A Busy Day Pt. 03: Orgasm By Enema

They come in gigantic syringes that hold 12 ounces. Naturally, they're filled to the limit. They come with tips that are about four inches long and as thick as a pencil. On this one, I've changed the tip to one that's a little fatter, more like a delicate finger than a pencil, and much longer. About 10 inches long, which will reach the back of the rectum, even on a fairly tall person. This tip is also less flexible. Not rigid, but not as soft either. In short, it's far less comfortable than the smaller ones. Yes, I am taking care to ensure Nassima isn't comfortable.

I put the tip against her asshole. It's wide enough to completely eclipse her hole, and then plenty more. Not all of the darker flesh, but enough of it that it looks like... I'm trying to park a semi in a single-car garage. No way it's going to make it through the door. I press. It doesn't take that much pressure. Nassima is too used to being entered. Long before she came to me, she knew better than to resist it. She knew instead to relax and accept it. It's far easier that way, and no amount of resisting will prevent it. The resistance just tenses her asshole up and makes the entry that much more uncomfortable for her. Not for me.

In a fraction of a second, her muscle is rubbery and allowing itself to be stretched around the white plastic of the tip as it slides into her on a very fine film of lubricating jelly. The tube is slightly wide, but not so much so that it fully smooths out the wrinkles in the darer flesh that snuggles around it. Once its tip has entered her, the tube slides easily along, diving deeper and deeper toward the depths of her bowels.

I know Nassima can feel it sliding through her insides. I used the wider tip to ensure that she would. Even if her bottom is empty, as in just flushed out empty, this tip is wide enough for her to feel it moving. But not so wide for it to be actually uncomfortable. I've never used a tip so long on her before. I'm sure, unable to see what I'm using, she assumes this one is the shorter four inches long. I imagine her standing there with her bottom offered out to me, feeling it slipping deeper and deeper, thinking how any second now all of it will be inside her. And instead, it just keeps slipping deeper.

She takes about six inches of it into her bottom before I feel the faintest of nervous flinches sweep over her. That must be when she realizes this one is longer. She stands still, letting it slide into her. She gets almost all of it, over nine inches into her bottom. Just before it bottoms out I hear Nassima grunt hard. The tip of the tube presses firmly against the very back of her bowel, poking into it, and pushing on its nerves. She tenses up slightly. Then it bottoms out. I hold it steady, it's tip poking against her rectum unpleasantly.

I tell her husband "Since this whore is so filthy today, I'm going all the way to the very back of her insides and we'll make sure just everything gets washed out." Nassima stands cringing hard and grunting light grunts of unpleasantness, as she waits for me to finish tell her husband what she can so plainly feel already.

Then I start pushing the plunger, slowly injecting the frigid coffee into her bowels. It doesn't take but a second for the liquid to start fill the tiny bit of empty space inside. Then it's stretching her bowel gently, but steadily, as I push more and more of it into her bottom.

Twelve ounces is a lot for an enema. Most of the commercial ones that drug stores sell are two or four ounces. But it's not too much. Not even close. The rectum can expand, stretching its thin membrane and the fine sheath of muscle around it wide and accommodate a lot. Several times what Nassima is getting. But as it exceeds a certain volume, it gets difficult, and then impossible, to voluntarily hold in. Twelve ounces won't be too much for her. But it will be very uncomfortable inside her.

She gets about half of it before I hear the change in her breathing. Her breaths turn deeper and more measured as she tries to control herself and not show the discomfort she's feeling. With the next ounce, I hear her breaths take on a slight groaning "AH!" And then, with about nine of the twelve ounces into her, her groans have steadily sharpened into strained "UH!s" She starts "squirming" a little while she fights to keep her bottom still and save it a worse enema. Or a spanking. Instead, I can see the muscles in her arms and legs tensing and relaxing slightly. The muscles in her back clench a little sharper. At least the tiny slice of it that I can see beneath her bunched-up skirt.

As the last of the coffee is flooding into the very back of her bowel, she finally squeals a little "OW!" that she fails to completely mute. Now, as Nassima strains against the tide that's flooded her bottom to hold it in, her asshole has cinched up tightly around the firm tube. I take my time sliding the tube back and out until finally the last of the shaft slips from her ring and her muscles snaps to full tension to keep the enema inside her. Nassima groans another "OW!" just as mutely, but with just as much discomfort behind it.

