No Orgasms For You, Slut

"Lie on the table, on your side, facing your husband," I tell her plainly. I don't tell her why, but I'm sure Sharon can guess that now I'm going to "check" on the catheter. She still shows a slight hesitancy, as if she's considering that I might have other ideas, but she gets up on the table. I tell her to bend her waist and knees, pulling her knees up as if she's sitting, only on her side.

Sharon pulls her legs up. I reach over and adjust their position just slightly. It's easier than trying to talk her through it. It has her pussy poking out from between the tops of her thighs. And it has the globes of her bottom pulled nicely taut, too. I've decided hers are some shapely globes that I would so love to have over my knees.

I tell Sharon to fold her hands under her head and use them for a pillow. I tell her to just look at her husband, relax and lie still, too. I've found that telling a patient, or a sub, to "just relax" inevitably makes them anxious. As if they know something unpleasant is coming.

I let Sharon hear me snap on a pair of latex gloves. I see the faintest little flinch run through her body with each snap. Then I put my fingers to the mound of Sharon's pussy. I lightly stroke my fingers over her lips, running them through her fur. It lets me feel the slit where her lips are stuck together. It lets me feel the hardness of the chastity cup under her lips, too. Which is exactly where I left it. There's nowhere for it to go. I run a fingertip around the catheter, too. It's fine, still stuck where I put it, her lips glued flush around it. I'm sure that's Sharon's problem. The cup is doing its job and doing it well. She can't get to that pussy.

She doesn't notice when I put a little dollop of lubricating gel on the tip of my first finger. I use my other hand to lift her top cheek up, pulling it high.

It bares her dime-sized asshole to my eyes. That light purplish ring of gentle wrinkles flowing inward, then all diving straight down into a very narrow little funnel of darkness. Hers looks to be flush with the skin around it. It's cinched snugly shut, too. If any fur does come that far back, she's shaven it away. The fur I can see ends with the back edge of her lips. It leaves a narrow strip of skin between her pussy and asshole.

I put the tip of my finger against the tight ring. Reflexively it tenses to its full tightness, ready to resist the entry. I give her a second to relax. She doesn't. She stays tensed up tightly. It tells me that Colette hasn't taught her to relax her bottom and ease the way for something to slip into it. Not that it matters to me. But it does tell me that Colette hasn't invested too much training in Sharon. I didn't think she would, not with Sharon mostly watching.

I up the pressure just a little. Now I can feel her muscle. At first, it just pushes in slightly. Then it has nowhere else to go. So as I push against it her muscle steadily turns to rubber and allows my finger to stretch it as it slips into her hole. Soon I feel that tense ring of muscle clamping around my finger. And my finger slipping through the tightness rather easily on its film of grease.

"UH!" Sharon grunts uncomfortably as my finger stretches her muscle. I feel her body tense sharply with a sudden flinching. But it's not enough to make her move. Enough for me to feel, though. Just as I can feel her ring tight against my finger.

I press all of my finger into her bottom. It's the way Sharon breathes that tells me she's uncomfortable with it. Those slightly sucking, fast, deep breaths. As if she's trying to control herself and not let me see that she's uncomfortable. It's a giant red flag for me. A bright red flag. It says "mess with this toy's bottom even more." Not that I want to make her uncomfortable. That's just a bonus. I want her to realizes that she's lying there and allowing me to make her uncomfortable. Willingly allowing it.

I leave my finger still inside her bottom for a few seconds just to let her really feel its presence. She doesn't relax any. Her ring stays cinched tight around my finger. "Your bottom is just so full this morning, slut. It's hard to feel what I need to feel in here." I tell her. I doubt she knows me well enough to catch the taunting hint in my voice. But Sophie does. I see her smirk wide and glance down and the obviously uncomfortable woman. Sophie knows what I'm going to do. I haven't told her, but after so long as my slave, she can guess.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," Sharon replies in a very strained, and muted voice. "I didn't think you were going to poke me in my butt, Ma'am!"

"Oh, don't worry about it, slut. I'll get you a nice enema to clean it out for you!" I tell her in a very taunting voice. This time she can't miss the teasing sweetness in it. I don't give her a chance to say anything. Instead, I quickly tell Sophie to fetch me a bag-type enema with a long nozzle.

"Please, Ma'am!" Sharon balks nervously, "Please! I don't need an enema! I'll go to the bathroom! Please, Miss Rodgers, please don't make me have an enema!" Her voice raises to a newfound squeakiness, too.

