A Busy Day Pt. 03: Orgasm By Enema

As the next song begins, Nassima has nothing left to take off except for her panties. Without any modesty at all, she seductively lets them slide down her lean legs. As soon as the swatch of sheer fabric is off her bottom, the hot pink ribbon falls free. It dangles down between her legs as she dances. Her panties reach her ankles. She steps one foot out of them. Then she raises the other foot, her panties dangling off of it, high in the air. It offers her husband a view of her pussy for a brief moment. And a view of the ribbon dangling from her bottom. Or at least of it tapering away as it vanishes between her firm cheeks. A flick of her ankle sends her panties arcing over his head.

Nassima turns her back to him. She smoothly wiggles her bottom for him, leaning over and jutting it toward his eyes. I'm sure that shows him the thin strip of ribbon vanishing into her dark hole. I can see the ribbon dancing around under her pussy as her bottom undulates. If she can't feel the thin strip running through her hole, its muscle cinched tightly around it, she can definitely feel the wider ribbon brushing against the insides of her thighs. Another reminder of the enema filling her backside.

It shows her front side off to me. It shows me her bush of dark, jet-black hairs. All trimmed very neatly with sharp lines well inside the crease of her thighs. Her bush looks sparse, but it's not especially so. Her hairs are trimmed down short, around ½ of an inch long, making it look less dense than it would be if they were longer, curly, and tangled up. Now short, her hairs are straight. Plus they're not that fine. They are soft, though.

Just as that song is starting to end, its volume beginning to fade, I tell Nassima "treat him to a nice lap dance now, whore." I grin at her. It's my evil imp grin. The one I use when I know I have a sweet torment in mind for my toy.

"Yes, Ma'am," Nassima answers. She's only defied me once. It was the first time she came to see me. I'd told her to eat Shelbie's (a 35-year-old redheaded toy of mine with a very red bush) pussy. She squealed as she balked. In two seconds flat she was over my knees while I took a stiff rubber paddle to her bottom. She cried, hard, long before it was over. Afterward, as soon as she was back on her knees, she apologized. Then she did something she'd never done before in her life. She ate pussy. And she made Shelbie screech for close to an hour, while her husband watched rather intently. Then she earned herself a session on my rack by being an impatient whore and trying to sneak a finger down to her pussy when she thought I wasn't watching. Then she ate Shelbie's asshole, which made Shelbie screech pleas for an orgasm.

Nassima gives him a rather slutty lap dance. It's definitely one of the more erotic ones she's done. And she does it with that sensual need plain on her body. He encourages her arousal, too. She brings her breasts close to his eyes. He sucks her nipples, getting a very long and starving-hungry moan from her. He kneads her mounds gently. She turns her back and caresses his cock, through his pants, with her toned cheeks. He purrs. She outright moans. She slips back just a hair, stroking her pussy mound over his hardness. She screeches a too-sweet moan. I give her a light tap with my crop right on her bush. She yelps and lifts her mound from him. I see the damp wetness on his pants directly atop his shaft. Her wetness. I scold her for being "such a whore" by trying to sneak a little attention for her pussy in. She blushes and apologizes without missing a beat of her lap dance. She turns back to him, offering her breasts to him before slinking them softly down his entire body. And caressing his cock with their pertness.

When that song ends I allow Nassima to stop. She stands up, hands behind her back, facing me. It has her bottom to her husband, the pink ribbon dangling down to remind him that she's full. I scold her again for "being too cheap of a whore" and tell her that she'll have to be punished for her "overt shameless sluttiness."

"Go to the corner, whore." I snap with a grin on my face.

A look of horror comes over Nassima's face as she hears it. But she resigns herself to it and accepts her punishment. A moment later I'm checking to ensure that she's properly in the corner. She is. The tips of her toes touch the baseboards, her feet lightly touching each other. But nothing else of her body touches anything. Her shoulders and nipples are close, but not touching, to the wall. She stares ahead and the empty pastel yellow of my wall. Her arms are at her sides to the elbows, then her hands are behind the small of her back. She stands still and quiet. With the ribbon hanging down from between her globes, dangling against the backs of her slender thighs.

The worst part of the corner is not being allowed to do anything whatsoever. Not even to scratch an inch. Especially the "itch" she wants to scratch. She's expected to stand very still, and not to make a sound. And to stare at the emptiness before her eyes. It ensures that she'll have nothing at all to distract herself from her body and the sensations running through it.

It only takes about a minute for me to see the goosebumps. They start on her pussy mound, but I can't see them there with her legs together. I only see them after they've covered the creases of her thighs and begin to flow outward onto the tops of her thighs and the firm globes of her bottom. A second wave of bumps seems to flow out of her crack and meet the first wave on her cheeks. Those must have started at her asshole. I peek and see that her breasts are fully covered as well.

A moment later I can hear the gradual change in her breathing. It grows steadier, more measured, deeper, and more controlled. I can hear her trying hard to mute the raspy moan that fights its way into her exhales.

I glance at her bottom. I get very close and squat down, putting my eyes level with the tops of her thighs, and peer into the tight space between the very tops of her thighs. I can't see much. But I can see the back of her mound, puffing down very slightly. And I can see the sparkle of a glistening coat of honey on her lips. I can smell the faintly sweet aroma of her muskiness as well.