She stands there, awaiting instructions. I sit there, my seat off to the side a little, her cheeks held wide. I watch her asshole cinching to it's tightest, seeing the strain in her muscle as she wishes it would tighten even more. But not a drop leaks out of her. All I can see is the shiny coat of lubricant that still clings to the deeply colored flesh.

I reach in the drawer of my desk. I might use this desk for work and studies, but I keep a drawer full of toys up here as well. I never know when a mood will strike me and I'll need a toy for a toy! I select a small vibrating egg. Well, small probably isn't a good description of it. It's slightly larger than the biggest of eggs at the Piggly Wiggly. Maybe two inches long and 1 ½" wide. But it is perfectly shaped just like an egg. And by vibrator standards, miniature. It has a narrow strip of hot pink ribbon firmly attached to its rounder end. That's about four inches long, and maybe all of a ¼ inch across. At its end, it flows out to widen into a foot-long strip of ribbon that's about two inches across. On the wider strip of ribbon, in big bold letters, "ENEMA" is printed. Below that, in smaller letters it reads "flood zone inside - remove before pottying." On both sides.

I smear a little dollop of slippery gel on the tip of the pointier end of the egg. Then I put that tip snugly against Nassima's very tightly cinched asshole. She gasps, loudly, with surprise and nervousness as she feels it. As she realizes that whatever it is, it's about to join that enema inside her bottom. Which means that it will be very uncomfortably penetrating her fully-clenched asshole. And she can't relax to ease it for herself, otherwise, the tide will burst from her bottom and earn her some unbearable consequence. So it's going to be very uncomfortable for her. But with its ovoid shape, Nassima is only able to feel it's tip against her body. A tip maybe as wide as a finger. She hasn't a clue how wide it will get. Or how long it might be. I'd almost bet she's thinking, and worried, that might be a second enema tube.

I press. Gently. Not firmly enough to press it through her resisting muscle. Not yet. But enough for Nassima to feel the hardness of it pushing in against her unwelcoming muscle. I ease the pressure up very slowly. The last thing I want is for Nassima to lose control. Poor Paige, my house-slave/skanky-whore would have to scrub my floor. It might even take Paige TWO toothbrushes to clean that up! Instead, Nassima gets to enjoy feeling the hardness of the smooth plastic pressing in against her muscle harder and harder, knowing that soon it's going to be too much for her muscle and whatever this is, it is going to start entering her bottom.

As the pressure increases, I can see that micron by micron more and more of the plastic presses against her body, letting her know that whatever this is, she hasn't felt its full width yet. And then her asshole is no longer able to resist. With her muscles tensed hard and resisting, the rounded end of the egg begins to shove her muscle aside, stretching it, and push into her hole. The taper of the egg allows her muscle to stretch slowly. The width of it ensures that her ring will stretch very wide.

I watch as her dark flesh pulls more and more taunt around the pink-tinted white egg. I watch the gentle wrinkles of her ring slowly vanish as her flesh is pulled taut. Then the single, larger, wrinkle at the bottom of her ring is stretched out, leaving only a darkly-tinted ring of smooth flesh stretched fully taut around the light shaft. Nassima moans a steady chorus of "OH-OW!" as she's stretched wide. Just when her flesh looks so tight that it doesn't have even a hair of stretch left to it, the egg passes its widest point and jumps forward, diving into her flooded bowel. Nassima squeals with surprise. Her asshole instantly snaps shut, clenching back to it's tightest to hold the fluid inside her. That thrusts the egg forward and into her even faster. A half-second later her ring is cinched back to its full pinpoint tightness. Only now there's a narrow strip of hot pink ribbon sticking through her ring. And a wide strip dangling down, lying against her panties and her thighs, three-quarters of the way to her knees.

Nassima pants a few deep breaths, laced with equal parts of sweet moan and pained groan. She tries to mute both and succeeds at muting neither. Then, three or four seconds later, her entire body is swept by a single crisp shudder as she realizes that there's some kind of toy fully inside her bottom. I wonder if she can even feel the little ribbon dangling through her tightness, or if she thinks that toy is completely inside.