"Bad slut!" I snap firmly. "You know better than to complain! You will lie there and get your enema like a big slut. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am..." Sharon squeaks out in a very hushed voice. Her eyes avert from looking at her husband. HE obediently keeps his eyes straight ahead, which has them on Sharon's front as she lies there. I put him there so he could see Sharon as I "check" her. Not what I'm doing, but her reactions to it. I am confident it will get him very hot. "but PLEASE! Ma'am, Please! Will you please at least give me a very small one? Please, Ma'am? Please, don't make me have a big one, Ma'am. PLEASE!"

"I warned you, slut," I tell her in my firmest voice. "You just added two ounces of pure discomfort to your enema. And you can add two more every time you speak. You will behave that filthy butt of your, slut. You will lie there still and take your enema like a big slut. You will not whine about it. It's for your own good, slut. You shouldn't be walking around with such a disgusting bottom. You should be glad I'm cleaning it out for you. Now, shut up."

Sharon starts trembling. She doesn't dare speak again. She lies there, trembling, and doing everything she can to avoid looking at her husband. Interesting. She doesn't want him to see this. How vain.

I slip my finger out of Sharon's bottom. She breathes out a deep sigh of relief. It's going to be short-lived, though. Sophie is already putting the enema nozzle in my hand. It's the long one, the one I asked for. It's narrow, no thicker than a pencil, but it's about 10" long. Like the tip of her catheter, it's stiff but flexible enough to easily bend if needed to adjust to the angles of her bowels.

It's a pre-lubricated tip. I just pop a little cap off its end and put it's slick tip against Sharon's very tightly cinched ring of wrinkles. Sharon quivers and groans a muted, squeaky, "OH!" I press. The tip is too narrow for her asshole to really resist it. It just slips right through her ring and starts sliding into her bottom.

Sophie hangs the bag from a hook. It's a clear bag that holds a full liter of a yellowish fluid. The color is just food coloring. It's there to tell me what's in the bag. The yellow tells me it's mineral oil. Arguably, that's the most embarrassing one. It won't affect what's already in her bowels. That will stay just as it is now. It will just fill her up and force her to go.

I push all of the thin nozzle into Sharon's bottom. That puts the tip of it almost all the way at the very back of her rectum. With the oil-based enema, it does make a slight difference since the oil won't soften her stool up. Filling her from the back will push everything else toward the inside of her asshole. Filling her from the front, with a short nozzle, would push it all to the back. My way, it will make her waste come out before too much of the fluid. It ensures she will empty herself fully.

Sharon lies there groaning her muted whines as I slip it into her bottom. By then Sophie has the bag hung up. I can see Terrance's eyes widen a little when he sees how big the bag is. I just flip the little plastic clamp and the yellow begins to flow. I even have one of those spinning wheel flow meters on the tube, just under the bag, so that Terrence can see that it's really flowing!

"EEE!" Sharon squeals loudly, "It's so cold!" It's not really cold. It's room temperature, so around 75 degrees. It just feels cold against her 100-degree body heat. But it also ramps up her quivering just a little. And her whines start to quickly grow more strained.

She's barely taken four or five ounces. It's about what the small disposable enemas they sell in drug stores have. Already Sharon is whining "OH... OW..." under her breath. She's not moving. But she's far from still.

It only takes another ounce or so for Sharon to blurt out "Please, stop! I'm full! I'm so full! Please, stop! Please, let go to the bathroom!"

I put a hand to the bare cheek of her bottom and give it a light caressing stroke. "Bad slut," I scold her firmly. "I told you to lie there. I will tell you when you're full. Now, add two more ounces to your enema and shut up."

Sharon sobs lightly. She kind of shuts up. Now she whines under her breath instead of loudly. But nothing on her is still. Every part of her body is fidgeting and squirming around.

I decide to be nice and give her some advice. Advice that I know she's never going to take. I tell Sharon to lie still and relax. That the tenser she is, the more uncomfortable she's going to be. If she relaxes it won't be as unpleasant for her. I even remind her that I'm not feeling anything. She looks like she tries to still and relax, but she doesn't come close.

I stoke my hand along her back and thighs. It lets me feel the tension in her muscles. It's not a constant tension, but a fast-moving, trembling, tension. She is so resisting the enema. And resistance truly is futile. She squirms and whines.

I stand there, keeping an eye on her as her bottom slowly fills up with the oily fluid.