I stand up, crop in hand, and wait. It doesn't take too long, either. As she waits, Nassima has nothing at all to distract her from feeling the pressure straining inside her bowels. From the ocean pounding against the inside of her asshole, driving the vibrating egg back against the countless nerves there and squishing those nerves between it and the hardness of her tensed muscle. Of the tender massaging of the soft waves inside her bottom, as the vibrator sends them flowing over her insides. Of how those waves caress not just her bottom (which drives her bananas) but also the under-used backside of her pussy walls (which are just as nervy as the front sides). Of the egg itself, it's unyielding hardness pressed against her insides, stretching them taut, and vibrating as sweetly as energetically against her nerves. Or of the previously unknown sensation of the waves crashing against the very depths of her bowels, the light pounding sending a cramp into her insides. A cramp in places she's never felt before. One that hurts just enough to remind her how full she truly is. Or from the strain of clenching her asshole taut as the enema desperately pushes against her ring trying to shoot out of her.

None of that does anything but make her feel the icy hot chills that bloom in the spongy walls of her pussy, tingling those walls like hot sparks and sending a twitch through their strong muscles. Then how those chills shoot out of her pussy and race along her nerves to her spine, sending waves of chills sweeping over her entire body while her pussy seems to burn hotter with each one. Or of how those twitches in her pussy are steadily strengthening. Or of how those sparks are making her pussy not just burn, but also throb with an unbearable aching. How she can feel her clit throbbing in time to her heartbeat as it begs her to attend to its sweet ache. Or of her honey weeping from her tunnel and clinging to everything with its sticky wet heat.

After another moment I can see the faintest of quivering blossom in her lips. Both her outer lips and the bared ridge of her inner folds. Neither has any muscle in them to make them quiver or do anything else. They quiver only from the hard snapping tremors sweeping through the walls of her pussy and the quivering tremors in her thighs and bottom from the icy streaks of heat shooting through them.

Finally, after maybe three to five minutes in the corner, Nassima purrs the neediest of moans. I doubt she even hears herself. She looks to be that lost in the agony tormenting her pussy.

I swat her bottom. It's a firm stroke of my crop that lands square on her cheek and leaves a tiny red splotch. Nassima stiffens hard, gritting her teeth and almost biting her tongue to silence her yelp. "Cheap whore!" I scold her, "I can't believe you're thinking about your skanky pussy while you're in my corner. Now you can start over. 28 minutes to go!" I say it enthusiastically as if I can't wait to watch her suffer another 28 minutes in here. It's my standard time - one minute for every year old the toy is. Nassima is 28, so she gets 28 minutes. She should be glad she's not 45. Or older!

She lasts five more minutes. And I can tell they're five very sweetly agonizing minutes for her.

Suddenly Her head snaps forward, banging her forehead against my wall. She screeches out a long "UH!" that's as sweet as it is strained. Her hands instantly clench into fists. Her bottom lifts up a hair as her toes curl under her feet. Her entire body trembles, lightly at first, but steadily growing harder. In just two seconds or so, she's trembling violently. She screeches out another cry, this time an "AH!" that she draws out until the last molecule of air is out of her lungs. She shudders sharply as she cries out. Her knees buckle. She crashes to the floor, landing on her bottom before her shoulders fall backward. As she falls, sharp snapping tremors rack her body, one after the other, about one per second. As she lies on the floor the tremors continue sweeping over her, crisply enough to have her nipples dancing atop her bony-lean chest.

Then she suddenly pants fast and deep. Her eyes close. With a single glance, I can see the honey seeping out between the lips of her inner folds, almost squirting but not quite. More like it's being pumped out by the spasms in her pussy. Her body, still trembling, falls spent.

Her husband glances at her, then at me, back to her, and finally at me again. I can see the disbelief on his face. Nassima has just climaxed, and nothing was anywhere near her pussy. Just that egg in her full bottom. And nothing to take her mind off of it. I smile and wink at him. He looks back to his fully-sated wife. She looks to be lost in the bliss of it.

I kneel down and roughly roll Nassima to her side. She lies limp for me, neither helping me nor offering any resistance. Just twitching as more tremors sweep over her. At least they're finally starting to ebb.

I grab the ribbon and pull very gently. It doesn't give at all, telling me that the rounded end of the egg is flush against the inside of her ring. I give it a sharp yank.

Nassima snaps back to life. She screams out a desperate "OH!" as her body snaps with violently hard shudders. She stiffens to steel. The egg quickly pops out of her asshole and drops to the floor. A fresh wave of orgasmic tremors hits Nassima, these even stronger than the first climax. She lies on her side, snapping with the waves flowing over her. She pants for a few moments before falling limp again.

I have Sophie collect Nassima's clothes for her. I have her give Nassima's underwear, both bra, and panties, to her husband. Then I drop the rest of it on Nassima and snap for her to get dressed. She lies there, lightly quivering and unmoving. I give her half a minute and snap again. Then again. After the fourth snapping order and two minutes of quivering, Nassima hears me. She doesn't really move. She lies there, still on her side, and lost in the dreamy bliss dumbly just pulls clothes on her body.

A couple of minutes later I finally get her to her feet. She's badly dressed. Her skirt isn't zipped in back, just buttoned, and her belt hangs unbuckled. Her shirt is worse. She pulled it on over her head but somehow pulled it on so clumsily that it's now under her left breast, leaving that mound sticking out bare while mostly covering her right mound. Her eyes are glassy and her legs rubbery. Her bottom is still full, too.

I turn to her husband. "Get this cheap whore out of here!" then I wink at him and step close. I lower my voice so Nassima won't hear a thing. "If you want to kill her, take her home and use her before you let her near a toilet. Trust me."

He takes her hand, pulls her shirt up to cover her breast, and leads her out.