I give her a few more seconds to stand there and feel the toy. To feel the slight extra pressure on her bowels from the enema as the toy takes up even more of the room inside her. Then I pull her panties back up to cover her bottom. As I do, I bunch up the ribbon and stuff it inside her panties at the crack of her bottom. She'll feel it there, against her cheeks. Then I pull her skirt back down, leaving her fully dressed and even more fully filled up.

I tell Nassima to stand up. She does, and I hear a deep groan as she starts moving. As the cramps suddenly appear in her abdomen, low, like female cramps. But not female cramps. These cramps strain her asshole powerfully, trying to force her to the toilet with their discomfort. She hesitates for a second, sucking in a sharp breath. I see her arm flinch, first trying to instinctively fly up to her stomach, then her brain catching herself and stopping it. She straightens, her breaths laced with more of the sweet-and-pained moaning groans. She puts her hands behind her back and obediently turns to face me.

It lets me see her face, scrunched up hard. Her eyes strain to squeeze shut as she strains to keep the open as I require. She stands. She tries hard to control her deep breaths, measuring them, pacing them, to ease the discomfort. I can see the strain in her neck and jaw, too. It tells me that her teeth are firmly gritted. I can see that a slight shivering, a very sweet shivering, has already taken hold on her body.

"Your very sweet husband over there looks a little bored," I say firmly, with a touch of a sigh to my voice. "Since you'll be waiting for that enema to do its job and make that urge of yours unbearable, you can entertain your husband while you enjoy that so-full feeling, whore. You can strip for him. Slowly. One piece of clothing per song."

As I tell her what's next, I can the look of tension bloom on Nassima's face as she does the math and figures out that will take her around fifteen minutes of dancing to get all of her clothes off. As she thinks about holding in the enema that has her bowel so filled. As she thinks about the worst of it, moving around with it inside her, stretching her inside taut. About how she'll feel those cramps. And how hard she'll feel that tide pounding against the inside of her asshole begging for release even as it tries to force its way through her tight ring.

"Oh, and here's a little something to motivate you to dance very seductively for that nice husband!" I almost squeal it with excitement. I let her see the little remote in my hand. It's just like the fob on my key chain that locks my car doors. I hold it up, then slowly aim it right at her crotch. I move my thumb very slowly, Nassima's eyes locked on it and following it as she wonders what it's going to do to her. When my thumb finally makes it to the button I push it.

"AH!" Nassima suddenly cries out a very shocked, and very sultry, squeal. Her eyes pop wide open. She sucks a very deep, and even faster, breath. She lets it out with a longer "OH!" that's pure erotic moan. Her body shudders hard as it trembles. She freezes in place. She cries out a fresh, pained yelped "OH-OW!" then sucks another fast breath and purrs out a purely erotic, and slightly needier, moan. She shudders again, harder, and then stands frozen and trembling.

I guess Nassima can feel that egg. That she can feel it inside her bottom, it's widely curved end pressing hard against the backside of her asshole. That she can feel it vibrating inside her bottom, it's width enough that it's snug against the walls of her bottom. Snugly enough that it's pressing lightly trough them and against the backside of her very needy pussy walls. Massaging those walls tenderly, sending icy-hot sparks erupting in her hungry walls before they shoot through her body, along her spine with their tingles, and into her brain. And that she can feel the little waves it's making as it vibrates in the liquid that has her bottom flooded. That she can feel those waves caressing the insides of her bowels, teasing her sensitive nerves there with their softness. The very nerves she so sweetly can't stand having teased.

I can see the muscles in her stomach ripple as each wave teases her bowel, sending equally strong sensations of arousal and uncomfortable-over-fullness through her. Waves that send light cramps as they urge her to forget everything and fly to a toilet. Waves that urge her just as strongly to reach down to her pussy and masturbate right this instant. Both sensations she has no choice but to resist and stand still.

I let her stand frozen for several seconds until the trembles really take hold. I can tell because then I see the slightest of wiggles creep into her hips as her instincts try to get her to squirm her thighs together and massage that aching clit. Then the sweetness starts to overtake the discomfort in her moans, despite the very slight sharpening of the ripples under the bottom hem of her shirt.

I pick up my crop and give her a firm, but not too hard, of a swat on her bottom. Enough of a swat for her to feel it, even through the fabric of her skirt.