She gets to about twelve ounces before she cries out. This time she doesn't actually say anything. She just shrieks a squealing "OW!" as her hands move down to hug her stomach. The first light cramps must be hitting her now. They won't be in her stomach, but lower, behind her bushy pubes. They won't be sharp, either. Not yet anyway. I'm not planning to give her that much. Unless she makes me.

Sharon pants very fast, deep, and stressed breaths as she lies there. Each breath is laced with an "OW" that sounds more squealy than the last. Her fidgeting grows stronger, too. It's as if her knees are trying to pull up to her chest, and she's constantly stopping them. As if her feet are trying to dance or something. Her toes curling up. Her hands balled into fists against her hips, her forearms crossed over the bottom of her stomach. Even her head fidgets and rolls, it's motions small but energetic. Every part of her. Enough so that I can see her breasts jiggling slightly from it, too.

Sharon whines. Her cries of "OW!" not getting any louder for fear of two more ounces, but coming faster and with a sharper note in her voice. She takes it badly. Vividly and graphically uncomfortable. I give her 16 ounces, the same amount as a bottle of water holds. It's what she was going to get. I don't give her any extra for her two sins. But Sharon doesn't know that. I have no doubt that she's utterly convinced that she's gotten every drop of those "punishment ounces."

I just squeeze the little clamp and it pinches off the line. The wheel stops turning now that the fluid is no longer flowing. Sharon doesn't seem to notice. She fidgets away and whines. But she does notice the nozzle as it begins slipping backward and out of her bottom. It doesn't hurt. She probably barely feels it. Nothing more than the sliding of the plastic over her flesh. And despite the tightness of her muscle, the tube slides so easily on its film of grease. As soon as it's tip slips from Sharon's bottom, her asshole snaps to full-clenching tightness.

Sharon lies there, fidgeting, and panting somewhat muted whines of "MM!" over and over again. I can see her face is scrunched up tightly, too. And I can see that Terrence isn't averting his eyes. Despite Sharon's appearance of distress. I know she's uncomfortable, it would be impossible not to be, but I wonder if she's not just as aroused by it. It's so hard to tell with her pussy sealed up so tightly!

"You are going to lie there for two full minutes. You are going to lie still, not squirming around like some eager worm. When you finally behave, I'll think about letting you relieve that blossoming pressure in your bottom." I tell her in my taunting voice. This one I mean. At least mostly. Sharon is going to lie there for a while. Eventually, she'll behave. Or eventually, I'll decide she won't ever. It wouldn't do me any good to leave her there forever.

Sharon tries to still. Her fidgeting quickly ebbs. But it doesn't stop.

I put a hand to Sharon's feet, stroking my fingers over the tops of her toes. "Bad toes. They must like that swelling pressure in your bottom. Good toes wouldn't curl up and wiggle." I use my hand to straighten out her toes. Her muscles are tensed, taking me some pressure to move them. But once I have them straight, she keeps them from curling up again.

I put my hand to her calf and stroke that softly. I scold her calf for wiggling, too. Then I hold it still for a moment. When I release it, it stays still.

I still her shoulders the same way. As soon as those stop moving, Sharon starts panting deeper, more stress in her voice, but not faster. I doubt she could pant any faster.

Then I move to her hands. I scold them for not being where I told them to be. I feel a sharp twitch from her arms as I do, Sharon trying to pull her arms up. I hold her wrists still. Then I start slowly raising her hands back up to her head. I put them where I wanted them. She doesn't fight me.

I put my hand to Sharon's stomach very lightly. All the way down, to where my fingers are slipping through the long, fine hairs of her bush. I don't press on her. I just stroke her stomach softly with my hand. And I tell her that now she's being a good slut. My tender caresses quiet the fussing woman a little.

She lasts a minute, maybe almost two. Then I feel the muscles in her stomach suddenly stiffen up to steel. As they do, they pull her hips up a little, bending her waist a little more. And she cries out a very loud "UH!" in her squeakiest voice yet. She immediately begins panting very strained "MM-OW!s" over and over again.

"Bad slut!" I scold her firmly. "I told you you are going to lie still. I'll restart your clock for you." I add tauntingly. I move her legs back to their place, both her knees and waist perfectly bent. Then I start rubbing her stomach for her again.

Now it's time to make her think about what she's doing. To remind of her obedient submission. That she's willingly lying here despite her discomfort. "You really want to go potty, don't you slut?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Sharon cries out very hopefully. "OH, please, Miss Rodgers, Please! I'm going to explode if I don't! I'm too full!"

