bitch?" I ask with a bit of a taunt in my voice.

Maggie, so focused on not losing the enema, doesn't pick up on the tease in my voice. She strains hard, barely eking out "Please, Master."

"If we take you potty, will you be a good whore, instead of the filthy whore you're acting like?"

"Yes, Master," Maggie would say anything right now to get the enema out of her, and deal with the consequences of a misstatement later.

I ask Greg if he would like "to comfort this filthy whore while it relieves itself," warning him that the sight is "as disgusting as this whore," but also "grossly amusing to see." I add that "the whore would probably appreciate some compassion during the misery it brought upon itself." He agrees, reminding me that he's not going to do anything "significant." Maggie doesn't hear that, she's too busy trying to hide her anguished groans.

I make her ask him. "Honey, would you please comfort me while I get the relief I need, Sir?" Maggies takes a half of a minute to grunt the words out. She tries to hide the discomfort ringing in her voice and sound hopeful, as she feels.

He tells her that he will.

I put my hands to her shoulders, leaving Mouse where she is and teasing Maggie. It's only about three, maybe four, steps to get to the toilet. I start Maggie walking towards it, and she immediately tries to double forward from the cramping. As she moves, her hard bowels shift around inside her, bumping against everything and making her urges even more demanding. I don't let her double forward. I hold her up. I have to shove her to make her take the next step, and Maggie cries out in agony. I ignore her and make her take the final step to the toilet, then turn her so that her back is to it.

"Thank you, Master," Maggie grunts hard. "I couldn't have made it without your help." She's half telling the truth. Obviously, she could have. She wouldn't have, though. The pressure is too much. When the cramps hit, she'd have let go.

I have an oxygen mask duct-taped to the front of the toilet. It's the perfect shape, and I have extra of them. The little piece of clear hose that comes off it is draped over into a bucket beside the toilet.

I sit Maggie down on the toilet. I don't want to wait while she slowly moves into place. I position her all the way forward on the seat, with the furry mound of her pussy hanging over the front edge and directly above the oxygen mask. I spread her legs wide, stretching the tendons at the corners of her thighs, and plant her feet flat on the floor. I have Greg sit on the edge of the tub, directly across from the toilet. I lean Maggie forward, getting a deep groan from her as I do, until she's able to fold her arms in front of her head and use them as a pillow while lying her head on Greg's thighs.

The position does several things. First, it bends Maggie's waist as fully as possible, straightening out her bowels for maximum ease of release; that also makes her urge even stronger. Maggie tenses up, groaning a steady "um-mm" as she fights to keep control. It pulls her cheeks taut, opening her crack wide enough that I can easily pull the nozzle tube from her. And it gives me a clear view of her asshole as well. It puts the mound of her pussy over the mask, turning the mask into a funnel. It makes Mouse shift around and get her hand under Maggie's thigh to get to her pussy and keep masturbating her.

I pull the adhesive tape off, and while still holding the nozzle so that it doesn't slip from Maggie, I tell her that all she has to do is lie there and "go potty." Even a filthy whore should be able to handle that. In my most taunting voice, I tell her that there are cameras on her, one that's watching her pussy, one watching her asshole, and a couple more that can see all of her. I feel her shudder hard, almost cumming, as she thinks of the possible humiliation if any of those videos ever got out. This, I'm sure, is not something she's like anyone to know she does, much less see in overly intimate detail. I warn Maggie that now is not the time to misbehave. Incomplete punishments are repeated in their entirety, and I "doubt you want to stand still for yet another enema, as if a hundred of them would be enough to wash the filth out of a whore as nasty as you are, bitch."

I quietly tell Greg that he can best help Maggie by holding her down, especially her shoulders. I don't tell him it's to ensure that she gets everything out. He heard me warn her that if she moves, she has to suffer another enema, and he knows she doesn't want that. He thinks that holding her down is what she'd want him to do, so he puts her hands to her back and steadies her.

I pull the tube from Maggie's butt, and she immediately begs, "Master, way this whore please have permission to use your toilet and release huge the enema it's holding up its butt as its punishment for being filthy, Sir?" She knows to ask shamelessly. She tried being more modest once, and I made her wait a minute before letting her ask again. She's not making that mistake again.

I grant permission, and she lets go. Immediately, the water, now more dark brown than yellow, bursts out of her asshole like a fire hydrant gushing water. I see her asshole open as quickly as it can, gaping wide as the enema rushes through it. At the same time, her pee flows, spraying down into the mask, through the hose, and into the bucket. I needed the mask to make room for the cameras, and this way, I have separate videos of her pussy peeing and her butt gushing.

The geyser goes on for several tense seconds. As the pressure in her bowels begins to ease, Maggie cums. We all see it. When the first orgasmic wave hits her, it's so powerful that her shoulders snapping up almost tosses Greg back into the tub. He has to hurry to get his grip and to hold Maggie down as her shoulders try to snap up. Her knees shake for a moment, trying to close, but with her breasts inside of her thighs, they can't. Then her body falls limp, as if every muscle in her suddenly went on strike at the same nanosecond. Her pee keeps flowing. The geyser keeps shooting. After a couple of seconds, the second wave hits her. She cries out, "AH" as it does, her body snapping hard again. This time, Greg was ready and holds her down fully.