Nassima flinches hard. Then she realizes why I swatted her bottom. She takes a step. A cramp racks her stomach, and she hesitates as she groans out a "UH!"

I swat her bottom again. "Get moving, whore!" I snap sternly, "stop acting like a baby and go dance like the whore you are."

Nassima takes another step, gritting her teeth hard and grunting again as she does. Only this time she was expecting it and forces herself to keep walking through it. I turn some music with a dance beat on. It's only about five steps over to where her husband is waiting. But those are five very long steps for Nassima. Steps she takes very slowly.

She begins to dance, slowly and clumsily at first. It's the too-urgent uncomfortableness that makes her clumsy. Nassima is a party girl at heart, and like all party girls, she's an excellent dancer. I don't know where she learned to strip dance, but she's fairly good at it. Good enough to work in a club, although not one of the fancier clubs.

I can see the discomfort on her face as she begins. No sooner is her body moving than her swollen bowels are cramping her and pounding against her asshole. It causes her to hesitate for an instant as every sensation sweeps through her body. And with every movement, the strong sensations of being too-full seem to hit her slightly differently. Each movement twisting, and angling her bowel just the finest of hairs differently. The brief hesitations give her a halting, robotic look to her first moves.

It only takes a few seconds, a few clumsy undulations of her hips, for the second set of sensations to begin. The ones in her pussy. Those icy-hot tingles that suddenly erupt randomly, all over the meaty walls of her hungry pussy. The ones that turn both fiery hot and arctic cold as they shoot along her nerves. The ones that send the most erotic chills shivering her from head to toe. The ones that cause her to forget her groans as very sensual moans begin overtaking them.

Once her body gets flowing smoothly she quickly loses her sandals. She does it fluidly, kicking them away and flaunting her sleek legs as she does. I can still see the grimace on her face and the light rippling of the cramps at her waistline, but those no longer inhibit her dancing. Or her sweet moans. I'd expected it. Sandals are a real pain to dance in. Without them, her movements flow a little more sinuously.

As the song progresses, her gritted teeth begin chattering as her moans ramp up another notch of sultriness. At the same time, I see the rippling at her waist grown a hair stronger. And then her bottom shudders hard as Nassima cries out a very needy moan.

On the next song, she slinks out of her shirt. It reveals what I'd expected to see, a bra that matches her panties. It's not see-through, but it is satiny and soft, and with the same lacy covering as her panties have. It has wide straps at her sides that quickly taper to finger-thin at the clasp. And it has three-quarter cups that leave a decent triangular slice of her breasts bare at the top inside, making a very sensual cleavage as they lift her breasts.

Nassima flaunts those full, shapely breasts, covered by the deep red satin, as she dances her way through the rest of this song. And now she has her husband's complete attention. At least those breasts do. I'm busier watching her flat, toned stomach as the faint waves of cramps ripple along her firm muscles. By now, she's not even showing them. But she is moaning very enthusiastically, and very erotically needy. As she dances, her hands flow along her sides.

Then her skirt comes off, slipping down those slender legs until she tosses it away with her foot. Leaving her only in her sexy underwear. And enthralling her husband.

On the next song, she sheds her bra. It's the logical choice, the thing any woman would take off next. Panties are always last. It bares her near-perfect mounds. Their bottoms are shaped just as they would be if her breasts swelled off her almost-bony-lean chest like half melons. On top, they slope upward with a more gentle curve. They also have a set of mild tan lines on their olive-flesh from a rather skimpy bikini. No wonder her entire cleavage was so fully tanned. Her mounds are topped with wide rings of a light, almost brownish hue. And with a pair of narrower nipples only a hair wide than pencil erasers that stand up a good ¼". Their tips are slightly rounded, but also have a defined ridge to them. They look absolutely suckable. And pinchable. Better yet, clampable! They're pert and firm with a hint of squishiness to them, like hard wet sponges in my hand. If I didn't know better, I'd wonder if hey were real or bought. But I know hers are real. Her husband told me so. And if she'd bought them, he would have been the one stuck with the bill for them.

Nassima knows she has pretty breasts. She takes the opportunity to flaunt them to her husband. She dances, leaning forward slightly, with her perky mounds in front of his eyes. They're too firm to really jiggle, but her chest moves plenty to have her hard nipples dancing around in front of those eyes. It definitely holds his attention.