I keep rubbing her waistline as I put my other hand to her top cheek and start caressing that, too. What can I say, her cheeks are firm and soft. Great cheeks. They deserve to be caressed. "No. You are going to wait until you've behaved."

I take my hands from Sharon's body, but quickly put them to her shoulders. "You need to relax and stop trying to fight it." I start gently kneading her shoulders, very softly, very tenderly, and very deftly.

Sharon doesn't last two seconds. She screams out "OH!!!" It's a long, ear-splittingly loud, and very sultry cry. I keep massaging her shoulders. It forces her to relax. She screams out "OH!" again, only this time it turns into a drawn-out "OOH!" that is overly-sweet. That gives way to pants as fast as if she were hyperventilating. Too fast for any words. Just very stressed "OW!s" that are laced with a sultriness.

"There, now you're relaxed." I take my hand off her bottom shoulder and use it to caress up and down her spine. "Doesn't that feel better? Or at least not so bad?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Sharon blurts out in a breathy, deep voice that's still squeaky. And loud. "I'm not cramping anymore, Miss Rodgers, but PLEASE! I'm too full! I've never had to go so badly in my life! Please, Miss Rodgers, please, don't make me lie here and explode all over myself! Please! OhmyG-d, my bottom is too full! I can't..."

I put my hand back to Sharon's waistline. Again I start teasing her with tender little caresses. This time, after a few seconds, for Sharon to get used to my hand touching her, I let my fingers wander a little lower into her bush with every few strokes. It doesn't take long until my fingers are fully in her dense fur.

I don't have to press. Even though all that flesh, I can feel the sharp tremors shooting through her pussy. They're so crisp! Each one racks her pussy hard. It's like someone is defibrillating her pussy. It's snapping that powerfully. And that has got to be aching her! I pretend I don't notice it. I let Sharon believe that I can't feel it through her flesh.

"See, slut?" I taunting say. "You can behave! You've made it two minutes. Would you like my slave to take you potty now?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Sharon blurts out so eagerly I doubt she's even heard what I said. She only heard that relief might actually be coming.

"If I allow you to go, you have to go properly so that you fully empty your bottom and I don't have to give you another enema. Are you going to mind my slave if I have her take you potty?"

"Yes, Ma'am! I'll go however you want me to! Please, May I please go now?"

"No. You will stand up straight and properly. You will stand still. You will wait until my slave is ready to take you and supervise you on the potty. When you move, the pressure in your bottom will quickly get stronger for a few seconds. You will not let the pressure slow you down or stop you. You will keep going. Show me that you're willing to behave if my slave takes you potty." Get up now, slut."

"Yes, Ma'am..." Sharon answers in a voice that breaks it's so nervous. She starts to move. She doesn't even start to sit up when she screams out "EE-OW!" I see her muscles stiffen reflexively, and that makes her scream again. A little louder this time, too. She slows just a little. I knew she would, so I pretend that I don't notice it. She clearly has to make herself keep moving. But she gets up. She gets her hands behind her back. She stands there. She faces her husband. Other than the scrunched up look of agony on her face, there isn't a clue that her bottom is full.

I wait for just a few seconds. "Slave, take this slut potty."

"Yes, Mistress," Sophie answer in her sweetest voice. The voice she reserves for me. She steps over and stands facing Sharon. She has to look up slightly to stare into Sharon's eyes. "Listen to me, slut. You will do as I say, and nothing else. Misbehave, and I swear, I will beg my Mistress to allow me to whip your bottom bloody before she gives you a much larger enema!" Sophie reaches behind Sharon's back and takes hold of one of Sharon's hands. She holds it softly and affectionately. She brings it around front. "Now come with slut."

"Yes, Ma'am, thank you, Miss Slave, thank you!" Sharon rambles on. She allows Sophie to lead her across the hall to the bathroom. Sharon walks behind Sophie, shuffling her feet fast to keep pace with the slave-girl while taking tiny baby steps.

I just watch as Sophie handles the dirty job for me.

Sophie walks Sharon to the toilet. She tells her to sit on it, but not to use it just yet. She tells Sharon to spread her knees as wide as they'll go, then to put her feet the same distance apart. She has Sharon sit up straight. Eyes locked forward. She has Sharon rest her left hand atop the center of her thigh. Sophie doesn't let go of Sharon's right hand.