It goes on like that for close to two minutes, even though I have Mouse stop masturbating her the instant she begins her orgasm. About every three seconds, a fresh wave hits her, snapping her body hard, then she falls totally limp, as if unconscious, for the rest of the next wave hits her. Her pee trickles off after the fourth wave. Her pussy doesn't; it keeps trickling a tiny line of drool-like wetness steadily into the mask. There's enough that some of her wetness runs down the hose to the bucket and floats atop her pee. The torrent gushing from her bottom takes close to a minute before it's faded. Her asshole closes, but then springs back open when the next wave hits her, contracting her muscles and squirting more water out of her bottom like a jet. The next few waves get more jets until those finally ebb as well, leaving her lying on her husband's lap, cumming. That's when her waves begin to ebb, until she lies spent on him. I have Mouse clean her up, knowing it's too much to ask of Maggie at the moment. I'd bet her husband sees that as well.

Dismissal

It's a good five minutes, maybe longer, before Maggie's breathing slows and she sounds almost asleep as she basks in the afterglow. I doubt she noticed, and am confident she doesn't remember, Mouse cleaning her up. I don't remind her. I make her get up, but I let Greg help her. I have him help her walk, naked, to the sofa where I firmly remind her that I don't care how slutty she's been, I expect her to sit properly. She struggles to get her rubbery body into place, crossing her legs, hands at her sides, and eyes forward.

I tell her that, just to ensure all of the "filthiness" is out of "my bitch," I've decided to have Mouse give her a suppository that will make sure she finishes cleaning herself out. After she's given it, she will not have a scrap of clothing on. She will be shown where to sit, where she can be watched, and will sit for a full hour while it "does its thing." After the hour, and not one second before, she may be with her husband. However, if she doesn't want to do it then, she may not for at least 12 hours. Only after she's been with him, or the couple isn't "interested in each other," may she ask her husband for permission to use the toilet, and when allowed, she will make sure that her bottom is fully empty.

Maggie tells me that she understands her rules, and promises that she will not only follow them, but mind her husband like a proper wife as she does. I tell her to lie on her side, and that puts her head on Greg's lap again. With her facing the back of the sofa.

I tell Mouse to give her one, and hand Mouse a fast-acting laxative suppository. The box assures me that she'll want to go in fifteen minutes or less, but the fine print cautions it may take up to an hour for her to experience its full effectiveness, which is why I set an hour as the time she has to wait.

Mouse very tenderly moves Maggie's leg for her, bringing her left (top) knee up and bending it as Maggie lies with her right leg straight. That gets her bowels straight inside her. Mouse lifts Maggie's cheek, exposing the tight pink ring of her asshole, and puts the whitish pellet to the tightly clenched ring. "Maggie, relax your anus for me, sweetheart," Mouse tells her in a very sweet voice. Maggie relaxes her body, lying loose, but not as fully loose as the orgasm left her, and demurely allows Mouse to press the slippery pellet through her soft ring. Mouse lets her finger follow it in pushing it deeper, then holds it in place for a second while she feels it start to melt. She eases her finger out, Maggie's ring staying rubbery soft the entire time. Once Mouse's finger is out, Maggie tightens her asshole to keep it in. Mouse pushes her cheeks together for a few more seconds, making sure that it stays in. By then it's melted to a waxy goo, so it's not coming back out.

I have Maggie stand and remind her that she's not allowed to use her hands for anything. They'll stay loose at her sides until she's finished getting rid of her filthiness. She says she'll do that.

I hand Greg her clothes, except for the bra and panties. Those I make Maggie watch me drop in the trash and remind her that they are not a matched set, as she's required to be wearing. As punishment, they're trash. She accepts that.

I tell Greg to take her, and he says "uh, she's still naked..."

I tell him that I don't care. She can go now, or I can find a cage for her to spend the night in. I've already checked, and the street is deserted. There aren't even more than a couple of lights on, and no street lights too close. I have my outside lights off, too. The only light Maggie is going to be under is the one at their front door, and that will only be a couple of seconds. There's no one to see her, and if anyone did, they would only get a flash so fast they wouldn't be sure what they saw. I don't explain any of that. I just suggest that he take her. It is almost 11:00 p. m.!

Greg takes her, and in ten minutes, Mouse and I are gone to find a campsite for the night.

The next day, I get an email from Greg, telling me that Maggie obediently sat on the edge of their bed for an hour. When he came to tell her that her time was up, she did not ask if he was interested in her. She attacked him, dropping to her knees and taking him in her mouth so fast he didn't realize what she was doing until she was doing it. She gave him a moment, ensuring that he was interested, and then helped herself to not one, but two more orgasms. After which, she slept like a baby.